On Book Covers and Crème Brûlée

They always say "don't judge a book by its cover." As a person who loves books and anything related, I've often wondered about this. I judge books by their covers all the time, especially since I know editors pick book covers in order to say something about the book or appeal to a certain type of reader. When you know the codes, it can become pretty easy to tell if it will be to your taste or not.

I've had a version of this conversation with a caviste (wine seller) in my neighborhood. He assured me that if you know nothing about wine - or at least about any of the wines you have in front of you - choosing by the label is not a bad idea. The domain who makes the wine also chooses the label and it tells you something about their taste. For example, if they make their labels classic, he says, they probably make their wines that way too.

Not only do we judge by covers but we get attached to the outer appearance as well. On, Shelfari, a book website where people can create their own personal shelves, there are often twenty or so cover-options for a single book and you can even upload your own. I mean if you've read the book, you know what's inside. Why should the cover art matter? But it does. I recently uploaded MY cover of the edition of Le temps retrouvé. Because, yes, after starting in a moment of craziness and talking your ears off about it again and again and again, three years later, I've FINALLY finished Marcel Proust's many-volume novel. (I'm not here to go on about it, but let me just say that if I never used French again it would have been worth learning the entire language just to read Proust in the original text. Ok, melodramatic moment over.)

So why do we do it? Why do we judge "covers"? I think, because it saves time and because it's efficient. Maybe because we're often right. We know what certain things look like. We recognize them. Or we extrapolate based on given knowledge and known codes. Mind you, judging by the cover becomes MUCH less reliable when we're outside of our culture. Just go into a bookstore in another country if you don't believe me. In France, every book looks like a dense philosophical essay to me. In England, the colorful covers look like cheap chick lit.

That said, I think we have the expression because we need to be reminded that judging a book by its cover doesn't always work. It has to be a working hypothesis at best. Because life will surprise you. Sometimes things look simple from the outside and when you get closer you find them to be subtle and infinitely complex. Recipes with few ingredients are like that: Poor Man's Soup, Pesto, Shortbread, even Cucumber Salad. Culinary magic.

But the opposite is also true. Sometimes things that look complex from the outside, turn out to be straightforward and simple once you get to know them better. Crème brûlée falls into that category. It intimidated me so much that, even though I got a crème brûlée torch for my last birthday, it took me a whole year to try it out. I got a taste of the bain marie technique when I made Pot de Crème and that's really the only tricky part. Otherwise this recipe is a piece of cake - or, shall we say, a spoonful of crème brûlée?

 

(serves 4 or 6, depending on the size of your ramekins)

6 egg yolks

80g sugar (about 1/2 cup)

375ml (about 1 1/2 cups) heavy cream

1 vanilla pod

1 Tbsp castor sugar per ramekin

Preheat the oven to 250ºF (130ºC).

Whisk together the egg yolks and sugar until light and fluffy.

Pour the heavy cream into a saucepan. Split the vanilla bean lengthwise and scrape the seeds out into the cream - you can throw the bean in as well - and bring to a boil.

Strain over the egg/sugar mixture. Mix well and pour into ramekins.

Place the ramekins in a large baking pan and pour boiling water into the baking pan until it comes about halfway up the sides of the ramekins.

Cook for about 30 minutes until just set. Remove from the oven and take ramekins out of boiling water. Let cool, then refrigerate for at least 2 hours - overnight is best for the perfect texture.

Right before serving, sprinkle 1 Tbsp of castor sugar over the top of the custard and fire with a crème brûlée torch until sugar is evenly caramelized. If you don't have a torch, you can put your ramekins under the grill setting in the oven for a couple minutes. Watch carefully so they don't burn.

Serve immediately for the perfect warm crunchy topping with cool, creamy custard,

It's not nearly as hard as it may sound. Give it a try and enjoy one of life's surprises!

Refreshing Lemon-Limeade

Today marks the first official day of a new project, a week of physically and emotionally intensive rehearsals at a theater that has basically turned the keys over to us for a week to do as we please. Yes, they're crazy. But then again so are we - and anyone who throws themselves into something they are passionate about and just trusts the universe will provide.

