The Cousin Test Part 3 of 3 or For the Halibut!

Dear Reader,

As a reminder, Arlene's email said "Will be in Florida from X day through X day. Would love to see you guys".

And without a second thought, I saw "dinner party" in my mind.

I envisioned our dining room table full of our crystal and Mikasa off-white china- that I am dying to get rid of and purchase anew. Something a bit less romantic. Michael is more into the romantic and I mostly cringe when I see romantic styles. Leave romantic in Italy- says this observer. I am more into modernism. Give me John Cage over Frederic Chopin any day. Now, don't get me wrong, I do crave for Chopin at times.

The hip Chinese pianist, Lang Lang pretends to capture only a glimpse and spirit of what Ashkenazy or the king of Chopin, Rubinstein, could do. And by no means am I saying that you have to be of European decent to play the likes of Chopin. If that were true, the Koreans would have no purpose. For my money, Lang Lang (who I enjoy tremendously and one recommendation if you are new to Lang Lang-pronounced Loang Loang- and seek something a little larger than life, his disk, Dragon Dragon. A Must. A mix of traditional Chinese themes with contemporary. While listening to it, I feel the government is watching my every move. Exhilarating.) is more a wine cooler with his Chopin and Ashkenazy is a bottle of 1990 Beausejour and Rubinstein is champagne with berries. Any berry will do.

I like champagne, cheap-ish or otherwise. I don't have the developed taste buds to decipher fine from dreck. Yet.

I do fantasize about what a $200. bottle of wine must be like. I imagine lifting the glass to my face. The gasses and scents of the wine flow up through my pours, release toxins in my face and with one whiff, the smells of the French countryside or rich Tuscan earth or a Chilean ladies foot engulf my sensories. Right as I am about to touch the crystal glass to my lips, in a crazy culinary osmosis, vapors from the aged and fermented grapes pre-kiss my tongue. I actually taste the wine slightly before it passes my lips. It's almost like a sun shower! Like a clumsy teenage french kiss at summer camp! I bring the glass to my lips and tilt it downward slightly. Out flows a tiny bit of that golden, warm sunlight into my mouth. My mouth warms.

Most people speak of wines in smoothness. It's easy to imagine drinking velvet. But I'd like to imagine drinking silk or angora. Oddly. Taste. Taste. It's almost like I'm drinking a liquified blueberry blintz. The spell is over.

I thought it a terrific opportunity to invite some other cousins of mine with Arlene and Kurt. It's been a while since I've seen Alan, Fran, Maxine and Falan and thought "why the hell not?".

They live in South Florida and I don't see them as often as I should.

Alan and Fran have a "yours, mine and ours complex". In other words, they both have been married before, both have had two children each in their marriages and have additionally added two children in their new marriage. So this family unit, aside including Maxine and Falan also have Jennifer, Brett, Lisa and Giorgina. Again, all of them closer to my age than my first cousins. In fact, Lisa is a year older than me and Jennifer and I are the same age.

For tonight's dinner party, Falan will be joining her parents. Maxine has to work.

When Michael and I have dinner parties, we put the guest list together and that, as Michael says, "It's like casting a play". "The characters all have to mesh well".

After the dinner party is cast, the menu gets decided. Usually by me since it's me who cooks. Putting together a menu generally is a lot of fun. I have a plethora of fancy shmancy cook books that have come my way via Santa or Hanukkah Harry. This particular Hanukkah, the Gourmet Magazine Cookbook found its way into my hands. The night Michael gave me the book, I drove him nuts reading off recipes into the wee hours. The possibilities were endless. When I finally went to sleep, I, for the first time, understood what, "visions of sugar-plumbs" really meant. I felt like Cindy-Lou-Who from Whoville.

But there was a kind of strange pressure putting together this particular menu. Usually we have either theatre-people or lawyers over the house for dinner. Theatre-people and lawyers eat any and everything.

A) Actors never turn down a free mean and B) Lawyers eat competitively.

Interestingly though, both love living creatively. We'll also have academics at the house, and they too will eat anything. But academics require vodka as a chaser and get emotional by the second course.

But finding a menu for my tonight was more of a challenge. It was the day after Christmas and I wanted something that was festive and elegant. So I thought pork loin. But I remembered Arlene and Kurt don't eat meat. Plus, Fran, Alan and Falan are conservative Jews. No pork.

