Scalloped Potato Gratin

I was passing through the kitchen yesterday trying to come up with a quick and easy side dish to go with the steak we were going to cook Tony for Father's Day on Sunday.  My mind instantly went to potatoes and I realized that I didn't get around to posting the delicious scalloped potatoes that I made for him for his birthday!

Super easy side dish especially if you use the slicer attachment on you food processor.  He loved them and might just be seeing a repeat performance on Sunday!

See all the cheesy goodness with the delicious little browned bits that everyone fights over?

Scalloped Potato Gratin (Food Network - Tyler Florence's recipe)

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 cups heavy cream 
• 1 sprig fresh thyme
• 2 garlic cloves, chopped
• 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• Butter
• 2 pounds russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/8-inch thick slices
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, plus more for broiling

Directions:

• Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
• In a saucepan, heat up the cream with a sprig of thyme, chopped garlic and nutmeg.
• While cream is heating up, butter a casserole dish. Place a layer of potato in an overlapping pattern and season with salt and pepper. Remove cream from heat, then pour a little over the potatoes. Top with some grated Parmesan. Make 2 more layers. Bake, uncovered, for 45 minutes. Sprinkle some more Parmesan and broil until cheese browns, about 5 minutes. 

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Asian Broccoli Slaw (Thanks Sherri M.!)

Sometimes you come across a really great recipe by luck and possibly a little boredom.  I know it’s happened to all of us before.  Either chatting on the phone (anyone do this anymore?), IMing, texting etc. and the other person mentions what they are making or eating.  And you hear it and you just HAVE to have it!
This happened to me a couple of weekends ago when one of my friends text me that she was making broccoli slaw and then she sent me a picture.  I had to have some…luckily she lives in the neighborhood and brought me some.  But sadly I had to share with the kids but it inspired me to make some more…the very next day!
Now, I don’t ever use Ramen Noodles (the really cheap packs you get and add hot water to) and to be honest I have never even tasted them but we have a case of them in our Hurricane Supply kit and I decided that this could put them to very good use!

Asian Broccoli Slaw (Sherri’s Mom got it from the Pastor’s wife)

Salad Ingredients
2 bags of broccoli slaw
6 green spring onions (chopped)
1/4 – 1/2 cup red peppers (chopped)
1/2 cup craisins
1/2 cup roasted and salted sunflower seeds (I loved the salty sweet thing so I added extra)
2 pkg chicken flavor Ramen Noodle (just the noodle part) crumbled up and placed on top just before serving

Dressing Ingredients
1/2 cup olive oil
3 Tbsp red wine vinegar
2 Tbsp honey
2 seasoning packets from the Ramen Noodles above
couple of dashes of hot garlic sauce just to taste

Directions

• In a large bowl mix all of the salad ingredients but the noodles (they will be used to sprinkle on top.
• In a small bowl combine all of the ingredients for the dressing.
• Toss the salad with the dressing and chill for a couple of hours before serving. 
• Don't cook the noodles, leave them crunchy.  Break them up and top the salad with them just before you serve the salad.

**We love this salad and yes, it will feed a crowd or 4 people who eat it at every meal when it’s there for a day or so.

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ENDIVE, LARDONS & CANCOILLOTTE GRATIN with a Peasant Boule

A BIRTHDAY AND A GIFT

I think, at a child's birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it
with the most useful gift, that gift should be curiosity.
- Eleanor Roosevelt

Small baby swaddled in creamy caramel blankets clutched to her chest, the woman in the supermarket line in front of me rattled on happily about the birth of her newest child, wondering that six weeks had already flown by. I smiled at her and exclaimed “and before you know it, 20 years will have elapsed” as I thought of my own babies, now grown men.

Each birthday is a time of reflection: where we have been, where we are now and where we are going. Wishes made as candles are blown out, eyes tightly shut, images of health, wealth and world peace flutter through our imagination; dreams float in and out and with each passing birthday, as we get older and the weeks and months between celebrations seem to grow shorter, we tick off our accomplishments on our fingers and make lists of what there is left to do; the years that once yawned before us seem numbered, our time now urgent and we wonder again if there will be enough time to get done all that we desire.

Yet that brief encounter at a place so banal as the supermarket, seeing one young woman’s face light up as she showed off her new baby, made me think of my own and I wonder if this is not my greatest accomplishment. I remember a letter once written to my brother so long ago during a rather rough period of my life when I counted happiness in moments spent with my husband, enumerated each struggle I faced living in a new country, how my days went with two small, headstrong boys; I felt locked in and going crazy, totally out of control and, need I say, as if I was going nowhere fast. My brother, always so thoughtful, so wise, so supportive, wrote back a long missive listing my accomplishments, reminding me that an extremely shy, small-town girl had picked up and moved abroad with no money and no help, married a Frenchman and was raising two multi-cultural sons; he pointed out that I had learned two foreign languages that I juggled on a daily basis in order to survive and get even my basic needs and those of my family met; he went on and on listing my achievements and exploits, forcing me to stare hard in the mirror of my own life and admit that, after all, I wasn’t a failure and that I had indeed done some pretty impressive things with the short number of years that had at the time so far been awarded me.


