Ann Mah's Blog, page 24

What you're looking for

I try to hide it, but the truth is this: I'm kind of a techno-phobe. But recently, with the help of web consultant extraordinaire, Jenny Beaumont, I updated a few things on this blog — and made an interesting discovery. Do you know what the number one web search query is that leads people to this blog?

Meatballs.

Meatballs?!

Not "France," "Paris," or even "Chinese food." Meatballs.

I've only written about meatballs once, back in 2007 when this blog had barely cut teeth.

But, I do make meatballs all the time — I just don't write about them. Meatballs are my husband's favorite food. If I even think about meatballs, he starts grating Parmesan. I make them to celebrate his birthday, promotions at work, or simply life itself. Because life without meatballs is not a life worth living (according to him). I make them so often, it never even occurred to me to share the recipe.

Apparently, you know what I'm cooking better than I do.

Here, then, chers amis, is my recipe for meatballs. They take longer to prepare than your average weeknight meal — an hour and a half, or so — so I usually make them on Sunday nights. We eat half with spaghetti, and the other half the following night with polenta. Now you know all my secrets.

Spaghetti and meatballs

Inspired by Lidia's Italian-American Kitchen by Lidia Bastianich

For the sauce:

Two large cans of whole tomatoes

2-3 tablespoons olive oil

1 small onion, chopped

Crushed red pepper

2 bay leaves and/or 1 teaspoon dried oregano

Chunk of parmesan rind

For the meatballs:

1 lb ground chicken breast (but you can use turkey, beef, pork, or any combination of the three — the fattier the meat, the more tender the meatballs)

1 cup fine, dry bread crumbs

1/2 cup Parmagiano-Reggiano, grated

Handful of flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

2 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped fine

2 egg whites (or 1 egg, beaten — if you don't have morbid fears of clogged arteries like me)

1/4 teaspoon salt

Pepper

Olive oil for frying the meatballs

In a large pot (I use Le Creuset), heat 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil and wilt the onions. Crush the canned tomatoes by hand and add them to the pan along with their juice, the crushed red pepper, bay leaf, oregano and parmesan rind. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer, covered.

Meanwhile, combine the chicken, bread crumbs, Parmesan cheese, parsley, garlic, egg whites, salt and pepper in a bowl. Mix gently but thoroughly with your hands. Shape the mixture into 1 1/2-inch balls. You should have about 30 walnut-sized meatballs.

In a large skillet, heat 1-2 tablespoons of oil over high heat. Place as many meatballs as will fit into the skillet (about half) and brown them on all sides. After they've finished browning, add them to the gently bubbling tomato sauce. Simmer the meatballs in the sauce for 30 minutes, or until they're thoroughly cooked. Serve with spaghetti (toss the sauce thoroughly with the pasta), or polenta and broccoli with garlic and chili.

Carnet de cuisine

A few months ago I had dinner with a French friend and he showed me something really cool — his mother's dinner party notebooks. For years — decades, even — ever since she was a young bride, his maman has kept a record of every dinner party she's ever thrown: guest list, menu, recipes. As a result, she knows exactly what she's served to whom — which means she never serves her friends the same thing twice. It's madly meticulous. It's wildly painstaking. It's marvelous.

Of course, once I saw it I had to start one, too. In my kitchen notebook, I keep track of guest lists, menus, and seating charts; sometimes I even draw little pictures of the food. Is this hopelessly geeky? I fear you'll never think of me in the same way again.

New cookbooks

Lucky girl that I am, I received quite a haul of new cookbooks for Christmas. Here's what I'm cooking from these days:

Since I live in a cave (apparently) I'd never even heard of Nancy Silverton's chic pizzeria, Mozza, until I was in Southern California last month and read this Los Angeles Times review of the new Orange Country branch. I immediately tried to book a table but rave LA Times review + holiday season + short notice = no luck. Happily, my dad employed the age-old philosophy — "Give your daughter a pizza and you feed her for a day, give her the Mozza cookbook and you feed her for a lifetime" — and I found a copy under the tree. The book's pizza dough recipe is tailored to the home cook, including two pages of step-by-step tutelage that I hope to try one day (after gathering the required patience and equipment). For now, I'm sticking with the pastas. I've already made the cacio e pepe – linguine with Pecorino cheese and black pepper — which was satisfying but a little too oily (this recipe seems more promising). Next up: short pasta with guanciale, tomato and spicy pickled peppers. I also have my eye on the braised short ribs with horseradish gremolata and polenta — perfect winter comfort food.

