At this Very Moment

I work on the upper floor of the library by the windows facing south east. There have been days when I've been there from early morning until after sunset: reading, writing, or failing to do either. From up there I see the rooftops of so many houses and buildings. Some are arched, some pointed, some flat. I see churches, schools, chimneys, and far in the horizon even the lake. Working at the library isn't easy. It's a public place and the fluorescent stale feel of it can be alienating. Sometimes when I feel fear and doubt creeping in I look away from the blinking curser on the screen and out of the window and imagine that it is a different city I'm looking at. 

On clear sunny days I focus on the churches and look at the blue line of the lake and imagine that this is somewhere in Italy. I look at people on bicycles and give them names like Francesca and Luigi. On rainy days I let my eyes hover unfocused in the few inches of fog that blur the tree tops and the pointed tips of some of the Tudor and Victorian buildings. This is London. The tops of the umbrellas move in small congregations of bright coloured circles and headlights double in puddles. When it snows and everyone down below has to deal with dirty slush on streets I am the lucky birds-eye daydreamer thinking of St Petersbourg. I listen at the tip of the hour for the University bell tower and imagine the snow covered domes of the church of Isidor and Nicholas: Ladies with fur collars and sun blocked by the snow clouds.

I don't seek escape in this. It is not a lack of love for my city or my life in its present place and time that I let my mind wander to places far away. It's something else. I think I find a humbling comfort in imagining so many lives in so many other places simultaneously existing and unfolding, each with its own sorrows and joys, hopes and desires, secrets and woes. When my sister was a child, my Dad would drive her crazy with a phrase he always offered when she was unhappy with something. Her tooth would be aching and he would say "do you know at this very moment how many children in how many different places in the world have toothaches?" Maybe back then her four-year-old heart found no comfort in that thought, but here I am, years later finding some relief in all the singularly significant features of all of those lives that my imaginary landscapes allow me even for just a moment to think about.

The recipe that follows is for a dish whose playful name will surely invoke the exotic for some, while it's humble origins and ingredients have for years brought simple comfort to many others. It takes some time to prepare but the depth of flavour achieved from layering all of these wonderful vegetables will add up to something bigger than their sum. You have my word. Just do me a favour: while you make it imagine how many people around the world are making ratatouille...

Ratatouille

2 stalks of Celery 

2 small carrots

1 onion

2 red bell peppers (roasted, deseeded, skinned, and chopped)

1 can Crushed tomatoes

1 clove Garlic

2 aubergines 

1 green zucchini

1 yellow zucchini

2 firm roma tomatoes

salt to taste

pepper to taste

herbs de Provence to taste (savory, fennel, basil, thyme, and lavender)

Finely dice celery, carrot, and onion and saute until soft and coloured. Add finely chopped garlic and cook another minute. Add the chopped red pepper that you have roasted (on flame or in oven), deseeded, and skinned. Add the can of crushed tomatoes, season to taste, and bring everything to a boil. Simmer some of the liquid off and process using a hand blender or potato masher to get an even and slightly bumpy red sauce. 

In the mean time slice the chinese eggplant (aubergine), zucchini, and tomato into thin rounds (as thin as you can mange without cutting yourself- or use a mandoline if you have one). If you have a sister around tell (or ask) her to do this part. 

In a cast iron pan or baking dish a few inches deep, spread a healthy layer of red sauce and begin arranging the vegetables in concentric circles starting from the outside. Alternate between the vegetables, though not obsessively because that would take ages. Try to pack them in really tightly and only slightly tilted (almost standing right up in the sauce) because they will shrink as the liquids in them cook out. Season with salt and pepper as you go. Fill any gaps with extra vegetable rounds or red sauce.

Mix some Herbs de Provence with a few tablespoons of olive oil and pour over the top when you're done.

Cover with foil and cook in a 300 degree oven for 2 hours. Uncover and cook for another half hour in a slightly hotter oven and you're good to go. It makes a good vegetarian dish with bread or potato, but we love it most as a steaming side scoop to a roasted chicken. 

