moving day!

Well today is moving day, a day which generally makes me agitated right from the moment I wake up but since I'm moving to Paris the agitation is replaced with pure elation. Pinch me, would you?
I will be posting next week as soon as I can.
Wish me luck!

Cheers,
Michele

Frustrations and a good snack..

Some of you may already know that technology and I have not been the best of friends lately. In fact, I have sent 2 laptop computers to an early grave in the last 2 months alone. Don't ask me how. It's not only a mystery to me, but also a great source of frustration. I've had better luck with goldfish. So it is with sadness that I announce that due to said troubles, I will be without a computer for the remainder of this week. How will I survive? I don't know, it's going to hurt. But I'm sure I will get alot of reading done this week, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. On the bright side, a new computer should be in my hot little hands by Friday, and I await it with eager anticipation.

My frustrations aside, I have recently found my thrill at the Williams-Sonoma website. Who knew they had such tempting recipes? Maybe you did, but it was certainly a new discovery for me. But then again, I don't have the best reputation for being 'in the loop' in general. And there are so many recipes to choose from it was rather difficult for an indecisive girl like me to just pick one already. So I picked two, and was rather pleased with the result. If I wanted to impress you I could tell you that I made Kopanisti with Grissini alla Salvia. And I only know that because those names are also listed on that oh-so-informative website. But really, it's nothing more than Greek Feta Spread and Sage Breadsticks. However, I swapped the sage for rosemary. Because I am just that wild and crazy.

Although I will admit that I have been ill this past weekend. And at first I blamed it on the feta spread. You've got to blame something right? But after 2 days of illness, where my boyfriend remained completely unaffected, I had to accept that I had in fact caught some sort of bug. So, dear friends, the Greek Feta Spread again has my seal of approval. It was extremely easy to make and very tasty. We gobbled it up. And the breadsticks too..

See you in 5 days!

On forgetfulness, and rosemary chicken

I freely, though not proudly, admit that I have a terrible memory. Sometimes I comfort myself by saying that it's not in fact a terrible memory, just a very, very selective one. G will often mention a movie we've seen, or a book I've read, and I am likely to deny that I ever did see that movie or read that book at all. To my credit, I have been known to read upwards of 30 books in a year, how can I possibly keep track of them all? Well, it has come to the point where it frustrates me so much, especially when it comes to books, that I now keep a log of all the books that I've read, with a brief synopsis of the plot to keep it in my mind. (Of course if it's one of my favourite books or movies, I have no trouble remembering..)
My usual response to G when he mentions a movie we've seen together is: "Are you sure you didn't go with someone else? I've never seen that movie before." And generally, he rolls his eyes in amazement and pretends he didn't just hear me say that. Again.

A close friend of mine in Canada has often gotten frustrated with me and my lack of memory. We were best friends through our teen years and lost touch after high school. Years later, as we both stumbled into work at a ridiculously early hour, we bumped into each other. As it turned out, we had been working in the same office complex for over a year, passing each other probably daily. We reacquainted ourselves and have been close friends again ever since. It was like no time had passed. Many of her sentences to this day begin in laughter with the phrase: "Remember when we.." And I sit smiling and laughing as she retells the story. And then, for confirmation, she always asks "Do you remember that? " as we wipe the tears from our eyes from laughing so hard. And more often than not, I say "No! Not at all!"
It annoys her to no end.

Well I'm sure there is hope for me with my selective memory. And from what I've heard rosemary has a bit of a reputation for strengthening memory. Well bring it on I say, because I need all the help I can get. My book journal is getting awfully large, I'm going to have to move it all to an Excel spreadsheet fairly soon if I don't find some way to keep it in my head.

The good thing is that I love rosemary. So there is no arm twisting needed to get me to add it to just about anything. The recipe for Rosemary Chicken and Summer Squash Brochettes is from Epicurious, a site that has served me well since I have been without the bulk of my cookbooks. You don't expect me to cook from the French Laundry every night do you?

Wait, I can't remember, did I even buy that book?

Notes on the recipe
This was a very easy and tasty recipe that I will definitely make again. It's not a showstopper, but it certainly suits the average person's daily cooking habits, when you just want something quick but relatively inspired. It called for a minimum of marinating time, so you don't have to prepare hours in advance. I think it would have been enhanced with some sort of yogurty dip or dressing, which would have made it great for wrapping in flatbread as well.

Reflections on summer and avocado cravings..

It's almost the end of July, and already the stores are starting to display their fall clothes. I stare in wonder at the faux fur collared jackets in the windows, as I stand outside sweating and grumbling about the heat, holding my grande iced latte to my forehead. Coats? Already? But I'm just getting started. I'm still trying to build up my summer wardrobe and all the summer clothes are thrown about like unwanted rejects with a huge discount sign everywhere I go. I certainly don't mind a discount but I feel as though someone is going to step out from behind me and say "That is SO June 2005."

Nonetheless, I choose to ignore this pressure to prepare for cooler weather. I'm not ready for autumn yet because, in my mind, that means it's almost winter. And as a girl born and raised in Canada, the thought of winter sends a chill right through to my bones. Granted, I haven't lived in Canada for a year and a half now, but I still can't shake that instinctive reaction.

So fur collars and wool pants aside, I'm going to stay focused on summer. And lately, this has left me craving guacamole. The past weekend proved a perfect opportunity to indulge. G had just gotten back from another business trip and I was ready to prepare us a Mexican feast. There was some foot-stomping disappointment when I discovered that my avocados were dry and mouldy inside. Dry and mouldy? Well, I never. The feast proceeded, but in the absence of guacamole, I was not entirely satisfied.

A couple of days passed, G went away again, and a new avocado was purchased. Now it was just me. My never ending search for single-serving, easy and light recipes can sometimes leave me frustrated and uninspired. Am I asking too much? Yes, I know that I am. But Martha came through for me. Another gold star for Martha.

You can find the original Lemon Tuna Avocado recipe at Martha's website. My variations are listed below. There is a strange part of me that craves canned tuna on a regular basis but I get bored of the same old mayonnaise routine. You know your life is exciting when you use phrases like "the same old mayonnaise routine". But mixing it with avocado was a nice change that I will definitely do again. And admittedly, my canned tuna was pretty substandard and mushy, but it seems to be all that I can find here. A good quality albacore or flaked white tuna would be preferable.

My variations
I did vary the recipe slightly by actually adding cilantro to the mix. She calls for basil just to be added as an optional garnish.
I also left out the sunflower seeds that are in her original recipe, only because I forgot to put them in. Same with the olive oil. Hmm, I guess next time I should bring the recipe into the kitchen with me, shouldn't I.

Me and my granadilla..

Granadilla

A new fruit has recently made it's way into my vocabulary. I had to ask what it was when I first saw it.
"Granadilla" I was told. When the man realized I'd never had one before he offered to give it to me for 1.50 euros instead of the 1.75 that was listed as the price. I felt like I was at a garage sale. Or a boot sale, as the Brits say. I've never tried to bring someone down on the price of a piece of fruit before, but I had to take his enthusiasm as a sign that this fruit was worth a taste.
It was pretty, I admit. I picked it up and admired it's colour and pondered it's hard outer shell. I had visions of it bursting open like a pinata and candy spilling out of it. If I had my choice, it would be peanut m&m's, please.
The market man continued:
"It's like a passion fruit, but different." I remained silent as I absorbed this vague information.
Then he changed his mind:
"No, it really can't be explained. You have to try it. I'll give it to you for one euro, fifty." he said again.

I couldn't help but think that this thing either tastes really good or it is just about to pass its "best by" date and he's trying to offload it on me. But it was so darn pretty and I was curious, and gee, I was saving 25 euro cents on the listed price.

