Tricoquine in the land of the stinky cheese

Fruit leather, orange vomit?

Does that give you a good visual while I struggle to find time to understand the inner working of my new camera? (and the fact that I seem to have misplaced the old point-and-shoot).

I saw Aimee's picture of her fruit leather on flickr and had a wild craving for the stuff. We weren't allowed to have fruit roll-ups as kids and as a result, I developed a taste for the real fruit leather my mom bought at the health food store (blueberry was/is definitely my favorite). We had a couple of mushy apples in the fruit bowl and several blood oranges leftover from an eyes-to-big-for-the-stomach moment at the market. I greatly dislike mushy, mealy apples and when they've passed their crispy dipped-in-peanut-butter prime, I usually make a batch of applesauce. This time however, I thought I'd do something a little different.

I threw the raw chunks of two peeled apples and two blood oranges into the bowl that goes along with my immersion mixer, pureed them into an orangy mash, and spread out the mixture evenly onto a silpat. Popped the whole thing in the oven set at convection at 70°C (approx 150°F) and three hours later, I had fruit leather.

I'm not entirely convinced that all of this was worth the effort to make a 12 in x 8 in sheet of fruit leather that was eaten in about 10 minutes but it was certainly tasty, even though it looked like that plastic gag  vomit you buy at a joke shop.

Thursday night dinner: simple chicken curry with tomatoes

Last Thursday being a holiday in France, I was actually able to cook during the week! I had been craving spicy curry lately but Indian offerings in Paris leave a lot to be desired.  And in any case, we are trying to cut down on eating out since we started keeping track of how much we actually spend per month on restaurants!

One of my maternal grandmother's favorite expressions when dining out is "I can make this for a quarter of the price at home, and it would still be better..."

Last year I decided to take this approach to Indian food and bought a cookbook, took a trip to the little épiceries in the Passage Brady and bought all sorts of exotic spices like black cumin, cardamom pods, star anise and fenugreek to grind up into my very own masala and set to work in the kitchen to make samosas from scratch and lamb vindaloo, Ribbit's favorite. It was one of those dishes, like boeuf bourginon and lapin à la moutarde that are delicious and comforting and sinful at the same time but take six or seven hours of time in the kitchen to make really perfect. I have never taken the cookbook off the shelf since...

One thing I believe this experiment did teach me, though, were the building blocks of Indian cuisine. What I gleaned was that the essential components to a good sauce are ginger, garlic, and onion pastes, a masala mixture, and ghee. From these essentials, I threw together an abbreviated chicken curry and added several handfuls of chopped tomatoes to cut the creaminess of the dairy-based sauce.

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Serves 2

Prep time: 15 minutes

Cooking time: 25 minutes

2 boneless skinless chicken breasts or thighs (if you're using thighs and have deboned them yourself, make sure to remove all excess connective tissues and nerves)

1 cup/1 individual serving of plain yogurt, whole or skim milk (I used Velouté because I had some in the refrigerator)

1 cup low-fat sour cream (crème fraîche)

1 small onion, sliced thinly in rounds

4 cloves of garlic, pureed

4 teaspoons pureed fresh ginger

three tablespoons curry powder (curry powders vary in intensity with producers, if you have the time and the ingredients, it is best to grind your own powder)

2 tomatoes, seeded and chopped or a small can of chopped, stewed tomatoes, without the juice

several whole cloves

olive oil or ghee

chopped cilantro for garnish (I used basil because my cilantro hasn't sprouted yet)

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In a heated pan, add olive oil or ghee. When melted, add garlic and ginger pastes and sliced onion.  Sautee on low heat until onion is translucent, making sure garlic and ginger pastes do not burn.  Add chicken and cook through, about 7 minutes.  Add yogurt, sour cream, curry powder and cloves to the chicken and onions; set on low heat and simmer for twenty minutes.

At the same time, think about making your basmati rice.  I like to add cumin to the rice spot for an extra flavor.

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The best part of the meal, besides being a super healthy, natural and fairly low-fat dish? When you add up the price of the ingredients, the meal for two comes to about 7€, including rice.  Which is about 20€ less then it would cost at your standard Indian restaurant in Paris.  This is something my grandmother would appreciate!

