A Very French Mac and Cheese

MY AMERICAN FOOD ROOTS AND A VERY FRENCH DISH

For someone who was always hungry, 

I never paused between mouthfuls of steamed shrimp and wedges of Indian River oranges 

long enough to consider the culinary heritage of the place of my youth. 

– Florida ‘space coast’ cuisine, American Food Roots 

A little up time, a flurry of writing, working, planning, punctuated by a slow slide into calmness, hibernating under blankets, snuggling into a soft nest of pillows. The rain has been replaced by sunshine, wavering between watery, tepid rays and bright, invigorating light. Springlike days have replaced the shimmering pewter skies and dismal ambiance. I saw my first piece published on American Food Roots, a site dedicated to our American culinary heritage. Delighted was I to become a part of such an informative, fascinating site and an informed, talented community. Thrilled at the chance to collaborate with such brilliant, passionate women as Domenica Marchetti, Bonny Wolf, Carol Guensburg and Michele Kayal.

Riding high on this writing adventure, I plan and organize my trip to San Francisco, my Experts Are In session with my pal Ilva Beretta. I have my press pass in hand for this weekend’s Salon du Chocolate Nantes edition, the first of its kind in our town, very exciting! and a date to meet my favorite chocolatier. The next From Plate to Page workshop in beautiful Ireland approaches rapidly. Plans, ideas and projects swirl around my head and begin to take shape; more stories and articles get typed, edited and mailed. Maybe it is the weather, the light and warmth lifting the spirits and energizing the creativity. Maybe it is the affirmation of being published, the anticipation of more that inspires.

 Hunkered down and cozy.

Or a stroll around Nantes when the sun comes out.

And we are still hunkered down for the winter.

For a breath of summertime and a taste of fresh seafood and citrus, please visit American Food Roots and read my piece on the food of My Florida. You’ll find my recipe for smooth, cool Cream Puffs with Orange Pastry Cream and tangy Orange Glaze with photos by Ilva Beretta.

My own photo of my luscious orange cream puffs.

What does one prepare when the craving for something homey and comforting hits yet no one desires to make that dash to the store? (I sit at my desk and type, he works on his own project, banging out pages upon pages in between one phone call and the next. It becomes a Push-Me-Pull-You situation when shopping is discussed.) One rifles through the cupboards, one stares at all the packages of grated comté and emmenthal that have somehow, inexplicably, accumulated in the refrigerator and one has that aha moment of Macaroni and Cheese. And not just any macaroni and cheese, but something oh-so very French. Lots of French cheese and elbow macaroni smothered in luscious, healing, soothing béchamel. The only foreign touches are a fine yet healthy grating of Parmesan and a generous dusting of panko for crunch. Comfort food at its best in any culture.

VERY FRENCH MACARONI & CHEESE

Béchamel Sauce:
3 ½ Tbs (50 g) unsalted butter
3 ½ Tbs (45 g) flour 3 cups (about 750 ml) whole milk
½ large or 1 medium onion, chopped
Fresh thyme leaves, chopped, or dried thyme
1 small bay leaf
½ to 1 tsp chipotle chilli powder or cayenne pepper
Dash ground nutmeg
Salt and pepper

Mac & Cheese:
Béchamel Sauce
2 – 4 cups grated hard cheeses (Comté, Emmenthal, gruyere, Swiss)
½ cup or so freshly grated Parmesan cheese
½ cup or so panko or other breadcrumbs
1 lbs (500 g) dried elbow macaroni or similar

Butter a large, deep baking dish; mine is approximately 12 x 7 x 2 ½ -inches and pyrex.

Cook the pasta according to package directions, drain and place the cooked macaroni in a large, heatproof mixing bowl.

Prepare the Béchamel:

Melt the butter in a large saucepan over low heat. Add the chopped onion and cook for several minutes until soft and translucent. Add the flour all at once and stir vigorously to blend; cook for a minute or two. Add the milk a little at a time, whisking after each addition until the mixture thickens and is smooth. Continue whisking in the milk a little at a time until it has all been poured into the saucepan. Whisk in a pinch of thyme, the bay leaf, the chipotle chilli powder and a pinch of nutmeg. Salt and pepper to taste. Continue cooking, whisking constantly, until thick, about 10 to 15 minutes. Remove from the heat; prepare the macaroni and cheese while the béchamel is still hot.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).

Pour the hot béchamel over the cooked paste and stir until all of the pasta is coated with the sauce. Toss in all of the grated cheese except for the Parmesan, keeping about ½ cup of the mixed cheeses aside for the top of the casserole. Taste and adjust seasons according to taste. Pour into the buttered baking dish and spread evenly. Top with the rest of the grated cheeses, the grated Parmesan and ending with the panko, all evenly distributed up to the edges.

Bake in the preheated oven until bubbling and the top is a golden brown, about 20 to 30 minutes, keeping an eye on the surface of the mac & cheese towards the end. Timing depends upon the oven, the size of the baking dish and how browned you like the crust.

Serve hot and gooey with a bright, tart mixed salad and a bottle of light red white.

Read more »

TENDER COOKED BEEF AND CARROT CANNELLONI

FROID, BRULÉ, PAS CUIT… *

Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.

- Harriet Van Horne

With all the baking that goes on in my house, with all of the baked goods that appear on my blog, one would think that we never eat a meal here. Cake for breakfast, cake for lunch, panna cotta and fruit tarts for dinner and so on and so forth.


My husband and I form the ideal couple: he cooks and I bake. You see, he is as comfortable in front of the butcher’s counter and at the greengrocer, as happy in front of a cutting board, knife in hand, and in front of the stove as I am with my hands deep inside a soft mound of bread dough or whizzing up egg whites and melting chocolate. He learned to cook when he was a boy, all of those long years ago, preparing blanquette and boeuf au carottes while his mother worked, as I was watching, mesmerized, on the other side of the Atlantic, my father marble chocolate and vanilla cake batters and prepare choux pastry. Over our many years together, he has educated me on the ins and outs of savory cooking, teaching me to make couscous and tagine, potée and moules marinières. Yes, I did the cooking when he was at work and enjoyed it immensely (once the unbearable angst of having to make a decision on what to cook had been conquered), but come weekend or vacation time, he would once again tie on an apron and take over the kitchen. And happy was I to leave him the way.

