Ewww! Who thought of that title? I guess I did. And I want you to spend the same amount of time, i.e. seconds, thinking about the drinks you're going to serve. You're going to be wrestling a turkey, for heaven's sake, you don't need to worry about complicated potables.
The easiest aperitif is a little pomegranate juice in the bottom of a champagne flute. Fill with domestic champagne or prosecco or ginger ale for non-imbibers. Garnish each glass with a frozen raspberry. (It’s a garnish that you don’t have to play with.)
Here is a wonderfully EASY punch. 1 part orange juice, 1 part cranberry juice, 1 part something fizzy - seltzer, sprite, ginger ale or the diet equivalent. THEN scoop in a pint of American Orange Sherbet. Not sorbet, not granita - SHERBET. It makes it foamy and really good. (Thanks, L, for that idea.) I like frozen raspberries in that too.
Put any individual juices you’re serving in pitchers, and garnish them with frozen raspberries and, if you have the energy, a good squeeze of fresh lime juice. It brightens up the flavor amazingly. Skol!
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Giada's Gone Wacky And Don't You Just Love People Who Can Admit When They're Wrong?
Everyday Italian with Giada De Laurentiis
Fun with Food
Roasted Acorn Squash and Gorgonzola Pizza
Tilapia with Purple Potato Crust and Chive Rosemary Oil
Mango Cheesecake with Basil Lemon Syrup
To get the recipes:
Click here
Giada begins the episode with the statement, "Sometimes I like to play with my food." That explains some of Giada's recent, AHEM, "interesting" recipes. She calls pizza the ultimate "fun food". I guess that's true because you can top it with really anything. Today, she's using acorn squash. She likes it when "sweet and spicy flavors play off each other".
Giada prepares the squash for roasting. She cuts off both ends and cuts it in half. She scoops out the seeds and cuts the acorn squash into thinnish slices. Oh, I really hate that. It makes for the maximum amount of peeling. You have to attack each thin slice separately and it's all hot and it's a big pain. I'm not liking this at all.
She adds a couple of tablespoonfuls of maple syrup to the squash. (Great, now it will be hot AND sticky.) She adds red pepper flakes, salt, pepper and olive oil. (Add greasy to the list). She stirs well to coat the acorn squash slices. WHAT is going to happen to that skin and why am I wasting all these ingredients on a bunch of skin that's going to be discarded anyway? She puts the slices on a baking sheet in one layer in a 375 degree Fahrenheit oven for 20 to 25 minutes.
Next Giada rolls out the pizza dough. It's a 1 pound store-bought dough. As long as the Pillsbury dough boy isn't looking back at you, I guess that's all right. She rolls it out to an oval and put it on a baking sheet. I think I spy her using Silpat, which I detest. The recipe calls for parchment paper, which I also think is a big waste of money...I use foil in all parchment situations.
Now I'm getting cranky. I'm worried about all that work peeling the acorn squash. FOCUS!
Okay, Giada tops the dough with a cup of mozzarella. Oh, I do that too! Things are looking up. I like to put at least SOME of the cheese right on the dough to make a nice bed for the sauce or whatever comes next. it helps to prevent the crust from getting soggy.
She puts some Gorgonzola on next and then it goes into the oven. OH, I get what's happening. The BAKED pizza dough is going to topped with the ROASTED acorn squash, They're not going to be cooked together. Ok, I'm following now. She bakes the crust at 375 degrees Fahrenheit for 25 to 30 minutes.
Sorry, I have another problem. The ONLY reason to cook the pizza dough that slow and long is to be able to cook it in the same oven as the squash. Normally, you wanna cook that baby hotter - 450, okay 425 if you're a chicken, and, frankly, the squash could use higher temperature too. Cooking them both at the same time is a green solution of which I approve. But, then, let's say 400 degrees for about 20 minutes for each of them.
The crust comes out. Yummy.. She gets to work peeling ALL that acorn squash. She tops the pizza with it. You know what? It looks marvelous ... really marvelous. The thinnish slices are in half-moon shapes and it really took Giada no time at all to peel.
Fun with Food
Roasted Acorn Squash and Gorgonzola Pizza
Tilapia with Purple Potato Crust and Chive Rosemary Oil
Mango Cheesecake with Basil Lemon Syrup
To get the recipes:
Click here
Giada begins the episode with the statement, "Sometimes I like to play with my food." That explains some of Giada's recent, AHEM, "interesting" recipes. She calls pizza the ultimate "fun food". I guess that's true because you can top it with really anything. Today, she's using acorn squash. She likes it when "sweet and spicy flavors play off each other".
Giada prepares the squash for roasting. She cuts off both ends and cuts it in half. She scoops out the seeds and cuts the acorn squash into thinnish slices. Oh, I really hate that. It makes for the maximum amount of peeling. You have to attack each thin slice separately and it's all hot and it's a big pain. I'm not liking this at all.
She adds a couple of tablespoonfuls of maple syrup to the squash. (Great, now it will be hot AND sticky.) She adds red pepper flakes, salt, pepper and olive oil. (Add greasy to the list). She stirs well to coat the acorn squash slices. WHAT is going to happen to that skin and why am I wasting all these ingredients on a bunch of skin that's going to be discarded anyway? She puts the slices on a baking sheet in one layer in a 375 degree Fahrenheit oven for 20 to 25 minutes.
Next Giada rolls out the pizza dough. It's a 1 pound store-bought dough. As long as the Pillsbury dough boy isn't looking back at you, I guess that's all right. She rolls it out to an oval and put it on a baking sheet. I think I spy her using Silpat, which I detest. The recipe calls for parchment paper, which I also think is a big waste of money...I use foil in all parchment situations.
Now I'm getting cranky. I'm worried about all that work peeling the acorn squash. FOCUS!
Okay, Giada tops the dough with a cup of mozzarella. Oh, I do that too! Things are looking up. I like to put at least SOME of the cheese right on the dough to make a nice bed for the sauce or whatever comes next. it helps to prevent the crust from getting soggy.
She puts some Gorgonzola on next and then it goes into the oven. OH, I get what's happening. The BAKED pizza dough is going to topped with the ROASTED acorn squash, They're not going to be cooked together. Ok, I'm following now. She bakes the crust at 375 degrees Fahrenheit for 25 to 30 minutes.
Sorry, I have another problem. The ONLY reason to cook the pizza dough that slow and long is to be able to cook it in the same oven as the squash. Normally, you wanna cook that baby hotter - 450, okay 425 if you're a chicken, and, frankly, the squash could use higher temperature too. Cooking them both at the same time is a green solution of which I approve. But, then, let's say 400 degrees for about 20 minutes for each of them.
The crust comes out. Yummy.. She gets to work peeling ALL that acorn squash. She tops the pizza with it. You know what? It looks marvelous ... really marvelous. The thinnish slices are in half-moon shapes and it really took Giada no time at all to peel.
OK, foot in my mouth alert! I WAS WRONG about the bother of peeling the acorn squash. The skin came off pretty easily. Giada knew what she doing all along. The half moon shape looks lovely on the pizza. It's a great idea. Ok, that's enough of that. Don't expect me to be contrite for longer than a paragraph or two....
She finishes off the pizza with arugula spritzled with olive oil. (I just made up that word - it's a cross between drizzled and spritzed...It's better than stoup(id). So Giada really pulled it out in the end with that beautiful recipe...
Next she's on to singing the praises of purple potatoes. They are stunning. She slices them on a mandolin so they're super thin and all the same thickness. She wants them to cook at the same time as her tilapia fillets. She seasons the fish well and tops them with overlapping slices of potato, "so it creates a nice crust on the fish".
Now she's going to...wait a second...what? SAUTÉ the fish - potato side down. That's a little bit of a juggling act. She adds butter and olive oil to a nonstick pan and breaks off a bit of rosemary to put on top of the potatoes. She puts the whole thing potato side down in the hot pan. Then she puts the whole thing in the oven. If she was going to put it in the oven anyway, why bother to take that whole delicate concoction and turn it upside down in a sauté pan? There's no way the carefully arranged potatoes are going to STAY perfectly arranged. There are easier ways this could have been accomplished. Strange...
To top the fish, Giada is assembling a chive oil. She mixes chives, fresh rosemary and fruity olive oil. She takes the fish out and flips it AGAIN. The potatoes ARE brown and crusty, but they bear no resemblance to the beautiful overlapping slices she started with.
She drizzles over the chive oil. It's very attractive, but what was the point of flipping the fish a hundred times? Just put the flippin' potatoes in the bottom of a gratin dish in an overlapping arrangement and put the fillets on top OR put the fillets on the bottom and arrange the potatoes on top and drizzle with oil. Which ever way you choose, don't be a flip-flopper, choose one and stick with it and serve the fish THAT way.
