View from the Kitchen

Honey Almond Madeleines

Another favorite from the pre-Christmas cookie baking extravaganza. Madeleines have been a personal favorite since a tiny French bakery opened on Shattuck in Berkeley, across the street from the record store where I worked when I was in college. I didn't drink coffee then but would pop into the warm bakery on foggy days to admire the glass cases filled with goodies and the lovely French owner and his wife in their very sturdy white aprons, tied to the side. He knew I loved the madeleines and something he called Cat's Tongue, that looked like a milano, with bittersweet chocolate sandwiched between a sweet white crumbly cookie. He packed a small paperbag and I took it back to work and drank it down with either an orange juice, or a carton of cold milk. Yum. I found this recipe on Leite's Culinaria. Great contrast to the perfect little madelines dipped in chocolate.

posted by PerfectPear @ Monday, December 27, 2004 3 Comments

More Macaroons

For the first time in my whole life I made macaroons. They turned out so perfectly I want to pinch myself to make sure I'm not in Paris, at La Fauchon. Except I'm not. I did it. I did it. Yippee! This is why I love cooking because when it goes right I feel like I could do anything. Negotiate at the UN. Keep Shawn Green in LA with the Dodgers. Help Bush resolve his aggression and father issues. But seriously, aren't they beautiful? The recipe is Day Ten from Food Channel's 12 Days of Christmas Cookies. But I didn't have hazelnuts so I used almonds instead. And God bless the folks at Trader Joes, because they carry ground almonds. OK, it's late and I have to go to bed and stop admiring my cookies.

Wait, wait. One more look.

posted by PerfectPear @ Wednesday, December 22, 2004 2 Comments

More Adventures in Catering; YOU Threw Out the EGGNOG?!

Another guest post/view from the kitchen from my brilliant friend, Paula. Apparently peace on earth does not extend to the folks in the kitchen. Maybe we need to start a home for wayward hosts, teach the art of graciousness and help them form the words, "Thank you" with their nog-smudged mouths.

we're just about ready to go, almost all the dishes are and
the food is put away. the hostess comes in and asks if
we saved the leftover eggnog. well, to be honest, i
dumped it cause there wasn't that much left, and
eggnog is gross, and i could find a pitcher for it. so
i tell her i dumped it. convo follows:

hostess (in increasingly highpitched voice): why would
you do that?
me: well, there wasn't that much left, and i didn't
think it was worth it to save.
h: i worked for hours on that eggnog! hours! and i
didn't even get a taste!
m: i'm so sorry. i really apologize.
h: i can't believe it! i really slaved over it! do you
understand what i'm saying? and that's what i really
want RIGHT NOW.
m: I am sorry.
h (louder and strident): if you ever work in this
house again, we NEVER, NEVER throw anything away.
EVER! do you understand me? did you save the spinach
dip?
m: yes, it's in the fridge.
h: why would you save the spinach dip and not the
eggnog?
m: like i said, there just wasn't that much left.
h: i SAW how much was left. even a cup left you should
have saved. i'm not mad. i am just so disappointed. i
worked for hours on that eggnog.
(and more in this vein...)

oh my god. what a hissy fit. anyway, the chefs told me
that they once threw something away, and she actually
went in the garbage and retrieved it. by the way, how
does one work for hours on eggnog?

One good eggnog stink deserves another I say. I think P. should hide a carton somewhere on their palatial property to be found on a really, really hot day.

posted by PerfectPear @ Tuesday, December 21, 2004 1 Comments

NOT COOL

My fingers are literally itching to type the name of guy in charge of last night's catering gig. ITCHING. He's a bigwig, and by that I mean make or break lives, careers and books BIG. He makes news on a regular basis and has the worst mannered friends I've ever experienced. Clueless to the point of being dangerous.

Here's a short letter to one of his pals.

