Chicken Liver Pâté or "French Peanut Butter"

When I was growing up, my family would very frequently go to France for the summer.  It was my birthday, the French independence Day, and my maternal grandparents and maternal aunt and cousin lived in Paris.  My parents and my sister and I would rent a room or two in the apartment building where my grandparents lived, and we spent glorious days together exploring the city and eating good food.  There is still - and always will be - a fond place in my heart for the neighborhood of Marie des Lilas.
There was a butcher shop that sold pâté de foie and jambon and we often got this to eat with a baguette; the perfect breakfast.  (There was also milk and yogurt, jam and nutella, and always my mother's favorite President butter.)  For years, as a child it never occurred to me to think about what pâté was; I just thought it as the French version of peanut butter.  It was creamy, it was savory, it was delicious on bread.  Later on, I learned that it was essentially pureed liver.  Now, my mother had always seasoned and baked the gizzard and liver that came with whole chicken when we bought it, and I had no problem eating them when I knew what they were, so this mystery now solved didn't phase me in the least.  The only thing I learned that day was that I really loved eating liver.
I still have a tremendous fondness for pâté - I can rarely resist ordering it when it appears on restaurant menu - and eating it has a sweet sort of nostalgia for me in that it reminds me of my second home; the place of my childhood summers.
For some reason, it took me years to dare to try making it own my own.  I had some strange belief that it would be difficult, or that I would somehow be terrible at making it.  Instead, I've found it to be ridiculously simple and delicious when made at home.  The hardest thing is finding the chicken livers.


Chicken Liver Pate
1 large shallot
7-8 tablespoons of butter
approximately 1lb chicken livers, preferably organic if you can get them
1/4 teaspoon flaky salt
75ml (or roughly 1/3 cup) sweet white wine
dash of allspice
tiny splash of balsamic
freshly ground black pepper

Heat a knob of butter in a frying pan over a medium heat. Add the shallot and saute until caramelized.
Add the remainder of the butter and livers and cook until the livers are just starting to brown on the outside.
Add the wine, salt, allspice, balsamic, and black pepper and lower the heat to simmer lightly until the livers are no longer bloody when pressed.  They should still be pink on the inside.  If you're a little worried about undercooked livers (as I often am), cooking them a little longer doesn't change much.
Tip into a food processor OR use your handy dandy immersion blender to blend the livers.
Optional: (And I'll be honest, I really don't think it's worth the extra time or things to wash because it doesn't change that much of the texture)  Pass through a sieve into a serving dish.
Level out the top of the puree and chill for at least an hour before serving.  Delicious with fig jam or onion compote.

Making Madeleines

On our first Christmas together, B. got me two trays of madeleine molds.  I didn't use them right away because I had never made madeleines before, but after about 6 months of disuse, he told me he would make me a batch.  I'm normally the baker in the house, so it was nice to be spoiled by him.  We used the recipe that had come with the trays, but it wasn't quite what we were looking for.
This week, my husband decided it was time to make madeleines again, so I looked up a recipe online.  One of the first recipes I stumbled upon was Dorie Greenspan.  Her recipes are quite popular among food bloggers and her pictures showed a very big "hump" -- which is very desirable in madeleines.  We had not had humps in our last homemade batch, so I was interested in trying her recipe and her method.

We were quite pleased with our results, and when B. brought some to his office to share with co-workers, he said they enjoyed them as well.  This recipe is not at all intimidating, and I'm glad we decided to try it.  I have no idea why it took me so long to get around to making them, but homemade madeleines are a lovely treat.

I did, of course, alter a few things.  First, the original recipe calls for lemon zest.  I never buy lemons because they're more expensive than limes.  These past few months, however, we've been eating a lot of oranges, and whenever I buy particularly beautiful citrus from a good source, I will wash them, zest them, and freeze the zest for uses in baking, cocktails (mocktails for me; cocktails for B.), cooking, and so on.  So I had orange zest on hand.  I eyeballed out what I thought was the appropriate amount for one orange (though really, this depends on how well you zest your fruit... on cooking shows when I watch them zest, I am appalled by how much they waste).  I thought the orange flavor was beautiful and I will be repeating the recipe this way from now on.

Second, I used a hand blender (also called an immersion or stick blender) to really chop up the zest and mix it with the sugar and egg.  I thought this helped infuse the flavor, but it's probably not a necessary step.

Third, I highly recommend browning the butter.  This will add a complexity to the flavor, and since you have to melt the butter anyhow, you might as well do it on the stove and make the house smell like magic.

Fourth, I would also highly recommend sifting your dry ingredients into your wet ingredients to prevent lumps.  I did not do this the first time and I think the texture is far better when you sift.  This will also help you in that you won't have to stir as much.

Fifth, this is a nit picky thing, but I always mix salt with sugar in my wet ingredients, as I think this makes the distribution of flavor better than having salt be with the dry ingredients.  I never know why recipe writers always insist on coupling salt with baking soda/baking powder and flour.  Also, I always used salted butter.  Yes it adds more salt, but I think it also adds more flavor.  I almost never use unsalted butter and if I do, it's normally because I ran out of the salted kind.