And years have flown by. Things have only gotten better; my husband and I now confront our troubles and worries as a team, encouraging each other, sharing, trying to understand the other’s confusion, difficulties and joys. We have gotten more adventurous as the years have scudded by, made changes, moved countries and cities, changed jobs as we have seen fit, as the urge, need, desire has come upon us. Maybe we have grown braver in the face of my brother’s illness and death, realizing that no one can be sure of how much time is left and that each and every moment should count, each new birthday a gift. Maybe as we have grown older and smarter we began to realize that we wanted to show our growing boys all that life can and should be, teach them the lesson that we can’t be afraid to face up to our dreams and that if we work hard enough we can make anything happen.

Children are great imitators. So give them something great to imitate.
– Anonymous

Okay, so birthdays make me sentimental and just slightly maudlin, I do admit. And another birthday has rolled around as they inevitably do and here I sit and think about… my sons. As I revealed and clarified in a previous post, my men are shy of the spotlight and none too thrilled with being mentioned in my writing, yet here I must reflect once again on how they began as adorable bambini and have grown into tall, handsome, fine young men. Clem, always the happy, chortling, gregarious tot, who ran before he could walk, chattered on and on before he could form words, frivolous and adventurous, has grown into a smart, ambitious, creative young man. My little Simon, thoughtful and quiet as a baby and toddler, careful, patient, eerily capable of too many things and having a capacity to read adults like some dark angel, sensitive and moody throughout his boyhood has become an honest, intellectual, generous, searching young adult just on the brink of his life. Both are kind, funny and clever, interested in the world around them, knowledgeable and cultivated. Both have the talent to tease their mother while making sure she is happy and safe, the capacity to drive her absolutely bonkers or outright into a rage while looking out for her well-being, protecting her while running her in circles. And both have the ability, in their pranks and jokes, to make me roll on the floor with laughter.


My husband and I are both on the point of starting over, beginning new careers, daring to find our true selves and put our happiness and our own satisfaction first; we focus on ourselves yet, looking around us, are astonished to see what our sons have become, astounded that we had a hand in creating two young adults that we are truly proud of. And watching and listening to them, sitting and talking and laughing with them, we realize that life has become just a little bit more satisfying and easier.

While we try to teach our children all about life,
our children teach us what life is all about.
– Anonymous

He continues to cook and I to bake. A brief interlude from the sweets for one more savory: an Endive and Cancoillotte Gratin, a recipe that jumped off of the page out of our latest issue of French Saveurs magazine. Cancoillotte is a creamy, thick yet almost liquid, sticky and rather elastic cheese from the Franche-Comté region of France with a flavor that is impossible to describe (think the best cheese fondu you have ever eaten). Warm up this flavorful treasure and it becomes liquid gold, unctuous, luxurious like the finest French silk rippling, sliding down one’s skin. Although thick and oh-so decadent, Cancoillotte is one of the least fatty of cheeses with only 2 to 8% fat. Heaven! This dairy product has a fascinating history: it was actually conceived by a cheese producer during the First World War when he had the idea to produce, sterilize and can cheese to be sent easily to the soldiers, les Poilus, on the front. 90% of the production of Cancoillotte still takes place in Franche-Comté. Not widely known, my husband introduced this treasure into our home many years ago and, I can easily say, once a spoon is dipped into the creamy cheese and lifted to the lips, once it is served melted on toast, an all-time favorite, it is impossible to stop until the last drop is licked clean from the pot.


JP twiddled a bit with the recipe and placed on the table before us this magnificent gratin, at once slightly bitter (braised endives), salty (chunks of smoked ham), garlicky and tangy with this marvelous cheese all at once, the pecans giving the gratin an earthy, satisfying bite. A decadent pleasure. I paired it with this month’s Bake Together recipe by my talented friend Abby Dodge, a peasant boule, which I jazzed up with a cup of finely grate Parmesan cheese and a handful or two of mixed seeds – pine nuts, pumpkin seeds and sunflower seeds. The Peasant Boule is this month’s Bake Together recipe: follow #baketogether on Twitter and find out how you, too, can bake together with us!


I would like to share this bread with Susan of Wild Yeast for her weekly celebration of yeast, Yeastspotting!

ENDIVE, LARDONS, PECANS & CANCOILLOTTE GRATIN
From Saveurs février 2012


6 – 9 endives, depending on quantity desired
1 small pot (250 g) cancoillotte for 6 endives (1 ½ pots for 9)
Handful cubed smoked lardoons or ham
2.3 – 2.6 oz (65 – 75 grams) coarsely chopped pecans or walnuts
Finely minced clove of garlic
1 small bouillon cube, optional
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Unsalted butter

Remove the outer leaves of the endives and trim off the end; discard. Slice each endive in two lengthwise and either steam or braise in a small amount of water with about ½ a bouillon cube (if desired), for about 10 minutes until soft.

Preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C). Butter the bottom and sides of a baking dish (terra cotta or glass/pyrex) large enough to snugly hold all of the prepared endives in one layer. Line up the braised or steamed endives in a row in the prepared baking dish.

Briefly sauté the smoked lardons until browned. Sauté the lardons in a small amount of butter if desired.


Evenly distribute the minced garlic, the browned lardons and the chopped pecans over the endives. Salt and pepper. Pour the cancoillotte all over the endives and bake in the oven for 15 minutes. The cheese should be bubbly and beginning to brown around the edges.


Serve immediately.


ABBY’S PEASANT BOULE

1 recipe peasant boule
1 cup finely grated Parmesan or Comté cheese
½ to 1 cup mixed seeds

Follow the directions for Abby’s Bake Together peasant boule on her blog, blending the cheese and seeds in with the dry ingredients before forming into a dough.


The only changes I made were using salted butter for the bowl, the pan and the top of the bread. I brushed the surface of the dough twice: once before the second rising, as instructed, and once just before sprinkling more seeds on the top of the boule and baking.


I changed the size of the cake pan I baked the bread in; I believe this may have led to the top of the bread splitting during baking as well as that the center of the dough was underbaked. But we loved the bread even if not perfect and I will be baking this again very soon.

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CAULIFLOWER AND POTATO GRATIN

THE MAN COOKS… AGAIN AND AGAIN!


My men are a unique bunch: they are handsome, wickedly funny, bright as all get-out, über talented and creative. But if they are anything at all, they are discreet. Not so much shy as shunning the limelight; they loathe being talked about, are uncomfortable being shown off; they are wary of my verbosity in front of my blog and social media accounts, mistrustful of how much I talk about them to my friends; they don’t appreciate being mentioned nor do they want their photos splashed across Life’s a Feast or my Facebook page; they simply do not want their private lives bared to the world. I am woman and they are man and rarely the twain shall meet, yet as I try and understand their vagaries and respect their wishes, I sometimes, well, let’s admit it, I slip up. Ooops! But how does one such as I write something as personal as a blog or even write at all without talking about the three most basic elements, the most important components of my life?


As winter rages outside…. Okay, I will admit that rages is a bit farfetched, for the temperature bounces up a few notches, then down a few, neither settling on frosty nor on balmy, less raging than hovering around some wishy-washy in between and the snow still eludes my every request – okay, let’s start again... As winter settles in gray and desolate, teasing me with much-yearned-for glacial weather and the promise of snow in her steely glance and misty afternoons, my husband and I spend most of our time huddled together in the apartment. So face to face, with him part of my every waking moment, I find it close to impossible not to talk about him. Especially when he is doing all of the cooking.

As you may know, we are Starting Over. After the long, arduous conversations, the hashing and rehashing, tossing ideas, thoughts, fears and dreams back and forth like two kids playing ball in the street on a dull summer afternoon, we came to the decision – and not for the first time in our many years together – that husband should leave his job (for a quantity of reasons) and it was time for us to recreate ourselves yet once again. Adventure awaits, the world opens before us in a multitude of possibilities. The lure of pleasure and the fulfillment of dreams enchants as a Siren’s song, seduces us with their dangerous, mesmerizing beauty. Galvanized by our various projects and simply delighted at having the time we aren’t each sitting in front of our separate computers to be together, we seem to be possessed by some reckless, crazy Utopia of an ideal world where we can get by doing just what we love doing and maybe, just maybe, have a positive effect on someone, somewhere. We may be deluding ourselves, it is true, but when have hard work and passion not come together to create something perfect? Or something close to it?


But back to the food. My husband has always loved to cook from his earliest years, and now that he is home he has been more than happy to take over the kitchen at mealtimes. Raised on hearty, wholesome, traditional French family cooking kicked up with his two years living in Morocco and enriched with the food he experienced during his travels across Europe, he has built up an incredibly rich repertoire of favorites. He saunters through the market choosing his purchases carefully, studiously, selecting only local, seasonal fruits and vegetables, planning dishes compatible with the weather and our mood. Poached whole sea bass or choucroute laden either with Alsatian sausages or seafood, a spicy couscous or exotic tagine, mussels marinière served with sizzling frites or an herbed côte de boeuf, lasagnas meaty and traditional or layered with smoked salmon, his talents are endless, his taste impeccable! Onions chopped, herbs ripped, meat sautéed, potatoes puréed, he has kept me happily fed for 25 years and he still never ceases to amaze me. Granted, his menu choices often defy my diet, but diet is a word that just isn’t in his vocabulary and any mention of that dreaded concept can work him into a fury. Raised on pot au feu, guinea fowl wrapped in tender green cabbage, creamy, cheesy potato gratin dauphinois and blanquette à l’ancienne, food is meant to comfort and soothe, fill one up and carry one through the rest of the working day. Salad is to end the meal not replace it, fruit accompanies a platter of cheese and a loaf of bread and wine is served at every meal. Yes, many a meal nowadays chez nous is made up of a large mixed salad or a healthy, light bowl of vegetable soup, but when one desires to cook a meal, well, one cooks.


