Save Me the Plums - Ruth Reichl Page 0,24
on the middle shelf of the oven for about 45 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.
Cool on a rack for 10 minutes, then turn out, peel the parchment from the bottom, and allow to cool completely.
Praline
½ cup slivered blanched almonds
½ cup blanched hazelnuts
¼ cup water
¾ cup sugar
Toast the nuts in a 350-degree oven for 10 minutes. (If you’re using hazelnuts with skins, put them in a towel and rub the skins off, but don’t bother being fussy about it. Whatever comes off easily is fine.)
Combine the water and sugar in a small saucepan and bring to a boil, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Boil without stirring until it begins to darken, swirling the pan until the mixture turns a beautiful deep gold. It takes a while for the mixture to darken, but once it does it goes very quickly, so don’t walk away or it will burn. Remove from the heat and stir in the nuts.
Pour onto a baking sheet that you’ve lined with foil, parchment, or a Silpat, spreading evenly. Use an oven mitt—a burn from hot sugar can be very painful. Allow to cool completely.
Break into pieces, put into a plastic bag, and smash with a rolling pin until you have lovely crushed pieces you can sprinkle over the frosting, adding both crunch and flavor.
Frosting
Mix 2 tablespoons of sugar into a cup of mascarpone. Spread the frosting on the cooled cake and heap the praline bits on top.
I GLANCED AT MY WATCH and my heart began to race: late again. I had to pick Nick up in fifteen minutes.
“Gotta go,” I shouted at Robin, running out the door and sprinting down the street to the subway. By the time I reached the school, panting and out of breath, only two forlorn children were still standing on the steps.
Nick’s look of relief quickly changed, and his face clouded with accusation as he ran down to meet me. “Why can’t you get here on time?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” These days that’s all I seemed to say. I bent to kiss him, inhaling the deliciously yeasty little-boy scent.
I’d known, almost instantly, that promising to be at Gourmet every day was a mistake. I just hadn’t known how big, hadn’t realized how frantic I would become trying to do two jobs.
And I’d forgotten all about the book tour.
“What an opportunity!” Maurie gushed when she learned that the paperback edition of my first memoir, Tender at the Bone, was going to be published that spring. She took immediate charge. “This can be your unveiling. Do you know how much press we’ll get? Everyone wants to know what you look like when you’re not in disguise.”
Maurie’s formidable publicity machine ground into gear. Then it was joined by my book publisher’s, and a perfect storm of media attention came raining down. Richard Avedon was on the phone, Ann Curry, Terry Gross, Susan Stamberg. Louisville offered me the keys to the city if only I’d show up. The Today show followed me around for a week.
At first it was exciting. Then it was just exhausting. I’d wake, already apprehensive, at four every morning and drag myself out of bed to write the scripts for my daily restaurant review on WQXR (the station was owned by The New York Times), thinking, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. I’d be away for almost a month, which meant prerecording every show. I was eating out sixteen times a week, trying to get ahead of my restaurant schedule, and between meals, when I wasn’t posing for the press, I was shuttling back and forth between the newspaper and the magazine. I was always frantic, always late. The few hours with Nick were the best part of every day, but I was making a mess of that too.
“I should never have said I’d be at the magazine while I was still at the paper,” I’d said as Michael and I lay in bed, hoping for sleep. “And now there’s this national book tour….”
Michael heaved a deep sigh. “I have something to tell you….” I braced myself. “You know that piece I pitched a couple months ago on nuclear terrorism? All of a sudden they want it right away. I’m leaving for Colorado in a couple of days and I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”
I went numb with fury. Now? He was leaving now?
“I know the timing’s bad.” Was that an apology? “Who’s going to look after Nick while you’re away?”
Rage had