Tough Cookie (5 page)

I could hear the crack in my voice when I announced, "The aphrodisiacal qualities of ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg in these gingersnaps will spice up your love life, no question about it! Especially if you pair them with a luxurious dessert wine." I raised my eyebrows naughtily at the camera and started up my hand-held mixer. Plasterlike blocks of butter stalled the mixer's motor. Hnnh, hnnh, the engine growled. I pressed the button again, again, and yet again. The beaters refused to move. I glanced up: The live-show disaster I'd feared had struck. The cluster of folks closest to me - Eileen and Jack, the two cameramen, and Arthur Wakefield - were gaping at me. I felt like the pilot of the Hindenburg.

My ears buzzed and I heard Rorry say, You don't know a thing, Goldy. The seconds ticked off; the camera eyes glared. I pressed the mixer button hard. Hnnh! Hnnh! The bank of phones fell silent.

I grinned at the red light on top of Camera One, quickly unplugged and replugged the mixer, then pressed the Restart button. The beaters strained and moaned, as if they were blending cement. Hadn't Jack or Eileen softened the butter? Did "room temperature" at eleven thousand feet mean forty degrees? The butter was hard as a brick.

Arthur's gloomy 'Visage loomed behind the camera. He looked as if his best friend had just gone down in the Hindenburg.

The mixer ground gears, stuttered, and made a small sound along the lines of kerpow! before spewing a cloud of dark smoke in my face. I coughed and choked. What had Arthur said to do? Tell a Joke. Somewhere in my brain, I had surely stored half a dozen funny stories of culinary mishaps. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of one.

Fanning away the smoke, I blinked at the bank of lights. Arthur furiously scribbled a command, then, scowling, held up his clipboard: COOK!!!

I locked the bowl into the behemoth backup mixer. Bigger, more powerful beaters roared into clumps of butter and dark brown sugar. Encouraged, I tentatively cracked an eggshell on the bowl's rim. Although I expected the egg to rupture, the first yolk and white plopped politely into the swirling mixture.

"As easy as cookies are to prepare," I announced nonchalantly to the crimson camera light, "some skiers would prefer to spend their day on the slopes. So they'll turn dessert preparation over to their personal chef!" I added with a two-hundred-watt smile. I was prevented from further self-advertisement by Arthur, who was waving his clipboard at me. Faster!!! it screamed.

The second egg was uncooperative. When I cracked the shell, the egg exploded. Arthur went to overhead cam in time to shoot errant eggshell daggers floating briefly on the batter before being gulped into the creamy vortex. I could imagine perplexed viewers calling in to ask: Does the recipe call for eggshells.? How long has this woman been in the food business?

Cursing silently, I stirred molasses into the batter and slapped in a tumblerful of vinegar. I brandished a flat grater and insisted that grating whole nutmeg was essential. While demonstrating, I unfortunately grated three of my right knuckles, and blood spurted onto the nutmeg flecks. Without bothering to sift or whisk the flour and spices together, I dumped the whole mess into the molasses mixture and clicked the mixer over to "stir." The mixer moaned and sent up a windspout of spicy flour. I groped for a towel to wipe the powdery mess off my face. My microphone squealed.

I wondered if Arthur had opened the bottle of dessert wine, and if he'd let me chug it after the show.

Muttering, I scooped the fragrant dough into Ping-Pong-ball-size spheres. The phone volunteers raised eyebrows at each other: Some caterer! I slapped the uncooked cookies into what Arch called the "pretend" oven and struggled to compose a last enthusiastic pitch about new equipment for PBS.

Two lights above the phone bank flashed as the ringing halfheartedly resumed. I rinsed my hands and wiped them on the towel. Volunteers murmured to the donors. How much longer? My watch was obscured by gingersnap batter. I plunged back into my monologue, urging viewers to tuck crab-cake sandwiches into their packs before a full day of skiing.

Camera One swept a wide-angle panorama of the hot line burgeoning with the completed, cooked dishes. Then the cameraman focused on the volunteers manning the phones, which had once again, drat them, gone dead. Arthur, pale with panic, shifted to a visual with the phone number viewers could call. He then ran a prepared tape of avalanche - avoidance safety tips. Shun steep, leeward slopes. Listen for broadcast warnings of avalanche danger. If you're caught in unstable snow, grab a tree and hold on. And never, ever ski out of bounds.

Too bad Arthur hadn't run safety tips for cooking live. I felt acutely, painfully embarrassed. You don't know a thing, Goldy. No kidding.

I looked for Rorry Bullock.

She was gone.

