Ann Mah's Blog, page 30

Home sweet (simplified) home

Bonjour, mes amis! I'm so delighted to welcome bestselling author Claire Cook to talk about her new book, Best Staged Plans. I know from personal experience that Claire's novels are warm, witty and honest and I can't wait to read her latest, about a professional home stager trying to simplify her life. I chatted with Claire about home-staging tips, where she finds ideas, and how to assemble dinner from prepared food (shh!).

Back when I was a young assistant editor, I was thrilled to help edit your book,  Must Love Dogs, which became a feature film starring Diane Lane and John Cusack . Six books later, I'm wondering: how has the writing process changed for you?

I was thrilled that you helped edit Must Love Dogs, Ann. You were very sweet and unassuming, as well as a fabulous editor, but a couple of insightful comments you made outed you as an emerging writer. I was so excited when I heard you'd written your first novel and truly honored to be an early reader. And I think it's so cool that we've reconnected.

As for the writing process, eight books in, I've grown to enjoy it even more. Publishing, as you know, is a bit of a roller coaster ride, and the words on the page are the purest part of it, and the only thing you can really control. I've also learned to trust myself a bit more with each book. In the beginning, I thought everyone else had the magic answers, and I still think it's important to stay open to anyone who can help my writing become as good as it can be, but I've also gotten better at listening to myself. And my readers! I feel so lucky to connect with so many of them through Facebook and Twitter and my website, and it's really helped my writing to hear what resonates for them.

Where did you get the idea for Best Staged Plans?

I started thinking about what would be an interesting job to explore. For me, a huge part of the fun of being a novelist is that I get to live other lives vicariously. And I know my readers often get ideas for their own lives from my novels. Professional home staging seemed like the perfect midlife career – it's creative and flexible, life experience is an asset, and it's a growing field. And from there I thought, what if the heroine was a home stager who was struggling to sell her own house? Her husband was dragging his feet, and her borderline adult son moved home and was living in the basement bat cave….

Now that you're an expert, what advice would you give to people who want to hire a home stager – or even to become one?

Ha! I did lots of research, and there's plenty of solid staging advice in Best Staged Plans, but I'm hardly an expert. In fact, I keep telling everyone to ask me questions about things like de-cluttering and paint colors fast, before I move on to my next novel and forget everything I've learned! If you'd like to find a real, as opposed to a fictional, professional home stager, or look into becoming one yourself, a great place to start is The Real Estate Staging Association, a member-governed trade association for home stagers. On their website you'll find a list of accredited home stagers, a consumer's guide to home staging, information about training and accreditation, and lots more.

Do you and Sandy Sullivan, the narrator of Best Staged Plans, have anything in common?

Absolutely. We even live in an almost identical 1890s Victorian - it's such a cool house that I kept most of the details. And, like Sandy, I'm facing the choices and adventures that come with the whole empty nest stage of life. The comment I hear most often from readers is, "OMG, you're writing my life!" Well, that's because I'm living it, too! But even though this novel cuts close to some aspects of my own life, with all of my novels, I use bits and pieces of real details from my life, the lives of everyone who's brave enough to be friends with a novelist, things I've read or overheard at the gym or from the next table at a restaurant, and things I imagine. Then, it's as if I put them into an imaginary paper bag, shake them all up, and pull out all the pieces in a new order. I guess you could call it my Shake 'n' Bake method for writing a novel!

Sandy says she's past the cooking phase of her life. Instead she assembles meals using prepared ingredients. Even though I love to cook, that sounds pretty appealing, especially on busy nights! Can you share any of her secrets?

Dispose of the evidence very carefully! One of Sandy's tricks is to buy prepared, or partially prepared, food and pass it off as her own. Another is to douse whatever she serves with copious amounts of alcohol. And yet she's touched when her grown daughter serves her a meal she used to prepare for the family years before. I think the faux-cooking in Best Staged Plans really speaks to that almost-empty-nest phase of life when you're ready to sell that big old house and move on to an easier life. And then your almost-grown son moves back and takes over the basement, and your husband starts dragging his feet, and how in the world did you manage to accumulate so much stuff and how will you ever manage to get rid of it all? Sandy is a professional home stager, but when it's your own house, downsizing is not just about fixing up houses, but about fixing up lives.

You wrote your first novel while sitting in your minivan waiting for your daughter to finish swim practice. What's your best advice for women hoping to find their own next chapters?

Stop listening to the naysayers. Try things. Make mistakes. Get your computer skills up to speed. Work harder than everybody else. Remember that, as one of my characters once said, karma is a boomerang, and help other women along the way. And, of course, check out my reinvention page.

