July 2008 Archives

If I had to compile a list of the top five National Dishes of France, right up there would be carottes râpées, or grated carrot salad. And it's everywhere. You'll find it on many café and bistro menus, charcuteries sell it by the kilo, and even mega-supermarkets add a few extra ingredients for 'safekeeping' and sell it packed up in rectangular plastic containers, ready to go.

Which, I probably don't need to add, should be avoided at all costs.

If you order salade de carottes râpée in a restaurant, you'll just get a pile of carrots with a wedge of lemon on the side. My frugal grandmother would've flipped; "Why order something you can make at home?" she'd say to me if I ordered something like, say...a nice-looking fruit salad in a restaurant.

I don't know the answer to that.

French people often drink apéritifs before dinner, but rarely cocktails. Americans who come to Paris are often perplexed when the waiter asks them: "Vous desirez un apéritif?" and a few minutes later, they're handed a glass of red Martini & Rossi instead of the straight-up, dry martini that they thought they had ordered.

And another heads-up: tourists are equally perplexed when the check arrives and they find that that dinky demi-flute of kir Royale costs more than their main course.

Well, they may claim to "Sell no wine before its time"...

...but they don't mention anything about after it...

Well, it's the end of July and Paris has, at long last, warmed up. It's actually so warm here that—get this: a few Parisians actually went out without scarves tied up around their necks!

While we're all enjoying the Parisian sunshine, over in Istanbul, Cenk at Café Fernando churned up a batch of Vietnamese Coffee Ice Cream, from my ice cream book, which looked so lovely, I couldn't stop thinking about it while I was wandering around Belleville the other day. If you don't know the area, Belleville is a lively ethnic neighborhood in Paris where there's lots of Paris Pas Cher stores; huge variety stores where you can find everything from hair extensions to cookware—really, really cheap.

Probably scarves, too, but I ain't exactly in the market for one at the moment.

With summer in full swing, I've noticed some interesting ice cream and sorbet recipes popping up around the web. Here's a few scoops that are keeping people cool this summer...

Lemon Balm Ice Cream (Accidental Hedonist)

Plum Sorbet (Simply Recipes)

Homemade Ice Cream Drumsticks (Baking Bites)

Vegan ice cream (Vegan Ice Cream)

Pineapple Ginger Sorbet (Mark Bittman)

Spaghetti Ice Cream

Granny Smith Lemon Grass Sorbet (delicious:days)

Semolina Halva with Turkish Ice Cream (Café Fernando)

Rose Strawberry Sorbet (Vegan Visitor)

Blackberry Lemon Verbena Sorbet (LynnyLu)

Vegan Basil Ice Cream (Couscous Kitchen)

Coconut Avocado Ice Cream (Perfect Pantry)

Brown Butter Ice Cream (Michael Laiskonis)

Pistachio Gelato (Chocolate & Zucchini)

Chocolate Sorbet (Smitten Kitchen)

Homemade Fudgicles (Serious Eats)

Brownie Cookie Ice Cream Sandwiches (Food Beam)

Lemon Verbena Ice Cream (dl)

Golden Raspberry and White Peach Sorbet (Chocolate Gourmand)

Related posts:

Ice Cream Making Tips

More Scoopers...

They're Scoop-endous!

I had big plans for this cake. I bought these gorgeous apricots, packed them up to take out to the country last weekend to make a cake. I planned to pick some rose geranium leaves to flavor the batter, and I was going to bake it and serve it proudly forth.

Except someone decided to use my perfectly-ripe apricots to make some jam, and the Hooters-worthy neighbor who promised me rose geranium leaves, actually brought me regular geranium leaves, which I was certain would kill us all if we ate them. So I had to make some last-minute adjustments.

Even though I live in a small apartment, I'm not especially good at keeping it tidy. I'm fairly neat and organized, which is essential when living and working in the same space. But I'd rather spend my time baking brownies than scrubbing sinks, if you can believe it.

