Costco and Coconut Cake

Never go into Costco without a list, or at least a clear plan of your objectives. There I was on Friday, putting things in and out and then back into my cart. What did I want to make for my brother Richard’s birthday gathering on Sunday? Floating in my mind were vague descriptions such as “finger food” “grazing” “no forks or knives!” and “okay, maybe forks, but definitely no knives”. I knew I did not want a sink full of pots, pans or dishes, nor to have to put the oven on, and I  wanted everything out at once so I could join the gathering and try to relax. Other then that? No clue.

I don’t know why I remain a member at Costco. While still catering, the place was a reliable source of reasonably priced product. I could grab tenderloins, jars of capers, clamshells of mesclun and strawberries, bags of tri-colored peppers, gallons of olive oil and boxes of cream puffs (which would have taken me ages to make.) But now, as a culinary instructor, I eat at work and hardly cook when I get home. On weekends, I simply walk around the block to my beloved little farmers market and browse the pasture-raised beef, just-caught seafood, locally made cheese, and freshly picked produce. Who needs Costco?

However, with 15 hungry friends to feed I figured it was time to make that Costco membership pay for itself. The problem was I (the so-called “culinarian”) couldn’t think of a damn thing to make. “Sandwiches” (fingers! not even forks!) popped into my head. Food began to fly in and then out of my cart. Chicken cutlets in, then out and whole roasted chicken in, then out, then in again. Whole spiral cut ham in, then out, and uncured applewood smoked (nitrate-free!) pre-sliced ham in. In and out...in then out. As a distraction I browsed the seafood counter and eyeballed the Dungeness crabs, Lobster Tails and King Crab Legs. (ummmmm…how bout King Crab legs for dinner...) I snapped out of it, (go home and cook myself dinner? who was I kidding?) I pulled out a pad and tried to jot down a menu. Nah, not that. Achhh, not this. Nothing seemed right. My head felt like it would explode. I didn’t know whether to run screaming down the aisles or plop down next to the watermelons and meditate for 10 minutes. I wondered whether Costco had security cameras and whether someone was already thinking "whassup with that crazy lady?"

Finally, I wrangled my cart downstairs and noticed that they had the Professional KitchenAid Stand Mixers on sale for $275 with a coupon for a free grinder or slicer attachment! I stood there…mesmerized. Wait a minute…I gotta the hell outta here! I dragged myself over to the registers (miraculously no line), paid, and hauled myself home. I’d just have to make due with whatever had ended up in the three bags that were now safely in my kitchen. (Kinda like on "Chopped") The only thing I knew for sure was that Linda A was bringing the cake...Coconut Cake, Richard’s favorite. And it was delicious.

The Final Costco Driven Birthday Menu:
Almond Chicken Salad on Farmer's Market Challah
Ham & Cheese with Olives & Roasted Peppers on Herb Focaccia
Gravlax & Shrimp Platter with Capers, Dijon & Sour Cream
Roast Vegetable Wraps (Linda I's delicious contribution)
Feta & Tomatoes with Marinated Artichoke Hearts
Carrot & Celery Sticks, Radishes & Cucumbers
White Bean Puree with Chipotle Chips
Brie with Green & Red Grapes

My mom...Claire...

My mom Claire came and went ON TIME. If the invitation said 1:30…she’d be there precisely 1:30. God forbid you caused a delay that caused her to be a tad late. Even for open-ended events like backyard BBQ's, to her, 1:30 meant 1:30. This put her at great odds with my brother Nick whose idea of a 1:30 invite usually meant somewhere around 2:45. When we’d get to Nick’s house for the aforementioned BBQ, he and his wife would still be browsing the aisles at Costco’s. No matter. WE were on time.

We knew something was terribly wrong when mom stopped eating. Let’s face it, our family gatherings always revolved around “when are we gonna eat?" and "what’s for dessert?" Mom loved lobster, chocolate and nuts. Aside from those treats, she ate very simply. In our family, food and weight issues were of great continual concern. Mom’s meals consisted of reasonable portions of healthy food. When she cooked, her portion control was precise. One pork chop (never double cut) and one plain baked sweet potato each with a side of  braised cabbage with apples. Although she was always worried about our weight, leftovers were entirely unacceptable. "C’mon, finish this!" she’d command, scraping the tablespoon or so of cabbage left in the bowl, loathe to save or throw it away.

Mom hated excess and would huff and puff and mutter under her breath at any event where she thought there was too much food. As the food poured into her home on the day of her wake I could hear her voice loud and clear and quite agitated: “Oh for god’s sake! Too much! TOO MUCH!” That day? I had to agree. The fruit baskets, the trays of wraps, cold cuts, lasagnas, pastries, cookies, and breads kept coming and coming and coming. Her tiny kitchen overwhelmed, I stuffed them on the floor in the porch and even in the bedrooms.

Mom was unconditionally supportive. No matter what I was doing, what projects I undertook, she would ask “what can I do? How can I help?” When I was owner/operator of Novella Café at the BBL, mom came every morning to make sandwiches, start the coffee, and serve the early birds their buttered bagels, blueberry muffins and cheese danishes.

Most importantly, all my friends loved my mom. She was the life of every one of my gatherings. She was funny, opinionated, savvy and engaging. She was the first to start lively conversations about women’s issues and politics. She loved "discussing" everything. She particularly enjoyed trying to engage my rightie brother Nick in what was always inevitably futile conversations.

Speaking of politics, mom voted for Ralph Nader each and every time he ran for president and much to her continual disappointment he never garnered enough votes to make the difference she was hoping for. All this made her a loner amongst all the conservatives in Bay Ridge where she lived her entire life. She didn’t mind, up to the bitter end, she kept busy with going to the local library to discuss the latest choice for her beloved book clubs. (Why bother to buy the book when you can read it for free?) She loved literature, music, theater and all the arts. An artist herself, she'd cloister herself in her studio and paint abstract canvases for hours every day.

Mom was an agnostic, never presuming she knew the “truth” about anything (except when it came to politics, where she was pretty sure sure republicans were WRONG!) Watching and hearing some of her visitors in her last days here on earth whispering in her ear that "soon you’ll be with Jesus” I imagined she was thinking “What about Buddha? and Gandhi? won't they be there?” Like my also-non-church-going dad, mom was much more of a Christian then all of those who outwardly proclaimed to be.  She was kind and never lived in judgment of anyone. (Well, except for those Republicans.)  She is greatly missed. I love you mom.