This was a big year for Ella, and one of the bigger events was her First Communion. Many families have very, very large celebrations. We were brief guests at one than included, among many other offerings, a taquero equipped to make several hundred tacos–in addition to fantastic chicken mole, rice, drinks, fruit, vegetables, salads….
Our family is small, and so we had a very small celebration, but it was still one of the more lovely afternoons we’ve had in this house. Being my child, Ella made it clear that she wanted to choose the menu. I made several suggestions: pork tenderloin? steak? grilled halibut or salmon? Totally unacceptable.
I wanted something easy and fast, something make-ahead.
She wanted fresh pasta.
I said no way.
She said, “Mom. Did Grandma Pat get to choose YOUR First Communion party food?”
“Um, yes. She did.”
Her jaw dropped.
“I was 8 years old. So are you.”
“But mom! It’s my day. I should get to choose my food.”
And since the day was, in fact, all about her, and, unlike a birthday, only happens once in a lifetime, and is, in fact, a profound initiation into another mystery of faith, I relented, and spent most of the week cooking and running errands for a party of 8. I figured the least I could do was honor that first feast with one as a good as I could make.
It went something like this:
Mini-Mario was enlisted…
to mix the pasta…
roll, and carry the pasta…
and hang 3 lbs of pasta around the kitchen. We cut and froze it.
He also shelled 3 lbs. of fava beans.
I spent a lot of money on pink and white flowers…
but they were so pretty care I didn’t care.
The pink and white theme carried out in the Fra Mani meats…
and the fava beans found their way into our family’s favorite spring spread:
raw favas pureed with olive oil, lemon, parmesan, mint, garlic
Prosecco with lemonade and mint for the grown-ups, bubbly lemonade with mint for the kids
An al fresco table, where we ate the fresh fettucine alfredo, with grilled asparagus,
sauteed spinach with meyer lemon, baby tomato salad…
a Pink Lady cake, colored with strawberry puree, decorated by Ella…
The boy loved the chocolate card his sister made him, and his shiny new red bike, but most of all he craves one thing and one thing only: LEGO.
I tell, you, the boy’s passion for the bricks surpasseth all else; the glory of a new kit transcends every earthly joy he has known thus far. In his fifth year, Finn has dedicated himself to the difficult discipline of interlocking geometry and re-made himself into something of patient zen master. His room has become a shrine, the place he repairs to for the “quiet” he craves in which to build, and when he emerges, sometimes 4 hours later, it is with crazed but beatific look of a saint: utterly otherworldly and fanatically contented.
And so, we had no choice but to make the boy a LEGO cake for the LEGO birthday party he had with another friend.
He emerged from his domain long enough to help make the cake with his sister, which we did in a floury mess two days before. We used the Devil Dog Cake from Smitten Kitchen, which is a moist, chocolate cake with marshmallow filling and which, like all the Smitten Kitchen cakes, was terrific.
And Kory worked his magic the night before the party.
He did have a few WWDD moments (What Would Duff Do?), as squares are remarkably less forgiving than volcano shapes, and a less-moist cake would also have helped, but the end result was, well, you can see for yourself:
It was, as you can imagine, a huge hit with the 5 & under set. And at pick-up, their parents didn’t mind a small slice either.
The only problem is that between this and the Volcano Cake, the bar has been set. There will be no rest for Kory until the kids can roll fondant on their own.
When I moved to the suburbs, I quickly fell in with an excellent group of moms. These women were funny, friendly, well-educated, down-to-earth. They had adorable, energetic, smart kids. They made me feel welcome and they fed my soul. We and our yearlings became fast friends…and the years sped by. More than five years later, this group has been through a lot. Pretty much everything, really: births, deaths, divorce, remarriage, being hired and fired, moving house (internationally, even), serious illness…truly the gamut of what can happen in the middle years of breeding, parenting, and relating to one’s spouse. We’ve celebrated and consoled together, taken day trips and had plenty (okay, maybe not enough) of nights out.
But as often happens, when the oldest of our children entered kindergarten, the group began to fracture. Our kids attend different schools, and a few have moved out of town, though still within reasonable driving distance. So when weekly meetings became impossible, we convened a monthly Pizza Night. The goal was simple: to sustain our friendship and those of our kids. The overarching plan was to to Keep It Simple. No fancy cooking, no competitive potlucks, no late afternoon kitchen work allowed. We knew we’d never keep it up if this were the rule. To keep the emphasis on the friendship, we would order in pizza and bring a few simple sides to supplement.
We gathered the first Friday of every month, chipped in for pizza, and potlucked the rest: we brought appetizers, salads, sides, dessert, drinks for the kids, & plenty of wine. I’m pretty sure we all just chipped in whatever we could make that week, depending on the state of our pantry and the level of our weekly insanity. It was really, really fun. The kids ran a little wild and free, and we got a chance to catch up–sometimes around the living room, often outside on the patio. Since the kids have been together for so long, they were as eager to hang out as the moms were and, once fed, required minimal attention.