Mexican Egg Rolls with Spicy Guacamole Dipping Sauce

2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus additional oil for deep-fat frying 1 1/2 pounds chicken breast, trimmed of fat and finely chopped (l/2-inch square pieces) 2 1/2 cups chopped onions 1 to 2 tablespoons prepared dry chile mix, to taste 1 cup canned black beans, well drained 4 ounces (1 small can) chopped green chiles 1 cup grated Cheddar cheese 1 cup grated Monterey Jack cheese l/2 cup finely chopped cilantro l/2 jalapeño chile, seeded and finely chopped 3 tablespoons of picante sauce 1 teaspoon salt 1 pound egg-roll wrappers (16 in a package)

In a wide frying pan, heat the 2 tablespoons oil over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking. Add the chicken and onions, stir well, then add the chile powder and stir again. Stir for several minutes, until the onions turn translucent and the chicken is just cooked. Remove the pan from the heat, and add the beans, chiles, cheeses, cilantro, jalapeño, picante sauce, and salt, and set aside. On a very lightly floured surface, place 1 egg-roll wrapper at a time and, following the directions on the wrapper package, roll 1/4 cup of the filling into each egg roll. Complete the 16.

In a wide frying pan, pour vegetable oil to a depth of 1/2 inch. Heat to 370°F, then place no more than three egg rolls at a time into the oil and fry for 3 minutes per side, or until golden brown. Drain on paper towels. Serve with sauce.

Makes 16 egg rolls

Guacamole Dipping Sauce: 1 avocado, peeled, seeded, and chopped juice of 1 lime 1 cup fat-free or regular sour cream 1/2 cup medium-hot picante sauce 1/3 cup finely chopped cilantro 1 tablespoon grated onion 1/2 very finely chopped jalapeño chile, whirled in a small blender or food processor

Either mash all ingredients together until well combined, or whirl in a food processor until smooth, Chill and serve with egg rolls.

Chesapeake Crab Cakes with Sauce Gribiche 1 tablespoon vegetable oil 1/2 cup finely chopped celery 1/2 cup finely chopped onion 2 cloves garlic, crushed 2/3 cup lowfat mayonnaise 3/4 teaspoon dry mustard 1/2 teaspoon paprika 1 teaspoon salt 1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper, to taste 1 pound crabmeat (can use refrigerated pasteurized crab) 1 1/3 cups club cracker crumbs, divided in half 2 additional tablespoons vegetable oil, divided in half, plus extra to oil baking pan

In a frying pan, heat 1 tablespoon oil over medium heat, add the celery and onion, lower heat, and add garlic. Sauté over medium-low heat, stirring frequently, for 3 to 5 minutes, or until translucent but not brown. Remove from the heat and set aside. In a large bowl, combine mayonnaise with spices. Add crab, 2/3 cup cracker-cracker crumbs, celery, onion, and garlic. Stir until well combined. Using a 1/2-cup measure, scoop out crab mixture and form into 6 cakes about 4 or 5 inches, in diameter.

Spread the last 2/3 cup cracker crumbs on a plate. Dredge the cakes in the crumbs.

Preheat oven to 300°F. Lightly oil a 9x13-inch baking pan.

In a wide frying pan, heat 1 tablespoon vegetable oil over medium heat until it shimmers. Place 3 crab cakes into the pan and cook approximately 4 minutes per side, until golden brown. Place the cooked crab cakes into the baking pan and put them in the oven while you cook the rest of the crab cakes. Add the second tablespoon of oil to the hot frying pan and cook the last 3 crab cakes approximately 4 minutes per side, until golden brown. Place in the baking pan in the heated oven while preparing the sauce.

Makes 6 crab cakes

Sauce Gribiche:

1 1/2 teaspoons finely chopped shallots 2 gherkins, minced 1 1/2 teaspoons capers, drained 1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley 1 1/2 teaspoons minced fresh tarragon 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice 1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce 1/4 teaspoon dry mustard 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/4 teaspoon sugar 1 freshly ground black pepper to taste 1 cup lowfat mayonnaise 1 large egg, hard-boiled and finely chopped

In a small electric mincer or well-cleaned coffee grinder, combine shallots, gherkins, capers, parsley, and tarragon. Pulse for about 5 seconds or until thoroughly combined and well minced. Set aside. Stir together lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, dry mustard, salt, sugar, and black pepper. Stir into mayonnaise along with egg and minced shallot mixture. Serve with crab cakes.

Ice-Capped Gingersnaps

1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened 1 1/2 cups dark brown sugar 2 eggs ½ cup dark molasses 2 teaspoons apple cider vinegar 4 cups all-purpose flour 4 teaspoons ground ginger 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves 1/4 teaspoon ground allspice 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon baking powder ½ teaspoon salt

Frosting (recipe follows)

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter two cookie sheets.

