Bittersweet Feast

Zuni saves the day

2011-03-28T19:47:00.002-05:00

When you feel like nothing good has emerged from your kitchen in ages, and you're starting to wonder if it's not just that you've been stressed or distracted or out of sorts,

make this.

And all will be right again.

Time to bake

2010-11-05T11:44:00.004-05:00

To make myself feel normal, I have two solutions: Go to a dance class or bake.

Since coming to Ann Arbor, I've been doing the latter quite often. While there aren't exactly a plethora of dance studios around here, there's always somewhere to buy butter, eggs, sugar and flour.

Which is reassuring when you have recipes with titles like lemon olive oil cake or sweet potato pound cake nagging at you.

I made the lemon olive oil cake two weeks ago, and it is luscious. The recipe comes from a bakery I staged at for two weeks this summer after my "real" (aka legal) job was over. I cannot describe how much fun I had. The women who work at Floriole are all wonderful, especially Sandra, the owner. Follow the recipe in that one exactly: use a fruity lovely olive oil, take your time pouring in the olive oil, and you should be good to go. Believe me when I say people will be falling all over themselves for a slice.

The sweet potato pound cake was my diversion last night. Two of my roommates and I were studying at the kitchen table, when I put down my highlighter, walked into the kitchen, turned on the oven and popped open a bottle of wine. It was time to bake. The rest of the evening was spent drinking wine, laughing and singing along to oldies music.

I followed this recipe pretty much exactly, but would do a few things differently next time. After roasting the sweet potatoes (at 350 degrees for around an hour, until a knife slides in and out without resistance), I would puree them in a food processor to make sure you end up with a really smooth texture. I would also take Molly's suggestion to put the glaze through a sieve before drizzling it on top of the cake, as it's prone to lumps. Otherwise, it's really lovely--a spice doughnut in cake form.

Happy fall, everyone. Enjoy it while you can--our forecast is for snow flurries tonight.

There, we feasted

2010-08-10T17:21:00.007-05:00

We came, we saw, we were conquered--by Tokyo.

There was the gorgeous bento box I picked up for lunch in the bottom of a department store one day, full of flavor and texture.

There was the traditional Japanese breakfast served at the last ryokan (Japanese style hotel) we stayed at, brought in on a tray by an adorable woman who hummed under her breath while setting things up just so, oblivious to Jimmy still sleeping on his tatami mat in the corner.

I should also tell you about the sushi meal to end all sushi meals. We dined at Kyubei, a place famous even to Tokyo residents, including the staff at our first ryokan who kindly helped us set up a reservation.

There, we feasted. For the first hour and a half, it was just Jimmy, me and our sushi chef. He made us feel at home by telling us to eat with our hands, naming each fish, and working so quickly, deftly and gently with each piece of fish that I could do nothing but sit mesmerized. After each piece of sushi, I involuntarily emitted a (quiet) groan of pleasure, shook my head, then sighed "oishii" once more to the sushi chef.

And, of course, there was the delicious sushi breakfast at the Tokyo fish market, incredibly fresh and tasty.

Our tour around the market itself was something to be remembered. We were dodging in and our of alleys, jumping out of the way of carts and fish salesman, fascinated by the sheer number of fish and the dizzying array of shapes and sizes.

We even managed to take a quick trip up north of the city to the mountains of Nikko.

An unforgettable whirlwind tour, to be sure.

Our breaking points

2010-06-21T00:02:00.004-05:00

You will not believe what I found at the farmer's market this past Saturday. Who knew that we grew fraises des bois in the States? I'm sure the fact that the head farmer is French didn't hurt things.

If you're never had the exquisite pleasure of sampling one of these gorgeous tiny strawberries, think of it as a concentrated strawberry floral flavor bomb, so delicate that a good quarter were squished by the time we brought them back to the apartment. However, since the farmer had thrown in an ENTIRE extra box with a smile and a "Mademoiselle", I didn't even mind much.

Fraises des bois mush is better than none at all.

On another note, Jimmy and I have been trying to cut down on our grocery costs, and didn't buy a single thing last week (except for some fresh ricotta from the Italian grocer two blocks away to pair with rhubarb compote, but we all have our breaking points), in an effort to use up the rather alarming supply of canned goods he's built up over the past two years. It was also a decision motivated in part because of the last minute trip we've lined up for Fourth of July week:

Tokyo

I can't tell you how excited I am about this. It'll be Jimmy's first trip to Tokyo (we're going in conjunction with research he's doing for a professor) and I can't wait to be back in Japan myself. There is something bewitching about that country that's hard to put a finger on.

I foresee quite a bit of sushi, mochi, honeydew melon popsiscles, onigiri and royal milk tea in my future.

I'd love to hear any suggestions you might have for places to eat, things to see, etc.

In exchange I'll leave you with rhubarb compote. Hopefully you're enjoying the tail end of its season, and are as sad to see it go as I am.

Rhubarb Compote

2 lbs. fresh rhubarb, leaves removed, cut into 1/2 inch chunks

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup orange juice

1/4 cup white wine (optional)

1 Tbs. vanilla extract

Throw the entire mess into a saucepan, stir it up well and let it bubble away over medium heat for about 15-20 minutes. Let it thicken at room temperature before slathering on toast, spooning over fresh ricotta or throwing into the middle of a french-style yogurt cake.

and the living is easy

2010-05-16T20:47:00.002-05:00

I am one day away from being able to say that I made it out alive. Unscathed? Not so sure, but alive is a good way to be.

It feels as if I spent most of the past year twirling by myself in a corner, arms outstretched and head up to the sky, while others engaged in complicated choreography all around me.

Now I have the summer to work, sleep, exercise, watch movies in the park, turn myself back into a human being...and reevaluate. Summer is a good time for all of those things, but especially the last item on the list, I find. The days are long, which means there are more evenings on the patio that stretch past twilight. There are bunches of asparagus and strawberries now, tomatoes and peaches just around the corner.

And soon there will be pies...lots of pies.

(images above were taken at this time last year in Louviers).

A wee bit more time

2010-04-06T21:52:00.004-05:00

After a year of plotting and planning, I now hold a polaroid camera in my hands.

Unbelievable...

And you know what? It really is as much fun as I thought it would be. As soon as I get a wee photo scanner, I can show off my new toy.

Until then, you'll have to satisfy yourself with a poladroid version of a digital photo from Chicago, circa 2009.

Also, I promise to update more this summer. Let's just say that everything they say about law school--totally true.

Oh well, in a month, I'll be back in the working world for a few months, and have more time to devote to my new toy and cooking.

...

A better handle on things

2010-01-12T17:56:00.003-06:00

There are snowflakes swirling outside, highlighted by the multi-colored bulbs from a string of Christmas lights. Idyllic, except that I'm in a Starbucks and those chairs get really uncomfortable after an hour or so.

I just returned from a few short days in Chicago and am holed up once again in Ann Arbor to begin my second semester of law school. I'm trying to remind myself that not all of last semester was as crazy as finals period, but it's difficult sometimes. I have, of course, made all sorts of resolutions involving baking bread and visiting the Humane Society more often so here's hoping I'll have a better handle on things this go 'round.

Speaking of bread baking, I whipped up my first loaves over Christmas break with the help of The Bread Baker's Apprentice. Gorgeous, gorgeous stuff, that book. And my loaves weren't half bad either. Two loaves made fabulous crostini, c/o my father's technique. The loaves themselves didn't have nearly enough color, and the holes weren't there yet, but it was a start.

I took my time over break to relax, sleep, read by the fire, watch Christmas movies and cook. I made dinner practically every night, lots of braises and slow soups that require loads of time to simmer which in turn gave me plenty of time to do the previously mentioned activities. Old favorites (smothered cabbage risotto, slow-roasted tomatoes and the delicious confections you see pictured) came out of the woodwork, and we had our traditional holiday meals (roasted lamb, prime rib, fondue).

What I'd like to tell you about today, however, is the meal I made when I arrived tonight, the ultimate standby dinner. It was the first pasta dish I can remember making on my own (excluding buttered egg noodles and macaroni, of course). It's also the one recipe I make entirely by feel, so bear with me if the instructions are a bit loose.

This is one to keep though, people. It will never let you down, and once you try it, you'll find yourself in the habit of picking the ingredients up every time you're in a grocery store. I'm tempted to call it the LBD of dinners, but that sounds cliché. It is my go-to dinner though, when I want something easy and delicious, and when I want to treat myself a bit too.

Pasta Puttanesca

1 lb. linguine or spaghetti
5 cloves garlic, peeled and diced
3 Tbs. olive oil
1 Tbs. crushed red pepper
handful of drained capers
14 kalamata olives, pitted and roughly chopped
1 large (28 oz.) can whole peeled tomatoes, roughly chopped*
1 small can tomato sauce (optional--depends on whether I've got it in the cupboard)
1 tsp. dried oregano, or to taste
1 tin olive oil packed anchovies
salt and pepper
Parmesan cheese

Bring a large pot of water to boil. Once boiling, salt generously.

Heat up the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat then add the garlic and crushed red pepper. Once the garlic becomes fragrant and starts to turn golden, add in the capers, olives, tomatoes with their juice, tomato sauce (if using) and oregano. Let simmer for 15 minutes, stirring periodically.

Drain the anchovies and separate them as you place them in the sauce. Mix everything vigorously, using a wooden spoon to cut the anchovies in half to help incorporate them into the sauce. Turn the heat down to low and let cook through another 10-15 minutes, until the anchovies are completely dissolved in the sauce. Salt and pepper to taste (you probably won't need much, if any, salt).

Boil pasta according to directions, until al dente. Combine the pasta and sauce together and serve showered with freshly grated parmesan cheese. I recommend eating it in warmed bowls with a fork, spoon and glass of red wine.

Serves 4

*I've taken to using my kitchen scissors to cut the tomatoes while they're still in the can--much easier clean up and keeps the juices in the sauce, where they belong.

All voluptuous curves

2009-10-30T08:12:00.000-05:00

I could start off by telling you about the molasses cookies...or wait, maybe it's time for my dad's favorite scones on the planet...but no. It's that time of year again, and there's only one recipe that fits the bill.

You see, here in Ann Arbor, fall has arrived. And with it, the gorgeous, luxuriant colors of changing leaves and that crisp feeling in the air that makes you tighten your scarf and pull on some slippers each morning. I remember reading an article my mom sent along years ago, describing fall as the Sophia Loren of seasons, all voluptuous curves and colors. Here in Ann Arbor, the description fits.

Oh, fall, how I have missed you.

Fall means school supplies and football games, tailgating and dark beer, sweaters and apples. But most of all, fall means pumpkins.

My mom has been making pumpkin bread for as long as I can remember. I once bought her a pumpkin-shaped mold, hoping it would entice her to bake up just one more batch before the season was over. I can't count the number of mornings I feasted on the stuff, equally good eaten cold out of the fridge or warmed up with a bit of butter slathered on top.

This recipe is a family treasure, and one I encourage you to make today, tomorrow and as long as you need a bit of fall spice in your life.

Pumpkin Bread

3 1/3 cups flour
3 cups sugar
2 tsp baking soda
1 1/2 tsp salt
3 tsp nutmeg (freshly grated, preferably)
3 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ginger

2/3 cups water
1 cup vegetable oil
4 eggs
2 cups roasted pumpkin or canned pumpkin puree (you can also use acorn squash here, as I often do)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Sift the flour, sugar, baking soda, salt and spices into a large mixing bowl.

Combine the water, oil, eggs and roasted pumpkin in the blender and blend to mix well.

Add the wet blender mixture to the dry ingredients and mix well. Line two large loaf pans with aluminum foil (alternately, butter them well), then divide the batter even between them.

Bake for approximately one hour, until a knife inserted in the middle comes out clean.

Serves at least 1.

Note: This keeps very well wrapped in aluminum foil in the fridge.

At the end of the day

2009-10-02T08:19:00.003-05:00

Anyone still out there?

If you are, then let me just take this moment to apologize profusely for my long, unexpected and rather extended absence from this space. I've missed it, and all my free time to do it, come to think of it.

Let's just say law school happened, shall we?

I am now one month in, and I can honestly say that I've never had so much schoolwork to do in my entire life. All I want to do at the end of the day is pop open a beer and fall into my reading chair. I've also never felt guiltier about doing anything other than schoolwork, which is a condition I have to remedy. So last week I threw a cocktail party, and I've got big pumpkin bread/farmer's market plans for this weekend.

I'm slowly working my way back into the normal swing of things. I just need a few more baked goods under my belt, and with the weather acting as it is right now, that shouldn't be a problem. There's nothing like cool, rainy days to make me gravitate towards the warmth of the oven.

I'll see you all back here very soon.

Still in limbo

2009-08-13T10:14:00.000-05:00

Where does time go these days?

I have to let you know that I am STILL in limbo, but will finally be finishing up the moving process to Ann Arbor late this week. It's hard to believe, but the chips are finally falling into place and I will be starting school in the all too near future.

In terms of this blog, I think it's actually a good thing. I have no idea what the light will be like there, or when I'll find my camera cord so that I can unload some actual food photos on you all. But at least things will be settled and I'll definitely have opportunities for procrastination-driven blog posts.

I've been cooking a decent amount these past few weeks, and have even made friends (I hope) with a phenomenal lettuce farmer at the Chicago City Market, which is never a bad thing. Most of what I've been cooking revolves around salads and blanched green beans tossed with halved cherry tomatoes in a sherry vinaigrette (Thanks SmittenKitchen!). This stuff tastes so good without anything being done to it!

A friend came to visit a few weekends ago and we had a fabulous time sailing, capsizing and spending the rest of the day cooking in the kitchen. Biscuits, granola and garlic scape pesto were the results. I have the best friends, don't I?

The garlic scape pesto was AMAZING, but since they're out of season at the moment, I can't make another batch and properly measure this time. Unfortunately, that will have to wait until next summer.

In the meantime, I can direct you over to SmittenKitchen's lovely write-up about that addicting green bean and tomato salad I mentioned above and hope that will hold you over until I can finally finish moving and begin unpacking.

At the tail end

2009-07-23T11:00:00.001-05:00

My last night in Paris was spent with my old host family at their gorgeous home in the bottom of the 15th. And by home, I meant house, a beautiful one wrapped around a stone-lined courtyard with one tall leafy tree, perfect for outdoor picnics and dinner parties. Since I stayed with the family during the fall semester, I didn't get to experience many of those, but my host mom had the outdoor table and flowering potted plants set out when I arrived at 8h for dinner.

After a lovely meal, where she gently corrected my table setting technique and encouraged me to have seconds and thirds, we all sat around outside chatting, while the boys (3 of them) slowly disappeared one by one--there were girls waiting for them somewhere outside the dark green front gate.

After the last had disappeared, I realized I'd better head out too, if I was going to catch the last bus back to the apartment where I was staying. I felt out of sorts on the bus ride home, a cocktail of contemplation and reflection. So I did the only thing that I could think of.

I went straight back to the apartment, turned on my computer and went pretend shopping on Amazon...except I actually ordered a couple of things. Two cookbooks to be exact: Farmhouse Cookbook and French Farmhouse Cookbook, both by my former chef Susan Herrmann Loomis. I know, I know, I am SO predictable.

I figured that I needed a way to help make the transition back to the States, and besides, these are really good cookbooks. Okay, I'll stop justifying my purchases now. Instead, let me pass along a recipe from one of them. It's a luscious, moist, lightly spiced cake flecked with tart squares of rhubarb. We're at the tail end of the season now, so hurry up and get to the farmer's market so you won't have to wait a whole year to enjoy it!

Rhubarb Cake
Adapted from Farmhouse Cookbook by Susan Herrmann Loomis

2 cups diced fresh rhubarb
1 1/2 cups sugar
8 Tbs. (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 large egg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 cups plus 2 Tbs. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup plain yogurt
3/4 cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly butter a 7 x 12-inch glass baking dish (or other non-reactive baking dish, as the rhubarb can react with some metals).

Combine the diced rhubarb and 1/4 cup of the sugar in a small bowl, stir and set aside.

Mix the butter with the remaining 1 1/4 cups sugar in a large bowl until pale yellow and almost fluffy. Add the egg and vanilla and mix well.

Sift the flour, baking soda and spices together into a medium-sized bowl or piece of parchment paper.

Combine the yogurt and buttermilk in a small bowl.

Add the dry ingredients in thirds to the butter mixture, alternating with buttermilk/yogurt mixture, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients. Stir in the rhubarb and sugar mixture. The batter will be fairly thick at this point.

Spoon the batter into the prepared baking dish and bake until the cake is golden and puffy and a knife inserted in the middle comes out clean, about 40-50 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

Yields about 16 small pieces.

Note: Because of the yogurt in this cake, the top will get progressively softer the longer you keep it. Not a bad thing, believe me, but something to keep in mind.

Baking improv

2009-07-10T11:11:00.005-05:00

I love following recipes.

I do, I admit it. That feeling of flipping through a cookbook's pages, searching for that one recipe to catch your eye, when everything falls into place and you have (nearly) all of the ingredients on hand. You find yourself fervently hoping that this recipe will be another one to keep marked, to file away into your "Must Make Again" folder, not one of those meh dishes that are always so disappointing.

One of those recipes, the good kind, I mean, landed in my lap via Miss Molly, and comes courtesy of the magnificent Edna Lewis. In fact, I've directed you to this recipe before, and if you haven't already made it, then I suggest you hop to it immediately!

While I am a devoted recipe follower (except with S&P measurements. Who measures that? Those are more guidelines anyway, right?), but I do love to make things up when it comes to cooking pasta or stir-frying or things like that. I'm willing and happy to throw different spices in, play around, because with cooking, you can taste and adjust and readjust and then readjust some more. Now, baking, on the other hand...well, you kind of have one shot and then that's it.

Which is why I ALWAYS follow the recipe when I bake. I do not adjust, I try not to substitute (unless we're talking nuts or dried fruit), I follow orders. There is nothing, and I mean nothing more disappointing than a mediocre baked good.

So you can imagine my surprise yesterday when I felt that irresistible pull towards the kitchen, saw my hands reach for flour, sugar and butter and started clicking through my favorite food blogs for some baking inspiration. I wanted something simple and homey and I immediately thought of the Busy Day Cake. However, I didn't have any whole milk on hand, and not even enough skim to make up the difference. I did have yogurt, and that started the wheels a-turning. I remembered a favorite yogurt cake and, with my fingers irresistibly reaching for the eggs and vanilla, decided that I needed to take my first step towards baking independence.

So I subbed in the yogurt for the milk, and since I was feeling outrageous, subbed in some demerera sugar for a quarter of the total amount of sugar called for. Ooooh, shocking, I know. Who knows what I'll do next.

Of course, I would love to be able to regale you with a magnificent success story of my delicious and highly improved cake. And, while the cake is actually quite good, an ideal afternoon tea accompaniment...I think I need a bit more work in the baking improv department. The coarse, cornmeal texture that I so loved in the original was nowhere to be found (could have something to do with me having to cream the butter and sugar by hand), though the flavors were still quite lovely.

Perhaps a cozy sitdown with Harold McGee's treatise is in order, accompanied, of course, by a piece of cake and a cup of tea.

The people at home

2009-06-20T07:18:00.008-05:00

Well, I'll be.

Somehow, I find myself with just a week and a half left before I fly back to the States. I'm not quite sure how that happened, but I will say that this is the first time in my life that I've felt almost ready to go home. You see, I miss my family, friends and boyfriend rather desperately.

I've never been the type to get homesick. People always ask me that question, since I've been lucky enough to have multiple experiences in foreign countries for months at a time, but the truth is, I'm quite happy traveling and living other places. Granted, I've never been gone for more than 4 months at a time, so that feeling would probably change if my stays were longer, but as it stands, I'm happy as a clam when abroad.

Except for one little thing: the people at home.

I wish that there was a way that I could just transport everyone here, so that I could still go to my favorite marchés, but share them with everyone. I mean, who wants to leave a place where you have weekly markets filled with fraises des bois, live animals and gorgeous produce pulled out of the ground the day before?

And, of course, that's just the tip of the iceberg of good things here. I'm not even going to get started on the cheese shops or Hervé's wine selection (our wine guru based in Honfleur). There are no words.

I hope to spend a few days in Paris before my flight to pick up some last minutes gifts (aka chocolate) and a bit of wandering, as well as a final stop at Rose Bakery (sigh...). I'm planning to pick up some macarons from Pierre Hermé to get me through the flight--let's hope they don't get too crushed on their way through security.

I'll try to post again before I head out, but the way my schedule's been going, I make no promises. However, I can promise MANY more recipes come July.

Sorry for such sporadic updates these past few months. If you have hung in there, thank you!!!

See you on the flip side.

Come and gone

2009-06-05T11:53:00.008-05:00

Another class has come and gone.

Come to think of it, so has another pair of flats. Unfortunately, these were my favorites, and I'm rather puzzled as to how I managed to wear a hole in them after two months. And there's a rather large hole starting in my other pair, which is really disconcerting. Are cobblestones really that hard on your shoes?!?

Last weekend I took a quick and MUCH needed trip out to see Merrill in Rennes. The weekend consisted of cooking a gorgeous asparagus tart, drinking the best sparking rosé I've ever tasted and sitting with my feet propped up under a shady tree in the park, spitting cherry pits behind me as I read some P.G. Wodehouse.

In other words, it was perfect. Thank you so much, my dear.

My time here is rapidly coming to an end, much more rapidly than I could ever have imagined. I have my first catering gig, a 3-day class, lots of recipe editing, 2 days of classes in Paris and a pyjama party for F before I go.

I'm also hoping to fit in a visit to Bistro Paul Bert with Merrill, a morning rummaging through the Louviers citywide garage sale (foire à tout) and a few days wandering around Paris before I go.

How strange to have to start figuring out if/what I should ship home (books, I'm looking at you), what will stay to donate to The Red Cross and what will fit in my bags. And then, of course, there's all that planning I should be doing to prep for law school which I am happily but pointedly ignoring for as long as possible.

