One of the joys of living in the food-obsessed culture of France, is learning all the cheater’s secrets. For one, I’ve learned the French are guilty of takeout and the prepared foods isle of the supermarche. Have a handful of friends stopping by for an aperitif? Why not swing over to the local Picard (the sterile neighborhood frozen foods shop) for a handful of delicacies (shrimp toasts, savory cakes, molten chocolate cakes) to pull out of the oven when guests arrive? Or why not run to the local Italian traiteur to create a spread of beautiful cheeses, preserved tomatoes, and Italian charcuterie. Secondly, there are plenty of ready-made products in the grocery store. Who has time to cook, when quinoa, lentils, and rice are ready to be zapped onto the table? Another supermarket favorite of mine is the ready-made puff pastry and pie crusts which make quiches and tartes a cinch to whip up. The little girl I babysit for explained the simplest and easiest apple tarte she makes with her father. A thin layer of apple sauce is spread onto a prepared pie crust. Sliced apples are fanned on top to give it the touch of the boulanger. Voila. To my chagrin, it happened to be vegan and perfectly timed for a luncheon for some vegan friends from Brooklyn who were in town! Enjoy.
Fig season has arrived in France! The daintier, sweeter variety indigenous to France are at their peak although the larger imports from Greece and Turkey are not a bad snack either. I’ve been waiting months to test out a recipe in Jamie Oliver’s Happy Days with the Naked Chef for months now. ‘Tis the season! It’s a sensually simple salad of figs, buffalo mozzarella, and prosciutto di parma. I slit an x on the top of the figs and gently squeezed them to reveal their velvety flesh. Arrange on a platter with sliced buffalo mozzarella. Next, a few ribbons of jambon du parma were weaved organically between the figs. A nice handful of basil thrown on top, a drizzle of best quality extra-virgin olive oil, sea salt and pepper. And there you have a sensationally seasonal first course.
So the 48 hours after my last posting were a continuous panic attack. What could I possibly scrounge up for a 3-star Masterchef to eat? Sure this would be a great story to tell, but at the moment it was far from funny. Although it was the first thing C had to share with everyone we crossed paths with last week. And everyone sure thought is was hilarious! And an unlimited budget and creative freedom only made the scenario a bit more daunting.
Although it has been over a month since I have been back in France, I am still relearning my tools of moderation. My day usually revolves around my daily treat, which usually is product of a trip to the boulangerie, or I happen to be in the neighborhood of Laduree, or a something else that involves a helpless pastry. Needless to say, because I’m surrounded by decadent, comforting foods, I am starting to crave things spicy and fragrant things that remind my life out West (meaning NYC and the 31 flavors of takeout). Speaking of which, I’ve been on a bit of a curry kick the past few weeks. And I was confident enough in my technique to pull it off elegantly for the big dinner.
I made a special trip to Passage Brady in the 10eme for some authentic spices at sensational prices. I fried up some onions and ginger with my spices (fenugreek, tumeric, mustard seeds, and divinely aromatic curry leaves) and added the last heirloom tomatoes of the season. I hit it with some coconut milk for some richness. I carefully threw my curry sauce through a sieve to give it a touch of refinement for French tastes. And from there, I used the sauce to slowly poach a few chicken breasts. Paired with basmati rice with lemon zest and curry leaves, it was a simple, but special dinner for a very special guest.
The real star was my first course: empanadas of espinacas catalan. I did a quick sautee of garlic, baby spinach, chickpeas, pinenuts, and golden raisins. I hit it generously with salt, pepper, and lemon juice and wrapped it all up in puff pastry. A tasty first course full of surprises.
Following the dinner party, I got a text from the host exclaiming it was a hit and the food was ‘supergood’. Bon! Success! Does this mean that I, Jessie Kanelos from the Midwest USA, might have a chance at becoming a French Masterchef via reality tv simply by cooking a humble chicken curry for the big judge? Sure enough, the guest star of the evening was caught up at work and did not attend. Here I am, feeling played like Stanley Tucci in a Big Night that I did not even attend. Although Frederic Anton could not enjoy my empanadas, maybe you will!…
Espinacas Catalan Empanadas makes 4
1 sheet puff pastry
6 cups baby spinach
1/4 cup pinenuts, gently toasted
1/4 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup chickpeas, drained
1 clove garlic, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 egg white
zest of one lemon
1 tablespoon lemon juice
salt & pepper
1.) Preheat oven to 400 f.
