cheap eats – THEFRANCOFLY

BLT

The thing about being a token American in France is all of my French friends keep me posted on all the American happenings in Paris. I am always the first to know about the latest burger truck, American steakhouse, Breaking Bad spoilers, and cupcake depot. Since I have never thought about chili cheese anything in my four years in France, I am always hesitant to eat at American restaurants. For me, it is peculiar that eating something like Korean makes me far more sentimental for home than an uninspired burger on an industrial bun.

But for months, I had two French friends raving about the latest attempt at American at Little Kitchen in Montreuil (80 rue de Paris 93100 Montreuil). With a farm-to-table mentality and an airy “New York” storefront ambiance, this little café has a delicious, mixed bag of a menu. With American standards like chicken Caesar salads, beef burritos, and cheeseburgers alongside a mushroom and cheese tartine, a Japanese shrimp salad, and mysterious daily specials, everything is inspired and freshly prepared. I was nervous ordering a BLT, a sandwich whose most exciting component is often its slathering of mayonnaise. But I was pleasantly surprised to discover juicy tomato, micro greens, and crispy bacon all on a grainy, grilled country bread. Unfortunately, their hours of operation do not yet go into the evening hours (Monday-Friday 11:00am-7:00pm). But with a little planning, the Little Kitchen hosts a brunch not to be missed the first Sunday of the month from 10:00am-3:00pm. Oh, and it is cheap. It is easy to eat for under 10 euros. Make an afternoon out of it, do not miss the bargains at the Montreuill flea market every Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

But BLTs are one of the easiest, foolproof things to whip up at home. I would apologize for putting the recipe in French, but a BLT is kind of a commonsense sandwich.

littlekitchenmontreuil.com

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Cafe Titon

Very few cafes have the same open charm and open arms as Cafe Titon on the corner of Rue Chanzy and Rue Titon. On a no-frills corner in the 11e arrondisement, Cafe Titon opens up like a clamshell onto the street. Maybe it is the ancient stone mosaic tiles geometrically breaking up the floor or the makeshift loveseat of beatup leather armchairs pushed together. Photos are hung back-to-back to engage patrons and the passerby. The wraparound bar’s stocked shelves of Paulaner glasses and a currywurst special on the menu are a subtle wink to the fact that Cafe Titon is Paris’s Germanophile bar. An overhead projector broadcasts football matches, riling up a rowdy crowd in the evenings.

It is one blueberry scone and chai latte away from being a coffee shop in Prospect Park, Brooklyn, Wicker Park, Chicago, or anywhere but here. But I will spare the comparisons and embrace the currywurst, the beer on tap, and maybe even football!

34 Rue Titon 75011 Paris 09 53 17 94 10

Mon Chou Tchouchouka!

Long before my mother-in-law was my mother-in-law and before I knew the proper name of tchouchouka, I wrote about this star recipe, which always makes an appearance at my in-law’s. Traditionally, tchouchouka is a cooked Berber salad of red peppers and tomatoes. Although not traditionally French, it has become one of my fondest food memories of France.

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 mon mari qui fume, I learned Sunday was the ultimate day of family, too. Whenever we weren’t glued to the couch or scavenging for food after everything closed in the afternoon, we were more than likely on our way to his parents’ place in the tony 16^th arrondisement. Although they have recently relocated to Nice, making this salad reminds me of our times together. It brings me back to mortifyingly breaking the wicker chair I was assigned at our first dinner together. And piecing together what little charm I could in my limited French at the time. All embarrassment aside, I instantly appreciated these warm, patient, curious people who would soon become my family. And I remember tasting this deceptively simple salad for the first time. Made from 1 part red peppers to 1.5 parts tomatoes, the vegetables are charred and pealed, then cooked down with a bit of olive oil and garlic until they form a smoky and sweet confiture. Served as a first course with good bread, there is no better, healthier, or cheaper way to kick off an excellent meal among friends or family.

tchouchouka

1 kilo red peppers

1.5 kilos ripe tomatoes

2 teaspoons olive oil

1 clove garlic

salt & pepper

1.) Place peppers and tomatoes on a sheet tray. Cook under broiler until blackened. Turn and repeat until all sides are charred.