Three Good Years & Paella

Today marks the three year anniversary of this blog.  When it started, I had no idea this little project would ever become what it is now.  It was honestly just an impulse that I went with one summer day when I was working as a intern.  I had a desk job with a lot of free time, and I had recently had a birthday lunch with my cousin at a restaurant in DC.  I started writing an email to my parents and my sister about the meal, and then, on a whim, I decided to make it into a blog post.  I didn't even have an introduction.
The first year honestly was a very slow one.  I didn't write much, and when I did, I don't think anyone was really reading.  Then I went to France for the summer and prolifically published about the places that I ate at while on vacation.  My parents showed the link to various friends and family and before I knew it, I had an audience.
I am still learning how to write and trying to figure out the rules of the blogging world, but it is incredibly rewarding whenever I check on my Stats page (that's right, non-bloggers; I get a report of how many people are reading, what links and google search bring them here, what posts are being read, what countries readers are from... it's amazing) and I see that someone has tweeted about a post I wrote or someone has pinned a picture that I took onto Pinterest.  It is also wonderful to have those around me support me in this.
One of the strongest supporters of my food blogging is my boyfriend.  He understands how important this is to me, even though it has nothing to do with my career path, and he stands by as I take 30 pictures of a plate of food before letting him eat it and he smiles at my note-taking when we go out to dinner (even when we're with his friends).  But best of all, because I've been too swamped with work to write or cook anything to mark this three year anniversary, B. sweetly stepped in and wrote a special guest post.

~~~

For this special occasion today, I wanted to share a family recipe we do for family reunions, Sunday lunch and big occasions: Paëlla.

Europe is an exciting mix of culture and history and as a French-Catalan-Algerian, this Paëlla is a great example of how to present a traditional dish with your own influences, inspiration and techniques.  Originally, it was a poor man’s dish made out of leftovers but after many generations, it became a tradition and an equivalent of a feast.

What you’ll need for 6-8 people:
- 500g medium-grain rice
- 2 onions
- 1L chicken / vegetable stock
- 2 bell peppers (preferably red & green)
- 2 tomatoes
- 250g of calamari
- 4 pieces of chicken (usually drumsticks)
- 4 rabbit hind legs (optional)
- 200g chorizo
- 12 Spanish mussels
- 1 cup of cooked regular mussels
- 6 langoustines (Scampi)
- 350g shrimp
- 1 cup of peas
- 1 cup of white wine
- Armagnac / Cognac
- 3-4 pinches of saffron
- olive oil
- salt and pepper

You will need a big pan. I used a traditional 15-inches paella pan, but any large pan is good. Everything will be cooked in the same pan one step at a time, no need to wash it in between steps. We want to keep all the flavors from each step.

1- Heat the stock in a separate pan, chop the onions, wash the Spanish mussels, and rinse the calamari rings. Slice the chorizo and remove the “skin." Peel, seed, and dice the tomatoes. Peel, seed, and slice the bell peppers. Peel the shrimp, remove the heads and tails (note: don’t do this with the langoustines!).  Once your stock is hot, set aside about ½ cup and add the the saffron to "marinate" this stock.


2- Add enough olive oil for 3-4 turns around the pan. Sautee one-third of the chopped onions in the pan (don’t use all of your onions; the rest will be used later) with the Spanish mussels on medium-high for about 5-7 minutes. Once the mussels are ready, remove them from the pan and set them aside on a plate. Make sure every mussel is open, otherwise let it cook a little bit longer.


 3- Caramelize the calamari in the pan. Add onion if needed. Don’t cook the calamari completely here because they will cook longer at the end.  Remove them when they have a nice golden color (about 5 minutes) and set them aside on another plate.

4- Add a bit more onion and olive oil and cook the langoustines for 5-7 minutes. Get the Armagnac (or Cognac) ready to flambé. When the langoustines are almost done, pour the Armagnac on them, and use a match to set it on fire (be careful not to burn down the kitchen...)

5- Add the rest of onions (should be roughly ⅓ of the original amount) with the chicken, rabbit and bell peppers. Sautee for about 5 minutes, stir and add the tomatoes. Simmer on medium and add the peas and chorizo. The chorizo and the tomatoes should release their juice; don’t remove it.  Remove the chorizo before it is cooked completely as it will be cooked again at the very end.

6- While the meat is cooking, prep the Spanish mussels on the half-shell. This is mainly for presentation.

7 - When the meat is ready, take it out of the pan and put it on a plate on top of the stock pot (which should be on medium-low heat) to keep it warm (pretty much like a water bath)

8- Add the shrimp to the pan and put back the calamari with the cooked mussels (not the Spanish mussels!). On medium heat, add your rice evenly in the pan. Stir gently, then spread the rice to cover as much surface as possible. If you “stack” the rice, it won’t be cooked properly. Pour in the stock with the saffron and some of the regular stock to cover everything. Let this simmer and little by little pour in more stock as it reduces. The rice takes 20-25 min to cook. In Catalonia, people like their rice to crack a little bit under the teeth (think al dente but cook it to your personal preference). After 15 minutes, put the chorizo back in.

