It’s about time I made a formal introduction. Dear reader, meet Amy, my stepmom.
If you have been following Sweet Amandine for a while, you may have caught a glimpse of Amy in passing, stirring a pot of risotto, or pulling a yellowed recipe card from her file. Or maybe you remember her as the woman behind the almond tart that inspired the name of this blog. The truth is, Amy is a much bigger part of my kitchen than I have let on. Recipes. Menu planning. Stove-side crisis management. More than once, I’ve considered installing a special red phone in my kitchen that rings through straight to her.
I first met Amy at a Dairy Queen in Cleveland. (Smart move, Dad, staging our first encounter over ice cream.) She wore silver howling-at-the-moon coyote earrings. She ordered a Blizzard. I liked this woman. Good thing, too, because when I was eleven, she married my dad.
Right away, I noticed something about Amy. Hers was a kitchen where food just tasted good. I never gave it much thought. I simply knew it to be true, and that I wanted to have a kitchen like that someday, too. Amy kept her sugar and flour in old tinted-glass canisters with metal lids. She swirled homemade salad dressing in an empty Grey Poupon jar, and mixed chocolate chip cookie dough in a yellow plastic pitcher. Her spoons were wooden, her pots heavy and worn. Amy’s kitchen was more like a studio of sorts, with its tools and towels and three kinds of flour. It was beautiful. And it was there that I began to figure out that food is about a heck of a lot more than food.
In the kitchen, Amy taught me the virtues of a tall glass of water before bed; that butter should soften on the counter before it hits the table; how to toast pine nuts in the oven, and say your own name out loud with proper exasperation when they burn. Before I had ever heard of Alice Waters, I learned from Amy that the best food is food that tastes like itself, simple and clean.
Amy and I talk a lot about food. And about things that have nothing to do with food. Very often, we do both at once.
This story could have gone very differently. Stepmothers are, after all, quintessential fairytale villains. Lucky for me, Amy’s not so into poison apples.
I love you, Amy. Happy birthday.
Green Beans and Red Potatoes Vinaigrette or, “Amy’s Potato Salad”
Adapted from the New York Times, via Amy’s kitchen
Until I met Amy, potato salad meant one thing: lots and lots of mayonnaise. That Amy’s tangy, crisp potato salad went by the same name as that gloppy stuff amazed me. When I asked Amy for this recipe, she added the following note: “This one is very forgiving -- halve, quarter, or use what you have on hand. I often go easier on the olive oil because I like a tangier dressing and hate to be swimming in olive oil.” I suggest starting with 7 T. of olive oil, tasting, and adding more olive oil as you see fit. I like eating this salad with the potatoes still slightly warm, but it’s great chilled, too.
2 lbs small red potatoes, scrubbed
2 lbs green beans, washed and trimmed
10 T. red-wine vinegar
7-10 T. olive oil
2 t. dry mustard
1 c. sliced scallions
1/4 c. chopped basil
Salt and pepper to taste
1. Boil the potatoes in lightly salted water until fork-tender, approximately 10 minutes.
2. While the potatoes are boiling, whisk together the vinegar, olive oil, mustard, and scallions. (Or, shake the vinaigrette together in a Grey Poupon jar, à la Amy.)
3. Lightly steam the beans, or try this shortcut: Slide the green beans into the pot, alongside the fork-tender potatoes. After about a minute, the beans should be tender, but still crisp. Remove the pot from the stovetop, and drain. Run the beans under cold water to keep them from cooking further.
4. Cut the potatoes into quarters and stir them together with the dressing. Season with salt and pepper and set aside, until ready to serve.
5. Just before serving, toss the beans and basil with the potatoes and adjust the seasonings.
Serves 8.
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Amy’s Salad Dressing
Adapted from Amy’s Kitchen
I feel a little silly sharing such a simple recipe, but I can’t resist. I love this dressing, with its vinegary kick and confetti of fresh herbs. This recipe is best prepared with a pile of lettuce leaves nearby, so that you can dip and taste and adjust as you go.
2/3 c. olive oil
1/3 c. red wine vinegar
1-1/2 T. Dijon mustard
1-2 cloves of garlic, minced
2-3 T. of finely chopped herbs (Parsley, chives, basil or any combination)
Ground salt and pepper, to taste
Whisk all ingredients together in a bowl. Or, take your cue from Amy, and shake together in a Grey Poupon jar.