Great Aunt Julia

When I was in school at The Culinary Institute of America, we would often have the opportunity to see demonstrations by guest chefs.  I was in the Baking and Pastry program and unfortunately the guest chefs were often geared toward the regular culinary arts. I was not yet at a point in my life where I would have considered myself to be a foodie and did not know the names of many well known chefs so I often did not attend.  But I would have had to live in a hole in the ground to not know the name Julia Child.  And it would have been impossible to not want to see a living legend.

Julia came to the CIA during a time when she was promoting her book, Baking With Julia, so the demonstration was to be focused on dessert.  My classroom group was involved in the preparations for the demonstration.  Much like when you are watching a cooking show on TV and they magically swap out the just made item for the perfectly browned and ready to eat finished product, we were doing that prep.

I was involved in making a Tarte Tatin.  This is a classic French dessert in which sugar and butter are caramelized in a pan and then topped with a layer of fruit, usually apples.  A pastry crust is placed on top of the fruit and the dessert is finished in the oven.  When it is taken out of the oven, the entire pastry is flipped onto a plate and served upside down with the perfectly browned and juicy fruit taking center stage.  In addition to getting the final product ready for its close-up, we also got all of the mise en place (a fancy phrase for the set up of ingredients and tools) together to send to the demonstration theater.

We then headed over to take our seats and see "the great" Julia Child.  Julia was in her 80's.  She did not prepare the Tarte Tatin herself but instead sat on a tall stool in the demonstration kitchen and interacted with one of the chef instructors as he worked on the dish.  She was hunched and showing her age but still bright and cheerful with an easy rapport.  After the demonstration, Julia was available to sign autographs but the line was long and I did not come with cookbook in hand.  A small regret of mine in retrospect.

It was not until recently that I discovered that I share something more in common with Julia Child than just that one afternoon in the late 1990's.  Julia's maiden name is McWilliams.  My mother's maiden name is McWilliams.  I have McWilliams blood.  Could it be that, maybe, if we followed the lines of genealogy far enough, there might be a connection?  We are all connected every day through the food we eat and the memories we share.  We can find connections in a book or on a blog.  It is a very modern world we live in where every bit of information is available at the touch of a button or click of a key but I believe there are some things best left to the imagination.  So, I lift my glass in a toast to my great great great aunt Julia Child and the afternoon that we spent together baking like all good relatives should.

DIY - DIP It Yourself

For Valentine's Day, the bakery where I work sold chocolate dipped strawberries.  We do them every year and every year those of us who make them are amazed at how much they are selling for out at the counter.  We probably dip hundreds of berries and at $2.99 each they fly out of the case.  I think people usually buy several. 

I believe in paying a little extra for gourmet foods that I could not produce at home but I want to tell you all... don't pay $2.99 each for a strawberry.  You can do these yourself.  I swear.  They are easy and way more economical to do at home.  For the cost of one or two berries you can probably dip a dozen of them at home.  Berries are often on sale this time of year and all you need for chocolate is a bag of chocolate chips.  Spend a little extra money on a better chocolate chip than you might normally put in your cookies if you want but don't sweat it.

Wash and dry your berries just before getting ready to dip them.  Put the chocolate in a microwavable bowl and pop it in the microwave for 30 seconds.  Pull the chocolate out and stir.  Microwave an additional 15 seconds at a time and stir until the chocolate is smooth.  Holding the berry by the stem, dip into the chocolate.  I usually scrape a little of the extra chocolate off the bottom of the berry on the side of the bowl and place the berry on a piece of parchment or waxed paper to harden.  Additionally, before the chocolate hardens, you can dip the chocolate strawberries in nuts, sprinkles, coconut or anything else that sounds good to you.  Customization is the big advantage of doing them yourself.  There are tons of packaging options at your local craft stores but you can also just use the small foil muffin papers and any box or container that you pretty up with a little tissue.

For this Valentine's Day, ironically, my boyfriend bought chocolate covered strawberries online and had them delivered to me.  I appreciate the time and thought that went into him making sure to order them to be delivered to the door on the holiday.  A surprise package is always fun but who wouldn't also appreciate the time and thought that would go into you making them a gift by hand?  So, next year, take back the holiday... print out a card on your computer, color it in by hand, use a little glue and glitter to make it pretty and then give it to your Valentine with some homemade chocolate covered strawberries.

Valen-Times

As a child, Valentine's day always meant that I would get one of those heart shaped boxes of chocolates.  My grandmother actually bought them for all of us.  I always looked forward to that stash of candy and the inevitable hunt through the box to discover the good ones.  We never seemed to get the kind that had a diagram on the inside lid telling you where various flavors were located so eating those chocolates was almost like a game.  You might get a caramel or maybe a butter cream but you might also get stuck with one of the jelly filled ones.  Does anyone like those?

Much like that guaranteed box of chocolates from grandma, grade school also meant the obligatory tiny little Valentine's cards from all of your classmates.  There was a list of kids sent home from school and everyone would get one but of course you had to pick just the right card from the variety box of "Jetsons" themed cards for each friend.  Too many hearts on this one, can't give that to a boy or he might actually think you like him.  Perfect, use this robot one.  I assume that only the girls approached it this way.  Probably most of the boys' cards were filled out by their moms. 

