fruit salad

Fruit Salad. That’s what Sailors call the brightly-colored medals and ribbons that adorn their uniforms.

Sailors are given decorations for many reasons – in recognition of personal performance, for unit excellence, for participating in specified campaigns, and for certain service and training milestones.

In the Navy, operational units are recognized for their preparedness for their mission with the Battle Efficiency award. Individual members of the unit are authorized to wear a ribbon, a Navy blue field bracketed by gold and white stripes, with a large metal E attached in the center. Ships that win the award are allowed to paint the letter in white on the stack. When I was a young girl mastering the alphabet, my father was part of a ship that had won the Battle Efficiency Award. Visiting the ship one day, I saw the large E and mistakenly thought that the crew had put it there as a sign of appreciation for my dad. It was during the early days of my active duty career that I learned the true meaning of the letter E. As an Ensign, it was a thrill to be part of an aviation squadron that won the award, and to be able to wear the special letter on my own uniform.

The wearing of decorations is a great way to instill pride and morale. I’ve learned that in the civilian sector recognition comes in different forms. I recently catered a dinner for a new client. He wanted a buffet of simply prepared foods for a special birthday celebration. I wanted to live up to the expectations of the friend who'd made the referral and to serve a meal that he and his guests would enjoy. A couple of days after the event I received a great thank you note, the client writing that the meal “suited me to a T, simple, beautiful and made with love.” Those words didn’t come in a citation with a medal but they meant just as much.

One of the dishes I prepared for the dinner was a simple salad of beets, oranges and feta cheese, sprinkled with mint. And a hint of love.

macarism and cheese

Macarism. To rejoice in another’s happiness.

One of my classmates from culinary school started a small catering business after we graduated. I’ve had the chance to work with Nati on a few memorable events. There was a cocktail party for the launch of a fabric studio in a very industrial neighborhood in Brooklyn, a warren of empty streets and warehouses. We set up the assorted sweets and savories on the worktable in the center of the studio, with votive candles and flower arrangements helping to transform the workspace into a welcoming room. A few months later there was a buffet dinner for 75 Russian executives, prepped in a rented kitchen with smoke alarms on the vents 20 feet above the floor. Smoke alarms that started sounding as we seared 40 pounds of fish fillets and had us standing underneath waving sheet pans to direct fresh air upward. Smoke alarms that wouldn’t stop despite our best efforts. Smoke alarms whose sound was drowned out only by our laughter at the ridiculous situation.

In addition to her catering, Nati has had some gigs as a private chef and as an assistant to a food stylist. They’ve worked on a few cookbooks together, and it has been a vicarious thrill to hear the stories from those adventures. Today I picked up a copy of one of their recent styling projects. It was wonderful to open the beautiful cookbook and read about my friend in the author’s acknowledgements: to N.G. “who made working hard a joy; even cleaning up was fun.” Truer words were never spoken.

Before culinary school, Nati worked in architectural design. She is a huge fan of another woman who made a career change through food. To celebrate seeing Nati’s name in print, I cooked up a little “macarism and cheese,” using Julia’s bechamel sauce as the base.

Macaroni and Cheese

From a recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Serves 4 to 6

1 box of penne or other pasta

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

2 cups of milk, heated to a boil

1 ½ cups of grated white cheddar

Pinch of nutmeg

Salt and Pepper

In a large saucepan bring 2 quarts of salted water to the boil. Cook pasta for 8-10 minutes or until cooked. Drain pasta, reserving a cup or two of the cooking liquid.

While the pasta is cooking, make a white roux: Heat the butter over low heat in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. When melted, blend in the flour. Cook slowly, stirring until the butter and flour froth together, about two minutes. Do not let this mixture continue to cook or it will color and become a brown roux.

Remove the roux from the heat. Add all of the heated milk at once, beating vigorously with a wire whip. Return to a medium-high heat, stirring constantly with the whisk, until the sauce comes to a boil. Cook on a boil for one minute, continuing to whisk.

Remove from heat, add grated cheddar, nutmeg, and salt and pepper to taste. Add the hot cooked pasta. Stir in a little bit of the reserved pasta water as needed to thin the sauce.