The Girls' Guide to Love and Supper Clubs (49 page)

I rest my bags on the ground and wipe my brow with the back of my hand. “What are you doing here?”

He laughs as he comes close. “I know you, Sugarman. When you said you were heading to the farmers’ market this morning, I knew there was no way you’d buy anything less than your body weight in food.”

I survey the bags around me, all overflowing with squash and tubers. “Am I that transparent?”

“Not transparent. Consistent.” He eyes my bags. “Wow, you really went to town, huh? That one squash is as big as you are.”

“Almost—but not quite.”

“And not nearly as cute.” He grabs me by the waist and pulls me in for a kiss, his thick hands resting on my hips. “Here, let me help you.”

Blake grabs three of the bags, the heaviest ones, and I throw the last over my shoulder. We walk toward Massachusetts Avenue, flanked on either side by tents and open crates. Ahead of us, a dozen or so people push past each other on their way through the wide gate.

“So where to, Sugarman? What’s next?”

Around us, the market bustles with activity—the guitar player on the corner and the people walking their dogs and the couples sharing croissants as they laugh at each other’s jokes. The city pulsates with energy on every corner, the same energy that has swirled through its veins for weeks and months and years, and yet somehow it all seems more alive because of the person standing next to me.

“Home,” I say. “Take me home.”

The next morning, at the ripe hour of 6:15
A.M.,
Blake and I stumble out of my apartment and walk toward his parking space at the corner of Eighteenth and Church. We spent the night together, as we have for the past two weeks, his arm wrapped around me throughout my fitful sleep. Normally after a meal of that size and caliber, I would have slept like a baby, but ahead of my first day of culinary school, I barely slept at all.

He wraps his arm around me as we approach the corner and rubs my shoulder. “You ready?”

“I think so.”

He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll be great. I know it.”

I give my hair a twist, tying it into a knot on my head. I’ve followed L’Academie’s instructions to the letter: hair up, no jewelry, wearing casual clothes and a pair of kitchen clogs. My chef’s jackets will be waiting for me when I arrive, as will my black-and-white checkered pants, scarves, hats, and copies of our textbooks for the year: a 1,224-page reference called
On Cooking
, and
Le Répertoire de la Cuisine
, a guide to the cuisine of French cooking legend Auguste Escoffier, written by his student Louis Saulnier and containing some six thousand dishes. I still can’t believe this is actually happening.

When we get to Blake’s car, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight. I lace my arms through his and press my head against his chest, listening to the
thump-thump
of his heart, strong and steady like a metronome. I close my eyes and squeeze Blake tighter, wanting this feeling, this closeness, to last forever. But I have a thirty-five-minute drive ahead of me, and so I pull away and kiss him softly on the lips.

“Time to go,” I say.

Blake gives me another squeeze and then hands me the keys to his car. I hop inside, toss my purse onto the passenger’s seat, and stick the key into the ignition as I lower the window in front of Blake’s smiling face.

“I’ll talk to you tonight,” he says. He leans in and gives me one last kiss. “Good luck.”

I stare into Blake’s eyes, which shine like polished silver in the early-morning light. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

He grins. “Sure you could have. You just needed a little push.”

I smile and, turning away from Blake, peer through the front windshield. Today it begins. A new chapter. A fresh start. A long-awaited commencement. My future is uncertain—full of potential pitfalls and failures, full of possible heartbreak and loss—but it is, nevertheless, mine. My future, and no one else’s. I can’t say I have any idea what awaits me at L’Academie de Cuisine, but there’s no way to find out but to dive right into the mud pit of the unknown and wiggle around until I’m good and dirty. Today is when it all starts, and I can’t afford to waste another second.

I blow Blake a kiss, raise the window, and put the car into gear. Then I step down on the gas pedal, and I drive.

Adapted from Kelly Alexander

As Hannah Sugarman knows, the number one rule of brisket making is to make the brisket a day in advance. It’s always better the second day. If you don’t own a Dutch oven or a pot big enough to hold the brisket, you can sear the meat in a big frying pan and then transfer the meat and vegetables to a roasting dish or casserole and cover with aluminum foil.

1 tablespoon kosher salt

1 tablespoon ground black pepper

1 tablespoon paprika

2 teaspoons oregano

1 5-to 6-pound brisket, trimmed of some of its fat

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

3½ cups low-sodium chicken stock, store-bought or homemade

1 14½-ounce can diced tomatoes

2 bay leaves

3 medium yellow onions, peeled and thinly sliced

3 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped

Preheat oven to 350°F. Mix together the salt, pepper, paprika, and oregano in a small bowl. Rub the spice mixture all over the brisket.

Over medium-high heat, heat the oil in a heavy, ovenproof pot with a tight-fitting lid, just large enough to hold the brisket snugly. Add the brisket to the pot and brown on both sides, about 10 minutes per side. Transfer the brisket to a platter and pour off the fat from the pot. Return the pot to the stove top and add the stock, tomatoes, and bay leaves. Bring to a simmer, scraping up any browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pot. Return brisket and any accumulated juices to the pot and scatter the onions and garlic over the meat in an even layer. Cover the pot, transfer to the oven, and braise for 1 hour. Uncover the pot and continue to cook the brisket for another hour.

Push some of the onions and garlic into the braising liquid surrounding the brisket. Put the cover back on the pot and return to the oven, continuing to braise the brisket until it is very tender when pierced with the tip of a sharp-pointed knife, up to 2 hours more (for a total of 4 hours). You can check after an hour to monitor its progress; your knife should slide into the center of the brisket easily when the brisket is done.

