Ann Mah's Blog, page 17

La Table d’Aki, Paris

The last Tuesday dinner I had in Paris was at La Table d’Aki, a 16-seat bijou of a restaurant near the Boulevard St-Germain. This is “French food cooked by a Japanese chef,” the chef/owner Akihiro Horokoshi told me. Every bite was exquisite. You can read more about my meal in the Bites column of the New York Times, and I also wanted to share some photos with you, too. (Click on any photo for a full slideshow.)

P.S. I’m traveling in New York this week — I’ve exchanged apartments with Amy of God, I Love Paris. (She is the Cameron Diaz to my Kate Winslet — or is it vice versa?) I’ll be back soon with an update on my trip and more Tuesday dinner next week!

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Pie-tastrophe

The minute I saw the recipe online, I knew it was the pie I wanted to make for Thanksgiving. It had cheddar cheese worked into the crust, a savory contrast against the apples. It had a crumbly, buttery streusel topping studded with walnuts. And, wowzer of wowzers, it had chilies tossed into the fruit for a brilliant, zingy, heat-seeking high note. This was apple pie to impress, to devastate.

My dad and I made the pie together on the Wednesday before the holiday. We were cooking dinner at the same time (spaghetti bolognese with a side of garlic-chili broccoli) so we lingered over the apples, chilled the crust between swipes of the rolling pin, allowed the chilies to fully release their power before adding another, and then another. We slid the pie into the oven and ate our supper as it baked. When the timer dinged, it emerged all bubbly, golden and fragrant.

There could have been a happy ending to this story. We could have cooled the pie and then cut slices of it, my father, mother, husband and I. We could have tucked in and relished it, analyzed it, savored it. Instead we wrapped it in tin foil and left it on the sideboard overnight.

Thanksgiving day dawned bright and balmy. And harried. Six o’clock in the morning found me running around with wet hair shoving clothes into a duffle bag and duffle bags onto a luggage cart, rushing to get on the road to New York before traffic hit. The (superior) apple pie went into a bag with a couple of store-bought (inferior) pies, which we trundled towards the front door.

I heard it hit before I saw it, a sickening clunk of butter, apples, cheese and sugar followed by the shatter of the pie dish. The pie lay crumpled on the ground, embedded with shards of ceramic. Its exposed underside revealed a flaky crust streaked with cheese, the apples smelled sweetly cinnamoned, a puddle of juice seeped from its crumbs. We couldn’t even take a second to mourn its demise. A wad of paper towels and a plastic bag later, I sent the pie down the trash chute to crash four floors below into the dumpster. We flipped the lights, locked the door behind us, hurried onto the highway for the seven-hour drive north.

That evening we ate (inferior) pumpkin and pecan pies, as well as my pumpkin cheesecake, which survived to reign over all the other desserts. But the memory of the lost apple pie haunted me. I needed redemption. Back in Washington on Sunday, I bought apples, chilies and cheese to bake another pie. But when I got home, I remembered I no longer had a pie plate. I ordered one immediately, but thanks to Cyber Monday madness, it hasn’t even shipped yet. It’ll probably arrive sometime in February. In the meantime, here’s the superior apple pie recipe so you can bake your own. Please, help me find redemption vicariously through you.

Apple green-chili pie

Adapted from the New York Times

For the crust:

1 1/4 cups flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

8 tablespoons chilled butter, cut into small cubes

1/2 cup grated cheddar cheese

Ice water

For the filling:

5 apples, peeled and sliced (I used a combination of Granny Smith and Honeycrisp)

2 tablespoons lemon juice

1/2 cup white sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1-2 chilies (I used serrano)

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup cornstarch

For the streusel topping:

1/2 cup white flour

1/2 cup pine nuts (or walnuts)

1/4 cup brown sugar

4 tablespoons butter, melted

In a mixing bowl, combine the flour and salt. Add the cubed butter and rub into the flour with clean fingertips, until the fat has been mostly combined into the flour and a few pea-sized lumps remain. Stir in the cheddar cheese. Add ice water 1 tablespoon at a time, until the mixture just comes together in a almost-crumbly dough. Gather into a ball, flatten into a disk, wrap loosely in plastic and chill for one hour, preferably overnight.

To make the filling, in a large bowl combine the apples, lemon juice, sugar, spices and salt. Finely chop one chili and stir it in. Taste a slice or two of apple and add another minced chili if desired. Stir the cornstarch into the fruit.