So I pull up my chair to the table, tuck a napkin under my chin and dig in. The first mouthful a revelation, the second, a confirmation, the third and each after pure pleasure. I close my eyes and savor yet another marvelous dish and wonder that he can take the most humble of ingredients, toss in a handful of seemingly random this or that, sautée, simmer or bake and create such flavorful, inspiring, delectable dishes. And today’s is simple indeed: Cauliflower and Potato Gratin. This is the man who refuses to allow a cauliflower or a broccoli to cross the threshold into our home, bans each from the kitchen, forbids the cooking in any way, shape or form of such two who leave an acrid, pungent odor behind, trailing a whip of cabbage stench from livingroom to bedroom. Yet he loves the humble, elegant cauliflower, so excuses are made, reasons found for the occasional foray into cauliflower love. When he is feeling admirable, exemplary in his sense of responsibility, he will steam the flowerets and serve them in a chaud-froid style simply tossed still warm from the pot with a tart vinaigrette studded with finely minced shallots, lovely pale purple dots against the pristine white of the cauliflower, the vinaigrette giving a sparkling, clean bite to the mild vegetable. But when he is feeling decadent or when the weather is chilling us to the bone, he opts for something richer, creamier, more filling, a dish that leaves us content and replenished, protected against the harsh elements and the mad, mad world outside.


So, at the risk of making him upset or having him ask me once again to never speak of him on my blog, of being reprimanded for opening up our intimate details for all the world to ogle and dissect, I will say that I am married to an incredible cook, an incredible man. He began cooking when merely a boy in his maman’s kitchen while she worked, taking over entire meals while others of his age were going through their adolescent woes and rebellions. His passion for food has never stopped growing and lucky am I to have him cooking for me! Ah, but we were talking about a Cauliflower and Potato Gratin, weren’t we? Simply steamed potatoes and cauliflower, tossed in a luscious, thick, creamy béchamel and topped with both Parmesan and nutty Gruyère or Comté cheeses then popped in a hot oven to bubble and brown… nothing, dear reader, says Winter Comfort Food better than this.


Looking to hone your food writing or photography skills or just needing to kickstart your creativity? Feeling the blogging blues and desiring inspiration? Wanting to bridge the road between blogger and professional? Looking for an intimate, hands-on, practical workshop rather than a huge, traditional conference? If you missed our exciting, successful From Plate to Page workshop in beautiful Tuscany then you won't want to miss the next! Registrations are now open for From Plate to Page in spectacular Somerset UK in Spring 2012! Check out the program, the accommodations and reviews of P2P Tuscany and P2P Weimar... and then sign up before all the spaces are filled! I'll be there offering writing instruction, critique and ideas.


CAULIFLOWER AND POTATO GRATIN
Jamie & JP team up in the kitchen


1 head cauliflower, trimmed and broken into large flowerets *
Several potatoes that stay firm while boiling **

About 1 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese
About 2 or 3 cups grated Gruyère or Comté cheese

* Flowerets broken into small, bite-sized pieces will fall apart or crumble when being blanched or steamed. Pre-cook them in larger pieces and cut into smaller bites before tossing in the béchamel.

** How many potatoes, you ask? I did not see how many JP peeled and cooked, but maybe about half to ¾ the quantity of cauliflower you use. Combined, the vegetables blended with the béchamel should fill a 13 x 9-inch baking dish or slightly bigger. Read this post about JP cooking au pif…

Béchamel
4 Tbs (60 g) butter
4 Tbs flour
3 cups (700 ml) whole milk
1 small to medium onion trimmed and finely chopped
1 bay leaf
½ tsp dried thyme or 1 tsp fresh leaves
Large pinch nutmeg
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Prepare the vegetables by simply cleaning and trimming the cauliflower and cutting into large sections and steaming or simmering in salted water until tender but not too soft or mushy; they will continue to cook in the oven, and peeling the potatoes and simmering in salted water until tender but not too soft. Drain.

Once well drained, cut into smaller pieces and toss together.

Preheat the oven to 425°F (220°C). Butter a large baking dish.

Prepare the Béchamel:

Melt the butter in a large saucepan over medium-low heat until bubbly. Add the chopped onion and toss to coat. Lower the heat slightly and cook, stirring, for about 3 or 4 minutes until the onion is soft and transparent and just beginning to turn golden on the edges.

Add the flour all at once and stir or whisk until the flour is well blended into the butter. Cook, stirring, for a minute 2 to 3 minutes. Then begin adding the milk, a little at a time, whisking to blend and allow each addition to thicken. As it thickens, add more milk and repeat until all the milk has been added and the sauce is beginning to thicken. Add the herbs, salt and pepper generously and allow to simmer very gently, stirring continuously, for about 10 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasonings. Remove the bay leaf.

Pour the hot béchamel over the prepared cauliflower and potatoes and gently toss until the sauce is evenly distributed. Pour into the gratin or baking dish and spread out evenly. Sprinkle the Parmesan and then the Gruyère/Comté evenly over the top of the vegetables all the way to the edge of the dish.

Bake in the hot oven for about 20 minutes or until bubbly and the cheese is a deep golden and browning as you like.


Serve as a side dish with roasted meat or chicken or with cold cuts or sausages or as a main course for lunch simply with a large mixed salad. And a glass of wine.

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PEA, MINT & FETA RISOTTO WITH ROASTED TOMATOES AND PARMESAN SCONES

RAIN, RAIN, GO AWAY...


Fall rain is somehow different from summer rain. June and July were unusually chilly, the days of bright sun alternating with dreary gray, intermittent with rain. We stayed crouched in front of the television, waiting impatiently to begin living the walks and outings, the promises of summer, as we usually do this time of year. And then, as quickly as it disappeared, the sun would make a return appearance and we would enjoy a few more days of lovely weather, as if the rain simply rushed through to cleanse and refresh. Then off I flew to the States where I was greeted by the scorching heat, heat seeping under my skin, clothing pressing to my body like unwanted hands holding tight, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps each time I stepped over the threshold. The heat in Oman was heavier on the skin, pressing, harassing, choking, all the more so for the long sleeves we wore. Short bursts outside followed necessarily by cooling breaks indoors or in the Gulf breeze, icy lemon mint drink in hand.

Gorgeous, welcoming days of autumn fluttered around me upon my return to France. Comforting, cajoling with the promise of long strolls followed by picnics, moods refreshed. Yet since this weekend we sit shivering in the damp chill of the apartment, Marty pacing back and forth between hallway and living room searching desperately for a much-needed and expected ray of sunlight splashing across the carpet, his usual spot for a snooze. To no avail. We scooch on an extra layer of sweaters, sauté onions to be slipped into simmering broth sweetened by warm, plump golden raisins and ladle the liquid gold over steaming couscous, cupping our hands around the toasty bowl as we breathe in the fragrant wisps of comfort. The rain of autumn is unrelenting in its harshness, its all-encompassing moodiness envelops us in dark thoughts, our limbs heavy, our brains soft. No glimmer of hope in a fall drizzle, no hint of sun waiting patiently in the wings. We stare out the window and think that it will never, ever end.


Today, as I glance out at the pewter sky, rooftops hazy in the thick, heavy gloom, I try and conjure up autumns past. Our trip to Italy looms on the horizon, and I am sorely praying for a truly Tuscan autumn. Leaves turning to gold and burnished red, flaming orange pumpkins, porcini and chestnuts in hues of chocolate snuggled side by side with deep purple figs in a festive embrace. Autumn’s colors are romantically deep and moody, the rustle of leaves and the breeze tickling our senses with mystery. Oh, we had rain in Italy, torrential rain, but I choose to remember the beauty that surrounded me on those special days of cool sunshine, impeccably dressed men and women hurrying down Corso Vercelli or heaps upon heaps of artichokes green, jade, violet threatening to tumble from market stalls; the heady scent of Parmesan in tremendous wheels, smoked scamorza and taleggio as Franco and Vittorio shout Buon Giorno! Come Stai? from the brightly lit area behind the chilly cases; as the tortellini and ravioli turn to pumpkin and mushroom and deep purple grapes hang in elegant bunches from the dark foliage spread across our terrace. Yes, the furs and quilted jackets come out, the sun is brilliant and the smell of chestnuts haunts us from every street corner. That is my autumn.

But as the weather turns unexpectedly in its precipitation, I wonder at the urgency, the need to skip entirely over gentle summer, an entire season. I long not for the searing, seething heat of New Orleans, Florida or Oman, but the quiet warmth of the ideal summer, of long days with windows flung open, feet up, our moods as relaxed and calm as the weather. I dream not of a torrid, aggressive, sweltering canicule as we have know so well in another life, but a temperate, peaceful turning towards autumn. Suitcases emptied of beachwear and shorts; sandals flung into the closet as sunglasses are tucked into etuis, I have been digging out thicker knits, shrugging on fleece and trying to squeeze into trousers not worn for a year. Happily, we drive down to Italy so I can stuff my biggest suitcase with a wide selection of summery, fall and cold weather outfits, shoes and coats galore, whatever I might possibly need. But I pray for a cold, crisp, bright autumn. And the food that goes with it.


But for now, until them, I hold onto summer in the kitchen. The bright reds, greens and brilliant white of the clean, fresh foods of a hot weather season bring cheer to the gloom, warmth to the icy bleakness and visions of Mediterranean islands. Slow roasted cherry tomatoes are fruity and smoky, peas sweet and tender, aromatic mint a breath of outdoors, feta adding saltiness and zing to salads, pizzas and pasta. I bring the three together in a dish to warm us up on a chilly day in a damp apartment and it works wonders! Risotto is soothing and comforting and I pop the traditional Risi e Bisi (Rice and Kisses), Pea Risotto, by adding lots of chopped fresh mint and crumbled feta to the mix instead of parsley and Parmesan and serve it with sweet, tangy roasted cherry tomatoes, an extra flavor boost. Served with fluffy scones rich with Parmesan cheese and a bottle of red wine and the meal is complete. And we sit back, warmed and satisfied and dream of Italy.


Don’t miss my latest article on Huffington Post Food in which I analyze The Disappearing Pause Déjeuner, a veritable family tradition in France.

