November 2007 Archives

It's that time of the year, folks, when everyone's thoughts turn to baking. Coincidentally it's when the new crop of baking books are released, just in time for the sweet surge. This has been a pretty interesting year for cookbooks as the trends seem to be returning to books geared towards home bakers and cooks. Thankfully in my opinion.

Although some of these books were written by pastry chefs, all are geared towards the home cook. I've been making notes in each of them which desserts I plan to try in the upcoming months and I hope to share them with you as well.

The long-awaited book from pastry chef Elizabeth Falkner, Demolition Desserts show how this very talented San Francisco baker breaks down classic desserts, and reconstructions them into whimsical, yet sophisticated presentations.

Although at first glance these look complicated, I envision many of these recipes being adaptable and great on their own. Tapioca with Concord Grapes is one winning combination I'm eyeing.

But there's also simple Citizen Cake bakery classics: Chocolate Chip Cookies, Sticky Toffee Cupcakes, and puffy marshmallows which get dipped in a thin layer of dark chocolate at her bakery. If you're not afraid to tackle some projects in the kitchen—and many recipes aren't all that complicated—Elizabeth's book is a wild, wacky ride through the world of modern baking.

When Alice Medrich releases a new book, it's always a special event. And I've never made a recipe of hers that didn't go instantly into my 'winner' category.

This dessert is the result of a happy accident. I've been working with a liquor company on developing some recipes and after a couple furious days of recipe-testing, I had a zillion containers of various odds-and-ends lying around.

Some had banana, some chocolate. Most were spiked with various quantities of liquor and there were a number of orphans that I had no idea where they came from. And there was that bottle of dark rum that I needed to finish the last little sip of.

So what did I do?

I mixed them all up, tossed them in my ice cream machine and let 'er rip. After 30 minutes or so, I dug in my spoon in and tasted the most delicious batch of ice cream I'd churned up in a while.

But soon after, I got to work and discovered something—the world's easiest Chocolate Ice Cream...with no machine required!

Facebook

Welcome me to the 20th 21st Century! I'm now on Facebook.

Come. Be my friend!

Xmas in Frisco

It's back! SomaFM presents Xmas in Frisco for your holiday listening pleasure—or displeasure...

Newsletter

If you've subscribed to the newsletter, the most recent went out on November 17th. If you signed up and didn't receive it, you may have a firewall or some anti-spam program with your ISP which prevents bulk emails from coming through.

I woke up yesterday around 6am, and all I could think about was food.

Of course it was Thanksgiving, and there was so much to do. In spite of the strike, my friend David did manage to arrive just in time for dinner, a little sleep, and a early-morning trip to the outdoor market to load up on everything for a full day of cooking. And to explain to a lot of French people what Thanksgiving was all about.

We bought every kind of root vegetable we could find. And l'autre David, who's also a cook, insisted on roasting each one individually then combining them. I'm not sure that was necessary, but they were sure good since later on I happily ate my words. Our chestnut stuffing was another hit; French people don't eat big mounds of stuffing but hardly a bit was leftover. But what's not to like about buttery cubes of levain with roasted chestnuts, leeks, pruneaux d'Agen, and lots and lots of fresh sage and thyme?

It got me thinking about what makes a good cook since Thanksgiving food is some of the simplest fare there is.

Take mashed potatoes. There's very few ingredients. But if you have good russet potatoes, terrific butter, fromage blanc, sea salt, and freshly-cracked white pepper, you really can't go wrong. Indeed, one of the non-secrets of good cooking is to buy good ingredients and do as little to them as possible. You don't need me to tell you a nice ripe peach tastes much better than a hard, out-of-season one. Or freshly-made mashed potatoes tastes better than those goofy flakes from the box.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately since Michael Ruhlman, whose just released a new book book Elements of Cooking, and who began a new blog as well—Elements of Cooking, got me thinking. In his words, he writes in his new blog...

"(it's)...not a recipe blog--I'm interested in what doesn't change, what can't change, what is permanent, what is fundamental to the act of cooking. I am interested in not needing recipes."