Roll out the dough between two sheets of plastic into a circle, about 11 inches in diameter. Transfer to a 9-inch pie plate and turn the edges under, pinching them to make a pretty zig-zagged rim. Freeze until ready to fill the pie.

Make the streusel topping by combining the flour, pine nuts (or walnuts) and sugar. Drizzle the melted butter on top and stir into the dry ingredients until crumbly.

With a slotted spoon or kitchen tongs, lift the apple slices from their released juices and pile them into the pie crust. Drizzle 2 tablespoons of the apple liquid on top of the fruit. Sprinkle the streusel on top. Bake at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 375 degrees Fahrenheit and bake for 30 minutes, until the juices bubble and the crust is golden. Cool slightly and eat as soon as possible, before pie-tastrophe strikes.

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Tuesday dinner with Kristin Espinasse from French Word-a-Day

I don’t know about you, but after a holiday weekend that included Thanksgiving with all the trimmings, Chinese food, New York pizza AND bagels, I’m ready for something a little lighter. Thankfully, Kristin Espinasse from the blog French Word-a-Day – and author of Blossoming in Provence — has come to the rescue with a simple Mediterranean meal of oven-roasted fish and potatoes.

Like so many among her legions of fans, I first discovered Kristin’s blog while daydreaming about France. At the time I lived in smog-choked Beijing where, every afternoon, I would stare out my office window and gaze at a grey sky tinged green. The sunshine and blue skies and lavender fields of Provence seemed very far away, but Kristin’s blog took me there, if only for a moment. Her stories — laced with French words — made me feel like I could speak French, even though, at the time, I couldn’t. In that smoky, open-plan office, I never imagined that I would one day live in France, or that Kristin and I would become friends. But fast forward five years and there we were on the terrasse of her Côte du Rhône farmhouse, forks and knives poised above a beautiful plate of fresh fish, both us chatting in French with Kristin’s lovely mother-in-law.

I’m so thrilled to welcome Kristin today, to learn more about her new home — a spectacular seaside region, near Cassis — to reveal her tips for cooking for her winemaker husband, Jean-Marc, and two teenage kids, and — bien sûr — to share a few photos of everyone’s favorite Golden Retrievers, Smokey and Braise!

  

On a regular old Tuesday night “chez les Espi”:

Tuesday is the night to manger en famille or eat together as a family. We’ll sit down at 8:30, even if, more and more, I am trying to sell my family on American dining hours (6pm would be great, but the reality is the kids are returning from school and grabbing a quick goûter, or snack, before heading to their rooms to study — or to pretend to be studying…)

On saving time in the kitchen:

When making the ubiquitous dinner salad (the French enjoy mono salads à la lettuce leaf only), make the vinegar and oil dressing directly in the salad bowl. No need to wash an extra bowl.

On what she eats when she doesn’t feel like cooking: 

On “those” nights, I might declare a chacun pour soi! – each to his own! — arrangement. The kids (Jackie is 15 and Max, 17) enjoy foraging through the fridge and cupboards for whatever strikes their fancy: charcuterie, cheese, some bread and, with any luck, fruit! The risk is when they (or we…) opt for a bowl of cereal — though these days I’ve banned Chocopops!

On her favorite pantry (and fridge) staples:

–Instant couscous (ready in a minute–everyone loves it).

–Green beans (makes for a nutritious omelet).

–Angel-hair pasta and Roquefort (my husband whips up a delicious spaghetti Roquefort in minutes (one package Roquefort + one small carton of cream (a small tub of sour cream works just as well). Melt the Roquefort over low heat, along with the cream. Add pepper to taste. And, Jean-Marc says, accompany with a Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

–Canned lentils (I buy the kind cooked with carrots and onions. Salmon and lentils are such a delicious combination!).

On her favorite fast recipe:

Living near Bandol, on the Mediterranean sea, we are fortunate to have daurade, or sea bream. It is my favorite meal that my mother-in-law makes — I especially love how the lemon slices — layered through the dish — are caramelized. Is this possible? Isn’t that something onions do? The following daurade recipe is relatively fast and easy — and always made au pif (without precise weights and measurements)… so here goes!

