The Farmers’ Market Family Cookbook by The Murdoch Books Test Kitchen – ISBN: 1742663400

  • Full Title: The Farmers’ Market Family Cookbook: A Collection of Recipes for Local and Seasonal Produce
  • Autor: The Murdoch Books Test Kitchen
  • Print Length: 256 pages
  • Publisher: Murdoch Books
  • Publication Date: June 1, 2012
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 1742663400
  • ISBN-13: 978-1742663401
  • Download File Format | Size: epub | 54,72 Mb
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Directions
Everyone loves going to the farmers’ market and it’s a good feeling to know that we’re supporting our local growers and making a contribution to sustainability. We like the idea of cooking with the seasons and we want our children to learn that cooking good food from raw ingredients is fun and easy, as well as a worthwhile and healthful thing to do. This book takes the ingredients that we bring home from the market and shows ways to use them, from the breakfast special muesli to the lunchtime omelette, from the homemade salad dressing to the afternoon cookie, from the dinnertime chicken casserole to the seasonal fruit dessert. A selection of recipes have been chosen as especially suitable for small children to make, or help to make. Also included are feature panels on growing your own produce, whether it be a simple herb pot on the windowsill or a backyard veggie patch. Buying wisely and cooking well are truly an investment for life.

 

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© 2017 by Eva Kolenko

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Clarkson Potter/Publishers, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

www.crownpublishing.com

www.clarksonpotter.com

CLARKSON POTTER is a trademark and POTTER with colophon is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Stafford, Alexandra, author. | Lowery, Liza, author. Title: Bread toast crumbs / Alexandra Stafford with Liza Lowery. Description: New York : Clarkson Potter, [2017] | Includes index. Identifiers: LCCN 2016022076| ISBN 9780553459838 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9780553459845 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Bread. | LCGFT: Cookbooks. Classification: LCC TX769 .S7777 2017 | DDC 641.81/5—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016022076.

ISBN 9780553459838

Ebook ISBN 9780553459845

Cover design by Ian Dingman

Cover photographs by Eva Kolenko

v4.1

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CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

LOAF TO CRUMB

THE PEASANT BREAD MASTER RECIPE

BREAD

TOAST

CRUMBS

FAQ

TROUBLESHOOTING

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

INDEX

INTRODUCTION

For years, anytime somebody asked my mother for her peasant bread recipe, she credited King Arthur Flour, noting that it could be found on the back of the bread flour bag. This, of course, was a lie. My mother shared her recipe with nobody. The bread was the star of every dinner party she threw. No matter what magnificent dishes she served—whole roasted beef tenderloin, grilled cedar-planked salmon, clay-pot-braised lamb shoulder—her guests wanted to go home with one and only one recipe.

Growing up, I ate the bread at nearly every meal: toasted and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar for breakfast; broiled with yellow mustard, raw onions, and Gruyère cheese for lunch; freshly baked and spread with butter alongside dinner.

When I moved away from home, what I missed most was my mother’s bread, and I soon began making it regularly. I made it for my roommates in college and, when I moved to Philadelphia, for my classmates in cooking school. I made it for family meals when I worked in restaurants, and later for my friends at the newspaper where I worked as the food editor before starting my blog, Alexandra’s Kitchen. Despite being surrounded by artisan bakeries at every turn, I never stopped making my mother’s bread—it had become my party trick, too.

I didn’t dare share the recipe—I was under strict orders not to. On the blog, I wrote about the local markets, restaurants, and farms, and the fun things I had learned while working in kitchens: tempura squash blossoms stuffed with herbed ricotta, pan-seared duck confit, and the like. But as the years went on (and my gaggle of children began amassing), I started sharing more family recipes, focusing on the food I had grown up on—honey-soy chicken wings from The New York Times Cookbook, buttermilk blueberry breakfast cake, Greek salad with my aunt Phyllis’s dressing. It was the food I found myself craving once again. The bread was part of that.

Every so often I would sneak a photo of it into a blog entry—on a grilled cheese sandwich or beside a salad—and inevitably a reader would ask, “May I have your mother’s bread recipe?” I answered as I had been taught and directed people to the back of the flour bag. But leading them astray—keeping this knowledge from so many people—grew tiresome. When one person noted there wasn’t even a recipe on the bag, I knew it was time to revise my story. I needed permission to share the recipe.

