Chicken and rice

No one told me how much of life is just saying goodbye. 

Because I was in a plane today, and then on a bus, and somewhere in between the two, I saw the ghost of my face reflected back at me. And I thought. 

My god. 

I'm not a child anymore. 

I'm not a kid.

I'm not a even a teenager. 

I'm somewhere. 

Maybe close to being a woman, but still so, so far. 

(It is a long way, to being a woman.)

And I realized all over again, that my sandbox sand castle days, and the shallow end of the swimming pool, and pretend and not having hips and going to piano lessons with my brother and never doing laundry because my mom did it and dolls and falling in love with books instead of boys and not knowing about things like funerals and pain-- without knowing it, somewhere, I said goodbye. 

And maybe it's because of that very specific goodbye, that I cling so fiercely to second chances. 

Because I have to believe I will see you again. 

Because I have to believe I will come back. 

Because it's too hard otherwise. 

And because, the thought of not eating the chicken and rice I had at this little place in Portugal, the thought of never eating that again completely undoes me. 

To never eat that chicken and rice again would be tragic. 

It would be the worst. 

I cannot handle a reality which does not have a repeat of that chicken and rice. 

So I believe in second chances and third chances and returns and surprise encounters. 

I believe in circularity and the stupid/fun/funny part of life that makes for good stories and plot twists and romance and mystery. 

I have faith in this. 

I'm looking forward now.  

Looking forward towards maybe being a woman someday. Sort of. 

But more than that, I look forward to owning a long, rectangular kitchen table, that maybe I build myself. A kitchen table I build myself, with lots of candles on it. And there are all the people I love, who have come back and second-chance-miracle-surprised me, sitting at this table. 

And then we will eat chicken and rice. 

XOXOXO

Chicken and Rice

From SmittenKitchen.com who adapted from Gourmet 

This my darling, is the recipe I want to make when I get home. 

Chicken

3 large garlic cloves

2 tablespoons distilled white vinegar

2 teaspoons dried oregano, crumbled

4 chicken breast halves with bone, halved crosswise

4 chicken drumsticks

4 chicken thighs

Rice

3 ounces Spanish chorizo (cured sausage), skin discarded and sausage cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 medium onions, chopped

1 green bell pepper, chopped

3 large garlic cloves, chopped

2 teaspoons ground cumin

2 teaspoons dried oregano

1 1/2 teaspoons paprika, preferably the hot stuff, plus more to taste

2 Turkish bay leaves or 1 California

1 lb. tomatoes, seeded and chopped

1 12-ounce. bottle beer (not dark)

1 1/2 cups reduced-sodium chicken broth

2 cups long-grain white rice (14 ounces)

1/4 cup drained rinsed bottled pimiento or roasted red pepper strips

Marinate chicken: Mince and mash garlic to a paste with 2 teaspoons salt, then transfer to a large bowl. Stir in vinegar and oregano.

Remove skin and excess fat from chicken, then toss chicken with marinade until coated and marinate, covered and chilled, at least 1 hour.

Cook chicken and rice: – Cook chorizo in olive oil in a 6- to 7-quart heavy pot (12 inches wide) over medium-high heat, stirring, until some fat is rendered, 2 to 3 minutes. Add onions, bell pepper, and garlic and cook, stirring until softened, about 5 minutes.

Add cumin, oregano, paprika, 1 1/4 teaspoons salt, and bay leaves and cook, stirring, 1 minute.

Add chicken with marinade to chorizo mixture and cook, uncovered, over medium heat, stirring frequently, 10 minutes.

Stir in tomatoes, beer, broth, and rice and bring to a boil, making sure rice is submerged. [Deb note: I actually had a really hard time keeping the rice underneaththe chicken so that it would cook evenly. I'd suggest that you use tongs to temporarily remove the chicken from the pot, mix the rice in with the other ingredients in the pot, and then replace the chicken, pressing it into the broth a bit before going onto the next step. I will definitely do this next time.]

Reduce heat to medium-low, then cover mixture directly with a round of parchment or wax paper and cover pot with a tight fitting lid. Cook, stirring once or twice, until rice is tender, 20 to 30 minutes.