Oven-roasted daurade

From Kristin Espinasse

Note from Ann: I have to admit that a busy holiday weekend meant I didn’t have the chance to test this recipe like I usually do. But I have eaten Kristi’s roasted fish and can vouch for its delicious and beautiful simplicity — it’s especially good with a gleaming thread of grass-green extra virgin olive oil drizzled on top. Jean-Marc suggests pouring a fresh Cassis white along side it.

Slice up a few potatoes, tomatoes, onions, and lemons (leave the skin on). Layer this in an oiled casserole dish. Add salt, pepper, herbes de Provence and olive oil to taste. Next, rinse the fish and pat it dry. Add olive oil, salt and more of the herbes. Set the daurade on top of the potato layers. Bake in a preheated oven (around 355-360 degrees Fahrenheit/ 180 degrees Celsius) for 30 minutes (or until the potatoes are soft). You might need to start cooking the potatoes first and add the fish later, to avoid over-cooking it. Don’t be afraid to cook fish!  Just open the oven after 20 or so minutes and poke your fork or knife in the side. If the skin comes away easily from the bone, it’s ready!

Note from Kristin: I buy the daurade on sale and freeze it. It is just as delicious as the day’s catch! Also, you can stuff the inside of the fish with sliced onion, lemon, bell peppers, and/or fennel. My mother-in-law loves to use fennel, which she collects from the fields while out for a walk. The tall wild flowers are beautiful to see. Bon appetit!

The Golden mother-son duo, Smokey and Braise, hope you like this dish!

(Center photos from Kristin Espinasse.)

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Turkey lurkey links to love

The first time I ever cooked Thanksgiving dinner, I was living in a studio apartment in Manhattan, a small room with one (short) wall dedicated to the kitchen. My furniture consisted of a bed, a futon couch and a coffee table — that’s all that could fit. Still, eight of us (or was it ten?) crowded into the apartment — all 250 square feet of it — perching on the edge of the bed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, to talk and laugh and sweat (it may have been November in New York, but the oven made it hot and stuffy), and eat (and eat and eat). There were friends — notably my dear Scottish pals, who had never before experienced Thanksgiving — and cousins of friends, and friends of friends’ cousins — the strays that a holiday creates. The evening went on long and loud and may have ended with too much whisky at a bar on Avenue B. I still remember it as one of the best Thanksgivings ever.

Wherever you may be, I’m wishing you a wonderful day, chers amis. Among so many other things, I am grateful for YOU, for the time you take to visit my blog, for your funny and heartfelt comments. I wish I could pull a giant turkey wishbone with each one of you. Instead, I wish you a lovely weekend — and if it includes a little relaxing internet surfing, here are some links I love:

–I can’t wait to make these boat place cards tomorrow while the turkey is roasting. And if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll have some little hands to help me!

–This year, I’ve been entrusted to make the Thanksgiving pies. I’ve already made this pumpkin cheesecake, which smelled absolutely heavenly in the oven, all spicy and gingery.

–And I’m super excited to bake this apple and chili pie with a cheddar crust, although instead of wimpy Hatch green chilies, I’m using jalapeño. Spicy, sweet, savory with a punch of heat… wow, just wow.

–Speaking of baking, if you’re making Christmas treats this season, The Misanthropic Hostess has a trove of recipes that are far from cookie cutter (ha ha).

–If you take one minute, 35 seconds to watch this video your day will be better. Promise.

–Finally, the holidays can be the worst, most difficult and isolating time of the year. But thanks to SOS and their daily hotline, Anglophone expats in France always have a sympathetic ear. This Friday, the venerable organization is raising funds with a jazz evening at the British Embassy Residence in Paris (more details here). And, as always, if you need to talk or vent, information on SOS is available here.

As for me, I’ll be back next week with another Tuesday dinner. Until then, may your turkeys be moist, your family gatherings peaceful and your travels safe.

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Just for me

I wasn’t going to write a single word about this artichoke tart with a polenta crust. I just wanted to admire the recipe, cook it and eat it (and share it with my husband, of course). But polenta pondering? Tart reflection? Nope.

I love to cook, but lately it’s been feeling more like work than pleasure. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been testing recipes for my new book. This means I’ve cooked — and eaten — the same things again and again and again (albeit with slight tweaks and variations). As a result, our freezer is bursting with soupe au pistou. We’ve consumed so many skirt steaks I’m scared to test my blood cholesterol levels. This week alone I’ve eaten buckwheat crêpes six days in a row. Six. If you cut me open, I’m pretty sure you’d find buckwheat batter running through my veins, dark and speckled.

