Today’s my blog’s first birthday! In honor, I made a cake.

This was an adventure, considering I had never made a savory cake before. On my way home last Friday I was imagining exactly how I wanted it to turn out- and trying to figure out which ingredients (and in which proportions) would make it work best.

I didn’t want a dry cake- that was sure. I wanted it to be light, smooth and moist (while being cooked all the way through). I knew what I was up against and all the pitfalls I was likely to fall into. Moist. How can I make it moist? I wanted it to be like a yogurt cake- et voilà- there, in the late afternoon sunlight, I decided what I’d make- more or less a yogurt cake without the sugar.

I also knew I wanted it to be light- well, as light at a cake packed with creamy Roquefort cheese can be. So, I decided (for, I think, the first time ever) not to use butter because, with the cheese, it would just be too much. Instead, I opted for canola oil, which doesn’t have an overpowering flavor.

In the end, I was very satisfied with my blog’s birthday cake!

Shopping List

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 tablespoon sugar

2 eggs

1/4 cup canola oil

1 cup yogurt

1/2 cup grated gruyère cheese

3/4 cup Roquefort

2/3 cup walnuts

1 pear (cut into small pieces)

Recipe:

1. Mixed dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, sugar).

2. Beat eggs and mix in wet ingredients (oil, yogurt), in a separate bowl.

3. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients. Mix as little as possible so the cake will be light and airy!

4. Add the remaining ingredients. Still mixing as little as possible.

5. Bake in the oven at 350° F for about 35 minutes. The top should be slightly browned and the cake fully cooked (difficult to tell since the cheese will be melted).

Happy Birthday!

Want to know a kind of funny secret? I’d never, until this week, bought a fennel.

Since I’d never bought one, I’d never cooked with one either- until today. What an aroma fills the room as you slice into it! A sort of fresh, playful licorice. I made my two bulbs into four bowls of creamy fennel leek soup. We finished it off about half an hour ago, but I really wish we had more.

I was inspired by a “velouté” that I found in one of my French cookbooks.

Shopping List

2 fennel bulbs (chopped)

3 leeks (chopped, except for 1/2)

1/4 cup crème fraîche (or sour cream)

1/8 cup finely grated Parmesan (plus a little more)

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Olive oil

Freshly grated nutmeg

Gros sel de Camargue (coarse cooking salt)

2 bay leaves

Freshly ground pepper

Recipe (makes 4 bowls):

1. Prepare the soup: Sauté the fennel and leeks in a bit of olive oil, until translucent (like onions). Cover with water, add the bay leaves, sprinkle in some salt and grate in a dash of nutmeg. Cover and let simmer (medium heat) until the fennel is fully cooked.

2. Prepare the cream: In a small bowl, combine the crème fraîche with the lemon juice and let sit. (If using sour cream, do not add the lemon).

3. Prepare the leek topping: Slice the remaining 1/2 of a leek into small strips. Gently sauté them in a small amount of olive oil. Cook them very slightly, stirring regularly and removing them from the heat before they turn brown. Set aside.

4. Blend and combine: When the vegetables are cooked, blend them until “smooth” and then return this mixture to the pot. Add the cream and the Parmesan. Top with the leek strips, a bit of Parmesan, a grate of nutmeg and some pepper.

Serve with thick slices of fresh, grainy bread (perfect for dipping).

]]> http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/05/fennel-leek-soup-recipe/feed/ 2 http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/05/kefir-and-red-berry-smoothie-recipe/ http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/05/kefir-and-red-berry-smoothie-recipe/#comments Mon, 24 May 2010 18:01:02 +0000 Joy Anna Becvarik http://thetomatoknife.com/?p=1234 When I moved to college, one of the first gadgets I had to buy was a blender. Same thing when I moved to Paris. Growing up, every morning started off with the sound of fruit and yogurt whirling in the kitchen. I probably had a smoothie nearly every day or so- right up until I moved to France. Never did I have a hot drink for breakfast; tea, in my opinion, was reserved for evening and I didn’t know how to drink coffee.

Since we’re all products of our environment, my breakfast habits have little-by-little been influenced by those of the French. The typical petit déjeuner in France includes a hot drink (coffee or tea, but usually coffee) and some bread or biscottes (little dry, crunchy breads that we have yet to find in the United States) smeared with creamy butter and/or jam. On the weekends, breakfast branches out to fresh-baked goodies from the boulangerie. This straightforward routine, obviously, was an easy trap to fall into- especially since I’ve discovered the foam function on the coffee machine. Now, without a comforting hot drink, I just don’t feel like my day is starting out right.