Are you looking for a fun summer read, mes amis? Claire is hosting a giveaway for readers who pre-order Best Staged Plans. Visit her  website  to learn details on how to win a Kindle, Nook, and/or beach bag filled with signed copies of her seven novels. Good luck!

Recent obsessions

I'm not sure why the heavy, spiky globe artichoke spoke to me in the market a few weeks ago, but it did and I brought it home. I meant to cook and eat it during the Royal Wedding, but who was I kidding? I could scarcely tear myself away from the TV to go to the bathroom, let alone the kitchen. I cooked it the next day and we ate it on a picnic, with a dollop of store-bought mayo. It was good, but I kept thinking: How can I make this better?

I'd never tried my hand at homemade mayonnaise before, but you know me — once I'd seized upon the idea, there was no stopping me. I read a few recipes, plucked an egg from the fridge, and started whisking the yolk and some olive oil together. Soon, I had a soupy, oily mess on my hands.

My mayonnaise had broken. Luckily, I'd read enough food memoirs and blogs to know this happens all the time. I turned to the internet and, after scouring these handy tips, diagnosed the problem as an icy egg yolk that had resisted emulsifying with room temperature oil. I warmed up another yolk, added the original mixture drop by drop and whisked until my arm fell off. And, ta da! Mayonnaise was made!

It was delicious — creamy, with a citrusy tang and a deep bitter olive oil undernote. My only quibble is that it was a bit too thin once I added a squeeze of lemon juice. Perhaps I need to make another batch to perfect my technique. Oh, yes, I really think I do.

Lemon Mayonnaise

Adapted from The Zuni Café Cookbook by Judy Rodgers

1 egg yolk, room temperature

Salt

1/2 cup (or more) mild olive oil

1/2 lemon

Note: I learned the hard way that the ideal temperature for ALL the ingredients (including the lemon) is 70ºF.

Whisk the yolk with a few grains of salt. Add the oil in a faint trickle and continue whisking constantly until the mixture becomes thick and sticky and you feel like your arm is going to fall off. When the mayonnaise is very thick — overly thick, really — add a squeeze of lemon juice and another dash of salt. Whisk and taste, adding more lemon juice or salt as necessary. The leftovers, thinned with lemon juice, make a delicious salad dressing.

P.S. If you follow me on Twitter (and I'd love it if you did) you know that I have some exciting (work) news to share. We're still tying up loose ends, but I will be back with a full report soon, soon, soon — je vous promets!

Cold combinations

It's ice cream season again in Paris and, if the long lines are any attestation, this stuff is to Parisians as those hideous boot-sandals are to teenage girls.

There are so many wonderful ice cream shops in Paris that I'll leave the deliberation over who's the best to the experts. (Though I've listed my favorites below.) Instead, I'd like to discuss a delicate topic: Ice cream flavor combinations.

See, in Paris you usually get two small scoops instead of one big one, and the decision of which two scoops can be very challenging. If you're anything like me, you can spend the entire 20-minute wait in line deliberating (and driving your husband crazy), selecting just the right pair of complementary (not clashing) flavors. Here are a few recent pairings:

Pistachio + strawberry sorbet (photo above)

Chocolate sorbet + cassis sorbet

Hazelnut + caramel au beurre salé

Vanilla + any berry sorbet (but kind of too easy)

Chocolate sorbet + pear sorbet (fantastic, like a belle poire Hélène)

What's your favorite ice cream, mes amis?

My favorite scoops

Berthillon

31 rue Saint-Louis en l'Ile, 4e

tel: 01 43 54 31 61

Christian Constant

37 rue d'Assas, 6e

tel: 01 53 63 15 15

Grom

81 rue de Seine, 6e

tel: 01 40 46 92 60

Asparagi

We've been eating a lot of the fast-growing stalk recently. My preferred method is 1) peel, 2) poach, 3) toss with lemon juice, 4) drizzle with olive oil, 5) sprinkle with parmesan, 6) eat. Mark Bittman had this asparagus flow chart in the NY Times last week with lots of other bright ideas. What's your favorite way to eat it? Also — white or green?

May flowers

 

As a bookish — let's admit it, nerdy — child, I was a fan of Louisa May Alcott's books. Not just Little Women, but her entire oeuvre, including a book called Jack and Jill, a rather preachy tale about two kids who are injured in a sledding accident and their subsequent convalescence. One of the scenes I remember most vividly from this book is of May Day, the first of May, when secret bouquets of flowers are left on the doorsteps. It's a charming idea, n'est-ce pas?

Fast forward 25 years to my first May Day in France, where I quickly learned that May 1st is la Fête du Travail — Labor Day — a day of demonstrations and manifestations, a day of celebration for the workers of the world.