So, it was no surprise that when I came across this post on an artichoke-rosemary tart with polenta crust — excerpted from Maria Speck’s brilliant cookbook, Ancient Grains for Modern Meals — I began to dream. And drool. And dream some more. I wasn’t just attracted by the ingredients — though artichokes, thick Greek yogurt and parmesan cheese are the food equivalent of tall, dark and handsome. It wasn’t just the intrigue of the polenta crust, or the whisper of fresh herbs. No, I was drawn to this recipe because it was bright and new and different, a world away from French country cooking, the polar opposite of a $*%# buckwheat galette.

There aren’t any photos of the cooking process because I didn’t take any. I didn’t want to be interrupted by the need to clean my hands to hold the camera, didn’t want to pause to make a note, or capture a pinch of salt into a measuring spoon, or keep one wary eye on a sizzling sauté pan and the other on my i-Phone’s stopwatch. No, I  wanted to lose myself in patting polenta into the tart pan, in whisking eggs into yogurt, in the luxurious bounty of frozen artichoke hearts, the woodsy scent of fresh rosemary. And so I did. And I enjoyed every second of it.

The tart, when it emerged from the oven, was too hot to eat, but we ate it anyway, relishing the tang of yogurt against goat cheese, the toothsome polenta crust with satisfying oven-crisped edges, the artichoke hearts that made the ground corn taste a little sweeter. The next day I eagerly unwrapped the leftovers for lunch and when I saw it there, the final slice of polenta tart, so prettily pale yellow, so daintily delicious, I found myself reaching for… the camera. Before I knew it, I was emailing with the lovely Maria Speck, asking if I could share her recipe. She kindly agreed. Here, then, is her artichoke-rosemary polenta tart. I thought it was just for me, but it turns out it’s for you, too, dear reader.

Artichoke-Rosemary Tart with Polenta Crust

From Ancient Grains for Modern Meals by Maria Speck

Makes one 10-inch tart

For the polenta crust:

1  1/2 cups low-sodium vegetable broth

1  1/4 cups water

1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt

1  1/4 cups polenta or corn grits

1/2 cup shredded Parmesan cheese (about 2 1/2 ounces; use the large holes of a box grater)

1 large egg, at room temperature

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

For the artichoke cheese filling:

1 cup plain whole-milk Greek yogurt

2 large eggs

1/2 cup finely chopped green onions (about 3)

2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

1 tablespoon minced fresh rosemary

1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 (12-ounce) package frozen quartered artichoke hearts, thawed and drained (further chopped, if desired)

2 ounces crumbled goat cheese (about 1/2 cup)

1/2 cup shredded Parmesan cheese

1. To make the polenta crust, bring the broth and the water to a boil in a large heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the salt. Using a large whisk, slowly add the polenta in a thin stream, and continue whisking for 30 more seconds. Decrease the heat to low and cover. Cook for 10 minutes, stirring vigorously with a wooden spoon about every 2 minutes to keep the polenta from sticking to the bottom. Remove the saucepan from the heat and let sit, covered, for 10 minutes, stirring a few times. The polenta will be fairly stiff. Stir in the cheese, egg, and pepper.

2. Grease a 10-inch tart pan with olive oil or coat with cooking spray, and place on a wire rack. Have ready a tall glass of cold water. Dip a wooden spoon into the water as needed as you spread the polenta mixture across the center of the pan, pushing it up the sides. [Note from Ann: I used my hands.] Set aside to firm up at room temperature, about 15 minutes, and then form an even rim about 3/4 inch thick with your slightly moist fingers, pressing firmly. No need to fret over this — it’s easy.

3. Meanwhile, position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 375°F.

4. Prepare the artichoke cheese filling. Place the yogurt, eggs, green onions, parsley, rosemary, salt, and pepper in a 2-cup liquid measure or a medium bowl and combine well with a fork. Distribute the artichoke quarters over the crust, cut sides up, forming a circle along the rim and filling the center (you might not need all the hearts). [Note from Ann: I found the chunks of large artichoke hearts made it difficult to cut the finished tart into wedges. You may want to consider cutting them into smaller pieces.] Sprinkle the goat cheese on top and gently pour the filling over the artichokes. Sprinkle with the Parmesan cheese.

5. Bake the tart until the top turns golden brown and the filling is set, about 45 minutes. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and set aside at room temperature to firm up for at least 20 minutes, 40 if you can wait. Using a sharp serrated knife, cut into slices. Serve with more freshly ground pepper on top if you like.