Sunday night dinner: florentine = spinach? and a contest

Let me tell you a little story about the anatomy of a post.  Contrary to what some might think, a post is not just a stream-of-conscious rambling about something I found interesting or unusual or just plain silly on any particular day (well, sometimes...but only when I'm desperate for readers).  Usually it originates from a question that I have asked myself -- something that I've been broodingly pondering over in a café while touilléing* my espresso on the banks of the Canal St. Martin, wearing a beret and a scarf with a baguette under my arm. And usually, there is an answer.  But today, I am relying on you for the answer.  And let us make this a contest: whomever can give me a good answer to my question will receive a French gourmet delight of their choosing (I'm thinking chocolate, or foie gras, or duck rillettes, or fancy mustard, or Christine Ferber jam, or violettes...).

The genesis of this contest is the lunch that I made this afternoon.  It is a concoction I have always heard referred to as "chicken florentine".  Chicken, spinach, creamy stuff, voilà, lunch or dinner.

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2 breasts of (the Best) chicken (you can afford)

2 pounds fresh spinach

4 tablespoons sour cream

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 teaspoons olive oil

freshly grated nutmeg

toasted pine nuts (optional)

In a skillet, heat olive oil until nearly sizzling, add minced garlic and let "fry" until golden brown.  Remove oil and garlic and set aside. 

Chiffonnade clean spinach and place in same skillet with 1/2 glass of water. Cover skillet and let simmer for 5 minutes or until spinach is wilted. Remove from heat and set aside.

Season chicken breasts  with salt and pepper and place in warm skillet, cook until done.  At the same time, place spinach and sour cream in another skillet and heat over medium heat until sufficiently warm.  Add grated nutmeg.

Garnish with pine nuts and have an enjoyable Sunday lunch.

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Back to "florentine"...

So I started thinking (still in a café over an espresso, with a beret and a scarf and a baguette under my arm, only this time I was also eating a croissant) about "florentine".  When I first came to France I was mystified by the menu and the way preparations are never described but simply refereed to by proper nouns or places, like Boeuf Bourgignon (how is one supposed to know that it is a sauce of wine (well, that is obvious) with onions and mushrooms) or any dish à la provençale (which, by the way,usually means there is some kind of tomato preparation) à la normande (usually with apples or apple brandy or apple cider), or sauce périgodienne (with foie gras or truffles or both).

Much in the same way, florentine seems to refer to a dish incorporating spinach, in some way or another. This is a bit confusing to me because florentines are also little thin, crispy cookies that you dip in chocolate and serve for afternoon tea and steak florentine (bistecca alla fiorentina) has absolutely no spinach at all!

So, getting to my question and your challenge -- why is "florentine" generally associated with spinach?

Deadline for submissions: Friday midnight, Eastern Standard Time (which would be 6am French time Saturday morning). As a legal disclaimer (I am a lawyer after all) in the event of a tie, I shall pick names out of a hat.

Also, for those of you who come to this blog for knitting related things, I promise to have a WIP update tomorrow.

Lexicon:

Touiller (v): to stir (informal), usually used to refer to stirring sugar into coffee. Une touillette is a little plastic stirrer (in France they or white or clear, in the US they are red) that comes with espresso purchased out of a vending machine.

Sunday Night Dinner: Hokkaido Squash Soup

Meet the potimarron or Hokkaido squash, a Japanese variety of squash with a very distinct chestnut flavor. These little guys (this one weighs approximately 2.2 pounds) are quite popular in France and as it is winter squash season, are readily available at our local farmers' market. For weeks now I have been telling Ribbit that I am going to make potimarron soup and last Sunday I finally dug up a recipe: hokkaido squash with cinnamon.  The market vendor recommended that I leave the skin on to fully appreciate the chesnutty flavor. The recipe and the preparation could not have been easier:

For two generous servings:

2 pound Hokkaido squash

2 tablespoon of unsalted butter

1 rounded teaspoon of coarse salt

1 cup of water

fresh grated cinnamon to taste (I used 1 tablespoon)

2 cups milk (the original recipe called for cream (1 cup) but I prefer my soup less creamy)

Cut the squash in half, scrape out the seeds and dice into 2 inch cubes, leaving the skin on.  In a large pot melt butter, then add cubed squash, water and salt.  Cover and simmer for 30 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes to avoid burning.  Add more water if mixtures appears too thick.

