Archive for Recipes

Lemon-Spinach Chicken

Sometimes, the easy classics are good to serve up for something quick and comforting. I dug this out of my archives of unposted photos and decided to share it with you today, because I lost the little blue thing that reads my memory card somewhere in the abyss that is the Volkswagon Transporter, and I’m way too lazy to go out and find it at this time of night. I swear, I really did go to Barcelona. And I really did eat things there. You just don’t know about it yet.

In the meantime, have fun with this quick and simple recipe for a chicken piccata-inspired dish that I made at the beginning of the summer. The ingredients are things that I pretty much always have around or can pick up on short notice, and the techniques are fairly basic: this recipe was one of three or four in my repertoire when I first started out cooking for myself.

The key is cooking the chicken in the wine: it’s a bit like poaching, and the juiciness that the extra bit of liquid imparts on the chicken means that even the most inexperienced of cooks won’t be plagued with the whole dry-as-a-bone boneless, skinless chicken breast fiasco that makes everyone understand why this particular cut of poultry is regarded as the dreaded “diet food.” Believe me, this flavorful sauce, while suspiciously low in calories (really, it’s just some wine and a bit of olive oil, and the rest is “free”) is super high in flavor.
Alternatively, you could do it with bone-in chicken pieces (I’m a fan of thighs: cheap and flavorful). Slightly less diet-y, but twice the fun! If you decide to go this route, I would recommend browning the chicken on the stovetop but finishing it (including the sauce) in the oven at 350 degrees Farenheit for even cooking.

Lemon-Spinach Chicken

2 boneless skinless chicken breasts
1 tbsp. olive oil
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 cup white flour
1 lemon
½-1 cup white wine
salt and pepper


8 oz. spaghetti
1 cup thawed frozen spinach

Heat a skillet to medium-high heat. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Rinse and pat dry the chicken. Dredge first in flour, then in egg, allowing the excess to drip off, and then again in flour. Salt and pepper the chicken breasts.

Heat the olive oil in the skillet until hot but not smoking. Lay the chicken breasts in the pan and allow to sear, two minutes on each side. For optimal browning, do not move the chicken while it is browning.

Turn the heat down to medium low and add the wine to the pan. Allow to cook, making sure that there is always liquid in the bottom of the pan so that the chicken does not burn. Turn once.

Meanwhile, cook the spaghetti in the boiling water until al dente, about six minutes. Drain, reserving about a cup of cooking liquid, and add the spinach to the pasta.

Squeeze the juice of half a lemon over the chicken, and then remove to a separate plate. Add more wine to the pan if necessary, and scrape up all of the bits on the bottom. Whisk together and add to the spaghetti. Add the juice of the other half of the lemon.

Serve the chicken over the spaghetti, with cheese on the side if desired.

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Praise-Worthy Quiche

When I first learned how to cook, I had a severe fear of making something that would taste like soap. Not that it would taste bad, or that I would overcook or undercook it… it was a very specific fear that every food I made, from lasagna to tiramisu to salad dressing, would taste like soap.

I got over it eventually, but I still get this creeping feeling when I’m cooking for a large group of people that whatever it is I’m making will end up being inedible.


(This is why I don’t have a problem when tasty things end up looking a little odd… like this quiche that was removed from its tin a bit too soon and subsequently collapsed all over the serving dish.)

My fear of making inedible food is made even worse considering the fact that I don’t really have any fall-back dishes. I have one salmon dish that I do pretty well, a decent chili recipe and the Marlboro Man Sandwich, but really, half the fun of cooking for someone is finding out what their individual tastes are and then working a new recipe around them. I know, I know… huge mistake. You’re never supposed to make a new recipe for a crowd, but I somehow always manage to do so.

This means that when I recently became responsible for dinner here in Paziols, I was at a bit of a loss. I knew that I would be making quiche, to get rid of some lardons we had hanging around the house, but other than that, I had no idea what to do.

I found a simple recipe for quiche Lorraine online to get some basics down, and from there, I improvised… slightly scary when the end result was meant to feed more than twenty people, but I’m starting to get used to it.

I began by cooking the lardons with some diced rosette (similar to salami) and saucisson sec (a cured pork sausage). The mix was more because we had run out of lardons than anything else, but in the end, the different flavors went over well.

Traditional quiche Lorraine does not have onions or veggies in it, but I decided to throw some leeks into the mix, which I cooked in some of the reserved fat from the pork. I placed the mixture in prepared pâte brisée shells (gotta love France), and added a mixture of milk, crème fraîche, eggs, pepper and nutmeg. I baked them, and then when they were almost cooked, I topped them with shredded Emmental cheese and allowed it to melt.