Remove from heat and let stand, covered, 5 minutes. Discard parchment paper and bay leaves, then scatter pimiento strips over rice.

Do ahead: Chicken can be marinated up to 2 hours in advance.

Turkish Coffee

Usually, I know what the story is. 

Life seems to segment itself sort of naturally, and so you collect experiences and anecdotes that define what's going on, with you, for those weeks or months. Little stories of who you are and where you're at. 

I've been thinking about March. 

And what a weird, potent, transition month it is. 

The March right after I turned nineteen was magic. I wore a red dress that was too short and too tight. Everyone lived for the weekend. I stood up and tried to hug the wind through the sunroof of Alison's station wagon, like they do in that book, only I had never read that book. And we got drunk and went swimming at three am and afterwards I sat, shivering and braless in the diner that played heavy metal, and ate hashbrowns and migas, feeling so happy it hurt. 

The following March was dismal. My heart was fragile as an egg. In an effort to un-slump myself I drank buckets of coffee, ate doughnuts every day, and rode my bike late at night. It felt like nothing was ever going to happen, and actually, that March nothing did. 

This March is like Turkish coffee. 

It tastes a little wild. 

The first sip lasts for only an instant. 

But in that instant, the coffee tastes like an ancient pine tree, or a whole cabinet of spices that sit soft and dusty on your tongue before melting away. 

The other night, I picked up two random German boys on the street, and then Julián came and we ate sunflower seeds and drank cheap beer and went to look for a party on a rooftop terrace, but got lost instead and knocked on a random door and ended up in the apartment of a group of Americans from Maryland. An experience that pretty much sums up my story of March so far, i.e., strangeness and spontaneity, the instability that comes from moving constantly, and always running away from and also sitting with, a specific deep kind of loneliness. 

That is what March feels like. 

I want to wring a story from all this randomness, and give it to you with a cup of Turkish coffee. 

And we'd taste the ancient trees and the dusty spices, but only for a second, and you would maybe smile, maybe cry while I told you the distilled version of this March, the one with a beginning, middle and end. 

But I can't. 

Because March isn't over yet. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

Xoxo

m 

Almost Fudge Gateau

Dear one,

I'm in France, and I just drank a beer, and ate a crepe. 
Everything, intrinsically, by default of simply being, is beautiful.
I'm in Paris for several weeks, and am then cruising around Europe, for the next few months. 
Mostly alone. 
I'd be out of my mind excited, if I weren't so terrified. 
Doing what you want and being autonomous, it's amazing and necessary. 

And fucking scary. 

I've been spending a lot of time in my head and walking and looking at people.
I feel very quiet. 

Something I want to address: 

We are all aware, that this being a "food blog" is mainly a shameless charade that allows me to write about myself and growing up and love, etc. 
Because, somehow, this tiny space went from windy exposition about cake, to much windier exposition about things like feelings.
And I want to acknowledge this, only because, I'm going to be traveling, and I don't know if I can always promise you recipes, or that stories will tie back to the table, or that the state of things can be summed up in a few words that conclude with a flavor.
 I don't know if I can promise that.

However, I do promise to be hungry, if only for you. 

I promise that I will write you more, and soon. 

This is a cake I baked right before I left Austin. It's mostly chocolate and eggs. It is, apparently, a very French cake.

And finally, because it is long overdue, I want to thank you, you strangers who find me here again and again. The surprise, that anyone cares to return to this URL, it humbles me. 
Whoever you are, you're magic. 
And for my beloved family and for my tribe of beautiful people, thank you for all the hand holding and letter writing and sweet mornings and afternoons and nights and tequila and twinkling light.  
There are not words enough in this language to convey my gratitude. 

I love you. 

You make me feel fearless. 

