Cupid in the Kitchen : Three Couples Discover That Food Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Jacques Pepin doesn’t know it, but his recipe for cabbage gratin rivaled a red knit dress in the making of one couple’s 10-year partnership.
For another couple, it was the potato pancakes eaten with Taittinger on their third date that brought them together. Never mind that they’re now divorced, they ate latkes with sour cream and applesauce at every anniversary and birthday--they even had their own stash at their wedding reception--and their last supper together ended the relationship on a crisp, oniony, bedolloped note, the way it began.
Like “our song” or “our place,” “our dish” plays a role in many relationships. The following stories of food and romance tell how a single meal changed the lives of three Southern California couples.
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Roger Mah describes his cooking style as “ersatz.” The 30-year-old anesthesiologist claims he’s basically an assembly-line cook: Open a packet of chili seasoning and toss it into a skillet with ground beef. A batch made on Sunday, he insists, lasts all week.
“Cooking is an investment of time,” says Mah, who prefers a take-out meal to cooking, “and I don’t want to spend mine that way.”
Don’t blame his dad. Mah’s father, a UCLA science professor (now retired), did most of the cooking when young Roger was growing up.
“He’s a great Chinese cook,” Mah says, “so I’m spoiled. We always had good food around the house.”
In 1990, during his medical training in Philadelphia, friends introduced Mah to Ione Gaberz, a market researcher from Sa~o Paulo, Brazil.
In terms of culinary skills, each had met a match. Ground beef cuisine, restaurant takeout and the search for great cheap eats were things they had in common. “I never learned how to cook either,” says the 32-year Gaberz-Mah.
Their relationship grew after she left Philadelphia and traveled around the United States and Europe before returning to South America. They were married last year. But when she invited him to Sa~o Paulo to meet her family, his introduction to Brazilian cooking turned out to be an ordeal.
For one of their first meals there, she took him to a restaurant specializing in feijoada, Brazil’s national dish of meat, black beans and rice. “When he saw all that meat,” she recalls, “he was traumatized.”
Not that he doesn’t eat meat. “I love cheeseburgers from In-N-Out,” he says. “And my father’s dishes--he uses meat, but he makes things spicy and interesting. Feijoada was, well, just all this cooked meat, sitting there. No sauce. No spice. Nothing.”
What rescued him, and fortified their relationship, happened to be a snack beloved by Brazilians, pa~o de queijo.
“You find them all over Brazil,” Gaberz-Mah explains. “We have a chain of restaurants that specializes in them. You can buy the dough, frozen or raw. There are mixes: Just add water and bake. But they’re so easy to make.”
Even the Mahs can cook them.
Pa~o de queijo uses a dough of milk, oil, eggs, cheese and sweet manioc flour, which is the color and texture of cornstarch and is sold in local stores that carry Brazilian foods. (It’s a different manioc product from the one familiar to us as tapioca.) It’s baked into golf ball-sized buns that are eaten warm or at room temperature, sliced and filled with sandwich-type fillings.
“We don’t eat them often because of their high-fat ingredients,” Gaberz-Mah says, “but they’re still very special to us.”
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Gil and Candy Katen had their first gourmet experience together on their San Francisco honeymoon. Neither had eaten in fancy restaurants before they splurged on a meal at the now-defunct but once-grand Ernie’s.
“I don’t remember what we ate,” Gil says, “and we drank some lousy rose, but we liked being in a nice restaurant, being waited on, drinking wine.”
The experience left them wanting more of the same. During their first decade of marriage, they graduated from Mateus to Cabernet Sauvignon. And they became more adventuresome eaters; Candy learned to make Gil’s family’s Syrian and Lebanese recipes.
Having children meant fewer little dinners for two, but when the kids were tucked in, the Culver City couple would make time for a tryst with Julia Child and her filet au poivre vert.