I called my mom one day and pleaded. People all over the Internet fear yeast! The bread failures are rampant! No one knows how easy it can be! My mother finally acquiesced, and I hit publish on the post I’d drafted for weeks. I suspected the reception would be good, but I didn’t quite anticipate how good. Before long, the comments poured in. The recipe inspired many who had deemed bread baking an impossibility to give it a try, and their resulting loaves exceeded expectations.

It’s the simplicity that is the real beauty of this peasant bread. The no-knead dough comes together in under five minutes, rises in about one hour, and after a second short rise, bakes in buttered bowls. There’s no trick to turn your oven into a professional oven. No trick to trap the steam to create bronzed crackling crusts, rustic scored surfaces. No trick to make the bread appear artisan. Peasant bread, with its blond, buttery crust, is the antithesis of artisan.

But the process is still rewarding: watching dough grow and transform, filling a house with comforting smells, savoring something so delectable made from such basic ingredients. Few kitchen endeavors produce such a sense of achievement—of triumph—as making bread, and nothing, it seems, elicits more gratitude for such little effort.

And yet m
paleo treats, coffee art, the chocolate factory, send birthday cake, baby back ribs,
Why Am I Always Tired? Fatigue, Obesity, Depression, Insomnia ……..59

7. Mistaken Identities: Autoimmune Diseases, Allergies, Asthma …………71

8. Inflamm-Aging: Aging, Arthritis, Alzheimer’s disease ……………….85

v

vi

Contents

p a r t I I I

The Anti-Infl ammation Game Pl an

9. What We Eat: Dietary Solutions …………………………………101

10. Where We Live: Home and Workplace Solutions…………………….125

11. What We Do: Lifestyle Solutions ………………………………..149

12. How We Think: Mind-Body Solutions……………………………159

13. What Medicine Can Do: Tests and Medications ……………………175

14. The Anti-Inflammation Prescription …………………………….195

Appendix: The Path to Medical Knowledge …………..201

Selected References ……………………………………..205

Index ………………………………………………………..227

Acknowledgments

7

So many people are involved in taking a book from concept to reality. We are indebted to them all. We wholeheartedly thank our editor, Judith McCarthy. This book would never have existed without her vision and guidance. Special thanks also to Jane Dystel, of Dystel & Goderich Literary Management. She’s the type of responsive, enthusiastic, and supportive agent most writers think exists only in their dreams. And thanks to Kathy Dennis for smoothly making the manuscript a book.

W.J.M. wishes to thank the many patients I have had the privilege to treat and help over the past two decades, for all you have shared and taught. Thanks to my many physician colleagues and mentors, most notably Drs. Donald Mitchell, Dean Metcalfe, Robert Hoffman, Lewis Goldfrank, and Theron Randolph. Thanks to my Chief of Service, Dr. Nicholas Benson, for your unending support and tolerance of my multifaceted interests and pursuits. Special thanks to my family, Thomas, Josephine, Jerome, Benjamin, Jason, and most especially my wife, Susan Martin Meggs, for your love and support and for tolerating the insanity of writing a book while also working a demanding and more than full-time job.

C.S. thanks Alan Lee Jones and Joanna Jones for their guidance during the early stages of writing, and Sid Kirchheimer for teaching me everything I know about health writing. Thank you also to everyone who made my life a little easier during the writing of this book through their support and encouragement, including Teresa and Jay Lawrence, Ann Agrawal, Marina and Ted Rudisill, Virginia Svec, Rhonda and Chris Sutton, Doris and George Margosian, Wendy and Gene Potkay, Amy and Joe Pellerito, Peter Guzzardi, and Diana Dell. And heartfelt thanks to Bill Svec, the most patient man in the world.

vii

Copyright © 2004 by William Meggs, M.D., Ph. D. and Carol Svec, M.A.Click here for terms of use.

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Introduction

7

The most powerful concept in disease prevention and treatment today is inflammation. If this is the first you’re hearing of it, prepare for more. Soon, we’ll all be talking about inflammation as easily as we talk about cholesterol, doctors will recommend blood tests to measure the amount of inflammation in your body, and targeted medications will be developed to control its effects. Inflammation may well turn out to be the elusive Holy Grail of medicine—the single phenomenon that holds the key to sickness and health.

Inflammation touches every aspect of our health. In a series of medical break-throughs, scientists have discovered that inflammation is a common thread linking heart disease, some forms of cancer, diabetes, osteoarthritis, asthma, migraine headaches, Alzheimer’s disease, fibromyalgia, periodontal disease, sinusitis, irritable bowel syndrome, inflammatory bowel disease, and chronic fatigue syndrome.