2.) Heat olive oil over low heat and cook garlic for several minutes until fragrant, but not brown. Add golden raisins. Start adding spinach one handful at a time. When it has wilted, add more until all cooked. Add chickpeas. Place mixture in bowl and let cool.
3.) Roll out pastry dough and cut into 4 parts. Add a handful of the spinach mixture on one side of the parts and fold over. Crimp edges to close the triangle. Poke a few holes on top of the empanada. Brush with egg white for a pretty sheen.
4.) Bake for 20-30 minutes until golden brown.
Serve as light lunch with a green salad. Or as a first course at a very important dinner party…
So, I’m in Paris. I have a humble babysitting job to make ends meet while waiting on my working papers. I search for the kids after school, buy groceries, cook dinner, and encourage the completion of homework. Yesterday afternoon, the children’s mother informed me that I would be cooking for 8 on Friday night. Nothing a roast chicken couldn’t handle, right? Sure enough, this afternoon she informed me of one other important detail. And guess who is coming to dinner! It’s family friend Frédéric Anton, three-star chef and judge on Masterchef France. (SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!) There really is no American equivalent to this. But I’ll shallowly compare Frédéric Anton to Tom Colicchio since they are both tv personalities with culinary street cred and members of the bald brotherhood.
So, what does one cook for a famous 3-star chef? One thing is for sure, even though I can crank out a decent boeuf bourguignon, there is no way I’m touching French food. Just like I would never sing the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ in the presence of Aretha Franklin. Luckily, I have been a devoted pupil of Masterchef since its conception. And Frédéric Anton preaches to his puppy-eyed aspiring chefs to keep it simple and respect the integrity of the ingredients. Part of me feels like I should really do something American; there’s always something to be said about the complimentary coupling of peanut butter and jelly. At the end of the day, I need to make something I know. Needless to say, HELP!
I’m back in Paris! Much to my dismay, the city is a ghost town in August. I’m on a perpetual search for an open boulangerie!
Fortunately, C welcomed me with open arms and full refrigerator. I needed to crank out a light, simple dinner one evening. I found inspiration in two staples: zucchini and fresh mozzarella. I picked up a trick by using a vegetable peeler to slice the zucchini into transparent ribbons which develop charming cross-hatching when hit on a grill pan. Tossed with a healthy dose of olive oil and a squeeze of lemon juice, salt & paper, and a chiffonade of fresh mint from the garden, the zucchini ribbons are sensuously silky while showcasing the nutty quality of zucchini I often forget. The ribbons are elegantly presented piled high topped with a crown of sliced fresh mozzarella.
The first time I made this dish, I was a little quick to over-season with too much lemon juice and the half-hearted addition of shaved cornichons. C, my taste tester, had no words for the dish; something was off. Surely he thought it was too acidic. I’m realizing I have a taste for strong flavors. However, at the same time, anything can taste like lemon juice! But when food is prepared well, it should taste like a celebration of whatever it is. I have challenged myself by living out this French food philosophy. Furthermore, with respect for good ingredients, even a meal inspired by the remnants of a fridge can be wildly satisfying. Now if only I could find that baguette…
JUST ZUCCHINI & MOZZARELLA for 2
2 medium zucchini, sliced thinly with a vegetable peeler
1 ball fresh mozzarella, cut into 1/4 inch slices
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for grill pan
1 teaspoon fresh mint, sliced finely to a chiffonade (roll up leaves like a cigar and chop finely)
salt & pepper to taste
1.) Heat a grill pan over high heat. Add 1 tablespoon oil and twirl pan until it is well-covered with oil. Add zucchini to the grill pan, being careful not to overlap the slices. Flip slices after 10-15 seconds when light grill marks appear. When both sides have nice hatching, place in a bowl. Proceed by grilling the rest of the slices, adding more oil to pan as needed.
2.) When all the slices have been grilled, toss with lemon juice, the tablespoon of olive oil, mint, salt, and pepper. Pile zucchini high onto serving plates and top with several slices of fresh mozzarella. Serve as a first course or with baguette for a light lunch.
Ring them bells! Another worthy food fad is soon to hit New York City! Laduree is opening an NYC location. My French colleague and I shrieked for joy when we read the first signs of speculation on Yelp several months ago! And thanks Vogue Magazine for confirming that an outpost of the hailed macaron bakery will be opening soon, nestled into the appropriately posh address of 864 Madison Ave (between 70th and 71st). It’s been a long-time coming; there are locations in just about every other city with Starbucks.