So, me, my granadilla, and my 25 euro cents headed on home. After a very glamourous photo shoot it was time to see what was inside. The outer layer cracked like an eggshell as soon as I brought the knife to it. I had to pull the rest of it open. My first thought was:
"Ugh."
I quickly put it down and stepped approximately 2 paces back from the counter. I needed to look at it from a safe distance for a moment.
There was my pretty granadilla, oozing a gooey, unpleasant looking slime, filled with black seeds. The word I found used to describe the pulp was "mucilagenous". And mucilagenous it was.

Despite my initial revulsion, I still found myself dipping my finger in it for a taste. This is a phenomenon that cannot be explained, but it can be traced back to childhood. A time when there was nothing that we wouldn't put in our mouths. Dirt, gum found on the sidewalk.. you get the picture.
The finger dipping was risky, I know, because I really wasn't entirely sure if this granadilla was even fresh or not. The pulp was cloudy and greenish/grey, and the inside of the shell was white and fluffy, reminiscent of mold. But still, I dipped.




Hmph. Not bad. I dipped again. It was quite tasty. Sweet, fruity and exotic. But like the man told me, it's really hard to describe, you have to taste it to understand it. I knew that the seeds were edible, which is a good thing, because I quickly discovered that they are rather difficult to separate from the pulp. They hold onto each other for dear life, which truthfully, only increased my suspicion. Nonetheless, I was determined to give it the full treatment. I started out with some fresh ricotta, added some sliced peaches and scraped all the gooey pulp out of my granadilla. It fell in a solid mass on top of the ricotta, and I think it actually made a plop noise.
Mmm, mucilagenous.
Another glamourous photo shoot. And then some taste testing.
Needless to say, I took a very small bite.
I crunched and crunched, and crunched some more. The seeds are very crisp. And numerous. I tried another bite, and was a little disappointed that there was still alot of crunching involved.
Bite number 3. Yes, still with the crunching. And then the sound of me scraping it all into the garbage.
And thus ends the story of me and my granadilla.


Granadilla pulp (and seeds) with fresh ricotta

Granadilla facts
Granadilla is the common species of Passiflora, ranging from central Mexico through central and western South America, through western Bolivia to south-central Peru. Throughout this region it is popular and abundant in markets.
It is often eaten as is with a spoon.
(from: Morton, J. 1987. Sweet Granadilla. p. 330–331. In: Fruits of warm climates. Julia F. Morton, Miami, FL.)

Sweet sweet honey.. SHF #10

Grilled Honey Glazed Stone Fruit with Honeyed Mascarpone


I feel as though summer has truly arrived when stone fruits begin to appear at the local markets. Ripe and fragrant peaches, plums and nectarines, just begging you to lean forward, take a bite and let the juice run freely out. There is something very satisfying about the drippy mess it leaves behind.

I could not resist the stone fruits that I noticed at the market earlier in the week. I left gleefully with a paper bag filled with white peaches, yellow plums, and oversized nectarines, one of which was gobbled up as soon as I got home. There has been many a time in the last few days where I could be found leaning over the sink, devouring yet another stone fruit.

From the moment I heard that this month’s Sugar High Friday’s theme was honey, I knew I couldn’t miss it. I’ve been known to be a bit uptight about my sugar intake, but honey is an entirely different story. It is natural in its sweetness, it offers vitamins and minerals, and even has antiseptic and antibacterial properties. Is there anything better? It finds its way into my meals on a daily basis, through banana smoothies, homemade granola or yogurt. And with my new bounty of fruit on hand, I couldn’t resist putting the two together.

I really enjoyed this light and simple dessert. The fruit takes the stage and it didn’t leave me feeling heavy and tired, which is the last thing I want in this hot and humid weather.
Thanks to Nic at BakingSheet for hosting SHF this month.




Grilled Honey Glazed Stone Fruit with Honeyed Mascarpone

Take some stone fruits. Cut them in half and remove the pit. (I used white peaches and yellow plums)
In a pan over medium heat, melt 1 teaspoon of butter. Add 1 heaping teaspoon of honey. (if you are doing alot of fruit, just double or triple the recipe as needed.)
When it starts to bubble, add your stone fruit and toss to coat, ensuring the cut side of the fruit is well coated.
Remove the fruit and place them cut side down on a heated grill or grill pan. Grill until softened and showing grill marks.
Serve cut side up, with a dollop of honeyed mascarpone cream.

Honeyed Mascarpone
Start with a few tablespoons of mascarpone (depending on how much you want to eat) and add plain yogurt, just a little at a time until you get the desired consistency. Add a teaspoon of honey or to taste.
This can also be done with cream instead of the yogurt.

Recipe Note: in future I will make extra honey glaze and drizzle it over the fruit after it is plated.

Nigel's Green Chicken Curry

Sometimes I feel as though I am truly cursed. I love G with all my heart, but he is a ridiculously fussy eater. The foods that top his “no” list are those same foods that make my mouth water. Goat cheese, crème fraiche, coriander, shrimp, eggplant, red peppers. The list goes on. Since I started this blog I have posted recipes with all of these ingredients. But here’s the catch: he has been travelling on business non-stop and for the last 2 or 3 months I have seen him only on weekends, save for a few days here and there. So, most of my blog-worthy creations have been made while he is away, with no one to consider but me when selecting a recipe and the ingredients, and just me to eat it all up.

It can at times be difficult to find recipes that serve 2 people, but let me tell you that it is especially difficult when you are but one. I hate leftovers, only because my mind tells me that there is something new and exciting to create the next night. Why would I want to eat the same thing again? G, on the other hand, could have the same sandwich for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and be perfectly content. Yes, he has a favourite sandwich consisting of a particular baguette from the local market, blobs of mayonnaise, pepper salami and havarti cheese. Notice the lack of any sort of vegetable on this sandwich? So do I, but I’m not about to tell a grown man how to eat.

Much to our delight, G is working from home this week. On the weekend, I was entirely enthused about the upcoming week, as having him home is a bit of a rarity these days. And, with my 2 new cookbooks, I was happy to have another mouth to feed (even a fussy one). As we lounged in bed on Monday night I flipped through the pages of Real Food by Nigel Slater, which I just picked up last week on our trip to Scotland. If G's fussiness hadn't been on my mind I might not have bought this book at all. It's recipes emphasize comfort foods, and for me that generally means they are going to be so good that I'll just eat too much. Compare that to Thomas Keller's French Laundry Cookbook, where everything seems to be made in bite sized bits, perfect for a girl who often has trouble regulating her portion sizes.

"How about the Pork with Cashews, Lime and Mint?” I asked him as he was about to drift off to sleep.
My question was met with a shrug and a bit of a grimace.
“Oh right” I said. “You don’t like pork.”
Before getting entirely deflated I thought perhaps I could just make it with chicken. Good idea, I thought. Easy substitution. But then that other part of me started to sulk: "I really don't want to substitute on the first recipe I'm making from the book."
Please note: I did not say this out loud. End result: I felt deflated.
“Alright, fine, I’ll just make a Thai curry again.”

Keep in mind that this is about the only sure thing I can make that even when I make it bad he still gobbles it up. And to prove the point, his sleepy eyes lit up and he was happy.

But I kept flipping through the pages, nursing a big pout, and came across Nigel’s Green Chicken Curry. Perfect solution. I’ll make something with a name that G likes, but I’ll use someone else’s recipe this time. It will be different than our usual, and this way, he's happy with something relatively familiar and I'm happy to be exploring a new recipe.