Jeanne is my housecleaner and she comes every other week. (Except during her eleven-week summer vacation.) The first time we met, she strode in the front door for her interview, and immediately said to me, "Je ne suis pas une voleuse, monsieur"—"I am not a thief."

I was sure she was telling the truth, since she was better dressed than I. She arrived wearing a silk scarf tied impeccably around her neck and strode through my door in elegant leather pumps. The flowery lilt of French perfume wafted towards me as she entered, and her hair was so neatly-coiffed and sprayed into place that a mistral, the violent wind that sweeps through Provence, wouldn't have been able to budge it.

Being from San Francisco, I did the brief Adam's-apple check and yes indeed, Jeanne was the real thing.

Rouchoux's caramel-filled chocolate bar.

At the shop, they advise you that after you've started it, to store it upright to prevent the caramel from running out.

That is, of course, is based on the assumption that there's going to be any left over in the first place.

John-Charles Rochoux
16, rue d'Assas (6th)
Tél: 01 42 84 29 45
(Map)

Related links:

And more chocolate: John-Charles Rochoux (TooManyChefs)

John-Charles Rochoux; Parisian chocolatier

I recently received a desperate message from a reader, whose subject line read "Coffee Emergency!!"

She and her husband were in Paris, desperate for a good cup of coffee. Feeling her pain, I compiled this short-list of places where one can be pretty much assured of having a properly-made café express.

A few tips:

• Check and see if the place uses an Italian brand of coffee. This isn't always the most reliable trick, but is an indication they're not just pulling coffee from the easiest-available (and cheapest) brands.
• Look and see if they're grinding the beans fresh, firmly packing the coffee into the tamper, and keeping the filter holder in place when the machine isn't being use to hold in the heat. Those are indications they're somewhat interested in doing things correctly
• Peer into some of the cups that are being passed over the bar before ordering. A real espresso should be about a tablespoon of coffee with a layer of lighter froth floating on top.
• If you want the closest approximation of a true espresso, ask for café serré, a "tight" coffee. The French normally drink their café express with more water than a customary espresso.
• It's hard to avoid, but most cafés use sterilized, ultra-pasteurized milk in milk-based drinks, which tastes horrible and will ruin even a decent cup.
• When in doubt, such as on the autoroute or train, resign yourself to ordering a café noisette; an express marked with a bit of steamed milk, which'll tame any bitter or acrid flavors.

Here's a list of links to various places on the site where you can find more information and tips about how to make ice cream. Also, I'm happy to answer any questions in the comments that you might have as well.

If you have questions regarding a specific machine, I suggest contacting the manufacturer as they're best equipped to give advice on your particular model.

• Recipes to use up leftover egg whites
• How long does ice cream last?
• Tips for making homemade ice cream softer
• Recommended equipment to make ice cream
• Recipes to use up leftover egg whites
• Making ice cream without a machine
• The ice cream shops of Paris
• Meet your maker: buying an ice cream machine
• Compendium of recipes for ice creams & sorbets
• What is gelato?
• How to make the perfect caramel
• Let's Make Ice Cream!

I've had a lone jar of quince marmalade sitting in the back of my refrigerator for about a year now, and thought it was about time I humanely dealt with it.

Personally, I love quince.

I like them poached, stewed, roasted and make into jam. But judging from the still-to-the-brim jar that's been relegated to the back corner of my fridge, it's not as popular with others as it is with me. So I decided to kill two birds with one great recipe.

I'd flagged a lovely tart that Luisa at Wednesday Chef made a while back which featured—get this, a no-roll crust! I'm not a fan of cleaning up my counter (or my refrigerator, for that matter) especially when my housecleaner is on her annual eleven-week vacation. So the idea of a crust you just press into a tart mold, fill with jam, and top with the remaining bits, appealed to be more than you can imagine. It doesn't take much to please me, does it?

Never content to rest on my laurels—or in this case, someone else's, I tweaked the original recipe, swapping out some of the flour and mixing in stone-ground cornmeal, because frankly, anytime I can add cornmeal to something, I will.

A while back it was cannelés.