But, it's also a day of flowers — of muguet, or lilies of the valley, to be exact. People sell small bouquets of the fragrant, bell-shaped blossoms on the street; during the Middle Ages, it was a symbol of spring. A former French teacher once told me it's traditional to offer a bouquet of muguet to your building's gardien(ne).

As a result, last Sunday I found myself acting out a childhood fantasy, fixing a tiny bouquet of flowers to our gardienne's door. I think I was probably more excited to leave it than she was to find it.

For more about the connection between muguet and the 1st of May, click here.

Do the tiny white flowers remind you of a certain (royal) wedding bouquet? This article explains the "rather twee language of flowers" at play.

Oh, to be in Britain

Are you planning on watching the Royal Wedding, mes amis? I am, even though I'm fully aware that makes me little bit cliché. I was six when Charles and Diana tied the knot and I can still recall getting up in the middle of the night (I grew in California, remember) to watch the bride and her puff of a dress proceed down the aisle. The horse-drawn glass carriage. The kiss on the balcony. Little girls' dreams are made of less.

So, yes, I'll be one of the two billion people watching the Royal Wedding. Which brings me to the next important question: What will I be eating? This is the type of occasion that calls for finger sandwiches. Or tiny scones. Dainty fruit tartlets. Slices of cake. Or these Patricia Wells potato-chive waffles with smoked salmon that I made for our Easter dinner last weekend. (Yes, my waffle iron is heart-shaped. It's a long story.) They'd be lovely washed down with a celebratory glass of Champagne.

But who am I kidding, mes amis? The Royal Wedding will be on the TV in my office, but I'll still be working tomorrow. I won't have time to make potato-chive waffles with smoked salmon, let alone finger sandwiches. I hate drinking during the day. Instead, I'll probably steam the artichoke I brought yesterday in the market, and treat myself to a royal dollop of mayonnaise. Maybe I'll buy some strawberries. It won't match the 10,000 canapes and savory tartlets on offer at the real wedding breakfast, but that doesn't mean my wishes for the royal match are any less sincere. Just one heart among two billion sending the bride and groom my very best, and hoping secretly that someone will send me a commemorative tea towel.

(Memorabilia via the Q project)

Picnicking in the Jardin du Luxembourg

One of my most favorite things to do in Paris when the sky is bright and the temperatures are balmy is to pack a picnic and go sit in the Luxembourg Gardens with a good book. Sometimes I'll cobble together a lunch of leftovers, more often I'll buy a sandwich on my way to the park (more on where to buy picnic supplies below). Last weekend, we toted along a sliced baguette and a mini-Epoisses, which was perfect until the moist cheese took a tumble in the dirt path rendering it inedible. Even so, it was a fairly idyllic lunch.

I have a favorite spot in the park, where I like to sit and read in cool and dappled shade. Sit. In a chair. Because, aside from a few narrow swathes of grass in the south section of the park, sitting on the lawn is forbidden. Interdit.

That doesn't stop people from sitting on the grass, of course. They come, one or two at a time, parking themselves on the empty stretch of green. I often think: Don't they wonder why no one else is sitting on the lawn? The answer, I believe, lies somewhere between "no" and "they don't care about the rules."

I know it's mean, but I can't help but get a perverse satisfaction from watching the gardien come and blow his whistle and chase the scofflaws away.

And then the lawn is empty again, a pure and unblemished sea of green.

Where's your favorite place to picnic (in Paris or elsewhere), mes amis? I'd love to hear!

Where to buy picnic supplies near the Jardin du Luxembourg?

La Grande Epicerie

38 rue de Sèvres, 7e

Prepared foods, amazing cheese, bread, and other grocery supplies.

Monop'

33 rue de Vaugirard, 6e

Drinks, chips, industrial-esque sandwiches and salads. Note: They'll give you plastic cups and cutlery if you ask at the cash register.

Le Petit Lux'

29 rue de Vaugirard

High quality baguette sandwiches and salads, some prepared dishes, lovely pastries.

Bread & Roses

7 rue du Fleurus

Overpriced but delicious quiches and pâtisserie (I love the tarte au citron).

A delicious week

What a week, mes amis! In between our trip to Nice and sundry writing projects, I hunted for my byline in the newspaper and managed to sneak in a few delicious bites. Here they are in no particular order:

1. Asparagus — I'm not sure it's really spring until I eat my first stalks. Luckily, the spears are currently shooting up like rockets. I like them best steamed and sprinkled with fleur de sel, olive oil and a dusting of Parmesan.

2. Gariguettes strawberries — A few years ago, I didn't understand the appeal. This year, I've come to appreciate their delicate, wild perfume. Are they expensive? Excruciatingly. But what's a few extra centimes in the face of a few short weeks of berry perfection? Am I becoming too French? C'est possible.

