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Food
& Other Important Things,
by Don Curto
Brioche
again?
Editor’s Note: Don Curto, the regular writer of Food and Other
Important Things, announced to me a few weeks ago that even columnists
deserve an occasional vacation and he was taking his this issue. Fortunately,
the following piece then appeared mysteriously on his desk with the
note that the author wished to remain anonymous to protect “the
tranquility of her domicile.”
My husband is well known in our community as a chef. He has owned a
popular restaurant, taught culinary arts at the local university, writes
a column on food for the local monthly magazine and has his own cooking
show on television.
No one actually has organized a fan club, and I wouldn’t describe
his admirers as “groupies,” but it is seldom that we are out
anywhere that someone doesn’t come up to comment about a recently
demonstrated recipe, ask a question about cooking or just say that they
enjoyed a recent show or article.
When I am introduced, the question I get asked, especially from other
women, is, “Does he really do the cooking at home?” (In a
sense this is an indication of the general level of liberation in our
society since I really can’t imagine someone turning to Mr. Childs
and asking, “Now, does Julia really cook your dinner?”) I
always answer honestly that he does do all of the cooking and yes, I
know I’m a lucky woman.
And I am...mostly. Now I realize that I’m probably not going to
get a lot of sympathy from a woman whose husband’s notion of competent
cooking is remembering to take the package of gizzards out of the chicken
before putting the bird in the oven.
Spouses of either sex who have eaten “hamburger glop” once
too often or where “home-cooked” has come to mean any meal
served on the family’s own china regardless of the cartons it came
out of, also may be a mite dubious.
Still, before you simply label me as a self-pitying whiner, let me have
my say. First, even the best chef has to practice to perfect his technique.
This means that dietary selections can be somewhat limited from week
to week.
For example, a few years ago, my husband was preparing to teach a class
on brioche, which he described as “the most elegant of all the
yeast bread doughs, rich in butter and eggs.” The first week, brioche
shaped into various sized loaves and rolls accompanied every meal.
The second week, brioche became the entree—chicken in brioche,
brioche stuffed with ground beef, steak wrapped in brioche, and so on.
The third week the meal became brioche—sausages in brioche for
an appetizer, pizza made with brioche for the entree and brioche bread
pudding for dessert. It’s one meal I will never forget.
Next, it must be understood that it is never enough for
the resident chef to just have his food eaten. Food in general is important
and this food is critically important. It requires thoughtful comment.
Now, if the meal is a household standby (say, stracciatella soup, a
spinach frittata, a salad of romaine lettuce with gorgonzola dressing,
and foccacia with garlic cloves) simple laudatory remarks may suffice.
Even under these conditions, however, it is important to recognize each
dish and ideally this should be done within the first two-and-a-half
minutes of beginning to eat.
For example, if the above meal was on our table and I had commented
on the soup, “My favorite,” the frittata, “superb,”
and the salad, “refreshing,” my husband’s next comment
would likely be, “So, you don’t like the bread tonight?”
When the dish is new and still being perfected by the chef, much more
is required—informed, thoughtful comment. This requires that the
non-chef spouse develop a certain amount of vocabulary about the food
as well as a discerning palate.
Recently, my husband has developed a new cinnamon roll for an out-of-town
restaurant where he is serving as a consultant.
My comment after the fifteenth roll of the week illustrates my advancement
to a new level of proficiency. “Now this is getting good. The dough
tastes like a brioche and the hint of rum in the filling is inspired.
I would suggest just a little less nutmeg in relationship to the cinnamon
and a little more apple puree.” Not bad for a woman who still likes
soup out of red and white cans.
This ability for informed, thoughtful commentary can be useful if the
chef is working on a dish that really is appreciated by the commentator.
The trick here is to take your time in declaring the dish “Perfect!”
We frequently travel to a community where there is an Italian restaurant
that features a slow-baked herbed chicken. I love this chicken.
To please me my husband decided to perfect the recipe and technique
at home. After a few attempts he has, but will I acknowledge this? Of
course not. If I did, he would file the recipe somewhere and go on to
another challenge. And so I comment, “Very good, but I think there
is still a bit too much oregano in the seasoning and the skin could
be just a bit crispier.”
Up until now I’ve probably given the impression that all mandatory
taste tests are done in the context of a meal. In fact, the non-chef
may be summoned at any time for duties which can involve restrained,
informed, thoughtful commentary.
Such was the case when my husband was preparing for a television show
featuring vegetables. I had just finished dressing for work when I heard
him call, “Come down for a real taste treat.” When I joined
him in our kitchen he motioned me to the table, “Just try that!”
I moved to the table and looked down at a bowl of...cucumber soup. The
creamy broth was rich with butter and speckles of dill floated among
the green pieces of cucumber. It was a moment requiring more love than
culinary knowledge as I responded, “The colors are fantastic, but...is
there any of that brioche left?”
Nearly Perfect Italian Roast Chicken
for Two Not-So-Perfect People
Take the halves of a split small broiler chicken (buy them this way
or cut them yourself), thoroughly wash in salted cold water and pat
dry with paper towels. In a double thick grocery bag place a mixture
as follows: 1 tablespoon each of dried thyme, oregano, marjoram, basil,
rosemary and sage. Shake chicken well to heavily coat halves.
Place on a sheet pan and cook uncovered in a pre-heated 450-degree oven
for twenty-five minutes. Reduce heat to 250 degrees and add one cup
water to pan, cover chicken loosely with aluminum foil and cook for
thirty minutes longer.
Remove foil, continue to cook for forty-five minutes longer.
Zucchini, yellow squash and fresh tomatoes go well with this. Or, cook
rice or pasta and add it to the vegetables.
—Anonymous
Editor’s Note: This column was previously featured in MM in the
September 1991 issue.
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