I had but a few ingredients to pick up to make this recipe and when dinner hour neared the following day, I readied myself in the kitchen. I hadn't realized I'd be making my own curry paste. I'd never done that before. The result was phenomenal, the curry was extremely fragrant and tasted so fresh. If this is any indication of the rest of the recipes inside, we're in for some good eating.

My variations: The recipe calls for some fresh coriander to be added to the simmering coconut milk near the end of cooking time. Since G is not a fan of coriander, I left this out and only added it to my own serving afterwards. I did however use the coriander called for in the curry paste, and he did not even notice it, much to my delight.
The original recipe calls for chestnut mushrooms which I did not use, and bottled green peppercorns, which I did use, but neither of us really liked biting into these little things. I wouldn't use them again.

Green Chicken Curry, Adapted from Nigel Slater's Real Food
750g chicken breast
3 tablespoons peanut oil
400ml tin of coconut milk
400ml of chicken stock
8 kaffir lime leaves
1 tablespoon nam pla (fish sauce)
the leaves from a large bunch of basil, shredded (about 20g)
15g of coriander, roughly chopped

For the Curry Paste
the tender heart leaves of 4 lemongrass stalks ( I used 4 tsps of jarred chopped lemongrass)
6 medium-hot green chilies, seeded and chopped
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed
5 cm piece of ginger, peeled and chopped
2 shallots, peeled and chopped
4 tablespoons of chopped coriander
1 teaspoon of ground cumin
1 teaspoon of ground coriander
1 teaspoon of grated lime zest
1 tablespoon of lime juice
1 tablespoon of nam pla (fish sauce)
1/2 teaspoon of freshly cracked pepper

For the curry paste, first slice the lemongrass finely if using stalks. Place lemongrass and all the other curry paste ingredients in a food processor until it makes a thick paste. Push down from the sides occassionally if necessary. Refrigerate until needed, but cover tightly as the smell will permeate everything in your fridge.
For the curry, cut the chicken into finger-thick strips. Warm the oil in a casserole and, when hot and sizzling, add the chicken and let the strips colour slightly on all sides. Do it in batches if necessary. Remove from pan.

Pour in the coconut milk and the stock, then add the lime leaves, 4 heaped tablespoons of the curry paste, the fish sauce and half of the chopped herbs. Bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring from time to time.Return the chicken to the pan with a further tablespoon of the paste and simmer for 5 to 6 minutes. Stir in the last of the herbs and serve.

My first Keller creation..

Parmesan crisps with goat cheese mousse

For me, buying a cookbook is at times a difficult endeavour. I can spend hours at a book store flipping through pages, looking for that perfect one. I don't have the same trouble with fiction, but maybe it's because buying a cookbook feels like a lifetime investment. I expect it to feed me for years to come, to provide me with recipes that will wow and nourish all at the same time. If I ever buy a cookbook that disappoints, I still can't bear to get rid of it. It stays with me forever, waiting for that moment when I will give it another chance to redeem itself.

It was over a month ago that I first asked G to get me a copy of the French Laundry cookbook on one of his business trips to Scotland. Why did I want this one? I'd never seen it, I'd only heard about it. It's not even a new release. But the name always appealed to me. It stuck in my head and made me want it. I knew Thomas Keller was a celebrity of sorts and I wanted to cook like he does. Well, last month G lugged that big book home for me.

Since then, I've read it and re-read it, savouring each word and picture contained within. But I must confess that I have so far attempted but one lone recipe from the book. Although there are many that I would like to try, the Parmesan Crisps with Goat Cheese Mousse seemed like a good place to start. It was relatively easy, but not lacking for glamour. Easy and glamourous? And made of just cheese? I know. What more could a girl want.

I had never made my own parmesan crisps before, although the idea has always been in the back of my mind since I first saw it on a cooking show years ago, just waiting for me to finally get my act together and just make them already. Sometimes I have no idea why I carry these things around in my head for so long without actually doing them.

The ones made for this recipe are fairly small. They are made by first grating parmesan cheese and spreading it into a several small circle shapes on a silpat or parchment covered baking sheet. They are baked for 8 to 10 minutes, then removed from the oven and shaped by placing them gently into an egg carton to get the shape you see in the picture above. I've seen them made on a larger scale, and yes, Tara, I was impressed.
The rest followed fairly easily. Some soft goat cheese mixed in a food processor with a bit of cream until it becomes somewhat moussey, and piped into the parmesan crisps, and finally sprinkled with chopped Italian parsley.

The only trick to this recipe is in getting the parmesan into the egg cartons before they harden. And, as I soon discovered, this happens much quicker than I expected. This is often the part of a recipe that can make me nervous, and turn me into a clumsy, and injury-prone person. The book recommends that you bake only a few at a time so that when you remove them from the oven you can get them into the egg carton quickly. I did have one or two that didn't make the cut, and I was forced, yes forced, to eat the failures as is. It's tough to always have to make such sacrifices.


random parsley picture for visual effect

What I think I liked most about this recipe was that I actually completed it somewhat successfully. I, Michele, actually completed a Keller creation. Somehow I felt redeemed. It looked nice and tasted good, although I know in future attempts it will probably taste better with what I have learned.

The parmesan I used was a well aged parmesan and at times I found it too rich in combination with the goat cheese. Its flavour was somewhat overpowering in bite and in saltiness. I will, in future, use a younger parmesan.
I also made the mistake of making my crisps just a little too big. They should be kept to a small size so that they can be eaten in one bite. As it's a bit tricky to bite into a parmesan crisp without it breaking up into your hands.

As you can see, my goat cheese is nothing more than a haphazard blob in the crisp. The recipe recommends piping it into the crisp, which looks much more put together and tidy. But lacking proper piping tools, and having no guests to impress, I settled on the blob. The goat cheese I used was a soft Picandou, which I was happy with, but I would be interested to experiment with other goat cheeses. And if you know me, you'll know that I'm always looking for a reason to buy yet another kind of cheese.

It has been a few weeks now since I made these. It's definitely time to get back on track and open up that book again. But life (namely eggplant, taste Canada, and Scotland) always seems to get in the way. The book contains many recipes for flavoured oils and tips on making a great balsamic glaze which I am looking forward to trying. Sam also recommended I try making the Cranberry and Apple Kuchen, which indicates it can also be made with blueberries instead of cranberries. This is another recipe that seems well within my reach. And it may be just the thing I need to impress some relatives I will be visiting this weekend in Belgium. They haven't seen me in a while, so I have a lot of impressing to do...

new city, new friends..

requisite shot of British phone booths

When I first started this blog, I was shy and hesitant to say the least. I was reluctant to reveal my name, and nervous to let my friends and family know about my new hobby. Expressing yourself can sometimes be a nerve wracking experience. Especially for someone like me, who has, for the most part, led a relatively private life. But with each post, I began to divulge a little bit more of myself. My parents admitted that they eagerly awaited each post, often checking my blog before they would even check to see if I had written them an email, and, without me knowing it, they began advertising my blog at family picnics, random dinner parties and anywhere else they could gloat about their daughter and her blog.
Within a short time, there was a small list of people who would regularly comment on my posts, making me feel like even if there were just a few of them, they made it all worthwhile. And in turn, they also happened to be the writers of the blogs that had already become some of my favourites. It was quickly obvious that there were many people out there just like me, whose personalities seemed to shine through every word they wrote.

When I finally was able to arrange a trip to Scotland on a reasonably priced flight (tougher than you would think), my first thought was Melissa. I emailed Tara, whom I have never met, but who has become a fast friend simply through the act of blogging. (Who would have thought?)
"Do you think Melissa would think it weird of me to ask if she wanted to meet while I'm in Edinburgh?"
Tara emailed me a resounding no. "Do it." she said. "It would be so cool."
Well, lucky for this shy girl, before I could even get my email sent out, Melissa had read my post about my upcoming trip and suggested that we meet. Yes, ok, so maybe I did that on purpose. But don't tell Melissa.

