Fish Tagine with Preserved Lemon, Olives, Grapefruit and Saffron

Rainy Winter Weather, Rubber Boots and Tagine

Like the rain I have fallen for you and I know just why you liked the rain. 

Always calling for you I'm falling for you now, just like the rain. 

- Clint Black

The week has been spent searching for boots. Not just any boots; no, that would be too easy. We have been looking high and low for two pairs of rubber boots, our own rubber boots that have mysteriously disappeared from our home.


The winter in Nantes has been a particularly rainy one. The weather mild, bearable, but capricious and none too pleasant. One day slides into the next, a long, tranquil river, as the French say. Rain to sun to fog to fine mist. And back to sun. Shut up in the house for days on end, as soon as the sun makes its appearance all we want to do is pack a snack, leash up the dog and head outside the city for a romp in the vineyards or the forest. But because of all of the rain, the rubber boots are a must. Slogging through muddy fields in city shoes takes the joy out of the outing. We both could have sworn that we have used the boots since our move into the new apartment last October, but in that case you would think that finding two pairs of rubber boots in bright lemon yellow, flashy red, forest green or marine blue in a mere 100 square meters would be easy.

Stuck in the house as we are, the search for those damn boots has become somewhat of an obsession, leading us upstairs to our cold, damp attic to comb through dusty sacks and bags and old laundry baskets filled with the dregs of an apartment renovation. And down in the packed basement with boxes piled up to the ceiling. Three, four, ten times we have been up and down searching, opening up every suitcase, peering in all the bags, sticking our hands inside the big boxes stuffed with baby clothes, books and old videocassettes. To no avail. This has been a head scratcher.

Meanwhile, the rain is back and this crazy godforsaken weather has us cooking more often, stews and tagines rather than simply throwing together salads or baguette, cheese and fruit. Wet, misty, chilly weather oblige, we have certainly needed richer, warming, more comforting dishes to curl up with of an evening. As husband has been doing more and more of the cooking, we have been eating North African tagines frequently. I sit perched on a stool and watch him throw things into the big pot leaving a trail of carrot and potato peelings, garlic skins and bits of chopped herbs strewn across the back counter under the window; he, unlike his wife, has never been a “clean as you go guy” but I don’t ever complain or I know he’ll refuse to cook. His two years in Morocco before we met has greatly influenced his cooking, and what better than a tagine to ward away the winter blues, brighten up a dreary, foggy day?

Wandering through our local covered market early in the day, he had decided that he was going to replace the usual chicken or lamb for fish. Two thick filets of codfish joined dazzling preserved lemons, fat, slick, dark salty olives, fresh coriander and tiny sweet sultanas in our basket. He decided to add a bit of winter brightness and a mild tang by adding the sections of half a pink grapefruit. Any great basic tagine recipe can usually be made with either lamb, chicken or fish interchangeably, and preserved lemons and olives often find their way into husband’s Moroccan dishes no matter the main ingredients. The grapefruit and the saffron were new additions, but equally at home in the culture and the cuisine; the darkness in the apartment required some sunshine in the kitchen.

As the tagine was simmering, our older son dropped by with a curious request. “I’m going to another costume party,” he began, avoiding direct eye contact hoping that I wouldn’t ask questions. “Do you have any feathers left over from your hatmaking days that I can have?” So I slipped on sneakers and a sweater and followed him down to the basement where all of my millinery supplies are stored. We dragged the bikes out of the way and he climbed up on the ladder and started shifting the top boxes around to get to the cartons labeled “chapeaux”. All of a sudden he said “hey, mom… could this be the rubber boots you guys have been looking for?” as he pointed to a box on which the words RUBBER BOOTS were written in big, black magic marker letters.

With four pairs of rubber boots lined up in front of the floor-to-ceiling kitchen cabinets behind the bar stools and the rain slithering down the window, a watery sunlight filtering through the white net curtains, husband ladles fish tagine onto golden mounds of couscous grains, setting half a preserved lemon and a jumble of olives close to the cod. Sitting cozily side by side at the bar in our warm kitchen, still chuckling about the damn boots as we wait for another break in the temperamental weather, we savor the blend of flavors, the tender but firm white fish, the delicate yet flavorful sauce bright with saffron and a hint of lemon, the salty bite of the olives, the tangy nip of coriander and I realize how such a complex, exotic yet thoroughly comforting dish is as good as stomping through the mud and puddles in the sunshine after the rain. 