Tomorrow is Valentine's day and I don't expect there will be any heart shaped boxes of chocolate or cards.  I don't know for sure that I won't get anything but my boyfriend just isn't the kind of guy to get into these commercial sorts of holidays.  My ex-husband wasn't either.  It seems that every year when Valentine's day approaches I am always left with the same question of what to do for the person I am with.  If they do something for me and I am empty handed, then what?  This happened one year when I expected my husband at the time to ignore the holiday and was surprised to find a card, flowers and chocolates all waiting for me.  Good thing I always have enough staples in the cupboard to whip up a heart shaped chocolate chip cookie.  And for all he knows, that is what I intended to do all along. 

I spent all of my teen years and most of my twenties without any significant person in my life for Valentine's day, so I guess I have never had high expectations.  It is the kind of holiday that seems to be made up just to make some of us feel inadequate.  An event that becomes a quantitative test of love.  That box of chocolates becomes a judgement.  Am I only worth a one layer box of sweets?  A bouquet of mixed flowers, why not roses?  A dozen roses, why not two?  Where is my life sized teddy bear from the Vermont Teddy Bear Company, AS SEEN ON TV for just $99.99?

A Good Popcorn Movie

I am not sure how anyone can go to the movie theater and not get popcorn.  You might have to mortgage the house or sell your car these days but popcorn is an essential part of the movie going experience.  Popcorn can make a bad movie worth the trip.  And a good movie can be the icing on the cake or perhaps the butter on the corn.

For some reason, movie theater popcorn is just better than at home.  I suppose it is because at home I am cooking up a bag of low-fat, reduced calorie, 100 calorie pop in the microwave and inevitably am going to end up with a bag that is at least one third scorched and one third kernels.  I think it was a little better back in the days before I was concerned about calories and used to pop up an unmeasured amount of corn in the air popper with a half a stick of butter in the little melting pan on top.  There is, of course, no counting calories when you are at the movie theater.  In front of the theater we prepare ourselves to enter another world, a world created by each director and cast of characters, a world that does not have to follow our rules, a world without calories or consequences.

For me, there is one major drawback to the movie and popcorn combination.  The popcorn is salty.  I like salt but that means I will be thirsty.  Soda is thirst quenching.  As soon as I sell off a few more major assets, I am all set with a diet Coke to go along with my popcorn.  I sit down in the theater and start munching away before the credits even roll.  I might not have much left by the time the actual movie starts but that is okay.  An hour or so later, I am well into the movie and most likely reaching some major story climax when I realize that I am going to have to go get up and go to the bathroom.  I am going to miss some part of this movie that I just paid a whole bunch of money to see.  I am going to have to disturb a number of people between me and the aisle.  I am going to look crazy out in the hall of the theater trying to locate the closest bathroom.  And I am going to have to do it all in reverse in just a couple of minutes to get back to my seat. 

And I will do it all again the next time I come to the movies.

Milking It

I have never been a big milk drinker.  We drank iced tea with our dinner at my house and it always seemed weird to me when I was offered milk with a meal.  Milk is mostly a breakfast item for me.  I use it on my cereal and like a glass of milk if I am having pancakes. 

I have grown up under the major assumption that milk “does a body good.”  It is a source of calcium and our bones need calcium to stay strong.  These are things we were taught.  If its good for babies it must be good for adults.  But I have recently been reading a lot of nutrition studies that point out the fact that cow’s milk is the perfect food for just one type of baby; it is called a calf.   It is the perfect food for a baby that is expected to grow to at least 1300 pounds.

So, I have been looking into the alternatives.  I am currently experimenting with using almond milk on my cereal and that half glass that I use to take my vitamin.  I don’t mind the taste and on my cereal I don’t really notice a difference.  A cup of almond milk has almost half the calories of the 1% milk that we usually stock in the fridge and the same amount of calcium and vitamins A and D. 

All that being said, I do have one major issue with almond milk.  It just isn’t milk.  Milk comes from a breast or teat, not from a nut.  I don’t know what the process is for manufacturing this stuff but I know that no one is “milking” an almond tree.  I suppose it is a marketing thing.  People are not going to be comfortable with substituting their milk for almond juice.  And they will not line up to buy something labeled almond milk-like substance.  In reality, almond milk consists of almonds and water so the term should probably be almond water.  Water on your cereal?  No way!  That is a job for milk.

In a New York Minute

The approach of summer reminds me that I need to stock my cupboards with a couple of summer food staples that I can only get in the grocery stores where my parents live.  They are items that I need once I start grilling.  One of these two items is Grandma Brown’s Baked Beans.  They are hard to describe except to say they are like traditional homemade baked beans, sort of pale in color with a thick texture, and nothing at all like the saucy variety you might get from Cambell’s.  I like both but there is no substituting one for the other when I am craving Grandma Brown’s.  They are a must have with burgers. 

