French Cuisine

I got into a couple of interesting discussions on Facebook last week, specifically about an article entitled You Are What You Eat: A Food Blogger’s Dilemma, in which the author, Jamie Schler, laments the increasing presence of  processed foods and craft projects masquerading as recipes on many food blogs. She asks if food bloggers should be responsible for promoting healthy, home-cooked food, or is the genre devolving into a get-rich-or-at-least-lots-of-attention-quick scheme. I, for one, am completely on board with her point (in case you couldn’t tell from my paraphrasing back there). There are SO many food blogs out there these days, and all are in a very real way in competition. And when you spend time and energy trying to come up with creative recipes using real food, writing something intelligible about it, and posting it, it’s downright frustrating to see newer, flashier blogs getting more attention for making Oreos look like mice or whatever. It’s also a surprising trend given how much we hear and read these days about eating more local and organic foods, which I do think is happening. Even in standard grocery stores in the United States, you’ll now see “Locally Grown!” signs, and farmer’s markets are getting bigger and busier. It just doesn’t make sense to me, in a time when better food is becoming more available, why anyone would want to load up on food dyes and chemical preservatives. All that said, I have a Rice Krispie treat recipe for you today. It basically flies in the face of everything I just wrote, but sometimes life is like that. So let’s just agree that it’s important to recognize that some things are occasional treats. Like processed cereal (although really, Rice Krispies aren’t so terrible in the scheme of things – at least they don’t have a ton of added sugar) and marshmallows (which I really do love, and if I had a stand mixer I would totally make them myself, thus making them ok). The impetus for making these treats in the first place was the fact that I found a box of plain Rice Krispies in France. Usually, all you can find are the chocolate kind (which incidentally, were fantastic in this recipe that I made for a Super Bowl party a couple years ago). I can now get plain marshmallows at the shop just downstairs from my apartment, so a recipe that once may have been a project involving several days of shopping for ingredients kind of fell in my lap. That very same week, I read this blog post about rosewater Rice Krispie treats. It was fate, you see. I loved the idea, and was halfway through making them, but when I reached for the rosewater I saw the bottle of orange flower water and got an idea of my own. What if I put in some pistachios? Oh, and pine nuts would go nicely, too! And that is how these Tunisian pastry-inspired marshmallow treats came to be. I’ve made them twice already. Crispy Marshmallow Treats with Mediterranean Flavors A combination of the very familiar with the mildly exotic makes for a surprisingly addictive sweet snack. To the chew and the crispiness of the classic, I’ve added the crunch of pine nuts and pistachios and the haunting perfume of orange flower water. Sometimes called orange blossom water, you can find it in Indian and Middle Eastern shops as well as some grocery stores. Once, running low on butter, I substituted in some olive oil, whose flavor marries perfectly with the other ingredients. I encourage you to do the same. ¼ c. / 40 g pistachios ¼ c. / 35 g pine nuts 4 Tbsp. / 60 g butter or olive oil or combination thereof ¼ tsp. fleur de sel or other coarse sea salt 1 tsp. orange flower water 2 c. / 150 g mini marshmallows 2½ c. / 85 g crispy rice cereal (you know the one) Preheat the oven to 350F / 180C. Grease an 8” or 9” (20-23cm) square pan with butter or olive oil. The size of the dish isn’t hugely important – if it’s smaller, the treats will be thicker –

