Childhood memories

Hi everyone! Hope the new year started well for all of you.

I spent two weeks in Lyon over the holidays. My head is full of memories, and my camera full of pictures... I tried to capture all the beautiful and delicious food that my parents and parents in law lovingly cooked for us. I will share a selection in a later post.

Just before leaving for France, a friend had told me about a wonderful post she had read on TheKitchn.com, where Sara Kate gathered childhood pictures of her readers in the kitchens where they first learned to love food. I wondered if I could find any pictures on me in the kitchen(s) where I learned to love food. Glancing through my parents' photo albums proved to be quite emotional. Many long forgotten memories came back to mind. I smiled at the many happy faces and many sweet moments. Among these little treasures were several shots that immortalized my early love for cooking.

Cooking with my Mom (I look just like her now)

Picking wild blackberries with my Dad

Preparing and eating one of my first chocolate cakes

In the mood for brunch

Eggs à la coque are so simply delicious! Click here for the recipe.

Duck Pâté

I don't know if this is due to my lyonnaise origins (Lyon is renown for its fine charcuterie, or deli meats), but if you ask me what my favorite food is, there is a good chance I'll answer pâté (pronounced pah-TAY). It's hard to explain, but just thinking of it makes me salivate.

There are all kinds of pâtés. Some can be spread on bread, others are sliced and eaten with a fork and knife, like this one. Some are baked in a crust (my favorite). Others are baked in a terra cotta or ceramic dish, called a terrine. Although originally a country dish, they can be very refined—some contain truffles, foie gras, or other fancy ingredients. There's one for every taste (and in my case, I love them all!). If you ever go to France, stop in a charcuterie-traiteur (deli shop) and try a few. Each region has its own specialties. 

Since I am far from France, I make my own pâté from time to time. I tried various recipes over the years, but the one I'm about to give is my favorite. I found the recipe in a wonderful little French book called Terrines by Catherine Quévremont (Marabout, 2002). My first attempt was quite an adventure. I bought a whole duck, removed the skin very carefully so it remained in one piece, and then cut out all the bones... I spent the whole day fighting with this duck. I waited a few years before doing it again, and spent another frustrating day in the kitchen... The result was well worth my efforts, but the following time (several years later), I decided to cut a few corners (and I also adapted the spices and meat cuts to what's available here), and the pâté still tasted amazingly good.

Here is what I did:

48 hours in advance
Serves 8

• 4 duck breasts with skin (about 2.2 lbs or 1 kg)
• 12 oz (350g) salt pork
• 10 oz (300g) veal for stew
• 1/2 TBSP salt
• black pepper (about 40 grinds)
• about 25 white peppercorns, crushed in a mortar
• 3 cloves, crushed in a mortar
• 1/2 tsp ground ginger
• 1/4 tsp nutmeg
• 1 egg
• 1 TBSP Cognac
• 1 or 2 handfulls shelled pistachios (dry-roasted, unsalted)
• 3 bay leaves

1. Cut the salt pork in cubes and immerse in water several times to rinse off some of the salt.
2. Gently pull off the skin of the duck breasts. Make sure to keep the skins in one piece, as they will be used to line the terrine dish. Use the tip of a sharp knife if needed to lift off the skin from the breasts.
3. Grind three breasts out of four, as well as the veal and salt pork, using the large plate of a meat grinder* (or cut in small pieces with a knife).
4. Cut the fourth breast in 1/2" cubes.
5. Place all the meats in a large bowl. Add the salt and spices, egg, and Cognac. Mix well by using two forks (one in each hand) until homogenous.
6. Add the pistachios and mix again.
7. Line the terrine dish** with three pieces of duck skin. Place one skin at the bottom (with the outside of the skin facing down), and two skins on the sides (with the outside of the skin facing outward). 
8. Fill up the terrine with the meat mixture. Press to remove any air pockets.
9. Place the last piece of skin on top. Place the bay leaves on the skin. Close the terrine with its lid.
10. Place the terrine dish in an oven-safe dish, and fill this one with water (at least 1" of water).
11. Bake for 1 hour 45 minutes at 350ºF (280ºC). Let the pâté cool down in the oven. Remove the dish with water and keep the terrine in the fridge for at least 48 hours.
12. To serve, cut thick slices. Remove the congealed grease. Serve with good bread and cornichons (French gherkins). Make sure to eat the jelly (it's delicious!), but don't eat the skin.

* I have a manual, tinned cast iron meat grinder made in Czech Republic by Porkert, and I love it.

** I just measured my terrine dish (from Ikea). It holds 48 ounces (1.5 quarts) and is roughly 9" long, 5" wide, and 4.5" high.