Because I'm a hypochondriac, I tend to eat several vegetarian or vegan meals a week. A girl can only eat so much tofu stir-fry, however, so when I read about this natural  foods cookbook here, I immediately started dropping Christmas hints (thanks to my husband, for listening to me!). Super Natural Every Day is full of unfussy, fast, wholesome and satisfying recipes that seem perfect for weeknight cooking. Though my first foray was a little disappointing — I made the black pepper tempeh with cauliflower, garlic, ginger, and cane sugar (turns out I don't like tempeh — too pasty) — I'm excited to experiment with the lunch and snack recipes. Things I want to try: Spinach chop (with hard-boiled eggs, garlic, almonds, and harissa), little quinoa cakes, chickpea wraps (whole wheat lavash, celery, dill, mustard), white beans and cabbage, potatoes and parmesan.

On the other end of the healthiness spectrum is this collection of recipes from Martin Ginsburg, the late husband of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, which was produced as a tribute to him by the other spouses of the Supreme Court. The recipes are mostly French (or Frenchified), made luscious with heaps of butter and cream. I hope to try the potato gratin and dark chocolate mousse — but not in the same meal. My favorite part of the book, however, are the remembrances about the cook himself, who seemed like an open-hearted, warm, intelligent and generous person. For example, here's a quote from his son: "My father loved to repeat my sister's line about the division of labor in our family: 'Mommy does the thinking and Daddy does the cooking.'" The book is available at the Supreme Court Historical Society website; you can also read an article about it here.

Did you receive any cookbooks for the holidays? I'd love to hear!

 

Galettes and other greetings

I can't believe I almost forgot to post today about one of my favorite pâtisseries: la galette des rois!

Today is Kings' Day, which means aspiring royals all over France will be tucking into frangipane-filled puff pastry, hoping to find the fève in their slice. The lucky recipient is crowned king or queen for the day. For more information on this flaky (in the pastry sense) tradition, check out these previous posts.

Also — after all that talk about holiday cards in my previous post, I wanted to share mine with you:

These sentiments join my heartfelt greetings expressed in my new quarterly newsletter, which I launched yesterday! Read all about my book launch in Rome, adventures and restaurant tips in la France profonde, a recipe for bean soup, and lots more in the first edition.

Meanwhile, we have friends coming round for dinner tomorrow, so I'm off to poach some pears in red wine. Happy Kings' Day to you all — and bon weekend!

On beans and the new year

I've been writing and receiving cartes de voeux over the past few weeks — I send New Year's cards because I'm ecumenical like that — and one of the things I've noticed is the difference between French and American messages. My American friends and I tend to offer best wishes for good health, happiness, perhaps even prosperity. My French friends have, without exception, wished me a productive year, filled with rewarding projects.

I don't think it's any secret that I love projects. As a freelance writer, I have to be pretty self-motivated, or risk losing entire months down the Internet black hole. One of my biggest projects for 2012 is to finish writing my new book. But I also have smaller plans like cleaning up my window box garden, reading more French murder mysteries, and scouring flea markets to outfit our new postage stamp apartment. And cooking, of course. Cooking is a constant series of small, satisfying, occasionally messy and/or delicious projects.

Now that it's winter, one of my cooking projects has been beans. I was inspired by my recent trip to Rome to cook more dried beans — they taste better than canned, and are better for you, too. But after many pots of failed beans, I grew frustrated. Even after hours of soaking and cooking, why did they always retain a hard, crunchy center?

A bit of research and I turned up a possible explanation: hard water. Minerals in water can affect whether or not beans soften. Paris water is hard enough to leave chunky deposits in my tea kettle. I tried cooking a pot of beans in bottled water et voilà — perfect tenderness.

