Save Me the Plums - Ruth Reichl Page 0,62

grated)

3 scallions

¾ stick (6 tablespoons) unsalted butter

1¾ cups all-purpose flour

¾ cup stone-ground cornmeal (not coarse)

4 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon sugar

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup buttermilk (well shaken)

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Butter a large baking sheet.

Coarsely grate the cheddar; you should have about a cup and a half. Mix in the grated Parmesan.

Chop the scallions—both the white and the green parts.

Cut the cold butter into ½-inch cubes.

Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl, then cut in the butter with two knives until it’s about the size of peas. Stir in the cheese and the scallions and then gently mix in the buttermilk, just until the dough comes together.

Drop the dough onto the baking sheet in twelve mounds, leaving space between them. Bake until fragrant and golden, about 15 minutes.

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GINA MARIE’S NEXT big assignment was a children’s birthday party. “I’ve had this idea for the cake….” In her Bensonhurst accent, the word “idea” ended in “r.” “What if I made little tiny cupcakes and used them like decorations? They’re the perfect size; the kids could just pull them off.” She mimed a toddler holding up a miniature cupcake. “They’d like that. Then when all the cupcakes are gone, the parents can eat the cake. Kind of like, you know, having your cake and eating it too.”

Gina Marie iced the cake in white and covered it with jaunty polka dots. She piled the tiny cupcakes, each a vivid bright color, into a pyramid on top. Richard took one look and put the cake on the cover, setting it against a vibrant green background. It was bright, it was cheerful, it was innocence personified. And it really caught your eye.

The issue sold extremely well, so the first angry letters took us all by surprise. How dare we, subscribers wanted to know, put cupcakes on the cover? I was baffled. What were they so upset about? But as the letters continued to pour in, I began to understand that longtime readers of the magazine had decoded a message we hadn’t even known we were sending.

Throughout human history, food trends have come from the top, slowly working their way down from royal tables to the modest homes of the hoi polloi. Restaurants owe their very existence to the French Revolution, which sent chefs who’d been feeding the aristocracy looking for new ways to earn money. Old-guard gourmets considered this trickle-down cuisine the natural order.

But the world of food was in turmoil. For the first time in history, food trends began to work their way up from the street. In 2004, when David Chang opened Momofuku, a tiny ten-seat restaurant in a scruffy downtown neighborhood created a national ramen craze. Then tacos took off, and street-cart cuisine began elbowing its way into white-tablecloth restaurants. The clientele for upscale restaurants was changing too; now the people who mattered most weren’t old white men in suits but diverse young people in jeans, and their notion of fine dining differed enormously from that of their elders. They had no use for stuffy restaurants; they wanted noise, color, excitement.

Gina Marie’s cupcakes perfectly captured this moment in time. What were cupcakes, after all, but the direct descendants of Hostess and Sno Balls? People who rejoiced in finding soufflés and croquembouches on the cover of their favorite magazine did not appreciate the apotheosis of less prestigious dishes. “What will you put on your cover next?” one reader wrote. “Hot dogs?”

They sent us vitriolic letters, using words like “gross,” “distasteful,” and “low.” One woman insisted the cover was so offensive that she’d been forced to tear it off and throw it away. “I just couldn’t bear to look at it,” she wrote. Younger readers joined the battle, gleefully supporting the cake by sending in photos of their homemade versions.

The battle raged for more than a year, and while I’ll admit I stirred the pot and printed the letters, I never really understood what the fuss was all about. Now, looking back, it is very clear. Gourmet cried, “Let them eat cupcakes!” and our readers got the message. The exclusive little world of food was growing both larger and more inclusive, and those who’d thought they’d owned it didn’t like it one bit.

“LOVE, LOVE, LOVE THE CONTROVERSY over the cover,” said the voice on the phone. “Oh, honey, good for you!”

“Stevie!” Like many other people, I was always delighted to hear from my mother’s oldest friend.

My father called him