Last Licks

(by Laura Zinn Fromm)

Author's reading

My mother is killing old age. At 84, she still works full time, plays tennis three times a week, and rocks Ferragamo pumps.

When I was growing up, she always made a fuss about birthdays. Every year on mine, she made an elaborate chocolate soufflé mousse pie involving ladyfingers, coffee, Grand Marnier, and homemade whipped cream, and placed it on a beautiful flowered plate that spun and sang “Happy Birthday.” So this year, I wanted to make a fuss about her birthday. When one of my sons texted me a link to a recipe for beef Wellington, suggesting that we make it together, it seemed like the perfect amount of fuss and indulgence (calling for three pounds of beef tenderloin, at roughly $50/pound), plus the chance to spend a Saturday afternoon cooking with one of my adult kids. On a recent visit to my cousin Charles, a fantastic cook and caterer, we had a most delicious chocolate coconut pot de crème with a thin layer of peanut butter and a sprinkling of sea salt on top; I decided on that as Mom’s birthday “cake.”

I ordered two boxes of puff pastry dough (the gluten-free variety, which I try to be), although I felt a little guilty about not making the dough from scratch. My mother, a terrific cook in her heyday, probably would have—for decades, she made elaborate dinners almost every night. I wanted to please her, and cooking is where we find our peace—a good thing since we don’t always see eye to eye. She is in public relations and (occasionally) sugar-coats reality. I used to be a business journalist and look for dirt at every opportunity. Sometimes I challenge her version of events. But she also taught me to be practical. I raised my kids in New Jersey in a house with a big kitchen, but now we live in Manhattan, and our kitchen is a fraction the size of our old one, with barely enough counter space to roll out dough. I decided Mom would be fine with this shortcut.

Although the recipe included multiple steps, the beef Wellington—brushed with mustard, rolled in mushrooms and pancetta, wrapped in prosciutto and pastry—made a gorgeous presentation. Not so much for the pot de crème. Doubling the recipe for our crowd was easy enough, but when I tasted it, something was off. Dummy! There were still several chocolate bars sitting on the counter that I had forgotten about. I made another batch, doubled the chocolate, mixed all three batches together, and crossed my fingers….

It was too rich, if such a thing is possible. I had forgotten to garnish with the sea salt, which would have cut the richness, and added too thick a layer of peanut butter. Even I, sugar addict that I am, couldn’t finish what was in my glass.

After dessert, we went around the room, everyone saying what they loved about Mom. I mentioned my appreciation of her competence in the kitchen, how often I heard her voice, making suggestions, while I cooked.

At the end of the toasts, my mother raised her glass. “What I love about our family is that we have no strife,” she said.

I sat up straighter. What did she just say? My parents had fought bitterly before divorcing. My father had temper tantrums at the dinner table and could be volatile and erratic. (I am speaking euphemistically here; he also attempted suicide twice.) During my senior year in high school, my parents dated other people while living together. My mother eventually left my father for a man she stayed with for almost ten years; later, she left him for a married man, whom she married. My father remarried, divorced, and was engaged twice. Although there was no domestic violence or substance abuse in our immediate family, there was strife pretty much everywhere you looked.

My mother is nothing if not polite and diplomatic, so I reminded myself that it was her birthday and stayed quiet, though it is possible I rolled my eyes.

“Well, we don’t have any strife now,” my mother conceded. I shrugged. Good enough.

As we got up to clear the table, I looked around at the half-full glasses of pot de crème. Everyone had left so much over, but when I picked up my mother’s glass, I almost cried. She had eaten all of hers. Thank you, Mom.

P.S. If you follow Charles’s recipe to the letter, you will not run into trouble. You will love it.

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Laura Zinn Fromm is an author and editor whose work has been in many publications

including The New York Times, Huffington Post, and Bloomberg Businessweek. She is

the author of Sweet Survival: Tales of Cooking & Coping. She lives in New York City

and can be found at www.LauraZinnFromm.com, www.SweetLabWritingWorkshops.com , and on Substack.

Beef Wellington

(adapted from The New York Times)

3 lb. center-cut beef tenderloin

2 oz. pancetta or bacon, finely chopped (1/4 c.)