Now that I have the basics down, I can't wait to launch several new bean-cooking projects, including pasta e ceci (Italian pasta and chick peas), and a soup of white beans/garlic/chili/escarole (pictured). (The recipe for the latter, by the way, is available in my newsletter, which I'm sending out this week — I hope you'll subscribe!) They join the other recipes I want to make this year: ricotta gnudi, seven-hour lamb, white pizza with clams, to name but a few — food to be savored slowly with friends and family, bite by bite, which is another one of my projects this year.

Bonne année, mes amis.

Joyeuses Fêtes!

Chers amis, happy holidays!

And greetings from Southern California where I've hopped to spend a white (if by white, you mean the color of my skin) Christmas with my family.

May 2012 bring you much happiness, good health, absorbing books and delicious meals shared with all the people you love. And, as always, thank you for reading my blog — I love sharing my adventures with you. I'll see you again soon, in the new year!

Gros bisous,

Ann

P.S. Don't forget to sign up for my newsletter for more photos, recipes and food stories! Subscribe here by December 31 and enter to win a special giveaway!

 

Artichokes of Rome

Wandering around Rome recently, I noticed a few things:

1) Winter in Rome makes Paris seem like a gulag. The sun shines bright and strong (except when it rains), and the temperatures are mild enough for year-round gelato consumption.

2) Romans seem to have infinite reserves of patience for children and non-Italian-speaking tourists (i.e. me).

3) It's artichoke season.

I ate them on pizza…

I ate them alla giudia, that is, twice-fried in olive oil…

And I ate them in pasta with guanciale, a type of salt-cured bacon made from pork cheeks.

In Paris, we have to wait until spring to see these spiky globes in the market. In Rome, they're already ready for the eating (and eating, and eating).

Pizzarium (pizza)

Via della Meloria, 43

tel: 39 06 3974 5416

Piperno (alla giudia)

Monte di Cenci, 9

tel: 39 06 6880 6629

Flavio al Velavevodetto (pasta)

Via di Monte Testaccio, 97

tel: 39 06 574 4194

P.S. I'll share more Rome photos and addresses in my new newsletter. Click here to subscribe!

Rome, actually

I'll never forget my first visit to Rome, during a sultry summer weekend almost seven years ago. I'm not sure what disappointed me most: the masses of tourists crowding the monuments, or the horrible food I ate at almost every turn. I hadn't done my homework , you see, hadn't researched any good addresses. And I paid the price with soggy pizza and carbonara studded with chunks of scrambled egg.

Over the years, I made a few other trips to the Eternal City — non-eating trips, if you can believe it — which left me pining for Rome's storied cuisine. Well, I'm pleased to report that during my visit last week, I finally ended my bad luck dining streak. Fourth time's the charm? Actually, it turns out Elizabeth Minchilli's fantastic Eat Rome app, stuffed full of all the tips and addresses that a food lover could ever want, was the charm.

My publisher, 66thand2nd, invited me to Rome to promote the Italian edition of Kitchen Chinese. In between book presentations with a series of articulate and beautiful food writers (all of whom had me quaking in my ballet flats) my editor promised me food. Lots and lots of food.

  

There were deep fried snacks at Remo, reputedly Rome's finest pizzeria: suppli, which are balls of risotto stuffed with a stretchy cord of melted mozzarella, anchovy-stuffed courgette blossoms, and bruschetta. The pizza was whisper thin with a lightly charred crust, and everyone around me — Italians, all of them — ate it with their hands. I could feel the entire republic of France reeling in horror as I did the same.

Then there was the stuff I ate (or drank) on the run, like this perfectly chewy-crunchy pizza bianca from the Forno at Campo de' Fiori, still warm from the oven.

Or gelato from Fata Morgana, which offered unusual flavors like cinnamon stick and apple, and banana and black sesame (both a touch too sweet).

Coffee from Sant' Eustachio — even their decaf is delicious, pure, with a creamy froth (of coffee) and not even a hint of acidity. How do they do it?

Even more pizza, this time from Pizzarium, whose exotic combinations of toppings made me regret being a single eater.

And wine — a light, fruity Tyrolean red — at Il Vinaietto, a plain-Jane, neighborhood enoteca.