I opened my jar of molasses to start my Thanksgiving baking...

I hope this isn't a bad omen.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

(And wish me luck...)

'Tis the beginning of the season for holiday baking. Years ago I gave the much-maligned fruitcake a makeover, dressing it up with plumped-up sour cherries, an overload of chocolate, and a boozy bath of liquor added at the end.

You may remember my fruitcake disaster, so I'm not about to give anyone advice on preservation techniques. And you'll notice my cake dipped a bit in the middle since I was playing around with French flour, which is softer than it's American counterpart.*

But in looking at it afresh, I like the graceful little dip, which I find rather appealing. And since everything else in Paris is on strike today, I thought I'd let Photoshop take the day off as well.

Something around here stinks.
And it's not just my neighbor.

When I moved to Paris, I remember my first load of laundry that I proudly pulled out of my little machine tucked in the corner.

After I figured out the seven different dials and nine different buttons on the machine (actually, I've still only managed to figure out what about a third of them do), I remember extracting my clothes from the machine and hanging them all out to dry on my shiny new rack that took me a few hours to buy at the BHV. In Paris, few people have dryers since it's verboten to cut holes in buildings to vent to the outside. And even though each load of laundry takes me the better part of 3 days instead of...say, an hour...I'm happy to report I've reduced my carbon footprint.

And I've also reduced my productivity at doing anything else.

In terms of desserts, it doesn't get much easier than this.

Affogato means 'drowned' in Italian, and any frozen dessert can meet this fate by tippling a little liquor or coffee over it. Classically, espresso is poured over Vanilla Ice Cream, but you'd have to be pretty hard-core to pour espresso over Espresso Granita. If I did that, I'd be ricocheting off the walls around here.

And because I live on the roof, I'm one caffeine-fueled tumble away from meeting my maker. Not my coffee-maker, mind you.
And we wouldn't want that to happen, now. Would we?

I still have so much to accomplish...like tackling those chocolate marshmallows...

I've been trying to convince my French friends that yes...marshmallows do go atop sweet potatoes.

But only once a year. And only on Thanksgiving.

Maybe more than Americans, French people do like marshmallows. A lot. You see them in many bakeries and pastry shops, often in long strands, on display either in lengths or tied into knots, in apothecary jars. It's a tradition that goes back, before the advent of gelatin, when marshmallows were made with mallow extract which was (and still may be) considered good for your respiratory system.

Nowadays the French eat lots of marshmallows, not necessarily on sweet potatoes, but as a candy or le snack. And my local pharmacy still carries them...although I don't think they're covered by my health insurance.

I know you're wondering why I'm not talking about chocolate since I just posted a slew of chocolate faqs. But I made this recipe for a birthday party last weekend and had to share it.

You can curse me now...but thank me later once you've tasted it.

...and yes, you're welcome. (In advance.)

A recent story on CNN talked about how America's Favorite French President, Nicolas Sarkozy, was not bourgeois, noting that he didn't grow up in a rarified family and as the (American) commentator exclaimed..."He didn't grow up eating pâté!"

I thought that was pretty funny since meaty pâtés and rillettes aren't upscale delicacies in France, but are considered everyday fare. And some of the best pâtés I've had were country-style spreads, or rillettes. Rillettes are usually made with long-cooked salted pork, rabbit, or goose, which is them shredded then mashed with fat to produce a rich, rustic paste for spreading on bread.

If you get a bad one, you'll think you're being served something intended for Rover.

But a good one, the best rillettes you find, are nearly buttery-smooth and rich with the taste of fork-tender meat.

Prompted by some of your comments and messages, here are some chocolate frequently-asked questions...

My chocolate has gray streaks. It is okay to use?

That's called 'bloom' and it happens when the chocolate melts or gets warm, and then cools again without being tempered. Those streaks are harmless cocoa fat rising to the surface because when it was warmed, it lost its emulsion (like chicken stock or vinaigrette does.) Similarly, if there are crystal-like formations on the surface, those indicate 'sugar bloom' and the chocolate is safe to use. In either case, the chocolate can be melted and used as normal.