I guess what I'm saying is that a certain healthy level of insanity is required to live life to the fullest. Marie Forleo - inspiring business woman living out her dreams - says in this interview that ambition is always unrealistic because it hasn't happened yet. I'm paraphrasing but it's a comforting thought because it means that if your dreams and desires are not based in "reality", then you're doing something right, you're on an adventure towards changing that reality into something else.

Of course those of us that cook know all about that.  The history of cooking is full of unrealistic ambitions from "let's eat this big round red fruit of the nightshade family in the hopes it won't actually be poisonous," to "let's break down the molecules of this food, turn it into foam and serve it in a restaurant." You start with some random ingredients, or a list of constraints, or just a wild desire for something particular and off you sail out into the waters of culinary invention perhaps with a recipe or two for guidance -- or not.

In this case, I was looking for a nice before dinner drink that was cooling and non-alcoholic. Enter Lemon-Limeade. I took what looked like a super simple recipe from Food & Wine. Don't be fooled. There are few steps and no special equipment, but unless you have a juicer (I hope you do), you're going to be squeezing lots of lemons and limes by hand. However, this delicious recipe is worth it (as long as you don't have any paper cuts).

1 cup sugar (I used raw sugar, which gave the lemonade a nice rich color)
4 3/4 cups water
3/4 cup fresh squeezed lemon juice
3/4 cup fresh squeezed lime juice
slices for garnish

In a saucepan on high heat, stir the sugar into 1 1/2 cups water until dissolved. Remove from heat BEFORE mixture comes to a boil. Pour into a pitcher and stir in 3 1/4 cups of cold water and lemon and lime juices. Refrigerate until cool. Serve over ice, garnished with lemon or lime slices. Good with appetizers before dinner or to cool off in the afternoon.

Berber Tea in the Atlas Mountains, Morocco

Former palace and current Museum of Marrakesh

When Hurricane Irene hit the east coast of the US in August, the winds and rain kept my dad from being able to meet us at the family summer house and, as a result, I didn't get to see him at all during the (amazing summer road) trip. He stayed at work and we had to take our hurricane walks and drink our hurricane cocktails without him. A sad state of affairs. Still, it meant that he had unused vacation days and a daughter to visit and that translated into a very happy state of affairs: a trip to Morocco last week with him, my mom and D!

Shop in the souk in Marrakesh

We spent two overwhelming days in Marrakesh taking in the new and different cultural codes, marveling at the stunning traditional architecture, getting lost in the souk, and learning to bargain for our purchases. Then, we left the city and spent three peaceful days in the Atlas Mountains doing a lot of nothing to the sound of braying donkeys and the calls to prayer from a mosque in one of the nearby Berber villages. I won't go into all my impressions of Morocco, which are varied and complex (coming from a Western culture, I found it difficult to reconcile with the visible inequality of men and women, and the vestiges of colonialism), but there were also some absolutely wonderful moments. The mountains are stunning, the highest peaks already covered with snow, and the Moroccan people we met were very welcoming.

Early morning in the Atlas Mountains

Our favorite part was a hike we took with a Berber guide, Mohamed, who took us to the local saffron fields, herb gardens and then, kindly, invited us over to his house. What was supposed to be a simple three-hour tour, turned into a five-hour plunge into the village culture and a lesson on how to make Berber tea!

Mohamed explained that in the Berber culture they do not name their animals. These ones are called "Mohamed's cow" and "Mohamed's chickens" because they belong to him.

Unlike the traditional mint tea drunk all over Morocco, the Berber tea is filled with all kinds of fresh herbs, both a sign of hospitality and a medicinal drink, good for pretty much whatever ails you. I can't really give you the recipe (I don't think there's a fixed one, it seems to depend on what's on hand and personal taste), but here's what the tea ceremony was like:

Ingredients for Berber tea

Mohamed started by boiling the water on a small gas flame that he brought right into the room where we were sitting, and rinsing the teapot to heat it up. Then he added the tea (Mohamed called it "green tea", but the small dark beads didn't look like the Asian green tea we get here).

Mohamed rinsing the tea

He poured about a cup of water over the tea leaves, swished it around and poured the very light-colored liquid out into a glass. He repeated this process and the second time the liquid was dark and cloudy. He kept the first glass to pour back into the tea later and threw out the contents of the second glass.

