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A Recipe for Peace
When I listen to the news these days and hear reports of rockets from Lebanon bombarding Israel, I worry for my Israeli cousins and friends but my heart also aches for the Lebanese people. My first association with Lebanon was Kahlil Gibran and his treasured book of wisdom “the Prophet.”(“Your children are not your children, they are life’s longing for itself…”) My best friend from India named her first daughter Kahlila after him. Her second daughter was named Yael. She confided in me that she didn’t dare tell her parents that it was an Israeli name so she told them it was an Arabic name. When my liberal-minded Indian friend had her hair done in an Afro and discovered that New York taxi cabs wouldn’t stop for her, horrified, she lost no time in retreating to hair straightened back to its original Caucasian texture. Ironically, I am also reminded of an old Russian friend of my mother’s who told her father when introducing him to an East Indian man with dark skin she was dating that he didn’t speak English because he was an orthodox Israeli Jew.
So sad and so scary are the prejudices that infect our beautiful world. But getting back to Lebanon and my second association is the love affair I had when I was a young woman with a man I called “The Fifth Cellist.” It was love at first sight when I saw him in the “orchestra pit” in the fifth chair of the cello section. I had a vision of him playing the cello in Boston, in a wood-paneled library, with a ray of a late afternoon winter sun illuminating his dark golden curls. Not being able to stop myself, but heart pounding with daring, with great assumed authority I asked the chorus master to put a note on the fifth cello stand during intermission. He obliged without questioning.
On the fifth cellist’s return from intermission, I watched as he saw the note, as his surprised and intrigued eyes searched the audience like beacons, and in sheer terror I instantly dropped mine. All I had dared put into the note was my phone number. (He later told me that had it been a business card of any sort he would not have responded.) That night, studying the huge Janssen book of art history, I fell asleep until midnight when the phone rang and I heard the amazing words “This is the Fifth Cellist.”
We met the following week and it was magic for both of us. I learned that he was in the middle of a relationship with another woman but couldn’t resist satisfying his curiosity as to who would write such a note. I also learned that he was indeed from Boston. That he was half Lebanese and that his father and Kahlil Gibran were best friends. And eventually, months down the road, when we talked about the possibilities of a permanent relationship, and I speculated about how my Jewish relatives would react to my marrying an Arab, Richard told me how gentle and peace-loving the Lebanese were. The image he painted was of his uncles preferring to lie under an olive tree to any other activity—so different from what I as an American was led to imagine.
I’m sure I would have married my fifth cellist but he could not/would not leave the relationship to which he felt committed. Until some years later when I discovered from a baking student of mine who coincidentally turned out to be the best friend of “the other woman” that she was the one to run off with the husband of their best friend!
Here’s the story I finally wrote 16 years ago for my column in the Los Angeles Times Syndicate, in which I nestled in the romance and the recipe that, along with my lasting love of Lebanon, was my souvenir of those magical moments in time.
Romantic Dinners Cooked by Men
Colleagues concur: one of the few problems with being a food professional is people’s reluctance to cook for us. As my food career progressed, even my mother, at first, seemed suddenly to become intimidated. This is a great pity because I enjoy the uncontrived, full flavor, comfort and intimacy of a home-cooked meal more than eating at even the best of restaurants. Perhaps it is the rarity of such events these days that makes it so appreciated. I am so thrilled when invited for dinner, before I can rethink it I offer to bring dessert. Nowadays it may not seem so unusual, but when I was in the dating mode, it was a truly uncommon treat to have a man invite me for dinner. Whenever I was in love, I always wanted to cook for the object of my affections, but in my 9 years of single life, only 6 men have ever cooked for me.
First there was Rick who prepared a South American beef stew with cinnamon that I went on to make for years, calling it Rickstew. It was unusual and good but what impressed me most was that he announced he had fired the cleaning lady that day because she washed the cast iron pan in which he had prepared the stew, thus ruining the seasoning. I was sympathetic but suspected this was a result of fanaticism more than of passion. There went Rick.
Hugh prepared and served an impeccable salmon dinner as a thank you for having bailed him out during a major snow storm returning from a ski trip to Aspen. He had a steady girl friend and he was quite the gentleman, performing his obligation and then returning me to my apartment in a round-trip taxi.
Then there was dark and handsome Bennett, with a voice of honey, who was put out that I expected him to pick me up even though he was cooking dinner. It was an oriental stir-fry and delicious. Maybe he had a point.
Michel was a trained chef from France. Since he cooked all day, he did not consider cooking recreation. He did, however, once make me a pot au feu which the next day he turned into a beef stew, so glorious with a mirepoix of vegetables as the sauce that the word stew seemed utterly inappropriate.
Jean Pierre, who grew up in a hotel/restaurant family near Orleans, made me his signature dish of carré d’agneau, entreating me never to tell anyone how, due to his exceptionally cavaliere attitude, it had slipped to the floor at one point during the preparation.
The most romantic dinner, however, was with Richard, the cellist. At the time we met, he was living with another musician, but we were mad for each other and when she went on tour, he invited me for dinner up in his log cabin. I remember the blaze of the wood fire, the spell-binding white expanse of snow and the breath-taking yearning. I wouldn’t have cared if we hadn’t eaten at all but I’m glad I had the foresight to have asked how he prepared the delicious Lebanese spinach.
The relationship ended when finally I became fed up playing second fiddle to a violist. (Yes, I did play the violin.) But I have this recipe to remember him by.
Lebanese Spinach
Serves: 2
1 pound of fresh spinach
1 tablespoon virgin olive oil
1 medium clove garlic, smashed
salt
pepper
Wash the spinach well to remove any grit.
