The Catskill Chronicle

By Jude Waterston

Many weeks ago, my sister, Janet, and I made plans to take a vacation from July 2nd through the 11^th at our house upstate in the Catskills. We scheduled dinner at our place with friends for the day following our arrival. My excitement about the upcoming time off from work was slightly eclipsed by my usual nerves about having a dinner party, however small in scale.

I’m not what you would call a laid-back host, one who throws together this and that and hopes for the best. I’m an obsessive planner, and I began to consider dishes and jot down ideas and ingredients the moment our vacation plans were set. I found a slim red spiral notebook in my apartment and started the first page with appetizer options. For one night’s company, I wouldn’t necessarily be tackling hot artichoke dip; spiced nuts; fried peppers with capers, garlic, and balsamic vinegar; French tomato tart; marinated olives; stuffed mushrooms; herbed goat cheese; smoked trout salad; and cucumber cups stuffed with chopped smoked salmon salad garnished with salmon roe, but I scribbled down every hors d’oeuvres that entered my head. Perusing the list and realizing I was biting off more than I or anyone else could chew, I reluctantly limited the openers to the artichoke dip, smoked trout salad, olives, a log of goat cheese, and the impressive-looking salmon stuffed cucumber cups.

I began to work on the entrée part of the meal when it occurred to me to e-mail our guests to ask if they had any food allergies or restrictions I should be aware of. I already knew of Jane’s predilections, but I had never entertained her friend’s Kevin and Steven, whom we had met only a few times. Steven responded by reminding me that he keeps kosher and that a vegetarian meal would probably be the best way to go as far as he was concerned. Kevin, it turned out, was lactose intolerant, but wrote, “it’s not like I don’t eat cheese. I love it, and take my chances.”

So, in the end, I pretty much ignored Kevin’s condition because I could think of virtually no vegetarian dishes that appealed to me without the inclusion of some amount of cheese. I began my dinner menu notes with a wild mushroom, spinach and Gruyere cheese strata (savory bread pudding). On the side would be a dish of breadcrumb and herb-stuffed baked tomatoes. And yes, there would be a bit of grated Parmesan or Romano cheese mixed into the filling. Grilled yellow and green zucchini chunks topped with a lemony Greek vinaigrette laced with dill and mint would be another side vegetable, topped with some crumbled feta. Feta cheese.

I couldn’t get homemade chocolate pudding out of my mind for the dessert course. I had the bright idea of serving it in vintage teacups. “Isn’t pudding made with milk?” Janet asked. “Yes, but Kevin did say he eats dairy,” was my lame answer. “Well, why don’t I bake some coconut shortbread cookies, and we can serve some fresh raspberries, too,” Janet thoughtfully suggested. As I added those to my list, she said in a very low voice, “Fresh whipped cream is a must with chocolate pudding, you know.” I wearily nodded my head. Poor Kevin.

Early Saturday morning we headed upstate, stopping at various food markets to pick up ingredients for the week that we knew would be difficult or impossible to get in the country. We had two coolers into which I dumped a couple freezer ice packs, and then filled them with skirt steak, beef short ribs, duck breast, sea scallops, salmon fillets and various cheeses. We figured we’d head directly to our local upstate supermarket to pick up milk, heavy cream, yogurt, and eggs before even arriving at the house.

A mile or two before our exit, Janet changed the radio station to our favorite upstate channel and we were grinning like idiots in anticipation of the days to come, as she pulled off at route 104 into Monticello and the car abruptly died. Janet was somehow able to get the car to the shoulder and from there, just twenty miles from our house, she called Triple A and we waited in the hot sun for a tow.

We spent the better part of Saturday at the service station as various mechanics puttered about. There were quite a few disabled cars in the lot. Eventually, we walked across the road to Wal-Mart and picked up all those lactose-laden products I’d soon (with any luck) be putting to use. Meanwhile, I worried about the cooler bags directly under the sun in the trunk of the sizzling hot car and wondered if I’d have to throw out much of their contents.