FISH TAGINE WITH PRESERVED LEMON, OLIVES, GRAPEFRUIT & SAFFRON
Serves 2 people

As with most tagines and most of my husband’s cooking, amounts of each ingredient vary depending upon your individual taste, so quantities are estimations.

2 thick codfish filets or other dense white fish
1 clove garlic, peeled and chopped
1 small yellow onion, peeled and chopped
½ a round zucchini, peeled and cut into small cubes
1 or 2 potatoes, peeled and cut into small cubes
½ green pepper, trimmed, seeds and white ribs removed, pepper chopped
½ or more pink grapefruit supremes (only the segments, none of the membranes; see here)
1 preserved lemon (citron confit), halved or quartered
2 Tbs tiny dried sultanas
1 cup olives, preferably purple olives
Ras al Hanout for coating the fish filets
Curcuma or saffron, a pinch or so
Red Adobo Chili powder, to taste
Salt and Pepper
Fresh coriander 

Rub the fish filets with ras al hanout and a bit of the adobo chili powder on both sides.

Heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil or equal parts olive oil and margarine in a large pot over medium heat. Once hot, add the chopped onions and garlic, stir to coat, then place the fish skin side down to sear quickly; flip and sear quickly on the other side; you want the outside of the fish to color and shrink slightly but not cook through.

Carefully remove the fish from the pot, lift out and place on a plate. Add the potato and zucchini cubes, the green pepper, the preserved lemon, the sultanas and the grapefruit supremes to the pot; cover with water, salt and pepper then add a pinch of saffron, a bit more of the ras al hanout and adobo chili powder and allow to simmer until the potatoes are tender; add water as needed, you do not want the water to boil away. Once all of the vegetables are very soft, return the fish to the pot with the olives and a couple of tablespoons of chopped fresh coriander, allow to simmer just until the fish are cooked through, adding more water if needed. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasonings.

Serve over hot couscous grains, garnished with a bit more coriander.

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Warm Poached Fish, Potato and Apple Salad

FROM FOOD FOR THE DOGS TO FOOD FOR THE GODS

I've seen a look in dogs' eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, 

and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts. 

- John Steinbeck 

How to heal a sick dog? As most of you know, Marty has been sick for more than a year and considering he was given only two to nine months to live, well, we call him our little survivor. He mostly does well, but he does occasionally give us signs that he isn’t in tip-top condition and that he is indeed sick. And once in a while, when he has a particularly bad couple of days, back to the veterinarian, his surgeon, he goes.

He has slowly but surely been getting his diet refined and readjusted. He has been on a strict regime of dry dog food, a special brand, a special food for allergies. No more snacks or treats, no more table scraps, poor thing. But still, we knew whatever his problem was it was not going away. So on his last visit to the vet, she suggested that we start his diet over from scratch and see if he is suffering from allergies. “The best, most simple diet you can start him on is white fish and potatoes, colin-patates. And we will see how he does.”

So, off to the supermarket we went and purchased huge sacks of frozen fish, colin or hake, and sacks of potatoes. Twice a week, husband would stand at the stove and steam fish filets and boil potatoes. He would mash the potatoes and he would break up the fish into tiny pieces with his fingers, making sure there were no fish bones hidden in the flesh. We would mix the two together and feed him two bowl of the stuff a day. The house, I must say, smelled divine and we both began craving a simple meal of poached fish and mashed potatoes with dabs of butter melting on the hot food, salt and pepper… we would stand in the kitchen side by side as he prepared Marty’s colin-patates, our eyes closed, and breathe in deeply that delicious scent. And swoon. But it was all for Marty. And happy he was. Just say the now-magic words colin-patates and his head would snap up, his ears would stand at attention, his eyes would goggle out of his head… oh he came to love those words colin-patates!