Chicken is common and steak is out of the question. I'd love lamb but a little too expensive right now. The obvious choice was seafood. It kept the evening as an occasion. But it had to be seafood that was not part of a weekly cuisine like salmon or tuna.

I searched through my new Gourmet Cookbook and found a lovely winter dish using halibut. The perfect place to start!

It took me 15 minutes to put together the menu.

The music I chose for the meal was Edgar Meyer playing Bach's Cello Suites on Double Bass. Simple and almost a vocalese. One of my favorite recordings ever. If you happen to listen to the recording alone, make sure you are doing something. The melodic tones of the double bass can turn your mood into darkness.

First Course: Seared Scallops with Curried Pea Sauce.

Now silly me. I was so sensitive to the 'not eating meat/conservative Jewish' thing. I completely forgot scallops were a shell fish. The recipe also calls for the Scallops to be wrapped in prosciutto (ham). Ooooops. But, everybody had the scallops and I was able to take the prosciutto off of the few who were definitely off the pig. Depending on the size, served two or three scallops per plate. Our china is bone-white and the curried pea sauce is a mint like pea-green. The slightly charred scallop wrapped in thin prosciutto rests in a bed of this sauce. On top of the scallop are some chopped mint leaves. The combination of the curried pea sauce mixed with the sweet scallop and savory sweet ham was as natural a a Reese's peanut butter cup. The curry gave the scallop an Eastern quality while the ham brought the who dish back to the Mediterranean. I found this recipe in Gourmet's cook book. Out of 5 stars, I give this one 4.

Course Two: Carrot & Ginger Soup with Fried Scallions

I LOVE pureed soups. I love making them. I love eating them. I love finding new ones and mix matching recipes. The basis of this soup came from an older book I had from Williams-Sonoma called Soup. The stock of the soup calls for a Chicken stock and I have an old school Jewish soup recipe that I use. Jewish chicken soup is miracle water. The catholics have their "holy water" and the Jews have their miracle water. The other veggies including the carrot and ginger are cooked and pureed. The color of the soup is an incredible, healthy, autumn orange. As toppers for pureed soups, a little creme fresh on the top is a great treat. I pretend I am Chagall or Picasso. On top of that, some lightly fried scallions give the soup and presentation a buttery, savory touch. I like to puree my soups for a while so that they are very light off the spoon. Some people like to puree their soups less so. This give a heartier quality and leaves less suspicion of a canned product. 5 stars out of 5.

Course Three: Halibut with Pecans, Shallots & Butter with pan roasted Brussel Sprouts & Israeli Couscous.

For me, this was the most disappointing course. Partly because I am still afraid of cooking fish. There are so many rules. I don't fit into rules. I never have. I bought the fish fresh at Whole Foods and I think I should have asked them to take the skin off. The halibut is seared in butter with the pecans and shallots but skin on the fish makes it for a cumbersome meal. The halibut never really had a flavor. Plus after the color of the last two courses, this was the most bland. The fish rested on a bed of couscous. I couldn't find Israeli so I opted for regular. The difference in in the size of the couscous. Israeli is a bigger pasta. I got regular couscous with no flavor. With my bland fish on it. Thank God for the brussel sprouts. Split in half and pan roasted with olive oil and salt and pepper. A dream come true and a nice, vibrant color to the otherwise drab plate. Both recipes were found in Gourmet. I though of the couscous. The halibut 3 star. Brussel Sprouts 4 stars.

Dessert: Dark Chocolate Rum Brulee with White Chocolate drizzle.

Just as good as it sounds. Rich and heavenly. Good with fruit. This recipe comes from Williams-Sonomas book called Brulee. LOVE THIS BOOK. 5 stars out of 5. If you love chocolate. If you want a traditional brulee, this is not your recipe.

With each course came a surprised collective reaction from the guests. An enthusiasm for the food they were about to eat. The hushed quite that would fall directly before the first bite of each dish and then a cacophony of sound as conversations & memories & sensories explode. The laughing and the eating and the joking around! And the passing of the wine and vodka (there are a few academics in my family). What a great evening I had, reconnecting with and learning about my family. What a great time I had sharing my life with Michael with these people. What a great time I had watching Michael clean up the place after they left! I put my feet up and turned on CNN.