The tea back on the flame to boil

Then he added seven different kinds of herbs to the teapot - wild mint, thyme, lemongrass, geranium, sage, verbena (which he added especially for my dad who said he loved it), and a hint of absinthe wormwood - and three or four huge clumps of sugar. He filled the teapot with boiling water and then put the teapot directly on the flame to bring it back to a boil.


Once it boiled, he served the tea, pouring the first three glasses back into the pot to make sure it was well-mixed, and then serving around in a circle starting to the right. He served the tea with Berber bread and homemade olive oil to dip it in, a wonderful taste of Berber hospitality!

A door in Mohamed's village - known for its blacksmiths

Le Temps Suspendu

"D’où avait pu me venir cette puissante joie? Je sentais qu’elle était liée au goût du thé et du gâteau, mais qu’elle le dépassait infiniment...." -Marcel Proust

C'est bien d'être pragmatique, je pense que je le suis souvent, surtout en comparaison avec mes amis français qui adorent le débat et la théorie au point parfois d'oublier d'agir. Mais la vie sans une bonne dose de poésie de temps en temps ne vaudrait pas vraiment la peine.

I like to consider myself a pragmatic person, culturally an American quality, and especially in comparison with the French, who adore debate and theory so much that they sometimes forget to actually do something. Of course compared to Americans I'm not sure I could be considered pragmatic. I did major in French and Creative Writing after all, and I think, life without a good dose of poetry from time to time would be no life at all!


Un des bons endroits pour se plonger dans la poésie quotidienne (à part dans les pages de Proust, mais vous savez déjà mon avis sur ce sujet) est le magasin de thés Bonthés et Accessoires, 157 rue Marcadet dans le 18e, que nous avons déjà visité ensemble et dont le thé a servi pour plusieurs recettes comme mon chai fait maison. C'était lors d'une de mes visites là-bas, en parcourant la grande liste des thés, que je suis tombée sur "Le Temps Suspendu". J'avoue qu'à ce moment mon côté pragmatique s'est envolé plus vite qu'un oiseau, et j'ai dit, "je ne sais pas ce que c'est, mais j'achète 100g de celui-ci pour le nom."

There are lots of great places to get that dose of poetry in Paris (besides in the pages of Proust - but we all know how I feel about that). One of my favorites is the tea shop Bonthés et Accessoires, 157 rue Marcadet in the 18th arrondissement, which I've visited with you before, and whose tea I've used in quite a few recipes, including my homemade chai. On one of my visits there, as I was browsing the list of teas, I stumbled upon one called "Le Temps Suspendu" (literally "Time Suspended" and a reference to Proust's A la recherche du temps perdu of which the final volume is called Le Temps retrouvé -- what? I did warn you you'd be reading along). I have to admit that my American pragmatism disappeared faster that you could say "Jiminy Cricket" (does anyone actually say that?), and I immediately bought it for the beautiful name.


J'ai eu raison d'écouter la voix de ma poète intérieure. C'est le thé parfait pour un dimanche après-midi, pour accompagné quelques pages de Proust (disons deux ou trois phrases), ou autre chose (non, je ne suis complètement obsédée). Ce thé rooibos (naturellement sans théine) est parfumé de noix de coco et de framboise avec des accents de vanille, des feuilles de mûrier et des pétales de bleuets. Délicieux !

And I was quite right to listen to my inner poet. It's the perfect tea for a Sunday afternoon to accompany a couple pages of Proust (you know, a sentence or two), or some other book or activity (see, I'm not completely obsessed). It's a redbush tea (caffeine free) with coconut, raspberry, vanilla, mulberry leaf and cornflower petals. Delicious!


Donc pour revenir à mon côté pragmatique : si je vous en parle, ce n'est pas juste pour vous rendre jaloux, c'est parce que Bonthés et Accessoires vient d'ouvrir un superbe site de vente en ligne ou on peut voir toute leur séléction de thés avec leurs descriptions, photos, conseils de consommation ainsi que leur confitures maison, théières, chocolats, etc !

So back to my pragmatic side: I'm not telling you all this so you can drool over it theory. Bonthés et Accessoires just recently opened an online store where you can browse their large selection of teas - complete with descriptions, photos and brewing instructions - their beautiful teapots, homemade jams, chocolates, etc. Happy shopping!

