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As I’m leaving France tomorrow for a month, I thought it only appropriate to do a French-themed post today, and what is more French than pastry?

These are pastries I ordered at a café in Nice with my friends: a millefeuille, a chocolate éclair, and some sort of apple shortbread type thing. Oh, and hot chocolate, which in France seems to often be just that: that cup was essentially full of melted chocolate, and my friend who had ordered it had to ask for a cup of hot milk to mix with it.

Something I’ve noticed about the French and their desserts is the emphasis on elegance. Whereas in the States we will frequently bake a batch of cookies, a sheet cake or a fruit crumble for dessert, in France, desserts are usually purchased at a bakery. It’s hard to even find ingredients like baking soda or baking powder, or even cupcake liners and cookie cutters. The apple dessert pictured above is probably the least typical of all of these desserts: the decoration on top of the millefeuille is always perfect, the line of chocolate frosting on top of the éclair perfectly straight. The desserts look the same no matter where you buy them.

There will always be something very comforting about a slightly less-than-perfect chocolate chip cookie straight out of the oven, but I’m learning to appreciate the comfort in having a perfectly decorated chocolate ganache cake purchased and plated instead.

In New York, it’s easy to get street food. Not only are there stands famous for ethnic cuisine, but just about anywhere you like, you can get yourself a hot dog with ketchup, a pretzel with mustard or a knish, not to mention a hot roll with butter or bagel with cream cheese and coffee.
In Toronto, the selection is slightly different. Vans selling Chinese food and poutine line the bigger avenues, and even the smaller streets have hot dog and sausage stands.

As for Paris… well it took some getting used to. Sure, you have your boulangeries with panini and sandwiches (or something a little sweeter if you’re feeling crazy), but one of the best ways to get a quick meal in Paris is to go to one of the many Asian traiteurs.

A traiteur is technically a specialty shop of sorts. There are Italian, Japanese, Vietnamese traiteurs… even an American one right near my school where you can pay exorbitant prices for Skippy, canned pumpkin, H and H bagels and Oreos. The Asian traiteurs are plentiful, though, and there happens to be one right on the walk between my fourth and fifth period classes.

Nearly every Tuesday, I stop by the traiteur. I used to experiment, trying the steamed shrimp or veggie dumplings, vegetable stir fry, caramel beef, or even the boules de cocos, small balls made of coconut flavored rice and rolled in coconut flakes. Now, however, I always go for the same thing: the salade de soja, soy salad.

By soy, they mean soy bean sprouts. Added to these sprouts are other vegetables, chicken or shrimp, and a deliciously sweet, creamy dressing that I can’t quite identify. I like to cover mine with soy sauce, but unless I buy potstickers at the same time, they won’t sell it to me. “Il y en a déjà de la sauce!” There’s already sauce. Leave it to the French to tell you how to eat your food. (This is the same country where sometimes you are refused ketchup for your fries.)

A little while ago, I tried to recreate a version of the salad. Mine was delicious, and Britney and I slurped it all up after a long night of drinking, but it isn’t at all the same as my traiteur version. Oh well… guess I’ll have to keep experimenting!

Mock Traiteur Salad

1/2 green cabbage, sliced very thin, as for cole slaw
1 red or orange bell pepper, cut into matchsticks
1 jalapeño pepper, finely diced
1 scallion, thinly sliced
2 cups soy bean sprouts
1 inch ginger, grated
1 clove garlic, minced
4 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon chili paste
3 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon honey
1 tablespoon sesame oil
2 tablespoons crème fraîche (or sour cream)

Combine cabbage, peppers, scallions and bean sprouts in a large bowl. Combine sugar and vinegar to dissolve sugar. Add the rest of the dressing ingredients. Stir and pour over slaw. Toss to coat and allow to sit for at least three hours. This salad gets better (and hotter!) with time.

I’ve been given the official go-ahead that it’s safe to tell you about my new job! I now work for a site called wcities.com, where I write Paris restaurant reviews. In honor of this announcement, I decided to post a restaurant review that I’ve been meaning to get up here for some time… Le Serpent Qui Danse.

The name of this restaurant is taken from a poem by French writer Charles Baudelaire. It’s in the 11th arrondissement, kind of far away from a lot of touristy destinations, but it’s totally worth it.

