The Incomparable Mrs. B

Molly, of Orangette fame, once wrote that she suspected the purpose of her blog was to make her friend Jimmy famous (he of the outrageous breakfast creations). I am beginning to suspect that the purpose of my blog will be to make Susan Brady famous, and a more worthwhile cause I may never find.

Sharp-eyed readers may have already noticed a number of references to the illustrious Mrs. B. She is my Meyer lemon supplier (and bless her for that bit of goodness), editor of a forthcoming anthology about learning how to cook all over the world (The World is a Kitchen), and unending source of good food, good recipes, and good advice. And that's not even mentioning her knack at making mojitos!

I first met Susan back in 1998, when I started working for Travelers' Tales. She was the production coordinator there and it was her diligence that made all the trains run on time. She also served as resident den mother and lucky we were to have her. Not only did Susan know how to reset the computer server, a task we were all terrified of, but rarely would a week pass without her bringing in lunch for the entire office. Whether it was amazing Thai coconut soup, addictive curried lentils, comforting lamb stew, or any number of delicious baked goods, the woman fed us well. Those who know Susan know she likes her coffee hot and black, her chocolate dark with nuts, and watch out when she gets in the kitchen 'cause the woman can cook!

Though we no longer work together, I am lucky to count Susan as a friend. She's the person I call in times of need. Whether it's help with a recipe, driving directions when lost (her Mapquest skills saved me last night), or advice on where to buy the perfect jacket, survive the breakup of the century, or deal with my family, if there is a solution to be had Susan will find it—and if she can't fix the problem she will mix you a drink so strong you forget about it. The minute I win the lottery I am putting her on the payroll and having her run my life.

Any visit to Susan's home, south of San Francisco, leaves me with a stuffed belly and, most likely, some sort of delicious care package from Susan's kitchen. Last week it was a jar of fresh lemon curd made from the lemons on her tree (true bliss). Christmas was a basketful of goodies from her kitchen—homemade spice rub, a bottle of lemoncello, two kinds of biscotti (the triple chocolate were to die for). This year her daughter Alex, who is equally talented and capable and an up and coming designer, made her labels. Don't be surprised if you someday see Mrs. B's goodies on your supermarket shelf. As an advanced taster I can assure you they are excellent.



When Susan offered to do a guest post on my blog I jumped at the chance. Though I suspect she will eventually start her own food blog and leave me in the dust, until that time I’ll consider her presence here like having a celebrity cameo.

So, without further ado, meet Mrs. B. By the end of this story you'll wish she were your aunt too, or at the very least your good, good friend.

Tea Party with Mrs. B:

Last fall when I was planning to visit my brother, my daughter sent me off with “real” British tea. Having just spent six months studying in London she is an avid proponent of the leaf, and she had just gotten a huge stash shipped from relatives in the U.K. The tea, along with shortbread, would make for an inaugural tea party for my ten-year-old niece and seven-year-old nephew in Southern California.

In between soccer games, we headed to the kitchen to make shortbread from the family recipe. My nanny (great-grandmother) had brought the recipe with her from Scotland in 1925, when my papa was just 16. My English grandmother (nana) learned from her and handed the recipe down to me (totally skipping my mother, who isn’t known for her baking prowess). My children grew up making the recipe and it was now time to pass it on to my niece and nephew, Kendall and Connor.

The thing about shortbread, or at least our recipe, is the ease and fun of making it. My nana always emphasized that you have to use your hands to meld the butter and sugar together. The heat from your hands, she told me, is the secret ingredient. Taking it a step further, we mix the whole dough with our hands. One bowl, no spoon, easy clean up. This, combined with the wonderful flavor, makes it a favorite for children.

After the last soccer game, we assembled in the kitchen to prepare for the party. To my absolute shock and horror, I found that my brother does not own a teapot of any kind. He doesn’t even own a working teakettle! I was forced to boil water on the stove and use the coffeepot to brew the tea in. This was a major foul—especially for a family whose ancestors came over from the U.K. through Ellis Island, drinking tea the whole way. I, myself, have a large teapot collection, inadvertently collected over the years. Some were wedding gifts, some were family heirlooms, some were bought abroad, and one is even a gift from the Taiwanese government. They are lovingly stored on a shelf in my kitchen for all to see, and are used on a regular basis. But today we would have to make do with the white mugs that came with their everyday dinnerware set and the glass carafe from the coffeemaker. At least the shortbread was served and plated on dainty heart-shaped plates. You know, presentation is half the battle.


The children were none the wiser. They loved their tea and shortbread and we lingered at the table a long time. And they had just given me the idea for their Christmas gift.

Fast-forward two months. I am again visiting my brother for the weekend and we schedule another tea party. This time we are more prepared. They are now the proud owners of a whole tea set: teapot, sugar, creamer, six cups and saucers, and six dessert plates. To celebrate and christen the new china, we go all out. I make meringue kisses with chocolate chips, kaffir lime bars (on a shortbread crust), and a friend brings over cream puffs. My sister-in-law digs out the tea from my last visit and, though I have to boil water yet again in a saucepan, I am able to brew it properly in the teapot. And on a bright sunny day in January in Southern California, we have a proper British tea on the back patio.

So the tradition continues . . .


NANNY'S SHORTBREAD

1/2 lb. butter (2 sticks), room temp
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 1/4 cups flour
1 tbs cornstarch

Preheat oven to 325°F. In medium bowl, place butter and sugar. Using your hand, work the sugar into the butter until fully incorporated. Add the flour and cornstarch gradually, mixing after each addition. Once thoroughly incorporated, your dough should be “short”, meaning crumbly. Pull it all into a ball and pat it into a square or round 8-inch or 9-inch pan. Score with the tines of a fork. Bake for approximately 35 minutes or until just lightly browned on the edges.

PS. Tea here, again. Of course I had to ask Susan for the recipes for the kaffir lime bars and the meringues (don't worry, I got your back). The kaffir lime bars are lemon bars with kaffir lime juice instead of lemon juice and the above shortbread recipe used as crust. As for the meringues, this is what Susan wrote:

The meringues? No recipe there. We had leftover egg whites, I started whipping them. When they got to soft peaks, I started adding sugar, tasting periodically. Then whipped them to stiff peaks (less sugar is needed if adding a sweet chocolate). I add a bit of vanilla here - maybe a teaspoon (you could add any flavor like peppermint and some red food coloring if you want to be creative!). Stir in whatever you want - mini choc chips, regular chips, chopped chocolate, nuts, coconut. You can drop them by decorative spoonfuls, or use a pastry bag. You should cook them on parchment or a paper bag. You an bake one of two ways: 250 degrees for 25-30 minutes, until dry, or preheat oven to 350, put the cookies in the oven and then turn it off. Leaving them in there for 2 hours to cook and dry out.

UPDATE: Mrs. B blogs! It was only a matter of time—now you can go visit her yourself, at Eating Suburbia.