But after a while, we noticed that Marty had suddenly become fat as a small pig. Fat. Not plumped up, but fat. Practically over night Marty had become a tubby, waddling barrel. And, well, tinkling all the time like an incontinent old man. JP switched the potatoes for pasta and then semolina grains but to no avail. We were up to trundling him out of the house for walkies about 7 or 8 times a day, and not all! About the fifth time he had an accident in the house, we said “enough is enough!!” and put him back on his dry dog food diet. He was not happy, but he immediately “deswelled” (if I may) and shrunk back to normal Boston dimensions and back to asking to be walked his usual number of times. We were relieved.

Which is how we ended up with fish in the freezer and potatoes in the pantry. It is as simple as that.

Dogs and philosophers do the greatest good and get the fewest rewards. 

- Diogenes 

And what a simple salad this is! Husband, who has been doing more and more of the cooking, and thrilled I am because he is so much better a cook than I, created this salad for lunch one day out of what we had in the house. Tender fish and potatoes with the sweetness and crunch of an apple for contrast, shallots and celery to add the savory and a bite, a squeeze of lemon for a splash of sour. And the flavor of it all combined took me by surprise! Right in the middle of lunch, husband and I looked at each other and exclaimed in unison, “This must be for the blog! This recipe has to be shared!” and we quickly set up the lights, grabbed the camera and did. It is that good.

We served this salad with a beautiful 2012 Solosole Vermentino wine from Allegrini Wine’s Poggio al Tesoro Estate in the prestigious Bolgheri area of Tuscany. The Allegrini family has been making wine since the 16th century so you know they know their business!

Solosole is a clean, crisp dry white wine excellent with fish and seafood or vegetarian dishes. With a faint thought of white stone fruit and a slight citrus tang, Solosole is light and easy to drink, so pairs perfectly with a simple, light meal of salads, sandwiches or fingerfoods and is faultless as the wine to open for an apératif. ‘Solosole’ translates as ‘only sun,’ refering to the sun’s significant influence on the wine, the sun, which seems mirrored in the beautiful bright, sunny straw color. Solosole is a slightly more assertive white than the usual local Muscadet we normally drink with seafood, but that makes it so much more versatile, able to be paired with so many more foods.

We enjoyed a glass of Solosole with a dinner of mussels marinières one night and this warm fish, potato and apple salad for lunch the following day. We are a wine-drinking family and find that the perfect, an excellent wine enhances the food one eats and makes a meal much more enjoyable. This is a wonderful and extremely interesting wine that we will drink again and again. 

Disclosure: Allegrini Estates offered this wine as a gift without either the expectation or the demand to write a review; there was no payment involved. The decision to write this and all opinions herein are my own. But I do thank the good people at Allegrini and my friend Lael Hazan for allowing me to discover their truly amazing wines. You can discover more about Allegrini Estates, the domaines and their wines by visiting the website. And join Allegrini Estates USA on Facebook.

WARM POACHED FISH, POTATO AND APPLE SALAD

There are really no measurements or quantities to a recipe such as this but rather add more or less of each ingredient for the number of people eating and to one’s taste. But roughly, count on more or less 1 fish filet, a handful of potatoes and ½ - 1 apple for 2 people. You will want about the same quantity fish to potatoes and maybe half that quantity of apple.

Hake (colin or  merlu in French) or any firm-fleshed white fish
Court bouillon for poaching
Potatoes that are firm yet tender when steamed or boiled, preferably the tiny thin-skinned fingerling potatoes
An apple, firm, crispy and sweet
1 small branch celery, including the leaves
1 small purple shallot, peeled, trimmed and thinly sliced
Parsley, flat or curly-leafed, as preferred
Olive oil
Cider or Balsamic Vinegar
 ½ a lemon
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Cook the potatoes – with or without the skin as desired, but better to peel if the potato has a thick skin –  by steaming or boiling them until cooked through and tender. Drain and keep warm while preparing the fish.

Poach the fish in gently simmering court bouillon until just cooked through (but not overcooked), the layers easily pulling apart with a fork. Drain.