This step is not traditional either, but I like a quiche with a crispy cheese topping, and no one seemed to mind my de-traditionalizing of the French classic. (People also don’t seem to mind my purposeful butchering of the English language when I can’t find a vocabulary word that suits what I want to say. And if you do mind… well… I don’t care. I was a linguistics major, so what I say goes.)

We also have two special orders in the house: three people who don’t eat pork, and one lactose intolerant. For Miss Doesn’t-Eat-Dairy, there was a personal-sized quiche with soy milk in place of regular milk and no crème fraîche. The final result had a bit of a strange texture… almost gelatinous, but the flavor was fine. I would suggest trying soy yogurt in place of the crème fraîche to get closer to the original texture.


I was at a bit of a loss for the vegetarians at first, but in the end, I decided to do a quiche in the style of a Spanish tortilla, and so I cooked some potatoes and leeks in oil with salt and pepper, and then added this and the egg mixture to another pâte brisée shell.

The result was unbelievable… don’t ask me: ask everyone else in the house. I was immediately surprised when one of the girls came up to me and actually hugged me halfway through the meal to thank me for the (vegetarian) quiche. Afterwards, even the pickiest eaters of the group let me know that my quiche had hit a home run… much of it disappeared even before the American staple of macaroni and cheese.

Even after the stress induced by a minor head injury on an outing earlier that day, my (French!) boss let me know that the quiche was excellent, and Alex let me know that I am free to make it for him in Paris. I’d put that as one point in the victory column in my personal vendetta against old standby dishes.

Non-Traditional Quiche Lorraine

Note: I’m posting my original amounts, which makes six quiches, because I’ve never made it in smaller quantities. I’m assuming it would work well scaled-down also, however think about making extra, because it’s quite tasty cold with a green salad for lunch the next day.

5 leeks
600 g lardons
300 g rosette
300 g saucisson sec

6 pâtes brisées

150 cl crème fraîche
18 eggs
1.5 liters of semi-skimmed milk
1.5 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tbsp. black pepper

300 g grated emmental cheese

Preheat the oven to 190 degrees Celsius.
Cook the meat in a skillet over medium high heat until brown. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain off all but a few tablespoons of the fat. Slice the white and light green parts of the leeks thinly, and cook in the pork fat until tender. Add the meat back to the skillet and set aside.

Combine the crème fraîche, eggs, milk, nutmeg and pepper in a large bowl. Mix until well combined.

Roll out the pie shells and place in pie pans. Using a fork, pierce all over to prevent rising. Evenly distribute the meat and onion mixture in all of the shells, and then pour the egg mixture over the meat and onions. Bake until slightly firm on top, about 25 minutes, and then scatter the cheese over the top. Bake until the cheese is melted and golden and the filling is set but not hard, about another 10 minutes. Allow to cool slightly before slicing and serving.

Vegetarian Quiche

1 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 leek
2 tsp. salt

4 Yukon gold potatoes

3 eggs
1/4 liter milk
20 cl crème fraîche
1 pinch of nutmeg
1 tsp. black pepper

1 prepared pâte brisée

100 g emmental cheese

Preheat the oven to 190 degrees Celsius.

Thinly slice the white and light green parts of the leek and the potatoes. Heat the oil over medium heat, and add the potatoes, leeks and salt. Cook until the potatoes are cooked through and the leeks are soft, about ten minutes.

In a large bowl, combine the eggs, milk, crème fraîche, nutmeg and pepper.

Roll out the pie crust and spread the potato and onion mixture over the bottom. Add the egg mixture. Bake until slightly set, about 25 minutes. Scatter the cheese on top and bake until the mixture is set and the cheese is melted and golden, another 10 minutes. Allow the quiche to cool slightly before slicing and serving.

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The Peach Lady is Back…

Every Monday, “Mme Allô-Allô,” who makes all of the village announcements over the loudspeaker announces that the marchande de pêches is back. Just like last year, the peach lady pulls up to the square in her white van, chock full of delicious peaches to sell to the village, and just like last year, I always look forward to paying her a visit.

Naturally, we take advantage of both the quality and the prices, and our sporadic one or two kilo order from last year has jumped up to several flats each and every Monday. Some peaches are eaten out of hand as snacks, but many make their way into jam: after the apricot season ended, the little yellow fruits were quickly replaced by this pink and orange cousin.