If you're looking for a great new recipe to try or a new book to read, and even if you're not, I would encourage you to drop whatever you're doing and head to the bookstore to buy this book immediately. The unbelievably lovely Molly sent me a copy last week and I devoured it within a day. I smiled, cried, wished helplessly that I had such talent and was generally besotted.

Oh, and in case you feel overwhelmed at the number of great recipes it includes, I can personally attest to the "Winning Hearts and Minds" Cake. I've made it any number of times and it's one of my absolute favorites.

Oh, and the pickled grapes are incredible, as well. I'm just saying.

Sunday morning song

2009-05-24T10:43:00.005-05:00

I am a firm believer in lazy Sunday mornings.

I realize that this is probably because for the past few years, lazy Sundays have not existed for me. Especially during my time in San Francisco, I was working nearly every Sunday for at least a few hours, and oftentimes much longer than that.

During my last year of college, Sunday was the one day of the week when I didn't work or have multiple dance classes (only one class on Sundays, you see, and that was the rehearsal when I was the choreographer). My Sundays that year were comprised of quality time in my school's dark room in the mornings and early afternoons before dance rehearsal around dusk. Then I'd head home to have some dinner and study. They were lovely days, though a bit too filled and scheduled to be my ideal.

Every other Sunday here in Louviers, I am cleaning, doing mise en place and then helping Susan serve the students their Welcome Dinner while hanging out with F. Not the lazy Sunday of my dreams, but we've been really good about going for bike rides and swims these past few weeks as the weather has warmed up, so I'm not complaining.

Today, however, well, today is my kind of Sunday. I got up, tidied the kitchen a bit and hung some laundry out on the line before heading to the bakery for a brioche to dunk every so delicately in my morning milky tea. I then curled up on the couch and read for an hour in perfect silence.

Mornings like this one don't come nearly often enough.

But I love them when they do.

I don't have a recipe for you today, but I would steer you in the direction of the link Molly put up recently on rhubarb compote. Except that I would tell you to take some direction from this lovely lady and leave out the orange liquor and throw in a touch of pure vanilla extract. It's heavenly.

Now go enjoy your Sunday.

On school and simplicity

2009-05-09T15:45:00.001-05:00

Cooking school provides opportunities where entire evenings are completely devoted to making three different cookie doughs, rolling them out into logs, wrapping them in parchment paper and slipping them neatly into plastic bags to be refrigerated, then later frozen. Those white logs sitting side by side in the refrigerator are more than enough to make a girl feel proud.

And of course, a half log snuck out of line, sliced up and baked, yielding midnight black sablés to be eaten in between batches with a glass of wine...well that's one of life's best and simplest pleasures.

I've been thinking a lot about how I eat recently (that probably comes as no great surprise), and I've discovered that simpler things really do satisfy me.

I had a phenomenal dinner last night that consisted of steamed asparagus, tossed with olive oil and thinly sliced, quickly blanched, spring onions. The whole mess was then showered with grated aged goat cheese and left alone for about 10 minutes for the cheese to melt slowly over the still-warm asparagus and onions. Then we took it outside with some cut up bread and ate to our heart's content, enjoying the mild weather, view of the church and the great company.

That's the kind of dinner I want to eat all the time.

Its perfect complement

2009-05-06T10:22:00.006-05:00

My my, but it has been awhile.

Unfortunately, I seem to be saying that rather frequently in this space as of late, but this job has been keeping me quite busy. We just finished up a wonderful 3-day class here in Louviers and starting tomorrow we have three classes in two days in Paris.

The week before, my mother came to visit and help celebrate my birthday, and we had a lot of fun. From a degustation in a tiny underground cave to navigating French highways in a stick shift van to drinking a white Languedoc while watching My Fair Lady...well, we did it up right.

We took trips to Rouen and Honfleur, and had many a walk around Louviers, which was showing off by flowering blooms everywhere.

We also managed to do quite a bit of cooking together, with my mother discovering the wonders of pre-roasted beets in salads and broiled mackerel with tangy lime/soy vinaigrettes. I think I also may have created a fellow addict to a phenomenal Turkish yogurt that I get at a little Kosher grocery store in town. That stuff is like yogurt crack.

And as it happens, its perfect complement is my grandmother's famous rhubarb crunch recipe, which we prepared mid-week.

I say famous, because this is one of my favorite desserts of all time, and was a staple in my house growing up. So...I suppose it's famous only in the Douglas household, but it really should be in yours as well.

Rhubarb Crunch
Adapted from Agnes Douglas

1 cup flour
1 cup brown sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 cup butter, cut into rough cubes
3/4 cup oats
4 cups fresh rhubarb, any leaves removed, chopped into 1 inch pieces
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
2 Tbs. cornstarch
1 tsp. vanilla

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9' X 9' glass pan with butter.

Place the flour, brown sugar, cinnamon and oats into a medium mixing bowl. Use your hands to toss and mix them together. Add the butter pieces and use your fingers to thoroughly incorporate the butter into the oat mixture. To do this, you'll want to squish the butter cubes and dry ingredients between your fingers, rolling them a bit until you no longer have any large butter chunks.

Place the sugar, water, cornstarch and vanilla into a medium saucepan and warm over medium heat. Cook, stirring frequently, until the sugar is dissolved and the sauce has begun to thicken up.

Press half of the oat and butter mixture into the bottom of the pan. Top with the cut rhubarb slices, then drizzle the sugar water over the rhubarb. Layer the remaining half of the oat and butter mixture on top, taking care to evenly cover the rhubarb underneath.

Bake for 1 hour, or until bubbling around the edges.

Serves 2 throughout an entire week. Under normal circumstances, serves 12-16.

Note: You want to try this fresh out of the oven with some vanilla ice cream. Trust me on this one.

Snippets and snapshots

2009-04-15T17:51:00.004-05:00

I'm not sure how I missed my lesson on steamed vegetables, but I am more than making up for lost time, let me tell you.

I remember reading somewhere that the French steam their vegetables more than lots of other cultures. Please don't ask me where, as I have been reading snippets and snapshots of so many different books and cookbooks scattered around the house that my head is feeling a tad bit spin-y at the moment.

Everything fell into place, however, when Susan and I picked up a bouquet of asparagus for the first time at the market last week (from Baptiste, of course).

We had said goodbye to our guests (a small class of three Dutch women in for the weekend) then immediately retreated to our bedrooms for a nap, much to Susan's daughter's (herein referred to as "F") dismay. After I woke up, F and I headed to the hyperChampion to pick up some supplies and give Dusty a bit of a walk.

When we came back, Susan had woken up and put out some gorgeous rust-colored sun-dried tomatoes and some basil-scented goat cheese for dipping, as well as a towering platter of freshly steamed asparagus, accompanied by Piment d'Espelette Fleur de Sel.

Following Susan's lead, I dipped the asparagus ends into the spicy salt and bit in.

Oh, there's nothing like that first taste of honest to goodness spring produce. I love celery root and cabbage as much as (maybe even more than) the next person, but I need seasonal changes to keep me from overdosing on them. Spring vegetables are not only wonderful in their own right, but in the promise of summer stone fruit and berries that they bring with them.

Instead of a firm recipe, I'm going to do a quick tutorial on steaming today. Maybe none of you need it, but I certainly did when I was assigned to steam some beets the other day for lunch (so delicious!).

You'll need a vegetable steamer basket and a large saucepan for this operation. Fill the bottom of the saucepan with a half inch or so of water, then put in the steamer basket to make sure the water isn't coming over the top-you want the water level just below the steamer basket, so add or remove water as necessary. Take out the basket and bring the water to a boil, then carefully return the basket to the pan.

If you're doing a vegetable that steams quickly such as asparagus, then leave the heat up high and dump your asparagus in. Just make sure to snap the ends off of the asparagus (yes, you have to do it individually, and don't worry--the asparagus will snap where it needs to, naturally separating the woody stalk) before putting it in. Steam for just a few minutes, until the asparagus is tender but not limp.

For a sturdy vegetable like beets, you'll follow the same general operation as above with a few notable exceptions.

First of all, peel and cube your beets or sweet potatoes or what have you. Set up the pot, as above, but once the water comes to a boil, lower the heat a bit to medium or medium-high. Put in your cubed vegetables, then cover. These vegetables will take quite a while to steam, anywhere from 30-50 minutes, but you'll need to check the water level every 10 minutes or so, adding more as necessary to ensure that you're not burning the basket and pan (I find that a Pyrex liquid measuring cup is really handy here). The vegetables are done when you can stick a sharp knife in the middle of a cube and feel no resistance.

Beets are especially good done this way when when you toss them with a bit of sherry vinegar, salt and pepper.

P.S. I apologize for my lack of actual food pictures in recent posts. Working in the kitchen constantly has not been conducive to snapping photos all the time. I'll work on making up for it in the coming weeks!

Missed the boat

2009-04-05T10:53:00.001-05:00

I want to let you all know up front that this will be a bit of a short post. I just got done with a cooking class from the weekend and am still recovering, even after an hour nap today!

Onward...

I just don't understand why we're so afraid of desserts in the States.

No, wait, I take that back.

I guess what I don't understand is how we could be so scared to have a dessert on a regular basis. I do it here, and have not suffered any ill effects. It's a puzzle, part of the French paradox maybe...or maybe it's just because we've missed the compote boat.

One of the things that Alice Waters continually preaches is how lovely a perfect fresh piece of fruit is--the ideal dessert, really. Sometimes, however, some of us don't have access to that lovely piece of perfect fruit, or, let's be honest, we get sick of plain fruit and want a little spice in our life.

That brings us to this lovely apple compote I've made a couple of times over the past few weeks. It's the end of the apple season here in Louviers, so I'm gobbling up as many apples as possible, in any form I can think of.

A compote is essentially cooked down fruit, as far as I can tell. Some versions tell you to cook the fruit in a sugar syrup, and you can absolutely do that if you like, but here in France, a compote is kind of a sister to applesauce. It is eaten hot and cold, brought in as a base for a buttery tart and very happily married with flaky pastry for chaussons aux pommes.

Sometimes simplicity is best, and that means tossing cubed, peeled apples into a pot with sugar and some vanilla and calling it dessert.

Apple Compote
Adapted from Farmhouse Cookbook by Susan Herrmann Loomis

6 medium-sized firm apples, such as Cox's Pippin
2 Tbs. butter
1/2 Tbs. grapeseed or canola oil
1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract
2 tsp. (vanilla) sugar
Freshly grated nutmeg
Squeeze of fresh lemon juice (optional-add in before serving if you've got less of a sweet tooth)

Peel, core and cube the apples.

Melt the butter and oil together over medium heat in a medium saucepan. Once melted, add the apple cubes and stir. Add the vanilla and nutmeg, stir and turn down the heat to medium-low.

Stir periodically until the apples are soft, about 20 minutes. Use a potato masher to mash about half of the apples in the saucepan (you want to leave some big chunks for texture), stir again and serve.

Serves 2-3.

This is great all on its own, and I encourage you to mix it up with other spices such as cinnamon or a touch of pepper. This would also be lovely with ice cream, I imagine, maybe vanilla or cinnamon.

Pre-roasted

2009-03-28T07:59:00.007-05:00

I have a new best friend and her name is Dusty.

Dusty and I have been getting along splendidly during the past week and a half while I've been house-sitting for Susan and looking after her daughter. A few times a week we go on runs, always interspersed with short stops if Dusty find something particularly luscious to sniff or needs to, shall we say, mark her territory.

Otherwise, I try to make sure that we get in two walks a day.

At the beginning, I always had her on a leash, my head filled with visions of screeching tires and honking cars. I quickly noticed that Dusty had a habit of going off around town on her own, and found out that the leash was, in fact, a new thing for her. Dusty has incredibly good common sense, and is quite at ease in town, weaving in and out of traffic and looking both ways before crossing the street (I swear, I have seen her do it!).

Do I still get uneasy about it? Absolutely.

But if she was on a leash all of the time, I'd never have the chance to be taken on a walk by her. Which is what happens at least once a day.

Dusty will trot ahead of me, maybe 20 feet or so, investigating corners and doorways, periodically looking back at me to make sure I'm following her. If I ever decide to turn down a certain street or turn around to head back home, I just have to wait for her to glance back again, which she does every 45 seconds or so, motion to her with a quick nod, and head in the new direction. She will immediately join me, galloping out front so that she will again be leading the charge.

During the time when I'm working at my desk in my room, she can be found at least half the time on the floor near me, waiting for me to finish so that we can go on another walk.

Dusty always comes to the market with us, though she's probably the only dog there not on a leash. Like I said, she's quite the city dog, and people seem to know her well, and not mind too much if she slips back behind the stalls to try and find a scrap of something or other.

Myself, I've been spending my market time waiting patiently in line for my current addiction: endives.

I've seared them and topped them with an olive-oil fried egg for a light lunch on a cold and rainy day (of which there have been quite a lot this past week). But my current favorite way is sliced and tossed in a salad with roasted beets.

Did you know that until recently, you could never find raw beets at the markets here? Everyone always bought them pre-roasted to save themselves the trouble of roasting at home.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do with the roasted beet that Baptiste slipped into my bag last week. He suggested cubing it and tossing it with a simple vinaigrette, and while that sounded lovely, I took it one step further by combining it with fresh apples, cheese and nuts...oh, and one of his gorgeous endives.

This salad is ideally suited to variations. In the past three days I've had it in as many different ways: once with beets, pears and comté, another day with beet, endive and apple, and the third day using the recipe below. Note that this is a rough outline, and I encourage you to play with proportions and ingredients.

Beet and Endive Salad

1 medium to large endive
1 1/2-inch thick slice of peeled, roasted beet*
1 medium apple (I've been using Jonagold or Cox's Orange Pippin)
1 1/2-inch thick hunk of parmesan (I'd guess around 1 oz)
Handful of pumpkin seeds
1 tsp. sherry vinegar
3 tsp. good olive oil
Sea salt
Freshly ground pepper

Remove any yellowing leaves from your endive and slice the very end of the stem off. Thinly slice the endive horizontally into slices about 1/4 inch thick.

Cube the beet and parmesan into bite-size pieces (about 1/2 inch by 1/2 inch).

Peel, core and cube the apple into bite-size pieces.

Combine the endive, beet, parmesan, apple and pumpkin seeds in a bowl and toss to mix. Add the sherry vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper and toss again to thoroughly combine. Don't worry if your salad starts to get a little pink--which it will, thanks to the beet--just enjoy eating pink food!

Enjoy with some good bread and maybe a glass of dry white wine like a Sancerre or Pinot Blanc.

Serves 1

*If you need to roast the beet yourself, do as follows:
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F. Cut off your beet tops, leaving about 1/2 an inch of the stem still attached to the beet root, and reserve (they're fabulous sautéed in just a bit of olive oil). Scrub the beets and place them in a baking pan. Add enough water to come up the sides of the pan 1/4 inch. Cover the pan tightly with a lid or aluminum foil and roast until the beets are easily pierced through with a knife. This can take anywhere from 40 minutes and beyond, depending on the size of your beets. Once cooled, use your thumb to nudge off the beet skin and discard.
Oh, and wear an apron! Beet juice can stain your hands and your cutting board, but don't let it stain your shirt!!

On the cake

2009-03-25T04:45:00.001-05:00

Periodically--it seems to be about once a month--Susan hosts a friendly neighborhood wine tasting at her home.

For the event last week, I gathered about 14 stools around the kitchen island, put out lots of silver and 32 plates (one plate each for the shepherd's pie, salad and cheese and the others for dessert) with a nice blue trim and searched out the four boxes of tasting glasses in the back prep kitchen.

I was downstairs tidying up the kitchen when Baptiste walked in, his black curls bouncing everywhere, loaded up with a huge bag of his very tasty mache. I finished unloading the dishwasher after a friendly two kiss greeting, and he got to work washing the mache in the zinc vegetable sink.

Baptiste is one of my favorite farmers at the weekly market. His vegetables are incredible, usually arriving about a week earlier than anyone else and always tasty. We split our vegetable shopping between his stand and another run by an adorable older couple. But our endive? Those, we always buy from Baptiste.

Just a few weeks ago, while Susan was spending her week teaching in Paris and I was holding down the fort at home with the animals (except for two days of classes, when I took the train in to assist), I ate up our supply of four endive in salads inspired by this recipe. When she returned, we went to the Saturday market as usual and I was surprised that Susan didn't pick up any more endive. I figured maybe the season was over, or maybe she wasn't as much of a fan as I was, but I didn't say anything, not having had my coffee and croissant yet.

Days later, I heard my name called from the kitchen, and I went downstairs. There was Susan, visibly heartbroken at the idea that she wouldn't be able to eat any of Baptiste's endive until she returned home from her trip to the states weeks later. I couldn't decide whether to laugh or crawl under the kitchen island. I don't think she could either.

That night at the wine tasting, after finishing with the dishwasher, I came to take over washing duties from Baptiste, and he politely but firmly nudged me out of the way and continued his work. That, of course, didn't bother me a bit, until I happened to glance down at the mache floating in the sink.

On my first or second day here, Susan had shown me the proper way to wash and serve mache (bought at Baptiste's stand, bien sur). It takes anywhere between 5 and 7 washings, depending on how dirty it is, which can take quite a while, but you can't skimp for fear of allowing a single piece of grit to slip past your guard and onto an unsuspecting diner's plate.

She had also stressed that mache should be left in the little florets it grows in, so you can imagine my shock and horror when I saw that Baptiste, while washing his mache, had cut off all of the leaves from every floret, leaving them all swimming individually in the sink.

Knowing that there was nothing I could do to save the already massacred mache at this point, I casually mentioned Susan's theory of leaving the mache whole to Baptiste, who grinned at me, shrugged, then commented that seeing as it was his mache and he didn't care, neither should anyone else.

I knew someone else wasn't going to have quite the same point of view, and rushed upstairs to warn Susan so that she wouldn't faint at the sight of those desolate mache leaves.

Earlier that day I had baked and iced a cake for dessert. We had a glutton of carrots on hand, so Susan decided that I should try a carrot cake, a version from her delightfully stained and dog-eared copy of her own Farmhouse Cookbook.

This is not the fluffy, cream cheese frosting-swirled carrot cake of your youth, however. This is a down-home, thick, almost fruit cake-esque cake, full of warm spices and walnuts.

And did I mention that I topped it with a caramel frosting?

Whoa. I mean, the cake was good, though it probably would've been better if left to sit for a few days and have the flavors meld and marry a bit more, but that frosting was out of this world.

Imagine a (slightly) salted butter caramel melted all over a dense, nutty cake and you'll be getting warmer.

It was all I could do not to get out a spoon and eat the entire pan full myself, and it must be said that I was not overly pleased when Susan called in her daughter to help me lick the spoon after I had finished frosting the cake. I'm good at sharing, really I am, just not when there's caramel frosting to be finished.

I imagine that this would go equally well with white or chocolate cakes. Because of its thickness, I also think it'd be great on any kind of pound cake or spiced bundt cake. Come to think of it, I can't really imagine it not going well with anything, even an ice cream sundae.

Caramel Frosting
Adapted from Farmhouse Cookbook by Susan Herrmann Loomis

1 stick (8Tbs) unsalted butter
1/2 cup brown sugar, packed
2 Tbs. milk
1 cup plus 2 Tbs. confectioners' sugar*
1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Once melted, add in the brown sugar and reduce the heat to low. Stir frequently with a wooden spoon until the sugar melts and is fully incorporated, about 2 minutes.

Stir in the milk, then raise the heat to medium. Continue stirring until the mixture just comes to a boil, then remove the pan from heat and cool slightly.

Once the mixture is lukewarm, whisk in the confectioners' sugar 1/2 cup at a time. Fully incorporate each portion of sugar before adding in the next one. At this point, the frosting shoud be smooth and free of lumps.

Whisk in the vanilla extract, then spread the frosting immediately over your cake.

Yields 1 cup, just enough for the top of a 10-inch bundt cake, with pretty drips down the side.

*If you run out of confectioners' sugar or just don't have any on hand, grind up your regular sugar to a very fine dust in a coffee grinder (clean it first!). You can add a touch of cornstarch as well, but I didn't this time, and the frosting was still unbelieveable. Just remember to measure the sugar after it's been ground, not before.

The way you do the things you do

2009-03-17T06:58:00.008-05:00

I was intimidated.

I had just arrived a few days earlier, and now was the first time that Susan had asked me to do any sort of cooking with her, side by side.

There I was, supposed to be an assistant in the cooking class, but I'd already observed that most of my techniques need to be changed, tweaked or reinvented. At least I was humble enough to admit it. That's a start, right?

It's been a bit difficult to change the way I do certain, basic things. For example, my mise en place...well, it sucks, to be quite frank. I have always been one of those people who chops up the mushrooms furiously while the tomato sauce is bubbling away on the stove, trying desperately to finish them before the sauce has reduced too much.

It's the same way with baking. I never put things out in little bowls beforehand, channeling Julia Child. Those were, in my mind, just a few more bowls to wash, and living without a dishwasher last year in San Francisco made me quite frugal in the dish dirtying department.

However, I see the logic of it all, and am trying to force myself to get everything out and ready before I begin any step at all.

It's difficult, but I'm working on it.

Oh, and just so you know, if you do do mise en place correctly, and put out a vinegar for whatever recipe you're using, be sure to cover it with a plate or something. Vinegar evaporates slowly, and if you don't use it within the first few minutes off putting it out, you'll end up with less than you thought. Crazy, eh?

I have learned that when you blanch things, you should put them in ice water just until they are cool, then immediately spread them out on a towel to dry. Otherwise, you'll end up with waterlogged vegetables.

This is a certain curved paring knife with which I have fallen in love. Nothing better for peeling apples, shallots, garlic, what have you. Oh, and while we're at it, take out the little green thing in the garlic. Not because it's necessarily bitter, but because there's a noticeable textural difference.