Sometimes when you grow up with something that is common in your local grocery store, you don’t even realize that it is a regional product.  This is the case with Grandma Brown’s.  I am from Upstate New York and have no trouble finding this item in any of the stores there.  When I lived in Connecticut, I eventually found one store that carried them.  In my current location in Massachusetts, they are nowhere to be found.  They are actually manufactured in Mexico, NY and although I don’t know where that even is, I am definitely a fan.

Another product that I have to hunt down, especially during grilling season, is Dinosaur Bar-B-Que’s Mojito Marinade.  Dinosaur Bar-B-Que is a restaurant located in Syracuse, NY.  It is actually fairly famous and has been featured on at least one food show as one of the best BBQ joints in the country.  They have a full line of sauces, rubs and marinades and where I can often find some of their products, not all stores carry the Mojito Marinade.  It is my brother’s fault that I even know this product since he lives in the Syracuse area and once gave me a variety pack of their sauces.  They are all good but the Mojito Marinade makes my day on chicken, especially if I am going to use it to make fajitas or quesadillas.

I am ready for the coming season, I just visited New York and picked up six cans of the Grandma Brown’s and already had a couple of the Mojito Marinades in the cupboard.  If I hadn’t gotten stocked up, though, I have discovered that Grandma Brown’s Baked Beans are available on Amazon.  Dinosaur Bar-B-Que has a web site and is also available on Amazon.  The days where items were truly only available to a small regional market have vanished but unless you grew up in Upstate New York, I think it would be hard to just stumble upon Grandma Brown’s via a Google search.

Gladys Pies

My grandmother Gladys was a pie baker.  She wasn’t a professional or anything but she was very well known around town.  And when I was a kid, for one week a year, she would put out as many pies as many bakeries.

During the week of the county fair, my grandmother sold pies and other baked goods in the Country Store.  My whole family was involved in selling baked items there.  The Country Store is still a part of the fair but no longer sells any food products.  At some point, I guess in the 80’s, the local health department decided that it was too risky to let little old ladies bake pies and sell them to their friends and neighbors in this way.  Believe me, there were long time customers of those fair pies that were very disappointed.  I suspect she may have even sold a pie or two from her house those first years after we were banned from the fair to keep a few people from having withdrawals.

I also remember her making quick breads, Oatmeal Scotchies and some sort of maple walnut cake.  Well, actually, I don’t remember ever seeing her bake any of those things.  What I remember is seeing them ready to be sold.  I remember packing all those pies in crates and loading them into the back of my uncle’s truck for the short trip to the fair grounds.  You could walk to the fair from her house but not with pies, cookies and cakes in tow. 

We stayed with my grandmother for the whole week but I never saw her making the pies because she was up before dawn and done before I ever stumbled into the kitchen for my bowl of cereal.  By the time I was waking up, the oven had been turned over to my mother who was baking off white bread and cinnamon rolls.  All of the quick breads and cookies were usually baked ahead of time, packaged up and frozen until the day they were needed.  

I also never remember my grandmother baking anything that wasn’t for sale, either for the fair or the yearly lawn sale.  I have no fond memories of eating my grandmother’s baked goods.  I am sure that we occasionally got to eat things that were leftover but never the pies.  The pies were never left over.  I never gave away any of the things that I baked for the fair either.  If my dad or brother wanted a cookie or piece of fudge, they knew they would have to pony up the cash.  This was the lesson I learned from my grandmother instead of learning how to make pies. 

I am not a pie baker.  It is ironic that pies are the item I least like to make.  I find working with pie dough to be difficult and messy.  Pies are not a favorite treat to eat and I am likely to only make one or two a year, usually at Thanksgiving.  But when I do make them, they get rave reviews.  Hmm, genetics?

Harrod's is King

Is the American grocery store the cause of the downfall of cuisine in our country or just a symptom?  I am not sure what the answer is to this question.  It is a chicken versus the egg kind of argument. 

Convenience has won out over cuisine.  There are more and more frozen meals ready in five minutes or less and boxes of almost ready to eat meals.  It is not that you don’t know this or that we don’t all buy them at least once in a while.  I am not against the occasional Hot Pocket or Mac and Cheese dinner.  It is not only the selection of fast foods that I want to bring to your attention but the lack of entertainment in the experience.  What I miss is the kind of food buying experience that I have seen in foreign countries.

There is a market called Dalymar located in Munich, Germany.  Stepping into the food emporium Dalymar is like stepping back in time.  The store is set up with distinct areas for different types of products and each area has an attentive seller on hand.  These are sellers who have actual knowledge and can direct you in your purchase further than just showing you on which shelf a product is located.  My purchases included some high-end bars of chocolate, a decorative tin of mini truffles and some tea.  The tea seller was most helpful, despite the language barrier, and guided me to some wonderful selections.

But my introduction to the idea that a food store should be an entertaining experience began with Harrod’s of London.  Harrod’s is a store where they say you can buy anything and indeed they have floors of clothing, toys and things you will see nowhere else in addition to the most magnificent food market I had ever witnessed.  The staff at Harrod’s were all dressed in period clothing that made me feel like I had been transported straight into a Dicken’s novel.  The counters and refrigerated cases all gleamed and each section had a purveyor who seemed to have as much pride in their area as they would if it was their own individual store.  There was a section for everything from bread and dessert, prepared foods, confections and chocolates, fine charcuterie and, being London, an expansive selection of teas.