For those of you who have not had the pleasure of a enjoying a macaron from Laduree, eating one is like eating the heightened, pure essence of the said flavor (Raspberry! Vanilla! Pistachio! CHOCOLATE!), in an elegantly crispy exterior matched with the utterly sensuous creamy interior. I carefully transported an assortment of 12 to my parents in Turkey. After each meal, we ceremoniously ooooo’d and ahhhh’d, taking small bites of each flavor and passed them around like a peace pipe.
The Laduree NYC ironically opens August 22nd, which is the day I am moving back to France.
Goodbye, New York. But please accept my parting gift.
When I moved back to the States, I was awfully thankful to have moved back to a food-centric city like New York. It certainly helps having a distraction from all I left behind in France. But these days, I’ve been eating on dime. Fortunately, I recently started working in a sleek little tapas restaurant, which gives me enough culinary thrills to make it through with my weekly pot of beans at home. (Pickled ramps do wonders for my morale!) Nevertheless, I had a bag of dried beans lying around (gulp) and had the ambition to recreate a rustic French dish by the name of cassoulet. It is a slow-cooked stew of white beans with the hearty addition of various meat parts, which can include duck legs, sausages, and pork pieces. I have never actually made this dish for myself. But like most time-starved French home cooks, a delightful version can be found in the prepared food isle at the local Monoprix in Paris. But this time around, I was nostalgic for some French comfort food this rainy week in New York. Although I had aimed for a traditional meat-centric version, I was discouraged my local Greek bodega does not carry any of the duck fragments traditionally used in the recipe. So I took the challenge to make it sans meat, which turned into a tasty abomination of the classic. Since I had the luxury of an afternoon off, I was hoping to cook it slowly until it attained the same silky hearth of my fond food memory of the dish. And I was quite pleased with what I came up with! As soon as the thyme hit the sautéing carrots, celery, and onions, France was all up in my face. It made me nostalgic for the sunshine in the South of France and the lazy nights C would reheat a jar of this French favorite. I’d recommend to serve with baguette, but that’s one bit of nostalgia still to be satisfied…
1 16oz. bag of white beans, soaked in water overnight and drained
1 medium red onion, chopped
12 oz. chopped carrots
1 cup chopped celery
2 tomatoes chopped finely
5 stalks of thyme tied together with string (bouquet garnis)
1 handful chopped Italian flat-leaf parsley
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
zest of 1 lemon, minced
1.) Sautee onions, carrots, celery, salt, and pepper for 8 minutes until caramelized and tender. Add chopped garlic, thyme, and tomatoes. Stir until fragrant.
2.) Add the soaked beans and 5 cups of water to the mixture. Let come to a simmer.
3.) Cook over a low heat for 60-90 minutes until the beans are soft and the broth thickens. Add more water if needed.
4.) Pull out thyme bouquet. Stir in lemon zest and parsley. Season to taste! And enjoy!
There’s nothing like a soon-to-be mother-in-law! Fortunately, as of now, I’ve only good things to tell. When I moved to France, I quickly learned that Sunday was the ultimate day of relaxation. I mean a ‘watching 3 movies, not moving the couch’ type of Sunday. And thanks to France, I was finally able to train myself to do this without feeling a drop of guilt. When I started seeing C, I learned Sunday was the ultimate day of family, too. Whenever we weren’t glued to the couch or scavenging for food after noon, we were more than likely on our way to his parent’s place in the 15th arrondisement. C’s mother is a very striking beauty. She’s impeccably preserved with radiant, olive skin and dark tresses. Only her slow walk gives away the fact she’s in her early 70s. She’s a retired primary school teacher. Thankfully, she speaks clearly and simply enough for both a 4h grader and a barely bilingual Americaine like me to understand. And she just adores her son. She beams when she sees him and buys him a chocolate basset hounds every Easter and is quick to pull out his childhood photos. But I knew she finally warmed up to me when she whipped out the vegetables just for me! And plenty of them! Carotte rappe with just a touch of olive olive, cucumbers simply dressed with vinegar, and the most beautifully sumptuous red pepper and tomato salad/confiture/thing you must try at home!