(And no, I'm not in any way affiliated, nor do I receive free merchandise from them - although that would be cool!)

Homemade Chai for Autumn

Two weeks ago my youngest sister came to visit me during her fall break from college and we cooked up a storm. She's always been an amazing baker, but now she's gotten more and more into cooking and is even one of the head cooks at her co-op (proud sister moment).

It's funny when siblings grow up. Like one minute they're stealing your toys, monopolizing your mom and pulling your hair and the next they're awesome people who you'd actually be friends with even if you didn't have to see them every Christmas.


You know, the kind of people you could walk through the Jardins de Luxembourg with in late autumn chatting about life, living abroad, college, pigeons, whatever and then go warm up with a cup of chai. Most especially my sister in the kind of person you can spend hours in a bookstore with. And that's often what we did. Our bookstore highlights:


1) In Shakespeare & Co, hearing a woman ask the salesperson to recommend her "something like The Little Prince or Moby Dick." (I was terribly curious and asked the salesperson later what he gave her. Answer: Of Mice and Men.)

2) Chatting in a second hand English book store with the owner, older than Methuselah, who had never heard of the Twilight series (hey, good for her) and whose recommendation to a woman who wanted "a romance with adventure, you know, an escapist book" was Gone With the Wind.


So next time you sit down with a good book like The Little Prince or Moby Dick (although personally I would not call that a good book) or Gone With the Wind, or something to your taste, make up some homemade chai to go with it. It's much better than store bought and making it has quickly become a relaxing afternoon ritual at my house. Sometimes I even serve it in the wedding china, which my three crazy and wonderful sisters gave to me and D.


Chai Masala

3 cups water
5 pods of cardamom
1 stick cinnamon
4 cloves
1 small piece of star anis
5 black peppercorns
1 sliver of fresh ginger, peeled
4 tsp tea (I use Margaret'Hope darjeeling from Bonthés et Accessoires)
1 cup whole milk
sweetener to taste (about 2 Tbsp sugar, for example)

Put the spices in a pot and mash a little to bruise them (crack the cardamom pods, etc). Add 3 cups of cold water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, cover and let simmer 15 minutes. Add the tea and the milk and stir another 5mn on medium heat. Add the sweetener and stir until dissolved.

Strain and serve.

Maple Syrup and My Sister's Ginger Snaps

En français ici.
One of the most frustrating thing about being an expatriate (for me anyway, am I alone?) is not finding the ingredients I'm used to in the grocery store. Not that there aren't lots of wonderful new ingredients to explore (like more kinds of cheese than I ever imagined and the wonder of lardons and crème fraîche), but it takes some adapting. In three years, I've gotten down most of my conversions and substitutions : levure chimique instead of baking powder, crème fraîche with a bit of lemon instead of sour cream, poitrine fumée instead of bacon, found places to get some important ingredients (like brown sugar), and given up others as too hard to find or too expensive (cranberries, molasses, maple syrup).

Speaking of maple syrup, I have to allow myself a short digression to brag about the Carrefour maple syrup I found at only 4 euros a bottle! Have I mentioned I love Carrefour? Often their store brand products are very decent quality for a very affordable price. (In the interest of honesty, I have to say that I have no affiliation with Carrefour except for my store card, but if they want to pay me for the good press, I will not say no!) I made some pancakes this morning to test it out and I have to say, it may not have been the most flavorful maple syrup I've ever had, but it was definitely 100% maple syrup. The only suspicious detail was the picture on the bottle of... a city? Er, what city is that? (Canadian bloggers, any ideas?) And most importantly, why? Does this syrup come from the elusive urban sugar maple? Wouldn't a picture of a leaf have been more logical? But I digress... again.


Anyhow, my sister (not Future Master Baker, oh dear, I have food genes all over my family) sent me some delicious ginger snaps for Christmas (and the recipe because she loves me), and they were large and soft and chewy and a bit spicy, in sum, perfect. But I feared that the recipe might not be France-friendly. I had a moment of discouragement when I saw "molasses" on the list of ingredients, but of course I like a good challenge as well as the next cook, and I decided that substituting some brown sugar for white and honey for molasses would probably do the trick. And it did. In fact it was so yummy that I might make them that way all the time. I'll let you decide...