Inflammation is related to aging, obesity, stroke, fatigue, depression, and allergic reactions. Inflammation is also part of the process that damages body tissue in multiple sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis, systemic lupus erythematosus, and other autoimmune diseases.

As part of immunity, inflammation is one of the most basic human processes.

The cardinal signs of inflammation—redness, heat, pain, and swelling—are easily perceptible. Every fever, bump, rash, or bruise is the result of inflammation. On a microscopic level, the inflammatory response involves dozens of different chemicals, each performing a specific action. The purpose of inflammation is to limit damage to the body after injury or invasion by foreign organisms, such as bacteria or viruses. Limiting damage sounds good, but problems arise when the body experiences severe or long-term inflammation. It is this type of uncontrolled inflammation that has become the focus of so much research.

For more than two thousand years
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rt of my husband, James Sexton, who has eaten with me and argued with me for the length of my career. Not only does he have one of the keenest minds that I’ve ever encountered, but, when the day-to-night demands of my profession overwhelm our little family, he gamely steps up. Thanks from the bottom of my heart.

Introduction

New York has closed itself off to the young and the struggling. But there are other cities. Detroit. Poughkeepsie. New York City has been taken away from you. So my advice is: Find a new city.

—PATTI SMITH

The Hudson River Valley had always been colonized by peoples hunting for a new city. In the seventeenth century, they were the Dutch, who sailed up the Hudson to find a fertile land that supplied what their land-poor nation could not. Then they were the English, who found an easily defended and navigable river that led to vast and untapped resources in its upper reaches. Then they were urban refugees who fled an inhumane city for a more healthful life in the bucolic north.

But those are only the broad strokes that have defined the Hudson River Valley since the seventeenth century. What really formed the Valley happened before the Europeans were even conscious of a land beyond the sea. Thousands of years before Henry Hudson sailed his Half Moon up to modern day Albany in 1609, the glaciers that once blanketed the Hudson Valley retreated to the Arctic. What the ice left in its wake was a soil so rich that, in global satellite images taken today, the trench of its path still shows up as a jet-black streak. Lured by this soil’s fertility came the family farmers of the Hudson Valley, who, over time, learned to glean the finest products that the land could provide. It was a profitable business. The ports along the river quickly moved Hudson Valley goods into booming eighteenth and nineteenth century cities, fueling the nation’s new metropolises with New York State–raised meat, grain, and milk. Then, in a feat of hyper-modern engineering (for the first quarter of the nineteenth century, anyway), the Erie Canal connected the Hudson River to the Great Lakes and the spreading railroads beyond; this turned the greatest river of the East into an artery that fed the West.

While the River was the main conduit of goods within the Hudson River Valley, it was the commuter rail lines that ushered in the bulk of its populace. By the mid-nineteenth century, the Hudson, Harlem and New Haven lines had begun to spread their fingers into Westchester County and beyond. The commuter lines made it possible for the leafy triangle of Westchester—much of which had been carved by millionaires into their rolling country estates—to also become a healthful and pleasant home for a growing middle class that worked by day in Gotham.

Finally, when Manhattan was filled to bursting and suburban sprawl had mostly edged the picturesque farms from the southern Hudson Valley, the New York State Thruway and the parkway system paved the way for a new kind of refugee. Some city and suburb dwellers, lured by the promise of bucolic retreats near the farms of the Hudson Valley, bought second homes in the horse country of Columbia and Ulster counties. There were others—most notably, counter-culture heroes like Timothy Leary and Bob Dylan, who looked to the open spaces of the Hudson Valley as sites for bohemian utopias. Ultimately, the presence of these and other counter-culture figures led the Woodstock nation northward—but, of course, ever since the days of Henry Hudson, this land had seduced pioneers.

As Patti Smith notes, that beacon still shines in the Hudson River Valley today. Every year, it leads more artists, restaurateurs, craftsmen, urban dropouts, distillers, farmers, brewers, chefs, and barmen to retreat northward. They’re looking to create new utopias in a land where such dreams are still possible. This book is about them and the wonderful work that they do.

