Back in the Saddle

Oh, hello. Yes, I've been a tad distracted, what with turning 25, producing this and, oh yes, getting this to this guy.

The whole working-two-jobs thing really changed my relationship with cooking for a little while, where remembering to put a yogurt and Lara bar in my bag before work was a serious culinary achievement and our social eating as a couple became centered on event-ish dinners out (mmmmMMomofuku in all its incarnations - not that there's anything wrong with that). The first visit back to Hostessland called for baby steps.

After inviting the lucky and adorable couple, my lovely friend Marlene and her boyfriend David, I immediately forgot the date and agreed to work during the day on that Saturday. I now had 2 hours of prep time -- this is where clever menu planning comes in.


Criteria: something warm and wintry without being heavy or requiring hours of attention. Something elegant and pretty without being fussy. Impressive but can be assembled in two hours.

Solution: Two small roasted chickens with herbs, basted with lots of stock and white wine; pretty rainbow carrots roasted whole in the pan, and my new favorite secret weapon: celery root puree.
I put a little cream in the puree because I had it, but honestly it is so sweet and creamy to begin with you don't need it, or perhaps a little milk to soften it in the blender. J cubed the celeriac, I boiled it & covered to keep warm, and blended right before serving.

The best part? Marlene, who is German, informed us with a blush that at home, they have a special name for celeriac: "Stehpimmelsalat" -- steh=stand, pimmel=penis, salat=salad". Translation: "Boner Salad" for its enhancing properties! What more can you ask from such an ugly vegetable?

Also, an elegant salad to start from Heidi. I only had red beets on hand so it ended up being predominantly red and a little tart, but it's kind of pretty that way. I bet this would be good with a little strong cheese crumbled on.


And: Chocolate Bourbon bundt cake from Orangette. Turns out the part about releasing it from the pan before comletely cool is no joke. I left it overnight. The ensuing tug-of-war resulted in a mangled top surface. Not to be daunted, I remembered that necessity is the mother of chocolate ganache (cream + chocolate? really?), and sure enough, the hot mess of cake was seriously improved by a shiny layer of satiny chocolate sauce and a dusting of powdered sugar (but what isn't?). The sugar gets me every time: rustic but so pretty. This cake is boozy and delicious.

Oh right, I love cooking for people! Moral: it's all about picking the right menu and half the work is done.

Yin Foods

I'm a little late getting started this year, so I will excuse myself from talk of resolutions. However, a particularly festive and overbooked January had me thinking about balance. Then I came across this article at Yoga Journal. It suggests that post-holiday burnout comes from the clashing of winter yin and summer yang energies; people start eating iceberg for lunch and running around town for dinner out when they might be better off embracing the season's inherent qualities.

What I take from this theory is that the trick to staying healthy and happy in the yucky months is to find healthful choices in tune with, not fighting against, the winter yin. That is, don't think "I should have salad but I crave mac-and-cheese," but rather find a way to work with the blahs and incorporate winter elements -- spice, warmth, flavor, comfort, slowness -- into a healthy routine.


I tried this by adapting a recipe from She Simmers, with mixed success. I tried to embrace Leela's playful approach by applying her Beet-Vodka Sauce with Sriracha to lean fish rather than chicken thighs. Combining two of my favorite ingredients (beets and the beloved "hot cock"), her recipe sounded so weird and perfect yet easy to make that I had to try.

Verdict: I got a little overzealous with the sriracha, and I think the sauce definitely needs the fatty chicken skin to cling to (and so it crust over like it does so enticingly in Leela's photo). If I insisted on fish again, I might try salmon or something with a higher fat content that could stand up to the strong flavors. But I definitely accomplished my goal of whipping up a fast, lean dinner with loads of flavor.


The breakout performance of this dish, however: a yummy cabbage salad (from Ellen Bursteyn, of all people). J loves making big batches of red cabbage slaw to keep in the fridge as something to nosh on before dinner is ready, but I haven't been able to get on board until now. The sunflower seeds and raisins (plump them in a bowl of water for 20 minutes to an hour if you have time) are a really nice texture and flavor contrast to the cabbage. The cilantro keeps it fresh, but the garam masala puts it firmly in the yin category.

The chard photo up top is from another night, when I made another big batch of my absolute favorite all-weather staple: barley salad with beets, chard and feta. Let's not forget that winter produce can be just as pretty and colorful as its summer cousins.

More Paris - the Brocante

I've been saving these pictures because this was both J's and my favorite part of the trip. The Clignancourt Brocante (which I think just means "bric-a-brac") is like if all of, say, the Garment District consisted entirely of semi-permanent stalls, each of which having a very specific focus. Such as my favorite category, old kitchen stuff.

I think J took this one. He knows much more about photographizing.

And, the bestest thing that I was so delighted to find out even exists: glass French rolling pins.


Yeah. They are glass because it's pretty, and also because you can fill the rollers with hot water and cork the ends, so they become hot and make the dough easier to roll out. I want the white one in the top row with the little flower details.