9- When the paella is ready, put the chicken, the rabbit, the scampi on top of the rice. Add the Spanish mussels around the edge of the pan. Put the pan in a preheated oven at a low temperature between 85°F-140°F until your guests arrive to make sure everything will be warm when served.

Optional: Arrange slices of lemon on top before serving. You can also top with sprigs of parsley.

 
We finished our meal with a crêpe with red fruits and homemade chantilly... but that is a different story, for another day.

Sweet Paris - Ladurée versus Pierre Hermé

Two weeks ago (has it been two weeks already?) I flew to France to see B., to meet his family, and to soak up the sweetness that is Paris.  Of course, when I talk about the sweetness that is Paris, I do mean that rather literally.  I have a long-standing love for French pastries — a love that almost matches my love for B. — and I don't deprive myself when I can get them.  In fact, I just counted, and during the six days that I was in Paris, I ate 12 different pastries.  Twelve.  And I don't even think of that as a lot.  A visit to Paris is so synonymous in my mind with eating pastries that I don't think of it as anything to write home about; most of the time I don't take notes or pictures, and all my friends and family know that I always take pictures of my food.  But with French pastries, either because I grew up seeing them all the time or because I don't want to wait the extra 20 seconds to take a decent picture, I just buy them and I eat them.  But there are two places in Paris that are too famous to act blasé about: Ladurée and Pierre Hermé.

I first went to Ladurée when I was thirteen.  This was many years ago, before the name was well-known in the States.  It was a place that my parents had read about and they decided to take their two daughters there.  We sat down in the salon and oohed and aaahed over everything as we ate the pastries and drank the tea.  It was wonderful.  The service was friendly and attentive and everything was delicious, but I haven't been back since.  Ladurée is good, but pastries everywhere in Paris are good, and I never really got into the macaron food fad that everyone else seems to be following.  Sure, I enjoy the delicate little rounds, but I'd rather have some good foie gras.
Recently, however, when my boyfriend came to visit, he brought two boxes of macarons for my family from Ladurée, sweetly packed and carried across the ocean for us.  My sister and my parents were touched by his gesture, and it piqued my interest in going back to the shop.
Ladurée, which was founded back in 1862 (a fact that is printed on almost everything that bears their name, so I think they're rather proud of it), is often credited as being the first place in which the modern-day macaron was made.  The modern-day macaron I speak of is a tiny "cake" (if one can even use that word) made of egg whites, almond flour, and sugar baked into small airy rounds that are smooth, crisp, and soft all at once.  Two of these small "shells" are joined together by a ganache or jelly-like filling in the middle.  Flavors can range from raspberry and chocolate to olive oil or thyme.

I first visited Pierre Hermé two summers ago.  I had heard much about it for years before then, but I just hadn't taken the time to visit.  Pierre Hermé (the man) is famous in the gourmet pastry scene for his bold, sometimes risky, flavor pairings, including the very famous Ispahan, a macaron that combines raspberry, lychee, and rose together so successfully that it has been copied everywhere, including at Ladurée.
My sister and I went there together, and we didn't try any of the macarons (again, I was never big into the macaron craze), but we bought the Ispahan and a dark chocolate mousse pastry.  I remember that the Ispahan was good, but I don't recall being blown away by it.

But I am no longer eighteen and it has been a long time since I was thirteen, and so I had to go back.  I wanted to do a taste test between the two places and to compare the macarons at Pierre Hermé with those at Ladurée.


At Ladurée I bought several macarons, for 1€70 a piece.  Boxes are more expensive, but are a good choice if you are traveling with your macaron, as the paper bag they give you otherwise provides absolutely no protection.  After I had paid, I was offered a free raspberry marshmallow macaron to try, as it was a new flavor that they were trying to promote.  I accepted it from the silver platter upon which it was offered to me (by a man in a suit wearing white satin gloves, no less), and ate it as I walked down the street to the metro.  It was overly sweet and the flavor was one note.  I could sense the marshmallow from the filling, but the raspberry flavor was lacking, and I felt like it needed some acid or salt to balance out the cloying sweetness.  It did, however, have a lovely texture; the shell was airy with a crisp exterior that gave way to a soft interior that had just the slightest bit of chew before giving away to a melt-in-your-mouth kind of "crumb" that is very distinct to a well-made macaron.
The flavors I bought to try (pictured above, on the left) were salted caramel, pistachio, cherry, and fleur d'oranger (orange flower blossom).  I took them home and split them that night with B. for dessert after dinner.  The salted caramel was good, sweet, but balanced and very well flavored.  The pistachio wasn't quite as strongly perfumed, but it was enjoyable.  I didn't get as much of a cherry or orange blossom flavor, respectively, from the last two macarons, but they were both pleasant to eat, albeit a little on the sweet side.  B. and I agreed that the macarons at Ladurée were good, although more delicate flavors weren't captured as well as strong flavors were.

