Cocktails with Gatsby

1920's couple. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

 “There was so much to read for one thing and so much fine health to be pulled out of the young, breath-giving air.” ~ Nick Carraway, in The Great Gatsby.

I love this picture from my Granddaddy’s photo album. To my mind, it could be Gatsby and Daisy, or better, it’s Nick Carraway and Jordan Baker, enjoying a laugh on Gatsby’s patio before dancing and drinking the night away at one of Jay’s parties designed to lure Daisy across the bay and back into his arms.There are no identifying notes on the photograph, but whoever they are, they stick with me because of the way they're dressed - his long legs and 28-inch waist, the flip of her skirt and the way her head leans into him. The kicker, though, are the feet - I have a spectacular weakness for spectator shoes - and the way they're crossed in opposite directions. 

“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald is, hands-down, my favorite novel, one I try to re-read every few years. Fitzgerald’s wordsmithing and narrator Nick’s observations are new to me each time I’ve read it as an adult, but I hated it the first time it was assigned to me in high school. The eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg taunted me from the cover and I didn’t understand why Daisy didn’t leave brutish Tom and run off with dashing Jay. It’s one of those books, I think, that reads better once you’ve seen more of life. In other words, it’s wasted on so many teenagers.

I’ve read the novel many times, seen three movie versions (I thought last year’s Leo DiCaprio/Baz Luhrman version was fantastic ~ Leo was perfect in the pink suit.), and just last week, saw it as a play, produced by the Georgia Ensemble Theatre in historic Roswell. The production challenges – automobiles are significant to the story, and scenes that require a dock, two mansions and a pool, were neatly overcome and the actors met the challenges of the characters, as well. Nick’s wry humor came across more so than in other versions, and Daisy was unexpectedly sympathetic, a difficult task for a woman responsible directly for one death and indirectly for two. If you’re in Atlanta, make a date ~ it’s playing through March 16.

For a book written about an opulent life in abundant times, there’s remarkably little food mentioned in “Gatsby.” Of course, there's the sandwiches and pastries that Nick serves when he invites Daisy to tea (and a clandestine meeting with her old love, Jay.), prepared by the cook, the “demoniac Finn.” While there may not be food, there is booze ~ fountains of champagne at Gatsby’s soirees and bottles of whiskey at the Buchanan’s.

“Every Friday, five crates of oranges and lemons arrived from a fruiterer in New York – every Monday these same oranges and lemons left his backdoor in a pyramid of pulpless halves.” ~ The Great Gatsby

Old-fashioned cocktails. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

And so, to celebrate my favorite novel, here’s an old-fashioned cocktail made with peach-infused bourbon, something I make up each summer when local produce stands offer crates of sun-ripened fruit at giveaway prices. For six weeks, fresh peaches and lemon peel soak in Kentucky bourbon, the infused mixture is then strained and combined with simple syrup and aged for two more weeks. This ambrosia can be served in a myriad of ways - on its own, in cocktails, in grown-up ice cream desserts, or as a glaze for grilled meats. The mix is called Southern Succor and just like re-reading Gatsby, it gets better with age. Cheers, old sport.

Southern Succor by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Southern Succor

adapted from "American Home Cooking" by Cheryl & Bill Jamison

6 peaches, peeled and chopped into chunks

Zest and juice of one lemon

750 ml bourbon whiskey

2/3 cup sugar

1/3 cup water

1. In a large glass jar with a tight-fitting lid, place peaches, lemon zest and juice. Cover with whiskey, seal jar and place in refrigerator to steep for up to six weeks.

2. After six weeks, open jar and strain out the fruit and zest. Press lightly to get all the good stuff out, but not so much as to push the fruit into the liquid. Discard the fruit. Pour the liquid back into the jar.

3. In a saucepan, combine sugar and water and bring to a boil. When sugar dissolves, cool syrup to room temperature. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then cool to room temperature. Add the sugar syrup to the bourbon, return to the refrigerator and let age for another two weeks before using.

The peachy bourbon may be between steps 1 and 2, but is still delicious in an old-fashioned, the legendary first drink to be called a "cocktail." It's sweet and fruity, and just perfect for viewing the sunset from the front porch.

Joey's Old-Fashioned. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Joey's Old-Fashioned

Joey is a mixologist and philosopher and this is his version of an old-fashioned, with the exception of the lemon - he uses orange. Because he lives in the South, he'll sometimes finish the drink with tea instead of water.

