April 2007 Archives

I've been teaching English to a couple of my friends here, and the other day I tossed in a phrase they'd never heard before:

After I said it, I realized I'd made a rather important error, so I corrected myself:

I also accompanied it with a raised index finger moving side-to-side with my head moving from side-to-side at the same time, but in the opposite direction of my finger.

My friend Florence looked at me with great interest, and asked, "And when would you use this expression?"

I wasn't quite sure what to tell her.

(After I said it, I realized that I probably shouldn't have since if the phrase catches on, someday in the future you might go to a café or restaurant in Paris and the waitress will tell you to do just that...and you'll know who to blame.)

It's pretty overwhelming visiting a fromagerie.

After years of trying as many French cheeses as I could, I've settled on a few favorites that I go back to over and over, which include moist, piquant Roquefort de Carles, which I like drizzled with chestnut honey, little rounds of tangy chèvre and ash-covered Selles-sur-Cher, and nutty Comté from the French alps, which if you taste one that's been aged 30 months, I assure you you'll never buy any other affinage (ripeness) of Comté.

When people ask me which cheese to buy, though, I turn the tables on them, asking them what kind of cheese they like. Do they like dry, sharp, nutty, or powerful cheeses? Thankfully because there's so many choices out there, there's no right or wrong answers. Only what you like. Unfortunately, I pretty much like them all.

Ok, scratch pretty much...and let's just say I like..er..love them all.

But I rarely visit a fromagerie with a laundry list of cheeses I want to buy.

Instead, while waiting every-so-patiently in line, I crane my neck around madame in front of me and use that time to see what looks the best that day. Often the fromager will leave the most popular cheeses, like brie de Meaux, within easy reach of her since invariably just about everyone wants a wedge of that. Especially if it's so oozingly-ripe and pungent that just lifting the big, gooey wheel is virtually impossible. Camembert du Normandie is another cheese that's popular, but I'm always sure to get one that's not industrial, since the artisanal and AOC ones are invariably more delicious.

(I don't understand why anyone buys the crummy ones when the excellent ones are so easily-available. But I guess the same holds true in the states: people choose American-singles over the decent cheddar that's widely available. Tant pis, as they say...)

Kudos!

A big congratulations to Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg for winning the IACP Cookbook of the Year with What You Drink With What You Eat. Out of the seemingly zillions of cookbooks that come out each year, to be recognized by your peers so highly is quite an honor. And just in case you forgot, you heard about it here first with my interview.

New & Notable Cookbooks

A few other notable cookbooks are out, including Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Cooking, which has been getting well-deserved kudos. I plan to write up more about the book, including a delicious strategy for incorporating whole-grains in chocolates. And I don't mean cakes, brownies and cookies, I mean chocolate itself.
Stay tuned...

Clotilde's book Chocolate & Zucchini is on it's way as well, and I'm looking forward to diving into some of her all-new recipes. Although I've already sneaked a peek, after the terrific write-up in the NY Times, I'm sure her loyal fans and a legion of new ones, will be as delighted as I am with her book.

I also couldn't be more thrilled that Jane Grigson's Vegetable Book and Jane Grigson's Fruit Book are back in print. Her fruit book is one of my all-time favorite cookbooks (actually, it's perhaps in my top 3!) and the introduction to the new edition of the vegetable book is written by super-duper food blogger Amy Sherman.

It's finally spring in the air in Paris.

And springtime is when a young man's fancy turns to...yup, you guessed it—chocolate.

What's that?

That isn't what you were thinking?

Shame on you.
Keep those sordid thoughts to yourself.

As the temperature starts climbing higher and higher (although I'm still not putting away my gloves and scarves quite yet...), I realize that it's time for me to use up all those bits and pieces of chocolate that I have lying around all over the place, tempting me all winter, but which will soon turn into molten blobs if I don't act fast. There's chunks leftover from tastings, samples sent to me from companies, and pieces I've acquired from my travels here and there.

So I thought I'd create a recipe for Chocolate Espresso Mousse Cake to use 'em all up. This is one of my favorite types of ways to serve chocolate in a cake: strong, bittersweet, and creamy-smooth with a soft, luscious melt-in-your-mouth texture that's so tender it practically evaporates seconds after you take a bite, but the intense chocolate flavors lingers on and on and on. Bliss.

If you want to see a what a human head looks like when it explodes, there's no reason to waste your money on tickets to the latest Mel Gibson movie.

Just take me to Ikea.

At first, it seems the shopping day is going to be a lot of fun as you prepare for the big trip, flipping through that cheery Ikea catalog featuring handsome Scandinavian families in sun-splashed Ikea homes: making dinner in their BRANJELLËENA kitchen, happily working away at their SKÅRI LARIKINGG desk, and tucking the kids in for the night between their FØRSKYNNE sheets.

