But it was Cecile who we worried about the most. She had taken years deciding what she wanted to do and finally decided to follow in Jimmy’s footsteps and study architecture. After graduating from Princeton as an architect, Cecile had a problem finding work. New York was in a recession and work for young architects was sparse. She worked for Jimmy’s office for a few months then for Arakawa, our artist friend. When Arata Isozaki, a Japanese architect and our friend, came to New York, he told Arakawa he needed young architects for his office in Tokyo. Arakawa suggested he hire Cecile. Arata said he would be eager to take on Cecile, and so for a while, Cecile worked at Arata’s New York office and then left for Tokyo to join the main office.
Much later, Jimmy was offered a spring show of his drawings in a prestigious gallery in Tokyo. We flew to Tokyo for the opening, and after a week in Tokyo, we spent time with Cecile. I was sad to leave Cecile alone again in Japan, but very soon letters and e-mail arrived full of good news. Cecile loved Japan, was learning the language very quickly, and was having a very creative time. By the fall, she had met a young Japanese architect and was deeply in love. At the next Christmas, they both arrived in New York. Ghen was a handsome and gracious man who loved music and art. He seemed to be a very talented architect, and most of all, he loved Cecile. We were delighted having them with us. When they were about to leave, being an interfering mother, I asked Ghen if he was going to marry Cecile: His answer was “I ask her every day, but she says she is happy as we are.”
A month later Cecile called, “We are getting married. But the wedding has to be in Japan because Ghen’s grandfather is too old to come to New York, and Ghen wants him to be present. You don’t have to do anything. We are designing the wedding.”
Cecile had been our most restless child, and we were ecstatic that she had finally found someone who shared her ideas about life. Although disappointed that the wedding would not take place in New York and that once married they would continue to live in Japan, I already was planning trips back and forth in my mind.
A few weeks before the wedding, we were awakened at two in the morning by a telephone call from Cecile. Ghen had died suddenly in her arms. The cause was a brain aneurysm. We learned to our horror that she had tried to get help from neighbors, but doors were slammed in her face, and when the ambulance had finally arrived, it was too late.
The next morning I flew to Japan to be with her. What do you say to your child when her world collapses? When you look at her and see how deep the hurt is? You say nothing; you are simply there. You hold her hands, you let her cry, and you stay by her side. The funeral was long and arduous. I stayed a week longer than I intended. I hated leaving her alone in the tiny apartment she had shared with Ghen. I wanted her back with us, but she adamantly refused. She was staying in Japan.
Months went by. Every time I called I could hear the tears in her voice. I had to help her get out of Japan. Jimmy and I decided that we had to talk to Arata Isozaki. I knew in my heart that I should not interfere, but I could not stand her pain and thought, right or wrong, that once out of Japan where everything reminded her of Ghen, she might feel better. Arata was an internationally renowned architect who had projects around the world. We begged him to send Cecile somewhere, anywhere out of Japan.
A few months later, Cecile announced that Arata Isozaki was sending her to Berlin to help with the building of a large project. Cecile had been in Berlin two years when she announced near Christmas that she was visiting us with a new wonderful friend. Christian, her future husband, came into our lives, and we hoped that Cecile had recovered from Ghen’s death and would be able to rebuild her life.
Meanwhile, Matthew, our first grandchild, was born.
Two years later, Marianne announced she was pregnant again; Thomas and Rebecca were married; and Juliette was seriously in love with David. They got married in Jordan, but they were moving back to New York.
A year later Julien, Marianne’s second little boy, was born. The family was growing.
As time went by, the family changed and grew even more. Two years after Julien was born, Marianne divorced and was living in Brooklyn with her two little boys. She had become very involved in education. She was now taking a degree in education at the New School University as she had decided to follow her dream of creating new, radical, smaller schools. She had met a young man, Edi, who shared her dreams. Together, once she graduated, they would move to Santa Barbara, California, to try and establish their dream school.
Thomas was designing very exciting projects at a leading New York firm while being totally absorbed by his lovely baby son, Luca.
Cecile had married Christian. She now lived in Berlin. She was still working as an architect but had also begun to write and was finishing a book of short stories. Her daughter, Celine, was saying her first words of English. Cecile was also expecting her second child.