Hmm...what else? I've learned that one or two small cookies with your post-lunch coffee is always a good idea.

There should be music playing when you're cooking, but there MUST be music playing when you're cleaning up.

Speaking of clean-up, your knives should be washed and dried immediately after use. No soaking in the sink or any of that. They will last much longer if you treat them well.

Tea tastes better when you drink it out of a bowl in the wee small hours of the morning.

As you can see, I feel like a sponge, just absorbing anything and everything that I can. I mean, I only have four months here, and there's so much to learn.

Susan and I recently had a phenomenal lunch that I have to write you about, even though we ate it so fast that taking a picture didn't even cross my mind until hours later. It's main component is fava beans, which are in season at the moment, so get on this recipe as soon as possible!

The recipe is simple, in the Italian tradition of letting your ingredients really shine through. This translates as such: buy/use the BEST ingredients you can find!

The recipe below is going to be a pretty rough outline, as I'm trusting you to taste and judge how much of each you want to put in.

Fava Bean Salad

3-4 big handfuls of fava bean pods
2 oz. hard sheep's milk cheese, such as Abbaye de Belloc or a young Manchego (you want something hard and firm, but still quite young, say 18 months max)
good olive oil
2-3 sprigs fresh savory (thyme could probably substitute here)
fleur de sel or good sea salt

Bring a medium saucepan full of water to boil.

Strip the fava beans out of their pods, then add the beans to the boiling water. Allow to boil for about one minute, then drain and place in a bowl.

Once cool enough to handle, use your fingernail or a small pairing knife to cut a slit through the outer layer of the fava bean (it's light green), then use your fingers to gently unwrap the bright green bean inside. Repeat with the remaining favas.

Cut the cheese into bite-size squares, about 1/2 inch X 1/2 inch. Strip the leaves off of the savory or thyme, taking care not to include any of the woody stem.

Toss the fava beans and cheese together with the savory in a medium-sized bowl. Add enough olive oil to come to 3/4 of the way up the mixture.

Combine well. Sprinkle fleur de sel on top of each plate before serving.

Serves 2.

*Make sure you serve this with plenty of good, crusty bread. You'll want it to soak up that beautiful olive oil you used.

Mise en place

2009-03-11T05:50:00.007-05:00

I have to apologize for my recent absence in this space. (Sorry!)

You see, it has taken a lot longer to get my internet up and running here in Louviers than I could have possibly expected. It also took a few rather emotionally-trying phone calls with some rude "customer service" people at a particular French company that shall remain nameless, and which resulted in absolutely nothing.

Thank goodness for sweet American computer experts who are only a phone call away in Paris.

Now that I'm back online, I will of course, be filling you in on how I've been spending my time thus far (Paris, macarons and vinaigrettes, oh my!). I thought it might be fun, though, to send along a few pictures and a broad overview first, then share more details later. I hope you won't mind.

Paris, well...you never know where to begin there, do you? The city is just too good, and it's hard to be articulate when I have such an utter devotion.

For the time being, suffice it to say that I received some great recommendations from this lady and this book. I followed Clotilde's chocolate recommendations, as well as some found here, which led me to heavenly tablettes filled with candied apricots and almonds from Jean-Charles Rochoux and an insanely smooth 85% chocolate tablette from Pierre Marcolini. Oh, and a chocolate-basil ganache!

And did I mention some of the best duck I've ever had at this lovely restaurant?

Oh, and my first Ispaphan.

After a week in Paris wandering around old and new haunts, I headed to Rennes to visit my lovely friend Merrill who's working there as a language assistant, or was until the entire country started to strike. Either way, she is lucky to live within two minutes of a fabulous bakery with an amazing buckwheat baguette and a wine store with an adorable owner who has a gift for picking out tasty bottles for under 10 euros.

Oh, and in case I forget to mention it later, I really missed rillettes and Reblochon. Huge thanks to Merrill for providing them!

After a lovely long weekend in Rennes, I managed to get myself to Louviers with my two heavy bags in tow. I should thank the incredibly nice strangers in the Métro and on the trains who helped me with my bags. Just picked them up and started up the staircases without a word.

The house is lovely, old and full of staircases and light blue windows. Oh, and the exposed beams, persnickety Aga stove and stunning butcher block island don't hurt the ambiance either. There are heaving bookshelves everywhere, giving me plenty to keep myself busy when I'm not looking after my young charge or working on mise-en-place or recipes for class.

I had my first official cooking class as an assistant yesterday, and it was even more fun than I expected. And I had high expectations, mind you. Filleting my first mackerel, putting together the mise-en-place, setting the table, being a gopher--it didn't matter what it was, I learned something doing it.

So far, it's kind of like living in a fairytale, albeit a fairy tale with an ornery stove that decided to go out yesterday morning. Eh, c'est la vie. Besides, I have blankets and a beautiful green stove to cook at and dance around.

One kick right after another

2009-02-28T11:23:00.001-06:00

Okay, we all need to eat lunch every day, don't we?

Of course we do, but if you're anything like me, you could quickly get into a rut of having a turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread with strawberry jam and lettuce EVERY single day for months on end. Not that there's anything wrong with said sandwich, but even people who like repetition can get bored after 3 solid months of the same lunch. Believe me, I know.

I lived the above scenario when I was working for a summer in New York City a few years ago at a business magazine. As a lowly intern, I obviously couldn't afford to eat out every day, and with all of the work I had to do, I wouldn't have had time anyway, so packing my own lunch was the only option I saw.

With this recipe, I hope to introduce some variety into your workweek, or at the very least a delicious lunch or dinner to put together when you're not eating greasy hash browns on the weekend or have gotten home really late after work and want something quick and healthy.

Chicken laap (I've also heard it referred to as larp, but that makes me think of lard and that doesn't really conjure up the healthy delicious salad as well as I'd like) is a dish I first encountered on my SE Asia trip. As I previously noted, I fell immediately in love with the strong flavors and crunchy textures on my trip, and have since made it for family and friends to critical (okay, maybe a stretch here) acclaim.

I first developed a crush on the fish laap that was available all over Laos, but once I headed to my cooking class in Luang Prabang and tried chicken laap...well, it blossomed into a long-term love affair.

It's quick (depending on the speed of your chopping skills), easy, healthy as all get out, incredibly delicious (the flavors take turns giving your taste buds one kick right after another) oh, and did I mention easy? It's also easily adaptable to whatever spices you've got on hand, so no excuses about having to run to the grocery store allowed!

All you do is mince up some chicken and throw it in a skillet with a bit of water. While that's cooking, you mince up some shallots, garlic, lemongrass, arugula, etc., then toss the whole thing together with a bit of fish sauce and chili. Dump it out onto a plate, add some big crinkly lettuce leaves and/or cucumber slices and top them with your salad mixture, then eat away.

Just remember to bring some napkins, oh, and to eat this at least a few feet away from your computer. I'm not sure I want to know what fish sauce does to a keyboard.

Chicken Laap
Adapted from Tamnak Lao Cooking School

2 large skinless boneless chicken breasts (about 400 gms), minced*
2 medium limes or lemons
4 Tbs. hot water
2 green onions, thinly sliced
4 shallots, thinly sliced
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 bunch cilantro/coriander, finely chopped
4 lemongrass stalks, white part only, thinly sliced
2 handfuls arugula leaves, thinly sliced
1/2 tsp. salt
2 Tbs. rice powder, optional**
2 tsp. chili powder
1/2 tsp. fish sauce

Juice the lemons or limes.

Place a large saute pan over medium heat and add half of the lemon/lime juice and the minced chicken. Stir frequently until the chicken is cooked through and the liquid has been absorbed, adding a bit of water if necessary.
Remove from heat and place in a large mixing bowl.
Add the green onions, shallot, garlic, cilantro, lemongrass and arugula to the bowl and mix well.
Add the salt, rice powder (if using), chili powder and fish sauce and stir to combine thoroughly.
Taste for seasoning. I often add a bit more fish sauce and lime juice at this point. Keep in mind "hot, sour, salty, sweet" when tasting, and add a bit more as necessary.

Serves 2 as a main dish.

*Place the chicken breasts on a large cutting board, then start chopping away with a chef's knife in each hand. Not only is this fun (just be careful not to get too overzealous!), but you'll find the chicken minced before you know it.

**Rice powder can be purchased at Asian supermarkets or easily made at home. To be honest, I just leave it out, and can't tell that much of a difference, but you're welcome to try it if you're not as lazy as I am: Toast raw rice until golden in a saute pan. Throw it into a blender/food processor and process until you get a fine powder. Store in an airtight glass jar.

Note: I have made this without many of the ingredients, such as arugula and lemongrass, thrown ginger into the mix, and never been disappointed. Play around with it: it's hard to go wrong.

P.S. I am currently staying in Rennes with a good friend for a few days until I head to Louviers to begin working on Monday. I had a lovely time in Paris last week, full of drop dead gorgeous food, and I promise to tell you a bit more about it soon--once I get settled!

For your consideration

2009-02-17T17:30:00.001-06:00

Today is the day before I leave for Paris.

(Insert copious swearing here)

Okay, now that that's over with, let's get to the good stuff.

I'm not sure what kind of internet access I'm going to have for the first few weeks I'm there, but I didn't want to leave you guys completely defenseless. To that end, I have thrown together some links below to keep you all occupied and well-fed until I'm back online.

Besides, I've been cooking up a storm this past week and I want to share the fruits of my labor. I've been calling it my "Greatest Hits" week, and while it may not be a Beatles or Rolling Stones album, it's been pretty damn tasty, I must say.

In the savory corner, we've got slow-roasted tomatoes that we tossed with farfalle and a nubbin or two of goat cheese, my first but certainly not last foray into oven-roasted shrimp and broccoli, a glorious smothered cabbage and rice soup/risotto, an old favorite in the form of chickpeas and roasted butternut squash (make sure to really stir your tahini beforehand!), my new favorite "30 minute" meal and a lovely tangy pasta topped with a recent obsession: an olive-oil fried egg.

Also for your consideration, I offer the following sweet delights: a cake for busy days from Edna Lewis and an insanely easy apple tart.

I've even thrown together a couple of things to get Jimmy through the rest of the week without having to eat Subway twice a day.

Oh, and I also have this cooling on the stove as we speak.

See you back in this space soon!

P.S. I hope this answers some of your questions as to how I've been keeping busy while Jimmy studies day and night. ;)

A salt kick

2009-02-14T12:10:00.002-06:00

Now, I know I was just mooning over rice pudding a few days ago and crunchy coffee bars before that...but I actually have another dessert for you.

And it's one of the most addicting cookies I've ever eaten.

I'm really not trying to make you curse me for forcing you to run out to the store to grab almonds and another carton of butter (though you really should, you really truly should). It's just all of the baking recipes I've tagged over, oh, the last hundred years that have been waiting patiently to be baked, tasted and devoured are finally getting their day in the sun (and snow).

This past Christmas was the first time in four (4!) years that my entire family had gotten together. While I was and will remain eternally grateful for it, the situation meant quite a lot of compromises and very little elbow room...oh, and a whole heck of a lot of cocktails.

Once Christmas, New Year's and a slew of wine bottles had come and gone, my dad got a little stir-crazy and decided that he wanted to take my little sister and I to Disney World. Great idea, right? Yes, except that he decided this on a Sunday, we would have to leave on a Monday to drive the 18 hour trip, do the parks on Tuesday and Wednesday in order to drive 18 hours back on Thursday so that I could catch my flight back to Chicago on Friday around noon.

Exhausting, I know.

We went ahead with the plan and I found myself just a few days later wandering around Epcot, and heading straight for the English pub where it was rumored that they had Strongbow on tap! I sipped my way through my beloved pint while my dad and sister dined on fish and chips.

We continued to wander around "the world", taking in the movies, cute shops and remaining Christmas decorations in each country.

I'd been drooling over Dorie Greenspan's classic Paris Sweets for quite a while. It seemed that all of my favorite food bloggers had included a recipe from her on their sites, and from this tome in particular. So imagine my delight when I found the book in one of the shops in Epcot's France and my dad offered to buy it for me. I spent that evening happily, annoying my sister, by burying my nose in yet another cookbook.

I brought the book with me when I came back up to Chicago from Houston, determined to make something, anything, out of it before I head off to Paris for real (!!!).

However, I was rather limited by the supplies that Jimmy has in his apartment. I just finally bought a cake pan for him (well, for me, really) the other day, so the delicious tarts that Dorie describes were absolutely out of the picture. Plus, my KitchenAid is in storage, so anything that involved an inordinate amount of egg-white whipping was also not in the cards.

I finally settled on some amusing-sounding cookies called Croq-Télé (essentially "crunchy TV") that required a food processor (which he has!) and a cookie sheet, nothing more nor less.

While not on the show-stopping gorgeous side of the cookie spectrum, these cookies absolutely make up for it in taste. The simple combination of almonds, sugar, flour and butter is elevated by the addition of a fair amount of salt, making them downright addictive.

The dough is made in 3 steps in the food processor, first making a nut-sugar, then combining the flour and butter in typical pastry dough fashion before throwing in the nut-sugar again. It creates a sandy mixture that you free-form into shapes and throw in the oven. Easy peasy.

Once they emerge, looking suspiciously similar to how they looked when they went in the oven, you allow them to cool which in turns lets the edges crisp up a bit. The lovely almond flavor and buttery texture gets a little kick by the salt, turning an otherwise delicious but maybe slightly ordinary butter cookie into something altogether unforgettable.

In all honesty, I may never have made these cookies if I wasn't limited by my baking supplies. While they sounded good in the book, they didn't quite have the draw that so many of the other selections do. And what a near miss that was! These cookies will be made in my house for many years as an addicting tea time snack or a perfect movie-watching treat, as Dorie suggests.

I think Jimmy said it best: "These cookies taste SO much better than they look! Wait, not that they look bad, but...they just taste so good!"

Croq-Télé Cookies
Adapted from Paris Sweets by Dorie Greenspan

3/4 cup sliced almonds (she calls for whole blanched)
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp. salt (just a smidge under)
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
7 Tbs. cold unsalted butter

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Place the almonds, sugar and salt in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Pulse in 3 second intervals until the nuts are finely ground, about 1-2 minutes (depending on if you use whole or sliced almonds). Scrape down the sides periodically.

Turn out the nut/sugar mixture into a bowl and set aside.

Cut the cold butter into 7 equal pieces and keep nearby.

Put the flour and one piece of the butter into the bowl of the food processor (still fitted with the metal blade) and start the motor running. Drop in the other pieces of butter as each previous piece gets incorporated. Switch to pulsing in 3 second intervals once all of the butter is in, and pulse until the mixture looks sandy and there are no visible chunks of butter.

Add in the nut/sugar mixture and pulse in 3 second intervals until the dough starts to clump, about 1-2 minutes. When squeezed, the dough should stick together.

Turn out the dough into a bowl.

Pull off small pieces of dough about the size of a cherry or walnut half and squeeze them in your hand to form bite-sized pieces (they will look irregular, don't worry). Place the pieces on a lined baking sheet (aluminum foil, silpat or parchment paper works here), leaving about 1/2 inch in between.

Bake for 9-11 minutes, rotating the sheets from front to back to ensure even browning, until the cookies are set. They won't look brown on top, but when gently pushed, won't yield to your finger.

Allow the cookies to rest on the baking sheet for about 5 minutes, then transfer to a metal rack to cool.

Makes approximately 32 cookies.

*Dorie notes that the cookies can be kept in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 5 days or frozen for up to 1 month...but Jimmy and I are already way over halfway through them and it's the 2nd day.

One bean, glory

2009-02-13T00:00:00.000-06:00

Maybe I should start off this post by saying that I was never really a fan of rice pudding.

Bread pudding? Now, that's something I can get behind. My dad makes the most marvelous (and enormous!) version based on a recipe in the Joy of Cooking that will feed a family of five, even one with appetites as big as mine, for days on end.

But rice pudding always seemed kind of odd, and the texture ran to gummy the few times I did try a bite. I don't know, I just never understood the appeal.

Some of my earliest memories of the stuff involve a certain Indian buffet that my family frequented fairly regularly growing up. It was next door to the music shop where my sisters and I had our piano lessons, but since lessons were right after school and my family never ate before 8:30 at the earliest (and yes, that did make it hard to have friends over for dinner), it wasn't optimal eating time. So whenever we had a craving for Indian, we'd trek all the way across town, a good 30 minutes away, to gorge ourselves on naan and dals galore.

No matter how full we were after the meal, we always found a little room somewhere for dessert. I only had eyes for the gulab jamun, but my mom always went for the rice pudding that was sitting, a little sadly and dejectedly, behind my sugar syrup doused favorite.

Any time rice pudding has been on a menu, which hasn't been that frequently, come to think of it, I inevitably choose something else. I don't know, the stuff seems so creamy (I don't do well with creamy), so vanilla...a bit too plain jane, if you know what I mean.

But, as always happens when a certain food blogger is around, I found myself craving something I'd never before given a second thought.

And of course, yet again, whatever the lady touches turns to gold and I now have another dessert to moon and moan over.

The process is very easy. Just throw the rice and some salt in a pot with water, allow it to absorb, then dump in cream, milk, sugar and vanilla. Leave the whole lot alone for about half an hour and you have the most un-boring vanilla dessert imaginable.

I think it all comes down to the use of a vanilla bean, myself. I'd never before sprung for one, but I saw immediately that without it, the pudding wasn't going to be worth its salt for a formerly ambivalent rice pudding eater such as myself. The bean infuses the whole mess with an incredibly intense vanilla flavor. Plus the little black specks make the nearly overwhelming whiteness of the dessert much more interesting visually.

I realize that vanilla beans are viewed as being costly, and they are if you buy them one at a time in a glass jar at your grocery store. However, if you look around online, I guarantee you can get a much better price. A simple Google search for vanilla bean landed me three different online purveyors with reasonable prices.

Vanilla Bean Rice Pudding
Adapted from Molly Wizenberg
Bon Appetit, March 2009

1 1/2 cups water
3/4 cup long-grain rice (I used jasmine, Molly calls for basmati)
1/4 tsp. salt
3 cups whole milk (I'd bet you could sub in 2% here to lighten it a bit)
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 vanilla bean

Put the water, rice and salt into a heavy large saucepan (make it large or it will bubble over on you later!) and bring it to a boil over medium-high heat. Turn the heat down to low and cover. Simmer until water is absorbed, 9-11 minutes.

Add the milk, cream and sugar to the pot and stir. Cut the vanilla bean in half and save the other half for another use. Split the half you're using lengthwise, then use the tip of your knife to scrape the seeds from the inside of the pod into your rice mixture. Toss in the now-empty bean and increase the heat to medium.

Cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, until rice is tender and the whole mixture has thickened to a creamy texture (it should look like most of the milk and cream has been absorbed), about 30-35 minutes.

Remove the pudding from heat and discard the vanilla bean. Chill pudding thoroughly overnight (my favorite way to have it, but you can try it warm as well).

Serves 6-8.

Note: You can grate some nutmeg over the top for another traditional, and I was itching to throw some cardamom in. I'll try that next time, I think, though I love the purity of that gorgeous vanilla bean. Play with it and adjust to your tastes!

P.S. Apparently, rice pudding is on the minds of many this time of year.

Very purpley

2009-02-12T13:19:00.001-06:00

While I'm here in Chicago with Jimmy, I have the supreme luxury of being able to plan my menus for the week.

I didn't realize how wonderful this process was until I took the time to pore over my cookbooks (at least, the ones I'm letting Jimmy "borrow" for the year) and clippings, dig through the archives of my favorite food blogs and pick out seven delectable offerings for the week. I even get to write them down and put together a grocery list so that I can get everything I need when I have access to stronger arms than mine for carrying groceries.

I understand that writing the above may strike you as rather strange, but I encourage you to give it a shot for one week before laughing at me too heartily. Instead of rummaging in cabinets every night to throw together a nutritious meal, frantically calling your significant other to pick up chicken or endives at the store on their way home, you can arrive home, stroll over to your list and have all of the ingredients needed to prepare any of seven outstanding offerings at hand.

In its own way, it's similar to channeling Julia Child--having your mise en place all set out and ready to go before you begin cooking. Which is, of course, something that I'm still working on.

I don't know why they don't call red cabbage purple. I mean, look at that rich color!

The second I cut in to it I just stopped, then immediately went to find a camera to document its colorful innards.

It has been my personal goal to cram as many fresh vegetables into Jimmy's body as humanly possible before he goes back to his frozen dinner habits once I leave (happily, they're things like these burritos, which I can get behind). Accordingly, the vast majority of my dinners have come from Chez Panisse Vegetables.

I was looking for something quick and filling after an Argentine tango lesson one Thursday night and my eyes landed on the seductive-sounding Warm Cabbage, Apple and Onion Slaw.

It was the perfect thing to warm us up what with the brutally cold weather we were having. The crisp cabbage played against the silky texture of the onions, while the sweetness of the apples went perfectly with the vinegar's much-needed kick of acidity.

Pair this with a glass of bright white wine, and you're set, fortified and ready to pull out those cookbooks and clippings once again.

Warm Cabbage, Onion and Apple Slaw
Adapted from Chez Panisse Vegetables by Alice Waters

1 medium yellow onion, peeled and sliced thinly
1 medium head of red (or green) cabbage
2 large sweet apples (I think I used Fuji), peeled, cored and sliced thinly
1 Tbs. olive oil
2 tsp. white wine vinegar (to taste, I may have used a bit more)
1 Tbs. water (or more as necessary)
Salt and pepper

Tear off any of the loose outer leaves of the cabbage and discard. Cut the cabbage in half through the core, then cut out the white core section. Slice the cabbage as thinly as you can.

