I think it’s funny that I learned to make salsa in  Paris- out of pure necessity, really.

Ever since leaving for college, one of the reasons I find myself regularly returning back to sunny Santa Fe is for the unmatched northern-style New Mexican food – warm flour tortillas, chunky green chili sauce, cheese tamales wrapped and steamed in corn husks… and, of course, the world’s most cheerful tomato salsa. When you grow up on this fresh local fare, your life just isn’t the same without it.

Thus, the reason I taught myself to make this tomato salsa in our tiny kitchen in Paris. Fortunately, we have a bigger kitchen now, but when I first tried it a few years ago, we had neither a countertop nor an appropriate sieve. It took me hours to chop up all the ingredients, strain out the extra liquid, and try to add spice without… well… any spice.

Since then, I’ve simplified my approach- a fine sieve and admitting I wouldn’t have exactly the same ingredients as in Santa Fe helped. This recipe, which I made in about 30 minutes the other day, is based on traditional New Mexican salsa, but uses ingredients that are very easy to find in Paris!

Shopping List

6 cloves of garlic

½ red onion

6 medium-sized tomatoes

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon red wine vinegar

Hot chili sauce (sauce piquante in French)

Ground chili pepper flakes

Salt

Pepper

A bunch of fresh cilantro (look for coriandre in France)

Recipe:

1. Mince the garlic and onions. Set aside.

2. Gently mix the tomatoes in a blender. Don’t smash them too much! Just until they are the right size – small chunks.

3. Strain the extra juice from the tomatoes through a fine sieve (set aside for use in another recipe, so you don’t waste it). You may leave some liquid of course, but you want the chunks to dominate.

4. Add tomatoes, garlic and onions in a bowl and combine with the remaining ingredients to taste. I add the cilantro last, but lots of it!

Be careful – disappears quickly next to a bowl of tortilla chips.

World Cup 2010.

Starts tomorrow and we’ll be watching as France confronts Uruguay at 8:30pm. I’m thinking of yummy munchies and of making  some of my mushroom bruschetta. This has been a longtime favorite, but I most recently tried it on hearty slices of dark seedless rye bread from the local boulangerie. Yum, yum. Don’t think I’ll change a thing for tomorrow’s cheering session.

Shopping List

4 mushrooms per person (sliced)*

Parmesan (or other hard Italian) cheese shavings

1 clove garlic per person (yeah, really that much!)

Fresh chives

Salt, Pepper

Olive oil

Dark, seedless rye bread (sliced)

Recipe:

1. Sautée the garlic in a bit of olive oil. Add the sliced mushrooms after a few minutes and fully cook. Add salt and pepper to taste.

2. Rub the edges of the slices of bread with a garlic clove.

3. Spoon the mushrooms onto the bread and cover with the Parmesan shavings (to make: use a vegetable peeler).

4. Grill in a hot oven until the cheese is melted and beginning to turn brown.

5. Decorate with a splash of pepper and fresh chives.

*I’d recommend baby portobello or good old champignons de paris.

Go France!

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/my-buddha-bowl-an-asian-noodle-salad-recipe/ http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/05/my-buddha-bowl-an-asian-noodle-salad-recipe/#comments Wed, 26 May 2010 15:43:58 +0000 Joy Anna Becvarik http://thetomatoknife.com/?p=1262 Starting today, the Paris farmers’ markets are “en fête,” which means they’re celebrating with music, photo contests, and all sorts of fun goings-on. We can all join in the festivities through Sunday- a good reason to go explore some of the 83 (at least that’s what I’ve counted) food markets in the city. The city website lists all the markets by neighborhood (arrondissement), as well as the special events happening this weekend.

