Cooks’ mad dash

Don’t ask me how it happened. I can’t tell you. But certainly these elements came into play: planning too far ahead, not writing things down, friends finally getting back to us with the one possible date they could come for dinner in months, visitors in town for just one night.

All of a sudden my husband and I realized we’d signed ourselves up to cook dinner parties six times in the same week. At the time, it seemed not ideal, but (almost) doable. Think of it this way, I told him, let’s pretend we’re private chefs for a family who likes to entertain a lot on the spur of the moment.

It will be fun.

But then I hadn’t fully taken into account the shopping, the cleaning, the shopping. I’ve tried to train him, but my husband, who was doing most of the cooking (I concentrated on baking and desserts) can only plan one meal at a time. And that was constantly being revised as he thought of one more dish he was dying to try -- an hour before dinner -- and so we had to rush out for the umpteenth time to rustle up the ingredients. Did I mention he doesn’t drive? And it was never as simple as eggs, milk, butter. Oh, no. It was inevitably something relatively obscure -- saffron, speck, bottarga, Chinese chives, a whole red snapper -- that meant a mad dash across town.

The next morning Fred would tackle the many, many wineglasses, washing and drying them by hand. And I’d take out the dead soldiers, sure that the guy who comes by to recycle the bottles noticed the uptake in volume.

First night, we performed like pros. But I started washing dishes at midnight. The second night went even better. But we went to bed at 1:30 (on a weeknight). By the third evening our energy was flagging. The shopping. The cooking. The cleaning up. And then starting all over again the next day.

We stripped the garden of tomatoes, plucked the last of the sweet basil, discovered the cilantro had gone to seed and plundered the potato bed for marble-sized new potatoes. We were doing so much cooking when I went to get a lemon, only four were left on the tree. It seemed to me it was loaded five days before.

An easier way to handle this dinner party marathon would have been to double up on some dishes -- cook a giant pot of Provencal daube or slow-roast an enormous piece of pork for cochinita pibil one night and have make-your-own tacos two nights later.

But that would have been too easy.

One night we had almond gazpacho, followed by paella embellished with shrimp and cockles. On another, a series of Moroccan salads followed by bestila in the style of Tetouan. A real bear to make because someone, I’m not saying who, had forgotten to take the filo dough out of the freezer and when I tried to unroll it, the fragile pastry shattered. I finally resorted to an ever-so-brief blast in the microwave, which worked well enough. We had Chairman Mao’s red-braised pork belly on Wednesday, bucatini all’ amatriciana on Thursday. Barbecued flank steak with fresh plum barbecue sauce I can’t remember when.

Meanwhile I deveined shrimp, filleted salted anchovies, minced garlic and pounded nuts. I whipped up pissaladiere and flatbreads, galettes, flan, Mexican shortbread cookies, lime ice, and I forget what else. Appetizers, soups. I never wrote down the menus. Who had time?

Our kitchen had never had such a workout and in the midst of it all, the bottom oven decided to flake out. Great. We moved to the barbecue. And of course, while I was introducing a late-arriving guest, I managed to burn the toasts I was making for bruschetta -- the last bread we had on hand. One night Fred forgot to serve the Szechuan chicken salad and we never realized it until we found that and a cucumber dish in the refrigerator the next morning. Oh, the horror.

We did get a bit frazzled, especially when some guests arrived early. After sussing out the situation they sweetly asked if they should leave and come back later. We weren’t yelling at each other exactly: Let’s just say tensions were high. Fred’s favorite knife had disappeared and I was the last to use it. He’d stained my favorite French linen dish towel with beet juice. The beef cheeks needed so much trimming we were left with half the weight we needed. And the olive oil bottle was verging on empty.

My job was to shepherd inquisitive guests, the ones who liked to stand over the cook while he’s frantically trying to finish dishes, outside for an aperitif. And sometimes, I know it’s bad, I would stay out there and act like I was one of them for a little while, reluctant to go back into the heat of the kitchen.

And you know what? Despite everything, we had a great time every night. Every dish wasn’t perfect, but we so enjoyed spending those relaxed summer evenings with good friends around the table. You can’t have the same kind of conversation in restaurants where the noise level is often brutal. And where you don’t have the leisure to sit for hours, or the time to witness a wine unfurl over the course of the night.

Those evenings are precious and worth every bit of the work.

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irene.virbila@latimes.com

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A serving of good sense

If I ever do another dinner party marathon like that (and I seriously vow never again to schedule so many dinners in one week), here’s what I’ll do differently:

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Organize my shopping and decide on the menus ahead of time, not on the fly.

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Compromise maybe we don’t need to drive all the way across town to get that one elusive ingredient (but try telling that to my husband).

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Start cooking early and pace myself.

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Make the desserts before my fellow cook spreads his stuff out on every surface.

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Check our oven in the morning to make sure it’s working.

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Read recipes over, especially if I’ve never made them before, so the scenario is fixed in my mind before I begin.

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Buy more cream than I expect to use (I forgot the strawberry shortcake had cream in both the dough and softly whipped on top.)

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Don’t get too complicated with the cocktails unless I have a designated bartender.

