Christmas in September

fig. a: the set-up (detail)

What can I say? The girl's on a tear!

First there was her 2-night gig at Les Touilleurs, and now this:

Michelle's in the new issue of Elle Québec, along with six other talented local chefs. The concept goes like: 1) you bring together a group of chefs in a top Montreal restaurant (say, La salle à manger), 2) you tell them to come prepared to make a special Christmas dish, preferably one that's dear to them, 3) you get them to cook their respective dishes, 4) and you finish off the occasion by having a spectacular Christmas meal with plenty of vino and other assorted spirits.

Sounds great, right?

Well, in September, when the shoot actually took place, it sounded kind of crazy. For one thing, it was hot. For another, Christmas seemed a long ways away. But everyone showed up, they came armed with recipes and mad skills, they made some pretty stellar dishes, the wine started to flow, and the event turned into quite the party. Michelle even got dressed up old-school Czech-style ("«la reine de Noël»!") to go along with her traditional Czech dessert.

fig. b: if you're going to Christmas in September...*

If you want to read the entire article, you'll have to go to your local newsstand. The issue is out now.

If you want to check out Michelle's recipe for "Les biscuits au chocolat, aux noix et au rhum" (Czech rum, walnut, and chocolate cookies), you can find it here on ellequebec.com. You can also find the highly international, highly tantalizing menu and all six of the other recipes there, including:

• Les pastelles au merlan (Guinea-Bissau) de Julio Mendy, chef du Résident

• La morue à la vizcaina (Mexico) d’Alonso Ortiz, chef du Pintxo

• Les cigares au chou (Romania) d’Emilian Manole, chef du Picapica

• La longe d’agneau (France) de Stéphane Modat,chef de l'Utopie

• Le jeune canard sur os et les jambonneaux à l'érable (Quebec) de Samuel Pinard, chef de La salle à manger

and, Michelle's pick of the night,

• Le salmis de pieuvre au girofle (Mauritius) de Stelio Perombelon, chef des Cons servent et du Pullman

ak

* ...be sure to wear flowers in your hair.

Hash Fiend 1, or Frying the Flannel

fig. a: red flannel

Lately, I’ve been cooking up a fair bit of hash. No need to worry, though. This hasn’t led to me rereading Steppenwolf, or resurrecting my old Jim “An American Poet” Morrison poster, or illuminating my room with black lights and lava lamps, and it’s not part of some kind of mid-life crisis. At least, I don’t think it is.

The hash I’m talking about is good old-fashioned hash-house hash, the kind of hash that consists of the combination of diced meat or fish, onion, and some root vegetables--usually potatoes, plus carrots, beets, or turnips. The kind of hash that was a North American staple for generations. The kind of hash that was much more than just a breakfast dish and that was largely displaced by fast food (especially the hamburger) and changing tastes in the early- to mid-twentieth century.

Now, as you'll see in subsequent posts, I've been making a whole host of hashes over the last couple months, but today I want to begin this discussion by looking at a colorful little gem called Red Flannel Hash.

I know, I know: sounds like the name of a grunge band circa 1992. Can't you just picture the poster?

fig. b: Live! At the Hi-Hat!

fig. c: Live! At the Hi-Hat! (detail)

[As it turns out, there is a band that goes by the name of Red Flannel Hash, but my gut feeling tells me they've never shared a bill with either Mudhoney or Tad, let alone fIREHOSE. Check 'em out.]

Anyway, as I was saying, this concoction has more to do with the Northeast than with the Northwest. All indications point to the fact that the dish originated in New England:--"authentic" versions of the dish are often described as Yankee Red Flannel Hash, and most of the tall tales that surround the dish's origins are set in lumber camps in Maine, or New Hampshire, or Vermont.