I know that a lot of this was about tourism and probably only the higher income family could afford to shop at Harrod’s for their everyday food needs.  There are normal grocery stores over there, too.  I don’t want to circumvent the American grocery store altogether, just find a little more of that knowledgeable staff, service and attention to detail.  It is about slowing down our lifestyle enough to realize that life should be experienced and not just lived.

Eat Me

Each time in my life that I have lost a significant amount of weight, I have encountered similar reactions from the people around me.  One typical reaction is that people tell you how great you look.  This is supposed to be a compliment.  Except for me, it always made me feel like there was a whole lot they were not saying before I lost weight.  It always comes out more like; you look so much better than before.  And inevitably, when I gained the weight back, I always felt that sentiment floating out there.

The second comment that often followed the weight loss was how did you do it?  I always think that people are hoping you will tell them that you woke up and found a little bottle on the bedside table with a note saying, “Eat Me.”  My answer to this question the first time it happened was that I had quit my job, gone to culinary school, moved to California for an internship and virtually changed every aspect of my life.  I wondered if people were ready for that particular diet.

Every time I have lost weight it has revolved around some major life decisions but in reality, the answer to the question of how I did it is, exercise and a sensible diet.  That seems a little anticlimactic doesn’t it?  It is just what every doctor and nutritionist would tell you.  And, surprise, it works.

Lately I have been doing a lot of research on eating with a whole food approach.  This involves eating less processed foods and more fruits and vegetables.  I have been choosing more whole grains and lower-fat meats and cheeses.  There is compelling research that a plant based diet will not only help you lose weight but also fight chronic illness.  I am moving in that direction but admit that it is hard to fight against the inner dialogues that tell me things like, “milk, it does the body good” and myths that insist we need meat for protein.  All that and oh, yes, I like meat and cheese.   Guess what?  They taste good.

So I continue, daily, just to try to make better choices than the day or week or month before.  It is a balance between what tastes good and what is good for me.  It is a work in progress and so am I.

Appliance Owners Anonymous

I think I might have a problem.  I might be addicted to kitchen gadgets and appliances.  Actually, the real problem is that there isn’t room in the kitchen where I am currently living for all of my fun tools. 

I have always liked this stuff.  It all started with the old-fashioned French fry cutter that I used as a kid.  It was an aluminum contraption with a metal grid that you forced the potato through with a lever resulting in uniform potato sticks.  We also had an antique pocket sandwich maker that we used in the wood stove.  With two slices of bread, a little sauce and some cheese you could make a nifty little pizza pocket long before Hot Pockets ever hit the market.

I currently have two waffle makers that I only use a few times a year, one standard and one Belgian style.  I strongly prefer waffles to pancakes which is why these actually get used at all.  I also have an ice cream maker, a Crock Pot, a panini grill and a stick blender.  I use a Crock Pot but not the one that I own.  The person I live with has a couple of them.  Most of my gadgets are in storage around here somewhere or in a cupboard above the refrigerator that is inconvenient to get into.  There is a fryer but I guess that I am eating too healthy to use it.  I got a nice food scale for Christmas one year but I don’t think I ever used it before it got stored away and there was once a food dehydrator that only got used twice. 

At the moment, I am missing my Kitchenaid stand mixer, also stored away due to lack of counter space.  I once thought I would like to own all of the attachments that go along with it but I have had to scale back my appliance dreams.  I used to bake a lot more than I do now anyway.  As a matter of fact, there are a couple of totes filled with specialty bake ware and cake pans in the basement along with that mixer.  Someday perhaps I will have a bigger kitchen again but for now I have had to admit that I am powerless over my kitchen.  Do you suppose there is a ten-step program for this?

Short Order

My oldest brother has a day job with a university but he is also a folk singer and guitarist.  He has a couple of CDs that he recorded under the name of Dana “Short Order” Cooke.  I guess that is a little better than a nick name like “Bleeding Gums” but I have always thought of myself as being the more authentic short order cook.

My first summer job was at a restaurant near my house where I was hired mostly as a dishwasher but also all around kitchen helper.  I did salad prep, appetizers and plated desserts during the night in between keeping up with the dishes.  It wasn’t exactly the most appetizing combination.  I also tried to learn what I could to help out the cooks and for some reason have fond memories of a dish called Chicken Calvados.  I spend two summers at this job, feeling overused and underpaid.

The following summer, I tried a different restaurant job where I learned that overworked and underpaid was pretty much par for the course when you are summer help.  At this second restaurant, I got to make sandwiches, fried items, burgers and a little more of that all around kitchen helper stuff.  It was hot work for the summer time and being a tourist town we were always busy. 

I had many friends who were cooks during those summers.  One of those friendships changed my future.  I was in college working on my bachelor’s degree, when this friend called to see if I would like to join her on a visit she was making to the Culinary Institute of America.  It was her dream to attend school there.  I was happy to take a break from classes and go on a little road trip despite not knowing anything about the CIA.

I soon learned that the Culinary Institute of America was considered to be one of the best cooking schools in the United States, possibly the world, and I immediately fell in love with the campus filled with beautiful brick buildings set alongside the Hudson River.  My friend ultimately decided to go a different direction but a seed was planted in my mind.  I had never even considered anything other than an academic college and getting my bachelor’s degree.  I was in my final year at SUNY at Albany and would soon graduate with a dual major in English and Psychology, so quitting at that point wasn't really an option but I did feel a little cheated by a high school guidance staff that didn’t help me explore all my options.  After college, three years at a job that was not right for me became the manure that was needed to fertilize the seed that was planted that day.  And that is how I changed my name to Denelle “Pastry” Cooke. 

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

One of the big fundraising events at the church I went to growing up was the church supper.  There were always a few of these every year and our church was lucky enough to have a retired chef in the congregation to head up the meals.  In the summer it was usually a chicken barbecue that we could smell throughout the neighborhood and sometimes roast beef.  In the winter there was soup sold after church to take home for lunch or dinner.  But the best attended event was the Chicken and Biscuit Dinner.

This dinner involved a couple of days of work that included lots of chickens to be cooked ahead of time, then picked and pulled apart, chicken gravy to be made, side dishes to plan, desserts to solicit from the congregation and all the last minute work that had to be done on the day of the dinner. 

Dinner was served family style and as tables were filled, bowls of mashed potatoes, vegetables, chicken gravy and of course biscuits were delivered and refilled until all the guests were full.  Serving tables was one of my first jobs helping out with the dinners and I often found myself walking around each table offering up a tray loaded with a variety of pie or cake slices for dessert.  

When I got a little older, I noticed some of the boys my age volunteering in the kitchen where the chef was teaching them some of his secrets.  I was jealous.  The chef was from a generation where more men were in the kitchen so t took some convincing to get myself a spot kitchen.  Once I made it, though, I learned to make the most important part of the dinner, biscuits.  These were the lightest, fluffiest biscuits and just as delicious with just butter as they were smothered in chicken gravy.

The biscuits were made in a large batch that involved scaling out the flour, salt and baking powder and then working in the required butter.  This is where the biscuits became a true hands-on or perhaps hands-in experience since the butter got rubbed into the flour between my hands.  I then turned the bowl over to the chef who carefully added the milk and turned the dough out onto the counter to be shaped and cut.  The biscuits were baked until golden brown and brushed liberally with butter before being rushed to the tables still warm.

Over time, our chef turned all of his various secrets over to several of the other volunteers so we were able to take over and let him get his rest.  I knew how to do the biscuits, another person had learned to make the gravy and still others were in charge of potatoes and veggies.  There was always a real community feeling both in the making of the meal, serving it to friends and neighbors and eventually all sitting down to share the final bowls of food. 

Foodie Facts

I consider myself to be a foodie but not a food snob.  I just love food; eating it, making it and watching it on TV.  It doesn’t matter to me if a food is trendy or fashionable as long as it is good.

I don’t like lobster, hate caviar and have never tried foie gras.  I am not a big eater of mushrooms, so can’t really imagine paying a whole bunch of money for truffles.  I don’t understand why people seem to think I should try to learn to like expensive foods that don’t appeal to me when no one would ever suggest that I should learn to like doggie doo.  I consider those people to be food snobs.  I don’t care if loving macaroni and cheese is not as sophisticated as enjoying mangling a giant sea bug and sucking its flesh from its cracked red claws.

I do like to try new things.  When I was in culinary school, I got to try a lot of foods that were new to me.  One of the dining areas that we ate in was responsible for teaching the cooking students regional American cuisine.  This included everything from fried chicken to frog’s legs.  Of course, the frog’s legs tasted like chicken.  I was able to discover that I liked rare tuna steak but not trout with the head still on.  I can safely say that I like most of my food without eyes, except potatoes.

I seem to spend a lot of time watching food being made on TV.  I particularly like to watch cake competitions but also enjoy watching cooking competitions like Top Chef.  I am a big fan of travel/food shows and don’t shy away from watching people eating strange foods that I will never experience.  I often find myself watching these shows while I ride the exercise bike and wonder if that is just wrong. 

Whatever I do, food is a part of my life and I fantasize that I will find my fame in food.

Miss Management

When I was in California on my externship from the Culinary Institute of America, the pastry chef told me that most of the students that come through their kitchen did not stay in the industry.  He hoped that I would be an exception to this rule, as he felt I had talent.  I would not have predicted the path that would eventually land me in retail management.

           

There are very few ideal ways to bake for a living and still have an outside life.  Working in a bakery usually requires being up at 4AM and restaurant pastry chefs have to work too many nights and weekends.  I did the early morning thing for a while when I lived in Boston but didn’t have a social life since I needed to be in bed by nine every night.  I also decorated cakes when I lived in Boston.  The hours were great, the pay was so-so and the boss was insane. 

           

The last place I was working in Boston shut down without warning, that owner was nuts too, and I ended up moving to Connecticut to work in a casino bakery.  That was a decent job with tolerable hours.  We got to do things there that not many bakeries or restaurants can afford to let you do, like making gingerbread villages and other display only type items to decorate buffet tables.  I would have stayed there if I thought I had an opportunity to advance but I hit a wall or perhaps ceiling is a more common term for what I was up against.  I found another job, at a local grocery store bakery and gave my notice.

At the grocery, we made some of our own stuff, did some things from mixes and still others from frozen dough or par-baked items.  I got to decorate cakes there to exercise my creativity and keep things interesting.  But my manager was nuts.  I know it sounds like I might be the problem, if every manager I ever was either crazy or not doing their job right.  Guess you just have to trust me on that.  Suffice it to say, I was in a pretty good place financially and had the luxury of not being overly dependent on my place of work.  I knew I could find something else before I would have trouble covering the bills.  So, I quit without a plan.

           

I did not know that the something else I would find would be Walmart.  The area where I lived then (CT shoreline) has a tourist driven job market, so after a summer of doing odd jobs here and there, I decided it was time to get back to work before the available jobs dried up.  While shopping at my local Walmart, I learned that they were expanding into a Super Center and looking for bakery people.  I figured it was a least a job and I could always keep looking.  I started there as a cake decorator, moved up to Bakery Lead quickly and stayed there for a bit too long.  I got to keep decorating and that I liked but a lot of other parts of the job were frustrating.  I eventually moved to Produce Lead, one of my first giant steps away baking altogether.  The next step was away from food and into the position of Personnel Manager.  From there it was pretty easy to keep going in that direction and I shortly decided to take the step to Assistant Manager.  Essentially, I thought, if I am going to be in retail I might as well earn as much money as I could and do something that would look good on my resume.  Oh yeah, and I also thought that most of the managers I was working with at that time were nuts, and I could do better.

           

After going through a training program for management I landed in a small general merchandise store.  As a manager in a non-grocery Walmart, my life had come full circle.  When I was a caseworker for the Otsego County DSS, I used to make cakes and cookies and other goodies and take them to work for birthdays and holidays and people would always tell me that I was missing my calling.  I followed that calling for a while and somehow ended up back at a job where I took cookies and other goodies to work and people would tell me I should be baking for a living.  I thought it was the end of my baking career but life had a few more twists and turns in store for me and I am currently back in a position where I bake and decorate cakes.  Where will it end?

Fat, Dumb and Happy?

I have lost and gained a couple of me by now.  But I have also lost and gained some other things along the way, mostly knowledge. 

Around the time that I lost weight the first time, during culinary school, was coincidentally the same time that I first found my way onto the World Wide Web.  Growing up, I had learned to believe that guys did not date fat girls.  And I erected a pretty big wall around myself to protect against that kind of rejection.  The internet taught me that this was not the way of the world, at least not the world of the BBW (big beautiful woman).  Ironically I was that big at the time.  But I did learn that there are many men out there that are not only willing to date a woman who is above average weight but many of them who prefer a pleasingly plump figure.

When I gained that weight back, I discovered that I had also gained a sense of self-esteem that had nothing to do with what I weighed.  I knew that I was the same person inside no matter what was going on outside.  And I deserved to be loved for all of it.

When I was engaged and looking forward to my wedding, I worked incredibly hard to lose weight.  I counted calories and exercised daily.  I joined a gym and worked with machines to help tone my shape.  I was successful but I felt deprived all the time.  I would see a commercial for a new kind of candy bar and feel sad that it was something I couldn’t have on my diet.  After the wedding pictures were all taken and placed carefully in an album that I could truly be proud of, my motivation waned and my waistline waxed.  It became unfortunate that one of the last things I remember my grandmother saying to me before she passed away was, “I see you are gaining back the weight.”

What I learned from this trip around the failure track was two fold.  First, if your motivation comes from a single event or goal, once that event passes so will your motivation.  Secondly, if you feel deprived all the time, you are not going to stick with it.  One more lesson learned from both of my previous attempts at a thinner me was to never say never.  As in, I will never be so stupid as to gain all this weight back again.  I learned this lesson so well that I had to prove it one more time when I again lost weight during my divorce and gained it back after.

So now we come to the big question.  What is different this time?  Yes, I am in transition again.  But I won’t call it a diet.  And there is quite a lot that I am doing differently although I still won’t say, “never again.” 

First, I am not trying to lose weight.  I am trying to make healthier decisions.  I can honestly say I don’t even know what my current weight is and I am pretty sure there isn’t a whole lot of women in America who can claim that.  We are obsessed with weight.  And women of all sizes are wishing they weighed just a little less or had a smaller this or bigger that.  I haven’t been on a scale since I started making changes and I plan to keep it that way.  I know I have lost weight.  My clothes fit better, my feet hurt less and people have noticed at work.  But knowing that number won’t do me any good.

I am trying to develop a lifestyle that I can live with and if that means that I live a little longer and healthier, then that is all the better.  I am back on the bike for half an hour a day and I realize that every time I have regained weight it started with slacking off on exercise.  I am choosing whole grains over refined ones and low-fat dairy products over full-fat.  I am cooking most of what I eat in order to know what is going in and avoiding overly processed foods.  I eat when I am hungry but snack on way more fruits and veggies.  And if I feel deprived, I give myself a break.  

With any luck and lots of hard work, I plan to be a little less fat, a little less dumb and a whole lot more happy.

Ghosts of Diets Past

If you need some dieting advice, ask a fat girl.  They may not have figured out how to successfully manage their weight but I guarantee they have tried more diets than their slim counterparts.  They can probably even tell you which ones worked best in the short term.  It is mastering the long term that most people who diet have a hard time doing.  I speak from experience.

I have been a fat girl for most of my life.  I was chubby as a child and when a lot of the other kids had their growth spurts and became a little more long and lean, I did not.  As a teen, being anything other than average can be painful.  I was the girl in seventh grade with braces, glasses, acne and extra weight.  I never had the most trendy clothes and things like a weigh in during gym class were humiliating.

My mother took me to a nutritionist who taught me a system of tracking what I was eating and measuring my portions.  I think I lost ten pounds but at that age I resented having to put so much attention on everything I ate when the rest of the world seemed to be able to eat whatever they wanted.  I did a lot of closet eating back then.  I was determined not to be one of those yo-yo dieting girls, so instead of going on and off of diets, I just swore them off altogether.

I got teased in school.  With all the focus these days on bullying in schools, I can relate.  Fortunately, for me, it was a case of “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”  I would have liked to have had dates for school dances and all those normal teenage experiences but I like who I am today.  I credit myself with a great sense of humor and sense of resilience.  If I could go back and talk to my younger self, the only thing I would tell her is to love yourself no matter what.

I was in my late twenties when I went to culinary school.  While I was there, I found the motivation to eat better and do some daily exercise.  I continued this while I was on my internship in California.  It was actually pretty easy to eat healthy in California because there was so much fresh produce available.  Taking regular bike rides was easy there too since it was a rare day that it would rain and most of the roads were pretty flat.  I would tell you how much weight I lost, it is a pretty impressive number, but I gained it back after a year or two so it is not something I celebrate. 

I lost even more weight a little later in life when I was engaged.  I was determined not to have wedding photos that I hated and I got down to a size I was very proud of.  But I am not proud that I gained that weight back too.  And a few years later, when I started going through my divorce, I lost weight again.  Guess what?  Gained most of it back. 

It is no wonder that people give up trying.  (To be continued...)

The Cooke Bakes

Whenever I am invited someplace for a holiday or dinner party, I like to offer to bring something and in most cases it is usually something baked.  If I am invited back, it always becomes a challenge to outdo myself.  Fortunately, people who do not bake for themselves are easy to impress.  It is one of the reasons that I think Martha Stewart has been so successful.  The average fan doesn’t seem to understand or perhaps they just don’t care if that kind of culinary magic takes a little slight of hand.  They may not realize that there are people whose entire job is food styling.

When I was married, I would take my in-laws things like gingerbread sleighs filled with homemade candies, lovely decorated cakes, a chocolate house and over the top platters of Christmas cookies.  They couldn’t believe their eyes or their mouths.  It was easy for me to do and I had to learn to accept their compliments without explaining how little I felt I had done.  I was once asked to make a cake for the birthday of a nephew and when he saw it and ate it he said it was the best cake he ever had in his life.  Imagine how I felt when I was later asked to make the same young man a graduation cake.  What could I possibly to do to top the best cake of his life?

I don’t think of myself as being much of a cook.  I have dishes I can do well but they are mostly casseroles and simple foods.  I don’t necessarily know what to do with a steak and have no idea how to prepare seafood.  I don’t love it the way I do baking.  People who understand both will tell you that they are very different and I admire chefs who can do either equally well.  Chefs can grab whatever ingredients look good to them and find a way to throw together a great dish.  A baker may be inspired by a specific ingredient but putting together a cake takes an understanding of different kinds of flours, types of sweeteners and forms of leavening.  Cooking is improv; baking is science. 

Piece of Cake

I have been decorating cakes for over half my life.  I learned from my mother.  Mom always made special cakes for my birthday, personalizing them to whatever I was into that year.  My favorite cake had Kermit the Frog on top and was made during a time when the Muppet Show was a weekly “must-see”. 

When I was a teen, my mother took an adult education class to learn more cake decorating.  When she practiced at home with all the bags and tips, I watched and learned.  She showed me what she knew and I learned what I could from looking through books and manuals.  My mother was always the one to bring the birthday cake to all the family parties and after I learned how to decorate I took over making mom’s birthday cake because no one should have to make their own cake.  Since my mother’s birthday is New Years Day, we always had a family get together.  Those first cakes may not have been the most beautiful but I think she appreciated someone making the effort for her.

When I graduated college, the job market was weak and I was unsure of what I wanted to do so I ended up living at home.  During this time, mom and I took a cake decorating class together and I continued to improve.  When my mother started to feel like I was surpassing her in ability, she let that be an excuse to let me take over all of the family cake decorating.  And when I got my first full-time job, as a caseworker, I soon became the office party cake person as well.

