Posted by The Morning Call, PA on April 23, 2008 at 11:50:02:
April 23, 2008
My date with the Doughboy
A food judge's tale of a Texas rendezvous, a tasting marathon and a million-dollar moment
By Diane Stoneback | Of The Morning Call
April 23, 2008
Sometimes, a child is groomed to be a doctor, a lawyer or even president of the United States. I, on the other hand, have been prepared for a special date with the Pillsbury Doughboy.
I just had that date at the 43rd annual Pillsbury Bake-Off in Dallas, Texas, where I was one of nine judges to decide which contestant would receive the $1 million grand prize.
But when I got that first call from Pillsbury asking me to be a judge, in August 2007, I wasn't as certain of my destiny.
Moments after hanging up, my mind felt like egg whites being whipped into a meringue. What was I doing? How could anyone decide what recipe is worth a million dollars? Is any recipe worth a million dollars?
The situation worsened. When I asked my boss if I could judge the mother of all cooking contests, he attached ''conditions.'' He told me I could go, as long as I agreed to write about the experience and have my picture taken with the Doughboy. An artist who was consulted on the layout of this future Food page made things even worse. Her contribution: ''For the picture, have Diane poke the Doughboy's tummy.''
My ego deflated faster than a falling souffle when I heard that suggestion. After all, I'm shaped too much like the Doughboy to ever enjoy having my picture taken.
On the other hand, could I pass up this ultimate validation of my years spent with tastebuds in training as a cooking contest judge? All those days crisscrossing the Lehigh Valley to sample foods ranging from sticky barbecued ribs, fiery hot chilies and garlicky goodies to super-sweet shoo-fly pies, rich chocolate cakes and plate after plate of cookies.
Also weighing into my decision about becoming a Bake-Off judge were memories of my mother, enveloped by a cloud of flour dust rising from her KitchenAid, with the latest Pillsbury Bake-Off Contest booklet open on the counter beside the mixer.
A dedicated believer in Bake-Off recipes, she prided herself in being among the first to buy and try the latest, hot-off-the-press Bake-Off booklet. Based on her collection that now occupies a special place on my cookbook shelf, I figure she methodically cooked her way through what she considered the best recipes from every Bake-Off from 1955 to 2000. I still enjoy reading through her preparation notes and her ratings (one to four stars), always penned into the margins after she made a recipe and served it to the family.
While I wrestled with my decision, I could hear Mom's voice in my mind. It was prodding me as sharply as the tines of a cooking fork. ''Of course, you need to go to Dallas. You know what winning recipes taste like. What about the Peanut Blossoms? The Dilly Casserole Bread? The Peacheesy Pie? The Hungry Boys' Casserole?''...
''OK, OK, I'm going,'' I say to myself and the memory of Mom droning through the litany of Bake-Off foods she tested in her kitchen finally cuts out.
I shop for a ''flattering'' outfit for my photo session with the Doughboy and learn more about the integrity and secrecy required of Pillsbury Bake-Off judges.
As I open and read my first set of instructions from Pillsbury, I learn I must avoid all contacts with the 100 finalists or their recipes. Future Pillsbury mailings, it explains, will need to be prescreened by my boss to make sure they don't contain Bake-Off contents I shouldn't see.
The Bake-Off Web site is off-limits, and I'm also to avoid reading any stories about the finalists and their recipes in the months before the April 2008 Bake-Off.
I wonder if the letter itself will self-destruct into powdery flour dust in my hands.
But I follow the instructions to the letter and when the time comes to head for the airport months later, I realize my ''undercover'' assignment probably would make even James Bond envious.
That thought takes on surreal proportions when a jet-black limo whisks me from the airport to the official Bake-Off site at the Fairmount Hotel in downtown Dallas.
After checking in, the other eight judges and I attend a closed-door Judges Tea. Only Pillsbury would figure out a pleasurable way to sandwich several hours of information about judging criteria and procedures between cuppas, scones, fresh fruit and cookies.
The process of selecting Bake-Off winners begins with the submission of tens of thousands of recipes entered by cooks all over the country. Then, Pillsbury personnel spend months sorting and testing them to pare them down to the final 100.
Now, while we sip tea and nibble finger sandwiches, they emphasize that the nine of us have the final and very important task of sifting through the best of the best. We will identify the category and special contest winners, as well as award the biggest cooking prize in the land -- a cool $1 million.
Assorted nuts add crunch to dessert toppings while peanut butter is at the heart of many of the desserts, too.
Raspberries, bananas, apricots and oranges provide some fruity relief.
We also taste desserts flavored with ''hot'' drinks, including coffee, chai and mojitos.
At 11:14, we get four desserts at once. We're desperately crunching celery and carrot sticks to cleanse our palates between forkfuls.
Despite the sugary rush we're feeling, we force ourselves to slowly and methodically put each dessert under a magnifying glass.
How does it measure up? Does it look good? Will it appeal to consumers? Is it easy to make? Is it creative? How does it taste?
The ingredients take the shape of practically every dessert imaginable. Brownies. Torts. Bars. Cookies. Pudding Cake. Pies.
As we debate each dessert's merits, we keep going back to a plate of peanut butter cookies that was one of the morning's early arrivals.
We talk to each other about how the judges' choices will ''change someone's life forever.''
I'm also asking myself how many stars my mother would award and what notes she would make in the margins of each recipe I taste, if she had had the chance to cook her way through them.
The peanut butter cookies are like culinary magnets. Again and again, they pull us in for another taste as we start using them as our point for comparison.
Finally, we select ''our'' peanut butter cookies as the entry we'll nominate for the $5,000 Jif Peanut Butter Award (the best recipe using at least a quarter cup of peanut butter). But we also decide to make them the top winner in our category, too (another $5,000).
Finally, the cookies go up against the other four category winners for the $1 million grand prize. Although probably the plainest looking of all the entries in the 43rd Bake-Off, the praise they draw from the other judges is like icing on the cookie.
''The crunchy outer cookie and the soft peanut butter center give you a peanut butter hit on two levels.''
''They're like a cross between a classic peanut butter cookie and a snickerdoodle.''
''They're destined to become a 'new classic' that's right up there with the chocolate chip cookie.''
''I don't even like peanut butter, but I really like these cookies.''
There's little more I can do or say to match such praise, other than carry on Mom's tradition. In my copy of the 43rd Bake-Off booklet, I've marked the recipe for Double Delight Peanut Butter Cookies with four stars and I've written in Mom's highest rating -- ''Very, very good.''
diane.stoneback@mcall.com