Every Mother's Day, my family gathers in a park in Long Beach and has a raucous celebration of mothers, family, and food. It started over 20 years ago when my godmother and her sister used to go out to a local park early and stake out spots for us. I would go with them sometimes, and I think that they used it as much as an excuse to hang out and chat as a way to save us a spot. Both of them passed away years ago, but it is a great tradition that we continue. It's now the day that the largest contingent of our family gets together -- our version of an annual family reunion.

My mom's side of the family is all of Mexican descent and rather large, so the picnic usually has an attendance of at least 50 people -- most of whom are related to me in one way or another. The family tree can get a little confusing, and we all laugh as we try and remember if people are actually related to us or if they have just been friends of the family for so long that we think they're related.

Grandma Lupe

My grandmother, who just turned 88 two weeks ago, is the matriarch of the family and so she plays a special role in the day -- greeting everyone as they come, kissing the new babies, and generally holding court as everyone comes by to talk to her.

What started as a fairly casual food tradition has more fanfare in recent years. The general "rule", if you could call it that, for the picnic is that everyone brings lunch for their own families. But mom likes to bring enough food for grandma to be able to offer food to anyone who wants it, so while most families would bring food for 4 or 6 people, we end up feeding around 25 people.

Mom has an additional rule of trying not to repeat a picnic meal too often. In the past, we have served barbecued beef sandwiches, chili, and fried chicken. This year, we finally decided on carne asada burritos after several days of discussions. We then built the rest of the menu.

The Season's First Cherries

I decided to put out a large bowl of cherries for the family to munch on throughout the day. I had been eating cherries during my whole week in Los Angeles -- they are one of my favorite seasonal fruits. The farmers' market cherry vendors in Southern California seem to be a couple weeks ahead of our Northern California crop resulting in fully sweet and delicious cherries right now. "First cherries of the season, make a wish," said my grandmother as she took a handful of them. They have always been a popular snack in our family and I have childhood memories of eating many plump, nearly black cherries at my grandmother's house in the height of the season.

As condiments for the burritos, mom prepared pickled carrots, green onion with cilantro, radishes, guacamole, salsa and marinated peppers. She reads blogs on a regular basis and printed out Anita's recipe for " 'Just like North Woods Inn's' Red Cabbage Slaw" and made it as a side salad. I personally think it went perfectly inside our burritos and gave a nice crunch in contrast to the soft carne asada meat.

Tamari marinated barbecued asparagus

As a vegetable, we prepared a family favorite: Tamari marinated barbecued asparagus. Making this asparagus simply involves marinating it in a ziploc bag with tamari and a small amount of oil for as much time as you can -- anywhere from 30 minutes to 1 day -- and then putting it on the grill for a couple of minutes. It's a dish that often changes the minds of avowed asparagus-haters, and those of us who love asparagus eat it prepared this way like it's candy.

Texas caviar

I made a dish that is loosely based on Texas caviar -- a black-eyed pea salad that is common in the South. I'd never made it before, and most of the recipes I could find online involved canned black-eyed peas, canned corn, and a bottled Italian dressing. I wanted to make it a little more homemade and seasonal so put together a salad with black-eyed peas (cooked from dried in a pressure cooker), red onion, green onion, parsley, celery, and small yellow chile peppers for spice.

I then made a vinaigrette using one part lemon juice to two parts oil, salt and pepper, and garlic. I kept combining the ingredients until I was happy with the result, making sure to let the vinaigrette and other ingredients meld together for a few minutes between each tasting and adjustment. I apologize for not having a formal recipe for you, but I think this is something that is easily done to taste. Make sure to leave the black-eyed peas on the slightly hard side so that they stay in whole bean form in the salad and do not turn to mush through the mixing process.

Jake and Lucy

It's amazing to have a tradition like this with such a large family. The yearly picnic marks a way to keep track of everyone -- new babies being born, spouses and significant others coming and going, the poignant abasence of those who have passed away, and children growing at astonishing rates. By the end of the day, we were exhausted yet content. Another Mother's Day picnic passed, and a new one to look forward to next year.

