what we look like when we talk about food

I think our hand gestures could be easily misconstrued. And yes, we still talk about food even when we're not at work.

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j-cat cooks!: sugar raised doughnuts

Remember when I said that J-Cat likes to cook things that have good potential for being disastrous? Well he has truly proven this over the last few weeks, tackling several tricky recipes - most involving vats of oil. He's made French bistro-style fries, fish and chips, various crepes and blintzes, and much more. This weekend, he tackled one of my great loves in life: sugar raised doughnuts.



This was actually not his first foray into the world of doughnuts. A couple of weeks ago he made some delightful spiced cake doughnut holes. But the sugar raised is - in my opinion - the pinnacle of the doughnut repertoire. Simple, light, sweet but not overpowering, chewy, yeasty, almost melts in your mouth. It's not fussy, it's not fancy, it is just the essence of doughnut.



These were a bit of a handful, but they were quite successful. I helped J-Cat with the second part of the process - the rolling/cutting/frying/sugaring part, ie. the fun part. It was certainly an adventure, and there really is nothing like eating a freshly fried doughnut just minutes after it comes out of the oil, as soon as it is cool enough to handle. A touch of a crisp exterior, a light and airy interior, a good bite. I think perhaps our choice of canola oil to fry was not ideal for flavor, there was a mild flavor almost like soy milk that I am guessing was due to the oil. It was not a bad flavor, it would probably just be a little better without it. We're looking forward to trying this one again, but next time we'll make sure there are a few more people around to eat a dozen doughnuts within the few hours before they go stale...recipe after the jump:




RAISED DOUGHNUTS
Adapted from Betty Crocker’s Old-Fashioned Cookbook
Yields approximately 1 dozen large donuts and holes

5 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt

2 packages active dry yeast
1 3/4 cups very warm milk (120º to 130º)
1/3 cup shortening
2 eggs
Vegetable oil
Sugar

Mix 2 cups of the flour, 1/2 cup sugar, salt and yeast in large bowl. Add milk, shortening and eggs. Beat on low speed 1 minute, scraping bowl frequently. Beat on medium speed 1 minute, scraping bowl frequently. Stir in remaining flour until smooth. Cover and let rise in warm place 50 to 60 minutes or until double. (Dough is ready if indentations remain when touched).

Turn dough onto generously floured surface; roll around lightly to coat with flour. Flatten dough with hands or rolling pin to 1/2-inch thickness. Cut with floured doughnut cutter. Push together scraps and gently knead 2 or 3 times. Flatten dough to 1/2-inch thickness; cut with floured 4-inch doughnut cutter. Cover doughnuts and let rise 30 to 40 minutes or until double.

Heat oil (1 1/2 to 2 inches) in Dutch oven to 350º. Slide doughnuts into hot oil with wide spatula. Fry about 1 minute on each side or until golden brown. Remove carefully from oil (do not prick surfaces); drain on paper towels. Roll or shake in sugar.

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manti vs. manty

I find myself eating a lot of lamb in the summer. Perhaps that's a little odd given the hot weather, but I'm guessing it might have something to do with the abundance of lovely fresh mint. I'm craving middle eastern food quite often, so Melissa Clark's recipe for Pasta with Turkish-Style Lamb, Eggplant and Yogurt Sauce from the NY Times seemed like the perfect make at home fix. She gets the inspiration for this dish from Turkish manti, little lamb-stuffed dumplings served with yogurt.



Recently, while out having dinner with my mom, Brother #2, and his wife, we saw manti on a menu. Having had Uzbeki "manty" I assumed it would be very similar, and encouraged #2 to order it. It turned out to be rather different from the pastry wrapped lamb pies at the Uzbeki restaurants, but you could see the similar influences. It was also a very pleasant surprise. This pasta actually comes reasonably close in flavor to those little dumplings, and it's certainly a lot easier to make at home. Recipe after the jump:

PASTA WITH TURKISH-STYLE LAMB, EGGPLANT, AND YOGURT SAUCE
From a recipe by Melissa Clark in The New York Times

1 large eggplant, about 1 pound, in 1/2 -inch cubes
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon kosher or coarse sea salt, more to taste
3 fat garlic cloves, minced
1 large shallot, minced
1 pound ground lamb
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes, preferably Turkish or Aleppo (see note), more to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint or dill, more to taste
1/2 pound bowtie or orecchiette pasta
2 to 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, to taste
2/3 cup plain Greek yogurt.

1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees. Bring a pot of water to boil for pasta.

2. Toss eggplant with 4 tablespoons oil and a large pinch of salt. Spread on a baking sheet, making sure there is room between pieces, and roast until crisp and brown, 15 to 20 minutes.

3. In a large skillet, heat remaining tablespoon oil. Add 2 minced garlic cloves and the shallot and sauté until fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes. Add lamb, 1/2 teaspoon salt, red pepper flakes and black pepper to taste. Sauté until lamb is no longer pink, about 5 minutes. Stir in mint or dill and cook for another 2 minutes. Stir eggplant into lamb. Taste and adjust seasonings.

4. Cook pasta according to package directions. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, melt butter: the amount is to your taste. Let cook until it turns golden brown and smells nutty, about 5 minutes. In a small bowl, stir together yogurt, remaining garlic and a pinch of salt.

5. Drain pasta and spread on a serving platter. Top with lamb-eggplant mixture, then with yogurt sauce. Pour melted butter over top. Sprinkle on additional red pepper and more mint or dill. Serve immediately.

Yield: 2 to 3 servings.

Note: Turkish or Aleppo (Syrian) red pepper flakes are sold at specialty markets and at kalustyans.com. You may also substitute ground chili powder. Do not use crushed red pepper flakes; they will be too hot for this dish.

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omg stop it with the berries already

'Tis summer, didja know? It finally feels like it, with this gross hot weather. So of course it's only fitting that we are moving soon, because it is the rule in my family that we only move when it is blisteringly hot out. Actually, we still have a few weeks until the move, so I'm being dramatic. I imagine it will not be this hot out in mid-September, but for now I am neck deep in boxes and the cats are dropping piles of fur on all of it. Thus I label the boxes: Books-Office (Cat Fur).