In the second decade of their marriage, Gil, who was self-employed as a lawyer and consultant, did the weekday cooking, preparing such basics as meatloaf and stew while Candy worked at the office. On weekends, the kitchen was their rendezvous, the nest where party menus crystallized, culinary egos got stroked and plans for gastronomic pilgrimages were refined.
Their tastes evolved with every birthday. By the third decade of their marriage, she gave him an herb garden for Christmas, and skim milk and vegetables appeared more often on the shopping list than butter and cream. Since the kids had their own weekend plans, the little dinners returned.
“Our cooking marathons are on Sundays,” Candy says. “We enjoy improvising restaurant dishes, like a wonderful potato and onion dish from L’Orangerie, or Campanile’s great chicken.”
Their dessert of the moment is one of their improvisations. “We dream up excuses just to make it,” Gil says. Candy found the recipe for a mixed berry tiramisu in a magazine two years ago. It earned rave reviews at a couple of dinner parties, but then she lost it.
They never forgot the flavor, though, and when Candy tried improvising it from memory, her improvisation worked.
“As good as sex,” Gil adds.
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Laura Esquivel, born in Los Angeles and the executive assistant to L.A. City Council member Jackie Goldberg, specializes in cooking hot and spicy foods, a taste she credits to her Mexican heritage. And so, when she began a relationship with Karen Lash, a vegetarian with an unknown chile tolerance, Esquivel was worried. Would they get along?
On one of their early dates, however, Esquivel noticed jalapen~o chiles growing on Lash’s balcony. A good sign.
Then there was their first getaway weekend to Baja. For brunch, Esquivel served the Mexican zucchini stew called calabacitas.
“We were on a balcony overlooking the beach with an expansive view of the Pacific,” recalls Esquivel. Lash, associate dean of the UC Law School, loved the stew, which was full of garlic, two types of chiles and a couple cans of salsa verde. She not only proved her chile tolerance, she turned out to have a higher tolerance for spicy foods than Esquivel.
Today, the cupboards of the couple’s Altadena kitchen are crammed with incendiary staples like sweet kiwi jerk sauce, a chipotle sauce that Esquivel buys from a colleague at work and Chinese chile oil, which goes into stir-fries. There are several garlic products. Lash goes through a couple of cans of salsa a week, says Esquivel.
Theirs is a rich table, a mix of Jewish and Mexican cultures. Says Lash, “No brunch is complete without bagels, cream cheese, tortillas and an egg dish with a heathy dose of salsa.”
Lash happily defers to Esquivel in the kitchen. “Laura has a natural way with food and presenting it,” she says. As a result, her cooking skills have atrophied since the two met; still, she counts making breakfast and packing lunches as her contribution to the household.
Of course, the calabacitas has not been forgotten. “It remains a special dish,” Esquivel says.
Indeed, when Lash was recovering from a recent ear surgery, she had only request: the squash stew.
Why? “It made me feel better.”
CANDY KATEN’S MIXED BERRY TIRAMISU CAKE
JAM
1 (12-ounce) package unsweetened frozen whole mixed berries
6 tablespoons sugar
SYRUP
1 (10-ounce) package frozen raspberries in syrup
1/4 cup raspberry liqueur
CHEESE FILLING
3 (1/2-pound) containers mascarpone cheese
6 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
ASSEMBLY
3 (3 1/2-ounce) packages Champagne biscuits or ladyfingers
2 to 3 pints fresh mixed berries (strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries)
JAM
Combine frozen berries and sugar in heavy saucepan and cook over medium heat until mixture is reduced to about 1 cup and resembles jam. Cool. Mixture will jell and thicken while cooling. This can be done ahead; bring jam to room temperature before using.
SYRUP
Thaw raspberries and strain syrup into bowl through sieve; discard solids. Add raspberry liqueur to syrup in bowl.
CHEESE FILLING
Combine mascarpone with sugar and vanilla. Mix with mixer on low speed until smooth.