Ok, Cheesecake next. this should be good. She processes 1 cup of biscotti for the crust with 3/4 cup of melted butter. I love that idea for a crust. Things are looking up. She pats it into the bottom of springtime pan and bakes it at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 15 minutes. She cools it on a rack.
She processes together ricotta, cream cheese, sugar, eggs and mango pureé. Yum. She pours the mixture into the crust and places the pan in a big baking dish. She adds hot water half the way up and bakes it at 350 degrees Fahrenheit oven for 1 1/2 hours. She cools it and refrigerates it to set.
For the cheesecake topping, she makes a sugar syrup to which she adds lemon juice. (I think the rind would be good too.) She places the cheesecake on a cakestand.
She chops basil and puts it in a blender WITH the cooled lemon sugar syrup. Oh dear! I don't think that's a good idea...at all. Oh no. She pours it all over that beautiful cheesecake.
Giada! I have to say it LOOKS good, but I'm not ruining an entire cheesecake with that stuff. That's the kind of thing to have at a restaurant where you can eat just one piece to see if you hate it, not destroy a whole cheesecake.
Giada has made a few unfortunate recipe choices lately. I like exciting food and different combinations, but mixing espresso with champagne or basil with cheesecake is not my idea of fun.Tuesday, October 30, 2007
THANKSGIVING TIPS - Focus On The Cooking
Cooking Versus Cleaning
H’s grandmother used to have a wonderful attitude about cleaning before big family parties. She always said there was no point in doing a heavy duty cleaning BEFORE company came, since she knew she’d have to do it AFTER anyway. I've taken her advice to mean that getting the house ready for company means cleaning the obvious stuff first and tackling anything additional, if there's time. In other words, focus on first impressions. Plus, I would much rather make an extra pie than clean out the back closet.
My tactic about both cleaning AND cooking is to accomplish the tasks in advance that you absolutely cannot do after your company arrives. For example, washing your hair is not a good idea as the hors d'oeuvres are being served, but draining the potatoes is perfectly ok. Cleaning the toilet is probably frowned upon when people are having salad, but getting the coffee set up as everyone takes his or her seat is entirely acceptable. Get it? Just say to yourself, do I care if Aunt Millie and Uncle Fred SEE me doing this? If you do, make sure you do it before you answer the door.
I measure how successful I am at advanced planning by whether I can get the roasting pan washed and out of the way before folks arrive. Sometimes I'm successful and sometimes I'm not. That's what laundry room sinks (and closed doors) are for.
The rule here is that you can't do everything. Food is more important than cleaning. And (I can't believe I'm saying this) being a relaxed host is more important than the food. Maybe not by much...but nobody wants to see you sweating into the soup.
Relax and get working.
Monday, October 29, 2007
THANKSGIVING TIPS - Cranberries
Countdown To Thanksgiving
The Short (dis)Order Cook, blogging on The Essential Rhubarb Pie, got me to thinking. She's all worried because she's hosting Thanksgiving for the first time. She'll be fine, I know it, but, aaahhh, the sweet apprehension of youth!
I remember when I, too, was new at this... Now TWENTY!!! years later, I feel as if I could cook Thanksgiving dinner with one hand tied behind my back. I'm not bragging (well, I guess I am), but my ease comes, not from being the greatest cook on earth, but from doing it for all these years.
I've had my disasters. And, no, I'm going to list them now...I'm not crazy...but the thing about Thanksgiving is that there is SO MUCH food that one imperfect dish or another isn't going to be noticed in the onslaught of food to come.
I'm going to post some of my favorite Thanksgiving tips or recipes in the days leading up to Thanksgiving (in addition to regular posts). It won't be an exhaustive list, but I guarantee that taken together, it will provide you with lots of help for the cooking marathon of the year. Note: Some of them won't be food-related, but guest and hosting related. As I post new ones, I'll collate the old ones into a single list, which I'll give you the link for. Ok, here goes:
Thanksgiving Tips
Admittedly, Cranberry Sauce is the one of the few things that’s decent out of a can. BUT these are THE MOST INCREDIBLE CRANBERRIES IN THE UNIVERSE. There’s no excuse NOT to make them, since they can be frozen. Have a can or two of regular cranberries available for the non-boozing folks.
Suzanne’s Cranberries (serves 8-10 as a side dish)
From my wonderful friend, Suzanne, these award-worthy cranberries are perfect for Thanksgiving, because they can be made in advance and frozen.
3 tbls. orange flavored liqueur - Grand Marnier or Cointreau
1 envelope plain gelatin
2 cups sugar
2 cups water
4 cups (1 lb.) fresh cranberries
grated rind of 1 orange
juice of ½ lemon
Pour orange liqueur into a small glass bowl. Sprinkle over gelatin. Let sit for 5 minutes.
Combine sugar and water in large saucepan. Bring to the boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Boil for 5 minutes. Add cranberries. Boil 5 minutes longer. (The cranberries will pop). Remove from heat.
Add gelatin mixture to hot cranberries. Stir to dissolve. Stir in grated orange rind and lemon juice.
Pour into serving container and chill overnight. Or pour into plastic containers and freeze for up to a month. Thaw overnight in refrigerator and pour into serving dish.
The Short (dis)Order Cook, blogging on The Essential Rhubarb Pie, got me to thinking. She's all worried because she's hosting Thanksgiving for the first time. She'll be fine, I know it, but, aaahhh, the sweet apprehension of youth!
I remember when I, too, was new at this... Now TWENTY!!! years later, I feel as if I could cook Thanksgiving dinner with one hand tied behind my back. I'm not bragging (well, I guess I am), but my ease comes, not from being the greatest cook on earth, but from doing it for all these years.
I've had my disasters. And, no, I'm going to list them now...I'm not crazy...but the thing about Thanksgiving is that there is SO MUCH food that one imperfect dish or another isn't going to be noticed in the onslaught of food to come.
I'm going to post some of my favorite Thanksgiving tips or recipes in the days leading up to Thanksgiving (in addition to regular posts). It won't be an exhaustive list, but I guarantee that taken together, it will provide you with lots of help for the cooking marathon of the year. Note: Some of them won't be food-related, but guest and hosting related. As I post new ones, I'll collate the old ones into a single list, which I'll give you the link for. Ok, here goes:
Thanksgiving Tips
Admittedly, Cranberry Sauce is the one of the few things that’s decent out of a can. BUT these are THE MOST INCREDIBLE CRANBERRIES IN THE UNIVERSE. There’s no excuse NOT to make them, since they can be frozen. Have a can or two of regular cranberries available for the non-boozing folks.
Suzanne’s Cranberries (serves 8-10 as a side dish)
From my wonderful friend, Suzanne, these award-worthy cranberries are perfect for Thanksgiving, because they can be made in advance and frozen.
3 tbls. orange flavored liqueur - Grand Marnier or Cointreau
1 envelope plain gelatin
2 cups sugar
2 cups water
4 cups (1 lb.) fresh cranberries
grated rind of 1 orange
juice of ½ lemon
Pour orange liqueur into a small glass bowl. Sprinkle over gelatin. Let sit for 5 minutes.
Combine sugar and water in large saucepan. Bring to the boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Boil for 5 minutes. Add cranberries. Boil 5 minutes longer. (The cranberries will pop). Remove from heat.
Add gelatin mixture to hot cranberries. Stir to dissolve. Stir in grated orange rind and lemon juice.
Pour into serving container and chill overnight. Or pour into plastic containers and freeze for up to a month. Thaw overnight in refrigerator and pour into serving dish.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
About That Applesauce
I strongly urge all applesauce lovers to try Ina's Homemade Applesauce. Actually, try the version that I made. I'm calling it Baked Applesauce, which is a better description of what it is and it is superb.
It has everything a good applesauce should have - sweetness, bit of tang, and imperceptible citrus note from the orange juice and rind. (That Ina is a genius). The orange juice adds some zing, the lemon some zest. Plus, cooking it in the oven does save many moments of stirring and looking and worrying - definitely not Ina's style and I could save a few worry lines myself.
I did change a few things: I couldn't bring myself to add the butter Ina called for and I thought the allspice was unnecessary, and I added only a 1/4 cup sugar, which is 1/4 cup more than I usually add.
I WAS nervous about leaving the apples in such big pieces, but I was glad I did. The whole thing cooked down so completely that I probably could have left the apples whole. In that heavy pot, in that hot oven and for that long a time, the apples will cook so far down under you'll think you're in Australia. I didn't stir or mash the applesauce any further. I like a chunky texture. (Oh, the peels were a bit difficult to discern, some were still in there, but they didn't bother me.)
I have to say it was the best applesauce I've EVER made, in fact, I think it was the best applesauce in all the land.
Ina's and My Baked Applesauce (serves 6 - 20)
3 lbs. Granny Smith apples, peeled, quartered and cored
3 lbs. Macintosh apples, peeled, quartered and cored (reserve some of the reddest pieces of peel)
1/4 cup brown sugar
2 oranges, zested and juiced
1 lemon, zested and juiced
2 teaspoons cinnamon
Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.
Mix everything together in a 5 quart Le Creuset Dutch oven. Scatter the red apple peels on the top. Cover and bake for one hour. Remove pot carefully. It's hot and heavy. Remove peels if you can find them, stir gently to keep lumps intact. Enjoy (you will).
3 lbs. Granny Smith apples, peeled, quartered and cored
3 lbs. Macintosh apples, peeled, quartered and cored (reserve some of the reddest pieces of peel)
1/4 cup brown sugar
2 oranges, zested and juiced
1 lemon, zested and juiced
2 teaspoons cinnamon
Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.
Mix everything together in a 5 quart Le Creuset Dutch oven. Scatter the red apple peels on the top. Cover and bake for one hour. Remove pot carefully. It's hot and heavy. Remove peels if you can find them, stir gently to keep lumps intact. Enjoy (you will).
Saturday, October 27, 2007
A Friend To The Rescue
Well, in my hour of need, I should have known that I could count on A, my longtime adored friend and companion on many Parisian sojourns. She has agreed, on her next visit state-side, to lug a jar or two of my beloved Maille mustard. I have warned her to PACK it and not carry it, but, experienced traveler that she is, she needed no such advice.
The best part is that it will be soon...in just a few short weeks. The rendezvous between my mustard and me will take place at Thanksgiving. It will be wonderful to see A again, don't get me wrong, but soon...soon, I'll have the mustard that I've pined for. Its gorgeous yellow piquancy will be in my hands. I'll feel its power in that heavy crystalline jar. And I'll pull off the wrapping and put my nose close and inhale its heady, spicy scent...
I guess at the end of the day:
Do yourself a favor and take a little break and watch this. Dionne and Stevie, Luther and Whitney...it just doesn't get any better. Love you, A.
The best part is that it will be soon...in just a few short weeks. The rendezvous between my mustard and me will take place at Thanksgiving. It will be wonderful to see A again, don't get me wrong, but soon...soon, I'll have the mustard that I've pined for. Its gorgeous yellow piquancy will be in my hands. I'll feel its power in that heavy crystalline jar. And I'll pull off the wrapping and put my nose close and inhale its heady, spicy scent...
I guess at the end of the day:
Do yourself a favor and take a little break and watch this. Dionne and Stevie, Luther and Whitney...it just doesn't get any better. Love you, A.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Ina Is Bewitching
Barefoot Contessa with Ina Garten
Halloween for Grownups
Chocolate Buttercream Cake
Espresso Martini
Homemade Applesauce
Loin of Pork with Fennel and Garlic
String Beans with Garlic
To get the recipes:
Click here
Ina has friends coming over for a trick or treat dinner and Miguel is doing the table.
She's making a fabulous Halloween cake, which will be a chocolate cake with an orange buttercream. For the cake, Ina creams together 1/2 lb. butter with 1/2 cup each of white and brown sugar until light and fluffy. She sifts together 2 1/2 cups flour (with a nifty 2 cup measure), 1 1/2 cups cocoa and baking soda. She readies 3 eggs, breaking them into a separate bowl, so if there is a problem, she doesn't ruin the whole cake. Smart move.
She mixes buttermilk, sour cream and vanilla with 3 tablespoons of brewed coffee. She mixes the dry and wet ingredients into the butter mixture, beginning and ending with the dry. That looks like an amazing cake.
Ina greases and flours a half sheet pan. The batter goes in and gets baked at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 25 to 30 minutes "until a toothpick JUST comes out clean."
Meanwhile Miguel is creating a "Gothic" look with witches' hats, orange flowers and votive candles.
Ina gets a spooky cocktail ready. She's making an espresso martini, which may not be my first choice, but it's better (by far) than Giada's strange espresso drink with Prosecco.
Ina mixes 2 cups of cooled DECAF espresso (see how thoughtful she is, she doesn't want to keep up her revelers), 2 cups of orange vodka and 1 cup of Kahlua. She pours it into a pitcher. She also gives the recipe for individual servings - 2 oz. espresso, 2 oz. of orange vodka and 1 oz. of Kahlua.
Next Ina is making an interesting BAKED apple sauce. Hmmmm. I like that idea. She starts with SIX pounds of apples, half Granny Smith and half Macintosh. 6 POUNDS! Why go small when you have to turn on the oven anyway, I guess? Never mind that it'll be cherry season before you peel all those apples.
She peels, quarters and cores them and puts them in a Le Creuset Dutch oven. "This recipe really exemplifies how I feel about cooking - making the apples taste more apple-like." She then proceeds to put in ORANGE JUICE and zest. Huh? How is OJ going to make the apples taste more apple-y? Actually, I don't mind that and when she adds lemon juice and rind, I just think c'mon join the party!
She also adds sugar, butter, cinnamon and allspice. Then she takes some of the red peels from the Macintosh's and puts them right on the top. She covers it and into the oven it goes for one hour at 400 degrees.
You have to look at the recipe for this applesauce, which for some reason they call Homemade Applesauce. It should be called Baked Applesauce, which highlights its unusual cooking method. Anyway, the picture is positively vomitrocious. It looks like...well, I just said it.
We spy Miguel really going to town on the decorations and then we go on to the main course. Ina takes out a glorious "frenched" loin of pork. No, that doesn't mean that someone has been doing rude things to the pig, it means that the bones have scraped down.
Ina mixes a rub together - 6 garlic cloves, 1/3 cup rosemary, 2 tablespoons lemon zest, 2 teaspoons fennel seeds, mustard and a small amount of olive oil plus salt and pepper in the food processor until well blended. She rubs it on the pork and lets it sit out for 30 minutes before baking it at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for 1 1/2 hours or until it reaches an internal temperature of 140 degrees.
Remember meat should be taken out of the refrigerator 15 to 30 minutes before cooking. AND if you're roasting it, make sure you preheat the oven. There is a big difference between cooking a cold piece of meat in a cold oven and cooking a room temperature one in toasty preheated one. It's hard to get the timing right, if you have to allow for the oven AND the meat to come up to the proper temperature.
We go on to the buttercream. (Ina's making A LOT this week.) She makes a sugar syrup with 2/3 cup water and 2 cups of sugar. She brings it to 240 degrees Fahrenheit. She uses a candy thermometer. That IS the easiest way to go.
Stir to bring the sugar and water to the boil, but after that no stirring allowed. Just brush down the sides (the INsides) of the pan with a brush dipped in cold water.
While that's going on, Ina beats room temperature egg whites. (Guess what size she's using. You could throw in an extra white, if you're using large eggs. Remember that chart I posted a long time ago?)
She beats the whites with 1/4 teaspoon of cream of tartar. Oy, here we go again. (Use 1/2 teaspoon of cream of tartar for every 4 egg whites.) Beat until soft peaks form.
WAIT! Stop the presses! Do we want to add cream of tartar at all, since this recipe is not being cooked? A quick trip to the Bible Belt, confirms that yes, of course, we do, because the hot syrup is accomplishing the task of cooking the egg whites and ridding them of that terrible tartaric taste.
Ina takes the sugar syrup off the heat at the correct temperature and immediately pours it into a Pyrex pitcher to stop the cooking. She pours the syrup into the egg whites gradually and keep beating it for ten to fifteen minutes. That sounds like a long time, but the mixture must be cool, before you can proceed, or you'll have a soupy mess. If you don't have a mixer on a stand, rent some neighborhood kids to help you and pay them with a piece of cake. This cake will feed all of East Hampton.
Now, get ready with the nitroglycerin. Have FIVE sticks of butter at room temperature. She ain't kidding about the room temperature part, either. She puts them out at night, ALL NIGHT.
Ina beats the butter in gradually on medium speed. She add vanilla, orange liqueur and 1 tablespoon of orange food coloring. It looks so fluffy, so rich, so cloud like, so ambrosial. Seriously, I could DIVE into that and never come up for air. She ices the cake with a palette knife, and then makes the top smooth by going over it with the knife dipped in hot water. She writes a secret message. Oh, please let us see...please. Oh, cute. I don't want to be accused of giving everything away, but what does a ghost say?
The guests have arrived. Ina shakes martinis for the crowd. The pork has been resting for 20 minutes. She slices between each bone and plates it. (Does that look a bit too pink? Well, I guess, if she doesn't think so, then what do I know? Forget I said anything.) She covers it with foil.
Ina removes the red apple skins from the applesauce and whisks it to break up the apples. WHY? I like it chunky. Don't most people?
Ina blanches green beans, then cooks them in butter and olive oil and 3 cloves of garlic. She likes to put the vegetables on the same platter as the meat. "It makes the meat look so much better." And if it covers a bit of the pinkness, so much the better...They all dig in.
We leave as Ina, donning a witch's hat, is doing a magic trick. I think the trick is that Ina continues to make fabulous food week after week and still leaves us wanting more, even as she single-handedly is doing her part to keep the butter makers in business.
Halloween for Grownups
Chocolate Buttercream Cake
Espresso Martini
Homemade Applesauce
Loin of Pork with Fennel and Garlic
String Beans with Garlic
To get the recipes:
Click here
Ina has friends coming over for a trick or treat dinner and Miguel is doing the table.
She's making a fabulous Halloween cake, which will be a chocolate cake with an orange buttercream. For the cake, Ina creams together 1/2 lb. butter with 1/2 cup each of white and brown sugar until light and fluffy. She sifts together 2 1/2 cups flour (with a nifty 2 cup measure), 1 1/2 cups cocoa and baking soda. She readies 3 eggs, breaking them into a separate bowl, so if there is a problem, she doesn't ruin the whole cake. Smart move.
She mixes buttermilk, sour cream and vanilla with 3 tablespoons of brewed coffee. She mixes the dry and wet ingredients into the butter mixture, beginning and ending with the dry. That looks like an amazing cake.
Ina greases and flours a half sheet pan. The batter goes in and gets baked at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 25 to 30 minutes "until a toothpick JUST comes out clean."
Meanwhile Miguel is creating a "Gothic" look with witches' hats, orange flowers and votive candles.
Ina gets a spooky cocktail ready. She's making an espresso martini, which may not be my first choice, but it's better (by far) than Giada's strange espresso drink with Prosecco.
Ina mixes 2 cups of cooled DECAF espresso (see how thoughtful she is, she doesn't want to keep up her revelers), 2 cups of orange vodka and 1 cup of Kahlua. She pours it into a pitcher. She also gives the recipe for individual servings - 2 oz. espresso, 2 oz. of orange vodka and 1 oz. of Kahlua.
Next Ina is making an interesting BAKED apple sauce. Hmmmm. I like that idea. She starts with SIX pounds of apples, half Granny Smith and half Macintosh. 6 POUNDS! Why go small when you have to turn on the oven anyway, I guess? Never mind that it'll be cherry season before you peel all those apples.
She peels, quarters and cores them and puts them in a Le Creuset Dutch oven. "This recipe really exemplifies how I feel about cooking - making the apples taste more apple-like." She then proceeds to put in ORANGE JUICE and zest. Huh? How is OJ going to make the apples taste more apple-y? Actually, I don't mind that and when she adds lemon juice and rind, I just think c'mon join the party!
She also adds sugar, butter, cinnamon and allspice. Then she takes some of the red peels from the Macintosh's and puts them right on the top. She covers it and into the oven it goes for one hour at 400 degrees.
You have to look at the recipe for this applesauce, which for some reason they call Homemade Applesauce. It should be called Baked Applesauce, which highlights its unusual cooking method. Anyway, the picture is positively vomitrocious. It looks like...well, I just said it.
We spy Miguel really going to town on the decorations and then we go on to the main course. Ina takes out a glorious "frenched" loin of pork. No, that doesn't mean that someone has been doing rude things to the pig, it means that the bones have scraped down.
Ina mixes a rub together - 6 garlic cloves, 1/3 cup rosemary, 2 tablespoons lemon zest, 2 teaspoons fennel seeds, mustard and a small amount of olive oil plus salt and pepper in the food processor until well blended. She rubs it on the pork and lets it sit out for 30 minutes before baking it at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for 1 1/2 hours or until it reaches an internal temperature of 140 degrees.
Remember meat should be taken out of the refrigerator 15 to 30 minutes before cooking. AND if you're roasting it, make sure you preheat the oven. There is a big difference between cooking a cold piece of meat in a cold oven and cooking a room temperature one in toasty preheated one. It's hard to get the timing right, if you have to allow for the oven AND the meat to come up to the proper temperature.
We go on to the buttercream. (Ina's making A LOT this week.) She makes a sugar syrup with 2/3 cup water and 2 cups of sugar. She brings it to 240 degrees Fahrenheit. She uses a candy thermometer. That IS the easiest way to go.
Stir to bring the sugar and water to the boil, but after that no stirring allowed. Just brush down the sides (the INsides) of the pan with a brush dipped in cold water.
While that's going on, Ina beats room temperature egg whites. (Guess what size she's using. You could throw in an extra white, if you're using large eggs. Remember that chart I posted a long time ago?)
She beats the whites with 1/4 teaspoon of cream of tartar. Oy, here we go again. (Use 1/2 teaspoon of cream of tartar for every 4 egg whites.) Beat until soft peaks form.
WAIT! Stop the presses! Do we want to add cream of tartar at all, since this recipe is not being cooked? A quick trip to the Bible Belt, confirms that yes, of course, we do, because the hot syrup is accomplishing the task of cooking the egg whites and ridding them of that terrible tartaric taste.
Ina takes the sugar syrup off the heat at the correct temperature and immediately pours it into a Pyrex pitcher to stop the cooking. She pours the syrup into the egg whites gradually and keep beating it for ten to fifteen minutes. That sounds like a long time, but the mixture must be cool, before you can proceed, or you'll have a soupy mess. If you don't have a mixer on a stand, rent some neighborhood kids to help you and pay them with a piece of cake. This cake will feed all of East Hampton.
Now, get ready with the nitroglycerin. Have FIVE sticks of butter at room temperature. She ain't kidding about the room temperature part, either. She puts them out at night, ALL NIGHT.
Ina beats the butter in gradually on medium speed. She add vanilla, orange liqueur and 1 tablespoon of orange food coloring. It looks so fluffy, so rich, so cloud like, so ambrosial. Seriously, I could DIVE into that and never come up for air. She ices the cake with a palette knife, and then makes the top smooth by going over it with the knife dipped in hot water. She writes a secret message. Oh, please let us see...please. Oh, cute. I don't want to be accused of giving everything away, but what does a ghost say?
The guests have arrived. Ina shakes martinis for the crowd. The pork has been resting for 20 minutes. She slices between each bone and plates it. (Does that look a bit too pink? Well, I guess, if she doesn't think so, then what do I know? Forget I said anything.) She covers it with foil.
Ina removes the red apple skins from the applesauce and whisks it to break up the apples. WHY? I like it chunky. Don't most people?
Ina blanches green beans, then cooks them in butter and olive oil and 3 cloves of garlic. She likes to put the vegetables on the same platter as the meat. "It makes the meat look so much better." And if it covers a bit of the pinkness, so much the better...They all dig in.
We leave as Ina, donning a witch's hat, is doing a magic trick. I think the trick is that Ina continues to make fabulous food week after week and still leaves us wanting more, even as she single-handedly is doing her part to keep the butter makers in business.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
The Sweet Stylings Of Giada And Something A Bit Strange
Everyday Italian with Giada De Laurentiis
Chocolate Tasting Party
Giandua Souffle
Chocolate Espresso Bellini
Panini with Chocolate and Brie
To get the recipes:
Click here
In the shadow of my recent defeat, I see that Giada is hosting a chocolate-only party. It's ok, I'll be strong and try to make it through the show. We see her serving chocolate dishes to her guests. Then we return to her usual cozy chair and back into the kitchen. Thank goodness there was no snapping or kicking of legs.
Giada is making a soufflé with a wonderful Italian invention of hazelnut and milk chocolate - Gianduja. That's how I spell it, anyway.
She exclaims that "the combination together is astounding". We don't usually hear such hyperbole from Giada, so I'm really paying attention to this recipe. In the top of a double boiler, she mixes butter, vanilla, sugar, and, in lieu of ground hazelnuts, Frangelico, which makes "a nice smooth filling." She stirs it until melted. Off the heat, she stirs 3 oz. of milk chocolate into the butter mixture. She puts the whole thing in the freezer. Very Interesting...I would add the Frangelico and, certainly, the vanilla off the heat to keep their intense flavors.
For the second part, Giada mixes together 1/4 cup flour -"you need a little structure in the soufflé" - with 1 cup of milk and a little salt, using a hand mixer. She has the entire mixture in a bowl over boiling water, fashioning her own double boiler. She beats it for 5 to 6 minutes until thick.
It may seem funny to add milk directly to the flour (before you've added the yolks), but that is the correct way to make a soufflé. It's called a bouilli (literally boiled) and it is the base for most sweet soufflés.
She separates 4 eggs, reminding us that they should be at room temperature, over a big bowl. NO! Don't do that. Separate each egg over a small bowl and then add it to the larger amount. Otherwise, if you have a mishap, you'll ruin ALL your eggs.
And if you don't think that one drop of egg yolk can wreak havoc with an egg white's ability to rise high and firm, you don't know how evil yolks can be. Another thing, separate the eggs when they're COLD, but USE them when they're at room temperature.
Giada adds 6 oz. of milk chocolate to the flour and milk mixture off the heat. She stirs until melted.
To the whites, she adds 1/4 teaspoon of cream of tartar, which she tells us is the secret to keeping them stable. WHY is she is using a handmixer in a glass bowl? You get much more volume from a stand mixer in a stainless bowl. The egg whites kind of fall back on themselves in a glass bowl.