And for those of us not fortunate enough to: 1) Be unbelievably handsome with strong Nordic features, 2) Live in a sun-dappled townhouse with kids, perfectly-arranged by size, weight and material, and 3) Have every kitchen utensil, perfectly arranged by size, weight and material—in other words, for those of us who live space-challenged, in petite Parisian apartments, the appeal of folding tables, chairs, silverware, etc..etc... holds a definite hypnotic appeal.

(We who live by the rule that you can't bring anything into your apartment until you get rid of something else. Just flipping through those shiny-fresh catalog pages is enough to make you start drooling about all the things you're going to buy to fill up all that newly-free space.)

So you make a list of all the fun items in the catalog you're going to buy, like sets of nesting storage containers so you can organize all your breakfast cereals and display them by size, weight, and material in your Ikea dream kitchen and you can finally replace the glassware that's been irreparably-ruined by Parisian calcaire because you're too lazy to wash yours by hand.

Before the release of her new book, many of you probably didn't know who Dianne Jacob is, since she was often behind-the-scenes, working with writers, chefs and journalists. But in fact, Dianne is one of the most seasoned food writers and editors around and has become quite well-known because of the excellent advice and guidance she's generously been giving out to other writers. Diane's been a journalist since 1978 and is currently a writing instructor and coach that helps aspiring authors hone their craft. You can read more about her work and read her articles at her website.

Her biggest achievement is her latest book, Will Write For Food, a wonderful guidebook to the world of food writing which has just gone into its fourth-printing. I can't say enough good things about this book and it's the first place I send anyone who asks me about the nitty-gritty on what it takes to write about food; from how to write your first proposal to how much you can expect to make from the finished book.

With helpful tips from well-known chefs and food writers like Harold McGee, Alice Medrich, Amanda Hesser plus powerful literary agents and top-notch cookbook editors—Will Write For Food is a must-read!

I receive many messages asking about the business of food writing, so I was thrilled when Dianne agreed to let me interview her here on the site. And because so many of you have questions of your own, Diane's agreed to answer yours here on the site. If you have a question or comment, please leave it in the Comments below and she'll be answering your questions here throughout the week.

David: Hi Dianne, thanks for taking the time to answer some questions for me and my readers. As someone who's a seasoned writing coach and editor, what are the three most important tips you would give to aspiring food writers?

Dianne Jacob:

A blog is an online diary where you can write about what you see and what you eat. It's a marvelous thing that you can use to share your culinary experiences for everyone to read.

The flip side of having a blog is that others can, and do, read it.

A while back I wrote something about a chocolate shop in the Marais that I once walked by with a friend, a very talented chocolatier from Brussels. He looked in the window and didn't find the presentation all that enticing. So I wrote a few words about the place here on the site, a comment he made in passing, that wasn't necessarily glowing nor was it desultory. (Either way, I'm off the hook. He said it, not me.) But it was enough to invoke an email from someone at the company about a year later. But it wasn't signed by Joséphine Vannier.
Maybe it was a pseudonym for Her Divine Greatness! herself.

I can't find the message, but it went along the lines of, "David: Let us assure you that our chocolates are very fine and we invite you to come and try them."

Or something to that effect. There was definitely an emphasis on the words 'us' or something about coming in for a 'meeting' that I recall rather distinctly

Seizing the opportunity, I responded, saying I'd love to come in and get shown around, hopefully by the elusive Joséphine herself, and to be properly introduced to her chocolates with her expert help.
Alas, a response was not forthcoming: I never heard back.

Last weekend I wanted to see Dreamgirls.

Unfortunately, though, Dreamgirls had come-and-gone through Paris already. Movies do that around here; if you hesitate, they're gone by the time you're ready to see them. Kinda like waiting in line in Paris; if you're not ready when it's your turn, there's someone ready to hop in front and take your place.

However it was playing in a distant suburb, so I would've had to take a métro, then an RER train, and finally a bus. So I decided to use this entry to tell you that I was not going.

(And I'm staying far away from any jokes regarding African-American women, since I don't want to get suspended fired from my blog for two weeks.)

But I would like to tell you that I will be going somewhere.

The water is Paris is rife with calcium.
Which perhaps means there's a low rate of osteoporosis in women around here.

But it also means for the rest of us, we have to deal with this:

All of my glassware has developed these calcium-deposits which I can't seem to get rid of.

(And, embarassingly enough, someone asked me recently, "Um. Could I get a clean glass please?")

Oh, the humiliation...

But why, I ask? Why me?

Because je suis Parisian, I dump sel to my dishwasher and dutifully pop in one of my beloved Powerballs which releases its magic during each and every spin through the machine. Still, my glasses are covered with calcium. I've also soaked them in white vinegar, a must-have around here to combat the calcium buildup that blocks our faucets and water heaters as well.

