I baked it myself

Soda Bread from Alice Waters The Art of Simple Food

It's not the best idea to stay up until 3 in the morning listening to music with a friend when you've got another friend coming by for Sunday morning breakfast at 10. You set the alarm for 8 and in a sleepy daze you set about making pancake batter and then you remember that your breakfast guest is a vegetarian so you put the bacon back in the fridge with a mild sense of regret and longing. If anything can put a spring back in your step it's the smell of bacon in the morning.
And then you start questioning whether she'll even be in the mood for pancakes, maybe she'll just want toast and eggs. Or yogurt and fruit. And then you realize you are a bit of an obsessive host and that maybe you should just sit down for a minute and have a cup of coffee.

I'm not sure what logic went through my mind when I decided that it would be too much work to walk to the shop to get bread for breakfast (which is a mere 2 blocks away) and opted instead to bake a loaf at home to save myself the trip.

But I tell you, Alice Waters' soda bread is really that kind of bread. It's so easy to throw together that by the time I would have walked the 2 blocks to the shop the loaf would have already been in the oven. Since it uses baking soda instead of yeast, there's no waiting for it to rise, and there's just enough kneading to make you feel accomplished.

It looks nice, don't you think? It's got a dense and chewy crumb and a nice crunchy crust. Top it with a little jam with the longest name ever (Red Lavender Strawberry Merlot Jam) and you can't go wrong. Sure, compared to a yeasted bread it is a little soft on flavour, but it's quick and easy and homemade, which makes it taste awfully good to me.

Because I don't want to mess with the goddess that is Alice Waters, I will not post her recipe. Instead I will direct you to a website where someone has already gone to the trouble of posting it. So click below for the recipe.

Alice Waters' Soda Bread
from the Art of Simple Food

Branded.

Farmhouse Bread from Secrett's Farm Shop in Surrey, U.K.

How cute is that?

On Paris. And being a bit yappy..

Poilane brioche, an Ispahan Macaron from Hermé,
Lucy the cat, and a home-cooked dinner chez Lebovitz

Alright, alright. Maybe you are all completely bored with me talking about Paris. We drank wine, we ate sweet stuff.. yada yada, right?

My mom always did tell me that I talk too much. Although she often uses the same out of date example to make her point: "There was this time when you were 4 and you sat in the back of the car and talked for 3 hours straight.."

I was 4.. Surely I've changed somewhat since then, no?
Perhaps not, because it appears I'm still talking.
And I will admit that Cindy and I sat in our pjs until noon almost every day that I was in Paris drinking coffee and yes.. talking..
Then, you put two talky girls in a kitchen with Lebovitz- a marathon talker himself, and boy, that is some kind of crazy evening.

When I returned G asked me the usual questions.
G: "Did you have fun?"
Me: "Yes. Very much so. "
G: "What did you do?"
Me: "Talked. Alot."

He nodded, I think with understanding and probably some relief that I got some of the talking out of my system.

So yes, I'm back. I got some nice things in Paris including some Ispahan jam and some matcha truffles which I will tell you about soon.
Because well, you know, I like to talk.

Photos on a Saturday..

You now know how I feel about Moro, and now I am providing further evidence of my infatuation. The puffy, doughy pillows pictured above are from Moro's basic flatbread recipe found in their second cookbook.

And if I may be permitted to show off a little bit, what you see below is organic lettuce grown by yours truly in my very own wee vegetable patch. I mean, come on, the rain is still clinging to the leaves. Does it get any better than that?

So... who's coming over for lunch?

Pa amb tomàquet, and learning some lessons from MacGuiver.

Tomato rubbed bread

Yes, I'm talking about Pa amb tomàquet. Unless you speak Catalan, you might find that a bit hard to say. And all it means is: tomato rubbed bread. It seems this is their invention, so let's give credit where credit is due. Thank you Catalan tomato rubbed bread inventors. You did some good work.

I know what you're probably thinking. You've heard of this before, like I had. Along with lots of oos and ahs about how wonderful it is. And maybe you thought it sounded good, but you never actually tried it. That was exactly my stance on tomato rubbed bread, until that fateful day. It seems so long ago now. I was just a shadow of myself then.
(Thanks to Rachael for giving me the push to finally try it!)

Cut to Tuesday, October 25, 2005. (ok, so maybe not so long ago)
I was making a quick milk run, as I sometimes do, and my eyes fell upon some sourdough bread that really knocked my socks off. This loaf was huge, and the slices were longer than my feet. (No, there was no side by side comparison done, but I know my feet, and they are. definitely. smaller.)