Heat the olive oil over medium-high heat in a large saute pan. Add the onions, and cook until they are translucent and just starting to brown. Add the apples and saute everything together for 1 minute. Add the cabbage, S&P, vinegar and water to the pan and stir to mix well. Turn the heat up to high and continue stirring until the cabbage is barely cooked through (it should retain a little crunch).

Taste and correct for seasonings, adding a bit of vinegar or S&P as necessary.

Serves 4-6 as a main.

Note: I served this by itself the first night, and it was delicious. It was also lovely alongside roasted chicken the following night. Alice Waters suggests serving it with pork or duck and playing around with different vinegars. Balsamic seems like it'd be great in this.

P.S. For those of you out there who think I'm going about this backwards, that I should go buy what's fresh and then plan my menu accordingly, try not to think too low of me. I agree with that, and as such, am doing my best to pick out recipes featuring vegetables that are in season. We all do the best we can.

The way the cookie crumbles

2009-02-08T12:21:00.000-06:00

If you have spent any time in the food blogging world, or even any time on my site, then you'll know the respect that everyone has for this lady. I've been following her blog for about a year and a half now, and my tastebuds have never regretted it. Of course, some of my cookbooks have gotten a little jealous of my devotion, but I pull them out often enough to keep them from threatening mutiny.

Molly has also had a column in Bon Appétit magazine for the past year that follows the same formula as her blog: beautiful story intertwined with heavenly recipe. Not a bad combo.

Because I've been traveling around so much and will continue to do so, my magazine subscriptions have fallen by the wayside, but I do keep up with my favorites online, or, if I need a little pick-me-up, sneaking one into the shopping cart at the grocery store (Jimmy's lovely that way by pretending not to notice). The February issue came home with me in the shopping bag, and I eagerly skimmed through to read Molly's column first thing. I was immediately intrigued by her cookie recipe and bookmarked it with one of those Post-It flags that I'm addicted to.

I was browsing around on the Bon Appétit website a few weeks later when I happened to notice that one of the most commented articles was the same one I'd marked. Confident that I'd read all kinds of praise, I clicked over and found mountains of comments complaining about wasted ingredients, burnt butter and terrible cookies.

Shocked, I continued reading through the comments until I caught sight of a note from an editor at BA--she had decided to post Molly's original recipe to see what people's reaction would be. The original recipe had been reworked by the test kitchen, as I'm sure is normal protocol for magazines, but in this case the new version hadn't gone over so well with readers.

I decided then and there to try the original recipe and soon.

Now, I'm not normally a crispy cookie kind of person. My personal preference runs much more towards ooey gooey insides. I am, in fact, deathly afraid of over baking anything, and therefore always start checking my cookies and cakes about 10 minutes before the recipe indicates.

These cookies made me a believer (and also taught me that I apparently can't cut in a straight line to save my life).

I started smelling brewing coffee, toasting almonds and melty chocolate about halfway through the baking time. After I pulled them out, cut and cooled them as instructed, I had to sneak one, though they were nowhere near crunchy. I thought they tasted all right, but the flavors didn't match up to the aromas that had been wafting towards me throughout the baking. I was a bit disappointed, can't lie.

However, the following morning, after leaving the cookies out overnight to fully crisp up, I was stunned. A rich smell of almonds combined with the smooth chocolate and crispy texture, while the undertone of coffee brought the whole thing together.

I brought them as a little housewarming gift to some friends and got nothing but widening eyes and "Oh my God, these cookies are amazing" over and over again. And when one of those friends went to culinary school and the other has been eating your food for decades, I consider that pretty high praise indeed.

Coffee Crunch Bars
Adapted from Molly Wizenberg, who adapted it from Leah Reich, who in turn adapted it from her grandmother, Mamie Chaiffetz
February 2009 issue of Bon Appétit

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
8 oz. (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup tightly packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup demerera sugar, pulverized in a coffee grinder a bit to get a smaller crystal (Molly calls for tightly packed dark muscovado sugar)
1/2 tsp. almond extract
2 Tbsp. high quality regular espresso, ground very finely (Molly calls for instant espresso)
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Whisk flour, baking soda and salt together in a medium bowl. Set aside.

In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugars together using an electric mixer or elbow grease and a wooden spoon, until the butter has lightened and the mixture looks a bit fluffy. (Molly's recipe says this should occur after 2 minutes with the electric mixer, while mine took about 5 minutes by hand).

Add the almond extract and instant espresso (or coffee) and stir for 1 minute to combine thoroughly.

Using a wooden spoon (if you weren't already), add the flour mixture in in three stages, taking care to mix just until the flour is absorbed. Add in the sliced almonds and chocolate chips and stir to evenly distribute them throughout the dough.

Turn the dough out onto an ungreased rimmed cookie sheet (about 12 inch X 17 inch), and use your fingers to evenly press the dough into a 12 inch by 12 inch square (Note: I totally missed this step and spread the dough out to fill the entire cookie sheet, and they turned out beautifully).

Bake for 25-30 minutes, until the edges have browned and the dough in the middle looks set.

Allow to cool in the pan for one minute, then immediately slice the cookies into 24 equal pieces and place them on a cooling rack (preferably overnight). The bars will crisp up as they cool.

Makes 24 bar cookies.

Note: These cookies taste even better the day after you make them, which is why I recommend making them right before bed and allowing them to crisp up overnight.

The other half

2009-02-04T11:51:00.002-06:00

Just over a week ago, I teased you guys with the story of a homemade yogurt that wasn't.

I tried this yogurt at a friend's "eat up the contents of my fridge" dinner party. The food was all deliciously spicy Indian and I was looking for water to cool my slightly burning tongue when I spotted the yogurt in a silver metal container across the counter. I grabbed it, and dolloped a few scoops onto my plate before eagerly tasting a spoonful.

It was lovely, with just the right amount of sugar and tang to counterbalance the spices of its neighbors. I quickly helped myself to more, and I have to admit hoarded the container rather greedily.

I asked for the recipe before I left, and Neel (the friend) was a bit surprised, but happy to provide it, and a starter, nonetheless.

When I fouled up the recipe the first time around, I was more than a little disheartened. Luckily, the kind soul who gave me the recipe provided me enough starter for two tries. I was confident that I wouldn't need them at the time, but am now ever so grateful that he bet on my failure.

I've successfully made this yogurt twice (I wanted to make sure that my success wasn't a fluke, but the norm), and it's as delicious as I remember.

This yogurt is not the dense stuff you'll find in grocery stores. The texture is altogether different--much closer to softly whipped cream. A bit runny, so that it pools around your slice of apple tart (that's how I first had my batch), but in a good way. It's also delicious mixed with a bit of last summer's jam and a smattering of granola. Or you could have it the way I first tasted it: alongside spicy Northern Indian food, taken in slurps to cool down your tongue.

The recipe is incredibly easy, so easy that I was kicking myself for screwing it up. In my defense, I tried to create a makeshift double boiler to keep from burning the milk and ending up with that slightly brown colored stringy milk solid at the bottom of the pan. Well, that "ingenious" idea utterly failed, as my version of the double boiler never brought the milk to a boil. If you have a proper double boiler (or a successful makeshift version), I encourage you to give it a shot. If you don't, then just do as I did--use a normal saucepan and strain out any caramel-y solids with a slotted spoon before adding your sugar and starter.

If you don't have a nice friend around the block who already makes their own yogurt and is willing to lend you a few scoops, then just turn to your grocery store. Find the best plain organic yogurt you can, and use that as your starter.

Oh, and if you're interested in a detailed breakdown of homemade yogurt, and specifically the kind that can be made with a proper yogurt maker machine, then have a look over here.

Homemade Yogurt
Adapted from Neel

4 cups lowfat, preferably organic, milk (I've used 1 and 2%)
6 tsp. sugar (more or less to taste)
2 Tbs. organic yogurt (this will be your starter)

Set the yogurt out on the counter and allow to come to room temperature.

Heat the milk in a double boiler (if you have one) over high heat just until it comes to a roiling boil, then immediately remove it from heat.

All the milk to cool to room temperature, then add the sugar and mix thoroughly.

Thoroughly mash the yogurt until smooth. (I like to put the starter in a small bowl and go at it with the back of a spoon, smashing it against the sides of the bowl.)

Add the starter to the milk and sugar mixture and combine thoroughly.

Cover the mixture with plastic wrap and let sit in a non-drafty place for 6-8 hours or overnight, until thickened.

*Note: The yogurt's thickness will depend on a variety of factors, not least of which is the consistency of your starter.

You know the one I mean

2009-01-27T23:03:00.004-06:00

I had heard about Delfina before I moved to San Francisco. It's the kind of restaurant that is periodically given rave reviews in all the top food magazines, not because of a change in chef or a radical new cooking technique, but because the food is so good.

The Italian menu changes seasonally, so you'll always have different choices, but there are a couple of standbys that make consistent appearances. These are the ones that you have to watch out for. These "standbys" include a particular salad and pasta that I made sure someone in my party ordered every single time. In fact, my SF restaurant guru insisted that I order this particular pasta, all the while warning that I might not be able to order anything else ever.

And she was so right--their pasta with tomato sauce is a lesson in simplicity and perfection. The pure, clean (and addictive!) taste of that sauce is unbeatable.

Sadly, I only had the opportunity to dine at Delfina twice, once for an anniversary and another occasion when a close friend came to town. On the latter visit, we also had an amazing dessert: pear sorbetto with ricotta gelato and candied walnuts. Whew...but, that's for another time and place when I have an ice cream maker make to play with.

Because of how much Jimmy loved this particular pasta (he always ordered it and I always stole half. See why I love the guy?), I made a mental note to try and find a suitable substitute. It wasn't until I read this particular entry from the lovely Molly at Orangette that I figured out where to start my search.

After clicking on the link above, you'll notice that Molly does a fabulous job of describing a luscious tomato sauce, even going so far as to compare it to Sophia Loren. You're probably wondering why you're even still reading this particular post, since Molly has obviously already found the ultimate recipe.

Now, I fully beseech you to try that tomato sauce, made with tomatoes, half an onion and butter. It is a lovely recipe from Marcella Hazan, one of my two favorite tomato sauces, in fact. I refer to it as my "winter" tomato sauce because the rich flavor is makes me want to curl up in front of a fire, a blanket over my legs and slurp away.

However, Ms. Hazan has another stellar tomato sauce tucked into her pages that brought me much closer to Delfina nirvana.

Her tomato sauce with garlic and basil has you chuck six cloves of garlic, a few good glugs of olive oil and a can of good quality tomatoes into a pan. You let it bubble away for about half an hour until the tomatoes "release the fat", in Ms. Hazan's lovely words--which makes perfect sense once you stand over the store and watch it happen. Add some salt and pepper, fresh basil and you're set.

This is one of those go-to dishes. You know the one I mean: the dish that you crave all the time, yet seem to make every other week and is, in fact, delicious enough that you would serve it to company.

Tomato Sauce with Garlic and Basil
Adapted from "The Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking" by Marcella Hazan

6 medium-large cloves garlic, peeled and diced
4 Tbs. olive oil, divided
1 28 oz. can good quality whole tomatoes
salt
pepper
crushed red pepper (optional)
fresh basil, chopped (optional)
1 lb. spaghetti (I've also used fettuccine and linguine here)

Fill a large pot with salted water and bring it to a boil.

Put the garlic and 3 Tbs. of olive oil in a large pan. Using your hands, crush each tomato before adding it to the same pan. Set aside the juices left in the can for another use.

Place the pan over medium heat, add salt, pepper and crushed red pepper (if using), and allow to simmer heartily for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. The sauce will be done once there are droplets of olive oil floating on the top of the tomatoes.

Taste the sauce for seasonings (I find that proper salting is particularly important with tomato dishes).

Cook the spaghetti until al dente and drain. Add it to the tomato sauce and toss to thoroughly combine. Add the remaining 1 Tbs. olive oil and mix once again.

Plate the spaghetti and top with the fresh basil, if using, and plenty of parmesan.

Serves 2-4.

An apple a day

2009-01-27T22:15:00.000-06:00

As some of you may or may not know, I am going to be traveling to France in February to help assist the woman who runs the cooking school On Rue Tatin, Susan Herrmann Loomis.

Now, you may be wondering how I got so lucky as to be able to score such a killer, and yes, I do mean, killer opportunity.

It's an amazing tale, so sit back, relax and prepare to be envious:

I wrote her an email...and she wrote back.

I know, I know, that could quite possibly be the most boring story ever, but sometimes that's how fabulous opportunities fall into your lap--you make it happen by simply asking the question.

Still in the planning stages of this adventure, I was wandering around a secondhand bookstore in San Francisco when I stumbled upon her memoir: On Rue Tatin.

Figuring that it might induce good karma or something, I went ahead and bought it, along with another cookbook that lies lonely in a storage shed in Iowa.

As I read through the memoir, hoping for a little insight to this lovely woman and her charming school, I couldn't help but appreciate her talents as a writer. Hers is the sort of memoir that makes you feel as if you're sharing stories over tea with an old friend. Exciting, romantic stories about moving to and living in France, but friendly, warm stories nonetheless.

I loved the book, and it got me even more excited to learn from her in her own kitchen.

Until that happens, though, I thought I'd brush up on my skills by tackling one of the recipes sprinkled throughout her memoir. Quite a few caught my eye, but one in particular stood out, and I sincerely believe that I'm not the only one susceptible to recipe titles that include the words "goat cheese" and "leeks".

At least, I hope not, for all of your sakes.

Baked Apples Stuffed with Goat Cheese and Leeks
Adapted from On Rue Tatin by Susan Herrmann Loomis

4 large apples, cored
1 cup white wine, preferably dry
1 bay leaf
2 Tbs butter
2 large leeks, white and light green parts only (She calls only for the white parts, but I used a bit more)
1 Tbs water
4 ounces goat cheese (She calls for 7, but I only picked up 4 on accident, and thought it worked fine. Choose whichever you'd like)
2 Tbs milk (She calls for creme fraiche or heavy cream. I didn't have either on hand and substituted milk with no problem)
Black pepper
Sea salt
Parsley (optional)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Peel one strip of skin around the outside middle of each apple (The apple should look like it has a pale sash tied around its waist). Place the apples in a baking dish and pour the wine in. Toss the bay leaf with the wine.

Cut the leeks in half, then rinse them well under a faucet or in a large bowl of water. Dice the leeks, then put them and 1 Tbs of butter into a large saucepan. Cook, taking care not to let the leeks stick, until the leeks begin to turn transparent. Add 1 Tbs water and stir. Cover the pan and allow leeks to continue cooking until tender about 10 minutes. Keep an eye on the leeks, and if they look like they're beginning to stick, add a bit more water.

Once the leeks are cooked, put them in a medium bowl. Add the goat cheese and the milk and stir until thoroughly combined. Season with a bit of salt and pepper to taste.

Lightly salt the inside of the apples. Stuff each apple with a quarter of the leek mixture, taking care to press it all the way down into the cavity of the apple. You'll have enough to mound some of the mixture on top.

Top each apple with 1/4 of the remaining 1 Tbs. of butter.

Bake the apples in the middle of the oven until the apples are tender and the leek mixture is dark golden, about 40-45 minutes.

Transfer apples to plates, garnish with parsley if you like and serve.

Serves 2-4.

Half a starter

2009-01-20T17:32:00.001-06:00

I thought that I was going to come to you today with a recipe for homemade yogurt, the most delicious yogurt I had ever tasted.

I tried said yogurt last weekend at a "Let's eat up my leftover Northern Indian food" impromptu dinner party that a friend threw the day before his parents were about to drop off another supply. Poor guy, hunh?

Alas, there sits on our counter a sad puddle of milk that swirls in a distinctly un-yogurt like way.

I do have half of my starter left (the kind soul who gave me the recipe apparently suspected I wouldn't have perfect luck on my first try), so I promise you that I will attempt to achieve delicious yogurt nirvana again and soon, so that I can pass it along.

In the meantime, will you accept a baked good instead?

One involving chocolate and frozen bananas, oh, and a cinnamon and sugar, chocolate-studded crust?

I thought you might, and hope you will, because this one is not to be missed!

Personally, I was never a big banana bread fan growing up. It was never something my parents baked, so my only experiences with it were the walnut-stuffed, overly sweetened versions that I tried at school cafeterias and bake sales.

I just never understood the love.

Now, pumpkin bread, on the other hand, is a completely different story. My mother makes the best pumpkin bread this world has ever seen. I gave her one of those baking pans shaped like a pumpkin one year just to try and see if I could increase her output, but instead got teased mercilessly by my sisters for such a "lame" gift. It turns out, the stuff just tastes better in loaf form.

But pumpkin bread is for another time. We're here today to talk about banana bread. My first ever banana bread, in fact. I don't think I'd mentioned that.

Yes, my friends, my first ever banana bread was baked last year in my SF apartment, when I had a bunch of frozen bananas in the freezer and three more sitting on my counter turning darker and darker.

I quickly turned to some of my favorite food blogs for inspiration, and hit the jackpot with banana bread-loving Molly. This lady has four different recipes for the stuff in her archives, so I knew I could count on at least one of them to take care of my browning bananas.

Oh, and I was so right, and so sad to have missed out on such a lovely treat for so many years. Please don't let the same thing happen to you. Go, bake it, then sit there, torturing yourself with the smell, as I am at this very moment, waiting for it to be done.

As perfect timing would have it, the timer went off just as I finished that sentence.

Now I just need to go warm up my coffee and wait for my requisite 30-second cooling period before I jump in.

Before I give you the recipe, I want to let you know that I ended up using Ghiradelli baking chips this go-round, because that's what I had on hand. I've used both, and they're both delicious, though I think I prefer chips, if I have the choice. That way you get a bit more of an even spread.

Banana Bread with Chocolate and Cinnamon Sugar
Adapted from Orangette and Everybody Likes Sandwiches

Batter:
3 very ripe medium-large bananas*
2 large eggs
1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp. pure vanilla extract
3/4 cup bittersweet chocolate chips

Topping:
2 Tbsp. granulated sugar
Additional ground cinnamon
1/4 cup bittersweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F and butter an 8x8 baking pan.

To Make Batter:
In a large mixing bowl, mash the bananas with the back of a fork until fairly smooth. Add in the eggs and mix well. Add the flour, sugar, baking soda, cinnamon and vanilla extract. Stir well to combine. The batter should be lovely and smooth at this point.
Stir in the chocolate chips and pour the batter into the prepared pan.

To Make Topping:
Put the sugar in a small bowl and add a couple of dashes of cinnamon. Stir briefly to combine, and sprinkle generously over the batter. Finish by sprinkling the remaining chocolate chips on top.

Bake for 35-45 minutes, until a knife inserted in the middle comes out clean of batter (there may be melted chocolate on there, but don't worry, that's a good sign).

Slice and enjoy ASAP.

*I've always used frozen for this recipe. When the bananas are get quite brown, just slip them out of their skins and into a plastic bag. When ready to use, defrost them on the counter a few hours before you're planning to bake them.

The end of an era

2009-01-16T17:15:00.008-06:00

For how lovely Phuket and Khao Sok were--and yes, I will begrudgingly admit that even Bangkok had some highlights--it was Chiang Mai that stole my heart.

How could it not when the first people I met were extremely generous and extremely drunk English people who offered us the use of their shower until a room opened up at the hostel?

Maybe they should give Chiang Mai a new city slogan: The City of Hospitality or maybe The Hospitable City. Hmmm...not doing very well with the original name thing. Oh well, if need be, I can attest that every person I met was incredibly gracious and cordial. Aside from the English people, the owner and staff of the hostel we stayed at asked us to join them for drinks and music one evening. And by music, I mean Thai pop songs performed on a classical guitar. It was more than a little hilarious.

Katie had been jealous of my Sapa trekking ever since she'd read my post. Doing some serious research before meeting me out in Thailand, she decided (and I concurred) that Chiang Mai was going to be our best bet in the short time we had in Thailand.

Happily, our hostel's trekking service had a Lonely Planet stamp of approval, so we decided to go with their one-day option that combined hiking, elephant riding and bamboo rafting.

Now, before you ask me if I'm not nearing the saturation point of elephant riding, I beg you to keep in mind that I love riding elephants, and, to go back to my seemingly ever-repeated mantra: One never has enough opportunities to ride elephants (or swim in waterfalls or what have you). Besides, it was part of the package.

The trekking was not the best I've had, since it consisted of an hour and a half on a trail next to a concrete-lined stream, nor were the elephants treated nearly as well as they had been in my previous experiences. Harumph.

On the positive side, the bamboo rafting was a blast.

Remember the bamboo train I told you all about a few posts ago? The one that was essentially bamboo poles lashed together? Well, just transfer those to the water, and you've got the raft that a guide, three other girls and I used to float down a river with rapids. Safety first, I always say.

The highlight of Chiang Mai may not have been our trekking adventure, but I did love the city itself, and had a lovely time at the cooking class we took on Thanksgiving. What better way to celebrate the American tradition of sharing and eating lots of food than to take a cooking course?

Katie and I chose to make reservations at The Chiang Mai Thai Farm Cooking School, after asking advice from this amazing lady.

We were picked up from our hostel, then taken straight over to a market for a Q&A about Thai food products, plus plenty of time to wander and explore. I doubt that I will ever tire of these now ubiquitous but entirely necessary market tours.

Once our marketing was finished, we piled back into the tuk-tuk to head out to the school's organic farm, where we were led on a tour, catching glimpses of about a hundred different kinds of basil, as well as eggplant, banana flower and mint.

We then prepared about five different courses, with Katie and I choosing different dishes from each course to maximize our Thai cooking knowledge with one glaring exception: there was absolutely no way that either of us was missing out on the beauty that is mango with sticky rice.

Sigh...

Other highlights included hand-pounded green curry paste and resulting green curry with chicken, papaya salad and pad thai.