When cubes are totally soft, add cinnamon.  Wait until mixture has cooled to add milk or cream.  For a smoother texture, puree in blender. Top with chervil and serve warm.

The soup was hearty and flavorful but for those who do not like chestnuts, I highly recommened peeling the squash before cooking.  In fact, Ribbit and I did not finish our respective bowls because the chestnut flavor was just a little too much to take. I think that this preparation would actually work better as a purée (minus the milk) to serve along side a roasted meat, like roastbeef or as a tiny soup that you serve to guests as an amuse bouche before the appetizer.

Potimarron soup was not the only adventure in the kitchen on Sunday. Ribbit's cousins who live in the countryside near Rouen paid us a visit on Friday night and brought along a sack full of delicious fresh-picked(and untreated!) apples from their orchard.

Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest, I think I have apples in my bloodstream. Nothing compares to the crunch and spray when biting into a freshly picked apple. But what to do with five pounds of apples?  Make homemade applesauce.  And really, its as easy as (apple) pie!

Applesauce:

As many apples, cored, peeled and quartered, as you can fit into a pot. If you have a food mill, you can pop them with the cores and skins.  After your pot is stuffed with apples, fill it with 1/2 inch of water.  Simmer uncovered for 30 minutes or until totally mushy.  Add a dash of cinnamon and homemade vanilla extract if so inclined.  Serve warm or room temperature.

Hoëdic, le caneton

Six year ago, nearly to the day, Ribbit and I met on this little island off the south shore of Brittany.  Special in its own right with its 500 acres of untamed fields and beaches, Hoëdic, which means duckling in breton, is at the origin of my love affair with France.  I met many of my oldest French friends because of the island, my mother's friend, an English teacher in France having recruited many of the  children of her friends who have second homes on the island to come visit us in the United States.  And it was while a guest at her house on the island that I met the people who would eventually introduce me to Ribbit.

We return several times a year and take advantage of the slow pace of the 100 or so inhabitants, to relax, fish, and enjoy a glass of Colombelle or Ricard on the terrasse of one of the three cafés.

A one and one-half hour ferry ride from the continent, the Island has a timeless quality associated with being far removed from the modern world of pollution and traffic (there are no motor vehicles on the Island except for a fire truck and a tractor). It retains its authentic fishing village feel -- I'll never forget my first morning there, siting around the kitchen table having coffee, when a knock at the door brought a fisherman in his rain slicks with a bucket of fresh fish for our lunch.

During this particular trip we had an exceptionally fruitful afternoon of clam digging and brought home a feast of 150 clams.  Although far from a traditional regional dish, my initial thought was to make linguine alle vongole.  There is nothing like the combination of clams and fresh pasta.

Linguine alle vongole

serves 4

fresh linguine

2 lbs fresh clams in the shell (or canned equivalent, although not recommended)

garlic cloves, slivered (to taste)

piment d'espelette (to taste)

3/4 cup of dry white wine

1 lemon, juiced

1/4 cup olive oil

salt/pepper

bunch of chopped flat leaf parsley

Directions:  in a large, deep pan, sauté olive oil with piment, garlic, salt and pepper for 3 minutes (do not let the garlic turn brown).  At the same time, boil water for fresh pasta. 

Add white wine and lemon juice, mixing together.  Add clams to liquid, cover with a lid and shake periodically.  After 6 minutes, or when all shells are open, take off heat and add cooked linguine.  Garnish with chopped flat leaf parsely and serve.

Recipe Box: Tortilla Soup

When I'm not knitting or strolling the streets of Paris, I am often found in the kitchen. As the resident chef at our Canal St. Martin apartment (Ribbit does the dishes, how lucky am I?), I take my responsibility quite seriously and try to add a new recipe to my repertoire each week.  As in knitting, I am prone to switch things up a bit, from substituting yarn to substituting or adding ingredients (almost always something SPICY!).

Ribbit and I just returned from a week-long eating smorgasbord in New York City (more on that in future posts) but we didn't get a chance to eat Southwestern food while we were there. During the winter, I love making soup-as-a-meal dishes and this one is close to my heart. My mom used to make tortilla soup when we were kids, and it has always been my favorite south-of-the-border meal.  Enjoy!