In reality, this sort of food is not very Parisian. A lot of food that comes from other places in France has somehow found its way to Paris: the Lyonnais bûchon, the Marseillaise fish house, and the Savoyard raclette and fondue restaurants. Nevertheless, many people who come to Paris want to sample “traditional” French food go straight for the pot of melted cheese… and this is where capitalism settles in for the long haul.

The majority of fondue and raclette restaurants are decorated in a typical Savoyard/Swiss fashion: as chalets. The authenticity stops there. Mostly what you get served is a pot of thinned, melted cheese and a few cubes of bread which, I can tell you from personal experience, is not what is served in the Alps.

At Le Serpent Qui Danse, the raclette cheese is brought out on a traditional melting apparatus. Basically, there are two heaters on either side of the wedge of cheese, which the diners can arrange closer or farther away from the wedge according to their eating speed. Melted cheese is scraped from the wedge onto plates of boiled potatoes, pickles and meats. This is where Le Serpent Qui Danse proclaims its authenticity.

You have a choice of meats including a pork-free and vegetarian version (not too sure what that entails…), but when I was in the Alps I always had ham, so ham is what I ordered. Our waiter, however, was certain that there was something better, and, alongside our order, he brought a free plate of dry-cured beef. He was right.

Britney and I stuffed ourselves full of cheese, bread, meat and salad that day, and while it was a thoroughly overwhelming gastronomic experience, I would most definitely do it again.

More than any other time of year, I feel like winter screams for a certain kind of food, and that food is made in a deep stock pot. Winter is soup time. The Canadian noticed about as soon as I did. As I was boiling the leftover turkey bones in a pot for stock, he looked over, lifted his eyebrows in his Canadian way, and asked,

“Soup?”

“No… stock.”

“What?”

“Stock. I boil the bones to make stock. It’s a soup base.”

“Does this mean I will eventually be able to eat soup?”

“Yes.”

And he was. A few days later, I took out my stock and decided to make a pot of minestrone, one of my favorite soups. I would have gone with the typical chicken noodle, but the Canadian likes tomato, mushroom and vegetable soups, so I figured minestrone was a good compromise.

A few days later, Britney and I decided we weren’t quite done with the soup thing (plus we’ve both become obsessed with gridskipper.com, and an article a couple of weeks ago touted the local soup bars). We decided to go to Bar à Soupes in the 11th, near Bastille. We showed up at nine, so a few of the soups had run out, but we had the choice of a soup de marché (a vegetable soup), tomato-ginger, carrot-coriander, celery-bleu d’Auvergne, and split pea. As we were trying to decide, the lady behind the bar (literally, Soup Bar is just a bar with soups, salads and desserts and a few tables), let us know that there was a 6.50 option where you could sample three small soups with a roll… perfect for me and Britney who can’t make decisions.

Britney decided on vegetable, split pea and tomato-ginger. I went for tomato-ginger, carrot-coriander and celery-bleu d’Auvergne, which is strange, because I don’t like celery in general, but I couldn’t look away from the pale green, velvety soup. In the end, this one ended up being my favorite: it tasted less like celery than like an amalgamation of fresh vegetables with the definite tang and creaminess of blue cheese. Britney liked the split pea, so I guess the creamy soups were the winners. The other soups were good as well, tasting fresh and of their essential ingredients. We finished by splitting a piece of warm and melty chocolate cake. It seems that others have come to appreciate it as well: as we left around ten, two more groups had come in to sit and eat.

Minestrone (adapted from Gourmet, March 1993)

rind of parmesan cheese

1 28-oz. can of white beans
1/4 pound pancetta
1/3 cup olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 large carrot, cut into half-moons
1 rib of celery, cut into 1/2-inch dice
3 garlic cloves, chopped fine
2 zucchini, scrubbed and cut into half-moons
4 cups shredded green cabbage (preferably Savoy)
a 28-ounce can tomatoes, chopped coarse, with juice
4 1/2 cups chicken stock

1 cup small pasta
salt, pepper, dried basil

In a heavy kettle cook the pancetta in the oil over moderate heat, stirring, until it is crisp and pale golden. Remove and add the onion, and cook until the onion is softened. Add the carrots, the celery, and the garlic and cook the mixture, stirring, for 4 minutes. Add the zucchini and cook the mixture, stirring, for 4 minutes. Add the cabbage and cook until the cabbage is wilted. Add the tomatoes, parmesan rind and the broth and simmer the soup, covered, for 1 hour. Stir the white beans into the soup. Simmer the soup, uncovered, for 15 minutes, and season it with salt, pepper and basil. Add the pasta and simmer until cooked. Add the pancetta and serve. The soup may be made 3 days in advance and kept covered and chilled. Reheat the soup, thinning it with water as desired.