When I get back from the market, I think I’ll make my “Buddha Bowl,” a cold rice-noodle salad piled with fresh, raw vegetables. I’ve been calling this dish “Buddha Bowl” for no apparent reason, except that it sounds cute- and I always seem to feel that much more “zen” after eating one. I naively thought this pet name was my own little invention, until I just googled it (I’m chuckling since I just used “google” as a verb). Apparently, a whole slew of bloggers have a plate-less recipe with the same name and, worse… it’s an actual bowl that one can buy! Since I’m more or less addressing the subject of “enlightenment,” I’d prefer to stay in my own little world and pretend it’s just mine- my interpretation of it in any case.

For my “Buddha Bowl,” I make a three-ingredient sauce, using orange juice and agave nectar as the secret ingredients. The orange juice gives a slight citrus taste and the nectar sweetens it just enough.

For the toppings, you can obvious choose whatever you like. For me, ripe avocado and carrot ribbons are an absolute must.

Shopping List

Vermicelli rice noodles

Tofu (cubed)

Sesame oil (one splash for two people)

Soy sauce (two splashes for two people)

Sesame and sunflower seeds (small handfuls)

Red pepper flakes

Carrot ribbons (made by using a vegetable peeler)

Cucumber (diced)

Lettuce

Bean sprouts

Cashews

Cilantro (or coriander)

For the sauce (two people):

2 tablespoons orange juice

2 tablespoons soy sauce

¾ teaspoon agave nectar

Recipe:

1. Stir-fry the tofu (until it’s golden brown) in the sesame oil, soy sauce and red pepper flakes. Just before the tofu is done, add the sesame and sunflower seeds so they will be slightly grilled, but not burnt.

2. Chop and prepare all the cold ingredients.

3. Cook the rice noodles and rinse in cold water* (move around under the faucet with a fork or your fingers to separate them). Shake excess water out of the colander and let sit a minute.

4. Prepare the sauce by combing the three ingredients and stirring.

5. Place noodles in bowls and cover with about half the sauce. Add the tofu, the veggies and then the remaining sauce. Decorate with the cashews and cilantro.

*The package always says to soak the rice noodles in water, but I’ve never been successful doing this. I just boil them like regular pasta (but only for about a minute- you have to taste) and immediately run them under cold water. Don’t let them cook too long or they’ll get mushy.

This is the perfect dish for a hot day, as the tofu can be prepared ahead of time and served cold.

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!

Back from San Francisco- with lots of foodie stories to share!

When I travel, it’s all about food- well, at least 85%. It’s about trying new fare and seeing what’s in, what’s local. It’s about color and spice and just plain satisfying the palate.

Food-wise, San Francisco is a beautiful fusion of culture. I felt like I traveled the world in only a couple weeks. Sometimes I almost felt like I was back in France (French-inspired cafés and bakeries run rampant, as do fine red wines and decadent cheeses). Other times I was transported to far-off places like China, Italy, and Thailand. San Francisco is definitely the place if you like variety- high quality, healthy variety that is. What struck me most about the city is its abundance of fresh, organic produce and gourmet-style vegetarian cuisine.

You can’t write just one post on an entire trip, so I’ll be spreading my San Francisco food adventures over several days. I’ll talk about a few excellent restaurants, including my new all-time favorite, Green’s. I’ll also fill you in on tea, coffee, fortune cookies and cupcakes. Let’s start with farmers’ markets, though- essential when visiting this vibrant , farmer-friendly city.

I made it to two a couple open-air markets, but the Ferry Plaza Farmers’ Market was my favorite: a definite must if you’re in San Francisco on a Tuesday, Thursday or Saturday. Overtaking the Ferry Building Market Place in the Embarcadero neighborhood, this market has a great community vibe. It’s happy. It’s bustling. It’s full of mouth-watering samples.

My mom and I started our morning out at Frog Hollow Farm’s café just inside the Ferry Building back doors. Actually, we ended up spending more than just one morning here- thanks to the cherry almond scones and well-made coffee drinks.

Revved up and ready to go, we headed to the clock tower to meet up with a good college friend of mine and take in the humming sights, sounds and tastes of the market.