At Pierre Hermé, I also bought several macarons.  Here, they charge for the macarons per piece until you buy more than four; then they charge you by weight.  The flavors here were more unique; I suppose Pierre Hermé finds single-flavored macarons to be too easy, and he's a man who likes more of a challenge.
At the top left is the "Eden", a macaron that combines saffron, peach, and apricot.  I was very curious and hopeful about this one, but I did not enjoy it at all.  In fact, to be honest, I didn't even want to swallow the bite that I took, that was how unpleasant I found it, and I am not one who normally disdains odd flavor combinations.  B. agreed with me that it was not good.  In the middle on the top row is the "Mosaic" macaron, which features a vanilla macaron and pistachio filling flavored with cinnamon and morello cherries.  Neither of us were really crazy about this combination either.  The filling had an odd and unexpected flavor of coconut, and I couldn't sense any cinnamon or pistachio.  All the way to the right is the "Mogador" macaron, which features milk chocolate and passionfruit.  I thought this was the best one.  Both flavors were strong and they worked together well.  Unlike the other macarons, in which the flavors had seemed to be fighting with each other, these flavors were complimentary.  On the bottom left is "infiniment caramel" which features salted caramel (fleur de sel).  This was good.  It was much heavier on the salt than the salted caramel macaron at Ladurée.  Though I preferred this version, B. preferred the one at Ladurée.  Lastly, the pale macaron on the bottom was "infiniment jasmine", which was supposed to have flavors of jasmine flower and jasmine tea, but they did not come through in the macaron.
I was very disappointed by Pierre Hermé after this tasting, and B. told me that we should have ended the taste test with Ladurée to finish on a good note, since neither of us particularly enjoyed the lingering tastes we had in our mouths of the macarons from PH.

I also compared the two versions of the Ispahan.  This raspberry macaron with a rose-lychee filling is originally a creation of Pierre Hermé.  Ladurée (on the right/on top) sells it for 7€20; Pierre Hermé sells it for 6€90 (left/lower image with the "PH" sticker).

Though they look almost identical, B. and I agreed that Ladurée makes the better version of the Ispahan (pictured on top); their re-creation is preferable to the original.  Their macaron shell was texturally better and their filling was more flavorful.  Pierre Hermé's version was good (better than his other macarons), but the macaron shell was not well made.  It was too thin and the texture was odd; the crispy shell exterior gave way to an interior that was too dry and didn't have the light crumb that I expect from a good macaron (pictured on bottom).  The filling was also too sweet and didn't have enough flavor, though large pieces of lychee were generously mixed in.  While the flavor combination in both cases was good, Ladurée had better execution.

It saddened me greatly to see Pierre Hermé fail so terribly in comparison as I had expected it to be a closer call, but now I can say with no hesitation that if I had to pick, Ladurée is my preference.  I can see why people are always lining up in Paris and NYC to buy the sweet creations.

Though Ladurée has many locations worldwide, if you find yourself in Paris, my recommendation is to go to the one on 21 rue Bonaparte as it is not as crowded as some of the other locations (the one near Madeleine often has a very long line, since it is in an area frequented by tourists) and it still has a salon if you want to sit down for tea or food.  For NYC locals, there is a store at 864 Madison Avenue, however from what I've heard, there is always a line.

Finally, one last word of advice: take care when traveling with macarons.  They smush rather easily.

Home

I am back from my trip to Paris.  What does this mean?  It means I am sitting in my apartment eating madeleines and drinking sirop de menthe.  It means that I have amazing chocolate in my pantry and good French butter in my fridge, and a stock of Belin Monaco crackers to snack on.  It means that for the next few weeks I will be hoarding a beautiful stash of foreign goodies for careful consumption.

Sometimes I think I know better what brands to get in France than I do in the States.  For example, I have a deep fondness for Mamie Nova brand yogurt, especially the apricot flavor.  My preferred brand of milk is Candia.  When it comes to butter, my mom likes beurre doux by President, while I enjoy beurre demi-sel (with sea salt crystals, mmm) by Grand Fermage.  I only ever buy mousse de canard by Madrange, and if we buy foie gras from the supermarket, we always stick to Labeyrie.  There are even more brands that I know and love -- Lu, Teisseire, Reflets de France -- and it is their familiar names, fonts, and colors that make me feel at home when I go grocery shopping in Paris.

Of course, I couldn't go to France without bringing home something for my family.  I ended up packing half a suitcase full of goodies to bring back.  Normally we also buy wine and gifts and such, but because I was traveling light and it was a short trip, I only brought back the minimum.  That's right.  What is pictured above is the minimum.  Bare bones.  Yes, we like our French food in my house.

But what about you?

For you, dear readers, I brought home stories.  Description of pâtisseries and boulangeries that were visited, taste tests that were conducted.  I will report.  But for now my still jet-lagged brain demands sleeps and so I leave you with a hint of what I had and what I will share...

Ladurée.

Counting Down to Paris

Four days, and then I'll be back in the land of warm baguettes that cost only 80 centimes, savory tarama and pâté de foie for my breakfast spread, delicious pastries at the corner pâtisserie next to the Mairie des Lilas metro, and, mostly important, B.