If there is green mold, or anything furry, that means the chocolate got damp. In that case, it should be tossed.


How long does chocolate last?

I've received a number of questions about cooking classes in Paris recently.

If you're coming to Paris and would like information about cooking classes, whether you're looking for professional or classes geared towards the home cook, you'll find a comprehensive list that I put together at: Paris Cooking Classes

You can use the links provided to find out which are taught in English and/or French, as well as their schedule.

Bon Appétit!

Most people when they think of France, they think of only two places: Paris and Provence. While I'll admit both are lovely spots for a visit (or in the case of Paris, to live in), there's a lot more to this country than those two destinations. I suppose the romance of lavender in everything and hoards of tourists does have its appeal, but to me, Gascony is one of my favorite destinations in France.

And during my recent trip to Kate's kitchen, near Agen, we spent last weekend cooking up cassoulet of all sorts, tasting local products, and drinking Armagnac with great restraint (that stuff is st-rong!) There was lots of choose from, but to keep our wits about us, our primary fuel was the darkest vin rouge in France: Cahors, often called 'black wine', made from just up to the north of us, from the canal and boat I called home for the weekend.

(Note: This post contains photos of animals used for cooking, some resembling their natural state. It's part of life in the French countryside where that's part of their way of life. Just a mention in case you're sensitive to seeing things like that.)

...that people get over the fact that The Food Network isn't all about food and it isn't the place to learn how to cook.

It's probably never going to be and is simply entertainment. It's what it is. Criticizing them for the lack of serious cooking on their programs is like complaining that there's not enough hard-news in Jay Leno's monologue.

If you want to learn how to cook, crack open a cookbook by Richard Olney or Jacques Pepin, take a cooking class, or follow along while watching Julia Child on The French Chef on DVD.

...that people please stop using that phrase "Fat is flavor".

Espresso, ground cinnamon, marshmallows, red wine, maple syrup, fresh ginger, Ranch Gordo beans, arugula, soy sauce, cranberries, Château Yquem, Concord grapes and sea salt are delicious and absolutely loaded with flavor. Yet they have zero or just very trace amounts of fat.

Fat is not a hero nor is it a villain.

But if you think fat equals flavor, eat a spatula-full of Crisco vegetable shortening and let me know how it tastes.

If G. Detou didn't exist, I couldn't live in Paris.

Seriously. The overstocked, but impeccably neat shelves at G. Detou do indeed have everything, as the name implies in French (J. Detou is a play-on-words, meaning "I have everything".) But when you're someone like me that does an inordinate amount of baking, plus loves...and I mean loves...to discover new and unusual foods and chocolates, a place like G. Detou is truly pastry paradise.

This little shop near Les Halles is stocked, literally, floor-to-ceiling with everything a cook or baker could want. There's chocolates from across France, including a huge (and I mean huge) selection of bars including Michel Cluizel, Valrhona, Voisin, Weiss, Bonnat, Cacao Barry—the best of l'hexagone.

But even better are the big tablets and sacks that range from 3 to 5 kilos, that hard-cores bakers like me depend on. Although I'm not the only avid chocolate baker in town: When I was in last week, a tiny, meek little old lady came by and left hefting a 3-kilo sack of white chocolate, and a man in a hurry, who didn't remove the cell phone from his ear while he rattled off his order to the red-coated salesclerk, left with five enormous sacks of chocolate, as well as assorted other goodies.

Many times I've been with friends and family in Paris and we'll go into a food shop. Now I'm not picking on anyone in particular, so if you think I'm talking about you, I'm not. Think of this as a composite of lots and lots of people.

And I'm sure I'm guilty too, so I'll toss myself in that mix.

I'll show people something, say...the display of jams made by Alsatian Christine Ferber. She makes lots of different flavors from all sorts of fruits and they're supposed to be wonderful; the best in the world some say.