Dice the thin end of the celery branch. Chop a few leaves. Chop a few leaves or branches of the parsley.

Pull the fish apart with your fingers into small, bite-sized pieces and place in a bowl. Slice and cut the potatoes into thin, bite-sized coins and add to the fish. Peel and core the apple and dice or slice and cut into thin, bite-sized pieces and add to the fish and potatoes – the amount should be about 1 fish to 1 potato to ½ apple.

Add a small about of sliced celery, sliced shallot, chopped celery leaves and chopped parsley leaves as desired; start lightly as you can add more to taste once the salad is dressed.

Dress the salad with about 1 part vinegar to 2 parts olive oil and a squeeze of lemon juice to taste. Salt and pepper. Toss, taste, adjust seasonings and serve warm or room temperature.

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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.

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BEETROOT MACARONS both Savory & Sweet

IF TRUTH BE TOLD

We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality.
- Iris Murdoch

Life is an illusion and there are times we create that illusion ourselves. And how much is it worth? We cover up the flaws with a well-chosen outfit, a dash of makeup, draw attention away from this and that with a color and a new haircut. We plump up our resumé just a teeny tiny bit or stretch a truth just enough to impress. Or maybe we wash away the crazy episodes of yelling and stomping of feet, fold up and put away the dirty laundry and present a kind, gentle, almost perfect persona to the outside world.


Sounds boring, doesn’t it? Now why would anyone want to do this? And why would I be discussing illusion anyway?

I spend my time telling stories, weaving romantic tales or heartrending anecdotes. I paint sentimental pictures and offer up pretty memories tied up in ribbon, yet I create no illusions. I have never been a believer in deception, I am totally incapable of lying, I have little power to bewitch and understand that all of those illusions, no matter how simple, are as transparent as glass. And anyone who has met me in “real life” after knowing me through my blog understands that I am pretty much what I appear to be in glorious black and white. Yet….yet, when I mentioned in my last post that I was a pathetic hostess, that organizing even a casual lunch for friends has me frazzled and panicking, that I tend to select dishes I have never made before and several foods that all have to be prepared at the last minute so I end up absolutely freaking out, cursing for all the world to hear, throwing things at the walls in the kitchen and, in the end, serve mostly overcooked and badly managed food, well no one seemed to believe me. Dear readers, I kid you not.

For it is a land of illusion, a place in the mind, a shimmering mirage of riches and mystery and death. These illusions have distorted its landscape and contorted its history.
- Richard Lingenfelter

Have I given anyone the idea that I am the hostess with the mostess? That all runs smoothly chez nous, that I am an always-fabulous cook, that I have, as someone suggested, nerves of steel? I create no illusions, I beg for no compliments. I am not the kind of girl who sweetly bats her eyelashes in the hopes of being called out on her humble avowal, her modesty painting a pretty picture to attract hugs and warm fuzzy outpourings. Nah! My words may be poetic but the truth, my truths, are as bare as my soul. I am a lousy hostess. At any outside event, whether public or private, I am as cool and collected as the most cosmopolitan Holly Golightly while my husband, strong, smart, talented businessman crumples up into an embarrassed, bumbling, sidekick. At home, the roles are reversed. My meals are a disaster, I spill the wine and trip over the edge of the carpet, I always think I am misunderstanding the French rattling on around me and my mind goes utterly blank as I scramble for clever things to say, interesting topics to dazzle my guests. And husband’s smooth, suave man-about-town kicks in… he takes over the dinner table conversation, discusses and pours the wine like the best sommelier, expertly slides trays of nibblies and aperitifs onto the coffee table and then ties on an apron and takes over the kitchen. Opposites not only attract but they make for the perfect social couple.


