Ms Cook’s Table

To make way for a museum trip, we decided to book a late flight back home. As we walked from our hotel to the Hirshhorn Museum, the early morning humidity steamed our glasses and we paused to correct our vision and take in the beauty of eager international sightseers lining up for tours and souvenir snapshots. Their courtesy and their smiles were endearing. I rejoiced at the diversity of a nation’s capital on a Sunday morning knowing that since inception the US has engaged a unique collective of creation by eloquent promises of personal freedom. Our liberty to evolve has been our strength and other countries are intrigued.

Later while strolling the Sculpture Garden at the Hirshhorn, a bluesy rendition of Amazing Grace and the Star Spangled Banner drifted on air from a street performer’s trumpet. To me it served as melancholy assurance that ultimately all beings are blessed. Thankfully in the short history of this country, we know that national kindness has shown this to be truth.

No better metaphor for me than a weekend spent in celebration of such kindness – the marriage of Chef Art Smith and artist, Jesus Salgueiro. The wedding day began with a bounty of friends and relations, eclectic in their backgrounds and gifted in their talents walking in mass on Capitol Hill. With encouragement gleaned from the landscape – the Washington Memorial, the National Gallery of Art, the Reflecting Pool, the Vietnam Veterans and WW II Memorials, and the Museum of the American Indian – we made our way to the steps of the Lincoln Memorial where after a blessing, Jesus words invoked honor to President Lincoln – “the man who brought us all together.”

The wedding commenced late morning at Art and Soul, Art’s Capitol Hill restaurant. The uber popular spot reflects his small town southern upbringing and delivers food by way of executive chef Travis Timberlake with all the special attention that love can bring. Spiritual teacher Mary Ann Williamson renewed a collective sense of the marriage promise by assuring each man, “you will not walk alone” with vows to “do my best.”

The reception was a symbol of some of our region’s shiniest foods – each dish showcased by well known chefs and celebrants who coveted the best for the union – tables flowing with homemade potato chips and herby sauce, barbequed brisket and cucumber salad, lamb burger and heirloom tomato salad, mac and cheese, potato and green bean salad, slaw, pork barbeque and cheese biscuits. Varieties of coffees and teas were framed by hand made chocolates and the cake – oh the cake was a divinely appointed, luscious cream, nut version from Duff Goldman and Charm City Cakes.

After ten years together, in a sacred meeting among their own cherished people in the District of Columbia, the men were delivered, in union, as a better offering for our democratic venture. Committed, they now serve as a team in pursuit of furthering such a vision.

In fact, Art and Jesus are the genesis for Common Threads, a non-profit that teaches children the joy of cooking whole foods. The early start allows children the skill sets to build a lifetime of tables set with lovingly prepared meals, each recipe originating from the homelands of our immigrant base. Having been set so long ago, the table is filled with dishes from people that are as diverse and big hearted as we can allow.

As a two-time winner of the James Beard Award, Chef Art Smith knows a thing or two about bread. Here is one of my favorites:

Goat Cheese Drop Biscuits

2 cups self-rising flour
1 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons (2 ounces) cold butter
4 tablespoons (2 ounces) goat cheese
1 cup (8 ounces) buttermilk
butter to grease pan and top biscuits
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 425. Place one 10-inch cast iron pan into the oven while it is preheating. Place flour and salt into a bowl. Cut in the butter and goat cheese. Make a well in the middle of the ingredients and pour in the milk. Stir until the mix is moistened, adding an extra tablespoon of milk if needed.

Remove the hot skillet from the oven and place a tablespoon of butter into it. When the butter has melted, drop ¼ cupfuls of batter into the pan. Brush the tops of the biscuits with melted butter. Bake from 14-16 minutes until browned on the top and bottom. Remove from the oven and sprinkle with the grated cheese.

