Slater - Orange, Lavender & Figs

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An Imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright 2016 by Fanny Slater

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Atria Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Rachael Ray / Atria Paperback edition March 2016

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For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or .

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Interior design by Paul Dippolito

Cover Design by Ella Laytham

Cover Photograph by Frances Janisch

Food photography: Frances Janisch

Photograph on page : Tony Paixo

Photograph on page : Paige Landsem

All other personal photographs courtesy of: Ra Elohim Remez and Jeffrey Slater

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-4767-9630-7

ISBN 978-1-4767-9631-4 (ebook)

To Mom, Dad, and Sarahwho encouraged my eccentricity, nourished my passion for food, and taught me how to hang socks on my ears.

One of the things I really love about our daytime show is that our viewers can see so much of themselves in the work we do, and I truly believe that anyone can be a Rachael Ray. We launched the Great American Cookbook Competition to give an incredible home cook the chance to share their favorite family recipes with everyones families, and we were so excited when Fanny won. Food is at the center of my favorite childhood memories, and thats why from the start of the competition, I loved Fannys cookbook concept, which evolved from the idea of recipes and flavors that taste like childhood to the finished product, Orange, Lavender & Figs. This cookbook serves up equal amounts of touching family memories, tasty dishes, and practical kitchen tips.

Fanny has already inspired me (and our shows viewers) with her unique voice, thoughtful reflections, and great recipesnow shell be inspiring readers, too.

My great-grandma Fannie used to say, If you ever put anything on backwards, like your pants, do not change or youll be surprised.

Im still not entirely sure what she meant by that, but I think it has something to do with life.

Id like to jump right in and tackle the number one question that I know is on all of your minds. No, Fanny is not a nickname. It is my actual, real-life name. It is not short for anything, such as Fanstopher, Fantasia, or Fanelopewhich ironically sounds like yet another body part. You cant have a suggestive, cheeky name like Fanny (see what I did there?) and not have a sense of humor about it.

As a kid, I proudly wore this name on the playground, and it helped me to develop a sense of independence and authority. Instead of resorting to tears when a callous group of boys would giggle at my expense, I would erupt into an animated spell of hysterical laughter, proving to them that I was either: a) recently released from child prison and not afraid to use my tuna sandwich as a weapon or b) courageous enough to laugh at myself.

My parents knew that my name alone would set me apart from the crowd, and thankfully they enthusiastically encouraged this behavior. So when I would trot down the stairs with my underpants on my head and a maraca in one hand, while some parents would have criedmine would applaud.

Now, to address the other reason Ive gathered you all here today.

One November morning I received a text from my nearly ninety-year-old grandmother that Rachael Ray was holding a national cookbook competition. You never know, she wrote. I was at a place in my life where food had become front and center, and a spark inside of me was just itching for a light. I spent hours, days, weeks shaping my recipes, submission video, and essays into precision. My infinitely supportive boyfriend, Tony, taste-tested enough fig jam to sprout a stem. Being selected felt as likely as winning the lottery, but a voice inside me kept reinforcing that if I was to simply be myselfI couldnt lose. This intuitive tone in my head sounded an awful lot like a combination of my mom, my dad, my sister, and occasionally Britney Spears.

So I did exactly that. I entered the competition and did not hold back one iota of my quirky, food-centered self. I hit Send on my application and spent the next several weeks anxious and covered in goose bumps. I was beginning to think I had mono when suddenly one night, an unknown New York number rang through to my cell. It was Rebecca, a producer at The Rachael Ray Show . I had made the top twenty. Several weeks later, I had made the top ten.

On April 1 (of all days), the same number called again. This was it. The call I had been waiting for. Shaking and on the verge of tears, I teasingly shouted into the phoneat a person I assumed was Rebeccathat this had better not be an April Fools joke. You can imagine my surprise when, through the other end of the line, came the frisky, familiar voice of Rachael Ray herself. Note to future self: Dont yell at celebrities. I had made the top five and was headed to the big city to compete for the grand prize of a cookbook contract. One month later, I was standing on the fateful stage of the finale with the only other remaining competitor. I had made the top two. Next to us was Rachael, and next to hera photo of the winner hidden behind a curtain.

They say that when you die your entire life flashes before your eyes. As it turns out, that is also true for the moment that Rachael Ray is holding a velvet curtain over a giant photo of your face. Throughout the competition I had felt as if every second of my twenty-eight years had aligned to bring me there. Seconds before Rachael yanked the fabric and the winner was revealed, I squeezed my eyes shut and everything around me went blank. The encouraging voice suddenly reappeared in my head. I opened my eyes and was face-to-face with, well, my face. So as it turns out, the voice had been right all along. All I had to do was be myself, and I couldnt lose.