c’est ma vie – Page 4

Waiting for Anton Part 2

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…

Waiting for Anton…

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!

Zucchini & Mozzarella

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.

1 Part Tomatoes+1 Part Red Peppers

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 15^th 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 4^h 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.

White by Wang

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 5^th-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!

En Vue de Mariage

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 11^th 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…

Presque-etarian

So I am back in NYC after a two-week trip to Butterville. Don’t get me wrong, I love that I have the ability to pick up and return to France whenever I can. But after returning to New York from my hiatus vacation to Paris, my bod is barking for some detox. Mind you, I strive for clean living and eating in my homeland. I have subsided off of a lentil-heavy, poverty-inspired diet over the past few months in New York. But as soon as my feet touch the ground and are accessible to a boulangerie, there is no turning back. But this time around, there was a bit of a change…

C, Monsieur Meat & Potatoes himself, recently picked up on the organic, pro-veg trend. Halleluiah, I say! I am not a vegetarian, but I strive to be. A presque-etarian, if you will. But there were countless dinners for C where I would shellac, layer, and roast vegetables in all their seasonal glory only to hear post-dinner about his need for meat. The ultimate expression of his transformation was when he suggested we try out a macrobiotic restaurant, which was recommended to him by a friend. Now I don’t know much about macrobiotics, but I do know it’s crunchy and something Gwenyth discusses in Instyle Magazine. From the limited menu, we both ordered the veggie bowl. It arrived as a sephia color wheel of lentils, vegetable porridge, seaweeds, and grain cakes. Sadly, it lacked texture and all the color and life that make vegetables so exciting for me to prepare and enjoy. C so generously spooned most of his dinner onto my plate and I knew that this dinner’s final destination would be McDonald’s. Sure enough, we wrapped up the evening sitting side-by-side as I enviously watched him happily eating his McNuggets wishing I hadn’t filled up on millet cake. Nevertheless, we are taking small steps towards culinary compatibility!

I never tasted panna cotta until about a year into Paris, in the early ‘wining and dining’ days of my courtship with C. After a beautifully prepared Italian dinner at Swan et Vincent, a neighborhood restaurant in the Bastille quartier, he ordered panna cotta for dessert. It came to our table humbly in a ramekin with a veil of raspberry coulis. But its simplicity was a marvel! It had the luxurious texture of a proper pudding, but with an absolutely pure taste of cream, milk, and vanilla bean. Panna cotta is to pudding as gelato is to ice cream. Panna cota and gelato showcase the flavor of their ingredients without being weighed down with eggs. And luckily, for the humble home cook, this makes it a lot easier to make, too!

I hold no grudges against animal hooves, but the inclusion of gelatin in recipes always intimidated me a bit before making this. But much like quinoa or fennel, it was just a matter of time and a good recipe to take away any culinary fear! A basic mixture of cream, milk, and sugar is heated until warm enough to melt good-quality dark chocolate and the softened gelatin. If you are more vanilla than chocolate, the chocolate can easily be replaced with a halved and seeded vanilla bean. The mixture is poured into individual cups and chilled. I do not know who I am quoting when I say this (too much Saveur Magazine), but the finished panna cotta should have the ‘wobble of a woman’s breast’. And remember, respect for quality, pure ingredients will leave you with an exceptional result every time! Enjoy!

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