Now that he is working from home, he cooks and I bake. Mostly. The urge comes upon one or the other swiftly, without warning, the desire for something savory, a warming plate of tender, long-simmered meat, vibrant tomatoes made sweet and meltingly luscious by slow cooking, a casserole gooey with cheese or sweetened with plump raisins or prunes. If it is early enough in the day, we shrug on coats and slip into shoes and, basket in hand, make our way to the neighborhood market. Fruits and vegetables, his preferred butcher or mine, maybe the Italian stand for fresh pasta, Bresaola and Scamorza Affumicata, or the Alsatian stand for choucroute, saucisses de Strasbourg or boudin blanc. Olives, a loaf of fresh bread, a bottle of wine snuggle deep amongst the crinkly brown paper sacks of oranges, endives and tomatoes and we hurry back home, sharing the weight of the basket brimming with fresh ingredients between the two of us. Once home, kitchen duties are divvied up and another savory meal is prepared.


If the weather is lousy, rain spattering against the windowpanes and the sky an unwelcoming leaden and dull, or if it is too close to mealtime, our morning or afternoon having slipped by unnoticed while we work, or if we are simply too lazy to trek out into the wilds of Nantes, cupboards are riffled through, cans and boxes shifted left and right, the refrigerator ransacked, emptied, leftovers, jars and Tupperware containers scrutinized, peered into, poked at and separated into old and fuzzy or perfectly good. A leftover lasagna or Parmentier is reheated or JP turns on the magic and the charm, takes everything that hasn’t withered and died of old age and somehow, wondrously concocts a delicious, flavorful meal.

I have traveled quite a long way from that small American town in the shadow of NASA’s rockets where fresh seafood straight from the ocean and citrus plucked directly from the tree alternated with frozen dinners, Hamburger Helper and pancake dinners. The most exotic, culturally significant meals in our home involved Borscht, chicken soup with matzo balls and Challah. Moving to France may have opened my eyes to an entirely new culture and cuisine, but it is thanks to my husband that I have discovered all the details and more: he has walked me through the repertoire of classic French home cooking, hearty, traditional and warming, enriching each dish with a tale from his childhood or a colorful episode in France’s history; he has introduced me to foods local and regional as well as the cuisines of Morocco and Vietnam, now part of the French national food culture, dishes rich in tradition and, again, history, recounting stories of his time spent in Morocco eating and learning to cook or comedic episodes of his time at university, hours spent eating bowls of Bo Bun in a familiar and much-visited Vietnamese restaurant near the school. Together we have wandered high and low, through France and Italy, spent time in Basque country, discovering food in Budapest or in Florida and New England. We have snapped pictures and tasted local foods and dishes, strolled through markets as if on an educational field trip. We have savored the new and the formerly unknown at the homes of both friends and strangers, asking questions and taking notes, and built up our personal encyclopedia of information, cooking methods, stories and foods. And with his advice, guidance and inspiration, I have learned to cook.


But learning how to make the perfect, traditional Blanquette de Veau, Couscous or Poulet Yassa aside, my living in France and my marriage to a food-passionate man curious about cultures and cuisines and a history buff to boot has been the means of my discovering special ingredients and obscure specialties from preserved lemons to supions and encornets, from salsify to celeriac, turmeric, coriander and cumin, cotechino, harira, stinco, not to forget a dictionary's worth of cheeses. And boeuf cuit. Boeuf Cuit is quite simply cooked beef, but it is not as simple as it sounds. Chunks of tender cooked beef, the same cuts usually selected for a bourguignon, having long simmered in a savory broth are compressed together into a type of terrine with tiny cubes of carrots and bound with aspic or jellied broth and sold in thick slices at the butcher’s counter. JP introduced me to this unusual ingredient early in our marriage when he would bring it home, cut it into cubes or crumble it into shreds and toss it together with slices of tender cooked potatoes, plenty of chopped violet shallots and a tangy vinaigrette. Delicious! Wonderful for a light weekend lunch, a casual dinner or packed and tucked inside a basket for a perfect picnic meal.

Our latest issue of French Saveurs magazine had him back at the butcher’s counter ordering a pound or so of Boeuf Cuit. He has been on a Cannelloni streak lately; boxes of cannelloni pasta accumulate joyously in our pantry and he purchased the perfect little stainless steal baking pan just the width of a cannelloni shell and large enough for one meal for a family of four. So, of course, the recipe for Cannellonis au Boeuf Fondant et aux Carottes, cannelloni of meltingly tender beef and carrots, jumped out of the glossy pages of the magazine and into his eager, waiting hands. He followed the recipe as well as someone who cooks au pif, by instinct or feel, can do, adding more carrots, using a tad less beef, flavoring it to his own exquisite taste, and served us this luscious, wonderful, hearty meal. As we only stuffed enough pasta shells to fill our tiny baking pan in one layer, there was enough filling left over to use as the base of a ragout, blended and heated with more homemade tomato sauce, to serve over fresh pasta.

The only real stumbling block is fear of failure.
In cooking you've got to have a what-the-hell attitude.
- Julia Child

* The title of my post? Froid, Brulé, Pas Cuit? It means Cold, Burned, Undercooked; i.e. a culinary disaster. As we are all inclined to expect the worst of everything and anything we cook or bake, JP pulled out this old phrase, coined during his university days by a friend, dusted it off and introduced it into our home. This phrase has become a joke in our kitchen, a way to mock the other when doubts of our cooking or baking prowess take over or our confidence in the results of an all-out culinary effort begin to waver, a way to lighten the mood and make the other laugh. Although I, the Nervous Nellie who doubts myself from beginning to end, am constantly finding fault with my own recipes, JP’s method of cooking leaves little room for disaster as he adjusts and corrects along the way.