Look Red Flannel Hash up and you'll also find that it's one of those dishes that provokes controversy. We're not talking barbecue-size controversy, or pizza-size controversy, but controversy nonetheless. Everyone agrees that beets should be front and center, the main question is whether or not corned beef should also be a part of the ensemble. And what you find is that some of the most vocal experts on the matter, people who take the culinary foodways of the Northeast very seriously indeed, insist that red flannel should be corned beef-free. Not meat-free, mind you, but corned beef-free. According to this school, the combination of beets, potatoes, onions, and corned beef adds up to something altogether different: a Calico Hash. In a true Red Flannel Hash, the beets are the stars, and they have no fear of being upstaged. This doesn't mean that Red Flannel Hash is meatless. As with most other hashes, tradition says that bacon fat plays an important supporting role, and it's not uncommon to find some actual bacon in the cast, as well.* [Have an opinion on these matters? By all means, chime in.]

Our own version is one we’ve extrapolated from a few different sources. If you’re already a Red Flannel Hash fiend, you might take exception to this or that element, but this AEB version has all the essential elements--the onions, the beets, and the potatoes--and it makes for one fine hash. It's become one of our very favorite breakfasts here at AEB HQ, especially at this time of year, when beets of all types (red, golden, chioggia) are plentiful.

fig. c: beets, candy-striped and otherwise

I’ve read recipes for Red Flannel Hash that don’t involve boiling your vegetables--some insist on steaming the vegetables instead--but boiled vegetables are an important part of most true hashes, and we’ve been pretty happy (ecstatic, actually) with the results here.

If you’re a vegetarian, you could easily omit the bacon and replace the bacon fat with a tablespoon of oil, and you’d wind up with a perfectly satisfying Red Flannel Hash, but there is something to be said about the marriage of those beets and that smoky bacon flavor, and it pays to hunt down top quality beets and bacon to match. If you’re a vegan, you could omit both the bacon and the whipping cream, and you’d still be left with a perfectly acceptable (and delicious!) hash--the cream is optional, but (highly) recommended. If you’re a raw foodist, though, I’m sorry, this isn’t the dish for you. It’s just not a Red Flannel Hash if the flannel hasn’t been fried.

AEB Red Flannel Hash

2-3 strips of smoky bacon
5 small beets (mixed varieties, if available), peeled and diced
2 medium potatoes, peeled and diced
1 small carrot, washed and diced
1 small parsnip, washed and diced
salt and black pepper to taste
1 small onion, peeled and diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1-2 tbsp parsley, minced
1/4 cup whipping cream (optional, but recommended)
sour cream (optional)

Add the diced beets, potatoes, carrots, and parsnip to a small pot, and add just enough water to cover the vegetables. Salt the water to taste and bring the water to a boil. Turn down the heat and simmer the vegetables for about 10-12 minutes, or until just tender. Drain the vegetables, making sure to reserve the liquid. [This broth is essentially a clear borscht. Adjust the seasoning, and you have yourself a great light meal.]

Meanwhile, fry the bacon in a frying pan or a cast-iron skillet until crispy. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon or slotted spatula, reserving the bacon fat. Mince the bacon and set aside.

Fry the onion in the bacon fat over medium heat until the onions have softened and have turned translucent, about 5-10 minutes. Add the vegetables and sauté for a few minutes. Add the garlic, the parsley, and the reserved bacon and sauté for another minute. Add the cream, adjust the seasoning, and turn up the heat. Many hash fiends will tell you that you should turn the heat up to high and fry the hell out of it, so that the hash forms a blackened crust. This hash fiend will tell you that I’ve tried making my hash a number of ways, and that I prefer my Red Flannel Hash with the golden brown crust that one gets when one cooks the hash over medium to medium-high heat for a few minutes per side.

Serve a generous heap of the red flannel hash on each plate, with a poached egg or two perched on top, and maybe even a dollop of real sour cream.

Serves 2-4, depending on appetite/enthusiasm.

[major inspiration provided by John Thorne's Serious Pig]

aj

*Okay, enough with the extended metaphor.

Another First

fig. a: Michelle's panforte

We've mentioned cooking classes here at "...an endless banquet" before, but who ever thought we'd have the occasion to mention our own?

