Feasting on Art

Growing up in the Midwest, cookies played a major part of my December. Throughout the holiday season, we gathered at my grandparent’s home for various parties and meals, always entering their home via the garage and past the cookies. Perched on the woodpile, the cookies lived in old tins between layers of wax paper and were kept cold by the Michigan winter. This holiday staple, a recipe by my grandmother, produces a soft and chewy cookie with a dense crumb and can easily be scaled up or down.

John Frederick Peto, The Poor Man’s Store (detail left), 1885
oil on canvas and panel, 90 x 65cm, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

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The holidays are a time for decadence. Although I rarely have a croissant hanging around long enough to become stale, in December it is particularly good fortune to find a little pastry hiding in the corner of the bread box.  In France, French toast is called pain perdu, or ‘lost bread’ to highlight the way the dish reclaims unfortunate lumps of bread that become too hard to eat. The recipe of a stale bit of bread, dipped in eggy milk and fried, is made especially indulgent through the use of a croissant – crispy on the outside while soft and creamy inside. When served with a small pot of jam or some salty bacon, croissant French toast becomes the centerpiece of a perfect Christmas brunch.

Giorgio Morandi, Still Life (The Blue Vase), 1920
Oil on canvas, 49.5 x 52 cm, Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen

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Let me first point out that if you decide to make this cake for anyone, call it by it’s other name, ‘Mystery Cake.’ I first heard of Tomato Soup Cake when I was flipping through a Michigan cookbook when I was working at a historic village during summer break after my Freshman year of college. It was at a time in my life when I considered cooking to consist of pouring a bowl of cereal or making a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. I was immediately disgusted with the very idea and promptly forgot about the whole thing until I started working on this blog. I prepared this cake the day before two of my college roommates arrived here from Michigan. As soon as they were in the door I had them seated at the table with a wedge of cake, impatient for them to taste the mystery ingredient. They were both stumped, guessed it was carrot cake (it looks very similar in colour and the taste is not too far off), and seemed a bit surprised when I gleefully pulled out a can of tomato soup for the big reveal. I have to say that the entire cake is now gone so in the end the can of soup is not too much of a deterrent, after all, it is delicious.

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It is not easy living in the opposite hemisphere from most of the people I love. The weather is getting colder down here in Sydney and back home in Michigan my favorite season was autumn. This causes me to think of my family and my childhood and of the apple trees in my backyard. I always was happiest when the air had a slight bite to it and the leaves started turning colours. With my seasons turned upside down, I find myself in the middle of my favorite time of year with everything just a little bit off so I decided to make a recipe that reminded me very much of my mother, apple crisp. There is something about baked apples kissed with cinnamon on a cold and windy day that transports me back to another time and another place. I have to say that with my homemade caramel sauce, this version of apple crisp is even better than my rose-coloured memories.

Georgia O’Keeffe, Red Apple on a Blue Plate, 1922
Oil on canvas, 35.5 x 40.6 cm, Private Collection

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