Don't forget JP's other recipes:




Cauliflower and Potato Gratin









Lasagna Two Ways: Smoked Salmon and Spinach or Veal and Vegetable



On a final note, it is that time of year for Saveur’s Best Food Blog Awards and it would be tremendous to be considered for an award from this prestigious magazine. If you enjoy Life’s a Feast, if my stories touch you in some way, if you are interested in nominating my blog for one of the categories that you feel is the best fit, I would certainly appreciate your support and the time that it takes to put in the nomination. Just link over to their website. Thank you! It does mean the world to me!

And speaking of From Plate to Page, due to an unexpected cancellation, there are now a couple of spaces open for our exciting Somerset workshop in May. If you are looking for an intimate, hands-on, practical workshop providing you with the tools, instruction and inspiration to define and hone your food writing, styling and photography skills and kick start your creativity all in a convivial, fun- and food-filled weekend then Plate to Page is for you! For details about the workshop, the four instructors (I teach food writing) and registration, please visit out our website! But hurry, spaces are limited to 12 and they are going fast! Questions? Visit our new FAQ page!


CANNOLLONI OF TENDER COOKED BEEF AND CARROTS
From the March 2012 issue of French Saveurs

I will give you the exact recipe as given in the magazine. JP adjusted it to use less cooked beef and more carrots and mildly adjusted the flavorings to his taste. A delicious recipe but one I would actually change the next time we make it by doubling the tomato sauce and blending half the sauce in with the meat mixture to lighten it and add more moisture. As I said above, this is a fabulous filling turned into a ragout to serve over pasta.

12 cannelloni shells
750 g (1 ½ lbs boeuf cuit or cooked beef leftover from a pot au feu, bourguignon or similar)*
200 g (7 oz) carrots, washed, peeled and trimmed **
½ an onion or more if desired
500 ml (2 cups) meat stock (from a cube is fine)
1 Tbs tomato paste
Several tablespoons olive oil, as needed
100 g (3 ½ oz) grated Parmesan cheese
15 g (1 Tbs) butter
Salt and freshly ground pepper

* We used 500 g (1 lb)
** We used 6 carrots

Shred the beef. Cut the cleaned carrots into tiny cubes and finely chop the onion.

Sauté the chopped onion in a few tablespoons olive oil for about 3 minutes or until tender. Add the carrots and the meat. Add enough of the meat stock to just cover the mixture, salt and pepper (taste the stock to verify how salty it already is so you don’t oversalt the dish) and allow to gently simmer over low heat for 20 minutes. At the end of the cooking time, allow the meat to cool to room temperature.

In a separate pan, bring the rest of the meat stock and the tomato paste to a boil; pepper and salt only if needed.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C) and butter the bottom and sides of a baking dish or pan. Stuff the cannelloni shells with the cooled meat and carrot filling and line the filled shells up snugly in the buttered baking dish in a single layer. Pour the meat stock/tomato paste over and around the shells, sprinkle generously with the grated Parmesan, cover the dish with aluminum foil and bake for 35 to 40 minutes, removing the foil about 10 minutes before the end of cooking.

Read more »

Spinach Artichoke Pasta - Yep PASTA!!!

I hope you weren't looking for a holiday recipe? I'm so deep in denial about the approaching festivities that I haven't even started baking...and I really need to post more.

I was so excited when I saw this recipe. I LOVE Spinach Artichoke dip and try to talk Tony and the kids into it anytime I see it on a menu when we are out. Yep, made it at home several times too. One of the problems though when I make it at home is that I eat way too much of it! So this way was perfect It was served with pasta and that meant I could have it as a main course and eat as much as I liked...:-)

And did I mention that this dish is fast to prepare? Yep, really, really fast. Like about as long as it takes to cook the pasta fast.


Spinach Artichoke Pasta (found on Pinterest by Budget Bytes)

Ingredients:

2 Tbsp Olive oil
4 cloves garlic
4 oz. cream cheese or neufchatel cheese
1/2 cup sour cream
1/4 cup white wine
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
1 can (14 oz.) quartered artichoke hearts
1 package (10 oz.) chopped spinach, thawed
1 Tbsp hot sauce
1 tsp red pepper flake
salt and pepper to taste
1 package of pasta (any shape)

Directions:

1. Put a large pot of water on to boil with a lid. When it comes to a boil, cook the pasta according to package directions (boil for about 10 minutes or until al dente). Drain the pasta in a colander.
2. While you are cooking the pasta, start making the sauce. Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Mince the garlic and cook it in the oil until it is slightly tender (1-2 minutes).
3. Add the cream cheese, sour cream and white wine. Stir until everything is evenly incorporated. Reduce the heat to medium/low.
4. Add the milk and Parmesan cheese. Stir it in until the Parmesan has melted in and is evenly incorporated. Stir in the hot sauce and thawed/drained spinach.
5. Drain the can of artichoke hearts. Roughly chop them and add to the sauce. Taste the sauce and season with salt, pepper and red pepper flakes if desired.
6. Add the cooked and drained pasta and stir to coat. Serve warm.

This is a wonderfully satisfying dinner that goes perfectly with a good glass of white wine!

Read more »

JP’S LASAGNA two ways

WHEN A MAN LOVES A WOMAN

When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out.
~ by Elizabeth Bowen (1899-1973)

Stunning jewelry, expensive shoes, evenings tête-à-tête in quiet, elegant restaurants or a stroll through a bustling, noisy, laughter-filled fairground. Romantic getaways in some out-of-the-way, secluded spot or a picnic in the breeze of a warm summer day. Snuggled up together as the lights are dimmed and the movie splashes across the screen, box of hot, buttery popcorn perched between my knees or jetting off to some exotic, exciting far away dream location. Armfuls of roses or peonies, boxes of chocolate or a hot, greasy kabob with fries. Charming, often sophisticated gifts wrapped up in a dash of mystery, a jot of quirkiness bordering on the corny, smothered in some enchanted evening and definitely the way to capture a girl’s heart. With each token of love that he places in my hands, each sign of affection that he graciously and generously offers me, with each excited schoolboy grin that melts my heart as he impatiently, nervously watches for my reaction, I understand and appreciate how much he does love me.


