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"

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.


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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?

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).


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

Judion beans, ricotta mustia and I am maybe reading too much MFK Fisher

Judion beans with sun-dried tomatoes, rosemary and ricotta mustia



Start with some plump, cooked judion beans and with a light hand anoint them with your best olive oil. Dip your fingers into a pot of crunchy sel de guérande and take but a pinch! Then watch as the grains tumble recklessly over the ivory beans. Take the pepper mill in hand and let the aggressive crack of the peppercorns ring in your ears. It will take all your willpower to resist the urge to eat the beans right then and there.
But if you do, you will be forgiven.

If you've made it this far, it will serve you well to add a flourish of chopped, marinated, sun-dried tomatoes. And I beg you not to stop until the earthy green of fresh rosemary decorates the bowl. And in the final act, before the curtain is drawn, add a bit of the softest, freshest cheese you can find so that each bite melts into your mouth and does not distract you from the soft, lush beans. Might I humbly suggest ricotta? And if you can find it, I promise you your tastebuds will ignite under the smoky warmth of ricotta mustia.

And I know it may be too much to ask, but if you can resist temptation for just another minute or two, consider how perfect this whole affair would be alongside a fresh arugula salad and a wedge torn from a doughy loaf of bread to mop up every last bit of oil and salt from the bottom of your bowl.

In closing dear friends I must forewarn you that this salad is most certainly the sum of its parts. If the bean on its own does not inspire you, if the sun-dried tomato makes you wince or heaven forbid the olive oil does not make you close your eyes and drift away into your daydreams, well then, might I suggest perhaps a bowl of soup for dinner instead?


**************
The players

*Ricotta mustia = smoked ricotta. I had never heard of this before I saw it at Whole Foods last week. And wow, it is some kind of smoky! It has a fantastic flavour. It runs the risk of overpowering anything you put it with so I think it must be used carefully.

Judion beans--a Spanish butter bean. You may be surprised to learn that I bought mine in a jar. These jars are easily found in the UK at Sainsbury's and Waitrose and the Borough Market, as they are imported from Spain by Brindisa. They are big white beans and probably a bit softer than they should be because they are sitting in brine, but I LOVE THEM. If you want to cook your own from dried, be my guest. Additionally, I think any canned white bean would be ok as a substitute. The main thing is that they taste good just on their own --if you're not starting out with a good bean then this "non-recipe" won't taste like much.

I am in love with Waitrose brand chargrilled sundried tomatoes. G and I throw them on everything --from pizza to chickpeas to arugula salads. Everytime we move it takes me a while before I find a brand of marinated sundried tomatoes that doesn't leave me disappointed. The first time I tried this brand I was hooked.

Olive oil- if there's one thing I have learned not to skimp on, it's good olive oil.


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Post disclaimer: No, I haven't lost my mind. I'm just in the middle of reading this.

On a mission.

Emerald Sesame Kale

It's time that I confess that this girl is on a serious mission. In about 7 weeks time I will be donning a wedding dress and saying 'I do' to that beau-hunk of mine, otherwise known as G. This means that these days I am paying an unusual amount of attention to the size of every pore on my face, the strength and shine of every strand of hair on my head and yes, of course, any extra jiggle in my walk.
Seven weeks and counting.

So now maybe you understand why it is that when I walked into Whole Foods the other day I avoided all those decadent things at the prepared foods counter and opted for a big old serving of their Emerald Sesame Kale.
This stuff was seriously green.
So green, in fact, it made me feel like my skin was going to instantly glow the minute I took that first bite. I even got them to throw in some roasted asparagus and baby bok choy with miso just to show them how serious I was about this whole thing.

I'm aiming for glowing skin here people, and I am going to show no mercy.

It was the most ridiculous looking pile of stuff and even the most forgiving eye would admit that it didn't look all that appetizing in it's plastic container. But like I said, I'm on a mission.
Admittedly, the asparagus and the bok choy were consumed with little fanfare.
But that kale.
Oh my, that green, green kale.
I had no idea kale could be that good. Maybe that's not saying much coming from a girl who doesn't buy it all that often, but I think I may now be officially converted.

Unfortunately, it seems that Whole Foods saves their best recipes for their cookbook. They seem to have a recipe by this name in there but the full recipe is not posted on their website.

However, I did manage to find two recipes with the exact same name and same ingredient list so I think I may be on to something. But if anyone out there has the real deal, you will give me a nudge, won't you?


*************
If you're interested, the 2 recipes I found both contain: kale, sesame oil, sesame seeds, garlic and soy sauce. I haven't tested these recipes yet but the ingredient list does give us a good head start, don't you think?

Emerald Sesame Kale from Open Harvest
Emerald Sesame Kale from Outpost Natural Foods

Eating my way to back to health.

