Heartbreak Strikes Twice in Same Week

Tomatillo and Cilantro Loaf

Walking up to the grieving father just before the service, I could only think of one thing to say. "In case of emergency, I have cookies," I mumbled, pointing to a small case in my hand. "Of course you do," he replied, and we parted, exchanging the tiniest of smiles.

Within four days, I would tote that same small case to a funeral in my own family. Life moves in ways we don't script. One minute you've carrying concealed cookies into a chapel, the next, you're just changing venues.

What is good to make in times of grief? The roasted tomato basil soup worked for the other family, so I did it again and tossed a salad. Jeanne has a terrific butternut squash chili in her "Heartbreak Recovery Kitchen" cookbook, so I made that, too. It aligns well with my own tomatillo and cilantro loaf, inspired by Chef Stephan Pyles from his Star Canyon and New Texas Cuisine days.

This is a hearty loaf with surprising kick when you add a little sriracha (because you can).

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Tomatillo and Cilantro Loaf

1 pound (10) tomatillos, husked and rinsed

½ cup water

1 ½ tablespoons active dry yeast

4 cups bread flour

2 eggs

3 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro

2 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons sriracha sauce or 1 ½ teaspoons cayenne powder

2 teaspoons ground cumin

2 teaspoons salt

1½ teaspoons freshly ground black pepper

olive oil for roasting

kosher salt and pepper for roasting

For the egg glaze

1 whole egg

1 tablespoon milk

Fleur de Sel or other finishing salt such as smoked Salish (optional)

Preheat oven to 400.

On a baking sheet, sprinkle a little olive oil, salt and pepper. Place tomatillos cut side down, roast for 30 minutes. Puree tomatillos and the liquid from the sheet in a blender or food processor, then place in saucepan and cook over medium heat until liquid has evaporated, about 4-5 minutes.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, place water and yeast. Stir to dissolve, allow to sit about 5 minutes. Add 1 ½ cups flour, the eggs and the tomatillos. Using a paddle attachment, mix until incorporated. Add cilantro, cumin, sriracha, salt, pepper, sugar, then remaining 2 ½ cups of flour. Switch to dough hook and mix on medium speed about 2 minutes. Dough should move freely in the bowl but may feel slightly wet.

Transfer dough to a greased bowl, cover with plastic wrap and allow to rise until doubled in volume, about 2 hours.

Preheat oven to 375. Gently degas dough, turn out on a lightly floured counter. Divide dough into 2 pieces, form into loaves, and place in 2 greased 9x5-inch loaf pans (or one loaf pan for a large dome on the loaf). Cover loosely with plastic wrap and allow to rise until doubled in volume again, about 45 minutes.

For egg wash, beat egg with milk, brush onto loaf. Sprinkle with finishing salt. Bake for 18-22 minutes if making 2 loaves, or about 45 minutes if making one loaf.

Turn out of pan and onto a rack to cool. This bread freezes well.

Bread is the stuff of life and fills the air with aroma and warmth. That's what you need in times like these.

Baking for Heartbreak, the Next Day

Roma tomatoes, ready for roasting

People write entire books about funeral foods, with clever names like "Foods to Die For." I don't fault the authors for making light of a heartbreaking task, to serve foods that comfort in times of indescribable loss. Recall the moment in the film "The Big Chill" when Jeff Goldblum says, "It's an amazing tradition. They throw a great party for you on the one day they know you can't come."

We lean toward the laughter, because it's good company for our tears.

I didn't want to amaze or entertain or make a great pastry, I just wanted to make something that would send love to friends who had just lost their son.

While digging around, I came across Victorian Funeral Cookies - how they were made and how they were used as mementos for funeral services. I knew about black mourning jewelry, but mourning biscuits?

The idea had intrigue but distracted me from the real need to just go stir the pots.

This is where I ended up, and I hope it's comforting.