As the day wore on, it became evident from conferences with the mechanic that the transmission was the culprit and that it was leaking fluid. After various experiments (all performed at a snail’s pace), we were told it would be a day or two, at minimum, before the problem would be solved and fixed. A good and gracious friend came to retrieve us and deposited us at our house, where we lugged in our suitcases and bag after bag of groceries.

I awoke early Sunday morning and downloaded recipes from my files, then made a list of what dishes to make in which order. By 7:30 a.m., I had begun prepping the ingredients for my elaborate dinner. Meanwhile, the rain came down relentlessly in steady, heavy sheets. The sky was the color of slate and my mood was about as damp as the ground outside the kitchen window. In rapid succession I worked my way through the menu, chopping, sautéing, pulsing, stuffing, whisking, and tossing until all that could be prepared ahead of time was accounted for.

A call to the mechanic was a depressing interlude, as nothing was promised or even predicted. And then it dawned on me that it was past noon and I hadn’t even thought about making lunch for Janet and me. I had purposely bought the beautiful wild salmon and pristine scallops at the fish store the day before just for that purpose. So, in the middle of working on four appetizers, a main course, two side vegetables, a salad, and dessert, I compiled a ceviche, or tartar, of cubed raw salmon, avocado, mango, and scallions dressed with freshly squeezed lime juice and a drizzle of good olive oil, tossed with cilantro and mint. That went into the fridge to chill while I carefully sliced the scallops in half, into two discs, and coated them in seasoned breadcrumbs. I seared them quickly in butter, anointed them with a squeeze of lemon juice and placed them on a bed of lightly dressed greens. The warm scallops were a perfect accompaniment to the cool ceviche, which I served with unusually delicate tortilla chips to be used as scoops, and glasses of crisp white wine.

Back to work I went, while Janet dusted and vacuumed the rooms and set the dining room table with a beautiful tablecloth she’d sewn by hand and colorful plates, water and wine glasses. Miraculously, the rain let up a couple of hours before the guests were due, and we wiped off the chairs and little tables on the front porch and prepared to have our hors d’oeurves al fresco.

As we sat outside, sipping our cocktails and sampling the various tidbits I’d made, the pressures I’d been confronting, some of which I’d imposed on myself by being a fanatical hostess, and the others due to the car’s tricky transmission issues, slid away into the breezy night air. We moved inside for the main course. The people around our table were a joy with whom to spend a long evening. My hard work was met with accolades and Kevin indulged in all the milky, creamy, cheesy courses without incident and with apparent delight.

Next time, I swore to Janet, less would be more, and I’d tone down the frenzy surrounding our having a few folks to dinner. We are five days into our vacation, and the car will not be ready until tomorrow morning, which irks me no end. But I’m trying to go with the flow and not let the pressure erupt. I’ve always been afraid of pressure cookers, and have never used one, with good reason.

Chocolate Pudding

6 generous servings

9 large egg yolks

¾ cup sugar

¼ + 1/8 cup cornstarch

4 ½ tablespoons very good (imported) cocoa powder

Large pinch salt

2 ¾ cups milk

¼ cup very strong coffee or espresso

1 ½ ounce very good (imported) semisweet chocolate, chopped

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 ¼ teaspoons pure vanilla extract

3 tablespoons heavy cream

Beat the egg yolks and sugar until light yellow and thick in the bowl of an electric mixer, on medium-high heat. On low speed, add cornstarch, cocoa powder, and salt. Bring the milk and prepared coffee to a boil in a medium saucepan and, with the mixer on low, slowly pour the hot milk mixture into the chocolate mixture. Combine well, then pour the mixture back into the saucepan. Cook the mixture over low medium-low heat, stirring constantly with a whisk or wooden spoon, until thickened. If the mixture should begin to curdle, remove it from the heat and beat it vigorously with a wire whisk. Remove the pan from the heat, add the chocolate, butter, vanilla, and heavy cream, and mix until the chocolate and butter are melted. Pour into ramekins, custard dishes, or teacups. Place plastic wrap directly on the top of the pudding (to prevent a skin forming) and chill thoroughly. Serve with whipped cream.