Thoroughly mix the chopped lamb, garlic, onion, rosemary, gravy, and more salt and pepper in a bowl, then spread the mixture evenly in a 15×10-inch baking dish. Spread the mashed potatoes evenly on top of the lamb mixture, then make a crisscross design in the potatoes with a fork. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, or until the meat is bubbling hot and the potatoes are browned.
SERVES 6–8.
1½ pounds fresh skinless codfish fillets
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
5 medium potatoes
1 cup chopped onion
2 large eggs, well beaten
2½ tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
¾ cup finely chopped fresh Italian parsley
½ cup finely chopped onion
1 to 2 cups all-purpose flour
½ to ¾ cup canola oil
Preheat the oven to 400° F. Season the codfish fillets on both sides with salt and pepper and place them in a baking dish. Place that dish in a slightly larger pan filled with about 1 inch of water. Cover all with foil and cook for about 25 minutes. Remove and cool. Drain excess water from pan.
Peel the potatoes, cut them into cubes, put them in a deep pot, and cover with cold water. Add the chopped onion and season with more salt and pepper. Cook until tender.
Drain the potatoes and put back in the pot. Using a potato masher, mash the potatoes until smooth. Set aside.
Flake the codfish with a fork and set it aside.
Mix the eggs, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, parsley, and finely chopped onion in a large bowl. Add the codfish and mashed potatoes, and blend well. Season with salt and pepper as desired, then cover with plastic wrap and chill.
When the mixture is thoroughly cool, form it into small balls using a spoon. Roll each ball in the flour and flatten into a patty shape. Shake off any excess flour.
Heat the oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. Fry the codfish cakes about 3 minutes on each side, or until desired brownness.
When cooked, place the codfish cakes on a cookie sheet lined with paper towels to drain the excess oil.
Inspired by Pierre Franey and Bryan Miller
If you’ve ever been to a traditional beachside shrimp or crab boil in Maryland, you know what it means to have your palate sparked by good old Old Bay seasoning. Sixty years in the making (and counting), it’s a curiously stupendous combination of salt and pepper, along with a secret combination of potent spices that we’re not allowed to know (and, frankly, don’t need to) that delightfully cake the crustaceans in question. The point is that the mere taste of it sends us seaside, and whenever we’re longing for the docks we put it on our eggs and into our bloodies in the morning, in lieu of the next crab boil. Here’s to another seventy zesty years.
SERVES 6–8.
Preparation time: 2 hours, 5 minutes
What you need:
1 tub of Cool Whip
1 jar of Musselman’s (or any other organic) applesauce
1 box vanilla Jell-O pudding
Cinnamon sugar (to taste)
To make:
Mix all ingredients well in a bowl, then refrigerate for 2 hours.
* Serve with Nilla Wafers.
6 ounces unsweetened chocolate
¾ cup butter (1½ sticks), plus more for preparing pan
4 eggs
2 tablespoons vanilla
½ teaspoon salt
2¾ cups sugar
1½ cups all-purpose flour, plus more for pan
Preheat the oven to 375°F.
Butter and lightly flour a 9×13-inch baking pan. Carefully melt the chocolate and butter over low heat, stirring often and watching that the mixture does not burn. Remove from the heat when fully melted, and let cool. Toss the eggs, vanilla, salt, and sugar in a mixing bowl, and beat well for about 10 minutes. Gradually stir in the chocolate mixture and then the flour, mixing until only just blended. Spread evenly in the pan and bake for 25 minutes. Remove from the oven, let cool for a few hours, then cut into squares.
Makes about two dozen 2×2-inch brownies.
Inspired by Marion Cunningham
5 full gelatin leaves (found at gourmet market)
750 milliliters of Sauternes wine (a bottle of Bordeaux sweet wine)
¾ cup of superfine sugar
2 oranges
⅛ cup of orange syrup (Monin) or orange juice, not mandatory for recipe but better if used
Chill 5 dessert glasses in the refrigerator. Soak the gelatin leaves one at a time in a bowl of cold water until soft. Pour the Sauternes into a saucepan and add the sugar. Grate the skin of half an orange, and stir the gratings into the saucepan. Bring almost to the boil, simmer for 5 seconds, then remove from the heat and pour through a strainer into a bowl.