Chocolate Tasting Party
Giandua Souffle
Chocolate Espresso Bellini
Panini with Chocolate and Brie
To get the recipes:
Click here
In the shadow of my recent defeat, I see that Giada is hosting a chocolate-only party. It's ok, I'll be strong and try to make it through the show. We see her serving chocolate dishes to her guests. Then we return to her usual cozy chair and back into the kitchen. Thank goodness there was no snapping or kicking of legs.
Giada is making a soufflé with a wonderful Italian invention of hazelnut and milk chocolate - Gianduja. That's how I spell it, anyway.
She exclaims that "the combination together is astounding". We don't usually hear such hyperbole from Giada, so I'm really paying attention to this recipe. In the top of a double boiler, she mixes butter, vanilla, sugar, and, in lieu of ground hazelnuts, Frangelico, which makes "a nice smooth filling." She stirs it until melted. Off the heat, she stirs 3 oz. of milk chocolate into the butter mixture. She puts the whole thing in the freezer. Very Interesting...I would add the Frangelico and, certainly, the vanilla off the heat to keep their intense flavors.
For the second part, Giada mixes together 1/4 cup flour -"you need a little structure in the soufflé" - with 1 cup of milk and a little salt, using a hand mixer. She has the entire mixture in a bowl over boiling water, fashioning her own double boiler. She beats it for 5 to 6 minutes until thick.
It may seem funny to add milk directly to the flour (before you've added the yolks), but that is the correct way to make a soufflé. It's called a bouilli (literally boiled) and it is the base for most sweet soufflés.
She separates 4 eggs, reminding us that they should be at room temperature, over a big bowl. NO! Don't do that. Separate each egg over a small bowl and then add it to the larger amount. Otherwise, if you have a mishap, you'll ruin ALL your eggs.
And if you don't think that one drop of egg yolk can wreak havoc with an egg white's ability to rise high and firm, you don't know how evil yolks can be. Another thing, separate the eggs when they're COLD, but USE them when they're at room temperature.
Giada adds 6 oz. of milk chocolate to the flour and milk mixture off the heat. She stirs until melted.
To the whites, she adds 1/4 teaspoon of cream of tartar, which she tells us is the secret to keeping them stable. WHY is she is using a handmixer in a glass bowl? You get much more volume from a stand mixer in a stainless bowl. The egg whites kind of fall back on themselves in a glass bowl.
And, about the cream of tartar, Rose Levy Beranbaum, the queen of all things baked, gives 1/2 a teaspoon of cream of tartar to 4 egg whites as the proper proportion. Giada's recipe calls for half of that. (Cream of tartar is used only when BAKING the whites, of course. You don't want to taste that awful stuff.) Rose says with that amount of cream of tartar you could basically beat the whites for 4 days and you still wouldn't overbeat them (or words to that effect).
Sorry, one other thing...my eagle eyes don't miss a thing. After Giada breaks an egg, she puts the spent shell back in the egg container WITH OTHER UNBROKEN EGGS! No, No, NO! You don't want any of the raw egg to pollute the shells of the eggs you haven't used yet. After you crack an egg, the shell should go right in the garbage can, disposal or compost pile.
Giada adds the sugar to the egg whites a little bit at a time. Her little mixer sounds so tinny against the glass bowl. Look, I know that we don't all have designer mixers, but how about a somewhat heavier hand mixer? Plus we know that Giada can have any kind of mixer she wants.
Back from a break and Giada's admiring truffles...
She removes the hazelnut mixture from the freezer.
Giada prepares to mix her egg whites into her soufflé bouilli base. Her classical training shows up here, when she lightens the base by beating in 1/3 of her egg whites. (I was taught 1/4, but whatev.) She folds the rest of the whites in (just beautifully). Giada really does know how to cook, by the way, which is kind of refreshing when watching the Food Network these days.
She butters and sugars individual soufflé molds. She places a scoop of frozen hazelnut mixture into the bottom of each ramekin. Then she spoons the soufflé mixture over, covering the Gianduja completely. She places the ramekins in a bain marie and bakes them at 375 degrees Fahrenheit for 30 minutes.
Giada moves on to a Bellini made with espresso! She dissolves three quarters of a cup of sugar in 1/2 cup of espresso over medium heat. Then she pours it over 6 oz. bitter chocolate and stirs to melt it. She adds 1/4 cup of Kahlua. This seems like it would be almost syrupy. This mixture goes into the refrigerator.
More truffle action for Giada, as we come back from a break.
She's moved on to Brie and Chocolate sandwiches. Is this a bit farfetched? Giada calls this one of the "funnest" ways to use chocolate. I don't really need an excuse to have chocolate. I could just eat it, without pretending to be a provocateur about it.
For some reason, she decides not to listen to me and proceeds to slice sourdough bread 1/4 inch to 1/2 inch thick. She drizzles olive oil over both sides. She toasts them quickly in a panini maker just until slightly browned. She slices the "soft and buttery" brie, while it's cold and chops basil. Chocolate, brie and basil? "Trust me on this one,"she says. Frankly, let's skip the chocolate altogether and put some sun-dried tomatoes on those babies and call it lunch, instead of strange.
She takes out the bread and puts cheese on one slice only. "You don't want to over-cheese your bread." Heaven forfend. Giada carefully lays some chocolate chips over the cheese followed by the basil. She squooshes down the top slice of bread and puts it back in the panini press for 1 to 2 minutes.
She pulls the sandwich out and cuts it into thirds with a serrated knife. She tastes. She SAYS she loves it. Listen, I love chocolate, I love brie, I'm even fond of basil, but that doesn't mean that they have to go down my gullet at the same time.
Giada arranges her store bought truffles. She mixes up her Bellinis. The espresso mixture goes into a pitcher. She pours Prosecco over it and STIRS it. (Never mind about those bubbles.) She pours it into low ball glasses. On second look, they're sort of STEMMED low ball glasses. Oh, who cares? This is going to taste like boozy mud anyway.
She attends to her guests and serves the chocolate sandwiches. I swear NOONE says anything about them. She runs to get the soufflés. I don't blame her. She already served a crummy drink and you always want to try to keep the crowd on your side. The soufflés go over well.
For party favors (don't you think after the age of 30, heck, even 12, party favors are not necessary?), she melts a bunch of leftover chocolate (that's what SHE said) and dips plastic spoons in. She wraps each one beautifully and gives them to her guests for their espresso the next morning. Who's lame idea was this? Seriously.
Will someone tell her producers that Giada does just fine...cooking real things using proper techniques? She doesn't need to give out party favors. She doesn't need to add chocolate to a perfectly good grilled cheese. And she certainly doesn't need to add Prosecco to something you would compost your tomatoes in.
Monday, October 22, 2007
MAILLE - The Mustard Of Kings And The King Of Mustards!
I have no idea if that's true - that kings use Maille, I just know that MY particular jars of Maille mustard had assumed the same importance in my sick mind as the crown jewels would to a royal. Listen to what happened... I warn you that this story shows how demented I really am about culinary matters.
I had read somewhere that you should always bring back jars of Dijon mustard from Paris. Not fancy schmancy gilded or crock-potted jars, just plain old jars from the supermarket. Why? Well, just look at the color. It's much yellower than our Dijon. That means that it's much fresher and much HOTTER. It has a real zing. It tastes the way it was meant to taste when those Dijonnaise folks made it.
And so I was delighted when I stopped into a little market by my hotel that had (reasonably priced!) heavy glass jars of Maille mustard. AND you could use them as drinking glasses when they were empty. I was thrilled.
I started imagining H, who usually says nothing about my cooking - wait, that's not true, he always tells me when it's bad - saying "Hey! What a fine mustard you have there. It's spicy and full-bodied. And it's bright yellow color is really enticing. What a fine selection of condiment you've made. I applaud you."
Okay, maybe all the kirs and cognac were making me a bit woozy and wishful, but, really, I was so darned happy with my mustard. I knew the mustard itself would be wonderful - that it would transform my vinaigrettes and anything it touched. And I LOVED the glass that it came in. I pictured myself drinking a robust red wine from it with dinner that featured a bistro-like menu that captured the best of Paris. I clearly was developing a unnatural relationship to my jars of mustard and featuring them in my fantasy life, but I couldn't help it.
I packed the night before we were leaving and I must have experienced brain freeze. My thinking was that these 3 jars were so precious to me, I'll pack them in my carry-on, so that nothing happens to them. I didn't mention them to H, because I wanted to surprise him with the enhancement of my cooking.
Off we go into the airport. Shoes off, jacket off, computer out of its case, through the x-ray machine. As usual H is ahead of me at a different line, already putting his shoes back on. A women takes me aside and points to my carry-on and says to take it there, over to be inspected. I'm still blithely unaware of any problem. I sort of sigh and take it over. The guy goes right to the bottom and suddenly it all clicks! Oh, my goodness, what have I done!!!
