Cake mysteries..

Banana Chocolate and Pecan Cake


What is it with me and cake these days? I go years without making one, and suddenly here I am talking about my second cake in less than 3 weeks. I made this on Canada Day not for any particular reason except that I felt like baking. I had all the ingredients at hand and G was this close to throwing out the blackened bananas that had been sitting on the counter. Forever.

But circumstances conspired against this poor little cake and the following day it still sat there, fully intact. Not a crumb had touched either of our lips.
By day 2, there was no choice but to give half of it away and put the rest of it (minus a slice) in the freezer.
Sad, I know. That is no way to treat such a sweet and snuggly looking cake.

I have to say, I liked it just fine, but in my life I've come to the conclusion that "liking something just fine" is not really what I'm aiming for.

I told a good friend how the cake turned out and I think I used the word "meh". I liked the idea of putting a chocolatey, nutty layer in the middle of the batter, and I will use that technique again, but the recipe itself was not quite up to snuff.

Then things got crazy (relatively speaking) when I received a phone call that the cake, the other half that I had given away, was getting rave reviews.

What's a girl to make of that? Logically, I get it--it has all the right ingredients, and there's chocolate not only on top of it but, hold onto your hats, even in the middle of it.
And it looks really good right? I mean, I do like the way it looks all bumpy and lumpy and crumbly. It's like a banana bread/ coffee cake hybrid or something and if that doesn't sound like a winning combination then I don't know what does.


I could snuggle up with it..

So I'm just going to have to leave this one with you guys. Sometimes you make something that you think is just ok only to find out that someone else thinks it's fab. And when you're unlucky, which we all know does happen, you make something you think is to die for only to discover you're the only one who thinks so.
And that latter scenario really sucks.
I'm glad it worked out in my favour this time.


**********
The recipe for Banana Chocolate Walnut Cake comes from Gourmet magazine, February 2008, and is posted on Epicurious.

I followed the recipe exactly except that I substituted pecans for walnuts only because that is what I had in my cupboard.

Happiness is shelling peas

Freshly shelled peas

A friend recently asked me if there was any exciting produce at the farmer's market lately.

"Well," I told her, "besides all the baby squash, there is the matter of fresh peas."
"But it's such a pain to shell them." she said flatly.
And then there was an awkward pause.

I mean, I love shelling peas.
Love it.

And if you get yourself in a kind of zen mode you can stand there, staring out the window, shelling till your fingernails turn green, and when you finally snap out of it you've got a bowl full of peas and even perhaps some new realization about your life or the universe or your next door neighbour.

The shelling of peas requires the ability to space out, and that is something that I am entirely good at.

So yes, I went home with fresh peas while my friend did not. The requisite spacing out occurred as I shelled them and then it came time to eat them. I dwaddled around for about an hour doing other things, all the while trying to decide what exactly I wanted to do with them. This can sometimes take a while. I don't like to rushing into these things because I hate to be disappointed. So, I had a chit chat with my mom on the phone, threw some laundry in the dryer, flipped through a magazine until finally I had it.
Seared chicken breast with pesto and fresh peas-- completely inspired by the presence of peas on my counter and fresh basil pesto in my fridge.


Seared chicken breast with pesto and fresh peas


It's nothing fancy, but it sure made me happy. They say that basil is a mood lifter and I swear it's true. One bite of some fresh pesto and I make that Nigella face, the one that in some circles might be considered a bit over the top, maybe even obscene, especially when she adds the finger licking.
But I completely understand where she's coming from, because between the pesto and the peas I was pretty much on cloud nine.



*****************
How I made it

The peas were blanched in boiling water for a minute or two until desired tenderness, then drained and rinsed in cold water. The chicken was seared in a pan (with olive oil) and cut into strips/wedges when done. Combine the peas with the chicken in a bowl and toss with some fresh basil pesto-- as much or as little as your heart desires.
Easy peasy.
Pun intended.

*note, this recipe is especially easy if you happen to have pesto in your fridge. If not, you have no choice but to dig up your favourite recipe and get to it.


Variations:
This dish would also be good with some pasta shells in the mix.
Or try some crumbled feta on top.
It might even be great with a mint pesto, if you happen to like mint enough, which I do.

Pattypan!

Ontario grown pattypan squash and baby zucchini


Tomorrow is July 1st, Canada Day, and for the first time in 4 years I am actually at home, in Canada, for the holiday.

In honour of the occasion, I made a trip to the farmer's market and brought home some locally grown produce. In my 4 years abroad I rarely came across pattypan squash so when I spotted it at the market I have to admit I was pretty excited. For one thing, the word "pattypan" is particularly fun to say, but they're also pretty darn cute to look at.

Now, I'm worried that you're going to read this and think that I make the most boring salads. Well what's a girl to do. I like to keep my relationship with vegetables as uncomplicated as possible.

And yes I did notice that lately all my vegetables seem to be topped with some sort of cheese. I never said I was perfect.

This is the simplest salad to put together: nothing more than sliced baby squash which are blanched for no more than a minute in boiling salted water. They are then drained, dried off on a clean kitchen towel then dressed with olive oil and white wine vinegar and finally topped with goat cheese* and slivers of mint. It's not unlike a salad I talked about 2 years ago so it seems I'm still a fan of the zucchini and mint combo.

It's a perfect summer salad, great with some crusty bread and some homemade white wine sangria in a big jug in the middle of the table. I'll tell you about that soon, but in the meantime, eat your veggies and have a happy Canada day.






* I used goat milk feta
**This salad is completely inspired by a recipe in: "Best of Taste Cookbook by Williams Sonoma"

Beer and Chocolate. You just can't go wrong.

Chocolate Guinness Cake by Tish Boyle

I have had this recipe bookmarked since..
Well since forever.
I finally got to it this past weekend and let me tell you: what with that Guinness in there it was pretty fun to make.
And to serve.
The general discussion around the table went something like this:
"Chocolate and Guinness?"
"As in the beer?"
"In a cake?"

And there was me, proud as a peacock, pretending like I make unique and fabulous cakes all the time.
(In an alternate reality, that one where I have my own private jet, I actually do make fabulous cakes all the time)

The cake was moist and flavourful, with just a hint of cinnamon, and the best part of all was that it wasn't overly sweet. Admittedly, we all decided that it shouldn't be eaten solo--it needs ice cream or even some crème anglaise alongside in order to make it shine. It would be kind of like making a really fabulous yellow cake but eating it just plain. It's still a great cake, but it's even better with some icing, right?
Maybe even a little caramel sauce would have done the trick on this one.

In any case, the cake was a hit and the leftovers were safely left behind at my brother's....
Damn.
Why do I always do that?



Chocolate Guinness Cake. Those nubbins in there are pecans..


Click here for the recipe for Chocolate Guinness Cake

*I used Valrhona cocoa powder in this recipe
*and yes I will make this cake again

Dama Bianca. Indeed.

Fennel and Celery Salad, it's better than you think

Ok, enough with the cookies, right? Although, G and I are booked in for 2 more barbecues this weekend and I have a Chocolate Guinness Cake in mind to bring to one of them. That is if it even makes it out of the house. Does that thing not look dangerously good? It's not at all light and summery but it's supposed to rain all weekend so I think it might do just fine.

In the meantime, this girl has not forgotten her love of all things green. Even those that are so pale they are practically white.
Put your sunglasses on now if you must.
I tell you, they don't call this dish Dama Bianca for nothing.

I know fennel is not the most popular vegetable, and even I have to admit that prior to making this salad my love for fennel was somewhat conditional. I love it roasted, sauteed, and baked, but eating it raw was just not something I did.

But I try to be an open minded gal. And I had the most perfect bulb of fennel just begging to be appreciated in all it's raw glory, so I figured it was time to give it a shot.

I didn't have buffalo mozzarella on hand as the recipe calls for, so I used some ricotta salata, which is almost like feta cheese. With a simple lemon vinaigrette this salad made me quite happy, and definitely made up for all those cookies I've been indulging in lately.

I always determine the success of a recipe by whether or not I think I will make it again to serve to guests and yes, I do believe I know a few people who will enjoy this as much as I did.

I might switch up the cheese in the future, but the base salad worked well for me. It was fresh and light and the fennel, though raw, was made quite mild by the vinaigrette and by being thinly sliced.
Perhaps that was the key I've been missing all along.

And actually, I think you could even toss some white beans into the mix to to make the dish a bit heartier.
Or sliced white new potatoes.
Or even some white rice.
Or make a chicken salad out of it, and throw it in a wrap...

Oh be still my heart.
You gotta love a recipe like that.


**********
Fennel and Celery Salad (Dama Bianca) from Epicurious
note: I only cut up as much fennel and celery as I felt like eating and then reduced the vinaigrette by roughly 1/3rd. It's an easy recipe to adjust to your appetite.


Yes, I did eat the whole thing but I stopped to take a picture
halfway through because the cheese looked better crumbled.
Am I right?

More cookies. Chocolatey ones.

Chocolate Crinkle Cookies

There was no road trip this time to justify the baking of cookies, but there was a barbecue. I expected to wake up the morning of with some energy--a grocery list of stuff and ideas in my head of what I was going to bring.
But alas, that was not the case. Instead I woke up feeling like I just wanted a slow and easy morning and a hot cup of coffee to go with it. A trip to the grocery store was the last thing I was in the mood for.
Thank god for a well stocked pantry.
I showed up at that barbecue with a salad made of fregola sarda (Italian couscous) and some Chocolate Crinkle Cookies.

I don't bake as often as some do, so I'm always a little wary to try out a new recipe when I'm intending to actually feed other people with it. But these did not disappoint in the least.
The batter worried me at first because it felt much drier than what I'm used to. It became something like damp sand and I expect that if you overmix the batter the cookies will come out drier and crumblier. By some stroke of luck I managed to get it right and they turned out moist and almost fudgy. That part surprised me since the recipe calls only for cocoa powder*, no actual chocolate. They were reminiscent of a brownie, without the sometimes aching sweetness that comes with a brownie.

In any case, it's definitely a recipe I'm going to make again.
Barbecue or no barbecue.



Wishing I had taken home some of the leftovers


Chocolate Crinkle Cookies from Williams-Sonoma

*I used Valrhona cocoa powder which is some fine, fine stuff.

In Defense of Recipes

Random Lunch: greens with goats cheese and pinenuts
and chickpeas with basil pesto

I've known two people in my life who have disagreed with my use of recipes. Both of them are relatives, and both are of the male persuasion and, it need not be said, but both deserve a swift kick in the backside.
The suggestion is that somehow I am less of a cook because I follow recipes.
I know, right? It's blasphemy.
In fact, I would happily challenge both of them to a duel in the kitchen starting with a spice rack showdown.
I've got spices that I'm sure they don't have and damn it, I know how to use them.

Nothing makes me happier than finding a recipe that I not only want to make again, but that is easy enough that I can wing it the next time. And soon enough, the technique, method or combination gets stuck in my head and becomes mine to improvise with. It's that point, the point where I don't need to follow the recipe anymore, that gives me freedom in the kitchen. The more I am able to improvise, the less I am confined to a cookbook, and less frequently do I stand in front of the fridge or the pantry not knowing what to make.

Of course, the quest is never ending. There are millions of recipes out there and only so much time to cook them. And sometimes you get yourself all geared up to try a new one only to find that you're out of baking soda or that your sour cream has gone moldy. And when a recipe goes wrong altogether, oy, that can have devastating consequences. Although temper tantrums are rare, I did once throw an innocent spoon at the wall in protest of a most craptacular recipe.

But this is our curse, right? The curse of the person who loves to cook, and who loves to see the reaction on people's faces when they try something we've made.
Gad. How I love to feed people.
What is that all about anyway.

Elsa Schiaparelli apparently once said: "A good cook is like a sorceress who dispenses happiness."
I like that.
Don't you?



*****************

Just a few of the online recipes I've made (and enjoyed) this month:

Chicken Enchiladas with Tomatillo Sauce
Banana Chocolate Chip Muffins
Marinated Zucchini and Green Bean Salad
Japanese-Style Fried Brown Rice
Sushi Bowl
Scallops with Tarragon Cream

A road trip and the easiest cookies ever

Flourless peanut butter cookies

G and I are heading to Montreal this afternoon and there's nothing I like more than a road trip.
It's about a 6 hour drive from Toronto to Montreal---not so long that you dread it, but long enough to justify packing some road trip food.
I've stocked up on water, apples, junk food (I won't pretend otherwise) and some Flourless Peanut Butter cookies. The recipe calls for the addition of chocolate chips, but as you can tell I opted to leave them out.
Just this time though.
Because I love me some peanut butter and chocolate.
And let me tell you that I have never put together a batch of cookies so quickly and with such little mess to clean up afterwards. Five simple ingredients (6 with the chocolate chips) and you're good to go.
So satisfying.
They're peanutty without being overly rich and they're perfectly moist despite the complete lack of butter.
It's like magic.


So, I've got cookies in hand, the GPS is in it's place on the dashboard and the Ipod is fully loaded. I'm ready to hit the road.

See you in a few days.



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Flourless Peanut Butter and Chocolate Chip cookies from Epicurious
If you've got a perfect peanut butter cookie recipe already, that's great. But I am always happy to find recipes that give good results for minimal effort. This is the kind of recipe you keep on hand in case of emergency. Sometimes an impending road trip (or a cookie craving) just doesn't want to wait for the butter to come to room temperature.
If you know what I mean.

Time passes but there are still noodles

I could eat these everyday

I may not be so good with posting lately but people, I am still cooking and I am definitely still eating. So what's the deal? Well sometimes a girl just goes through phases. After 3 years writing this blog I guess you just have to go with the flow a little bit. What surprised me most was how often G kept nudging me with the constant question "Did you post today?". Until he finally just up and said "I miss your blog."
If that doesn't surprise a girl, I don't know what will.

So I figured it was time to get my butt in gear. Thankfully I had this picture I had taken of some peanuty noodles that I seem to make on a regular basis these days. I give all the credit to Heidi--this recipe is so easy to throw together and is now on constant rotation in our household. The beauty of it is that you can adapt it with whatever leftover vegetables you have in the fridge--and you can throw in some tofu or chicken or whatever strikes you. Of course, hers looks much prettier than mine but my tastebuds were quite content. And G lapped up a good 3 bowls full the first time that I made it for him. This is the man who instead of admitting that he is a picky eater declares himself a "supertaster". (insert eye roll here)

So listen. Without much fanfare the 3 year anniversary of my blog went by. Three years! In that time I have posted from apartments in 4 countries. I certainly don't feel like the same person I was when I started this blog and I keep thinking that I need this blog to catch up with me a little bit. It served it's purpose as a bit of a food/travelogue and a way to keep in touch with family and friends back home but now that I am back in Canada it needs to serve a new purpose in my life. Perhaps I've ignored it a bit these last few weeks because I'm still working out it's identity crisis.
But I think I've got it figured out now people.
And it won't be so long until the next post. I promise.

Until then, you've got some noodles to make.



*******************
Heidi's noodle recipe

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

Turning yogurty

Feeling scientific

I began to bore myself with all my talk of wanting to make my own yogurt. This isn't a recent obsession, I've been going on about this for years. You'd think I would have made it by now, patted myself on the back, and moved on.
I kept looking longingly at yogurt makers, which is stupid because they aren't really all that expensive. But I was worried that I would buy it only to have it spend the rest of its miserable life gathering dust and wasting valuable real estate in my cupboards. I even had a friend who encouraged me to do it the old school way, like her mother used to do it. They were encouraging words, and I felt genuine enthusiasm when she explained the process to me.
That was three years ago.
And then suddenly the other day I found myself in my kitchen sterilizing jars in my oven.
I was finally doing it: making my own yogurt.
After years of avoidance, it's a phenomenon I cannot explain.
But after a night of sitting out on my counter doing its thing, (turning yogurty in scientific terms) I dug my spoon in. And since I'm the only yogurt eater in my house, double dipping was definitely allowed.
It was silky and smooth and mild and HOMEMADE.
And that made it taste twice as good.
Now let's hope this sticks and that I don't find myself a year from now wondering why I only ever made homemade yogurt this one time. Because really, it was so damn easy, I don't think I've got any excuses anymore.


Homemade Yogurt
from issue 35 of the Donna Hay magazine
A candy thermometer is required!

Heat 1 litre of whole milk in a saucepan until it reaches 95c or 203F.
Then pour it into a sterilized glass jar and allow it to cool to 42c or 108F.
Stir in 1/4 cup of thick natural yogurt and seal the jar with a tight fitting lid.
Wrap the jar in a towel and leave at room temperature for 8-12 hours or until the yogurt is thickened.
Drain any excess liquid that gathers on the top of the yogurt before refrigerating.
The yogurt can be kept in the fridge for up to 2 weeks. It makes approximately 4 cups.

She suggests that clean jars can be sterilized by putting them in a preheated oven at 160c or 320F for about 10 minutes.

Roasted cauliflower with a kick.

Before and after: Roasted cauliflower with Sel de Guérande and piment d'Espelette


I know, I know. I can hear you thinking that cauliflower isn't all that exciting.
Tsk tsk I say. Cauliflower is plenty exciting.
I mean, I've been known to sit down with a bowl full of it and if that just doesn't spell fun then I don't know what to say.

If you think about it, tearing it apart can be really therapeutic. You can put all your muscle into it, scrunch your face up, clench your jaw and just give it all you've got. And it makes such a satisfying crunching noise, like it knows you mean business.
So much cheaper than therapy.

Does it sound like I have anger issues? Because I swear to you this is completely innocent.
Although I will admit, sometimes a girl just needs to vent, you know?

And not only does it help you get all your demons out, once you've roasted it you'll realize how crazy good it is. I just can't seem to get enough of it and that whole 'me with a bowl full' was no joke. I love it when it gets those darkly browned bits-- little nubbins of concentrated roasted cauliflower flavour. It's such a sweet reward after all that venting.

So listen, if you've never tried roasting cauliflower before then you just better get right to it. Cancel your weekly therapy session and push up your sleeves.
I mean really, whatcha waitin' for?




Piment d'Espelette for a bit of a kick

Roasted Cauliflower with Piment d'Espelette

Since we're talking about being a bit fiesty, the Piment d'Espelette is important. But feel free to substitute that with whatever inspires you. It's also just as excellent with just salt.

Break a head of cauliflower into florets--they will cook more evenly if you keep them of relatively equal size, but I like to have some with well browned bits, so I break them up into various sizes.
Rinse the florets well and dry with a clean towel or the oil will not stick.

Toss the florets with enough olive oil to coat well. For a large head of cauliflower use a few tablespoons.
Sprinkle with a good pinch of sel de guerande or other crunchy sea salt.
And if you have it, add some Piment d'Espelette to give it a bit of a kick.

Place on a baking sheet, roast at 190c (375f) for 25 to 30 minutes or until desired doneness. (Cooking time will also depend on your oven).


************
A little info in English on Piment d'Espelette can be found here

A good egg makes a good aioli.

Aioli made with the best eggs ever..