XOXO

Almost Fudge Gateau

from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

5 large eggs
9 ounces bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
1 cup sugar
5 tablespoons unslated butter, cut into chunks
2 tablespoons coffee or water
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
pinch of salt

For Glaze (optional) 
4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
1/2 heavy cream
2 teaspoons light corn syrup

Center a rack in th eoven and preheat to 350 degrees F. 
Butter a 9-inch springform pan, line the bottom with parchment paper, butter the paper, dust the inside of the plan with flour and tap out the excess. Place the pan on a baking sheet lined with parchment or on a silicone mat. 
Separate the eggs, putting the whites in a mixer bowl or other large bowl and the yolks in a small bowl. 
Set a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and add the chocolate, sugar, butter and coffee. Stir occasionally until the chocolate and butter are melted; the sugar may still be grainy, and that’s fine. Transfer the bowl to the counter and let the mixture sit for 3 minutes. 
Using a rubber spatula, stir in the yolks one by one, then fold in the flour. 
Working with the whisk attachment of the mixer, or a hand mixer, beat the egg whites with the pinch of salt until they hold firm but glossy peaks. using the spatula, stir about one quarter of teh beaten whites into the batter, then gently fold in the rest. Scrape the batter into the pan and jiggle the pan from side to side a couple of times to even the batter. 
Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until the cake has risen evenly (it might rise around the edges and you’ll think it’s done, but give it a few minutes more, and the center will puff too) and the top has firmed (it will probably be cracked) and doesn’t shimmy when tapped; a thin knife inserted into the center should come out just slightly streaked with chocolate. Transfer the pan to a cooling rack and let the cake rest for 5 to 10 minutes. 
Run a blunt knife gently around the edges of the cake and remove teh sides of the pan. Carefully turn the cake over onto a rack and remove the pan bottom and the parchment paper. Invert the cake onto another rack and cool to room temperature right side up. As the cake cools, it may sink. 

To make OPTIONAL glaze:
First, turn the cooled cake over onto another rack so you’ll be glazing the flat bottom, and place the rack over a baking sheet lined with parchment or wax paper to catch any drips. 
Put the chocolate in a small heatproof bowl. 
Melt the chocolate over a pan of simmering water or in a microwave oven-- cream to a boil in a small saucepan. Pour the hot cream over the chocolate and stir very gently with a rubber spatula until the mixture is smooth and shiny. Stir in the corn syrup. Pour the glaze over the cake and smooth the top with a long metal icing spatula. Don’t worry if the glaze drips unevenly down the sides of the cake-- it will just add to its charms. (Sidenote: This is why I love Dorie. She’s all about the charms of cake related imperfection.) Allow the glaze to set at room temperature, or if you’re impatient, slip the cake into the refrigerator for about 20 minutes. If the glaze dulls in the fridge, just give it a little gentle heat from a hairdryer. 

Coconut Bread

There's this song by Sharon Van Etten that I'm in love with called "All I Can" and at one point she howls,

"I DO ALL I CANNNNNN" and I love that.

I do all I can. 

I made coconut bread. 

It was really good, only I under-baked it, and so it was kind of like pudding on the bottom. 

Which was disappointing. 

It was because I fucked around with the pan size and was tired, and didn't pay attention. 

Whatever. 

It still tasted really, really good. 

This coconut bread essentially sums up how I've felt these past few months. 
The feeling of I just can't get it quite right.
I tell you this only because sometimes expressing these things helps clear the air. 

So I am clearing the air. 

Intrinsically, however, everything is okay, at least, according to Sharon Van Etten: 
"I DO ALL I CAN. WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES."



Anyways. 
April is a good month.
Things happen in April.
This time last year I went swimming at 2am and wore a red dress that was too short and too tight and I was out and about, and the conversations were long and weird and I ate tiramisu and things happened.
I'm hoping that things happen.
I'm hoping I bake my bread just right.
I think it'll be ok.

"I DO ALL I CAN."



Also, I just put out another little EP of songs. 



If you have a moment, please listen here and I'll love you endless. 
XOXO

Coconut Bread

via SmittenKitchen.com 

2 large eggs
1 1/4 cups (295 ml) milk
1 teaspoon (5 ml) vanilla extract
2 1/2 cups (315 grams) all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon table salt (see Note)
2 teaspoons (10 grams) baking powder
1 to 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon (Bill calls for 2 but I preferred 1, so that it didn’t dominate)
1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar
5 ounces (140 grams) sweetened flaked coconut (about 1 1/2 cups)
6 tablespoons (85 grams) unsalted butter, melted or melted and browned, if desired
Vegetable oil or nonstick cooking spray for baking pan

Heat oven to 350 degrees. In a small bowl, whisk together eggs, milk and vanilla.