In four days I will fly to the see the man who, when I tell him, "I have a random question..." replies to me, "I have a random answer." The man who took me to the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building of the New York Public Library and was disappointed that I didn't get to see the reading room because it was closing when we arrived.  The man who is eager to teach me how to boulder, how to drive a stick shift car, how to install my own programs onto my computer.  The man who forgives me when I don't have time to talk to him because of the amount work I have to get done, and yet is there for me in an instant when I tell him I need him.

In four days I will be in Paris.  Beautiful, dirty, sweet, snobby Paris.  Paris of my childhood summers.  Paris, where life has given me some of my favorite memories, where I spent countless birthdays with my grandparents and cousins.  Paris, where I had my first drink at a bar.  Paris, where I fell in love with foie gras, where I experienced my first two Michelin star restaurant.  Paris, where I learned how to be alone, where I discovered the joy of going to the market and buying fresh produce.  Paris, where I taught myself how to slow down, sit quietly, and watch the world.

And Paris, where I met B.

"Paris ne m'a jamais semblé aussi jolie, magique et magnifique qu'en ta présence."

I can't wait to return.

Plum Clafoutis

There are two things I almost never say no to: making dessert and eating dessert.  And there was a point last week when I desperately needed to do both.  I was stressed, tired, and having a craving for something sweet.  I also had some beautiful plums from the farmer's market that were perhaps a little too ripe on the counter that I needed to do something with.

Of course, I had to bake something.

But I was busy.  I had no time to make a cake or complicated dessert that involved multiple steps and a lot of time creaming butter or adding ingredients one at a time.  I needed to make something simple.  Something that would satisfy me.  Something that would allow the flavor of my beautiful plums to shine.  And something that would be just as delicious straight from the oven as it would be after some time on the counter or in the fridge.

It was clear what I needed to make: clafoutis.

Clafoutis is an eggy, creamy, smooth almost-custard, not-quite-flan, traditional French dessert.  It's the kind of thing grandmothers make for their grandchildren, the kind of thing you can serve at a dinner party to guests, and the kind of go-to recipe you want for cold or rainy days when you want your kitchen to smell like heaven.  It is a breeze to make and it satisfies a sweet tooth without being too much (even if you decide to go for that second piece when you really know you shouldn't).  I've been having a love affair with clafoutis.

It's a breeze to make, it requires no special ingredients, and the recipe is easily tweaked to fit personal preferences.  Really, there is no reason not to make clafoutis.  Even if you're a new baker, you shouldn't be intimidated; this recipe is very forgiving if you make mistakes!

I happen to like my clafoutis with a fairly high cream-to-milk ratio, but don't let this throw you off.  If you don't have much cream on hand, you can still make clafoutis!  I just happen to keep heavy cream in my fridge for my coffee in the morning (this may sound unhealthy, but I like the richness it provides).  But for those who don't want to buy heavy cream or who are more health conscious, you can see my note below in the recipe.
And I personally love the aroma of rum in my baked goods and I adore how the flavor melds with baked fruit and vanilla, but if you don't have rum handy, you can easily replace it with another liquor (something with an appropriate flavor, such as brandy) or you can leave it out entirely.  If you don't like cinnamon, you can omit it.  I actually forgot to add vanilla once, and the flavor of the rum and plums was so wonderful, you couldn't even tell something was missing.

This plum clafoutis is delicious served warm or cold.  I can actually never resist digging into it as soon as it comes out of the oven, golden, puffed up, and pipping hot.  A slightly burned tongued is a small price to pay for the instant gratification of the silky, creamy, slightly tart but simultaneously sweet taste of a clafoutis that has just finished baking.  And when this clafoutis cools, its nuances are somehow revealed and you can better appreciate the subtle notes, the beautiful way the rum melds with the vanilla to complement the earthier, muted jam tones of the plum.  With its simple elegance, this clafoutis is not just any dessert, and it satisfies a craving much deeper than just a desire for something sweet.

When in France... Make Crêpes

My hiatus in posting recipes and reviews is fairly inexcusable, especially since I have three reviews backlogged just waiting to be published, but to make it up for you I have a recipe for something everybody likes: crêpes.

Crêpes, for those of you who don't know, are a large, very thin French pancakes made with a very liquidy batter.  They can be dusted with sugar and then lightly spritzed with rum or lemon juice, or they can be served with nutella or jam, or they can be filled with bananas, whipped cream, nuts, and such.  They are also sometimes served flambé, with Grand Marnier.  The possibilities are endless.

I have always preferred my crêpes simple.  I like them cooked to a nice golden color and served with sugar and rum.  I recently went to dinner at a restaurant here in Paris which only served crêpes, and the savory options were extensive and delicious.  It may sound odd, but my  crêpe had hamburger meat and was served with a fried egg on top.  Yummy!