And something happened when we went from the morning playgroup to the Friday Night Pizza Party. Sure, we always had great food in the mornings, but there’s something different about convening for an easy dinner at the end of the week. We were all relaxed, and the event felt more social and less like a scheduled kids’ activity. It was something to look forward to for moms + kids alike, and something both groups were equally happy about attending. Of course, it’s great–and necessary–to get out without the kids, but there’s a certain excitement generated when the party is for them, too. There’s something about gathering for a meal, even–maybe especially–a simple one, that feeds hungers that are not always apparent. And that is what this group of women (like so many groups of women across the country, I’m sure) has always done so well.
For a while, we were good about keeping this up pretty regularly, but inevitably, it got harder. Now we get together only every few months, but the thing is–it’s still the same. Each time we meet, it’s still as if I’ve seen these women yesterday.
At our most recent night in, one friend made her flan, which is a little bit of a dessert staple for the group. It’s mostly for the moms but the kids sometimes finagle their way a slice, too. A quick search on Epicurious turns up nearly 60 recipes for flan, including coffee, orange, almond, corn, dulce de leche….but this is my friend’s version, and it’s always pleased us.
Mom’s Night In Flan
4 large eggs
1 can sweet and condensed milk
1 can evaporated milk
1-2 tsp.vanilla
1.boil water for “water bath”
2.mean while, in saucepan bring about 1 cup sugar to boiling over medium low heat till browns into carmel, watch and stir constantly, (I don’t use a thermometer or anything, I just eyeball it.
3. in any baking pan pour hot carmel into botton of pan (I’ve used glass, metal bread pan, corning ware, any size. My preference is a round dish about 7-9″)
4. Combine eggs, both cans of milks and 2 tsp. of vanilla in blender,mix on high spead 30-60 secs., depending on which kids are screaming
5. pour mixture over carmel and use a larger pan to pour the boiling water into for the “bath”
6. cook for 1 hour-1:15 mins. in 300 degree oven
7. cool to room temp.and then put in fridge for as long as you like
Ever since we’ve had a lemon tree, and more lemons than we knew what to do with, I’ve been making limoncello–a lemon liqueur made from steeping the zest of fresh lemons in grain alcohol, then mixed with simple syrup and more alcohol. It hails originally from Sorrento in Southern Italy. It’s strong and fragrant and a gorgeous bright yellow. Served ice cold in warm weather, it’s just about one of the best things you’ll ever drink.
When we bought our house, it came with an excellent old orange tree, so orangecello was added to my spring brewing. ThenI discovered crema di limoncello and crema di orangecello (in which sweetened milk is added to the steeping zest; think: creamsicle for adults) and my house in spring began to look a bit like a small artisinal distillery. The word spread.
If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know I like parties of any kinds, and that we live in an Eichler, which is pretty much designed for entertaining. So it was natural that last year, when lemons were in full season, I held a brewing party for my girlfriends, who also like a good party, all the more if it can provide them with delicious hooch for the year–which also happens to make really excellent gifts for Christmas if you can manage to keep it in the house that long. So, what was our family tradition became a communal event, and because of when it takes place, it really does feel like we’re welcoming spring and looking straight into the mouth of summer There are so many of us now, that the brewing has taken on a life of it’s own. My kids know that the recipe will be passed on to them when they’re (much) older, the husbands and siblings and grandparents look forward to the fresh batches, which we all drink at holidays and family dinners or just whenever. There’s more than one story of a batch mysteriously “disappearing” after a relative’s visit. And for now Ella and Finn know that limoncello season means lots of fresh lemonade and orange juice for them, and one of my Italian friends got her kids in on the zesting action in her home. Even Finley, this year, when he saw me zesting oranges instead of lemons wondered, “You making limoncello with oranges? Yum!”
For the party, I supplied the recipe and know how, as many oranges as my friends could pick off my tree, the last of my previous year’s limoncello for tasting, some prosecco for mixing and drinking straight, and my friends brought their lemons and alcohol and a dish to share and we zested and juice and ate and drank all afternoon.
It’s an excellent party: easy, fun, productive. This year my friends branched out: some started a batch of crema, some added vanilla beans (which I always do to my cremas and meyer lemon batches), they use different vodkas, etc. There’s basically a recipe for every family, which is how it should be.
I set up one zesting station, with 6 zesters, where everyone took turns zesting into their large glass jars. At another station, set up with 3 juicers (2 were mine, one brought by a friend), we juiced the zested citrus and brought the juice home in freezer ziplock bags, which I provided. I freeze my lemon juice in ice cube trays, then the kids can mix it with simple syrup and bubbly (or plain) water all summer long for fresh lemonade. Call it the recessionary party, but we’ve been doing it this way for years.