ASSEMBLY
Trim 1 end from biscuits. Dip biscuits in Syrup and coat lightly. Line sides of 8- or 9-inch lightly oiled springform pan with biscuits so that rounded ends extend 1/4 to 1/2 inch above top of pan. Cover bottom of pan with more biscuits; to fill in small areas, use trimmings or cut small pieces from remaining biscuits.
Gently spread 1/2 Jam over biscuits. Cover Jam with 1/2 Cheese Filling, spreading gently and smoothing surface with back of spoon. Thickly slice 1 pint (2 cups) strawberries and cover Cheese Filling with sliced berries. Distribute 1 pint (2 cups) fresh berries over sliced strawberries. Dip remaining biscuits in Syrup and cover berries. Press gently with back of spoon to level. Spread with remaining Jam and Cheese Filling.
Cover surface with remaining fresh berries, starting with whole strawberries in center and forming concentric circles of raspberries and blueberries until cake is covered. Refrigerate at least 4 hours until serving. It is best eaten day of assembly.
10 to 12 servings. Each of 12 servings:
479 calories; 49 mg sodium; 158 mg cholesterol; 32 grams fat; 43 grams carbohydrates; 5 grams protein; 1.05 grams fiber.
takes easy icon:
CHEESE BUNS (Pa~o De Queijo)
2 cups low-fat milk
1 cup safflower oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 cups sweet manioc flour
2 cups grated Parmesan cheese
5 eggs
Sweet manioc flour (polvilho do^ce) can be found in Brazilian markets. In testing this recipe, the Test Kitchen experimented with wheat flour. It produced a delicious product, though heavier and denser in texture than the recipe made with manioc flour.
Boil milk, oil and salt together. Add manioc flour and stir until blended. Remove from heat. When cool, add cheese and mix well, then stir in eggs, 1 by 1, until incorporated.
Pinch off golf ball-sized pieces of dough and roll into balls. Place on ungreased baking sheet, allowing 1 inch between balls for expansion. Bake at 350 degrees until buns are golden, 30 to 35 minutes. Serve warm.
Variation: Slice horizontally and fill with ham and cheese, cream cheese with tomato, mozzarella cheese with tomato and oregano or ham (minced or sliced) with cream cheese.
80 buns. Each bun:
75 calories; 64 mg sodium; 28 mg cholesterol; 4 grams fat; 8 grams carbohydrates; 2 grams protein; 0.27 gram fiber.
takes vegetarian icon:
ZUCCHINI CASSEROLE (Calabacitas)
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 onion, sliced
2 pounds small zucchini, quartered and sliced
1 (1/2-pound) package whole mushrooms, cleaned, trimmed and quartered
Salt, pepper
3 (14 1/2-ounce) cans diced or chunky tomatoes
2 to 3 tablespoons roasted garlic cloves or prepared garlic puree
1/2 teaspoon tarragon
4 to 5 bay leaves
2 (7-ounce) cans hot salsa verde
1 serrano chile, seeded, diced
1 jalapen~o, seeded, diced
1 bunch cilantro, chopped
1 pound Monterey Jack cheese, cubed
1/4 cup finely chopped Kalamata olives (optional)
Heat oil over medium heat in 6-quart pot. Add onion and cook until light golden, about 5 minutes. Add zucchini and cook until squash softens, about 5 minutes. Add mushrooms and continue cooking 5 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste, tomatoes, garlic puree, tarragon, bay leaves, salsa, serrano and jalapen~o chiles and 3/4 bunch cilantro. Cook over medium heat 10 to 15 minutes.
Remove pot from heat. Remove bay leaves and add cheese. Stir and let sit until cheese melts, 10 to 15 minutes.
Ladle into 6 to 8 soup bowls. Garnish with remaining cilantro and optional olives. Serve hot with hand-made flour tortillas.
6 to 8 servings. Each of 8 servings:
337 calories; 640 mg sodium; 192 mg cholesterol; 22 grams fat; 15 grams carbohydrates; 18 grams protein; 2.45 grams fiber.
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