Vikki and Anthony were on the train heading up to Barrington where Esther lived. They were both next to the window. Anthony was making palm prints on the glass. Vikki stared out at the passing scenery. Now Anthony was the one who had cheered up, and Vikki was gloomy.
“You gloomy like a Sunday,” said Anthony, quoting a popular song that was being played on the radio. Vikki grumbled something to him about things he wouldn’t understand, about being invited to go dancing by no less than three perfectly good naval gentlemen recuperating from the war. “Why so gloomy?” Anthony pressed on. “Hungry? You will have food soon. You will have pot meat and maybe a punkin pie.”
“No, Ant,” said Vikki, squeezing and tickling Anthony sitting on her lap, now squirming. “No pumpkin pie in spring. Pumpkin pie in the fall. And we have food at home, too.”
“We have no food. We have eggs. I want bread pudding.”
In Barrington, Esther and Rosa were elated to see Anthony. Esther, as usual, begged Vikki to leave him with them, “Just to give you a little break, sweetheart. You’re so young and pretty. Don’t you want to go dancing?”
“Me?” said Vikki, with a casual wave of the hand. “Oh no, not me. I don’t dance, no. I’m just here, looking after Ant until Tania comes back.”
“Give yourself a little break, honey,” said Rosa.
“No, no break necessary. I’m fine. Really,” she added, seeing their skeptical faces, seeing Anthony’s skeptical face. “I’m fine. I have nothing to do. Just look after the boy. Besides, I promised Tania.”
Esther and Rosa spent the week playing with Anthony and cooking. Vikki slept till noon, stayed up late, ate the food they made, had her clothes washed and ironed. The weather cleared, warmed up; it got sunny. They went down to the beach, flew kites, collected sea shells, took pictures. They had a picnic in the chilly April wind on Nantucket Sound, waded in the icy water in their bare sandy feet. Anthony ran after the squawking sea gulls like a little boy, finally.
And morning, noon, and night, he was fed like a king. Food was brought to him, and fed to him. He was asked what he wanted, and no request was denied. So when Anthony said he wanted meat in a pot, he got pot roast. When he said he wanted corn soup, he got winter chowder. When he said “punkin pie,” there was Rosa, making Anthony a punkin pie in the spring.
And Vikki, who had been fed like this all her life by the grandmother who raised her, watched it all and understood.
Start with the most expensive cut of meat you can afford. There is no escaping it—the more expensive the meat, the better the pot roast. Rump roast is good, bottom round. Top round. Shoulder roast. Beef grills and roasts better in peanut oil than olive oil.
4–5lb (1.8–2.25kg) rump roast
5 tablespoons peanut or canola oil
1 large onion, coarsely sliced
4 garlic cloves, coarsely sliced
6 large potatoes, peeled and quartered, or 10–12 small new potatoes, peeled and left whole
6 carrots, peeled and cut into 2-in (5cm) chunks
1 11oz can Campbell’s Tomato Bisque soup, or any other can of concentrated tomato soup, or an 8oz (225g) can plain tomato sauce, or 1 cup (225ml) passata
1 cup (225ml) beef broth or water
1 cup (225ml) red cooking wine
salt and pepper, to taste
Leave rump roast out of the fridge for 30 minutes, then rub with salt and pepper. Heat oil in large heavy-bottom pot. Brown meat on all sides, until rich dark brown, about 4 minutes a side. While meat is cooking, throw the onions all around the meat, and brown them, too. Add garlic. Add potatoes, carrots, tomato soup, broth or water, wine, cover completely and cook in oven at 275°F (140°C) for 5 hours, or 325°F (170°C) for 4 hours, or 350°F (180°C) for 3 hours, checking to make sure there is enough liquid. If you keep the lid tightly closed, you shouldn’t have a problem. Serve with warm bread.
Esther told Vikki she had taught Alexander’s mother how to make this, and Jane Barrington made it for Harold and Alexander when they still lived in the United States. Alexander liked it, but Harold had loved it, and Alexander grew to like it more because his father liked it. And now, when Aunt Esther made the casserole for Anthony, who liked it okay, she said to him, “This was your daddy’s favorite meal when he was a little boy,” and Anthony liked it more because his father had liked it.
2 tablespoons butter
1 onion, very finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, grated
1½lb (700g) ground beef sirloin
1lb (450g) elbow macaroni, partially cooked and drained
1 cup (50g) fresh breadcrumbs
4 tablespoons melted butter
You can make simple sauce for this recipe, or you can use some leftover sauce, if you have any.