I also laminate the recipe cards, with the recipe on one side and serving suggestions on the other, which is what I’ve reproduced below. It’s not too late for you to brew. Especially with friends.
Italian Limoncello
20 organic lemons
2 bottles (750 ml) 100-proof vodka or Everclear
4 cups sugar
5 cups water
Note: Don’t be afraid of the Everclear if you can find it. It’s stronger than regular vodka and has less flavor of it’s own. This means it extracts more of the flavor and essential oils from the zest and imparts less of its own taste to the finished product. It also doesn’t get slushy in the freezer. Organic, unsprayed fruit is essential. You don’t want to be drinking chemicals.
Step One: Wash the lemons with a vegetable brush and hot water to remove any residue; pat the lemons dry. In a large glass jar (1-gallon jar), add one bottle of vodka.
Carefully zest the lemons with a zester or vegetable peeler so there is no white pith on the peel. Add the lemon zest to the vodka as it is zested. NOTE: Use only the outer part of the rind. The pith, the white part underneath the rind, is too bitter and would spoil your limoncello.
Cover the jar and let sit at room temperature for at least 10 days and up to 40 days in a cool dark place. The longer it rests, the better the taste will be. (You can shake or stir a little every few days, if you like.) As the limoncello sits, the vodka will slowly take on the flavor and rich yellow color of the lemon zest. When the color is no longer deepening and the rinds look whitish, it is definitely done.
Step Two:In a large saucepan, combine the sugar and water; cook until dissolved, or until thickened if you want a thicker, sweeter drink, approximately 5 to 7 minutes.
Let the syrup cool, then add it to the Limoncello mixture from StepOne. Add the additional bottle of vodka. Allow to rest for another 10 to 40 days.
Step Three:After the rest period, strain the liquid through a cheese cloth or coffee filter and bottle: discard the lemon zest. Keep in the freezer until ready to serve.
Limoncello variations…
·To original recipe, add zest of 1 lime
·To original recipe, made with either lemons or oranges or meyer lemons, add one whole, split vanilla bean during steeping
·Substitute lemon zest with zest from Meyer lemons or 10 oranges or blood oranges
·Substitute lemon zest with dry, unwashed organic basil leaves to make basilcello (wipe dust off leaves with dry cloth)
·Use zest of 30 lemons & 5 vanilla beans (insides scraped, beans and seeds used) for initial steeping
·Experiment with vodkas and the amount of sugar in the simple syrup, you can make a mellower or sweeter or less sweet liquer
·Try Crema di Limoncello/Orangecello, a creamy version of this drink: steep 2 vanilla beans in 750 ml. warm milk, add sugar and stir until dissolved. Cool completely. Substitute this milk mixture for the simple syrup. Or, steep the zest right with the vanilla beans, then add the milk/sugar mixture. Don’t use the second bottle of alcohol.Many other variations for this recipe for this are available online. When I make my crema, I just split, scrape and steep one vanilla bean with the first bottle of alcohol and zest. I love the flecks of vanilla in my drink.
& Serving Suggestions
·Drink ice cold
·Drink ice cold with ice chips
·Drink ice cold mixed with mineral water or prosecco or any other sparkling beverage
·Drizzle over shaved ice
·Drizzle over ice cream
·Drizzle over pound cake or fresh summer berries
·Mix with prosecco and vanilla or lemon gelato to make a Venetian shake
·Mix with iced tea
·Label & “brand” to give as gifts
My batches thus far for this year: lemon, lemon for crema, meyer lemon w/vanilla bean, double batch of orange w/vanilla bean for crema di orangecello:
For all the baking I do, you’d think I would have one, standard, go-to birthday cake.
But I don’t. I have dozens of cookbooks, and I want to explore them. I baked most of the way through Nigella Lawson’s Chocolate Cake Hall of Fame (in Feast) and found many excellent cakes to add to the repertoire (Chocolate Guinness cake, anybody?) before losing interest when I arrived at the tropical chocolate cake. Then of course my friends and family members suggest recipes, and magazines arrive with others. Plus, every year brings new requirements. Sometimes we want cupcakes for a party:
And sometimes we just want a simple layer cake for family:
Sometimes the birthday boy participates in the baking:
And sometimes he just draws me a diagram:
This year, we haven’t talked about his birthday cake at all, so I am planning for the first time to make a cake with a picture on it: of an airplane (of course) for my aviation-obsessed boy. I’ll make crazy cake (since we’re baking vegan for my niece these days), and plan to use a vegan vanilla frosting (and various food colorings) to create the airplane. As it turned out, Tony did the decorating (our first birthday cake division of labor!), and the birthday boy was well pleased: