A Bake Sale

Before food consumed my whole world, I mostly just thought about music.

For years I curated small concerts, hoping to give subversive musicians a space to share their work, while also pushing audiences to be less reluctant about avant-garde and transgressive sounds. When I transitioned into the more pragmatic world of restaurants, I missed those idiosyncratic and improvisatory nights. But I knew food could function like music, and I began to recognize it as a powerful cultural tool that could create both support and provocation within a community.

After the devastating presidential election last fall, I saw how anxious and tense everyone was at work. I wondered how I could draw on my past life as curator to empower myself and others. So at Cafe Altro Paradiso, the restaurant where I make pastries, I asked if I could curate a city-wide charity bake sale for Planned Parenthood, an organization I've personally depended on for decades.

I wanted the event to riff on the traditional bake sale experience — think community center basements, big platters of goodies, spools of pink raffle tickets, and wholesome disco playlists  — and feel super earnest and sincere. When I started to reach out to people, I definitely wasn't prepared for the unbelievable surge of positivity, encouragement, and generosity I encountered from every person I approached for help. From the pastry chefs and bakers I knew and came to know, to my beloved family at Flora Bar, Cafe Altro Paradiso, and estela, and to the hundreds of guests who showed up ready to donate, everyone wanted to show up. Everybody wanted to give something. It felt like the greatest gig I had ever put together, but we were wielding pastries as protest.

Seeing it all unfold in our dining room that Sunday morning, I felt the same insane and beautiful rush I’d get in the middle of great gig. I could feel the actual love and care around me, how all our work actually had momentum and gave people hope. There was that feeling I missed — this union between curator, practitioner and audience, such an electrifying, intimate kinship.

Recipe note: When we made these biscuits for the bake sale, we split them open and spread the warm insides with tangy tomato marmalade and curls of prosciutto. If you don’t make them into sandwiches, these biscuits taste great just with a bit of soft butter.

Cacio e Pepe Biscuit
Yields: Ten 2-inch biscuits

16 oz. all-purpose flour
10 g kosher salt
10 g white granulated sugar
8 g ground black pepper
2 g baking soda
13 g baking powder
8 oz. cold unsalted butter, cut into 1 cm cubes
224 mL buttermilk, cold
8 oz. provolone cheese, grated
4 oz. pecorino cheese, grated
Gray salt
Freshly cracked black pepper

 

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
2. In a wide bowl, combine the flour, salt, sugar, pepper, baking soda, and baking powder. Whisk to combine.
3. Transfer the dry mixture to a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment. Add the cold butter and combine until butter has flaked into the dough and is the roughly the size of a peanut. With the mixer on the lowest speed, drizzle in the cold buttermilk.
4. Turn out the mixture onto a clean surface. The dough will look very shaggy and dry. Sprinkle the cheeses onto the top of the mixture and, using a very light touch, toss the cheese into the dough with your fingers.
5. Gather the dough into a rough rectangle shape, about 8-by-12 inches. Use clean, dry hands to pat the dough into an even block, about 1 inch high. Apply pressure lightly to bring together. You can sprinkle a little extra flour onto the top of the dough and hammer lightly with a rolling pin to finish bringing the biscuit together.
6. Using a clean, cold knife, slice the rectangle into 4 skinny bars, about 2-by-3 inches in size. Gently stack the bars on top of each other and press down firmly with your hands. Using a rolling pin, gently roll the dough out until you have another 8-by-12-inch rectangle.
7. Punch out shapes into whatever size you like and transfer to a sheet tray. Let chill at least 10 minutes before baking.
8. When ready to bake, brush surfaces of biscuits with buttermilk, and sprinkle generously with gray salt and freshly cracked black pepper. Bake for 20 to 30 minutes, or until a small knife inserted into a biscuit comes out clean.