So as a small snack to fortify myself between rolls of packing tape and sharpies, here are some summery Blueberry Crumb Bars. Honestly, these are just shortbread and blueberries, ie. butter in a bar. These are exceedingly easy to make; crust doubles as crumb topping, berries go in whole, impossible to mess up. Perhaps one of these days I will make a dessert that is not berry-centric, but I don't imagine it will be one of these hot days. Recipe after the jump:



BLUEBERRY CRUMB BARS

3/4 cup white sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup cold unsalted butter (2 sticks)
1 egg
1/4 teaspoon salt
Zest and juice of one lemon
4 cups fresh blueberries (2 pints)
1/3 cup white sugar
3 tbsp flour

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Grease a 9×13 inch pan and line with parchment paper.

2. In a medium bowl, stir together 3/4 cup sugar, 3 cups flour, and baking powder. Mix in salt and lemon zest. Use a fork or pastry cutter to blend in the butter and egg. Dough will be crumbly. Pat 2/3 of the dough into the prepared pan.

3. In another bowl, stir together the sugar, 3 tbsp flour, and lemon juice. Gently mix in the blueberries. Sprinkle the blueberry mixture evenly over the crust. Crumble remaining dough over the berry layer.

4. Bake in preheated oven for 50-60 minutes, or until top is light brown. Cool completely. Using the edges of the parchment paper, lift gently out of the pan before cutting into squares. Refridgerate any leftovers in a sealed container.

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french food i did not eat in france: for julia

[Thanks to Tom for making this photo less beige and much more appetizing.]

It's been quite a Julia-centric week, with the long-awaited premiere of Nora Ephron's Julie & Julia. I attended a screening of the movie last week. I won't get into my feelings about it here, but I will say that I obviously have a great love for Julia Child and all that she has done for food in America. Julia influences not just my attitudes about food and cooking, but my livelihood as well. So here is a small tribute to her, Supremes de Volaille aux Champignons, from her 1961 masterpiece "Mastering the Art of French Cooking".



Now, J-Cat does not like chicken breast. Actually I don't like it either, for the most part. But it appears that saucing your chicken breast with copious amounts of butter, cream, port wine, and mushrooms suddenly makes it the most delicious meat you can imagine. J-Cat inhaled his before I even had two bites. He then put extra sauce directly on rice and ate it straight. This sauce is crack. I took the liberty of using more mushrooms than the original recipe calls for, partially because I assumed that our giant American-raised chicken breasts would be monsters compared to what Julia had access to in Paris in the early 60's. I was right, as the cooking time was quite different. I would recommend either flattening the breast just to even them out, or using the smallest chicken breasts you can find. Recipe after the jump:

Supremes de Volaille aux Champignons
(Chicken Breasts with Mushroom and Cream)
From “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” by Julia Child (Knopf, 1961)

4 supremes (boneless, skinless chicken breasts)
1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt
Big pinch white pepper
5 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon minced shallot or green onion
1/4 pound diced or sliced fresh mushrooms
1/8 teaspoon salt
For the sauce:
1/4 cup white or brown stock or canned beef bouillon
1/4 cup port, Madeira or dry white vermouth
1 cup whipping cream
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons minced parsley

Rub the chicken breasts with drops of lemon juice and sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper. Heat the butter in a heavy, oven-proof casserole, about 10 inches in diameter until it is foaming. Stir in the minced shallots or green onion and saute a moment without browning. Then stir in the mushrooms and saute lightly for a minute or two without browning. Sprinkle with salt.

Quickly roll the chicken in the butter mixture and lay a piece of buttered wax paper over them, cover casserole and place in hot oven. After 6 minutes, press top of chicken with your finger. If still soft, return to oven for a moment or two. When the meat is springy to the touch it is done. Remove the chicken to a warm platter (leave mushrooms in the pot) and cover while making the sauce (2 to 3 minutes).

To make sauce, pour the stock and wine in the casserole with the booking butter and mushrooms. Boil down quickly over high heat until liquid is syrupy. Stir in the cream and boil down again over high heat until cream has thickened slightly. Off heat, taste for seasoning, and add drops of lemon juice to taste. Pour the sauce over the chicken, sprinkle with parsley and serve immediately.

Serves 4.

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blackberry blossom

So, J-Cat plays the mandolin. He started taking lessons in January and he's really gotten quite good in a short period of time. It's fascinating to watch this grown man take music lessons for the first time, because I have been a musician all my life and was classically trained from childhood. I think it's a pretty different experience. I will say that he is more dedicated about practicing than I ever was when I was a kid. I practiced a lot, but I'm sure my mother would tell you that sometimes (most times?) it was a bit of a struggle to motivate me. So I'm so impressed and proud of J-Cat, and I try to be as supportive as humanly possible, but sometimes, when he's playing the same little song over and over and over and over again every night for over a week, it tries my patience a tiny bit. Teeeeny tiny bit. I do my best to bite my tongue, but I may have expressed my distaste for a song or two here or there. Not his playing, just the song. His playing is 100% lovely. Anyway, what's my point? One of the first songs J-Cat learned was a fiddle tune called Blackberry Blossom. And this is one of the songs that never ever bothered me, because I just like it. I like the old bluegrass fiddle tunes. I wish his teacher would only stick to those, but I guess it's good to branch out a bit. If you're wondering what it sounds like, go here.



And if you are anything like me and the thought of a song called Blackberry Blossom makes you crave berries, try out this recipe for Sour Cream Blackberry Muffins.


BLACKBERRY MUFFINS
Adapted from Simply Recipes

2 cups all purpose flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1 cup sour cream or greek yogurt
1 tbsp milk
2/3 cup sugar
8 Tbsp warm melted butter (1 stick)
1 teaspoon vanilla
11 oz of fresh blackberries, cut in half (You can use frozen blackberries if fresh are not available, defrost and drain them first.)

Position rack in center of oven. Preheat oven to 400°F. Grease a standard 12 muffin pan or line with paper muffin cups.

Whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt in a large bowl.

In a separate bowl, whisk together eggs, sour cream, milk, sugar, butter and vanilla.

Add the wet mixture to the dry mixture and mix together with a few light strokes, just until the dry ingredients are moistened. Add the berries. (If you are using frozen berries, defrost them first, then drain the excess liquid, then coat them lightly in flour.) Do not overmix! Overmixing will cause the muffins to be dense, not fluffy. The batter should not be smooth.

Divide the batter evenly among the muffin cups. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the middle of 1 or 2 of the muffins comes out clean, 17-20 minutes (or longer). Let cool for 2 to 3 minutes before removing from the pan. If not serving hot, let cool on a rack. These are best served warm, but keep very nicely in an airtight container.

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it's shameless plug time!

Claire is back! Tune into the-network-that-shall-not-be-named-on-this-blog to see new episodes of a show that I have poured blood, sweat, and tears into. Delicious, bacon-flavored tears. In celebration of the upcoming premiere, here's a sneak preview of one of Claire's delicious dishes that I just had to make myself - lamb chops with a mint-almond pesto. A perfect recipe for summer when mint is growing out of control in Beth's garden and she unloads piles of it on me. Recipe after the jump:

CLAIRE'S LAMB CHOPS WITH MINT-ALMOND PESTO

12 frenched baby lamb chops (3 per person)
1/4 cup toasted sliced almonds
1 1/2 cups fresh mint leaves
1 lemon, zest and juice
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper, to taste

Heat a cast iron grill pan over high heat until very hot. Season one side of the lamb chops with salt and pepper, and drizzle with oil. Place on the hot pan season side down. Season and oil the top side before flipping. Grill for about 3-4 minutes per side for medium rare, depending on the thickness of your chops. Remove to a plate to rest while you prepare the pesto.

In a food process, combine the mint leaves, almonds, lemon zest, and juice. Pulse to begin breaking down. Turn processor on and slowly drizzle in olive oil until the mixture resembles a thick paste. Season to taste with salt and pepper. If you would like a looser consistency, you can add a bit of water.

Serve lamb chops either topped with the pesto, or on the side as a dipping sauce.

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in season: blueberry buttermilk cake

When the summertime berries come into season, it is physically impossible for me to make a dessert that doesn't feature them. All I want to eat in the summer is fruit. This Blueberry Buttermilk Cake couldn't be easier; super moist, light, flavorful, not too sweet. My perfect summer dessert.



You can swap out any nice plump berry in this recipe, which was originally written for raspberries. I intend to try it with the raspberries soon, but the blueberries happened to look better that day, and in truth I love no berry more than a blueberry. Serve it with some fresh whipped cream, or a nice vanilla ice cream, or just eat it straight for breakfast. Versatility in a simple cake. Recipe after the jump:



BLUEBERRY BUTTERMILK CAKE
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine, June 2009

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 stick unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup plus 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar, divided
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 large egg
1/2 cup well-shaken buttermilk
1 cup fresh blueberries (about 5 oz)

Preheat oven to 400°F with rack in middle. Butter and flour a 9-inch round cake pan.
Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Beat butter and 2/3 cup sugar with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 2 minutes, then beat in vanilla. Add egg and beat well. At low speed, mix in flour mixture in 3 batches, alternating with buttermilk, beginning and ending with flour, and mixing until just combined. Spoon batter into cake pan, smoothing top. Scatter berries evenly over top and sprinkle with remaining 1 1/2 Tbsp sugar.

Bake until cake is golden and a wooden pick inserted into center comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Cool in pan 10 minutes, then turn out onto a rack and cool to warm, 10 to 15 minutes more. Invert onto a plate.

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j-cat cooks (srsly!): beef wellington (srsly!!)

It must be freezing in hell right now, because a couple weeks ago, J-Cat decided that he loves to cook. I don't think it should be too surprising that I have mixed feelings about this development. On the one hand, it is awfully nice to get cooked for, for a change. It's also nice that he finally understands why I love it as much as I do. But on the other hand...my kitchen.

Because J-Cat is not just someone who wants to cook; he wants to experiment. It's not fun for him unless it is some complicated undertaking that has maybe a 50/50 chance of being a disaster. The first big dinner he cooked for me? Beef Wellington. Because cooking a nice steak or a roast the very first time he ever cooked meat is not enough of a challenge, he had to go that giant leap forward and tackle the infamously tricky Beef Wellington. But let me just say, it really was quite good. I only had to step in a couple of times, and I only had a small heart attack when I saw the state of my kitchen at the end of the night.



The mushroom duxelle that he spread all over the tenderloin was so yummy that we spread the extra on bread and turned it into an appetizer. The meat itself was cooked to a lovely medium-rare, and cut like butter. The puff pastry was appropriately thin and crisp and shining with an egg wash. It was thoroughly impressive. And thank god for that, cause we spent a small fortune on the ingredients. My nerves may have been shot for the whole afternoon that he was tinkering in there, but this lovely dinner - which he made for our anniversary - more than made up for it.



He served the wellington with a side of truffled mashed potatoes, proving that after all these years, he does know the way to my heart after all. Recipe after the jump:

J-CAT'S BEEF WELLINGTON

1 lb beef tenderloin fillet
salt and pepper
1 tbsp canola oil
2 tbsp Dijon mustard
8 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto
1/2 cup mushroom duxelle, recipe follows
1 sheet frozen puff pastry, defrosted
2 egg yolks, beaten

Mushroom Duxelle (this recipe makes extra, and is delicious spread on baguette on crackers)
1 shallot, diced
1/2 pound cremini mushrooms, rough chop
1/2 pound shiitake mushrooms, rough chop
1 tbsp unsalted butter
salt and pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 400F. Generously salt and pepper the tenderloin fillet. Heat the canola oil in a heavy skillet over high heat. Sear the fillet on all sides until brown. Remove from the heat and allow to cool while you assemble the duxelle.

Place the roughly chopped mushrooms and shallots in a food processor and process until it turns into a paste. Melt the butter in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the mushroom paste to the butter and saute until it begins to release liquid. Lower the heat and allow to simmer until the liquid evaporates. Set aside to cool.

When the fillet has cooled, brush on all sides with the mustard. Lay out a sheet of plastic wrap. Place the slices of prosciutto slightly overlapping on the plastic wrap, making the layer of prosciutto about as wide as the fillet is long. Spread the cooled duxelle evenly on the prosciutto. Set the fillet on the edge of the prosciutto and roll the prosciutto around the fillet. Wrap in the plastic wrap tightly and refrigerate for at least 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, roll out the sheet of pastry on a lightly floured board to a size that will fully wrap around the beef. Place the cooled fillet in the middle of the pastry. Brush the edges of the pastry with the egg wash, the fold over the fillet and seal. Fold the sides up and over to cover the edges. Make sure the seal the edges well with the egg wash. Turn the wellington seam side down, brush the entire surface with egg wash. Cut shallow slits in the surface of the pastry. Place on a baking sheet and refrigerate for about 10 minutes.

Remove the wellington from the refrigerator and give it an additional brush of egg wash. Bake for 25-35 minutes, until the pastry is golden brown and the internal temperature of the meat is 125-130 for medium rare. Remove from the oven and allow to rest for at least 10 minutes before slicing. Slice into 1-inch thick slices to serve. Serves 4.

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changing my mind about chicken

I've been hearing about this famous Zuni Cafe roasted chicken for a while now. It's one of those recipes that every known food blogger seems to have attempted at some point. And I have a confession; I have a hard time imagining a roast chicken so good that it would cause this much commotion. This one singular chicken recipe. And that is probably because I don't love chicken. Is that horrible to say? It's not that don't like chicken, I just don't love it, and I am fully aware that this is a result of the fact that about 95% of the chicken I've ever been served in my life has been pretty lame. So at some point, I just stopped ordering chicken in restaurants. Unless it's fried, that's a different story. But I have just never been inclined to ordered a roast chicken in a restaurant - even a great restaurant - because I figure it's on the menu for the diners who are least adventurous. But now I am realizing that that is a pretty unfair way to look at it, because obviously there are restaurants out there that are doing such great roast chicken that people all the way on the other side of the country are talking about it. And talking about it, and talking about it. And since I'm over 3000 miles away from that famous chicken, it's pretty lucky that they shared their recipe so I could make it for myself.



What stunned me about this recipe was how simple it was. It appeared that the main secret to this lauded roast chicken was a dry brine, and a long dry brine at that. Just salt the heck out of that chicken, and stick it in the fridge for 1-3 days. That's it! And the result? Juicy, delicious, perfectly crisped skin, and a chicken that changed my mind about chicken. Recipe after the jump:

ZUNI CAFE ROAST CHICKEN
From The Zuni Cafe Cookbook by Judy Rodgers

[Note: The originally recipe is written in conjunction with the bread salad that they serve with the chicken at the restaurant. I have pulled out just the portion of the recipe regarding the chicken because the technique for roasting is what I was most interested in. Go here for the recipe in its entirety.]

1 small chicken, 2-3/4 to 3-1/2-pounds
4 tender sprigs fresh thyme, marjoram, rosemary or sage, about 1/2 inch long
Salt
About teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
A little water

Rinse the chicken thoroughly in cold water. Using paper towels, dry the chicken inside and out very thoroughly. Slide your finger under the skin of the breast, carefully separating the skin from the meat. Place a sprig of your herb of choice under the skin. Season the bird inside and out with a generous amount of salt and the black pepper and rub into the skin. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1-3 days depending on the size of the bird.

Preheat the oven to 475. Unwrap the brined bird and pat any condensation on the skin off with a a paper towel. Heat a saute pan or skillet just larger than the bird over medium heat for about five minutes. (I used a 10-inch skillet for a small 2 3/4 pound bird). Place the bird breast side up in the hot skillet and place in the middle of the preheated oven. Roast for 20 minutes. At this point, check that the skin is browning. If it is not, raise the heat to 500. If it looks too dark, lower it to 450. After it has roasted 30 minutes, flip the bird over. Roast for 10 to 20 minutes depending on size. Flip back to expose the breast and roast an additional 5 to 10 minutes. Total roasting time will be 45 to 60 minutes.

Remove the chicken from the oven and turn off the heat. Leave the bread salad to continue warming for another 5 minutes of so.

Lift the chicken from the roasting pan and set on a plate. Carefully pour the clear fat from the roasting pan, leaving the lean drippings behind. Add about a tablespoon of water to the hot pan and swirl it.

Slash the stretched skin between the thighs and breasts of the chicken, then tilt the bird and plate over the roasting pan to drain the juice into the drippings.

Set the chicken in a warm spot and leave to rest. The meat will become more tender and uniformly succulent as it cools.

Tilt the roasting pan and skim the last of the fat. Place over medium-low heat, add any juice that has collected under the chicken, and bring to a simmer. Stir and scrape to soften any hard golden drippings. Taste-the juices will be extremely flavorful.

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french food i did not eat in france: gratin dauphinoise

I have actually eaten potatoes gratin in France before, just not on this trip. I once had them aside a steak and it was extremely memorable. My thighs still remember it. Nobody doesn't love potatoes gratin. In fact, gratin is the answer to everything, like getting people who don't like a vegetable to eat copious amounts of that vegetable. But this is the classic; simple yet complex in flavor, quick to put together, ultimate comfort food. And this recipe, despite being a little lighter than your classic gratin recipe, tastes as decadent as it gets. Recipe after the jump:

GRATIN DAUPHINOIS

3 tablespoons melted butter, divided
6 peeled russet potatoes (about 2 pounds), cut into 1/8-inch slices
1 garlic clove, minced
3/4 cup (3 ounces) shredded Gruyère or Swiss cheese
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
1 cup milk
1/4 tsp grated nutmeg
2 tbsp finely chopped chives

Preheat oven to 425F. Heat the milk in a small saucepan until scalding, then add the nutmeg. Spread an 11-by-7-inch baking dish or gratin dish with 1 tablespoon of the butter. Arrange half the potatoes in dish, sprinkle with half the garlic, drizzle with half the remaining butter, half the cheese, and half the salt and pepper. Repeat layers. Pour hot milk over potatoes.

