As a resident in obstetrics and gynecology, my regular diet consists of yogurt eaten while walking around the hospital, lunch that has been squished in a bag all day, and late-night snacks from wherever is open. This hardly qualifies me as a "food blogger", so I thought I would explain how it came to be that my sister has trusted me with co-blogging with her about our culinary adventures.
Our father, mentioned in my first blog as a true gourmand, is another doctor who finds a second calling as a chef. Growing up, my sister and I would experience hunger pains as he flexed his muscles in the kitchen. Hours after we had already snacked away our appetites, we would sample duck confit and rosemary-and-garlic infused pork loin. We saw the pleasure that experimenting in the kitchen brought him, and sampled its products to our delight. Our foodie-ism was cultivated by our family vacations, when a not-uncommon topic for lunch discussion would be plans for dinner. Indeed, at dinner, we might discuss how the following day of skiing or touring might be complimented by a fine meal.
One weekend while I was in college, I visited my father and made "The Perfect Flan", a favorite from the epicurious website. I followed the directions to the letter, substituting only some low-fat milk. Despite my not having any creative input in the process of making said flan, Dad was convinced: I had missed my calling.
THE PERFECT FLAN 1 3/4 cups whipping cream
1 cup milk
Pinch of salt
1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
1 cup and 7 tablespoons sugar
1/3 cup water
3 large eggs and 2 yolks
*Position rack in the center of 350 degree oven
*Combine cream, milk, salt in heavy saucepan. Scrape seeds into cream, add bean. Bring to
simmer and remove from heat. Steep 30 min.
*Combine 1 cup sugar and water in another
saucepan over low heat until dissolved, then at high heat until syrup turns deep amber (about 10 min).
*Pour syrup into ramekins and turn to coat.
Set ramekins into a Bain Marie.
*Whisk eggs and yolks and rest of sugar until
blended, add to cream gently.
*Fill ramekins and bake 40 minutes, then cool.
Refrigerate overnight, then turn onto dish to
serve.
"Why, Abigail, would you become a doctor? If you became a chef you could really HELP people and make then HAPPY!" He was distraught, just as most fathers would be to hear that their children wanted to go to medical school.
The result: I was shipped off to France, to learn from a shrill-voiced, jolly and somewhat snooty, rotund Frenchwoman "Cuisine et l'arte de vivre". Marie Blanche, as she was called, would teach me "cooking and the art of living." Far be it for the French to accept that rude Americans and other culinary tourists in Paris would understand how to negotiate polite society. In between lessons on "Saumon a l'unilaterale" and "Petit moulleux chauds au chocolat" (which roughly translates as "little soft warm things of chocolate" - what's not to love?), she taught us how not to offend fine diners by choosing the wrong glasses for our wines from Alsace, how to properly invite guests to a dinner, and how to decorate a table in a manner that was not too gauche.
For a month, I passed by the Eiffel Tower and the Chateau des Invalides as I wound my way through the streets of the 7eme and 8eme arrondissements, I visited markets full of pungent cheeses and strolled along the Seine. At lunch, we would have chilled red wines from the Loire Valley, and toast our creations. I befriended a pair of Mexican girls who were determined to bring their skills home to start a restaurant in Mexico City, and we spoke a mangled mix of French and English and Spanish. But in the end, I came home to trot myself into the library with a Clif bar.
As my sister finished her own studies, and has made herself an expert in the kitchen by combining her excellent taste with her refined knowledge of all things vegetable gained through her study of botany and her work in gardens and plantations, we have enjoyed an ongoing conversation about all things delicious. As Anna tested out meals on her growing family, running a small scale catering business, she learned many practical skills and delicious recipes. Together, we would scour the farmers markets in Ithaca, Richmond and Raleigh.
She got me a subscription of
Gourmet magazine before I started medical school, which I have continued. As I pour through its pages on my way back and forth to work on the subway, I imagine myself dicing and simmering, stirring and kneading. On the weekends, I often unwind from my work by rolling out pastas and baking.
When we get together, sparks and crumbs fly. We almost always find a time to cook together, catching up on our lives as we bustle around the kitchen. We are sometimes graced by the instinctive genius of guest chef, discriminating eater and tricyclist, Oliver.
As tasty as our confections may be, it is these moments in the kitchen together that are the sweetest.