Anthony Bourdain hit the nail on the head in his iconic book Kitchen Confidential, when he said, "pastry chefs are the neurologists of the kitchen." We like things just so, and will stop only at premeditated murder, to make sure it stays this way. We are organized to the point of scary, and we guard our (often tiny) stations like junkyard dogs.

Pastry chefs like things clean, orderly, in excellent working order, and labeled. When I worked at Bolo in NYC, I would lock our station's chinois (fine mesh strainer) in my locker and would refuse the chef's request for it, even when he begged. I knew our pristine chinois would be introduced to garlic, or worse: a 4 oz. ladle. (If you must force something through this expensive, delicate piece of equipment, use the smallest ladle: 1-2 oz.)

As some of you know, I've spent the last seven days baking up a storm for a major plated dessert tasting I have today at noon. I'm working primarily out of restaurant kitchen in San Francisco, which is great because, in my one bedroom flat in Berkeley, I don't have a walk-in refrigerator. Nor do I have a row of burners and any number of ovens for various sensitive custards and buttery shortbread.

But working out the details has been a logistical challenge. Lists and lists and lists get made, sometimes twice a day. I'm arranging time sensitive batters, freezing times, a fight for space in an extremely busy establishment, and I want the seven people eating my desserts today to taste the freshest of flavors! I've only been able to be in said kitchen from @ 6:30-9/10 AM a few days, and the rest of the time I'm testing components in my home. I've also wanted to build in time for testing, tasting and re-making if needed. Disasters always take more time than we think they will.

The trick to plated desserts is to create a menu that is all things to all people. Desserts need to be:
Both comforting and innovative, cold and hot, soft and crunchy, smooth and toothsome, sweet and a little salty, a balance of acid and fat, pretty to look at, right-sized and worth the price (don't get me started on this), eaten only with one utensil, have a pronounce-able name on the menu, sweets the waiters like, something you want to eat after that which came before, have a plating style which matches the aesthetic of the dining room/savory food/the diner's outfits, seasonal or mostly chocolate, flavorful or too sweet, dumbed down or esoteric and conceptual.

As you can see, it's a tall order.

Pastry chefs are responsible for feeding you your last morsel. We can help you to leave happy or discouraged. We can save a mediocre meal or confuse a good one with awfulness. We can give you more of what you've been eating since the 80's: creme brulee, warm molten chocolate cake, apple tart, lemon bars, hot fudge sundaes and mint leaf garnishes. Or we can introduce you to fruits at their peak of flavor, subtle herb infused ice creams and pot de cremes, seemingly savory ingredients infiltrating the last course, and allow your imaginations to soar as we push the envelope for you.

If you trust the pastry chef, you can take virtual trips to sights unseen and explored! Beyond your wildest imaginings...

The pastry chef's prep lists at Coi.

To this end, I bring you a game. The Plated Dessert Menu Game.

I give you 6 mains, and a list of possible components. Each main needs at least 3 components to comprise one cohesive plated dessert. You can take creative license with one dessert and add a component that's not on the list, but you have to say why you chose to do so.

Mains:

1. Butterscotch pot de creme 2. Carnaroli rice pudding 3. Warm milk chocolate veloute 4. Ricotta cheesecake (this has no crust) 5. Pate a choux doughnuts 6. Lemon Sherbet

Components:

Crunchy poached rhubarb dice, Vanilla Egg Cream, Chantilly, Malt ice cream, Cherries, Brown Butter ice cream, Candied Citrus Zests, Mesquite flour, Rose geranium, Pecan shortbread, Warm chocolate sauce, Cherry vinegar, Double Vanilla Shortbread, Cocoa nibs, Fleur de Sel, Dacquoise, California Bay Laurel gelee, Shuna's Famous Graham Crackers, and Swiss meringue.

GO!