To get a head start: The polenta crust, as in steps 1 and 2, can be prepared 1 day ahead, as can the entire tart. Cool to room temperature, chill for a couple of hours, and then cover with plastic wrap. Allow the tart to come to room temperature before serving, or gently reheat to warm (not hot) in a 325ºF oven for about 20 minutes.

To lighten it up: Use 1 cup non- or lowfat Greek yogurt in the filling instead of whole-milk yogurt.

More on author Maria Speck

More on Ancient Grains for Modern Meals (a James Beard award winner!)

Tweet with @MariaSpeck

Join Maria on Facebook

The Wednesday Chef waxes enthusiastic about Maria’s artichoke tart

Art and Lemons interviews Maria

The post Just for me appeared first on Ann Mah.

Tuesday dinner with Katia from The France Project

I like to think this week’s Tuesday dinner is getting back to its roots, the crux of what you really want on a regular old Tuesday night: Food. Made quickly. And without too many dishes to wash.

Katia from The France Project understands.

Her recipe for poached eggs, toast and sliced avocado takes less than 10 minutes to throw together (and uses only one saucepan) leaving plenty of time for evening yoga classes, chatting with your spouse, tossing catnip-stuffed toy mice at your kitty and — especially for Katia — planning new episodes of her fascinating and fun podcast, The France Project, which explores France through interviews and stories by Katia and her guests (including yours truly).

Katia is an Australian expat living in Paris, where she balances a full-time job with podcasting and life with her lovely husband, Sylvain, and adorably tiny cat, Symphony. Like every Aussie I’ve ever met, Katia is an excellent cook and I’m delighted to share her tips for fast weekday meals.

 

Her Tuesday night schedule: 

I work full time and after hours I’m often running around town interviewing people for the show or investigating potential topics. I take a yoga class after work on Tuesdays which means I don’t get home until around 8.30-9pm, and my husband usually gets home late from work too. We get home, hug Symphony, throw something simple on the stovetop as we talk about our day, then collapse in front of the couch to watch TV.

Her number one weeknight cooking tip:

I always plan the week’s meals in advance. Our Sunday morning ritual involves going to the market, which is located just around the corner from our place, so we do most of our weekly shopping then, with my plan in mind, and I try to fit in a visit or two to the greengrocer or butcher later in the week to round it all out. I’m an organizer at heart and having everything planned for the week gives me one less thing to worry about.

On cooking in quantity:

We try to make meals that will last for several days so we don’t need to cook something new every single night. For example, last weekend we made your exquisite meatball recipe — by upping the quantities, we made enough for about four meals, one of which we popped in the freezer, and I had enough left over for a packed lunch for work!

Speaking of her freezer…

It’s currently filled with leftover single servings of bolognese sauce, quiche, meat pie, lasagne, minestrone, various pasta sauces, as well as summer compôtes, stewed mirabelles and cubes of pesto for throwing in dishes over the winter months.

Her all-time favorite throw-together meal:

We call it “bits & pieces” because it really is just that, depending on what we have floating around! I always keep tins of smoked mussels and sardines in the pantry and, like any honorable French household, we always have cheese in the fridge. If I have time I’ll scoot past the greengrocer to pick up some cherry tomatoes and fresh fruit, and I’ll grab a fresh baguette. Throw all these things on a big serving board and you have a delightfully simple meal. It works really well for just the two of us or when we have unexpected visitors!

 

Poached egg with avocado

By Katia Grimmer-Laversanne

Serves 2

Note: “There are times when the freezer is empty or I really don’t want to eat yet another bowl of soup,” says Katia. “Our current favorite no-fuss meal involves just a few ingredients but is super satisfying. And en plus, it’s super-quick — it’s ready in the time it takes to poach eggs! As you can imagine, this is an amazing brunch dish too. Add a bit of bacon and Bob’s your uncle!” I made this with a delicious egg from the Farmer’s Market and baby spinach leaves instead of sprouts (which I had a devil of a time finding).

2 or 4 eggs, as fresh as possible (1 or 2 per person, depending on how hungry you are!)