Best,

Stuart

The Cousin Test: Part 2 of 3 or Did you know that Chabichou du Poitou is a cylindrical goat cheese with a hard-yet-edible rind and a subtle flavor?

Dear Reader,

I have always wanted to have a cheese, chocolate and wine party. Now, to be clear, what I envision, are a series of sit down courses of cheeses, chocolates and wines. Say, the firsts course would be a plate of warmed slightly melted baked brie wrapped in an golden onion crusty dough filled with an exotic chutney, maybe a mango or- kumquat. I see the guests piercing into these nests of glory with their forks and knives and the guts of these nests ooozing onto their plates. The combination of colors from the creamy bone-white cheese mixed in with electric hues of a kumquat- whatever the hell color that may be. I imagine the food looking like a tied-dyed bialy. With this, a glass of a light fruity kumquaty wine. But not too sweet as to over power the purpose of a first course. Which is, as I understand it, a prolonged way the Catholic Church gets you to pay for you sins until dessert. The courses that follow include a chocolate soup, roquefort meat balls and goat cheese ice cream. And with every plate a new wine that compliments each indulgence.

That is how I feel when I am in a French restaurant.

For my money, a French restaurant is the church of endless personal indulgences. I am quite surprised the Pope hasn't banned French restaurants from everyday Catholic practice. Fortunately, as I am Jewish, I would live in fantastic sin. Think about it! Think about how closely linked French food is to French people. And then, think at how closely connected French people are to French sex. It all goes together! The Escargot! The first Course of Egg and Gruyere spoon fulls that slide down your throats! The Foie Gras! Cream all over the place! The Cigarettes! Brigitte Bardot! Serge Gainsbourg! It's fabulous. And now I can understand why Hitler had such a hold on France- the French couldn't budge out of their cafe chairs to fight a resistance!

My point to all this is, the restaurant Artisanal in Manhattan, the place I chose to have my Family reunion with my cousins- reminds me of all these wonderful living creatively indulgences.

Artisanal is more"off the beaten path" kind of place (if anyplace in Manhattan could be) and more of a neighborhood bistro. I wanted a place that had a comfortable artisan quality with an extremely large selection of wine. I wanted a restaurant that was tourist free. New York City has some of the best foods and restaurants anywhere in the world. But, I have seen the best hole-in-the-wall avant-bistros turn into tour bus stops. And we are talking outside of mid-town.

Artisanal is about a quality of life. A standard.

The restaurant was the perfect semiotic of where I was, at that time, in my life. And where I now, choose to be.

I wanted to share my life. I wanted to know who, these people, my cousins were.

So as I said already, Michael and I are there early. I had a glass of wine (something unknown and French) and Michael, a Grey Goose Martini, a little dirty. His usual.

Michael knew how important this was for me and goddamnit if I didn't do the same thing for him. Meeting his family I mean. A very large Italian family. Protective and thick. And large. Somewhere between 37 and 192. Talk about a lions den. But they were the nicest group of people right away and very accepting of me (the Jew) at their Easter feast. I joke now, but Michael's family has truly become my family.

I certainly was not used to that kind of over abundance of warmth from a family. My family was more like beautifully framed pictures that never hung in the same house.

The first to enter was my cousin Andy and his then girlfriend now wife, Pearl. Andy is several years younger than I, and as "grownups" we have held a conversation close to two minutes. I'm sure Andy was praying that other people were going already to be here but alas.

Fortunately for Andy and Pearl the rest of the family took only five minutes to arrive. And fortunately for me, I had Michael who can charm the pants off a priest. Well...

And here they are: Andy, Pearl, Myra, Lillie, Heath, Terry, Arlene, Kurt, Marisa and Lee. And they were so happy to see each other. Hell, they all knew each other.

I whispered to Michael "maybe we should move to another table". He kicked me.

After a few moments of looking over the menu, the waiter talked over cheeses- which ones were seasonal, which ones go well with read sweater vests and which ones have the most movement when you want to throw them at some one. We ordered our cheese plates.

Liquor and wine was ordered.

Food was ordered.

Conversations started to roll. Slowly. Remember. I haven't seen these people in many years.