Eat, Memory

My grandpa always joked that my parents bought me from a gypsy family that passed through town. He'd look at me through the slight gap above his reading glasses and say " that's why you can't sit still, and you have music in your blood." Well, the wind was blowing again, and my heart was restless, and I was listening to Beirut, and one morning in February I opened my eyes and I was in Paris. I think we all know that things are never that simple, but to try and explain everything that led to my trip and everything that happened while i was away, and how it felt when I returned would be like including instructions for making butter, milking cows, grinding flour,and washing dishes, in a pancake recipe. It's been a while since I wrote here... if I'm a little rusty bear with me.


There was a bakery downstairs from my tiny room in Paris, where most of my days were begun. The coffee was decent and though like most bakeries in Paris, croissants and baguettes were a plenty, what caught my eye on the first visit, and accompanied my coffees on every subsequent day of my trip was a large plain-looking cookie that a neat paper sign taught me to call a Sablé Au Beurre. This cookie stole my heart with its honest flavour and satisfying texture, but also because when I first tasted one it reminded me of something I could not place. I told the baker (who also worked at the counter) about this hazy distant taste memory and he told me with a smile, that if I ate one every morning I might eventually remember.

On my last morning, when I opened the bakery door he was already grabbing my cookie with a square of waxed paper. I explained that I would like a few more this time, that I would be returning home, and was going to miss the cookies. He told me to wait while he grabbed a small box. I waited for what seemed liek too long to grab a box. It all made sense when he came back and gave me the recipe. As I walked away from the bakery I thought to myself that when I bake these cookies at home, it will be in the future, and that the present moment in Paris, which would then constitute the past, would be the memory I would attach to these cookies... so I stopped trying to figure out what other more distant thing they were reminiscent of. Here I offer you the recipe for what I now think of as the cookies i ate whilst walking around alone in Paris. It's nice to be writing here again. I had really missed it.


Sablé Au Beurre

150g unsalted butter at room temperature
115 g white sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla (his recipe calls for vanilla powder but i used extract)
1.4 tsp citrus zest (whatever you have on hand)
2c A.P. flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350 and line two baking trays with parchment or silicone.

With a Hand mixer, beat the sugar and butter for 3 minutes on medium speed. It will be light and fluffy. Then add the egg, vanilla, and zest. Beat one more minute. In a separate bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients. Add the two together and mix until the mixture is crumbly.

Turn out onto a floured board and bring the dough together with your hands. form a short thick log and cut it in half. Press each half down slightly into a disc, wrap in plastic a refrigerate for 15minutes. Using a rolling pin and on a floured surface, roll out to about 1/4" thickness, cut into desired shapes and place on a parchment lined baking tray.

These cookies should not spread, so they do not need to be too spaced out. Using a sharp knife score the surface of the cookies and brush the tops with egg wash (1egg beaten with 1tsp milk or water). Bake 8-12minutes or until the tops are golden brown.

NOTE: if you are baking in batches, keep what you are not baking in the fridge while the rest bake, and apply the egg wash JUST before putting the cookies in the oven. Also, the the cookies I ate in paris were the size of the palm of my hand, but I only have smaller cutters, which make cookies this size:

Newness

This is Pipp. He is the newest addition to my family. he started out really small and has just moved into his bigger tin can. I have a feeling he's gonna need even more space soon. I've been trying to incorporate a lot of herbs into what I cook these days just to keep up with the ones I have in my kitchen. Soon I'm gonna have to resort to pesto-making, but it's still under control. Sweet basil in a savory crepe with cracked pepper and pecorino romano, which the cheese lady didn't let me pay for? So I went home for lunch today, you can probably tell. It was indulgent and brilliant.

All Purpose Crepes

2 eggs (get real farm eggs they're delicious)
1 1/4c good milk
1c sifted flour (a.p. or pastry will do)
pincha salt
1tsp sugar
2 tbsp melted butter or other oil you like

Mix the above ingredients really really well. If you feel like cleaning a blender, you could use that but I just used my big big whisk and burned some calories. The consistency should ideally be like heavy cream. If it's like custard, you need more milk. You want a runny batter with no clumps.

Chill covered for about an hour. I made mine in the morning before I went to work and used it at lunch. That worked just fine.

In a non-stick crepe pan/frying pan that has been lightly oiled on medium heat, cook 1/4c batter at a time. Swirl the pan to get a thin and even(ish) crepe but don't fuss. You'll wreck a few and get the hang of it. cook for a minutes or so per side, and use your own judgment for doneness, pans and batters vary, of course. If you're like me and you cooked way too many crepes, cook the ones you're not eating a little less and wrap and refrigerate them. Then when you want to eat one, you can heat it on the same pan and it won't brown too much.
So so good. I promise.

I couldn't resist. I had a sweet one with brown sugar and lemon, too.

Morning Magic

Some mornings you feel like a hot shower and a pot of tea with milk and sugar. Some mornings you want an espresso, a croissant, and a collection of short stories. And some mornings you want to take some time and make breakfast. It's different than wanting to eat breakfast. The pleasure is in the time you take to think about what you want to make, in gathering the ingredients from the fridge and cupboards, and in slowly putting it all together while sipping your coffee and listening to your favorite morning show on the radio. Here's a recipe for such a morning when you feel completely up for the simple yet precise work of making lovely and delicate crèpes and some suggestions for how you might want to dress them . Remember, though, as far as toppings go, the only recipe to follow is your own feelings cravings and moods...


Recipe: Simple Crèpes
2 large eggs
3/4c milk
1/2c water
1c flour
3tbsp melted butter
butter for the pan

Pulse all of the ingredients in a blender until smooth and evenly mixed (about 10sec), and refrigerate for 30min-1h. This gets rid of the bubbles so your lovely crèpes won't tear in the cooking process.

Heat a nonstick pan or crèpe pan on medium heat and coat with butter. Pour a ladle full of the runny batter in the middle and swirl to spread it thinly and evenly. Cook for about 30 seconds and using a spatula or something flat, flip and cook the other side for another 30 seconds.

The first crèpe is never good but it helps you gauge. Judging by the first one you can adjust the heat, the butter in the pan, and the amount of batter per crèpe. Continue cooking your crepes and stack them in a warm but not hot oven until you want to serve them. The batter keeps for 48 hours so you don't have to cook them all at once.

Suggested toppings:

˙Fresh lemon juice and brown sugar
˙Butter cinnamon and maple syrup
˙Nutella and fresh raspberries
˙Ricotta cheese and cherry preserve
˙Procuitto and fresh figs...

The Episode of the Madeleine

It's true. Memories register with different senses, and taste is a big one. In A La Rechereche Du Temps Perdu, Proust's protagonist, Marcel, eats one of these little cakes and can't help but be transported back to his childhood. He calls it "involuntary memory". I like that. I eat these cakes and am transported too; certainly not to Marcel's Combray, but instead to my Tehran of the 1990's where corner stores sold little cakes and individual bottles of chocolate milk. It amazes me to think that my brain has packed so much in with the simple taste of a sweetly dense sponge cake, but it has, and I can't help indulging in these lovely recreations.



Recipe: Lemon Glazed Madeleines

3 large eggs (room temperature)
2/3 cup sugar
1 tspn vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1 1/4 cup pastry or all purpose flour
1 tspn baking powder
zest of one whole small lemon
9 tablespoons (120g) unsalted butter, melted and cooled to room temperature, plus additional melted butter for the molds

For Glaze (which is optional, but recommended)
3/4 cup icing sugar
1 tbspn freshly-squeezed lemon juice
2 tbspn water

First brush the insides of the madeleine molds with melted butter, dust with flour, shake excess and put in freezer. Do not take this step lightly, because these little things will stick.

Using an electric mixer or egg beater, whip the eggs, sugar, vanilla and salt for 5 minutes or until thick and frothy. Sift the flour and baking powder in a separate bowl. Sift/sprinkle the flour mixture into the wet ingredients, gently folding them in with a spatula. Add the lemon zest to the cooled butter, then pour the butter into the batter, a little bit at a time, while simultaneously folding to incorporate everything. Fold just until all the butter is incorporated. Cover and refrigerate for at least one hour.

To bake, preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Scoop a rounded tablespoon of batter into each mold, leaving the batter in a mound (it spreads itself out in the heat). Bake 10-12 minutes or until the cakes are puffy and golden brown. While the cakes are baking, mix the ingredients for the glaze and set aside. After removing from the oven, and as soon as the cakes are cool enough to handle, dip them into the glaze. They should be warm when you do this. Allow excess glaze to drip off and set them on the cooling rack and wait while they cool and the glaze sets.

Serve with coffee, tea, or milk, and see where they take you...