Dear Mid-list Author,
Remember me? I was that girl with the coffee. Last night when you were holding court with your friends and raving about the plight of the "working class", I was standing right there in front of you, holding fifty cups of hot coffee in a leaky rented coffee maker. I tried to pass, said excuse me a dozen times, was afraid to nudge your friend with the coffee maker knowing it was hot. I stood there, arms straining, sweat on the back of my neck while you expounded brilliantly on just how the "working class have no insight into their own lives or their decisions". Your intellectually superior thoughts about my life, must have literally clouded your vision, since you couldn't see the girl whose arms were beginning to shake dangerously, trapped in by the stifling crowd you and your friends created. You looked right at me, but couldn't be bothered to stop or pause your stream of intellectual bullshit, to let a girl carrying fifty hot cups of coffee pass. I'm sure you were arguing in my interest. I'm sure if I could have stood there I might have actually learned a little something. Well, I've got news for you. You and your disgusting friends have no window into my world. I work two jobs so I don't carry the credit card debt that you one of your friends said was the demise of America. And yeah, I didn't miss the subtle little sideways look he gave the bartender, right at that moment as if to say, "Case in point." I bust my ass partly because I enjoy it and partly because I'm fiscally responsible and don't carry average 11% credit card debt. Yeah, I read that study. And yeah, I heard that story on NPR too. As hard as I work, I think there are worse deficits than credit card debt, namely emotional and social intelligence. Since you couldn't move your fat ass, while you were pontificating on my interests, we know exactly how little you really know.

Hey, do me a favor and think of me next time you get your sagging sales numbers, or you're sitting lonely at a poorly attended book signing, or the next time you try to argue to your editor that your books are just too smart for the American public.

The last laugh will be on me,
Girl with Hot Coffee

posted by PerfectPear @ Saturday, December 18, 2004 5 Comments

More Adventures in Catering; You Can't Take the Mayo out of the Mayor

Courtesy of my friend, Paula. P's an attorney/mini real estate-mogul who doubles (like all of us) as a caterer in Atlanta. She knew the Secret Service were going to be at a party she worked last night and sent me an update.

okay, so the secret service person was supposed to
come last night, and it was supposed to be rosalyn
carter, but she didn't show. the 24-year-old chef,
bless his very young heart, could not remember her
name ("you know, roseanne carter"). anyway, it was
some party for connected women of atlanta. our
secretary of state was there, and i am sure many other
state politicos i didn't recognize. all i have to say
is that those women can drink a lot of chardonnay.

next and last gig is the big sunday party. same place,
but this time it's her xmas extravanganza, 200+
people, including the mayor of atlanta, which i did
last year too. the funniest part (to me at least) is
that these outrageously rich people can have any food
they want, and go to great lengths to serve all this
elegant stuff. then the husband insists on serving
chicken salad on white bread. not fancy
curry-cashew-cranberry chicken salad, but a whole lot
of mayo chicken salad out of the deli container. and
he comes to the kitchen to make sure we add extra
mayo. i suppose you can take the wasp out of the mayo,
but you can never take the mayo out of the wasp.

posted by PerfectPear @ Thursday, December 16, 2004 1 Comments

Oh No She Didn't

Britney has crossed the line now, offending chefs worldwide. No chef worth their salt will ever give a damn about a meal that's going to be put in front of her. She can stick to Sonic and Starbucks and Taco Bell. Not to mention, who feeds a huge steak to a baby Chihuahua?

posted by PerfectPear @ Wednesday, December 15, 2004 0 Comments

The Joy of Reading

101 Cookbooks has a great post about the new documentary, The Future of Food. Scariest stat is that 70% of processed food contains GMO's. Gee, and we wonder why kids are obese and cancer rates are skyrocketing.

Great article in NY Times, In Paris, Boutiques and Cafes Where Chocolatiers Raise the Bar. You can almost smell the chocolate.