Ginger Snaps

2 1/4 cups flour
2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground cloves (I used allspice)
a good pinch of salt

3/4 cup butter or margarine, softened
1 cup sugar (or 3/4 cup white sugar and 1/4 cup dark brown sugar)
1 egg
1 Tbsp water
1/4 cup molasses (or honey)

more sugar for rolling cookies in

Preheat the oven to 350ºF/180ºC. Sift together the flour, ginger, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves and salt, and set aside.

In a large bowl, cream together the butter and sugar(s) with a mixer or a fork, until they are light and fluffy. Beat in the egg, water and molasses (/honey). Gradually add the dry ingredients to the wet, stirring as you go. Shape the dough into small balls (about the size of a walnut) and roll in the extra sugar.

Place on an ungreased cookie sheet, flatten slightly, and bake 8-10 minutes. Allow to cool 5 minutes on the cookie sheet before removing to a cooking rack (or to your mouth...or is that just me?).

Thanks sis!

Pear Lime Pecan Muffins

En français ici.
I promised Tony from Tony's Sustainable Kitchen that I would post about these muffins ages ago (see I haven't forgotten!), and I will, but first I have a small bone to pick.

People attribute all sorts of bad qualities to actors: conceit, moodiness, superficiality, laziness, financial instability (er, actually that one's true), and the list goes on. It could be worse I suppose. In Elizabethan times actors were considered rogues, scoundrels, drunkards, and/or prostitutes.

But one of the most persistent stereotypes, and the one that drives me crazy, is the idea that actors are lay-a-beds. Given the energy it takes to find work in the industry nowadays, I can assure you that a lazy person is NOT a working actor. When everyone else is on vacation, we're on stage. Over Christmas, we do Christmas plays; over the summer we act at festivals; when kids are on fall or spring break, children's theater runs everyday. Still, as with many stereotypes, this one stems from a grain of truth. Actors don't work classic hours. I have to admit that when I was onstage every night last week, eating dinner when I got home at midnight, I was not waking up at 7am!

Though with sunrises like this, perhaps I should have been!

Film acting, however, is quite the contrary. Oftentimes the technical equipment is rented by the day, and the crew sets up before sunrise to get the best use of the daylight hours. This is how a couple weeks ago found me crossing the highway that marks the city limits of Paris under a very sketchy bridge, on foot, way before dawn, alone, suspiciously eying a couple of tall industrial towers winking red and looking like smoke-spewing UFOs. At that moment, I thought to myself, "I'm officially crazy." I had visions of being lost in the outskirts of Paris all day with no map, of being mugged or murdered, my body thrown into the Seine, which was rippling darkly ominous behind a concrete wall. (Mom, if you're reading, none of this is true, skip ahead to the part about muffins okay?)

Yes, for those of you following, these are gratuitous sunrise shots. I'd been on site for a couple hours by the time the sun rose that day, not home looking out my window!

I did eventually find the empty lot where an already quite caffeinated crew was setting up to shoot, and I spent the day running around in the cold and pretending to be a angry mob with a group of very nice people (which mostly made up for not feeling my fingers and toes). What sustained me? Well I credit these muffins. Now how's that for a recommendation!


Pear-Lime-Pecan Muffins

1 egg
1/4 cup milk
1 tsp lime zest
1 cup pear, peeled and chopped

1 3/4 cups flour
1/4 cup cornmeal
1/2 white sugar
1/2 cup light brown sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt

1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup pecans

Preheat oven to 375ºF (190ºC).

Beat together the egg, milk and lime zest. Add the pear and set aside. In a separate bowl, mix the flour, cornmeal, white and brown sugar, baking powder and salt.

Add half the dry ingredients to the wet, then the vegetable oil and the other half of the dry ingredients. Be careful not to overmix. Fold in the pecans and pour into greased muffin tins.

Bake about 20 minutes, or until done and serve warm!

Holiday Cookie Cutter Cookies

En français ici.

I think the end of the year has to be one of the craziest times for many people. It certainly is for me, and all the more so this year with this being the first Christmas I'm spending in Paris instead of going home to see my family. Not only did I have to get my shopping done early and package everything off to the US (I hope it gets there in time!), but I have to organize all sorts of things I only participated in before: buying the Christmas tree, making and hanging decorations, deciding on and making the food (with Camille, yay), etc. I have to say, I have a new-found respect for the level of stress my parents always had around the holidays, and the ritual family fights over Christmas preparations. I think my youngest sister is actually wishing someone cared enough about the tree this year to fight with her over it - ah, growing older.