1 teaspoon vinegar (for poaching the eggs — though I omitted)

2 thick slices of bread (Katia likes to use the pain aux céréales from her amazing baker. “I don’t let them tranche it though,” she says “since I like thicker slices for toasting”)

1 avocado

A handful of sprouts (alfalfa, watercress or pea sprouts)

High-quality extra virgin olive oil

1/2 lemon

piment d’espelette (or black pepper)

Toast the bread. Poach the eggs by filling a saucepan 1/3 of the way with water and a teaspoon of vinegar. Bring to a simmer. Swirling the water with a spoon, carefully add the eggs and let poach on a gentle simmer for 2 1/2 minutes.

Whilst the eggs are poaching, prepare two plates with a piece of toast on each. Halve the avocado and remove the stone, then cut into slices, lengthways. Fan out one half of the avocado on each plate. Drizzle with olive oil and a little lemon juice. Decorate with the sprouts.

When the eggs are poached, remove with a slotted spoon and place on top of the toasts. Sprinkle everything with a tiny amount of piment d’espelette and serve immediately.

Symphony says: “This is how you’ll feel after eating Katia’s recipe. Meow.”

(Non-food photos from Katia Grimmer-Laversanne.)

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Passion fruit, pavlova, a little light larceny

I don’t know much about pavlova or passion fruit, but luckily I’ve got friends in the right places. Or, rather, I should say born in the right places: Australia and New Zealand. So when my dad decided to make a pavlova to celebrate his birthday a few weeks ago, I contacted my friends Katia and Sue — two of the best Aussie cooks I know — and asked if they could share their family recipe. Then, I flew out to Southern California to start whipping egg whites.

But before the baking, there was the basking — in the Southern California sunshine, and gluttonous taco feasts at Taqueria Don Victor, and visits to the Mexican supermarket where I gazed in silent appreciation at a wall of dried chilies. We also spent quite a bit of time hunting for passion fruit, traveling from one strip mall grocery store to the next. Alas, there was not a wrinkled sphere to be found.

Pavlova, in case you’re not familiar with it, is a dessert of soft meringue, topped with whipped cream, berries and passion fruit. I thought it was Australian, but it turns out that New Zealand also claims it (as verified by the Penguin Companion to Food). In fact, my parents’ Kiwi neighbor had served them his version a few days earlier — a cloud of meringue, dolloped with cream, and cascading — cascading – with passion fruit — no other fruit at all — just a generous, sunset-colored river of tangy-sweet, fragrant pulp.

  

As we separated eggs, and whipped the whites into peaks, and beat the sugar into the whites until they turned into a glossy, satiny mass, which we then sprinkled with tiny touches of vinegar and cornstarch (the chemist’s secret to a marshmallowy meringue), and lined a baking sheet with parchment paper and spread the sticky fluff into an even layer, and popped it into a slow oven to set and brown — as we did all this, the whole time, I was thinking: passion fruit. Passion fruit.

By this point, my dad had revealed that the Neighbor actually grows his own passion fruit with the sole purpose of using it in pavlova. An entire vine — yes, passion fruit grows on a vine, who knew? — just for dessert. How passionate (ha ha) was that? Alas, the Neighbor and his wife weren’t home. And I knew this with one hundred percent dead certainty because they were staying in our apartment in Paris.

But now I think I understand where passion fruit gets its name. Because the idea of it kept calling to me, almost mocking me, driving me into a passion as I sliced strawberries and patted blueberries and raspberries dry with paper towels. And so when my mom suggested we go knock on the Neighbor’s door “just to see if anyone was home,” I found myself bounding across the street as if they could beam themselves into their garden.

No one was home, of course. But when we pushed on the garden gate, it just, er, happened to swing open. At the bottom of the garden I spotted the vine and, lying in a patch of dirt underneath, a few passion fruits, starting to wrinkle. They surely would have spoiled in the Neighbor’s absence. We rescued those fruit, saved them from being wasted. Yes, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

  

The pavlova was saved and it was a triumph. But now that I’ve tried it with mixed berries, I’m wondering what a uniquely passion fruit version would taste like. I’d love to try it one day, if I could just get my hands on enough passion fruit. I wonder if my neighbors in Washington, DC have a garden…

Pavlova roll
From Katia Grimmer-Laversanne and and her mum, Sue

3/4 cup caster sugar (superfine)

4 egg whites

1 teaspoon corn starch

1 teaspoon white vinegar

200 ml double cream (whipping cream)

1 tablespoon icing sugar

1 vanilla bean, insides scraped out

Fruit for filling : raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, passion fruit

Preheat oven to 320-360°F (160-180°C) . Grease a shallow 10-inch x 12-inch (25cm x 30cm) pan and line with baking paper (leave a few cm of overhang).

Beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form. Gradually add the caster sugar until the mixture is stiff and glossy and the sugar is dissolved. Sprinkle the corn starch and vinegar over the top and gently stir into the mixture. Gently spread the mixture evenly in the parchment-lined pan, taking care not to overwork it. Gently smooth top.

Bake for about 10 minutes or until the top just begins to brown, remove from oven and let cool for a couple of minutes.

Beat the cream, icing sugar and vanilla insides until stiff peaks form. Place another sheet of baking paper on the counter and sprinkle with caster sugar. Turn the meringue onto the baking paper. Remove the lining paper and let the meringue cool for another few minutes. Spread whipped cream over the top, sprinkle with fruit.

From the long side of the meringue, roll the rectangle gently into a Swiss Roll shape, using the baking paper to help you maneuver. With the help of parchment paper, move the roll to a serving plate, cover with cling film and refrigerate for hour or so before serving, dusted with icing sugar and decorating with a few extra pieces of fruit if desired.

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Tuesday dinner with eat. live. travel. write.

Something always goes wrong when I make pâte brisée  – either the dough is too wet (and it sticks), or too dry (and it cracks), or it shrinks in its pan when I blind bake it, and I find myself frustrated, sweaty, starving and ready to beat my oven with my French rolling pin. So when Mardi Michels from the lovely blog eat. live. travel. write. proposed a rustic mushroom tart for Tuesday dinner, I was skeptical.

Mardi, however, is a very persuasive lady. “I’ve been inspired by my recent trip to France to start making a lot more things I used to consider scary from scratch, like bread or pastry,” she says. “Pastry isn’t scary and it just tastes so much better than store bought.”

A blogger, Food Network Canada contributor, full-time French teacher to elementary school boys (and more), Mardi knows a lot about making complicated things simple. As part of her job, she runs a biweekly cooking class for boys aged nine to twelve, called Les Petits Chefs. When I found out these boys had made  their own pastry and savory tarts, I knew I had to try it, too.

 

“One myth about pastry is that it takes time — yet I’ve found a dough that works for me (for both sweet and savoury tarts or galettes) — even on a weeknight,” says Mardi. “Since it takes just a couple of minutes to whip up the pastry, then it sits for 30 minutes in the fridge, you have plenty of time to prepare the filling while it rests. Then, if you choose to make smaller tartelettes instead of one big galette or tart, they only take about 30 minutes to cook.

“A Tuesday night at my house, if we’re lucky, doesn’t involve any sort of event outside the house. Mondays and Wednesdays for me are cooking club nights so I tend to get home later, then spend a while editing pictures and writing up the sessions for my blog and the school blog. Tuesdays are a night I try not to plan much if I can help it so I do try to make something half-decent for dinner (towards the end of the week, our dinners can deteriorate a little as energy wanes!). Honestly, on the weekend days I spent most of my day on my feet cooking, photographing so on those days I am more than happy to eat something simple for dinner.

“I am loving rustic galettes right now -  simple enough for everyday but elegant enough that you can serve them to company. So versatile too in terms of the filling.  I even taught a version to my Petits Chefs boys’ cooking club with great success! If 9-12 year-olds can make pastry, well, anyone can! A favorite for the fall right now would be this rustic mushroom quiche.”

  

Rustic mushroom quiche

From Mardi Michels

Note from Ann: I was skeptical about the “ease” of pastry, so I timed myself while making it. It took 13 minutes 36 seconds to make the dough by hand, and just over 5 minutes to roll it out. Unfortunately, my quiche cooked a bit unevenly, perhaps because of a patchy oven, or maybe because I used a ceramic dish instead of metal pie tin. Next time I might line a tart pan with the dough, blind bake, and then fill the shell.

For the pastry:

1 1/2 cups flour

4 tablespoons cornmeal

pinch of salt

125 grams (1 stick) cold butter, cut into cubes

1 medium egg, lightly beaten

2 tablespoons ice water

For the filling:

3 cups mixed fresh mushrooms (I used baby bella and shiitake)

4 tablespoons olive oil (I used one)

2 teaspoons dried herbes de Provence (or thyme)

Salt and pepper

To assemble:

5 eggs, lightly whisked (I used three)

1 egg beaten for egg wash

For the pastry:

1. Sift the flour into a large bowl.

2. Add the cornmeal and salt and mix lightly with your fingers.

3. Add the cubed butter and, using your fingers, lightly rub in the butter to the flour/ cornmeal/ salt until is resembles breadcrumbs with some pieces the size of small peas.