Our two recent dinner parties went down like the best whiskey, warm and toasty, earthy and smooth. Days before the first lunch, JP took me aside, sat me down and planned the entire menu from aperatif through coffee and dessert. His brilliant plan of creating a dessert that could be made a day or even two ahead, pre-marinating chicken so it would only need to be slid into the hot oven just as the guests knocked on the front door and purchasing everything else ready-made at the market that morning was a plan made in heaven. Like clockwork…. So as the second lunch, this one with two couples rather than just one, approached, I waited patiently; Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday strolled by and I said not one word. My heartbeat stayed normal and I went about my daily business with no worries standing in my way trying to trip me up. I had already decided that my Decadent Chocolate Spice Cake would be the spectacular finish to our meal, but the rest, well, I was waiting for Da Man!

And Saturday morning rolled around and as we snuggled up in bed with the covers pulled up tightly around us, we started thinking. I suggested his amazing Beef and Carrot Daube. No. My Goulash with Biscuits? Nope. Hmmmm. A one-pot meal is always so easy. I hopped out of bed and ran to the bookshelves and grabbed an armful of cookbooks and about twenty cooking magazines. And then he had it! We would start with grilled Boudin Blanc, white sausage, served on a bed of sautéed apples and pears and simply glide into a Choucroute de la Mer, Alsatian Choucroute topped with monkfish and smoked haddock, plump mussels and crayfish with a rich, tangy Beurre Blanc sauce. Perfect. And so was the dinner party. He cooked, he organized, he entertained and it was fabulous.

So, the moral of the story? Trust your better half. Stay calm, cool and collected. Let someone else do the cooking. And never lie about your faults, weaknesses or foibles for it will surely, one day, catch up with you.

We must select the illusion which appeals to our temperament and embrace it with passion, if we want to be happy.
- Cyril Connolly

And I made macarons. On my recent trip to London, I bought a small container of powdered beetroot, a deep luxurious pink-red color, a natural sweetener, and just knew it was destined for macarons. This month’s Mac Attack challenge was Savory-Sweet Macs, creating the perfect macaron blending the sweet and the savory, something to be served with a glass of Champagne. So Mathilde and I, yes, Mathilde is back! made beautiful pink macs and filled half with a simple cream cheese whipped creamy and smooth with a dash of dill layered with a slice of smoked salmon, and half with chocolate-orange ganache. Sweet or savory, the beetroot macs are delicately flavored, seeming almost to temper the normal sweetness and nuttiness of the shells, which made for the perfect backdrop to both fillings. Serve them to expectant guests both before and at the end of the meal and no matter how the rest of the day went, they will surely go home smiling.


From Plate to Page is highlighting Food Photographer William Brinson this week. William has very kindly shared with us some of his stunning photography as well as a few words about himself, his photography and his profession. Don't miss this, our first in a series of Star Food Stylists, Food Photographers and Food Writers, each one tempting us with their images and words, giving us a taste of their talent and a hint of the wonderful things behind From Plate to Page.


BEETROOT MACARONS
Either savory or sweet

7.2 oz (200 g) confectioner’s or powdered sugar
4 oz (110 g) finely ground almonds
2 Tbs (1 oz/30 g) granulated sugar
3 large egg whites (about 4 oz/112 g)
1 tsp beetroot powder
dot red or pink gel, paste or powdered food coloring or a bit of each

Prepare 2 large baking sheets. On 2 large pieces of white paper the size of your baking sheets, trace 1 ½ inch-diameter circles (I used the wide end of my pastry tip) evenly spaced, leaving about ¾ - 1 inch between each circle. This will be your template to help you pipe even circles of batter onto the parchment paper. You will be able to reuse these endlessly. Place one paper on each baking sheet then cover with parchment paper. Set aside. Prepare a pastry bag with a plain tip (Ateco #807 or #809).

Sift the powdered sugar, the ground almonds and the beetroot powder together into a large mixing bowl. Set aside.

In a standing mixer or with a hand mixer, whip the egg whites for 30 seconds on low speed then increase speed to high and whip until the whites are foamy. Gradually add the granulated sugar as you are whipping the whites until you obtain a glossy, stiff meringue.