Bake for 45 minutes or until potatoes are tender, milk is absorbed and top is browned. Garnish with the chopped chives.

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paris day four: murder by foie gras

How long will it take me to finish this vacation roundup? Day four dawned far sunnier and warmer than the previous three, a great day to climb some more stairs and see the city from the loveliest vantage point. Well, that photo looks ominously cloudy, but that actually passed quickly. After our obligatory baguette/butter/jam/tiny coffee breakfast at a nearby cafe, we hopped on the metro up to Montmartre and Sacre Coeur.



For once we were met with no line for a tourist attraction, and I realized why that might be so when we were about halfway up the steep, narrow, claustrophobic, slippery stone steps of the basilica. This was the opposite experience of climbing the Eiffel Tower. We had no idea when it would end. The climbing isn't tough, it was really just so narrow in those winding stairwells. Thankfully, portions of the climb went outdoors because I am claustrophobic. There's J-Cat, he was actually filming the whole climb with his little camera. I'd post it, but this is a blog about food and the video makes me want to vomit.



Montmartre itself is a lovely neighborhood to stroll around. The highest point in Paris, the steep streets and numerous stairways felt particularly Parisian to me, probably because this neighborhood is used in so many films to evoke that super Parisian Paris. We sat on the Sacre Coeur steps featured in Amelie and munched on baguette sandwiches (rosetto salami & butter for him, chevre & tomato for me), probably the cheapest thing we ate on the whole trip, but really quite satisfying after being trapped in a tiny stone stairwell for 20 minutes.



This is a sculpture dedicated to the writer Marcel Ayme. Apparently, this is a character from one of Ayme's stories about a man in Montmartre who could walk through walls.

After Montmartre, we made our way down to the Marais, one of the areas known for shopping. Because wtf, we hadn't done any shopping at all. But by this point, the sun was really shining and hot, and I was painfully aware of how much money we had already spent, and it was tough to spend more on clothes that I wasn't really loving. There seemed to be a bit of a hippy bohemian thing going on in most of the shops we came across. Kind of a disappointment. But what wasn't a disappointment was Breizh Cafe, where we had lunch. Second lunch. Ahem. Breizh Cafe, as the name implies, focuses on the food of Brittany, specifically crepes and galettes. This little cafe takes the crepes far above the simple street food to fine, thoughtful, impressive cuisine. We started with some fantastically fresh oysters, listed as huitres rares, special special. We followed this with a galette - a savory buckwheat crepe - filled with chevre and fresh greens. Super thin and delicate with edges that were almost invisibly thin, yet undeniably crispy. And of course we had to have something sweet, so we went with the super simple and classic crepe citron, with sugar and lemon juice. Perfection.



After some more shopping, we walked all the way from the Marais back to St. Germain. J-Cat pooped out at this point and decided to head back for a quick cat nap before dinner, but I still had a little shop in me and made my way around the neighborhood. (I may have possibly returned to Bread & Roses in the process and gotten a bit of an apricot pastry snack. It was a really long day.) Finally, despite eating all day, we were off to our final dinner in Paris, at the highly acclaimed "Josephine" Chez Dumonet.

Of all of the bistros we visited in Paris, Chez Dumonet feels the most classically old-school Paris, bright and cheery, with 1930's fixtures, leather banquettes, white linen tablecloths, and very jovial waiters. So it was only fitting that everything we ate that evening was classic French all the way. In fact, the chef made certain that I got even more than I bargained for. This dinner ended up being both excellent and overwhelming. It started normal enough, with an amuse consisting of a rich seafood soup and a glass of white wine. Then J-cat had a simple endive salad with roquefort, but the hunk of cheese was as big as my head. So much for small French portions. I started with a country terrine - a half portion, that was even bigger than the hunk of cheese. Then it got crazy. After clearing away our starters, the waiter sets down a plate of foie gras - a hunk just as big as the terrine if not bigger. I expressed my confusion and all he would say is that the chef sent it over to me. Was the chef trying to kill me?! I mean, it was really really nice foie gras, but I had just eaten a rich terrine, and my main course was a freakin' duck confit! My heart was going to explode. I managed a small portion of the foie gras, thinking the whole time of the rich duck that was to come. As much as I enjoyed the foie, I'm glad I saved room, though, because the duck was amazing. I'm talking best duck confit ever, anywhere. And to top that off, potatoes fried in duck fat. Oh yeah. J-Cat had an unbelievable boeuf bourguignon, also a half portion that was still too big, served with buttered noodles.

Dessert was totally out of control. I went with their most talked about dessert, the Grand Marnier Souffle, which was the size of a fat baby. J-Cat had a millefeuille, basically a cream napoleon. This thing was epic. So epic, in fact, that a lady two tables away from us spotted it and stated loud enough for half the dining room to hear that she wishes she had gotten it instead of the souffle because it looked amazing. Which it was, but we're talking a two-baby millefeuille here. So after J-Cat and I got through maybe 1/4 of this monster (delicious monster) dessert, it only made sense to pass it down. Why not? And it made it four tables away before it was devoured. At least it didn't go to waste.

So I guess it was fitting that on our last night in Paris, we truly had a dinner to remember, for so many reasons. We were perhaps so full we wanted to die, but boy was it all excellent. And because Chef Dumonet really did appear to want to kill me, he came out at the end of our meal and basically shamed me into downing the shot of Grand Marnier that came with my souffle.

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french food i did not eat in france: moules provencale

In fact, I had no moules of any kind in Paris, though we did have some fantastic oysters. I guess the rule is that you should never eat mussels in months that do not have an "R" (May, June, July, August), although I suppose that rule would also apply to oysters and we had no issue with ignoring it for oysters. I don't know, I just know that we didn't really see many places serving mussels, except some really suspect bistros right near Gare du Nord. Not exactly the part of town you go to seek out food.

