Diane Davidson - Sticks & Scones

Shuttlecock Shrimp Curry

3 tablespoons unsalted butter 2 cups unpeeled chopped Granny Smith apples 2 cups chopped yellow onions 3 large cloves garlic, pressed 4 teaspoons curry powder, or more to taste 3 tablespoons flour ˝ teaspoon dry mustard 1/2 teaspoon salt, or more to taste ź teaspoon paprika ź teaspoon crumbled dried thyme ź teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, or more to taste 2 cups homemade chicken stock 1 pound (39 to 40) large peeled cooked shrimp (shrimp cocktail-style shrimp), deveined, tails removed and reserved 1 tablespoon catsup ź cup dry white vermouth ˝ cup whipping cream

Side dishes: best-quality chutney, dry-roasted peanuts, chopped hard-boiled egg, sweet pickle relish, crushed pineapple, flaked coconut, mandarin oranges, chopped scallions, chopped crisp-cooked bacon, chopped olives, raisins, yogurt, and orange marmalade

Raisin Rice (recipe is in Killer Pancake)

In a wide frying pan, melt the butter over low heat. Add the apples, onions, and garlic, and cook gently over medium-low heat for a few minutes, until the onions start to become translucent. Add the curry powder, flour, mustard, salt, paprika, thyme. and pepper, and stir well. Keeping the heat low, cook and stir occasionally for a few more minutes, while you prepare the stock. In a large saucepan, combine the stock and shrimp tails. Bring to a boil, then turn off the heat. Drain and reserve the stock. Discard the shells. Keeping the heat low, add the shrimp-flavored stock to the apple mixture, stirring well. When all the stock has been added, raise the heat to medium-high, stirring constantly, and add the catsup and vermouth. Stir and cook until the mixture is thickened. Lower the heat and add the cream, stirring well, until the mixture has heated through. Add the shrimp, and stir and cook until the shrimp are heated through but not overcooked. Serve with the side dishes and Raisin Rice. Beer is the traditional beverage.

Makes 4 servings

Penny-Prick Potato Casserole

6 medium-sized or 12 small potatoes (2 pounds, 9 ounces), peeled (recommended type: Yukon Gold) 1 small garlic bulb, or large garlic bulb 1 tablespoon olive oil 2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) unsalted butter ˝ cup milk (approximately) ˝ cup whipping cream 1 cup freshly shredded Fontina cheese 1/3 cup freshly shredded Parmesan cheese ˝ teaspoon salt, or to taste ź teaspoon white pepper, or to taste

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter a 9 x 13-inch pan. Bring a large quantity of salted water to a boil. Place the potatoes in the boiling water and cook until done, about 40 minutes. While the potatoes are cooking, cut a piece of foil into an 8-inch square. Quickly rinse the garlic bulb under cold running water and pat it dry. Place the bulb in the middle of the foil square and carefully pour the olive oil over it. Bring up the corners of the foil and twist to make a closed packet. Put the foil packet with the garlic inside into the oven and bake about 30 to 40 minutes, or until the cloves are soft but not brown. Carefully open the package, remove the garlic bulb with tongs so it can cool, and reserve the olive oil. When the garlic cloves are cool, remove them from their skins. Using a small food processor, process the garlic until it is a paste. Drain the potatoes and place them in the large bowl of an electric mixer. Add the garlic, reserved olive oil, butter, milk, cream, cheeses, salt, and pepper. Beat until creamy and well combined. If the mixture seems dry, add a little milk. Scrape the potato mixture into the prepared pan. (If you are not going to bake the casserole immediately, allow it to cool, then cover it with plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to 8 hours.) Bake for 15 to 20 minutes (10 or 15 minutes longer if the casserole has been refrigerated). The casserole should be hot through and slightly browned. Test for doneness by scooping out a small spoonful from the middle of the casserole and tasting it.

Makes 4 servings

At three o’clock, Tom walked through the kitchen door. He’d retrieved some clothing from the suitcase he’d taken to New Jersey, and now looked businesslike and dashing in a black wool shirt and khaki pants, with a black down jacket over his good shoulder. I realized with a jolt that I’d been so busy cooking, I’d forgotten to take him lunch.

“I’m on my way to Idaho Springs, then the airport,” he announced. “And I’m going to stay at the gate until Sara Beth’s flight gets off. So I might not be back until after the banquet, especially if the flight’s delayed.” I said nothing. “Please understand,” he said, then gave me a one-armed hug and headed off.

What kind of farewell, I thought forlornly, was that?

Don’t dwell on it.

So I didn’t. Cooking consumed the next hour. At half-past four, I scuttled to the gatehouse to let in the floral delivery man. He opened his van to reveal four miniature sword-bedecked, English-style arrangements of roses, lilies, daffodils, freesia, and ivy. I breathed in the perfumed scent of flowers, picked up two of the overflowing baskets, and led the florist up to the Great Hall, where Eliot and Sukie exclaimed over the generosity of the Lauderdales. That’s the problem with rich folks, I concluded silently, as I placed the baskets on Sukie’s flawlessly set, lace-and-silver-covered tables. They think they can make up for large-scale bad deeds with a couple of superficially good ones. In the catering biz, I’d seen the adulterer who builds a new Sunday School, the thieving bank president who sponsors a dozen soccer teams. Now we had a child-abuser sending flowers.

Ah well, who made me World Moral Cop? I trotted back to the kitchen, where I was greeted by a blast of cold air. Once again, the errant window was open. Michaela, Julian, and Arch were all out; Sukie and Eliot were up in the Great Hall. I marched over to the window, pushed it all the way open - the metal sash shrieked in protest - and looked down. There was no walkway, there were no metal rungs. The moat glimmered far below. Its surface riffled with a slight breeze, but no one was swimming across it. At the edge, the castle Dumpster shimmered in the sun. There was no sign of life anywhere. So how was the window being opened?

I examined the latch. It was not broken. I slammed the window shut again, then searched through the highly organized kitchen drawers until I found some mailing tape. Cursing under my breath, I assiduously pressed a double layer of sticky strips all the way around the window sash. I stepped away from my work and admired it.

“Take that,” I muttered to the window. Repair job complete, I hustled back to the Great Hall with bowls of mixed nuts. Eliot had once again laid out the penny-prick game. This time the boys would toss their plastic knives at a Susan B. Anthony coin set on the lip of a wine bottle. I didn’t particularly like the antifeminist symbolism inherent in that, but I kept my mouth shut. Sensing my lack of enthusiasm, Eliot insisted the kids wouldn’t play for less than a dollar prize.

I zipped back to the kitchen and was greeted by Arch, Julian, Michaela, a cold extra-cheese pizza, and a still-closed window. I wolfed down the pizza without reheating it. Hunger, as my fourth-grade teacher always said, makes the best sauce.

“I’m changing the schedule a little, Arch,” Michaela was saying. “I’m going to have you and Howie Lauderdale demonstrate foil first. The Lauderdales called and specifically requested it.”

My heart plummeted. “Forget it,” I retorted. “They’re up to something. The Lauderdales, I mean. Use the kids you already have scheduled. Howie’s too old to be paired with Arch. Arch might get hurt.”

Arch’s lips thinned in disgust. His cheeks reddened with anger. “Howie will not hurt me.”

“I said no!”

“Mom! Howie’s the best fencer on the team!”

“I don’t care!”