Meyer lemons were everywhere, from Frog Hollow Farm’s zest-filled lemon marmalade to lemon-flavored quark cheese. These sweet, fragrant lemons are originally from China, but are the craze in California today.

Quark cheese, originally made in Eastern Europe, proved to be a special, and addictive, find. It’s a soft cheese, kind of a cross between ricotta and cream cheese. While the garlic, lemon and vanilla flavors were all fun, we all ended up favoring the latter. The cheese naturally has a slight tang which gives a subtle kick to the vanilla. Such quark is great at breakfast, spread over warm toast or homemade scones.

We eagerly wandered from stand to stand in awe at all the edible originality for sale. Tangled kiwi vines- well, those aren’t actually edible, just a sight for the eyes. Stinging nettles- yes, those are edible, when cooked. Cap’n Mike’s Indian Smoked Salmon, (basted in honey). Herbal sugars- such as lemon (there it is again!) verbena and rose petal- and dried Thai basil at the Allstar Organics booth. Crispy, juicy Asian pears (which had a slight lemon flavor by the way).

I could go on and on, but I’ll just mention a few more finds…

On more of a French note, we encountered huge bundles of fragrant, organic lavender; some not-so-ordinary mushrooms; rich, creamy cheeses; fine red wines; and excellent renditions of real French bread. Just inside the Ferry Building doors, for example, lies Far West Fungi, a small shop that offers all sorts of intriguing mushrooms I’d never heard of before (like Nameko and Pioppini). Also inside the building is the Cowgirl Creamery, the Ferry Plaza Wine Merchant and the Acme Bread Company. The best way to combine it all (and feel a little French) is to sit down for wine, cheese, marinated mushrooms and baguette at the wine bar.

We ended up going back to the Ferry Building several times. On one such occasion, we enjoyed two 2007 Californian reds: a Scribe Pinot Noir, Carnezos-Sonoma and a Nalle Zinfandel, Dry Creek Valley. The cheese: a ½ round of Mt. Tam. The bread: an entire, fresh épi baguette.

Whether you start the day or finish it at the Ferry Plaza Market and Ferry Building merchants, you can’t go wrong. The market itself gets my “kudos for sustainability” for it’s support of local farmers and various other environmentally-friendly initiatives. The vendors, for example, only dispense bags that are compostable or recyclable- important since, as I learned, the City program doesn’t recycle just any old plastic bag!

All the market excitement almost made me wish we didn’t have dinner reservations that evening. I wanted to shop and cook, shop and cook- especially some of the stranger looking mushrooms. Fortunately, Green’s restaurant, and their mushrooms, was well worth the sacrifice.

Next post: favorite San Francisco restaurants…

Spring has (literally) sprung early in our apartment this year.

Meet Fergie, the wild asparagus plant that has been mesmerizing us for a few weeks now.

I had a good laugh when I walked in the door from work one evening and saw Sébastien holding a small terracotta pot sporting the most awkward, scrawny, spiky reincarnation of a Charlie Brown Christmas tree I’d ever seen.  I quickly learned  that a friend had given us a wild asparagus plant.

Back then, there wasn’t much sign of life, just the four sprite, rather nervous-looking “trees”  that spread haughtily into the air.  Sébastien warned, though, that asparagus would soon start sprouting up from the soil.

Judging from our endless misadventures with orchids (which never seem to make it through winter with us), I wasn’t so sure we’d be able to grow asparagus- it’s supposed to be difficult (three years before a seed will give way to friendly green stalks).

Despite our mild lack of confidence, we watered Fergie (who was named instantly by the way) and… just like that, two little white creatures pushed their way through the dirt.  What got us most was the stunning rate one of these asparagus stalks grew- as though it inched up by the minute.

In just a couple weeks, the innocent newborn in the photo turned into a lanky thread that now measures 13 inches!