The day after the Thai cooking class, I caught a plane to Jakarta to spend my last few days with my sister before heading back to the States. I managed to have an absolute blast drinking Amaretto cocktails at an amazing jazz club, as well as a disgusting display of over-indulgence in Western delicacies like wine, Steak Diane (with wagyu beef and pumpkin seed brioche, best still my heart!) and cheese at the Ritz's $30 Sunday brunch. My stomach was not nearly as pleased as my tastebuds: it took my stomach about a month to be able to digest dairy and cheese again after my accidental 3 month hiatus.

Katie finally made it home, though the Bangkok protests and subsequent airport closure made it much more of an adventure than she'd ever bargained for.

I'm still not sure if her parents will ever let her vacation with me again.

As for me, I made it back to the States, bleary-eyed and exhausted, but stepping out into the blustery Chicago weather and catching my first glimpse of snow in years put a spring right back into my step as I caught the El over to meet Jimmy.

The dishes I mentioned in the cooking class are incidentally all of the things (plus red curry and fresh spring rolls) that Katie and I decided to recreate once we got home and had a celebratory Thai dinner party in Houston over the holidays.

And yes, it was a big hit.

I'll have to share the pad thai and sticky rice techniques with you all at some point, as well as the green curry recipe, but I thought I'd start you off with a green papaya salad recipe.

Delicious and fresh tasting, it's also surprisingly filling. It may not be exactly what many of us are craving at the moment (it was 8 degrees below 0 yesterday!), but it could make a great counterpoint to a warming Thai-spiced soup.

Oh, and one more note: if you can't find green papaya, cucumber, cabbage, carrot or granny smith apple would be great substitutes.

Green Papaya Salad or Somtam
Adapted from the Chiang Mai Thai Farm Cooking School

2 cups of shredded (peeled and seeded) green papaya -- this is easy to do on a box grater, or you could try it out in a food processor and let me know how it goes
2 Thai hot red chillis, thinly sliced
3 peeled cloves of garlic
1 Tbs. lemon juice
2 tsp. sugar
1-2 long beans, cut into 1/2 inch pieces (if you can't find them, just leave them out)
1 tomato, sliced into 4-6 pieces (can be left out if not in season)
2 Tbs. crushed peanuts
1 Tbs. fish sauce
1/4 tsp. salt

Mash chillies, garlic and long bean pieces in a mortar and pestle until crushed into small pieces.
Add lemon juice, sugar, tomato and salt, then lightly crush until incorporated.
Toss dressing with shredded green papaya.
Serve topped with crushed peanuts.

Serves 1-2, depending on accompaniments.

Note: If you don't have access to a mortar and pestle, just finely chop the garlic and chillies, then whisk in the lemon juice, sugar and salt as if you're making a normal viniagrette. Toss with the veggies and enjoy!

A tree grows in Bangkok

2009-01-12T16:38:00.006-06:00

I love being reminded of the extremes in life. Take the long weekend I split between Bangkok and Khao Sok National Park. On the one hand you've got a crazy city, overwhelming and loud, and on the other hand you have this:

If you ever have the opportunity to spend the night in a tree house, I fully recommend it. Of course, let's be honest, the sleeping arrangements aren't that different from other places, insofar as there's a bed and a bathroom. But the huge staircase and tree through the middle of your deck...well, those are unique.

It was lovely to play Swiss Family Robinson for an evening. In fact, it was lovely to be able to feel cut off from the "real world" again, after a week in resort-land.

Our Jungle House brought me back to the land of lanterns and flashlights. After dinner, Katie and I stayed up, drinking Singha, while she taught me how to play rummy. I suppose there is hope for me in my old age.

I've always thought it would be fun to be one of those grandmothers who has friends over for card games or board games, chit-chat and cocktails. I'd also like to be a grandmother who can whip out a gorgeous pie at the drop of a hat (my own grandmother is a prime example), but I think I need a bit more practice on both the card games and the pies.

The following morning, after gobbling down a bowl of rice porridge with poached chicken, flavored with ginger and fish sauce, Katie and I took an elephant tour out in the jungle that included some time in a waterfall. As I said in my last post, there aren't nearly enough opportunities for waterfall swimming, so I helpfully forced Katie in.

The elephant guide also helped, dragging both of us up to the top of the waterfall to jump into the pool below.

I also find that there aren't nearly enough opportunities to sit up on the elephant's neck and walk with him through the jungle for an hour, pretending that you're a queen. You can bet that I took advantage of this one.

After getting back to the tree house and packing up, Katie and I decided to take our chances in catching a bus over to Surat Thani in order to find space on either an overnight bus or train to Bangkok for the next day.

We waited by the side of the road with our backpacks for a couple of hours before a minibus pulled over and the driver hopped out, waving us in.

We exchanged a look and a shrug, then threw our packs into the back of the bus and boarded, laughing. After a few exchanges of "Surat Thani?" "Yes?" "We need to go to Surat Thani?" "Yes, yes, okay", we were sufficiently comfortable to sit back, enjoy the rest of the ride and wonder where in Thailand we were going to end up.

Two hours and about 20 additional passengers later, we made it to Surat Thani, where a travel agency had an overnight bus to Bangkok set to leave in a few hours.

Hungry beyond belief, Katie and I asked for the nearest market, set off in that direction and found decent pad thai at the food stalls.

The next morning, at 5:30 a.m., we disembarked in Bangkok. After various inquiries and a bit of bargaining around the train station and the bus agency located on its top floor, we secured tickets on an overnight bus up to Chiang Mai for that evening. That, of course, meant we had an entire day to kill in Bangkok with no shower, a terrible night sleep from the previous evening, and another terrible night sleep to look forward to.

How did we get through it?

By walking the streets of the city in the early morning, stumbling across fruit vendors and markets.

Even the biggest, craziest cities have a period in the early morning when few people are out, and those that are, are quietly setting up their stalls and straightening their stores.

The rest of our day in Bangkok is a bit of a blur, to be honest. I remember stopping frequently for coffee and snacks to keep energy up and mutual frustration to a minimum.

I also remember heading to the city zoo only to be warned away by a riot signing detailing a policeman shooting a protester. It's certainly one way to discourage protesters. Didn't work, of course, but it kept us away from the area.

We wouldn't even have noticed the sign were it not for a motorbike driver hanging out on the side of the road. He looked us up and down, glanced down the road in the direction that we were going, caught my eye and slowly shook his head "no". It was that friendly intervention that brought my attention to the rather graphic warning sign, and in turn caused our abrupt aboutface.

After the zoo fiasco, we decided that a Thai massage and a friendly neighborhood hookah bar were in order. The massage was easy to find, but we had to deal with a conniving tuk-tuk driver who had us stop at two different stores (so that he could get a commission and we could get a free ride), and then dropped us off over a mile away from where we wanted to go!

We finally found the hookah bar and promptly collapsed into our metal chairs. An hour later we were off and running again (though not literally, thank goodness), heading to the train station for our bags.

I cannot say that Bangkok was my favorite place on my trip, but I made it through alive, and sometimes that's all you can ask for.

"Deep and slowly your breathing"

2009-01-11T15:59:00.010-06:00

After backpacking for months and staying in hostels with cold water showers and ant-covered walls*, I think that anybody would be ready for a change of pace.

Luckily for me, my parents have a vacation time share and offered me a week in the Marriott Phuket Resort in southern Thailand. I couldn't say "yes" fast enough, and neither could my good friend Katie, who took a two-week vacation to join me on the Thailand segment of my trip.

What a looker, eh?

By this point, I was long overdue for some indulgence, and I treated myself.

I woke up each morning in time for 8 o'clock yoga. After an hour class en plein air, Katie and I grabbed a smoothie, then headed to one of two plunge pools in the locker room of the fitness studio. We sipped our drinks and chatted for about an hour or so before heading up to our room to grab a book and some sunscreen.

The rest of the day was spent lounging by the pool under an umbrella, reading, sampling the free fresh fruit popsicles offered in big metal tubs and taking a dip whenever the heat got unbearable.

One afternoon brought an introduction to an adorable baby elephant named "Yum Yum". This cutie walked around the resort with its handler at the ocean's edge, and even allowed me to hop up on its neck and walk around a bit. The kids were enchanted, as was I.

Oh, and every once in a while Katie and I would head to the swim up bar for a quick cocktail. Not every day, mind you, but once or twice. As I said, I was ready to indulge.

We changed up the lunch and dinner routine every day, alternating between room service, the cafe or the official Thai restaurant at the resort. Our culinary highlight of the week was at the proper restaurant: shrimp poached in coconut milk with lime juice, red onion and hot red chilies.

I had to restrain myself from licking the bowl clean. Let's just say that it's a dish I plan to recreate at some point in the future.

Our last day at the resort, Katie and I decided to dive at nearby Ko Phi Phi Island.

Unfortunately, the weather did not cooperate, and the morning dawned gray, misty and a bit windy...and that was on land.

Once we got on the boat, Katie and I both turned green and I spent the rest of the ride holding on to the boat edge for dear life, praying feverishly that I would be able to keep my breakfast down.

Due to the incredibly choppy weather, our boat rerouted itself towards a nearer and calmer dive site Raja Yai (or Racha Yai). Once we got in the water, my stomach calmed down a bit and I was able to enjoy the vibrant colors of the fish, a sight that I still find unbelievable.

Since I already gave you a rough outline of my favorite dish from my week in Phuket, and I haven't yet developed a concrete recipe, I thought I'd give you some ideas for fresh fruit smoothies and juice that I enjoyed during my daily smoothie break.

Feel free to play with proportions and let me know if you try one! Add ice to the mango and blueberry smoothies for texture.

Blueberries, lime, vanilla yogurt, milk and honey (frozen blueberries would work well here, and be much cheaper this time of year)

Lemongrass and pineapple (make sure to chop the lemongrass before putting it in your blender--not sure how lemongrass works in a juicer)

Ginger, carrot and pineapple (make sure to chop the ginger before putting it in your blender--not sure how ginger works in a juicer)

Mango, pineapple and sweetened condensed milk

*Don't worry, not all of my hostels were that bad, but they definitely deteriorated over the course of my trip. I started out with hot water showers and beds with sheets and ended with terrible mattresses and ants climbing all over the walls and floors. Thank goodness for Phuket.

An early breakfast

2009-01-10T17:29:00.003-06:00

I thought that I had finally learned my lesson about cooking classes: whatever you do, do not eat breakfast beforehand. That way, you can eat more of the delicious food that you'll soon be preparing.

As a result, I stopped at a curbside coffee stand to grab a quick coffee on the way to the class, congratulated myself on remembering the above and proceeded to dump half of the coffee all over my arm and pants.

I arrived at the class in one piece, if slightly damp, and we immediately set off on the market tour. Every time I enter an Asian market, I am astounded at the colors, smells and sounds. Absolutely nothing like an American store or even an American farmer's market, it is barely controlled chaos. In other words, it is the best shopping experience imaginable.

After our marketing, we headed back to the school to start cooking. We worked on two dishes in the late morning for our lunch, and they ended up as my favorite dishes of the day.

Luang Prabang salad is a composed salad of lettuce, cucumber, tomato cilantro and hard-boiled egg, but it was the tangy vinaigrette that stole my heart.

Our other luncheon dish was chicken laap. As you may remember, I had already tried about a hundred different versions of fish laap within the past week, but chicken laap was a new one for me and a quick favorite. The different herbs make the entire dish taste fresh and clean...and undeniably delicious.

After lunch, we continued cooking, churning out an amazing sweet garlic-chili paste that is a favorite breakfast of Laotian children when paired with sticky rice, stir-fried ground chicken with eggplant, and of course, all the sticky rice you could eat.

I was stuffed after the class, and spent the rest of the evening at an amazing bookshop that shows movies every night in their upstairs lounge. Imagine stacks of comfy pillows and low tables that keep your hot tea within reach.

The following morning, my last in Luang Prabang, I got up early to observe a traditional Buddhist ritual: alms giving.

Each morning before dawn, monks sheathed in traditional orange robes walk barefoot in single file down the main street in Luang Prabang. Waiting for them are the women residents of the city, with bowls of sticky rice. A bucket in hand, the monks bend down to the seated women, exchanging blessings for nourishment.

This is the only food the monks will receive all day, every day.

If you hadn't already guessed, this place stole my heart. The combination of a gorgeous location near the misty river, stunning architecture, tremendous food, beautiful people and laidback atmosphere was seductive.

What can I say? I fell in love.

Here’s the recipe for the Luang Prabang Salad, as promised. Even if you don’t take the time to make the composed salad as I describe below, the dressing itself is delicious and a tossed salad with all of the ingredients would still be lovely. If you decide to make just the dressing, I find that it’s particularly good with salad leaves that have a bit of a bite, such as arugula and watercress.

Luang Prabang Salad
Adapted from Tamnak Lao Cooking School

2 handfuls salad leaves (arugula is good here)
2 handfuls watercress leaves, stems removed
1 sliced tomato
1 sliced medium cucumber
1 Tbs crushed unsalted peanuts (a mortar and pestle is good for this, or you can throw a handful into a plastic bag, seal it, then go to town with a rolling pin or heavy can—just don’t make peanut butter!)
1 Tbs minced pork, sauted with a little oil until cooked through (optional)
1 sliced hard boiled egg
½ bunch cilantro

2 hard boiled egg yolks
2 Tbs olive oil
2 Tbs white vinegar (white wine vinegar may be substituted here, but you will probably have to add a touch more to get the tang you’re looking for)
1 Tbs sugar
½ tsp freshly ground black pepper
¼ tsp salt

To make the dressing:
Place the hard boiled egg yolks in a blender, along with the oil, vinegar, sugar, pepper and salt. Blend until smooth. Taste for seasoning.

To prepare the salad:
Wash and thoroughly dry the salad leaves and watercress. Combine them, then divide between two plates, piling the leaves high in the middle of each plate.
Drizzle half of the salad dressing over the leaves.
Overlap the cucumber slices in a circular pattern around the outermost edge of the salad leaves. Take care to cover the outer salad leaves completely.
Overlap the tomato slices in a circular pattern just inside the cucumber ring.
Overlap the egg slices in a circular pattern around the inside of the tomato rings, taking care to cover the salad leaves completely.
Sprinkle the crushed peanuts and pork, if using, across the top of the egg and tomato slices.
Drizzle the remaining salad dressing over the salads.
Coarsely chop the cilantro and sprinkle atop the salads.
Serve immediately.

Serves 2 as a main course.

Cooling off in paradise

2009-01-09T15:46:00.002-06:00

The bus ride from Vientiane up to Luang Prabang was about 8 hours of non-stop mountains. The guidebook had warned that those prone to motion sickness should either consider another form of travel or stock up on some pills.

Now, normally, I am absolutely prone to car sickness when I'm a passenger, so I was a bit worried after reading the above. However, I did neither, and happily had no problem. That's probably due to the fact that I stared out the window the entire time, completely lost in the stunning views.

At the end of the bus ride, I ended up meeting two very sweet girls who were also looking for a hostel in Luang Prabang. We decided to try and find a place together to cut down on costs and hopped on a tuk-tuk into town.

After finding a really nice place for about $4 each per night with tv AND hot water (oh, the luxury!), we headed off in the general direction of the Night Market.

Oh, was that a terrible idea for my pocketbook.

The place was chockful of gorgeous handmade silk scarves, homemade paper, paintings and sculptures. The jewelry--earrings are my go-to presents for my sisters--was limited and not too exciting, but to be honest, initially I was too busy drooling over all of the scarves to notice. The girls literally had to drag me away from the booths in order to head over to a vegetarian buffet stall set up in an alley.

For the equivalent of one dollar, you can fill up one plate with piles of delicious vegetarian offerings, including some julienned vegetable salads, ramen noodles, rice and stir-fried vegetables (think cabbage, cauliflower). The cook then warms the pile of food with some oil and sauces in the wok behind the stall before handing it back for you to enjoy. Beer lao is, of course, available, as are spring rolls for an additional price.

My advice: Skip the spring rolls, add the beer lao, then head over to the long table down the alley. Wiggle onto the bench, grab a pair of chopsticks and chili sauce, and dig in. Oh, and don't get too freaked out when a cute cat appears out of nowhere and decides to hop on your lap halfway through the meal.

My second day in Luang Prabang, as deliciously cool as the first evening, began with a search for cooking schools in the area. I had planned to take a course at Tamarind, but ended up at the Three Elephant Cooking School, due to Tamarind's evident popularity. Turns out that I was lucky to get a reservation at the latter as well, and for good reason. But more on that later.

As I was saying, I reserved my spot at the cooking school for the next day, then met back up with the girls to plan a trip to a nearby waterfall.

Kouangxi Waterfall is a popular afternoon trip, which means entrance fees and tourists, but it was absolutely worth it. You start off walking down a path that draws you near a black bear resue center. After oohing and aahing and making comments about the adorable bears in front of you, you can head farther up through the forest to the waterfall.

And what a waterfall.

Before you even get to the main event, you pass through different levels where the ground has evened out a bit and formed lovely pools where you're allowed to swim. It was absolutely freezing, but there was no way I was going to miss out. In my mind, you just don't have nearly enough opportunities in life to swim in waterfalls. (Right, Katie?)

So in I went, freezing and unsuccessfully trying to stiffle a bloodcurling scream when my shoulders went under.

I even got up the courage to jump off of a tree into the swirling waters.

This place was paradise, without a doubt.

After toweling off and climbing back into the minivan that would take me back to the city, I dug into a delicious chicken and mayo baguette sandwich I'd packed. Now, this is just my opinion, but I found the baguette sandwiches--a staple throughout SE Asia, thanks to French colonization--to be the best in Laos. The chicken and mayo sandwich, loaded up with cucumber, lettuce and tomato, as well as chili sauce (ask for it, it's a must!), was a perfect combination of flavors and textures, the Laos version of its neighbor's more famous banh mi.

After a hot shower back at the hostel, my friend and I wandered around the main streets of Luang Prabang, admiring the French Colonial architecture.

We sat down once nightfall arrived to enjoy a Beer Lao, which turned into three, then headed back to the veggie buffet for another cheap meal.

Walking around the streets again after our meal, we were waved over by a few Laotian guys around my age. We ended up staying and drinking some more Beer Lao as they practiced their English on us. After a few hours of chatting, we joined them at a real Laos bar, and by real, I mean that my friend and I were the only non-Asians in the place. We even tried a traditional Laos bar food: boiled buffalo skin with chili-garlic sauce.

And no, I probably wouldn't recommend it.

Sunshine and cold beer

2008-12-30T16:03:00.003-06:00

Once I came back to "modern" society via boat and yet another overnight bus, I found myself in Laos' capital city, Vientiane. After a 45 minute hunt around the city to find a hostel that had available rooms, let alone rooms in my price range (of which there were none), I showered and left my sick traveling companion in the room.

As I walked outside, I noticed the chill. It had been weeks and weeks, since Sapa to be exact, since I had been able to walk outside without immediately sweating. Gross, maybe, but true. I'm only telling you this so that you can try to imagine my delight on being able to walk outside without sweating AND with my hair down. Sigh...it was bliss.

The scenery didn't hurt either.

So I wandered around the quiet capital city, turning corners at whim, switching from sidewalk to sidewalk depending on which side was sunniest. I gradually found my way to a restaurant that I'd read about in the guidebook, a place known for its spring rolls and pork brochettes (think pork kebabs).

I strolled up to a very busy storefront, with the "kitchen" out front, spread across two carts. There was a line of people shouting orders at the cooks working busily behind the glass displays of about eight different kinds of fresh spring rolls, piles of fresh herbs, plates of lettuces, and a completely full dining room inside.

I was a bit overwhelmed, and held back a bit, in order to watch and figure out the best approach. Apparently, my confusion and skepticism at breaking this restaurant's particular entrance code was quite recognizable, as a man to my right turned to me, smiled and asked a bit tentatively in French if I needed help.

Smiling gratefully, I explained that everything looked delicious, but I wasn't really sure what the procedure was, how to score a table or what to order. He introduced me to his lovely wife and daughter, then he and his wife recommended a few things to me, told me how much to order, and instructed me to snatch up a table as soon as I saw anyone making any kind of a motion to get up. The place was busy!

I gave him another grateful smile (I'm good at those), then squared my shoulders, ready to jump in as soon as I saw an opening at one of the tables.

Five minutes later, I was still squared up and waiting, and the helpful Laotian family were on their way out to share their food with family waiting at home. Looking back, the father saw me and came back to help. He asked the ladies if there were any tables free and to look after me to help me get the next available one. Then, giving me a smile, he headed off with his daughter looking suspiciously at me over his shoulder.

Two minutes later, I sat down to the spread you see above, along with a rather large Beer Lao, and utterly gorged myself on roll your own pork brochette spring rolls.

After I had thoroughly enjoyed and stuffed myself, I wandered around a bit more before I decided that the best way to cap off this lovely day was to find myself a little corner, grab a book and watch the world go by.

Which I did.

The following day I took a bus from the 1970s to Vang Vieng, the infamous land of drunken river tubing. I didn't have enough time to partake in the festivities, as I was heading the following day to Luang Prabang and arrived too late to be off the river by dark. Since I'd heard a horror story of tramping barefoot through the brush in the darkness from a traveler in Vietnam, I thought it was better to forgo the tubing.

Just so you know, the tubing is supposed to be a great time, with bars lining the river, along with mud beach volleyball courts, zip lines and rope swings. It just wasn't enough to convince me to miss out on Luang Prabang.

I did, however, take a rather spectacular walk at sunset, enjoy a few Friends reruns and have probably three mango shakes. Oh, that and some more fish laap and sticky rice. Hmmm...I think that I'm beginning to sound predictable.

Anyway, instead of a long post about my experiences in Vang Vieng, which, to be honest, weren't incredibly interesting, I thought I'd leave you with some pictures of a beautiful town with a deteriorating reputation for nothing more than booze and backpackers.

Racing against the clock

2008-12-27T13:15:00.006-06:00

As soon as I left Vietnam, I knew I was in trouble.

Timewise, that is.