Meanwhile, our house on Sullivan Street felt different. Our children had flown the coop, and the house seemed deserted, too vast for both of us. Jimmy decided to remodel the house.
“Let’s build an apartment downstairs. It will bring us much needed income.” I protested. I loved my house, my garden. I would lose my kitchen and dining room. But Jimmy promised to build me a new kitchen, better than the one I had downstairs, and a dining room with a copper dome.
“A tempieto,” he called it. “A small temple of food, just for you.”
Jimmy was very excited about this project. This was the first time that he was designing and building something new for us. I was often upset as for a month we camped in a house that was under construction, going back to our beginnings, often cooking in the fireplace while the new kitchen was being built. My lovely garden was trampled by the construction workers. I was getting very impatient, but then one day the project was finished and the downstairs apartment was rented. The tempieto was lovely, full of light with a great view of my lovely garden. Once again, I started to cook, inspired by my tempieto. We threw an enormous house-warming party, and all of New York seemed to be there. Friends, children, and grandchildren’s laughter filled the house, a flowering hibiscus grew in the kitchen balcony, and my roses bloomed once again.
It is Christmas Eve, and all our children are gathered in our Soho town house. Two days ago, Thomas and I went to buy a Christmas tree. Tonight we will decorate it with Christmas ornaments that we have accumulated over the years. My favorite ones are the ones we bought when our children were very young on our trip to Guatemala. Our friend, Philip Herrera, had suggested the trip and had given us the use of his house on Lake Atitlán. All around the lake were small villages where we bought these ornaments from a local artist. They are made of straw but look like gold in the glow of the tiny Christmas lights. There are other charming ornaments that our friends have brought us. For the past twenty years, we have given a party, inviting our friends to be with our children and grandchildren. Every guest had to bring something for the tree. I usually asked that they make it, but they seldom did. Around midnight we serve dinner, I call it a Reveillon, like the French. I serve a four-meat pâté, boudin blanc, a veal sausage served with good mustard, lentils with lots of garlic, salad, cheese, tangerines, and a bûche de Noël that Jerome, the patissier from Once Upon A Tart down the street makes every year.
After midnight, when all the guests have gone, we bring the presents down from hiding places upstairs. Jimmy and Marianne usually have made the best packages. One year, the year that the astronauts went to the moon, Jimmy transformed all the gifts into an enormous space ship. Another year he and Thomas built the city of Bethlehem, with palm trees decorated with little lights behind the village.
I am always in charge of the stockings. This is what I like best. I roam the city choosing small, amusing, unusual, and often useless presents to fill the stockings. I hang them on the mantle piece, one for each member of the family, now seventeen. They are the first things we open in the morning before we have breakfast. The screams of delight of my grandchildren still resonate i
n my mind. Jimmy prepares breakfast. He is famous for his waffles. Since we’ve been married, now fifty years, Jimmy has always cooked breakfast on Christmas morning.
Christmas dinner is late at night. We all cook together. Marianne usually makes a soup. She makes a wonderful, pungent carrot and ginger soup. Thomas and I roast a goose, and I stuff the neck. This is a very old recipe that my French grandmother always made for Christmas. Juliette takes care of dessert, and Cecile, who half the time is vegetarian, cooks the vegetables. On this day, it is the only time where no one argues. Food in our family seems to still be the catalyst for bringing us together. We all sit, sixteen of us around a long table in the living room. It is the only time we eat there. As I look around the table, I remember that as a child I had never experienced this pleasure. Perhaps I have succeeded in my quest to create a real family, something I never had.
Two years later, Oliver, Thomas’s second son, is born.
CARROT SOUP
Peel, scrape, and cut in 1-inch pieces, 6 carrots. Place the carrots in a saucepan and cover with water and ½ teaspoon of salt. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and cook for 15 minutes or until the carrots are done. Drain the carrots, reserving the liquid. Place the carrots in a food processor with 1 medium onion; a 2-inch piece of ginger, peeled and cut; 1 tablespoon of dried thyme, and 2 garlic cloves. Add 1 cup of the carrot water and puree. In a saucepan, bring to a boil 5 cups of chicken bouillon. Add the carrot puree and mix well. Correct the seasoning with salt and freshly ground pepper. Heat the soup, then pour it in 6 individual bowls. Top with 1 tablespoon of crème fraîche and garnish with 1 mint leaf.