The night we got back from our trip to Rome we were so tired and our fridge was as empty as it had ever been so we just ordered Indian take out. You know how the Brits like their curries.
But the next night, after a trip to the grocery store to restock, I cooked up a veritable feast. A roasted chicken, some roasted vegetables, some toasted bread crumb salsa from the Zuni cookbook and just for good measure a side of Alice Waters' aioli.

Now let me tell you.
That was some kind of meal.
Maybe it was just the relief of being home, and of having all that wedding madness over with. Maybe.
Or maybe it was just that it tasted so so good.

It was my first time making aioli and I have to admit I did curse a little bit when it did not turn into aioli on my first try. So I grabbed another egg yolk and slowly added my failed batch and lo and behold it started to emulsify. I now know that the key is to add the oil much slower than you may be tempted to. I'm sure that Confuscious once said: "She who rushes the aioli will be disappointed."
Or something like that.

And I swear this aioli was made better by the eggs that I have been completely devoted to for many months now-- they're eggs from rare breed hens which graze outdoors and lay only about 2 or 3 eggs a week. They're produced by Clarence Court and are available at Waitrose. And if you've got nothing better to do on a saturday night you can even watch the hens in action.

I love these eggs-- the yolks are so perky and vibrant--orange almost, and I just think it's so darn cute that they only lay a few eggs a week. Perhaps they're trying to tell us that a good egg can't be rushed.
And I can't say I disagree.



Alice Waters' Aioli recipe
A straightforward recipe, and if it doesn't work the first time there is a fix. Thank god for that.

Clarence Court
the best eggs ever.

The colours of Fall..

Man, I love the internet.... Doesn't it just look so darn yummy?


*Click each picture for it's corresponding link, mouse over for it's description.

Braised baby bok choy

I gotta tell you that I think baby bok choy is one of the snazziest looking vegetables around. I mean look at it, how perfect is that colour and that shape? But no matter how much I try to convince G of its visual appeal, he is still not a big fan of its slightly bitter taste. (I'm sure he's not the only one).

So, I do what any baby bok choy lovin' gal would do: buy it and eat the whole damn thing herself. (And it's kind of fun to say "baby bok choy", don't you think? It has the same appeal on the lips as that "baby back, baby back, baby back ribs" thing.)

Believe it or not I recently came home with some UK grown baby bok choy.
UK grown!
I kid you not.
And I usually do the same old thing with it--steam it and top it with a dressing made of soy sauce, sesame oil, a bit of sugar, some water and dried chilies.
But this time I threw caution to the wind and braised it, with a little help from Epicurious.
I mean it's bok choy people, it doesn't need to be complicated, right?

Braised baby bok choy with a shot of sesame oil



The recipe at Epicurious for Braised Baby Bok Choy calls for the bok choy to be braised in a cup of chicken stock and 3 tablespoons of butter for about 5 minutes until tender. (With the lid on the pan! And note that I cut the bok choy in half down its length.) Then you remove the bok choy, reduce the stock to about 1/4 cup, then add 1/2 teaspoon of sesame oil and pour this over the bok choy.

Since G was having none of this, I couldn't justify 3 tablespoons of butter. So, I used only a tablespoon but I still got a good wollop of yummy butteryness- the liquid gets all tucked into the leaves as they wilt. I can only imagine how sinfully good it must taste with 3 tablespoons.
And in the end, just before eating it, I could not resist adding a sprinkle of sesame seeds, because a girl needs her omega 6.
Some of the reviews suggest adding a shot of soy sauce as well which is a suggestion that I wholeheartedly support.

Me and my cravings.

Seared tuna with spring onion and carrot salad

I am very susceptible to bursts of enthusiasm when it comes to food. Perhaps they are better referred to as phases, or even cravings. Some of it is the fault of the seasons: when asparagus season arrived this year I ate it twice a day. G thought I had lost my mind but by the time the season had ended I still hadn't tired of it.

Then there was this cumin and carrot salad that I really should tell you about--it's light and healthy and tastier than you would imagine an average carrot salad could be--and a few months ago, I made it almost daily. Eventually, I moved on, and while that carrot salad is still a definite favourite, it is no longer an obsession.

Sometimes it's a particular spice that grabs my attention for awhile, or a particular method of cooking. And yes, since we're talking about cravings, I will admit that sometimes a girl just wants to ditch it all and sit down with a big old bag of doritos.
But lately I've been experiencing a repeated craving which is a first for me.

Spring onions.

Usually I only buy spring onions when they are called for in a dish, otherwise I have no use for them. They are not one of those staples that I always have on hand like carrots or red onions or garlic. But these days I find myself making things just so that I can use spring onions.
I wish I could explain this one, but I'm stumped.

Nonetheless, I most recently satisfied my craving with an asian style dish of seared tuna with a spring onion and carrot salad. And because I had some time on my hands I tried to make the dish look all fancy pants. A girl needs a bit of glamour in her life sometimes, you know?

I'm no Top Chef, but it sure is fun to try every now and then. It's not until you have a look at your pictures later that you realize that perhaps you were a bit sloppy and maybe next time you need to apply yourself a bit more. But I swear it looked pretty darn perfect in real life. And my little spring onion and carrot salad, as simple as it was, made the dish.



Seared tuna with sugar snap peas and a spring onion and carrot salad
Serves 2

The spring onion and carrot salad
1 to 2 carrots
the green parts of 2 spring onions
a pinch or two of sesame seeds (white or black or both)
Dressing:
1 tsp toasted sesame oil
1 tsp soy sauce
1/4 tsp rice wine vinegar

I was in a patient mood when I made this and actually cut fine ribbons of both the spring onion and carrots by hand. If you have a tool that will make this step easier then I am extremely jealous of you.

Blanch the carrots in simmering water until they were pliable like noodles. I did this so that I could twist them easily with the green onions. The length of time you blanch the carrots will depend on how thinly you managed to slice them.
Drain the carrots and dry them off on a clean kitchen towel.
Mix the dressing ingredients together.
Toss the spring onions and carrots with the dressing, and let sit for at least 20 minutes before serving so the green onions will soften.

You can easily make more of this, just double the dressing if you need to. And if you prefer more carrot and less green onion, or vice versa, that works too.


The sugar snap peas
A handful per person.
Steam until crisp tender. Dry with a clean kitchen towel. Toss with a bit of toasted sesame oil. They don't need much, maybe 1/2 a teaspoon for 2 handfuls of snap peas.

Seared Tuna
2 tuna steaks
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp rice vinegar
salt and pepper
2 tsp peanut oil

Combine the soy sauce and rice vinegar and add to the tuna in a ziploc bag or a tupperware container. Make sure the tuna is coated in the marinade. Marinade for at least 30 minutes.
Remove from marinade and sprinkle both sides with a bit of salt and pepper.
Sear the tuna in peanut oil in a non-stick pan until desired doneness, about 4 minutes per side. If you have a good piece of tuna it would be a shame to overcook it. (I'm guilty of that)

Assembling the dish
Basically just do as pictured, with maybe I bit more tidiness to your flair than I managed. Lay the snap peas on the bottom, top with the tuna, and finally the carrot salad. Sprinkle sesame seeds over the top and serve. Set out some extra soy sauce at the table if desired.

Notes:
Snow peas would be an easy substitution for the sugar snap peas. You could also just put the tuna on top of some white rice if you wanted and in that case I would definitely serve it with some extra soy sauce alongside the dish.

September evenings with roasted chicken

Sunday night was one of those cool and quiet sort of nights, where it's warm enough to justify a cold bottle of white wine, but it's cool enough to warrant drinking it with a sweater on.

We sat outside noticing how the light is already beginning to change, it's less vibrant but somehow cozier. I still can't believe it's already September, we've been here 9 months and I feel like I just got here, like I'm still settling in. But such has been my life for the last 4 years, always feeling unsettled, with a suitcase at the ready in case we move again.

I don't have to tell you that I'm grateful for all these experiences. Four countries in four years is something I never imagined for my life.

But sometimes, on a quiet September evening, a girl just wants to sit back and feel like she's firmly planted, to wiggle her toes in the grass and know that at this time next year, she'll be staring at the same grass.

I know that it's not likely going to end up that way. The neighbours upstairs fight all the time and the traffic outside our window is noisy and rushed. Between the two of them, sometimes there's just no room left for my own thoughts.

And I'm a girl who likes her peace and quiet.
Sometimes I like to turn the stereo up, loud, but sometimes I just prefer to turn the damn thing off.
If only my neighbours had an off switch.

So yeah. It's September. Cold wine, a warm sweater, a handsome fella, and Zuni's roasted chicken with bread salad. It doesn't get much better.



I have never had this dish in the restaurant but I have made it many many times at home. Unfortunately I wasn't paying all that much attention to getting a good picture (can you blame me?) so these will just have to do.
Luckily for me, the whole recipe and instructions are already posted online at MSNBC right here.
G and I both love this dish---it looks and tastes divine.



Rushing to take a picture so we could get to the business of eating.

I bet this tastes better when Zuni does it..

Farro and Tomato Salad with Basil and Anchovies

I recently crossed another food "first" off of my list.
It goes by the name of Farro.
Ok, so you probably eat it all the time and you are shocked that I have never had it OR made it myself.
But for those of you aren't so well acquainted with farro, let me get technical for a second.
Farro, is an ancient variety of wheat, and it is very commonly eaten in Italy.
To put it even more simply: farro is like a bowl full of little wheat nubbins.
And I do love a big bowl full of nubbins.

The only farro recipe I could find in my cookbooks came from Zuni. My instincts nudged me at first. No, they actually screamed at me and told me to NOT follow this recipe. And before I proceed, let me just state this is not an attack on Zuni, this is just me knowing my tastebuds and that's that.
I loves me some Judy Rodgers so don't even go there.

First of all the combination of tomato and cucumber bores me (don't come near my tabbouleh with that cucumber!) Add basil to the mix and I am pretty much down for the count and snoring loudly.

Ok, maybe you love the combination, but this is not always about you, ok?

But I figured it was Zuni, I had to give it a shot. Yes, I have faith in the almighty Zuni.
And who knew, maybe with the anchovies this would be some miraculous combination that would change my life forever.

I cooked the farro for about 10 minutes, and let it cool. I then added some chopped tomato, cucumber and a couple of salt-packed anchovies. I tossed it with a mix of olive oil and sherry vinegar. Finally, I added some fresh basil and some salt and pepper and dug in.

Alas, it did not change my life forever.

But I tried, and that's what counts.

The good news is, I sure do like farro. Hearty and chewy and, well, hearty some more.

And have no fear, I did eat that bowl of misguidedness. I mean it was fine, but I did feel some regret about the fabulous farro salad I could have had if I had followed my instincts in the first place.

And the truth is, that I bet this farro salad tastes fabulous when Judy Rodgers has a hand in making it. I bet she has some magical pixie dust that she sprinkles over it at the end that would just make me want to eat it all the time. But alas, said pixie dust cannot be found in my cupboards, and last I checked, there was no Judy Rodgers in there either.

But at least there is Farro in my life now. I can definitely see some wheaty nubbin happiness in my future.

Chicken pot pie in summer? Oh no you didn't.. Oh yes I did.

How old school was I last night, whipping up a chicken pot pie. I don't even eat chicken pot pie let alone bake them from scratch. I couldn't even tell you what prompted me to make one. Considering my lack of experience, I took the easiest route possible and followed a recipe called Easy Chicken Pot Pie.

How lazy am I? Did I just lose my foodie club membership? Is there even a club because I think someone forgot to invite me.

And I know what else you're thinking. Chicken pot pie doesn't seem like a summer dish. I mean if it isn't green and leafy and easy on the muffin top it just doesn't work, right?

But people, it seems that it is monsoon season here in England. I did not realize that my umbrella and I would become so close. I swear, it rains when I wake up, it rains when I'm eating my lunch and oh surprise, it is raining by the time I go to bed.
Help.
Send sun.
Or a new umbrella at the very least.
I mean, you know it's rainy when those umbrellas that attach to your head start seeming like a good idea.

You know what it feels like these days?
October.
No kidding.
I rode my bike the other morning with a pair of gloves on.
So perhaps now you understand how chicken pot pie fits right in to my current reality.

And I know you're looking at that picture and thinking I've got a whole chicken under there. But I promise you that is only a wee tiny ramekin peaking out from under that golden top. Perhaps I was a bit heavy handed with the puff pastry.
But G says there is no such thing as too much puff pastry.
He is quite the philosopher.

The recipe was simple and it hit the spot. I figure that for a first timer, it was a good start. One day I will make it again with a more contemporary variation, unless it's raining (which is highly likely) and I need some comfort food, then I might just stick to it old school.



*************
Easy Chicken Pot Pie at Epicurious

Because I can never follow a recipe exactly:
I substituted celery for carrots
I used onion instead of shallot
I added dried thyme because I wanted to see some herbs in the mix. (the recipe has you remove the bouquet garni)

A little braised chicken, alot of self-satisfaction..

Braised chicken in aromatic tomato sauce

I'm a bit obsessive about a certain New Year's resolution that I made to myself.
But before I get into that there's something you must know about me first.

For the last few years I have diligently recorded every single recipe that I have made on a spreadsheet, with detailed notes about any changes I made and whether or not I liked it.

I swear though, if I didn't write it down, I would forget by the next week that I had even made it. I am very forgetful.

But now, with my trusty spreadsheet at hand, just ask me what I made for Christmas dinner in 2004 and I will whip out my computer and with a few clicks you will have your answer. And I'll be smiling and feeling all high and mighty and pleased with myself and stuff.

I know this rates really high on the dorkiness meter, but I feel ok about it. I am fully at peace with the dorkiness that pervades my life.

So let's get back to this New Year's resolution.
On January 1st, 2007, I, like many other food loving people, resolved to cook more new recipes.
Big deal, right?

Well I'm only telling you this now because I kind of wanted to brag a little.

It turns out that since January I have averaged 4 new recipes a week.
That's 16 recipes a month.
That's..pauses to mentally calculate that..192 recipes a year! (ok, I used a calculator)
Give this dork a gold star already.
No, not for the math, for the cooking.
Geez.

********************
So, according to my spreadsheet, (mouse clicks heard in background) recipe #12 for the month of April 2007 is:

Braised Chicken in Aromatic Tomato Sauce (click for the recipe)
from Bon Appetit at Epicurious.com

I really enjoyed this and will make it again. The aromatics in the sauce are a combination of allspice, cinnamon, paprika, cloves and nutmeg. I am a big fan of allspice as it is, so that is what drew me to this recipe. The leftovers the following day were even better.

I know, it's easier if someone just sticks to a recipe and tells you if it was good or not. But that would just be too easy. I basically used the recipe for inspiration and just did what felt right.
Luckily, it all worked out for me.

My changes:
1 tsp of ground allspice, instead of whole allspice.
1 tsp of ground cinnamon, instead of a cinnamon stick.
Sweet pimenton (spanish paprika) because I think it has a richer, smokier flavour than "regular" paprika.
I added a good splash of sherry to the sauteed onions before adding the spices.
I used one 400g can of chopped tomatoes which I pureed first for a smooth sauce.
I filled that tomato can twice with water and added it to the pot.
I added 2 fresh bay leaves to the pot.
I served the dish with couscous instead of pasta.

Note: the recipe makes a good amount of sauce for pouring over pasta, rice, couscous, or whatever you want to serve it with.

Purple sprouting broccoli. My new favourite thing.

Purple sprouting broccoli with a chili and sesame dressing

I like regular broccoli but the fact is it kind of bores me.
Then I moved to Britain. I stuck around through winter and it's already well into spring, and a strange looking broccoli is now appearing in the markets.

I ignored it at first, people. No kidding, I completely ignored it.

Then one slow evening while G and I contemplated the mystery of the cobweb that is forever dangling from our ceiling, I decided to see what google had to say about purple sprouting broccoli.
And boy, it had plenty to say.

Suddenly I felt a bit panicked-- here was a vegetable that the Brits have a serious fondness for and tragedy of tragedies, it has a very short growing season. Had I missed my chance?
Thankfully no.
And now, it's my new favourite thing.
But I do tend to obsess sometimes. There was that eggplant binge I went on in 2005.
Perhaps there's some pattern of obsessiveness related to purple foods? And what about that Purple Rain poster I used to have in my bedroom?

....

Purple sprouting broccoli doesn't taste all that much different than regular broccoli--it's mostly a texture thing. The stalks are slimmer and thus more tender and when you steam it the colours just pop. And you know I have a thing for popping colours.



I've eaten it many different ways lately, but I got a little bit of help on the last one.
I steamed the broccoli and tossed it with a dressing of sesame oil, lime juice, fish sauce, soy sauce and dried chilies, and topped it off with a sprinkle of toasted sesame seeds.
It came together in a snap and as simple as it was, it was extremely good.

Click here for Delia's full instructions.
Notes:
-where her recipe listed dessertspoon, I took that to mean tablespoon. Whether that is correct or not, I don't know, but it tasted great.
-I used dried chili flakes instead of a fresh chili because that's what I had on hand.

Life is just a bowl of salad.

Pasta salad with Feta, Yellow Pepper and Snow Peas

The other day G innocently asked me what I would be posting about next.
Here's what he heard:
"Blah blah blah blah salad."
"You always talk about salads." he said.
What I heard, between the lines, was: "Yawn."
Problem is, everything I eat on a regular basis these days falls under the category of a salad.
Whether it has a base of leafy greens, bulghur, couscous, lentils or pasta, in my mind, if its loaded with vegetables, and it's not saucy, it constitutes a salad.

Men.
So difficult.

I mean, sometimes life just IS a bowl of salad.
It's not always about complicated and unusual recipes. Is it?
So here I am, talking about salad because that's what makes me happy.


The story starts something like this: I spotted Martha's recipe for Pasta Salad with Feta and Snow Peas and I could tell it had everything a girl like me could want.
It had pasta for one thing, the all-important feta cheese, and a miscellaneous array of vegetables in attractive and complimentary colours. And, to top it all off, a generous dose of fresh coriander. How could it get any better?

I enjoyed it. I did. There was nary a noodle or vegetable left in that bowl once I had finished with it.
But something about that raw yellow pepper didn't sit right with me. It was like putting an outfit together that is just close to perfect--you are seriously looking your sassiest self-- and then you go and throw on your mother's pearls and suddenly your fab is nothing but drab.

I wanted to love that pasta salad. I really did.

So I tried again.
This time, I swapped the yellow pepper for some sautéed zucchini, tweaked the vinaigrette a bit, and bingo, we had lift off.
I admit, it looks prettier with the yellow pepper, but sometimes a great personality is more important than being pretty. Right?


Pasta salad with Snow Peas, Zucchini and Feta

Pasta Salad with Snow Peas, Zucchini and Feta inspired by Martha

This serves one very hungry person as a main dish. I added alot of vegetables so the salad could actually serve 2 as a side dish, despite the small amount of pasta in there. It's up to you.