I know that most people celebrate Halloween with candy… so how in the world did I end up spending my holiday with pasta, cupcakes and Britney Spears? I suppose I should begin at the beginning.

After a “tiring” shopping trip (tiring to the Canadian… I like wandering down the Champs Elysées), we headed back home. I went straight to the kitchen, where I had planned to bake some Belgian Brownies (love this recipe!) and some Chocolate Orange Muffins with Orange Cream Cheese Frosting, from slashfood. I had just started melting the chocolate over the double boiler when the Canadian called out, “You hungry?”

Of course, this doesn’t mean, “are you hungry,” but rather, “I’m hungry. Please feed me.” Because we were drinking that night (and also a little bit because I was already devoting all of my energy to melting chocolate), I suggested pasta. Directly after this, I remembered that a) we had finished all of the jarred pesto, b) I hadn’t replaced the parmesan cheese and c) the vat of tomato sauce I froze was frozen into the fridge and would need to be removed on a rainy day when I had a hammer and chisel. I did, however, have some tomato paste, tomatoes, and a recipe for Quick Tomato-Cream Sauce that was also on my list of things to try from Under the Tuscan Sun. Bingo.

This was one of the best tomato sauces I’ve ever tried, and it was really easy. My only qualm, as you can probably tell from the pictures, is that I made too much pasta and not enough sauce.

Once we ate the pasta, I still had cupcakes to bake. I made the Belgian Brownies no problem: this is one of the easiest recipes in the world and one of my favorites… and I don’t even like chocolate! But I had also wanted to make the Chocolate Orange Cupcakes… seeing as it was Halloween. One problem: no cream cheese. I decided to sub mascarpone, but in the end, the frosting was looking a little funny. I put it in the fridge, hoping that chilling it would help, and continued getting ready for our Halloween party. When my friends got there, I hadn’t had time to frost them, so I left them in the kitchen and just brought out the Belgian Brownies. However, they disappeared rather fast, and my friend Emese found and delivered the Orange-Chocolate Cupcake stash. And you know what? They were good even without the frosting. The mix of chocolate and orange is delicious, as always, and the crumb was dense. They were sweet without being cloying, and basically, just good. Sure, it looked very pretty on the slashfood site, but sometimes you just can’t make everything look pretty.

(The flatter ones are Belgian Brownies, the kind of bulbous ones are the cupcakes.)

Oh… and Britney? That was Emese:

Quick-Tomato Cream Sauce from Under the Tuscan Sun

Cook 4 or 5 slices of pancetta, drain on paper towels, then crumble and set aside. Chop 2 medium onions and 2 or 3 cloves of garlic and sauté in the pork fat for 5 minutes. Chop and add 1 large red pepper and 4 or 5 whole tomatoes from a can. Season with salt and pepper and cook 5 minutes more. Stir in 1/2 cup of creme fraîche and another 3/4 cup of canned tomatoes with juice. Add a spoonful or so of the pasta water to the sauce. Stir the pancetta into the sauce at the last minute to retain crispness. Cook and drain enough pasta for 4. Mix the pasta with half the sauce; serve the rest of the sauce over the pasta.

“Festina tarde was a renaissance concept: make haste slowly.”

It’s taken me a long time to get to Under the Tuscan Sun, but it’s not for lack of cooking. On Saturday night, I threw a massive dinner party at my house. I invited ten people, and crafted a perfect menu: apératif of Tomato Bruschetta and Wild Mushroom Crostini, Risotto with Parmeggiano-Reggiano for a starter, and then Under the Tuscan Sun’s Chicken with Lemon and Basil. The dessert was tarte tatin. I spent all day Saturday prepping, making sure that everything would be easy once my guests arrived. I made the tarte dough, precooked my risotto (a restaurant trick I learned while waiting tables), made my salad dressing, tomatoes, and dressing for the chicken, and precooked the mushrooms. I had very little to do once my guests arrived.