That’s until the first hot days of summer arrive. Then, all I want is an ice-cold smoothie. Just for info, the temperature in Paris today was a very warm 29 degrees C (84 degrees F).

My newest obsession is kefir in my smoothies. This is a slightly tart, fermented milk- thicker than drinking milk, but thinner than yogurt. It’s made from milk (cow, goat…) and “kefir grains”- a bacteria and yeast culture. Originally from the Caucasus, kefir is known to be quite good for you, especially for your digestive system- thanks to the presences of probiotic bacteria. Best of all, it’s delicious in a smoothie.

My other smoothie obsession is bananas. All smoothies must have them. Trick: when your uneaten bananas start getting too ripe throw them in the freezer (just as they are) and keep them until you make a smoothie. To peel, run under hot water until you can easily take off the skin. I’d recommend putting a strainer at the bottom of the sink to keep the gooey peel from going down the drain.

This recipe makes 1 really big or 2 medium glasses:

Shopping List

1 banana (fresh or frozen)

1/2 cup plain kefir

2/3 cup organic berries (blackberries, blackcurrants, wild blueberries, raspberries, strawberries)

1/2 cup orange juice

Liquid sweetener (honey, maple syrup, agave nectar) to taste, if desired

Blend and enjoy.

After avoiding the subject for way too long, I’ve signed up for French driving lessons. Unless your American license was issued in one of the 13 states (see below) that have a reciprocity agreement with France, you have to take both the written and driving tests once you live here permanently. That means drivers’ ed all over again.

Technically, one could sign up on their own for these two tests, but the catch is that you must have a car equipped with brakes on the left and right sides. On your own, you also have to register for the exams through the Préfecture- a process that seems quite daunting to me. The only real solution for those of us from the “other 37 states” is to go through a driving school.

Advantages:

1. The school takes care of the registration at the Préfecture.

2. You learn what is expected of you on the exams.

3. You learn all sorts of French vocabulary you’ll never learn in college (i.e. point mort = neutral, angle mort = blind spot). And, yes, all the references to death (mort) do freak me out a bit.

Disadvantages:

1. Expensive (at least 1,000 euros for the classes and exams).

2. Time-consuming (you actually have to study, even if you already “know” how to drive). The whole process takes several months.

3. Apparently, less than 60% of the candidates get their license on the first try (and in Paris, you may have to wait up to six months for another exam date!).

See why I’ve put it off for so long?

Short-term visitors and students in France can both drive on their American licenses- no problem. Foreign residents can drive on theirs for up to one year. For those who have the right to exchange their license, they must do it in these first twelve months- otherwise, all is lost and they have to take the lessons and tests. To date, these states are part of the agreement: Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Illinois, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, New Hampshire, Ohio, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Virginia.

One of the hardest parts about this whole process is finding a decent driving school. After quite a bit of research and a few visits, I ended up going with this school. These were my criteria:

1. Convenient location and open hours

2. “Reasonably” priced (haha!)*

3. A friendly vibe and professional atmosphere

*I chose a school with the best value for the money. For example, they propose unlimited classroom courses and three months access to their on-line lessons and practice tests (many schools didn’t offer this at all). I chose not to go with the most inexpensive schools, but a medium-priced and well-established one. Driving schools in Paris are more than abundant and the smaller ones frequently go out of business.

I’m actually having fun studying, especially when I ask people who already have their license the mock questions and they don’t know the answers. It’s not their fault. It’s simply that the test is difficult and not always straight-forward. The way the questions are formulated can be tricky and you have to learn to think like the test (makes me feel like I’m taking the SATs all over again). I’m also having fun putting to work what I’m learning by walking around Paris, pretending I’m a police officer. I give imaginary tickets to, well, pretty much everyone.

In order to give me test-studying energy, I started off the morning with some home-made muesli. Originally from Switzerland, it’s made of uncooked cereals and is extremely easy to make. The advantage of making it yourself is that you can choose whatever ingredients you want- and you won’t get stuck picking out dried coconut shavings, for example.

The three essential ingredients are:

1. Uncooked, very slightly toasted cereal flakes

2. Dried fruits

3. Nuts

I used a combination of five different cereals in equal parts. If you don’t find them already toasted, you can do it yourself. Be careful not to leave them in the oven too long- otherwise they’ll become too crispy, like granola. Muesli should practically be raw.

Toasting the nuts, like the cereals, brings out the flavor. I especially like adding slivered almonds. I grill them (without any oil) in a frying pan. Watch them very carefully, as they cook fast- I’ve burnt many a batch!

