The new documentary on Charlie Trotter coming to Wilmington’s Theatre N on July 25, July 30 and July 31, got me thinking about my own experience with the Chicago chef.
The first James Beard Journalism Award I was nominated for in 1999 was for an article called “Feast of Burden” about trying to cook a meal from Trotter’s “Gourmet Cooking for Dummies” cookbook.
Read more:A Chicago chef, both loved and loathed, shaped a Delaware man’s career
Let’s just say the meal didn’t go so well. You can read about it in the article below, which first ran in The News Journal on March 18, 1998. There’s a postscript at the end.
Feast of Burden: The book is called ‘Gourmet Cooking for Dummies.’ But trying to follow directions, our ‘dummies’ felt more like the Three Stooges.
By Patricia Talorico
The “dummies” were delighted with the invitation.
A free four-course gourmet meal on Saturday? Hey, sure thing. What time’s dinner?
But, before they accepted, I had just one quick question: Do you – or anyone you know — own a blowtorch?
(More on the blowtorch later.)
My plan was to cook a four-course gourmet meal using a menu and recipes from the new cookbook “Gourmet Cooking for Dummies” (IDG Books, $19.99).
I needed some “dummies” and chose six friends whose cooking skills ranged from moderate to nonexistent — one guy has yet to turn on the stove of the house he has owned for three years.
The dummies didn’t mind that the invitation required them to slice and dice and sauté for their supper – as long as I promised to supply the wine. Not a problem. The book suggests and lists wine pairings with each course. We were set.
Before the cooking commenced, I gave the group a pep talk: “We can do this! According to the cover of the book, “Gourmet Cooking for Dummies” is “the fun and easy way to whip up gourmet meals ….”
(Three hours into the process, I made a mental note: Don’t believe everything you read.)
“Welcome to ‘Gourmet Cooking for Dummies’ — and congratulations on your interest in taking everyday cooking to the next level of excellence.“ From the introduction
I was a little nervous about using “Gourmet Cooking for Dummies.” The book is written by Charlie Trotter, chef/owner of an eponymous Chicago restaurant that has earned five stars in the Mobil Travel Guide and five diamonds from AAA. While Trotter is, as one chef says, a gustatory genius, he is also the author of three cookbooks filled with recipes that are almost impossible for the average Joe to follow.
Chef Trotter also uses ingredients that can be hard to hunt down. When is the last time you had stinging nettles, fresh mung bean sprouts or percebes — also known as gooseneck barnacles?
At least one group has faced defeat trying to create a meal using a Trotter cookbook. Chicago magazine tried, gave up, and ordered pizza. No way was this going to happen — we were up for the challenge.
“Failure,” I told the dummies, “is not an option.”
“Each menu is made up of recipes found in earlier chapters; simply look in the index to locate them.” Chapter 17
A week before the dinner I scanned the cookbook trying to find an appropriate menu. Trotter suggests several, but none fit my group. Then, I turned to Page 336 and found the “Sure Thing” dinner.
“This is as close as you can get to a foolproof menu,” Trotter writes. “These dishes are all fairly easy to make, and more importantly, they are hard to ruin.”
Perfect.
But as I scanned the index to find the yummy-sounding first course, braised pork and cilantro dumplings with spicy orange sauce, I ran into a problem. The recipe wasn’t listed anywhere in the book.
This was not a good omen.
“Remember, proper planning is the key to putting it all together with style.” Chapter 17
We were still going with the Sure Thing. I switched the first course from pork dumplings to sauteed crab cakes with cilantro and cumin remoulade.
The rest of the menu included courses with long names, like new potatoes with tiny lettuces and red pepper and pine nut vinaigrette; cumin-crusted sauteed chicken breast with morel mushrooms and brown butter-hickory nut pan sauce; and vanilla creme brulee.
I looked up the recipes and made three shopping lists: one for groceries, one for suggested wines, and a third for specialty tools.
Our gourmet dinner was going to require certain kitchen tools that most dummies don’t have such as 2-inch ring molds and ramekins. The vanilla crème brûlée recipe also called for a blowtorch to caramelize the top of the dessert.
We didn’t need a blowtorch; someone found one in their dad’s garage. This was going to be cool — cooking with power tools.
“Finding the finest, freshest products available may take some time initially …” Chapter 1
I had no time to shop during the week. On the morning of our dinner, a dummy and I scanned the three shopping lists and head out to Janssen’s Fine Foods, a Greenville store that carries an extensive line of gourmet foods. We got fresh herbs — chives, cilantro, tarragon — but no one had ever heard of the main ingredient in the brown butter-hickory nut pan sauce.
“Hickory nuts?” said a stumped Janssen’s employee. “Hickory nuts? Spell that.”
We tried another store, one specializing in nuts. None of the employees there had ever heard of hickory nuts. “Do you mean hazelnuts?” a clerk asked helpfully.
Two stores and a phone call later, we were getting a little nutty. No hickory nuts. Anywhere. We bought hazelnuts instead.
“Luxury items may be expensive, but they can add so much to a meal.” Chapter 13
The chicken dish called for morel mushrooms. We headed to Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, considered the Mushroom Capital of the World. Trotter suggests using morel mushrooms, ugly cone-shaped wild mushrooms if you can find them. A clerk at a mushroom store in Kennett Square said fresh morel mushrooms are very difficult to find. She pointed us to dried morels. We got two one-ounce packages, each one a pricey $8.25.
Then, we headed to kitchen supply stores for the ring molds and ramekins — $19.77 — and then to a grocery store for the remaining ingredients, about $60.
Shopping, so far, had taken more than three hours. We still had to buy the wine from Trotter’s suggested list — a delicate Pouilly-Fume for the crab cakes, a toasty Chardonnay for the salad, and a Rhone-style wine for the chicken. Two dummies went to a liquor store and returned 45 minutes with a case of sticker shock. One wine was listed at $36. They passed on it but still spent $42.