60g orriechette pasta (which is about 1/2 cup of dried pasta)
1 zucchini, chopped (feel free to only use half if you want).
a small handful of snow peas, sliced on the diagonal into 1 cm strips
1 or 2 teaspoons of thinly sliced scallion a.k.a green onion (I used the green part)
a tablespoon or two of chopped fresh coriander (or to taste)
A tablespoon or two of crumbled feta cheese (or more to taste)

Vinaigrette
1 tsp olive oil
1 tsp white wine vinegar
1/2 tsp balsamic vinegar
1/2 of a small clove of garlic, finely chopped (this part is optional, Martha's recipe does not contain garlic, but it adds a slight kick)
salt and pepper to taste

Cook the pasta. Add the snow peas to the pasta water at the last minute or two just to blanch them but keep them slightly crunchy. Drain and rinse pasta and snow peas in cold water. (You can blanch the snow peas in a separate pot of water if you prefer)
Saute the zucchini in one teaspoon of olive oil over a medium high heat until browned.
Add to the pasta with the snow peas.
Mix the vinaigrette ingredients together and add to the pasta.
Finally add the scallion, coriander and feta to the pasta and mix altogether.
Add salt and pepper to taste.

Make ahead and serve cold or eat it right away while it's still slightly warm, whichever you prefer.
If you make it ahead, put the coriander in just before serving.

Zuni's Orange-Currant Scones

Zuni Orange-Currant Scones. Not shy on the butter.

When I returned from my recent trip to Canada I expected that I would bring some things back with me. But in the end, the treasures that ended up in my suitcase weren't entirely what I had anticipated. I thought I would have a suitcase full of Triscuits and Smartfood, two things that I covet and miss on a regular basis.
But these suddenly were bumped in priority and were replaced with a strong desire for a big tub of all natural smooth peanut butter, and Bandaid brand bandaids.

Because, first of all, it's not easy to find all-natural peanut butter here, and when you do it's rather pricey. And secondly, will someone please tell me why French bandaids don't stick? Is my North American skin of such a different constitution that the chemical properties of the French bandaid glue don't adhere to me?

Then came the cookbooks. Our bags were already heavy so I knew I had to be selective. Without question, Zuni made the cut. I dug that poor old book out of a dusty box and now it sits, happily, in the full sunshine of my little French kitchen.

So last weekend, as I was pondering Zisou and the speed at which his head travels, I decided I would start the day with Zuni's Orange-Currant Scones.
The fact that the recipe instructions had a very low word count intrigued me right from the start.

To make a short story even shorter, I give you this raving review:
1. easy to make.
2. oh so very good.

With a scant 1/2 cup of sugar, they have the perfect hint of sweetness. The inside is moist (hello, half a pound of butter) and the top has a perfect crumbly texture.
You could change the Orange-Currant combo to anything really. And because they are low on the sweet factor, you could easily make them savoury, by leaving out the sugar and using say, Lemon Zest and Rosemary for example. Or put some cheese on the top before you bake them.
Oy.

And here's where I'm beginning to think that perhaps the last 11 months I've been in France is starting to influence me.
The recipe says you should get 12 scones out of the batter. I tried it with the first half of the batter, and the scones were oversized. No, oversized is what Michele after 6 months in Paris would call them. At 11 months in Paris, I may even go so far as to use the word grotesquely oversized. So I Frenchified them, and made them much, much smaller. Smaller=cuter=more scones.

Without further ado, I present to you:

Orange-Currant Scones from the Zuni Café Cookbook

3 cups all purpose flour (13.5 oz)
Scant 1/2 cup sugar
4 tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp salt
1/2 pound cold butter (approx 226g or 2 sticks for North Americans)
1/2 cup dried currants
1 tb orange zest
1 large egg
1/2 cup whole milk (I used 1% and still loved them)

Oven: 350F.
Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Two if you have room in your oven for two.
Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl and mix well.
Cut in butter until it is the size of small peas then add the currants and orange zest.

Whisk the egg and milk together. Add to the dry ingredients and mix and fold until the dough masses and the flour is absorbed.

Divide the dough in two and shape each into a ball. Pat each one into a 6 to 7 inch circle on a lightly floured surface. Roll to approximately 1 inch thick and cut into whatever size you want. The cookbook suggests 6 per circle, (cut like you would a round pizza). This method will produce very large scones. I cut mine into little squares and I probably got 3 times as many scones as the recipe indicates.

Bake until firm to the touch and slightly golden, about 25 to 30 minutes.

Fava, Green Bean and New Potato Salad

Fresh Fava Beans


All salads are not created equally.
It's simple logic, really.
Some you like.
And some you don't.

I've been eating a lot of salads lately with 3 particular ingredients that seem to keep making repeat appearances.

1. Fresh fava beans
I derive no end of pleasure from perfecting my pod extraction techniques. I am not shy to say that if there were championships in this, I might just bring home a trophy.
2. Green beans
This is due to the fact that I wasn't paying attention at the market when I asked for enough for two people and I was given what seemed like a truckload of beans. Who knew two people could eat a whole kilo of green beans?
3. New potatoes
Because they're new potatoes. Duh.

It all started on a strange sort of day. I had a brainstorm and decided to put all three together.
I know. I'm just that crazy.

As I served up the salad, I felt somewhat satisfied with myself. Only 0.98 kilos of green beans to go.. umm...

But I wasn't terribly daunted, because, well, that bottle of wine was already half empty.. The mass quantities of green beans that sat in my kitchen seemed more like the promise of good times than something to fret over.
What, you've never heard of a green bean party?

I'm happy to say, that sometimes, occassionally, yes--even once in a while, I throw something together and I like it. And no, it wasn't the wine talking..




Fava Bean, Green Bean and New Potato Salad
Make a vinaigrette with lemon juice and a light olive oil, a splash of white wine vinegar, and some sea salt to taste. Add a dash of Dijon mustard if you want a bit of zing.
Boil some new potatoes until tender, but not mushy. Drain and let cool. Cut in half if they are too big.
Blanch some green beans until tender. Drop into cold water to preserve the colour.
Remove the favas from their outer pods and the skin that covers each bean. (see below)
Toss all the vegetables together with the dressing and some chopped fresh dill.
Add some more sea salt to taste if necessary.
----------
I've recently been re-reading my Zuni Café cookbook in which Judy Rodgers suggests the following:
Use salted water when cooking potatoes to season them as they cook.
Remove the skins that surround fresh fava beans by hand, without blanching them. She suggests that blanching them, although it makes the skins come off easier, changes their texture.
It's up to you. Next time, I will try it Judy's way.

-----------
Related
The Zuni Café Cookbook

Ceasar Salad: The Keller way

Ceasar Salad, Keller style.


The French Laundry and I don't have much of a history together. I have never been to the restaurant and I bought the cookbook mainly because the cover looked pretty.
But my secret shame is that I have only made 2 of its recipes in all the time that it has graced my bookshelf. And those 2 both involved cheese and were about the easiest recipes that could be found within its pages.

But last week a friend of mine was coming over for dinner and suddenly I was feeling ambitious.

And so we come to "How to Impress 101":
Make a recipe in which layers are stacked.
It seems very difficult and somewhat frou-frou.
And you get extra points if it comes from the French Laundry.

I told my dinner guest of my plans. I didn't admit it at the time, but I was biting my knuckles a bit. This was Keller after all.

And yet, I reasoned it as much as I could.
"Most of the steps can be done in advance."
"I won't have much to do when my guest arrives."
"It's probably not as hard as it seems."

But little did I realize that it would take several hours of my time in advance, which I had left to that same day.

By the time my guest was due to arrive, all I wanted to do was crawl in bed, take a nap and order in a bucket of KFC. Except of course, this is France, and I would by shunned by my neighbours if I drowned out the smell of their madeleines with the smell of KFC.

Keller, you tuckered me out. But you sure make some great salad.


The Salad
I won't give you the exact recipe because it would take 3 pages just to write it out for you. You'll just have to buy the book or find a friend who will let you borrow it from them. But you can use the idea.

The Dressing
Keller's dressing is fantastic. The recipe makes way more than you will ever be able to eat in the 3 days that it will last in the fridge. Unless you have a really big Ceasar Salad party to use up the leftover dressing. The key to the flavour of this dressing is the addition of balsamic vinegar.

The Parmesan Custards
The parmesan custards are actually not that hard to make once you figure out that the recommended 250F to bake the custards is probably a typo and that's why after an hour the damn things still haven't set yet. I recommend 350F--then 30 minutes is exactly right. The custards are just a combination of milk, cream and parmesan.

The Parmesan Crisps
Make some parmesan crisps the same size as your ramekins by spreading some grated parmesan in a circle on a silpat sheet or parchment paper and baking at 350F for about 8 minutes until they turn a little golden. They will crisp once cooled. These can be done in advance and kept in an airtight container for a few days.

Putting it all together
First put some of the dressing on the plate.
Then a panfried crouton (a slice of baguette and some olive oil) goes on top of that.
Then the custard.
Then the parmesan crisp.
Then the salad which is lightly coated with some of the dressing.
And then a few shavings of parmesan to top it off.



The French Laundry Cookbook

Master of my artichoke

There are moments when you cook when your mind is focused on nothing but the task in front of you. An hour or two goes by and you finally lift your head up with the urge to say:
"Where am I? Hello? Is anybody here?"
Your brain just gets sucked into some vaccuum of concentration that starts from the moment you start prepping the food to the point where you finally sit back from the table and say:
"Damn. That was good."

You see, I'd never cooked an artichoke before. My recent decision to lose my artichoke virginity was partly inspired by Sam's attempt to dispel the myth of preparing artichokes for those of us who, namely me, have lived a life of artichoke avoidance.

So I took the first step and bought one. Then I found a simple recipe which would give me a cooked artichoke to pull the leaves from and dip. And you know I'm a fan of the dipping.
So I made the recipe without any major incidents. Then I sat down at the table and began to suck the tender yummy bit from one of the leaves.
"What about the rest of the leaf?" I said aloud to G, who was really not interested in the play by play of my artichoke. "They're still kind of tough."
"Just eat the tender bit." he said from the study without looking up from his computer.
"That's alot of work for just a nubbin's worth of goodness." I declared, while madly pulling, dipping and eating the leaves.


Artichoke leaves, with the good stuff sucked out.

Halfway through my feeding frenzy I felt inspired to take a picture. I ran to the kitchen, snapped a couple of my half eaten artichoke and ran back to the table, sat down and started eating again.
G paid me no mind.
I got up from the table and true to my dorky self, I said: "That was fun. I'm going to do that again really soon."
My glee was met with silence.
So I grabbed my phone and dialed my friend Alisa's number. Because I was pretty sure she would want to hear about my fun with the artichoke.
But she wasn't home.
And then like I'd just been pinched, there came that moment, as I tipped the leaves into the garbage I thought: "What the hell just happened?"
I conquered the artichoke. That's what.

Artichokes with Basil Mayonnaise from Epicurious.

Recipe Notes
Try substituting the mayonnaise for greek yogurt as I did. It's lighter and lower in fat if that is of any concern to you. You may not need as much lemon juice though since the yogurt is tangy.
The combination of basil and garlic went superbly with the artichoke.
I think one large artichoke per person is not unreasonable since the yummy bit on each leaf is tiny.
I will definitely make this again.
Even though I thought it was a lot of work at first, now that I've done it I realize it wasn't all that hard, and it was definitely worth it.

On being a dork. And eating a good salad.

Grilled Zucchini Salad with Feta and Mint

Do you ever reflect on your younger years and laugh at yourself for how much of a dork you were? Because I do. Often.
And I'm not even talking about my treasured FAME sweatsuit, or about my excessive baton twirling, or my Holly Hobbie lunchpail. Primary school was low on the dorkiness scale in comparison to high school. Because then, in my teenage years, my true status as a full-fledged dork was formed.

You see, I was the girl who convinced my friends to stand with me on the sidewalk in front of my house and point at the sky so that we could see how many passersby would look up. I was also the girl who got giddy over a contraption you could attach to your shoe to purposely make it squeak. But just the sound of it would make me laugh so hard that everybody knew it was me.
And I was the girl (along with an accomplice) who went into our high school late one evening and put nametags on consecutive lockers with such names as Curly, Moe, and of course Larry.
Ah, the good times.

And then there was food. I thought I was posh for bringing a pumpernickel bagel with ham and cheese to school for my lunch, until I realized that everyone thought I had put ham and cheese on a chocolate donut and suddenly my posh lunch was the source of much teasing.

There was a time when the concept of a salad without lettuce was an inconceivable and frankly ridiculous notion to me. I was such a princess that my first experience with a lettuce-free greek salad elicited the following response:
"That's not a salad, that's just a pile of vegetables."
And perhaps a wee "Pshaw." escaped my lips.
There is no doubt that I was a bit of a pain in the ass.
I won't even tell you the scorn I felt when I was first introduced to Pico de Gallo and it looked nothing like the salsa I was used to from a jar. "Puh-leaze." I think I said.

But, a girl gains a few years, lives a little, tastes a few more things, and with time vegetables aren't the thing your parents force you to eat but a new thing to discover and enjoy on your own terms. And here I am, still a bit of a dork, but alot more wise. And I sure do like my salads. With or without lettuce.




Grilled Zucchini salad with feta and mint

This really isn't a recipe, and I'm sure the combination won't appeal to everyone, but it works for me.
To serve myself I took one good-sized zucchini and sliced it down the middle to form 2 long halves. From each half I trimmed a little bit off the back so that it would lay flat on both sides. I brushed each slice on both sides with olive oil and grilled over high heat, just a few minutes per side so it was to the consistency that I liked it. Soft but not mushy, still holding a slight bite to it.

Then chop the grilled zucchini into bite sized pieces or chunks, however you like it. Toss with some olive oil, lemon juice and a bit of fresh garlic while still hot. Let it cool a bit so your feta doesn't melt all over it.
Top with chopped mint, feta, cracked black pepper and a pinch of sea salt. Add another squeeze of lemon juice if necessary.
Eat.



Tags:
Zucchini Salad
Zucchini Recipes

Been thinking about my doorbell..

Lemon Poppy Seed Cookies

Saturday started out in such a wholesome way. The sun was shining-- I took a leisurely trip to the store to get some sugar, and had a nice, slow morning of baking.
But Saturday ended with some high impact margaritas, three bottles of wine, some cognac, and a cat running around in circles doing its best to catch its own tail.
But thankfully, I had the cookies to prove that I had been somewhat productive that day. An evening of debauchery is allowed when you've spent the earlier hours baking sweet cookies for your friends, isn't it?
The problem is that Sunday morning I awoke with little room for any thoughts in my head. Every bit of my brainpower was consumed with the same 2 lines of a song that went over and over in my mind. It's a song that I normally like, but which this morning felt rather like a jackhammer working its way at my temples.

"I been thinkin' about my doorbell-- when you gonna ring it, when you gonna ring it?"

There are times when I think about my doorbell too, but this morning I definitely didn't want to be thinking about thinking about my doorbell.

So there I sat, curled up on the couch with that song in my head, staring blankly at random things in my living room, while G was finally pulling himself up to a sitting position in bed.
And, as often happens when a couple finds themselves in different rooms, curiosity inevitably overtakes one of you and leaves you wondering what the other person is doing in the other room that may be more exciting than what you are currently doing. So the following conversation occurred from across the hallway:

G: Whatcha doin?
M: Starin' at stuff. Whatchu doin'?
G: Sittin' up.

And so Sunday morning began.
I'm still not sure who was having more fun.



Cookie Talk
I ripped this recipe out of a Martha Stewart Living Magazine ages ago and have carried it around with me ever since. I have made these cookies a couple of times now and I like the subtle combination of lemon and poppy seeds, neither overwhelms the other. They're good tea time cookies if you're into that sort of thing.
They seemed to go over well last night too, with good reviews all around. And that was so not tea time.

Lemon Poppy Seed Cookies
(adapted from a recipe found in Martha Stewart Living Magazine)

1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (2 to 3 lemons)
3.5 teaspoons lemon zest
8 ounces unsalted butter
2 cups all-purpose flour (for French bakers, I used type 55 flour)
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1.5 cups sugar
1 large egg
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 tablespoon poppy seeds, plus more for sprinkling

Preheat oven to 375F or 190C.
Bring lemon juice to a simmer in a saucepan until it is reduced by about half. Add half the butter until melted. Remove from heat.

Sift flour, baking powder and salt together in a bowl.

Cream remaining butter and 1 cup of sugar together.
Add egg and lemon/butter mixture. Mix with an electric beater until pale, only a couple of minutes.
Add vanilla and 2 teaspoons of the zest.
Add flour and poppy seeds. ***see important note below regarding the flour!

Stir together remaining 1/2 cup of sugar and lemon zest in a separate bowl.
Roll your cookie dough into small balls and toss or roll them gently in the lemon sugar.
Place on a non-stick baking sheet (or use parchment paper) a couple of inches apart and press down with the flat end of a glass dipped in the sugar mixture so it doesn't stick. (I didn't press down as much as I could have, it's entirely up to you how flat you want them)
Add a pinch of poppy seeds to the top of each. ( I press these down a bit too so they don't just roll off)
Martha recommends they are baked between 10 and 11 minutes, until browned around the edges. I like to undercook them a little so they are super soft and chewy, so I only baked mine for about 9 minutes.
Can be stored in an airtight container for up to a week.


Important note:
*I have only made this recipe with German and French flour. Each time I have had to add about 5 heaping tablespoons of extra flour because the dough was too sticky. But with that correction the cookies turn out wonderfully. Well I like them anyway..

Skinny Dipping

While we're on the topic of dips, let me just say that I am no lightweight dipper.
Truth be told, I am a downright scooper.
This is an inherited trait; I blame it on my genes.
Put my dad and I in a room with even a small bowl of tortilla chips, and the salsa jar had better be a large one.

And let it be said, it is not just my genes that have contributed to my scoopiness.
I come from Canada, a country that has proudly embraced the idea of serving dips with our pizza. And before your eyebrows disappear into your hairline, let me say that it is really, really good. Those little plastic containers of creamy mysteriousness have changed the way many of us eat pizza. The hardest part is deciding whether you want the Creamy Garlic flavour or Cheddar Jalapeno. And hold onto your hats, because the truth is, that if you're willing to shell out a few extra coins, you can actually get both.
Oh the joy.

But then again, there is the waistline to think about.

So when I found this recipe that would allow for guilt free scooping, I did a little dance and got down that very same night.

This is the easiest dip to make. It is simple, light and fresh in flavour. It is great as a dip on its own with veggies or pita bread, or as part of a greek-style meal with chicken, lamb or beef brochettes, and rice. Just make sure you like the yogurt you're using, since it acts as the base of the dip. (ok, that obvious piece of advice was really just for my mom. Love you mom!)

Feta Mash
Adapted from Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons by Diana Henry

75g (2.75 oz) feta cheese, crumbled
300g (10.5 oz) greek yogurt
45ml (3tbsp) olive oil
1 garlic clove, crushed
30ml (2 tbsp) dill, chopped
30ml (2 tbsp) mint, chopped

Mix the following ingredients together and serve.

Suggestions:
Crumble the feta as large or as small as you want.
Add more feta cheese if you want a lumpier dip.
Add some lemon zest for an extra bit of flavour.
Strain your yogurt in cheesecloth over a bowl if you want a thicker dip.
Omit the olive oil if you wish, for a slightly different texture.