Yet. Yet. I would be a fool to refuse these lovely gifts, I mean, what woman would? Yet I really don’t need those expensive toys and luxurious gewgaws to make me truly happy. There is something that means ever so much more to me; something that captures my heart and makes me realize just how lucky I am to have him. Yes, anyone who reads my blog and who knows me as a friend understands that the one thing that I find the sexiest, the most alluring and heart melting, is a man who cooks.

And mine does indeed love to cook. He adores going to the market, basket in hand, and perusing stall after stall in his quest for the freshest, most seasonal and local products from the land, the sea and dug up from the dirt. And like a magician finding pleasure and satisfaction in delighting his audience, JP finds such joy in performing that magic, concocting something amazing with his finds and enchanting his audience of one. I have already told the tale of how he became such a great cook, teaching himself while still a child. And his talent and passion have only grown over the years. Needless to say, on holidays, weekends and summer vacations, when free from the stranglehold of work and a time-consuming job, my man takes over the kitchen. And as one who would prefer to spend any and all kitchen time baking pastries, cakes, pies and breads and who knocks her head against the wall in any effort to decide on an actual meal, I would certainly never stand in between him and the stove!


Now that he is home fulltime, our days intertwine gently, serenely and happily. We still, after all these years, enjoy being together all the time. And in between the writing, the long walks, the genealogy, housework, bills and whatever daily tasks keep us busy and apart, we still get together to shop and cook. And while I have somehow grown lazy and complacent, his energy is abuzz and that has been taking him into the kitchen much more often. He channels his creativity and lets his imagination fly.

And how he adores the process: pots and pans clatter, flour poofs all around him in a haze of white, tomato sauce and olive oil splatter across the stovetop, dishes, utensils, pots and pans pile up willy-nilly in the sink and in tumultuous confusion on every available work surface. He chops and slices, blends and stirs, tastes and tastes again. A twist of the peppermill here, a dash or two (or three) of fleur de sel there, a squeeze of this tube, a blob or a glug or a plop of this flavoring or that condiment, a largish pinch of one or the other spice and, like a great inventor, he slowly creates a dish worthy of every minute, every movement, every frustrated curse word and each moan of pleasure as he tastes. Yes, sometimes these preparations are fraught with displeasure – a failed dish, missing ingredients, cooking disasters - or even danger - sliced fingers, trips to the emergency room – but all in all, he loves cooking as much as I love having him cook.


Now how to put down on paper what he creates by feel and sense? Au pif the French call it: cooking by intuition (pif being slang for nose). His recipes are never the same twice, he rarely measures; his method involves non-stop changing, adapting and adding as he goes. As this is in direct contrast to the way I cook or bake, I am more often than not banned from the kitchen whenever he takes over (to avoid my meddling, my interfering, my moans of frustration, the groans and eye rolls and unwanted suggestions) so even writing down the step-by-step becomes problematic if not downright impossible. When he cooks, my role is simply to make sure that the table is set for when he is ready to serve the meal, to make ooooohing, ahhhhhing and mmmmmming sounds while I savor and enjoy his masterpiece and to wash up when the meal is done – a Herculean task if ever there was one.

Veal Lasagna

Smoked Salmon Lasagna

So, I take a deep breath and will attempt to organize my thoughts and his every gesture, although I give very rough guestimates. You must learn to cook as he does, au pif, and create your own…


JP’S FABULOUS LASAGNA
Whether made with sautéed, aromatic veal or luxurious smoke salmon, his lasagna is fabulous! Add more or less of each vegetable or use your favorites. Layer some mozzarella or fontina or a mixture of ricotta and Parmesan in with the layers of béchamel for a cheesier lasagna. Use more tomato sauce with a meat lasagna than in a delicate smoked salmon lasagna. Don’t forget that everything added to this is precooked so the time in the oven is simply to heat through, melt the cheese and meld the flavors.


For a glass or Pyrex baking dish approximately 12 x 8 x 2 inches (30 x 20 x 5 cm), greased with either butter or margarine

10 or 12 sheets (each sheet approximately 7 x 3 ½ inches (17 x 9 cm) egg lasagna

Béchamel:
3 Tbs (50 g) unsalted butter
3 Tbs (50 g) flour
2 – 2 ½ cups (500 to 650 ml) milk, preferably warm or room temperature
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Large pinch nutmeg
Optional: 1 small onion, minced

Tomato Sauce
(see recipes here or here)

3 medium to large peppers, yellow, red and green, rinsed

1 – 2 medium-sized zucchini, trimmed and rinsed

2 pounds (1 kg) fresh spinach, trimmed and rinsed

1 cup or so freshly grated Parmesan cheese

EITHER:
1 pound (500 g) ground veal
1 onion, diced
salt and freshly ground black pepper
seasonings of choice

OR:
About 8 slices smoked salmon, more or less to your taste

Prepare the Béchamel:

Melt the butter over a medium-low flame. Add the flour all at once and whisk to form a thick, smooth paste. (If adding the onion, simply add the onion to the melted butter and sautée until lightly golden and tender, about 3 or 4 minutes, then add the flour) Cook, whisking, over medium-low heat, for just a minute or two. Pour in the milk just a little at a time, whisking constantly, adding more milk as the sauce thickens. Once all the milk has been added, salt and pepper the béchamel, add a dash of nutmeg and continue to stir or whisk until the sauce is thick and very smooth, about 10 minutes or so. Set aside.

Prepare the vegetables:

Place the cleaned spinach leaves in a large casserole with just the water clinging to the leaves once washed. Cover and steam over medium heat until wilted. Drain well then, once cool enough to handle easily, squeeze out all the excess water. Separate between your fingers or chop.

Roast the peppers either over a flame on your stovetop or under the oven grill until very soft and the skin is charred and bubbles up. If doing this in the oven, do it over a baking sheet or piece of aluminum foil to catch any dripped juice. Place the peppers in a plastic sandwich bag for a minute or two: the condensation will lift the skin up away from the flesh and removing it will be easier. Being careful not to burn yourself on the hot peppers, slide a sharp, pointed knife blade between the skin and the flesh and lift away. Once all the skin has been removed and discarded, cut out the stem and scrape away and discard all seeds. Slice or chop the flesh of the roasted peppers as you like.