Though I'm not trying to complain that I didn't have enough time on my trip, trying to cram an entire country into one week, including bus travel, was quite a challenge. Turns out that time management is a crucial part of backpacking.

With one week in which to see Laos, I had only enough time to hit the highlights, so time-consuming activities like this or this were out of the question, no matter how attractive.

I took the overland bus trip to Cambodia, which sucked up two days in minivans, but did save me quite a bit of money and brought me directly to Si Phan Don.

Si Phan Don, otherwise known as the Four Thousand Islands, is a collection of tiny islands in the Mekong located at the lower border of Laos. Famous for its lazy river attitude, the place claims shore-line bungalows and electricity about three hours each day.

I got up early, and with a new friend, walked across the island on my way to the local waterfall. As we were padding over to the waterfall under the steadily warming sun, a large truck came plundering up the dusty road. Full of Thai tourists, they pulled over and rearranged themselves so that we could hop on, then we all continued down the road, over the bridge, to the waterfall.

After a stroll around the waterfall and a snack of coconut, which I shared with a stray dog nearby, my friend and I walked back towards our bungalows. On the way, we got another free lift. Those Thai tourists, so friendly and accomodating.

Once we were back on the road on our island, we passed by the bakery where we'd had a mediocre breakfast that morning. I have pretty high standards for scrambled eggs, and unfortunately, the bakery did not achieve them. That's what I get for having a grandmother who made rhubarb pies from scratch and scrambled eggs that made it easy to get up in the morning. That, and Cheerios with a spoonful of sugar, though, come to think of it, that was actually Grandpa's influence. The man loved his sugar...and slices of cheddar cheese with his apple pie, a habit I have kept up.

Speaking of sugar, my friend and I decided to stop in to the bakery on our way back. Delicious smells wafted out, drawing us in. I ordered a round little carrot cake muffin and a coffee. The cake was moist and chockful of nuts, which, in my opinion, is one of the the only baked goods in which nuts are welcome. Not in brownies and definitely not in banana bread. Is that just me?

Anyway, I got through exactly two bites of the cake before I went into sugar overdrive. It's amazing how much sugar one cuts out when traveling in Asia on a budget. My hands were literally shaking as I tried to slowly finish the cake. "Tried" being, I'm ashamed to say, the operative word.

Quickly spiraling into a sugar coma, I headed back to my bungalow's front porch. Grabbing a book, I flopped onto a hammock and spent the rest of the afternoon swinging between sleep and lazy reading.

That night I had what would become the Laotian equivalent of my fish amok obsession. Laap is a cold salad, made with minced protein (chicken and fish are my favorite) stirred up with lots of lovely spices, chilis, onion, garlic and heaps of fresh herbs.

This fateful evening, I ordered a lovely fish laap, complete with sticky rice galore. I'm not sure I did it correctly, but I scooped some of the laap into the accompanying lettuce leaves, pinched and rolled a ball full of sticky rice in my right hand (always the right!) to top it, then shoved the thing in its entirety into my mouth. Oh, and then I moaned a little bit.

Ladies and gentleman, a new addiction has been born.

Picture update

2008-12-16T01:10:00.001-06:00

Just wanted to let you all know that I've finally added photos to supplement my previous posts.

Enjoy!

Discovering playgrounds

2008-12-11T17:28:00.007-06:00

All right, time for another confession: Angkor Wat was not my favorite.

I realize that that is practically sacrilegious to admit, but when you see it on your third day of "templing" in sweltering heat, the kind of heat that pushes down on your chest while your ears fill with the muffled symphony of thousands of insects, well, maybe then it's easier to understand how its sheer size could leave me feeling a bit blasé. Plus, did I mention that this was my THIRD straight day of temples?

Don't misunderstand me, Angkor Wat was, no, is amazing. It's just that there were so many other temples, slowly surrendering to natural ruin, covered in winding tree roots that were much more fun to explore and interesting to photograph. The ruinous ones felt like my personal jungle gyms.

I used the first day of my 3-day pass to explore some of the temples that were quite a few clicks out of town.

Banteay Samre seemed to have been designed as if it were surrounded by water. Between walkways, there were sheer drops 10 feet deep, reminding me of moats and dragons. This temple was also home to a monk, seated beneath an offering and a bowl of incense, who gestured to me with a rather charming smile. Once I removed my shoes and kneeled next to him on his mat, he chanted while lighting another stick of incense, then wrapped and tightly tied a red string of good luck to my right wrist.

The River of 1000 Lingas showcased technical ingenuity. Reached after a two kilometer hike through the woods, I wasn't even sure what I was looking for, until I followed the gaze of a few other travelers to the riverbed. There, carved underneath the gurgling water, were literally hundreds of carvings.

Most of them were lingas and perfectly circular stones, but I also spied some Vishnus for variety.

The icing on my cake was found at the end of the trail. Before looping back to the tuk-tuk parking lot, the trail led me to a waterfall where I splashed around and cooled off.

My second day did not dawn well for temple exploration. I woke up to the pouring rain clattering on the tin roof of my guesthouse. After a leisurely breakfast of stir-fried mixed vegetables and rice (not exciting, perhaps, but such delicious breakfast food). The storm abated and I made my way to "my" deserted temple.

Of course, Preah Khan wasn't completely deserted, but its maze of rooms and walkways, many blocked by fallen walls and columns, allowed me to wander off from the major halls, down, over and around a few piles of ruined stones to find myself completely alone in total silence for minutes.

As I previously mentioned, by my third and final day at the Angkor temples, I was nearly templed out. Though its sheer size and preservation were, I admit, impressive, it was the intricately carved bas-reliefs that held my attention, as well as proved useful as shade from the hot noon sun. Plus, when there's another temple awaiting you that afternoon that is covered in faces, it can be a little distracting.

Bayon was constructed to have hundreds of stone Buddha faces (by huge I mean faces bigger than I am tall) facing in all four directions. For extra fun, the Buddhas are said to bear a distinct likeness to the king at that time, Jayavarman VII.

Vanity seems a small price to pay for such a magnificent relic. Spooky though...I had this weird feeling of being watched.

No food news today, guys. Siem Reap was the city of temples, not of dining. I promise to provide a good introduction to Laotian cuisine in the next update to make it up to you all!

Freedom in dusty roads

2008-12-09T16:02:00.006-06:00

I love the idea of getting off the beaten track.

So much so, in fact, that I played a little game while I was away: "count the foreigners". Pretty self explanatory, really: every time I'd see someone I could identify as a foreigner, I'd call out "boul-ay", which is my phonetic transcription of the Indonesian word for foreigner, as taught by my sister. I played this game throughout my trip, garnering strange stares when I was around said boulays. I tried to avoid pointing but sometimes, eh. In general, the fewer boulays I saw, the more exciting the place turned out to be.

What does this have to do with me getting off of the beaten path, you might ask? Well, my next stop allowed me the fewest boulay identifications of my entire time in Cambodia. For that, and for some other reasons, I loved the place.

Battambang is known to tourists as "that place with the bamboo train". The bamboo train was, in fact, my entire reason for heading there. I'd read some tantalizing descriptions in my guidebook, though hadn't heard many first-hand accounts, which increased its mysterious appeal even more.

Of course, unless you've ever traveled to or planned to travel to Cambodia, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about when I say "bamboo train". If you're picturing a full steam locomotive constructed entirely out of bamboo...you're not even close. If, however, you have in mind a horizontal fence post of bamboo tied together with string lying across two bar-bells attached to wheels powered by a lawnmower engine, you're getting warmer.

The experience is nothing less than thrilling, as you climb atop the train, remove your shoes and hunker down. Soon, you find yourself throttling along an extremely overgrown path, being whipped and scratched by bushes growing over the tracks. Behind you might be a motorbike, piles and piles of rice sacks five feet high, or maybe just a pregnant woman and her mother-in-law getting a free ride from the nice driver. If it's the latter, then they may insist that you sit in front, smiling and laughing a little bit at your obvious excitement over their everyday trip.

As I've mentioned before, I traveled quite a bit with an Aussie named Petar. With most every aspect of our time traveling together, we seemed to want to do the same things: wander around as much as possible and eat the craziest and tastiest morsels we could find. However, Petar also had what I will politely call an obsession: he wanted to rent motorbikes for a day, and he wouldn't let it go.

To be honest, I wasn't exactly keen on the idea, seeing as it's been over 10 years since I was on a bicycle, I can't drive a manual car let along a motorbike and I was familiar with the state of roads in Cambodia (not good--plus there's that whole unexploded land mine thing).

So, we compromised.

And I discovered a new talent: I am a natural at riding on the back of a motorbike.

It's hard to describe how free you feel whizzing past rice field upon rice field, stopping only to pick up a 2 liter pop bottle filled with pink(?) gasoline to refill the tank, or to explore that pretty temple hiding behind the crumbling wall just ahead.

The gloriously pink sunset that erupted at the end of the day, leaving me glancing over my right shoulder for a solid 30 minutes, well, that wasn't too bad either.

My days in Battambang were thrilling, to say the least. And foodwise, they were filled with delicious fruit shakes. Fruit shakes, essentially fruit milk shakes, are a staple all over Cambodia, but the ones in Battambang truly shined. Instead of a strict recipe today, I'm going to give you a general outline of what should go in a proper shake, plus a few ideas of fruit combinations. Seeing as it's December, the tropical fruits might be a bit harder to come by, but frozen fruit's always an option.

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Fruit Shakes

As I said before, there really isn't much of a recipe here, just a general outline of ingredients. The best shakes I tried included at least two kinds of fruit, some ice and the most SE Asian ingredient I know: sweetened condensed milk. Roll your eyes, if you must, but those cans were as ubiquitous as lemongrass and ginger.

In terms of proportions, think in terms of handfuls.

Combine two handfuls of one fruit, one handful of the other, another of ice and a good-sized drizzle of sweetened condensed milk. Blitz in the blender and enjoy.

The following are my two favorite combinations, though feel free to throw in whatever you'd like. I have a feeling that a Blueberry/Lime combo would be fantastic:
Mango and Pineapple (Make the mango the two handful portion)
Coconut and Jackfruit (You could try just the coconut, since Jackfruit's not that common over here, or try substituting in a bit of pineapple)

Loosening the belt

2008-12-08T14:10:00.004-06:00

When I read in my trusty Lonely Planet guidebook that Sihanoukville was Cambodia's answer to St. Tropez, I pictured white beaches, gorgeous people sunning themselves on the beach, fruity cocktails with those little umbrellas sticking up, way overpriced food...you know, the usual jet set fantasy.

What I should have remembered was that I was in Cambodia, and no matter how "St. Tropez"-y a guide book claims a city to be, I was not about to find little umbrellas, undressed locals or overpriced food. This is Cambodia, people! The food is delicious and cheap, and Cambodians play in the surf fully clothed...and, not to change the subject, but that made me feel fairly uncomfortable and very immodest in my two-piece. Eh, so it goes.

Sihanoukville is an incredibly fun town. Most of the action is centered ocean-side, with bar upon bar upon bar lining the surf. Each bar has roughly the same menu, prices and same people hawking the same bracelets and games. They even share the same boys walking around, trying to engage you in "games" that will leave you scratching your head and wondering how you just lost the equivalent of 5USD to a scrawny little 11 year old (I saw it happen more than once).

Incidentally, the boys all follow the exact same speech when they find out there's an Aussie in their midst:
"G'day Mate! Ozzie, ozzie, ozzie, oy, oy, oy!"
Can someone explain this to me, please?

This town is a backpacker's dream. The only effort you have to put out is to walk down to the beach and flop on one of the couches or lounge chairs. The rest of your day can be filled to the brim with booze, sun and fun.

Of course, this is me we're talking about here, and while I can take a few days of the above, I tend to get a little antsy if I feel like I'm looking a bit too similar to the barbecued meats sizzling next to me.

Happily, my older sister had made me swear to take a cooking class in Sihanoukville while I was there, and I take promises to my sisters very seriously, especially when they involve food.

Khmer Cooking is located in a house a bit out of town, on the upstairs open-air level, outfitted with individual cooking stations including wok and mortar and pestle. I signed up for the whole-day cooking class, which allowed me to indulge in fresh spring rolls, fish amok (yes!), banana flower salad and mango with sticky rice (my special request).

The first two dishes were prepared alongside some lovely Swedish tour group leaders camped out in Cambodia for six months. The fresh spring rolls were as delicious as always, though made a bit more interesting with the use of crumbled bacon as the protein in lieu of the traditional shrimp or pork.

And the fish amok...well, let's just say that the first bite was akin to the moment in movies where a direct light shines down, seemingly from the heavens and you can hear Handel's Hallelujah chorus in the background. Come to think of it, each bite had that effect on me.

The second two dishes I prepared myself, as I was the only one who had signed up for a full-day class that day. That just meant I had more time with our lovely instructor to pepper her with questions.

The banana flower salad was a surprise, as I'd never even heard of a banana flower before I saw it on the menu (so much for being informed). The banana flower itself, sliced very very thinly on a bias, didn't add a pronounced flavor, but the crunchy texture was indispensable. Imagine pretty purple thin carrot rings tossed in a sweet yet tangy dressing with poached chicken and you'll have some idea of its deliciousness.

And the mango with sticky rice, you might ask? Sheer heaven, as I knew it would be. This particular version used freshly grated coconut rather than the already prepared coconut milk, which made for a slightly less creamy but still delightful dessert. Oh, and the perfectly ripe mango slices fanned on top might have had something to do with me doing my best to clean my plate and the subsequent bellyache that developed later that day. You can't let food like that go to waste.

I gave myself some extra time after the meal to slowly sip some wine (My God, but I had missed the vino!), digest and ask my teacher specific questions about the recipes. An incredibly sweet lady, she went over each recipe step by step with me, so I could add all of her individual tweaks to the printed version, which I will pass along soon enough.

Update (12/9/08): Below is my version of fish amok, adapted with help from my lovely teacher.

Fish Amok
Adapted from Khmer Cooking Class, Sihanoukville, Cambodia

If you have a mortar and pestle, I highly recommend using it here to get the proper paste texture. If, however, you don't have the time or inclination, it's perfectly acceptable and less tiring to make the spice paste in a food processor. The following makes an individual portion, as that is how it is generally served, but it's quite easy to double, triple or quadruple the ingredients and just make a much larger spice paste mixture to begin with.

1 firm white fish fillet cut into bite-size pieces (snapper would work great here)
1 14 oz. can, or about 2 cups, coconut milk, stirred to reincorporate both milk and cream
3 sheets of banana leaf (corn husks could be substituted here if necessary, or just use an oven-proof bowl)
1 red chili, sliced
2 kaffir lime leaves, sliced (leave out if unavailable)

Spice Paste:
1 quarter-sized chunk of galangal (substitute equal amount ginger if you can't find it)
1 Tbs roasted peanuts
1 large shallot
3 cloves garlic
3 dried red chilies, rehydrated by soaking in warm water for about 20 mins
1 Tbs chicken bouillon
3 tsp sugar
2 stalks lemongrass, only using white portion
1 tsp turmeric powder
3 kaffir lime leaves (substitute rind from one small lime and 1/2 tsp. lime juice if unavailable)

Start off by cutting the banana leaves into circles about 25 cm in diameter. Run them very quickly under warm running water to dampen. Layer the three circles one on top of the other, then fold in four corners, securing them with toothpicks to create a lidless box or basket.

Finely chop the lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves and galangal. Add them, along with the turmeric, to the mortar and pestle and start pounding away (or, alternatively, throw them into the food processor). Next finely chop the shallot, garlic cloves, peanuts and rehydrated chilies before tossing them into the mixture as well. Once those are incorporated, add the sugar and chicken bouillon. Continue pounding or food processing until you have a thick, smooth paste.

Place a steaming basket over water and bring to a boil.

Heat your wok or large skillet on high and add the spice paste. Stir-fry for approximately 2 minutes, then add 2/3 of the coconut milk (about 1 1/2 cups). Continue stir-frying until the paste and coconut milk are a uniform color throughout. Add in the fish pieces, stir to coat, then place everything in your banana leaf basket.

Add remaining coconut milk to the top of your fish mixture, then garnish with red chili and kaffir lime leaf slices. Place banana leaf basket into your steamer basket, cover and let steam for approximately 20 minutes.

Serve in banana leaf basket with fresh jasmine rice on the side.

Serves 1.

Singing in the rain

2008-12-07T02:05:00.001-06:00

Kampot is a tiny town in southern Cambodia, about a two-hour minibus ride east of Sihanoukville, a popular beachy tourist destination. Lying a bit off of the typical tourist trail, Kampot's claim to fame are its caves, in which semi-intrepid travelers can fawn over centuries-old temples found inside.

I only had about 24 hours in Kampot, but wanted to enjoy something cultural and a bit off the beaten path before heading to Sihanoukville the following day. As soon as I found an open room in the fourth guesthouse I tried, I dropped my bags, shook off a bit of dust and fatigue, and hopped into a tuk-tuk.

Of course, the second I hopped in, I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the huge storm brewing. As a former lifeguard from Iowa, I made it my business to recognize anything which might cause a pool closure and thereby give me a free afternoon, so believe me when I say that I knew this one was going to be a doozy. The rain started not long after we pulled out, and a little boy jumped on the back of the tuk-tuk,getting not only a reprieve from the rain, but also a free ride.

Once we stopped, the driver informed me that it was another two km walk through the rice fields to get to the caves. Conveniently, one of the eight children that are continually clustered near the entrance to the path towards the caves (lying in wait for tourists) offered to run home and get ponchos for us for a small fee. I laughed when I saw him set off barefoot in the pouring rain to find us ponchos, with my money clutched in his fist.

Once he came back and I was properly outfitted with my pants pulled up as far as I could get them, we all set off, and by "we", I mean me, the tuk-tuk driver, my traveling buddy and our new eight guides. The rain had already turned the path into pure mud, and I wisely let one of the girls carry my flip-flops so that they weren't lost forever in the rice fields of Cambodia. For some reason, the girls in particular took a liking to me and we exchanged ages, names and songs (I went with Disney on the way over) while tramping through the mud puddles towards the cave.

Once we got to the cave, I have to admit that the temple itself was slightly underwhelming. While beautiful, especially considering its age, it wasn't nearly comparable to the fun I'd just had walking through the rain, singing songs. Luckily, the temple wasn't the end of my cave adventure.

Noticing my only partially hidden lack of interest in the historical monument in front of me, the tuk-tuk driver suggested that we go check out the bat cave right around the corner. Intrigued, I agreed and we headed down, using my tiny, two inch long flashlight as our light source.

And that is how I found myself rock-climbing barefoot in a wet bat cave, and I don't say rock-climbing lightly, because there were some serious boulders to maneuver around. I was searching for foot and hand holds, and I barely even know what that means. All I knew was that if I hurt myself down there, there was no way any of those school kids was going to be able to drag me back up, so I had to be quite careful. Of course, those "school kids" looked like mountain goats, hopping from rock to rock with ease, while holding my flip-flops and extending a hand when necessary (that was frequently).

After slithering, jumping and shimmying my way to the bottom of the cave, I waded through a pool of collected rainwater lined with mud that made that lovely squelch with each step. We finally arrived at the bat cave, and listened to intermittent squeaks and the flap of wings in the darkness.

I made my way back up to the mouth of the cave, and we retraced our way back through rice paddies, this time singing "Beautiful Girl" at the urging of the boys, while "Jingle Bells" was requested by the girls. And still the rain fell, creating homemade slip 'n slides for the kids.

I don't remember the last time I had so much fun.

The next day, before heading to Sihanoukville, I stopped at a lovely cafe run by an English couple. The place was lovely, light and airy, with some of the best jam I've ever had. I haven't played with proportions yet, but they did reveal the simple ingredient list, which I've passed along below. I can't wait to try it out.

Banana Jam

Bananas
Sugar
Cinnamon
Ginger

A day of reckoning

2008-12-06T13:41:00.001-06:00

Every tourist to Phnom Penh has the ubiquitous circuit to complete to claim that they've really "seen" the city. On it are sites ranging from the National Palace with its Jade Buddha and dress code, the Russian Market with its stalls and stalls of knockoff purses and shirts and two of the most heart-breaking places I've ever seen: Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and the Killing Fields.

It may be hard to imagine that places with unspeakables like "genocide" in the name can be on a tourist circuit, but there you have it. Street corners in the tourist areas of the city are crowded with tuk-tuk (a 3-wheeled taxi/motorbike combo) drivers shouting with a smile "You want to go Killing Fields? Tuol Sleng? See Central Market?" It's slightly unreal.

My morning started off at the Killing Fields, located about 30 minutes outside of the city in the peaceful countryside. Once dropped off, and with ticket paid for, you found yourself confronted with a tall stupa, filled to the top with row upon row of glass-encased human skulls.

Upon reaching the foot of the monument, you walk up a few steps to a sign that instructs you to remove your shoes and hat out of respect. There is a mat, with incense continually lighted, where anyone is welcome to kneel and pray. Up two more steps, you come face to face with the skulls, cleaned but still bearing indentations and marks from being struck. Walking around and around, the obvious and simple emotion is to feel sad or disgusted, or maybe your breath will just catch in your chest like mine did.

The rest of the Killing Fields, so named because this is where prisoners from the torture prison known as Tuol Sleng came to be killed, consists of fields with large craters. You see, people were brought here with one purpose: to be killed, mostly by being smacked in the head with a shovel or the butt of a gun or a stick in order to save bullets, then loaded into mass graves. The craters are those graves that have been excavated, though there are still more suspected farther out in the fields.

Visitors can walk along the well-worn paths around the craters, taking care not to think too much about the pieces of fabric sticking up through the ground, or those white stones that look an awful lot like splintered bone. Through it all, you have a soundtrack from the nearby river and the sounds of dragonflies buzzing around the tall grasses in the bottoms of the craters.