Pour the softened gelatin and soaking liquid through your hands and gently squeeze the water out; discard the soaking liquid. Drop the gelatin leaves into the hot wine and stir until dissolved. Pour in the ⅛ cup of orange syrup or orange juice. Let it cool down, stirring occasionally. (You can hurry the cooling by placing the bowl into a larger bowl filled with water and ice cubes.) Meanwhile, extract the orange segments from the oranges, discarding pits and any pith.
Remove the chilled glasses from the fridge and, using half of the wine jelly, pour equal amounts of it into each glass. Refrigerate for 1 to 2 hours. When the jelly has set, pat the orange segments dry with a paper towel and arrange two or three on top of the jelly in each glass, then pour half the amount of the remaining wine jelly in equal amounts on top until the orange segments are almost covered (but don’t cover them entirely or they’ll float on top). Chill again, then cover them with the remaining wine, and chill again until ready to serve. This may seem complicated for Prep cooks, but in the end—it’s just spiked Jell-O.
Note: You can prepare this recipe 2 or 3 days ahead of when you need it, covering the glasses with Saran wrap and refrigerating them.
All hail the mighty lemon! That great ambassador between Savory and Sweet, the double agent in your kitchen that is as decorative as it is delicious (and no calories!). You should never be without a dozen of them—a big bowlful on the table is brighter than a vase of daffodils. For a pleasantly perky surprise, squeeze half a lemon into: a pot of chicken soup, a batch of chili, a saucepan of marinara sauce, a plate of cold crab salad, a fish taco, or a platter of fresh fruit salad. They will all be invariably improved. The same cannot be said for, say, squeezing an orange. Or even a lime. How is this possible? Hmm.
Limoncello, the glorious Italian lemon liqueur, couldn’t be easier to make—as long as you have the time. As in months. It gets its power from steeping fresh lemon peels in high-proof vodka for weeks and weeks on end. The longer you wait, the better it is, sort of like a drinkable savings bond. We found this recipe in Mummy’s utility drawer. What was it doing there?
A quart of 100-proof vodka (premium brands not necessary). The zest of a dozen lemons. Combine in a large jar, and store for a month in a dark cabinet. Then combine 2 cups of water and 1? cups of sugar, bring to a boil, cool, and add to the vodka mix. Put it all back in the dark cabinet for another month. When it has settled, stewed, and reached perfection, strain the mixture, put it in bottles, and store in the freezer until there are guests you need to impress. Serve in small frozen glasses, boast of having made it at home, and be prepared for praise and revelry.
Don’t look for us in the city on the weekends. We are not there. We’re religious about going to the country every Friday through Sunday. Even if the country is a teensy cottage or bungalow (or condo) on a tiny lot with a tree and a geranium plant very close to the highway, less than an hour away—if it’s not in the city, it is the country! Our countries. (Actually, many of them are solidly suburban.) Urban preppies thus are engaged in an activity we call “weekending.”
When we are young and struggling to get a handle on our finances (some of us actually do have to repay college loans and pay bills), we might stay in the city, since working late
nights at our jobs forces us to go out on weekend nights and meet friends for brunch. But we will weekend at our parents’ house. Or we’ll weekend with a friend who is going out of town. We might shoot clay pigeons. Or we’ll go skiing. Or to the beach (we love it off-season). In the summer, while summering, we’ll rent a place of our own or with some friends and move the action there (see).
When we’re older, more established, and have the means, a house out of town is our big first purchase (see chapter 2), unless we use our family’s country house. We are less concerned with the car we use to get there. We might rent a car, or buy a used one, or take a train to our “country,” and keep a “station car” parked there.
Weekending can be a lazy time, after all the running around we do during the week. Married preppies conduct their social lives during the weeknights. We go to parties, to openings, to the theater and to concerts, or just out to dinner with friends. Weekends are reserved for just us. We recharge our batteries. We play our necessary sports then. We cook. We go antiquing. We sit around. We nap. We watch TV. We read. We play Scrabble. We watch our Netflix. We take a picnic on our bikes. We drink bloodies. We do nothing.
When we have children, the country is beyond important. Even a small country house is bigger than most city apartments. The children have a playroom of their own. They can spread out. They can build a snowman. They can play on the swing set. The dog can be outdoors without nagging someone to walk him. And it’s valuable family time.
