PASSIONATE RATIONS

(From prior posts, you know I’m embarking on a tour through James Peterson’s Cooking. This post relates to that adventure.)

I have just sprinkled my elder dog with flour. She’s looking at me quizzically, her brindled face dotted with white.

I think she must be part French (belying the English bulldog in her); her love of butter predates this June snowstorm.

“Butter hound,” we call her, fondly recalling all of the sticks of butter she’s magically made disappear over the years. I think they’ve all made their way into today’s experiment: James Peterson’s “quick” puff pastry.

I was going to start the hard way, with Peterson’s “traditional” puff pastry recipe. His book has detailed pictures showing the proper way to layer the butter and dough, rolling them to pastry perfection. But I’m out of cake flour (a bit of a shock, since we usually have every kind of flour known to humankind in our pantry).

I also wanted the satisfaction of getting something done today. The traditional stuff requires a twelve-hour rest.

So, here I am, beating butter into dough with a rolling pin like some kind of psychotic Martha Stewart.

“Combine the flour and butter and assemble the mixture in a mound on a work surface,” he said.

Sounds simple, but the butter to which he was referring was the 2.5 sticks of butter he just had me cut into pieces far larger than an inch square each. Just how does one “combine” ten inch-plus squares of butter into two cups of flour? No explanation was offered, so I referred back to the traditional recipe. Nope. That one mentioned a food processor. No food processor called for with the “quick” recipe.

So, had he forgotten a step? I decided (based on the rave reviews of this book and my amateur status) that he had not, so, to my dog’s dismay, I flung the butter into the flour and moved them around a bit with my hands. What I got was ten flour-coated butter lumps.

Next, I dumped the “mixture” onto my granite countertop, made a well in the middle and threw in 2/3 cup water and some salt, as directed by Chef Peterson. The water promptly breached one side of the well and puddled all over the cool black granite surface. So much for “moving around the inside of the flour wall [with my fingers], gradually eroding away the flour and combining it with the liquid.” Besides, the butter lumps were in the way, so how on earth could I do that anyway? Instead, I took my two hands and mashed everything together as quickly as I could.

Strangely enough, it worked.

But, then, I was instructed to “hammer on the butter and dough” with my rolling pin “to form the dough into a rectangle about 18 inches long and 9 inches wide.”

“Hammer on the butter and dough.” Seriously, Chef?

Well, the first beat threw up a thunderhead of flour. And so, my dog now sports a muzzle and forehead of white freckles.

Plus, it’s eighty-some degrees out, and beating buttery dough with a rolling pin warms it right up, so I’ve put it in the fridge pending further abuse.

My dog is ecstatically waiting the final results.

As am I.

Stay tuned, dear reader.