When Colette and I first came to Baltimore from New York in 1985, the city’s restaurant scene produced in us a profound culture shock; no high end French food, mediocre seafood places (compared to the bounty found in the stores to cook at home), no genuine ethnic cuisine and no places around the corner that we had become so used to after 25 years on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. But there was the Chesapeake, a Grande Dame of a place, resembling the great inns of New England, just north of the train station as one approached the only “art” cinema house.  Its fare was uncomplicated; steaks and crab-cakes and the like – but high quality, classy and fun.  Alas, it closed soon after we arrived. Now two decades plus later, after family squabbles, broken promises and strange goings-on among its owners, the city and the area’s development folks, it’s back, and it’s wonderful.I was asked to embargo these comments until today because (1) I ate during its “soft opening” and (2) the menu then was just a sampling of things to come. Because what I ate may not be available to everyone, I hesitate to tout specific items because they may not be available now; but the smelts, deviled eggs, shrimp, spicy mussels and rockfish were a cut above what one usually sees in this town and even the fries were good.  The wines verge on the pricey side and we have to return to see if that’s the story with the regular menu, but all in all, I think they’ve got a hit.  By they, I mean the owners, manager, chefs and waitstaff, all of whom were super-nice and paid personal attention to us at one point or other during the meal (they did not know who I was). Go?  I’ll be back soon.

The first two times I tried to go to Pierre Sang Boyer's restaurant in the Oberkampf district of the 11th arrondissement, my luck ran dry. Since they don't have a public phone number, we showed up one night to find that the restaurant was 'exceptionally' closed. Then another time, the crowd waiting to be seated at this compact counter-service no-reservations restaurant was so huge that it would have been an optimistic hour's wait before we were seated. So my interest drifted a bit, because this place seemed so hard to get into. During the year or so since he's been open, however, the amiable South Korean born chef has received glowing reviews from a variety of colleagues whom I respect, and so at the end of a busy day last week when it had stopped raining for a few minutes, Bruno and I decided to roll the dice again and headed to the 11th. Arriving on early on a Friday night, the place was packed, but they promised a half hour wait, so we ordered glasses of white wine and milled around on the sidewalk for twenty minutes before we were ushered inside. Given the throngs waiting to get in, the first thing that impressed me about this place was the exceptionally courteous and well-organized service. Though there was no written waiting list, the very nice young waiters respected the proper rotation of waiting customers and the kitchen even sent out complimentary hors d'oeuvres--thick slices of toasted country bread topped with pale slices of summer truffle that pleasantly tasted like wet leaves. When we were ushered inside, we sat at the big oak bar on comfortable stools (they're only a couple of tables for two here, unless you book the one larger table down in the basement, which is the only reservation they'll take) in front of a big sack of delicious looking butter and a huge wheel of Laguiole cheese. The chef himself greeted us, and one of the friendly and impressively efficient waiters set us up with slate plate mats and cutlery. Staring at the cheese, I found myself thinking that whatever proceeded this course in the impending small-plate tasting menu, I could very happily make a meal for myself by shamelessly plundering this heart-stoppingly tempting dairy display. Instead our meal kicked off with a delicious little haricot vert topped salad and a chunk of sesame-seed coated tuna with a small salad of fennel garnished with wasabi peas and a pool of mustardy mayonnaise. Both of these nibble-sized dishes were exceptional for their intricate layering of flavor, intriguing contrast of textures and beauty. And what made them even more impressive is that they were cooked at the speed of light in a tiny open kitchen. Open kitchens fascinate me, but I know from friends who are chefs that they impose an additional layer of pressure on a cook, because everything happens in the public eye. So adding this constraint to the mix made these first dishes even more remarkable. Every chef has his or her palate, of course, and I immediately liked the way Sang Boyer backstops the umami richness of his cooking with refreshing but subtle tones of acidulated tastes. And for a small, crowded and very busy restaurant, the service was outstanding, at once playful and professional, and the rythm of the meal was flawless. The short wine list had some really interesting bottles to chose from, too, including the velvety, berry rich Saint Chinian we chose. Next up, a rich octopus ragout served on a bed of quinoa with a light vinaigrette and garnishes of chopped yellow tomato and crunchy crystalline iceplant (Ficoïde Glaciale, in French), which was a deeply satisfying dish. If I loved it on a bed of quinoa, I also found myself thinking that it would be delicious with orrechiette or any other small pasta that would catch as much of the sauce as possible. Both this dish and the fascinating saute of pork and white beans in a rich tomato broth garnished with anchovies and finely sliced radish that followed it were suav