Cheese plates came to the table and we all started to pick and combine with fruit and bread. Nuts. More cheese. The combinations were endless. The tastes were creamy explosions in the mouth. Wonderful, sensual explosions- not like pop rocks.

We began talking about the cheese. Talking about travel. Talking about lives and loves. Talking about theatre. Talking about medicine. Jobs. Careers. Mistakes. Our parents. Growing up. It was wonderful.

All the preconceived ideas and notions about who these people were, flew out the french doors of Artisanal Bistro in Manhattan, New York.

Something happened to me at that table. I was looking at my family, swapping chairs, telling stories, reconnecting, getting to know Michael and Michael getting to know them and- suddenly it hit me- I had nothing to prove. I also had nothing to hide. These people wanted the same thing I did. To reconnect. To communicate ideas. And laugh. To have great moments and great food together.

I remembered in bed that night still buzzed and not from the wine- well not only from the wine but...I remembered that I really liked these people. I have a lot in common with them. They were funny, unbelievably intelligent and compassionate.

I was very happy with that. I turned over on my right side and spooned Michael who was sleeping sound. I also, was very happy with that.

Tomorrow: The Cousin Test: Part 3- Dinner at my house December 26, 2009.

Best,

Stuart

The Cousin Test: Part 1 of 3

Dear Reader,

And a fabulous night was had by all!

I think.

I mean, we all hugged at the end- so that was a good sign, right?

Let me start at the beginning.

A few days ago, I received an email from my cousin Arlene. She and her husband Kurt (a really nice guy who is artistically quiet) would be in town for a few days from the tundra of New Jersey. Now the point must be expressed that New Jersey had recently fallen victim to a late fall/early winter blizzard where, I would come to understand, 170 inches of snow fell on Arleen's property. I didn't ask how they dug themselves out, I meant to though. But the conversation shifted to very old men having affairs with very young women. Probably, there is a logical connection bridging the two conversations but....

Her email said something like this: "In Florida from X day through X day. Would love to see you guys."

I really like Arlene. I have come to enjoy her tremendously in my adult years because she's not as intimidating as I remember her from my childhood. You see, all my first cousins have a few years in age on me. My father was 47 when I was conceived. Thus, as it turns out, I am closer in age with my cousins' kids whom I consider my closer cousins.

But there was a period in my life when I disappeared into the rumbles of New York City never to be heard of again. This is a later blog. I deliberately lost touch with almost all of my extended family. What is important here is that over the last few years, Arlene and I have come to know each other- really for the first time. Sure, over a few bottles of wine and great, great food but that is living creatively. The woman is funny, candid and smart. She seems to really enjoy life, love and laughing.

A point of view I had of her 10 years ago was, Arlene bred the two sons (Heath and Lee) I would measure my successes with their successes. And inevitably, I would always fail because I was not as good looking. Or as smart. Or minutely as "mommied" as them. (Blah blah blah bluuch). Regardless of it being a very '90s thing to do, this kind of thinking is a one way ticket to a padded room with endless reruns of The Andy Griffith Show and who wants that? Needless to say, this all changed over the last few years.

I met my partner Michael in 2003. Or met him again but that too, is another blog.

Together, we have been very fortunate to build our lives doing (more or less) the things we want to do. For Michael, it's playwriting, et al. For me, it's a bit more complex and at times involves random floating logs. But at this particular point in my life, I had just been appointed Artistic Director for a theatre company if Miami. In fact, I was lured away from a tenured track position in academia (a B.F.A. program for theatre training) for this job. Things were great. I was finding the necessary creative living for myself, building a relationship and a home. I wanted to share this with my family that I had so eagerly pushed away.

I wanted my cousins to meet Michael, a man who is one of the most giving and loyal persons I have ever met. A man who can't help but live creatively. It's in his sinew. And this probably was the initial kindred attraction. Outside of the sex. Because that is always the first keep 'em or throw 'em away.

For me, it was Michael's unbelievable creative energy! And what is more remarkable, he matched my creative energy. But we individually utilize these energies very differently. I think that when you meet another person who encompasses similar creative attributes as you, a circle of comfort and confidence develops. It's almost like your own personal ozone layer.

I wanted to share this man with my family and the time had absolutely come (almost 4 years into our relationship) that he met the "clay" from which I emerged. But I also wanted to learn about the people who were this so called- clay. I really didn't know them. This was equally important.

