Tuesday, January 28, 2003

Gougeres   There’s a mouthful, and what delicious little mouthfuls they are. Pronounced "goo-zhair",  there are few things in life I make which are as satisfying.  Little cheese-laden puff pastries.  This forenoon I whipped up a batch to go with our roast chicken and salad for lunch..    One of the first editions of Saveur magazine had a separate little insert in it on gougeres and on how the French writer Colette loved them as a child, how they nourished her.    The word “nourish” gets me all the time.  My fate was sealed.  I had to make these.   And they are wonderfully, wonderfully nourishing.  Yes, they’re full of butter and cheese along with white flour--but also quite a few eggs.  So it’s a mix of the perfect trio:  fat, carbohydrate and protein.  Granted, the carbs might be empty ones, but they help the rest of it go down.  There is some goodness there.    Nutrition concerns me almost all the time, but I try always to be aware that I’m not feeding just the body but also the spirit.  If something is highly nutritious, but so virtuous as to be unpalatable, what is the point?   If you make these, and you must, be sure to eat them warm out of the oven.  The dog still loves them when they’re cool, but they’re not near as good.   Gougeres   ·        5 TBSP butter ·        1 tsp salt ·        ¼ tsp black pepper ·        ¼ tsp nutmeg ·        1 cup flour ·        1 cup grated Gruyere cheese ·        5 eggs, room temperature (4 for the gougeres, 1 for the egg wash, very important that they are at room temp.)   Add butter and seasoning to 1 cup water and bring to a boil.  When butter is melted, reduce heat to low, and gradually whisk in the flour (don’t add too fast or all at once or it will lump), until mixture pulls away from side of the pan.   Add the cheese and mix until melted.   Remove from heat and add the 4 eggs, one by one, beating each until incorporated.   Drop by rounded teaspoonful onlto lightly greased cookies sheet.  Brush with egg wash (last egg beaten with ½ TBSP water).  Bake for 15-20 minutes at 425 degrees. comment []3:10:27 PM     Now if someone branded my uterus, without my consent, (and I really can’t imagine a situation in which I’d give my consent), I imagine I’d think, “what a strange world” and “my doctor must have a bit of a problem” and, provided that it didn’t hurt, get on with my life, shaking my head now and then.    All I know is that this incident happened.  I don’t know any of the details because this morning at the Y, while I was dutifully keeping my heart rate elevated, all the tv monitors were on—and there was this doctor mumbling and this lady moving her lips and some lawyers flapping their gums—but I couldn’t tune in because I was listening to a cd and so I have no idea what was being said.   It didn’t look like anyone was getting a chuckle out of it.  I suppose there’s too much money involved.   Should I be more outraged?  I suppose the fact that it was a branded uterus, as opposed to a gender-neutral stomach, makes this a rather loaded issue.  And I can see that if the doctor had intended to show the tape to his cronies and laugh & crow over it, were I the patient, I too would have felt more violated.    I can’t comment intelligently on this situation, because I don’t know any of the details.  I can only wonder. What on earth was that doctor thinking?  Was he proud of his handy-work?  Was he overcome by the urge to doodle?  Certainly he should be reprimanded in some way but why is this a national issue?    I was bombarded with images this morning at the Y, images with no sound, and one of them was of the World Trade Center Towers on September 11th.  Should I be more outraged over a branded uterus? I really need to save my ire.  There’s only so much of it that I can muster.   Time to stand facing stove. comment []10:21:02 AM

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