my secret identity

I sort of, kind of have a secret identity. At least, that's how I like to see it. But instead of donning a cape and mask and whisking around Chicago to save the meek and innocent, I don a suit, put on mascara and disappear into Chicago's nightlife. Part-way through culinary school I picked up a job being a night manager at a small, upscale hotel bar and restaurant in Chicago's ritzy Gold Coast neighborhood. Most of the time, I'm all alone, greeting the customers, waiting the tables, making the drinks, and dealing with the most recent trouble-maker. And, goodness, do I bring home my fair share of stories.

What surprised me most about the job, and what has become my favorite part about it, is the way I melt into the background, becoming almost indistinguishable from the rows of high end scotch behind me. My ex-boyfriends, my political views, my favorite color...my whole person vanishes, and I get to be nothing more than the woman who pours the wine.

Some of you may think that sounds terrible, but I find it exhilarating. When I no longer have to be me, I get welcomed in to the secret lives of strangers from all around the world. The financial trader, gripping a Honker's Ale, tells me about his clandestine stash of Ethiopian magic scrolls. The young woman, sipping a dirty martini, tells me about how her grandfather used to give her the olives out of his when she was small. A fiery, middle-aged woman from the west coast, nursing a Chardonnay, explains how she had never imagined she'd marry the brother of her late-fiance. You only think I'm kidding. It really does feel an awful lot like like a secret identity.

And after a long night of mixing martinis and listening, I take off my suit, fold up my secret identity and tuck it into my closet for another day.

Then, once the real Adriana is back in full swing, I go make fresh berry tarts. Two kinds, in fact.

-Adriana

Blueberry tarts with meyer lemon mascarpone cream

and

Strawberry tarts with vanilla mascarpone cream

Pate sucre
8 oz butter
4 oz sugar
1 egg
12 oz pastry flour (or 6oz cake flour + 6oz all purpose flour)

Mascarpone Cream
14 oz mascarpone (sub cream cheese for up to half, if desired)
1/4 cup sour cream
1/4 cup sugar
*for meyer lemon cream add 2 teaspoons finely grated meyer lemon zest
*for vanilla cream add 1 teaspoon grated lemon zest and scant 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

To finish
blueberries
strawberries, cored and sliced about 1/4 in thick
apricot jam and/or honey

Make the tart shells (about 6 4-inch shells)

1. Cream butter in a stand mixer or by hand for 3-4 minutes, until fluffy. Add sugar and continue to cream. Add egg and cream until completely fluffy, another couple of minutes.

2. Sift flour. Add flour in two shifts and mix until fully incorporated. Flatten into a disk and refrigerate until firm.

3. Roll out dough to 1/8 in thick. Cut circles a bit larger than the size of your tart pan(s). Lay dough inside, making sure it's lightly pressed flush with the edges and then crimp off the excess dough from the top.

4. Poke bottom and sides of dough shells well with a fork

5. Bake at 350 until the shells are light golden brown. The timing will totally depend on your oven, but it took about 12-15 minutes in mine.

6. Let shells cool completely.

Make the cream

1. Whisk together the first three ingredients until fluffy and well-incorporated.

2. Divide cream in half. Whisk lemon zest into one, whisk lemon zest and vanilla into the other.

Assemble tarts

1. Fill shells with cream and smooth into an even layer

2. Lay berries on top in whatever pattern you think it prettiest!

3. Gently heat the apricot jam and or honey, thinning with a tiny bit of water to get the right consistency for your glaze.

4. Gently brush the tops of the tarts with the glaze.

5. Refrigerate tarts until cream has chilled, at least 2 hours.

16 beans

Despite what my birth certificate from 1985 might suggest, I really have the heart of a 4 year old. At least, I'm guessing that's why I can't keep my hands off collections of small, colorful things. Beads, ribbons, note cards, shells, Legos, you name it - if they're small, if they're colorful, and if they're a lot of them, I must make them mine. This may or may not be the sole reason I found myself guiltily buying a large bag of "16 Bean Mix" at the grocery store earlier this week. I've never handled a dry bean before in my life, and here I was purchasing a pound of them. There were white beans, red beans, navy beans, yellow lentils, red lentils, cannalini beans, kidney beans, black beans, black-eye peas, split peas, pinto beans, garbanzo beans, anasazi beans, fava beans, and two types I couldn't even identify! It was obviously a no-lose situation, I rationalized. I would either create a bean-based dish beyond my wildest dreams, or I would pour all 16 varieties out on the kitchen table and spend the afternoon sorting them by shape and color.

In the end, and after a 24 hour-long process, the beans did find their way onto my dinner plate. And here's just how it happened.


16 Bean and Farro Salad with Lemon Pepper Vinaigrette
Recipe requires advanced preparation

Ingredients
2 cup dried beans
1 cup farro grains
2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1 tsp. finely chopped lemon zest
5 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
salt and freshly ground pepper
fresh rosemary, thyme and tarragon


Step one: One day ahead, put your beans in a pot and cover with warm water. Add a tablespoon of whey or buttermilk, cover, and let sit for 24 hours.

Step two: Drain and rinse your beans and cover with water once again. Put the pot of beans on the stove over med-high heat until the water begins to boil. Turn down heat, cover, and let the beans cook for an hour or until they have turned soft. IMPORTANT: DO NOT SALT THE WATER. I learned the hard way that you must not salt the cooking water for the beans, or else they will never turn soft. When the beans are soft, remove from heat, drain, and set aside to cool.

Step three: Meanwhile, rinse the farro, cover with water, and put on the stove over high heat. When the water begins to boil, turn down the heat, cover, and let boil for roughly 20 minutes, or until the grains have doubled in size and become chewy. When the farro has cooked, remove from heat, drain, and set aside to cool.

Step four: Make the vinaigrette. Combine the lemon juice, zest, and a 1/2 teaspoon salt in a small bowl. Let stand for 15 minutes so that the salt dissolves in the lemon juice. Whisk in the oil and add pepper to taste. Taste the mixture and adjust if necessary.

Step five: Add the herbs and mix it all up. Beans, farro, vinaigrette, everything. Just throw it into a bowl, stir it up, and taste it to make sure it doesn't need more salt, pepper, oil, or lemon. You don't want the herb taste to be overpowering, so adjust based on how potent your herbs are. If using dried, you'll probably have to add a bit extra to get the same flavor.