Disclaimer:
I loved this dip, my boyfriend did not. If you aren't a fan of mint or dill, then this recipe is probably not for you.

The time for cookies is now.

Chocolate Chunk and Toffee Cookies

I made these and I ate some. And now there are 40 of them left, tempting me every minute of the day. Calling to me from the kitchen in a soft, chocolatey whisper.

I won't deny that I have opened that tin of cookies many times. I have put my nose all the way in and sucked all of that cookie smell right out of there with a deep, long breath. I hold it in for as long as I can and then finally walk away, until the next urge to smell them hits me.
Just eat one, you might be thinking.
Oh, but I have. One, and then some.
The time for cookies has arrived, several times.
What's a girl to do with 40 delicious cookies?
I'll tell you what.
Pack them up, take them to a friend's house and wave goodbye.
Parting is such sweet sorrow....
Until you get back home, find a new recipe, and start all over again.




These Chocolate Chunk and Toffee Cookies are from Williams-Sonoma.
I used a Lindt chocolate bar that is filled with crunchy caramel bits as my toffee portion of the recipe. Since they are basically just a chocolate chip cookie with a bit of flair, you can use anything you want to act as the toffee portion. The cookies came out moist and chewy, with brown-sugary sweetness. Just the way a chocolate chip cookie should be. The recipe made 48 cookies, based on the size that I made them.
For those in France, I used type 55 flour.



Tags
Cookies
Chocolate Chunk Cookies

Sleeping late and sneaky tricks

Sweet Almond Financiers

"If you bake it, he will come."

These are words of infinite wisdom, although I'm not sure that anyone of infinite wisdom has actually said those words. Except for me. Just now. I've got wisdom, sure, but perhaps of the more finite variety.
But on a lazy sunday morning when you want to get your significant other to get out of bed there are 2 ways to do it which fosters joy and contentment in the household.
1. Bacon
2. Baking

No meat eating man will sleep through the smell of bacon frying nor will he be able to resist something sweet puffing up in the oven.

So perhaps now I have just revealed why I cook bacon for breakfast every Saturday morning.
I will admit that this act alone has improved my relationship with G in a way that cannot be measured. The man gets his bacon, and I get an early riser for a partner.
You may think: "What's the big deal? Sleep in a little."

If only it were that easy. I am officially allergic to sleeping in. Except for that one summer when I was twelve and I slept in every day until 2pm, stayed in my pajamas the rest of the afternoon reading the Sweet Valley High series and then happily climbed back into bed later that same night. That was the most forgettable summer I have ever spent.

This past weekend, long after the bacon was consumed there was napping. Plan A had already been executed. It was completely illogical to fry up more bacon. There was nothing to be done but resort to Plan B. The secret weapon: sugar, flour and eggs.

I decided to try this recipe for Sweet Almond Financiers. It had only 5 ingredients, and miracle of miracles, all 5 of them were in my kitchen at that very moment.
My first taste of financiers has only been in the last few months since living in Paris, so this was a big moment for me. I was assimilating, doing what the locals do (or what I imagine they do at least), and hoping the neighbours would be impressed by the sweet scent of homemade financiers drifting out into the hallway. Oh, I mean, I was hoping to wake up my boyfriend from his nap. I was only baking because I had to. I don't really enjoy it.
Right.


Sometimes I play with my food

So I baked. And then popped one swiftly into my mouth. It was moist and chewy with a subtle almond flavour, not overly sweet, with crispy, caramelized edges and a flaky top.
Unfortunately they were nothing like the financiers that I have tasted here which are more like mini muffin/sponge cake type things.
But I liked these alot. They were easy to make and got G up from the couch with a yawn, a stretch and a "What are you making?"
Mission accomplished.

The financiers consist of flour, icing sugar, almond flour (aka finely ground almonds), eggs and butter. This Williams-Sonoma recipe suggests using a 6-well silicon fluted tart mould. I used a lightly buttered non-stick, non-fluted, mini tart/muffin pan, which made 12 financiers.

Parties, leotards and celebratory tuna

Bouchons au Thon with kudos to Molly

One day a young couple moved into a Parisian apartment. It was spacious and pretty and they were happy. They bought some new furniture, they hung up some pictures and did their best to build a new home for themselves.
And then one night there was a party.
A loud one.
Fifteen pairs of feet stomping and dancing in the apartment above their heads.
The young couple grumbled a bit to themselves but they did not complain.
"We're hip, we're cool. We can handle a little noise."
When the next party occurred shortly thereafter, they stayed quiet again.
"Perhaps it's just the time of year?" they said to each other.
Then January came and another party, and another one after that, and even more followed still, one after the other. But still they did not complain. This took great strength, because this happy young couple was forced to listen to Madonna's new song "Hung Up" about 6 or 7 times per party.
"It's not such a bad song, is it?" she said to her boyfriend.
"No, I guess not."
"But I'm really starting to hate it, aren't you?"
And then the young couple discussed how unreal Madonna's leotarded bottom looks in that video. But that is neither here nor there.

Finally the girl could take it no more.
"I'm going to find the concierge!" she announced, because she loved gloating that she had a concierge. It sounded so much more frou-frou to say that than 'superintendent'.

"Please help us, we can't take it anymore!" she pleaded.
And the kind sir began to speak very, very rapidly in French. But from the look in his eye she could tell he was commiserating with her. Words flew out of his mouth and she understood some of them: no more parties, lots of complaints, next time he is calling the police. She didn't know they did that in France, but the girl was happy.

She thanked him and bid him adieu breathing a sigh of relief, and returned back to her pretty apartment and made Molly's Bouchons au Thon to celebrate. And they were great.



The bouchons

Ever since I first saw these on Molly's blog, I have wanted to try them. And they didn't disappoint. If you love tuna I think you will really love these. They are a simple combination of canned tuna, eggs, crème fraiche, onion, parsley, gruyère cheese, and tomato paste. You throw it all together and bake them in a muffin tin. It doesn't get much easier than that. They are creamy and deliciously tasty, and a fantastic change from however you might usually eat tuna.. which for me, as much as I love them, is usually a boring old tuna sandwich.
These are great as is, or with an extra dollop of crème fraiche on top and served with a salad.
Click here for Molly's Recipe

Notes:
-watery, mushy tuna can really ruin the texture of these. Find a good chunk light tuna and drain it well.
-try whipping the egg whites separately until stiff peaks form and fold it into the rest of the mixture to make the bouchons a bit airier and less dense.

When good things turn really bad

All the reds soup

Friday couldn't have started out better. A friend and I got ourselves all dressed up and headed for lunch at a popular restaurant here in Paris. We oohed, and we aahed, we ate like queens and soaked up the constant attention from the (as usual) all male serving staff. We got tipsy on some fine wine and three and a half hours later, finally giggled our way out of the restaurant, bellies full and entirely content.

And then there was the misery of saturday night, when my friend and I both found ourselves firmly implanted in our bathrooms, with no reprieve for about 8 or 9 hours. Oh the horror.
There are better ways to spend a weekend then suffering the effects of what I can only guess was food poisoning.

By mid-Sunday my body was so weary from the toll of the night before, every bone in my body ached and it was all I could do to stand up for more than 10 minutes at a time. Any thought of food made me cringe, but by this time, part of my stomach pains were mixed with hunger. Half a banana and a half cup of rice was about all I could manage all day.



And now, it's day three. I'm weary but on the road to recovery. All I can think about now is fresh fruit and vegetables, whole grains and legumes. I have a strong urge to get back to basics, to say no to heavy sauces and strange foods whose descriptions you have to ask 3 times just to understand what you are eating. I need a break from restaurants and bakeries, and any foods that are not prepared by me, with extreme caution, in my own home.

I found myself revisiting an old friend today at lunch-- a soup that I used to make regularly in my vegetarian days. I hadn't made it in about 5 years but there it was, dutifully copied onto my computer, just waiting to be rediscovered. And now that my body is ready to be fed again, I felt myself craving it. It's healthy and simple and right now, that's about all I need.

All the Reds Soup
(adapted from a book called the Ultimate Vegetarian which I can't find listed on Amazon, except for one by the same name which isn't the same book that I've got tucked away in storage.)

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small red onion, chopped
1 red pepper, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 14oz can chopped tomatoes
2 tablespoons basmati rice
1 14oz can kidney beans, drained and rinsed
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1 tsp dried oregano
salt and pepper to taste
(optional toppings: chopped italian parsley, a bit of grated cheddar)

Put the oil in a pot over medium heat. Cook the onion and pepper until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook about 1 minute more. Add the rest of the ingredients and bring to a boil, then let simmer for about 15 minutes. Top with chopped parsley or a bit of grated cheddar if you wish.

Notes:
-A bad or bland stock will make or break any soup, so be sure to use a good one.
-The original recipe calls for a shot or two of Worcestershire sauce which I don't have, but it does add a nice touch if you should choose to use it.
-the grated cheddar is so not a European touch but it sure tastes good.



Vegetarian Soup
Kidney Bean Soup

Soup Recipes
Healthy Soup

There is no such thing as too much bacon

Pasta Carbonara

There is nothing to joke about when it comes to bacon.
Bacon is very serious business.
Let's start with this one simple and often forgotten fact: bacon = pork.

Shocking I know, but this is a truth that cannot be disputed or denied. There is something magical about bacon. It seems as though it is its own entity, its own food group. Perhaps even its own religion. (Zen Baconism?)

So it seems that today has been declared pork blogging Sunday, which is a sacred day for a bacon lover such as I am. I decided to go old school and indulge in an old favourite. When it comes to bacon, there is no need to complicate things. I mean who cares what you put under it, you're really only interested in the bacon anyway, right?
Don't deny it, you can't hide the bacon love.

Pasta Carbonara is very easy to make, and you can find recipes everywhere. More than likely, you already have your own favourite. This recipe uses raw egg yolks, which is of course not recommended for children or pregnant women. So JA, you big-bellied mama-to-be, never you mind about this pasta carbonara. Shoo!

Pasta Carbonara
This recipe makes enough carbonara sauce for 2 small portions or 1 large portion of pasta, depending on how saucy you like it. You can easily double the recipe if you want.

Tagliatelle (or linguine or any pasta you like for that matter) for one or two people.
2 egg yolks
1/2 cup of heavy cream
3/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
as much bacon or pancetta as you wish to have, a good handful of bits per person is how I like it
chopped parsley (optional)
additional grated parmesan
salt and pepper

Dice your bacon and cook according to desired crispness. (or dice after cooking if you prefer)
Drain on paper towel. Reserve the bacon grease.
Mix 2 egg yolks with 1/2 cup of heavy cream and 3/4 cup of grated parmesan cheese. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Cook your noodles and strain, reserving some of the starchy water.
Put the noodles back in your saucepan and add a teaspoon or two of the bacon grease to coat the noodles (this prevents the cream sauce from soaking right into the noodles).
Add your egg mixture to the noodles and combine well. If the sauce is too thick add a bit of your reserved starchy water. This is all dependent on how you like it.
Mix in your bacon bits right into the sauce and noodles or pile them on top as I did.
Serve it up in a bowl or two and sprinkle with additional parmesan, chopped parsley and freshly ground pepper to taste.

A butcher, a rooster, and an awkward moment

Coq au Vin

And then there was the time I decided to make Coq au Vin.

I picked out a fresh, plump chicken at the market and asked the butcher to cut it up for me because I was making Coq au Vin. I knew he would be charmed and impressed.
He told me that he had a coq if I wanted one.
A rather awkward pause followed.
Perhaps I'd been a bit too charming.
Finally I dared to look where this cheeky Frenchman was pointing.
And there it lay. A rooster, dead, in full form: head, eyes, wobbly red bits under its chin and on top of its head.
Oh. Right.
Coq=Rooster.
I quickly regained my composure and realized that to select the rooster would mean witnessing its decapitation. So, I politely declined, and urged him to proceed with the headless chicken I had already selected. But cock-a-doodle-do to you old boy, I thought. Or cocorico actually, since he was a French rooster, after all.

The making of the Coq au Vin began. Chopping, marinating, browning.
And then there was the part in the recipe where I had to add the cognac and light it on fire.
Yes, well.
Sometimes I forget about my own tendencies toward clumsiness.
But I do still have both my eyebrows and all of my eyelashes so have no fear.
The dish turned out wonderfully. There was endless dipping of bread into sauce, which had turned out rich and full of flavour, the addition of unsweetened cocoa powder adding to its deep, dark colour. The chicken was tender and falling off the bone.

I felt a little bit more French for having made this. I may even be ready to get myself a beret soon.

Coq au Vin
adapted from Saveur Cooks Authentic French, Chronicle Books 1999

1 roasting chicken, (up to 6 lbs) cut into pieces
2 large yellow onions, peeled and roughly chopped
2 large carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
3 large cloves of garlic, peeled and halved
bouquet garni consisting of 3 thyme sprigs, 3 parsley sprigs and 2 bay leaves tied in a bundle
1 bottle good rich burgundy wine, plus 375ml water (or 1.5 bottles wine)
1/4 cup vegetable or canola oil
2 tbsp flour
1/4 cup good cognac
1.5 tb unsweetened cocoa powder
6 oz salt pork, diced (you can buy thick slabs of it, or use pancetta in the same form)
3/4 lb button mushrooms, cleaned and stems trimmed

Put first 6 ingredients (up to and including wine and water) in a large bowl. The recipe recommends you cover and refrigerate for 24 hours. I only did it for 4 and it was still great. But perhaps its even better if you go the full 24.

Remove the chicken from the marinade (don't discard the marinade) and dry the pieces well with paper towels. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Heat oil in a heavy pan over medium high heat and brown the chicken on all sides. Do it in batches so as not to crowd the pan. Set the chicken aside when each piece is done browning.

Add flour to the pan and cook, stirring for about 2 minutes.
Return the chicken to the pan.
Remove the pan from the heat and add the cognac and light it with a match until the flame dies out. Keep the pot lid nearby to extinguish the flames if necessary.
Return pan to heat and add the reserved marinade back in and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce to low and simmer, partially covered about 1.5 hours, or until chicken is tender.

Remove chicken from pan again and strain the sauce through a sieve, discarding the solids. Return the sauce to the pan.
Put cocoa powder in a small bowl and whisk in 1/2 cup of the strained sauce until it is smooth. Stir it into the pan then reduce the sauce to about 4 cups, 15 to 20 minutes. Reduce heat to low and return chicken to pan.

In the meantime, saute the salt pork in a skillet over medium heat until crisp then remove from skillet, drain on paper towel, and add to chicken. Add mushrooms to the same skillet and saute until golden about 10 minutes. Drain and add mushrooms to chicken.Serve.

Recipe notes
-I omitted the mushrooms only because my boyfriend is not a fan of mushrooms. But the recipe would have been greatly enhanced by their addition. We were left with nothing but sauce and chicken which, although fantastic, could have benefitted from either mushrooms or carrots or even small new potatoes, to turn it into a well-rounded meal in itself.

-This recipe requires that you take the chicken out of the pan and put it back in over and over it seems. But in the end it makes sense. And it tastes really very good.

-If you are nervous about lighting the cognac or don't have any on hand, I think you would be ok to leave it out and just skip that part of the instructions.

Food therapy. The way the French might do it.

Harissa Marinated Lamb with Spiced Mash and
Cinnamon Onions

I freely admit that at times I have been known to seek solace for my miscellaneous woes at the bottom of a Lays' potato chip bag. The salty crunch echoes so loudly in my head that there is no room for negative thoughts. Anxiety and frustration go right out the window, if even only for a little while. You must admit, it's much cheaper than therapy and you don't have to make an appointment in advance.

In France, potato chips take up only a small amount of shelf-space at the grocery and convenience stores. The small supply seems to exist only for the cravings of expats and tourists. You quickly get the feeling that the French have more refined forms of "food" therapy.
Cat just died? A Madeleine or two might help.
Hydro is being cut off? A piece of Valrhona chocolate is sure to cheer you up.
Car won't start? A white truffle macaron from Pierre Hermé will take your mind off of it I'm sure.

You get my point.

Somehow it seems shameful to succumb to old (and unhealthy) habits when Paris has such fine foods to offer. When in Rome, as they say.




So, it's true, I've been feeling a little out of whack lately. And damn it, if the French didn't have me so brainwashed I would have marched right out to the corner store and bought myself a big old bag of potato chips, curled up on the couch and turned off the phone.

Instead, I took a deep breath, did my best to ignore the incessant yapping of the neighbour's 3-legged dog, poured myself a glass of port and got to work.

And I found my solace.
Oh yes I did.

In a plate of Harissa Marinated Lamb with Spiced Mash and Cinnamon Onions. And though, just hours before, I had been tempted to pack my bags and head back to Canada, I found myself taking the time to serve it up on a plate as fancily as I possibly could. (Ok, I'm no expert, but it wasn't a bad try was it?) And no, it's not a French recipe, but the point is, it's far more refined than my usual cure.

I felt better before I even sat down to eat it.
But I felt great once it was all in my belly.


Harissa Marinated Lamb with Spiced Mash and Cinnamon Onions
adapted from Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons by Diana Henry

(Harissa is a Tunisian spicy mixture of hot chilies, garlic, cumin, coriander, caraway and olive oil. You can make your own or just buy a jar of it at grocery stores carrying exotic products or a Middle Eastern grocery.)

For the Lamb
8 chunky lamb chops or 4 lamb steaks

For the Marinade
8 tbsp (120ml) olive oil
2.5 tbsp (37.5ml) harissa
3 garlic cloves, chopped
juice of 1/2 a lemon
a good handful of mint leaves, torn

Combine ingredients and coat lamb chops well. Cover and refrigerate 1.5 hours or up to overnight.
When your potatoes and onions are nearly ready, heat a griddle pan and cook the lamb on medium to high heat until desired doneness.

For the Mash
1lb potatoes, peeled
1lb 7oz parsnips, peeled and chopped
5 tbsp whipping cream
3.5oz butter
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
3/4 tsp cayenne
2 fl. oz milk

Boil potatoes and parsnips separately until soft. Drain but return the potatoes to low heat to dry them out a little if they are wet. Puree the parsnips with the cream and in another bowl mash the potatoes. Melt the butter in a saucepan and add the cinnamon and cayenne. Add the parsnip and potato and beat everything together. Warm the milk and add to the potato mix. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Leave lid on to keep warm if you are not serving immediately.

For the onions
2 onions, finely sliced
15g butter
1.5 tsp olive oil
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp harissa
a good squeeze of lemon juice
a small bunch of coriander, roughly chopped

Fry the onions in the butter and oil until golden, allowing the onions to brown slightly. Add the remaining ingredients, as well as salt and pepper to taste.

To Serve
Serve the lamb chops with warmed mash topped with the onions.

Harissa from Amazon

And thanks so much to Melissa for giving me this cookbook as a gift when she came to stay with me last weekend!

Grilled Apples with Crème Anglaise

There are some things in life that you never forget. Your first kiss. Your first pet. Your first apartment. The first time you went to a party and drank too much Blue Curacao and came home late only to find your parents were still up and you hoped and prayed that they wouldn't notice. But your red eyes and your blue smurf tongue gave you away, and you were grounded.

Ah, memories.