Max Poilâne Sourdough Bread, bigger than my feet

The problem was, I had no plan. And even though MacGuiver isn't on the air anymore, there have been some lessons learned and his wise teachings have firmly implanted themselves in my mind. Namely that you've got to have a plan or you better be good at improvising. Well, I can't make a parachute out of a gluestick, but I can sure take a slice of bread and rub some stuff on it to make it taste really good.
And that dear friends is how I came to know and love tomato rubbed bread.



Tomato Rubbed Bread
Take a slice of really exciting bread. Brush one side with olive oil. Grill it, oil side down.
When it's nice and crispy, rub the cut side of a garlic clove over it. (some say the garlic is optional but I think that's just crazy talk.)
Then do the same with the cut side of a tomato, to let some of the juices and pulp rub off onto the bread. (if your tomato is really juicy, take caution, you don't want to make your bread soggy.. Squeeze out some of the juice beforehand if you want.)
Sprinkle some Fleur de Sel (sea salt) on top, because everything is better with a little bit of sea salt.
Sounds suspiciously simple, and it is. But it is very, very good.


Max Poilâne is from the famous Poilâne family of bakers but went his own way and opened his own bakery. There are 3 Max Poilâne bakery locations in Paris, however he also supplies his products to many grocery stores in the area. Yes, I bought mine at the local Shopi, a Parisian mini-mart of sorts, because sometimes a girl just wants to get her bread nice and close to home.


Tags

Grilled Bread
Tomato Rubbed Bread
Paris Bread
Poilane Paris

Even the ducks like Eric Kayser breads..

Eric Kayser Bakery

I recently made my way to the Eric Kayser Bakery on Rue Monge. It was weeks ago that Aude left a comment for me and suggested I try Kayser's Pain aux Figues. It had been on my mind ever since, so this visit was long overdue. It was a gorgeous walk from my apartment, but then again, anytime I have to cross the river I always feel an extra bit of a spring in my step. The things I pass by just to get to my intended destination are hugely distracting, and it often leaves me wondering how I will ever get to explore this whole city. If, in fact, that is even remotely possible.


Pain aux Figues

So I happily ordered my Pain aux Figues, and with my bag in hand, wondered where I should wander next. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, it was a perfect fall morning, and all I wanted was to be outside. I decided to head towards the Luxembourg Gardens, a perfect spot for a stroll. I sat myself down at one of my favourite places, the Medicis fountain, which was built in the 1630's.



There was one lone duck swimming around in the water and there I was with a bag full of some fine, fine bread. How could I resist? She came right over and stared up at me and then opened her beak as if to say "Come on, just one little taste?".
It had been a very long time since I had fed a duck. Or any bird for that matter. I'm usually highly against it for some self-righteous reason that I seemed to have forgotten on this particular day. But the air was quiet and peaceful and it just seemed like the right thing to do.



As soon as she heard the crinkling of the bag, I swear her neck extended, like a dog who stands up on his hind legs and leans on you to get closer to what is in your hands. She's clearly done this before. But it was still awfully cute. And I will say, that that little duck of mine was truly spoiled. This was no wonderbread lunch she was having, she was dining on some fine, fig filled bread.
As you can see by the picture above of the bread, it was somewhat ravaged by the time I got it home. My duck friend and I showed no mercy. The bread was delicious, with moist figs scattered throughout and a nice crunchy outer crust.

Well the little gal and I had to part ways at some point so I wandered through the treed area of the gardens and was astounded at how beautiful it looked at this time of year. Leaves scattered about, people sitting quietly, reading, drawing or gazing out at the view around them, it was absolutely picture perfect.






Leaves piling up at the Luxembourg Gardens

And yes, there was even some Tai Chi..



And a big thanks to Aude for suggesting the bread!

Eric Kayser
8, rue Monge
75005

More fruit and melty cheese...

Beurre Hardy Pear (French butter pear)

That time of year is arriving that reminds me most of home. My niece and nephews are back in school, and the busy apple season is getting into full gear at my brother's orchard. I remember long days spent helping out in their bakery, when I would return home, exhausted, with the sweet smell of sugar and vanilla oozing out of every pore of my body.
Now, far away from home, I can't help but notice the bounty of apples and pears that are making their arrival at the markets. What I would give to wake up just one early morning and find myself at the orchard, walking across the dewy grass to pick a few apples, with the dogs running about, the chickens clucking, and my niece and nephews getting into mischief as usual.
Since the orchard came into our lives, I have a new appreciation for the simple beauty of an apple or a pear. Crisp, and sweet, dangling from the trees, there isn't a more beautiful offering.