I can't say when I ate my first crêpe, but I'm sure I was very young, since my grandparents live in France and I have been coming here for years to visit them.  This summer I find myself in Paris again, somehow at the same time as my older cousins.  Ironically, of all the cousins, only one of them is Parisienne and she now lives in Saigon, Vietnam.  The other two are from the Bordeaux region of France (famous for its wines) and have moved to Paris for work.  We got together the other night for raclette, wine, and crêpes.  This recipe for crêpes is my cousin's; I had actually never made crêpes before from scratch.

The recipe itself is very simple, likely stuff you already have in your kitchen, and once you made one or two crêpes, you get the hang of things pretty quickly and they start looking nicer and nicer.  Be warned though: these are best when eaten warm.  So have your company ready to eat them, or take a break between cooking every one or two crepes so that you can enjoy them while they're fresh.

The Great Cannelés Pretenders*

I have long wanted to make cannelés at home.  For those of you who don't know what a cannelé is, let me do my best to explain.  A cannelé is a small French cake/pastry that is the specialty of the Bordeaux region.  Flavored with vanilla and rum, cannelés are known for their amazing texture.  The outside of a good cannelé is defined by a deep, dark caramelized crust that half-cracks, half-gives way to a rich, custard-y, chewy interior.  You can easily become addicted to these things, especially if you've ever had them fresh.

The problem with making cannelés is that they are typically made in very specific copper molds which give them their distinct dome-like shape.  They also have a glisten or a shine to them that is due to the light coating of beeswax which you are supposed to give the molds before pouring in the batter.  Given that copper cannelé molds and beeswax are not cheap things to come by, I never attempted to make these myself.  But then, this summer, by a stroke of luck, my grandmother (who lives just outside Paris, in France) stumbled upon some silicon cannelé molds that she forgot she had.  I knew, from avid reading of other food blogs, that silicon molds are not as good for baking cannelés, since they don't provide the same deep caramelization and beautiful crust, but I appreciated the gift.

Then, I found an extremely detailed post from another food blog that I read about how to make the "perfect cannelés."  At the same time, I found someone who said that they had made cannelés that turned out just fine in a muffin tin.  And the two things melded together in my mind into one giant scheme.  Plus, I wanted to try out the silicon molds and see how large the difference was between the cannelés they produced and the cannelés produced by metal pans.



The resulting "pretender" cannelés were delicious.  The long resting time really allowed the scent of the vanilla and rum to permeate throughout the entire pastry.  The muffin tins resulted in a slightly uneven caramelization, with the sides getting much darker than the bottoms, but they were addictively good.  I ate them both hot from the oven and once they had been allowed to cool.  After 10 or 15 minutes of cooling, the cannelé caramel crust becomes firmer, and the custard-y interior becomes more chewy, in a deliciously contrasting way.  The crust will soften overnight so there won't be much of a contrast anymore, but you can pop them into a 400F oven for 5 minutes, or you can enjoy them as they are.  My family didn't bother with the reheating step, since we found them great as they were.

The batter in the mini cannelé silicon molds did not caramelized ideally at all.  After their baking time was over, I actually gave the mini cannelés a brush of butter and popped them, naked, baking into the 400F oven to caramelize some more.  My roommate looked at them and called them "little minions."  They were as tasty as they were cute.  If you are using silicon molds, I suggest you heat your mold first, not butter it, and then pour the batter into the hot molds.  The results from the muffin tin were much closer to perfect, however, and that is the method I will be using in the future when I repeat this recipe (because I definitely will be repeating it).

The recipe was definitely a huge success, even when used to make "pretenders."  My family was asking for more of them the second we finished the last one, and we've had real cannelés before.  I really liked the caramelization that I got from the muffin tins, and I will definitely be making these again.   Don't make the same mistake I did and live without these delicious little beauties simply because you don't have copper molds and beeswax.


*For those of you who are too young to know, the title to this blog post is actually a reference to a song by The Platters.

On my mind in the morning

I miss breakfast in France.

I can't tell you how much I often find myself thinking these words to myself when I wake up. Breakfast is France is beautiful.

To begin with, the bread is wonderful. It is all crackly crusts and light, airy interiors. A short walk in the morning and about one euro later, you can have in your hand a delightfully warm, fresh-from-the-oven baguette. Heavenly.

Breakfast also involves delicately sweet confitures and the best butter you'll taste in the world. France is the only place in the world where I would ever butter my bread.

Plus, pâté. Oh pâté. I love it. Smooth pâté de foie. Or mousse de canard. Or terrine de lapin. All these delicious things that you’d never find in the states. And if you do, it’s a sad imitation of the wonders you can get in France.

I miss breakfast in France.

Lunch at Carpe Diem Café

This is the last of my reviews of meals in France! And funny enough, we chose this restaurant at random while we were going out (as opposed to most of our other places, which we always went to based on recommendations), because it was close to where we were doing some shopping. It also had fans inside. That last fact was important, because it was incredibly hot the day we went, hence why we were shopping inside of air-conditioned stores, rather than walking and sight-seeing.

The café was fairly crowded, but the service was good, the décor was nice (contemporary), and there was outside seating, inside seating, and a basement lounge. Casual dress, fine.

