Talking with My Mouth Full (25 page)

I promised myself early on never to let my weight take up that much breath or time. So far I’ve been able to keep things in relative perspective. Somehow I managed to find a partner who loves me, and a livelihood that lets me use my brain and my passion. This gives me confidence and sustains me—both emotionally and intellectually. Thankfully, there’s more to my life than how I look. On my deathbed, will I regret not being five pounds lighter? No. Will I regret eating that double chocolate chunk brownie with salted caramel? No—because it was mind-blowingly delicious and added a little something sweet to my life.

In fact, maybe I’ll regret not having had two.

Which brings me seamlessly, respectfully, to the best part of it all: without even that much scheming or groveling, I not only found a way to eat for a living, but more specifically,
eat dessert
. It’s an extraordinary truth. Most days I cannot help but think I have been handed the proverbial golden ticket.

And unlike with savory food, desserts are rarely inedible. The expanse between good and bad on the dessert spectrum is arguably smaller than when you are considering poorly cooked or poor quality meat, fish, or vegetables. Desserts can be undercooked or overcooked, too sweet or too dry, but all things considered, a bite or two of even the most disappointing pudding is nowhere near as stomach-churning as chewing on raw chicken or swallowing a mouthful of grit from improperly washed mollusks. Even my most trying days on the set of
Top Chef: Just Desserts
bring reasons to thank karma for whatever I did in my last life. Sure, I had to endure some things I didn’t love—for example, in Season 1, Erika’s poppy seed and lavender ice cream, which tasted vaguely of soap, or the soupy mess that was poor Tim’s Basil Pudding with Orange, Kumquat, and Lime Granita. In the second season, Craig’s syrupy, sickly sweet lemonade with pink rock sugar rim and Rebecca’s garlicky falafel panna cotta were also a far cry from delectable. But for every failed mousse or crumble, misguided cake concoction or cloying candy coating, there has been a triumph of soul-stirring proportions for us to enjoy: In Season 1 there was Eric’s Peanut Butter Krispy Bar, created for a high school bake sale, or Danielle’s Pistachio Shortcake with Lemon Cream and Strawberries on our Dessert Shop Wars episode. Yigit’s Season 1 finale tasting started with subtle Cucumber Lime Sorbet with Straus Yogurt and Caviar Pearls, and ended with Hazelnut Dacquoise, Milk Jam, and Salted Caramel Ice Cream. Yes, Milk Jam! It’s more or less the English translation for
dolce de leche
(sweetened condensed milk cooked until caramelized). So good was Yigit’s version that when he sent me my own personal stash a few months later, I greedily gobbled it up with a spoon and didn’t share. Not even a dollop.

All of our wildest childhood fantasies were fully realized in Season 2, when the original cast of
Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory
joined us to celebrate the film’s fortieth anniversary. We created a challenge in which our talented contestants had to build their own version of Wonka’s “world of pure imagination,” complete with fruit leather wallpaper, a carrot cake garden patch, chocolate flower cups filled with cream, and an edible beehive dripping with honey. It was as close as I can imagine to the rapture of heaven, and easily my favorite day working in television to date.

But the pleasure of dessert is not only derived from a complex list of plated ingredients like manjari caramel mousse, passion fruit gelée, and pineapple sauce or a carefully constructed mille-feuille with layers of mocha cream and spun sugar. It can come in the form of the humblest scoop of ice cream, roasted fruit, or chocolate chip cookie. No matter how you slice it, dessert’s purpose is not to sustain us. It doesn’t fulfill any biological need; it is not a requirement for health or nourishment by any medical authority. Dessert is a simple splendor, craved and rhapsodized for its ability to uplift and comfort. In short: to make us happy.

And a little happiness is never a bad thing. It shouldn’t be something we have to earn or deserve. It’s about relishing a moment of joy and satiety in our hectic, complicated lives. If a few bites of chocolate help along the way, so be it.

Epilogue

Petits Fours

In every panel discussion or interview I do, people try to suggest that food television is the demise of sophisticated dining.

“Hasn’t food TV ruined food for foodies?” someone always asks.

“No,” I reply. If anything, it’s broadened the country’s interest and savvy about how to read a menu and shop for ingredients. This education has raised everyone’s standards and expectations. The result: now we can get
pluots
, organic soy, and Meyer lemons at our local grocery stores. How can that be bad?