One of the things that most excited me most about coming to Stockholm was to visit Pärlans Konfektyr. The moment I heard about it, I knew I had to go. I mean, a small shop that makes artisanal caramels, in one of the best dairy-producing countries in the world, with a wink-and-a-nod to traditional Swedish charm? Count me in. So I asked if I could come and watch them make caramels. When I walked in, I got the usual cheerful Swedish greeting, and I realized I was surrounded by caramels in an array of flavors – some traditional, others less-so, and some beautiful jars of sauce which, after I tasted a sample, had me seriously consider risking getting busted for trying to smuggle a few home in my carry-on. I didn’t, although I’m sure the agents at the airport would have been very, very happy to confiscate them! The beautiful logo, the warm welcome with a lilting “Hej!” (“Hi!”), the rows and rows of wrapped caramels, and jars of sauces with “l”, “J”, “Å” and Ö”-heavy names I could barely pronounce. Judging from the steady stream of customers – many with kids in tow (and towheaded kids, at that – after all, it’s Scandinavia), it seemed to be an obligatory stop in the neighborhood. After a few moments of admiring everything, the folks at Pärlans invited me into their pristine kitchen and I felt an air of happiness as the workers diligently cut up butter, boiled up sugar syrups, measured out fruit purees, and were hand stamping wrappers for caramels. Continue Reading Pärlans Caramels...

Eating and travel are lots of fun. Hopefully when you hit the air – and the road – with friends, there will be a lot of hits. But inevitably, you do run the risk of a few misses. En route to a remote part of Sweden, we drove for a while, seeing nothing but trees, remarkably blue skies, one or two clouds, and a car-free road in front of us. But soon our tummies started rumbling. We had hoped to pass a charming little place on one of the picturesque little lakes that we kept driving by, dreaming of platters of fresh fish caught that morning with a bowl piled with new potatoes, slick with Swedish butter, dill sprigs, and crunchy flakes of salt. Alongside we might sip a locally made beer. Then finish up with a bracing cup of good Swedish coffee to send us back on our way. Continue Reading Smörgåstårta...

You might expect me to wax rhapsodic about the array of sheep’s and goat’s milk cheeses, or gush about the intensely flavorful charcuterie, or rave about the freshness of the just-caught fish, but no. I’m here to extol a pastry. (And if you think about it, is that really so surprising after all?) Upon entering Ajaccio’s Boulangerie Galéani (for no discernible reason the only bakery there mentioned in any of the guide books I read) on the first morning of my weekend there in late May, I was met with the sight of these tempting allumettes aux amandes. Sure, we picked up some of the supposedly great canistrelli (like a smallish scone or thick shortbread cookie, but barely sweet and extremely dry), and some awesome cheese tarts made with the local brocciu (fresh sheep’s cheese, similar in texture to ricotta), but the allumette was the star of the show. Imagine a thick twist of  puff pastry, probably made with salted butter, dunked in sweet meringue and sprinkled with salted almonds, then baked until crisp and caramelized. Alternately flaky, tender, crunchy, sweet and salty, it was truly one of the most surprising things I’ve eaten in quite a while. We visited other bakeries during our stay, and sampled many delicious things – mostly on the savory end of the spectrum, now that I think about it: turnovers filled with cheese, onions, and Swiss chard, sausages wrapped in croissant dough – but never saw another allumette aux amandes. So my recommendation, if you’re ever in Ajaccio, is to visit the Boulangerie Galéani, skip the canistrelli (which were pretty unimpressive) and the bread (I didn’t see a single good baguette the whole time I was there), and load up on these sweet-and-salty delights. Of course, the setting in which we ate this pastry could have something to do with it. After hiking up and around a gorgeous peninsula… …we sat down to a picnic lunch high on a cliff overlooking the Iles Sanguinaires… …which probably made everything taste better. On this day in 2008: Nick’s Provençal Eggplant - a delicious ragoût, which I’m excited to make once eggplant comes back into season…hopefully only a few more weeks now. Originally published on Croque-Camille.

