mixture to a simmer. Taste a meatball with sauce to be sure the dish is heated all the way through. If the dish is to be served as an appetizer, provide small bowls or dishes and spoons. If the dish is to be served as a main course, serve over hot egg noodles.
? cup active-culture buttermilk (do not use buttermilk powder)
2 cups heavy creamUsing a glass container, mix the buttermilk into the cream, cover with plastic wrap, and allow to sit at room temperature until the mixture is the thickness of commercial sour cream, usually about 2 days. It can be refrigerated, covered, for up to 3 days. Since the recipe only calls for ? cup, the rest of the creme fraiche can be used for dips and sauces.
Diamond Lovers’ Hot Crab Dip
2 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
6 tablespoons (? stick) unsalted butter, divided
5 canned artichoke bottoms, drained, patted dry, and trimmed to remove any hard, rough spots
24 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
? cup creme fraiche or commercial sour cream
1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
1 pound pasteurized crab, flaked and picked over to remove any stray bits of cartilage
2 cups fresh bread crumbs, preferably made from homemade bread (brioche is best)
? cup finely chopped fresh parsley
Corn chips and crackersPreheat the oven to 350°F. Butter an attractive 2-quart au gratin dish, preferably a dark-colored one. Set aside.Place the shallots in a miniature food processor and blend until juicy, less than a minute. Over medium-low heat, melt 1 tablespoon butter, add the shallots, and saute just until the shallots begin to turn golden brown. Remove from the heat and set aside.Chop the artichoke bottoms into ?-inch dice. Set aside until you are ready to assemble the dip.In the large bowl of an electric mixer, beat the cream cheese until very smooth. Add the mustard, creme fraiche, and cheese and beat on low speed just until combined. Stir in the crab, shallots, and artichoke bottoms until well combined. Turn the crab mixture into the prepared au gratin dish.In a medium-sized saute pan, melt the remaining 5 tablespoons butter and stir in the bread crumbs. Cook and stir just until the butter is absorbed and the crumbs are beginning to turn golden. Remove from the heat, stir in the chopped parsley, and distribute this mixture over the top of the crab dip.Place the dip in the oven and bake for about 30 minutes, until the topping is golden brown and a small spoonful of dip scooped up from the center tastes very hot. Serve immediately with a choice of chips and crackers.
“What else are we doing for Shane? Calculators from sardines? Whole mushrooms in the shape of digital cameras?”
“Just finish the meatballs, would you, Liz?”
She emerged with the metal container that held our meticulously rolled and browned mixture of lean ground beef, heavy cream, freshly grated nutmeg, and other goodies. While she stirred the high-priced Burgundy into the meatball sauce, I arranged fat shrimp, thin noodles, fragrant chopped cilantro, and shredded carrot, broccolini, and black mushrooms into the shrimp rolls. Before we started on our last dishes—the crab dip and cheese trays—we treated ourselves to eight leftover shrimp and the last four leftover truffles. It wasn’t a meal Elk Park Prep would highlight in their nutrition class. But so what? We were caterers.
An hour later, we entered the last stage of prep: cleaning our pots, pans, and tools, going over our checklists, and packing up our vehicles. When Liz still had her corporate job, her last financial gasp had been to buy—on credit—a silver Toyota van. It was a great car, and roomy, and Liz and I were halfway through packing it when a battered green Subaru screeched to a halt outside the house.
“What the—” I exclaimed.
“Oh, darn it,” muttered Liz. She shot me a baleful glance. “It’s my kids.”
A boy of perhaps seventeen, dark-haired and gangly, jumped out of the passenger side while a smartly dressed, beautifully bobbed young woman of about twenty extracted herself from the driver side and slammed her door shut.
“Mom!” shrieked the girl, whom I took to be Kim, Liz’s super-bright daughter, an honor student at C.U. “I have to have the van to get back to Boulder! Or the Subaru! You can’t let Teddy take a car to school today! Come on, Mom!”
“Kim,” Liz began, “I thought you were getting a ride—”
Kim’s dark hair bounced pertly as she strode up the driveway. “Mom!” she cried again. “You know
“Kim,” Liz tried again, her voice low, “please stop shouting in front of Goldy’s neighbors.”
“Mom!” Teddy pleaded, his shoulders slumped, his face screwed into a look of anxiety. Teddy, I knew, was something of a screwup, although I was not aware of the details. “I don’t have a ride to school today, and I’ve got stuff to do later, and I’m really, really late as it is—”
“Teddy, you’re not supposed to—”
“Please let me have the Subaru,” Teddy begged, “because I know it needs an oil change. Give Kim the van, let me have the Subaru until tonight. I’ll get the oil changed, then pick you up at the mall. What time will you be finished? I can meet you at the—”
“Mom!” Kim was livid. “Why are you listening to him and not listening to
Liz’s blue eyes shot me a look of such hopelessness that my heart twisted in my chest. “Is there any way we can get everything into your van?” Liz beseeched me.
“Of course!” I said without hesitation. “Besides, I’d love your company.”
She blushed, then asked if she and her kids could move the stuff over, so I wouldn’t be bothered. I took this as a signal that she couldn’t stand being embarrassed another moment. I nodded and mumbled that I had work to do inside.
Poor Liz, I thought, as I packed up the last boxes in the kitchen. She’d had her kids early, then been deserted by her husband. After the corporate job crashed and burned, she’d been left without resources.
But we worked things out. Kim took the van; Teddy roared away triumphantly in the Subaru. An hour later, crisis over, Liz and I were on our way.
My van zipped up Aspen Meadow’s Main Street and around the curve of the lake, where ruffled dark water skirted a membrane of ice. April in the high country brings freezing temperatures, lots of snow, and only an occasional glimpse of the warmth to come. Chugging toward the interstate, we passed snowy meadows pocked with dun-colored grass. Stands of white-barked aspen looked as if they were wrapped in green mist, the first sign of emerging lime-colored leaves.
Driving by Flicker Ridge, I was forced to slow by the entries to two new upscale housing developments. Trucks, tractors, and front-end loaders rumbled across denuded meadows, where a sign now screamed that there were
As we descended to the Mile High City, the air turned soft and warm. At my request, Liz cracked a window. Our winter in Aspen Meadow began in October and ended in May, two months longer than Denver and environs. By the time we arrived at the turnoff for Westside Mall, forty miles east of home, we had emerged into a gentle
