Grating Nutmeg, a Perfect Peach, a $12 Bowl of Raspberries, and Butter-Dipped Radishes #CooktheBook #FoodieReads

This was inspired by the August-September #CooktheBooks selection and hosted by Claudia of Honey from Rock. I haven't been very good at participating in this bi-monthly book group. But I couldn't pass up the chance to read Coming to My Senses: The Making of a Counterculture Cook by Alice Waters.

The Myth, The Legend

Before I read Coming to My Senses: The Making of a Counterculture Cook by Alice Waters, I didn't actually know that much about her background and her life, including her childhood on the East Coast, her start at UC Santa Barbara and eventual transfer to Cal (that's UC Berkeley!), and her journey to restaurateur extraordinaire.

She was a student at Cal when the Free Speech Movement started in earnest in 1964 and includes the text of Mario Savio's speech from the steps of Sproul Hall on 2 December 1964. I have read that speech many times. But it seemed more poignant coming from someone who actually heard it delivered in real life.

One thing that stood out to me was her time as a Montessori teacher. My mom taught Montessori for years and up through fourth grade, I was a Montessori kid. This passage - and an explanation of the philosophy - resonated with me: "...Montessori was all about learning through your senses, learning by doing,; when students were doing math, for example, they would lay out these beautiful wooden blocks, so the students could see and feel exactly what they were measuring. ...One of the first things I responded to about Montessori was the fact that there were lots of games you played that employed food 0 they had smelling canisters, for example, and you had to match up the scent with the food or herb or spice. ...Montessori education felt like a school reform movement - learning through the senses was a countercultural idea, too. It felt like a hopeful way to enact change" (pp. 169-170).

Grating Nutmeg

In addition to using the senses in learning, Montessori kids are also trusted with their own time management - even as young as kindergarten. I remember once when I was in second grade I didn't feel like doing my math, geography, or any other subject; I knew that I would have to make up that work in time on another day. But that afternoon I just wanted to grate nutmeg. There was something soothing about grating that aromatic seed. Over and over again, I pushed that seed over the grater, inhaling the scent, and loving the feel of the movement. That isn't something that is allowed in typical elementary schools, but it is certainly a memory that persists in my mind even forty-five years later! To this day, grating nutmeg is a soothing kitchen task for me. I love it!

A Perfect Peach

I have long-known who Alice Waters is. Owner of Chez Panisse, advancer of the farm-to-table movement, and pioneer of California cuisine. She is a legend. Interestingly enough, despite having lived in Berkeley for five years, despite my younger son living in Berkeley for three years so far, and despite working around the corner from her famous restaurant for more than two years, I have never eaten there.

That probably stems from a friend in high school eating there with a boyfriend and reporting back that dessert was a ripe peach on a plate...for $20. I understand the sublime of a perfectly ripe, sun-kissed peach. Whenever it's stone fruit season, I try to find a u-pick and get a bounty. But a $20 peach does seem s little ridiculous, doesn't it?

However, it speaks to the beauty and simplicity that can be a dish or meal. It's funny to me that she refers to Chez Panisse as her little French restaurant, though I have always heard it referred to as the quintessential California cuisine. But I will say that her food sensibilities did come from her time in France. I can relate to that European revelation! My view of buying and preparing food was shaped by my thirteen months in Italy after college.

Walker writes about one of the best breakfasts of her life: "The next morning we'd have ricotta from the milk - the shepherd served it with rosehip jam that his grandmother made from the wild roses from the Pyrenean mountainside" (pg. 106). You can read about my time making a cauldron full of tomato sauce on the island of Lipari (off the coast of Sicily) in my post A Tomato Canvas. And foraging is the ultimate experience in eating seasonally and locally. Every year I like making Foraged Elderflower Liqueur and give them as Christmas gifts.

A $!2 Bowl of Raspberries

If you look at the menu for this week (above), you'll see a bowl of grapes and raspberries for $12.

Again, I probably wouldn't pay $12 for a bowl of raspberries and grapes. But I do know how heavenly it is to eat a bowl of in-season berries that taste like a burst of sweet-tart sunshine!

That actually brings me to what Waters wrote about her "favorite recipe: 'Go get some perfectly ripe figs in August, put them on a plate, and eat them.' No, my favorite recipe is : 'Go cut some mint from the garden, boil water, and pout it over the mint. Wait. And then drink.' That's my favorite recipe" (pg. 144). In my own life, I call these processes, not recipes per se. And it's hard to go wrong by serving and eating foods in season and locally-sourced.

There were plenty of food mentions on the pages that made my mouth water, including a Soupe de Légumes that she had in Paris. She writes, "I'd never tasted anything like it before. The soup had tiny cubed vegetables floating in a clear amber broth, delicate and simple and delicious. We savored it - I don't remember anything else we ate, only that sublime soup and a fresh baguette with butter" (pg. 97).

Her recounting of a lunch in Pont-Aven - where there were no choices - reminded me of one of my favorite dinners in Rome where there also was no choice. "The menu that day was cured ham and melon, whole trout with slivered almonds in browned butter, and a raspberry tart. No choices, just ;This is what we're having today.' Every dish was quietly sublime" (pg. 111).

Butter-Dipped Radishes

In the early days, she used to source produce from neighbors who had gardens, trading them meals for their fresh fruits and vegetables. This passage is what inspired my recipe.

It started when someone brought us French breakfast radishes from her garden. Those radishes were so good, we served them just with butter and salt (pp. 161-162)

I have been making these for years, but apparently I have never shared them because it's not a real recipe. Or rather, it's a simple recipe. And one thing I got from this Waters' memoir: If your ingredients are amazing, they need very little intervention to make a delicious dish.

Ingredients

• 1 stick of unsalted, high quality butter (I usually splurge on a French or Irish butter)

• bunches of assorted radishes

• fleur de sel or Maldon Sea Salt

• Also needed: parchment paper, baking sheet

Procedure

Rinse the radishes completely to remove all the dirt and sand. Trim the roots and some of the stalks. Dry them well and keep in the refrigerator until ready to dip.

In a small saucepan, heat until the butter is barely half melted. You want it still opaque. Whisk until smooth and thick with a pale yellow as the color.

Dip the radishes into the tempered butter and place onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Place the sheet in the fridge until set. Serve with fleur de sel or Maldon Sea Salt.

That's a wrap for my August-September #CooktheBooks offering. I am also adding this post to the September edition of #FoodieReads. The book group will return for its October-November read with Maame by Jessica George as the pick. I have had that book on my shelf for months. Stay tuned!