My love of herbs can be
traced back to my adolescence and that first herb that put a tolerable haze
over those years – I go stoned.
I glided home in order to be
on time for dinner – for it was both a requirement and the pot was working its
hunger producing magic. I was so grateful that my father was working late and
would not to be home for the evening meal for I was sure he would sniff me out
– he has the nose of a bloodhound. My eyes were beet red, and I thought very
word I spoke at the dinner table was being scrutinized with great relief I got
through the meal undetected. That night’s meal glowed, and yet it was the usual
salad; my mother made a mixed salad nightly accompanied with an array of
dressings, hamburgers and canned French cut green beans. I inhaled five
hamburgers before I started to slow down with my sixth.
My friends and I had the
habit of pooling our resources in order to secure an ounce of this sweet
aromatic burning herb. I did try to grow my own, a frugal attempt, which was
thwarted by the gardener who spotted my struggling, pathetically leafy stems by
the chimney on the side of the house – they got yanked -- so much for gardening.
One weekend some friends headed into Manhattan to get into innocent teenage
trouble, and hopefully cop some pot. With their wallets endowed with our
collective funds they made a beeline to Washington Square Park where you could
not spend a minute without being propositioned. Personally, I was a bit suspect
of this public wholesale market, and my suspicions were borne out when the
group returned to Long Island with a bag of oregano. Now, if they had the
culinary aptitude I possessed they would have easily recognized that that
plastic bag was filled with the wrong herb – we all ate pizza how could they that
not recognize the contents of the shaker that was always found next to the
grated cheese and chili flakes. For me, I returned my resource of a sure thing
– my next-door neighbor.
Today, the herbs I score are just as potent except today their
addictiveness is due to their heady aromatic presentation then an inhaled
chemical released by smoke.
Verbena-Mango
Cake – yields 10-inch cake
8-ounces
unsalted butter
2-cups sugar
4 whole eggs
1-egg yolk
1-teaspoon
rose water
3-cups
all-purpose flour
1-teaspoon
baking powder
1/8-teaspoon
salt
2-ripe
mangoes – peeled and sliced (tossed in 1-tablespoon of flour)
1-heaping
tablespoon apricot preserves
Butter and
flour the cake pan.
Pre-heat the oven
to 350 degrees.
In a standing mixer
mix together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy.
In another bowl
beat the eggs, egg yolk, rose water and verbena together to combine.
Once the butter/sugar
is very fluffy add the eggs to mix well.
In a separate bowl sift
the flour, baking powder and salt through a sieve. Then on a low speed add the
flour to the butter mixture.
Pour half of the
batter in to the cake pan and then distribute the sliced mangos over the
batter. Spread the remaining batter over the mangoes, and bake for about 40 to
50 minutes until set and a cake tester comes out clean.
Remove to a wire
cooling rack and cool the cake completely before inverting.
Once the cake has cooled combine the apricot preserves with ¼-cup of water and over a medium heat stir to completely dissolve. Brush the warm apricot preserves over the cake allowing it to soak in.