Roasted Tomato Basil Soup

3 pounds ripe Roma tomatoes, cut in half lengthwise
some good olive oil
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 large onion, chopped
6 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 (28-ounce) can of tomatoes, crushed or diced
4 cups fresh basil leaves
a few sprigs of fresh thyme leaves
1 quart chicken stock
1/4 cup cream (optional)
1 tablespoon butter (optional)

Directions

Preheat oven to 400. Drizzle olive oil on a baking sheet, then season with salt and pepper. Place tomatoes cut side down. Roast for 45 minutes.

In an 8-quart stockpot over medium heat, add about 2 tablespoons of olive oil and the butter, then saute onions and garlic until the onions begin to brown, about 10 minutes. Add the canned tomatoes, basil, thyme and chicken stock. When the oven-roasted tomatoes are ready, add them to the pot, including the liquid from the sheet pan.

Bring to a boil, then simmer uncovered for 40 minutes. Use a food mill to help remove tomato skins and basil leaves. Season to taste. Add cream and butter if preferred for a richer finish.

While soup simmers, make the crackers.

Homemade Crackers

2 cups buttermilk
1 cup oil
2 and 1/2 tablespoons Herbs de Provence
1/2 tablespoon kosher salt
1/2 tablespoon baking soda
4 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, with more for the counter
Finishing salt such as Fleur de Sel or Salish smoked salt (optional)

Directions

Preheat oven to 400. In the bowl of a stand mixer, add the buttermilk and oil, then the Herbs de Provence, salt, baking soda and flour. Mix on low speed until incorporated. The batter should be thick enough to pull off a golf-ball-size dough piece and round it.

On a lightly floured counter top, place a piece of dough (the size of a golf ball) and roll out into an oblong shape, a stroke or two up and down with the rolling pin. Place cracker on baking sheet. Crackers won't spread, so you should get about 4 crackers on a sheet.

Lightly sprinkle crackers with finishing salt, bake 9-10 minutes. Flip crackers over, finish baking about 9-10 minutes more.

Crackers last several days in an airtight container, room temp.

Nutella Cookies

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
8 ounces unsalted butter, room temperature
2/3 cup sugar
1 egg yolk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup Nutella

Directions

Preheat oven to 375. In the bowl of a stand mixer, add butter and sugar, beat on medium speed about 3 minutes. Add yolk and vanilla, continue beating to incorporate. Add flour and salt, beating just until mixture comes together. Place on parchment or waxed paper and flatten out before chilling at least one hour.

On a lightly floured surface, roll dough into a 12-inch square. It helps to use a bench scraper to make sure dough doesn't stick to counter. Spread dough with Nutella, then roll up jelly-roll style. Return dough to fridge and chill at least 30 minutes. Slice and place cookies on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake 10-15 minutes. Edges should be browned. Allow to cool on rack.

Deliver food to the doorstep.

Serve yourself a cup of tea.

Baking for Heartbreak

Bringing a real deal apple pie to fruition

As I look back through these posts, I see a common theme of laughing and snickering my way through the things that go right (and sometimes wrong) on this journey known as the joy of cooking.

Here on this blog, I've talked about knife cuts and bad burns in pastry school. Held my tongue when I wanted to say something crushing. Praised good books you'd find most helpful. I've poked fun at myself and even revealed the flour up and down my arms when making croissants. If there was a chance for a pun or a self-made putdown, I frosted it onto the page, all for the purpose of smiling through the messes I make.

When my friend Jeanne Ambrose came out with a cookbook called "Heartbreak Recovery Kitchen," I embraced it for the cleverness of her approach. She weaves good vinaigrette with thoughtful vignettes from a talented circle of writers who talk about life's hurts, how to heal with food and the way to move forward. I thought of the book in terms of heartbreaks on a small scale - like losing your job, your friend, your home. It even makes a good Valentine's Day book; it's not a volume to open wide and commence weeping.

