It was 5:30 that magical evening; we were standing on the doorstep of Gifford House, arms full of groceries, and our biggest concern was the appropriate way to ask our university's president to re-hydrate our dried mushrooms.
When we first sent President and Mrs. Bacow the invitation to let us cook for them, we didn't expect such a positive, not to mention prompt, response. At that point, we really hadn't thought as far ahead as the menu, let alone where we could cook and serve the meal. We entertained the idea of dining in a dorm, but that was before Mrs. Bacow kindly - and mercifully, given the state of Lewis Hall's kitchen - extended her own invitation: that we cook and dine at Gifford House.
We spent hours fretting over what we'd come to call "the dinner." It took a while to come up with what to cook for the Bacows ... with the Bacows ... at the Bacows' house.
We finally went with a bed of shallots and cracked pepper polenta topped with baked haddock, a balsamic shallot reduction, tarragon roasted asparagus and wild mushroom sauce for the entrée. A spiced pecan, pear and goat's cheese salad and stuffed baked apples for dessert rounded out a menu designed to be informal and friendly to fish-eating vegetarians (which, as we learned, the Bacows are - but no shellfish). And it was simple to prepare, which was a priority for us, as we were heading into the dinner with more than a few nerves.
But once we stepped foot inside the Gifford House kitchen, it was clear that we need not have worried. President Bacow set the tone by slipping away to throw on something more casual than the suit he'd arrived home in, and then we got the tour. Oh, the tour.
Well, not a full tour, but proof enough that the Bacows do, in fact, live on campus - it's not just some mechanized light show to fool us all. The basement was really what we got the best glimpse of, and in addition to serving as the Bacows' personal storage area, it houses place settings for 200 and a walk-in fridge and freezer in its depths. It has to, considering Gifford House is the headquarters for most catered formal events at Tufts.
We couldn't possibly leave out Latke Larry, the Bacows' singing and dancing Hanukkah decoration. It's the sort you usually find in CVS as a snowman: Squeeze the foot, and it comes alive - only this one's a Jew in an apron holding latkes. We shared a giggle and Mrs. Bacow decided that Hanukkah was coming soon enough that we could bring it back upstairs with us to put on display.
Aside from the decrepit appliances and well-worn pots and pans, dorm kitchens have no proper table, no cordless phone, no spice rack. When it comes to dorm cooking, you're not in a kitchen; you're using one.
Well, we certainly weren't "using" the Gifford kitchen; we were in it, they were in it and we were all cooking together, fully enjoying the use of the spice rack and sitting down at the kitchen table. While the Bacows modestly called themselves our "sous-chefs," it was a team effort.
And there is a reason we mentioned cordless phones: Somewhere between chopping mushrooms and measuring out cups of polenta, Mrs. Bacow, armed with said phone, extracted our home phone numbers from us.
She's a clever lady, too; she knew that Winston's family, at least, lives in Boston, and we got the feeling that she wouldn't hesitate to wield the Yellow Pages. So, as we watched (helplessly), the Bacows proceeded to call our homes to talk to our parents. Conveniently, it was during the dinner hour when they were sure to reach someone - and, of course, they did. What could have been a mortifying experience for us turned out fine, as each of our parents enjoyed a quick chat with Tufts' president and first lady.
But our evening wasn't solely a social experience. After all, this is college, and it's only appropriate that this would have been a learning opportunity, too. So, here are some lessons we gleaned from our dinner with the Bacows:
1. President and Mrs. Bacow are fish-eating (but no shellfish) vegetarians. For this reason, they like Dewick better, commenting on the more extensive vegetarian options available there.
2. Conventional wisdom dictates that the cook should prepare a half pound of fish per person, but the Bacows would argue - and, given the masses of leftover haddock, correctly so - that a third of a pound is an ample serving size.
3. President Bacow imparted to us some valuable words to live by, a maxim that many foodies will sympathize with: There are some things in life that you can never have too much of, specifically garlic, mushrooms and raspberries.
However, you all should know that the most important thing to come out of our dinner at Gifford House was our discovery that President Bacow dices chanterelle mushrooms with a pretty deft hand - not bad for a an academic.
If you want to take them out to dinner, email Winston.Berkman@tufts.edu or Charlotte.Bourdillon@tufts.edu