With my feet moving at a slow and homesick pace at the market, the desire for comfort food motivated my every purchase.

But then again, I'm in Paris.
So it had to have a little bit of oomph.



Behold the Pear and Brie Croque Monsieur.
A cure for homesickness? Well maybe not. But it sure took my mind off of my troubles for a bit. Part of the fun was in finding a new pear at the market that I had never heard of before. It is called a Beurre Hardy, which is an heirloom pear that is otherwise known as a French Butter Pear. Even though at first glance its skin seems rather dull with its mossy-green colour, it is quite pretty, and the ones I purchased had a close to perfect robust pear shape. Ok, maybe I'm being a bit of a geek about it but remember, I'm homesick. In any case, it was delicious. Juicy and sweet, I gobbled one up as soon as I got home.
As for the brie? Well, just look at that picture at the bottom, where it is just bulging out from under its rind. Enough said.

The Pear and Brie Croque Monsieur, inspired entirely by Williams Sonoma.
(which is really just a pear and brie grilled sandwich if you don't have the proper equipment.. but it sure sounds better the Williams-Sonoma way)

Take a pear, rinse it, slice it up. (I left the skin on).
Saute the slices in a pan in a bit of butter until slightly softened.
Spread butter on one side of 2 slices of bread.
On the un-buttered side, place the sauteed pears and some slices of brie.
Top with the second slice of bread, buttered side up.
Fry in a grill pan or fry pan until browned to your liking, and the cheese is melted.
Don't stop to take pictures, just eat it.


Brie de Meaux from La Ferme de la Brie
(at Richard Lenoir Market in the 11th)

Confessions of an oaf with a loaf..

crostini

I've been keeping a secret. Last week, for the first time in my life, I officially made Panzanella. It was a resounding success. I had found myself a great loaf of day old bread at a reduced price that worked perfectly in the salad. But the secret that I've kept until now, is what happened afterwards.

The Panzanella had been a godsend. I had managed to use up my leftover asparagus, as well as some extra tomatoes and olives. It left me feeling like some sort of culinary goddess who never lets anything go to waste, and knows just how to use every last bit of random vegetable to be found in her crisper.

But it was all a lie. Though my crisper was empty, there stood, on my counter, a now 2 day old loaf of bread, with barely a quarter of it eaten. It's true, I had barely made a dent in it. I was indeed perplexed. I mean, this was 2-day old bread. Granted it only cost me a Euro, but that's beside the point. I hate to throw things out without at least giving it some thought. And as the days went on that loaf kept waiting for me. Friday, then Saturday.

As luck would have it, by Sunday I was craving Panzanella again. Problem solved, I thought. This time I used tomatoes, cucumbers, olives and bocconcini. I was already an old pro with this salad. But as I got ready to dig in, I saw it out of the corner of my eye. The loaf. There was still half of it left. I gave a great sigh, and wondered if this would be the end of the road for this loaf that had been so good to me on my Panzanella adventures.

With a last bit of hope, I took it back out of it's clear plastic bag and let it sit out, exposed to the elements of my apartment, to dry. Breadcrumbs, I told myself. I'll make breadcrumbs with it. But in the back of my mind I knew that I rarely cook anything that requires breadcrumbs. And truthfully, I made breadcrumbs with the last baguette we had that got stale before we could eat it. Breadcrumbs that will likely never be used. Another sigh.

On Monday morning, I woke up to this loaf. Now quite hard and stale but still managing to look appealing somehow. Monday evening, it struck me. Crostini.

I ran to the kitchen, took the loaf and sliced it thinly. I brushed one side of each slice with olive oil, and with an enthusiastic movement, gave each a sprinkle of salt. They went into the oven on a baking sheet for about 15 minutes at 200 celcius.

Like magic. My own homemade melba toast of sorts. But better. And I knew that these would keep for a few days in an airtight container, giving me access to a slice of crunchy crostini whenever the urge struck me. And now I have 2 reasons to lurk around the day old bin at the bakery.