2.) Let cool. Peel and de-seed peppers and chop into small pieces. Peel and chop tomatoes. In a saucepan, heat oil over a low heat. Add the peppers, tomatoes, and garlic. Simmer over a very low heat until thick and caramelized. Add salt and pepper to taste.

HAPPY JOUR DE MACARON! HAPPY SPRING! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

_1070856 — Flowers from our petit jardin. Spring has sprung!

Today is my birthday! And the first day of Spring! And it also happens to be the ‘jour de macaron’! I was born on a good day. Free macarons! Thanks http://parisbymouth.com/ for sharing this. If you’ve never tried a macaron before, they are the semi-precious confectionary jewel of certain French patisseries. Crisp on the outside, unctuously intense on the inside. Although the macaron trend is going strong in the States, I’ve never wasted my time finding an American equivalent. (Have you found any good macarons in the USA yet?) So shortly after I started planning my trick-or-treat-style macaron conquest, I realized that France doesn’t follow the same ‘demand and supply’ criteria as Halloween or that happy, happy day when Ben & Jerry’s gives out a free scoop in the States. Eloquence is key to getting anything done in France. Everything needs to be stated precisely and efficiently. So I strutted into Dalloyau, a local participant. I inquired ever-so politely in my most proper French, “Good day, dear sir. Do you happen to be participating in this joyous day of macaron?” Pause. “Yes, in fact we are. If you happen to participate in a tasting, you are certainly welcome.” “Uhhh, yeeaah!…I mean, if you please. I will take a vanilla, kind sir” A little coercing for a small treat. I should have mentioned my birthday first thing.

Take advantage of the beautiful day. And a macaron too, if you please.

Les Marchés Parisiens

After eating lentils all week, I often lose track of what day of the week it is! ~~Not that you should not try the delicious aforementioned recipe.~~ However, it very well could be just a side effect of freelancing; any day could be Saturday. But what always keeps me on track is the local market, every Thursday and Sunday morning. In Paris, there are several markets in every neighborhood, twice a week. And it takes a tremendous amount of effort and resources. Sanitation workers set up a row of metal frames and tarps are rolled out to commence the market. Everything is promptly cleaned up and hosed down without a trace of the bustling, haggling, crate-strewn bi-weekly tradition. The only trace is the fruit and veg seen in the still life above.

The tremendous joy of food shopping in France is unparalleled in the States. Although there are supermarkets and aptly titled ‘hypermarches’ to make a weekly grocery run, just looking at the streets of Paris will give you a clue of the sensibilities of shoppers. On my short walk to the Metro from chez moi, there is a boucher, a fish shop, four boulangeries, a cheese shop, two Kosher sushi places, four sandwich shops, a honey boutique, and a handful of grocery stores. I cannot tell if the French are just completely obsessed with food or they just value the craft of their neighborhood artisans. To faire le course, the mundane task of food shopping, can take several stops. Although it would be more efficient to stock up (American-style) at the grocery just once a week, our fridge is half the size of those which can accommodate a proper trip to Kroger. This is precisely why I love the market; twice a week, I can stock up on the freshest products that I need in just one place. Take a look at these quick tips.

Tips

1. If you are visiting Paris, click here (http://marche.equipement.paris.fr/tousleshoraires) to find a market near you. Spring is just around the corner. And there is no better way to assemble a fabulous picnic.

2. Shop around. There is something for everybody and a booth for everything: bouchers, chicken specialists, fish mongers, Greek specialties, eggs, cheese. Prices and quality vary with each vendor. In general, the deeper into the market, the less expensive. Often times, prices are cheaper than the grocery stores and the quality is superior

3. If PRODUCTEUR is advertised in a stall, the fruit and vegetables are coming directly from the source. Although the produce may not be as impeccable-looking as neighboring booths, its freshness is top.