¼ cup (55ml) olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
6 garlic cloves, grated
48oz (1.35 liters) plain canned tomato sauce, or passata salt and pepper
Preheat heavy-bottom pot on medium-high, about 2 minutes, add oil, heat another 2 minutes, turn down to medium. Add garlic and sauté 30 seconds. Add tomato sauce and adjust seasoning. Bring to boil, turn down heat and simmer, covered, while you prepare the other ingredients.
In a heavy skillet, heat the butter, fry onion until slightly golden, add garlic, cook 30 seconds, add meat, brown, add salt, pepper to taste.
Cook the pasta al dente, drain, and add a little butter. Add the beef mixture and tomato sauce, stir well. Turn out into a prepared, greased large casserole dish. Sprinkle with 1 cup (50g) breadcrumbs and 4 tablespoons melted butter. Bake at 350°F (180°C) until breadcrumbs are crunchy and golden. Serves 150. Just kidding. Makes great leftovers.
3 leeks
8 slices bacon, cut into ½-in (1 cm) pieces
3 large all-purpose potatoes
1 large head celery
1 butternut squash or 2 zucchini
2 cups (450 ml) chicken broth
2 cups (450ml) water
½ teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
½ teaspoon black pepper
1 cup (225ml) half-and-half, or equal quantities of cream and milk
Rinse leeks very well in cold water, make sure to get out all the sand and grit, then cut off roots and dark leafy tops. Cut each white stalk lengthwise, then crosswise into ½-in (1 cm) pieces. Rinse again, if necessary.
Preheat a large heavy-bottom skillet on medium. Fry the bacon pieces until they’re wilting and the fat is released. Add leeks, cook together with the bacon, stirring occasionally, until both brown, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, peel the potatoes and cut into small chunks. Wash celery, cut into ½-in (1 cm) chunks. Cut squash or zucchini open, discard seeds. Peel and cut into 1-in (2.5 cm) chunks.
Place potatoes, celery, squash (or zucchini), chicken broth, water, thyme, salt and pepper into a 6-quart (5.4-liter) pot, add leeks and bacon. Mix well, bring to boil, turn down the heat to the lowest simmer, cover completely, and simmer for 90 minutes until all vegetables are soft.
Remove 2 cups of the vegetables, mash them with a fork, return to broth, add half-and-half, stir, heat through, and serve.
To vary:
omit celery, add ½ cup (75g) frozen corn, or ½ cup (75g) frozen mixed vegetables, or 1 cup (150g) thinly sliced raw carrots.
Cathy Cordone was Esther’s next-door neighbor in Barrington. Every New Year’s Eve, she would come with her husband and son to Esther and Rosa’s and bring not a Napoleon, but a ham with brown sugar glaze. The war put a stop to large hocks of ham, but at the end of 1945, right before Tatiana went to Germany, she came to spend New Year’s Eve with Esther and Rosa, bringing Vikki and Anthony, and got a taste of Cathy’s ham, newly bought, and glazed. As she was eating, and only half-listening to Esther telling her how much Alexander had once liked ham, (was there anything Alexander did not like?) and how much Harold liked ham (was there anything Harold had not liked?) and how Esther bet there had been no ham in the Soviet Union (“You are right about that, Esther, there wasn’t much.”), Tatiana’s mind wondered. She recalled how she had journeyed to Iowa, and had spoken to the mother of the soldier who had been approached in the remote castle of Colditz by a man named Alexander Barrington; how she had been in touch with Sam Gulotta, her contact in the State Department, and had heard the curator of the Hermitage Museum, Josif Orbeli, explode his name into her heart and testify to the reasons he got his most precious works of art out of a besieged city.
And so, as Tatiana ate Cathy Cordone’s New Year’s Eve feast, she knew that Alexander was not dead but alive, knew she was not a widow but a wife, and thought how much Alexander would have enjoyed a piece of ham, and wondered, too, how long it had been since he had likely had one.
4 garlic cloves, grated
4 teaspoons grated fresh ginger
1 cup (220ml) sweetened pineapple juice
½ cup (110ml) maple syrup
¼ cup (55ml) soy sauce
Place in medium bowl, mix, refrigerate overnight.
