Sometimes the simplest things are the hardest to make. Success always feels good, but nailing something very basic is on a different level. It is all the more wonderful because you haven't overcomplicated it. The best feeling in the world. I have found this to be true with clothes, but first with food.
How many times have you gone out of your way to get the baguette? Flour, yeast, water, salt. Four ingredients mixed in just the right ratios, by just the right hands, can be magic. For me, most of them are good enough (the butter on top can go a long way) but a truly exceptional loaf of bread is one of my favorite things on earth. In a place like Paris, where the boulangerie is a mainstay of every neighborhood (dozens of them, actually) there are several deemed so exceptional that there are lines out the door. You think you have tasted bread, and then you feel changed by the loaf that is better.
I am not claiming to compete with any crowd-garnering bakers, especially not French ones, but I have been making the same brownies since the early 90s. With five daughters, someone was always asking me to make treats for the class at 8pm. Field day, bake sale, one hundredth day of school. They were always celebrating something. These brownies were so prized by my daughters' classmates over the years that keeping the recipe top secret became their little grade-school superpower. They asked me not to share and I kept my word! But I can say this: it is a very NORMAL recipe. There is no secret ingredient, the ratios are all pretty common, the whole thing happens in one pot on the stove. It came from the now-defunct magazine Gourmet, in an article about someone's top ‘hack’ recipes that they returned to over and over. (What did we call hacks back then?) Also included was a recipe for vegetarian chili, another for quick-rise bread. I didn't ever try either of those — but the brownies from the article have stayed with me. They were simple and easy, but also elegant enough for me to whip up for adult dinner parties. Chocolate never disappoints. And with so much repetition, I truly think I could bake them in my sleep. (Hundreds of batches over the years will do that.) When we first opened Sid's store here in Atlanta, I would bring them for the staff most Saturdays. The point is that they are incredibly simple and incredibly good.
I do not say this to brag about my brownies. I say it because when you are working with only a few ingredients, you rely on your experience of touching these things and getting a feel for what you are making. It may not be Malcolm Gladwell's 10,000 hours, but practice does kind of make perfect. I know, when I see the dimple of the chocolate in the oven, that the brownies are set just enough to be cut, and that I need to take them out right this second. Two minutes longer and they will lose the texture I like. Still delicious, but not really "my" brownies.
So much of what we do in our company depends on this. We rely on the people who have done it again and again and again to appreciate the nuances that make the product nearly perfect. The ingredients come first: cashmere, kid suede, Sea Island cotton, Harris Tweed. But you also need the expert hands of the makers to put those things together – to make something greater than the sum of its parts. A poorly cut shirt in the world's most beautiful material does not earn its spot in your closet. The execution is just as important as the ingredients. Especially with the simple stuff.
I kind of feel that way about the Cecelia. Much like the brownies, much like the baguette, it is a REALLY simple shoe. It is very similar to our Buckle Shoe, without the ornament of the buckle. Like a ballet flat with a slight little heel. The toe box is elegant, scooping down just enough to be very flattering on the foot. And because the shape is so good, it needs no embellishment. A few ingredients: just a bit of leather and stitching to hug your foot. You can look at this shoe and acknowledge the beauty of it, for sure. But just like tasting the fresh baguette, warm from the bakery, when you see and feel it on your foot, that is when you truly appreciate its simplicity and elegance.
Keeping with the theme of this post, I will offer up a few Cecelia recipes and tell you what I would wear each pair with. None are groundbreaking, but consider these my very own Gourmet magazine hacks:
Black leather: Black jeans, black cashmere sweater, black eyeliner, black grosgrain ribbon in your hair. Cool ballerina.
Brown suede: White jeans, black sweater tee or shell, silk scarf in your hair or around your neck.
Zebra calf hair: Black pull-on pants, black cardigan. Novelty at your feet.
Red suede: Blue jeans, crisp white shirt. So chic (are you sick of that word too?) A silk scarf would be great here too.
Metallic leather: Blue jeans again, striped t-shirt. I love shine in the daytime.
I don't set out to dress this simply every day, but I often end up that way. And this fall, when I do, I will be grabbing the Cecelia. Intentional simplicity, executed perfectly.
P.S. one more recipe, if you made it this far. The brownies are Katharine Hepburn's recipe, no walnuts. Dorie Greenspan did an amazing deep dive on all the brownies attributed to her over the years, but the recipe I follow is the one pulled from Gourmet all those years ago. I would do anything to find my crinkled page torn from the original magazine, but it is also now in the Gourmet Cookbook... the yellow one edited by Ruth Reichl. Try them out. Apologies to my girls, but I have kept the secret long enough!
