MY BIRTHDAY CAME early this year, just sliding in before summer officially packed up its crisp white linens and sent them into storage to make way for fall. One week to the day before I crossed the threshold of a new decade, my husband did an honorable thing: he gave me a gift he knew I truly wanted.
That he knew because I’d told him, made no difference. When you want something, you want it, and you’re happy when someone cares enough to pay attention to your desire—maybe especially if you know that the person in question is skeptical about its worth, yet has to go along for the ride.
Running late, we rode in a cab like lame Manhattanites, afraid to get lost in Brooklyn. (I repeat: we were running late, hence the fear of wrong turns wasting precious time; we were not afraid of the “natives.”) Our destination? A waterside loft in Williamsburg, home to the spectacular cooking class/dinner party experience known as Sunday Suppers. I’d been wanting to attend since I’d first heard about it, some months before.
Sunday Suppers is relatively new, having launched in April 2009. This convivial, detail-perfect supper club is the labor of love of Karen Mordechai, a professional and very talented photographer and food stylist (the photo just below is hers); her partner, chef Casey Solomon; plus a series of professional guest chefs. The concept is simple: a social gathering of the food-curious, where you get hands-on cooking instruction and then reap the rewards of your labor as you sit down to an elegantly set table—or in our case, squat some park space to eat while you watch the sun ignite the New York City skyline as it sets across the river. The menus are seasonal, and the food is all market fresh, local, and organic.
For this “late summer picnic” we placed ourselves in the diminutive but well-seasoned hands of Camille Becerra, a chef, consultant, and former owner of Paloma restaurant in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, whose doors closed in November 2008 due to a fire. You might possibly have seen Camille on Top Chef (Season 3), and let me just say that her insights into the show and its demands were eye-opening.
Camille welcomed us with a cheerful manner, crisp professionalism, and an impressive mise en place (a culinary term referring to the advance preparation of equipment and ingredients). I will spare you the blow-by-blow description of what followed, but will tell you that before long, the cozy kitchen space became a production line of delicious smells, a canvas of late-summer colors: peppery green cilantro, ginger to make your lips tingle, red and yellow heirloom tomatoes, sweet orange melons, carrots freckled with black nigella seeds, and dark plums dripping scarlet juice down my wrists as I sliced them to pieces. A full spectrum, blazing in the slanting light of afternoon.
My husband and I worked side by side. He blended ingredients for a frittata, while I mixed our dessert filling; together we lay down tangy layers of ingredients for fennel slaw. We didn’t talk much to each other. He expected, and I worried, that the class would be a drag for him. After all, he’s in the industry (though not in the kitchen), and spending his one day off wearing an apron and taking direction from a chef is not his idea of weekend R&R—which made it a sweet act of self-sacrifice. But I’ll tell you: in all the occasions we’ve had to talk about Sunday Suppers since, he’s been every bit as vocal in his praise and recommendations as I have. Maybe more so. By the time we’d unstrung the aprons and gathered everything together in charming old tin bread boxes and wooden crates, he was sold on the experience, same as I . . . and we hadn’t yet tasted the food.
In every way, Sunday Suppers gets it right. They know how to create a mood that works for friends and for lovers, how to keep everything casual and elegant at the same time. They welcome you in, and then they send you home with the best gift of all: renewed enthusiasm. Not just for trying new recipes or flavor combinations in the kitchen, but also for sharing these things with others—even if that other is the same person you see every day (and cannot usually stand to share kitchen space with).
Karen’s stunning photography of Camille’s (and our) creations are now up on the Sunday Suppers blog. The initial post for the picnic is here, and you can find recipes posted throughout the archive for October 2009. If the overall experience sounds enticing and you’re interested in joining Sunday Suppers—and I heartily recommend that you do—you can visit their site and/or email them at: info[at]sunday-suppers.com
Now, for the goodies . . .
Below is the menu Camille designed for us to prepare and enjoy. I have included the recipe for Spicy Cauliflower Relish. While I thoroughly enjoyed every dish (including the plum ginger crumble bars, which I had a heavy hand in making), I was wowed by the Spicy Cauliflower Relish, which we got to bring home as a culinary party favor. If you’re not someone who puts up preserves and such, and if you’re at all intimidated by the sterile-looking jars in my photo below, don’t be. You won’t need to bother with boiling water or tongs or any of that—this relish just won’t stick around long enough to spoil. It was fabulous on the fresh burrata, and it’s been suggested as a condiment for fish or pasta, but I’ve since found my own favorite use for it: served as the perfect foil to a simple boiled egg.
Camille Becerra’s Late Summer Picnic Menu
Watermelon Agua Fresca Cocktails
Ricotta with Honey and Pomegranate Seeds | Caraway Flatbread
Burrata with Spicy Cauliflower Relish | Tomato and Cantaloupe Salad
Fennel Slaw with Pickled Red Onion
Frittata of Rice, Zucchini, and Feta, with Fennel Pollen Yogurt
Chicken Pies with Carrots and Nigella
Plum Ginger Crumble Bars for Dessert
“Sunday Suppers” Cauliflower Relish
Recipe Courtesy of Camille Becerra and Sunday Suppers
Yield: about 3 cups of relish (8-10 servings)
Ingredients:
1 head cauliflower, cut into small florets
1/4 cup olive oil
4 Thai bird chilies
2 anchovies
2 cloves of garlic, diced fine
8 sprigs of thyme
2 teaspoons course ground peppercorns
1 red bell pepper, diced small
1 cup red onion, diced small
2 bay leaves
1/4 cup white balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger (a micro-plane works best)
Fresh lemon juice and salt to taste
Method:
Blanch the cauliflower.
Saute whole chilies, garlic, anchovies in oil till the anchovies melt. Add the thyme springs, peppercorns, bell pepper, red onion, and bay leaves and sauté till the onion cooks through. Add the cauliflower and season mixture with salt.
Transfer mixture to a bowl and add white balsamic to the pan just used to make the cauliflower. Reduce vinegar by half. Once reduced, add to the cauliflower along with the fresh ginger and lemon juice. Adjust seasoning if necessary.
Allow the relish to sit in refrigerator for one day to allow all the flavors to bloom.