There's the time you made your first Thanksgiving dinner. You cooked that bird with the giblet bag still inside but your dad helped you sneak it out before anyone noticed. It was a job well done, and you were so proud of yourself.

And then there's the first time you made your own crème anglaise.
That memory is so fresh in your mind it seems like it was yesterday.
Oh right, it was yesterday.
Why had I never made this before? Blame it on my previous lack of a sweet tooth.
But who knew crème anglaise was so easy to make? And tasty, don't forget tasty.



Grilled Apples with Crème Anglaise

Once I finished my first batch I couldn't stop myself. Like a woman possessed I experimented with various flavour combinations. I tried it plain with just vanilla, then adding a splash of Cognac and finally another batch with a splash of Port. I imagined infusing the cream (prior to adding it to the eggs) with rosemary, lavender, cinnamon, orange zest, and even my new Mariage Frères tea. There is going to be a alot of crème anglaise in my future.

My efforts were inspired by the recipe for Grilled Apples with Bourbon Crème Anglaise by Williams-Sonoma. It was a simple and very satisfying dessert that I will definitely make again.

Notes

The Crème Anglaise recipes I reviewed always contained eggs, sugar, vanilla and milk or cream.
I tried both the Williams-Sonoma recipe for crème anglaise as listed above, which uses both milk and cream, as well as Martha's recipe, which uses just milk. I preferred the cream version, as it had a thicker and richer consistency than Martha's. Sorry Martha.

After comparing these two recipes, I realized that Martha's is much easier to make so if you want to, you could just substitute cream for the milk in her recipe. And do whatever you want to flavour it.

I used a real vanilla bean instead of vanilla extract.

I also received a good tip from a friend of mine in Paris who says that the longer you cook the mixture, the thicker it will get. It also thickens further once it is chilled. You gotta love friends with good tips.

Sweet Saffron Pilaf made by a clumsy girl

Sweet Saffron Pilaf with Nuts and Currants
(except I didn't have any currants)

I'm sure that you already know that I am clumsy in the kitchen. But if I forgot to mention it before, it's probably because a can of beans fell out of the cupboard and onto my head and affected my short term memory. Even I consider it a miracle that I have made it this far without having sacrificed a single finger or toe. Blood has been shed, on an almost daily basis, but never so much as to require stitches. Although, I am way over my Bandaid budget for the month.

Aside from the physical dangers that I risk with my clumsiness, I make a bit of a mess when I cook and yes, even sometimes when I eat. If the person across from me finds a miscellaneous pea or two under their plate, it's most likely mine, and not theirs as I generally hope they will believe. My boyfriend however, knows better, and shakes his head at the messes I frequently make. And this is where I say:
"What?" and pretend as though I have no idea what he is shaking his head about.

So perhaps it wasn't a great idea when my boyfriend and I decided to buy a new couch and chose a white one. I've been known to sit on the couch with a drink, a snack, sure, even a 3 course meal. But now, with the gleaming white surface beneath me, it only makes me nervous. Those plastic couch covers that you thought were only used by women named Ethel who have plastered every surface of their living room with doilies, suddenly seem not so much weird, as very, very practical. Well, the doilies are weird, but the plastic? Thumbs up Ethel.

But since I've got another year or two before I'm that crazy, the plastic is out of the question. Even if it meant I could sit happily on my new couch with a big bowl of spaghetti on my lap.
It seems that now I'm just going to have to take precautions.

Things were looking good when I decided to make this Sweet Saffron Pilaf. Right up to the very last minute I had deemed it relatively couch-acceptable. And then I poured on the bright yellow saffron/milk mixture and it was all over. It sure looked pretty though.

Sweet Saffron Pilaf with Nuts and Currants
Suvir Saran and Stephanie Lyness, Indian Home Cooking
Clarkson Potter, 2004

For copyright reasons, I have only listed the ingredients, so you can decide if it's a recipe you might want to try. Click here to read the recipe instructions at Leite's Culinaria.

1 1/4 cups basmati rice
2 1/2 cups water
1/4 teaspoon saffron threads
1 tablespoon of milk or cream
1/4 cup ghee or canola oil (I used peanut oil and it was fine)
one 2 inch piece cinnamon stick
10 whole green cardamom pods
one inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and grated
1/4 cup dried currants
1/4 cup chopped blanched almonds
1/4 cup chopped shelled pistachios
2/3 cup sugar

About the rice
The rice is a very nice combination of flavours and smells great as it cooks. I would definitely make it again. If you want to break away from the standard white rice thing, which I rely on far too often, this is a good and somewhat exotic alternative. And you know, if you call it exotic, it just makes it seem that much better. Or is that just me?

My changes
-I omitted the black currants, because I could not find any.
-My basmati takes a ratio of equal parts rice to water, so I did not use the amount of water recommended in the recipe.
-The recipe instructs you to pound the 10 cardamom pods in a mortar and pestle so that the pods split open. But once the rice is cooked it does not instruct you to remove them. I'm not sure that biting into a cardamom pod or even a seed is going to be particularly appetizing to most people.
So next time I would be tempted to just throw them in whole to let them flavour the rice and remove them after the rice is cooked.

Me and my Mulligatawny

Mulligatawny Soup

It seems as though I have television on the brain lately. But there is a valid reason. My boyfriend has just bought a big, shiny new one. Yes, you know where this is going.

My childhood is peppered with strange television memories. Saturday mornings started the same way each time: fighting with my brother over what cartoons to watch. His favourites inevitably involved superheroes saving the planet yet again, while he munched away on a bowl of honeycomb cereal. While I, with my much more girly honey nut cornflakes, insisted on the Muppet Babies. Somehow it seemed that my brother always won, and I would protest by standing in front of the television twirling my baton and practicing my marching band moves. Ok, maybe I only did that once. Usually I just sulked on the couch in defeat and watched whatever stupid cartoon he was watching.

So then I grew up. A little. It was an episode of Gimme a Break that first taught me that sometimes a girl can wear too much lip gloss. ("You look like you just ate a pork chop without using your hands"). When I was finally old enough to wear lip gloss it was clear that that episode had sealed my fate as the girl who always wears just the right amount of lip gloss.
Years later it was Frasier that first introduced me to the concept of a crème brulée torch, and I thought it was something so absurd that there was no way I would ever own one. (ok, I still don't but it's not because I don't want one).
And yes, it was Seinfeld and his soup nazi that put the word Mulligatawny into my vocabulary.

Though I'd never made it or even eaten it, Mulligatawny became the butt of jokes for years to come. The standard question of "What do you feel like eating?" still offers a comedic moment when answered with an overly enthusiastic "MULLIGATAWNY!"
Ok, maybe I'm the only who finds that funny, but I have always been easily amused.

I have no idea what possessed me after all these years to finally make Mulligatawny soup. Yes, perhaps it was the new TV. But now that I have made it, I feel as though I've just reclaimed my youth in some way; as though those Seinfeld episodes really weren't so long ago, and no, I'm not all that old. If ever I felt like snuggling up with my tv and telling it how much it means to me, that time is definitely now.


Mulligatawny Soup from Bon Appetit, September 2005
The soup was delicious. Me and my mulligatawny are going to be friends for years to come.

1/4 cup vegetable oil
3 cups chopped onion
5 garlic cloves, chopped
1.5 tablespoons garam masala
1.5 teaspoons ground coriander
1 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
2 bay leaves
2 cups dried red lentils
8 cups low-salt chicken broth (my note: or your salty broth if you prefer)
2 cups diced cooked chicken
1 cup canned unsweetened coconut milk
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 cups cooked basmati rice
lemon wedges

Heat vegetable oil in heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook until golden brown, stirring frequently, about 15 minutes. Add garlic and sauté 2 minutes. Add garam masala and next 4 ingredients; stir 1 minute. Add lentils; stir until coated. Add chicken broth. Bring soup to boil; reduce heat to medium and simmer until lentils are very tender, about 20 minutes. Discard bay leaves. Working in batches, puree soup in blender until smooth. Return to pot. Stir in chicken, coconut milk, and lemon juice. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Divide rice among bowls. Pour soup over. Garnish with lemon wedges; serve.


To my vegetarian friends, (Amylou? are you reading this?) let it be noted that even though I thought I was fully prepared, I was in fact out of chicken stock so I used vegetable stock and it tasted great even before adding the chicken. So you could easily make a chicken-free mulligatawny, which would really be more like a curried lentil soup, but with a more exciting and exotic and Seinfeldy name.

And the excitement doesn't stop there..
The soup itself is served in bowls over some cooked rice. If you are in the mood for more of a curry than a soup, use more rice. If you are in the mood for soupy, then add just a bit of rice. Each person can customize their own--and you know, on-the-spot soup customization options are hard to come by.

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

Shakin' it.. Or making smoothies..

Fig and honey shake

Since moving to Paris, it has taken some serious effort on my part to ensure that my waistline does not suffer. They say that French women don't get fat, but you throw a Canadian girl in Paris, and she might do just that if she's not careful.

I am well aware that my early months of blogging are relatively sweet free. I have always proclaimed myself a salt-tooth, if there is such a thing. I would favour a second helping of my dinner rather than save room for dessert. This wasn't a difficult habit to get into, because my brother and my parents seemed to be of the same mind. Dessert only seemed to show up when guests were coming, or if there was a special occassion. On Father's Day my mom and I would make a trip to the local donut shop (yes, my fellow Canadians, of course it was Tim Horton's) for a sweet treat on my Dad's special day. On my birthday, I would get a chocolate croissant for breakfast. Aside from that, savoury foods dominated our cravings.

Now I find myself in Paris, where sweet pastries and chocolate tease me from every corner. And you might have noticed recently, that I'm beginning to succumb to the overwhelming temptations. My sweet tooth is beginning to peak out from the shadows, and make itself known. My suspicions were confirmed when I recently received an email from my mom, where after reading one of my chocolatey posts she wrote: "Stop eating all that sugar!".

Yes, mother, but it's so, so hard not to. I'm in Paris, and resistance truly is futile. And in my defense, I did go and buy myself a fancy pants electric toothbrush so that you wouldn't have to worry about what the sugar might do to my teeth.

But after a few weeks of sugar overload and a visit to an exhibition devoted completely to chocolate (was I dreaming?) it is time for me to get back to basics. Either that, or I'll have to start undoing the top button on my pants every time I sit down. Thanks to the purchase of a new Braun handblender (oh small appliances how I love thee) I can inject some sugar-free goodness into my life again. I'm sure my waistline will thank me. And my mom will sure be happy too.


Banana Cardamom Smoothie


These recipes are adapted from a cookbook called simply "Snacks and Drinks" by Michele Cranston that I picked up in Germany because it had pretty pictures and great ideas.

Fig and Honey Smoothie (pictured at top)
Wash and chop 2 ripe figs, add 1 teaspoon of honey (or to taste) and 125g of natural yogurt. Blend. You can add ice before blending if you want, and more or less yogurt depending how thick you like yours to be.
Sprinkle toasted slivered (and then crumbled) almonds on top if desired, or whatever nuts you might prefer.
Note: I used rosemary honey, since figs and rosemary are a lovely combination and I thoroughly enjoyed the result.

Banana Cardamom Smoothie
Blend together the seeds from a cardamom pod, 1 banana, 125 g of natural yogurt.
(add ice before blending if you want).

Note: if you crush the cardamom seeds the flavour may overwhelm the drink. But, in not crushing them you sometimes get a whole seed in your mouth. As long as you just swallow it, and avoid the temptation to bite into it, you'll be fine. I'm only saying this for people who find cardamom at times overwhelming. It's for your protection only.


Cardamom pods

Prunes. Enough said.

Lamb Tagine with Prunes

This has been a week of interesting firsts for me. On Monday I tasted my first macaron, and on Tuesday I bought my first bag of prunes ever. You may not think this is entirely exciting, and I'm sure my boyfriend would agree with you. I thank Mr. David Lebovitz for the latter of these two firsts, since he declared that this Thursday, October 27th, was officially Prune Blogging Thursday. Bold move on his part, don't you think?

I admit, I thought it was going to take some work to find an appealing recipe, but I quickly discovered that David isn't the only one who likes prunes. My grandmother likes them too.
No, but truthfully, there are a surprising number of prune-friendly recipes to be found.

Somehow (and I have long ago stopped trying to understand it) Martha exerted her domestic power over me and willed me to use one of her recipes. It's some sort of mind control thing that I am at times powerless to resist. But I couldn't help but think that if anyone knows prunes, it would have to be Martha. And so it was that I had Martha's Lamb Tagine with Prunes for dinner on Tuesday night.

I received a double dose of excitement when making this recipe, as it called for a tablespoon of Ras el Hanout. Had there been a cartoon bubble over my head when I read this, it would have contained a single question mark. I now know that Ras el Hanout is a Moroccan mix of spices, which seem to vary depending on who makes it. It was surprisingly easy to find -- mine contained a mixture of ground pepper, garlic, ginger, mustard, cinnamon, nutmeg, chili peppers, and cloves.

The tagine turned out well, and I was enthused about having tried not one, but two ingredients that had previously been absent from my pantry. That is until I looked at what was left of my dinner and realized that my plate was empty but for the many prunes that I had somehow managed to avoid with each bite of my tagine. The tagine was good, but the sweetness of the prunes overwhelmed it a bit in my opinion. By the second day, they had mellowed out quite a bit and had absorbed alot of flavour from the spices in the tagine.

So, my grand conclusion is this:
Day-one-tagine: good, but I had some prune-avoidance issues.
Day-two-tagine: pretty darn tasty, prunes and all.

The chickpeas were an element I would not do without. And please note, due to lack of availability, I omitted the butternut squash from the recipe, which I'm sure would have made a lovely addition. I served mine with couscous, Martha wrapped hers in Lavash bread.

You can find Martha's recipe for Lamb Tagine with Prunes here.

(please note the recipe fails to mention how much water to add. I added enough to cover the lamb by about an inch or so. You may want to add more if you want it saucier.)

So David, can I come over and try your macarons now?

Dark Chocolate Truffles with Fleur de Sel..

I would love to wax poetic about Chocolate Truffles, but really, what do I know about truffles except that they taste good? And anyway, all I really want to do is call my parents and my friends and tell them that I actually made my own. And gee, if I may say so, they look pretty darn charming, don't they? Gold sticker for me. Even if I have to give it to myself, it stills feels good.

Yesterday afternoon you would have found me in my kitchen, covered in chocolate (relatively speaking) making mad dashes to my computer to get various email opinions at each step along the way. Ok, maybe I overreacted a little but there was alot of chocolate at stake here.

I had made it through the recipe without incident, but in the end I didn't like the flavour. I had used good quality dark chocolate and cocoa powder, but to me these little darlings needed some serious sweetening up. I think my tastebuds are still adjusting to bitter chocolate. So, there was nothing left to do but to engage in some 'adaptive correction techniques'. Or "recipe fiddling" as it may be more commonly referred to. Something which I am generally nervous about when it comes to trying a recipe for the first time. But sometimes you've got to use some moxy to get the job done.

A mad dash back to the shop for some semisweet, and I was back in business. More melting, some truffle dunking and, in an unusual moment of whimsy, a sprinkling of Fleur de Sel (sea salt crystals). A few taste tests later, and I was not only done, but I was quite happy. I think I may have even turned the music up and danced a wee celebratory jig in my kitchen.



The base chocolate truffle recipe that I used was from Nigel Slater's Real Food which consists of only 3 ingredients. Chocolate, whipping cream and cocoa powder. I then took my own liberties and coated them with melted semisweet chocolate (52% cocoa) and sprinkled a bit of fleur de sel on top for the finishing touch. The salt adds a wonderful contrast. They wouldn't be half as good without it.

Dark Chocolate Truffles with Fleur de Sel (adapted from Nigel's Chocolate Truffles)
450g fine chocolate (I used 70% cocoa)
275ml whipping cream
cocoa powder for dusting (I used Van Houton)
approximately 400 g semisweet chocolate
fleur de sel

Chop the chocolate finely into gravel sized bits. If they are of equal size they will melt better.

Put the chopped chocolate in a warm heat proof bowl. Bring the cream to the boil in a small pan. Just as it reaches the boiling point, remove from the heat and pour slowly into the chocolate, beating gently with a wooden spoon.

The chocolate should all melt into a thick, glossy, dark-brown cream. If there are lumps left then you will have to put the bowl over a pan of hot, almost simmering water until they melt. Take care not to overheat it or it will separate and curdle.

Place the basin of chocolate in the fridge to stiffen. Depending on the temperature inside your fridge, the mixture will need about an hour to thicken. (It should not set solid although if it does, just melt it over hot water and refrigerate again). If you want thick, solid, luxurious truffles, leave mix as is. If you want softer, lighter ones then beat the mix with an electric whisk for a minute or so until it starts to change colour. It will become paler and fill with air. Overwhipping will curdle the truffle mixture.

Using two teaspoons, scoop out balls of truffle and drop them into the cocoa powder. The size is a matter of choice. Roll the truffles in the cocoa, then leave them in a cool place for an hour to set.

My addition
I tempered* some semisweet (52% cocoa) chocolate and dunked each truffle in it and placed it on a baking sheet covered in parchment (or wax paper is fine). I sprinkled each with a pinch of Fleur de Sel (sea salt crystals) and left them to cool. And voilà.

And here I am still grinning with self-satisfaction. So, who wants to come over and eat them all up with me?

*(Ok truthfully I just melted in a double boiler, stirred it with a wooden spoon as it melted, then let it cool a bit and then melted and stirred it some more. It seems to have worked. The chocolate may not be as shiny as it could be but I'm satisfied for my first effort..)

Curing a cold with wild mushroom soup

Wild Mushroom Soup

A couple of weeks ago I caught a rather nasty cold. With my boyfriend away on business, there I was, in our apartment, sick and alone. And well, just a little bit grumpy.

There are certain things that I crave when I'm sick. First and foremost, I crave dry toast and flat gingerale, a combination that my mother used to feed my brother and I when we were sick as children. No, it wasn't particularly tasty but it was much better than that cough syrup that sent us running to hide under the bed.

Of course, having our mother serve the dry toast and gingerale to us in bed was part of the cure. But with my mother an ocean away in Canada, the idea of it had lost much of its appeal.

My fallback feel-good-food, since I first left home at the age of 18, has always been a can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup. I'm a woman of refined tastes, clearly. And I will even go so far as to admit that I usually just made it with water, instead of milk, as was instructed on the label.
Here's where I pause for you to say "EW" and then wonder why I would do such a thing.
Well, let's just say its another one of my strange quirks. I like to pretend that it's charming. But let's move on.

I'm sure there is a can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup somewhere in Paris, but with my head and chest congested and the rest of me wanting to remain firmly planted in bed, I certainly did not want to have to go looking for it. So the days passed, my health improved, but I still had mushroom soup on the brain.



Trips to the market did nothing to curb my craving, as mushrooms of all kinds spilled from the vendors stalls. I'd never made my own mushroom soup before, and there was a little devil on my shoulder telling me to just give it a go. Nowadays, I have 2 names for this little devil that urges me to be more adventurous with my cooking, and to step out of my well-established box. Sometimes, this little devil that whispers in my ear goes by the name of Tara, and at other times, Melissa.

