A Finger in Every Pie

On this day...

 

...we didn't work;
I didn't cook today, and
G didn't wash the dishes.
We slept late, and G brought me
coffee in bed.

We went out for Mexican breakfast, and had chorizo and eggs and rice and beans and
guacamole and tortillas. 

We went walking in the Conservatory Gardens,
and drenched ourselves in Spring. 
G bought me an ice-cream. 

Back at home, we curled up together
for a lazy mid-afternoon nap and fell asleep in each others' arms. 
Before I met G, I had never fallen asleep in
someone's arms,
except perhaps when I was a baby.
I always seemed to need to turn away from someone else; I needed  space to fall asleep.
But now, in his arms, I sleep like a baby again. 

I took a long lazy bath, and we went out for a simple but very good dinner.  Just us.  Today was just for us,
no others included.

We came home, and watched movies, and made popcorn.

We didn't do anything splurgy or costly.  We didn't buy any gifts.
But we had a day that felt completely and utterly luxurious. 

We paid attention to each other; we made a
conscious effort not to let the pressures and difficulties and stresses of other days distract us from each other today. 

And we kissed a lot, and smiled a lot, and touched a lot.
We thought about this past year, which has brought us both painful challenges and deep grief, the things that happen outside our private duality, outside the current of
happiness we have in each other.  And still,
it's been the best year of our lives.
We thought about the six years before this past year,
and remembered and
joked and teased and tickled.

On this day, one year ago, we were married.

This is what happens...

...when you think you have a 10" springform pan in the house, and it turns out that you only have  9" and 8 1/2" springform pans, and you decide to go ahead and bake your hopefully delicious Passover orange-almond cake (to be drenched in an eye-poppingly intense mandarin-lime syrup) in the 9" pan.  After all, what difference will one little inch make? 

A lot.  And this picture was taken when it had already collapsed a bit.  At its height, it was a good three inches above the pan.  Fortunately it contained itself and the batter didn't run, and this cake is even now sitting in its bath of tangy citrus syrup, waiting for tonight's verdict. It did get this weird effect when it collapsed even more, as tortes are supposed to do -- the weirdness being that it developed a sort of a tight little waistline, like a pouffy dowager trying to cinch a belt in as far as it will go.  Recipe (I added quite a bit of lime juice to the syrup, and some Boyajian orange oil as well) here. 

In any case, I'll decorate it with a bunch of citrus slices, and we'll see how it goes down... 

...along with its companion, the Queen of Sheba, an aptly-named cake for the Passover table.  I've made many a flourless or semi-flourless chocolate cake, but when I tasted this cake at Danielle's house a year or so ago, I knew I had to make it.  It sat as an idea in my mind, waiting patiently for an occasion -- until now.  I did substitute Passover cake meal for the flour, which can sometimes be a dangerous thing.  This happened to me a couple of years ago when I tried to make a tart crust for Thomas Keller's Lemon Sabayon Tart, using pine nuts and matzoh meal.  Lemon sabayon filling?  Great.  Crust?  Not so much. 

But when it's a matter of a couple of tablespoons, and most of the flour is nut meal anyway (I used ground hazelnuts instead of ground almonds), and there's a lot of good chocolate in it, which really hides a multitude of sins -- well, the Queen of Sheba should reign resplendent at the seder table tonight.  Of course, the ganache broke slightly, which accounts for the swirling techtonic effect on top.  But I kind of liked it, so I decided not to have a fit and just get on with things. 

After several hours of hearing about the bread of affliction and eating a fair amount of matzoh, cake is always going to be a welcome diversion, even with a few imperfections.  I was also hoping to make the much-lauded chocolate-covered caramelized matzoh crunch this year, but it simply wasn't destined to happen, since I was glazing cakes until rather late, which resulted in us having dinner at 10:30 last night.   

I will say that I have high hopes for both cakes, the Tamasin Day-Lewis recipe, slightly adapted by me, and the Alice Medrich/Habeas Brûlée version of the Queen of Sheba.  Happy Passover.

Update, 4/20/08:  Both cakes were more than well worth making, and a big success with the Seder crowd.  Orange-Almond cake was delightfully crunchy with a startlingly delicious citrus zing from all that soaking syrup.  And the Queen of Sheba was sheer heaven.  So much so that when the final episode of John Adams was about to start tonight and I realized that I didn't have any freshly whipped cream to go with the remainder of the chocolate cake to enhance my viewing pleasure, I tried to make whipped cream in the bedroom so I could watch TV while getting dessert ready (okay, restrain yourselves here).  Yes, there were only slightly disastrous side effects before G and I were enjoyably transported back to the 19th century accompanied by plates of chocolate cake and whipped cream. 