4. Make a well in the middle of the flour mix and add the egg.

5. Mix the flour into the wet ingredients until it just starts to come together.

6. Add the water and incorporate until the dough just comes together. The dough should be firm enough to form a ball – it might be a little crumbly but press the dough into a disk and wrap it tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes minimum.

For the mushrooms:

1. Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat.

2. Add the mushrooms and herbes de Provence and saute until they have significantly reduced in volume (there should be around 1.5 cups once they are cooked).

3. Season with salt and pepper and remove from heat. Set aside.

Method:

1. Pre-heat oven to 350˚F.

2. Remove the dough from the fridge and roll between parchment or wax paper or onto a lightly floured surface until it’s about 12-13 inches in diameter.

3. Carefully place the pastry disk on a sheet of parchment if it already isn’t and place in a 10 inch pie tin. The parchment will stick out beyond the tin edges, that’s ok. The pie tin is just to make sure the quiche holds a circular shape!

4. Scatter the mushrooms over the centre of the pastry, leaving about 2-3 inches at the edge.

5. Fold the uncovered edges of dough up and around the filling, working your way around the quiche. You’ll end up with pleated edges that are a little rough and you might need to trim some uneven parts to ensure you don’t end up with a thick area of just crust.

6. Pour the beaten eggs over the mushrooms, making sure it does not “escape the pastry”.

7. Brush the edges of the quiche with a little egg wash.

8. Bake for 35-45 minutes or until the pastry is golden and the inside is set.

(Top four photos courtesy of Mardi Michels.)

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Carte postale: Happy Halloween

I was supposed to leave California yesterday, but the storm has extended my visit for a few more days. The photos of the East Coast are horrible and my heart goes out to those facing damaged property, power cuts, floods and worse. Meanwhile, I’m guiltily basking in the California sunshine, carving pumpkins with my family and getting ready for a wave of trick-or-treaters. I found the photos above in my childhood bedroom — me, age 5, in one of my favorite Halloween costumes, Holly Hobby.

Wherever you are, may you be safe and dry, with access to candy, dear readers.

 

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Weekend links to love

My husband and I were talking last night about things that we like better in the States. Not just obvious things like customer service (which is really, really efficient and friendly). But little stuff: Cottage cheese. Ethnic food. Breakfast cereal (especially Bare Naked granola). Crunchy apples (I’ve always found French apples mushy). Iced tea. In fact, if I had to choose one thing as my favorite American rediscovery, it would be the country’s flowing rivers of unsweetened iced tea. Every afternoon at four o’clock, I take my book and go to our neighborhood café for my daily fix. The weather is still like summer in this former swamp of a city, so I carry my drink outside, the ice cubes rattling against the sides of the cup, to read and suck down icy, refreshing gulps, which are gone all too quickly.

Here are a few other things that I love:

–Last weekend we saw this documentary, Somewhere Between, about four girls adopted as babies from China, now teenagers here in the States. I cried just watching the trailer, so it was no surprise that the actual movie had me (and everyone else in the theater) in complete floods.

–Do you find the love locks on the bridges of Paris romantic? Or akin to an insidious fungal growth?

–As the stanzas of Chanson d’Automne, continue to ricochet through my head this fall, I was charmed to see this beautiful Verlaine-inspired print from Evan Robertson at Little Brown Pen. Bonus: the series is in French and in English and also includes Rimbaud and Keats.

–I regularly laugh, sigh and look like a crazy person in public while listening to my friend Katia’s brilliant new podcast, The France Project. And I was so honored to be included in the first episode, about my sweaty first visit to Paris.

–This week, I sent out my Fall newsletter, which included petite reviews of four fantastic books.

–If you’re planning a trip to Rome, don’t plan on picnicking in the Forum. As this article explains, eating in the city’s historic center is now illegal…!

Finally, I’m off to California today to visit family and (hopefully) eat Mexican food (Mom, Dad, are you reading?). My travels mean that there won’t be a Tuesday Dinner next week, but I’ll be back soon with more home cooking secrets to share!

Bon weekend, tout le monde!

 

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