In a medium bowl, sift together flour, salt, baking powder and cinnamon. Add sugar and coconut, and stir to mix. Make a well in the center, and pour in egg mixture, then stir wet and dry ingredients together until just combined. Add butter, and stir until just smooth — be careful not to overmix.

Butter and flour a 9×5-inch loaf pan, or coat it with a nonstick spray. Spread batter in pan and bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, anywhere from 1 to 1 1/4 hours. Cool in pan five minutes, before turning out onto a cooling rack.

Serve in thick slices, toasted, with butter and confectioners’ sugar.

Dark Chocolate Brownies with Raspberry Goat Cheese Swirl

I keep comparing myself to who I was two years ago. 

Because when I was 18, I was pretty certain I knew what was up. 
I knew what I liked, and what I didn't. 
And I had a certain way of being and speaking and seeing. 
I thought I knew myself. 
Now two years have passed and I'm different. 

Go figure. 

And the only reason this is exciting is because I've surprised myself. 
I mean, actually really surprised myself. 

I've done a lot of things I never thought I would do or could do or was even capable of doing. 

I think I'm braver. 
I think I'm also quite a bit dumber, but maybe that's the tradeoff for being "vulnerable" or "impulsive." 
I now appreciate Taylor Swift, who I was definitely too much of a snob for at 18. 
I've gotten better about saying thank you. 
I now have a very long list of things I've learned since 18 called "Life Lessons." 
It has some absolute PEARLS of wisdom on it such as, "Always keep tums on hand" and "Save money." 



Whatever. 

However, what brought about these scintillating ruminations, is that at 18, other than Taylor Swift, I had absolutely no interest in cheesecake or cheesecake related edibles. 

Oh how the tables have turned. 

These are raspberry goat cheese brownies. Basically cheesecake's cousin. 
And they are really fucking good, especially when frozen. 

What I am trying to tell you is, you don't have to wait two years to become the new, improved you.
 You can start right now. 
With these crazy cheesecake cousin brownies. 

‎"To change one's life; start immediately. Do it flamboyantly. No exceptions."
                                              - William James

You're welcome. 

XOXO 

Dark Chocolate Brownies with Raspberry Goat Cheese Swirl

via thekitchn.com

Makes about 30 small brownie squares

Raspberries
2 cups raspberries, lightly mashed
2 tablespoons brandy or Kirsch

Brownies
8 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
3/4 cup (12 tablespoons) unsalted butter, cut into chunks
1/2 cup milk
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 large eggs
1 cup flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt

Raspberry Goat Cheese Swirl
8 ounces goat cheese, softened at room temperature for an hour
4 ounces cream cheese, softened at room temperature for an hour
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened at room temperature for an hour
1 egg
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon almond extract

Heat the oven to 350ºF and lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking pan (or any 3-quart dish, like the gratin dish I use here) with butter or baking spray. Place the raspberries in a bowl and stir in the brandy or Kirsch. Set aside.

Melt the chocolate and butter until liquid in a 3-quart (or larger) saucepan over low heat. When the chocolate is completely melted, remove from the heat, whisk in the milk, and cool for about 5 minutes. Stir in the sugar and vanilla. Stir in the eggs one by one. Add the flour, baking powder, and salt and fold in until just combined. Fold in about half of the raspberries and spread this brownie batter in the prepared pan.

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or with hand beaters, or by hand with a heavy whisk) beat the goat cheese with the cream cheese, butter, egg, sugar, and almond extract until light and fluffy. Gently fold in the other half of the raspberries and their juices. Drop the goat cheese mixture on top of the brownie batter in spoonfuls, then swirl it through the batter with a knife. Bake for 30 minutes or until just barely set. The top will be just turning light brown. Let cool for at least 10 minutes before slicing.

