Real Baking with Rose Levy Beranbaum

I considered a cloud like coconut cake from the book and Nancy adored that idea but Elliott hates coconut and I had another vision—a dessert one rarely sees that appears the soul of simplicity while being extremely difficult to execute—The Gâteau Basque from The Pastry Bible. I hadn’t made it in years and discovered in the process that there wasn’t quite enough moisture to make rolling out the very fragile dough feasible without cracking. (This has since been corrected on the blog by adding 1 tablespoon of cream to the dough.) One disc of this dough needs to line the cake pan and go up the sides. This is filled with pastry cream and then topped with a second pastry disc which must be the exact size to fit inside the pan because the only way it can be handled without falling apart is to freeze it so it has no flexibility. Then it is baked and the resulting pastry/cake is like a poem—tender, aromatic, with a vanilla imbued layer of cream in the middle. I could probably make a whole dinner in the time it takes to make this deceptively simple little dessert. Oh and luckily I smelled that it was done long before the time listed in the book and realized it should bake at 325˚F/160˚C. It was not quite as tender as I remember it but even imperfect it was extraordinary.

I also made a filone (recipe also posted on this blog) which is my favorite bread. And brought Canadian Eiswein for after dessert.

We couldn’t decide whom to invite to such a personal dinner other than our significant others but at the last minute I realized that I would love to meet Nancy’s daughter Rose so she and her husband made 6 which I think is the perfect number for a dinner party. [It was a little confusing to me to hear another person called Rose throughout the evening as I rarely encounter another.) Rose, who is also a writer and cook made moist and uniquely delicious brownies that contained fresh pear and crystallized ginger, served in little 3/4”cubes, moist and flavorful with a delightful surprise aftertaste. Nancy made so many fabulous things we all ended the evening having eaten far more than ever we had intended. We decided that the next time we would do something more simple. (I actually stuck to my resolve, inviting Nancy for a hamburger dinner when testing the new rolls for this blog and one last cake for the book. aside from wonderful wine that was ALL I served and believe me it was enough.)

Here is an example of one of Nancy’s delightful planning e-mails:

Dear! Do we have a final menu?? I have laid down a pheasant & a venison pate (pray for them) & a cranberry apricot chutney [it was fantastic] & will make nuts as well for nibblies. Maybe fresh picked scallops, my new obsession on Greenmarket days. A bisteeya then, did we decide? The gateau basque sounds so superb, I wonder if the semifreddo will be excessive? Maybe instead I should make tiny biscotti & thumbnail brownies & wee meringues to have with coffee? For salad, absent watermelon radishes, I thought to do wee greens from Windfall Farms (have you had the astounding corn shoots?) with lots of herbs & olive oil & citrus. As to wine, I am just about to order another case of my ex-sister-in-law's Navarrouge (Navarro Winery in Medicino), which everyone is nuts about.
Also know as Rebel red, from old Italian roots. Cherry berry leather, sort of like a good Nero d'Avola or Malbec or juicy Montepulciano. And we can start, why not, with champagne--do you like Gruet, which I have in stock? I like it a lot but know it's too citrus for some tastes. [Nancy added later that it comes from New Mexico.] Do you want to bring a dessert wine? What do you like best with the gateau?
As for the filone, I admit to wanting it passionately; I hope to organize a poolish tonight & filone tomorrow, but anyway it won't be as made by you, & besides I will probably get distraite & end up making my usual breadsticks instead.

Nancy served the fabulously flavorful chutney on home-made toast. She also offered home-made bread and butter pickles, assortment of olives, sugared nuts, fresh baby corn sautéed on top of a bed of corn sprouts. In addition to her other gifts Nancy has a refined visual sensibility. Not only was her home beautiful but her serving pieces and arrangement of the dishes. The first official course was ceviche of scallops and micro greens. The bisteeya was fantastic and best of all she wrapped a substantial piece to take home that served as the following night’s dinner.
Nancy’s unique semi-freddo, which she called a Paul Klee Mosaic---pale orange sweet potato ice cream against pale pistachio ice cream, on a pistachio cake base, the whole covered with Italian meringue.

But most unique of the entire evenly was Nancy’s treatment of parsnips which she most generously is sharing with us including the adorable name “SnipSnaps.” I asked her if she wanted to keep the name secret but she said not necessary and I know why. She also confided in my that each morning when she awakes her mind is crowded with new ideas!

Another priceless e-mail from Nancy:

Parsnips: I share all my kitchen secrets, though I've thought of trying to make SnipSnaps a proprietary title. Cut with a wide, sharp peeler (mandoline seems not to give me what I want) & spread out to dry & crisp in a 200-degree oven on sheet pans lined with Reynolds Release Foil--they stick to anything else. Tossed & re-spread throughout the process, which make take a couple of hours. Helps to start with great organic parsnips from Greenmarket.
And finally, a quote from Nancy’s postmortem: But the gateau for me was the life-changing element. I can't stop thinking about it. It's the perfect dessert. Semi-freddo is fun, the Paul Klee mosaic, but it's more for 4 o'clock or just before the cafe closes on a rainy road north of Florence (same trip w/Nick when I ate the paradigmatic bread of Assisi, whose holes you echoed so perfectly, it was like a mathematical theorem solved).

With two writers conspiring on this dinner, it was only a matter of time before one of us would immortalize it in print. So I now invite Nancy to post her comments.