Even now, days later, it's hard to believe Pastorio's gone. He went way WAY too soon -- but he left me lots of good memories.
Over at misc.writing, there were a handful of folks whose posts I never missed. Pastorio was one of them, and lord knows, he was prolific. What a wicked, incisive, rapier wit he had, what a way with words and even more, a bawdy sense of humour. Not many folks can make me laugh out loud with written words but Bob could. He did it loads of times.
Mostly though, I remember him for all the dozens of recipes he e-mailed to me over the years -- he was generous that way -- and also the pixel discussions we occasionally had, on topics that ranged from hemlock to Romano cheese and from warlocks to mourning doves and redwing blackbirds. But mostly, since I'm a inept cook, I remember the recipes. Along with the comments he included in e-mails and on-line posts, they sparked my interest and in time, he turned me (from a distance) into more adventurous and not-bad cook. How do you thank somebody for that?
It's odd to say about someone you've only ever known through words on a screen but he had a presence in my kitchen, and probably always will , solely through the delicious stuff he told me how to make. Chicken wings especially, (20 different fabulous varieties!) and something called "tomato stuff" that he said he invented. This latter recipe is my favourite and beats anything I've ever tasted along that line. I've passed the recipe along to dozens of friends, always with the revised title: "Pastorio's Tomato Stuff - 1998 ".
Back in 2002 at misc.writing, a discussion came up about Sacher Tortes . I didn't know what one was and in no time, Bob shot back a response. I saved the entire post and printed it out. Reading what he wrote then, it felt to me like he was in my kitchen, creating that Sacher Torte, all the time yattering on about history, telling jokes, probably sipping on some vino. From the words he wrote I got a vision of easy fluidness in how he worked with ingredients. It's an image that sticks with me still.
Since Bob already posted his Sacher Torte column to m.w., I suppose it's safe to reprint it here. The recipes are difficult but the story's fascinating. He began this way:
"Ing... here's the One True Sacher Torte story. A column of mine from a few years back. Complete with recipes."
A duel with spatulas
[by Bob Pastorio]
In Vienna, the old Vienna in the spirit of the Blue Danube and Merry Widows, there has been a civilized fight delicately roaring for a century. Well, not roaring, exactly, more like sighing along over a 'kaffee und strudel'.
There are four main ingredients to the recipe for the drama. There is an old "konditorei", a combination tea and coffee house and genteel pastry shop, called "Demel" that is, today, something of a shrine. The shop is long and narrow with tiered tables down the center covered with pastries; hundreds of pastries, each more intricately spectacular than the last. People go there from all over the world.
There is the equally world-famous "Hotel Sacher" where, if you are male, you must be wearing a necktie to be in the outdoor cafe (imagine what it must take to go indoors!) and if you are female, presumably you must either be Empress Eugenie or a very close relative. There is a wonderful cake called a "Sacher Torte" which is magically light, spread with apricot preserves and covered with a buttery, chocolate glaze. The fourth element is - only in Vienna could the fight continue for a century - the credit for inventing this cake.
The Sacher family says that the cake was created for Prince Metternich by his cook, Franz Sacher. "Nein", say the owners of Demel. It was conceived at the pastry shop, they say, and was claimed by Herr Sacher who, they further say, very probably (raise the left eyebrow ever so slightly) knew its true origin.
So, here it continues with generations of adults actually suing each other for legal credit for the cake(!), challenging each other to duels (never accepted but, then again, never seriously offered. You mean, actually shoot someone over a piece of cake?) and ultimately acting out that schoolyard debate that begins and ends with "Oh yeah, sez who?"
In the meantime, the cake is wonderful in all its newer incarnations and you won't find one in the supermarket. For a flavor and texture combination that marries an airy cake and the sweetness of the preserves with, gasp, chocolate with butter added - there is only Sacher Torte. Some people add honey, others cover the cake with marzipan, the famous sweetened, crushed almonds and then enrobe it in chocolate. Some add peach preserves or liqueurs, others use blends of chocolates and there is even a white chocolate Sacher Torte. Undoubtedly, the early Sachers and Demels are rolling over in their graves. Franz Sacher, probably called "Pinwheel" by his friends in the cemetery, is pleased that the cake still carries his name, but this recent business of adding crushed hazelnuts to the batter, well, what's this world coming to, anyway. It was good enough for Metternich and his crowd the way it was...
This is the sort of dispute that brings out the purists (it must be made in Vienna with Viennese water and air for it to be correct) and the revisionists (as long as there's no drain cleaner in it, I'll eat it and so should you) to vie against each other's viewpoints and, since you can't dispute taste, finally call each other names. In a dignified fashion, over a pleasant cup of Viennese coffee."
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Bob goes on in that column to list the recipes you can find them in the m.w. thread at http://tinyurl.com/2kmdrw
His contribution is post #27 -- or close to it.
There was something smart and funny and almost sensual in the way Bob wrote about food an easy, carefree enthusiasm that told me he loved working with food in the same way he must have loved living and loving it was an
impression that spurred me on to try every recipe he ever offered -- to share the tastes and to kind of absorb the spirit of adventure he put into things.
So I guess that's why I'll always remember Bob he loved good plain simple food and he was generous in sharing his knowledge of it with anyone who showed an interest. I wish I'd met him, wish I'd known him in person, but still, from now on I'm pretty sure he'll be with me in spirit, every time I'm in the kitchen pulling together another Pastorio recipe. A person couldn't ask for better company.
Thanks Bob!
hugs to you -- and wistful memories.
ing
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