COLUMBIA COUNTY

CAFE LE PERCHE

230 WARREN STREET

HUDSON, NY 12534

(518) 822-1850

CAFELEPERCHE.COM

OWNER: ALLAN CHAPIN; GENERAL MANAGER: JENNIFER HOULE;

BAKERS: NICHOLE LASKY AND ROBERT PECORINO

Even the smallest sparks can trigger great fires. At Cafe le Perche, that spark was bread—in fact, one particular baguette. This baguette was baked in La Perche, a town almost smack in the geographical center of France; it was so delicious, so haunting, and so poetic that it inspired Allan Chapin to try to re-create it. To that end he disassembled an eleven-inch, seventeen-ton wood-fired oven (complete with a manually rotated baking stone) and had it shipped from France to Hudson, New York, where it was mortared into a basement of a former bank on Warren Street. The American bakers that Chapin hired to man this oven didn’t exactly know what they were getting into.

Traditionally, the kitchen-classrooms in culinary schools feature the sort of steely equipment that
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oceries. It’s choosing a grilled entrée and vegetables at a restaurant when everyone else is having fried chicken. It’s skipping the cookies and chips at night while watching TV and being satisfied without dessert. It’s discipline. If it were easy, everyone would be doing it. But trust me, you will be richly rewarded for the sacrifices. And before long, it won’t feel like any sacrifice at all.

When I put John’s program and Amy’s nutritional tactics to my own personal test, the results were even better than I had hoped. I started to feel as strong as I did in my playing days with the Packers. The unwanted flab around my midsection began melting away. I enjoyed hitting the gym again and looked forward to each workout. Most important, I got my mojo back. I lost the mental and physical sluggishness that dogged me when I let my fitness slide. I had tons of energy again to chase around my kids and tackle all my projects. Even after hitting forty, I still look like I could put on the pads and catch a fade in the end zone.

Playing for the Packers made me a household name in Wisconsin—and in fantasy football circles—but it was my appearance on Dancing with the Stars that heightened my national exposure. If I ever needed to be in tiptop conditioning—shirts were discouraged for many of the numbers—it was for that show. Fortunately, while at the end of my career—I still had a year left in the NFL—I still looked the part. I knew I had some swivel in my hips, but I was surprised as anyone when I won the competition. That notoriety, along with my status as a former pro athlete, later landed me guest appearances as a coach on The Biggest Loser and Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition. That experience had a huge impact on me.

These contestants were regular people struggling with their health and self-image. Their quest to lose weight was an albatross hanging around their necks, burdening every aspect of their lives. Some endured chronic struggles, while others were once fit and athletic but succumbed to many of the pitfalls of middle age. It dawned on me that if not for the knowledge and opportunities afforded me by my football career, I could easily have ended up in the same spot. I wanted to help these people. I wanted to see them succeed. I got down on the mat and cheered my team through every push-up, exchanged high fives for each pound dropped.

But more than just cheerlead: seing others succeed inspired me to make a bigger commitment. I got back home to Dallas and asked John about getting a stake in his gym. I started taking courses to become a certified trainer. I wanted to be around and learn from people who know the best approaches to health and fitness, and motivate others needing to benefit from that expertise. I felt a strong desire to help people realize that achieving physical wellness will lead to mental and spiritual strength as well.

It kindled a spark to write a book. To quote F. Scott Fitzgerald: “You don’t write because you want to say something; you write because you’ve got something to say.” I decided that I would tackle the problem from a holistic approach. It wouldn’t be a thirty-day fitness shortcut with impractical guarantees. Your health demands a greater commitment. This would be a lasting lifestyle change. It would not only help people achieve their ultimate fitness goals but raise the overall quality of their lives. This is the book you hold in your hands today.

The 3D Body Revolution is for everybody looking to get in the best shape of their lives—physically and mentally—and stay that way. People new to fitness, those who haven’t worked out in years and want to regain some of their youthful form, and even already well-conditioned individuals looking for the edge a former professional athlete can provide will find that this book delivers the motivation and pathway to a healthier, fuller life.

My first goal is to show you ways to improve your mental approach to living a healthy lifestyle, so you can become Driven to mentally push past self-imposed barriers and overcome the obstacles and distractions around you to achieve your ultimate physical goals. For many people, the mind will present the tallest hurdle to doing right by their bodies. They don’t believe they have the will and commitment to make the sacrifices necessary to improve their fitness. They deem it too costly in both time and money, and meant for the pretty people—not them. So they allow their minds to talk them out of it. They take the easy route of convenience, feeding their bodies too much of something—fried foods, sweets, booze, caffeine—and not giving it enough of something else—exercise, veggies, sleep—resulting in a gaping hole in their health that manifests as a spare tire around their waist and a depressed spirit. You may think poor food choices and a double chin are unrelated to a troubled state of mind, but the two are inextricably linked.