… If they arrived. I guess one of the drawbacks of having so many international friends is not being aware of their customs. Example? Apparently, in a lot of South America, it’s considered rude to show up somewhere on time. So while my American friends arrived about ten to fifteen minutes late (like my mother told me, and apparently their mothers told them, you are supposed to do), the others didn’t show up for two hours.

Bear in mind, also, that this is rugby night in France, and France is playing England for a chance in the semifinals. We’ve opened the wine, eaten all the bruschetta, and the five of us have gotten quite tipsy while trying to find a way to watch the game online. When my friends finally arrived, I managed to get everything on the table (I forgot about the salad though), but my chicken didn’t brown the way I wanted to because I’d lost my sense of timing (thank you, Bordeaux), I didn’t have time to take any pictures of the plated dishes, and by the time we’d finished with the risotto and the chicken, we wanted to watch the rugby game, so we abandoned the finished pie in the cold oven and went down to the Champs de Mars.

The French lost, and the next morning I had to wash essentially all the dishes in my house. But later that evening, my friend Emese came by to help me finish the tarte tatin, and as we sat together on my couch, sharing half a pie between us, I realized that this was what I had wanted. Just to haves some friends, even one friend, over to my house, to cook something delicious, and to talk for awhile. I don’t know if I’ve learned how to make haste slowly, but I know that eating that one pie slowly was much more fun than any dinner party could have been.

The Menu:

Tomato Bruschetta

Wild Mushroom Crostini

Risotto with Parmeggiano-Reggiano

Basil and Lemon Chicken

In a large bowl, mix 1/2 cup each of chopped spring onions and basil leaves. Add the juice of one lemon, salt, and pepper. Mix and rub onto 6 chicken pieces (I used chicken thighs) and place in a well-oiled baking pan. Dribble with a little olive oil. Roast, uncovered, at 450 for ten minutes and at 350 for about an additional twenty, depending on the size of the chicken. Garnish with more basil leaves and lemon slices.
Tarte Tatin

Way back in September, when I was still just exploring Rue Cler, and my butcher hadn’t yet started making fun of me for the sheer amount of meat I buy (I like feeding other people!) I found these at Les Halles, my produce market. They were tiny and slightly pink, and I thought they were so adorable that I had to have them.

When I was growing up, we had steamed artichokes as big as baseballs, one per person, as an occasional side dish. We dipped each leaf in mayonnaise, and then my mother would cut the choke out so we could eat the heart. I haven’t eaten artichokes like that in a long time. For a moment, I thought that these artichokes were destined to be like those, but then I remembered some marinated, roasted artichokes we bought this summer at the Italian deli. They were coated in extra virgin olive oil and roasted with salt and black pepper. So that’s what I did with these little babies. So tender that only the tips and a few of the outside leaves had to be torn off before roasting, and then I ate them whole.

As promised… the cupcakes. I made two dozen, but after my friends came over last night, I think I have about six left. These are that good.

I got the recipe from epicurious, and even though some of the reviews said that they were more like muffins than cupcakes, I wanted to try the recipe… one that is probably going to be my last berry recipe of the season *sigh* because of the exorbitant prices that people are trying to get me to pay for berries now.

These were worth it though. Dense and full of blueberries that exploded with every bite and turned the inside of each cupcake a pleasing purple, these cupcakes were a lot of fun to make and to eat. (Plus, I made my own measuring cups! Yep! I don’t have any in France, so I measured out 8 ounces of water to find out how much a cup was. I know it’s approximate, I know I can’t bake bread this way, but the cupcakes turned out fine, and I don’t hear any complaints about the peach muffins from yesterday!)

It’s getting tiring to say “because I’m in France” every time I have to explain why I had to change a recipe, but it’s the truth. We have maple syrup in specialty import stores, but no maple sugar, so I used vanilla sugar. I also used more blueberries than were recommended. Here’s my version of the recipe, but you can get epicurious’ version over there. If anyone tries the real version, let me know how it turns out! Now, I believe I have some cupcakes to finish…