Michael and I were going to be in New York for something or other and I recruited (via Facebook) another cousin, Lillie, to organize a family reunion of sorts. A good portion of my cousins live in the New York City Area and it was high time to catch up. Though honestly, I felt like world largest schmuck attempting to pass off the years surprising number of marriages, births, deaths in a cliff notes sort of way. What kind of person was I?

"Lets meet for dinner." There is a great restaurant called Artisanal just north of the Gramercy Park area of Manhattan. I was taken to this restaurant a few years earlier upon my graduation from Grad School. From what I remembered about Artisanal, it's a "cheese and wine for days" kind of place. How can you go wrong? Unless my cousins are teetotaling vegans. Oooops.

The guest list of the reunion at Artisanal aside from Arlene and Kurt was Lillie,her brother Andy and his then girlfriend, Pearl, his mother Myra, Arleen's sons Heath and Lee with their then girlfriend/wife, Terry and Marisa. And Michael and me. These names, I'm sure will pop up more often from time to time.

I wanted to be at the Artisanal early. So Michael and I cut out after Act 16 from the all black cast of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof on Broadway. Not that it was a bad production. Though it was. No matter how fantastic Phylicia Rashad's Big Mama was. But I felt that we should be there before anybody else gets there- to greet everybody- as they walked in from the cold winter day.

Plus, I needed a glass of wine (or 10) to calm my nerves. I was petrified. And sweaty. And petrified. And getting drunk quickly. I understand it's rather gauche to greet your cousins at a family reunion and trip into their arms from over zealous emotional drinking. This night was going to be a disaster.

Tomorrows blog: The reunion at Artisanal

Blog after that: Last nights dinner party with Arlene and Kurt and more cousins. The Meltzer Family!

Best,

Stuart

P.S. If you are in New York and wish to dine at a local eatery that has an enormous wine and cheese menu and exquisite food this is your place. Also, there are no tourists. An incredible plus. http://www.artisanalbistro.com/

Hello! Goodbye! Gotta Cook.

Hello Reader,

Whomever and why ever you may be.

I always said that if I ever wrote an autobiography, I would title it Crayon Brain. Crayons being one of the first outlets for a child's "self expression" so it seemed logical to me now as a grown up child (or as my partner Michael would say "a 39 year old petulant child) that I never let go of those early years of creative training. Many would say that I live my life being creative.

Does that mean that I am really good at making Thanksgiving paper mache turkey and Indian candle holders with Pilgrim placemats? No! I hope to never be quite as creative as that.

But as I learned over the course of my 30's, I survive life as a creative person. Creative in the sense that my job is in the theatre, I am a director. I have acted and enjoy it at times. I love singing and stopped for many years and it wasn't until recently that I realized how much of me is lost without those vocal vibrations banging against my spirit. I love writing. I love the visual arts but I am no painter or sculpture or anything. Yet. Though I do love photography and film. Plus there is tremendous element of the visual arts in theatre. Or at least what I do in theatre.

But, and this is my point, living creatively also expands to how a person lives in their private life day to day. From the simple being outdoors in a park by a lake with fireflies swarming about and Bach's Goldberg Variation playing in the ipod. Or riding a bike with my partner Michael in a part of the Everglades called Shark Valley (we live in South Florida) and stopping every so often to be part of the alligators, dear, heron, and trees in the wind, baking in the sun- being part of that world is also being creative. Decorating a room, planting a garden, mediating with great literature, a reaction after a terrific film, feeling the vibrations of a symphony play, laughing with friends, eating great food and cooking. Dinner parties are very creative. These are all part of my daily life. Sure life throws many curve balls at a person, I have recently lost my full time job but what I have learned is my survival of these curve balls (or tsunamis) is how well I can be myself by connecting my creative self to simple activities.

This blog is about a creative person's life. It is my hope to discover more about myself while communicating with other on a new lever. Share some of my ideas about the creative life. Possible teach those who struggle with this aspect of themselves a new way of viewing the world and their place in it.

But for now, Michael and I are having a dinner party tonight. I must go and cook. Thus far I have only made the dessert and in the middle of the soup. Tomorrows blog will be all about the food, the tastes, the wine, the music and the conversation. Dinner for 8 at 8! Yikes!

Best,

Stuart