Family recipes bring a taste of home to a wedding celebration across the pond
My eldest daughter, Sara, and I met her future husband at the same instant when she was moving into her college dorm on Yale’s old campus. A group of new friends was sitting in Sara’s suitemate’s room as we finished our scurrying to unpack her life to start this exciting new chapter. This meeting stretches back to a different era, which I remember with vivid detail. Back then, in 2012, when we were still deeply rooted in West Virginia, where we raised our children, Sara headed for the college-bound car and said, “I’m going to miss the cookbooks.”
In the suite, one of the friends introduced himself as Johnny, hand outstretched to shake mine. My recall includes him saying, “Johnny, Johnny from England.” This detail continues to be debated, and he insists he “didn’t say it, wouldn’t say it, no one would say that!” Reflecting now, it could have been my imagination. The other detail from college and the scores of friendships that Sara and Johnny shared throughout their four years on the same campus, the same residential college and co-ed fraternity, was that they never dated, yet were inseparable, talking about books and poets on every occasion. As if discussing a best friend, she always said his name in singsong.
At graduation, Sara planned to move to New York and start a career in tech. Johnny was moving back to London and became the world’s greatest math teacher. With the sun casting its silver lining rays, Johnny ran to Sara as our family huddled on a park bench and handed her a book of poems. He refers to it as his “hope move.” They didn’t see each other for two long years.
When Sara came home for Christmas a year-plus after graduation, she tossed out that she might get transferred to England. She declared it a long shot with visa requirements, but by February, she shipped her excess to our home and boarded a direct flight to London with only her essentials. I called her on a Sunday night early in her London tenure. She didn’t pick up but called me back the next day with, “Sorry, I didn’t talk to you last night. I was having Sunday roast.” I was delighted that she was immersed in the cooking culture and asked who was over for the Sunday roast.
“Johnny. He told me he’s loved me since the day he met me.” I flashed to meeting Johnny from England in the freshman suite. About six months ago, I was biking home from work with a podcast streaming through my AirPods and the mechanical voice interrupted: “Call from Johnny—answer?”
“April, are you still at work? I can call back at a better time.” I assured him the timing was perfect, and he poured out the most beautiful monologue. “Sara and I will be engaged tomorrow. We are getting married on March 27 at three o’clock at the town hall in Hackney. An intimate gathering with immediate family. Next summer, we’ll have a big party.” The smile consumed my face as tears of pure joy streamed down.
The newlyweds just settled into their South London flat and FaceTimed us while making their first dinner in the new place: pasta with pancetta-laced vodka sauce and a big salad. Johnny reminded us that Sara wouldn’t agree to a date if he didn’t eat vegetables, so vegetables it was and will be, happily ever after.
Gumbo (By Committee)
Sara and Johnny requested a gumbo party at his mom’s home “for whoever is around” the day after they got married. They poached chickens and made the roux ahead, stashing the components in the freezer until showtime. We made a giant pot of gumbo with many hands chopping trinity and stirring until serving time. We converted their friends from London into gumbo lovers. I promised the recipe via this story.
Recipe adapted from Kwame Onwuachi’s “Notes from a Young Black Chef”
For Roux:
½ lb. butter, melted
1 cup unbleached flour
For Gumbo:
1 whole chicken (4-5 lbs.)
1 Tbsp. coarse salt
½ an onion
4 cloves garlic, lightly smashed
2 stalks celery, roughly chopped
1 tsp. peppercorns
2 bay leaves
1 Tbsp. canola oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
4 stalks celery, chopped
1 small green bell pepper, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced or crushed
1 Tbsp. Cajun seasoning
3 quarts chicken stock (thawed, if frozen)
Roux, heated to liquid in a small saucepan
1 lb. andouille sausage, cut into half or quarter moons, depending on the size
Cooked rice for serving
Green onions and favorite hot sauce for serving (I brought the requested varieties of Crystal.)
First you make the roux: Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Whisk together melted butter and flour in a large (12-in.) cast iron skillet. Place skillet in the oven and bake, stirring every half hour, until dark golden brown, about two to three hours total. When cool, roux can be scraped into a heatproof glass container with airtight lid and frozen up to three months.
While roux is baking, poach the chicken and make stock. Place chicken in a large stockpot and cover with a gallon of water. Add salt, half onion, smashed garlic, roughly chopped celery, peppercorns and bay leaves. Bring just to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to low and cook at a simmer until chicken is cooked, about 45 minutes to an hour. Remove chicken from pot with tongs and let cool in a large shallow dish.
When cool enough to handle, remove chicken meat from bones and shred. Add the bones back to the stockpot. Freeze chicken in freezer bags for up to three months. Let stock simmer for an hour or up to four hours, depending on your schedule. A longer simmer makes a richer stock. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve and let cool for an hour at room temperature before chilling until cold in the refrigerator, then freeze for up to three months.
Make the gumbo: Heat oil in a 2-gallon stock pot over medium heat. Add finely chopped onion, chopped celery, chopped bell pepper and minced garlic. Stir occasionally and cook until vegetables are softened, about 10 minutes. Add Cajun seasoning and stir for a minute or so to season vegetables. Add stock and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and whisk in roux. Continue whisking until thickened. Add chicken and sausage and simmer for about a half hour, stirring occasionally. Season as you like.
Serve big ladlefuls over a scoop of rice, and sprinkle with green onions.
Makes 8-12 servings.
Wedding Shortbread
My sister Lisa has a tradition of making these cookies for every special occasion, a classic recipe that hails from Scotland. Her collection of cookie stamps is vast, and she chose S, J, heart and bicycle for this occasion. She wrapped them in pairs and packaged them in cellophane bags with personalized stickers. I happily hauled them in my checked luggage to distribute to the wedding family.
4 cups unbleached flour
1 cup rice flour
1 cup superfine sugar, plus extra for dipping
½ tsp. coarse sea salt, plus extra for sprinkling
1 lb. cold unsalted butter, cut into thin slices
Combine flour, rice flour, superfine sugar and salt in a large mixing bowl (preferably for an electric stand mixer) and toss in butter slices. Mix on low until a dough forms, scraping bowl as needed.
Heat oven to 325 degrees. Shape dough into balls the size of walnuts and dip in sugar. Place balls about 1 in. apart on parchment-lined baking sheets. Press each sugared dough ball with a cookie stamp.
Bake each sheet until cookies are light golden, about 18-20 minutes, rotating sheets after 10 minutes. Repeat with remaining dough. Cool cookies on a rack before packaging.
Store in airtight containers up to one month.
Makes about 5 dozen.