I’m going to show you how to flip that script.
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s stated in the recipe.

cloudy jellies

• Leave to strain the juice overnight; if you try to speed up the process by squeezing the bag, your jelly will become cloudy.

• Don’t wait too long to pour jellies into jars; use a wide-necked jam funnel and pour in as soon as your preserve is ready to can.

• Using artificial sweeteners or underripe fruit can make jellies cloudy.

bubbles dispersed within the preserve

• If there are bubbles in your preserve, this can be due to scum that has not been removed correctly; use a slotted spoon.

• Make sure you stir the correct way when removing the scum (i.e., the same way around); otherwise, you’ll introduce more air into preserve.

shrinking away from sides of jars

• This occurs when the preserve has been over-boiled or an airtight seal has not been created when covering the jars. Make sure the lid is secure and tight.

jams

The most famous and universally beloved of all preserves, a jam simply consists of lightly cooked soft fruits and sugar heated together until it resembles the sweet sticky gooey goodies that we know and love. In this chapter, the recipes range from the classic strawberry jam to a cheeky chocolate & banana jam. Enjoy!

old-fashioned strawberry jam

see variations

Strawberry jam can be very difficult to set, and you may need to add extra pectin. Mashing the strawberries helps to release the pectin, ensuring a good set.

1 lb. 2 oz. strawberries (hulled)

5 tbsp. lemon juice

2 cups sugar

Place the strawberries and lemon juice into a pan. Gently simmer and cook until the berry juice begins to run, approximately 5–10 minutes. Then take a potato masher and gently mash the strawberries.

Add the sugar, stirring until it is all dissolved (if you do not dissolve the sugar before the final boil, sugar crystals will form in the jam).

Bring to a rolling boil; the jam should be ready in 3–5 minutes. Remove from the heat and test for a set.

Once the setting point is reached, remove any scum. Cool the jam for 5–10 minutes. This will ensure that if there are any whole pieces of strawberries, they will not float to the top of the jam jar. Pour the hot jam into cooled, sterilized jars and seal tightly.

Makes 1 lb. 10 oz.

summer fruit jam

see variations

Peaches and roses herald the arrival of summer, so along with strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries, I’ve added a small amount of rose water to enhance the flavor.

8 oz. peaches

5 tbsp. lemon juice

1 tbsp. water

8 oz. blackberries

8 oz. raspberries

8 oz. strawberries (hulled)

1 tbsp. rose water

3 1/4 cups sugar

Place the peaches in the boiling water; leave for 30 seconds and then remove and carefully place them in cold water. Take the peaches out and remove the skins; cut them in half and discard the pit. Try to keep the peach juice. Chop the peaches and add them to the pan with the lemon juice and water. Gently simmer until soft. Add the remaining fruit and rose water. Gently simmer until the color runs from the raspberries, blackberries, and strawberries, or until they are soft but have retained their shape. Add the sugar, stirring until it is all dissolved — if you do not dissolve the sugar before the final boil, you will get sugar crystals forming in the jam.

Bring the fruit mixture to a rolling boil (do not stir jam at this stage because this reduces the heat and upsets the setting point); the jam should be ready in 3–5 minutes. Remove from the heat and test for a set. Once the setting point is reached, remove any scum. Cool the jam for 5–10 minutes. This will ensure that if there are any whole pieces of fruit, they will not float to the top of the jam jar. Pour the hot jam into cooled, sterilized jars and seal.

Makes 3 lbs. 5 oz.

cheeky chocolate & banana jam

see variations

This jam is superb with thick buttered toast and croissants. It makes an excellent topping for cupcakes and yellow cake layered with jam and whipped cream.

1 lb. 11 oz. ripe bananas (about 6 large)

1 cup water

2 tbsp. almond liqueur or almond essence

4 oz. dark chocolate (chopped)

2 cups infused vanilla sugar or regular sugar

Thinly slice the banana, and place in a large pan with the water and sugar. Mix well on a medium heat until the sugar has melted. Stir constantly and bring the mixture to a full rolling boil. The mixture may well have a slight grey hue; this will disappear.