Rinse and pat dry 2 medium zucchinis, trim and discard the two ends of each. Cut each zucchini in half widthwise. Slice each half lengthwise into thin slices and line up on parchment paper-lined baking sheets. Lightly brush each slice with olive oil then grill until tender and beginning to color.

If using ground veal, simply brown in olive oil in a large skillet as you would for any dish: sautée an onion or two until golden or even caramelized, sautée the veal until browned: salt, pepper and spice as you please (chopped fresh or dried parsley, basil, oregano). Add some chopped, roasted cherry tomatoes or chopped olives if you like.

Prepare the Lasagna:

Start with a light layer of béchamel in the bottom of the baking dish;
Place one layer of lasagna noodles.
Simply add layers of vegetables, veal or smoke salmon, tomato sauce, béchamel and lasagna noodles. You should have about 3 layers of each, ending with a layer of noodles, then béchamel topped generously with freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

Bake in a preheated 350°F (180°C) oven for about 20 minutes until bubbly and very hot all the way through. The top should be browned. You can also just place it under the grill for a minute or two to brown the top if you like.


Serve hot with a glass of wine.

Read more »

Orecchiette with Swiss Chard, Red and Yellow Peppers and Goat Cheese –Finally a new blog post!!!

So I really don’t want to even look and see when the last time I posted a recipe was. I am very, very ashamed. I really have no excuse besides being totally rushed off of my feet all the time and totally uninspired come dinner time. Usually it’s just a meal thrown together and always an old stand by. Something tried and true (and already blogged more than likely).
I happened to see this recipe though the other day and printed it out immediately. So glad I did! It is really a delicious and simple meal.

Orecchiette with Swiss Chard, Red and Yellow Peppers and Goat Cheese – From The New York Times
When making this easy pasta, be sure to cut the sweet bell peppers into very small dice; that way, they’ll lodge in the hollows of the orecchiette, along with the chard and goat cheese.
Ingredients:
3/4 pound Swiss chard (1 bunch), stemmed and washed in two changes of water
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
2 red/yellow bell peppers , cut in small dice
Pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)
1 to 2 garlic cloves (to taste), minced
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 teaspoon chopped fresh marjoram (I had just thrown my dry marjoram out so I used 1 teaspoon dried Italian Seasoning)
3/4 pound orecchiette
2 ounces goat cheese, crumbled (1/2 cup)
Directions:
1. Begin heating a large pot of water while you stem and wash the chard. Fill a bowl with ice water. When the water in the pot comes to a boil, salt generously and add the chard. Blanch the chard leaves for one to two minutes until tender. Using a skimmer or a slotted spoon, transfer the chard to a bowl of ice water, then drain and squeeze out excess water. Chop medium-fine. Keep the pot of water at a simmer.
2. Heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil over medium heat in a large, heavy skillet, and add the bell peppers and the red pepper flakes. Cook, stirring often, until tender, five to eight minutes. Add the garlic and salt to taste, and stir for half a minute. Then stir in the chopped chard and the marjoram. Stir together for a few seconds, then turn the heat to very low.
3. Bring the water in the pasta pot back to a boil, and add the orecchiette. Cook al dente, following the timing instructions on the package. Add about 1/2 cup of the pasta water to the pan with the chard and peppers. Stir in the goat cheese. Drain the pasta, transfer to the pan and toss with the chard, pepper and goat cheese mixture. Serve hot.
Yield: Serves four.
***Loved this pasta. The only thing I will do differently next time is to skip the blanching of the swiss chard. I think it will just be fine steamed in with the peppers and garlic. Also won’t loose all the nutrients in the pasta water.

Read more »

LEMON CHICKEN PASTA et La Semaine du Goût

Le goût est le sourire de l’âme
Taste is the soul’s smile
– Léo Ferré

Sweet, happy baby he was, an excited boy ready from the get go to grab onto everything life had to offer. By 11 months he was scooting all over the place, never having walked one step he took off running. Everything interested him, from the stuffed animals we offered to the boxes that they came in, from his building blocks to his socks and all that they could become in what was the magical playground of his mind. My old rickety spice and baking cabinet afforded hours of joyous playtime when mom’s back was turned and out would come the jars and packets, little fingers gleefully dipping into cinnamon and flour then curiously sucked on, tastes of bouillon cubes and dried herbs, little piles of grains and powders surrounding him on the floor, dust of these giddy taste tests trailing after him.

And food. He would sit happily in his high chair from the most tender of ages and taste. The snappy tang of fresh goat cheese, the bite of a clove of garlic, a perfect, bright yellow wedge of lemon causing his little lips to pucker as his teeth pricked each juicy teardrop of the flesh, sweet, gooey chocolate pudding, hummus or guacamole, he loved it all. Before he could even feed himself we would dip our pinky finger into sauces or anything creamy and smooth and push it into his mouth, onto his tongue and he sucked greedily, turning away at not one flavor, aroma or texture. We wanted him to experience food, the diversity of flavors, the scents that made the tastebuds tingle, the colors and the textures, the pleasures of the palate. We wanted him to fall in love with food. And he did. He grew up afraid of nothing, tasting each and every food that was placed before him. I remember my astonishment when he, still in pre-school, walked into the house after school and sniffed then proclaimed quite simply “red peppers!” And indeed there were red peppers roasting in the oven. Or him standing at a buffet table, 6, maybe 7 years old, wolfing down spoonfuls of hummus and baba ganoush.

Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai ce que tu es
Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are
– Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

This week is La Semaine du Goût, The Week of Taste, in France. La Semaine du Goût is celebrating its twenty-first year of educating children and adults alike about food and taste through special school programs and menus, public workshops and cooking demonstrations by well-known chefs, not to mention all of the restaurants who are offering special menus this week to honor this important event in an effort to bring new taste sensations and food awareness to the French, encourage the discovery of la diversité des goûts et saveurs, diversity in taste and flavors.


