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Paris, We Miss You!

A week ago last night, we were sitting at the counter at Les Cocottes, and last night we enjoyed those memories over steaming bowls of curried mussels.  (And I’ve not forgotten that I owe you a few more details about that trip.)  We had spent our Saturday consumed with many domestic activities and errands, and I wanted our dinner to be easy and quick but more special than a weeknight dinner.  Flipping open my  now page-stained Around My French Table, I quickly zeroed in on Dorie Greenspan’s recipe for curried mussels.  I also discovered that the Paris establishment, Horse’s Tavern, that inspired this recipe, was right around the corner from the hotel in which we stayed!  Quel dommage!  Adding it to our list.

This was the girls’ first experience and it was most successful.  Not knowing what they were missing, the girls were quite content to sop up the cream-fortified curried broth with a piece of bread rather the crispy pile of salty frites that should have accompanied the dish.  I was less accepting, but kept my complaints to myself.   Expressing her surprise that dinner was ready so quickly, Anna remarked that she didn’t know why people go to fast-food restaurants when they can make such good food at home.  Michael Pollan would be so pleased (as, of course, was this mother.)

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French Saturday Night

Since my daughters were both involved with sleepovers on Friday night – one at our place, one at a friend’s – we pushed our “movie night” off to Saturday this week.   We included a stop at the library in our Saturday errands, and picked up “Julie & Julia”.  Having read the book, I’d been rather reluctant to watch the film, but multiple friends had insisted I would enjoy it, the girls had actually heard about it from some friends and were therefore gung-ho, and then, of course, it did have the whole Paris connection.   In the spirit of our evening’s theme, I chose a couple of recipes from Around My French Table for dinner:  pork loin with oranges and broth-braised potatoes.  I also decided to see if the girls’ palates were ready to recognize the delights of roasted brussels sprouts.

I wish I could report that the pork loin was a hit, but alas I cannot.  I had high hopes, given how beautiful it both looked and smelled as it cooked.

Orange zest, scallions, and cardamom flavored the sauce, but somehow the pork left us all a little unmoved.  It was just okay, not something I can see myself cooking again.  And though I thought the brussels sprouts just grand, my daughters were left cold.  The more apropos word would actually be “offended.”   Thank goodness for the fingerling potatoes and raspberry chocolate chip ice cream that followed later, else my children would have gone to bed hungry.

The movie helped to make up for the disappointing dinner, as well.   We loved the “Julia” scenes!  The glimpses of Paris – restaurants, markets, streets scenes – flamed the anticipation that has been building in our home.  The girls declared that we must visit Shakespeare and Company and E. Dehillerin.  Greta decided it’s time to get serious about learning some French phrases, and spent an hour or so with one of our French textbooks today.  And I found myself captured once again, as I was when I read Julia’s biography, by the story of her life with Paul in Paris and beyond.  The two of them exploring together, eating, cooking, hosting dinner parties, making Valentine cards in the bathtub, and sweet toasts to one another.  He loving her boisterous quirkiness, and she doting on him, and both endlessly encouraging and supportive of one another throughout their lives.  Of course, one can never know the truth of another couple’s relationship, but from what I’ve read, it certainly seems to have been a romance and partnership worthy of admiration.

Let me leave you with this poem, written by Paul Child on the occasion of Julia’s birthday, August 15, 1961:

O Julia, Julia, cook and nifty wench,
Whose unsurpassed quenelles and hot souffles,
Whose English, Norse and German, and whose French,
Are all beyond my piteous powers to praise —
Whose sweetly rounded bottom and whose legs,
Whose gracious face, whose nature temperate,
Are only equalled by her scrambled eggs:

Accept from me, your ever-loving mate,
This acclamation shaped in fourteen lines
Whose inner truth belies its outer sight;
For never were there foods, nor were there wines
Whose flavor equals yours for sheer delight.
O luscious dish! O gustatory pleasure!
You satisfy my taste buds beyond measure.

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We’re Going!

Four short weeks from today, my girls and I will be wandering the streets of Paris!  The winter prices were simply too good to pass up, and so our family Christmas present this year was a long weekend trip to Paris.   For these next few weeks, I’m going to try to focus the blog on all things French.  Beginning with yesterday’s lunch – Paris Mushroom Soup, which just happens to be one of the recipes I’m supposed to cook during January for Dorie Greenspan’s French Fridays group.

It was a bitingly cold day here in northern New Jersey, and in addition to something French, something warm was called for.  The fact that there were mushrooms involved made it an even easier choice, knowing, as I did, that it would be eaten by at least one mushroom lover.  As with most of the other Around My French Table recipes that I’ve tried so far, this one calls for relatively few ingredients (onions, garlic, mushrooms, rosemary, parsley, white wine, and chicken stock) and is prepared easily and quickly.  An extra bonus is the smell that will greet you when you return from running outside to the car, if you have left the soup simmering away on top of the stove in the meantime.  Serve this soup with a crusty peasant bread and a peppery arugula salad, and you (and your guest) will be happy.

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Lentils for Luck

In Italy, lentils are believed to bring good luck, particularly if eaten as the first meal of the New Year.  And Signora Salvadore, with whom I lived during my semester in Florence, reminded me each time she served lentils for dinner, that when I someday had children, I must feed them lentils to keep them healthy – “piena di ferro!” – “full of iron!”, she would tell me.

I have followed her advice, and my daughters are huge lentil fans, as am I.  We eat a big bowl for lunch with bread and butter on a cold day, or over pasta for a quick dinner.  But I think I like them best with salmon.

