“The only real stumbling block is fear of failure. In cooking you’ve got to have a what-the-hell-attitude and just go for it.” Julia Child, American chef, author, and television personality.
I did not learn to cook until I was 25. I got married, moved out to the sticks into a tiny farmhouse, decorated it in two days, put away all the dishes and cookware and realized I was clueless about cooking. I come from a long line of great cooks but somehow I did not know how to make iced tea.
For my first Thanksgiving with my new in-laws and siblings, whom were all excellent cooks, I was asked to bring a fruit salad, which is on the same level as being asked to bring the paper products for a holiday gathering.
I bought the fruit, cut it up and voila Fruit Salad! I showed them who could cook! Then, out of nowhere, one of my new sisters-in-law asked me in the sweetest most passive-aggressive voice ever, “Are the grapes supposed to have seeds in them?” All eyes at the table zeroed in on me and I could feel their looks of disgust piercing my already blasted ego. You would have thought I had brought canned potatoes or fish sticks to the holiday table! Okay, I am exaggerating a bit, but at the time I thought grapes were grapes. Who knew some grapes had seeds and some did not? Who reads package labels?
I learned to read package labels and after that fruit salad disaster I began reading cookbooks and watching other people cook. Cookbooks became my passion and I skipped right over the Better Homes & Gardens New Cookbook for beginners and went straight to The Boston Cooking School Cook Book, Larousse Gastronomique and The Way to Cook, by Julia Child. I pored over these books and was willing to try anything that sounded the least bit intimidating. Swiss Merengue Buttercream, Chocolate Covered Cabbage leaves filled with Chocolate Mousse, and Catfish with Meuniere Sauce, were some of my early stabs at cooking. I dared anyone to ask me to bring a fruit salad again! There were some faulty dishes along the way, but once I got a few techniques down, I was a cooking machine. I wasn’t afraid to make the most pretentious dish ever for these holiday dinners or any kind of celebration or catered affair that I was in charge of. I feared nothing, except liver which I am still deathly afraid of. However, in order to keep my humility in tact, I may have overshot it a couple of times.
My mother-in-law asked me to prepare lunch for her old lady bridge club and I was happy to oblige. I prepared Salmon en Croute with Lemon Dill Sauce. Granted, I had never made this before, and the closest I had been to a salmon was in a croquet that my great aunt had made. It was a daring move on my part, but I remembered what Julia Child had said about courage; “You’ve got to have the courage of your convictions and the only real stumbling block is fear of failure.” That, and the laser-like stares from your family members.
Somehow I located a whole side of salmon and sheets of puff pastry from a tiny store in Jackson. I picked all of the tiny bones out of his fishy body, stuffed him with a mushroom-wine concoction, then gently wrapped him in the puff pastry in the shape of a fish. I cut tiny pieces of dough in the shape of fish scales, little fins and an eyeball. I brushed him with an egg-wash and he was exquisite looking, just like the one in Julia Childs’ cookbook. I could not have been prouder if I had birthed my own child!
The old ladies went to play cards, (that’s what they said they were doing anyway), and I put this huge fish on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet and popped him into a very hot oven. When he was golden brown I took him out and just looked at him as long as I could. I was teary he was so gorgeous! The ladies sat down and ate their salads and just demanded that they view my creation before I sliced him up! “Why of course I will bring him in,” I gushed.
Using two large spatulas, I tried to gently lift him to the platter in one piece. This method was not working at all. My mind was racing, he was stuck to the paper! Rats! Did not think this one all of the way through; the more I tried to extract him from the paper, the more he was falling apart. I decided to just let them view the fish on the baking sheet and then I would hack him up in the kitchen. I gave the heavy swinging door a healthy push with my hip and as I did, the fish that was stuck to the parchment paper, but not to the pan, slid right off the pan and soared across the table, landing right on top of the beautiful bowl of floating camellias that Mrs. Thompson had brought. “Birds have to fly and fish have to swim!” one of the ladies cackled. Oh well, at least they had an airborne view of the fabulous flying fish, I thought to myself. The laughter was hurting my head as I tried to fish the fish out of the camellias, to no avail. “It’s okay honey-baby, we’ve all killed a lunch at one time or another!” one of the blue-haired ladies exclaimed. I was afraid a couple of them were going to hurt themselves laughing so hard, so I brought out the dessert and popped open a couple of bottles of Champagne.
Julia Child once said “If champagne can make a party or gathering extra festive, just think what it can do for dinner!” She was right, it saved the drowned fish and the ladies loved the dessert and champagne best of all. They told that story as long as they could remember it, which was only about a week.
I was happy I had saved a bottle for myself that day. I needed it.
Champagne & Caper Beurre Blanc
From Galatoire’s Restaurant, New Orleans, LA. Delicious over poached fish!
1 cup champagne
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon black peppercorns
1 tablespoon chopped shallots
1 tablespoon chopped garlic
1 pound salted butter, cut into pieces
3 tablespoons capers, drained
To a small saucepan set over medium heat add the champagne, lemon juice, peppercorns, shallots, and garlic. Simmer for 5 minutes, or until reduced by one third. Whisking constantly, add the butter to the liquid one piece at a time until it has all been incorporated into the sauce.
Remove the sauce from the heat and strain through a fine-mesh strainer into a fresh saucepan. Discard the solids. Add the capers to the strained sauce. Serve immediately over poached salmon or trout.Makes 3 cups.