Serves 6.
STUFFED GOOSE NECK
Preheat oven at 350°.
When preparing to roast a goose, first cut the neck skin of a 10-pound goose. Lay it flat and remove the veins and the fat inside the skin. Fold the skin in two. Start sewing it, using heavy thread in a darning needle, starting from the narrow end; leave the wider end open to stuff. In a bowl mix together 2 cups of pork sausages with 2 garlic cloves, 1 tablespoon of sage, 1 tablespoon of thyme, and 1 egg. Mix well. In a skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of butter. Add 2 shallots, chopped; the goose liver, cubed, and 2 or 3 chicken livers also cubed. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Sautée for 5 minutes. Then pour over the livers 2 tablespoons of brandy and ignite. When the flame dies down, add the livers to the pork mixture and mix well. Stuff the neck and sew the last opening. Place the stuffed neck along side the goose. When the goose is cooked, remove the neck, let it cool, refrigerate, and serve as an appetizer, thinly sliced.
If you have too much stuffing, roll it like sausage, wrap it in foil paper, and bake it alongside of the goose.
ANNE’S BRISKET OF BEEF
Have the butcher trim most of the fat of a 5-pound beef brisket. Peel 6 garlic cloves and insert into the meat slivers of garlic. Place the meat in a large baking pan. Sprinkle with coarse salt and freshly ground pepper and 2 tablespoons of dried marjoram and thyme. Pour 2 tablespoons of dark soy mixed with 2 tablespoons of olive oil on the meat. Peel and thinly slice 2 medium onions. Spread the slices on top of the meat. Then add 3 cups of beef consommé to the pan. Cover the roasting pan with foil paper and bake in a 350° oven for 3 hours, adding more consommé if necessary. Remove the meat from the pan and thinly slice. Serve with the pan juices.
Serves 4.
KREPLACH
These kreplach are made with leftover brisket.
In a bowl, mix together 2 cups of flour with ½ teaspoon of salt, freshly ground pepper, and 3 tablespoons of oil. Mix well. In another bowl, beat 2 egg yolks with ½ cup of water. Add the egg mixture to the flour along with 1½ teaspoon of baking powder. Knead until you have a smooth dough. Roll the dough on a floured board as thin as you can.
Cut squares 3-inches on the side.
Cut the leftover meat in small cubes. You need about 2 cups of ground meat. Add some pan juices enough to moisten the meat. Then add 1 onion finely chopped and mix well. Correct the seasoning adding salt and pepper if necessary.
Place 1 teaspoon of the ground meat in the center of the square. Moisten the edges with water and fold the dough to form a triangle; press the dough down to seal the meat. Repeat this step until all the meat has been used.
In a saucepan bring 3 quarts of water to a boil. Add the kreplach and bring to a boil, lower the heat to medium. Cook until the kreplach rise to the top. Remove with a slotted spoon and add to a strong chicken soup.
Serves 4.
JULIETTE’S CHOCOLATE TRUFFLES
In a food processor place 2 tablespoons of unsweetened cocoa, 2 tablespoons of brandy, ¼ cup of walnuts, 4 tablespoons of butter, cut in small pieces, 2 cups of confectioner’s sugar, 2 tablespoons of corn syrup, 1 tablespoon of heavy cream, and a pinch of salt. Process all the ingredients until the mixture is a thick paste. Remove to a bowl. Wet lightly your hands and roll the cocoa mixture between the palms of your hands into small balls about 1-inch in diameter.
Place ¼ cup of nuts (almonds, pecans, or hazelnuts) in a food processor and process until chopped fine. Transfer the chopped nuts into a bowl. In another bowl place ½ cup of cocoa. Roll the balls first in the chopped nuts then in the cocoa. Place the truffles in a sealed container and refrigerate for 24 hours.
Makes about 30 truffles.
Acknowledgments
The past few years, many people have helped me go through difficult times. First, I want to thank the Bogliasco Foundation, which offered me a haven of peace and quiet to write this book; my friend Rosemary Ahern for her editorial help and suggestions; my very good friend and agent Gloria Loomis for believing in me; Peter Borland, my editor at Atria who has beautifully edited this book; and finally my husband, Jimmy, without whom this book would never have been written.
The World in My Kitchen Page 21