Even though we come from different worlds – my life (in some ways) depends on gluten, and her life (in some ways) depends on avoiding it. But Shauna of Gluten-Free Girl both share a common love of cooking and baking. and that’s good enough for me. (I’ve never asked her, but I hope she feels the same.) We met several years ago when I was in Seattle. At the time, I didn’t know much – actually, anything – about gluten-free eating…but it was interesting to see how recipes and life could be adapted to eat in a different way without feeling deprived. Much had to do with cooking with real ingredients and when you have an intolerance, you pay more attention to your diet and how you are feeding yourself. And it’s pretty hard to argue with that, no matter what you need, or choose, to eat. Continue Reading Lemon Yogurt Cake with Apricot-Cherry Compote...

When I was in Paris in April, it was the start of asparagus season and every restaurant had asparagus on their menus. A few had soups and a few more had asparagus salads, but the hands-down-just-about-everywhere dish was some varation on asparagus with a soft egg. This version had some herbs and a scattering of Pamesan shards. Others had jambon iberico. Some chefs wrapped each stalk in pancetta or prosciutto and roasted them until the pancetta was transparent. And here's the thing: They were all great! And now we're getting the first local asparagus in Connecticut and I'm making asparagus and egg early and often. In part it's a celebration of asparagus's arrival and in part it's the manifestation of some usually well-repressed hoarding instinct: I know they're going to be gone soon and so I'm trying to get as much of them as I can ... now! If you're an asparagus neophyte, here's a how-to tip sheet with information on buying, storing and cooking the spears. It includes a recipe for Asparagus Wrapped in Prosciutto from the talented Russ Parsons. I'd love to know if you get local asparagus where you live and what you're doing with them. LMK.

There are a number of “have-to” lists in Paris, places where people just have to go while they’re here. Often people have limited time, and I hear ya, so I might suggest the departments stores on the Boulevard Haussman, Printempts and Galeries Lafayette (although even since Printemps started charging €1,5 to use the restrooms, I’m inclined to go to the Galeries Lafayette, just on principle.) Some of the well-known chocolatiers and pastry shops have kiosks in those stores, so you can hit the “big names” in one fell swoop. If that’s your thing. For those wishing to shop on a smaller scale, there’s La Graineterie du Marché at the excellent Marché d’Aligre. It’s the only outdoor market in Paris that’s open every day, except Monday, and in the center of the market, you’ll find José Ferré tending to his lovely, old-fashioned dry goods shop. Continue Reading La Graineterie du Marché...

I'm always game for a new address, and when John Talbott wrote his highest rated review of the year and called this new table "some of the most interesting cooking since Ze Kitchen Galerie" and Condé Nast Traveller proclaimed Manger as the "best new restaurant in Paris", how could I resist?Located in the same part of the gentrifying 11th as other foody shrines Septime and Bones, this long and lofty restaurant is spacious and luminous, the staff (many comprised of unemployed people learning the restaurant trade) friendly and welcoming, and the menu, from thirty something chef, William Pradeleix who worked with Darroze at the Connaught and at a Jean Georges outpost in Bora Bora, is nicely turned out, fresh innofensive food for the arty bobos that filled the dining room (3à something PR chicks giving the maitre d' the bise, 50 something photographer with his teenage Justin Bieber mopped stagiere in tow..). Apparently a few high ranking Michelin star chefs have given their input, the Plaza's Michelak has remote controlled the dessert menu, and produce is top notch, but it just didn't hook me: the daily starter of carpaccio of foie gras terrine with strawberries and tiny fava beans was, fine, but unremarkable, the foie gras just a touch boring, the mackerel with corn, mango and coriander served with a side of pilaf rice acceptable, but I just couldn't feel the whizz bang talent my esteemed colleagues detected. And although they are doing good things for people in need, I'm on ze fence with this one, and Pradeleix is no Ledeuil. Maybe they need a bit more time..