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“Hopefully, the judges will be also,” I said as I pulled all my ingredients from the bags.”
“The stage is yours,” Mac said as he pulled a stool up to the island counter and watched me.
“Okay,” I said to myself. “I’ll start by preparing the pastry.” I pulled up my plastic container of suet.”
“What’s that?” Chef Mac said. “It looks like...”
“Yeah, I know,” I said with a smile. “It looks like magots. It just the ground up fat of an animal. I believe it’s from the animal’s kidney, but that’s as far as my knowledge of the stuff goes.”
“I have to admit that in all my years in the culinary world, I have never worked with suet. And, as you can see from my reaction, I’ve never even seen suet.”
“Well, I’m happy to be able to bring something new to your culinary knowledge.”
I added flour, salt, and butter.
“This is where it gets a little messy.” I plunged my hands into the mixture, then added an egg and water to make the mix mushier and stickier still. I worked it, bringing it all together until it started to form a ball.
“I need to dust the counter with some flour,” I said, realizing what a mess I was about to make.
“Sure,” Chef Mac said. “Go ahead. Do what you need to do.”
After dusting the counter, I rolled out the dough until I had a good sized square and then used a smaller portion of dough to make the dam between the sides.
I then sliced an onion and threw it into a hot saucepan and added celery and a sliced bell pepper.
“Caramelized onions?” Chef Mac said. “Smells good already.”
I smiled at him, doing all I could to concentrate on what I was doing. It was almost impossible. His gaze was so intense as he looked at me, watching my every move.
As I threw the meat into the pan, he came around the island and stood behind me. He reached around me and picked up the pan, shaking it up to move the meat and vegetables around.
“And what seasonings are you going to be using?” he said.
“In the past, I’ve used salt and pepper, then a bay leaf with rosemary and thyme.”
He nodded, lightly pressing his chest against my shoulder as he continued to shake up the content of the pan.
“You season as you go?”
“I do,” I said, reaching for the small containers of spices and herbs that I’d brought with me.
He let go of the pan and picked up two of my small containers. “Rosemary and thyme.” He turned to look back beyond his farmhouse sink. “Why don’t you go and cut up some of those fresh herbs? You’d be surprised just how intense the flavors can be when they’re fresh.”
“You don’t mind?” I said, reluctant to use his herbs.
“It would be my pleasure to have a small part in your recipe.”
I went to the row of potted herbs and snipped off a few fragrant leaves with my fingernails. When I returned to the gas range, I brushed past Chef Mac. The light and innocent touch was enough to set me aflame.
After seasoning the meat in the pan, I poured in some beef bouillon and put a lid on it.
“I’m going to let that simmer for an hour,” I said.
“How are you going to keep your dish from getting soggy?” he said.
“That’s the trick,” I said. “It’s finding that perfect balance between dry enough to maintain the integrity of the pastry, but not so dry that it’s unpleasant to the palate.”
He nodded. “And what is your sweet filling going to be?”