That's exactly what happened, though: a couple of weeks ago Michelle gave her very first cooking classes. Well, not her absolute very first cooking classes. She's been known to host free "cooking classes" for small groups of our friends on topics like making and canning your very own tomato sauce. But these were her first professional cooking classes, and they took place at a very professional, very chic location: Les Touilleurs.

fig. b: Michelle's candied fruit

The agenda for the evening consisted of three things: 1) candying fruit, including oranges, lemons, and quinces; 2) using the candied fruit to make both a fruitcake and a panforte; and 3) making an autumnal preserve, the infamous l'autrichienne, with apples, raisins, and walnuts.

I know what you're saying: "Great! What's the point of telling us after the classes took place?"

We apologize for having been remiss in advertising these events, but, frankly, the two classes were fully booked months ago, and they got fully booked almost instantly--between the time Michelle made the final arrangements with our friends at Les Touilleurs, and the time she told me later that day (!). Suffice to say, Les Touilleurs' cooking class series is very, very popular.

Anyway, the classes went exceedingly well and Michelle hopes this is just the beginning, so, should there be a "next time," dear readers, we'll do our best to get the word out to you pronto.

For more about Les Touilleurs' cooking classes, give them a call: 278-0008

aj

On and Off the Road 3, or KFC*

fig. a: Kaaterskill Falls

One of the prime attractions in the Catskills are the legendary Kaaterskill Falls. And when I say "legendary," I mean it. The cult of Kaaterskill Falls dates back to the early 19th century, when casual references to the Falls' breathtaking natural "amphitheater" in Washington Irving's "Rip Van Winkle" and in the work of James Fenimore Cooper turned them into a pilgrimage point for Thomas Cole and the Hudson River School. Cole and the Hudson River School not only devoted themselves to the region, they established the look of the landscape of the Catskills and did much to popularize it. “Irving had dealt with the Catskills in a mood of urbane detachment; Cooper had devoted only a few pages to them. But Cole passionately identified himself with the Catskills.”

By the late 19th century a number of hotels and a railway link had been constructed to handle the tourist traffic to the Catskills, and a great deal of this activity was clustered around the Falls. Not just any old hotels, either. Catskill Mountain House was built in the 1820s and it quickly became one of the most famous hotels of its day, hosting a virtual Who's Who of America's elite over the course of the century.

fig. b: Catskill Mountain House

The Kaaterskill Hotel was built in the early 1880s as the modern (electric light, elevators, etc.) alternative to the Catskill Mountain House, and it eventually expanded into a 1,200-room behemoth.

fig. c: Kaaterskill Hotel

And soon these impressive, ornate hotels were joined by others.

fig. d: Grand Hotel

The hotels are long gone, victims of changing tastes, neglect, and disastrous fires, but at the top of the Falls you can still see evidence of the observation deck that used to provide tourists with a stunning view of the valley,** as well as plenty of graffiti, much of it dating back to the lookout's 19th-century heyday.

fig. e: geological graffiti

And while access to the Falls, the "amphitheater,"

fig. f: the top of the "amphitheater"

fig. g: falls, "amphitheater," swimming hole

and the gorgeous swimming hole that sits within it, is not nearly as safe and established as it once was, it's just as impressive as it ever was.

What does any of this have to do with food? Well, making your way to the "amphitheatre" is hardly a long hike, but it's treacherous*** enough that you can work up a pretty nice appetite going there and back.

We didn't bring much food with us, when we visited back in August, just some cherries for a snack. But by the time we were done, we'd worked up a most unusual appetite for fried chicken. Which is a funny thing... You see, we didn't realize it at the time, but the reason that there were two major hotels in close proximity to Kaaterskill Falls was not only due to the heavy tourist traffic that was attracted to the Catskills during the 19th century, it was also due to the so-called "Fried Chicken War."