We order one two-course “formule” with coffee for 17€. It included a main course and dessert. We also ordered three entrées (meaning appetizers, in French). We weren’t feeling too hungry. Heat can do that to you.

This was the only plat that we ordered: a suprême de poulet, crème de champignon, salade, et pommes frites, which was part of the formule. The chicken was good and moist and the potatoes went well with the cream sauce, but overall it was just an average meal. What do I mean by that? I mean that it was fine as a family lunch, or even a casual business meeting, but I wouldn’t take anyone to this place for a date while I was getting to know them. I was unimpressed. Ideally when I go out to eat, I want to leave impressed.

This camembert rôti au caramel de miel, salade de noix (10€) was astonishingly good, especially for the price. I do not like cheese—especially soft cheeses, because their gooey texture throws me off and makes me think too much about their fat content—but this was a discovery. This was excellent. The warm, melty cheese was slightly caramelized and served on bread with the caramel-honey sauce, and some salad and walnuts… The flavors melded very well, and I was impressed. I was very impressed.

This salade de magret de canard aux fraises et fruits (12€) – included smoked duck breast, raspberries, and tomatoes. It was simple, but very good. Given the price, I would order it again, even though I wasn’t wowed, it was solid.

I ordered a gazpacho de concombres à la menthe avec sorbet melon (7€). It was cool and refreshing, and just what I needed on a hot summer day. Complaints? I wish the texture of the gazspacho had been a little bit smoother. The mint and cucumber were a nice combination and the flavors were great, but the texture was just too rough. I really liked the melon sorbet though, quite a nice touch.

This strawberry tiramisu was the dessert that came with the formule. Sadly, though it was very pretty and the idea of it sounded nice, it was a disappointment. I did not like the flavors nor the texture. I can’t even rate it because I disliked it that much. I put up the picture as a reminder that looks can be deceiving.

Carpe Diem Café
21 rue des Halles
Paris, France
Metro: Les Halles
Tel: 01 42 41 02 01

Overall rating for the price: 6 out of 10, average, good for a casual, inexpensive lunch

Gelati d'Alberto

I was fairly obsessed with this place during my time in France. I enjoyed it so much, I sometimes took the metro there by myself just to buy a cone and enjoy it all alone.

Gelati d'Alberto is this fantastic gelato shop that scoops your frozen treat into the shape of a little rose with petals. The flavors are amazing and the price isn't bad either. For two scoops (called boules), you only pay 3€. And you can taste flavors before buying.

My absolute favorite was the caramel beurre salé (salted caramel). It was sweet and salty and oh-so satisfying. The cone you see me holding was a mixture of capuccino on the inside and salted caramel on the outside.

Gelati d'Alberto

45 Rue Mouffetard
75005 Paris (5ème), France

Metro: Place Monge
Tel: 01 77 11 44 55

Fauchon - Paris, France

How can I describe Fauchon to those of you who don’t know what it is? I’m not quite sure. Perhaps it can be compared to the American Dean & DeLuca. Frommers calls it a “hyper-upscale mega-delicatessen,” while TripAdvisor calls it “a haven for food lovers.”

To me, it is a place that I go when I really want to splurge on pastries. There are three actual “Fauchon”s in the square: one is a small goods store, one is a tearoom, and one is a food counter. These are truly bad descriptions though.

The “small goods stores” sells speciality chocolates (handmade), dried and candied fruits (including whole pineapples), speciality teas (you can smell them before buying), speciality coffees, jams, jellies, speciality mushrooms, speciality rice, and various packaged goods, including cookies and drinks. I personally really enjoy the experience of shopping for tea here, as you can smell their varieties. They have endless options, from sweeter, floral teas to darker, more herbaceous ones.

Upstairs is the “tearoom,” where you can actually sit down for a meal. There is a prix fixe menu option, though be warned, it is much more expensive to eat in the tea room than the “food counter.”

The “food counter” that I am talking about is probably the most famous of the “Fauchon”s. Just across the street, this store sells expensive caviar, specialty hams and foie gras, wine, chocolate, jams and jellies, prepared foods (including salads and couscous), and pastries and breads. The boulangerie/pâtisserie part is definitely my favorite. The pâtisserie sells beautiful éclairs (I prefer to look rather than eat, since they cost an extremely hefty sum compared to your normal éclair) that are decorated with rainbows and Mona Lisa’s and other artistic designs. There are also various cakes and mousses and tarts.

So what have I tried?

Well, upon a visit with a friend, we split a baba au rhum, which was very non-traditional, but delicious. It came with these two adorable little droppers, full of extra rum (in case the dessert didn’t have enough alcohol for your taste, I suppose).

Fauchon’s take on the traditional chantilly was delicious; although not quite as airy, it was still light, and full of vanilla flavor. The only thing that made my stomach ache was the price: 7€50. A little hefty, especially considering that a regular pâtisserie would sell a baba au rhum for less than half that price! But, for those of you who enjoy cute keepsakes, the cute glass that the dessert comes in is yours to take home, so I suppose you’re paying for the “gift.”