But now that my packages are sent, my tree is up (though I still have my salt-dough ornaments to hang), and Ella Fitzgerald is singing winter songs on my stereo, I can finally take the time to talk to you about Christmas cookies...


I've been babysitting for Louise for a year and a half now and she's like my little sister (on top of the three I already have, but who's counting?). Since her father was away on business for the first three weeks in December, we knew we'd have plenty of time every day to play. So we each came up with a project we wanted to do together. Mine was Christmas cookies.* The fun thing about kids, is that, if you let yourself, you get to be a kid again with them. And I admit, I couldn't wait to cut out fun shapes and decorate and eat half the dough to make sure it tasted good - not like a pastry chef or even like a food blogger, but like a kid.



Basic Holiday Cookies
makes tons

1 cup butter, softened (in this case, stuck under my sweater while I went to pick up Louise from school in the hope that body heat would do the trick!)
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp almond extract

3 1/2 cups flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder



Cream together the butter and sugar. Add the eggs one by one, beating after each and mix in the vanilla and almond extracts. In a separate bowl, mix together the flour, salt and baking powder and add little by little to the wet ingredients until well-combined. (I recommend you use your fingers at the end - it's more effective AND more fun.)

Divide the dough in half and roll into two balls (I think this is the hard part, but then I let Louise try and she made two amazingly round balls in no time at all - shows what I know). Refrigerate 1 1/2 - 2 hours.

Preheat the oven to 350ºF (180ºC). Roll out one half of the dough at a time, cut desired shapes with a knife, cookie cutters, or a glass (for round cookies), and bake for about 10 minutes until cookies are golden.

Decorate as desired. (Our materials were limited to chocolate icing and sprinkles, but they were quite yummy!)



*Hers was writing and performing a play together - actually a series of sketches. It's all written and rehearsed and she wants her whole family to see it... but no pressure.

Not Proust's Mother's Madeleines

En français ici.Two days ago in a moment of what I can only describe as blind insanity, I decided to read A la recherche du temps perdu, Marcel Proust's 7-volume novel and one of the paragons of French literature. I feel calling it a 7-volume novel is unfair, when two of the tomes are published in 2 parts and the first volume has a tangentially-related fiction stuck in the middle and often published separately (that makes 10!). But, for the sake of argument, 7-volumes. In French.

Not only did I make this decision, I then proceeded to start reading and have now read 150 of the 465 bajillion pages (give or take a few) left to read. But this is not a literary blog, so I'll get to the point. The point is madeleines, "those squat plump little cakes...which look as though they ha[ve] been molded in the fluted valve of a scallop shell" (Swann's Way ). This is probably one of the most famous passages in French literature, and it's about food. That is why I love the French.

So I decided to learn about Proust's madeleines. Although the expression "la madeleine de Proust" is now used to designate any small action that brings a strong memory or emotion, as the madeleine crumbs in his tea do for Marcel, it turns out MP knows a lot less about his little cakes than it would seem. In his wonderful account The Way the Cookie Crumbles: How much did Proust know about madeleines?, Edmund Levin describes his failed attempts to reenact the scene in Swann's Way and explains why we might want to look somewhere else for a decent recipe.


Having already made yummy Almond-Cinnamon Madeleines last year when my sister gave me (blue!) madeleine pans for Christmas, I was happy with my method, except for one thing: it wasn't traditional. So I started from scratch looking at recipes and decided that I liked the idea of simple lemon ones. However, being absolutely obssesed with butterscotch, especially since I started making Butterscotch Pudding, I wondered if I could add that flavor to my madelines.

I started by making this absolutely wonderful recipe for Butterscotch Sauce from Simply Recipes, complete with step by step pictures. Then...

