Baking with Friends: Ties that Bind

My friend Debbie loved to bake, and I frequently mentioned that I wanted to get in the kitchen and bake with her. But our lives were busy, and we never got around to it. We met at the gym and worked out five days a week at 7 am for an hour. She loved working out and sang like a morning bird—always perky, cheerful, and positive—the complete antithesis of me and my morning routine: grouchy, irritated I had to work out, then shifting to a better mood when the endorphins kicked in at the end of the workout. Despite her commitment to fitness and healthy eating, she was diagnosed with a rare form of brain cancer in her 50s. Sadly, she passed away at 60.

We never got to bake together. It’s a nagging regret that we never shared that experience because magic happens when you’re creating food in the kitchen. Baking together creates a bond and memories that stick with you forever. Our senses are a powerful force. We associate places, time, and the company we kept with the smells and tastes of the food we made and ate together around the table. Food is a tangible transport to memories much like the way music takes you back to a moment in time. My summers at the Jersey Shore flood my mind when I listen to Squeeze or the Cars accompanied by visions of sharing pizza on the boardwalk. I hear the sizzle and smells of frying chicken in Montezuma, Georgia, with my grandmother.

Many don’t understand why my life always seems so packed, but the truth of the matter is that my sense of urgency lies in understanding that life is short. It drives me to live every day to its fullest, and loss is a valuable reminder to make things happen and avoid continually postponing things you want to do. I recently flew to LA to join one of my dearest friends, Heather, in the kitchen. I want to share how much joy this memory brought me—and that I continue to revisit when I need to feel uplifted or need a laugh.

A bake-a-thon come true

When I met Heather about 15 years ago, we both shared a love of baking. We lived on opposite coasts and mostly stayed in touch by email and connected when she was in New York for business. She is one of the kindest, most generous souls that walk among us, and we bonded through other common threads like our closeness to our grandmothers, love of animals, and appreciation for all things interior design.

Heather has witnessed the entire unfolding of my bakery journey. She was and still is one of my greatest cheerleaders. Throughout the years, my inbox has been littered with messages of encouragement sprinkled with shared recipes and photos of things we were baking, wishes to bake together when I’m in LA, and words of wisdom like “Life would not be fun without any risk. You’d just be mediocre.”

Blueberry Muffins

This year I was determined to get to LA and have a bake-a-thon with her before this summer season began. No more waiting. We both have demanding careers and we’ve both been through some heavy losses of loved ones in recent times. Our collective sense of urgency made us block the time out to pack in a short visit filled with baking, cooking, loving on her precious dogs and spoiling them with French macaron dog treats, and talking about life. I got to see her “day in the life of” places and moments—basically experiencing all the things off the pages from which we wrote or talked about over the years.

The memories of those days together are forever etched in my brain. We were both very close to our grandmothers. The only difference was that mine burned things and hers made wonderful treats. When Heather brought out the file box of her grandmother’s recipes, it was like going through a treasure chest.

I had prepared a packet of recipes I thought she’d enjoy making together. She had sent me a couple of recipe videos—one was on cinnamon roll pancakes. I have a great pancake recipe so we used that and made the filling for the cinnamon swirl from the video. A squeeze bottle wasn’t handy, so I used a spoon to improvise the creation of the swirls on the pancakes. It was a mess! It was the first thing we made, and I was quietly horrified by its the appearance. Heather made the icing; we plated the pancakes and took a bite. I almost dropped my fork feeling overcome by the wow factor. We looked at each other with big eyes, swooning over how delicious these pancakes tasted. First memory in the books—and it’s a moment and taste that I keep reliving. It also inspired me to make a note to conquer a better looking and better performing filling (I think we need to reduce the amount of butter and experiment with a little cream cheese. Stay tuned for that post).

We made blueberry muffins. They were delicious and picture perfect out of the oven. I was so excited that a) the second recipe turned out perfect and b) she FaceTimed me making muffins days after I returned home.

We made homemade pizza in her outdoor pizza oven. She typically buys premade dough from Eataly (nothing bad about that), but I assured her she can easily make her own, so why not? And I traveled with yeast, which she found amusing. I tried to fit some ingredients and tools in my carry-on that I thought would be helpful, especially not having been in her kitchen to see what she had on hand. Her kitchen is a gadget-girl’s dream. She’s like me—a healthy balance of everything you think you need but never use, as well as all the things you actually need and use. I purchased a scale as a gift and taught her how to weigh all the ingredients for efficiency and the best results. The pizzas were delicious. She gave me the secret to her sauce: Rao’s pizza sauce—and stocked up several jars swearing that it’s hard to find on the shelves because everyone in LA hoards it. I don’t think we have to make everything, so I love a great food product recommendation. I’ve used Paul Newman’s marinara regularly, but admit I love the Rao’s and hoarded the same when I noticed it on the shelves here at home.

The margarita lesson

We discussed making margaritas. She was going to buy sour mix and with a sweet eye roll I told her we could make it. “Of course, you do because you make everything perfect from scratch,” she replied. Heather planted citrus trees in her yard that yielded spectacular fruit, bursting with juice, unlike the dry lifeless ones we seemingly have on the east coast. When I summoned her to harvest the lemons and limes for the sour mix, she dutifully appeared with a Prada purse dust bag filled with the bounty. A girl after my own heart.

homemade sour mix with fresh homegrown citrus

She’s a genius movie producer and taught me how to stage videos with beautiful props that will turn my stainless worktable-throw-it-on-a-plate photos and videos into gorgeous lifestyle imagery and videos—be patient with me, the student is working on it.