Maybe it makes me cowardly: that I don’t fully come down on the side of either what I like to call the simplifiers, with their quick-and-easy recipes for budget-friendly meatloaf, or those who proudly call themselves food snobs or “foodies,” insisting as they do on eating only organic micro-greens handpicked by locally raised nuns. Certainly, the simplifiers have a broader reach. But the snobs are the ones moving the industry forward by discovering new trends and funding or supporting the chefs and artisans who are creating cutting-edge cuisine. When it comes to this fight, I’m Switzerland (or Canada?). I’m just happy we’re having the conversation in the first place.

Of course, I’m a product of the times I live in. My education in the food industry coincided, serendipitously, with a widespread boom in enthusiasm about the culinary world. My job didn’t even exist when I started unconsciously working toward it. Without meaning to, I stumbled into a career full of smart, interesting, wonderful people, and lots of delicious food. I certainly couldn’t have planned it, but I am so happy to have arrived at this moment just in time.

About two years ago, I was sitting with Dave Serwatka, talking about a decision we had to make about the show. I disagreed with him and was pushing for our producers to approach the issue from another angle, but he wouldn’t relent.

“Fine,” I responded. “You would know more about these things than I do anyway. I’m just a magazine person.”

“Gail, get over yourself,” he laughed. “You’re a TV person now. It’s time to face the facts.”

As reluctant as I am to admit it, it’s true. I’ve chosen this path. No one forced me to be on TV. With it comes great privilege, but also the knowledge that I’m being scrutinized by the people who watch me. That’s human nature. We all do it. It’s a gift that I’m able to be part of a very public conversation and have an impact on the world in a larger way, thanks to the magical reach of television.

Having had the opportunity to work in so many different parts of the industry over the past fifteen years has also made me realize that I don’t have to be just one thing. I can be a Canadian and a New Yorker, a magazine person and a TV personality, a wife and a businesswoman, a fan of four-star restaurants and an avid lover of street stalls. The Internet trolls who post their nasty commentary, having to go to the gym a little more, getting asked in interviews if a loose dress means I’m pregnant—they’re all occupational hazards.

In the ever-expanding food universe, I like to think of myself as a sort of cheerleader, or perhaps a translator. My job, as I see it, is to help everyone access, understand, and enjoy exciting food and adventurous cooking as much as I do and to spread the good word on how it can enrich all of our lives. I appreciate that what chefs do at all levels takes great skill, craftsmanship, talent, and patience, and I admire the farmers, purveyors, restaurant owners, and servers who play a large role in the way we all eat today. Everyone who cares about food, whether making a Toll House cookie or an elaborate petit four, is okay with me—as long as I get to lick the bowl.

Recipes

My Life in One Day of Meals

Breakfast

Scrambled Eggs with Chives and Parmesan Cheese

YIELD: 2 SERVINGS

Teenage heartbreak may have clouded my summer spent in Israel, but at least I learned how to make great scrambled eggs.

5 large eggs

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

½ small onion, thinly sliced

¼ teaspoon coarse salt

⅛ teaspoon freshly ground pepper

1½ tablespoons heavy cream

3 tablespoons Parmigiano-Reggiano, finely grated, divided

2 tablespoons chives, finely chopped, divided

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk the eggs until just beginning to foam. Set aside.

Melt the butter in a medium non-stick skillet over medium-low heat. When butter is foaming, add the onions and cook until very soft and translucent, about 3 minutes.

Season eggs with salt and pepper, add cream, and whisk to evenly combine. Add egg mixture to onions; cook over low heat, stirring continuously with a rubber spatula. When eggs are almost set, stir in 2 tablespoons Parmigiano-Reggiano and 1 tablespoon chives. Continue stirring until eggs are fully set, but still soft. Sprinkle with remaining Parmesan-Reggiano and chives for serving.

Brunch

Welsh Rarebit

YIELD: 4 SERVINGS

The perfect dish to accompany a marriage proposal, or any other late-morning event.

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided

1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

1½ teaspoons mustard powder

¼ teaspoon cayenne

½ cup Guinness Stout

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

4 ounces extra-sharp cheddar cheese, coarsely grated

4 pieces lightly toasted pumpernickel bread, sliced about ½-inch thick

4 large eggs

Coarse salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Cornichons or pickled vegetables, for serving

Place rack in the middle of the oven and preheat broiler.

Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a small saucepan over medium heat, then stir in flour with a rubber spatula. Cook, stirring often to ensure no lumps form, until mixture is golden brown and very fragrant, about 3 to 5 minutes. Stir in mustard powder and cayenne, followed by beer and Worcestershire sauce.