I have always been fascinated by flavor, how different flavors and textures interact in the mouth. My childhood was filled with freshly picked strawberries, prickly on the outside, meltingly smooth and sweet on the inside, and tangerines, their bitter oil spurting into my face as my thumb cracked into the skin, their heady scent hinting of the sweet tartness of the fruit.
The bitterness of a pink grapefruit before I would sprinkle it with the sugar that would balance out the strong flavor and crack in between my teeth and sweet, fruity peaches, crisp watermelons, or scavenged coconuts broken open on the driveway, teeth scratching across the white meat. My simple childhood lunchtime sandwiches became a playground where I would blend the sweet and the salty, the smooth and crunchy. Going to a restaurant with my parents allowed me to discover new flavors like seafood cooked in rich, tangy wine sauces or smothered in garlicky butter, southern stews chock full of beans or Greek casseroles, each trip an exciting prospect. I was enthralled with all that was out there in the world and I wanted to taste it all!

And we have raised our sons with a world of food, offering them all the flavors within our reach: American, French, Russian, Italian, Moroccan as well as Indian, Vietnamese, Thai and Middle Eastern among others. We travel the world in our kitchen, at the markets we visit, in the countries we have taken the kids to. Open their eyes by titillating their tastebuds, teach them healthy and whole, local and fresh but teach them culture and history as well. Teach them to appreciate what they have before them, each mouthful, each meal and instill in them the desire to discover and enjoy.


I was looking for a flavorful yet simple meal to make for dinner last night, something that would take few ingredients and even less time yet one that packed a punch. This simple, elegant pasta dish is bright with lemon, the chicken is crispy and tender, and the whole dish made my tastebuds dance. It was satisfying yet light, soulful yet bright and fresh. Nothing better.


LEMON CHICKEN PASTA with peas
For 2 – 3 people

12 – 14 oz (350 – 400 g) raw chicken tenders (aiguillette) or skinless breast
3 Tbs freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 Tbs olive oil
1 medium to large-sized garlic clove, peeled and minced or crushed
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

9 – 10 ½ oz (250 – 300 g) fresh linguine, pappardelle or your favorite pasta
A few tablespoons flour seasoned with salt and pepper for dusting the chicken
Olive oil for browning
3 medium shallots, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 cup (250 ml) chicken broth
Juice of 1 lemon, about 3 – 4 Tbs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 cup fresh or frozen peas, optional

A few tablespoons chopped fresh coriander leaves or flat-leaf parsley

Begin this dish early in the day if preparing for dinner or the night before if preparing for lunch. Clean, rinse and pat dry the chicken and cut into very large chunks (I sliced the aiguillettes into two. Place all the chicken in a bowl just big enough to hold them all. Pour the 3 tablespoons lemon juice, the 1 tablespoon olive oil and the minced garlic over the chicken. Salt and pepper , stir so all the chicken is coated in the liquid, then cover the bowl with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator to marinate all day, overnight or at least for several hours. The chicken marinated like this will not only be infused with lemon flavor but once cooked it will be tender and moist.

Once the chicken has marinated, take the bowl out of the fridge and remove the chicken pieces from the marinade. Start a pot with water for the pasta. Salt the water once it comes to a boil.

Heat up about 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet. Toss the chicken pieces in the seasoned flour to coat then shake off the excess flour. Once the oil is hot, add the chicken (you may need to do this in batches as you do no want to crowd them) and allow to cook until the pan side is golden brown and crispy. Turn the pieces over to brown on the other side. Add more olive oil to the pan as needed. As the chicken pieces turn golden brown all over, remove them to a plate.

Cook your pasta in the salted boiling water as you prepare the chicken and sauce. Keep watch over it and drain it when it is done. Place it in a large serving bowl.

Once all of the chicken is browned, quickly and very carefully wipe out the skillet with paper towels then add a couple more tablespoons of olive oil to the hot skillet. Add the chopped shallots and garlic and, tossing and stirring, cook them until they are wilted, tender and caramelizing around the edges, about 2 or 3 minutes. Carefully pour the chicken stock and juice of one lemon over the cooked shallots and garlic. Salt and pepper. Add the peas and lower the heat to allow the broth to simmer for a few minutes until the peas are cooked and tender and the broth and juice are reduced to about half. Carefully add the chicken pieces to the broth just to heat through.

Pour the sauce with the peas and chicken over the cooked pasta and toss gently so the pasta is sauced and the chicken and peas are evenly distributed. Sprinkle the chopped fresh coriander or parsley over the top to toss as you serve.

Read more »

Pasta with Escarole, White Beans and Chicken Sausage…

It’s finally feeling like fall here.  Our day time temps are only reaching into the mid 80’s right now and the night time temps are down in the low 60’s.  Life in Florida doesn’t get much better than this.  With the windows all open and the A/C off, life is so good.  Makes me want to cook again.  Nice pots of soup and stew, filling casserole dishes and comforting pastas.
This is a pasta dish that I have been wanting to try out.  Simple enough but just finding the time was the challenge.  So you know what I did?  I prepped everything for this in the afternoon before I picked the kiddos up from school.  I chopped the onion and garlic, uncased the chicken sausage, cleaned and cut up the escarole, made the chicken broth, and rinsed the beans.  This way all I had to do when I got home was to boil the water for the pasta.  Do you know that with all the prep work done I ended up having to wait for the pasta to finish cooking!!!  It came together in about 15 minutes.  Anyone can find time to make this one!

