The Parve Baker

Mid-August finds me down by the bay. Now, there are different kinds of bays. The one where I can usually be spotted around this time of year has a rocky beach and small, grass-covered dunes. Sections have been cordoned off to protect the seasonal nesting grounds of heckling terns that will dive-bomb your head if you get too close and tiny piping plovers which are hard to spot unless you know exactly where to look for them. I love to climb the empty lifeguard tower late in the day. If the wind’s not blowing too hard, I’ll sit for a while and look out across the water. I’ve dreamed about living here year round for almost my whole life.

That bay is on the East Coast. I’m in the west. About a week ago, I picked up and moved to San Francisco. I never thought that I’d be back to live in California again. One of things that drew me was being able to work alongside the bay. Here, I can watch pelican patrols as they cruise for fish everyday. This by itself makes life here pretty good.

Moves always involve tumult. This one is no different. My kitchen and most everything is else is still in New York. It looks like it’s going to be there for while. That doesn’t mean that I won’t be baking. I’m already thinking about it. Specifically, I’m thinking about how much I’d like to make some Double Chocolate Cherry Brownies.

Comfort food, by any other name, but also a pleasure to assemble and bake.  When I make these, I line the rectangular pan with parchment paper, leaving a couple of inches hanging over the long edges. This allows me to remove the entire mega-brownie in one piece once it’s cooled. After trimming the crusts around all four sides, it’s easy to cut uniform servings. I can’t bear to waste the crunchy crusts which I cut separately into strips to serve with a hot cup of coffee or tea. 

Enjoy a brownie and think of me down by the bay. Whichever one best suits you today.

Yesterday morning, I was walking up Broadway through the small farmer’s market near Lincoln Center. I wasn’t really buying anything other than a Kirby cucumber for a dinner salad, just looking around to see who was there and what they were selling. A stacked cart of artisanal breads caught my eye. When I took a step closer to investigate, I recognized the seller. It’s been more than ten years since we’ve seen each other. It’s not her fault, but mine. Nina and I go way back. Our friendship began in middle school. We were almost inseparable for a long time. Our relationship survived college in different states, my living in Indonesia for three years, and both our marriages. Well, almost. A decade ago, I decided that I couldn’t be friends with her anymore for a reason that seemed more than justified to me at the time. Long after the affront had lost its sting, pride more than anything kept me from repairing the breach. When Nina and her husband appeared in a spread in Gourmet this spring, I was so proud. I nearly wept right there beside the table displaying Bobolink Dairy’s grass-fed, raw milk cheeses, when she reminded me yesterday that I taught her how to bake.

As almost always at this time of year, I’m in a pensive mood. Tishah be’Av, the saddest day in the Jewish calendar, immediately follows Shabbat this weekend. In an almost eerie coincidence, the Talmud’s definitive example of an inauspicious day is the day on which the first Temple was destroyed. It was the ninth of Av, and it was at the going out of the Sabbath, and at the end of the seventh, that is the Sabbatical, year (BT Arachin 11b). Like this year.

In anticipation of the coming fast, I didn’t bake today even though Shabbat will come first. Our Rabbis also taught that when the Temple was destroyed for the second time in 70 CE, large numbers of Jews in Israel became ascetics, swearing neither to eat meat nor to drink wine any longer. Rabbi Joshua got into conversation with them and asked them: “Why do you not eat meat nor drink wine?” They replied: “Shall we eat flesh which used to be brought as an offering on the altar, now that this altar is inaccessible? Shall we drink wine which used to be poured as a libation on the altar, but now no longer?” He said to them: “If that is so, we should not eat bread either, because the meal offerings have ceased.” They said: “We can manage with fruit.” “We should not eat fruit either,” Rabbi Joshua replied, “because there is no longer an offering of first fruits.” “Then we can manage with other fruits,” they said. But, he countered, “We should not drink water, because there is no longer any water pouring ceremony.” They could find no answer, so he said to them: “Come and listen to me. Not to mourn at all is impossible, because the blow has fallen. To mourn overmuch is also impossible, because we do not impose on the community a hardship which the majority cannot endure” (BT Bava Batra 60b). I’m looking forward to my friend Shuly’s, aufruf tomorrow and the lunch afterwards.

Rabbi Jose, to whom the former talmudic teaching is attributed, also said that good things are brought about on an auspicious day. What is good? That which brings redemption. Nina, I’m so sorry. I’m very thankful to have been in the right place at the right time in the right frame of mind just now, too.

Shabbat Shalom. Tzom Kal.