The story goes as follows: in the summer of 1880 a famous patents lawyer named George Harding was vacationing at the Catskill Mountain House, accompanied by his wife and his ailing daughter, Emily. Now, Emily was on a strict no-red-meat diet that relied on chicken for protein. One day, early in their visit, the Hardings were informed that the dish of the day was roast beef. Mr. Harding politely demanded that his daughter be brought an order of fried chicken instead, to which the waiter refused. “Other hotels might have their supper rooms and their kitchens staffed to prepare whatever a guest might want whenever he might want it. But not the Catskill Mountain House, where the old-fashioned ordinary reigned in all its anachronistic rigidity” [my emphasis]. Well, tempers flared, and eventually Charles Beach, the owner of the Catskill Mountain House, was brought in to settle the matter. Which he did. Mr. Harding must have been sure that he Beach would decide in his favor. After all, Mr. Harding had been a patron of the Catskill Mountain House since the 1840s, and, by the 1870s he was a veritable fixture at the hotel, a man who was widely regarded as the center of the summer social scene. Instead, Mr. Beach graciously informed Mr. Harding that if it was fried chicken he wanted, he should go ahead and build his own hotel. Which he did. Harding apparently received Beach's sarcastic suggestion in silence, but inside he must have been seething, for he promptly checked his family out of the Catskill Mountain House and decided to construct “a hotel that would dwarf Beach’s Mountain House by its size and eclipse it by its modernity," not to mention a hotel that, in all likelihood, would have the common sense to serve fried chicken. The very next year, Mr. Harding opened his Kaaterskill Hotel to great to-do, and the bitter hospitality battle that ensued became known as the Fried Chicken War.

The thing is, as petty and insignificant as this incident might seem to us today, it soon developed into a small-scale civil war, one which, in some ways, came to define an era:

At once, word of the Beach-Harding struggle traveled from town to town among the Catskills and to every trading center along the Hudson River... Fervent Beachites portrayed Geroge Harding as a malevolent associate of “Grab-all Cornell”**** motivated by nothing at all but a passion for crushing Beach and destroying the prosperity of Catskill. Hardingites saw Beach as a greedy and arrogant reincarnation of Rip Van Winkle who was determined to keep the modern world from penetrating the Catskills... The rivalry between Harding and Beach came to symbolize the changes taking place. The expansion of railroads, the multiplication of hotels, the change from the old simplicities to the comforts and sophistication of the final two decades of the nineteenth century--all became reduced to two men squabbling over a fried chicken.

No joke.

Our fried chicken feast was no joke either. We made plenty of good, old-fashioned Southern-style fried chicken, with cream gravy and all the trimmings, and then we took our positions and went to battle.

aj

Source: Alf Evers’ The Catskills: From Wilderness to Woodstock (1972) is both endlessly entertaining and authoritative. All quotes in the post above are attributable to Evers.

*Take your pick: Kaaterskill Falls Chicken or Kaaterskill Fried Chicken.

**If you look closely at fig. a, you can see the structure I'm talking about.

***As Paul Grondahl of the Times-Union put it, "[Kaaterskill Falls'] beauty is matched by its treachery." Earlier this year, the Falls claimed another victim. Making your way to the swimming hole is no high-wire act, but it's no cake walk either. If you're going to attempt the climb, you should be a seasoned hiker/climber, and you should definitely be wearing proper footwear.

****Famously, Harding had been the patents lawyer to Samuel Morse. Ezra Cornell, the founder of Cornell University, made his fortune in the telegraph business as an associate of Morse's (and, presumably, of Harding's).

p.s. Among the many good reasons to visit the Bronck Museum in Coxsackie, NY, is its Victorian Horse Barn, which houses impressive scale models of both the Catskill Mountain House and the Kaaterskill Hotel.

Mmmmyriade

fig. a: cappuccino @ myriade

Lest one get the impression that Montreal is some kind of coffee world also-ran... Exhibit A: Café Myriade.

Without question, Myriade has been our café of the year--here, there, or anywhere. Montreal may not have its very own world-class coffee roasting operation, but at least we have people who know what to do with world-class beans when they see them.

Their formula? Top-notch beans, most of which come from Vancouver/Burnaby's ambitious and gifted 49th Parallel. Precision equipment, including a veritable arsenal of French presses, Nordic flasks, and super-high-tech Japanese siphons. Talented, meticulous, and ultra-attentive staff, all of whom appear to have been drilled in the art and science of proper coffee and tea brewing. And, get this: an in-house professional barista handbook author and an in-house competition barista who just placed second in the national championships. What's not to like? Hell, even their drip coffee is outstanding, because they make it to exacting standards and never allow it to sit any longer than 20 minutes before making a new batch.