Store at room temperature, well-covered. The flavor and texture of these brownies really bloom when you let them rest overnight.

Pasta Primavera (again)

I can't remember the last time I made Pasta Primavera. But I remember that I had cooked it for my family and chopped all the vegetables myself in my home. And I remember that I ate most of the balsalmic tomato topping, because that is my favorite part. 


But times they are a changin'. 


On Sunday, I went home and my mother made this for me and my family. I did not make it. 
And I always used to make it. And we sat and ate it with some grilled chicken and white wine, except for my dad who had a Corona:

I keep having these little revelations that everything is so fucking transient, so you better enjoy everything as much as you can. And I'm changing too, all the time.  Which is a little bit crazy. 
Sometimes I think I know very much. 

But that is infrequent.

I am learning things all the time. 

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED

-It is good to make words your own.

-Only buy the utterly fabulous.

-Cigarettes are nasty.

-The most flattering gift you can give is your complete and full attention.

-Do not make assumptions. (HARD)

-"What are you saving for? For another time? There are no other times. There is only now. Right now." -George Balanchine

-Compliment honestly and frequently.

-It is okay to begin the day with chocolate.

-Love is so much bigger than I ever thought it was. It's bigger than clouds. It's more huge than sky. It goes beyond. Hearts are like galaxies within galaxies within constellations within universes. 

-Do not wash your hair every day. Even though it is sad looking on day 2.

-Never let them know.

-Academic snobbery exists and it is noxious.

-Make a list.

-Ask for what you want and risk extreme embarrassment, because sometimes, despite the extreme risk and embarrassment, you actually get what you want. And it's pretty great.

-Pasta Primavera was delicious, is delicious and always will be delicious. 

And that's about it. I really don't know much more than that





xoxo

Pasta Primavera

from The Gourmet Cookbook

This recipe is a little complicated, but completely worth the effort. Also, this is the second time this recipe has appeared on the blog, which means that it's really, really, really good. The previous post about Pasta Primavera is here.

1 ounce dried morel mushrooms

1 1/2 cups warm water

1/2 pound asparagus, trimmed and cut into 1 inch pieces

1/4 green beans, cut into 1 inch pieces

1 cup frozen baby peas, thawed

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 teaspoons minced garlic

rounded 1/2 teasoon red pepper flakes

salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 1/2 pints tomatoes

1 tablespoon balsalmic vinegar

3 tablespoons water

1 pound spaghettini

1/2 stick (4 tablespoons) butter

2/3 cup heavy cream

1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest

1 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (about 2 ounces)

1/4 cup finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

1/4 cup finely chopped fresh basil

1/3 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted

Prepare the vegetables:

Soak morels in warm water in a small bowl for 30 minutes.

Lift mushrooms out of water and squeeze excess liquid back into bowl. Pour soaking liquid through a sieve lined witha dampened paper towel into a small bowl: reserve. Rinse throughly to remove grit, then squeeze dry. Cut off and discard any tough stems. Halve morels.

Add asparagus and beans to a 6 to 8 quart pot of boiling salted water, and cook, uncovered for 3 minutes. Add peas and cook until beans and asparagus and just tender, 1 to 2 minutes more. Immediately transfer with a slotted spoon to a large bowl of ice water to stop the cooking, (or simply rise with cold water in a colander), drain.

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a 10 to 12 inch heavy skillet over moderately low heat. Add 1 teaspoon garlic and rounded 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes and cook, stirring until garlic is fragrant, about 1 minute. Add drained vegetables and salt and pepper to taste and cook, stirring for 2 minutes. Transfer to a bowl.

Cook the tomatos:

Cut half of tomatoes into quarters and halve remainder lenghtwise, keeping quarters and halves separate> Heat remaining 2 tablespoons oil in same skillet over moderately low heat. Add remaining 1 teaspoon garlic and remainging rounded 1/4 red pepper flakes and cook, stirring, just until garlic is fragrant, about 1 minute. Add quartered tomatoes, with salt and ppepper to taste and simmer, stirring occasionally, until tomatoes are softened, about 3 minutes. Add halved tomatoes, vinegar and water and simmer, stirring occasionally, until sauce is thickened and halved tomatoes are softened, 3 to 4 minutes. Remove from heat and keep warm, covered.