We invite friends to weekend with us. When our children are young, we invite friends with other young children and then spend the busy city week recovering from all the noise and cleaning up we had to do on Sunday. We swear we won’t have that family again, but you know what? We do.
Weekending reaches a fevered pitch during the summer months. You know this is true because the city clears out in the staid residential neighborhoods, where even tourists find nothing to lure them. If you have no house, no friends, and no prospects for weekending, you can say that you “just love the city in the summer; it’s so quiet, and you can get a reservation anywhere.” We’ve all been there and said it ourselves. But not so deep down, we’d rather be weekending.
We are good at coming up with ideas for parties. Designing table settings and centerpieces. Figuring out who sits where. And with whom. Getting the best flowers. For the least amount of money. We are better than average at coming up with a good alibi for a surprise party. We can invent kicky themes, and some of us are organized.
So we entertain. We like to socialize in big groups and small groups, but mostly big groups. We love ritual. If we threw a good party the last Friday in October, with just the merest push or hint, we will make it an annual event. Why do something small when you can make it big and memorable?
And then there will be pictures and an album, and the memories will multiply, and we’ll have new inside jokes about what happened, and we’ll do it again next year. Our dream? Permanence, stability, legend.
Ah, summer. When thoughts turn to leaving work early on Friday (or skipping it altogether), driving with the top down, sailing with the headwind, and cigars on the club lawn. Oops, scratch that last one. We keep hoping that the Head of the House Committee, aka RuleZilla, will be otherwise indisposed when we light up, but no such luck. We’re still getting used to this. Isn’t the point of a club to relax and have fun? Didn’t we have enough rules at Choate to last us the rest of our lives? Doesn’t RZ have better things to do, like preventing Murphy Anderson from breast-feeding her baby in the ladies’ locker room? Ah, summer.
Senior managing partner at Covington & Burling. Hasn’t done a day’s work in years beyond forwarding dirty jokes on the Internet. Princeton man with a glorious orange-and-black tattoo of a tiger in a straw boater on his right buttock. Married to a long-suffering Mount Holyoke alumna.
Art director at Ogilvy. A Duke graduate who lived in Europe for years postgraduation. Longtime bachelor with rumored boy- and girlfriends. His collection of vintage clip-ons numbers in the hundreds. Keeps four extra pairs in the glove compartment of his MGA convertible.
Yalie who gave his life to Lehman Brothers. Now searching for new opportunities through alumni Web site, squash games at Yale Club, and vacations at Lyford. Debating new start-ups. Leads a somewhat “separate life” from his Connecticut College–educated wife.
NO CELL PHONES WHATSOEVER.
NO STROLLERS OR PLAYPENS AT THE CLUB.
NO BREAST-FEEDING.
NO SHORT SHORTS ON THE GOLF COURSE.
NO RAISED VOICES.
NO SPANDEX BICYCLE WEAR.
ALL WHITE ON TENNIS COURT. NO CUTOFFS, EVEN IF THEY’RE WHITE. MEN MUST WEAR COLLARED SHIRTS ON TERRACE, TENNIS COURTS, AND GOLF COURSE.
NO JEANS.
NO RADIOS.
JUNIORS MUST GIVE UP THE COURT IMMEDIATELY.
MEMBERS’ DOUBLES RECEIVE PRIORITY OVER MEMBERS’ SINGLES.
SWIMMERS ARE REQUESTED TO SHOWER BEFORE USING THE POOL.
SMOKING IS PROHIBITED IN ALL AREAS OF THE CLUBHOUSE AND OUTDOOR DINING AREAS.
AUDIBLE BEEPERS ARE PROHIBITED IN ALL PUBLIC AREAS.
MEMBERS ARE ASKED NOT TO REPRIMAND EMPLOYEES, NOR TO DISCUSS EMPLOYEE GRIEVANCES.
FOOD AND BEVERAGES MAY NOT BE BROUGHT TO THE CLUB.
DOGS ARE NOT ALLOWED ON THE PREMISES.
THESE RULES MUST NOT BE SHARED WITH NONMEMBERS.
WE NEITHER SEEK NOR WELCOME PUBLICITY.
Newest member of the club; not yet aware of no-cigar rule. RISD-trained architect, specializing in summer cottages costing more than $2 million. Engaged for first time to young associate in his office, whose mummy is a Phipps. He goes mute, however, on the subject of his mummy.