The thing is, none of this would be worth a hoot to us if Café Myriade wasn't actually a pleasure to visit and its team wasn't so darned friendly. Which it is. And they are. In fact, sometimes, especially when the weather allows, and those big sliding glass doors are wide open, a seat at Myriade, with that perfectly prepared cappuccino (see above) sitting right in front of you, can be positively dreamy. As in: when I'm away from Montreal, as I am right now, Myriade is one of those places I dream about. A lot.

Café Myriade, 1432 Mackay, 939-1717

aj

p.s. full disclosure: thanks to our friend LC, we got to meet the above-mentioned competition barista/co-owner, Anthony Benda, a few months ago, and when Anthony found out that Michelle was a pastry chef, well, the two of them started bouncing ideas off one another. The result of those discussions was the signature drink that won the eastern regional championships and that was showcased at the national barista championships.

Now, Anthony happened to mention that he had collaborated with Michelle on his signature drink when he was interviewed by the CBC's "Home Run" a few weeks ago, and ever since people have been stopping by to request "Michelle's coffee drink." Let us clarify: the drink was absolutely, positively Anthony's, and, unfortunately, signature drinks tend to be competition-only affairs. But, that said, Michelle is thrilled that her collaboration with Anthony was such a hit (and she hopes to get a chance to taste it herself one of these days).

Technical Difficulties

We are presently experiencing technical difficulties.

Please do not adjust your set.

fig. a: shot from the hip

This moody, purely accidental shot was the last photo I managed to take before our camera went on the fritz.

Too bad, too, because there's been a lot of good food prepared and consumed here at "...an endless banquet" over the last several weeks.

Regular programming will resume shortly.

--the management

Top Ten #31

1. W.W. Boyce Farmers' Market, Fredericton, NB

2. A.S. Byatt, Possession

3. Mad Men, season 2

fig. a: "Mark Whitacre" + Mark Whitacre

4. The Informant!, dir. Soderbergh + This American Life #168: "The Fix is In"

fig. b: NB tartan

5. The Loomcrofters, Gagetown, NB

6. Oscar's, Warrensburg, NY

7. Hans Fallada, Every Man Dies Alone

8. New Brunswick potatoes

9. diner-style hamburgers + I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang, dir. LeRoy

fig. c: Captains Courageous

10. cod cakes + Captains Courageous, dir. Fleming + chow chow

aj

On and Off the Road 2

fig. a: smokehouse pastoral

We'd gotten tipped off to Oscar's Adirondack Smoke House about 3 or 4 years ago by a fellow traveler here in Montreal, but we didn't follow up on the tip promptly, and within a few months, all thoughts of Oscar's famous smoked hams had wafted away like so much hickory smoke.

Thank god A & J refreshed our memories. They'd spent a few furious days eating their way back and forth across Montreal for their honeymoon (you know, the usual: Au Pied, Joe Beef, Salle à Manger, Cuisine Mas, Dic Ann's, The Main, Laloux, etc.), and on their way back to New York they made a few well-researched stops in the Adirondacks, one of which was Oscar's.

Two weeks later, on our way down to the Catskills, we pulled off the 87 at exit 23, and pulled into Warrensburg, to pay Oscar's a visit. And from the moment we set eyes on it, we knew it was going to be good.

fig. b: smokehouse gothic

I mean, "Choice MEATS," "HOME SMOKE HAMS BACON," and the name "OSCARS" printed directly on one of their smokehouse chimneys--how can you go wrong? (Especially with all that beautiful blue smoke wafting through the air...)

Now, if you're looking for 100% traditional country hams--the kind of backwoods masterpieces you can still find in Kentucky, Virginia, and Tennessee--you're not going to find them at Oscar's. They're crazy, but they're not that crazy.

What matters is the care Oscar's puts into their product, the way they sugar- and salt-cure their meats, and the way they smoke everything using that lovely, natural hardwood smoke. We loved their "petite" smoked ham (perfect for two!), their double-smoked bacon (now you're talking!), and their super-smoked cheddar cheese (yes!). And they make a mighty fine German-style red potato salad, too. We packed our cooler, and pointed our car back towards the highway.