In an old-fashioned glass (a short tumbler), place maraschino cherries, a wedge of lemon and a teaspoon of sugar. Muddle. Pour 2 ounces of peach whiskey, then a splash of water. Stir and garnish with lemon and cherry.

This post is part of #LetsLunch, a Twitter party featuring food writers and bloggers from around the world. Please visit these sites for more #LetsLunch stories.

Lisa’s Pop Cakes from Monday Morning Cooking Club
Lucy’s Old Fashioned from A Cook and Her Books
Jill’s Orange Tarts at Eating My Words
Linda’s Homemade Tagalongs from Free Range Cookies
Annabelle’s Eggs for Bren at Glass of Fancy
Linda’s Oaxacan Mole Rojo at Spicebox Travels
Cheryl’s Hemingway Hamburger at A Tiger in the Kitchen
Betty’s Leche Flan from Asian in America

Text and images copyright 2014, Lucy Mercer.

The icy side of coffee

Coffee beans. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

More than a few years ago, B.K. (before kids), my husband and I were free-wheeling adults given to do crazy things like shop for groceries late at night. In the nearly empty Kroger store at 10 p.m. (hey, it was late for us, I didn't say we were night owls), we would scoot along, filling up our buggy and dancing along to the oldies played over the in-store p.a. You'd get kind of lost in your own little world, just listening along, selecting your items, thinking you were all alone, until you turned a corner and saw another human. One one trip, we turned into the aisle with the coffee beans and grinder and heard a ghostly voice say "coffee" except it came out in a Vincent Price way "COF-feeeeeeeeee." From our end of the aisle, I couldn't tell if it was from a male or female, but my husband and I got the giggle fits and since then, whenever I've really needed a cup of coffee, that's how it's pronounced around here. COF-feeeeeeee.

For years, I liked my coffee "Airplane" style, if you know what I mean. (and if you don't get the reference, it's ok, we'll just move on). Every morning, I plop a filter followed by two scoops of medium roast into the basket, pour in 4 cups of water and let it brew. No cream, a little bit of Splenda, and I'm good to go. Until this summer, when I discovered bliss in a grande cup - the iced coffee.

Iced coffee. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

You may think that iced coffee is simply the morning's hot-brewed coffee poured over ice. But, there you would be mistaken, because the best iced coffee is made from a cold brew; ground coffee beans steeped overnight in water, mixed with sugar to form a concentrate that is then stored in your fridge for whenever the mood, or maybe I should say need occurs and only an iced coffee will do. When this mood hits, you pull the coffee concentrate out of the fridge and mix it 50/50 with milk or half-n-half, add a splash of hazelnut syrup or even a squidge of chocolate syrup, finish with a straw and enjoy a caffeinated pick-me-up. Well, this drink not only is a pick-me-up, it's a rocket booster.

Iced Coffee
adapted from The Pioneer Woman blog

for concentrate
2 quarts cold water
2 cups ground coffee beans
1 cup sugar, more to taste

for iced coffee
Ice cubes
Milk
Flavored syrups such as hazelnut or chocolate, optional

1. To make the concentrate, in a large container with a lid, stir ground coffee into water. Cover with lid and leave at room temperature for 8 hours or overnight.

2. Line a strainer with a coffee filter or cheesecloth and place over two-quart container with lid. Carefully pour cold-brew through the filter and discard the detritus (coffee grounds), in a composter, if you have one. Stir in sugar to taste, cover with lid and place concentrate in refrigerator where it can stay for a couple of weeks, until ready to make iced coffees.

3. When ready to make the beverage of bliss, remove concentrate from refrigerator. In a tall glass, over ice, pour in concentrate, then milk. I like a ratio of 50/50, but this is a very personal thing, depending on the type of bean that you used, the level of sweetness you like and the richness of the milk (whole v. skim, etc.). Stir in syrup, for a flavor kick. Add a straw and keep by side your side all afternoon, taking a sip every now and then, to get you through that evening supermarket trip.

Iced coffee with milk. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Text and images copyright 2011, Lucy Mercer.

A grapefruit drink from Chef David Tanis

Grapefruit. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

I’ve come to believe that home food is best, but it’s not often an opinion that you will hear expressed by a world-class chef, in this case David Tanis, chef of Chez Panisse.