Though I usually opt for Moules Mariniere, with some lovely herbs and white wine, Moules Provencale is a good choice if you're not into the wineyness of mariniere, or if you love the tomato action. I found this recipe for Fennel-Steamed Mussels Provencal on Mark Bittman's Bitten blog and was immediately intrigued by the focus on fennel. I could just imagine that the sweetness of the mussels would be so well complemented by the subtle anise-flavor of the fennel.



He really kicks ups that fennel flavor by also calling for fennel seeds, and tarragon, and either anise-flavored liqueur or whole star anise. I used the star anise because it was what I had in the house, and it's just so pretty. Despite my great love of anise flavors in cooking, I'm actually not a fan of anise liqueur so it's not something I would generally have around the house. This recipe did prove a wonderful combination, and the liquid left behind was best soaked up with some good rustic baguette. Bringing a little bit of France back home. Recipe after the jump:

FENNEL-STEAMED MUSSELS PROVENCAL
From The New York Times Bitten Blog by Mark Bittman

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
4 cloves garlic, smashed and peeled
1 fennel bulb (about 1 pound), trimmed and thinly sliced
2 tablespoons fennel seeds
1/2 cup Pernod or Ricard (or 4 whole star anise)
1 cup chopped tomatoes, if desired (canned are fine, drained first)
1 sprig fresh tarragon, if desired
At least 4 pounds large mussels, well washed

1. Place the oil in a large pot and turn the heat to medium; 1 minute later, add the garlic, fennel, fennel seeds, liqueur, and tomatoes and tarragon if you're using them. Bring to a boil, cook for about 1 minute. Add the mussels, cover the pot, and turn the heat to high.
2. Cook, shaking the pot occasionally, until the mussels open, 5 to 10 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to remove the mussels and fennel to a serving bowl, then strain any liquid over them and serve.

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paris day three: the international sign for "i'm so stuffed i want to die"

Day three dawned in beautiful Paris and I realized that I had only had one croissant thus far. This was unacceptable and had to be remedied as soon as possible. So on our walk from the hotel to the Louvre, the natural stop was Laduree, another world famous patisserie. Though Laduree is probably more famous for its macarons and other sweet pastries, I went straight for the classic butter croissant. And there is nothing better, really, than a simple, flaky, perfectly buttery pastry. I realized when we reached the Louvre, however, that I should have gotten two - or five. I would need the energy to deal with the crowds and with getting utterly lost in the gargantuan museum.



After hours of wandering through several amazing collections and hitting the required big three - Mona Lisa, Winged Victory, and Venus de Milo - we thought we were making our way out but just kept circling around to the Marly Horses. Something like three times. I mean, they're amazing but we were just trying to get out at that point. By the time we finally escaped, we were famished, and did not have the energy to search far and wide for the best lunch. We ended up at a small bistro near the museum called Cafe de la Comedie. I have no doubt that this place was overpriced based on proximity to the museum, but in the end we were fairly satisfied with the food. J-Cat had a perfectly respectable burger, while I had a croque monsieur on Poilane miche. I figure it's pretty hard to screw up croque monsieur, especially when it's on fantastic bread, and I was right.



After lunch, it was time for more art and beauty. We strolled through the Tuileries gardens towards L'Orangerie, the small museum featuring Monet's Water Lillies, as well as other impressionist masterpieces. The circular room with the skylight roof where you stand surrounded on all sides by Monet's breathtaking lillies is an experience like no other.

And then it was time for the Eiffel Tower. We decided to walk all the way over, which took a good long while, but gave us the chance to see some other sights, like Place de la Concorde, Petit Palais, and the Invalides. Towards the end of this walk, I discovered an amazing little product called Compeed blister patches, which I can't believe they don't sell in the US because it saved my feet from certain agony after literally hours of nonstop walking.



We finally arrive at the Eiffel Tower to find a ridiculously long line for the elevators, so I'm especially glad that we found those blister patches because we walked all the way up. I felt pretty bad for some of the people we passed on the way up, they did not look like they should have attempted it.



After the stunning views, we had a little time before our dinner reservation, so we stopped for our now traditional early evening coffee. Look how tiny it is, you can't even see it in J-Cat's hand.



Our day culminated in a fantastic diner at the much-lauded Chez L'Ami Jean, Stephane Jego's invariably packed basque-influenced bistro in the 7th arrondisement. The meal started with an amuse of tinned fromage blanc made from ewe’s milk with piment d’Espelette and chives. This mild cheese curd was spread on rustic bread from Poujauran, a highly regarded boulangerie that supplies many three-star Parisian restaurants. J-Cat then had a perfect mussel risotto, while I had a starter of sardines, mozzarella, and tomato, all freshness come to life. J-Cat's main was a steak (he ate a lot of steak in Paris) with fresh morels. Mine was a guinea hen with asparagus and a giant marrow bone. The guinea hen was perfectly roasted rare, and I was just completely content scooping out the marrow with my little spoon. Dessert is where things got a little out of hand. J-Cat ordered a perfectly normal meringue with raspberries and vanilla creme. But I ordered something from another planet. It was listed as "Grand-mere riz au lait". In my flimsy French, I figured that meant "grandmother's rice pudding". I was right about the rice pudding part, but now I believe "grand-mere" must mean "big-ass". This was the most obscenely large bowl of rice pudding ever set in front of a single person. I mean, seriously, I was already quite stuffed, how is this the portion for one person? But it was amazing, with a ribbon of confiture de lait and served with a bowl full of dried fruits and sugared nuts, and a big wooden spoon to serve yourself. Oh how I wished I could take it all home and pull it out in the middle of the night, it was certainly the best rice pudding I've ever had. But that wasn't the end of our desserts.