Recommended ingredients:

Barley flakes

Oat flakes

Rice flakes

Rye flakes

Wheat flakes

Small Sultana raisins

Slightly toasted slivered almonds

Combine ingredients and you’re done. Top with sliced banana for extra fuel.

I couldn’t pass this one up: a little jar of whole nutmeg seeds and a miniature grater.

Freshly ground nutmeg, I’ve just discovered, is simply stronger and much more aromatic than the pre-ground spice.

I found my little jar of noix de muscade in the spice section of the neighborhood grocery store and have been curious about it ever since. The nutmeg we traditionally use in cuisine (frequently used and highly regarded back in the Middle Ages by-the-way) is the ground seed of the (edible) fruit from the nutmeg tree. Another common spice, mace (macis, in French), comes from the same tree; it, in fact, is the dried red netting that covers the nutmeg seed.

In addition to being fun to grate, nutmeg gives a slightly sweet, rather nutty (surprise) flavor to dishes- I’ve used it in quiches and desserts, for example.

Happy grating.

]]> http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/05/freshly-grated-nutmeg-2/feed/ 0 http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/04/organic-cucumber-apple-salad-recipe/ http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/04/organic-cucumber-apple-salad-recipe/#comments Tue, 13 Apr 2010 16:09:40 +0000 Joy Anna Becvarik http://thetomatoknife.com/?p=1170 I didn’t eat cucumber much before coming to France. Now it’s become a staple- and I usually have part of one hanging around somewhere in the fridge.

After farmers’ market on Sunday, I came home with an especially nice-looking, organic one that I mixed into a refreshing salad. Since cucumber doesn’t have a very strong taste on its own, I figured I could add whatever I wanted to my salad- and decided to try a savory-sweet combination. The sweet apples added a subtle, tart punch to the other ingredients and combined extremely well with the bit of red wine vinegar I drizzled over everything.

I also added some extra kick by throwing in a combination of freshly ground spices: black, white, green and pink peppercorns, plus dried coriander fruits and allspice (also known as Jamaican pepper). Pink peppercorns, by the way, are not really pepper, but dried fruits from the Baies rose plant (as it is often called).  Suggestion: put all the un-ground spices together in a pepper mill and use to flavor dishes (instead of just plain pepper). If you’re in France, you can cheat and purchase them already mixed together!

I topped it all off with some of the lemon thyme we’re growing in the window. Like common thyme, it’s nice for cooking and never overpowers the other spices. Unlike common thyme, this one really does smell like lemons.

Hint: Add the vinegar a little at a time, until it compliments the other ingredients- it shouldn’t be too strong, but abundant enough to create a nice contrast with the apples.

Shopping List

Cucumber

Apple (Jazz or Pink Lady, for example)

Belgian endive

Avocado

A few sprinkles of olive oil

A few drops of red wine vinegar

Salt

Freshly ground spices (see above)

Fresh lemon thyme

Directions:

1. Dice all fruits and vegetables and place them in a salad bowl.

2. Add the remaining ingredients to taste and toss with salad forks.

It’s that easy!

Mardi Gras, commonly known as Fat or Strove Tuesday, goes hand-in-hand with Carnival, a wild festival which has origins in ancient Rome and Greece. Back then, for example, pagan celebrations honoring the gods Dionysus and Bacchus (Greek and Roman gods of wine), were a time of fun and drunken merriment.  Another celebration from ancient Rome, the Festival of Saturn, gave citizens the chance to dress up as members of the society that they were not (the rich as the poor, women as men, slaves as masters).  Such festivities became closer to the Carnival we know today with the rise of Christianity. Christians supposedly adopted the pagan tradition of rowdy merry making, incorporating it into their own religious practices.  The word “carnival” comes from the Latin “carne vale,” which roughly translates as “farewell flesh.”  In medieval times, Carnival would have been the last chance to eat meat before Lent.

Carnival is still celebrated around the world today and ends with Mardi Gras.  The Fat Tuesday we know today (complete with feasting, costumes and revelry) is, thus, a combination of both Pagan and Christian festivities.  The actual date changes each year, depending on Easter.  It always falls the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, which begins the 40 days of Lent.  It is said that “Fat Tuesday” is so-named because of the tradition of using up all the butter, oil, eggs and cream in the house before the fasting period. Thus, the French tradition of making and eating such goodies as fried beignets and crêpes.