A whole ham
25–30 cloves
1 can sliced pineapple with juice
One day before your event, buy the ham: uncut, unspiraled, unbasted, as plain as can be, still on the bone. Score the ham in a diamond pattern and set with cloves in the crosscuts. You’ll need about 25–30 cloves for a whole ham. Then pour the prepared marinade over the ham, making sure it gets inside all the diamond cuts. Cover and refrigerate overnight.
The day of the event, preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C), baste with the marinade, cover loosely with foil, place in oven, and heat 1 hour, basting every 15 minutes. After an hour, take off the foil and heat uncovered another hour, basting every 15 minutes. Half an hour before it’s done, put the pineapple slices on top. Pour a little pineapple juice over.
Great potluck party dish—but also, if you’re hiding your family on an island no one ever heard of called Bethel, living on the quay of one of the tributaries of Suisun Bay, hiding but pretending you’re living, and it’s Christmas, and your two men, your son and your husband, who at any moment can and will be wrenched away from you, are trying to catch a prehistoric sturgeon, this is a good dish to make for them to celebrate your brief yet eternal togetherness.
“When Alexander was a little boy, I used to make this for him,” Rosa told Anthony.
“I know. Did he love it?”
“He loved it like you.”
“I love it a lot.”
“Yes.”
“Did he eat with large spoon right out of oven?”
“Yes. Like you.”
“Did he burn his tongue?”
“Yes, dear boy. Just like you. Now be careful. It’s awfully hot. Wait just a minute, just one minute, Anthony. I know it’s good, but it’s too hot—Anthony!”
Anthony began to cry because he’d burned his tongue.
“What did I tell you? You’re impossible. Vikki!”
1 stick (110g) butter, plus 2 tablespoons, plus extra for greasing
1 quart (900ml–1liter) half-and-half or light cream, or 1 quart (900ml) milk
4 eggs, well beaten
½ cup (110g) sugar
½ cup (100g) brown sugar, plus 2 tablespoons for sprinkling
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
10 slices white bread (You can use oatmeal bread, challah bread, buttermilk bread. Stay away from crusty loaves: they have too much water content and make for watery bread pudding.)
Preheat oven to 350°F (180°C). Butter a medium, deep ovenproof dish. In a heavy-bottom 3-quart (2.7-liter) saucepan, combine half-and-half, beaten eggs, sugars, cinnamon and vanilla, and bring to boil, then take off the heat. Wait five minutes, then add the stick of butter, and stir until it dissolves. Cut the crusts off the bread, reserve. In the prepared dish, arrange the white square pieces of bread in a single layer, pour some of the cream mixture over it. Arrange another layer, pour on more mixture. Continue layering until all the bread is gone. Crumble the crusts to make 1 cup (55g) crumbs, melt 2 tablespoons butter, mix with the breadcrumbs, sprinkle on top of the bread pudding. Sprinkle the 2 tablespoons brown sugar on top of the breadcrumbs. Bake for 45 minutes in the preheated oven. Cool slightly, eat while still warm. Serve with whipped or heavy cream. Refrigerate the rest. It’s good cold, too.
After they came back home, Vikki tried to make bread pudding for Anthony, but she put in too much bread and not nearly enough milk. There was stuff in that recipe that didn’t make sense to Vikki. Why would the bread suddenly expand so much as to overflow the pot? Why did the butter burn on the bottom? Why wasn’t it sweet enough? Did she put in too much cinnamon or too little? Nothing made sense. Yet the boy ate it pretty happily every time, and asked for more.
And then one day in July, she picked up Anthony from playgroup, and took him to Battery Park. After he’d played on the swings, Vikki bought him ice cream, and they sat on a bench looking at New York Harbor.
Vikki said, “Ant, I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I have good news.”
“You made bread pudding?”
“Even better.”
“Better than bread pudding?”
“Hard to believe, but yes. Your mama is coming home.”
Anthony jumped up, his ice cream dripped. Then he sat back down. He sat next to Vikki and didn’t say anything. It was as if he were waiting. She waited, too. She waited for him to ask her, but when minutes went by and he didn’t ask, she said, “In two weeks or so.”
Still he didn’t ask.
“She’s bringing your dad home, too, Ant. Your daddy’s coming home.”
Anthony didn’t say anything for a long while. He finished his ice cream, and they got up, and started walking home. Then Anthony spoke. Reaching up and taking Vikki’s hand, he said, “Better make some bread pudding for him, Vikki.”