I imagined all sorts of scenarios. Would we go out for a drink? Would we meet for dinner? Would we get along or sit in silence until it was time to call it a night? Would she really be anything like she seems to be in her blog? Would this turn out to be a horrible nightmare? No, my thoughts weren't that dramatic, but I won't say that my mom wasn't concerned. Mother's are so cute that way. But really, who would have thought I'd be meeting a fellow blogger not 3 months after having written my first post?

For our first meeting, Melissa and I decided to meet for drinks, without our men, to test the waters. As I waited for her outside of a local pub that she had suggested, I saw a woman walking towards me.
"Michele?" she asked questioningly. Her voice was friendly and put me immediately at ease. She approached me with a welcoming smile, and I liked her instantly. We introduced ourselves and headed into the bar area to order some drinks. When she pointed out the Hoegaarden I knew we were kindred spirits.
We took our place out in the patio and though I, with a very small bladder, made several trips to the bathroom, neither of us noticed as several pints and 4 hours passed. We finally decided to call it a night. The evening had been a success but it had to end sometime. But the question that stayed in my mind was : was it worth it just to meet for one night and then move on from there? Or was there value in going further and trying to get to know each other even just a little bit more and possibly making a friend out of the experience? I knew I didn't want to just say I met her and let it end there.

We agreed to meet for dinner 2 days later, with our men in tow. This was somewhat nerve wracking because even though I knew Melissa and I would have a great time, who knew whether the men's personalities would click. As Melissa has reported, the evening was fantastic. As soon as I met Manuel, just as had happened when I first met Melissa, I instantly liked him. He greeted us with a big German smile and a firm handshake, and we felt instantly welcomed into their fabulous apartment. A Bellini bar awaited us leaving me feeling that I had just jumped into a virtual reality of the Traveler's Lunchbox. A dream come true for any of Melissa's dedicated readers.

The four of us went out for dinner to a place that Melissa had been wanting to try for some time. It was the first time I think I have ever been in a restaurant past midnight. The time had passed by completely unnoticed. By the end, I was stuffed, and stuck with a permanent smile on my face from having thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I must admit, I was a little sad to leave Edinburgh. Making a new friend is something I cherish and do not take lightly. But I think we are off to a good start, and I'm looking forward to having Melissa and Manuel visit us sometime soon, either in Heidelberg or in Paris once we move there. I have a feeling Melissa will hold out for Paris though. I don't blame her. We'll turn that city inside out Melissa!

Happy Canada Day

maple granola

Canada Day is fast approaching and although I now live an ocean away I am celebrating in the best way I know how. With food. After all, what is a celebration without food? Because I'm living in Germany, I was a bit perplexed as to what Canadian inspired dish I could make for the Taste Canada event. I have little access to truly Canadian products here, and though I tried to find Oka cheese, my request was met with only a blank stare. But when I first moved here I was happy to find pure Canadian maple syrup in one of the local shops. Sundays in Heidelberg would have been alot less exciting without french toast and pure maple syrup, there is no doubt.

I did worry that perhaps this was too predictable for the Taste Canada event, that perhaps I was not stretching my imagination enough. But to me, maple syrup is as Canadian as it gets. Throughout my childhood I had relatives who would visit us from Belgium and would inevitably return home with bottles of it. It was this that made me realize, from an early age, that as Canadians we had something quite special.

Because I'm so far away from my friends and family, I was most tempted to cook something that would remind me of home. Maple syrup fit the bill, and not surprisingly, it brought breakfast to mind. I found a recipe at Epicurious.com for Maple Granola that seemed so simple and healthy that I was immediately drawn to it. I had never made my own granola before so it was, at the same time, a new (although not entirely difficult) experiment for me.

The result? Well, it seems that I am now hooked on homemade granola. A dollop of natural yogurt, some fresh berries and a sprinkling of my own granola and I am a happy girl. There's nothing like a good wholesome breakfast to remind me of home. And what I especially like about this recipe is that it's not at all fussy. A minimum of ingredients, but full of flavour.

The recipe that I used is posted below. I left out the raisins when I made it, as I preferred to have a plain granola which I could use with fresh berries, which are far more tempting to me than dried fruits. I also used a purchased bag of unsalted mixed nuts which contained almonds, cashews and hazelnuts, which I chopped coarsely.
I have also tried the recipe with honey instead of the maple syrup and found that to be absolutely delicious as well. I think I will be a regular granola girl from here on in, and I look forward to experimenting with various flavours.

So, happy Canada Day to one and all. My fellow Canadians will have to celebrate en masse without me but I will have my trusty granola to keep me feeling festive. The offical Taste Canada roundup will be posted here!



mixed berries with yogurt and granola

Maple Granola (from Epicurious.com)

1 1/2 cups old-fashioned oats
1/4 cup almonds, coarsely chopped
1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons pure maple syrup
1 1/2 teaspoons unsalted butter
1/3 cup raisins

Preheat oven to 350°F. Mix oats and almonds in 13x9x2-inch baking pan. Combine 1/4 cup maple syrup and butter in heavy small saucepan. Bring to boil. Pour maple syrup mixture over oat mixture; stir to blend well. Bake 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add raisins to oat mixture; stir to blend. Bake until mixture is golden and crisp, stirring occasionally, about 8 minutes longer. Cool granola completely in pan. (Can be prepared 1 week ahead. Store in airtight container at room temperature.)

and I'm off.... to Scotland that is..

Well, I am off to Scotland tomorrow morning, for a week's worth of wandering and sightseeing. Not only will I revel in a new accent and be on the lookout for random kilt wearers, I am also thrilled that I will be meeting the lovely Melissa. It is not only my first "cyber meeting", but hers as well. And mom, don't worry. I'm pretty sure she's not a crazy old man whose been disguising himself as a young and talented female food blogger waiting for months for an unsuspecting person like myself to make her way to Edinburgh.
And I am deliriously excited about being able to browse through an english language bookstore for the first time in many months. Cookbooks! Fiction! Non-Fiction! Magazines! Oh my. I'm taking 2 novels with me, but there will definitely be room in my suitcase for many more. And tonight, while I pack and do laundry, another viewing of the original Sabrina, so I can lament with Audrey Hepburn about how much I hate girls who giggle all the time too. No, I don't really, but if you watch, or have watched the movie you will feel for her on this one.

In the meantime, Canada Day is fast approaching, and there is a wonderful event that has been organized to give the blogging world an idea of what Canada tastes like. And no, you can't find out by licking a map. But you can read about it by clicking on the Taste Canada icon on my sidebar.

While I'm away I will be posting my Canadian creation for the Taste Canada event, since it's all ready in draft mode and just waiting for me to hit Publish when the time is right.

So stay tuned! I will be away for a week but I won't be without computer access. Sad I know, even on vacation. But my parents couldn't survive a day without an email from me. It's all about being a good daughter, you see. Or maybe it's because I don't think I could miss a daily dose of Crazy Aunt Purl.

keep eating eggplant Butch, that's what you're good at..