The recipe for peach jam changed from that for apricot for two reasons. One is the fact that with the younger kids, there was a need for a lot more hands-on time away from the stove. The new recipe allows for almost all of the work to be done away from the stove top, with just the last five minutes actually being over the flame. The new recipe completely dissolves all of the sugar before the jam even hits the stove, which allows for a lot of fun with wooden spoons, and a lot less worrying about whether boiling jam is going to burn someone’s little hand.

The second reason was the discovery of Confisuc, a special sugar made for making jam, which required most of the work to be done away from the stove. Confisuc is used in equal quantity (by weight) to fruit. One bag of Confisuc is one kilo, and four of the marchande de pêche’s large July peaches is exactly enough for four sous-chefs to wash, dénoyauter and slice his or her own peach and bring home a nicely sized jar of delicious jam.

We still have jars upon jars of apricot jam. I think I’ll be eating it for breakfast every day to the end of the summer. But the peach jam is just as delicious and turns a lovely shade of pink when fully cooked: we joke to the girls that it’s a girly jam, but we all know better… no one can resist this summer peach jam.

Peach Jam

1 kilo peaches
1 kilo Confisuc

Wash the peaches. Remove the pits and cut into eight equal parts. Add the peaches to a large mixing bowl and combine with all of the sugar using a wooden spoon. The sugar should be completely dissolved in the juice of the peaches, and there should be several chunks of fruit remaining.

Transfer mixture to a saucepan, and heat over medium-high heat, stirring all the while, until boiling. Boil for five minutes, continuing to stir.

Remove saucepan from heat and skim the foam from the top of the jam. Ladle into clean jars and seal.

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Croque Monsieur

As you can probably tell from my spotty posting as of late, having the younger kids here is a very different experience than the older kids.

Younger kids are a lot more hands-on than older kids. They need to be constantly entertained, constantly stimulated. But the rewards are great: little kids learn so quickly. A child who knew no French at all before coming can learn twenty vocabulary words nearly immediately if you approach the teaching in the right way.

One of my favorite things that we do with the younger kids (go figure) is the cooking atelier. You’ve already seen them make apricot jam, and now that the apricot season is over, we’ve moved on to peach (coming next…) One of the other items that was featured on the kids’ menu was the quintessential French sandwich, the croque monsieur.

I’ve seen gourmet croque monsieurs with béchamel that looked incredible and that I’d love to make someday, but these mini croque monsieurs were simple enough for the kids to make themselves. The recipe was written out on the whiteboard and illustrated with pictures: buttered sandwich bread, emmental cheese, a slice of ham, cheese and more buttered bread, topped with more grated emmental. The kids could do the whole process themselves, and all we had to do was bake them for ten minutes.

We served them with mustard and fried eggs for those who wanted them (croque madame).

Miam!

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Riz Composé

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Apricot Jam Part II


I know, I know. I really need to stop with the apricot jam. But just bear with me once more… I have to show you these pictures: they’re just too adorable to keep to myself.

The house here in Paziols has room to sleep quite a few: we were 23 for the first session. However, we also have kids come from Monday-Friday, 9-5 for a centre aéré or day camp. The first day campers started coming a few days ago, and they immediately fell in love with their cooking atelier with Patricia. The first project? More jam.


The recipe here is a bit different: instead of Vitpris, the jam is made with equal parts (in weight) of fruit and special sugar for making jam. This way, the girls get to mix a lot more, as the fruit essentially needs to be macerated with the sugar before being cooked.

They copied down the recipe as the jam simmered on the stove top, making a drawing for each step so that they could recreate the French instructions later at home.

I think their favorite step was number 10: lécher la casserole (lick the pot).

Next up… watch the girls make croque monsieur!

(Yes… I’m finally done with the apricots. In any case, the season is almost over… and I think I’ve had my fill.)

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Apricot Season

When it’s berry season back at home, all that means is that we buy more berries. They are cheaper; we buy more. That’s all.

Not so for apricot season in France.

Apricot season here means that there are apricots sold by the crateful on the side of the road.

Apricot season here means that there is an apricot festival. (Read all about it here, at my travel blog.) ALERT: Shameless pimping of my own blog.

Apricot season in this house means apricot jam, and tons of it. The kids have all rotated in and out of the atelier de cuisine, where Patricia has been teaching them how to make apricot jam. Each kid gets a small pot to take home, and the rest, we dutifully eat every morning.

And sometimes in the evening, atop bowls of fromage frais.

Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remind myself that it isn’t a dream. I live in France, and here, everyone loves food just as much as I do.