Remove brisket from the pot and place in a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. When braising liquid is cool enough to handle, remove the bay leaves and puree in a blender or food processor, or with an immersion blender. Pour the pureed liquid over the brisket, cover the dish with aluminum foil, and refrigerate overnight.

A few hours before serving, remove the brisket from the refrigerator. Take the brisket out of the baking dish, wiping off any sauce, and place on a cutting board. Slice the brisket across the grain, then transfer slices back into the baking dish. Let stand at room temperature for 1 to 2 hours, covered.

Preheat oven to 350° F. Cover the baking dish with aluminum foil and place in the oven for 30 to 45 minutes, until the liquid is bubbling and the meat is warmed throughout.

From Sherry Yard

DOUGH:

1¼ teaspoons active dry yeast

½ cup warm water

1¼ cup buttermilk

2 tablespoons light brown sugar

¾ teaspoon sugar

1½ teaspoons vegetable oil, plus more as needed (I use olive oil)

2 cups bread flour

1½ teaspoons salt

SIMMERING LIQUID:

2 quarts water

¼ cup amber beer

¼ cup baking soda

¼ cup packed light brown sugar

TO FINISH:

vegetable oil

2 tablespoons coarse sea salt

Make the dough: In a 16-ounce measuring cup, dissolve the yeast in the water and let it sit for 5 minutes, or until cloudy. Add the buttermilk, brown sugar, sugar, and vegetable oil and mix well.

Place the flour and salt in a bowl. Add the liquid mixture and knead until smooth.

Brush a large bowl with vegetable oil. Scrape out the dough and place in the bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and let it sit at room temperature for 1 hour.

Line 2 half-sheet pans with parchment paper and brush with oil. Lightly oil your work surface and your hands. Remove the dough from the bowl and press into a 6-inch square. Cut into 1½-by-3-inch rectangles. One at a time, shape each piece into a pretzel. (Cover the pieces you aren’t working on with plastic.) Roll each piece out into a 24-inch-long rope. Shape into a U, then crisscross the ends halfway up, twist them together like a twist tie, and pull the legs down over the bottom of the U. Place the shaped pretzels onto the lined baking sheets. Cover them with lightly oiled plastic wrap and allow to rise for 30 minutes, or until not quite doubled.

While the pretzels are rising, place the oven racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven and preheat to 450°F. Cut the parchment the pretzels are on into squares to facilitate lifting and transferring the pretzels into the water bath.

In a 10-inch-wide stainless steel pot, combine the water, beer, baking soda, and brown sugar and bring to a simmer. Two at a time, lift the parchment squares and carefully reverse each pretzel off the parchment into the simmering water. Cook for 10 seconds and flip, using a skimmer or slotted spoon. Cook for another 10 seconds, and with the skimmer, lift each pretzel above the pan to drain. Then transfer each back to the baking sheets, rounded sides up. Brush with vegetable oil. Dust with coarse salt.

Bake, switching the sheets from top to bottom and rotating from front to back halfway through, for 15 minutes, or until the pretzels are chestnut brown. Be sure and check the bottoms—mine got a little toasty! Remove from the oven and serve warm.

This recipe makes enough for one grilled cheese sandwich or 4 grilled cheese “squares,” but you can easily scale the recipe up to make as many as you’d like. These would also be tasty on honey-wheat bread.

CARAMELIZED PEARS:

1 tablespoon butter

1 teaspoon sugar

4 ¼-inch-thick slices Asian pear

ASSEMBLY:

1 tablespoon butter, softened

2 slices brioche or challah, each ½-inch thick

½ tablespoon spicy honey mustard, preferably Honeycup

½ cup grated smoked Gouda cheese

Make the pears: Melt the butter in a small frying pan. When the bubbling subsides, sprinkle sugar over the butter and stir. Add the pears and cook for 2 to 3 minutes per side, until lightly golden but not mushy. Remove the pears from the pan and set aside.

Assemble the sandwich: If you want to be fancy, trim the crusts off the bread. Spread butter on one side of both pieces of bread, making sure you spread all the way to the edges of the bread. Spread the other side with a thin layer of honey mustard. Don’t use too much mustard—that stuff is powerful! With the mustard side facing up, spread half the grated cheese on top of one slice of bread. Layer the caramelized pears on top, then sprinkle on the rest of the cheese. Put the other piece on top, with the buttered side facing up.

Heat a griddle or skillet over medium-high heat. When hot, place the sandwich in the pan and cook for about 1 minute on each side, until the bread is golden brown and the cheese has melted. Serve whole or cut into 4 squares for hors d’oeuvres.

Adapted from Ed Bruske, Aka the Slow Cook

These beans taste even better if you make them a day ahead. Reheat them gently on the stove before serving.

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced

1 pound green beans, trimmed

1 14½-ounce can diced, fire-roasted tomatoes, with their juice

2 thick slices bacon, diced

1 teaspoon fennel seeds, ground in a mortar and pestle

½ teaspoon salt, plus more to taste

Freshly ground black pepper

Heat the olive oil in a heavy pot or Dutch oven with a tight-fitting lid over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until tender, about 5 minutes. Add the beans, fire-roasted tomatoes and juice, bacon, ground fennel, ½ teaspoon salt, and pepper to taste, and bring to a simmer.

Cover, reduce heat to very low, and simmer gently until tender, about 3 hours, stirring and tasting the beans occasionally. Season with additional salt and pepper to taste.

Feel free to add as much curry to these eggs as you like, depending on how strong you want the flavor to be—anywhere from ½ teaspoon to 1 ½ teaspoons or more. For the best flavor, make sure your curry powder is fresh. You can easily double, or even triple, this recipe.