Beat butter until creamy. Add brown sugar and eggs and beat until well combined, then add molasses and vinegar and beat thoroughly. Sift together all the dry ingredients and add gradually to butter mixture. Using 1 1/2-tablespoon scoop, space cookies about 2 inches apart on sheets. Bake 10 to 12 minutes, until cookies have puffed and flattened and appear slightly dry. Allow to cool on sheet 1 minute, then transfer to racks and allow to cool completely.

Frosting: 1 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar 2 tablespoons whipping cream 2 tablespoons milk 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a shallow bowl, mix all ingredients well with a whisk. Holding the cooled cookies upside down by the edges, dip the tops into - the icing. Allow to cool, icing side up, on racks until the icing hardens. Store between layers of wax paper in an airtight container.

Makes 5 dozen cookies

-4- As the credits rolled, I scanned the interior of the bistro. Arthur was talking urgently into his headset.

Jack was handing Eileen a champagne glass filled with orange juice. Or perhaps it was part orange juice, part champagne. Eileen cupped the glass in her hands and beamed Jack a grateful smile. No one was hustling up to offer congratulations or tell me how much money we'd made. True, the show had been flawed by the cookie fiasco, and had lacked the public support of the pregnant widow. But there should have been some good news. Wasn't that what public broadcasting was all about?

Unfortunately, the only news coming my way was in the shape of pudgy, self-aggrandizing Doug Portman. His pate shone in the bright lights as he waved and shouldered toward the set through the dispersing crowd of spectators. I swallowed. How did you greet someone you'd had three dates with, eight years before?

"Hey, Goldy?" Doug bellowed. "You forgot my ticket!"

"Sorry, I - "

"Ready to rock?" he hollered. "It's really coming down out there!" People stared at him.

"Yeah, okay, I'm coming." I yanked off my microphone and surveyed the mess on the hot line counter. Fortunately, the bistro staff cleaned up after each show.

"Arch and Todd decided to take a group snowboarding lesson," said Eileen, suddenly at my shoulder. "Want a mimosa before you take off? Jack made them."

"No, thanks, I've got some business to conduct. Need to be sober. Are you skiing down?" Eileen replied that she was staying to talk to the PBS people.

The kitchen was jammed with folks, so I couldn't change there. I nabbed my clothes and Eileen and I walked together down the hallway to the bistro's ladies' room. While I was taking off my chef duds and slipping back into my ski clothes, Eileen sighed. "Sorry about the butter," she said ruefully. "It was almost frozen in the walk-in. Our microwave isn't working, and I was afraid to smash it to soften it, 'cuz that would have looked bad."

"Not to worry. Is Jack skiing down now? He was awfully nice, and I wanted him to know how much I appreciated his help."

"He has to do lunch prep, sorry." She looked at me solicitously. "Goldy, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, and thanks." We left the ladies', then paused outside the Lost and Found and glanced outside. The sky had turned a bright nickel. Swirling snow powdered Widowmaker Run. With a pang, I thought of poor Rorry.

"You can always stay with us, if the weather gets really bad," Eileen told me cheerfully. "We've invited Arch for another night."

"Thanks. But I promised Tom I'd be back this afternoon. I can pick Arch up tomorrow when I do my contract with Arthur, my one and only personal chef client."

"Friend, if you make a round trip to Aspen Meadow in this weather, you'll be one tired caterer."

"I'll be okay." Impulsively, I hugged her. Eileen was always a thoughtful friend, the best kind there is. "Thanks again."

Outside, I could just make out Doug Portman's glimmery black metallic ski suit and leather cowboy hat. He was stamping over to the snow-covered ski rack. Before pulling down his skis, he scanned the exterior of the lodge. Seeking me, no doubt. He doffed the snow-gorged cowboy hat and whacked it against his thigh. Ride those skis, pod'ner! Would Doug's hat make it to the bottom of the mountain, or would it join the fifty other cowboy hats I'd just glimpsed in the Lost and Found?

"Gotta split," I told Eileen. I zipped up my sensible down jacket and knotted the string on my waterproof hood. Eileen finished off her drink and handed me my scarf. I glanced at her empty champagne glass and hoped she wasn't skiing down anytime soon.

In the bistro dining room, the arriving restaurant staff was clearing away the last vestiges of the show. The phone volunteers were wolfing down the food, without benefit of forks and spoons, no less. Hey! Fund-raising is an appetite-building business. One of the phone-answerers, a wife of a member of the Killdeer Hunt Club - they shot elk and deer, not foxes - stuffed a Mexican egg roll into her mouth and called out that we'd raised six thousand dollars in half an hour. She added, "That's pretty good." I didn't know if she meant the egg roll or the money. Scooping up two more egg rolls, she yelled to me, "And that was in spite of everything!"