I said, hurry, take them out before my husband sees. Too late. What's the problem, H says. I have these, I sheepishly said. The guy was actually nice. He said you can go back out and check them. In WHAT??? A shopping bag? Go through the hour long line again? I don't think so. I let the jars go with a regret I haven't felt since I had to let my first born go to college a plane ride away.
I slumped away from the line, sad and defeated and then...MAD. Really mad. I said "H, do you really think of mustard as a liquid??!" My anger increased. I should have fought more, I should have protested, I should have tried to protect my jars.
Even H, who is usually very tough on idiots (me, in this case), had to admit that, no, he didn't think of mustard in the liquid category. The entire trip home all I could think of was the meals that weren't going to be touched by this yellow ambrosia; the salad dressings that would taste so commonplace; and the wine, that would have to be drunk from a normal wine glass. I was dejected.
I actually went through the various stages of grief over my mustard. Denial - "I can't believe how stupid I was not to pack the mustard. Then anger - "They should never have taken it. IT'S NOT A LIQUID!". I flew right by the bargaining stage...nothing to be done there, right to depression. "I'm so sad I don't have my beautiful jars." Acceptance? Well, not really, not yet. It's still too soon. As Oprah says, in relation to most everything, it's about giving up the dream. And that WILL take awhile.
Postscript: I've been spending hours online looking for these jars. The closest I've gotten is a website from Jersey, no, not NEW Jersey, Jersey, but they don't ship anywhere that I wouldn't need a passport and plane ticket to get to.
Will I EVER be able to fully accept living without my mustard? Right now my answer is no way, no how. But maybe in the fullness of time, I'll understand why this happened and learn from it.
I had read somewhere that you should always bring back jars of Dijon mustard from Paris. Not fancy schmancy gilded or crock-potted jars, just plain old jars from the supermarket. Why? Well, just look at the color. It's much yellower than our Dijon. That means that it's much fresher and much HOTTER. It has a real zing. It tastes the way it was meant to taste when those Dijonnaise folks made it.
And so I was delighted when I stopped into a little market by my hotel that had (reasonably priced!) heavy glass jars of Maille mustard. AND you could use them as drinking glasses when they were empty. I was thrilled.
I started imagining H, who usually says nothing about my cooking - wait, that's not true, he always tells me when it's bad - saying "Hey! What a fine mustard you have there. It's spicy and full-bodied. And it's bright yellow color is really enticing. What a fine selection of condiment you've made. I applaud you."
Okay, maybe all the kirs and cognac were making me a bit woozy and wishful, but, really, I was so darned happy with my mustard. I knew the mustard itself would be wonderful - that it would transform my vinaigrettes and anything it touched. And I LOVED the glass that it came in. I pictured myself drinking a robust red wine from it with dinner that featured a bistro-like menu that captured the best of Paris. I clearly was developing a unnatural relationship to my jars of mustard and featuring them in my fantasy life, but I couldn't help it.
I packed the night before we were leaving and I must have experienced brain freeze. My thinking was that these 3 jars were so precious to me, I'll pack them in my carry-on, so that nothing happens to them. I didn't mention them to H, because I wanted to surprise him with the enhancement of my cooking.
Off we go into the airport. Shoes off, jacket off, computer out of its case, through the x-ray machine. As usual H is ahead of me at a different line, already putting his shoes back on. A women takes me aside and points to my carry-on and says to take it there, over to be inspected. I'm still blithely unaware of any problem. I sort of sigh and take it over. The guy goes right to the bottom and suddenly it all clicks! Oh, my goodness, what have I done!!!
I said, hurry, take them out before my husband sees. Too late. What's the problem, H says. I have these, I sheepishly said. The guy was actually nice. He said you can go back out and check them. In WHAT??? A shopping bag? Go through the hour long line again? I don't think so. I let the jars go with a regret I haven't felt since I had to let my first born go to college a plane ride away.
I slumped away from the line, sad and defeated and then...MAD. Really mad. I said "H, do you really think of mustard as a liquid??!" My anger increased. I should have fought more, I should have protested, I should have tried to protect my jars.
Even H, who is usually very tough on idiots (me, in this case), had to admit that, no, he didn't think of mustard in the liquid category. The entire trip home all I could think of was the meals that weren't going to be touched by this yellow ambrosia; the salad dressings that would taste so commonplace; and the wine, that would have to be drunk from a normal wine glass. I was dejected.
I actually went through the various stages of grief over my mustard. Denial - "I can't believe how stupid I was not to pack the mustard. Then anger - "They should never have taken it. IT'S NOT A LIQUID!". I flew right by the bargaining stage...nothing to be done there, right to depression. "I'm so sad I don't have my beautiful jars." Acceptance? Well, not really, not yet. It's still too soon. As Oprah says, in relation to most everything, it's about giving up the dream. And that WILL take awhile.
Postscript: I've been spending hours online looking for these jars. The closest I've gotten is a website from Jersey, no, not NEW Jersey, Jersey, but they don't ship anywhere that I wouldn't need a passport and plane ticket to get to.
Will I EVER be able to fully accept living without my mustard? Right now my answer is no way, no how. But maybe in the fullness of time, I'll understand why this happened and learn from it.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
I'm Back, But I Have Just One More Thing
to say about Paris. Ok, maybe one or two.
Of course, it would be hard to forget the riveting description of my last, LAST trip to Paris, where my Kir met an untimely end on a hard sidewalk, but remember that cafe?
And what was in the background?
Well, it was always my dream to drink Cognac with H, sitting in that very cafe on a gorgeous night with the Eiffel Tower in the background. Finally, on our last night in Paris, I corralled him down the street and there we sat, Cognac in hand (well, he had a beer, but I didn't care).
Even as the cognac, it was actually Armagnac, burned my throat, and I could feel a hangover headache coming on and my left arm was getting a bit damp from the sprinkle of rain coming down off the side of the awning..still, it was perfect. Hand me the Eiffel tower, strong liquor, Paris, oh, and H...and I'm happy.
I guess that's really not much of a trick. The challenge is to keep that feeling going...while driving on Route One, shopping at a strip mall for discount shoes or drinking diet ginger ale with H in his undershirt. It's hard, but I think I'm getting the hang of it.
Stay tuned for my next post on a sad tale of mustard and a miscreant...
Of course, it would be hard to forget the riveting description of my last, LAST trip to Paris, where my Kir met an untimely end on a hard sidewalk, but remember that cafe?
And what was in the background?
Well, it was always my dream to drink Cognac with H, sitting in that very cafe on a gorgeous night with the Eiffel Tower in the background. Finally, on our last night in Paris, I corralled him down the street and there we sat, Cognac in hand (well, he had a beer, but I didn't care).
Even as the cognac, it was actually Armagnac, burned my throat, and I could feel a hangover headache coming on and my left arm was getting a bit damp from the sprinkle of rain coming down off the side of the awning..still, it was perfect. Hand me the Eiffel tower, strong liquor, Paris, oh, and H...and I'm happy.
I guess that's really not much of a trick. The challenge is to keep that feeling going...while driving on Route One, shopping at a strip mall for discount shoes or drinking diet ginger ale with H in his undershirt. It's hard, but I think I'm getting the hang of it.
Stay tuned for my next post on a sad tale of mustard and a miscreant...
And The Winner Is...
NOT ME, or NOT I, if you prefer. Any which way, I came up short, but that's ok, because a truly amazing recipe won the Stop the Traffik chocolate competition at R Khooks blog.
Thank you to all my supporters and I'll be working diligently until the next competition to come up with a winning recipe.
And the good news is that I've discovered a really fabulous brand of fair trade chocolate, so I can feel just as good when I buy it, as when I eat it.
Thank you to all my supporters and I'll be working diligently until the next competition to come up with a winning recipe.
And the good news is that I've discovered a really fabulous brand of fair trade chocolate, so I can feel just as good when I buy it, as when I eat it.
Friday, October 19, 2007
When Is A Rug Not A Rug?
When it is a magnificent tapestry at the Manufacture des Gobelins. A and I saw some gorgeous tapestries at the Gobelin Museum, where you can also take a tour of the workroom (in French, but English brochures are available) to see how the weavings are made. Below is a Miro that was made into a tapestry. Am I allowed to like it more than the original painting?
Here are a couple other pretty ones:
It was a fascinating place to visit.
H and I had a wonderful dinner at Le Pichet (68, Rue Pierre Charron, 75008 Paris Tel : 01 43 59 50 34), with a colleague and his wife. They were lovely, and I'm afraid I concentrated more on the company than the food. It was great, though. I started with thin, thin, thin slices of smoked fish and then moved on to a filet of salmon served on a bed of lentils from Le Puy. We had 2 desserts at the table, a cake like pastry with lots of nuts, beautifully presented and a little chocolate cake garnished with a splendid Cape Gooseberry.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Montmartre Without Sacre Coeur? Sacre Bleu!!!