At the table next to us, a Japanese couple had apparently ordered some kind of chef's tasting menu, because the waitress just kept piling on dish after dish to the befuddled couple. Not able to speak any French or much English, they didn't seem to know what was ahead of them. The giant platter of caramelized foie gras is the first thing that got my notice. But when the waitress brought them the same rice pudding as mine and told them that it was the first of three desserts, the poor man put his head in his hands and started sweating. I could only imagine that he was telling his wife that he couldn't do it, it was just too insane. She simply laughed and took tiny bites. The next two desserts came simultaneously, and she simply picked them both up off their table, set it on ours, and said in broken English "please, we can't". We laughed and tried to tell them that we were just too stuffed, but she would not have any of that. So we had a bit of passionfruit custard and a supremely rich dark chocolate quenelle. When the waitress returned to collect the dishes, she looked at the half eaten extra desserts on our table and just laughed. There are no language barriers when you're being stuffed with excellent food.

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french food i did not eat in france: cherry clafoutis

I have been terribly neglectful of this blog since I've been back, I know, but I have been busy busy busy shooting a show and cursing the rain and my brain has not been in a place of writing. I have also been somewhat neglectful of my kitchen, what with leftovers coming home with me at the end of many of my days on set. I have been able to do a little culinary dabbling on the weekends, and I find myself trying out recipes for dishes that I should have eaten in Paris but didn't have a chance to. There were only so many hours and so many foods that I could stuff into myself at a time. So here is one classic French dessert that I should have stuffed: clafoutis.



Clafoutis is a baked fresh fruit custard, traditionally featuring fresh sweet cherries. Apparently the original version included whole unpitted cherries, the pits lending a mild almondy flavor when baked. These days, however, most recipes call for pitted cherries, probably because one too many hosts neglected to mention the pits and had an unhappy guest with a chipped tooth. To make up for the missing almond flavor, this recipe includes slivered almonds and a touch of almond extract. Clafoutis is incredibly simple to make, and yet seems like a complicated dish. The result is like a cross between a tart and a custard. Though it all starts out as one batter, the baking process seems to create two distinct textures; an almost cakelike crust along the bottom and sides, with a layer of light custard and fruit floating above it. J-Cat usually doesn't like eggy custards, but he loved this dessert for the almond flavor and the fact that the custard was so delicate and not eggy at all. This is the time for fresh cherries, so I cannot recommend this recipe more. Just be careful pitting those cherries, I'm still cleaning the dark red juice off of my kitchen...

CHERRY ALMOND CLAFOUTIS
Adapted from Simply Recipes

1 pint fresh sweet cherries, pitted
1/4 cup sliced almonds
3 eggs
3/4 cup sugar
1 tbsp dark brown sugar
1/2 cup all purpose flour
pinch salt
1 cup whole milk
1 tsp almond extract
2 tsps vanilla extract
powdered sugar for dusting

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour a 9x13 baking dish. Layer the pitted cherries and almond slivers in the bottom of the dish. Whisk together the eggs, sugars, flour, and salt. Add the milk and extracts and whisk until well combined. Pour slowly into the baking dish. Bake for 40-50 minutes until lightly browned and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. It may still wiggle a bit in the middle but that is fine. Remove and set to cool on a wire rack. This is especially delicious served a bit warm, dusted lightly with powdered sugar.

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paris day two: 10 more coffees please

The dark spot in Parisian cuisine: coffee. Tiny, expensive, and honestly, not very good. Two coffee-loving New Yorkers with jet lag and a lot on the itinerary just need giant 20-ounce coffees to walk around with, you know?



But here's one of the billion bright spots: butter. Lovely French butter. We started our day by walking through the Luxembourg Gardens to grab breakfast at Bread & Roses, a dreamy boulangerie/patisserie on rue de Fleurus. The difficulty of this place is the sheer number of different delicious choices. Savory or sweet, pastry or bread, simple or elaborate. We decided to go classic with an excellent baguette, butter, and jam. This is one of my favorite breakfasts; simple, classic, but when every element is excellent it is breakfast perfection.



This breakfast perfection gave us the needed energy to tackle the Musee d'Orsay, the stunning beaux arts train station transformed into a museum housing the Impressionist masterpieces. Monet, Degas, Renoir, Cezanne; needless to say we spent a good long while wandering. Eventually, however, it was of course time to seek out more foods. We ended up at a Brasserie called Pere et Fils, just across the street from Da Rosa. It was nothing to really write home about, but J-Cat had a solid steak frites, and I had a very respectable steak tartare, and for quite a fair price, too.



From there it was time for Notre Dame, which surely I don't need to say too much about. I don't think J-Cat has ever seen anything quite like that. Both the stunning cathedral and the swarms of tourists. It was late in the day, but there was still a rather ridiculous line waiting to climb the towers, so we decided that ice cream was a higher priority.



Not just any ice cream; this was Berthillon. Just a quick walk through the painfully quaint Ile Saint-Louis, past dozens of cafes advertising that they serve Berthillon, the trick is not to be tricked by those signs and keep walking until you get to the actual place! It's also well worth it to skip waiting in line at the window and instead get a seat at the small cafe. You'll likely make less of a mess of yourself, and you'll get a little glass of water, which you will probably want after some rich rich ice cream. J-Cat - already feeling weighed down by a day and a half of relentlessly rich food - decided on a raspberry and rose sorbet. I apparently have a stomach of steel and went for a rich pistachio with a rich salted butter caramel. Did I say rich? Double rich. Creamy, unbelievably smooth, with incredibly pure flavors. This lived up to the hype.

This little ice cream excursion, however, did not make the line at Notre Dame any shorter, so we decided to head down to Montparnasse a little early for our dinner reservation and wander around a different neighborhood. We were happy to discover that the coffees at cafes in this neighborhood were considerably cheaper, but they weren't any bigger or better and they were served with an attitude that said that we were freaks for drinking coffee at an hour when wine would be much more appropriate.