After a very quiet tuk-tuk ride back into town, I found myself at Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. A high school in a previous life, it was transformed into the Khmer Rouge's most notorious prison and torture site. Consisting of about four different buildings, the top floors have been left unchanged from when they were used as cells or interrogation rooms. The cells were tiny, smaller than even the smallest NYC apartment bathroom, but the interrogation rooms were even more disturbing with their wire beds and stained floors.

The first floor of each of the buildings is filled with chalkboards on which are posted mugshots of every single prisoner to come to the prison. Like the Nazis, the Khmer Rouge were meticulous in their records, so each room has approximately nine chalkboards, covered front and back with these small 4"X 2" photos. Of course, the Khmer Rouge were also similar to the Nazis in the extent of their destruction: almost every person who was brought to Tuol Sleng died. Out of an estimated 17,000 prisoners, there were only 12 survivors. So each photo that I looked at, and I looked at every single one, was most certainly of someone long since tortured and executed.

An interesting tourist trap, wouldn't you say?

I suppose now would be the time to insert some moral lesson or wise words of wisdom, but unfortunately, I don't have any. The memories of these places affect me as much in memory as they did the day I visited them. And I suppose that's the best I can offer.

Over the river and through the woods

2008-11-26T04:40:00.001-06:00

My last few days in Vietnam left me feeling as if I was on a roller coaster ride with no end in sight.

And yes, I do mean that literally. I suppose that's what eight hours in a minivan without air conditioning, jutting in and out and around potholes big enough to swallow a full-size bus will do to you. That, and the fact that every time we hit a pothole (which was about every 30 seconds) I flew out of my seat about two feet forward, wiggling back up just to jettison out again seconds later. It was so ridiculous, it became hilarious. At least I provided entertainment to my fellow Vietnamese passengers.

Instead of the quick and ubiquitous straight shot bus ride from Saigon to Phnom Penh, I decided to do the Mekong River crossing. Though it took longer, as it involved the previously mentioned minibus ride to get over to the Mekong Delta followed by a full day's worth of river travel north, the trade off was well worth it. The scenery that I witnessed during the boat ride showed a quiet, river-centric way of life that kept my eye glued to the camera viewfinder.

My first order of business upon arriving in Phnom Penh was to taste a dish that my older sister has been raving about since she left Cambodia: fish amok. A firm, white-flesh fish is steamed in coconut curry inside of a banana leaf before being spooned over hot long-grain rice and gobbled up. At least, that was how I ate it every time I tried it...which averages out to about once a day.

There are as many versions of fish amok as there are restaurants in Cambodia. Known as the unofficial national dish, it had a place on nearly every menu I saw. And if it wasn't fish amok (my personal favorite), it was available with another protein: tofu, pork, chicken, beef. I sampled my favorite version at the Cambodian cooking class I took in Sihanoukville, which I will share in a later post.

After I got my introduction to fish amok out of the way, I was free to attend to other things of business such as applying for a Laos visa, oh, and visiting some of the many national monuments located in Cambodia's capital.

As luck would have it, the rain followed me all the way to Cambodia, and my first day there, after paying a visit to the Lao Embassy, found me inside the Cambodian National Museum. This was, by far, my favorite museum of the trip. Filled to the brim with ancient Khmer and Angkor statues, it took me hours to get through it all. I also brushed up on my Buddhist and Hindi deity knowledge and fell in love with the graceful Khmer language engraved on tablets centuries old.

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Now, as you may have guessed, these blog posts are not happening in real time. Though I'm only up to Cambodia in the posts, I'm actually in Thailand with my good friend Katie, having a lovely time, and a mere week away from coming back to the States (assuming the protests in Bangkok don't wreak too much havoc). I'll definitely be continuing the posts to get you all up to date, but I wanted to take a moment to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving.

I will be in the kitchen myself, taking a Thai cooking course, though I can guarantee that I'll be missing Dad's turkey, Mom's pumpkin pie and everything that comes in between. Have a couple extra bites for me if you can, and maybe a sip or two of champagne to celebrate.

The heat is on

2008-11-23T04:22:00.001-06:00

Eh-ehm...anyone still out there?

It's been a busy few weeks, and I have to apologize for my recent silence. I'm already woefully behind with my updates and will therefore be continuing to post about my holiday when I'm back in the States for Christmas. Oh well, a girl has to be out having adventures in order to post about them, doesn't she?

Onward then.

My next bus ride down the Vietnamese coast brought me to the town of Nha Trang. Laidback, touristy, very very beachy. The weather was perfect, allowing me to play in the clear blue waves until sunset the day of my arrival.

My second day in Nha Trang was spent on a boat trip around a few of the neighboring islands. We were able to snorkel, drink fruity Vietnamese wine while floating about in inner tubes and enjoy entertainment in the form of our our crew's very own boy band (drumset, electric guitar and all).

As an extra bonus, I even met some sweet American girls who were equally crazy about musical theatre, so we played "name that tune" games throughout the day. Selections from Miss Saigon and Spring Awakening featured especially.

Foodwise, eh, Nha Trang's not exactly known for it.

I must admit that after a delicious lunch of clear vegetable soup, fish cooked in a clay pot with tomato sauce and rice...I gave in and had a goat cheese salad for dinner. I know, I know! I promise, it's the only time I've had Western food since I arrived, and, well, it's goat cheese, people! You know how I feel about that. Forgive me?

After basking in the Nha Trang sun, I hopped on yet another overnight bus (they're a staple of travel here) down to Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh City, as it's officially known.

Now, Saigon wasn't particularly inspiring visually. It's a fun, busy, motorbike-filled city like all of the rest, but the architecture's nothing to write home about.

Two of the more memorable visits were to the War Remnants Museum and the Cu Chi Tunnels. The War Remnants Museum talked about the Vietnam War, or the "American War", as it's known here. It's the sort of gut-wrenching experience that's best left without description or outside commentary, but let me just say that propoganda played a role, and my eyes were not dry while walking by the photos of disfigured victims nor the deformed fetuses preserved in formaldehyde on display.

The Cu Chi Tunnels was possibly even more disturbing, mostly because the tour guide was laughing the entire time that he demonstrated how all of the booby traps left for American soldiers worked.

On the positive side, I had some fabulous food in Saigon. It would be hard not to. I had an authentic version of bun cha, or what we probably know as vermicelli with spring rolls. Fresh rice noodles held up fresh herbs and newly fried spring rolls. On the side was a sweet dipping sauce that I just tossed on top and mixed in. Absolutely delicious, and refreshing when the temperatures are through the roof...which they were every day.

The other interesting things I tried were on the recommendation of a waiter. Since I tend to ask servers back home for their favorite menu items, it's been hard not to be able to while travelling! Happily, this waiter spoke English well enough to understand me and steered me towards another fresh rice noodle dish. This one was interesting, because it involved mixing the typical inside parts of a fresh spring roll (fresh rice noodles, vegetables--cucumber here, herbs) and dipping them into shrimp paste. Tangy, to say the least, but delicious after you got over your initial shock.

After my tangy main course, I decided to even things out a bit with a sweet treat: taro mixed with purple sticky rice, drizzled with coconut milk. I cannot even begin to tell you how delicious it was. Think of a taro bubble tea, take out the tapioca, and substitute in sticky rice and a hint of coconut.

I promise to figure out a way to recreate it at home...as soon as I figure out where to find proper sticky rice and a good method for cooking taro. Too bad I won't have all of my neighborhood San Francisco Asian grocery stores. Guess Houston's Hong Kong Market will have to suffice. Oh, and if you know of any good Asian grocery stores in Chicago, please let me know!

Serious withdrawal

2008-11-14T23:40:00.001-06:00

I come to you today with a confession: I really miss cooking.

Perhaps this is not that shocking to some of you, but since I recently spent an entire day on a bus, staring out the window and daydreaming about the different dishes I'm going to try and old favorites I will be pulling out immediately upon landing in the States...well, it's on my mind.

Luckily, today's entry includes a cooking class that I took in Hoi An, so I can at least reassure myself that I still remember what a kitchen looks like.

I only spent about two days in Hoi An, and was sick for most of one of them. However, I did get to wander a little ways around its streets, and the architecture was beautiful. If I'd had the time and money, I would have spent a bit more time there and had some clothes or shoes hand made (Hoi An is reknowned for this, you see shop after shop after shop of tailors), but unfortunately it was not to be. I think my dad described it as akin letting an alcoholic into a liquor store and not letting them buy anything. How well he knows me.

I did get the chance to take another cooking class here, one recommended by both my sister and father when they were in Vietnam just a few months ago, so all was not lost.

The cooking school was reached by a quick boat trip up the river, which, when there's yet another torrential downpour, makes for quite an interesting trip.

The venue itself was quite beautiful, an open-air outdoor kitchen with individual work stations set up with wok and cutting board. Our menu varied from a seafood salad with fresh herbs to tomato roses to fresh rice paper spring rolls.

The fresh rice paper spring rolls were quite fun to make. I've told you before about the lovely fresh spring rolls I've had throughout my time in Vietnam, but those were always done with dried rice paper. This time around, we actually made the rice paper ourselves, by preparing a sort of rice crepe batter which we steamed over cheesecloth. I did my best, but mine ended up a bit too thick, and since we were only able to try one each, I wasn't able to redeem myself. Eh, maybe next time. To be honest, I liked the dried rice paper better anyway.

I'm going to share a recipe with you today that's surprisingly good, and incredibly easy. The only "exotic" ingredient you need is lemongrass, which you can find easily in regular grocery stores or Whole Foods nowadays, so you have no excuse.

Asian Eggplant in Clay Pot
Adapted from Red Bridge Cooking School, Hoi An, Vietnam

2 Japanese eggplants (the long, thin kind, not the ubiquitous plump American version)
1 stalk lemongrass
1 1/2 tsp salt
4 cups water
1 1/2 Tbs tomato paste
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp or more chili sauce (to taste)

Place two cups of water and 1 tsp salt into a heavy-bottom pot.
Peel the outer stalks from the lemongrass, then bruise it (crush the thick bottom part slightly with the side of your knife) and add it to the pot of water. Bring to a boil.
Cut the eggplant into 1/2 inch thick rounds and add to the now boiling water. Continue to boil for 3 minutes, or until the eggplant is beginning to get tender and change color slightly.
Drain the eggplant, discarding the water and lemongrass.
Return the eggplant to the pot, then add the tomato paste, the remaining 2 cups of water, remaining 1/2 tsp salt, sugar and chili sauce.
Simmer this mixture for 7-10 minutes, stirring periodically, until the eggplant is completely tender.
Serve hot with steamed rice.

A full belly

2008-11-06T07:46:00.001-06:00

The food in Hue is reknowned because of a particular king who must have been either constantly hungry, bored or picky. Whatever the reason, it is due to his orders to be served 50 different dishes by 50 different chefs at each meal that Hue has such delicious offerings today.

My personal dining experiences in the city ran the gamut from street to royalty.

I arrived quite early in the morning after an overnight bus ride to pouring rain and promptly showered before falling into bed. (Note: it is next to impossible to get a good night sleep on a bus, even one with long reclining seats. It's a hard lesson that I learned more than once.)

I was astounded when I woke up a few hours later to find that the rain hadn't stopped or even slowed, and the roads had been transformed into rivers as a result. I felt a bit like I was in the Oregon Trail, Vietnam Edition, as I forded the river crossing the street, nearly losing my shoe in the process.

Happily, I survived without losing any oxen or contracting cholera, so I was able to enjoy a big steaming bowl of pho bo while watching people struggle by on motorbikes whose engines had flooded. Quite an entertaining way to pass a few hours.

Once the rain finally subsided, I struck off for the Citadel, Hue's very own walled palace. I spent the rest of the afternoon exploring this enormous and bewitching complex, stumbling upon ornate temples and playrooms in pristine condition only to turn the next corner to find a palace in complete shambles. The Citadel is an intriguing place where I could easily have spent an entire additional day wandering about.

Starving, Petar (my travel buddy) and I made our way to my favorite kind of restaurant: a stall just off (or on) the street. You know the type, plastic chairs and short tables filled with locals slurping and chattering, a kitchen rigged up outside with one wok and two cooks and a menu only if you're very very lucky. The kind of restaurants where you point at something someone else is eating, then make a #1 sign with your fingers, the eloquent yet universal way of saying "I'd like one of whatever he's having, please."

The following day I decided to treat myself to one of the Lonely Planet guidebook "our picks". Y Thao Garden offers only one dining option, an eight course set menu for $10. Broke my budget, but oh, was it worth it.

I now have to take a moment to beg your apologies, because I forgot to bring my camera to this amazing lunch to end all lunches. I know, I know, completely idiotic, but what can you do? Perhaps someday I'll learn to be a proper food blogger and have my camera onhand at all times.

Maybe I should mention that Hue food is known as not just being tasty, but also very decorative and well-presented. Because maybe then you won't be as shocked when I mention that our first course consisted of fried pork spring rolls skewered onto a pineapple peacock whose wings and head were made of carved carrots. I did mention that it was a bit over the top, didn't I?

Our next course was a vegetable soup with the most delicious broth I've ever had created strictly from vegetables. It was enough to motivate a girl to finally getting around to making homemade broth.

Third course consisted of freshly steamed whole prawns served with a delicious lemon and salt & pepper dipping sauce. Simple, fresh, perfect.

Four course was a sort of Asian taco. A deep-fried rice pancake was filled with pork, prawn, mung beans and mushrooms, and served with a peanut and coconut dipping sauce. Delicious, if a bit greasy.

The fifth course was the most unusual. It was described as fig salad, but what came out was not what I had pictured (I was thinking quartered figs with proscuitto and goat cheese, my only previous experiences with fig salads, and delicious ones at that). Anyway, what arrived was finally diced figs, peanuts, mint, prawn, sesame seeds...and possibly other things that I couldn't quite put my finger on. The salad was to be eaten on top of shrimp crackers and was completely delicious.

The sixth and seventh courses, while good, weren't quite up to snuff comparatively. They consisted of grilled/smoked beef topped with sesame seeds that tasted overwhelmingly smoky and a sticky rice stir fry with lotus nut and diced carrot, shallot and onion. The latter was fine, if unmemorable.

Our last course arrived looking like a cross between a lollipop and a tomato plant (okay, to be honest, I would never have guessed "tomato plant" if the waitress hadn't described it as such). It was, in fact, a green been cake dipped in gelatin that was tasty and, yet again, unusual.

Did I eat again the rest of the day? I did not. But I did have a satisfied belly to last me through another bus ride the following day to Hoi An.

Ships passing in the night

2008-11-05T08:39:00.001-06:00

After a quick and restless overnight train ride back to Hanoi from Sapa, I jumped on to the most uncomfortable mini bus I have ever experienced for the 3 hour trip out to Halong Bay.

Halong Bay, vying to be considered one of the new seven wonders of the world, is located off the northern coast of Vietnam. Consisting of gorgeous ragged rocks jutting out of the water, it is home to some of the most awe-inspiring caves in Asia. It is also home, as I soon found out, to hordes and hordes of tourists being ferried around in their boats from cave to cave.

This was the first and only official organized tour that I have taken so far, and let's just say that it was as good as I should have expected. At least the views were above average.

The first day of our two-day cruise consisted of being shuttled in and out of two large caves, helpfully decorated in colored lights for our viewing pleasure. Don't get me wrong, the caves were magnificently impressive...they just would've been more so if they hadn't had red and turquoise lights highlighting their nooks and crannies. Oh, that, and rubbish bins shaped like penguins. I'm still puzzling that one out.

Post-caves, our boat threw down anchor for awhile in a smaller cove that was happily next to a fishing village and only one other boat! We had time to jump off the sides into the gorgeously warm and clear water, as well as do a bit of kayaking and swimming.

The real gem of the whole trip was undoubtedly at sunset. As we cruised over to our overnight anchor area, next to 20 different boats, the dwindling sunlight highlighted that beauty that makes Halong Bay such a tourist destination. I know my imagination was getting ahead of me, but it looked to me like all of the towering rocks and islands were guarding something. It honestly seemed like, if there was an "end of the world", it would lie beyond the rocks and caves forming their seemingly impenetrable maze.

After the sunset, the boats around us became infinitely more bearable, as they were all lit up with people getting ready for dinner onboard, and looked a bit like pirate ships in the night.

Now, what about the food, you ask? Well, it honestly wasn't really worth writing home about. Better than I imagined, but you guys deserve better than your standard stirfries and really disgusting Vietnamese wine. So I shall leave you salivating in anticipation of the eight-course traditional meal I had in Hue, considered by some to be the gastronomical capital of Vietnam.

No cutting board in sight

2008-10-27T00:27:00.001-05:00

You didn't think that I spent my entire time in Sapa sitting around, reading and drinking hot chocolate did you? Well, actually, I would have believed it myself, but I had adventures, not to worry.

Most of my time in Sapa was spent trekking through the mountains and rice paddies. It's sort of the thing to do while you're there, though I made sure to include a homestay on my itinerary. That meant that after 6 hours of hiking around the mountains, with stops to rest and even more stops to take photos of adorable children looking after a water buffalo, I found myself at the home of Son and her family.

Son is a member of the Zdhao mountain hill tribe, which means that she wears a scarf around her hair (which is never cut) and a brightly colored shirt with fasteners on the side climbing up to a mandarin top. Typical dress for the men nowadays? A t-shirt and shorts. Go figure.

Once we arrived, our guide sat us down and told us to relax while Son prepared dinner. Somehow, I didn't follow directions and ended up in the kitchen with Son and her mother-in-law. Once I had offered my help, Son sat me down with a paring knife, four heads of garlic, some shallots and asked me to peel them. Normally, I'm the kind of girl who smashes the garlic cloves with the back of my knife on a cutting board, so peeling them while keeping them whole, without anything to cut on...well, it was interesting. I have a new talent to put on my resume, however, and the only difficult part was keeping myself from cutting through the clove to my knee.

Next up came bamboo shoot peeling, which took a while to get a hang of, as I'd never even seen a bamboo shoot before, let alone peeled one for soup. It involves peeling the outer layers of each section of the shoot, then cutting or breaking off the section soft enough to eat.

Our next task was to fill and roll spring rolls, which, by this point, we were a pros at, since we'd had to do it at the cooking course I took in Hanoi. The key is to make them long and round, and wet the rice paper just enough so that it doesn't stick to the plate, but does stick to itself. All it takes is practice, I promise.

After helping with our feast, we were free to sit down and enjoy it. Well, I shouldn't say free. Our guide and Son took it upon themselves to initiate us into a new custom: taking shots of arak (rice liquor). Son homebrews the stuff, and it is strong. You count in Vietnamese to three, then yell "Zhou" and everyone takes their shot. Once we'd gotten to shot 4, however, I insisted on half shots, since I really wanted to make it through the evening. Our guide and Son's husband, however, took the stuff like champs and kept going long into the night.

Me? I helped Son do dishes. It was just like being at home again.

The next day we were off on another trek, this one a mere 3 hours, where I saw an incredibly beautiful waterfall, more gorgeous rice paddies and got chased by a drunk Vietnamese man trying to get us to drink his homebrewed liquor. Just like home, eh?

A strong cuppa

2008-10-25T10:13:00.001-05:00

This is a new blog, so I understand if many of you are not yet aware of my dependency problem on hot chocolate.

My daily habit started when I was studying abroad in Paris. My host family was responsible for providing breakfast daily, as well as dinner 3 or 4 times a week, so my host mother happily replenished delicious jams, cereal, milk and Nestle as often as needed. Every morning, I'd get up and turn on the electric tea kettle first thing to get the water going for my chocolat chaud. Breakfast vacillated between cereal and baguettes, but hot chocolate was my one constant.

Now, I'm not trying to complain here, but it has been really hard for me to be in a climate so hot that chocolat chaud is out of a question. Not only am I missing my favorite season (fall), but I can't even raise a toast to its passing with a cup of hot chocolate.

This story does have a happy ending, I promise, and it was found in the mountainous region of northern Vietnam called Sapa.

I travelled up to Sapa via night train after a few days in Hanoi. The second I arrived, I knew I was in love. The place was at least thirty degrees farenheit cooler than Hanoi (which was sweltering), completely enclosed by mountains covered in mist. Through the early morning fog, I could just make out row upon row of rice paddies built at harrowing angles into the sides of the mountain.

I found a hotel quickly, with a lovely balcony overlooking said mountains. I set my bags down and fell into bed, happily burrowing under covers for the first time in a month. Truth be told, I had been hoping for a place with a fireplace, but if I'd found one, I probably never would have left.

The first day I arrived, my traveling companion fell sick and spent the entire day and following night asleep in bed, which left me a lovely bit of freedom. Sapa itself is a fairly small town, so I managed to explore a good chunk of it within an hour. I took a seat on the steps of a Catholic church (!) intending to do some people watching, but soon found myself chatting with a lovely Hmong woman and playing with her adorable baby who was strapped to her back.

Of course, I was then surrounded by lots of other women trying to sell me jewelry, bags and the like, but I still enjoyed a nice conversation about work, her village and family.

Later that afternoon, I grabbed a book that my older sister had recommended and which I also heartily endorse, and went to the cafe next door for a snack. I spent the rest of the afternoon buried in my book, coming up only for air and sips of hot chocolate. Heavenly.

Now, I have a certain way of making hot chocolate on a daily basis that I feel I should share, as well as one for special occasions. For my daily dose, I doctor up the powdered stuff with a bit of crushed red pepper and some cinnamon. Easy, and makes such a difference.

For the good stuff, however, the stuff of hot chocolate dreams, you must try the recipe that Molly writes about here. It's adapted from the lovely Dorie Greenspan's book "Paris Sweets", and it is truly the best hot chocolate I've ever made or tasted. Not too rich, not too sweet. As said in the post, you feel like you want to swim in the stuff...or curl up with it and a book as often as possible.

Walk slowly into oncoming traffic

2008-10-21T07:45:00.001-05:00

I arrived in Vietnam in a sweat.