Heather impressed upon me the importance of documenting what I’m doing, sharing more of myself with my audience. I asked, “Who gives a shit that I’m making margaritas?” She reassured me that people are interested and love this kind of content. As she set the stage for the margaritas she grabbed props like a candelabra, additional fruit, and a fancy tequila bottle, creating a sensational backdrop in minutes and proving that you can achieve the aesthetic quickly and easily. As I watched my teacher share great insight, I connected the dots to see how obvious it is that my talent lies in over complicating everything and that I need to up my content game.

Croutons

For the love of croutons

Heather wanted soup and she had a large bowl of vegetables on the kitchen island. I love making soup and teaching people how easy it is to make. I got busy chopping the vegetables while she harvested some thyme from her herb garden (sans designer bag). The kitchen started to smell cozy, perfumed from the mirepoix of carrots, onions, and celery tossed with thyme. Then I cooked the squash with some vegetable stock, topped with a little cream, and used her new, out-of-the-box, immersion blender. She loved the soup and that made my heart sing. There is no greater feeling when you craft something from scratch and it’s met with love—and continuous praise. To me, that’s what Thomas Keller means when he talks about what we do as chefs; in a word it’s nurture. We give love and care through food.

But wait, there’s more. The croutons. The croutons will probably be one of the key highlights mentioned for years to come. They are so simple to make and taste so good.  They are addicting. Heather popped a loaf of sour dough bread in the cart when we were shopping. I cubed the bread, tossed it with olive oil, herbs de Provence, and salt and baked until golden. I piled them in a bowl. Heather walked by and popped one in her mouth and continued to joyfully snack on them throughout my visit. We used them to garnish our soup. In an upcoming post about my workshop in Venice with Mimi Thorisson, I’m going to talk more about these croutons and the little gem packages she refers to in the soup bowl. It’s interesting how culinary experiences can randomly end up being woven together.

Burrata salad with peaches and berries

Instacart anyone?

Heather shared a recipe for a fruit salad with burrata, peaches, and an herbed dressing. She laughed that I called the herb dressing the “Internet dressing” but it was only to not confuse it with the AMIE house dressing I made. She’s truly a creative artist and arranged the salad; it looked like an edible mosaic. I love when artists make food; the aesthetic naturally translates on the plate.

Another thing we have in common: we both hate grocery shopping. I secretly wondered if she was going to shop in the supermarket when she told me to send the ingredient list before my arrival. I couldn’t fathom that she liked going into a supermarket; I consider it a necessary evil and loathe the task. Kudos to her for stocking up—she grocery shopped before my arrival and made a couple of additional stops once I was there. On a joint visit to the market we both laughed when we were walking around the store together when she looked at me and said, “I’ve been in a grocery store more times in a week than I’ve been in years.”

PREPARING The tarte fini aux pommes (thin apple tart)

BLUEBERRY-PEACH SKILLET COBBLER

When it came to the next lineup, the tarte fini aux pommes (thin apple tart), we looked at each other when we realized we forgot to buy the puff pastry. We both had the “We’re not going back to the store” thought balloon. While I assured her we could make puff pastry, she simply looked at me, picked up her phone and fired up an Instacart order. In a time crunch it’s perfectly okay to purchase Pepperidge Farm. And that’s how I got a grand introduction to Instacart. An hour later a delivery of groceries appeared. As much as I love Cape Cod, it reminded me of how much I miss living in New York City.

Lastly, I made a chocolate pavlova because it’s a hit that’s always on my must-do list; her friend Matt couldn’t stop eating it. I loved receiving texts saying how much he liked it and kept picking at it. We made a blueberry-peach skillet cobbler—the topping turned out thinner than normal, but it tasted good. It was also a gentle reminder that it’s the ingredient quality that counts most even if we eat with our eyes first.

Chocolate lava cakes were next to hit the decadent chocolate fix. An easy one-bowl recipe that even when very slightly over baked will cure the craving.

A shot of self-confidence and a renewed sense of direction

During my stay, Heather introduced me as a “world-renowned Chef.” When she caught my “what are you talking about” eye, she repeated that phrase. My cheerleader was doling out doses of positive reinforcement and allowing me to shine in my element, her kitchen. She took me out to dinner at a Greek restaurant in Malibu, Taverna Tony. We ate and then walked around. It was so comforting to spend time with loving friend, seeing new things, and being away. Changing your environment never fails in its ability to reveal so many important revelations. I am committed to taking more time to create these moments. I received the boost of self-confidence I needed to push forward on completing the book and focusing on creating more content. She also helped reshape my perspective on how I view the future—and how I’ve been allowing the past to cloud my attitude. Sometimes the raw truth is such a blessing. To hear another perspective that makes so much sense, yet you cannot see it because you’re in the thick of things, well, can bring a clarity that makes you feel so much lighter. The path forward just felt easier. My sense of focus was restored and rejuvenated.

My visit with Heather was exactly what I needed to reset before launching into peak season on Cape Cod. When I departed, filled with gratitude and a renewed sense of direction for the future, she reminded me that I’m always welcome to visit. And, she knows she has an open invitation to visit me on Cape Cod. I can’t wait for her to see the bakery.

Heather, from one powerhouse to another, thank you for being a loving friend, a great host, creating a memorable trip, and sharing lots of delicious food. XO

Your friend,
Amie