Quinoa stuffed acorn squash

After a week of drowning in kleenex and misery a girl re-emerges with a strong desire to get back to her old self. I figured that if I couldn't fight that cold with muscles and moxy then perhaps the only thing I could do to defend myself was to eat healthy.
Ok there was that one night where we polished off a bag of Doritos. But people, we were sick, and we needed comfort of the kind that covers your fingers with orange cheesy powder.
In my defense, I started the following day with a fruit smoothie, which left me feeling fully redeemed for my previous night's indulgence.
A girl has to live.

But the point I'm trying to make here is an important one. And it goes something like this:
Mmm mm! That squash was good.
I felt like I just threw Autumn on a plate and ate it all up.
And Autumn? You sure are one tasty treat.

I'm not sure I even want to tell you that I've had a bag of red quinoa in my cupboard for over a year gathering dust. I even dutifully packed it up when we moved here from Paris. You'd think that what with a new city and a new cupboard that perhaps the quinoa would get noticed. Well it took 8 months, but it finally did.

If there is any thing that might knock this cold on its ass it's got to be this stuffed squash. Even if it hadn't tasted good, which it did, it just looked so darn pretty I started feeling healthy before I even sat down to eat it.

Now that is some kind of moxy.


______________________________
Quinoa Stuffed Acorn Squash

The squash
I cut the acorn squash in half and scooped out the seeds. I brushed lightly with olive oil and sprinkled with salt and pepper, then roasted for about 40 minutes at 200c (that's 392F, but I guess just round up to 400F)

The quinoa
I cooked the red quinoa as per the package directions. In a frying pan I sauteed some onion and finely sliced carrots in olive oil. I added some chopped garlic, a bit of ground allspice and pimenton de la vera, (a spice combo used in the Moro cookbook). Then I added the quinoa to the pan and tossed it all together and topped with fresh coriander and some crumbled feta. Finally, I put this into the roasted squash and served it.
Note:
Goat cheese would also be good instead of the feta.

You had me at roasted artichoke..

A souvenir of my lunch at Gail's, because I didn't get a pic of
the sandwich that this post is really about. A girl has to make do.

I know, it seems as though all I ever talk about is some place or other in Notting Hill. But geez, it's so damn charming, can you blame me?
I fully intended to go back to Book for Cooks for lunch the other day, but as we made our way there, my friend and I noticed this cute little bakery/lunch spot and couldn't help but peek our heads in. I tell you, once you pop your noggin' in there, there's no resisting.

Gail's is not new to London but it is relatively new to Portobello Road. Take one look at their range of artisanal breads, pastries and sandwiches and I dare you to try to walk out of there empty handed.

Let it be said that I do not take sandwiches lightly. I am a very complicated, sandwich-loving woman.
In fact, I will only buy a sandwich if it meets very exacting standards. This happens maybe once or twice a year, except for that dry spell of 2004. Because nothing upsets me more than a poorly executed sandwich.

So there I was. In Gail's. Man, it sure smelled bready and good in there. There were sandwiches that seemed to be tailored made for a picky girl like me:
Charcoal ham and guacamole
Gorgonzola and pear
Greek feta and courgette
I wiped the dribble off of my chin and I swear the skies parted and a heavenly (or maybe just fluorescent) beam of light shone down on this one:
Bresaola, Roasted Artichoke, and Rocket Sandwich.

As if that weren't enough, we washed it down with a glass of freshly squeezed blood orange juice and finished it all off with a yogurt and granola cup.
Let's pause to appreciate the fabulousness of this lunch.
It was such a healthy meal I was forced to restore balance in my universe by indulging in that red velvet cupcake later that afternoon.

I left Gail's with not just a full belly-- but also a fresh baguette and a plump sausage roll to bring home for G.

I'd never been to Gail's before, but I'm happy to be able to find them on Portobello Road. Since I never seem to go anywhere else.

Gail's
138 Portobello Road
London, W11 2DZ

64 Hampstead High Street
London, NW3 1QH

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Note: you can sit down and enjoy your lunch in their cute little space or take any of this home with you. Their website has a menu of their offerings.

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.
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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.

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Related
The Zuni Café 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

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.

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

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.

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

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)

A little wine, a lot of chocolate.. WBW13

Bourgogne Passetoutgrains and Chocolate Cheesecake
bites with a Chocolate Rosemary Ganache

When Clotilde announced the theme for this month's Wine Blogging Wednesday, my immediate thought was that there was no way I could participate. I moved to Paris 4 weeks ago and was dismayed to find that my apartment contained a stovetop, but no oven. No oven? That's right. No oven. That meant no more roasted chicken, no more roasted tomatoes, no crostini, no homemade pizzas and definitely no baking. I was ready to throw in the towel on food blogging.

As the WBW due date drew nearer I had resigned myself to the fact that I was just going to have to sit back and watch everybody else having all the fun. And then there was an email. Not just any email, but an email sent to a girl who knows what she's talking about when it comes to food, both savoury and sweet. I lamented, I complained. She read my tales of woe, but she knew that all was not lost just because I was ovenless.
And so began my no-bake-cheesecake experiment.