Playing With Fire

Your dictionary will try to convince you that crème brûlée means burnt cream, but oh it's so much more. It's a velvety, smooth, voluptuous bed of custard under an impossibly crisp sugar crust. If that hasn't won you over yet, consider this: you also get to play with a blow torch. Sold. Right? I was never crazy about making these, because of the hot water bath baking and all the fuss with the splitting creme. Then I came across Nigella's method and couldn't resist. No baking, no water bath, just a whisk and a little patience. The night we made this, our vegan friends dropped by unexpectedly and when they saw what was on the table they both sinned. Can you blame them? Here's how to make your own...

Recipe: Crème brûlée

Ingredients:
1 1/4 cups heavy cream
1/2 vanilla bean
4 egg yolks
1 generous tablespoon granulated sugar
Approximately 3 tablespoons Demerara sugar

Start by placing 4 shallow individual ramekins in the freezer. Alternatively you can use one larger dish. Chop a vanilla pod in half and scrape the lovely seeds out. Pour the creme into a saucepan with the vanilla seeds and bring to the boiling point, but do not continue to boil.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg yolks and the granulated sugar together. While whisking the egg and sugar, pour the creme into the bowl. Continue whisking to avoid scrambling your eggs. Pour everything back into the saucepan and cook over medium-low heat until the custard thickens (about 10 min). Nigella says "You do want this to be a good, voluptuous crème, so don’t err on the side of runny caution."

When the custard is thick and nice, get your dish(es) out of the deep freeze and pour it in. Leave outside to cool for about 10 minutes and put in the refrigerator till truly chilled. Just before serving, generously sprinkle the tops with demerara sugar and burn using a blowtorch until bubbles form. Cool for a moment and Serve. It's best to make the sugar crust just before serving, If you sprinkle the sugar and don't burn it immediately, the sugar will absorb moisture and you will end up with a shell that is chewy instead of crisp.

Note: You can buy a small kitchen blowtorch at most kitchen stores these days. They're much smaller than the hardware store kind, but just as effective. And please, be careful.

Cassoulet à la Child

After watching one of the competitors on Top Chef plate a spoon full of 'garbanzo beans' (i.e. chickpeas) and call it cassoulet the other night, I was inspired to try and make our own version of the traditional French pork and bean stew. We had some pork and liver sausage, some ribs and lots of beans (feel free to substitute any legumes you like), so the rest was actually quite simple. To make cassoulet, it really just requires a bit of patience and lots of tasty, hearty ingredients as well as the right herbs, and some bread crumbs to dust on top. There's a lots of different versions out there, but we roughly followed an old Julia Child recipe for ours.

Recipe: Pork and beans cassoulet

4 pork & liver sausages, parboiled and sliced into medallions
1lb spare ribs, parboiled and sliced
1 red onion, diced
4 celery shoots, chopped
2 large carrots, chopped
1 large can of whole tomatoes, pureed (or buy already crushed tomatoes if you don't have a food processor. But they'll taste way better if they're whole and you do the pureeing at home)
1C lima beans, rehydrated or canned
1/2C fava beans, rehydrated or canned
1/2C kidney beans, rehydrated or canned
1/4C drinking wine
2 tablespoons of olive oil
2C of bread crumbs
1 bunch of fresh thyme, tied tightly

First off, parboil your ribs and and sausages in a large pot for about half an hour or until they're cooked through and starting to get tender. Set meat aside and save the liquid to add as stock later. When the meat is cool enough to handle, slice sausage into medallions and tear the ribs into small pieces. Next, Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.

In the same pot, add the olive oil and adjust to medium-high heat. Saute your chopped onion, celery and carrots for 3 to 5 minutes or until they start to soften.

Add the meat back to the pot and stir briefly. next, dump in all of the beans and stir the pureed can of tomatoes throughout the meat, beans and vegetables. Now add whatever wine your drinking and then pour in enough of your reserved meat stock to fully submerge everything in the pot by about a half inch or so. Drop in the bunch of thyme, tied tightly in twine, and simmer on medium heat, stirring occasionally, for 10 to 15 minutes or until the mixture has thickened.

Remove the thyme and dust the top of the cassoulet evenly with a quarter inch of bread crumbs, no more and no less. If you want, you can also try cutting the bread crumbs 50-50 with finely grated Parmesan to give it a rich, but decidedly unFrench finish. Bake for 20 to 30 minutes or until the bread crumbs are golden-brown.