Kale pesto tomato tart

The other day we made a delicious kale and walnut pesto based on this recipe by Shutterbean. We ate about half of it with fresh pasta (yum!), and used the other half for this tomato tart.

I used my beloved quiche crust recipe, but used whole wheat flour instead of all-purpose, and replaced the cream with water. Actually, I had made the dough in advance (I double or triple the proportions then divide the dough into small balls and freeze them), so I just had to unfreeze a ball of dough (20 seconds in the microwave), roll it out on parchment paper and voilà. I poked a few holes in the crust with a fork to let air go through and prevent the crust from bubbling up while baking, spread the kale pesto evenly, then laid thin tomato slices in concentric circles, starting from the edge of the dish. I sprinkled with a little salt and pepper, then baked at 350ºF (180ºC) for about 30 minutes.

Going through my pictures...

Purple Plum Radishes (September)

Spinach (July)

Romanze New Potatoes (June)

Baked dry-rubbed spareribs

I think I had my first pork ribs on the banks of the Danube in Vienna some 15 years ago. I was touring Austria with my parents and my sister, in one of the very rare organized trips we ever took. We had hotel reservations for two weeks all around the country, but our days were unplanned and we visited whatever interested us on our own. No guided tours. But as we crossed the same travelers every evening at the hotel, and sometimes randomly during the day if we happened to be visiting the same attractions, we started building bonds. That evening in Vienna was one of our last before the end of the trip, and we decided to all have dinner together. The 12-or-so of us sat at a long and narrow rectangular table, the kind you see in movies where an idealized Italian family has lunch al fresco on the patio of a beautiful country house in Tuscany. Except that the table was on a river bank, a few yards from water on the majestic Danube. Not bad either. It was a really festive and joyful, warm summer evening. The kind of evenings you remember with nostalgia, I guess, and that brings back so many other memories of stunning Tyrolian landscapes, sumptuous castles and gardens (those of the famous Empress Sisi), beautiful streets and hidden plazas in Vienna, cute villages, music, old stones... Can you tell I miss Europe?

I can't think of ribs without going back to Vienna in thoughts. The power of food on my little mind... If I remember correctly the ribs were served as a whole rack, and must have been barbecued or grilled. The recipe I'm about to give you is more of Southern US inspiration, but if you know how Austrians prepare pork ribs, please share!

This dry rub is an adaptation of Joy of Cooking's Southern Barbecue Dry-Rub recipe. I didn't have all the spices at hand when I tried it the first time, but it turned out really well. I made a few changes the second time around and the ribs tasted even better. So here's my version:

Serves 3–4 people
Preparation: 10 minutes, 12–24 hours in advance
Baking: 1 hour

• 1 rack spareribs (around 3–3.5 lbs)
• 3 Tbsp sugar
• 2 Tbsp salt
• 1–1 1/2 Tbsp paprika
• 1 Tbsp white peppercorn, crushed in a mortar
• 1 Tbsp cumin seed, also crushed
• 1/2 Tbsp ground Cayenne pepper

The night before (or in the morning):

1. Pour all the ingredients of the dry rub in a 1-gallon freezing bag. Shake well to mix the spices.
2. Insert the sparerib rack in the bag, close, and shake well to cover with spices evenly. Rub the spices into the meat through the plastic bag.
3. Place in the refrigerator overnight (or from morning to evening).

1 hour before dinner:

1. Take the sparerib rack out of the bag and place in a large enough oven-safe dish. Pour the juices and spices left in the bag onto the ribs.
2. Bake for 1 hour at 375ºF (about 190ºC).
3. Cut the rack into individual ribs and serve immediately.

Practical note: the sugary juices that fall on the dish around the ribs will likely burn... This doesn't affect the taste of the meat, which doesn't burn, but it makes it harder to clean the dish. Soaking the dish overnight seems to help a lot in cleaning out the burnt juices.

Warm Green Bean Salad

Last week I listened to an interview of Alice Waters on NPR (by Terry Gross on Fresh Air). It was so inspiring that it got me dreaming about opening a place of my own all over again. (This is a recurring fantasy... which shouldn't surprise you too much). I spent last night in my Dream Café, welcoming patrons with delicious yet simple, healthy, affordable food made from the freshest ingredients, presented in a short, ever-changing seasonal menu, and featuring a fun selection of small plates for children, and a place for them to quietly play and read after their meal, so grown ups can have a few minutes of respite. Sigh...