Keep the mixture at a rolling boil for 2 minutes, stirring constantly until the mixture becomes clearer and brighter. Once the bananas become soft and increase in size, add the dark chocolate. Mix well and gently melt the chocolate. Once melted, bring the mixture back to a boil and then remove from the heat immediately. Stir in the
long before the doors officially opened and the place was packed. Lines out into the cold all times of day. Customers were often confused by the crazy ice cream flavors we served morning till midnight, by the series of flavors that were always expanding and contracting, and we didn’t begrudge them the confusion. We were making it up as we went along, but—and I can’t express this more sincerely—we were truly surprised at how much people were into it. At a certain point, Anderson Cooper was plugging our crack pie on television. Things had turned surreal. Dave swears he knew it was going to work all along.

A year and a half passed. We opened our second Milk Bar location in midtown. Business was booming, but we were on top of each other, mixing and baking from 7 a.m. to 2 a.m. in 700 square feet of space. We’d hoist sheet pans of cookie dough over the heads of our patrons several times a day to get them to a refrigerator to chill for an hour or two before we hoisted the pans back to our oven to bake off for the evening and late-night crowds.

We needed a bigger boat. There are only so many chest freezers from Craigslist you can squeeze into an already cramped basement, so many cookie fridges you can surreptitiously put out on the floor of Milk Bar, and so many tables you can take over for shipping and special orders while telling guests they have to stand somewhere else to eat their slice of pistachio layer pie.

We found and signed a lease on a huge warehouse space that would be our castle, our kingdom, our home. Cue noise: car screeching to a halt. Only thing is, it wouldn’t be rezoned and kitchen-ready for another four months.

So we chose the next best (and only other) option: schlepping our kitchen up to Spanish Harlem to bake in a stranger’s fourth-story rental kitchen, using a stranger’s dingy refrigerators, a stranger’s elevator that always seemed to break down when the deliveries were obscenely large, and, even worse, a stranger’s wonky ovens.

And there we perched, in a barely-air-conditioned 90- to 100-degree kitchen for a long summer. We baked, and we developed a delivery system, a packaging system, an “oh, shit” list to keep us on top of every single disaster we could and surely did encounter at 113th Street and Third Avenue. We were in boot camp all over again. We climbed those stairs with fifty-pound bags of flour on our shoulders or wobbled down them with twenty-four-quart tubs of soft-serve ice cream to take to Noodle Bar. We screamed, we sweated. We tried to hide it when we were down at the restaurants. We scrubbed sheet pans at 3 a.m. until we hired and trained a dishwashing staff. We carpooled up and down the FDR Drive at all hours of the morning and night.

Then, just when the summer of 2010 cooled off, our new kitchen in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, was ready. And by ready, I mean empty, clean, and ready for us to do it all over again, one more time.

We painted the creepy rooms with leftover paint from everyone’s past home painting experiments (mostly mine), hung pictures of dogs and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on the empty walls, and assembled enough prep tables and metro shelves to fill thousands of square feet. My mother, aunt, and sister stuffed my poor brother-in-law’s truck full of yard-sale furniture to cart across state lines for our makeshift offices. We made friends with big guys with big dollies and trucks with lifts. And we rented U-Haul trucks and moved our ever-expanding kitchen from Spanish Harlem to our home. Finally.

After just two years, we caught up on sleep (kind of). We wooed an amazingly talented staff to join us in our plight. Each one of us has a different background, a different attitude, and a different view on life and food.

Helen Jo stuck by my side, whether we were spray-painting a rusty dough sheeter gold and naming her Beyoncé, running outside to pet a puppy, or commanding an entire kitchen to work faster! Leslie Behrens entered full force with blonde like you have never seen before, and a love for key lime pie turned cake that let us know she was a lifer. Yewande Komolafe, our wanderlust Nigerian princess, reminded us daily to be fierce with attitude and never to miss an episode of This American Life. Helen Hollyman, with her patience and hilarity, taught us how to wrangle quirky customers with grace and poise while laughing inside all the way. Sarah Buck danced into our basement and schooled us in the art of bouncing to Reggaeton while corralling a sassy staff into banging out a prep list in record time. Courtney McBroom, cool as a cucumber, hilarious, and vulgar to a fault at times, is my mighty kitchen stand-in, silently reminding me it will all be OK, even if I take a day off (she’s also half of the hilariousness of this text). Maggie Cantwell, equally nosy and hungry at all times, now runs our operations and reminds us to be good women, girlfriends, and wives, all while balancing s

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