Those little eggy pastries baked with a cracky-crust, that everyone was going ga-ga over and just had to bring home the copper molds to make. (Hands up, folks. How many of you have ever used them?)

Then everyone moved on to macarons, dainty little "sandwiches", made from two crispy almond meringues, with a layer of buttercream or jam in the middle.

So when I heard that pastry chef Arnaud Lahrer, who's won the award for the best macaron in Paris, opened a shop devoted solely to macarons and chocolate, I put on my reporter hat and caught the métro up to the 18th arrondissement to taste them.

Of course, I couldn't do it by myself, so I enlisted my friend Heather to come and help with this daunting task.

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Thanks, -david

Clotilde Dusoulier is the ultimate Parisian insider, one shares her tasty tales of life in Paris on her blog, Chocolate and Zucchini. In this very handy guide, a native Parisian happily leads us around Paris, taking us from little-known specialty food shops and classic bistros to authentic Japanese noodle bars and wine tasting venues.

One of my favorite parts of Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris are tips on how restaurants and food shops work here. For example, knowing that you're not a "customer" but a "guest" explains a lot of things to foreigners, who are used to the Customer is King attitude.

Other cultural tips, like keeping your hands on the table while you're eating and not resting your bread on the edge of your plate, are explained so you can avoid making a faux pas, as I did shortly after I arrived in Paris and was scolded for my bread infraction by the host at a dinner party.

And I always thought it was rude to scold guests! Who knew?

Lest you think this is turning into a blog about obscure, leafy ingredients, you might be right. But when I sniffed the very fragrant leaves of lemon verbena, or verveine, growing out-of-control at my friend Trisha's house near Nice, and she told me to take as much as I wanted home, I dove for the clippers. And almost as soon as I got home, to preserve the taste, I infused them and churned up a batch of lemon verbena ice cream.

French people drink infusions and tisanes after dinner, which in English, we simply refer to as "herb teas." But in France, what they call "tea" has black tea in it. Infusions and tisanes are made with herbs or other greenery.

Yet Arabic mint tea is called "tea" by the masses, and while it usually has some green tea in it, I can't figure out the differentiation between "tea" made with leaves and "infusion" made with leaves. (Krysalia...help!)

At long last, after plenty of tinkering, I decided to lighten things up with a relooking, as they say in France, with a fresh, brand-new design for the site.

The new look is easier for you to read and more organized. There's less-distracting colors, and far more order.You'll find the archives neatly-arranged and categories on my spiffy new sidebar, a better and faster search engine, more space for larger photos, and most importantly, leaving and reading comments will go a lot more smoothly.

Few of you probably remember when the site was launched way back in 1999....

Adorable, wasn't I?

*sigh*

You might think it was these gorgeous, glowing yellow limes...

...which I'm not sure what I'm going to do with, but their sweet-tangy juice might make a refreshing summertime sorbet.

Or a batch of frosty Mojito Granita?

It wouldn't be a stretch to think it was coming home with a just-roasted poulet crapaudine, a chicken rubbed with herbs, spices, and a generous amount for salt, which seasons the crackly skin. I'm always wary about buying a whole one, since I'm certain I'd eat it all by myself—in one sitting.

(Not that I've ever done that. But I've heard about people that do.)

A few months ago I was having drinks at a friend's house up by the Place des Fêtes, outdoors on their patio, and I noticed something tucked away in the corner.

Me: "Hey! What's that?"

Them: "What's what?"

Me: "That! Over there...in the corner. Is that what I think it is? Oh my God!"

Them: "Oh, yeah, that. We put it in about fifteen years ago, but we never use it."

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how I learned that my friends actually had—get this, a grill!

I didn't think anyone here had a grill. And with the 4th of July en route, I immediately suggested we grill an all-American dinner.

I don't like to make promises I can't keep, and last week I promised myself that I'm going to eat pesto every day for the rest of my life.

So far, I've made good on that promise.

The only thing that might thwart me is a lack of big, copious bunches of fresh basil. Or my pounding arm wears out. No taking bets out there on whichever comes first, but I have a pretty good idea which it's going to be.