Crostini notes
The crostini gets quite crunchy, so it is best to keep it thinly sliced.
You can put any number of toppings on it, here are a few ideas:
cream cheese and smoked salmon
cream cheese and cucumbers (one of my favourite combinations)
bruschetta topping -tomatoes with olive oil and garlic
black olive tapenade
goat cheese and prosciutto
even peanut butter! yes, another of my secrets is out. I love peanut butter and bananas together.

Of course there are a million other things you can do..

Pondering the pleasure and potential of Panzanella. Salad day #4

Panzanella

It was Tara at Seven Spoons who enlightened me on the seemingly popular and well-known salad which goes by the very catchy name of Panzanella. Where have I been? After some soul-searching I realized that I am indeed guilty of gravitating towards recipes whose names give clear evidence of what ingredients are involved. If I had seen it labelled as Bread Salad with Tomatoes, Olives and Basil, then I would have been right on it. But Panzanella? To the uninitiated, it's just a word. It conjures no images. It really doesn't mean anything at all. I realize now that I've been missing out on a world of wonderful recipes with very clever names. But now that my eyes have been opened, I want to, without doubt, change my narrow ways.

I knew there was no way to rid myself of this tunnel vision unless I started with this stranger called Panzanella. So what is it really? I found this description at What's Cooking America:

Panzanella (pahn-zah-NEHL-lah) - Panzanella salad always includes bread and tomatoes plus vegetables from the garden. Vegetables can include peppers, cucumbers, and onions. Lots of garlic, capers, black olives, and anchovies are added to the salad.
History
An Italian salad that probably was an invention of necessity. Italian cooks waste nothing and this was a way to utilize stale bread and vegetables from the garden. The record of panzanella goes back centuries. In the 1500s, a poem by the famous artist, Bronzino, described the salad.

I thought it sounded very promising. I'm never one to say no to the addition of bread to anything and this would also give me a way to use up all the random leftover vegetables that were waiting impatiently for me in my crisper. Tara had pointed me in the direction of a few recipes, all of which differed in some way, leaving me with the option of choosing the one that appealed to me most. In fact, there are endless variations of Panzanella recipes on the internet, where it is often also referred to as Tuscan Bread Salad. I've found variations with beans or chicken or tuna added. The possibilities are endless.

Martha has 2 recipes for Panzanella on her website. One simply named Panzanella, the other named Asparagus Panzanella. I used a combination of both recipes to suit my taste. And I must say the Panzanella was delicious. The bread I bought (pictured below) was in the day old basket at Gundel Bakery up the street from me. That lovely beast cost me a mere Euro. I was slow to eat my salad (including the time it took to decide on the right bowl and get a proper picture) and right to the very end the bread was still chewy, not at all mushy like I expected it would become after my dilly dallying.



So, I will leave you with a copy of one of Martha's recipes. But I highly recommend that you check out other recipes as well and tailor the Panzanella to your taste. The day old section at your bakery will take on a whole new meaning for you now.


Martha's Panzanella
Serves 6

1 garlic clove
2 pounds ripe beefsteak tomatoes, cored and cut into large chunks
1 medium red onion, peeled and thinly sliced
5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons red-wine vinegar
Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
5 one-inch-thick slices day-old Tuscan-style bread
4 Kirby cucumbers (about 12 ounces), peeled and sliced
1 cup packed fresh basil leaves

Place garlic on a cutting board; hit it with the side of a large knife to break it open a bit. Place tomatoes, onion, and garlic in a large nonreactive bowl. Drizzle oil and vinegar over the vegetable mixture; season with salt and pepper. Toss; let stand, covered, in a cool place, for 1 hour or more.

Place bread on a hot grill or under a heated broiler; toast until both sides are slightly charred, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from heat, rub lightly with garlic if desired; tear bread into bite-size chunks. When ready to serve, add cucumbers, basil, and bread to tomatoes.

Toss to coat bread thoroughly with the marinating liquid. Adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper, and remove garlic clove. (from www.mslo.com)

My variations:
-I used white wine vinegar, only because I didn't have red wine vinegar
-I included asparagus and kalamata olives
-I left out the cucumbers, they didn't seem to me to be a good match with the asparagus.
-I did not toast the bread, as most Panzanella recipes that I found seemed not to. Though I love fresh toasty croutons in my salad, keeping the bread untoasted would be new for me, and I'm learning not to always play it safe.
-I also deseeded my tomatoes so there wouldn't be too much extra juice floating around.