Makes me wish I were focused enough to be a collector of some really specific, too-beautiful to be truly useful item. I can see it happening with the rolling pins, or maybe with the copper gelatin molds that were everywhere. They'd look so pretty all on one wall.

We also became a little obsessed by vintage French postcards like this one:

from merci-facteur

We loved that they just wrote one little line on the back. It seems that just getting a picture in the mail was the special thing. The cancelled stamps on the picture side make them even prettier.

One thing they really get right at these flea markets is the food. At the end of the lane at Clignancourt, we found the perfect, bustling, amber light-filled bistro we had been searching for the whole week.

Everything was perfect: brusque waitress who dropped everything, a bottle of perfectly adequate wine, and chicken and vegetables in a Staub pot. I still can't get over the simple, hot wonderfulness of this lunch.

I want to feel all the time like I felt walking out of this place: tipsy, warm, and so happy.


At the other market we stumbled into (snuck might be a better verb... we were supposed to pay 8 euros to get in), there was a corner with hot chocolate brewing in some Charlie and the Chocolate Factory contraption, and an oyster stand directly across from that.


I'm so glad J insisted on getting a half dozen. We sat on a bridge over the canal and sipped Muscadet out of plastic cups.

Stocking Up

I swear I wasn't trying to make a pun when I though of this title. But I'm keeping it, because it really is the mood I'm in this week. After several days of post-vacation, no-food-in-the-house existence, I was humbled when J expressed nostalgia for the childhood days of a fridge full of fresh produce and leftovers.

I realized I had fallen into my collegiate habit of a few small trips to the market every week for the odd baguette, wedge of cheese and a couple apples. I think I thought there was something French about this.


But things are different now. Living with someone means thinking about the future. Like, next week. So it was time to make good on my promise to use up all the baggies of chicken parts (a collection augmented by our recent passion for butterflying chickens correctly! We've been doing it backwards this whole time) and carrot stubs waiting in the freezer.


I used the pasta pot with built-in strainer, which works great in theory as you don't have to put everything in a bag or cheesecloth. Ours is a little stupid, though, since the straining holes go all the way up to the top and you have to leave several inches of room in the pot so the liquid doesn't seep out the sides.


15 minutes of assembling the raw material + 4 hours of simmering while roasting a big batch of beets and cutting up a whole buncha kale and mushrooms = a mise en place for the whole rest of the week and a sense of plenty upon opening the fridge.

Chicken Stock (adapted from kitchn)

Place chicken parts (I had necks and backbones. Some recipes want you to put whole chicken parts in, but to me the point of this project is to use up scraps), vegetable bits (root ends of carrots are ok, as are wilted greens like celery tops; just no onion skins and I think cabbage is a no as well), a chopped up onion or two and a couple cloves of garlic plus whatever fresh herbs you have around (my oregano, rosemary and parsley have survived!) and a pinch or 2 or 3 of salt in a pasta pot or in a cloth bag. Add enough water to cover.

Bring to a boil and then turn down a little so the stock is just bubbling. If someone walks in and says "It smells amazing in here!", make sure the pot is covered and turn the heat down a tad. The yummy smell is flavor compounds being released.

Read a book, listen to a podcast. 4 hours of simmering should be good. Strain, let cool, and refridgerate stock overnight. Skim the congealed fat if you want, discard it or save it for cooking. Put in bags or tupperware (I also filled an ice cube tray) and freeze.

Oh, How I Miss...

The requisite afternoon cafe and pastry.

At my favorite patisserie that we saw, where Jonathan discovered canneles,

And where this lovely lady greeted us in front.

Don't know why I like this so much: instructions in a bakery window.

Paris Street Art

Everyone is better turned-out in Paris, even the little porkpie'd stencil men.

Illustration from a reworked Little Red Riding Hood.

Jonathan blending in with locals.

Another children's book illustration in an art book shop on Quai de Valmy.

Le Love.

Paris Markets

We're back! I have so much to show you. First...


My absolute favorite part of Paris was the markets. Our apartment in le Marais was just a few blocks away from a major greenmarket. Sunday morning there reminded me that the world hasn't changed all that much: A fruitseller shooing away a little boy who was running his hand over all the oranges and ruddy-faced fishmongers chatting with basket-weilding old ladies.


Unlike our city farmer's markets, which feel quaint but inaccessible for a regular shopping trip, these rows and rows of stalls definitely seemed like the place to get fixings for Sunday supper as well as a bit of old-fashioned people-watching.


Maybe it's all an act, and the French folk all return home and pop open foil-lined TV dinners, but it just seemed inevitable that they would all be as inspired as we were to construct our own little Belgian still life (we couldn't get enough of those strange paintings at the Louvres).


Indeed, we spent a good part of our last day wandering the stalls, and we even put together a little charcuterie picnic for the plane. When they came around with airplane pasta, we just shook our heads and gestured to our parcels wrapped in butcher paper.