Oscar's, 22 Raymond Lane, Warrensburg, NY, 1-800-627-3431

And if you're heading down to New York from Montreal, or up to Montreal from New York, Oscar's ain't but 5 minutes from the 87. That's a small price to pay for fine smokehouse fare.

aj

ps--TY A & J, and S, too.

On and Off the Road 1

fig. a: l-r: Jerry Lee Lewis, Little Richard

We'd been wanting to go to PJ's BBQ in Saratoga Springs for years. Not because we knew anything about it--hell, we didn't even know the name of the place until we were lined up in PJ's bb-queue--but we had admired its roadside style on numerous occasions, and we just had a good feeling about the place. Problem is, every time we'd tried to go there in the past, it hadn't been "bbq season"--PJ's is only open during the warm weather months (this year's opening day was April 18). This time around we were pretty sure we'd finally get a chance to sample "Saratoga-style" barbecue--we were heading down to the Catskills again and it was the height of summer.

I'm still not sure what the distinguishing features of "Saratoga-style" barbecue, but I do know that PJ's cooks their chicken & ribs over an open pit and that they use real charcoal to do so. I also know that someone at PJ's has got a serious '50s fetish--pick-up windows are named after such rock 'n' roll legends as Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis, and a parade of '50s hits blares over the P.A. (luckily, the overall effect is more American Graffiti or Gibeau Orange Julep than Johnny Rockets).

fig. b: l-r: ribs, chicken

I can also tell you that while PJ's isn't about to dethrone any of the bbq masters of North Carolina, Tennessee, Missouri, or Texas anytime soon (for one thing, they offer too many damn sauces) but they have won their fair share of barbecue awards & acclaim, everything is cooked slow & low (as it should be), and visiting PJ's Saratoga-style barbecue at the height of summer, when the ponies are running, is nothing if not a scene. I mean, this joint was jumpin', and the crowds had come ready to eat. PJ's is now over a quarter of a century old, and, by the looks (and taste) of it, they're going strong.

PJ's BBQ, Route 9, South Broadway, Saratoga Springs, NY, (518) 583-CHIK & (518) 583-RIBS

aj

Open House

fig. a: invitation

Sometime back in late June, we were part of a crack team of entertainers that had been enlisted to throw a summer bash commemorating a year in the Catskills. And, oh, what a year! In just 12 months, the M.H. Merchant Stone House had been restored, refurbished, and revitalized, local friendships had been cultivated, and roots (both literal and figurative) had been sunk deep in the ground. Not surprisingly, given this flurry of activity, The Caretakers were in a celebrating mood. We were thrilled to be invited to the festivities, and seriously honored to be asked to help represent.

So, bright and early, one fine Friday morning, we packed the AEB Mobile Unit full of barbecue gear and hit the road. We'd proposed a homestyle barbecue spread for the festivities, and The Caretakers liked our vision. The proposed menu looked something like this:

2 x 10-12 lb pork shoulders, applewood-smoked and pulled
Down East Baked Beans
Smokehouse Potato Salad
Tidewater Cole slaw
Poor man's caviar
Sweet tea
White Chocolate Cake & Strawberries

If many of these selections look familiar, there's a reason for that.

The next day, Saturday, was Party Day. When we'd arrived the day before, we'd hit the ground running, so a lot of our prep was already taken care of. On our last visit, Michelle and I had gathered a whole bunch of apple wood from the yard, so we had plenty of sweet-smelling fuel too.

fig. b: fruitwood 4 smoking

When I fired up the barbecue, it was still overcast, and threatening rain, and with all the rain they'd had over the last 4-5 weeks, the forest out back was bright, bright green.

fig. c: green forest, blue smoke

One of the last things we prepped was the sweet tea. We made a lot of tea, but it sure didn't look like it because the dispenser we were using could have held enough for the whole Russian Army.

fig. d: sweet tea

With all the prep work done, all the arrangements taken care of, it was time to wash up and make ourselves presentable for our guests.

fig. e: bathtime

About an hour before the guests showed up, with the shoulders still smoking away, I made a sign to advertise some of our offerings.

fig. f: what'll you have?