And for my last desperate attempt to solve the problem once and for all, yesterday I splurged on a fine bottle rinçage (rinse agent) that was priced more than a moderately-good Burgundy, and washed everything again.

Nothing. I eagerly opened the door of the dishwasher the second the final cycle was done in great anticipation. But through the moist, hazy steam, I lifted a glass skyward and with the sun streaming through, my normally-cheery spirits dropped when I saw the stubborn white film had refused to budge from the sides of the glasses.

What can I do?
I'm can't go out in public, and the weather's getting too nice to hide myself indoors, shrouded in shame, for much longer...

The previous post got me thinking...

What's the weirdest, most unusual thing you've ever eaten?

Leave it in the comments!

(And this has nothing to do with this topic, but this is the most unusually-focused, in-depth food blog I've ever seen. Who knew?)

Sometimes when I'm dining with others, the conversation has a way of drifting towards organ meats. Which we Americans, in general, tend to avoid. I guess it makes us an easy target and since I don't like them much either, you may as well paint a bulls-eye on my forehead.

"You Americans!" I hear, "You are afraid to eat anything."

But by now, I've gotten pretty good at this.

So I respond, "Well, do you eat dog?"

To which they responded with appreciable horror.

"Well, some people from other cultures eat dogs and cats. Do you eat them?"

Touché.

I never understand why people feel they have to convince you to eat something you don't want. What's it to them?

Take squid, for example.

When I was finalizing the recipes in The Perfect Scoop, I was conflicted about something sweet.

Even more so than I usually am.
Some might call it a character flaw; I call it normale.

I wrote too many recipes and I needed to make room for all the sumptuous photography.
I'll admit once I got started I got a bit too eager and couldn't stop myself from churning up all sorts of great flavors. Although I did include a fabulous recipe for Pear Caramel Ice Cream, which gets its smooth richness from caramelized pears rather than boatloads of cream and egg yolks, I decided since my first book had a killer-good recipe for Caramel Ice Cream, that would suffice for ice cream fans.

Then I got a desperate message from a clever kitten asking about Salted Butter Caramel Ice Cream, asking if I had a recipe as good as the one at Berthillon in Paris.

One of the most confusing things for visitors to Paris is figuring out the tip system. Unlike the US where tips are expected (and considered part of the wages paid), in France by law a 15% gratuity is always included in the price wherever you eat or drink. No matter what anyone says, a service charge or tip is always included. Period. Guidebooks often underscore this fact, reminding you that the tip is included. But also they add that it's okay to leave extra.

I don't like to stir things up too much around here. Last time I did that, I got my ass kicked in the comments. Truth be told, I'm a people-person and try to see the good in everything and everybody no matter what.

Heck, I'm even listening to Up With People! as I'm typing right now...

I don't like to trash people or companies in general. But sometimes, every once in a while, someone needs to get their pee-pee smacked.

And in this case, it's Hershey's.

Normally I make it a point to eat the best-quality chocolate I can since the good stuff has the same amount of calories as the bad stuff. Because I live in Paris, depending on how you feel about it, I don't eat much Hershey's chocolate. But when you have a blog, no matter where you like, you get 'sales pitches' from pr folks wanting to send you products to that they hope you'll mention favorably on your blog. I like to try new American products and since I don't live where they're easily found, I let the ones that sound interesting come my way.

But one French company insisted (repeatedly, against my better judgment) on sending me a food basket of goodies a while back.

Don't hate me when I tell you this:

Last week I was invited to La Maison du Chocolat.

But not just to one of their swanky boutiques in Paris, the marble-lined, cocoa-hued temples where people flock to worship at the alter of founder Robert Linxe. (And yes, you can count me as one of the converted.) Instead I was invited to tour their chocolate production laboratoire just outside the city.

Descending the RER train in the nondescript suburb of Nanterre, we finally came upon a beige building that was scrupulously clean; we knew we'd arrived at le mothership.

Robert Linxe, who was born in the Basque region and founded La Maison du Chocolat, was one the major proponents of using ganache in his chocolates; that slightly-airy amalgamation of chocolate and cream. Then he went on to develop a flavor palette of ganache-based chocolates...and the rest is one of the most successful stories in chocolate history.

Because I'm out of my mind, once I get something stuck in my craw, I'm not okay until I get it all figured out once and for all. I guess that's why I'm a baker. Because I'm insane. When I got my new espresso maker, I became obsessed with that too, and I needed to figure out how to pull the best espresso out of it as I could, like they do in Italy.

So what did I do? I went to Italy.
Mais oui.

Although I got a lot of questions answered there, new ones kept popping up when I got home. And when I posted about my trip there were some enlightening comments, especially from Greg Sherwin of CoffeeRatings.com. I clicked away, delving deeper into his site where there was much top-notch information and we began corresponding.