And the Accidental Hedonist has kicked off the Oscars for Foodies, and bloggers. Too bad we can't all get together in our finest, finery and dig in on some really good eats together. But you should 1. Check out the list, 2. Nominate the blogs you read and love (hint, hint, nudge, nudge) and 3. Check out the blogs you haven't read before. I discovered nosh-loving Becks and Nosh, delectable Baking Beast, tasty Cuisine Capers, and the inspiring Domestic Goddess. Great women, great food. Enjoy!

posted by PerfectPear @ Monday, December 13, 2004 0 Comments

Feel My Pain

Ah, holiday open houses.
120 wine glasses. 60 martini glasses. 200 plates. Hot, hot water. If I weren't so tired I would write a haiku. My hands are swollen, sore, raw, cracked and sliced. I get to do it all over again tonight.

posted by PerfectPear @ Saturday, December 11, 2004 0 Comments

Bake, Cool, Stack

Like every other food hussy out there, I make thousands of cookies at Christmas. I collect tins all year long, and then have one sugar drunken night of bake, cool, stack, bake, cool, stack. The dogs hover the kitchen floor hoping for egg whites, and hunting for fallen sprinkles.

My favorites are Martha Stewart's madelines, the trick is beating the butter, sugar and eggs for seven minutes exactly, no more, no less. And the macaroons piled into neat little pyramids and tipped with melted Valhrona cause everyone to pass out with joy. But just like the rugrats who play with the boxes instead of the expensive toys on Christmas morning... the biggest hit last year was a cookie I made from a gingerbread cake mix. I only made them for color really. I had madelines, macaroons, vanilla bean thins, and Martha's heartbreaks, but something was missing. I even made savory Rosemary wafers, with fresh rosemary pilfered from the yard. But still all the cookies were too, too white. So... I used the food processor to grind up ginger and cranberries and dumped those into the mix, lo and behold... they rocked.

posted by PerfectPear @ Thursday, December 09, 2004 0 Comments

Catering at the Manor House

There was a great PBS series last year, Manor House. The show was a history/reality series, set to recreate a manor house in Edwardian Britain. Volunteers were pulled from their real lives and plunked down either upstairs or downstairs, Manor family upstairs, staff of 14 downstairs. Of course, like you would expect the folks who lived upstairs and imposed their every whim on the servants took to the setup like ducks to water, and the folks downstairs were shocked at how easily they blended in with furniture in the eyes of the Manor family.

Friday night's party was a little version of Manor house in South Pasadena. The Manor family hosted a formal sit-down dinner for their "supper club" ... The Manor wife maintained that they usually cook for one another, and went on and on about how she loved to cook. I believed her until I noticed the thick layer of dust on the spice rack with the spices still wrapped tightly in plastic, and sub-zero's bottom shelf packed with Ensure. And we all know that goes great with vodka.

But back to our sit-down. I can do sit-down. I can do formal. I know how to tie an apron, and not to lean and am so attentive that I can actually tell you how many glasses of wine each guest has had. I was trained within an inch of my life. And the chef, Jennifer is knock-down-drag-out-GREAT. The only problem being that these folks didn't know how to be served. We asked the host if she wanted the salads plated, or butler-ed. With a crazy confused look in her eye she said, "Butler-ed", but it was obvious she didn't know what she was talking about. Her guests were kinda dumb too. The women gave that crazy, "You're not serious" Atkins look when we passed apps. And later, when presented a plate on their left they didn't have the sense to lean away, so it could be placed in front of them, and nobody placed the fork and knife in the proper position to announce they were finished with the meal. By the way, her party was perfect, everything was presented perfectly but the host was tipped by the time we left and guess what, no additional tip. I should have reminded her that good ettiquette is setup to avoid situations like this.

Sunday night was a office holiday open house. Folks filed in out of duty, gathered in clumps and pressed on through awkward silences that floated in the air like lumps in gravy. We ran another perfect party, buffet with dessert bar. But wouldn't you know it we could hear the host and hostess debating whether or not to tip over 15%. Gag. I would have gladly given the cash back, not to have had to listen in on that.

posted by PerfectPear @ Tuesday, December 07, 2004 2 Comments

Tis the Season for Catering

Well, there are basically two catering seasons. Wedding and holiday. The latter of the two starts on Saturday. Buckle up kids, it's always fun to watch families, and co-workers cringe through an evening of sometimes forced frivolity. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime feel free to detail the holiday parties where you watched co-workers slosh to and fro...

posted by PerfectPear @ Wednesday, December 01, 2004 5 Comments

Eat at Joe's

One more reason Trader Joe's rocks.

posted by PerfectPear @ Wednesday, December 01, 2004 1 Comments