A and I went to Montmartre. My aim was to visit some crazy little museums and NOT go to Sacré-Coeur. Not that I don't appreciate Sacré-Coeur, but I wanted to prove that there was more to Montmartre than that beautiful landmark, whose best part, anyway, is seeing it from all over Paris.
As I was studying the map, I saw the big Montmarte Cemetery (Antoine Carême is buried there). Near it is little cemetery called Cimetière St-Vincent. That was our starting point. And because we went to the Lamarck-Caulaincourt metro stop, we avoided a major part of the massive hill in Montmartre. We did have some hilly moments and we still had to walk DOWN, but we avoided the worst part.
Finding the cemetery was not easy. But after walking ALL the way around its tall stone walls, we found the entrance.
Is it weird to take pictures of a cemetery? (The slide show of the pictures is unavailable now, because Slide.com has gone away.) >:-(
I thought parts were very interesting. On the actual stones and tombs were porcelain flower arrangements that seemed to take the place of fresh flowers. I've never seen that before.
We also passed the only grapevines left in Paris...behind the fence.
From there it was on to a little museum or two. Bad news though...The Musée de Montmartre obviously didn't realize we were coming and they were closed.
We soldiered on to the Musée d'Art Naïf Max Fourny. I thought a bit of primitive art would be refreshing. We did find the address...not easily...and went through the ENTIRE building, without seeing ONE piece of primitive art.
I asked the friendly young woman selling tickets and she said the entire collection had been removed for these special exhibits. That's rather odd, isn't it?
One of the exhibits WAS very interesting. It was about Varian Fry, a journalist who saved over two thousand artists during World War 2. Exhibited were paintings from those artists, who included Marc Chagall, Max Ernst and Marcel Duchamp. A noted, interestingly, that with very rare exceptions, most of these artists lived really long lives.
One more stop in a lovely old church, St. Pierre de Montmartre.
So did I keep my pledge not to go to Sacré-Coeur? Well, in my defense, it was earlier in the afternoon than it was meant to be and we were much closer to the church than I planned to be. So, yes, we did go in. And I was glad we did. I was struck by the number of posters and meeting notices and banners that showed it to be very much a local church as well as a landmark.
But still I say the most noteworthy thing about Sacré-Coeur is the views OF it. (A close second are the views FROM it.) If somehow the doors are closed when you make your way up the hill, don't be distressed, because you've already seen the best part, miles before you get there.
As I was studying the map, I saw the big Montmarte Cemetery (Antoine Carême is buried there). Near it is little cemetery called Cimetière St-Vincent. That was our starting point. And because we went to the Lamarck-Caulaincourt metro stop, we avoided a major part of the massive hill in Montmartre. We did have some hilly moments and we still had to walk DOWN, but we avoided the worst part.
Finding the cemetery was not easy. But after walking ALL the way around its tall stone walls, we found the entrance.
Is it weird to take pictures of a cemetery? (The slide show of the pictures is unavailable now, because Slide.com has gone away.) >:-(
I thought parts were very interesting. On the actual stones and tombs were porcelain flower arrangements that seemed to take the place of fresh flowers. I've never seen that before.
We also passed the only grapevines left in Paris...behind the fence.
From there it was on to a little museum or two. Bad news though...The Musée de Montmartre obviously didn't realize we were coming and they were closed.
We soldiered on to the Musée d'Art Naïf Max Fourny. I thought a bit of primitive art would be refreshing. We did find the address...not easily...and went through the ENTIRE building, without seeing ONE piece of primitive art.
I asked the friendly young woman selling tickets and she said the entire collection had been removed for these special exhibits. That's rather odd, isn't it?
One of the exhibits WAS very interesting. It was about Varian Fry, a journalist who saved over two thousand artists during World War 2. Exhibited were paintings from those artists, who included Marc Chagall, Max Ernst and Marcel Duchamp. A noted, interestingly, that with very rare exceptions, most of these artists lived really long lives.
One more stop in a lovely old church, St. Pierre de Montmartre.
So did I keep my pledge not to go to Sacré-Coeur? Well, in my defense, it was earlier in the afternoon than it was meant to be and we were much closer to the church than I planned to be. So, yes, we did go in. And I was glad we did. I was struck by the number of posters and meeting notices and banners that showed it to be very much a local church as well as a landmark.
But still I say the most noteworthy thing about Sacré-Coeur is the views OF it. (A close second are the views FROM it.) If somehow the doors are closed when you make your way up the hill, don't be distressed, because you've already seen the best part, miles before you get there.
Monday, October 15, 2007
The Good News And The Bad News
I'll start with the bad news, which these pictures illustrate.
The setting is a somewhat more formal than a normal bistro, but there are some quite exciting things on the menu. I started with a Remoulade de Papaye Verte, Anguille Fumée et Écume de Lait de Concombre à la Mente. Huh?! Smoked eel served with a salad of green papaya in a cucumber milk foam with mint. The salty eel was in little tranches over the papaya and filling out the bowl was a fresh tasting foamy sauce. The richness and saltiness of the eel was nicely balanced by the light fresh fruit and sauce. Very good.
A and I were walking around the Marais and we spied a Pinkberry wanna-be in Paris. Yes, it's true. It's called myberry and it is a fairly precise copy of Pinkberry. How do I know? Because I peered in the window and saw all the same toppings of fruit and read the sign.
Anyway, there were SOME people in Myberry's, but not crowds lining up, so perhaps the Parisians object to blatant bootlegging.
The Good News? A lovely dinner with colleagues of H's at a very good, little restaurant off of George V called Les Bouchons de François Clerc. Bouchon means wine cork, and the restaurant is known for its reasonably priced excellent selection of wines.
The setting is a somewhat more formal than a normal bistro, but there are some quite exciting things on the menu. I started with a Remoulade de Papaye Verte, Anguille Fumée et Écume de Lait de Concombre à la Mente. Huh?! Smoked eel served with a salad of green papaya in a cucumber milk foam with mint. The salty eel was in little tranches over the papaya and filling out the bowl was a fresh tasting foamy sauce. The richness and saltiness of the eel was nicely balanced by the light fresh fruit and sauce. Very good.
Of course, I shouldn't have gone for two smoked fish in the same meal, but, luckily, the day of the shocked Maitre D' is over, and I did anyway. I had a wonderful smoked cod in a very rich reduction of dried tomatoes. I particularly liked the sharp counterpoint of the crystallised lemon. (Épais de Cabillaud à la Fumée, Tajine de Tomates Sechées à Citron Confit.)
Thank goodness, there were other people at dinner. H never orders dessert. He wants to keep his boyish figure.
There were a few Creme Brulées at the table. They looked beautiful, but they were across the table, and these were business folks, so I didn't feel I could grab a bite from 4 feet away.
However, I ordered something extraordinary. First of all, I always liked the name of this: Omelette Norvégienne. Why Omelette Norvégienne is translated as Baked Alaska or vice versa, I don't know, but it sounds fluffy and Nordic.
This version was definitely taken up a notch. Our waiter poured what looked like a PINT of alcohol, I think it was Calvados, around the Omelette and then lit it on fire. There was so much liquor that the flame wouldn't go out and it just kept burning and burning.
It was a rather astounding spectacle and the meringue was actually getting a little scorched. Luckily, one the guys at the table helped me extinguish the flames or I might have been left with only burned crumbs.
Interestingly, instead of cake at the base, there was a mound of crushed pineapple, covered by a ball of vanilla ice cream. Actually, I'm not swearing it was vanilla, my attention was entirely on the meringue. It was extraordinary. It was so silky and creamy and gooey that the other components receded into the background.
To me it wasn't JUST dessert, it was an experience as heady and exciting as riding a roller coaster is for other people. Give me flaming meringue anytime. It was a striking end to a superb meal. Ça, c'est Paris...
Les Bouchons de François Clerc - 7, rue du Boccador, Paris 75008 - is one of François Clerc's eight Parisian restaurants, all of which are known for their reasonable fine wine lists.
Les Bouchons de François Clerc - 7, rue du Boccador, Paris 75008 - is one of François Clerc's eight Parisian restaurants, all of which are known for their reasonable fine wine lists.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Just A little Reminder
Go on over to r khooks and look at some gorgeous chocolate desserts in her fair trade chocolate competition. Then email her at rkhooks@gmail.com with your favorite. Ahem!!! Mile High Chocolate Dacquoise Torte, perchance?
Paris Day Deux - I'm A Fan of Eventails
My goal for this trip to Paris was to visit small museums and places of interest that one normally doesn't take the time to see. Often you feel you have to concentrate on all the grand sights.
I was a bit mocked by H(usband) for my plans of visiting the Musée de la Serrure, The LOCK Museum. I thought it would be interesting to view history from this unique point of view. He thought it was clear that I didn't need any more trips to Paris.