On another trip, I tried the baba au fraise et melon avec chantilly de citronelle infusée. It was heavenly. It tasted like a garden in my mouth. The chantilly was light, airy, and carried the lovely scent of citrus, and the melon and strawberry went so well together in their light syrup. The pastry was perfect. It could not be improved.

I also tried a chocolate mousse type of dessert with a nougatine, or some sort of crispy hazelnut type of filling. It was a little too sweet and rich for me, although with a cappuccino from the counter, it was perfect.

From the boulangerie, I tried a Kougloff, which was delicious. I’ve never had this type of thing before, but it was essentially a small cake/very large muffin in terms of size and crumb texture. It was soaked in some sort of orange blossom water and then dipped into course sugar. It was so fragrant!

I couldn’t stop myself from eating it, hence why the picture here is but a fourth or sixth of the original thing. My apologies. I went and bought another one, but ate that as well before I could get photographic evidence of its existence. Again, I’m sorry. Though I don’t regret the decision to eat it before anyone else could.

Fauchon
24 - 26 place de la Madeleine
Paris (8ème), France
Metro: Madeleine
Tel: 01 70 39 38 00

Lunch at Glou

Yes, I am still reviewing restaurants in France.

I'm going to tell you right off the bat that the problem with this review is that it is being written almost two months after the meal itself. Nevertheless, I thought it was important to post this, since I have pictures and the memories from the meal.

This is, however, not to say that the meal was astonishingly good. Nor was it horrendously terrible. It was an average meal in Paris. In fact, when I look at my journal entry for that day (June 10th to be precise), I wrote: “Lunch at Glou. Was okay.”

That's not what you want when you go out in Paris for a meal. There are far too many good places to eat for a meal to just be summarized as "Was okay." In fact, the averageness of the meal is what has made me procrastinate on reviewing it for so long. I just couldn't get excited about writing about it. Hence why I posted about meals that I had after this one before I could sit down and write about this one.

I went four family members, and we all ordered different things. We ordered one menu (meaning a fixed priced menu set), which included une entrée, un plat, un dessert, all for 20€! Then we ordered three other dishes.

To begin the meal, we ordered a pâté de campagne maison avec Calvados (part of the menu), to share. It was a rough, country pâté, but it didn't taste like it was just liver and fat; from the texture, I felt there must have also been some meat. I also remember that the seasoning was a little lacking. Also, for the size of the slice, the confit was a little lacking. The bread was decent, “country” style bread. Very hearty.

This dorade grillée (19€) was served in a thick, creamy sauce with various root vegetables, and honestly felt a little bit heavy for a summer dish, but it tasted good. Nothing remarkable.

This saumon polenta mesclun (part of the menu) was a bit dry due to the fact that it was slightly overcooked, but the polenta this came with was very good. It was one of the things in the meal that still stands out to me. It had great texture and was perfectly seasoned. Not too salty, not too bland. It was also not cheesy in taste, as some polentas can be (personally I find the cheesiness to be off-putting).

This lomo de cochon aux pieds noirs (21€) was the only salty dish. The meat, a specialty "black ham" was so salty, it absolutely required those fingerling potatoes to balance it. While the dish was different, and had a lot of character, the salt was just a bit much.

This terrine d’agneau (12€) looks almost exactly like the pâté, doesn’t it? And it was just as disappointing. It was texturally identical to the first, and pretty similar in taste too, thought this was supposed to be lamb. I was especially disappointed because it was not labeled as a country-style terrine on the menu, and so I had assumed that it would be a smoother terrine.

This thon blanc de l’ile d’Yeu crème fraîche (12€) was a smoked salmon dish that was quite good. I’m not really a smoked salmon person, but I enjoyed it.

This cherry clafoutis was the best part of the meal. The custard was sweet and light, and not at all too eggy (which can be the downfall of some clafoutis). The cherries were the perfect balance of sweet and tart. I really enjoyed the flavors and textures.

Overall, Glou is a casual to business casual type of restaurant. You wouldn't look out of place in shorts, a summer dress, or even a suit (though you'd probably want the jacket off). Tourists and Parisiens/Parisiennes alike. There was some seating outside available (three small tables, could seat two each), as well as a bar and an upstairs area that I did not get a chance to see. I believe Glou is actually supposed to be a wine house, which is a term I have just now made-up to describe a café/restaurant that focuses on wine pairings and carries many different wines. I do not believe we drank anything other than tap water.

The noise level of the restaurant was that of a typical cafe; no need to whisper, but definitely no shouting. I never felt that I could hear anyone else's conversation nor that they could hear ours, despite the fact that tables were pretty close to one another. The waiters were attentive in the very quick manner that is typical of Paris, and did not seem to mind our questions regarding the menus. Food was served fairly promptly.

Glou
101 Rue Vieille du Temple
75003 Paris, France
Tel: 01 42 74 44 32

Overall rating for the price: 4.5 out of 10
(come on, if you're in France and you can't serve a good pâté...)