Text Size:
A|
A|
A
Email
Print
The first in an occasional series about local home cooks.
Home cooking is at an all-time low. Whether it's lack of knowledge, lack of time or lack of resources, cooking food from scratch for ourselves, our families and our friends seems to have sunk to the bottom of many priority lists. This shift may seem like a boon to restaurants. After all, if we're not cooking, we're probably eating out more.
But eating in a restaurant should be about more than just having someone else do the cooking and washing up. Dining in a restaurant should be an opportunity to appreciate others' skills and accomplishments. Diners who understand the challenges of the kitchen and bring their own judgments to the table are in the best position to appreciate the talents of culinary professionals. Without critical diners, there can be no great restaurants.
It is with this understanding that I set out to profile local, talented home cooks, in the hope of informing myself and readers of the depth and breadth of food knowledge in the Pittsburgh community. But after my first "home meal," I received something more that I am hopeful about passing on to readers: A much needed dose of inspiration.
- Recommended by: Laurie Eisenberg, childhood friend.
- Neighborhood: Squirrel Hill
- Occupation: Landscape Architect
- Inspirations: Italian, Middle Eastern food
- Kitchen arsenal: A sharp chef's knife, a spatula.
- Kitchen staples: Heinz India Relish, beans, lentils, Bonne Maman Jelly, unsalted butter, Barilla pasta, Hebrew National Hot Dogs.
- On her bookshelf: "The Joy of Cooking," Rose Levy Beranbaum's "The Cake Bible," cookbooks by Marcella Hazan, Claudia Roden, and Maida Heatter
- Grocery store: Giant Eagle Market District, occasionally in the Strip.
- Pittsburgh restaurant picks: Cucina Flegrea, Le Pommier, Bangkok Balcony.
Annie Weidman of Squirrel Hill is the perfect candidate for the inaugural column in this series, because she has not only managed to cook for family and friends for 20-odd years, but has also done so without losing her style or her whimsical sense of humor. With influences ranging from the Mediterranean to the Middle East, Weidman's cooking is clearly a form of self-expression, but with an eye to thrift, health and practicality. She has very high standards for herself, and it came as no surprise that she holds restaurants to the same standards.
Weidman has been cooking for almost her entire life. She learned from her mother, who passed on specific techniques -- such as her piecrust -- along with recipes. Like many home cooks, Weidman also has a smattering of professional experience. Right after she graduated from college, she knocked on the door of legendary Pittsburgh restaurant La Normande and asked for a job. She worked for a year as the pastry assistant before, as she recalls, "they booted [her]," but that "year of looking and paying attention and being quiet" has stuck with her. As a young mother, Annie taught cooking classes to small groups and did some catering. But Weidman sums up most of her culinary experience as "being in mom mode for 23 years."
Weidman deserves particular praise not only for her skill but also for her continued enthusiasm. Though Weidman admits that she would enjoy an extended break from ordinary dinners, her enthusiasm for parties and projects hasn't wavered.
She recalls with fondness a book group meeting at which she made only white foods in honor of the white whale in Melville's "Moby Dick." Nothing went together, but the results were hilarious. The centerpiece? A fuzzy white whale-shaped cake decked out in marshmallow icing and coconut. As a final touch, Weidman created a water "spout" out of newspaper.
Not all of Weidman's art projects take a humorous or even a culinary bent. The Weidman home showcases a few of her pieces -- a print from college, a sculpture, and a stained glass light piece. Weidman is about to complete a graduate degree from Chatham in landscape architecture, a career which combines her interests in design and the environment. Precision, creativity and technical skill, these are the qualities that make Weidman a successful cook, but they are also qualities that support many other accomplishments.
When I first noticed the gorgeous pastry crust displayed on a side table in the living room, I assumed it was dessert. I knew Weidman was an accomplished baker, so what better way to show off those skills than with a pie.
It turned out to be a Torta de San Giuseppe, a Sicilian dish that Weidman made as a nod to her husband, Larry's, ancestry. The golden-brown crust decorated with pastry leaves and vines concealed a savory filling of peas, spinach, artichoke hearts, and fennel, punctuated by pine nuts and raisins. The tumble of various shades of green hinted at spring, the first of many seasonal touches that would inform the meal.
We moved to the pre-set dinner table for the salad course. Ironically, only minutes before, Weidman had told me how much she disliked making salad. I certainly wouldn't have guessed. Mixed greens were tossed with sauteed mushrooms, wilted and very sweet red onions, blanched green beans, just a touch of feta cheese and a bright, tangy vinaigrette. Balanced, fresh, inviting, this dish was much more than just a pause between courses.
The main course revealed a unique blend of Weidman's influences. Weidman often works from recipes, but only so far as she finds them useful. She reads them, shuts the book and then does what she wants. What had started out as a traditional Italian recipe for a boned chicken, stuffed with ground beef and roasted, had become a fusion of Weidman's diverse influences. The boned, roasted chicken was stuffed with ground lamb mixed with advieh (a Persian spice mix of dried rose petals, cinnamon, cardamom and cumin) and studded with apricots and pistachios, creating a lovely pattern of green and orange in each slice.
To accompany it, fresh linguine was tossed with Marcella Hazan's smothered onion sauce. Made from caramelized onions, white wine, and parmesan cheese, the simple sauce had a stupendous depth and complexity of flavor. A side of steamed asparagus finished out the plate.
At this point in the meal I was struck both by the quality of the dishes and the manner in which Weidman prepared them. Besides the Middle Eastern spice mix, Weidman had used by and large ordinary, simple ingredients to create a complex, balanced, seasonal meal that pleased the palate and the eye. The meal was balanced not only in flavor, texture, color and taste, but also in labor. Adept at the art of hospitality, Weidman had planned a meal that could be prepared almost entirely in advance. She disappeared only a few times for a few moments.
So impressed by Weidman's skills, I had almost forgotten that much of her local acclaim as a cook is due to her desserts. Of course, she had made two. Her stunning Creme Caramel would have been impressive alone. This luscious custard topped with a thin layer of caramel can be tricky; Weidman's had just the right texture, firm yet smooth, with the perfect hint of sweetness. When combined with the sweet-tart flavor of a strawberry-rhubarb sauce, it was revelatory.
When eating at restaurants, it is rare for me to finish everything set before me. Unless a dish is truly surprising, once I have tasted and re-tasted, I move on. It's hard to escape the feeling that there will always be another restaurant, another crab cake, another veal chop. At Annie Weidman's table, I felt my appetite revive. This meal felt unique, singular, in a way that restaurant food so rarely does.
Cooking for someone is inevitably a personal, meaningful act. And inviting someone into your home to feed them is the most direct expression of hospitality that I know. It is this feeling, this act of caring that restaurants strive to emulate. The best of them come close.