Lemon-Butterscotch Madeleines



3/4 cup (170g) unsalted butter

4 eggs
1 cup (200g) sugar
zest of one lemon
1 3/4 cup (265g) flour
1/4 tsp salt

a little extra butter for buttering the tins
1/4 cup butterscotch sauce

Melt the unsalted butter in a heavy-bottomed pan and set aside to cool.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugar until they lighten slightly and add the lemon zest. Fold in half the flour and the salt. Add the melted, cooled butter and fold in the other half of the flour (thanks to Camille for calling on her lunch break with this piece of emergency madeleine advice - now there's a true foodie!).

Refrigerate 1 - 1 1/2 hours. (Good quality Proust-reading time if temporary insanity strikes.)

Preheat the oven to 375ºF (190ºC).

Butter the molds and spoon in batter. Make a small depression in each madeleine and add a dollop of butterscotch sauce. Bake 12 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from pans and let cool.

Enjoy warm while reading french classics - or something else ;-)

Apple Pecan Bread

En français ici.
My high school French teacher, who I am still in touch with (funny what friends one keeps from high school), came to Paris last week with a group of students from my old school. It was fun to see him and strange to think that I'd been on that same trip nine years ago (now all the students seemed intimidated by me!). But my french teacher and I don't only share a passion for French; we also both love to cook and being the thoughtful person he is, he brought me these wonderful presents from the States:


As you can imagine, I put them to good use immediately, making a pecan version of these brown sugar muffins. Once those were all eaten up, I got to thinking what else I could be baking. For weeks and weeks and weeks in my CSA, I've been getting apples. I guess they're the only fruit that lasts through the winter, but they've been getting less fresh as the season goes on and they're really best for cooking. D. made a delicious apple/apricot tart this week, but there were still apples leftover. So I decided to make this apple pecan bread.

Many apple bread recipes that I looked at were written for 2 loaves. I only have one loaf pan so I had to adapt. For those of you who live in small apartments or just don't have multiple loaf pans, this is for you.


D. insisted this was the best bread in the whole world and I have to say, it's pretty darn yummy. I'll be making more of it ASAP.

1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt

2 eggs
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups diced apples (about 1 large or 2 small)
1/2 cup chopped pecans (plus 10-12 pecans, chopped, for garnish)

Preheat the oven to 325F/170C. In a small bowl combine the flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda and salt, and set aside.

In a mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, vegetable oil, white and brown sugar and vanilla extract. Stir in the flour mixture until just combined.


Fold in the apples and pecans and spoon the batter into a well-greased loaf pan.

Here, I toasted a few extra chopped pecans with a couple tablespoons of brown sugar in a dry pan on medium heat and topped the apple bread with it. This makes for a deliciously sweet, crunchy crust and I highly recommend it.

Put in the oven and bake 45-55 minutes until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool for 10 minutes in the pan and then remove to a wire rack (so the bottom doesn't get soggy as it cools).

Apple-Banana Clafouti

En français ici.
Today we have Sunday Baking Returns. I haven't been doing weekend baking for a while, partly because I haven't been so much in the mood for sweets, partly because there are few good fruits around this time of year to inspire me. In fact what inspired me this week was D. sending a recipe to my inbox and insisting that I make it. The recipe comes from the talented Nathalie, whose blog Clopin-clopant is worth spending some time exploring (if you speak a little French) and whose book, Sortie de route, I thoroughly enjoyed. She's also published a collection of short stories that's waiting for me to dig in. And on top of all that she's a good cook, you ask? Well apparently so, because I tried this recipe and it's delicious!

(The measurements are translated so pardon me if they're a little strange.)

4 eggs
2.7 oz flour (a heaping 1/2 cup)
1 cup milk
4.2 oz sugar (about 3/4 cup -- she used castor, I used 1/2 dark brown, 1/2 white. I like the richness brown sugar gives it and it goes nicely with the banana)
2 Tbsp butter, melted

2 apples, peeled and cut into small pieces
2 bananas, peeled and cut into slices

Preheat the oven to 190C/375F.

Butter a pie or tart pan and lay the pieces of fruit in a generous layer at the bottom. Mix together the other ingredients in a bowl and pour over the fruit.

Bake for 40-45 minutes until the clafouti is set and the fruit is golden on top. It will rise, but don't worry that's normal and it falls when it comes out of the oven -- that's normal too.

Thanks Nathalie!