When mixture is well combined, turn heat to low and whisk in cheese until very smooth. Spread a thick layer of the mixture on toasted bread slices. Place on a sheet tray under the broiler, until cheese is bubbly and edges of toast are crisp and golden, about 4 minutes. Meanwhile, melt remaining 1 tablespoon butter in medium skillet over medium heat. When butter begins to foam, reduce heat to medium-low, crack eggs into butter, and fry until whites are set and yolks are still runny. Place one egg on top of each slice of bread and season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve immediately with cornichons or other pickled vegetables. Leftover cheese mixture may be refrigerated up to 1 day.

Lunch

Chickpea, Artichoke, and Spinach Stew

YIELD: 4 SERVINGS

The family I lived with in Spain tortured their vegetables. Here, I redeem them.

2 cups dried chickpeas, soaked overnight and drained

¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 large onion, finely diced

2 garlic cloves, minced

½ pound soft cooked chorizo, sliced ¼-inch thick

One 28-ounce can diced Italian tomatoes, juices reserved

3 large artichokes, trimmed, hearts quartered and reserved in lemon water

2 teaspoons sweet pimenton

1 bay leaf

2 cups chicken stock

Coarse salt

Freshly ground pepper

1 pound spinach, thick stems discarded

In a medium saucepan, cover the chickpeas with 2 inches of water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer until the chickpeas are tender, about 2 hours. Add water as necessary to maintain level. Drain the chickpeas and set aside.

In a medium, heavy pot, heat the olive oil. Add the onion and garlic and cook over medium-low heat until onion is translucent, about 7 minutes. Add the chorizo and cook until just beginning to brown and oils have been released, about 10 minutes. Add the tomatoes and cook until sizzling, about 4 minutes. Add the artichoke hearts, pimenton, and bay leaf; cook for 5 minutes. Add chickpeas, then reduce heat to low and pour in reserved tomato juices and chicken stock.

Bring stew to a boil, adjust seasonings as desired with salt and pepper, and simmer until artichoke hearts are cooked through, about 30 minutes.

Just before serving, stir in the spinach and cook until wilted, about 5 to 7 minutes. Serve with slices of pan con tomate (recipe below).

Pan con Tomate

YIELD: 4 SERVINGS

8 slices thickly cut country bread

4 garlic cloves, peeled and slightly crushed

2 ripe tomatoes, quartered

Extra-virgin olive oil

Coarse salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Toast or grill bread. Rub garlic over warm bread. Grate the tomatoes on a box grater, then spread the grated pulp evenly over the bread. Drizzle lightly with olive oil and season with salt and pepper.

Afternoon Snacks

From My Culinary School Kitchen

YIELD: 1 SERVING

This is what I ate every day while I was in culinary school. Two ingredients that kept us all going for hours.

Tear off a hunk of French baguette.

Cut a piece of Gruyère cheese.

Combine.

Serve alongside strong coffee, with whole milk and a heaping teaspoon of sugar.

Zucchini Bread

YIELD: TWO LOAVES

My mother made this spiced bread often when we were little. Despite its description, I assure you it is delicious. I wouldn’t normally choose to put raisins in a recipe like this, but they add great texture and needed moisture, which is part of the reason it is so addictive.

2 cups whole wheat flour

1½ teaspoons ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon table salt

¼ teaspoon baking powder

3 large eggs, room temperature

1½ cups sugar

1 cup vegetable oil

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

2 cups shredded zucchini, drained

1 cup chopped, toasted walnuts

1 cup raisins

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Brush two standard loaf pans with softened butter.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, cinnamon, baking soda, salt, and baking powder. Set aside. In a large mixing bowl, beat the eggs with a fork until frothy. Add the sugar, oil, and vanilla extract, stirring well to combine. Stir in the zucchini, then add the flour mixture, walnuts, and raisins. Using a rubber spatula, fold ingredients until just combined. Do not overmix.

Divide the batter evenly between the prepared loaf pans. Bake until golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 45 minutes. Let the bread cool in the pans on a wire rack. When they are cool enough to handle, run a knife around the edges of the pans, invert, and release the loaves.

Dad’s Full Sour Pickles

YIELD: FOUR 1-QUART JARS

These are the pickles of my dreams. Make sure to store them in a cool, dark place or they will not pickle properly.

8 garlic cloves, peeled and lightly crushed

2 bunches fresh dill

16 Kirby cucumbers, scrubbed with a brush to remove any dirt

4 tablespoons kosher salt

4 teaspoons pickling spice

Sterilize four 1-quart jars by running them through the dishwasher or boil them in water. Place lids in a large mixing bowl. When jars are sterilized, pour boiling water over lids. The bands do not need to be sterilized.

Place a garlic clove and a quarter of one bunch of dill in each jar. Tightly pack 4 cucumbers in each jar. Add another garlic clove and another quarter of one bunch of dill, 1 tablespoon salt, and 1 teaspoon pickling spice to each jar.