I spent hours tending the barbecue, but with my beers, my ballcap, my baseball glove and baseball, and my barbecue, not to mention the two most perfect shoulders I've ever seen, I was pretty much in hog heaven. Plus, I had a nice turntable to keep me company. These Caretakers had seriously thought of everything.

fig. g: bbq hi-fi

Minutes before the action got underway, with the shoulders nearing the moment of truth, Michelle and I took the time to have commemorative portraits taken.

fig. h: m & a

How did things turn out? The party was a huge hit, and, miracle of miracles, even though we'd had a number of downpours that very day, one of which was torrential, the skies cleared up right as the guests began to appear, the sun began to shine, and the evening was a perfect summer evening, with hundreds of fireflies dancing in the meadow, and thousands of stars in the sky. Our barbecue menu went over big--that combination of fruitwood and slow & low cooking made for the most succulent pulled pork and some sensationally smoky ribs--and we ended up making exactly the right amount of food: just enough to keep the midnight snackers occupied. But the real stars were the M.H. Merchant Stone House, its grounds, and its Caretakers. Everything was perfect, and--the true test!--the party soon took on a life of its own. Many of the guests had driven 2-3 hours from New York City and New Jersey to attend, and everyone seemed positively thrilled that they'd made the excursion.

A lot of people had heard that "a famous pastry chef" was part of the catering team, so there's no question that Michelle's dessert was eagerly anticipated. This being essentially a barbecue meal, she'd decided to go with a dessert that was more homespun. She'd settled on a simple, even foolproof, white cake whose tanginess (from the combination of buttermilk and white chocolate) makes for an ideal complement to fresh strawberries, and which she'd recently made a central part of her raspberry/pistachio dessert at Laloux. Strawberries were good and plentiful at the time, and Michelle envisioned following up the barbecue with something of a small-scale strawberry social. Now, if you live in Quebec, you might have noticed that the fraises d'automne are available now--if you've never tried them before, they're amazing, oftentimes even better than our summer strawberries, and this cake really lets them shine.

fig. i: quebec strawberries

White Chocolate Cake with Strawberries

2 c. flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/8 tsp salt
3 oz white chocolate, melted
1 1/2 sticks butter, soft
1 1/2 C sugar
4 yolks
1 tsp vanilla
1 C buttermilk
4 egg whites
1/4 C sugar

fresh strawberries, stemmed and quartered
sugar
lemon juice

Preheat oven to 350˚F.

Toss your strawberries with sugar and lemon juice to taste. Allow them to macerate while you make the cake.

Mix the dry ingredients together. Set aside. Cream the butter and first count of sugar together until light and fluffy. Add yolks one at a time, and scrape down the sides. Mix well. Add vanilla and melted white chocolate. Add buttermilk and dry ingredients alternately in 4 batches, ending with buttermilk. Set aside. Make a meringue with the whites and last count of sugar. Fold into the cake batter. Pour into a half-sheet pan (12” x 17”) lined with a silpat or parchment paper. Bake 15-20 min. Unmold when still warm.

Dress with some of your strawberries and enjoy.

[based on a recipe from Sherry Yard’s Desserts by the Yard]

The next day we celebrated the success of our celebration at a local swimming hole.

fig. j: water baby

And later that day we paid what's become a mandatory visit to Clare and Carl's on our way back to Montreal.

fig. k: clare & carl's

A half an hour later, on the other side of Plattsburgh, and with those ominous clouds now gone, we put the finishing touches on the weekend with a cone at another favorite of ours, Harrigan's Soft Ice Cream.

fig. l: harrigan's

Clare & Carl's, 4727 State Route 9, Plattsburgh, (518) 561-1163

Harrigan's Soft Ice Cream, 1247 State Route 3, West Plattsburgh, (518) 561-8110

aj

p.s. This post dedicated to the memory of Chico, who had the best personality, and the softest paws.

fig. m: sleepytime