And if you haven’t yet voted, there is still time. Life’s a Feast is up for a Blogger’s Choice Award in the category Best Food Blog. Every vote counts and I would greatly appreciate yours!


Last but certainly not least, visit our new From Plate to Page website. Keep up to date on our workshops and don’t miss one single guest post from our illustrious and talented guests, each a professional food writer, stylist or photographer, who have come to Plate to Page to generously share their story, experiences and views on the evolution of their profession.


PEA, MINT & FETA RISOTTO WITH ROASTED CHERRY TOMATOES


1 small onion, finely diced
3 Tbs (45 g) unsalted butter
1 Tbs olive oil
1 ½ - 2 cups young, tiny sweet peas, fresh or frozen
@ 5 cups (1 ½ litres) chicken or vegetable stock, warm
9 oz (250 g) round rice for risotto, Arborio, Vialone Nano or Carnaroli
Handful of chopped fresh mint
3.5 – 5 oz (100 – 150 g) chopped or crumbled Greek feta
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Firm cherry tomatoes, about 4 or 5 per person
2 Tbs olive oil
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
3 peeled and crushed (not chopped) garlic cloves
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Begin by roasting the cherry tomatoes:

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Place the individual quiche tins on a baking sheet.

Stir together 2 tablespoons olive oil with 1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar in a glass baking dish or pie plate. Season with a little salt and pepper and add 2 peeled and crushed garlic cloves. Toss the cherry tomatoes into the flavored oil and roast for about 20 minutes or until the skins are split and shriveled and the tomatoes start to show signs of roasting (a bit golden). If you like, turn on the overhead grill for the last couple of minutes to color. Remove from the oven and allow to cool while preparing the rest.

Prepare the Risotto:

Heat half the butter and the olive oil in a large skillet. Add the chopped onion and, stirring, cook for a couple of minutes until softened and just starting to turn golden. Add the peas and a few tablespoons of the warm stock and cook for a few minutes to defrost the frozen peas or up to 10 minutes for fresh peas until tender.

Add the rice and toss with the shallots and peas until all the grains are coated in oil. Cook for a minute or two until the grains of rice become more translucent. Pour on two ladlefuls of broth and cook, stirring continuously and gently, until the liquid is almost completely absorbed. Continue cooking the risotto over medium heat, adding 2 ladlefuls of broth at a time, stirring constantly and allowing each addition of liquid to be almost absorbed before adding more broth. This should take between 20 and 25 minutes total cooking time from the moment the rice is added to the peas.

A few minutes before the rice is done, stir in a large handful of chopped fresh mint and the chopped or crumbled feta, more or less as you please. Taste and add a bit of salt only as needed – the stock and the feta are both salty so taste to see if any additional salt is necessary. Add pepper.

When the risotto is finished, the rice should be meltingly tender, the risotto creamy and smooth. Remove from the heat and stir in the remaining butter. Serve with the warm roasted cherry tomatoes and the Parmesan Scones.


PARMESAN SCONES
Adapted from the Sept-Oct 2011 French Saveurs magazine


10 ½ oz (300 g) flour
1 sachet (0.4 oz/11 g) baking powder
1 tsp salt
7/8 cup (200 ml) heavy cream
3 ½ oz (100 g) grated Parmesan
2 Tbs milk for brushing the tops of the scones

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).

Blend the flour, baking powder, salt and grated Parmesan cheese together in a mixing bowl and make a well in the center. Pour the cream into the well and, using a fork, stir together rapidly until the dry ingredients are moistened and the dough begins pulling together. Scrape out onto a floured surface and knead quickly until the dough is smooth and homogenous.

Roll out the dough to a thickness of about ¾ - 1 inch but no more (about 1 ½ - 2 cm) and use a biscuit cutter to cut rounds about 2 inches wide (about 5 cm). Place the rounds of dough on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet, gather the rest of the dough together, roll out again, and finish cutting into rounds.

Lightly brush the tops of each scone with milk and bake for 15 minutes until puffed up and the tops are golden. Remove from the oven and allow to cool just a bit before serving. With butter, of course.

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QUICHES, KUGELS, and COUSCOUS By Joan Nathan

PART I: MY KUGEL CULTURE


When I was contacted about receiving a copy of Joan Nathan’s newest cookbook, I was very excited! I recently inherited my brother’s copy of The New American Cooking and had fallen in love with this amazing cookbook, so I was anxious to read and cook from another of Ms. Nathan’s books. And when I saw the title Quiches, Kugels, and Couscous (My Search for Jewish Cooking in France) I just had to laugh. I immediately wrote an e-mail to Ms. Nathan’s PR person exclaiming, “This newest cookbook is the perfect fit for me and my blog – I grew up with the kugel and married the quiche and the couscous!” I knew that this book fit right in with the multi-cultural aspect of my blog…. And how! And what a fabulous early Hanukkah gift!