Dinner was at La Regalade, a bit of an institution in the Neo-Bistro world, opened in the early 90's by superstar Yves Camdeborde. Camdeborde has since moved on, but foodies still flock to La Regalade, and for good reason. An exceedingly affordable prix fixe starts with an amuse of fantastic serve-yourself terrine (I served myself a somewhat obscene slice to top my bread) along with a big crock of gherkins. J-Cat started with a classic salad of haricot verts and beets. I decided to order things that I actually didn't understand. Adventurous perhaps, but I felt like being surprised. So I found out that "macquereax" means mackerel, on top of a tart with caramelized onions. Here's where I felt particularly vindicated for taking chances. It might be a dish I wouldn't have jumped to order had I known what it said, but I was extremely happy that I did. For the main course, J-Cat chose a Paleron de beouf nicoise, perhaps remembering how perfect the paleron was the night before. He actually perferred this preparation's flavors, I was more on the fence. For my main, I found out that "poitrine de cochon" means "giant hunk of pork belly". I did, for the record, know that cochon was pork, but I had no idea what part. And I'm not kidding when I say giant. (I know I should have taken photos, but there was another American couple in the restaurant taking photos of everything and I felt like everyone else in the restaurant was looking at them like they were wierdos so I refrained.) Anyway, this slab of pork belly was cooked until the skin was super crispy, which meant I was again happily surprised by my half-blind ordering.

Dessert for J-Cat was a classic Grand Marnier souffle, with a wonderfully subtle flavor and unbelievably airy texture. I went with a "fraiture" with strawberries and rhubarb, which turned out to be some kind of panna cotta. The tiny wild strawberries blew my mind. Seriously.

Stuffed to the gills our second night in a row, and utterly satisfied, we hopped back on the metro to Ile de la cite to catch an evening cruise on the Seine. Yes, we are giant giant tourists. But watching Paris go by at night is a sight that simply cannot be missed, even if you're constantly mocked by the teenagers getting drunk on the river banks. It's worth it to feel a little foolish when you get to see this:



And I guess that brisk wind and misty air somehow wiped out our indulgent dinner because we totally got a ham and cheese crepe on the way back to the hotel...

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paris day one: in which we begin our marathon of foods

What can I say about our gastronomic adventures in Paris? My greatest hope for that portion of our trip was that I would not experience even one bad meal, and with the exception of a desperate Quick burger across from Gare du Nord after missing our train to Amsterdam, I can confidently report that my hope was realized. And of course the excellent eating started right away, as we set off first thing on a drizzly morning in search of good bread. That brought us to Poilane, the gorgeous St. Germain boulangerie that is world famous for their sourdough miche. We got a nice hunk, plus a little buttery croissant, plus a box of their irresistible butter cookies. A lovely, simple breakfast after a long overnight flight and some good old-fashioned Paris transit strike excitement. Needless to say, the bread and croissant did not survive long enough for a photograph...



Next stop was another famous name - Pierre Herme. The celebrated patisserie just a few blocks from Poilane is famous for their imaginative macaron flavors. Every other time I walked past this spot over the next few days there was a line out the door, but I guess the key is to go in the morning when few are looking for sweets because we encountered no line at all. Une petite boite of seven different macarons - successfully ordered in flimsy French - including olive oil with vanilla (my favorite), rose, cassis, grapefruit, passionfruit and chocolate, jasmine, and caramel with fleur de sel. Now, both J-Cat and I are not big sweet eaters (shocking based on the amount of baking I do) so macarons are actually a little on the sweet side for us, but the delicacy of these little puffs of air and the creativity of the flavors make them a can't-miss. I only wish we had enough appetite to try many more of their pastries.

At this point, J-Cat was feeling the jet lag and lack of sleep quite a bit more than I was, so of course it was the perfect time for the rain to start. Alas, we could not actually check into our hotel until late afternoon, so we were essentially homeless on the rive gauche with no shelter and no public transit. But food serendipity hit, as we ran right into Da Rosa, and I wasn't even trying to find it. It was on my list of must-tries, however, and I couldn't believe our luck. The perfect spot for a light lunch, Da Rosa is a multi-level epicerie stocked with delicacies from around the world, especially those impeccable Iberico hams from Spain. Lunch was a pair of tartines with different Spanish hams, cheeses and tomato, on what I believe was Poilane miche. Paired with a simple salad, it was the perfect meal after a morning of baked goods, and gave us the push to keep wandering for a couple more hours.

Finally we were let into our hotel room, which I was surprised to find had some actual floor space, and a quick nap reenergized us for what was to become the greatest meal I had in Paris (though J-Cat preferred the next night). Just a few short blocks from our hotel was Les Papilles, an unassuming wine shop and bistro that is quickly becoming a culinary destination. With no more than 20 seats, the 4-course dinner is menu-less and changes daily. You simply choose a bottle of wine, then sit and wait for magic to arrive. We chose a very smooth 2003 Chateau le Puy Bordeaux. It began with a creamy celery soup, served family style in a big tureen. Our bowls had mounds of crispy lardons and a dollop of creme fraiche that melted luxuriously when you ladled the hot soup over it. The flavors were rich and subtle all at the same time, and the absolute perfect way to end the long, drizzly day. The main course, badly photographed below, was a paleron of beef (shoulder cut), that had been braised in red wine "the entire day" as the waiter put it. Supremely tender, it just melted in your mouth, and the smooth, silky sauce was the perfect complement. Crispy snow peas, carrots, onions, and fingerling potatoes accompanied it.



Next up was the cheese course, a small hunk of creamy brie with rustic bread and a lovely pear jam. I am huge huge fan of fruit and cheese together. I could have been more than content to end the meal at this point. But wait, there's more. An impossibly creamy vanilla panna cotta with a wild strawberry sauce. I mean, come on, can this get any better? And finally, the icing on the cake, they recorked our half-empty bottle of wine to take back to the hotel with us. Truly, from beginning to end, this was a perfect meal. We made our way - staggeringly - back to our hotel, our first day in Paris drawing to an immensely satisfying end, and as I stopped to give a scratch to Sputnik - the resident hotel cat - I thought to myself that if every day we have in Paris was half as delicious as this one, we were in for the trip of a lifetime.

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we're back!

And I've been up since 4:30 AM. Go jet lag! I don't have it in me just yet to put together a rundown of the trip (ie. the foods), but as a little taste, here is J-Cat at what turned out to be my favorite dinner in Paris - Les Papilles.

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