Since I’ve never grown asparagus, I’m kind of curious about the whole thing.  As far as I know, this veggie’s been around for a while- records take it back to Ancient Rome- as both a delicacy and a medicinal plant.  Also, asparagus, apparently (like French nouns), can be either male or female.  Wonder what this one is?

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.

Our thoroughly amusing find at the farmers’ market this week: a bouquet of cabbage flowers.

On the sign, it was simply marked “choux” (the French word for cabbage), but a quick Internet search revealed a couple other potential names in English: flowering kale and ornamental cabbage. I’m still a bit confused about these guys, for the name, and also for their form; usually, plants in the cabbage family have short stems, but these ones are at least a foot long!

The bouquet of five oversized flowers was too original to resist: thick purple and green stalks (reminiscent of giant asparagus sprigs), topped with purple cabbage heads and a row of sturdy green leaves.

In French, chouchou is a term that can be both endearing or slightly pejorative. In English, we often refer to a little child or our sweetheart as “pumpkin.” In France, this dear person is often called a cabbage! In elementary school, however, you won’t want to be called the class chouchou. I just started reading the well-known children’s book, Le Petit Nicolas (yes, I know I’m a bit old, but it’s a part of French culture and really funny!). It’s about a schoolboy and his band of little friends. Agnan is the first in the class and made fun of for being the chouchou de la maîtresse (the teacher’s pet).

I just got back from a few days in Alsace, a region known for its cultivation of cabbage and the traditional dish, choucroute or sauerkraut- shredded and fermented cabbage. Most of the cabbage had already been harvested, but I was lucky to see a bunch of tiny blue-green heads bobbing up and down in one last field.

Back in Paris this weekend, it was only appropriate to buy some cabbage flowers to bring home and put in a vase.

The French verb fondre means to melt.

Most of us are familiar with Fondue Savoyarde (bread dipped into a combination of melted cheeses) or even Fondue Bourguignonne (meat dipped into hot oil).  In culinary French, however, the term doesn’t only refer to a swash-buckling meal where you have to fend for yourself.

Fondre is also used for what English speakers call “sautéing.”  I’ve come across numerous recipes that asked me to faire fondre the onions (or shallots, or garlic).  While this literally means “melt” the onions, you’re simply cooking them in some butter or oil until they’re soft and transparent- the basic idea of this recipe.

Fondue de poireaux (“melted leeks”) is a common side-dish I’ve started making.  Due to the subtly sweet and delicate taste of leeks, it goes well with a wide variety of main dishes.  I recently matched it with Eggs Benedict- the combination of “melting” leeks and poached eggs (covered in disobedient hollandaise sauce) was a delight.

I don’t remember regularly eating leeks back in the States.  Here in France, however, I eat them all the time.  They’ve shown up in quiches, soups, sauces, gratins, omelets…  Perhaps they’re so popular because France and Belgium produce half of the leeks in Europe?  Or does it stem from Medieval France when they were considered a base-ingredient, especially among the most impoverished?  I personally think it’s because they’re fun to buy and carry home (the leaves sticking playfully out of your shopping bag) and they’re very easy to prepare.

I’ve seen many recipes that call for heavy cream, butter- all sorts of other ingredients- but I prefer this very simple, quick and healthy version of fondue de poireaux (for two people):

Shopping List

1 leek

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

1. Prepare the leek

Cut off the bottom roots and top leaves (where the white stalk becomes green) and peel off the first layer of skin.  Cut one long slit down the stalk and watch the leek open up.  This makes it easier to wash (make sure you get all the gritty dirt out from between the top layers of skin) and also helps the leek break up naturally while cooking.  Chop into half-inch rounds.

2. “Melt” the leek

While you’re preparing the leek, slowly heat some olive oil in a sauce pan.  Add prepared leeks, salt and pepper.  Let cook, stirring often to avoid burning.  Keep covered when not stirring.

3. Serve

When the leeks are tender and beginning to brown, they’re ready.  Enjoy with the main dish or your choice.