I found a recipe from my old standby, Williams-Sonoma, that seemed relatively easy. I came home with more mushrooms that day than I had ever bought at one time in my whole entire life. It was a little bit frightening, I admit. But the soup turned out wonderfully and I think that my Campbell's cravings may just be a thing of the past.

The base of this recipe is made with button mushrooms, so don't be fooled by the picture above. It's really nothing more than a gratuitous mushroom shot. These ones, which are called Girolles, a type of Chanterelle, were sauteed and added in afterwards, but they could just as easily be replaced with your own favourite wild mushroom or left out altogether. (at which point you would have to, in good conscience, rename it simply "Mushroom Soup")

Click here to see the recipe for:
Williams-Sonoma Wild Mushroom Soup

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)

Fourteen figs are better than one..

Fig and Goat cheese toasts with rosemary honey

When you take a trip to a market with a friend, you find yourself a bit distracted. Purchases are made in between bursts of conversation, and waiting for service at a busy produce stand doesn't phase you at all. Even if the service does at times seem suspiciously slow. Because you've got things to talk about and time to spare. By the time you get home, you find yourself standing in your kitchen, with bags and bags of stuff, and you can't for the life of you remember what you actually bought. As you start to unload, it kind of feels like Christmas.
"Aahh. I forgot about those. " Or:
"Wow, did I really buy this many mushrooms?"

So you stand back from the counter and survey your bounty. There's been alot of talk about figs lately, so you're not surprised when you realize that you've bought ALOT of them. That bundle that you bought for a mere 2 euros doesn't look like it wants to wait any longer. It wants to be eaten. Now.



So you rummage through your new groceries and pull out that pain aux céréales that came highly recommended. You slice it up and slather one side with butter. You place a few slices on a hot grill pan until they are toasty and crisp. While you are waiting, you eat the crusty end that you cut off and think wow, now that is some good bread.
You spread a generous layer of that soft goat's cheese (chèvre frais) you bought, and top it with some slices of those luscious figs. They are so ripe they refuse to let you pick them up with your fingers. You have to slide a knife underneath the slices to prevent them from falling apart.

But something is missing, it's not quite finished yet. Then you remember that rosemary honey (Miel de Romarin) you bought at L'Épicerie a couple of weeks ago on one of your many walks over the river to Île St-Louis. You drizzle it over the top of the figs and with a satisfied grin on your face, you know that your work is now done.


Miel de Romarin from L'Épicerie

You sit yourself down at the table and enjoy every bite. Then you realize you only used one fig to make this lunch of yours, you still have about 13 more to go. The fun has only just started.


L'Épicerie
51, rue St-Louis-en-L'Île
75004
an excellent shop with a wide range of honeys and mustards.

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.

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.

Important decisions pertaining to figs..

Fresh Figs with Goat Cheese and Pancetta

The other day as I wandered by a produce section at the back of a department store here in Heidelberg I found myself instantly drawn to a display of large, green and luscious looking figs. I think I actually hit the brakes, as they say, causing a man behind me to bump into me. 'Oh, those figs.' I thought, ignoring his curses.

Whenever I'm not sure about something, I have conversations with myself in my head:
'But Meesh, it's a produce section at the back of a department store.' I struggled with visions of my local farmer's market. I could see them protesting, fists waving in the air, forbidding me to ever buy from them again should I choose to betray them. I was ready to walk away.

"But will you look at those figs." the little devil on my shoulder whispered again. And I know that I shouldn't have. But I did look at them again.

I hesitantly browsed the rest of their selection, expecting to see something that would help me make up my mind and move on. Perhaps a wilted head of lettuce, a fruit fly. Anything to keep me loyal to my farmer's market.

I was mildly distressed when I could see nothing unappealing. Just an enticing selection of mushrooms, white peaches, white plums and tomatoes so red they looked like they wanted to burst.

Before I knew it my basket was full and I was walking out of there with enough produce to keep me happy for days. And yes, two, ripe and beautiful figs.



And there was only one thing I wanted to do with them. Top them with goat cheese and wrap them in pancetta and throw them on my grill pan.

And I am so glad I did. They just melted in my mouth and sent me into a happy daze for a good 10 to 20 minutes afterwards. Ok, maybe longer, because I'm still smiling about it. And I only used one fig so there is still another one in my kitchen just waiting to bring me joy again.




Fresh Figs with Goat Cheese and Pancetta

Slice figs in quarters.
Place a slice or chunk of goat cheese on it and wrap with a slice of pancetta or prosciutto or bacon.
Skewer them.
Place on a grill pan that has been lightly oiled (use a paper towel to spread the oil around) and grill until pancetta reaches desired doneness.
The goat cheese will be soft and melted inside.
Done!

Note: you can use rosemary stems as your skewers. The rosemary imparts a wonderful flavour. I used sprigs of rosemary tucked under the bacon which I removed before taking the pictures and before eating them. Next time I will mix in finely chopped rosemary into the goat cheese.

For the goat cheese I used a plain rindless soft goat cheese.

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.

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

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.

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.

Overcoming my fear of soup...

tuscan chickpea soup

It took me many years of living on my own before I finally realized that making soups is not all that hard. For some reason I had avoided it. I would see soup recipes and completely bypass them in any cookbook, without even a second thought. It wasn't until my 3^rd year of university, that I finally saw the light. One of my new roommates was an avid soup maker, and she was shocked that I had never made soup before. As equally shocked as I was that she actually HAD made her own soups before. She had been excited to move in with me, as I had by then already amassed a significant collection of cookbooks. And the first thing she made from one of my books? Soup. One of the recipes that I of course had avoided. To this day, that first soup that she chose to make still remains one of my favourites.

Though my father had often made soups when I was younger, we were more focused on how great they tasted, and less interested in the process of making the soup. If there were cartoons to be watched, who cared how dad made the soup. Of course, I wish I had been a little smarter back then, but such is life.

And if you know me at all by now, the one thing that attracts me most to a recipe is whether or not it is relatively easy to make. There are times when I venture to the more complex, but I have to be in a very zen like state before hand and well relaxed in advance with a good glass of wine before delving into something with difficult techniques or instructions.

Several years ago I came across a recipe in an issue of Cooking Light magazine for Tuscan Chickpea Soup. When I first left Canada, this recipe was immediately transferred to a word document on my computer. It has dutifully followed me through 4 countries.

Each time I make it the recipe is consistent, it always tastes good. And I'm always surprised to find that it actually tastes better the following day. This is one time that I actually like having leftovers.

Now, I am one who always looks for a shortcut on a recipe. But after having made this soup many times, I will say that no shortcuts should be taken with this recipe. The amount of the garlic, the balsamic vinegar and the parmesan are all crucial to the taste of the soup, and make it absolutely delicious. If you omit any one of them your soup will quickly become mediocre. I also love adding freshly chopped Italian parsley to the soup at the end.

Tuscan Chickpea Soup (from Cooking Light)

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 cups finely chopped onion
8 garlic cloves, minced
4 cups water
1 teaspoon minced fresh or 1/4 teaspoon dried rosemary
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
3 (15 1/2-ounce) cans chickpeas (garbanzo beans), rinsed and drained
1 (14 1/2-ounce) can diced tomatoes, undrained
1 to 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
6 tablespoons (1 1/2 ounces) grated fresh Parmesan cheese

Heat the olive oil in a Dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and garlic, and cook for 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Stir in the water and the next 5 ingredients (water through tomatoes), and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer 20 minutes.

Place 2 cups soup in a blender or food processor, and process until smooth. Pour the pureed soup into a bowl. Repeat procedure with 2 cups soup. Return all pureed soup to pan. Stir in the vinegar, and bring to a boil. Remove from heat. Spoon 1 1/2 cups soup into each of 6 bowls; sprinkle each serving with 1 tablespoon cheese.

For the love of Reblochon..

reblochon


I'm sorry. It's another post where Michele (that would be me) extols the virtues of yet another cheese. And there is no hesitation with this one. This cheese could bring me up from the depths of despair. And should I ever reach those depths, I will know that all I need to do is eat some of this cheese and the world will suddenly seem a wonderful place again. If I could have a room made of cheese, I think it might just be made of Reblochon.

When we move from Heidelberg in August I am definitely going to miss the farmer's market here. I have come to really enjoy my saturday (and wednesday) morning ritual. And you know you're a regular when you start getting free stuff from not one, but three vendors. And when one of those vendors includes the cheese man, you've got it made.

Needless to say, this morning I came home with much more produce and cheese than we needed. But I'm not complaining, because it only means that we are in for some fine eating over the days ahead. One cheese that has recently become one of my favourites is, as you may have guessed by now, Reblochon. It is an unpasteurized cow's milk cheese from the Savoie region of France. Oh how I love this cheese! It's soft, creamy and buttery, and yes, high in fat, with a minimum of 45% fat content. It's similar to Brie but softer, with a nutty bite to it, and much more full flavoured than Brie. And again, I'm always suprised to find that every cheese seems to have a story that gives it its character.

It seems that farmers of the 14th century were taxed on the amount of milk their cows produced. On the days that the tax collectors would come, they would only partially milk their cows, in order to report less production and thus be charged less tax. After the collectors had gone, the farmers would return to finish milking the cows. The second milking produced a milk that was creamier and much higher in fat. It is the farmers sneaky ways that gave us Reblochon, which is still made from the second milking. The term Reblochon actually comes from the word "reblocher" which meant "to milk for a second time".

Reblochon was the first cheese from the Savoie Region to be granted AOC certification, in 1976. It is made from mixing the milk of three breeds of cows; Abondance, Montbeliard and Tarine. It is aged in cellars or caves in the mountains and is turned every 2 days and washed with whey to speed the aging process.

One of the things I have quickly learned about Reblochon is that when it is overripe, it exudes a strong smell of ammonia. This is not, in any way, a pleasant smell. And you do not want to eat it if it does, in fact, smell like that. If you are buying it from a reputable shop or vendor, it will not likely be overripe when you purchase it. But it has happened to me (my fault for not sticking with my cheese man at the market) where I bought it only to get it home and find that it was inedible. But now, of course, I know better. And it makes you feel like an old pro asking if you can sniff the Reblochon before you buy it.

There is an old French recipe using Reblochon known as a Tartiflette that I am going to try one of these days. Although it does seem more like a hearty winter dish. But perhaps a cold wind will blow in tomorrow and I'll feel inclined to give it a try. In the meantime, we'll just enjoy it on it's own with bread and wine. Not very creative I know, but so so good.

Here's the recipe. I like the fact that the cheese is laid as is on top of the potatoes.
(Note: none of the recipes I found specified a weight for the cheese or a quantity of wine used. I guess there is room for interpretation with this recipe.)

Tartiflette (from this site)

1 reblochon (cheese)
1 kg waxy potatoes
200 g lardons (diced smoked bacon)
1 onion
butter
1 large glass white wine (from Savoie region recommended)
4 tbs cream
salt
pepper

Cook the potatoes in boiling water until a little undercooked. Reserve.
Melt the butter in a sauté pan and gently cook sliced onion and lardons, without letting them brown. Slice the potatoes thickly, add them and continue to cook gently for 10 minutes.
Add the white wine and allow to reduce. Season with salt and pepper.
To prepare the reblochon, you should just cut it in half horizontally -- connoisseurs leave the rind on. You can scrape some if it off with a sharp knife if you want.
Preheat the oven to moderately hot, butter a gratin dish, and put the potato mixture in it.
Pour over the cream (actually this is a bit excessive -- you can leave it out if you want).
Place the halves of reblochon on top, rind-side upwards, and put in the oven for 15-20 minutes, until the cheese has melted into the potatoes. Mmmm ... Serve with a green salad dressed with a walnut oil dressing.

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..

Don't hate me because I like tofu.. Salad day # 5

Tofu salad with snow peas and baby bok choy

My university years began for me a period in my life when I categorically refused to eat meat or fish. It all started with a book that I know would send me right back to vegetarianism if I were to read it again. After many years, my mind has conveniently forgotten what I had read long ago. And I'm just not ready to pick the book up again. Ignorance is not necessarily bliss, but it does help one enjoy the pleasures of a roasted chicken, for example.

My family was mystified by my decision and for the 6 years that I maintained my vegetarianism they would still regularly offer me a sausage, or some salmon, whenever I would come to visit. There were no special meals made for me, only a funny look that said "are you kidding with this vegetarian thing?" I knew they weren't doing it to be cruel. It was just a meat loving family's inability to understand how I could say no to a juicy, perfectly cooked steak. They would look down at my plate, empty but for a pile of corn and a few potatoes, thinking I'd completely lost my mind. While I was entirely content. Creamed corn and roasted potatoes! It was better than anything I was eating at school.

Well after 6 years, they finally got their wish. After a great deal of pacing and soul-searching, I succumbed to an overwhelming desire to eat tuna from a can. And it all went downhill from there. I opened a new can every day for about 2 weeks, and gobbled it up with guilty pleasure. I'm sure my mercury levels were soaring.

And for me, it was all or nothing. (I am the same way with a tube of Pringles, which is why it's better for me just to keep my distance altogether). In my mind, I wasn't a vegetarian if I ate fish. But I had. And now, there was nothing stopping me.

Admittedly, I gained alot from the experience of being vegetarian. I learned I could do it, for one thing. And I still feel a certain disappointment in myself for not being able to maintain the willpower that had kept me going for so many years. I do often wonder if I will find my way back to vegetarianism again someday. But for now, this is who I am. A vegetarian who eats meat and fish.

On a less self-reflective note, I also now have a love of tofu that just won't die. I could just as easily enjoy a pot of chili made with tofu "ground beef" as I could with real beef. In fact, with all this mad cow business going around I rarely buy real beef at all anymore. And I know my boyfriend would roll his eyes and say that the incident rates are so low that it shouldn't stop me from buying beef. But perhaps it's just the surpressed vegetarian in me happy to have a reason to find my way back one step at a time.

But, quite often I do get a craving to buy that pasty-white, bland looking block of tofu that turns so many people off. But you have to think of it like a potato. Which isn't very exciting on it's own, but has so many possibilities.

Well as you can see, I was recently struck with that tofu craving. And since I devoted this week to Salads, I made a Tofu salad with Snow Peas and Baby Bok Choy. It made me very happy. And just to up the pretty factor, I sprinkled black AND white sesame seeds on the salad. You might think it looks more like a stir-fry, but work with me here!


baby bok choy

If you like the idea for this salad, hopefully you will just make it your own and improve on it. But I will provide the details to get you started.

Tofu Salad with Snow Peas and Bok Choy

Tofu Salad to serve one contained:
Firm tofu (1/2 block) *see note below
Snow peas(about 8)
baby bok choy (4 stalks)
green onions (1 tablespoon)
sesame seeds (a pinch of white and pinch of black)

Dressing
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon fish sauce
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1 teaspoon sweet chili sauce *
Stir to combine
*next time I will increase the chili sauce to 2 teaspoons to thicken the sauce further.

The snow peas and bok choy were blanched until softened and then moved to a bowl of cold water to stop them from cooking further. Then I placed them on paper towel to drain. You may need to squeeze the water out of the bok choy leaves. The bok choy was then chopped into one inch chunks approximately.

Mix your dressing ingredients together and toss with the vegetables. Add tofu and toss again. Sprinkly with sliced green onions and sesame seeds if desired.

Note on the tofu: I fried my tofu in a heavy pot with just about an inch or so of peanut oil. (just enough to cover my tofu slices) I have no thermometers, I just wait until the oil starts to make some noise then I throw in the tofu. After a few minutes, when it is slightly golden as in the picture, I take it out and let it drain on paper towel. Do the tofu in batches, do not overcrowd the pot. I love the texture that comes with frying the tofu, it gives it a bit of a crunchy exterior, and some may find the colour is more appealing to the eye. It's actually quite good to just eat tofu this way dipped in sweet chili sauce. No kidding.

Note on the baby bok choy: the stems of the bok choy were a bit soft and wilted when I bought it, but since I was cooking them it didn't matter, and in fact it reduced the amount of time I needed to blanch them.

This salad in fact, brings to a close my 5 day salad experience. Gold star for me. And thanks Tara for keeping me enthused along the way!

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.

The Mystery of a Mango. Salad day #3.

Mango, avocado and shrimp salad

Mangoes and I have had a rather rocky relationship. I have always loved the idea of them. They are big, and beautiful and seem to promise so much. But I would buy them, only to find that they were tough and stringy and bitter inside. I had been told by a mango loving co-worker that the skin of the mango will be in shades of red and yellow when it is ripe. She seemed confused by my difficulties and clearly did not understand why this was even a struggle for me. But somehow even the red and yellow ones managed to foil me. She hadn't told me that it's possible the mango may not be quite red and yellow enough. She had also told me to smell it. But all mangos have a scent. Until you smell one that is truly ripe, how do you really know?

One summer day a few years ago, I decided it was time to give the mango another try. I could never truly give up on it, I was always so tempted by it's exotic appeal. I had selected one that had seemed more red and yellow than any of the others at the market. I felt optimistic about my choice but when I got home I wondered if this would be just another disappointment. I slowly cut into the mango with my knife, just a small incision. I could instantly feel, and hear, it resisting. My heart sank, the pleasures of the mango had eluded me again. Despite my heart break, I couldn't bear to throw it away, something prevented me. I had been raised not to be wasteful, and throwing it out contradicted everything my parents had taught me. So there it sat, on my counter, waiting until I could muster up the courage to dispose of it. If it started to show signs of rot, or mold, then I would be freed of my guilt.

After 3 days, it still sat on the counter, taunting me with constant reminders of my inability to understand the mango. And there was not a speck of mold nor rot to be found. Finally, I decided the time had come, it had to go. I picked it up with a feeling of immense regret. As I grasped it, I felt it give a little under the pressure of my grip. I had never felt that before, it was a new sensation. I brought it up to my nose, poised to throw it in the garbage, and was instantly overcome with a sweet musty smell that reminded me of all of my favourite fruits. It was intoxicating and confusing. My curiosity got the better of me, so I reached for a knife and began to slice. The blade slid through with ease, as though cutting through butter. It's juices spilled out onto the counter as I sliced through it's flesh. I was stunned by it's deep orangey gold colour. It didn't take me long to sink my teeth into it. Heaven. Now there was no going back.

Admittedly, there are still times when the mango asserts itself and punishes me for being impatient. Sometimes, I am over-confident, and inevitably, I cut into it too early. And I am forced to suffer the consequences, receiving only a small portion of the mango's bounty, while the rest of it clearly still needs more time to ripen. The mango won't give in to my impatience, and I am always the one who loses out.

There are many recipes to be found using mangoes. There are two that I have recently come across that seem ridiculously simple and that I am eager to try:
Martha's Mango Mayonnaise and her Mango-Yogurt drink

In the meantime, I incorporated the mango into my salad theme this week to satisfy my craving for this elusive fruit. I used the dressing in a recipe that I found at Epicurious.com and really enjoyed it. The original recipe includes seasoning and grilling the shrimp. Because I could only find pre-cooked shrimp, I opted not to do anything to them. They are tasty enough on their own tossed with the rest of the salad. And as you can see by the picture above, I also added avocado to the salad.