Eggplant rolls

You see how I obsess? In the last 2 weeks I have watched Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid not once, not twice, but three times. And no, it's not because I had no other movies to watch, it's because it's a very good movie. Very. Aside from that, I have also had far too many meals made with eggplant. These are just a few, and I have made these ones more than once in the last 2 weeks. (blushing)
I just can't seem to get enough of this purple goodness. Which, I admit, probably makes for very boring blogging so that's why I've thrown all my creations into one super-eggplant post. And I'm embarrassed to admit that looking at these pictures just makes me want to rush to the kitchen and cook some more. Yes, there is another big purple baby waiting for me in the fridge. But it will have to wait until tomorrow.
And in more exciting news, I'm going to Scotland on Saturday for a week. Well, it's exciting for me at least, because I've never been there before. I wonder if they have eggplant in Scotland... I'd hate to start suffering from withdrawal..

So as not to bore you with lots of details of my million and one eggplant experiments, I've given the short and sweet version down below with links to the recipes. My new secret to success is brushing the slices of eggplant with olive oil and grilling it on my grill pan. No salting required. So far, this has been a success every time. Happy me. Oh, and Molly, if you should happen to read this: fresh ricotta has been located in Heidelberg and life suddenly seems so much better.


Picture 1 and 2: Eggplant rolls with Spicy Tomato Sauce, from Epicurious. Excellent. I have made this twice already. I added roasted red pepper to the ricotta mixture, which I preferred to the original recipe. But I didn't make the tomato sauce, as I had some leftover of my own, so I can't comment on how good that part of the recipe is.
Picture 3 (bottom left): My own single serving eggplant lasagna. It's roughly the same instructions as the eggplant rolls, just layered like lasagna and topped with mozzarella and broiled until browned on top. I have made this twice already too. My cheeks are now seriously flushed with embarrassment. But I really liked the single-servingness (is that a word?) of this. And it was very tasty.
Picture 4 (bottom right): Martha's Eggplant and Lamb Al Forno
Her's is a mammoth sized dish with the eggplant stacked so high I'm not even sure how you would eat it. So I stuck to a reasonable 2 layers, grilled the eggplant first and added some goat cheese and omitted the breadcrumbs. So in actual fact, I just used her instructions for the lamb and did my own thing. But it was extremely good. I have made this twice too, but wait! only because I had leftover lamb and eggplant! come on, what did you expect me to do!

Eggplant Lasagna and Eggplant Al Forno

the cook next door..

I've been tagged for the Cook Next Door meme which means I get to write about myself again. And it just so happens that I am an expert on the subject. The struggle is that sometimes I find myself utterly fascinating, while other times, well, I can just bore myself to tears. Let's hope I don't do the same to you.

What’s your first memory of baking/cooking on your own?

My first memory of creatively cooking on my own is probably when I was approximately 7 years old. I was a big fan of canned mushrooms, and if ever my dad opened a can for whatever reason, I’d be the first one to stick my fingers in it and steal one if I could. If he wasn't paying attention he would find the can already half emptied, which never left him very pleased. One day I asked my dad if I could “cook” some mushrooms. At 6 or 7 years old, this left a lot of room for interpretation. But with his assistance, I threw them in a Pam coated frying pan and heated them up. The addition of a can of drained mushrooms, a dash of paprika and some black pepper and I had my very own original creation. I'm sure dad steered me in the right direction in terms of my spice choices, but in my mind, I could take full credit for this fabulous new invention.

Who had the most influence on your cooking?

My dad did all the cooking in our house when I grew up and even if he would be away he’d be cooking big pots of chili days in advance to ensure we had ready made meals waiting for us. He always cooked very low fat, never allowed us to add salt to anything, and was very strict with our sugar intake. Prime example: my brother and I begged him to buy us Koolaid, we’d had it at our friends houses and loved it. So he finally relented and bought us a package. We watched with eager anticipation as he mixed the red powder with ice cold water. What we didn’t realize was that he didn’t add the sugar. What is Koolaid without sugar? My brother and I had no idea why it tasted so horrible and we never asked for Koolaid again. Sneaky devil my dad was. My cooking now is very much influenced by this. Sometimes I think of it more as a paranoia on my part now. Although since I don’t eat many salty foods I have no qualms about adding a bit of salt to flavour a dish, I am still very uptight about sugar. Which is why some of my posts talk about resisting the temptations of the bakery. I treat myself every now and then but for the most part, my dad has me brainwashed. I mean that in a good way, Dad.

Do you have an old photo as "evidence" of an early exposure to the culinary world?

Well this is the only "old" picture I have with me here in Heidelberg. And I think there's food on my face. Does that count?

Mageiricophobia - do you suffer from any cooking phobia, a dish that makes your palms sweat?

I always get nervous when I have a number of dishes or courses to prepare, when the success of the meal is dependent on timing, and my stove top is filled with various pots and pans. The potatoes need 20 minutes, the chicken needs an hour, the sauce 10 minutes etc etc.. This can most definitely cause me to get twitchy and break into a sweat. And when I’m nervous I lose the finesse in my motor skills and become extremely clumsy. I’m already a terrible clutz, as G will attest to, but it is magnified when I’m under culinary stress. Whenever he hears me make an odd noise in the kitchen, he comes running with the bandaids.

What are your most valued or used kitchen gadgets and/or what was the biggest letdown?

My most valued tool is my egg slicer. No just kidding. G and I recently bought a set of chef’s knives from Sheffield, England, which is reknowned for its knives and cutlery. I treasure these babies and not a day goes by where I don’t use at least two or three of them.

The biggest letdown? Hands down a Henckel’s tool with blades that you roll repeatedly over your herbs and it’s supposed to chop them finely for you. But in reality, it just squishes them into the cutting board and bruises them to death. It’s rather tragic really.

Name some funny or weird food combinations/dishes you really like - and probably no one else does.

When I was growing up my family regularly ate peas from a can mixed with mayonnaise. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized this is not normal. Though I never make it myself, I still enjoy eating it when I go home to visit my parents.

As a kid, whenever we had ice cream at home, I used to love putting peanuts on top. Not so unusual, I know, but here’s the clincher: I preferred the salted ones in my ice cream.

And if I’m being as naughty as I can get, I love alternating a bite of chocolate with a bite of a plain salty potato chip. There’s something about the sweet and salty combination really works for me. I haven’t done this in a long time but it gives me great guilty pleasure to think about it.

What are the three edibles or dishes you simply don't want to live without?

I could definitely not live without bread or cheese. And the world would be a much less exciting place if there were no chocolate. Even though I only occasionally indulge in chocolate, I don’t take those moments lightly. I’ve recently read about a chocolatier in Paris who makes squares of cheese covered in chocolate. Sounds strange, but how can I resist. If there were bread in the mix too I’d be in heaven. It’s the first place I’m going to when I get there.

Any question you missed in this meme that you would have loved to answer? Well then, feel free to add one!

Your favorite ice-cream.

I have fond memories of a Chocolate and Peanut Butter Chunk ice cream from a place called Baskin-Robbins, which I haven’t been to in over 10 years, if not longer. I also really like Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream. You can see the pattern here.

You will definitely never eat...

Aside from any of the things that they make you eat on shows like Fear Factor, I will likely never eat snails. I’m sure they taste just fine but I’ll leave them for the rest of you.

Your own signature dish...

I make thai curries far more often than I probably should. But luckily G loves them too. So I guess that would be my “thing”.

I tag whoever wants to participate, because it's hard to tell whose already been tagged!

So send me a comment if you want to carry on the meme.

diversions..or How to boil an egg..

What's occupying my brain lately is that in less than 2 months G and I are moving to Paris. At this point in time, nothing else in my life is of any consequence except for that single fact. There are still several weeks of torturous waiting but I am already starting to act strangely. I have made purchases as of late that are somewhat out of character for me. Red nail polish called Exotica. Chanel No. 5 hair perfume. A swanky new pair of heels.
Now admittedly I'm not a stranger to a sassy pair of heels, but the nail polish and the hair perfume are definite firsts. I've been a clear polish girl my whole life. Natural and colour free. But it seems that my inner girly girl is fighting her way out at an alarming rate. In fact, I think she may have already won the battle. I'm sure that someday soon one of my friends is going to ask me: "Will Paris change you?" To that I will say: Oh mylanta, I think it already has. The wheels are in motion and I'm powerless to stop them. There are forces greater than I at work here.