Here’s my most-recent (and easy) crêpe recipe:

What’s probably already in your cupboard

2 eggs

½ liter whole milk (or less)

250 grams all-purpose flour

Pinch of salt

1 tablespoon melted, unsalted butter

Directions:

1. Beat eggs and add about half the milk.

2. Begin adding the flour/salt and mix, alternating with more milk, until all the flour is used up and you get a thick ribbon of batter when you lift up the whisk.

3. Add the melted butter.

4. Let batter sit in the fridge for several hours (this helps it settle and really does make the crêpes easier to cook).

5. If needed, add a little more milk just before cooking.

5. Cook (kind of like pancakes) on an appropriate crêpe pan or other hot skillet (there’s a whole spreading/flipping technique, but that merits another post entirely…).

Make lots and enjoy with your favorite toppings.

]]> http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/02/mardi-gras-crepes-recipe/feed/ 0 http://thetomatoknife.com/2009/11/adventures-in-tamarind/ http://thetomatoknife.com/2009/11/adventures-in-tamarind/#comments Wed, 11 Nov 2009 17:17:50 +0000 Joy Anna Becvarik http://thetomatoknife.com/?p=967 I’d already heard of “tamarind paste” plenty of times.  Until this week, though, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you exactly what it was, or even where to find it.

Some exotic spice, no?  The one that giddily finds its way into Indian and Thai cookbooks; the one I’d always ignored.  Until my most recent cooking adventure, I’d always skipped that part of the recipe, replacing the unknown with the familiar.  I only ever thought freshly squeezed lime juice could be my accomplice in Pad Thai crime.  I knew this friendly fruit could easily replace the so-called “tamarind,” and at least I knew where it came from and what tang it’d give my noodles.

That’s where my story starts, actually- with my trip to the Paris-based Asian grocery store, Tang Frère (*see note below), to buy the ingredients for one of my all-time favorites: homemade Pad Thai. There I was buying bean sprouts, leafy greens, hot chili sauce, carrots, rice noodles, lime- you name it- all those ingredients I usually buy to make my dish.  Yes, there I was, minding my business, when I looked up and saw a stack of bright red boxes marked “sweet tamarind.” Wow, I thought.  It really exists.  And it’s here in France, in front of me.  And, wow, it’s a… fruit?  That ‘s funny, whatever it is, it’s in a… it’s in a pod- a strange little four-inch brown pod. In my moment of folly, I didn’t know anything from anything, except that “tamarind paste” must come from this “tamarind” fruit.  Decided: If I was going to make Pad Thai, I was going to make it “the real way.”  My very spontaneous idea was first to make tamarind paste.

As I learned, tamarind is a fruit that grows on a tamarind tree. The outside, indeed, is a curvy, bumpy pod which is filled with large seeds, a fibrous spine and, of course, pulp. Normally, tamarind is fairly acidic, getting sweeter as it ripens.  The ripe pulp can be eaten just like that or, after being made into a paste, can be used in cooking.  Tamarind contributes to the sweet/sour taste in a variety of recipes; popular in India, it’s one of the main ingredients in chutney, for example.

Cracking open my first pod and tasting the pulp, I was reminded of a date- a similar chewy, sticky texture and a similar dark red/brown color.  Thus, my problem: I thought tamarind was supposed to be acidic.  This was quite sweet.

I forged on and tried using a few different (intuitive) methods of making my tamarind paste. I tried soaking the peeled whole in boiling water, then picking through the seeds and fibers and crushing the pulp through a sieve.  But, it was too liquid, tasted like water and was too sweet.  Then I tried again, with less water, at room temperature.  (I know, there was no “constant” in my experiment- very bad).  This time, my paste was too thick and still too sweet.  I reminded myself I had bought “sweet tamarind” from Thailand and began to wonder if maybe there were other kinds. Then I realized I had no idea what tamarind paste was supposed to taste like or what the consistency should be.

In short, I ended up resorting back to my lime for that evening’s Pad Thai.  I’m not finished with this one, though!  Next task: find some sample tamarind paste (apparently, it’s sold either as a block that has to be prepared or ready-made in a jar).  Then, back to the tamarind pods (once I figure out if I can find some sour ones!), finger smooshing and sieving.

Anyone know more about tamarind and making the paste from scratch?

*Tang Frère is an Asian grocery store not to be missed.  It has two locations in Paris: 168, Avenue de Choisy (13^th arrondissement, China Town) and 41, Rue Labrouste (15^th arrondissement).  Although both will entice you with an array of not-so-common products, the China Town location is the largest and most well-known.  Fresh tofu, rice paper wrappers for spring rolls, wasabi…

I love big projects, especially cooking projects- big messy ones where you have long cleaning sessions afterward.

