There are two kinds of capers. The first is edible, a type of small, pickled flower bud from the Mediterranean region that I enjoy in pasta dishes. The other kind of caper is a kind of crime story where there’s an intricate and usually comic heist carried out and the story follows the criminals instead of the police.
We’ve been watching caper movies lately, like “11 Harrow House” (stealing diamonds), “The Great Train Robbery” (stealing gold) and “The Italian Job” (the original from the 1960s, a robbery in Italy). In caper stories we root for the “bad” guys because we appreciate their desire for getting ahead.
Like most people, I never consider myself a “bad guy” but I’m not beneath trying for a caper myself when it comes to … holiday food. Let’s face it, getting ahead in life … er, at the dinner table … is something most people can sympathize with. I don’t want to give away all my secrets since the statute of limitations has not run out on some of my capers but I will share with you a few successes.
Caught!
The first one was when I spent a summer away at a program in Dahlonega while I was still in hi skool. My grandmother sent me a care package consisting of her famous and beloved fried apple pies. One day a large box arrived with her return address on it. All the guys on my dorm hall would be incredibly curious about the box. I wouldn’t know myself until I opened the box, but there was the slightest whiff of sweetness coming from the box. Step 1: Smuggle the box into my room. Step 2: Hide it from everybody. Step 3: Open and enjoy … in private!
I got the box and instead of walking straight to my room I headed to the building nearby where one of our work spaces was. We had done some of those poster board displays like at science fairs. I knew no one would be in there at this time, so grabbed my poster board and wrapped it around the box with the artwork/information showing on the outside. It was an awkward shape, but I was counting on folks giving a quick glance at the camouflage and not thinking anything more about it.
Making my way down the sidewalk and then through the crowded lobby to my hall I realized I was a genius. It worked like a charm. Inside my room, I put the box on the small desk there and tore into it. “Hot dog! Fried apple pies!” (If it had been hot dogs I would have yelled “Fried apple pies!”)
Each pie with her homemade apple filling and delicious fried dough was individually wrapped in Saran Wrap. I started to unwrap one and got a wonderful reminder of home. My grandmother would use about six square feet of Saran Wrap for each pie, so it took a while to actually get it unwrapped.
I had just taken my first bite and was floating in the air like that dog in the cartoons does when he gets a dog biscuit when a complication arose. If you’re familiar with caper stories, there are always complications. My roommate burst in. There I was with a pie held up to my mouth, a bite-size crescent piece missing and my cheeks looking like a chipmunk in autumn. Caught!
As in most caper stories, there are others that have to be involved in the caper, and the lead has to buy them out or blackmail them. This was the moment for me.
“Look, I will share with you this magic I just got from my grandmother if you swear silence!”
He agreed and soon we were both bulging cheeked.
The next step was for me to hide them from sight since our room always had visitors in and out. The closet seemed too obvious and the box was too big to fit in the desk drawer. I finally decided to hide the box under my bed, but behind my tennis shoes. If you have ever been or been around teenage boys, you know the only thing worse than being around their tennis shoes is being around their socks. I figured the shoes would act as both a physical and chemical barrier to anyone poking around under the bed. I’m so clever sometimes.
I had the box all to myself and at night, in the dark, after I could tell by the slight snoring of my roommate he was asleep, I’d quietly pull the box out from its hiding place and enjoy a fried pie. The idea was that they were so precious I’d only eat one per day and stretch out the pleasure. By not sharing I would be able to extend the pies for many nights.
After about 10 days, one afternoon I found myself in the room alone. The roommate was out for a while and I couldn’t resist. I locked the door, moved the sneakers and pulled out the box. I grabbed one of the pies, unwrapped it and realized … without being in the refrigerator they were covered with white, cottony mold! How long had they been like that? Eating them in the dark I hadn’t noticed.
If you’ve seen the original “Ocean’s 11” caper film, you know that the millions in cash the gang robs is going to be sneaked out of town in the coffin of one of the gang that had a heart attack. The twist comes when they learn the wife has decided on cremation and, as they rush to the funeral home, they watch the coffin enter the flames. The sense of loss those actors portrayed was felt for real by me as I carried the box out and tossed it in the trash can.
Cleverness is a must
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten smarter. With offspring around, if there are treats you’re trying to get the lion’s share of, you’ve got to be clever. The caper consists of getting the wanted foodstuffs off the table when they’re not looking and then secure them in a hiding place. The older they get, the harder it gets.
As little kids, you can stick a box of Oreos up on a top shelf that they’re too short to reach. Once they can push a chair around on their own, you’ve got to up your game. There are a couple of moves I have to counter them.
One is to hide the good stuff behind the not so good stuff. Usually the Little Debbies are next to the bread box or the coffee maker on the counter. When the box is full, I’m gracious to share … but when it gets down to the last couple of cakes, I start getting nervous. I hope the kids haven’t been counting the Debbies and don’t compare notes.
I take the last pastries from the box and put it where the recycle paper goes so they can see the empty box is getting tossed. Hopefully this gives them the idea they’re all gone and there’s no use looking. Then, I take the little packages of magic and stick them behind the plain oatmeal box on the shelf, out of sight and out of mouth. Like any good heist, it’s all in the timing. I make sure it’s bath time for them or that their favorite cartoon is on when I nonchalantly go in the kitchen and silently nab the goodies and stash them. I make sure I re-enter the room with a cracker or a glass of water so I throw them off the trail. Misdirection is important in capers.
The trickiest operation
Finally, at Thanksgiving and over the following holidays, it’s a matter of making off with the leftovers. Whether it’s the turkey and dressing or the last of the pumpkin pie, this is perhaps the trickiest operation there is.
During the holidays the kitchen is almost always filled with people standing around cooking, talking and even nibbling. Add the fact that most dining tables are within sight of the kitchen and you’ll need a real operation. I practice leading up to the meal, measuring steps in the kitchen.
After the meal and the first round of dessert, I make it a point to demand a group photo … in the front yard. Nobody really pays attention while I casually get a couple of paper plates and some tape ready. As I gently shove everyone out of the kitchen and through the front door, I suddenly “remember” I forgot my hat. At that point I know I have roughly 45 seconds to get a big spoon of each item I’ve targeted onto the paper plate. I slap the top plate on top and tape it together. I’ve scouted out the laundry room and quickly step in there, hiding the to-go plate in the dryer, where it waits for me until it’s time to go.
Later, as people are hugging “bye,” I ease out through the laundry room, retrieving the treasure and out the back door to the car. You might think that’s a lot of trouble, but I bet late that night, when you’re wanting a midnight snack, the caper is all worth it!
Mark Hannah, a Dalton native, works in video and film production.