Paisano: Strawberry Shortcake
Paisano: Strawberry Shortcake
There was a large patch of gravel in front of the rickety, boarded-up roadside stand, a plywood structure smaller than my closet that it seemed would fall apart if you looked at it closely. I drove by it each day going to and from work when I lived in California and never gave it much thought – just part of the landscape. Then spring arrived and one day I noticed the stand was open. There was no sign indicating what they had, but there was someone in the shadows of the hut, so I pulled in to see what they had.
Inside there was an old oriental man somewhere between 40 and 104 years old and a woman somewhere between 18 and 40. In front of them were trays of strawberries. Small berries, the size of the end of my thumb, perfectly ruby red and ripe. And now that I could look, I noticed that the field behind the stand – perhaps two acres in size – was filled with strawberry plants. I bought a container and, back in the car and headed home, ate a berry, then another, then a third. They were the sweetest, most intense strawberries I'd ever had in my life. Unbelievably good. I had plain strawberries for dinner than night.
I mourned, but this is what seasonal eating is about. You get while the getting's good. And I got good.
A year later the Paisano dropped by while the stand was operating and I had the pleasure of introducing him to these glorious gems. He was suitably impressed – and impressing him isn’t easy to do. I bought two quarts and told him I was going to make him strawberry shortcake. He was horrified.
He asked me how, as someone who loved food, who understood respecting the food, as a person he had taken under his wing and taught to eat (conveniently forgetting the 40-odd years I'd been eating before meeting him) I could make that… and he lapsed into Hungarian or Romanian or whatever language it is he uses when he's cursing. (He won't tell me and I can't figure it out beyond it being Central European.)
Anyway, I finally got him calmed down and determined his experience with strawberry shortcake had involved commercial angel food cake and that nasty gloppy strawberry jelly the grocery stores sell. I told him this wasn't what I was making. I told him I was making strawberry shortcake like my momma made – but even better.
We got back to my place and capped then halved the berries. I added just enough sugar to bring out the juices, and a healthy dollop of Fra Angelica. Strawberries pair beautifully with nut flavors and the Fra Angelica (as well as Amaretto) highlights them delightfully. While I was prepping the berries, I put Paisano to work skinning a handful of hazelnuts.
We let the berries macerate for about three hours.
When I was growing up my mother made strawberry shortcake using the shortcake recipe on the back of the Bisquik box. I confess I still do that myself sometimes, but for this occasion I wanted to convince the Paisano that this was a truly worthy dish. So I used a scone recipe and, after grinding the hazelnuts into flour substituted them for part of the flour. So now I had hazelnuts in the berries and the shortcake.
I placed a warm biscuit on each plate, added berries, and then unsweetened whipped cream. Paisano, took a bite. Chewed it slowly. Then another bite. He raised his glass of wine to me and said, "Bella." This is the word he uses to say something is as beautiful as a woman, it's a special complement.
There was a large patch of gravel in front of the rickety, boarded-up roadside stand, a plywood structure smaller than my closet that it seemed would fall apart if you looked at it closely. I drove by it each day going to and from work when I lived in California and never gave it much thought – just part of the landscape. Then spring arrived and one day I noticed the stand was open. There was no sign indicating what they had, but there was someone in the shadows of the hut, so I pulled in to see what they had.
Inside there was an old oriental man somewhere between 40 and 104 years old and a woman somewhere between 18 and 40. In front of them were trays of strawberries. Small berries, the size of the end of my thumb, perfectly ruby red and ripe. And now that I could look, I noticed that the field behind the stand – perhaps two acres in size – was filled with strawberry plants. I bought a container and, back in the car and headed home, ate a berry, then another, then a third. They were the sweetest, most intense strawberries I'd ever had in my life. Unbelievably good. I had plain strawberries for dinner than night.
They were the sweetest, most intense strawberries I'd ever had in my life.
For a week they were open every other day and I bought a container every other day. For the next week they were open every day and I exercised great will-power and still only bought them every other day, for a final week they were again only open every other day. And then they were gone, the season over, the gravel lot deserted.I mourned, but this is what seasonal eating is about. You get while the getting's good. And I got good.
A year later the Paisano dropped by while the stand was operating and I had the pleasure of introducing him to these glorious gems. He was suitably impressed – and impressing him isn’t easy to do. I bought two quarts and told him I was going to make him strawberry shortcake. He was horrified.
He asked me how, as someone who loved food, who understood respecting the food, as a person he had taken under his wing and taught to eat (conveniently forgetting the 40-odd years I'd been eating before meeting him) I could make that… and he lapsed into Hungarian or Romanian or whatever language it is he uses when he's cursing. (He won't tell me and I can't figure it out beyond it being Central European.)
Anyway, I finally got him calmed down and determined his experience with strawberry shortcake had involved commercial angel food cake and that nasty gloppy strawberry jelly the grocery stores sell. I told him this wasn't what I was making. I told him I was making strawberry shortcake like my momma made – but even better.
We got back to my place and capped then halved the berries. I added just enough sugar to bring out the juices, and a healthy dollop of Fra Angelica. Strawberries pair beautifully with nut flavors and the Fra Angelica (as well as Amaretto) highlights them delightfully. While I was prepping the berries, I put Paisano to work skinning a handful of hazelnuts.
We let the berries macerate for about three hours.
When I was growing up my mother made strawberry shortcake using the shortcake recipe on the back of the Bisquik box. I confess I still do that myself sometimes, but for this occasion I wanted to convince the Paisano that this was a truly worthy dish. So I used a scone recipe and, after grinding the hazelnuts into flour substituted them for part of the flour. So now I had hazelnuts in the berries and the shortcake.
I placed a warm biscuit on each plate, added berries, and then unsweetened whipped cream. Paisano, took a bite. Chewed it slowly. Then another bite. He raised his glass of wine to me and said, "Bella." This is the word he uses to say something is as beautiful as a woman, it's a special complement.
Strawberry ShortcakeAnd the Paisano? He was delighted. In fact he actually made me write down the scone recipe.
Strawberries:
2 quarts strawberries – capped and halved or quartered, depending on size
2 - 4 tbsp sugar – depending on berries sweetness
3 tbsp Fra Angelica
Shortcake:
1 3/4 c all purpose flour
1/4 cup hazelnut flour
1/4 c sugar
1 tbsp baking powder
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3 tbsp butter – melted
1 c buttermilk
Prep the strawberries at least three hours in advance and as long as six hours before eating. Taste a couple of berries to get an idea of how sweet they are, then add the Fra Angelica and as much sugar as seems necessary. (Note: You do want to add some sugar because it draws the juices out of the berries.) Cover with plastic, and allow to macerate on the counter-top (refrigerating them will slow down the maceration and dull the flavor).
When ready to eat, heat oven to 450F.
To make the shortcake, place the flour, hazelnut flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a bowl and mix thoroughly. Add the buttermilk and butter and stir in. You’ll end up with a sticky dough. Flour your hands and turn dough out onto a well-floured surface. Using your hands gently pat out into 6 by 9 inch rectangle. Using a 3 inch biscuit cutter, cut out as many rounds as you can (you should end up with six). Place rounds on an ungreased cookie sheet, shape remaining dough into a round and add it to the sheet.
Bake until well-browned on top (if you wish, you can melt some additional butter and brush the tops) – 12 - 15 minutes. Cut hot cakes in half and set on plates. Drizzle with strawberry juices then distribute strawberries and top with whipped cream. Eat immediately.
Technorati: Food | recipe | Paisano | desserts | strawberries | shortcake | gather
Labels: desserts, food, gather, paisano, shortcake, strawberries
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