In a large pot with tight fitting cover, place the olive oil and smashed clove of garlic. Turn the heat to medium and cook for about 3 minutes or until the garlic starts to sizzle. Place the spinach leaves on top, without shaking off any water that clings to the leaves. Sprinkle with the salt and pepper. Cover tightly, reduce heat to medium low and cook 15-20 minutes, or until the spinach is wilted and tender. Stir lightly and discard the garlic clove. Drain and serve.
Addendum: my husband of 16 years Elliott, does not cook and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
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Comments
Sounds wonderful Dana, I will have to try it as I make these biscuits fairly often.
Reply to this Posted by: Matthew | April 20, 2007 7:46 PM #
I tried a new variation on the Touch of Grace biscuit recipe from the Pie and Pastry Bible. I use all butter and buttermilk and leave out the sugar. Before stir in the buttermilk I add 1 cup of sharp shreaded chedar cheese. Then I finish making the recipe as specified. I take the pan out of the oven when the biscuits are almost done but not brown and cover them in another cup of cheddar cheese. I put them back in the oven and let the cheddar cheese melt and the biscuits finish. They don't get brown with all of that cheddar cheese. They are to die for. You do need to take the time and order the flour that Rose calls for. IT really makes those biscuits so light and fluffy.
Dana
Reply to this Posted by: Dana | April 20, 2007 11:51 AM #
leave the pan of water in the oven while they bake. thanks!
Reply to this Posted by: Rose Levy Beranbaum | January 16, 2007 10:22 PM #
Your biscuit recipes from the Pie and Pastry Bible mention putting a bread pan half filled with warm water in the oven while preheating. When the biscuits are ready to go in, does the bread pan come out? Or, does it remain in the oven while the biscuits bake? Thanks! Love the cookbooks!
Reply to this Posted by: Stacey | January 16, 2007 6:29 PM #
dare i ask if you've checked out the biscuits in the pastry bible? in any case, please do send it--a new twist on a major favorite is always valuable!
Reply to this Posted by: Rose Levy Beranbaum | August 14, 2006 3:44 PM #
Oh, no-no-no-no-no! When I wrote "biscuit," I meant biscuit as in "biscuits and gravy," NOT biscuit as in "bis-KWEE."
PLEASE-- as if I could improve on YOUR recipe! It's a standard at holiday time in my family, when I'm all but forced to do a chocolate buche de noel filled with Chambord-enhanced whipped cream and raspberries. Oh, I've tried to suggest the classic chocolate with orange, but no one will stand for it. Family tradition, dontcha know...
P.S. If you're still interested in the biscuit recipe (gravy optional), lemme know!
Reply to this Posted by: J. Bo | August 14, 2006 6:14 AM #
That's very true about the "pleasure giving business" and about what J. Bo says. I always said the main reason I do this is because I love watching other people enjoy what I make.
Reply to this Posted by: Zach Townsend | August 13, 2006 11:38 AM #
thank you zach and j. bo! yes i agree--there is much love and soul that goes into baking. i do think most cooks and especially bakers want come from wanting to give joy and pleasure to others. when i went to my new internist for the first time and he asked me what business i was in my answer (without thinking) was "the pleasure giving business"! as my husband's colleague, he looked up at me in total shock and disbelief. i guess i thought he would understand since i heard he's a great lover of wine. of course he understood once i explained in more detail!
re the grand marnier cake--great story. people love this cake so much i've decided to try to work out a wedding cake version of it for my next book and another non-alcoholic version for kids!
i'm assuming your biscuit is different from the one in the cake bible so yes--of course i'd love to have it!
Reply to this Posted by: Rose Levy Beranbaum | August 13, 2006 9:50 AM #
Oh, my, what a wonderful post, Rose! You are my "she-ro" (as Maya Angelou puts it) in so many ways.
I always knew that you were a baking genius, but I should have known that my primal feeling (i.e., no one lacking in genuine soul can bake a decent pie, loaf of bread, or concoct a quality soup) held true for you, heart as well as intellect. Would that more had your compassion and first-hand understanding.
P.S. I baked the Grand Marnier bundt cake from "The Cake Bible" for my mother's birthday this week, and barely got it to FedEx in time (truth be told, it was still plenty warm). I tried to cool it as much as possible, but time was against me, so I set the baked cake on a rack in front of a fan to facilitate its cooling, poured 1/3 of the orange juice/grand marnier syrup into the cleaned bundt pan, then tipped the cake back into it. I then poked holes into the base of the cake and poured the remainder of the syrup over/into it. I then wrapped the whole shebang (pan and all) in parchment, plastic wrap, foil, a hefty bag, and two layers of bubble wrap (in that order), enclosed 2 bars of Valrhona 60% chocolate in the package, and e-mailed my mom instructions for making a glaze for the cake.
The cake arrived safe and sound, and by all accounts was delicious beyond human reason (if rather boozy... like that's a bad thing).
Anyway, thank you again, SO much. You've changed my life as a baker. (And if you ever want the ultimate biscuit recipe, just let me know and it's yours. I've perfected it over the past 10 years, and I'm not even going to PRETEND to be humble about it...)
Reply to this Posted by: J. Bo | August 13, 2006 3:22 AM #
Wonderful article, Rose. And it comes on an important day, with this headline in the news: "Israel to halt war in Lebanon on Monday." Let's keep our fingers crossed that both sides stick with the agreement.
Reply to this Posted by: Zach Townsend | August 12, 2006 3:56 PM #