Growing up in a fairly small, middle-America town where everything and everyone revolved around the Space Center like satellites around a very important planet, I wasn’t surrounded by a large, multi-faceted Jewish community. We were a small, tight-knit and rather homogeneous group. We were all descendents of Russian Ashkenazic Jewish immigrants and what was cooked and baked in our parents’ kitchens and placed on the table before us was all the same, what we thought of and defined as “Jewish” food: chicken soup with matzoh balls or kneidlach dumplings, kishkes and kasha varnishkes, cabbage soup and potato latkes. Mmmm. We knew that the traditional dishes that graced our weekday, holiday and Sabbath evening tables were different than our non-Jewish friends’ meals – while they ate bacon on Sunday mornings we were enjoying bagels and nova lox, while they were eating apple pie we, were eating apple noodle kugel. Gefilte fish, blintzes and Challah were foreign to them yet everyday fare for us, and although we knew it was special to our own culture, we never, beyond that, gave it a second thought. It just was.


And then I moved to France. Over the years I have discovered just how diverse Jewish cuisine is, as diverse as her people: we have dined on the traditional Friday night saffron-infused couscous on Shabbat at our friends’ home and I learned to cook sunny tagine sweetened with prunes and apricots or tangy with olives and preserved lemons. While I grew up on carrot kugel and tzimmes, I am now enjoying carrots marinated in a sweet and spicy olive oil glaze. We were handed down an Old World cuisine, earthy, heavy and warm meant to build up, pad and sustain bodies, protect against the frigid Eastern European cold, a cuisine born of the hard, dense, often ice-incrusted dirt: potatoes, cabbage, beets, onions and chicken were the mainstays of this hearty menu. Even trips to New York to visit family meant potato knishes, huge hot pastrami on rye sandwiches and chopped chicken liver all served up with huge, briny dill pickles. I had known little if anything about this other culture of the Sephardic Jews, one from a land not of cold and grey, but one of sunshine and fertile land. Her colorful culinary heritage is filled to overflowing with violet eggplants, golden orange pumpkin and carrots, deep green zucchini and bright yellow lemons. Dishes are spiced with saffron, cinnamon and coriander, drizzled with honey and flavored with dried fruits and nuts. The same blessings are recited, the same rituals are performed, but this was a Jewish cuisine that was completely new to me!

As our Jewish friends of North African descent have shared their history and the traditions unique to their own culture, I have also learned the fascinating and often turbulent story of French Jews who originate from both Northern and Eastern Europe, stories of ghettos and concentration camps, resistance and rebirth. Stories of war-torn families and les Justes, those non-Jews who risked their own fate in order to help hide and transport the Jews of France to safety during WWII. Yet through thick and thin, they have succeeded in holding onto their gastronomic heritage. I’ve broken bread with these Jewish friends over tables laden with foods from every French Jewish culture from the couscous to the chopped liver, from the Challah to the fish choucroute, schnitzel and kugelhopf. As I sometimes sit in wonderment and think about how unreal it is to be in a country that once deported Jews, refused their admittance to public schools, chased whomsoever could into hiding, I celebrate the survival of and the coming together, the unifying of these somewhat disparate cultures and traditions into one that has succeeded in melding so well into French society, inspiring and allowing herself to be inspired by this separate and unique culinary culture. This is Joan Nathan’s story through both her eloquent words and her mouth-watering, tantalizing, intriguing recipes.


Joan Nathan recounts her fascinating travels through Jewish France and so much of it touches a chord inside of me, parallels my own cultural and culinary voyage through this, my adopted country. Each time I pick up and read a bit more of Quiches, Kugels, and Couscous (My Search for Jewish Cooking in France), I learn just a little bit more, am intrigued and tempted by one or two more recipes, some I am familiar with and some that I, thanks to her, am just now discovering. Once I cooked and baked my first recipes from this book, I knew that one single blog post would not do. As I have discovered these cultures, these culinary treasures one by one, so I have decided to approach the cookbook. For this first post, I selected three recipes, a salad, a main and a bread, starting with my own Eastern European roots: Chicken with Cinnamon and Apples, a recipe from Metz, France redolent of cinnamon and sweet with apples for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year (at which time we eat apples dipped in honey for the promise of a round, sweet year), a French Potato Salad with Shallots and Parsley and a Parisian Pletzl, soft, individual disc-shaped breads topped with chopped onions and poppy seeds.


Joan Nathan’s newest book did not let me down. Her stories are fascinating, her recipes as diverse as they are delicious, a wonderful voyage both historical and culinary through this most gastronomic of countries, France. This book, for both Jews and non-Jews alike, is a treasure trove of fabulous recipes and the perfect gift for Hanukkah and Christmas.


(I want to send the recipe for Parisian Pletzl to Susan of Wild Yeast for her weekly Yeastspotting event!

For all of my European readers, don’t forget to enter the drawing for a fabulous box of luxury chocolates from Hotel Chocolat. Just leave a comment after my last post!

Don’t miss two wonderful holiday recipes I have on Huffington Post: perfect Butter Cookies to cut out in any Hanukkah or Christmas shape you like, including how to build a stunning Christmas Cookie Tree and a spectacular, festive Chestnut and Chocolate layer cake.


A great big THANKS to Lael for making this happen! Happy Hanukkah!)

