chaos7

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Foodie

I just devoured the book "My Life In France" by Julia Childs and Alex Prud’homme. Such a lovely read. Her point of view of everything French is very frank yet affectionate. The depths at which she dedicated herself to French cuisine are inspiring especially considering the interesting obstacles she faced. Read for yourself. You won’t regret it.

I was fortunate enough to be exposed to the French world of food at an early age. During my elementary school years my mom was the assistant to our neighbor who hosted French cooking classes for many years. I remember fondly her open-air kitchen filled with shiny copper mixing bowls and loads of pots and pans. The essence of brioche, boeuf bourguignon and omelettes shrouded the room always. Her handmade recipe booklets created for each class littered the countertops. I remember hearing the hearty and grateful laughter of the women as they said their goodbyes after class and climb into their cars on the circular drive. This also signaled that mom would be home soon with treats for us to try.

At home, there were afternoons spent perched on stools next to the stove as mom and I made many crêpes for sweet and savory dishes. Side by side, like little robots, we'd dip the bottom side of the hot crêpe pan in batter and then rest it on the metal ring that outlined the flame of the burner. When the edges of the flat pancake started to brown and lift, it was time to gently coaxed it off the pan and onto the heap of crêpes kept warm under a moist towel. I also learned how to whisk eggs, kneed bread, pipe pâte à choux onto a baking sheet and then fill it with a homemade sweet custard topped with a melted dark chocolate after baking. Heavenly.

We also had a gourmet kitchen supply shop and deli called The Mouse Trap. There I savored exotic cheeses, olives, pates, mustards and chocolates from around the world. This was 1981 in a very small town. When I get a whiff of a certain perfume (name unknown) these days, I am immediately back in the little shop making sandwiches and running the register for the moneyed folks and food adventurous in my hometown.

In my preteen years, mom transitioned to a funny little place in Longview, Texas called The Stock Pot. It was owned by a gaggle of aristocratic, super wealthy ladies who loved chef superstars and having them teach classes. What a coup it was for mom. There she helped stuff an enormous baked Alaska in a small oven with the 6-foot 2-inch Julia Childs, cranked out homemade pasta with Giuliano Bugialli while beating off the affectionate advances of his personal assistant and towered over the smallish Wolfgang Puck. When I go home for the upcoming holidays, I will be getting all of her cookbooks, some of them signed and most of them with the stains of meals prepared long ago. I look forward to ending the year pouring over their pages and beginning 2008 with a laundry list of new dishes to try.

Bon appétit!

1 comment:

jen said...

I loved the history "lesson". I forgot about your mom being such an awesome cook. Hey can you make me some of those custard things with the chocolate on them for Christmas! Those sound cool!
jen