As I was listening to Alice, two thougts came to mind. First, she mentioned that she stopped seeing her friends when she got into the chaos of opening Chez Panisse. She also said that she stopped cooking there when she had her daughter... So this dream business of mine sounded quite incompatible with my dream life of the moment. Unless maybe I could have a cafe that required work only from 9 to 5 week days (i.e. preschool hours)? Sigh... My second thought, which alleviated my disillusion, was that as far as focusing on the quality of ingredients, I was definitely, albeit modestly, following Alice's path. Nothing is more pleasurable to me than eating vegetables and fruits (and meats and fish) that taste like themselves. In her interview, Alice said that finding the ingredients was 85% of cooking, and that the Bowl of Fruit was the item she was the most proud of on her menu. I found that comment truely admirable.

All this got me thinking about the vegetables that my family used to grow in France. We didn't have a garden, but my grandparents and several uncles and aunts did. All were growing, among many other delicious plants, green beans. I don't know if green beans are still in fashion in France's vegetable gardens. They certainly were 20 years ago. The kind that my family grew was what is called "haricots verts" in the US: small, thin, dark green beans, which are both firm and juicy and barely require any cooking at all. Just a few minutes of steaming or boiling in salted water, then you can eat them warm with a piece of melting butter on top. This is how we ate them most of the time—and they rarely made it to the table: we would snack on them as soon as they were ready. Another favorite was to add boiled potatoes to the beans and season either with butter (and decorate with lemon wedges) or vinaigrette dressing.

Summer is nearly over but I found organic green beans last Saturday, so there is still time to try out this recipe, which I prepared a month or two ago. As a matter of fact, I will receive filet beans (another name for haricots verts) in my CSA box tomorrow.

Serves 4–5

• 1 lb green beans (preferrably thin, tender ones)
• 8–10 small potatoes (about 1 lb). New potatoes of any variety, or small Yukon Gold for example. I prefer silky rather than starchy potatoes, but both make great warm salads.
• 1 small shallot

Dressing:

• 1 1/2 Tbsp old-style Dijon mustard (with whole grains), or regular Dijon mustard (Try to find a French brand, such as Maille or Amora, for a more authentic taste.)
• 1 Tbsp Jerez vinegar (sherry vinegar from Spain), or regular red wine vinegar
• 2 Tbsp sunflower oil, or other mild-tasting oil
• 2 Tbsp olive oil (Try to find oil made with olives from only one country¹—e.g. Greece or Italy—, extra-virgin, cold pressed)
• salt and freshly ground black pepper

Start with the potatoes: peel them and boil them in salted water until cooked but still firm (stop cooking as soon as a knife can go through easily), about 15 minutes.

Hull the beans² (unless they are very thin) by carefully snapping each end and pulling the string that runs along the bean (which is only a problem in more mature beans). Rinse the beans.

While the potatoes are cooking, prepare the dressing. Place all the ingredients in a small sealable container³. Close tighly with a leak-proof lid. Shake well until homogeneous.

Thinly chop the shallot and place at the bottom of a large salad bowl.

As soon as the potatoes are cooked through, drain them and place them in the salad bowl. Pour 2 or 3 Tbsp dressing on them and toss. The warm potatoes will absorb the oil and flavors of the dressing and shallot.

Steam or boil the green beans in salted water for no more than 5 minutes in a pressure cooker. They must be firm but not crunchy, soft but not floppy. They loose the brightness of their green color without really tarnishing...

Drain the beans and add to the salad bowl. Pour a couple more Tbsp dressing if all has been absorbed by the potatoes. Toss gently (avoid breaking the beans).

Serve immediately.


¹ To me it's an indication that it was made in smaller, maybe more artisanal batches. But I don't know for sure. And the taste should be more distinct (unique to the country of origin) than if olives are mixed.

² This is a social time in a French kitchen—at least it is in my family. Everyone grabs a few handfuls of beans to hull and chats around the kitchen table.

³ I use a recycled jam jar. If there is any left-over dressing, I just put the jar in the fridge. If there is very little left in the jar, I still keep it (French mustard is expensive over here!) and add more ingredients (in the quantities listed above) in the jar next time I need dressing.

Plum cake

My pear cake recipe (here) works well with other fruits. Tonight, my daughter and I made a plum version of this cake with the following proportions:

• 5 ripe plums
• 4 eggs
• 180g (less than 1 cup) sugar
• 1 stick (114g) butter
• 170g (about 1 1/3 cups) flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

We beat the eggs and sugar until foamy. We added the melted butter, then the sifted flour, then the baking powder, vanilla extract, and cinnamon, mixing well (with a whisk) while adding each ingredient.
We poured the dough in a buttered, round metal pan (the same old 10" x 2" I used in the pear cake recipe).
We placed the plums, halved and pitted, on the dough, cut side up.
We baked for about 50 minutes in a  340ºF oven.