Tanis is living a foodie dream – working six months of the year at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, California, and living and cooking and writing in Paris the remainder of the year. That's France, friends, not Texas. Tanis' first cookbook, “A Platter of Figs” was a selection of the Gourmet Cookbook Club and focused on entertaining at home. In his newest cookbook, “Heart of the Artichoke and Other Culinary Journeys,” Tanis writes about cooking for small gatherings at home. The menus are for small groups of  2 or 3 people, medium-size groups of 3 to 6, and seasonal feasts for large crowds.

One of the most charming aspects of “Heart of the Artichoke” is the first section, “Kitchen Rituals,” short essays about food in his everyday life – chopped jalapenos in pancakes, a foodie travel kit with chilies and a tube of harissa, easy apricot jam, a quintessentially French sandwich – baguette, butter, ham. His essay on eating oatmeal will make every mother of a quirky eater smile. 

Chef Tanis talked about his new book and his culinary life over lunch this week at Atlanta’s Holeman & Finch Public House. Chef Linton Hopkins prepared the meal with recipes from the book – a crab-stuffed deviled egg to start, followed by a terrine of pork and duck liver, vegetables a la Grecque, a flat-roasted chicken with lemon and rosemary, cabbage with potatoes, Sea Island red peas cooked with bacon,. And for dessert, molasses pecan squares. 




photo of David Tanis by Joe Vaughn

 

David Tanis is a low-key guy with gray, wavy hair and cream-colored glasses who looks very much like the artist he says he intended to be. He didn't learn to cook at home. Growing up in Ohio, he was only allowed to set the table each night. He learned to cook in college and taught himself to bake. Eventually, he found his way to Berkeley and Chez Panisse. After working as a dishwasher and baker, he rose through the ranks to chef. At first, he and fellow Chez Panisse chef Jean-Pierre Moulle split the work week. When Tanis decided to take a Paris apartment, Alice Waters offered to let he and Moulle split the year, a genius moment in job-sharing. (Moulle spends his half-year in France, aussi).

Unlike many in the restaurant trade, Tanis cooks at home every night after work, eating pasta at midnight. “Eating at home cements the culture,” he said. He laments that children who know only restaurants are missing out, both in the preparation of food and conversation at the family dinner table.

The recipes in “Heart of the Artichoke” cover the culinary globe, but the American and European influences are prevalent. “I’m a cultural chameleon,” Tanis said, “Everywhere I travel to becomes something else in my culinary bag of tricks.” When traveling, Tanis doesn't visit many restaurants, instead, he books accommodations with a small kitchen and seeks out local markets. 

Tanis claims no direct Southern connection to his cooking. “Any Southern influence comes from Southerners I’ve known or Southerners I’ve imagined,” he said. With ingredients like pecans and pork and field peas in his book, I think he's a Southerner at heart.

I especially like his use of grapefruit in the winter menu. Go into any local market this time of year and you will find the fruit, mellow yellow on the outside, ruby red on the inside. The taste is tart and refreshing, a counterpoint to heavy and creamy winter meals. Tanis employs grapefruit juice in his winter feast titled “Auspicious and Delicious” - a menu that includes black-eyed peas and ham, those crab-stuffed deviled eggs, bread and butter pickles, a relish plate and corn sticks. 

Champagne Mimosa. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Hair of the Dog, Salty Dog, and Other Grapefruit Drinks

There you are in the middle of winter, in a cold, harsh season, and a little sunshine is only too welcome. Citrus is the true gift of winter and there’s something wonderful about freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, mixed with Champagne for a Grapefruit Mimosa, or mixed with vodka for a Salty Dog.

Count on 1 grapefruit per serving; 1 large grapefruit will yield about a cup of juice. There is a world of difference between fresh juice and flash-pasteurized store-bought juice. This is a drink that’s all about the freshness, and no, you can’t squeeze the fruit the day before. And if your New Year’s resolution is a month without alcohol, enjoy a delicious glass of fresh grapefruit juice. You’ll feel virtuous and satisfied.

The proportions for a Grapefruit Mimosa are 1/3 grapefruit juice to 2/3 Champagne. Pour the juice into a Champagne glass, then slowly add the Champagne.

To make a Salty Dog, pour 5 ounces grapefruit juice and 1and 1/2 ounces vodka, both well chilled, into a glass with a salted rim. Without the salt, the drink is called a Greyhound. To make a Pamplemousse, add the same amount of Pernod to the juice instead of vodka and don't salt the rim.