RESOURCES

Art and Soul
www.artandsouldc.com

Common Threads
www.commonthreads.com

Our Aunt Mary was a unique piece of the Lord’s work. She embraced me with a boney, vice grip the first time that Dalton introduced us. She had a curiously forced enthusiasm for all things family having been raised within a challenging set of alliances. Her father, a minister, served a multitude of Methodist churches in North Mississippi along with a somber mother, a dominating sister and an impeccably successful brother; she fought for her place in the world.

Meeting somewhere on the Natchez Trace, we picnicked with Mary and her taciturn husband Gail on occasion. To be sure, she usually arranged a rendezvous with internationally adopted kin, adults whom she and Gail had taken in during childhood.

The last time I saw Mary, we scooped her up from her retirement home in Memphis while in route to Jackson, Mississippi to attend Dalton’s father and her brother’s funeral. Noting the haste in which we traveled she said, “This is Paul Revere’s wild ride, but I am not afraid.”

We congratulated Mary for her fortitude as she was tiny and frail, nonetheless powdered and coiffed. Just the same, I later found, upon her death, that Mary did harbor particular trepidation for the vegetable. I have the evidence – a ten-cent spiral notebook in which she meticulously registered her version of good eats. Sadly for Ms Cook, they contained a plethora of variations on sugar and gelatin, no doubt, in anticipation of her favored outing – the picnic.

Oddly, her penchant for other cultures did not extend into the food world although I’m sure if properly introduced she would have appreciated the eggplant or aubergine. Many folks who are new to the eggplant detail a bitterness that often accompanies an undercooked or under salted version of the fruit never to venture another taste test again.

Indeed, the eggplant like the tomato is a berry that originated in the east possibly in the 5th century. Zanily, even though it contains a high level of nicotine – folic acid, magnesium and a propensity for lowering cholesterol and blood pressure reign. Reasons enough to form a habit of tossing it on the grill as a foolproof introduction to our one time growing children. To this day, we find the grilled outcome useful for salads and sandwiches during the subsequent week.

Regardless of the novice palate, folks seem to appreciate a stack of eggplant, tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, basil, oregano, and pad of butter – all folded inside individual foil packets placed on the grill for about fifteen minutes. A favored preparation, this family barbeque dish was coincidentally discovered in the 1969 version of It’s a Picnic by Nancy Fair McIntyre.

My preferred portable version of eggplant came from an issue of Gourmet and notably it has been sanctioned by Dalton who is a former self proclaimed eggplant-a-phob. It’s peerless on toasted pita, although with additional herbal oil it can intensify a bowl of pasta. Aunt Mary might consider it a wild ride, but I know that amidst the big reunion picnic in the sky, she would give me an appreciative hug where Moroccan Eggplant Salad would be the first dish to go.

Moroccan Eggplant Salad

Scant teaspoon cumin seeds
1 pound firm eggplant
1 small red onion, chopped
2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
2 tablespoons chopped flat leaf parsley, divided

Toast cumin seed in a dry 10 inch heavy cast iron skillet, stirring occasionally until fragrant and dark brown. Cool and then ground into a powder with an electric coffee or spice grinder.
Pan roast whole eggplant in skillet over medium heat, turning frequently with tongs, until blackened and tender all over – at least 30 minutes.
Transfer to a cutting board and cut off and discard stem.
Scrap flesh from skin and coarsely chop.
Toss with onion, vinegar, sugar, 1 tablespoon of oil, 1 tablespoon of parsley, ½ teaspoon of toasted cumin and ½ teaspoon of salt.
Serve in a shallow bowl drizzled with remaining tablespoon of oil and sprinkled with remaining tablespoon of parsley and toasted cumin.

Wonder if the soul views the launch or the finale of life as the more anticipated?
I suppose that would depend on the condition of the soul and that of course, would be directly related to the quality of perceived experience.