The other night I sat myself down determined to test out my new nail polish and spend the rest of the evening admiring my gorgeous new hands. I mean, a girl needs to know in advance if it's going to work with her skin tone. But somehow it turned out to be much more difficult than I expected. By the time the lacquer dried, I felt like Courtney Love and had a sudden urge to rip a hole in my fishnets. But I was wearing jeans at the time so I had to let that moment pass. The lacquer was all over my cuticles, uneven and messy. It looked so darn trashy. I had to call my mom and ask her how she did it so perfectly all those years. Clear polish hides my clumsiness much more effectively.
But I will say that peeling a couple of hard boiled eggs can feel very glamorous with red nails. And the light was dim in the kitchen so I could effectively ignore the trashiness, at least for a few minutes. And don't judge me for what I had for dinner, this is about me and moving to Paris. Although I'm happy to provide a link describing how to boil an egg, for those of you who care to know.

So it seems that I have some practising to do before the big move. There will be times in Paris when clear nail polish will do just fine, but it's those other times that I need to prepare for. What other times? you may be wondering. Pshaw. Let a girl have her illusions, won't you?

talking about myself again..

Well it seems that Clare has tagged me, as they say, to talk about my cookbooks.
"Whah?" I exclaimed, when I was first informed.
"Well, that's kind of a mean trick." I thought, because it only reminds me of all the boxes full of cookbooks that I have stored away in both Canada and the U.S.
But I forgive you Clare, because really, once I got thinking about it, I realized these were happy memories.
Aaah.. my cookbooks, my beautiful cookbooks. Wish you were here.


How many cookbooks do I own?
Well I'm not entirely sure, as most all of them are packed away in boxes. But it is safe to say that the amount that I own is not unreasonable. I would even dare to say, that it is a perfectly healthy amount, not too many, not too few. Though I would be happy to add many, many more. Friends and relatives take note: cookbooks are always a welcome gift. And they won't break during shipping.

The last cookbook I bought?
Well that's easy, because I posted about it recently. The French Laundry Cookbook. And it is entirely memorable because it is the first cookbook I have bought since first moving from Canada in February of 2004. And it's oh so pretty. And heavy.

The last food book I read?
I'm sticking with the French Laundry cookbook. If I can curl up in bed with it and keep reading after an hour or so, even if my body is begging me to go to sleep, then it officially qualifies as good reading to me.

Five cookbooks that hold a place in my heart?
1. Fields of Greens by Annie Somerville
This was one of the first cookbooks I bought myself after converting to vegetarianism, and it has served me well long after I fell off the wagon and went back to my meat eating ways. I still remember some of my favourite recipes, and I'm kicking myself now for not bringing that book with me. Romaine hearts with Sourdough Croutons, Tomato-Fennel Pizza, Ginger Muffins, Banana Coconut Bread..

2. Seductions of Rice by Jeffrey Alford
Not only is this a beautiful cookbook, but it also happens to be one of the first cookbooks that my love bought for me. With its exotic recipes and suggestive title, I think he did a damn fine job of picking that one out for me. Grr..

3. Larousse Gastronomique
Well, I'm sure this needs no explanation. This is the holy bible for budding chefs isn't it? Well at least it seems so to me. It's thick and clunky and it feels like you are reading the ultimate encyclopedia of food. The heavens literally shine down on this one. This one did not make the trip with me to Europe and it makes me sad. Oh so sad.

4. Cordon Bleu Quick and Easy
This one is entirely sentimental. When I returned to Canada a month after my birthday to attend a wedding, my ladies (my two best friends), had a copy of this cookbook waiting for me, as a belated birthday present. They both knew that my ultimate dream was to go to Cordon Bleu in Paris. And when they gave me this book I was touched by how excited they seemed for me that by moving to Europe I was that much closer to my dream. Seeing your two best friends so enthused for you to achieve your dream was, well, a moment I will always remember, and that I'll always be reminded of when I look at this cookbook. Which, incidentally, is here with me in Heidelberg!

5. The Joy of Cooking
This cookbook was one of my mother's that, as a child, seemed to me like it held the answer to every cooking question I could possibly have. I believed that every recipe I could ever want had to be within those pages. This, of course, was long before I ever discovered the Larousse Gastronomique. But when I first moved out of the house at the age of 18 to go to university, this was one of the first cookbooks I bought for myself. Somehow I just didn't think I could live without it, as though it was an ultimate necessity in every woman's kitchen. Little did I know that the ultimate necessity in every woman's kitchen would turn out to be a bottle of red wine and some good chocolate. But I'm much wiser now.

People I would like to see answer the above questions when it is convenient for them and should they desire to reveal themselves in this way, and if they haven't in fact already done so. Being wordy is fun.


Tara from Seven Spoons
just because I think she's real nice, and I know she has a cool collection of cookbooks just waiting to be revealed.

Melissa from Traveler's Lunchbox
because I'm ready for more spice bowl type of confessions..

Molly from Orangette
but she'd probably growl at me through cyberspace. But maybe that's what makes it fun.

addictions..

I'm consuming too much of a small list of things. You already know about the eggs.

Cheese
The other day I bought 5 kinds of cheese.

"Is that too much?" I asked myself as I wandered home. As there was no one else to ask.
The voices in my head said: "I think so. You've definitely gone too far this time."
"But I can't stop myself. I think I may have a problem."
"Get help."
"Yeah. I should." I said. And then I went to the market this morning and came home with 2 more.

The question that plagues me is where does one get help for a problem of this nature, one that seems, in my cheese loving mind, entirely incurable. One that I'm not sure that I even want to be cured of.

Carbonated Water
I have a favourite cafe here in Heidelberg called Numero 7. I know, it doesn't sound particularly German. I was so absorbed in reading my book that before I knew it I had finished off almost a litre of carbonated water. When my server asked me why I hadn't finished my salad I had to tell her that I had had too much water, I was so so full. She laughed. I did too, but it made my belly hurt.

Eggplant
After years of struggling to make eggplant taste good at home, I've finally had my eureka moment. I'm so afraid that it will elude me again that in the space of a week I've eaten it 4 times. Perhaps I will start inflating and turning purple like Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and I'll have to be rolled out of the room. If that happens, somebody please call my mom and dad. And the press.

Grande Low Fat Lattes
Yes, when I'm not at Numero 7 filling my belly up with bubbles, there are the usual stops at Starbuck's. The other morning, they knew my order before the words even came out of my mouth. I realized that I am going there far too often.

Conclusions?
What is this strange and obsessive funk that I'm in? Can I survive on a diet of cheese, eggplant, caffeine and carbonated water? The answer is a resounding no. I will have to find something else to obsess over to help me round out my food groups.

Nonetheless, I will post pictures of my eggplant creations soon. And other things. There are a whopping 200 pictures on my camera just waiting to be downloaded. Zwei hundert? Ja, zwei hundert.

It's not about the eggs, it's about the pan.. and other things..

I will confess. This past week I have been what some may call rather uninspired in my cooking. I am addicted to my new non-stick pan and I can't stop making eggs.
Omelets, frittatas, and the somewhat creative version pictured above which can only be called an Omelata. For those who might not know the difference:
Omelet: filling folded inside
Frittata: filling mixed into eggs, not folded.
Omelata: Michele meant to make an omelet but goofed.