Cook the spaghettini:

Return pot of water to a boil and cook spgahettinini until al dente; drain in a colander.

Immediately add butter, cream, zest and morels to (empty) pasta pot, bring to a simmer and simmer gently, uncovered, for 2 minutes. Stir in cheese, then add pasta, tossing to coat and adding as much of reserved morel soaking liquid as necessary (1/2 to 2/3 cup) to keep pasta well coated. Add green vegetables, parsley, basil, pine nuts, and salt and pepper to taste, toss gently to combine.

Serve pasta topped with tomatoes and if desired more Parmigiano-Reggino shavings.

Strawberry and Almond Crumble

I hope your spring break was lovely. Mine was. SXSW, a huge interactive/film/music festival took over the city. I had such a wonderful time-- I saw friends and lots of live music. It was the best week I've had all year. Seeing so many passionate musicians- who were all working so hard, and seeing how grateful they were, just for the opportunity to perform was so inspiring. There was so much joy for living and performing and music, it touched me deeply.

Acts that I saw that made me grateful to be alive:

Mother Falcon

Los Lonely Boys

Alejandro Escovedo

Pearl and the Beard

SPEAK

Alex Winston

Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears

Go look them up and buy their albums and croon their tunes and see them when they tour.

I also baked a crisp. There are two things that I really loathe: woody strawberries and self-conciously ironic mustaches--COME ON PEOPLE IT'S BEEN DONE BEFORE.

That said, if I could grow an ironic mustache I probably would.

Never mind.

But those strawberries! The flavorless kind that taste like cardboard-- There is a cure! They can be saved! They no longer have to moulder in your refrigerator! There is a God!

Oh my this is so amazing, I just can't believe it: baked strawberries are not only palatable, they are awesome. Especially when topped with a "rubble*" of ground almonds, butter and sugar.

This recipe comes from Nigella Lawson, the busty and beautiful British goddess of home cooking. She suggests serving this crumble with "lashings of heavy cream,**" which strikes me as distinctly sweet and British. I didn't, because I was out with the hoards of skinny-jean clad wannabe hipsters sporting exciting mustaches.

But there you go.

xoxo

mary

*Nigella's words

** Nigella again.

Strawberry and Almond Crumble

from Nigella Kitchen by Nigella Lawson

Notes: I used a food processor to grind my almonds. If you don't have one I suggest you go out immediately and buy one, just to make this recipe. Or try and grind some almonds in your blender. (?) In case you didn't already know, turbinado sugar is a kind of very coarse sugar, it is really delicious and most grocery stores now carry it, it gives the crumble a crunchier texture which is really lovely.

Ingredients

• 1 pound strawberries, hulled
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 cup almond meal/flour
• 4 teaspoons vanilla extract

For the topping:

• Heaping 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 5 tablespoons cold butter, diced
• 1 1/4 cup sliced almonds
• Scant 1/2 cup turbinado sugar
• Heavy cream, to serve
• 1 ovenproof pie dish approximately 8-inches diameter by 2-inches deep (approximately 1 1/4 quarts capacity)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Put the hulled strawberries into your pie dish (I use a round one) and sprinkle over them the sugar, almond meal, and vanilla extract. Give the dish a good shake or two to mix the ingredients.

Now for the crumble topping: put the flour and baking powder in a mixing bowl and rub in the cold, diced butter between thumb and fingers (or in a free standing mixer).When you've finished with it, it should resemble rough, pale oatmeal. Stir in the sliced almonds and turbinado sugar with a fork.

Tip this over the strawberry mixture, covering the strawberries in an even layer and giving a bit of a press in at the edges of the dish. Set the dish on a cookie sheet and bake in the oven for 30 minutes, by which time the crumble topping will have darkened to a pale gold and some pink-red juices will be seeping and bubbling out at the edges.

Let stand for 10 minutes before serving, and be sure to put a pitcher of chilled heavy cream on the table alongside.