I have provided the dressing recipe below. The full recipe including the seasoning and grilling of the shrimp can be found here Mango Salad with Grilled Shrimp (Epicurious.com).
This would also make a nice salsa if the mango and avocado are chopped in smaller pieces.

Mango, Avocado and Shrimp Salad
chopped mango
chopped avocado
cooked shrimp

Dressing from Epicurious.com recipe
2 tablespoons packed dark brown sugar
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 (4-inch-long) fresh hot red chile, thinly sliced, including seeds
1 medium shallot, thinly sliced
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint

Whisk together brown sugar and lime juice in a large bowl until sugar is dissolved, then whisk in the rest. For my salad, toss the mangoes, avocado and shrimp with the dressing.

Deconstructing Salad. Day # 2.

Arugula and Asparagus Salad with Pancetta and Warm Goat Cheese

Since starting this blog, my appreciation for food and cooking has increased exponentially. Now that I am posting my thoughts and recipes online, I feel very accountable. Not only to anyone who might read my blog, but also to myself, in learning as much as I can as I go along. It used to be easier for me to give up on an ingredient or a recipe. Sometimes I would rush things and expect them to turn out. If they didn't, I would blame the recipe and give up on it altogether. But now I have a new appreciation for the effort that goes into creating a recipe, and for all the knowledge that is out there for me to discover.

In addition, there is great inspiration to be found in reading other people's food blogs. The recipes they make or create and the beautiful photography that often goes along with it. It makes you realize at times that you have been lazy, that you haven't appreciated the possibilities of a dish to it's full extent. This, of course, has given me more motivation to be creative, to stretch my imagination as far as it can possibly go. Though I realize that this will not happen overnight. I have a great deal to learn. But now, I find myself looking at a block of tofu in my fridge with new eyes. I don't want to do the same old thing I usually do, which tastes ok but doesn't knock our socks off. I want to find a way to make it fantastic. Whether it's through my own recipe or someone else's. The potential is there with any food, I realize that now. I just have to find it.

For some strange reason, I declared this week salad week. I would eat salads for dinner each night for the next 5 days. I've only just passed day 2, and I'm surprised already at what I have learned from it. I've always loved to read about food, and I read recipes like there is no tomorrow. But a good part of what I'm now learning to enjoy about food was previously lost on me. The different methods of production, subtle flavour differences.. These were things that I did not pay attention to. To me, sea salt was sea salt, butter was butter and goat cheese was goat cheese.

On Saturday I went to the farmer's market with a short list of items. The rest I would select based on what looked good. One of my must have's was goat cheese. For me, it was a generic request. I have had the luxury of shopping at Whole Foods and other stores with lots of selection, but I was used to just browsing at my leisure and picking up whatever cheese had the most appealing label or wrapper. I never paid any attention to what it was that made it different from the ones that I left behind.

This time, however, there was no random selecting. Everything was behind a glass counter waiting to be asked for by name. So, when I asked for the goat cheese, there was this awkward pause. And I realized the vendor was expecting me to continue. He pointed to a vast selection of goat cheeses. I panicked a little, then I spotted a small sign, Le Chevrot, and quickly asked for it, as though I had intended it all along.

Not wanting to repeat the same mistake next time, I decided to look it up on the web once I got home. I had a new responsibility to this cheese man, I had to know what I wanted. This small change in my shopping habits has opened up a whole new world for me. And I know when the farmer's market sets up again on Wednesday I will have a well researched list of the cheeses that I want to try next. Inspired by that, I went further and investigated another key ingredient that made up my salad dinner last night.

The Deconstruction of my Arugula and Asparagus salad with Pancetta and Warm Goat Cheese.

The Goat Cheese (Le Chevrot)
As it turns out, the little gem that I purchased is a handmade (artisan) cheese from the province of Poitou in the Loire Valley in France. Sounds impressive. I thought so. It's quite dense, not soft and creamy like some goat cheeses. It is aged for a minimum of 60 days and it has a beautiful ivory rind, as you can see by the picture below. I did read that it's flavour is enhanced by eating the rind and also by warming it, so that's exactly what I did. And it was quite stunning. I'm not well versed in explaining flavours of cheeses so here is a description that I found on the web about its flavour. Hopefully I'll get better at that with practice.

.." a fresh, buttery, faintly winy taste, and an inviting aroma of ripe figs. It is also known for having a distinct freshness of flavor and a supple, lush quality that is nothing short of magnificent, with a slightly nutty, almost fermented taste that borders on the addictive. "
(found here) at Cheese of the Month Club.




The Pancetta, the King of Bacon
Pancetta is an Italian salt or spice cured streaky bacon taken from only the belly of the pig. It is generally air dried, not smoked, but a smoked version can be found, which is what I used. It is usually found rolled into a salami shape and put in a casing, and thinly sliced, but you can also find it unrolled in a solid block. (see picture below) The block will knock your socks off. The best thing about it is that you can slice it as thick or as thin as you want. It is salty and bursting with pure bacon flavour,and it crisps up perfectly, without losing hardly any of it's size from cooking. I know my brother is going to want this bacon now. He, whose first word as a child was "MEAT".



The Salad
The combination of flavours in this salad was excellent. The tangy mellowness of the goat cheese with the earthiness of the asparagus, were set off nicely by the peppery arugula and the salty bacon. The balsamic dressing is light in flavour, as the salad ingredients do all the work. The rind on goat cheese is edible, although some prefer not to eat it. There is enough dressing in this recipe to serve 2 people.

Arugula And Asparagus Salad with Pancetta and Warm Goat Cheese

Balsamic Dressing
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon lemon juice
pinch of salt

Mix the above ingredients together. Some balsamic's are more flavourful than others, so vinaigrette recipes should generally be adjusted to taste.

Salad ingredients
Arugula for one or 2 people, washed and patted dry with paper towel.
2 or 3 spears of roasted asparagus per person (toss with olive oil, put on baking sheet for 10-15 minutes at 375F, until softened)
2 or 3 slices of pancetta per person, fried in a pan (put in cold pan and turn on heat. No oil needed.)
a round of goat cheese sliced into suitable portions (I should have cut mine in 3, instead of in half, as what is pictured above was too much for me.)

Place your goat cheese in the stove part way through roasting your asparagus.(cut side up)
Depending on its density, it may take longer or shorter to soften than mine did (about 10 minutes). Drain the pancetta on paper towel and let cool slightly. Then chop into bite-sized pieces. Cut the roasted asparagus into 1 inch pieces. Toss the arugula with the dressing (to taste) and then top with the pancetta and asparagus. Remove your goat cheese from the oven and place on top of your salad. Top with freshly cracked black pepper if desired.

Salad day #1. Good times, good times..

Tomato, Mozzarella and Basil salad with fresh garlic croutons

I'm officially declaring this salad week. At least in my little world. That's right, salads for dinner all week. I bet you think that sounds boring. Me too. But therein lies the challenge. I'm sure it doesn't have to be boring, I just have to stretch my imagination a little. Although, if I give up after day 2, don't hold it against me. I must admit that the week started last night, and will officially end on thursday night. So really, its only a 5 day challenge. There's no eating salads for dinner once the man comes back. That will call for some serious meat. Like a roast. Or some ribs. Or something equally grunt-worthy.

Day one was off to a good start. I could easily make this salad again this week, but that wouldn't make for a very interesting blog would it. And again with the basil. I'm telling you, it just won't end. I think my skin is starting to turn green.

Tomato, Mozzarella and Basil salad with fresh garlic croutons
This will serve one as a light salad, using a good sized tomato or 2-3 plum tomatoes.
You could easily just double the ingredients to serve two or more.

Dressing
Combine the following:
2 tablespoons of olive oil
1 tablespoon of lemon juice
1 clove of garlic, minced
salt to taste
Let sit 5 or 10 minutes for flavours to blend.

Salad
1 tomato, or 2 plum tomatoes, chopped
fresh mozzarella
fresh basil
cracked black pepper
a slice or two of a baguette (perhaps more if your baguette is really skinny, cutting on a bias gives you more surface area to work with)

This salad is best if the tomatoes and mozzarella are at room temperature.

Place the tomatoes in a bowl. Stir the dressing well and add 1 tablespoon of it to the tomato. (this will vary depending on how much tomato you are using, dress it to your liking) Rip chunks of fresh mozzarella from a mozzarella ball and add to the tomatoes. Top with thinly sliced ribbons of basil and cracked black pepper to taste.

Take the remaining dressing and brush it over a slice or two of baguette. Broil or grill on a grill pan until toasted. You may prefer to cut the crusts off first. That is left to personal preference. Minding the heat of the baguette, rip it into small crouton sized bits, as large or as small as you want. It is good to have a combination of larger and smaller pieces. Add to your salad and enjoy.

On missing mom, and some fennel tzatziki..

So alas, no trip to Scotland for me today. And I was so excited to check out the recommendations that Melissa from The Traveler's Lunchbox has given on Edinburgh. Again, the blame goes to my boyfriend, who is far too successful in his career to allow us the luxury of pre-planning anything. Tickets to a concert are not even safe. He's a man in high demand!

Nonetheless, it is Mother's day and with my travel plans thwarted I have lots of time to ponder the sweetness and light that is my mother. She of the endless giggling in inappropriate places. Like the waiting room in a doctor's office or in an elevator full of people. And generally, there is nothing all that funny to laugh at. Just a mother and daughter who soon are just laughing at each other because they realize they are laughing the same. A few perfectly synchronized snorts and the game begins all over again. It's a vicious cycle as you can see.

So mother, even though I know you are having a wonderful day celebrating not only mother's day, but also grandma's 85th birthday, with a family reunion at my cousin's new house in Toronto, I will be here, by my lonesome, thinking about you. And G also sends his love from his lonely hotel room in England.

If you were here in Heidelberg, and not otherwise occupied with fun family events that I wish I could attend, I would take you to the movies. Yes, even if you wanted to see Miss Congeniality 2. Then we'd stop for coffee, somewhere with big comfy chairs, because I know you like those big comfy chairs, and we'd giggle the afternoon away. Then, of course, I'd cook you dinner, and over a bottle of wine, we'd talk about all the things we miss about living so far away from each other.

Well mom, you're not here, but the bottle of wine is. And I did make a nice fennel tzatziki last night that you would have liked. It went really nice with my grilled salmon.

This recipe is adapted from one I found on Epicurious.com, which I can't actually seem to find on there anymore to provide you the link. But here's how I made it, having remembered the ingredients. Though I'm pretty sure they added raw fennel, which I don't much like. I sauteed it first and I really enjoyed the end result.

Happy Mother's Day mom!

Fennel Tzatziki

1 cup plain yogurt
1 cup sliced fennel bulb (remove tough core)
1 teaspoon olive oil
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 garlic clove, minced
pinch or two of salt
2 or 3 teaspoons of fronds from the fennel bulb, finely chopped

Set the yogurt in cheesecloth over a bowl so the extra water drains. Leave out at room temp for a couple of hours. The longer it sits, the thicker it will get. If it gets too thick for you you can always add a touch more of the regular yogurt.
Saute the fennel in olive oil until softened. Then chop it up well on a cutting board. You don't want large slices in there. Add the fennel, garlic, lemon, salt and fennel fronds to the yogurt. Mix well.
Note: you may not want to use all the fennel, depending on how thick your yogurt is. So add to taste.
If you make it ahead, it will give the flavours time to blend together.

Sandwiches make the rain go away.. sort of...

Olive Ciabatta with fresh mozzarella, radicchio, roasted zucchini and asparagus, and pesto creme fraiche

It's raining again in Heidelberg. And yes, I'm rolling my eyes about it. It's been raining alot. So I am housebound, when I'd rather not be. And this morning it surprised me as I was wandering around the farmer's market, and I, of course, was without my umbrella. The problem is, everything is closed on Sundays, so if you have no food in the fridge on Saturday, you have little choice but to brave the weather. And aside from that, my farmer's market won't be back until Wednesday so it's really not just Sunday I have to worry about.

So after a trip to the farmers market, the bakery, the butcher, the fish monger, the wine store, and a specialty food shop, I was finally done. If only they were in the same place. I was chilled to the bone by the time I got home. Thankfully I didn't need to go to the grocery store too.

I had a few exciting finds this morning, but my best was a loaf of Olive Ciabatta. And it was as simple as it sounds. A Ciabatta loaf with green olives in it. (Although I think I might have preferred black olives) As you can see by the picture below, there are many olivey bites to be had in this loaf. This bread looked to me like it could stand some hearty treatment.

And since the weather left me chilled and grumpy, warm and hearty was exactly what I wanted.
With all the vegetables I had in my fridge I decided to make a roasted vegetable sandwich. And yes, I think it did make the rain go away.

Here's the quick version of my tasty sandwich.

Grill or roast asparagus and zucchini tossed with olive oil. (zucchini cut down the length into slices, a little less than a 1/4 inch thick) Spread a little olive oil on the ciabatta and grill or broil it so it is toasty. Put a layer of fresh mozzarella on the bottom of the ciabatta and put it back under the broiler for a minute or two to soften the cheese. Top with freshly cracked black pepper. Top with roasted asparagus, a few soft leaves of radicchio, and then the grilled zucchini. Take the top bun and spread it with a mixture of basil pesto and creme fraiche and place it on top of the zucchini. You could also put the pesto/creme fraiche on the bottom bun, next time I will. Eat!

Now, I think it might be an afternoon for opening a bottle of wine and digging into our dvd collection..


Olive Ciabatta

O Canada and a Thai Red Curry..

Thai Red Curry with Shrimp

Hmm. I'm feeling indecisive about that picture. I'm struggling with trying to look at it objectively. It's just that it tasted so good. But perhaps it doesn't look tantalizing at all. I'm regretting the haphazard way in which I ripped up the basil and threw it in there, with complete and utter disregard for appearance. But I was so eager to dive in and start eating that the basil stood no chance. I tore it, I shredded it, I think I even bruised it. It was all I could do to stop and take a picture, with my camera in one hand and my fork, ready to take a plunge, in the other.

I LOVE Thai curries. In fact, in writing this post, my mouth is watering. Thai curries can be so aromatic, fresh and colourful, with their ingredients just cooked enough to still show their vibrant colour. And any dish where I can freely choose to top it with fresh coriander, thai basil, or regular basil, well, let's just say, it's heaven in a bowl.

There was a time when the extent of my Thai curry making involved some cubed chicken breast, a can of coconut milk and a dollop of red or green curry paste. And if you've never made a Thai curry before, I recommend that you at least start there. See what you get and build on it. It's worth it.

There seems to be a number of staple ingredients in Thai cooking that just seem to go so well together. And there is something so rewarding in starting with a plain can of coconut milk and turning it into something wonderful. You can add so much to the flavour by adding any number of ingredients.

So, here is my recipe.

A Canadian Girl's Version of Thai Red Curry with Shrimp
Also known as Thai Red Curry with Shrimp, Eh.
Serves 2

1 teaspoon peanut oil (olive oil won't hurt)
1 teaspoon grated ginger
1 good sized clove of garlic, minced
1 teaspoon lemongrass, minced (i buy it pre-minced in a jar)
1 cup of vegetable or chicken stock
1 can of coconut milk
1 tablespoon of fish sauce
1 tablespoon of soy sauce
1 teaspoon of red curry paste (some are hotter than others, I used a whole tablespoon but start with a teaspoon and add to taste)
5 kaffir lime leaves
shrimp or chicken (6-10 shrimp per person or 1 cubed chicken breast per person, you be the judge)
handful of snow peas
rice stick noodles to serve 2 people
thai (or regular) basil or coriander to garnish


Put peanut oil in a pan over medium high heat. Add ginger, garlic and lemongrass. Stir into oil for 1 minute or so. If you are using chicken, add it now and saute for a minute or two. (it will continue to cook in the coconut milk) Add curry paste, coconut milk and stock. Stir to combine.
Add fish sauce and soy sauce and lime leaves if using. Let the mixture simmer and reduce a little for about 5-7 minutes. Add the rice stick noodles directly into the curry.
The starch from the noodles will help to thicken the sauce. (Don't overdo the portion size on the noodles, or your sauce will become too thick, see below.)**
Keep stirring until the noodles and chicken (if using) are cooked. If it thickens more than you want it to, add a bit more stock. Add the shrimp (if using) and snow peas about 3 minutes before you are ready to take it off the stove.
I like my snow peas crunchy, if you want them softer, add them earlier, but just be sure not to overcook the shrimp.

**If you want more noodles, cook some more in a separate pot on the side and add to the curry when it is ready.

You can leave the noodles out altogether if you want, let the curry reduce a bit longer, and serve with rice.

Top with cilantro or basil and serve!

All basil, all the time..

basil pesto

I am presenting myself as a bit of a basil freak lately. But when you've got a bundle of basil with leaves as big as your hand, there's no ignoring it. It's actually kind of intimidating, sitting on my window sill, all big and green and..basily. Look at the picture below of my hand, dwarfed by a single leaf. Exciting and scary all at the same time. This basil wants to be eaten for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And I won't be the one to say no. Well, I might have to draw the line at breakfast. It wouldn't taste very good in my banana smoothie... or..would it?

So, with this oversized mutant basil haunting me again last night, after it had already featured prominently in my lunch, I decided to take a shot at making my own pesto. I had some fresh tortellini in the fridge that needed some sophisticated treatment.

This time I forced myself not to run to my computer for guidance. I know the basic ingredients that go into a pesto, so I figured I should be able to wing it. With basil, garlic, olive oil, pine nuts and parmesan in hand, I went to work. The words "steady stream" kept distracting me as I prepared my ingredients. After many years of reading recipes like they are some kind of Harlequin Romance, I remembered that this was the preferred method for adding in the olive oil. But I am in a subletted and pre-furnished apartment, and there is no food processor here, only a blender and something with blades and the words Moulinex written on the side. I'm not even sure what a Moulinex is really for. (It's odd size has thrown me off. It's bigger than a coffee grinder, but not by much.) But I do know that there is no hole in it through which to pour olive oil in a steady stream while the appliance is running. Well, I had but two choices: give up or press on. Not one to give up on a challenge, especially if fresh herbs are involved, I threw it all into the Moulinex and gave it a whirl. It turned out beautifully and it was much easier than I had been led to believe.

I kept the amount of olive oil fairly low, as you can see by the picture. You can add more oil depending on it's use. I would use it in this way to spread it on bread or to add it to cream to make a Pesto cream sauce for pasta. Or there's pesto mayonnaise, pesto creme fraiche, pesto butter! there are endless possibilities.. I added a little bit more oil to the portion of it that I used for my tortellini, in order to coat the pasta better. The more oil you add the more servings you would get out of it.

You may wonder why I made such a small amount. Well, I'm only feeding myself again this week, and I don't like to have large amounts of leftover foods. And, actually, pesto is so concentrated in flavour that you don't need much. Although, I'm sure you could double the recipe if you wanted to.

Using pesto on tortellini is a bit tricky, because of all the nooks and crannies that lumps of your pesto can sink into. But with some careful tossing and pesto redistribution skills, it can be done.