Then there was the meal I ate at Piperno, simple and perfect with its fried artichokes, salad of bitter puntarelle and anchovies, and soupy pasta e ceci (photo above) that featured velvety chick peas against the toothy bite of thin, homemade noodles. It was drizzled with olive oil so fragrantly sharp and delicious that I wanted to bathe in it.

  

Perilli's renowned carbonara (photo left) achieved textbook textures: al dente rigatoni and crisped, browned guanciale like I've never seen before. Alas, an overzealous hand with the salt made the dish almost inedible. The vaccinara, oxtail cooked in tomato sauce (photo right), was superb, however, with a rich, haunting meatiness achieved by slow braising.

My favorite meal of the trip has the worst photographs — isn't that always the case? It doesn't look like much, but sharp, peppery, pecorino bite of this cacio e pepe, which I ate at the almost unpronounceable (to me) Flavio al Velavevodetto, will stick with me for a very, very long time.

At least, that is, until my next trip to Rome. Because now that I've cracked the city's dining scene, I'm planning another visit very soon, fork in hand.

P.S. I'm sharing more Rome photos and addresses in my new newsletter! Have you subscribed yet? Sign up here and you'll be eligible for a special giveaway!

Pizzeria Remo

Piazza S.M. Liberatrice, 44

tel: 06 574 6270

Forno Campo de' Fiori

Campo de' Fiori, 22

tel: 06 6880 6662

Fatamorgana

Via G. Bettolo, 7

tel: 06 8639 1589

Sant' Eustachio

Piazza Sant' Eustachio

tel: 06 6880 2048

Pizzarium

Via della Meloria, 43

tel: 06 3974 5416

Il Vinaietto

Via del Monte della Farina, 38

tel: 06 6880 6989

Piperno

Monte De'Cenci, 9

tel: 06 6880 6629

Perilli

Via Marmorata, 39

tel: 06 575 5100

Flavio al Velavevodetto

Via Di Monte Testaccio, 97/99

tel: 06 574 4194

Carte postale: Rome

Lunch at a nondescript tavola calda. Nothing fancy, and yet unforgettable.

P.S. I'm still digging out from my trip, but I'll be back with a longer post soon!

Cheese in St-Etienne and environs

I've been traveling so much this fall, I can scarcely download the photos from my camera before I'm packing my bags once again. As a result, these pictures from St-Etienne — about 40 miles southwest of Lyon, in the Rhône-Alpes region — are a few weeks old and the gentle sunshine that diffuses them seems like a pleasant but distant memory. My memories of that weekend, however, are strong and sharp – a wonderful few days filled with delightful friends, flea markets, and lots of fromage. Here are four special cheese experiences:

We stayed at the home of friendly fromage fans who ended every meal with a cheese board — isn't it gorgeous? Notable cheeses include the tall wedge (at one o'clock), a local blue cheese called the Fourme de Montbrison that's cut in slices across the top. Also, Munster (eight o'clock), which I brought from Alsace. It was so stinky it got its own knife.

At the neighborhood market, our friends introduced me to this country cheese. It's a rough-and-ready specimin dusted with cirons,or artisons, minute mites that age the crust, leaving the center creamy. Back in our hosts' kitchen, we brushed them off the cheese and into a glass bowl, peering at the moving crumbs via a magnifying glass. It was totally absorbing and a little creepy, too.

One day, we lunched at a former farmhouse, now a rustic restaurant. I tucked into this gloriously cheesy tartiflette, a casserole of sliced potatoes larded with ham, cream, and reblochon cheese, baked until golden and melty. You can't see it, but underneath the gratin dish was a heated stone tile that cleverly kept the dish hot until I'd eaten my fill.

After a beautiful walk through landscape fringed with heather and juniper bushes, we stopped at a goat farm. A goat farm! Because when you live in the French countryside, that's the type of thing you find on the way home!

  

I loved learning about the cheese-making process, even if I do find goats' eyes a little satanic. Inside the atelier, there were chèvres in all ages and stages, from the very fresh (my favorite), to further along in the affinage process.

When we finally left, the sky was dark and we were loaded down like little pack ponies. And, as it turns out, goat cheese was the perfect thing to bring back to Paris, a fragrant souvenir of a beautiful, fromage-filled weekend.

La Ferme du Champ

42660 St-Régis du Coin

tel: 04 77 51 87 32

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