In any case, you've already read about my omelets lately, so I don't need to go there again. The real story here is my new pan.

On the weekend I made my first perfect over easy eggs, I felt like the queen of my own diner. I served them up for our sunday morning breakfast with pride and yes, a little bit of awe. Oh non-stick pan, where have you been all my life?

I foresee a future where french toast and pancakes turn out perfectly, with not a single speck left to scrub from the pan. In my defense, sometimes I get it right, even without the non-stick pan. But yes, I do often struggle. I know there's some magical formula that advises a hot pan, cold oil or cold pan, hot oil, that should prevent my foods from sticking in a regular pan. But for some reason I can never get it right. Perhaps I should have a note posted above my stove to remind me. But wait, I don't need to anymore. Because I have a BEAUTIFUL NEW NON-STICK PAN!

Aside from that, everything else in my life, technologically speaking, seems to have broken down on me in the space of 3 short weeks. I am almost tempted to think that I am cursed as of late. I won't even get into the details but I will say that I am yet again waiting for another part to come through the mail. Waiting, always waiting.

If one more thing breaks.. well, I'll just be really upset.

But the good news is, we think we have finally secured an apartment in Paris, where we will be moving in August. I can't even express how excited I am. The cheese, oh the beautiful cheese that awaits me.

Hungry for arugula..

The first time I fell in love with arugula was in the most unlikely of places. It was a town called Sheffield, England, in a restaurant called Pizza Express.
When G and I first moved to Europe last year, the first destination we were scheduled to spend our next 4 months was Sheffield, England. Home of the Full Monty and I didn’t even know what else. We soon adjusted to the Yorkshire accent, and I was immediately enamoured by the Yorkshire habit of calling everyone “love”. No matter what anyone said, even if they were being rude, they could tack the word love at the end and it would make me feel all warm and tingly. A grunt and a push followed by “Get out of the way, love”, wouldn’t phase me a bit. It would only leave me smiling and excusing myself profusely as I rushed to step aside.

I had a much more difficult time adjusting to the very distinct Sheffield style, influenced by the fact that the city was home to two universities. And I was more than nervous to venture into a hairdresser lest I should end up with something much wilder than I could handle. I’m much more comfortable in my jeans and sweaters with one tone hair. It’s not to say that I disapproved, it's just that it was a style that was completely opposite to anything that could be found in my wardrobe. Or on my head.

But we had great fun during that 4 months, and we quickly learned that the Sheffielders, as I understand most Brits, love to drink and they love to drink fast. But when most of the bars close down at 11pm there are but a few hours after work to get yourself sauced, as they say. So there is little time wasted.

We were lucky enough to have found an apartment right near the city center, which was heavily populated with a variety of shops, restaurants and pubs. One of the restaurants we stumbled upon was a place called Pizza Express, which turned out to be much nicer than its name implies. It had a clean and modern interior and good ambient lighting. Good lighting can really make or break a place for me. And we were happy to discover that they actually do make a great pizza, which went well with the bottle of Chianti that we seemed to polish off each time we went there.

On one of our many visits there, I noticed that a new salad had appeared on their menu. I can’t actually recall its name, and their online menu doesn’t seem to refer to it anymore. Nonetheless, it was an arugula base, topped with a warm beefsteak tomato slice and a wheel of goat cheese, which had both been roasted together in the oven, leaving the goat cheese melted and creamy. The whole thing was drizzled with a warm basil pesto. The warmth of the pesto softened the arugula slightly and each bite melted in my mouth. From that moment on I never ordered their pizza again. This appetizer salad was a meal in itself and it was the only thing I wanted to eat when we were there. Well, that and a small bowl of olives to munch on while I waited enthusiastically for my salad.

Since then I have looked at arugula with new eyes. Although it is still at times too peppery and bitter for me, I continue to purchase it regularly with the goal of achieving that same arugula enlightenment that I had experienced in Sheffield.

I recently tried 2 new ways to use my arugula, which is found in abundance here in Heidelberg.

arugula salad and arugula basil pesto

Arugula Salad

I had read somewhere that a simple way to enjoy arugula is to dress it first with lemon juice, then drizzle with olive oil. I used my hands to coat the leaves, which is a technique that I have recently learned from Melissa at the Traveler’s Lunchbox. It is a great and gentle way to dress your leaves evenly. Finally, finish the salad with sea salt and top with shaved parmesan.
I enjoyed this salad. Again, at times I found the arugula still a bit too peppery for my taste. But I have read that the bigger the leaves are the more "bite" they have. So perhaps I just have to be more careful to sort through my bundle and weed out the large and bitter leaves. When I didn't bite into a bitter leaf, I found the simplicity of the flavours in this salad to be excellent. I would definitely prepare arugula in this way again.
I didn't use a recipe for this. Just a drizzle of this and a sprinkle of that. But it's simple enough that you could easily recreate it and just adjust it to your own taste.

Arugula and Basil Pesto from Epicurious.com

The second creation was an arugula basil pesto which turned out better than I even expected. I think it is even far better than the regular basil pesto that I’ve made before. And the recipe included the addition of some lemon zest which really brightened the flavour. I definitely recommend this recipe.
Variations: I used parmesan cheese and still loved the results.

3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 cups (loosely packed) fresh basil leaves
1 cup (loosely packed) fresh arugula
1/2 cup grated pecorino Romano cheese
1/3 cup pine nuts
2 garlic cloves, peeled
1/2 teaspoon grated lemon peel
2 tablespoons lukewarm water

Place 1/2 cup oil and next 6 ingredients in processor. Process to thick paste. With motor running, add remaining 1/4 cup oil and 2 tablespoons water to processor. Blend until smooth. Season pesto to taste with salt and pepper. (Can be made 2 days ahead. Pour thin layer of oil over pesto; cover and chill.) Makes about 1 1/2 cups.

A girl and her chicken..

Chicken wings with chiles and lime

Sometimes a girl just wants some good old fashioned chicken wings. And I’m not in any suggesting that these cannot be found in Heidelberg. There are 3 main Irish pubs here (that I have found) and each of them serves up their version of the perfect chicken wing. Well truth be told, I’m not sure that any of them are really aiming for perfect. But that's neither here nor there.

If you’re out with someone you are comfortable with, there is nothing better than digging in to a steaming hot pile of chicken wings, sauce on your face and your hands and, of course, chicken stuck in your teeth for the rest of the evening until you can get home to your much needed dental floss. Clearly, it’s not the optimal choice of a meal for a first date.

And sometimes, a girl not only just wants chicken wings, sometimes a girl wants her chicken wings in the comfort of her own home. Ok, I'm not just talking about any random girl here. Yes, it’s all about me. A face full of sauce, chicken bits stuck in my hair, it makes no matter, because I am at home. Well, it would matter if my boyfriend were here, but he’s away on business again, so I can be as messy as I want, and no one is the wiser. Well, until now.

I happened to spot some appealingly meaty wings recently at the market, and I just couldn’t say no. After some lazy searches on the internet for a not-too-complicated recipe, I found one. It was so simple, I knew my search was over. And, it called for the use of a grill pan, and I will happily use my grill pan any chance I can get. Although, I will admit that it did sound like an unusual way to cook wings. But who was I to argue, I’d never made them before.

Let me say, that I was actually very satisfied with my first homemade chicken wing experiment. The flavour of the marinade on the wings was very flavourful and light. I’m still a little undecided on whether the grill pan is the best tool to cook them, as a lot of chicken parts remained untouched by the grill pan because of their odd and uneven shapes. I would have preferred to have an all over browning on the wings, which I could not achieve using my grill pan alone. Pasty white chicken bits are not particularly enticing. Nonetheless, they were still quite tasty dipped in some Thai sweet chili sauce, which has been a topic of much conversation lately between another charming Canadian food blogger and I.