ROSH HASHANAH CHICKEN with Cinnamon and Apples from Metz
4 to 6 servings

Stunning! We all fell in love with this dish. The chicken was tender and juicy and infused with a tangy sweet flavor of the wine and apples and the fruit, as always, was perfect with the chicken. The leftovers were reheated the following day and it was just as delicious, if not even better. Easy to make, this dish will be a regular on my table.

One 3 ½ - 4 pound (2 kgs) roasting chicken or the equivalent in selected pieces
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 onion, trimmed, peeled and cut into large chunks
1 cup (250ml) chicken broth *
1 1/3 cups (330 ml) white wine *
3 or 4 apples, cored and cut horizontally into 4 slices (I used Reines-des-Reinettes but pippins or Fuji apples are also good)
2 Tbs sugar

* As I realized a bit too late, my baking pan was not large enough so this amount of liquid was too much and my chicken swam. Although the chicken cooked perfectly and the texture and flavor of the meat was stunningly outstanding, I think the next time I will just fill up the roasting pan with enough of the liquid to allow the top third of the chicken pieces to remain above the level of the liquid which should let the skin crisp up.

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C).

Season the chicken pieces with salt and pepper as well as ½ teaspoon of the ground cinnamon. Place the pieces snuggly in a large roasting pan with the chunks of onion. Pour the chicken broth and wine over the chicken pieces (see *note above) and roast in the preheated oven for 45 minutes.

After the chicken has cooked for the initial 45 minutes, place the apple slices around the chicken pieces, pushing them under the liquid as well as you can. Sprinkle the chicken with the remaining ground cinnamon and the sugar and return the roasting pan to the oven to roast for an additional 45 minutes or until the apples are very soft and the chicken is cooked through.

FRENCH POTATO SALAD with Shallots and Parsley

When I tasted the sauce, a cross between a vinaigrette and a mayonnaise, I thought it tasted awfully tart and strong, but on potatoes it was fantastic, perfectly balanced with the mellow flesh of the vegetable and delicious. Again, this was a winner in everyone’s book and one salad I will make over and over again.

2 pounds (1 kg) potatoes **
Salt to taste
½ cup finely chopped shallots
1 egg yolk (I used the yolk of a large egg)
¼ cup (60 ml) red wine vinegar
½ cup (125 ml) vegetable or olive oil
Freshly ground pepper to taste
½ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

** I used tiny ratte fingerling potatoes and ended up cooking just slightly more than half a kilo as the entire recipe would have been too much for us. I only made the mistake of serving them whole rather than slicing them in half so the sauce could soak into the potatoes.

Wash the potatoes under running water and remove any dirt stuck to the skin. Peel larger potatoes but you can leave the peel on the tiny fingerling potatoes if you like. Cut the potatoes in half or quarters, depending on the size of the potato, and place in a pot of water. Bring the water to the boil, add salt to taste, and cook until firm but tender, 8 to 10 minutes. Drain.

Toss the potatoes and the chopped shallots together in a serving bowl.

Using a food processor fitted with a steel blade (or an emulsion blender), blend the egg yolk and the vinegar. With the motor running, slowly stream in the oil. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Fold the dressing into the warm potatoes, sprinkle with parsley and serve warm or at room temperature.

PARISIAN PLETZL
Makes 12 Individual Onion Flatbreads

A French version of what I grew up calling a Bialy (short for Bialystoker tsibele pletzl, a flat onion bread from the Polish city of Bialystok), this is much less saltier than the ones I eat in the US. The onions on this, Florence Finkelsztajn’s of the famed delicatessen on Rue des Rosiers in Paris, version add a faintly sweet hint to a wonderfully fragrant, soft bread, perfect for mopping up the sauce on your plate or pairing with cheese. A perfect bread.

1 scant Tbs active dry yeast
4 Tbs sugar
4 to 5 cups (500 to 625 g) flour, more as needed for kneading
2 large eggs
¼ cup (62 ml) plus 2 Tbs vegetable oil
2 tsps salt
2 to 3 cups diced onion (as much as you like)
¼ cup poppy seeds

Pour 1 cup (250 ml) lukewarm water into a large mixing bowl. Stir in the yeast and the sugar until dissolved. Add 4 cups (about 500 g) flour, the eggs, ¼ cup (62 ml) of the vegetable oil and the salt. Mix well and knead for 10 minutes, until smooth, adding more flour if necessary. Transfer the dough to a greased bowl, turning the dough to coat lightly with the oil, cover and let rise for 1 hour. Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C) and grease or line (with parchment paper) 2 baking sheets.

Divide the dough into 12 equal pieces and form into balls. Roll or flatten each ball out into a flat round 6 inches (15 cm) in diameter. Put the rounds on the cookie sheets and press down the center to leave about a slightly higher inch-wide edge all around. Brush the dough with cold water and sprinkle about ¼ cup of diced onion in each indentation. Brush the edges of the rounds with vegetable oil and sprinkle generously with poppy seeds. Let sit for 15 minutes uncovered.

Bake for 20 minutes until risen around the edges and a deep golden brown. If you like, you can slip the pletzlach under the broiler for just a minute to brown the onions. Serve warm or lukewarm.

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