Recipe: Tortilla Soup

1 white onion, chopped
2 cloves chopped garlic
1 diced green bell pepper
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and chopped (we don't have jalapenos in France so I used some Moroccan green piment)                                                                                                                                1 small can cooked corn                                                                                                              1/2 can diced, cooked tomatoes
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon tomato paste
6 cups chicken stock
1 pound chicken, sliced in strips
1 big bunch chopped fresh cilantro                                                                                                                                                                                        Juice of 1/2 lime

In a heavy stockpot, heat several teaspoons of olive oil on medium heat and satuée onions, peppers, garlic, salt, cumin and coriander until tender (5 minutes).  Stir in tomato paste. Add chicken stock and let simmer for 15 minutes.

In the meantime, coat chicken with cayenne pepper and cook in skillet. Once the chicken has cooked thoroughly, remove from heat and shred with a knife.  Add the chicken to the stock.

After adding the chicken, add tomatoes and corn and let simmer for 5 minutes. Just before serving, add cilantro and lime juice.

Garnish with grated cheddar cheese, sour cream, avocado and several tortilla chips.

Desperately seeking sushi

Good sushi is pretty hard to come by in France. Although it might consider itself the gastronomic capital of the world, France is pretty lacking in the Japanese food area.  Sushi restaurants here tend to serve the basic futo maki, California roll and tuna and salmon nigri -- you can forget about rainbow and dragon rolls, they don't even have spicy tuna! 

I love sushi. I love most Japanese food (udon noodles, shabu-shabu, yakatori) but nothing gets me like the combination of raw, fatty fish that melts in your mouth, mixed with spicy horseradish and the sweet-sour vinegar sushi rice. I still remember the my first sushi experience.  For my dad's birthday we took him to the newest thing in suburban Beaverton, OR -- Marine Polis Sushiland, imported directy from Japan.  My sister and I squealed with disgust and pointed at the slimy looking fish as it trudged along the conveyor belt (yes, on a conveyor belt!) on its little color-coded plates.  That night I tried BBQ eel for the first time (still my favorite), California rolls, salmon roe, among others. Now, I can't get enough.

After several unsuccessful attempts at finding a good sushi place in Paris, Mr. Ribbit and I resigned ourselves to the future -- we'd just have to learn to make our own.  Armed with the proper utensils (flat wooden spoon, large bamboo bowl for cooling rice, and the ever-important sushi mat), ingredients (sushi rice, nori, rice vinegar, wasabi, soy sauce, kombu for flavoring the sushi rice, and fish of course), we were on our way. Oh, and this book helped a ton.

And when we're not in the mood to do the dishes, we go to Ploum, 20 rue Alibert; Paris 75010. 

Le Patîsson

Our Sunday morning ritual of browsing around the Bastille market was all the more exciting yesterday because 1) we rode bikes! my second-ever bike ride in Paris on the tutti-frutti electric sea-foam colored bicycle and 2) we happened upon a very exciting and not-so-commonly-found-in-Paris vegetable.

This mystery vegetable is none other than the patty-pan squash (or patîsson, in French, as I learned yesterday).

Although a close relative of the zucchini, this summer squash, has a far more delicate flavor and serves as a great vegetable pairing for fish. I have seen them most often at organic farmers markets in the US during the summer months where they are generally a buttery yellow hue.  These patîssons were white, and had a much more subtle flavor than their American counterparts.

Once cubed, I tossed them with a little extra virgin olive oil, a couple of grinds of my lavender sea salt, and some finely ground white pepper (note: black pepper has far too dominating a taste for this dish) before setting them in a skillet over a medium-high flame. Once tender and slightly browned, I tossed in some chopped flat-leaf parsely and rough chopped shallots for extra flavor. 

But the meal wasn't complete without the protein, 2 lovely daurade grises, a white fish akin to sea bream.  Lighty salted, stuffed with parsely and shallots then pan fried in 1 tablespoon of butter for 4 minutes on each side, and voilà

Conseils du Chef: when eating whole fish, never forget the little cheek, the most tender, succulent part of the fish....

Bon appétit