The Cookbook Library Chronicles:
Chicago
the drama is not just in the kitchen
Here it is!
I occasionally wander over to the Cookbook Lending Library—you know, that charming little nook where you can take a book, leave a book, or just borrow one forever. But guess what? Hardly anyone takes me up on it! Maybe I’ll start charging a small fee with proceeds going to a good cause. Got any suggestions? I’m all ears.
During my latest stroll through the library, I found a bunch of my own books. Nine times out of ten, I grab one, only to decide I can’t part with it, just yet. This time, I pulled out Charlie Trotter’s Desserts. I’m not a dessert girl (give me savory any day), but his creations have this brilliant savory edge. I’ve only made one dessert from that book, but it was heavenly: Baked Pears with Blue Cheese Fondant and Pine Nut Baklava. Would I make it again? Ehhh, let’s not get crazy.
Snatched from the lending library [for now]
the recipe
soooo pretty!
I snagged the book for two reasons. First, nostalgia: I had a stint as the R&D person at Broadstreet Cafe in the early 2000s. We’d travel to Chicago a few times a year and eat everywhere. From old-school, garlic-heavy Stefani’s to the cutting-edge spots like Avec and Chicago favorites like Publican and Purple Pig. Our eating itinerary was always packed. A few memorable bites included at Jean-Georges’ restaurant, it was Molten Chocolate Cake with Coconut Sorbet—cutting-edge back then, a big yawn now—and Girl. I loved the sorbet! Then The Girl and the Goat’s Parsnip Crème Brûlée with a Crispy Sweet Potato Nest filled with Blood Orange Ice Cream—which remains the best dessert I’ve ever had, ever (and that’s saying a lot).
Then there was:
Blackbird: This one had me excited. We were in town for the Fancy Food Show—the last one held in Chicago—and our dinner plans were set. A couple of drinks in, and we were ready for the main event. Blackbird is small, with banquette seating along the wall and tiny tables packed so tightly together that getting up was practically a contact sport. I mean, booties were almost in your neighbor's amuse-bouche.
JZ was visibly uncomfortable; the tight quarters had him itching to leave. We were waiting at the bar for our table, and I noticed a lot of scurrying near it. The staff kept shuffling people around, and I could tell something big was going on. Our table was finally set, but then they started pushing three tables together next to ours. Minutes later, in walked Emeril Lagasse and his group. They were seated at the table right next to us!
Blackbird Chicago IL. sadly now closed.
JZ was still grumbling about the cramped space. I hushed him and said I’d take the banquette side. I was not missing this. Emeril was on my left, though one guy sat between us. That guy asked what I was eating, wondering if maybe Emeril would like it. I casually mentioned that my sturgeon was a bit salty. He nodded. A few glasses of wine later, I leaned over and joked to the table on my right—two guys. “I don’t know about you, but as soon as I leave here, I’m calling all my friends to tell them I had dinner with Emeril.” I got nothing back, not even a smile. Crickets—they didn’t seem to get my sense of humor. Buzz kill.
The next day at the Fancy Food Show, I was strategic—only tasting new items that could potentially be sold, no mindless grazing. JZ, of course, had his own plan (aka no plan)—more on how that plays out in another blog post. The first booth I spot? Pasta. And who’s there? Those two humorless guys from the table on my right at Blackbird. One waves me over and says, “Hey, weren’t you sitting next to us last night at Blackbird?” Without missing a beat, (and this never happens), I replied, “I don’t know; I don’t remember you. I was sitting next to Emeril.” And I didn’t taste the pasta, either.
Emeril at Blackbird, this could have been that exact night!
Back home at Broadstreet, my mission was to elevate the dessert game beyond the standard French Silk Pie—a difficult challenge since it had a huge following, as did the White Chocolate Mousse (I can almost hear some of you groaning now). But too often, the mousse was forgotten in the mixer and turned into white chocolate butter—and no, that’s not good. I drew inspiration from Trotter’s book and Chicago’s inventive spirit, adding a peach polenta upside-down cake with black pepper ice cream to the menu. And, of course, the molten cake.
The second reason I grabbed Charlie Trotter’s Desserts? I just watched the Netflix series Love, Charlie. Trotter was a culinary trailblazer, way ahead of his time with farm-to-table and artistic plating. His restaurant was a launchpad for future Michelin stars, but it wasn’t all smooth sailing.
Forgot to mention Emeril makes a cameo in this film.
Enter Grant Achatz—a rising star who was once part of Trotter’s kitchen. Achatz left Trotter's team early, and let’s just say, Trotter wasn’t exactly sending him off with a fond farewell. Trotter reportedly told Achatz he wouldn’t amount to anything. Ouch. Talk about a grudge match! Achatz didn’t let that stop him. He went on to create Alinea and Next Restaurant, known for its mind-blowing themes and immersive dining experiences. Think Paris 1906 or a menu inspired by Julia Child. And guess what’s next for Next? A tribute to Charlie Trotter himself. From September 8 to December 31, 2024, Next will honor Trotter’s legacy, celebrating his influence on American cuisine and the chefs who followed in his footsteps. Talk about turning the tables! I LOVE this so much.
Grant Anchatz
Here’s to a little culinary drama and a whole lot of chef inspiration. Got ideas for the Cookbook Lending Library’s proceeds? Drop me a text. And keep an eye out—I’ve got a cool idea too. A Lending Library Cookbook Cooking Club. I haven’t gotten it all figured out yet, but—stay tuned!