I made my flight, though I still don't know how, after having run through two sets of customs, criss-crossing the Kuala Lumpur (KL) airport numerous times, trying to check into my flight in less than an hour. Oh, the joys of international budget travel.

Once I arrived in Hanoi and got through the slightly extensive security checks, I grabbed my bag and headed over to the ATM to get some cash for the cab ride into the city. While there, I helped a fellow backpacker figure out the exchange rate, and we ended up sharing a cab from the airport. (This, the day after I saw a movie about a girl sold into a prostitution ring by doing the exact same thing! What was I thinking??) Luckily, my life is not an action film, and my new Aussie friend and I have been traveling together ever since. Much cheaper to go as a pair than to go it alone, we decided.

Hanoi is the craziest place in the world to cross the street. You can always tell who has just arrived in town, as they rush right out into the thick motorbike traffic, then stop about a quarter of the way through and run back to the nonexistent sidewalk. Once they've regathered their courage, they venture out in the road again, faces pale, stopping suddenly in front of multiple motorbikes, then making a mad dash for the other side, narrowly missing being hit. Did I mention that crosswalks are only a suggestions here? As are red lights.

There's a trick, you see, that can only be learned by watching the locals cross the street. You must walk out slowly, facing the oncoming horns and lights. Continue walking at the same pace, and try to make eye contact with anyone you can. This way, the drivers can judge your speed and neatly and easily steer around you. It really is as simple as that. Of course, it can be quite hard to remember with hundreds of motorbikes careening past.

Hanoi is a city of street stalls, home-brewed local beer, beautiful architecture and very friendly people. The tastiest food can always be found in the street, as can the cheapest beer and the best entertainment (see paragraph above about watching newcomers cross the road). I tasted tons of classic Vietnamese fare, ranging from pho bo (rice noodle soup with bean sprouts, beef and fresh herbs) to steamed snails on the street, and it was all fabulous. I think the elderly Vietnamese woman sitting next to me while I was eating the snails was especially pleased with my choice. She knocked back two entire bowls of the stuff, while continually urging me with hand signals to eat more and more. What a treat.

Probably my favorite food discovery in Hanoi came care of my father and older sister and a restaurant called Little Hanoi 1. Featured in the Lonely Planet guidebook, and therefore frequented by practically every Western visitor to Hanoi, this place has what may be a perfect meal (and great date idea, people!): Roll-your-own fresh spring rolls.

Made with fresh or dried rice paper rounds, inside, you layer fresh rice noodles, the protein of your choice--crispy fish and caramel beef were our choices--slices of pineapple, bean sprouts, mint, basil and lettuce at the bottom of the rice paper. Roll them up in a round (sort of like a tortilla), dip them in a fish sauce mixture and enjoy a little slice of heaven. Oh, and if you couldn't tell already, they're also incredibly healthy. So eat up!

I promise to post a more detailed info on the fish and beef later, but the above guidelines should be more than enough for you to have a go.

A moveable feast

2008-10-17T08:44:00.000-05:00

When last we met, I was being eaten alive by mosquitos in the jungles of Borneo. Not the best place to leave off, I admit. I returned to a form of civilization soon after by spending a few days in Jakarta with my sister Jenny and her friend Pauline. These few days were chock-full of delicious food, thanks to their recommendations.

My two favorite restaurants were of the Italian and French variety. We visited the Italian star, Trattoria, twice in as many days. Like I said, we ate well. This restaurant starts you off right immediately, by handing over a basket full of hot crispy breadsticks and mini focaccia rounds. By the time we had ordered our dinner (and lunch, the second go-round), we were on our second basket. Hot, homemade bread fresh from the oven is truly one of my weaknesses.

The first time I ate at Trattoria, I shared a delicious and utterly simple salad: arugula with shaved pecorino romano, sliced pears and not nearly enough toasted pinenuts. Topped with a liberal amount of balsamic vineagar and olive oil and it was perfection.

Can I just stop a moment and thank every single restaurant that takes the time and effort to toast their nuts before adding them to salads, pastas, what have you? Because it makes ALL the difference in the world. Don't believe me? I dare you to try it and go back to untoasted nuts afterward. In fact, I triple dog dare you. You won't regret it, I promise.

The rest of my first meal at Trattoria was wonderful. I had ricotta/spinach gnocchi dumpling sthat had been lightly poached before being placed in a pool of tomato and ricotta sauce. Simple and delicious, and definitely something I'd like to experiment with at home. My second experience there started off with the same pecorino/arugula salad and was followed by lovely gnocchi in a fresh tomato and basil sauce. Again, refreshingly simple and delightful.

The second restaurant I have to share with you is a real gem. In fact, I seriously considered moving in. Brasserie was a lovely French restaurant just a five-minute walk from our hotel, and surprisingly empty for the delicious food they turn out. The second we walked in, I felt myself relax and unwind after a crazy and mosquito-filled week. We were eagerly ushered in by the manager (who remembered Pauline and Jenny from a visit months before), and immediately set to work on the free bread and fresh basil and herb olive oil it accompanied. Did I already mention my weakness for fresh bread? It turns out, it gets even worse when said bread comes with that delicious flavored oil.

Now, Jenny had been tormenting me for days about the lovely food on which we were going to be feasting, so ordering was not much of a problem for me. I knew I wanted escargots, as well as the goat cheese salad, but everything else looked so good that I persuaded Pauline (or was it the other way around?) to split escargots and sauteed chicken liver so that we could try both.

The escargot were amazing, just drenched in herbed butter and not in the least bit overly chewy, as so many people fear. The chicken liver arrived, sauteed in red wine with mushrooms, draped over a lovely brioche roll. The flavors were amazing together. And the goat cheese salad? Well, I have this theory that goat cheese makes absolutely anything taste better, and this salad was no exception. A half round of goat cheese on a piece of toast that had been slightly crisped in the oven topped a salad with a beautifully simple viniagrette...and I even think I spied some toasted pine nuts hiding in there as well.

My last meal in Jakarta was a repeat at Brasserie, with a bowl of delicious french onion soup, followed by a shared goat cheese salad with Pauline (my budget was getting a bit out of hand, so sharing helped offset the cost, a touch). Again, absolutely beautiful food, though this time it was accompanied by an incredible Amaretto Sour. These drinks, while consistently delicious in my opinion, can tend towards the too-sweet side, but this one was balanced by a touch of lemon. I know I'll be ordering one from my favorite bartender (my dad) when I go home.

The rest of my time in Jakarta was spent wandering around malls and the cinema, oh, and fighting through a crazy day where all three of us had vertigo and truly upset stomachs. Just a tip: never go to Jakarta during Ramadan, especially the last day of celebration. If you do, you'll have a whole new sympathy for non-Christians visiting Christian countries around Christmas time.

Next up, I head to Hanoi and fall in love with Bia Hoi.

A mighty jungle

2008-10-10T19:24:00.001-05:00

Apparently I was a bit mixed up with my orangutan preserve locations when I said earlier that I was going to Sumatra. Instead, I ended up on a boat in the jungle in Kalimantan, in the Indonesian portion of Borneo.

This week was spent with my sister on her fall weeklong holiday, as well as eight other teachers from the international school where she works in Bandung. We boarded the plane for Kalimantan in Jakarta, had a fun dance party to various Mika and Madonna songs at the back of the plane and before I knew it, I was on Borneo and boarding the boat that would be my home for the next four days.

The boat itself was rather nice, at least nicer than what I had in mind, which was sort of a bigger version of the one in the movie The African Queen (Katherine Hepburn + Humphrey Bogart). Our boat had two levels, the kitchen and the staff sleeping quarters below, and our living room/card-playing room/reading room/dining room/sleeping quarters on top.

The trip on the whole was absolutely fantastic. I got to get up close and personal with dozens of orangutans both males (not so close to them, they're rather aggressive. Come to think of it, eye contact was out of a question as well) and females, as well as adorable babies. I even got to touch one's hand! The hair was unbelievably coarse. And all of them move with an unbelievable grace--I couldn't take enough pictures of their hands and feet as a result.

Female orangutans are particularly awe-inspiring. They have one baby every eight years, and for those eight years, are completely devoted to their little one. For the first three years or so, the mother literally holds the baby, then the next two years consists of the baby holding onto Mama's back and finally the baby exploring on its own, but staying close until Mom decides it's time to get pregnant again. The females even have an internal birth control that makes them unable to get pregnant for those eight years that they're caring for the baby--the young ones are that vulnerable and need that much attention.

In addition to the orangutans, I got to experience other fun jungle-y experiences, such as showering in jungle river water, drinking arak (indo rice liquor), being doused in red wine for absolutely no reason by another passenger (long story that I'm still puzzling over), sleeping under a mosquito net only to awaken to 30+ mosquitos inside the net and my bum completely covered in bites...lots of enjoyable moments.

Ahhh, yes, the food! I have to say that the food we had on the boat was some of the best Indonesian food any of us (teachers having lived in Indo for two years included) had ever had. There was always nasi (rice), but I enjoyed some lovely squid dishes and barbecue stir-fried tempeh (another soy product, similar to tofu) and of course, I can't forget the tree shaped watermelon slices served at the end of every meal. Almost put me in the holiday spirit...

The rest of the week with my sister was spent in Jakarta, and the fabulous food we had there deserves its own post, coming soon.

P.S. I'm currently in Vietnam, in Hoi An, and have to apologize for posting so late! I'll try to catch up when I get another rainy day like today.

A welcoming party

2008-10-06T10:50:00.001-05:00

I realized last night after I posted my entry about my second week in Bali that I completely forgot the most authentically Balinese activity that I did the entire trip! I participated in a house-warming party, Balinese style.

I suppose that I need to back up and mention that when Anne offered to let me stay in her house my second week in Bali, she wasn't planning on being there. Unfortunately (but also fortunately, since I got to know her well), she had an accident involving stitches in her scalp and was "forced" to spend another week past her holiday with me in Bali before travelling back to Korea where she is a permanent substitute teacher at an international school.

I suspect that as a result of her accident, all of her Balinese friends/employees were a bit worried that there were bad spirits stirring up a ruckus in her newish home. So they all decided to have another house-warming ceremony in order to make sure that all of the gods and spirits were in agreement that this house should no longer contain quite so much mischief.

After an afternoon of helping Anne shop at the friendly neighborhood Balinese Costco, we rushed home to make it back to the house before the priests arrived, which we did, luckily, as it turned out that we had to be dressed for the occasion.
When Anne and I arrived, Ketut (essentially the overall manager of the property and groundskeeper and general coordinator of all of the other workers) had already changed into a sarong and matching sash and was opening up the house to get it ready. A few other people rushed home on their motorbikes to find sarongs and sashes for Anne and I so that we would be properly attired.

The priest arrrived and everyone got everything set up, which, in Bali, means a huge spread of rice, beautiful fresh flowers, a baby chick and hundreds of other things designed to make the gods and spirits happy with you. The priest did a three-part chant, first asking the gods permission to pray, then the actual praying, before a long closing chant to thank them.

It was a beautiful, fairly surreal experience, and I felt so honored to be invited to participate. I mean, I drank flower-flavored water, put flowers in my hair, even had a string tied to my wrist, which all signified...well, I have no idea, actually, but I think they were all good things. Plus, I now feel a responsibility to the house and its well-being, so it's only natural that I should go back to check on it sometime in the near future. Right, Anne?

Pretending it's the weekend

2008-09-26T07:24:00.002-05:00

I still can't believe how lucky I am. That a complete stranger would open their GORGEOUS home to me for an entire week is way more than anyone should be able to ask for. Luckily, I didn't have to ask for it, it was offered a mere 2 hours after I met her. Anne is a lovely woman, incredibly generous with her advice, experience, time and gorgeous (did I already mention that?) home.

My second week in Bali was spent exactly how I pictured a Balinese vacation before I ever arrived. I read probably six different books, lounging by a beautiful pool tiled in navy, taking dips whenever I wanted. I also cooked a few times, had lovely wine, as well as fantastic Balinese food.

Indonesian food and Balinese food are rather different, in my experience, at least, with Balinese food winning hands down. Take Indonesian food, add Indian and Malay spices, and you'll have an idea of what Bali has to offer culinarily.

I went to a traditional Balinese restaurant run by a Swiss gentleman who immigrated many years ago, and has since married a Balinese woman and settled down. The food was phenomenal, phenomenal enough for me to pay way too much money to sign up for a cooking course. The course was a lot of fun, and I got many good recipes out of it, but it didn't allow me to cook nearly as much as I wanted to. Then again, unless a cooking course allows me to cook everything by myself, it'll probably never live up to my expectations. Eh, c'est la vie.

Here's my first quick recipe tip, inspired by my course:
Anyone looking for a delicious quick snack should combine the following:
sweet corn, lime juice, shredded coconut and a touch of sugar.
Absolutely wonderful, though I warn you that the lime juice is essential...without it, the dish is much too sweet.
Enjoy, and I promise to update you on my much more eventful adventures in the jungles of Kalimantan very soon.

p.s. If anyone knows of a green papaya soup recipe from Bali, please let me know! I fell in love with the dish while I was there and can't wait to experiment when I get back home.

A world down under

2008-09-19T06:12:00.001-05:00

Whew! When last we met...well, let's just say that we have a lot to catch up on. I'm closing out the end of time in Bali, and is it ever gorgeous here. Not quite the idyllic paradise of everyone's dreams, however...somehow I think it would have to be a bit cleaner to fit that bill. I guess whenever I thought about Bali, I always pictured a tropical island paradise, which it definitely is, but there's still the poverty here that you see all over Indonesia. People throw their trash everywhere, including all over the beautiful countryside, burn huge piles of rubbish and there are still any number of stray dogs everywhere. The Balinese people and the gorgeous countryside more than make up for it, however.

My first week was spent in the Legian area, which is right next to Kuta, also know as Party Town. There are so many foreigners in this area! The driver who drove me home from scuba diving certification (I'm officially certified!) dropped off another diver first right in the heart of the Kuta Beach area, and it was crazy how many westerners/aussies were walking around! So much for the Balinese immersion experience, at least in this neck of the woods. Maybe that was a good thing to start off with though, because when the driver dropped me off at my hotel, I thought I was at the wrong one. I have a tiny excuse, but it's fairly thin: the staff had started decorating for a festival for the following day and literally transformed the place! The front desk guy was laughing a little at me, since he recognized me from checking in the previous evening and even remembered my name.

My first week's highlights consisted of scuba diving and elephant trekking. Scuba literally opens up a whole new world (and yes, I admit that once I thought about it that way, I had the Disney song stuck in my head the rest of the dive). I absolutely love diving, though that's not to say I wasn't scared to death the first time I went under in a pool and then again in the ocean. Absolutely crazy feeling to be able to breathe underwater.

The view under there is magnificent. A fellow diver (I love saying that) mentioned that it felt like you were on the Discovery Channel, and I couldn't agree more. I found Nemo, I saw a huge school of fish that formed a cyclone spiral around me, I even had my hand cleaned by a cleaning shrimp who decided to hop on and relieve me a a small scab on the back of my hand. Talk about strange sensations. I cannot recommend it enough to anyone who has any interest in trying. Do it, and then go to Bali and dive at the shipwreck at Tulamben.

As I mentioned, the other highlight had to be the elephant trekking. My friend Austin and I went to the Elephant Safari Park near Ubud for a half day trip to, essentially, ride elephants. It turned about to be such a fun experience, since we spent half of our time feeding the elephants banana palm. And were they ever greedy! These elephants (rescued from the island of Sumatra) would take as much banana palm as they wanted in their trunks, but half the time throw the pieces on the ground because they were just as picky as they were greedy. One even went so far as to try and steal pieces from another elephant's mouth. They also liked to tease you by just bopping you on the head or shoulder with their trunk, or blowing air at you to get a reaction. Mine was to fall completely in love with them.

I think the best part about the park was the way the animals were treated. Each elephants (27 total, I believe), had their own handler who rode them and cared for them every day. They all had plenty to eat--something Austin and I helped with--and had days off, lunch breaks, the whole enchilada. The park is also consistently helping to work on Sumatran elephant conservation, making the rather stiff entrance fee at least a bit more reasonable.

I had an incredibly full and busy first week, meeting new people, diving, trekking, exploring Ubud (the shopping capital) and eating as much Indonesian food as I could get my hands on. Thank goodness the following week allowed me quite a bit more rest in Bali's loveliest location imaginable. More on that as soon as I can.

Leave the gun, take the cannoli

2008-09-08T11:10:00.000-05:00

In order to prepare for my trip, I'm been on a strict diet of copious amounts of French cheese and wine, pasta, Manhattans, and anything else I won't possibly get on my trip. With that in mind, I've been trolling through Marcella Hazan's cookbook, as well as the Zuni Cafe Cookbook, Sunday Suppers at Lucques, and Miss Molly's archives. I've had lots of tomato sauce, some delicious salads, and tonight I'm going all out with a wild mushroom risotto inspired by Jamie Oliver's recipe (I'll make it a point to write it out some time). Oh, and in the oven right now are the best cinnamon rolls I've ever tasted, bar none (Thanks again, Molly!).

I'm actually looking forward to eating nothing but local food in whatever locale I land. That's really the only way to travel and learn, in my way of thinking. I, of course, understand the occasional craving, but still cringe at the memory of going to a Hard Rock Cafe in Paris my first trip there with my high school group (the trip was maybe 2 weeks total!)...live and learn.

At the moment, I'm working on getting a 12 week supply of, well, living material into a (lovely) backpack. A backpacker's backpack, mind you, my first one, but a backpack nonetheless. I feel like I should have been reading the last few issues of the magazine "Real Simple"or something to help me pare down my needs. I figure that since I'm only taking three pairs of shoes, including the ones I'm wearing, that I'm on the right track. I actually feel a bit like I'm back in college, when flip flops were widely considered fashionable wear.

I suppose I'd better get back to making sure that I can lift my backpack once all my stuff is inside. Definitely taking my skincare stuff, since the makeup's not coming along. Must remember to leave room for a few souvenirs, and to pack the addresses of some of the cooking schools I'll hopefully check out. Call the credit card companies, get in one last workout...whew. Okay, yes, lots to do. But right now, all I can think about is the smell of cinnamon wafting from the kitchen.

P.S. In case you didn't already know, I'm about to leave on a 12 week trip around SE Asia. Stops include Bali, Sumatra, Java, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and Thailand. Wish me luck!! I promise to keep you all updated here.

Taking a long lunch

2008-08-13T12:47:00.000-05:00

I have recently become a very firm believer in taking lunch. While a long lunch is best, it's also not doable for most people, but even the simple act of taking a lunch, away from work, stress, etc., well, that's something I can get behind. (Don't you love that phrase "taking lunch"?) For the past year, I ate practically every single lunch in front of my computer working. Not the best way to enjoy yourself.

Now that I have some extra time, I figure I'm long overdue to get myself into better habits. In that regard, I've started taking lunch out on the back deck. I'll fix myself a salad, add a hunk of bread, maybe even a bite or two of cheese, pour a glass of white wine (always in the summer, especially with salads), and sit outside, watching the trees and listening to their leaves rustle.

Why salad? Aside from it being summer and therefore leaving most every ingredient alone, I figure that if I have a lovely, delicious and decidedly NOT boring salad for lunch, I'm free to have whatever I want for dinner. The other answer is that the salads I've been having lately (inspired by the lovely Orangette's archives) leave absolutely nothing to be desired. Testament to that, I just went to the store today to buy ingredients to make the salads I've been eating over the past two days AGAIN. If you knew me, you'd know I'm not one to repeat the same thing in the same week. Repitition over the course of two weeks? Okay, sure. A girl has her limits.

I don't know about anyone else, but I hated croutons growing up, absolutely hated them. It wasn't until this year, when I went to Zuni Cafe for the first time and tried their famed Caesar salad and Roast Chicken with Bread Salad that I finally understand what croutons are supposed to taste like. Chewy, with a slight crunch around the outside. I figured that an heirloom tomato panzanella would be a good foil for practice, not to mention a lovely addition to my lunch repertoire, but I obviously still need work. We'll call my version slightly overtoasted, to be polite.

Perhaps I'll do better tomorrow. Anyway, I can't imagine not enjoying that deck, Chicago's unseasonably delightful weather, and a glass of wine.

Just Breathe In

2008-07-30T23:40:00.000-05:00

Here I sit, just a few weeks from leaving on a trip for which I haven't even bought a ticket. I think the dreaming and scheming is supposed to come after you buy the ticket, but, well, eh. Since I've never had so much freedom, I suppose I'm allowed to mess things up a little.

Things are rather mixed up. I'm about to embark on a year of adventures, a year of doing things I've only dreamed about, that maybe even a lot of other people have dreamed about. And I can't wait. Seriously, I'm ecstatic and nervous and... And yet, not to get sappy on the first post here, folks, but I'm about to spend the next four, count 'em 4, years away from the man I love.

Some very persuasive friends have encouraged me to start this blog, to catalog my adventures of travel and, perhaps most importantly, food. You see, this little adventure of mine is going to involve working at a cooking school in France. France, people! Plus, I'm quite interested in cooking and food and wine and that whole world, so it seems only natural that I catalog my adventures in this forum, sharing the skills I learn, the sights I see and the tastes I experience.

I went bungee jumping once, and right before I jumped, I attempted to take a deep breath. I say attempted because by the time I was on the ledge my chest had constricted so much that I doubt I was actually breathing at all. Well, right at that moment, the Michelle Branch song "Breathe" came into my head and stayed with me while I jumped and fell...and then fell some more. It was exhilarating, to say the least.

I've always thought that everyone should have their own soundtrack. There was that one summer at the pool where it was "Allstar" (You know the one: "Hey now, you're on allstar, get your game on, go play"), and for one solid year it was the Pink Martini "Sympathique" album. Anyway, now, whenever I feel myself about to do something even remotely frightening, I feel my chest constrict and that Michelle Branch tune pops into my head.

Here goes...