Dear friend,
I charged forward in making croissants for the Easter table, despite the fact that a pipe had blown outside our kitchen and the basement walls were now leaking water. The kitchen sink was draining (and still is) into a bucket.
Yes, I think it’s fair to say I was a little flustered… perhaps even a little angry.
I knew the butter would betray me — any pastry hates being formed by a cook wrought with tension. Especially when it’s a flaky, decadent pastry that relies on butter to aerate and delight.
Angry baking is never encouraged, and rightfully so.
As one could have easily guessed, the croissants were a disaster. (Did I forget to mention that my quiche also leaked and stuck to the cake pan?)
For a brief moment, I cast my fists into the air and allowed the stress-tears to well in my eyes. I swore off cooking (despite the fact that this was the very week in which I was opening doors to The Beginners Guide to Cooking From Scratch course) and second guessed who the heck I think I am to offer something of value to the world that has anything to do with ingredients or assembling them into something lovely.
In my moment of disappointment, I thought back to my many times gone wrong in the kitchen…
Like the time I tried to heat a soup by blending it in my Vitamix for an extended period of time.
Or the time I tried to make a roasted beet and beef “puree”.
Or the time I tried to serve a roasted buckwheat salad to my family.
There are too many dropped eggs, burnt breads, overcooked pastas, and bad combinations to count. And for every fantastic feast that lands on our family table, you can be assured that there were a few dumped in the garbage in the process of learning those skills.
The failures have come less frequently at this age, but they’ll never fully leave me. The Easter croissants were but a reminder of my place in the world. Ours is a home for hobbits. Here, we will abide under-proofed loaves and overcooked vegetables if it means we can gather at the table. In our home, we have always been more focused on time at the table than on performance or show. (That being said, we do hope it is a table filled with a few delicious delights.)
(You know in The Great British Baking Show when contestants are accused of putting ‘style over substance’? Let’s just say… that’s not an accusation that would ever fly this direction.)
What most often finds its way to our table is a simple salted and roasted chicken… platters of roasted vegetables drizzled with oil, vinegar, and a smattering of herbs… loaves of country bread (more often than not, made by my mother, who has taken on the gargantuan task of helping bake fresh bread for my family through this particularly dense season of life). On our table, you’ll find salads as simple as arugula dressed in lemon juice, bowls of olives, sliced fruit, mugs of tea, and plates of prosciutto and cheese.
It’s not just the fact that this is what we love to eat; it’s the fact that this is how cooking from scratch at home is sustainable.
A dish or two gets the attention (braised lamb shanks… homemade pizza dough… a quick frittata with caramelized onions) while all the supporting characters on the table are there for simple delight and “filling in the cracks”.
I’m never more encouraged by my “less is more” technique than when I’m in Italy. They serve ingredients — barely altered — alongside dishes. There’s always a few heavy hitters to impress the crowds alongside sautéed vegetables with nothing but garlic and oil.
Part of me thinks this is why Italians are so notorious for their cooking skills — they’re possible for everyone to obtain. It is a cuisine made for homecooks.
It is a balance.
It only took a few minutes of reflection to realize the silliness of my Sunday croissant attempt: I was tripling the batch (something I tell The Cooking Community members never to do), I was tweaking the timing to fit my schedule (pastries move on their own timeline), I was doing it for a crowd (Murphy’s Law and all that), and I was looking for the pastries to wow me — and if I’m being honest, probably others too.
(And to be fair to myself — I’ve yet to meet an Italian home cook who makes their own pastries. They’re extraordinary at everyday nourishment and plate-filling… but specialty items and breads are reserved for the local pasticceria.) .
This past week, after months of effort, I finally was able to open the doors to our new online course: The Beginners Guide to Cooking From Scratch. My greatest hope in making this course was to show new cooks how basic and simple cooking can be when you focus on techniques, not just on recipes.
What I mean to say is cooking, at its most fundamental, is beautiful and worthwhile.
What I also mean to say is, it’s okay to let someone else make the d*mn croissants.
Confession: I hate cooking competition shows. They’re all we’re fed now. I miss the days of Nigella… of Chuck… of Jamie… of David… of all these wonderful chefs and home cooks that made an entire generation of viewers feel like home cooking was possible and delightful. Now, we’re presented with intense lighting, dramatic music, cut-throat plot twists, and we wonder why no one feels peace in the kitchen anymore. We’re told that cooking is a performance — and an intense one.
BUT IT’S NOT. It’s a few methods and philosophies that teach one to delight in food. It’s platters of simple ingredients prepared well and a few homemade dishes you can be really proud of.
Every time I visit my beloved Umbria, I travel with a notebook and pen. At each meal, I sit down and draw a simple picture of how a dish is plated and what is served. Perfect toasted bread with olive oil and sea salt. Breaded fish. Lentil soup with eggplant. Slices of pears with pecorino cheese.
Somehow it’s nothing and everything all at once. That’s the magic of beautiful, simple, attainable food.
I have too much pride to share all of my failings with the world (and plenty that span far outside the walls of my cottage kitchen too), but for now I’ll leave it at the disaster of croissants.
I still push myself enough to fail — which I suppose means there is still a passion for work in the kitchen. Praise the Lord. Because there’s still a lot of mouths to feed…
My guess is that you’ve had some flops in the kitchen too… perhaps even some that have convinced you to not pursue from-scratch cooking any longer…
It’s important you do not listen. It’s important that you give yourself the gift of cooking.
Because there’s endless (and delicious) pleasure for our tables ahead.
Love,
PS: If you ever want to experience the beautiful tables full of food in Italy I often allude to, our culinary trips for 2027 are now open. You can join Stuart and I in either June or September in delicious Umbria for feasting and merriment. More details here
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