Gently but firmly fold about 1/3 of the whipped whites into the powdered sugar/ground almonds. Add the rest of the whipped whites/meringue with the food coloring and fold, using a silicon spatula or the equivalent, turning the bowl as you lift and fold, making sure you fold in all the dry ingredients completely. When the batter is ready to pipe, it should flow from the spatula like lava or a thick ribbon. To test to see if you have folded it enough, drop a small amount onto a clean plate and jiggle it slightly. The top should flatten, not remain in a point. If it doesn’t flatten, give the batter a few more folds and test again.

You can also fold the powdered mixture into the meringue if it is easier for you.

Fill your pastry bag with the batter. Pipe circles onto the parchment paper, using the traced circles on the template sheets to guide you, holding your pastry bag above each circle and piping into the center. When you have piped all of your batter out into even rounds, you can sprinkle half of the shells with decorative sugar sprinkle or dried crushed herbs. These will be the top half of each “sandwich”. DO NOT FORGET TO CAREFULLY REMOVE THE WHITE PAPER TEMPLATE FROM UNDERNEATH THE PARCHMENT PAPER. YOU DO NOT WANT THIS TEMPLATE TO GO IN THE OVEN!

Preheat your oven to 280°F (140°C).

Allow the macarons to sit out for 30 minutes to an hour. The top of each shell should form a “skin” (it will feel like it hardened a bit when gently touched and shouldn’t stick to your finger). Bake the shells for 15 – 20 minutes, depending on their size (when I touched macs that were not quite done, the top jiggled a bit as if there was still a bit of liquid batter between the top and the “feet” so I let it continue to bake another minute.) I turn the trays back to front halfway through the baking.

Remove the tray from the oven and immediately slide the parchment paper with the shells off of the hot baking sheet and onto a surface, table or countertop. Allow to cool before sliding the shells very gently off of the parchment by slipping a cake spatula under the shell as you lift it up. Be careful or the center of the shell risks sticking to the parchment.


Dark Chocolate Ganache Filling for the sweet


½ cup (125 ml) heavy cream
¾ cup (about 100 g) chopped dark chocolate (I used Lindt Excellence 70% and sometimes one with flavor such as mint or orange)

Place the chopped chocolate into a medium-sized mixing or other heatproof bowl. Pour the cream into a small saucepan. Slowly heat the cream until it comes just to the boiling point. Pour the cream immediately over the chopped chocolate and stir until it is smooth and creamy.

Allow the ganache filling to cool, stirring every so often. If need be (I do this) place the bowl in the refrigerator, pulling it out every 5 or 10 minutes and giving a good, hearty stir. When the ganache is ready to use to fill the macarons, it should be thick and creamy, not runny. You want to be able to pipe the filling onto the shells and have it stay there not run all over the place.

Prepare your pastry bag with a plain tip that will pipe teaspoon-sized dots of filling onto the macaron shells. Pair up the shells so you have sets that match (same size and shape). Pipe the ganache filling onto one shell of each pair. Sandwich with the second shell. Allow the filling to set.

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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!

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SEA BREAM WITH LEMON (DORADE AU CITRON)

CONFESSIONS: SEXY IS A MAN IN AN APRON

Call us the Cooking Avengers : she's groovy and mod, he may seem staid and serious, but what a cook! Together they are out to blast away the boring and usual and bring excitement and adventure into the kitchen

Or HOW OUR HERO BECAME A GREAT COOK

It all started in a northern suburb of Paris in the 1960s, a working class family living over the small corner grocery that they owned and ran. Papa worked 7 days a week from early morning until early evening, climbing the stairs only for meals or at the end of his working day. Maman divided her time between the shop where she helped the clients, hand-made cheese, stocked the shelves and weighed vegetables, and the apartment above, overseeing meal preparation, making sure homework was done and the baby taken care of.

My father-in-law in front of the family's shop and apartment, circa early 1960's

2, 3 and then 4 children sat around the long kitchen table doing homework. JP was the only son, about 10 years old, when it all began. His mother would start lunch, pot au feu or chicken and rice, peel, chop, add and stir, then fix the lid atop the pot and say “okay, as soon as it comes to a boil, come down to the shop and let me know.” Or “at 12:30 on the nose, turn off the heat and lunch will be ready.”