 

(Excerpted from HEART OF THE ARTICHOKE by DAVID TANIS (Artisan Books)

Copyright 2010.)

I will add that while you’re serving grapefruit mimosas to your grown-up friends, pour grapefruit juice with lemon-lime soda for the children, they will love it.

Corn madeleines. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

To accompany: In what I consider a forehead-slapping, bloody brilliant idea, Chef Tanis suggests baking corn stick batter in a Madeleine pan. I just happened to have Madeleine tins and made these beautiful little cakes. And I have to call them cakes because they have sugar in them – true Southerners do not put sugar in their cornbread. They will sugar everything else, including the greens beans (a practice I find unpalatable), but never cornbread.

Corn madeleines and grapefruit mimosa. Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Just a note on the china in the pictures: this is my wedding china, Orleans Blue by Lenox, and crystal, Classic Laurel, also by Lenox. My 20^th wedding anniversary is this month, so I’ve had this china for two decades. It’s true what I was told – I really don’t use it very often. But it makes my heart happy to pull out the bone china and the gold-rimmed crystal for company and special occasions, such as an Auspicious and Delicious holiday feast for family.

Text and images copyright 2010, Lucy Mercer, with the exception of the recipe, excerpted with permission from Artisan Books. The jacket cover and author photo by Joe Vaughan were also provided by Artisan Books.

Don't mess with Texas (caviar)

 

The saying goes “everything is bigger in Texas,” including, it appears, the "caviar" created from the humble black-eyed pea in the vinaigrette-soaked relish known as “Texas caviar.” This dish was made popular in Texas by a chef and cookbook author named Helen Corbitt, who built Neiman-Marcus into a shopping mecca known as much for its food as its over-the-top gifts. I accent this snack with home-baked lime tortilla chips.

Texas Caviar

4 cups cooked black-eyed peas

1 medium tomato, seeded and chopped

1 small onion, cut into small dice

1 red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded and diced

Cilantro, handful, chopped, optional

2 cloves garlic, minced

6 tablespoons red wine vinegar

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1/2 teaspoon dried Mexican oregano

1/2 teaspoon cumin

1. In a medium size bowl, mix together peas, tomato, onion, bell pepper and cilantro, if using. In a separate bowl, stir together vinaigrette ingredients. Pour dressing over peas. Serve with tortilla chips.

 Baked Lime & Salt Tortilla Chips

Juice of 1/2 lime

1 teaspoon water

1 teaspoon kosher salt

10 fresh corn tortillas

1. In a small bowl, combine lime juice, water and salt. Brush both sides of the tortillas with mixture. Cut each tortilla into six pieces and spread in a single layer on two baking sheets.

2. Preheat oven to 350. Bake chips in oven for 10 to 15 minutes, rotating the sheets to ensure even crisping. Serve warm from the oven, with extra salt sprinkled just before serving.

  A primer on cooking dried black eyed peas:

1.      1.  Take one pound of dried black eyed peas and pour out on a baking sheet. Sort out any rocks and gnarly-looking peas, discarding the losers.

2.      2.  Pour the peas into a large bowl and cover with water. Let soak for up to an hour or overnight, changing the water several times.

3.      3.  Drain the peas and pour into a pot, cover with water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and let simmer for about 30 minutes, or until peas are tender. The peas will foam up and to keep the peas pretty, you may want to skim the foam with a fine mesh skimmer that can be rinsed in a bowl of cold water. Salt the peas after they are tender, never before. 

M Mmmm, you're thinking, salty and savory, I sure could use a drink to go with this, well, here you go, a Fizzy Limonade that my girls invented this afternoon.

Fizzy Limonade

3 cups water

1 cup sugar

Grated zest of one lime

1 cup lime juice (about 6 Persian limes - not Key limes)

Club soda

Lime slices for garnish

1. In a small saucepan, make a simple syrup by combining sugar, water and lime zest. Bring just to a boil, stir to dissolve sugar, then remove from heat.

2. Set up a fine mesh strainer over a bowl filled with 2 cups of ice. Slowly pour lime-flavored syrup through the strainer. Discard the grated lime zest.

3. Stir the lime juice into the simple syrup mixture.

4. For individual servings, fill glasses 1/3 full with club soda, then to the top with limonade. Garnish with a thin slice of lime.

Text and images copyright 2010, Lucy Mercer.