Pasta with Escarole, White Beans and Chicken Sausage (adapted from The Food You Crave by Ellie Krieger)
Ingredients:
1 lb bowtie (or other shape) pasta
1 tbsp olive oil
½ medium red onion, chopped, about 1 cup
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb hot Italian-style chicken sausage, casings removed, crumbled
1 medium head escarole or endive, rinsed, drained and chopped, about 8 cups
1 14 oz can low-sodium great northern beans or other white beans, drained and rinsed
1½ cups low-sodium chicken broth
1 tsp rubbed sage, or 1 Tbsp fresh sage leaves
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/8 cup grated Parmesan

Directions:

• Cook the pasta according to the directions on the package.
• Heat the oil over a medium heat in a large, deep saute pan or 8-quart stockpot.
• Saute the onion until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook an additional 1 minute. Stir in the sausage and cook until heated through and browned, about 4 minutes.
• Add the escarole and cook until wilted, about 3 to 4 minutes.
• Add the beans, 1 cup of chicken stock, sage and simmer until the mixture is heated through and liquid is slightly reduced.
• Add the sausage-bean mixture to pasta and toss well, loosening with the additional ½ cup chicken stock if necessary.
• Season with freshly ground pepper and salt, to taste.
• Divide among 4 pasta bowls and top with parmesan cheese.

***This one was a hit with the whole family.  Youngest even took it to school for her lunch in a thermos…

Read more »

Pasta All'Amatriciana

Sunday dinner for us has usually included a big meal that generally takes a ton of prep and a long time to cook as it is the one day of the week that we don’t have anything going on.  This week was going to be different and I wanted to try a recipe that would help me to feel really good the next morning when I went for my run!  This recipe fit the bill perfectly and one I will be adding to our regular rotation. The balance of salty, smoky and sweet is amazing and I loved the whole wheat pasta that we used with it!

This is a traditional Roman dish and the next time I make it I want to use some good pancetta in it.  I used bacon and loved it so can only imagine how great it would be with pancetta!!!  I think I will also add some red pepper flakes to give it a spicy edge to it…

 

Pasta All'Amatriciana (How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman)

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 to 1/3 cup minced good bacon or pancetta
1 small onion, minced
1 (28-ounce) can whole plum tomatoes, drained
1 pound linguine, spaghetti, fettuccine, or other long pasta
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
Freshly grated Parmesan or Pecorino Romano cheese
Minced fresh parsley leaves

Directions:

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil.
2. Place the oil and bacon or pancetta in a medium skillet over medium heat. Cook, stirring, until the meat becomes crisp, about 10 minutes.
3. When the meat is done, remove it with a slotted spoon, leaving the fat in the pan. Add the onion and cook, stirring, until it browns. Turn off the heat for a minute (this will reduce the spattering when you add the tomatoes).
4. Crush the tomatoes with a fork or your hands and add them to the pan. Turn the heat to medium-high. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes break down and the mixture becomes saucy, about 10 to 15 minutes.
5. Meanwhile, salt the boiling water and cook the pasta until it is tender but firm. Drain it, toss it with the sauce, and top with the reserved bacon, the Parmesan, and the parsley. Serve, passing additional Parmesan at the table.

***This is really such a perfectly balanced dish!  Salty, sweet and acidic all in one forkful.  I did use whole wheat linguine instead of white and 2 can of diced and drained tomatoes.

***I calculated this without the Parmesan and Romano cheese as you can sprinkle this on yourself and it came out to 7 WW points based on 4 servings.

Read more »

SCALLOPS IN CHAMPAGNE CREAM SAUCE WITH TRUFFLE SALT

CHAMPAGNE MEMORIES – PART 1

The feeling of friendship is like that of being comfortably filled with roast beef; love, like being enlivened with champagne.

- Samuel Johnson

The wedding was a thrown-together affair, organized on the run, practically an elopement. “Run over to City Hall, why don’t you, file the papers and pick a date. Any date. You choose.” And I did. Stumbling along in my timid schoolgirl French, I explained that I was to be married. I excitedly pushed the required papers across the chocolate brown counter and chose the first Thursday after the required 3-week wait. A Thursday, the 23rd of the month and my fate would be sealed. I had heard somewhere that getting married on a Tuesday or Thursday was good luck in my religion, so Thursday it was. And it didn’t really matter what day I chose. It wasn’t like there would be a dress to order or a long list of friends and relatives to haggle over, 300 invitations to have engraved and sent out, hotel rooms to reserve, caterer and rock band to arrange. No, it would just be the two of us, a few of his friends and his immediate family. So we really only had ourselves to please. We’d tie the knot at City Hall in front of M. le Maire Adjoint then simply walk back to the house for lunch. Simple as saying “I do!”

Great love affairs start with Champagne and end with tisane.

- Honore de Balzac

So I ran back home to the house we shared and announced the chosen date as soon as he walked in the front door from work. “A Thursday? Why did you pick a Thursday? My parents won’t be able to come; they haven’t closed the shop on a weekday since they opened 35 years ago!” But close the shop they did, tickled pink and excited that their only son was to wed.

I wore white and deep violet blue, bits and pieces picked up here and there, my hair a wild, uncontrollable mass of dark curls. His sister created a gorgeous bouquet all in violet and lavender and cream, thistles and roses and baby’s breath, a bouquet to do any bride proud. He wore a funny old suit, a zoot-suit he dug up from a secondhand store in Paris, black with thin cream stripes, something that suited our crazy madcap adventure, our eccentric outlook on life. His best man came in outrageous red tartan plaid from head to toe, my witness in colorful gypsy garb. And his dog, of course his dog, would sing at the party. And yes she did!


A simple affair it was indeed. The lunch was held at our modest house in the suburbs that we shared with 8 others. I spent the Wednesday in my soon-to-be Mother-in-law’s kitchen baking cakes in the scorching heat, whipping up batches of choux puffs and ratatouille, marinating chicken and trying to stay calm, cool and collected as gorgeous cognac buttercream melted down my arm as I tried desperately to pipe it onto chocolate cake, words garbled as they rushed out of the pastry bag. The lunch itself was a modest affair, all homemade, with bowls of fresh fruit and platters of cheese, laid out on a table dressed all in white, crowned in stunning floral arrangements in jewel-like colors and springtime extravagance, like a cortege of lovely bridesmaids accompanying the bride.