Golf club genetically attached to his hands, and not just in the summer. Married to Boo, who features in every other uttered sentence. Reporter, covering mergers for The Wall Street Journal but really wants to write for the Times. About golf.
Former admissions head at Winsor. Embittered by the collapse of her second marriage; her husband ran off with the pool boy. When she’s not telling everyone what to do, she knits with a ferocity to rival Madame Defarge.
ATLANTA
Atlanta Athletic Club. 1930 Bobby Jones Drive, Johns Creek, 30097 (770) 448-2166
Burns Club Atlanta. 988 Alloway Place Southeast, 30316 (404) 627-2941
Capital City Club. 7 Harris St., 30303 (404) 523-8221
Commerce Club. 34 Broad Street Northwest, 30303 (404) 525-1661
Piedmont Driving Club. 1215 Piedmont Ave. N.E., 30309 (404) 875-2565
BOSTON
St. Botolph Club. 199 Commonwealth Ave., 02116 (617) 536-7570
Somerset Club. 42 Beacon St., 02108 (617) 227-1731
Union Club. 8 Park St., 02108 (617) 227-0589
CHICAGO
Chicago Club. 81 E. Van Buren St., 60605 (312) 427-1825
Racquet Club of Chicago. 1365 North Dearborn St., 60610 (312) 787-3201
Standard Club. 320 South Plymouth Court, 60604 (312) 427-9100
Union League Club. 65 West Jackson Blvd., 60604 (312) 427-7800
University Club. 76 East Monroe St., 60603 (312) 726-2840
DALLAS
Dallas Petroleum Club. 2200 Ross Ave., 75201 (214) 871-1500
DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA
Cosmos Club. 2121 Massachusetts Ave. NW, 20008 (202) 387-7783
Metropolitan Club. 1700 H Street NW, 20006 (202) 835-2500
LOS ANGELES
The Jonathan Club. 545 South Figueroa St., 90071 (213) 624-0881
NEW ORLEANS
Boston Club. 824 Canal St., 70112 (504) 523-3443
Pickwick Club. 115 Saint Charles Ave., 70130 (504) 524-5341
NEW YORK
The Brook. 111 East 54th St., 10022 (212) 753-7020
Century Association. 7 West 43rd St., 10036 (212) 944-0090
Knickerbocker Club. 807 5th Ave./2 East 62nd St., 10065 (212) 644-4460
The Links Club. 36 East 62nd St., 10065 (212) 832-0625
Racquet and Tennis Club. 370 Park Ave., 10022 (212) 753-9700
Union Club. 101 East 69th St., 10021 (212) 734-5400
Union League Club. 38 East 37th St., 10016 (212) 685-3800
University Club. 1 West 54th St., 10019 (212) 247-2100
WOMEN’S CLUBS:
Colony Club. 564 Park Ave./51 East 62nd St., 10065 (212) 838-3540
Cosmopolitan Club. 122 East 66th St., 10065 (212) 734-5950
PHILADELPHIA
Racquet Club of Philadelphia. 215 South 16th St., 19102 (215) 735-1525
SAN FRANCISCO
Bohemian Club. 624 Taylor St., 94102 (415) 885-2440
Pacific-Union Club. 1000 California St., 94108 (415) 775-1234
SEATTLE
The Rainier Club. 820 Fourth Ave., 98104 (206) 296-6902
Washington Athletic Club. 1325 Sixth Ave., 98101 (206) 622-7900
WILMINGTON
University & Whist Club. 805 North Broom St., 19806 (302) 658-5125
Arriving at the club. Let’s check to see what we need. Sunglasses? Check. Bikini wax? Check. Lilly bathing suit? Check. Tote with beach towel and magazine? Affirmative. Got to finish that article in Bazaar about the papaya diet. Arnold Palmer from snack bar? Check. Boyfriend? Whoops! I knew I was missing something. Who is Duncan talking to? Tory Titmouse? TTFW. That’s not nice. I didn’t realize Duncan liked girls with cellulite.
We are sporty. (Doesn’t CeCe call herself “Sporty Spice”? She’s a hoot.) We don’t live to work, and we don’t work to live. We live to have fun and win the club tournament. (It’s our competitive streak.)
True Prep Page 19