Desirous of a little more luck in 2011 than I had in 2010, and in need of a menu for a special evening last week, I turned to Dorie Greenspan‘s roasted salmon and lentils, from her new book Around My French Table.  It being a work night, and there having been a little space of time since my guest and I had an evening together, this was the perfect recipe.  I could prepare the lentils on Wednesday night – toss them in a pot with some vegetables and chicken broth – and merely reheat them while the salmon roasted on Thursday night.  An arugula salad with a little blue cheese would round out the meal.

Dorie’s recipe worked like a charm! (As a member of her French Fridays with Dorie cooking group, I cannot give the recipe here, but I strongly recommend taking a trip to your local bookstore to pick up a copy.)  Dorie is certainly not the first person to offer a salmon and lentil recipe, but this one is terrifically basic while sacrificing nothing in flavor.   The moral of this little story?  I did my part to fortify us with luck and good health AND there was still plenty of evening left for catching up.

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Baked Apples


On a chilly morning one month ago, my beau and I awoke to the smell of coffee, bacon, and warm apples, the perfect recipe for luring us from our quilt-covered bed and down to the dining room of the King’s Cottage Inn for breakfast.


We had just taken a few sips of our coffee, and wished a Happy Anniversary to each of the two other couples in the room (one a 2nd, the other a 13th, while we kept mum about our 2-Month), when our hostess set before us the source of that lovely apple scent that had drifted up to our room – a baked apple.   Its center was filled with a mixture of oats, almonds, and cinnamon, and we both agreed that it was a perfectly cozy way to begin the day.   Never before this day had I been served a baked apple, and I now had to wonder why.  It seemed a relatively simple and fuss-free sort of thing, and yet there was a not-everyday-ness to it that I knew my daughter Greta would love.  I made a mental note to introduce this to our breakfast menu one day soon.

New Year’s Day turned out to be that day.   I devised my own recipe that morning, with what I found in my pantry, but having taken a look at the suggestions in The Joy of Cooking, it’s clear that one can go many ways with a baked apple – from basic with just brown sugar and cinnamon to a richer version involving almonds, figs, breadcrumbs and ginger to a savory sausage number.  But below you’ll find my version of the apple we ate in Lancaster, and proving that old saw, “Mother knows best,” Greta was delighted with the result.

Baked Apple Chez K

2 apples (I used Gala)

a little heavy cream (though milk will certainly do)

a little milk

1 Tbs. butter

1 pkg. instant oatmeal  (I used apples and spice flavor)

raisins, if you are so inclined

cinnamon

Ideally, one would use plain oats, and flavor them with a bit of cinnamon, brown sugar, and a pinch of salt, all moistened with milk.  Being out of oats on New Year’s Day, I resorted to a packet of instant oatmeal, apple and spice flavor.  I added a bit more cinnamon to the packet, moistened it with a bit of cream, and tossed in a few raisins.

I then halved the apples and cut out the core.  Into the resulting cavity, I rounded a tablespoon or so of the oatmeal mixture.  I dotted each apple with a bit of butter and then put them into a small casserole dish.

I poured a bit of boiling water into the dish (about 1/4″ or so) and covered the dish with foil.  I set the casserole in a preheated 375° oven for about 30 minutes, until the apples were tender, and then served them with a little warmed cream.

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Greta’s Pancake (fka David Eyre’s Pancake)

Amanda Hesser wrote a column about this pancake in the March 25, 2007, edition of The New York Times Magazine.  I gave it try one day soon thereafter and have been making it ever since.  Well, perhaps I got us started, but in the past year or so, my nine-year old daughter has taken command.

This pancake is nothing more than eggs, flour, milk, and a little nutmeg, baked in the oven in a pan full of butter.  It is then topped with powdered sugar and lemon juice.  It’s a cinch to make, and the original recipe takes well to tweaking.  By the time I first showed Greta how to make it, I had already decreased the amount of butter called for and determined that a pinch of salt is a welcome addition.  Greta has increased the amount of nutmeg and to the recipe she adds her special stirring method.  I can’t tell you what she does, but her pancakes come out more billowy than mine every single time.  I’ve watched her, trying to uncover the secret of her technique,  but it evades me still.

Today being New Year’s Day, Greta and I decided that it was an excellent day for her pancake.  I had also decided to prepare a batch of baked apples, something I’d been wanting to do ever since I’d been served one for breakfast at King’s Cottage during that Lancaster weekend.  Greta set to work beating a couple of eggs, and then added 1/2 c. flour, 1/2 c. milk, and a pinch of salt.

Next the fresh nutmeg -her favorite part.  Greta will tell you to “just grate it until you think you’ve put in enough.”

After the nutmeg, blend until only combined.  The batter should still be a little lumpy.  (This is where Greta excels.)  Next, melt 2 Tbs. of butter (or twice as much, if you’re so inclined) in an oven-proof skillet.

Pour the batter into the hot pan,

and set it in a 425° oven.  Bake approximately 12- 15 minutes.  The pancake should puff up, in billowy mounds, and should have a lovely golden color, even toasty on the edges.

Remove pan from the oven and sprinkle to your heart’s content with confectioners’ sugar.

Next, we would normally sprinkle with the juice of half a lemon, but having discovered our fruit drawer remarkably bare of lemons, we decided to use an orange – and we loved it!

Cut the pancake in wedges and serve with berries, if you have them.  Jam or fruit butter might also be considered.

Next time:  the baked apples!

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