I browsed a number of recipes. A bit of tweaking, a dash of invention, (something I'm rarely comfortable with when it comes to desserts) and I ended up with these chocolatey little bundles. Chocolate cheesecake on top of a cookie base, covered with a chocolate rosemary ganache. And with G. away this week, there was nobody here to enjoy them but me. And perhaps that was a good thing. Because enjoy them I did.
The rosemary flavour in the ganache added a subtle and surprising mellowness. Next time I will steep the rosemary longer in the cream to allow the flavour to come through just a bit more.


Chocolate Cheesecake Bites with a Chocolate Rosemary Ganache

I popped the cork on my new wine, and there I was, chocolate and wine at hand, ready for an evening spent curled up on the couch with a good book.



The Wine
It is said that when pairing wine with chocolate, it is important to consider the cocoa content of the chocolate. The stronger the chocolate, the more full bodied the wine should be. A bittersweet chocolate would be complimented by a hearty Zinfandel. A Pinot Noir or Merlot is a good match for milk chocolates. At 52% cocoa content, the chocolate I chose fell into the semi-sweet category. It was not bitter enough for a Zinfandel, so I decided to try something from the Bourgogne region. A general rule is that the wine should be sweeter than the chocolate, so I thought perhaps I was playing it safe. Bourgogne Passetoutgrains are made with 2/3rds Gamay grapes, and only 1/3rd Pinot Noir grapes, although I did read that its possible that this ratio is not always adhered to. My particular bottle however, did indicate that this was in fact the ratio used. The Bourgogne Passetoutgrains appellation is relatively small so it is not as easy to find these wines as it is to find those of larger appellations.
Gamay grapes often have cherry and/or strawberry notes and are said to be good easy to drink table wines. It had a nice clear colour and a noticeable acidity which cut through the sweet richness of my dessert. It was an acceptable match with my chocolate, but not a particularly satisfying one.
I think I would try this wine again in another context to see how it fares. The back label recommends the wine with grilled meats and soft cheeses, such as Brie.


Bourgogne Passetoutgrains

Bourgogne Passetoutgrains
Maison Chandesais
Bourgogne, France
Grapes: 2/3rds Gamay, 1/3rd Pinot Noir
Mis en Bouteille
12% vol.
€3.15 for 375 mL bottle or approximately €6.00 for a 750ml bottle.

The Cheesecake
The cheesecake was an experiment of mine. I did not follow a specific recipe and only wanted to make as much as I could eat. A whole cake just wouldn't do when there was only me to eat it.
You can use your favourite cheesecake recipe to recreate the same thing.

100 g of cream cheese
1 heaping tablespoon of sugar
1 tablespoon of crème fraiche
approximately 3 oz of good quality chocolate, melted
Mix the first 3 ingredients together and then mix in the chocolate.

It turned out to be quite dense, almost like a thick mousse. I only added a tablespoon of sugar to 100g of cream cheese because I knew the chocolate would sweeten the mix. If you prefer something less dense, use whipped cream instead of the crème fraiche. Adjust amounts to your taste.

I scooped the mix onto the little cookies, smoothed it out as best I could, and after a cooling period in the refrigerator, covered each of them with the ganache.

Here is a link to Martha's No bake Chocolate Crust Cheesecake that you can use as a reference for an alternative cheesecake mixture, and also for a crust if you prefer that to using cookies.

The Chocolate Rosemary Ganache from www.mslo.com
Please note, that this amount of ganache is was way more than I needed, so keep that in mind when making your own. The instructions below are the method I used, click on link above to see Martha's full instructions.

Makes 1.5 cups
9 oz semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons fresh rosemary needles

Place chocolate in a medium heat-proof bowl. Warm cream with rosemary in small saucepan over low heat. Bring just to a boil. Strain cream over chocolate. Stir to melt all chocolate. Pour ganache over your cream cheese bites. Let cool in fridge or at room temperature.

The Cookies used for the base
Mère Poulard, Les Chocolatines du Mont Saint Michel
I would definitely buy these cookies again to use as my cheesecake base, but they were also equally delicious plain, straight out of the box. They were a thin cookie, the bottom of them showed that they were generously laced with tiny chocolate chips. The cookies had a very small crumb, crisp to bite into, but the rest was melt-in-your mouth. The only thing that comes to mind that is somewhat comparable in texture to the crumb of these cookies are the wafers on an oreo cookie.
I was happy to find that mine stayed crisp after a night in the refrigerator covered in my cream cheese mixture. Choosing these ones for my base had been a stroke of pure luck.


The Cookie Base

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!

My first Keller creation..

Parmesan crisps with goat cheese mousse

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

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

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

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

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

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


random parsley picture for visual effect

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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