“Try to complete most of your preparation ahead of time so you can spend more time with your guests.” Chapter 17
While the dummies shopped for wine, I did the preparation for the dinner. This included roasting red peppers, grinding bread for bread crumbs, toasting bread crumbs, rehydrating mushrooms, and roasting mushrooms.
But the most difficult prep step was making the ring of crispy potatoes for the salad.
Trotter’s recipe calls for making a “ring” of potatoes that holds the lettuce upright and adds height to the dish. (This is known as tall food.) To do this, a cook must peel and slice potatoes, chop herbs, and coat with olive oil and bread crumbs. The potato slices are then wrapped around a ring mold, held in place with a cooking string, and baked for 30 minutes. It is as exhausting as it sounds. Two hours later, I was tired and running out of time. It was almost 7 p.m. and we were due for dinner.
“Chefs use these fancy terms just to sound impressive …” Chapter 1
My team of “dummies” included my best friend Stephanie; her husband Scott; my sister Sue; and three bachelor friends Dan, Neil and Bill.
We were meeting at Steph’s house because she had the biggest kitchen and plenty of counter space.
After pouring glasses of wine (we bought extra), I handed out photocopies of the recipes at 7:15 p.m. Two dummies would work on each of the three courses while I “floated” and supervised. Everyone would help make the crème brûlée. We figured on eating at least one course no later than 9 p.m.
The initial cooking was, as the book promised, fun. “So that’s a shallot,” said Stephanie, holding up the onion-like vegetable, before she began chopping.
Dan and Neil, in charge of the salad, were immediately stumped by Trotter’s directive to cut the roasted red pepper “into a fine julienne.”
I explained that julienne means long, slender strips. “Why doesn’t it just say that,” Dan said. I had no answer.
The guys then began reminiscing about “Three Stooges” episodes as they chopped. “Hey, remember, canapes? Curly thought canapes were actually a can of peas?”
Wise guys.
“Cryptic instructions … can send a novice running for the takeout menu faster than you can al dente.” Chapter 3
Two hours later, we were still chopping, dicing and sautéing. Preparation and cooking times are listed in the book, but almost all are underestimated. Charlie Trotter was starting to seem more like a foe than a friend.
Everyone took turns at the stove. Shallots had to be sautéed, salad dressing needed to be blended and then warmed in a pan, cumin seeds had to be toasted and ground. Crab cakes needed to be mixed and formed.
At 9:50 p.m., Neil was still working on the salad.
“Don’t forget the chervil,” I said, supervising.
Then I noticed the panic on his face.
“Gerbil?” Neil said, incredulous. “You mean, there’s rodent in this salad?”
He felt much better after I explained chervil was an herb.
“Planning the perfect gourmet meal can send even the most experienced hostess over the edge ….” Chapter 17
It was 10 p.m. and we still hadn’t eaten a morsel. The dummies, famished, were cursing Charlie Trotter’s name. Scott put in a rocking CD, we danced in the kitchen and went into high gear.
Bill, manning the stove, sautéed the chicken and fried the crab cakes like a pro. Neil and Dan began assembling the salad while cracking wise that my “ring of crispy potatoes” looked like way too much work. Wise guys.
More than three hours after we started, we sat down for dinner. The salad and the crab cakes looked and tasted wonderful (though Neil and Dan decided no salad should take almost three hours to make). The chicken wasn’t bad but the dummies didn’t really like the hazelnut sauce (and doubted hickory nuts would have made a difference). The morels were weird and not really worth the cost.
We opened the suggested wine pairings with each course and decided that wine pairings really do bring out flavors in certain dishes. Then, we clinked glasses and toasted each other and Charlie Trotter.
One of the glasses cracked.
“I hoped you saved room for dessert — many people think that’s the best part of the meal!” Chapter 15
We had the room but not the energy for vanilla crème brûlée. . Gone was “the interest in taking everyday cooking to the next level.” The ramekins sat empty and unused. No one could relish the thought of revisiting Planet Trotter and spending another three hours in the kitchen. We left the blowtorch in the garage and poured more wine.
Postscript: I didn’t win the 1999 James Beard Foundation award. I lost to veteran New York Times reporter Marian Burros. Months later, I flew to Chicago and, with some friends, dined at Trotter’s wonderful namesake restaurant. The meal was an endless parade of tiny, small-bite courses that were paired with excellent wines. At the time, it felt so luxurious, but 20-plus years later, these kinds of meals now make me feel like I’m being held hostage.
At the end of the meal, Trotter’s mother, who sometimes worked at the restaurant, offered to give us a tour of the kitchen. We hadn’t asked for one and my friends instantly wondered if the chef knew who I was because no one else seated around us seemed to be getting a tour that night. I’ll never know.
I was a little scared to meet Charlie — was he going to yell at me for the “Gourmet Cooking for Dummies” story? — but we shook hands and I told him it was a meal I would never forget. He never mentioned the article (and neither did I).
The last time I saw him was about a year before his death at the 2012 Beard ceremony when he received the Humanitarian of the Year Award. (The late Delaware restaurant owner Matt Haley would get the same award two years later in 2014.)
On stage, Food Network star Alton Brown poked fun at Trotter’s elaborate recipes. Brown said he stopped reading Trotter’s cookbooks after reading a recipe that started with the line, “Day One …”
Brown’s remark, in hindsight, seemed more mean-spirited than funny. Trotter, who had recently closed his restaurant, gave a tight smile but said nothing. He died suddenly of a stroke at his home on Nov. 5, 2013.
Contact Patricia Talorico at ptalorico@delawareonline.com and on Twitter @pattytalorico