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S. Irene Virbila

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Burrata with speck, English peas, and Parmigiano-Reggiano

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Total time: 35 minutes

Servings: 4

Note: Adapted from the “Mozza Cookbook.”

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Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/3 cup shelled fresh peas

20 sugar snap peas

10 mint leaves, very thinly sliced lengthwise

3 tablespoons freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, plus a wedge for grating an additional 1/4 cup

2 tablespoons finishing-quality extra virgin olive oil

16 thin slices of speck (about 2 ounces) or prosciutto

8 ounces burrata, or bufala mozzarella

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1. Fill a large saucepan with water, salt the water to taste like the ocean, adding approximately 1 tablespoon of salt to each quart of water, and bring it to a boil over high heat. Fill a bowl with ice water and line a plate or small bowl with paper towels. Place a wire strainer in the sink. Add the English peas to the boiling water and cook them until they turn bright green but are still crunchy, about 30 seconds. Quickly drain the peas into the wire strainer and plunge them, still in the strainer, in the ice water to cool completely, about 1 minute. Transfer them to the paper towels to drain.

2. Pull the strings off the sugar snap peas, discard and slice the sugar snap peas one-eighth-inch thin on such an extreme bias that you are almost slicing them lengthwise. Put the peas, sugar snap peas and mint in a medium bowl. Sprinkle with the grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, season with salt and pepper, drizzle with the olive oil, and toss to combine the ingredients and coat the vegetables with the seasonings.

3. Drape four slices of speck in a rosette-like pattern on each of four salad plates, dropping the slices onto the plate so they stand up slightly rather than placing the slices flat against the plate. Cut the burrata into four equal segments and nestle one segment in the center of each “rosette.” Pile the dressed peas on top of the burrata, allowing a bit to fall onto the speck below, and use a microplane or other fine grater to grate a light layer of Parmigiano-Reggiano over each plate, and serve.

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Each serving: 300 calories; 15 grams protein; 4 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram fiber; 23 grams fat; 11 grams saturated fat; 64 mg cholesterol; 1 gram sugar; 329 mg sodium.

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Steamed corn with clams and bacon

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Total time: 30 minutes

Servings: 4

Note: Adapted from “Seamus Mullen’s Hero Food.” Aleppo pepper can generally be found at gourmet and cooking supply stores and is available online.

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1/2 cup diced slab bacon

4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

24 littleneck clams

2 ears corn, shucked and cut into 2-inch lengths

3/4 cup dry white wine

2 teaspoons pimenton

Aleppo pepper

Handful fresh basil leaves, torn

Healthy drizzle of olive oil

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1. In a large, heavy-bottomed pot, sweat the bacon over medium heat. Once it begins to render, about 2 minutes, add the garlic and sweat until translucent. Add the clams, corn and white wine, and stir in the pimenton. Increase the heat to high and cook, uncovered, for about 30 seconds, until the alcohol has evaporated. Reduce the heat to medium low, cover and steam until all the clams have opened and the corn is tender, 5 to 10 minutes. Discard any clams that don’t open.

2. Serve in a large bowl with a sprinkle of Aleppo pepper, torn basil and a generous drizzle of fruity olive oil.

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Each serving: 207 calories; 18 grams protein; 15 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram fiber; 8 grams fat; 2 grams saturated fat; 48 mg cholesterol; 4 grams sugar; 814 mg sodium.

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Cold almond and garlic soup

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Total time: 1 hour, 10 minutes, plus overnight soaking time for the almonds

Servings: 6 to 8

Note: Adapted from “Made in Spain” by Jose Andres and Richard Wolffe.

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1 1/2 pounds blanched almonds

6 cups flat mineral or filtered water

2 cloves garlic

3/4 cup aged sherry vinegar, plus 1 tablespoon

2 1/2 cups Spanish extra virgin olive oil, plus 2 tablespoons

4 fresh black figs, quartered

1/4 cup roughly chopped Spanish Marcona almonds

1 tablespoon chopped chives

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1. The night before, put the blanched almonds into a bowl, cover with the mineral water and soak overnight.

2. Bring 2 cups of water to a boil in a small pot. Add the garlic and boil for 1 minute, then drain the garlic and cool.

3. Place a colander over a large bowl and line it with cheesecloth. Drain the soaked almonds, reserving the soaking liquid, and put them in a blender or food processor; this will need to be done in batches. Add the garlic, reserved soaking liquid, three-fourths cup of the sherry vinegar and 2 1/2 cups of the olive oil in batches with the drained almonds and pulse until smooth. Pour the soup into the colander as it is pureed. Once most of the liquid has passed through the colander, gather the cheesecloth around the remaining solids and squeeze gently to release as much of the liquid as possible. Discard the solids. This makes about 6 cups soup. Pour the soup through a fine sieve into a pitcher and chill for 30 minutes.

4. To serve, divide the fig pieces and Marcona almonds among soup bowls. Pour in the cold soup, sprinkle with chopped chives and drizzle with the remaining 1 tablespoon vinegar and 2 tablespoons olive oil.

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Each of 8 servings: 921 calories; 10 grams protein; 14 grams carbohydrates; 5 grams fiber; 95 grams fat; 12 grams saturated fat; 0 mg cholesterol; 6 grams sugar; 12 mg sodium.