Fill the jars with cold water. Using tongs, remove the lids from the hot water, then put on the bands, turning so they are as tight as possible. Turn the jars upside down and leave for 24 hours. The next day, turn the jars upright and store in a cool, dark place. For half sour pickles, let them pickle for one week. For full sour pickles, let them pickle for one month. Once opened, keep the pickles in the refrigerator.

Dinner

Kasha and Bowties with Mushroom Gravy

YIELD: 6 SERVINGS

My husband loves “old Jewish” food, and you’ll see why when you try this recipe. Serve it with your favorite meatballs and a side salad.

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided

2 large yellow onions, thinly sliced

Coarse salt

1 large egg

1 cup medium kasha, washed

Freshly ground black pepper

2 cups chicken stock

1 pound farfalle pasta

1 garlic clove, minced

1 pound mushrooms, mix of cremini, white, and shiitake, sliced

2 tablespoons flour

¼ cup red wine

2 cups water

1 tablespoon thyme

Melt 2 tablespoons of butter in large sauté pan over medium heat. Reduce heat to low and sauté onions until fully caramelized, about 1 hour. Sprinkle 1 teaspoon of coarse salt over the onions and begin scraping brown bits off the bottom of the pan. Remove onions to a bowl and set aside.

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk the egg until just beginning to foam. Add the kasha and stir to ensure the egg evenly coats all the grains. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in the same pan, then add the kasha. Sauté for 5 minutes, then season with salt and pepper. Pour chicken stock over the kasha, cover, and cook over low heat until all the stock has been absorbed and the kasha is tender, 15 to 25 minutes.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Cook the farfalle to al dente according to package instructions. Reserve a cup of the water before draining the pasta.

When the kasha is tender, combine with the noodles and onions in a large bowl, and set aside. In the kasha pan, melt the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter. When butter is foaming, add garlic and mushrooms, and sauté until well-cooked and soft. Add flour and stir until no lumps remain, about 2 minutes. Deglaze the pan with red wine. When three-quarters of the liquid has evaporated from the pan, pour water into pan and cook until gravy thickens, about 15 minutes, then add thyme to finish.

Portion kasha and bowties into bowls, ladle mushroom gravy over the top.

Desserts

Blackberry Soufflé

YIELD: 4 SERVINGS

At the end of a rough night on the line, this soufflé made it all worth it. Years later, while attempting to re-create the recipe, I went straight to the source and spent a magical afternoon making soufflés and reminiscing about Le Cirque 2000 with the master himself—pastry and chocolate wizard Chef Jacques Torres. His quick way of moving about the kitchen and producing batch upon batch of beautiful soufflés was awe-inspiring. The results were just as breathtaking and satisfying as I remembered.

¾ cup fresh blackberries

10 tablespoons sugar, divided

4 large egg whites, room temperature

1 lemon, cut into thirds

1 cup blueberries, raspberries, and/or additional blackberries, if desired

Vanilla ice cream, for serving

Preheat oven to 400°F. Brush four 10-ounce ramekins with softened butter and coat with granulated sugar, tapping them well to make sure the sugar is evenly distributed. Set aside.

In a medium saucepan, combine blackberries and 5 tablespoons sugar, smashing the blackberries with a spatula. Cook mixture over medium-high heat, reducing until berries have completely broken down and liquids thicken, about 4 minutes. Turn off heat and set puree aside.

In a clean mixing bowl, whisk egg whites until foamy, then squeeze in juice from the top third of the lemon. Slowly add the remaining 5 tablespoons sugar to the whites, then whip until stiff, glossy peaks form. Very gently, fold the blackberry puree into the egg whites, just until the two mixtures are combined. Scoop soufflé batter into a large piping bag or large sealable plastic bag and snip a large opening off the corner of the bag. Pipe half of the batter evenly among the four prepared ramekins. If desired, place a few fresh berries on top of this initial layer and then pipe the remaining batter over the berries to fill.

Place ramekins in the oven and immediately reduce the temperature to 375°F. Bake until well-risen and tops are just beginning to brown, 10 to 12 minutes. The center of the soufflé should be just barely set. Serve immediately with a scoop of vanilla ice cream right on top.

Frozen Chocolate, Peanut Butter, and Banana Bar with Toasted Coconut

YIELD: 16 SERVINGS

My husband, Jeremy, adores chocolate, peanut butter, and banana in any combination. This recipe is one of his favorites.

½ cup unsweetened coconut, divided

½ cup roasted, salted peanuts, chopped

2 cups (12 ounces) semisweet chocolate

¾ cup creamy peanut butter

1 cup heavy cream, divided