A simple affair, indeed, but there was Champagne for everyone, Champagne à volonté! My in-laws sent over case upon case of the stuff, cool bottles of French Champagne, their gift for this special occasion. Champagne to toast the newly married couple, Champagne to giddily, joyously see us off on our way, into our new life together. So with glasses lifted, glasses clinking, voices raised in celebration, we drank to our health, to our love, to our life together; drank in carefree abundance, laughing and singing, and a simple affair, when served up with Champagne, becomes a splendid affair indeed.

Champagne has never really been my drink. The bubbles tickle my nose, the flavor is just a tad too strong. One glass and I’m light-headed and woozy, two and I’m giggling out of control. At JP’s office holiday parties he pointedly instructs me to stay away from the Champagne as he fears my bubbly-induced silliness and tipsy magpie chattering in front of his employees. No, Champagne only brings out the quirkiness in me, accentuates my idiosyncrasies and is better off left alone. A glass of fruity white wine is just as good, even better, in my opinion, but, then again, Champagne is Champagne. There is a certain mystique surrounding this sparkling, gorgeous, jewel-like libation; it is wrapped up in romance, it lends an air of elegance and cool sophistication, it is enveloped in luxury like a black & white film star draped in silk, fur and diamonds.


Six years ago we moved to Nantes, a city a mere stone’s throw from the ocean, a city known for her abundance of products of the sea, oysters and perch, lobster and periwinkles as well as France’s most famous salt. And sea scallops. Gorgeous, plump, shimmering like pearls, Coquilles St. Jacques are to be found on the market almost all year round, to be simmered or sautéed, baked, gratiné or eaten raw. Richly paired with morels or porcini, delicately seasoned with ginger or saffron, splashed with citrus, sherry vinegar or nolly, drenched in porto or our own Muscadet or served with beurre blanc, à la nantaise or in marmite du pêcheur, scallops are jewels from the ocean, a rare delicacy to be savored on special occasions, no matter how abundant. It is no wonder that Botticelli’s Venus arises from the sea, is borne up from the waves on the half shell of a sea scallop. Voluptuous, alabaster pale Venus, like the scallop, a rich, luxurious, royal treasure from the deep.

A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster salad and Champagne, the only true feminine and becoming viands.

- Lord Byron

What can be more celebratory, more festive than the pairing of sea scallops and champagne, one so precious, tender, delicate, the other so noble, brilliant, powerful? Seared quickly in the pan, scallops become beautifully golden and crispy on the outside, the inside tender though meaty and dense, the perfect foil for the richest, most flavorful of sauces. Champagne adds something spectacular to a simple cream sauce, a fruity sweetness that astonishes. Add to that the surprising earthiness of the distinguished truffle blended into flecks of salt that recalls the sea, a masculinity that heightens and complements such a feminine sauce and you have something decidedly rich and luxurious. And this dish, though a regional specialty, is so special, so delicious, so festive that I decided to make it to celebrate the 4-year anniversary of Meeta’s blog What’s For Lunch Honey? She is hosting this month’s Monthly Mingle and has chosen Champagne for this event to celebrate this special occasion.


Now, I have met so many wonderful people through food blogging and am lucky enough to count several among my closest friends, and Meeta is one of them and more. Meeta is incredibly talented, as a cook and baker, as a writer and as a food stylist and photographer. She is the rare food blogger that does it all to perfection. Like the finest of champagnes, at the risk of being trite, Meeta is bubbly and delightful, light and joyous yet earthy and rich, a personality to savor, someone truly generous, someone who gives more than she takes. A rare gem indeed, and I am truly lucky to be counted among her friends. So cheers to you Meeta. I raise my glass of bubbly and toast a friend who has given me so much, who has encouraged and supported me, instructed and mentored me, made me laugh and shared my tears, a true friend. Congratulations on 4 years of food blogging and wishing you many more. Your blog is a wonder and a pleasure to read.


SEA SCALLOPS IN CHAMPAGNE CREAM SAUCE WITH TRUFFLE SALT
Served over fresh pasta

4 sea scallops per person for main course, 3 per person for starter *
3 or 4 medium-sized shallots, about 1 ½ oz (50 g)
1 cup (250 ml) white champagne
1 cup (250 ml) cream
Freshly ground black pepper
Olive oil or butter for the scallops
Sea salt with truffles
7 oz (200 g) fresh pasta per person
Olive oil and freshly squeezed lemon juice to season to taste

* This recipe easily makes enough sauce to serve 4 people. I served 2 and had sauce leftover for another dish the following lunch.

In a large pot, start the water boiling for the pasta. If it comes to a boil before you are ready to make the pasta, simply lower the heat and allow to very slowly simmer until the sauce and scallops are nearly cooked.

Rinse the scallops then pat dry with paper towels.

Peel, trim and mince the shallots. Place the minced shallots with the champagne in a small, heavy bottom saucepan and, over medium heat, cook until the champagne is almost (but not quite) evaporated, stirring often. There should be just a tablespoon or two of champagne left in the pan. Lower the heat under the saucepan and add the cream, stirring, and allow to cook just a few minutes until slightly thickened. Season with freshly ground black pepper.

Meanwhile, when the champagne is partly evaporated, start the scallops. Heat a skillet or frying pan over medium heat and add just enough olive oil or butter to grease the bottom and, when hot, add the scallops and allow to cook, turning occasionally, until golden and crispy on both sides and cooked through (you will see the scallops turn from translucent to opaque white all the way through), lowering the heat if the scallops look browned enough on the top and bottom but don’t appear cooked completely through. This should take up to 5 minutes per side for very thick scallops.

If the sauce is done before the scallops are cooked through, simply turn off the heat under the sauce and then very gently reheat the sauce when ready to serve, if necessary.

Cook the fresh pasta (which only takes 3 minutes or so) in salted boiling water then drain. Place the pasta in a bowl and add a few glugs of olive oil, the juice of about half a lemon or to taste and a good grinding of black pepper. Toss and dress the plates with a serving of pasta each. Place a few spoonfuls of the Champagne Sauce on the pasta then place the scallops on top of the sauce. Sprinkle the scallops with Truffle Salt and serve accompanied by a glass with extra sauce if desired.


Serve with a glass of chilled Champagne.


Cheers!

Read more »