I, however, like most, don’t have endless hours each evening to spend concocting unknown dishes (nor do I always have the time to trek through Paris hunting down the various ingredients typically required of such ventures).  That’s why I have a secret store of “emergency recipes.” My definition of an “emergency recipe” is one that can be made easily, with easy-to-find ingredients, that is healthy, potentially 100% organic and, of course, tastes so nice you’d be looking forward to eating it again the next day (when you’ll be even busier and reheating is a wonderful solution to the day’s efforts).  This week’s “emergency recipe” only took half an hour and gave me the chance to dig into that package of quinoa/garlic/parsley spaghetti (organic, of course) I picked up at the health food store last week.  I also got to use up the crème légère impatiently waiting in the fridge, as well as part of the beautiful bouquet of parsley I couldn’t resist at the Tuesday market.

While the sauce was all my doing, I have to thank my Tout Robuchon (The Complete Robuchon) for inspiring the salad that accompanied our pasta dish. While we didn’t have any arugula for Robuchon’s Salade de roquette au parmesan, we did have a fresh endive that worked extremely well with his lemon/olive oil dressing and slices of parmesan.  Not too bad for a busy week night!

The sauce recipe below make enough for four:

Shopping List

1/2 onion (diced)

1 clove garlic (minced)

1/2 pound mushrooms (sliced)

1 cup crushed tomatoes

1/3 cup light cream

Olive oil

Salt

Pepper

Red Pepper Flakes

1. Sauté onion and garlic in olive oil over medium heat until slightly transparent.

2. A mushrooms and cover, stirring occasionally, until they are tender and juice has begun accumulating in the sauce pan.

3. Add tomatoes, cover and bring to a slight boil.

4. Add salt and let simmer.

5. Just before serving, add the cream, pepper and some red pepper flakes.  Allow to warm and season as needed.

Pour over pasta, decorate with fresh parsley and serve with a salad.

As I mentioned in my posts about bourru and bernache, tradition has it that you eat roasted chestnuts with these young “wines” that show their faces only in the autumn.

There are two words for chestnut in French: marron and châtaigne. While we don’t seem to distinguish between the two in English, we certainly do in French.  Marrons come from marroniers (cultivated chestnut trees) and châtaignes come from châtaigniers (wild chestnut trees).  They are very similar; in fact, a marron is technically a type of châtaigne.  Both nuts fall from the tree when ripe and are encased in a prickly bur.  One difference between the two types of nuts is that the marron bur will contain only one “fruit”, while that of the châtaigne will contain two or three.  Marrons are larger and rounder than châtaignes.

In France, you’ll find marrons used in a variety of specialties, such as marrons glâcés (sweet glazed chestnuts) or crème de marron (a grainy spread often used in dessert crêpes).

Châtaignes are the best for roasting. In France, they’re often collected off the ground by passersby, taken home and eaten on chilling fall evenings.  You will also see them for sale at farmers’ markets and in certain grocery stores- already taken out of their outer burs, but still enclosed in their dark brown shells.  Now’s the time to take advantage of these cheery little nuts, as they’re only around from September to February.

This last week, I tried home-roasted châtaignes for the first time- and what a treat!  When cooked just right, the inside fruit is warm and steamy, soft and pasty- not at all like the other nuts I know.  I didn’t just eat, though; I also learned how to prepare them. Here’s the very simple and traditional recipe that Sébastien’s family shared with me.  All you need are chestnuts, an old cast iron pot and some heat.  We used a gas flame, but I’m thinking you’d might be able to roast them on an electric stovetop or even in the oven.

Recipe

1. Cut two small slits into the shell of each chestnut with a paring knife.  This keeps the nuts from exploding during cooking.

2. Begin heating pot over a high flame and add prepared chestnuts- as many an each person wants to eat!

3. Cook for about ten minutes or more (it’s better to overcook than undercook).  Test one chestnut by cutting it open with a knife- the outside will be blackened and the entire inside should be soft and warm.

4. Transfer chestnuts to a bowl and enjoy with some bourru, bernache or your favorite white wine.

A few hints: You eat each chestnut as you open it.  Just off the flame, they will surely burn your fingers, so use a cloth napkin to hold them.  Also, use a small knife (or your daring fingers) to help open the shell and dish out the “fruit.”  Before biting in, make sure the nut isn’t dark-colored, a sign of mold or rotting.  That happens in nature!

We enjoyed our châtaignes plain- not salt, no butter, nothing- pure, simple tradition.