I didn't expect to email her in the middle of the night to say "emergency, which Heartbreak Recovery recipe is good for a family experiencing the loss of a child?" This hurt is so deep that the only way to breathe through it is to think about recipes I can leave on the family's doorstep. I've turned to food because it gives me something to offer when words and sentiments fall terribly short.

Homemade bread says "I care," as does a hearty soup that freezes well. I like a pie like the one shown above because the power of apple pie is long established. After all these years of flippancy in the food world, it seems incredible I'm just now thinking about what foods best express sorrow.

What, after all, is the essence of comfort food?

Jeanne suggests I make a big batch of lemon chicken lasagna. 

Swannee how I love ya

Pate a choux swan with pastry cream and whipped cream

I never know when an idea out of left field will bounce home. Quite often I have trouble fielding it when it does.

I didn't plan on making a swan for our friends Jay and Becky Dickman, Denver-based but in town to visit family. Jay is a longtime professional photographer, Nat Geo shooter and Pulitzer Prize winner for his coverage of the war in El Salvador. You don't just drop a pastry cream swan on a guy like that.

It's silly, gooey and childish, but I felt like I wanted this fowl thing. I know Jay is a Teuscher chocolates man and figured I had him covered with handmade truffles, so why not play with choux paste, too?

It was my first attempt. I served it anyway.

To my surprise, Jay hoisted a camera and took a snap (not the one here by Write House shooter John H. Ostdick). In that delicious moment, he flipped the tables on me and gave me the treat, not the other way around. It made me smile. My heart was glad.

Now that I look at this swan, I see something else. This could be the body of a peacock that needs only a piped gaufrette tail to be magnificent, a few embellishments here and there, macaron wings or something, I'm not sure.

Ideas roll in when you least expect them and usually when you're desperate to focus on the more immediate, like how to fix a broken white chocolate ganache in front of a classroom of paying customers. Why do ideas elude us when we want them most, or more to the point, why do they turn us into makers of silly swans?

Oh, but when those ideas do come, how sweet the taste, how lucky I feel when the Jays of the world capture the moment.

It's picture perfect.

Chocolate you fresh devil

Sweet, it's time to talk about chocolate.

Here's the book I want for Valentine's Day: The Art of the Chocolatier.

Here's why. The day came to teach a class on how to make truffles. The concept is not hard. Make a filling of ganache (chocolate and cream, flavorings), pipe it into spheres and allow to set. Temper some couverture chocolate, dunk said spheres. Decorate.

Not difficult. And yet. If your ganache is out of ratio, with too much or too little cream, you'll get off on the wrong foot and leave trails of despair, nay, chocolate streaks, all around you and on the floor, perhaps even the walls.

If the ganache won't set, not even in the freezer, you've got to grab the calculator and do the math. Are you using dark chocolate? Ratio is 2 to 1 - two parts chocolate to 1 part cream, and if you're adding liqueur and butter, make allowances. If it's white chocolate, better use 2 and 1/2 parts chocolate to 1 part cream. White doesn't have the cocoa solids and the same amount of cocoa butter that dark has. Trust me about this.

Why should you? I've got the kitchen floor with the evidence to back up my claims that you must do your math. The Art of the Chocolatier is clear on the subject.

Chocolatier does a marvelous job of presenting the right steps for chocolate work. It's loaded with recipes and even more thrilling, guidance on how to do chocolate sculptures. If you go down this chocolate path, that could be where you end up, amazing and amusing your friends with impressive chocolate designs that defy gravity.

I heard about the chocolate book because one of the gifted and talented kitchen assistants where I teach loaned me her copy. She knew me to be the kind of pastry chef who studies the problem from multiple angels. Yes I said "angels," not angles, but that applies, too. Angels step in when you are most perplexed and hand you something good.

Thanks to her and the book, we made it through class with only one broken emulsion (the white chocolate, wouldn't you know?) and 2 batches of leftover ganache, hidden in the fridge.

A class attendee asked me which is harder, making truffles or macarons. The better question is, which is messier!

The answer? Chocolate, that fresh devil.