In-Betweeny Baking

It used to ruffle me when people allowed their moods to change completely depending on the weather. Now it seems, however, that I am one of those people. When mere wisps of clouds momentarily obscure the summer sun, I feel all productive feelings drain out me; I am ready to resign the day and lock myself indoors for a day of baking and all things Austen.


So what to do in balmy June when the grey skies throb with the threat of rain and one doesn't particularly feel like making anything crispy and cold and featuring cilantro?

Today was such a day, and it also happened to be a use-up-what's-in-the-pantry day, as we are shamefully suspended at the co-op (not that shamefully, actually). I came across a little sack of Bob's Red Mill 10-Grain Hot Cereal, left months ago by a visiting friend. As I am still developing my thing for grains and learning how to use them best, I decided -- and here comes the not-very-exciting part -- to make the muffin recipe right from the back of the bag. I also got to use our leftover buttermilk which, apparently, never goes bad. The addition of summer fruit takes the winter-comfort-food edge off.


I realized halfway through the process, however, that I do not actually own muffin pans. Then I spotted the silicon cannele molds, remnants of J.'s short-lived obsession with recreating the little heaven-cakes we had in Paris. The shape is like a miniature bundt cake, skinny and fluted. I loved the idea of a slim, elegant muffin with no mushroom top. The state of muffins in this country is getting out of control, and I'd like to think I'm doing my part. Nobody needs the crumby monstrosities you see nowadays. There, I said it.


The only dilemma is, do you serve it rounded side up like a little cake, or pretty bottom-up as you would a cannele?

And don't forget that the fruit and moisture will sink to the bottom, so don't just go by the top when you are checking for doneness. I like mine a little soft on the bottom, though.


10-Grain Muffins

1 large egg
1/2 c. sugar
1/3 c. butter
1 c. unbleached white flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 c Bob's Red Mill 10 Grain Hot Cereal*
1 1/4 c. buttermilk
[1 1/4 c. berries or diced fruit, optional]
*A medley of pretty much every grain you can think of. I assume substitutes would work here.

Mix 10 cereal and milk. Allow to stand for 10 minutes while preheating oven and assembling other ingredients: cream sugar, butter and egg together. Add dry ingredients and milk mixture. Stir only until mixed. [Fold in fruit.] Spoon into greased muffin pan. Bake at 400*F for 15 minutes. Makes 12 muffins.

Fast French

It is 10am on the day you have a lunch date with your fabulous hostess (and fellow francophile) friend. You are in charge of bringing a delicious picnic. What ingredient will ensure ease in both cooking and transportation while being delicious and sophisticated? If you said frozen puff pastry, you are correct.

I may be entering a tart phase. I landed home from the store an hour before my date and ended up with this beauty. My only mistake was letting the pastry roll into whatever shape it felt like, which ended up being too long for any container and for my bike basket. The diagonally-laid asparagus, however, was my stroke of genius.

Pack some mixed greens, a jam jar of vinaigrette with homemade mayonnaise, and a couple pain au chocolat, and you have a picnic. Recipe from Everyday Food.

BYO Dinner

Turns out, when New Yorkers move to a new apartment that does not have a grill like their old place, they will actually offer to come to your house and cook for you just for the chance to get near the old propane again.

I'm totally fine with this arrangement. We get stuck with the dishes, yes, but I get all afternoon to make a pretty new dessert that gets plenty of glory.


And I am also very intrigued by this idea of infusing whipped cream. Pretty simple really, just like making a syrup. In this case it was chopped-up basil. I wonder if you could do the same with mint, lavender.... citrus zest? Would the acid do something funky to the cream? Anyway, the basil gave a lovely, mild taste to the cream, and the fried basil leaves were a sophisticated and surprisingly tasty touch to a pretty rustic dessert.

The weird 50s-style photography is because of crappy overhead lighting, but part of me is kind of digging that look.

Scrabble Night

I had an evening at home with J for the first time all week, and what I really wanted was a straightforward, healthful meal that, despite the simplicity of the flavors and presentation, required a boatload of chopping.


I went for a variation on my favorite template, the barley salad, and a new favorite way to do fish, one of those so-simple-I-can't-believe-there's-an-actual-recipe recipes. The easy part is that the vegetable and the starch are streamlined into one side dish. The other part is the chopping of all the different veggies (I went with asparagus, mushrooms, chard, and caramelized onions), which might be frustrating on a night when I didn't have a couple hours to spare listening to the soothing tones of NPR with the back doors open, zenning out and chopping away.


I lost the Scrabble game by the way. I don't want to talk about it.

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.