As we like to say around here, it’s super-chouette.


Patricia’s Confiture aux Abricots (adapted from Vitpris)

1.4 kg apricots
1.8 kg sugar
20 cl water
one packet (37.6 g) Vitpris*

*Vitpris is a fruit-pectin based product that helps make jam set properly. It basically cuts down cooking time. If you can get your hands on some, it’s great.

Wash the apricots. Take out the apricot pits. Cook the fruit slowly over low heat with the water, covered, stirring gently every once in awhile with a wooden spoon, until the fruit has broken down.

Mix two tablespoons of the sugar with the packet of Vitpris. Sprinkle this mixture over the fruit. Bring to a boil for three minutes, and the add the rest of the sugar. Bring the mixture back up to a boil and boil for three minutes. At the end of cooking time, remove the foam from the top with a skimming spoon.

To eat immediately, simply ladle into clean jars, cover them and turn them upside down until they cool.

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Carbonara for Vingt

I am back in France. It’s strange and nice at the same time… on the one hand, I’m bored so easily and happy to visit new places, but on the other hand, there’s something about France that brings me back every time.

I’m in Paziols again… and it’s amazing to be back. The pattern of life is really different this year. Firstly, we have more kids. Twelve more, to be exact, and the little ones from last year are the big kids this summer. Secondly, we have Patricia, Anne-Marie’s sister, here as a full-time cook. Which is nice, when you’re cooking for twenty people. Cooking for twenty people scares me.

But my first night here, I did it. I made spaghetti Carbonara (never done that before) for twenty people (also never done that before). And it was good. Really good. I’m not too sure how that happened, but I loved it.

But it’s different from making regular Carbonara.

It takes fourteen eggs.

It takes a kilo of bacon.

Which makes more than a cup of bacon grease.

It takes two kilos of spaghetti.

And it takes two American sous-chefs, of course.

Spaghetti Carbonara for Dix

Boil a massive pot of salted water. Cook two kilos of spaghetti. Meanwhile, cook 1 kilo of bacon, chopped. Drain the grease, and, in two reserved tablespoons, cook two onions, chopped. Add the bacon back to the skillet and keep hot. Whisk fourteen eggs together with salt and black pepper. Add 1 heaping tablespoon of crème fraîche. Add the hot spaghetti and hot onions and bacon to the bowl of eggs, stirring to toss and cook the eggs. Serve with grated cheese on the side.

Leftovers are great placed into a baking dish, topped with 1 cup of grated emmental cheese, and baked in a 350 degree oven until the cheese is melted.

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Pancakes

The other day, I made these pancakes. They were incredible. I put chocolate in them and splurged on real Canadian maples syrup and ate and ate until I wanted to burst.

And I didn’t take any pictures.

I’m sorry, I really am, but the thing is, it was nice, for once in a very long time, to just make something and enjoy it. I stood at the frying pan and scooped pancakes onto the Canadian’s plate (with a fried egg on top, of course), while eating my own right at the counter. I enjoyed them piping hot, not even taking a moment between when they landed, warm and oozing chocolate onto my plate, and picking up my fork for the first bite, to even consider taking a picture.

I made them again a few days later, and this time I actively decided not to take pictures. It’s nice to love cooking just because sometimes, so I know that this means that you out there can’t see the fruits of my labors, but just rest assured that they are just as good as Lis says and that they come highly recommended from me.

And you obsessive food bloggers out there? (Guilty.) Please take a moment to make something, anything, and just enjoy it with whomever you’re eating with. No pictures required.

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Marlboro Man Sandwich Rave

Have I mentioned that I have a mini-obsession with The Pioneer Woman? Well, I do. It’s kind of bad. I first found her cooking blog… I loved that immediately. Then I found her regular blog, and it was all downhill from there. I became completely enthralled with her life. I have a cyber-crush on her. I feel like a little bit of a stalker.

I am not telling you this simply so that you can be amused. I do have a point. A food-related point, even. If you haven’t tried the Pioneer Woman’s famous Marlboro Man Sandwich… well, I feel sorry for you.

I’m always amazed at how the combination of such simple ingredients can turn out so well. If you don’t believe me, try it for yourself. Check out the recipe over at PW. It’s ridiculously simple, and the ingredients are cheap as chips. (I love that expression. I’ve always wanted to use it.)

To the original recipe, I added some mushrooms to the meat and onion mixture and some cheese on top, because that’s what the Canadian likes. And who can say “no” to that face?

I think the Canadian may love this sandwich more than Marlboro Man.

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