A year or two later, things had moved forward; everything started, she would get ready to head down to the shop and her clients and she would instruct the children, “When it comes to a boil, add the vegetables” or “when it comes up to a boil, turn down the heat and let it simmer for 30 minutes. Then make the rice.” Little by little, the responsibility grew, the duties expanded. Preparing, chopping, stirring, adding…. But Maman still did the heavy work.

But as the old French saying goes : “Petit à petit, le petit oiseau fait son nid!” (Little by little, the little bird builds his nest!) By the time JP was about 13 or 14, the chicken or the veal would be on the table, the pot on the stove, the rest of the ingredients found down in the shop. Maman would now say “Today you make “Poule au Pot” or “Blanquette de veau”, intimating “you have seen me make this hundreds of times over the past few years, you know how by now.” So as the story goes, our hero was able to prepare anything his mom had been making, all of those French home staples, hearty one-pot meals, soups, stews, dressings.

But here-in lies the problem for a lover of good food like JP : his mom had a somewhat limited repertoire, only preparing the several dishes that her husband liked. Everything else he refused. The traditional Christmas turkey replaced with a capon? Sunday chicken replaced with guinea fowl? This was a man of habit, the man who expected the same menu every holiday, the same meal in front of him every Sunday noon, whether chicken, rabbit or beef, it had to be prepared in the usual way.

By 16, JP was ready to explore. Tired of the same old, same old, he pulled his mother’s Françoise Bernard Les Recettes Faciles out of the cupboard and set out on a personal challenge : as he (more or less) was now in charge of a certain numbers of meals, he decided to work his way through the cookbook, trying something new every week. All he asked for was enough money to run to the butcher’s shop across the square for whatever meat was involved, and the rest he grabbed from the shelves of the shop downstairs.

And the rest, as we say, is history. Our hero has done very well, having taught himself over this years’-long, self-imposed cooking challenge to make everything French from Rabbit Terrine to Beignets au pommes, from Daube to Crêpes, Ham-wrapped Endives baked in Bechamel to Potée to handmade mayonnaise.

Later, his repertoire grew. Two years living and working in Morocco, hanging about kitchens with the women, watching and learning, our years in Italy together as well as the cooking cultures I brought with me to the marriage and all we have discovered together.

Always fun in the kitchen

He loves cooking, loves eating, loves exploring and discovering cuisines. But he is also a man adamant in his belief of cooking with and eating only the freshest, only the seasonal and only the local, when possible. He leaves the pastry to me, but he still and always will find the greatest pleasure in putting together a fabulous meal!

DORADE AU CITRON (Sea Bream with Lemon)
Made as a surprise Saturday morning as I was at the supermarket with Simon

1 whole sea bream, about 2 lbs (1 kg); ask your fishmonger to clean it if you prefer
2 to 3 shallots
2 or 3 cloves of garlic
Parsley or fresh coriander (cilantro), 1 bunch
1 lemon
Butter or margarine, about 2 Tbs (30 g)
Thyme, fresh or dried
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Slice that lemon

Preheat oven to 420°F (210°C).
(Thanks Steve!!)

Generously butter a baking dish large enough to hold the whole fish.

Sea Bream

Scale, empty and clean the sea bream if not already done by your fishmonger. Rinse and dry it off.

Peel and chop the shallots and garlic, chop a large handful of the parsley or coriander. Mix together and then salt and pepper the mixture.


Stuff this filling into the open cavity of the fish, pressing it in so it is well filled with all of the filling.


Use toothpicks pushed through the skin to close the fish back up.


With a very sharp knife, make 4 or 5 incisions in the side of the fish which will be turned up in the baking dish.


Press a half-slice of lemon into each incision.


Salt and pepper the outside of the bream and dust generously with the dried or fresh, chopped thyme. Dot with butter.


Place the fish in the buttered baking dish and bake for 30 to 40 minutes – check after 30 minutes to see if the fish is cooked all the way through by pushing apart and looking deep into one of the incisions. Do not overcook.

Serve hot out of the oven with rice or fresh tagliatelle, followed by a cool, green salad. Perfect!

Spoon a little of the juices from the baking over the fish

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