Basil Pesto
makes about 3 heaping tablespoons

1/2 cup basil leaves (not packed but poke it with your finger and it will sink quite a bit in the measuring cup.)
1 clove of garlic, minced (I used a small one so as not to overpower the pesto with garlic flavour, adjust to taste)
2 tablespoons grated parmesan cheese
1.5 tablespoons toasted pine nuts
3 tablespoons of olive oil
a wee pinch of salt


Toast the pine nuts in a dry pan over medium high heat until lightly browned. It should take only a few minutes. Toasting them is optional but it does add a depth of flavour. Throw all the ingredients in a processor and blend it up. You may have to scrape down the sides a few times.
Use immediately if possible! If not, refrigerate it for up to a week, with a little extra oil poured to cover it. This is supposed to maintain the colour.



supersize basil

If it's pretty, I'll probably eat it..

Spicy Chicken and Cashew Stir Fry with Yellow Peppers and Snow Peas

In my free time I like to browse recipes. When I'm stressed, I browse recipes. When I'm happy, well, I browse recipes. There are so many to choose from that sometimes I can barely manage to pick one and stick with it. In no time, I will have changed my mind again, finding something else that I would rather make for my next dinner. And this vicious cycle never stops. Something in my brain doesn't allow me to stop the search, to stop hoping for something better. Sometimes I'm so confused with all the choices that I refuse to choose, and end up having a sandwich for dinner.

The other night I found a recipe online for Spicy Pork and Cashew Stir Fry with Red Pepper and Snow Peas. Something compelled me to look at the details, even though pork is not a meat that excites me. But I had just bought some snow peas, so you can see why I was drawn in. I reviewed the ingredient list. Soy sauce, check. Sesame oil, check. Ginger, garlic, sherry.. check, check, check. This was looking promising. Just a quick stop for a red bell pepper and some pork loin and I knew I would be good to go. And this time, I told myself, I had to follow through with it. No changing my mind, and no changing the recipe. It didn't matter if there was a better recipe somewhere out there. The simple fact is, there always will be. But a girl's got to eat and I couldn't let my constant indecisiveness stand in my way. And in fact, the good readers at Epicurious.com had given this recipe a 3.5 out of 4 rating. 96% of the 70 people who have reviewed the recipe said they would make it again. I knew I couldn't beat those odds. It was high time that I put my trust in the people.

Sometime around 3 am that same night, I found myself lying awake. After a period of tossing and turning, I decided to wander out to the living room. Not surprisingly it was dark, and there wasn't all that much going on. I wasn't sure what to do now that I was out of bed. All the tv programs are in German,and by 3am most of them involve naked girls. Fun for some, but not so much for me. So I turned on my trusty laptop, with all it's late night entertainment possibilities, and began to browse recipes. This is where I clinch ever so slightly with embarrasment. Yes, I am an exciting person, leading a very exciting life. In my defense I did also read the bbcnews website and caught up on some of the latest entertainment gossip. So there.

As I browsed the recipes my brain began to wander back to the never ending question of what I would make for dinner the following evening. It wasn't long before I remembered the Spicy Pork and Cashew stir fry with red peppers and snow peas. I felt somewhat disappointed. I had already picked something, where was the fun in that. And I couldn't surpress the thought that I had chicken in the fridge that needed to be eaten. It wouldn't make sense to buy pork, would it? And furthermore, it crossed my mind that yellow peppers would look far better than the red ones that the recipe called for.
Oh no, I thought. It was starting to happen again. Suddenly it was all changing. I began to sweat, images of pork and chicken, red and yellow peppers, fought for control of my brain. One part of me wanted to stay the course, the other part of me was looking forward to the recipe with my changes in my mind. Yellow and green! Oh so pretty! Finally, I relented. There was no fighting it. I could probably have ignored the chicken that should have been eaten, but I could not ignore the 'pretty factor'.

You can find the original recipe for Spicy Pork and Cashew Stir Fry with Red Peppers and Snow Peas) here from Epicurious.com, which, as I said earlier, received good reviews from many good people.

And here is my version:

Spicy Chicken and Cashew Stir Fry with Yellow Peppers and Snow Peas.

Oh, and I left out the cornstarch and sugar and replaced it with honey. (nervous giggle) And I only cooked 2 chicken breasts, making 2 servings. Somehow, the ratio of meat to vegetables still turned out quite acceptable. And I found that only a handful of cashews was necessary, not 1 full cup as is indicated in the original recipe. Phew. Now let's get started.

1 tablespoon medium-dry Sherry
3 tablespoons soy sauce
2 teaspoons Asian sesame oil
2 chicken breasts
1 heaping teaspoon of honey
3 tablespoons peanut oil
2 teaspoons minced peeled fresh ginger
2 teaspoons minced garlic
1/2 teaspoon dried hot red pepper flakes or 1 very small finely chopped red chile (seeds removed)
1 yellow bell pepper, cut into 1/4-inch-thick strips
1 good handful of snow peas, trimmed
A handful of salted roasted cashews

Stir together sherry and 1 tablespoon soy sauce, then stir in sesame oil. Add chicken, stirring to coat well, and let stand 10 minutes. Stir together honey and remaining 2 tablespoons soy sauce. Heat a wok or large nonstick skillet over high heat until a bead of water dropped on cooking surface evaporates immediately. Add 1 1/2 tablespoons peanut oil, swirling wok to coat evenly, then stir-fry 1 teaspoon ginger, 1 teaspoon garlic, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper flakes until fragrant, about 5 seconds. Add bell pepper and stir-fry 2 minutes. Add snow peas and cashews and stir-fry until snow peas are crisp-tender, 1 to 2 minutes. Transfer vegetables to a bowl. Heat remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons peanut oil in wok until just smoking, then stir-fry remaining ginger, garlic, and pepper flakes until fragrant, about 5 seconds. Add chicken and stir-fry, separating strips, until cooked through, 4 to 5 minutes. Add vegetables and sweetened soy sauce, then stir-fry until vegetables are just heated through, about 1 minute more.

(instructions are copied from Epicurious.com with my variations added in)

Spring has sprung and I ate it for dinner..

I stumbled upon an Asian market yesterday afternoon and I am not exaggerating when I say that I went on a mini-shopping spree of sorts. I found the first coriander that I have seen since living in Heidelberg. The urge to skip down the aisles and sing a happy song was difficult to resist. Yes, I was very happy. So, of course, I HAD to buy some. I couldn’t be sure that they kept it in constant supply, so I had to play it safe. And the same was true with the Thai Basil, Kaffir Lime leaves, and Galangal that I bought as well. Our apartment only has a tiny fridge (below waist height and requires a lot of bending) and currently, for the first time in the 2 months that we have lived here, it is jammed full. The problem is, my life and eating partner, is away again on business all week long. It’s just me and this fridge full of goodies until Saturday, when he returns. Needless to say that once I took stock of everything, I had a bit of a panic attack. So many fresh herbs and produce and so little time. I knew I would need to set out a plan to make sure it all got eaten before their freshness was compromised. And compromised freshness makes me an unhappy girl. And did I forget to mention that in the herb department alone, I had already purchased fresh dill, italian parsley and ‘regular’ basil on Wednesday at the farmer’s market? I’m addicted to fresh herbs. I really need a garden.

But first on my list was my asparagus, which was clearly telling me it didn’t want to wait one more single day. I was tempted to defy it, because now I had far more exciting things to tempt me. But I stayed the course and, in so doing, enjoyed a lovely meal.

So, here’s how I managed to get the asparagus out of the fridge and into my belly last night. And please note that I was so determined that there still be enough light for me to take a picture that I made sure the dish was ready much earlier than I would normally eat in the evening. I suffered for the cause, and for my readers. (mom and dad)

I got the idea for this recipe from Epicurious.com, although true to form I just read the list of ingredients and went about doing my own thing. I didn’t add the salmon, I used onion instead of shallots, fresh pasta instead of dried, I roasted the asparagus instead of boiling it, and I added a sprinkling of parmesan to top it off. And I didn’t measure anything. Their recipe was serving 4 as a main course, I definitely had to make my own adjustments, since I am but one person. And sometimes it’s much more satisfying to just take an idea and run with it. It doesn’t always work, but it most definitely helps you to learn and to make it your own. I was actually very pleased with the dish as it seemed very fitting of spring. And though it calls for heavy cream (I substituted whipping cream) the dish still seemed light.

Although I will say that using the starchy pasta water from cooking dried pasta, as the original recipe indicates, would have added something to the sauce. But I prefer fresh pasta so I was willing to suffer the consequence.

Here’s the link to the recipe at Epicurious.Com, it’s called Pappardelle in Lemon Cream Sauce with Asparagus and Smoked Salmon.

On Trail Mix and missing my cookbooks

almonds

My boyfriend and I have lived in 4 countries in less than a year. We have storage lockers in 2 countries, the U.S and Canada. Our stuff is far far away from where we are. I don’t care about the couch, the bed on which I slept like a baby, or the coffee table that we loved. It’s my kitchen tools. My Henkels knives. And sadly, my cookbooks. My beloved cookbooks are packed away in boxes, in some dark, dingy 5 x 10 storage box. I can remember their covers, and the recipes that I forgot to write down. There were just so many, and so little time.

And because we know we will be moving again soon, I haven’t bought any cookbooks in a really long time. “Don’t accumulate until we settle down again.” My boyfriend advises me. And it’s wise, it is, but it still hurts.

I have to look for recipes online now. But it’s really not the same. It’s not the same as flipping through a clean, crisp book, or a worn and wrinkly one stained with tomato sauce, or olive oil from your sticky fingers trying to turn the page. The beautiful pictures in full colour that you can admire, while tucked away in bed or lounging comfortably on the couch. The laptop just isn’t the same.

My Larousse Gastronomique just seemed too heavy to take with me at the time, but now what I wouldn’t give to lug that big hunk of a book overseas. They were all cookbooks that reminded me of moments in my life. The Ultimate Vegetarian cookbook my parents bought me for my 18^th birthday when I first declared that my life would be meat-free. The Vegetarian Times cookbook my roomates bought me for my 20^th birthday, knowing that I needed to branch out from eating pasta and rice all the time. The meat filled cookbooks that I started to buy for myself after I turned 26 when I had finally succumbed to an overwhelming desire for the tastes of tuna and turkey, and more, and was no longer a vegetarian. They all hold such wonderful memories. And of course there is the Zuni Cookbook my boyfriend received as a gift, which he lovingly gave to me because he was really hoping I’d make him the Zuni Chicken with bread salad recipe that was about 4 pages long. And I did. It took me 3 days of preparation, but I did it. And it tasted so so good.

When our wanderlust finally fades I will bring my babies home.

Wherever that may be.

In the meantime, I will make do. I thought it fitting to share with you one of the recipes that I knew that I could not live without. It has moved with me in a little notebook from Canada to the U.S to England and now to Germany. I originally had copied it from an issue of Cooking Light magazine, but I have no recollection now which issue or how long ago that was. And I'm not even sure if they called it Trail Mix. The smell that will fill your kitchen when you make this is completely intoxicating. And if you are lucky enough to have a Whole Foods in your area, you will have a world of nuts, raisins and honey to choose from. Oh, how I miss Whole Foods and their Red Flame raisins.

Homemade Trail Mix

1teaspoon of butter
¼ cup of honey
1 cup (250ml) of mixed unsalted nuts and/or seeds (my favourite combination is slivered almonds, sunflower seeds and roughly chopped pecans)
¼ to 1/3 cup of raisins (or as much as you see fit to add)
dash of ground cloves (dash meaning a tiny pinch, adjust to taste, it’s very powerful)
½ teaspoon of ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon of ground cardamom
¼ tsp salt

Mix all your spices and salt together in a small bowl before starting.
Melt the butter in a pan over medium heat and then add the honey. When the mixture starts to bubble add the nuts. Stir continuously. Add the spices and cook for about 8 minutes, stirring constantly. The nuts should begin to brown. Then add the raisins and stir into the mix.
Spread the mixture out onto a foil lined baking sheet and let cool.

I usually put it right into the fridge. Once it has hardened, if it’s not all eaten right away I break it up into smaller pieces and put it in a bag or plastic container back in the fridge.

Please note: if you use more honey than what is called for your mixture will not harden as well. Although it will still taste good but it will be stickier than you might want it to be. This recipe is completely open for experimentation, but I’m sure you will love it.

Custard confessions

lemon custard cake, worst picture ever

I had a Martha moment this weekend and it wasn’t a positive one. I doubted her. I shook my head and furrowed my brow, wondering how I had managed to pick this substandard recipe in her online collection. I had held such high hopes for her Lemon Custard Cakes. But alas, there was a distinct lack of cakiness, and an abundance of soupiness. It was nothing more than lemon custard soup with a fluffy bit floating on top. Yes, a small tasty floaty bit that taunted me, letting me know that this is what the rest of the custard had aspired to. Through gritted teeth I asked Martha how she could have let me down this way.

Mind you, the flavour was perfect, but that’s beside the point, as it really only added salt to the wound. And I was still rather annoyed, even after my boyfriend and I ate the yummy, I mean runny, soup (in record time too). I mean, after all, it’s the principle of the thing, right?

In any case, after a period of basking in disappointment, my belly full of lemon custard soup, I soon moved to a period of reflective self-analysis. Yes, this is normal for me. And I came to a very startling realization.

Oh my, it might have been my fault.

It’s much harder on the self-esteem to blame oneself for one’s culinary failures than it is to blame a recipe, the oven, or a sub standard ingredient. Even though that’s usually what the problem is. But I knew I had to step up to the plate and get real, as they say. After all, this was Martha that I was dealing with. And I’m just Michele.

So, with the utmost determination, I made the recipe again. And this time, I did it Martha’s way. Yes, I hate to admit it, but I had taken some creative (read impatient) license with her recipe. And what I ended up with the second time around was pure lemony heaven.

These are the hard lessons I had to learn.

1. Don’t underestimate the importance of soft white peaks. Droopy, runny lumps are not the same thing. Just because you’re bored of standing over the eggs doesn’t mean you can just stop whenever you want.

2. A batter meant for 6 dainty little custard cups may not cook the same in 3 much larger soup bowls. And don’t be mad at Martha just because you don’t have 6 dainty little custard cups.

3. Just because it’s really brown on the top after only 10 minutes, it doesn’t mean it’s done. When you saw the floaty bit floating you should have figured out that it wasn’t quite ready. You didn’t call it a floaty bit for nothing. The second time around I lowered the oven rack. No misleading early browning.

I was forced to admit that my impatience and my ego had gotten the better of me. And almost won. Almost. But really, that custard was gooood. And Martha? My humble apologies for doubting you.

Roasted Carrot Soup

roasted carrot soup, photo by Michele, copyright 2005

I'm new to the world of blogging. This is officially my one week anniversary. I will, of course, celebrate the occassion later this evening. This past week I have been shocked to discover the not-so-secret world of the food blogging community. Though my friends may think I'm crazy, I now realize that there are alot of people out there just like me. And suddenly I feel normal again. Ahhh, acceptance is a fine, fine thing. It felt like Christmas when I discovered Is My Blog Burning, which put a call out to interested cooks to make something orange.
So, this recipe has been posted for the Is My Blog Burning project #14, which is being hosted this month at Foodgoat. It's my first time participating, and I couldn't pass up the challenge. And I do like the colour orange.

What do I love more than soup? Easy soup. This one is so ridiculously easy it doesn’t seem like a recipe at all. But when you find a way to make a vegetable stand entirely on it’s own, why mess with it. Roasting the carrots mellows their flavour and brings out their earthy sweetness. They really need very little help after that.

Roasted Carrot Soup

5 large carrots, peeled and washed. Cut into quarters. (as long as the pieces are about the same thickness so they will roast evenly)
1 teaspoon and 1 tablespoon of olive oil
½ of a small to medium onion, chopped
3.5 cups (875ml) vegetable broth (chicken broth would probably work too)

Preheat the oven to 200c (375F). Place the carrots on a baking sheet. Drizzle one teaspoon of olive oil over the carrots and toss to coat. Roast in the oven for about 30 minutes, tossing half way through cooking. The carrots should be slightly browned and very soft when done.

Put 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a pot over medium high heat. Add onion and fry 2-3 minutes until softened. Add carrots and cook for another 2 minutes. Add broth, let simmer for 10-15 minutes.

Transfer the soup to a blender and puree until very smooth. Serve immediately or return to pot and cook a further 5-10 minutes if you wish. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Jam it, that's good...

strawberry and blood orange jam

When I think of making jam it makes my brain hurt. Disturbing images dance through my head: me standing over the stove with a 10 gallon pot, bushels of strawberries waiting to be washed and hulled, and rows of jars waiting to be sterilized. (For some reason when I imagine this I also see myself in a frilly apron. I’m not sure why, but why fight it). And in the end? 15 jars of jam with no one to give them to and nowhere to store them. As soon as I hear mention of those things I turn my head in the opposite direction, scrunch my nose up like I’ve just eaten a bad pistachio, and flick my hand in such a way as to indicate that I will have nothing to do with any of it.

And there are 2 reasons why jam making elicits such a dramatic response from me.

1. the thought of all that makes me tired and I am instantly overcome by a great and wide mouthed yawn.
2. I like to do things the easy way.

Yes, in my happy little world, easy = good. I know that jam purists may disagree with me. And I am certainly not suggesting that they change their methods. I’m only hoping to introduce the world of fresh jam to those who subscribe to my aforementioned equation.

And truthfully, if I had to do it any other way I’d never do it at all. And that would be oh so very tragic. So here it is, my own recipe. And it puts a big smile on my jam smeared face.

Strawberry and Blood Orange Jam

3 cups chopped strawberries (Washed and stems removed)
The juice of one small blood orange (or a regular orange, but the blood orange intensifies the jam into a deep red colour)
½ cup of sugar
One gelatin sheet

Put the first 3 ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium high heat. Then reduce heat to medium for about 40 minutes. Stirring occassionally.
Near the end of cooking time, soak one gelatin sheet in cold water for approximately 5 minutes. Wring out the excess water with your hands and add it to your fruit mixture. Stir until dissolved (just a few minutes). Let the mixture cool a little then pour it into whatever container you like. (The only thing I had with a lid was a butter dish.)
Refrigerate. You’ll end up with a cup to a cup and a half of jam. I didn’t actually measure it but it fit perfectly in my butter dish, if that’s any indication. It should last up to a month.

And that, my friends, is it. Your own jam. No special tools and lots of time to spare. This recipe makes for very spreadable jam, which is how I like it. But you can add another sheet of gelatin if you so desire, or reduce the amount of juice, or add more sugar.

In fact, you can leave the gelatin out altogether but you will have to reduce your juice to just a tablespoon or two, or it will be way too runny, and won’t really be jam at all. (although it would still probably taste great on vanilla ice cream). I really wanted the orange to make a statement in the jam, so I opted for the gelatin to firm it up.

And also note that the cooking time is variable depending on how much you want your strawberries to break down. If they are still too chunky for you after 40 minutes, cook it longer until its right for you. Or less if you want it chunkier!

The point is, there’s lots of room for experimentation..