Flowertea

Visiting friends while I was away last week, they gave me expected surprise: a belated Christmas present. Yes, yes it's February, but this beautiful glass teapot and these delicate flower teas might not have survived being sent by the post.

I tried it out for the first time this weekend. There I sat, at my living room table pouring cup upon cup of this subtle and beautiful tea, memorizing lines and watching the sun turn everything golden over the Parisian rooftops. After all, it's the little moments in life that make up happiness.


La semaine dernière, j'ai rendu visite à des amis qui m'ont donné un cadeau de Noël -- un peu en retard, oui, mais cela aurait été difficile d'envoyer cette théière en verre et la selection de thés de fleurs par la poste. J'ai toujours aimé l'idée de ces thés qui s'ouvrent en s'infusant, mais n'en ai jamais acheté pour moi même (c'est bien d'avoir des amis qui me connaissent si bien !).

Je l'ai essayée pour la première fois ce week-end. À table dans le salon, je me suis servie tasse après tasse de ce thé subtil, pendant que je mémorisais mes répliques, et par la fenêtre le soleil couvrait les toits d'or. Je me suis dit que ce sont les petits moments comme ça qui font le bonheur.

Lady Mendl's Tea Room

January 4 was the one-year anniversary of the death of my godfather (actually the husband of my godmother, though he wasn't officially, I always considered him to be my godfather at heart). He died suddenly of a heart attack and I miss him a lot so I wanted to do something special to keep him in mind that day. My godfather had been wrestler and a football player in school, and he spent a number of his formative years in the army. But he also loved gardens, especially rose gardens, harp music and taking his wife and I to tea rooms. Whenever he knew I was going to be in New York City, he would say "go to Lady Mendl's!" Knowing I was going to spend the 4th in NYC, I knew what I had to do.

Le 4 janvier marquait l'anniversaire du décès, il y a un an, de mon parrain dont j'étais très proche. Il me manque beaucoup et je voulais faire quelque chose pour l'honorer. Mon parrain faisait du "wrestling" et jouait dans l'équipe de football américain pendant sa scolarité et après a passé plusieurs années dans l'armée. Malgré un apprentissage du monde très masculin, il aimait beaucoup les fleurs, surtout les jardins de rose, la harpe et amener sa femme et moi aux salons de thé. Quand j'allais à New York, il me disait toujours "va au salon de Lady Mendl !" Sachant que j'allais être à New York le 4, je savais ce qu'il fallait faire.


Lady Mendel's is a small English-style tea room, attached to an inn. If you don't know it's there, you could easily miss the understated wooden sign out front. As soon as you walk in, however, you're overwhelmed by the smell of tea, and flower-scented candles.

Lady Mendel's est un petit salon de thé anglais, attaché à une auberge. Quand on ne le connait pas, il est facile de passer à côté du petit panneau en bois qui indique le bâtiment. Pourtant, dès que l'on entre, on est submergé par les odeurs agréables de thé et de bougies.


The "tea" consists of five delicious courses: 1. Salad 2. Finger sandwiches 3. Scones with clotted cream and jam 4. Chocolate cake with raspberry sauce 5. Chocolate-covered strawberries and petit-fours. And of course a pot of tea of your choice, which they serve you throughout and refresh towards the end when it's getting cool or too strong. I chose a delicate and flavorful rose tea that I thought my godfather would have appreciated. Most of my family came too and my mom loved it so much she decided she wants to spend her 60th birthday there with me and my sisters!


Le "thé" du dimanche est un repas de cinq plats 1. salade 2. petits sandwiches 3. scones avec crème et confiture 4. gateau au chocolat et coulis de framboise 5. fraises couvertes de chocolats et petits-fours. Bien sûr, on choisit aussi son thé qui est servi à volonté pendant tout le repas. J'ai choisi un thé à la rose, bien parfumé mais délicat, que mon parrain aurait aimé. La plupart de ma famille est venu avec moi et ma mère a tant aimé qu'elle veut y retourner pour ses 60 ans avec moi et toutes mes soeurs!

D. and I came home to snow (unusual amounts of it for Paris):


Quand on est revenu, il neigait à Paris! C'était tellement beau la neige qui tombait silencieusement sur la ville.

It looked beautiful coming down outside our window and falling quietly over the city.

**Snow pictures from my window dedicated to Dana ;-)