Digging the Dirt: I'm not referring to sustainable farming

Usually when I think and occasionally write about politics and food, or the politics of food, it's about things like access and equity and choices and sustainability and other nice Kingsolvery, Gore-ish, Waters-ly, Pollan-esque type stuff. 

But maybe I'm feeling a little mean today, because this story was so juicy, so delicious, that I couldn't quite keep it to myself.  So read amongst yourselves, and decide whether or not John McCain's wife has actually ever tied on a frilly posied apron in order to start wielding her spatula.

Done?  Okay.  Now, I was originally going to link to "Cindy's Recipes" directly on McCain's site, which also bore the proud banner of "McCain Family Recipes" (I don't know about your family, but my grandma was most assuredly not busy whipping up Ahi Tuna with Napa Cabbage Slaw or Passion Fruit Mousse).  But this very morning, as I was about to start creating the links, the pages began to disappear from the McCain website in front of my very eyes.  Some busy little person who lifted those recipes in Cindy's name is desperately trying to save their job -- unless, of course, they're already history, and the task of erasing this embarrassment has been undertaken by a new fetchit. 

But at least you have the pretty side-by-side recipe comparisons in the Huffington Post article to keep you entertained while you decide how to cast your vote come November, you foodie, you. 

Upper East Eating

Like most of New York, I'm pretty much always on the look-out for a place to meet with a couple of chums where we can slug back some good wine and eat something delicious and not break the bank.  Not an easy ticket to fill these days. 

So when the charming Bunni suggested that Bakerina and I go with her to try the newly re-opened Panorama (an italianate resto that had moved from the corner of Second Avenue and East 85th St. to a few doors down, into the middle of the block on 85th between 1st and 2nd aves), I was game.  I'm always game for a night out with the girls, despite the grumbles it inspires from G, who doesn't take kindly to having his comfort object (read:  person who makes dinner) taken out of his immediate radius. 

I vaguely remembered the old Panorama.  It was fine, but as far as I could recall, there wasn't a lot to set it off from the rest of the pack of Upper East hangouts that run down Second Avenue from 86th St. down to the mid-Seventies, usually filled with preppyish types who are as scornful of me as I of them, I'm quite sure.  It had whatever bevvies are required by that sort of joint, and a fairly standard menu of Italianish food. 

But the new Panorama is something else altogether.  This isn't a place where overgrown Upper East boys and their molls come to drink and force others to sigh over the noxious behavior of the overprivileged.  This is a place with a great little wine list, delicious standard dishes and creative specials, and very considerate service -- all at excellent prices. 

To start with, our wines were lovely.  I chose a Viognier that was described as have lychee and apricot notes, and it did not disappoint, not at all.  Scented and fruit-forward, but still crisp, it was the perfect wine for a spring evening.  B and B were also fond of their reds (Bakerina's was a Pinot Noir; Bunni's was something I haven't heard of; both were quite good). 

On reading the menu, I received the happy and unusual surprise of a pricing scale that seemed more than fair.  This was certainly a place that, if the food didn't disappoint, would merit more visits.  And no, it did not disappoint.

We shared good appetizers of shrimp in garlic sauce, crispy calamari and a refreshingly creative salad with beautiful greens, citrus, and almonds in a strawberry vinaigrette.  Then we went on to pastas.   Bunni and Bakerina each had one of the specials, Bunni's a good paglia y fieno (green and white homemade pasta in a creamy sauce with ham and peas) and Bakerina's a nice mound of spaghetti in a slow-cooked, meaty ragu.  I made a special request -- I wanted the lobster ravioli from the menu of specials, but I wanted it in the light cardinale sauce described on another dish -- white wine, garlic, cherry tomatoes, asparagus and shrimp.  The kitchen had no trouble accomodating this request, something else that's very nice and not always easy to find. 

In a word -- delicious.  All was perfectly cooked, and my entree in particular was light and lovely, just what I wanted.  No room left for dessert, but that was fine too.  So -- should you find yourself on the Upper East for one reason or another, say after a day of museuming on Museum Mile or parking yourself in the park, give a thought to Panorama.