It was through that job that I got the opportunity to do my first wedding cake.  Someone in my office gave my name to someone in another office and they gave me a call.  This is how I ended up doing my first cake for two nice ladies who were having a commitment ceremony (only very recently has NY state legalized gay marriage).  It was a spice cake and a nightmare.

Unfortunately the happy event was scheduled for July and although summer in Upstate NY is not exactly sweltering, that July was hot, Africa hot.  If you don’t know anything about cake decorating, let me just explain that butter cream icing is actually made with butter.  If you have ever left the butter on the table on a hot summer day you may be able to imagine the challenge of molding this substance into the beautiful red roses requested by the clients. 

As my mother watched on, trying to be supportive, I iced the cake layers and then tried to place my roses on the sides of the cake.  The weight of the flowers combined with the overly soft icing resulting in large sections of icing peeling back off the sides of the cake and flowers that drooped as if they desperately needed to be watered.  At first, I calmly re-iced but as the cake continued to shed its icing I got closer and closer to my own meltdown.  Since my parents were years away from ever owning an air conditioner, my only choice was to wait until the evening, hoping the house would cool enough to begin again.

Once the sun went down and some cooler air began to circulate, I re-re-iced but in the end the only working solution was to alter the design of the cake.  I moved the roses from the side of the cake to sitting on top of each layer.  It was an important lesson.  I learned that sometimes you have to be willing to alter your plan.  I don’t think the happy couple noticed the slight change and as far as I know the cake was a success for them.

While I was working as a caseworker, I did quite a few cake jobs on the side.  I never charged enough for any of them and considered each cake as practice and learning experience.  Most of the cakes I did for people were a lot simpler and easier to complete than the lesbian wedding cake but in the end it is one of my best cake decorating memories, filled with a few tears and even more laughs.

Recipes For Success

I suppose with so much information going digital, recipe boxes may become a thing of the past but old fashioned recipe boxes can be as telling of our history as the family Bible.  I have my collected recipes in several places.   

My traditional recipe box contains recipes that I got as a child through 4-H projects, friends, neighbors and family.  As I look through that box, I can remember from whom each one came, when I first tried it and why I decided I wanted the recipe for my own.  Some of those recipes are typed, some in my own youthful scrawl and some in other people’s handwriting.  There are those that got copied but never used and then those so beloved that they are stained and crusted with remnants of ingredients.  In my mother’s recipe box you would find the revered Whirligig recipe was so overused that the title is worn off the top and the card only softly resembles the rectangular shape familiar to the recipe box.  You would have to know what you were looking for to find it.

I also have a separate recipe booklet with all my recipes from my internship in California and another from a job in a casino bakery.  Unlike my earlier recipes, these are mostly in large measurements and may be in pounds instead of cups.  Few of these recipes list all of the instructions someone would need if they didn’t already know how to make them.  And many of them are hard to read because they have been grease stained through heavy use.

My most used set of recipes is in a forth index card style notepad.  I have slowly compiled many of my favorite recipes in this booklet because I got sick of searching for them elsewhere.  Some of them are repeated from the other locations and some of them are the large restaurant size recipes translated to smaller amounts to use at home.  A few of them are original recipes, variations of other recipes that weren't quite what I wanted.  Recipes don’t go into this book unless they have been taste tested and passed with flying colors. 

Regardless of when they were written or how often they get used, searching through my recipes is like flipping through a photo album in order to spark wonderful memories.

A Maple Staple

When I was younger, I used to look forward to our local county fair in the summer for many reasons and one of them was maple sugar candy.  At that time, I only got maple candy when I could buy it at the fair.  It is still something I only get a couple of times a year.  I know that you see maple candy in specialty stores fairly commonly now but it isn’t as good.  The commercial mass-market candy that these stores sell is just not the same as freshly made.

The maple candy I got at the fair was produced by a local syrup maker and was sold in an area called The Country Store along side some of his other maple products.  They do not sell it in that area anymore but there is a couple of places to get the good stuff.  The maple candy you buy in a specialty store tends to be much harder, more crystallized, and less flavorful.  I prefer the softer bite of the variety I grew up with.  It literally melts in your mouth, pooling maple goodness onto your tongue.  It was a treat a was willing to spend my own hard earned money on and I usually tried to stock up at the end of the fair.  It never lasted very long.

Now, I am lucky enough to have a brother who makes his own maple syrup and maple candy.  Every year for Christmas, he gives me a nice tin of maple candies and many years a gallon of syrup as well.  The past couple of years he has skipped the syrup but only because I was having a hard time using it up and had started to get a stock pile.

For most people, real maple syrup is an expensive treat and not a burden.  Too much maple syrup is certainly not the worst problem so I am not complaining.  If it is every something that happens to you, I have a few suggestions.  In addition to making pancakes, waffles and French toast a bigger part of your diet, I have added maple syrup to homemade bread, pies and bowls of oatmeal, plus I found recipes for maple popcorn and maple granola.  I also repacked it in gift bottles and did some re-gifting.  The only thing left to do is find a way to use it outside of the kitchen... maple facial anyone?