4. Say hello to your vendors. I have been going to the same bargain booth for years now. And the venders recognize my loyalty. They call me princess and give me free avocados. And they don’t give me a hard time when I beg them not to use plastic bags. Hypermarche be damned!

Although the farmers market trend is going strong in the States, the bi-weekly market is a simple pleasure, deeply engrained into everyday life. So you can have your still life and eat it, too.

Lentils Continued…

Yes, here is the recipe for lentils I promised you a few weeks back! Oh, Lentils. The mighty, high-protein, highly-economic standby food! Like all simple foods in France, they get the VIP treatment. Lentils are always dressed up with bits of foie gras or smoked salmon. However, considering we just bought an apartment, they rest unadorned, but nonetheless delicious.

Sadly, my husband is opposed to spice. He will find ways to eat around herbs. As I heard so eloquently said recently (in David Lebovitz’s blog), Americans are into fireworks when eating. However, the French prefer something truly simple and well-made. It goes to show that my own personal style is to throw a handful of cilantro on everything. Needless to say, the following recipe is tasty whether you choose to dress it down for dinner for two, served with some baked potatoes and grilled sausages. Or in my case, incorporate some chopped ginger, garam masala, creme fraiche and a handful of cilantro for lunch!

Compromise be gone!

Lentils for one and all (or 8 people)

1 ½ Cup Green Lentils, soaked for several hours or overnight

2 leeks, finely chopped

3 small onions, finely chopped

1 clove garlic

2 carrots, shredded

3 plum tomatoes, grated

1 tsp salt

½ tsp pepper

2 bay leaves

1 tsp. olive oil

6 cups water, more if needed

1.) In a heavy-bottomed pot, sauté the leeks and onions over medium/low heat until soft and translucent. Add bay leaves, carrots, garlic, pepper and tomato. Cook until softened and lightly caramelized

2.) Add the drained lentils and cover mixture with water

3.) Cook for 30 minutes until the lentils are soft and stewy. Add salt

4.) Enjoy!

Cassoulet

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!

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.

Barley Risotto…An Accidental Delight

Continuing my post-France cleanse, I’m still attempting to be a vegan as much as possible, give or take the Girl Scout cookies that have miraciously popped-up in New York City these days. Nevertheless, being a veggie has not been as restricting as I have always imagined…although I do get a few groans from friends when making dinner plans. Although I often lack the discipline to resist those delectable afternoon Tagalongs, being a vegetarian has challenged me to explore new ingredients and think creatively about all those stockpiled beans and whole grains in my cupboard. Needless to say, let’s talk about barley! Plus or minus the mushroom barley soup of my childhood, the grain was more or less foreign to me. I picked up a Goya bag of it from the market, cooked it up, and was hooked. It can be mixed with soymilk milk and sugar for breakfast, mixed in with soups, or as a perfect addition to a chopped salad. And it’s a nutritional powerhouse! Amino acids! Fiber! Antioxidants! And let’s not forget that it has a similar texture of pasta! What’s not to love?

This afternoon, I had planned to do my own take on the classic mushroom and barley medley by just cooking the barley as instructed and giving it depth by adding sautéed mushrooms. I started by sautéing the mushrooms with shallots and onions. In the meantime, I had some homemade vegetable stock simmering away next to me. To my chagrin, I had all the components of a risotto at my fingertips. Since barley has the same rounded shape as Arborio rice, why not give it a try as a risotto? I threw the barley in with the nicely caramelized vegetables and added a half-cup of broth. I stirred the bubbling barley mixture until the liquid evaporated then added another half-cup of the broth. Continue stirring in the broth one half-cup at a time until the barley plumps up and the risotto begins to develop a creamy texture. But be prepared to stir; elbow grease is the only fool-proof ingredient added to risotto. I added a splash of red wine to give it a touch of depth and sweetness. And added a little brightness with a handful of chopped parsley and a small squeeze of lemon juice. And top it off with a handful of parmesan cheese (controversial for a vegan, but necessary for a risotto) and a little drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil. And voila! Your accidental dinner is done!