Unhappily for me, and as a slight relief to A, my friend and companion in these traipsings, the door to the museum was...well, LOCKED. It was fitting somehow, but it was a little strange that there was absolutely no sign, no mention, no indication that this treasure trove existed within.
I was using as my guide an eleven year old book, Little Known Museums Around Paris by Rachel Kaplan. The problem was that I had only found out about it just before I left, so I had no time to buy the actual book. I trolled the internet for info about some of the museums she mentioned. Obviously quite a bit was not up to date. But it was ok, because it took us to different places that we might not have found otherwise.
Our next try was another small museum off the beaten track, Le Musée de l'Eventail, the FAN Museum. Luckily, it didn't open until 2pm and so we had to find lunch. We walked around a little explored area in the 10th arrondisement, noticing first 2 imposing arches, set 2 blocks away from each other. Porte St. Denis and Porte St. Martin were built in the 1670's to honor Louis XV's military accomplishments. Luckily we found a cafe
in the shadow of the Porte St. Martin.
We could gaze at it as we ate our beautiful lunch. History is great, yet fleeting, but an excellent lunch can stay with you for eons.
The cafe, Le Roi Soleil (2, Rue du Fauburg St. Martin Paris 10) featured the usual sandwich, salad and simple main course menu. We opted for croques, which is my déjeuner normale. I like to perform a scholarly exercise of comparing the same dish in different places. Oh, who am I kidding? I just LOVE croque Madames and I would eat them 10 times a day, if I could. The best, and these certainly could be in that class, are made from Poilâne bread.
Next time...dinner...à bientôt.
I was a bit mocked by H(usband) for my plans of visiting the Musée de la Serrure, The LOCK Museum. I thought it would be interesting to view history from this unique point of view. He thought it was clear that I didn't need any more trips to Paris.
Unhappily for me, and as a slight relief to A, my friend and companion in these traipsings, the door to the museum was...well, LOCKED. It was fitting somehow, but it was a little strange that there was absolutely no sign, no mention, no indication that this treasure trove existed within.
I was using as my guide an eleven year old book, Little Known Museums Around Paris by Rachel Kaplan. The problem was that I had only found out about it just before I left, so I had no time to buy the actual book. I trolled the internet for info about some of the museums she mentioned. Obviously quite a bit was not up to date. But it was ok, because it took us to different places that we might not have found otherwise.
Our next try was another small museum off the beaten track, Le Musée de l'Eventail, the FAN Museum. Luckily, it didn't open until 2pm and so we had to find lunch. We walked around a little explored area in the 10th arrondisement, noticing first 2 imposing arches, set 2 blocks away from each other. Porte St. Denis and Porte St. Martin were built in the 1670's to honor Louis XV's military accomplishments. Luckily we found a cafe
in the shadow of the Porte St. Martin.
We could gaze at it as we ate our beautiful lunch. History is great, yet fleeting, but an excellent lunch can stay with you for eons.
The cafe, Le Roi Soleil (2, Rue du Fauburg St. Martin Paris 10) featured the usual sandwich, salad and simple main course menu. We opted for croques, which is my déjeuner normale. I like to perform a scholarly exercise of comparing the same dish in different places. Oh, who am I kidding? I just LOVE croque Madames and I would eat them 10 times a day, if I could. The best, and these certainly could be in that class, are made from Poilâne bread.
Then it was off to try to find the building of Le Musée de l'Eventail. There was a small sign outside. We went in the entrance and found an apartment building with a security door and buzzers. I can't remember how we figured out which was the museum's, but we did. Inside, there were no further directions, so we walked UP AND UP AND UP a winding staircase, past at least one apartment that was being completely renovated. I hoped that wasn't our destination, and that we had arrived days too late.
We walked all the way to the top. NOTHING. We went back down and halfway between the first and second floors, we spied a second staircase that did in fact take us to Le Musée de l'Eventail.
After ringing the buzzers on at least 2 doors, a middle-aged woman admitted us into an old Parisian apartment with all kinds of fans on the walls. We paid and spent several serious moments studying the contents of the first room, before we realized that it was the gift shop.
After ringing the buzzers on at least 2 doors, a middle-aged woman admitted us into an old Parisian apartment with all kinds of fans on the walls. We paid and spent several serious moments studying the contents of the first room, before we realized that it was the gift shop.
With that out of the way, we passed through to the main rooms of the apartment. Fans from the last 200 years - African, European and Asian were displayed. They ranged from the most basic reed and grass fans to the finest filigree on bone and ivory. Amazing. There also was a workroom with a young woman, bent over a table working silently. She was restoring an old fan with such precision and exactitude that it was fascinating to watch her.
We quietly made our way through the 2 main rooms. Each fan was more beautiful than the last. All kinds of materials were used - ivory, bone, paper, even swan skin.
The European ones with complicated paintings were noteworthy. We learned that the composition on the actual pleats of the fan was all-important. The artist tried his or her utmost to avoid placing a face in the middle of a pleat. We searched each fan for this element and by and large, there were no major folds in the middle of faces. Interesting.
Luckily, I didn't see the sign that said NO PICTURES (in French) until I had taken (almost all) my pictures. A made herself scarce as I snapped the final display cabinet. (Never did I use a flash.) Enjoy these contraband photos:
Next time...dinner...à bientôt.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Guess Where I Am!
Here's a hint: There were a lot of (strange) people like this wandering around drinking lots of beer in anticipation of watching a certain sporting event.
The first night we were here, we were a bit jet-lagged and hungry before a normal dining hour. So we went to La Coupole,
which, while certainly popular with tourists, is also a wonderful example of an Art Deco Parisien brasserie.
It was frequented in the past by such artistic and performing luminaries as Dali, Josephine Baker, Henry Miller, ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Picasso, not to mention Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir.
The real draw, besides the wonderfully homey food served since 1927, is the artistic details added by artists, who one imagines traded their talents for a meal. Each pillar is decorated by a different artist and there are sculptures and a magnificent mural on the side wall.
Even the bathroom is most attractive. Can you see the beautiful floor and counters?
On to dinner. I started with a kir. I didn't touch the pretzels though.
My starter was a beautifully presented creamy Tarama salad. H had gorgeous oysters served with SALTED butter and bread. Here is example number two of a reason to serve salted butter. (The first is on toast.) What you're meant to do is to butter the bread, have a bite and then eat the oyster. They also served a mignonette sauce, which you spoon on the oyster and then down it all the once. The sharp oniony taste was a fine foil to the smooth and salty bivalve.
My main course was big and juicy scallops in a deep wine(?) sauce served around a surprisingly poor risotto. It was only lukewarm (barely) and not cooked enough. In fact, it was almost crunchy in it's baveuse-ness. The fricco on top tasted stale. It was ok though, I concentrated on the scallops and was quite happy not to have to eat much of the risotto.
Dessert was an Pear Tart Bourdalou. This rustic tart is made with an almond custard and it was served with a syrupy reduction studded with nuts. It was good...the pastry was the best part.
That's all for now. More to come...
Does this help?
Ok, I'm going to give it away.
Yup, H and I are in Paris. Lucky, lucky me. We're just here for a few days...and NOT for the World Cup. Sorry, but I don't even really know what rugby is. H is working and I'm visiting my wonderful friend A.
The first night we were here, we were a bit jet-lagged and hungry before a normal dining hour. So we went to La Coupole,
which, while certainly popular with tourists, is also a wonderful example of an Art Deco Parisien brasserie.
It was frequented in the past by such artistic and performing luminaries as Dali, Josephine Baker, Henry Miller, ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Picasso, not to mention Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir.
The real draw, besides the wonderfully homey food served since 1927, is the artistic details added by artists, who one imagines traded their talents for a meal. Each pillar is decorated by a different artist and there are sculptures and a magnificent mural on the side wall.
Even the bathroom is most attractive. Can you see the beautiful floor and counters?
On to dinner. I started with a kir. I didn't touch the pretzels though.
My starter was a beautifully presented creamy Tarama salad. H had gorgeous oysters served with SALTED butter and bread. Here is example number two of a reason to serve salted butter. (The first is on toast.) What you're meant to do is to butter the bread, have a bite and then eat the oyster. They also served a mignonette sauce, which you spoon on the oyster and then down it all the once. The sharp oniony taste was a fine foil to the smooth and salty bivalve.
My main course was big and juicy scallops in a deep wine(?) sauce served around a surprisingly poor risotto. It was only lukewarm (barely) and not cooked enough. In fact, it was almost crunchy in it's baveuse-ness. The fricco on top tasted stale. It was ok though, I concentrated on the scallops and was quite happy not to have to eat much of the risotto.
Dessert was an Pear Tart Bourdalou. This rustic tart is made with an almond custard and it was served with a syrupy reduction studded with nuts. It was good...the pastry was the best part.
That's all for now. More to come...
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