Variations: I used a red chili instead of jalapenos. I have yet to find a jalapeno in Heidelberg so sometimes a girl just has to make do. Recipe is posted below!

Chicken Wings with Chiles and Lime (from cooking.com)

1/2 cup fresh lime juice
4 cloves garlic, crushed
4 teaspoons grated fresh ginger
3 jalapeno chiles, seeded and finely chopped
2 pounds chicken wings

METHOD

Combine the lime juice, garlic, ginger, and chiles in a glass or non reactive metal bowl. Add the chicken and turn to coat evenly. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 4 hours, turning occasionally. Remove from the refrigerator and let stand at room temperature for 20 minutes.

Preheat a grill pan over medium heat until very hot. Add the chicken and grill for about 20 minutes, turning occasionally, until cooked through and firm. Serve immediately.

sweet, sweet love..

Mohn Quark Stollen

I have found the loaf of my dreams. I spotted it one day in the window at my neighbourhood bakery. I could tell it was looking back at me. I smiled. I batted my eye lashes. I blushed. But I went on my way, feeling shy. I don’t usually approach strange loaves. But every day, I kept seeing it there, as fresh and memorable as the day before. I could never tear my eyes away. Until finally, one morning, it was no longer in its usual place. The window seemed somehow empty, even though it was still overflowing with other sweet delights. Crowds still gathered around, pointing and gasping at the wonder that was displayed before them. They did not know how much better it looked when that loaf had been there too.

But now that it was gone, I knew that it was safe for me to go in. It was a hot day, my throat was dry, and I needed a bottle of water. I walked in, took one from the fridge and stood at the counter waiting to pay. My eyes wandered down to the glass display in front of me. There it was. The hair on my arms stood on end. I leaned closer to get a better look. It was perfect and beautiful. Before I knew what was happening the words spilled out of my mouth: One loaf of Mohn Quark Stollen please (in German of course). Mohn and Quark were both unfamiliar words to me. But I didn’t care.

I walked home as fast as I could and carefully unwrapped it. I brought it out to the living room to show my boyfriend. I didn't say anything. I just stood there with the loaf. I think I heard him gasp.
"What is it?" he asked. His eyes were wide and fixated on its beauty.
“I don’t know.” I said. I laid it gently on the coffee table. We stood staring at it for a moment.
Finally, I reached for my computer. I looked up the word Mohn. I looked up the word Quark. What I had purchased was a poppy seed cake with soured/curdled milk turned into a cottage cheese like substance.

“It’s a poppy seed cake.” I told him. The rest could be left unsaid.

We both took a slice, reaching to catch the little crumbs and poppy seeds that fell from our hands.
It was everything I had hoped it would be, and more. It was cake, but it was not cakey. It was a loaf, but it was not loafy. It was sugary but not too sweet. The quark, a beautiful addition, softened the crunch of the poppy seeds. There was a welcome hint of lemon. We savoured every bite. It was most definitely, the loaf of my dreams.

Everything old is new again..

Well there are two new things in my life all of a sudden. A new cookbook, and a new logo for my blog. The cookbook is the first one that I have bought in over a year, since we have been moving around so much. And it's safe to say that it is probably the largest and heaviest one that I now own. And strangely, it's probably the one from which I will cook the least amount of recipes. Not because they don't look delicious, but because many of them are a bit beyond my reach. Both in technique and in ingredients. I'll have to work at it slowly. But it is very pretty to look at, and I could flip through it's pages until the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps one day soon I will conquer one of its recipes and tell you about it.

From childhood to adulthood. When my scrambled eggs became a frittata...

Asparagus Frittata (with parsley and chives)

My father did all the cooking in our house when my brother and I were growing up. I often got in the way as I hovered around the kitchen, watching him dice, chop, and create, just waiting for that moment when he would offer me a taste of whatever it was that he was making us for dinner. My patience always paid off in some way. As I grew older, I was aching to get involved in the process. At the time, my favourite thing to eat was scrambled eggs, and I was thrilled when my dad showed me how to make my own. Although the use of the stove remained under parental supervision, the rest was up to me. The cracking of the eggs and the addition of milk, herbs or spices, was an entirely solo experiment. The process was nothing short of magical for me as I watched the runny mixture begin to form into the telltale lumps, giving me my very own scrambled eggs. As I grew more adventurous, my scrambled eggs often turned into strange and unsightly mixtures laced with tomatoes, mushrooms or cheddar cheese. Some experiments turned out well while others left me feeling gravely disappointed. Regardless of the concoction, my scrambled eggs were ALWAYS topped off with a very liberal dose of ketchup.

Ketchup was, in fact, the bane of my father's culinary existence. I think he actually found it a personal insult that his children wanted ketchup with almost everything he cooked. From macaroni and cheese to a perfectly cooked steak. There was nothing that I in particular would not put ketchup on. I marveled when, during that first summer that I went to camp, I discovered that some of my fellow campers regularly ate sandwiches that consisted of nothing but white bread and ketchup. I wondered how it was possible that I had never thought of that before.

As I've gotten older and wiser, my attachment to ketchup has decidedly waned. The Belgian blood in me, which comes from my father, prefers mayonnaise with my fries, and never would ketchup touch any steak of mine. As for eggs, well occasionally, if I am out for breakfast and the eggs are lacking flavour, I find myself scanning the room for a ketchup bottle. But I usually restrain myself and only imagine that my eggs are doused in ketchup. This is mostly due to the fact that my boyfriend finds the combination of eggs and ketchup completely revolting, and so I acquiesce when we are out together. But, give me a well made omelet or scramble and ketchup is the furthest thing from my mind.

I was happy to stumble upon this recipe recently for an asparagus frittata. The frittata was delicious and provided some welcome leftovers for breakfast the following morning. And I have to admit, that I recently bought myself a new non-stick pan, which greatly contributed to the overwhelming success of this particular frittata. I really have NO idea why I didn't have one before. It's one of those things I can only shake my head at as I gaze admiringly at my first perfectly shaped frittata.

The recipe suggests cutting it into small squares and topping with creme fraiche and chives. Done this way it can be served as an appetizer or hors d'oeuvre.

Asparagus Frittata with Crème Fraiche (cooking.com)

6 large eggs
1/2 cup minced fresh chives
1/4 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons half and half
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
One 1-pound bunch fresh asparagus, trimmed, cut crosswise into 1/4-inch pieces
1/4 yellow onion, minced

1/3 cup creme fraiche or sour cream

METHOD

Preheat broiler. Whisk eggs, 1/4 cup chives, parsley, Parmesan cheese, half and half, salt and pepper in large bowl until just blended. Melt butter and oil in heavy nonstick 10-inch-diameter omelette pan over medium heat. Add asparagus and onion and saute until asparagus is crisp-tender, about 4 minutes. Pour egg mixture over asparagus. Reduce heat to low; cook until edges are just set, about 3 minutes. Using heat-proof spatula, lift cooked edges of egg mixture and tilt pan so uncooked eggs run beneath. Continue cooking until egg mixture is nearly set on top, about 5 minutes. Broil until just puffed and lightly golden on top, about 2 minutes.

Slide spatula under frittata to loosen; slide out onto cutting board. Cut frittata into 1-inch squares. (Can be made 1 hour ahead. Let stand at room temperature.)

Arrange squares on serving platter. Spoon dollop of creme fraiche atop each square. Sprinkle with remaining 1/4 cup chives and serve.