2 T. unsalted butter

12 oz. mushrooms, preferably a mix of different kinds, such as cremini, white, shiitake,

chanterelles or oyster, very finely chopped (4 c.)

1 shallot, diced

2 T. extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling

2 garlic cloves, minced

2 t. fresh thyme leaves

1 T. dry sherry or dry vermouth

kosher salt and black pepper

2 T. Dijon mustard

10 - 12 thin slices prosciutto

1 large egg

16 oz. puff pastry, thawed in refrigerator

Squeeze the meat into a 12-in. log and tie it with kitchen twine, folding the thinner end

onto itself.

Place pancetta in a cold 12-in. skillet. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until

pancetta starts to brown, 6 - 8 minutes.

Add butter, raise heat to high, and stir in mushrooms and shallot.

Cook until the liquid released by the mushrooms has cooked off, 4 - 7 minutes.

Reduce heat to medium and continue to cook until mushrooms have a deep golden

color, stirring frequently, another 18 - 23 minutes.

If the pan looks dry, drizzle in a little olive oil, then stir in garlic and thyme leaves.

Cook until fragrant, another 1 - 2 minutes.

Stir in sherry, scraping up the browned bits on the bottom of the pan.

Scrape mixture into a medium bowl to cool.

In the same skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high.

Season beef generously with salt and pepper, then sear on all sides until browned, 1 - 2

minutes per side.

Transfer to a plate, and cool slightly.

Remove twine and brush meat all over with mustard.

On a clean work surface, overlap long sheets of plastic wrap (about 15 x 15 in.). Place

prosciutto slices on top to make about a 14 x 7-in. rectangle, arranging them in an even

layer and overlapping the pieces slightly. Spread cooled mushroom mixture on top.

Place beef along one long end of the prosciutto slices, and roll prosciutto tightly around

beef.

Wrap tightly with plastic wrap, twisting both ends like a candy wrapper.

Refrigerate at least 30 minutes and up to overnight.

Preheat oven to 400 F.

Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a small bowl, whisk together egg and 1 t. water.

Roll puff pastry out to 14 x 13 in and lay out on prepared baking sheet, lightly draping

over edges.

Carefully unwrap and place chilled log along the edge of one long side of puff pastry.

Roll beef up tightly, then place it seam-side down on the baking sheet.

Tuck puff pastry over the ends of the beef to cover them, pinching to seal and folding

underneath.

Brush top and sides of pastry with egg wash, and use a small sharp knife to cut a few

slits into the top of the pastry.

Bake until a thermometer inserted in the center reads 115 degrees for rare, 25 - 35

minutes. (This timing will yield rare pieces at the thicker end and medium done pieces at

the thinner end of the loin.)

Remove from oven and let rest for 10 minutes, then slice and serve.

Serves 8 – 10.

Note: You really do need a full pound of puff pastry here to cover all the meat, so if your

package weighs less, you’ll need to supplement with another package.

Chocolate Coconut Peanut Butter Pot de Crème

(from Spice Salt & Sweet, San Miguel de Allende, Mexico)

1 T. whole cardamom seeds

12 oz. dark chocolate (70%)

4 whole large eggs at room temperature.

2 t. vanilla extract (or cognac, amaretto, or another flavoring of your choice)

1⁄4 - 1⁄2 t. kosher salt

8 oz. full-fat coconut milk

smooth peanut butter (preferably a sugary, supermarket brand, not “natural”)

coarse sea salt, to taste

In a dry pan, toast cardamom seeds. Cool, then grind coarsely, and set aside.

In a blender or food processor, combine chocolate, eggs, vanilla, and salt until pureed.

Heat coconut milk, and with blender/food processor running, slowly pour in the hot

coconut milk all at once. This will cook the eggs and create a runny custard-like texture.

Add cardamom and pulse to mix it evenly.

Pour mixture into 6 serving glasses and refrigerate until firm.

Microwave the peanut butter until it's pourable.

Pour a 1/4 in. layer of peanut butter on top of the chilled chocolate mixture.

Sprinkle a few kernels of coarse sea salt on top.

Refrigerate until serving.