So, it’s just a kilo of tomatoes and a kilo of red peppers. It’s that easy. They are scorched on either an open flame or in the broiler until their skins are completely black and pull away from the flesh. From there, wrap them in a papertowel and wrap in a plastic bag until they cooled. Remove the skins and slice into strips. From there, place the sliced peppers and tomatoes into a skillet with some olive oil and let them slowly concentrate until they morph into their own sauce. Add a little water here and there to keep them from sticking to the pan and to continue the caramelizing. After about 45 minutes-1 hour, you are left with is just the silkiest and smokiest thing that has ever come out of 2 kilos of vegetables. The sweetness of the peppers mellows out the acidity of the tomatoes brilliantly. With the necessary addition of baguette, you’re set for a terrifically light lunch or first course. Or reserve a little for your omelet the day after. Or place on top of a crostini with a little goat cheese for an elegant hors d’oeurves. But from my experience, the salad won’t last long enough to consider sharing.
From this day on, I still haven’t seen this little salad anywhere else! Unlike the Thai chicken wraps or the Mexican tortilla soup my family has adopted as our own family recipes from the supermarket periodical aisle, I can assume this recipe is one of those time-treasured Marseillaise recipes made in C’s family for at least a couple of generations. And nothing can taste as good! Not even a molten chocolate Martha Stewart recipe from my family recipe vault. Enjoy.
I got a little too hasty after Tuesday’s posting. After following up on visa paperwork in the morning, I had a little time to kill before work. Where else could I celebrate the wedding excitement other than David’s Bridal! Now for those readers overseas or those not familiar with David’s Bridal, it was the epitome of middleclass, Midwestern elegance in my 5th-grade mind. Growing up in the city of Chicago, David’s Bridal had the mystique of something only found in suburban strip malls. Although I am a chick, I am not the type of girl who has obsessed over planning my wedding since the days I thought David’s Bridal was haute chic. Hence, that’s what inspired my first stop on the wedding trail. As someone with no budget, no set date, and no idea of what I am seeking out in a wedding dress, I figured I would start my search generically at David’s Bridal.
And generic is more or less what I got. However, Vera Wang is producing a very urbane and modestly priced collection for the bridal chain, White by Vera Wang. Every designer has attempted to design for the masses these days; last time I checked, she was unfortunately designing mattresses at Kohl’s. But thanks to Vera, I didn’t need to try on any pieces from the strapless taffeta graveyard surrounding her collection at David’s Bridal. I tried on a very demure ivory, v-necked, a-line gown with appliquéd lace on net. And heck, at $800, if I had money, I might be able to afford it! The second gown was an ivory, one-shouldered, drop waist satin gown with a cascade of organza “flanges”. This was definitely more in my world. Although this dress was a little more formal than the modest courthouse affair our big day might become, I learned a few things from the experience. I want to look more fashion than bridal! And I never knew it before, but ivory is much better on me than white. All things considered, although I had a pleasant trip to the bridal factory, my heart belongs to all things vintage! And the search must go on!
Although I had initially set out of the make this a bi-coastal New Yorkaise/Parisienne food blog, my interests are slowly moving more permanently overseas. My boyfriend and I have started the process of getting hitched Parisien style! And a process it is! Before I can start gushing about boutonnières and Jordan almonds, like all things French, there is an endless stack of paperwork that needs to transpire before the wedding plans can begin. At this rate, I’ll need a notarized letter to get the handful of rambunctious Kaneloses into the country for the wedding. Although there’s a bevy of ‘How to Marry to French Guy!’ and ‘Yikes, I married a sexy Frenchman’ websites, none of them spell out the actual process. Falling in love is the easy part. Not to put a damper on the exciting prospects ahead by being so damn practical, but I will try to consolidate the months of the process into one whirlwind blog. But I promise it will be much more amusing than French bureaucracy alone.
So in brief, I moved to Paris weeks after college graduation! It was my way to learn a new language and escape the inevitable recession. I worked as a jeune fille au pair; the domestic right of passage for any wide-eyed expat girl! More on that later. When I wasn’t blow-drying this small child’s hair or cutting her chicken cordon bleu into small pieces, I was out-and-about in the fine city of Paris! Just months before I had planned to return to the States, I met C at my favorite little indie bar in the 11th arrondissement. There was beer in plastic cups and the Smiths were in the background. It was love at first sight. But more on that later. After two years of togetherness and several periods of long-distance, we are ready to take the next step to be together! And that’s where you find me here now pondering out loud how to get Sarah Burton to design my wedding gown…