I am all for highlighting Elodies’s soul with annual reminders that the clock is ticking. My grandmother once eased back in her front porch glider and after a long swig of ice tea said, “I know that you think that I’m old, but I’m not. You’ll be my age one day,” A pregnant pause followed, allowing the spooky sentiment to simmer inside my juvenile brain.

I knew even then that seeking a deeper connection to grandparents allowed certain flights of fantasy, sensitivity to the brevity of life and deeper insights into the mysterious. I’ve wondered what my grandmother would think about my regular plane trips to see her great granddaughter or the way I viewed her first baby steps on Skype. Practically speaking she might have acknowledged that the future is a big place with enough room for all the newfangled that our imaginations could muster.

Last month when Elodie brought her parents for a visit, I made an angel food cake to honor her Daddy’s birthday. I was reminded of her mother’s first birthday and the vigilant announcement that I received from my own mother pertaining to sweets for babies. “Angel food cake is the only cake for children and only on special occasions,” she declared and that was that. Magazine clippings soon arrived to punctuate her advice with directions involving decorative things to do with marshmallow slices for the red-letter cake.

Elo loved the white, sticky fluff and even cried when I denied her another helping. Last weekend family and friends gathered at Eleven City Diner in Chicago for her 1st birthday party. After brunch, she was presented with a second taste of sugar and she went for it. She managed a cardinal inhalation of pink icing and so began what most of us acknowledge as lifetime achievement in the Wacky Sugar Dance-a-thon.

Since so much of the packaged food that we love is complete with unnecessary grams, I’ll advocate for palate expansion with fresh fruits, seasonal vegetables, and the occasional locally produced meat. Acknowledging that sugar contains only carbs and nary a nutrient, it’s understandable why excesses upset the body chemistry and weaken the immune system. The prevailing view of nutritionists offer – the more colors you eat during the day, the greater the pay off for your body – piece of sugarless cake.

Elo began life with regular trips to the farmers market; I’m at ease that she’ll get platefuls of colorful food to support her healthy physical growth while securing her for the predictable sugar fest when it comes. As a grandmother, I’ll be on the outlook for the intermittent sweet that won’t steal her flower. “Angel food cake/life is short” guidelines are handy touchstones for a new day at any age and I’m satisfied that every so often, our souls could use a piece.

Angel Food Cake

1 ¼ cups egg whites (from 8 or 9 large eggs), at room temperature
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
¼ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 ½ cups sugar
1 cup sifted cake flour (sift before measuring)
Fruit of the season
Whipped cream icing

In a large mixing bowl, beat egg whites on high speed until very stiff. Add cream of tartar, salt, and vanilla. Beat until egg whites form stiff peaks but are not dry. Add the sugar, 2 tablespoons at a time, beating well after each addition. Sift the four twice. Fold into egg whites. Pour batter into an ungreased tube pan. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 45 minutes, or until cake tests done. Immediately invert pan over resting on a bottleneck or use the type cake pan with legs on the rim – an hour or more. Loosen cooled cake from sides with knife or spatula, remove from pan, and use whipped cream topping below and/or fresh fruit.

Whipped Cream Icing

2 cups whipping cream
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup confectioner’s sugar

Place mixer bowl and beaters in freezer for a while before whipping. Whip cream with salt and vanilla in a mixer until soft peaks form. Gradually add confectioners’ sugar; continue beating until very stiff.

Vanilla Sugar (if you are so inclined; this is a fun way to think ahead and make your sugar supply spectacular)

1 fresh lemon verbena spring (9 inches long, cut into 3 inches)
4 cups granulated sugar
3 vanilla beans (split lengthwise)

Stack the verbena lengths in a glass container large enough to hold all the sugar. Pour about 3 cups of the sugar into the container. Stick the split vanilla beans into the sugar and then cover with the remaining sugar.
Seal the jar tightly and store for at least 1 week. Once the sugar is as aromatic as you like, strain out the vanilla and verbena. You can reuse the vanilla beans to perfume more sugar.