3. Tostadas — Much has been written about Candelaria, a new taqueria in the 3e. The tostadas — filled with pork carnitas, chicken, or queso fresco — are good, but it's the daily salsa that makes me weep with joy. On my first visit, it was a zingy blend of orange zest and habañeros. Yesterday's version featured peanuts, oranges and chiles. My only quibble is the communal bowl it's served in — I saw one guy dipping the bitten end of his taco right in, and I'm pretty sure the dirty look I sent his way didn't deter him in the slightest. (I didn't stick around to find out, though.)

4. Millefeuille au caramel — Is it delightful or dangerous that the pâtissier/chocolatier Jacques Genin is located right around the corner from Candelaria? His caramel millefeuille is a marvel in textures — crisp and creamy, with a deep, buttery browned sugar nuttiness.

5. Avocados on toast — Preferably with rough-crumbed country bread. It's my favorite breakfast (or lunch). Surely, I'm not the only one… right?

What were your favorite bites of the week, mes amis? I'd love to hear!

Candelaria

52 rue Saintonge, 3e

tel: 01 42 74 41 28

Jacques Genin

133 rue de Turenne

tel: 01 45 77 29 01

Nice

Ah, Nice — it is very, very nice. (How many times do you think that pun has been made in the history of the world?) I felt very lucky to spend a long weekend in this Côte d'Azur town by the sea, soaking up the Mediterranean light, skipping stones across the sea and eating socca. What's that, you ask? Read on…

Nice has its own cuisine and while salade Niçoise plays a role (though I didn't have any), perhaps the most beloved food in town is socca, a flat chick pea pancake snack.

  

At Thérèze's stand in the Cours Saleya market, the socca is baked elsewhere and delivered by motorbike. I had to fight for the last two portions, but the crisp-edged, sponge-centered pancake was worth the battle, especially when crowned with a jaunty sprinkle of pepper. We gobbled it down by the waterfront.

 

Of course, I couldn't stop there, not once I had the taste of socca in my maw. We sampled two more: Lou Pilha Leva (photo left) was disappointing, flabby, cold, and over-salted (to be fair, Thérèze's socca was also too salty). The clear winner was Chez René Socca (photo right), where I stood in line for 15 minutes and was rewarded by finger-stinging bits of pancake, the crisp surface giving way to a delicate creamy chick pea tenderness. The accompanying glass of rosé wasn't bad either.

I've had pissaladière, Provence's onion-topped pizza before, but this version at Restaurant de Gésù was among the best I've tasted. The onions were sweetly softened and the bread base had a pleasant chewy cakiness.

Just when I thought I knew Italian cuisine… it turns out raviolis are Niçois as well. These handmade beauties at Oliviera were filled with meat and topped with a lively tomato sauce. The restaurant doubles as an olive oil shop, and the kindly owner is knowledgeable about his wares, matching different oils to different dishes, like a sommelier might pair wine.

It is very, very difficult to conduct an internet search of restaurants in Nice — there are a lot of "nice restaurants" out there! But our Guide Routard (which I've transposed in my mind as "rude guitar") suggested Oliviera, and that was where that I ate my favorite meal of the trip. It was nothing special — just a plate of verdant spring vegetables: artichokes, slim and snappy asparagus, tender young fava beans, and arugula. All was bright and raw, garnished tout simplement with curls of Parmesan, a squeeze of lemon, and a drizzle of special olive oil from the Luberon. I left feeling refreshed and rejuvenated — and clutching a bottle of that special olive oil. Nice is very, very nice indeed.

Thérèze (socca)

Look for a red awning in the Cours Saleya market. Beware: She stops serving at 1pm.

Lou Pilha Leva

10 rue du Collet

tel: 04 93 13 99 08

Chez René Socca

2 rue Miralhetti

tel: 04 93 92 05 73

Restaurant du Gésù

1 place du Gésù

tel: 04 93 62 26 46

Oliviera

8bis rue du Collet

tel: 04 93 13 06 45

Easter sweets

I said recently that I don't have a sweet tooth. And that's (more or less) true. In my house, a box of chocolates can go untouched for months, but leave me alone with a block of cheddar and we've got Trouble with a capital T, that rhymes with C, and that stands for cheese.

There is, however, a holiday I love, just for the candy: Easter. In France, this means foil-wrapped eggs of chocolate praline and candy-shelled chocolate caramels. There are oversized chocolate bells and fish (I do miss the bunny). Tiny little ocean-themed chockies are called friture. For photos of all these treats, check out this Easter candy post from last year.

What's your favorite Easter sweet, mes amis? Also, have you ever given or received a live bunny rabbit?