Meatless Mondays, Old Camp Songs, and a Recipe

Lots of people are going meatless on Mondays.  Gentle Readers, it's a thing.  Not only is it trendy, it's good for your health and the health of the planet.  Pasta with pesto is an easy and delicious way to get a meatless dinner on the table.  In the time it takes you to heat the water and boil the pasta, you can make the pesto and throw a salad together.  It's also great as a sandwich spread.

I came up with this pesto variation the way I create a lot of my recipes: with what was on hand.  It got rave reviews because the arugula gives it a nice peppery bite, but feel free to tweak it based on what's in your fridge.

By the way... do kids sing the "Comet, it makes your teeth turn green" song anymore?  I don't even know.

Basil Pesto Variation
makes 2 cups

2 cloves garlic, peeled and with the root end removed
1/4 cup pine nuts
1 cup packed fresh basil leaves
1 cup packed baby arugula leaves
2/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup grated asiago cheese
salt and pepper to taste

1. Place garlic and pine nuts in food processor and process until finely chopped.  Add basil and arugula leaves and process.  Add asiago cheese and process until everything is combined and finely chopped.  With the motor running, add olive oil in a stream to create a paste.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Good Seasons

Image: Bedbathandbeyond.com

An interesting side effect of having two blogs is that my friends and family are very aware of my likes, dislikes, and what is going on in my life.  They know about my culinary disasters and ask me serious questions about butter.

It still surprised me, though, when my mom arrived at my door one day bearing gifts of salt.  She had read about my fleur de sel wishes and celtic salt dreams, so she decided to get me an early birthday gift -- a Cole & Mason salt mill, light grey celtic sea salt, and fleur de sel. 

Apparently, Cole & Mason is the go-to brand for salt and pepper mills.  I can see why, since the "award winning" mechanism on the thing works great.  The salts are delicious -- salty, but without the sharp bite of regular table salt and kosher salt.  I feel like food cooked with the sea salt or finished with fleur de sel just tastes better.  I'm getting very spoiled.

Food Trends: Salt

I've written before about my deep and abiding love of salt.  Some of my Gentle Readers may remember that I had a longtime aversion to caramel until I discovered salted caramel.  Salt doesn't make food taste salty; it makes food taste good.

After years of being vilified, salt has made a comeback.  Salt is trendy, and the trend doesn't look like it's going to end any time soon.  From Himalayan Pink Salt to Maine Sea Salt, a kitchen simply isn't complete anymore without a few fancy salt options.

I have a small jar of fleur de sel with herbes de provence that I got at the Marche Breteil in Paris, but in general, although I have Hawaiian Sea Salt tastes, I have a kosher salt budget.  I keep it, incidentally, next to the stove in a ceramic pot that looks exactly like a sugar bowl.  This is a good thing to keep in mind if you ever come over for tea.

A Delightful Surprise

The Foodie called me on Tuesday to ask if I might be free around teatime to sample the Laduree macarons and Angelina hot chocolate mix that had recently arrived from Paris.

Might I be free?  Why yes.  Yes, I was.

I decided to fancy up the table as much as I could at short notice with an embroidered table runner and napkins.  The Foodie didn't mind waiting to have our treats until pictures were taken.  In fact, he helped to style the photo shoot.  I think the pictures look better than usual, and that's all him.

Even the packaging is elegant and pretty.  I've got to hand it to the French: they know how to make a simple box of cookies just a bit more elegant.  You know there is something special inside.

And there is: eight impossibly perfect and pretty macaron cookies.  My favorite was the pistachio cookie in the upper-left-hand corner.  It had a delicious marshmallow filling that resisted just a little when I bit into it.

The hot chocolate from Angelina perfectly complemented the macarons because it's slightly bitter and has a savory quality.  We made it with lowfat milk and felt very virtuous about that.

It was a lovely treat at the end of the day -- not just the delectable sweets, but spending some time with The Foodie who has been busy with career-minded things of late.  I hadn't seen him in a while, and it was nice to chat and catch up.  But even if we don't get together as often as we'd like, we'll always have Paris.

The World's Fanciest Electric Kettle

Image: Cuisinart.com

I haz one.  Santa rocks!

Cucumber Shrub

I'm not much of a soda drinker, but I tried Mr. Q. Cumber soda when I had lunch at Keenwah last week.  It was pricey -- two bucks for seven ounces -- but it was also delicious.

My friend took a sip and said "We could make that."  We discussed things like using a juicer and simple syrup.  When I got home it occurred to me that I could try making a cucumber shrub.  I added one peeled, diced cucumber to 2 cups of distilled white vinegar, then proceeded according to the recipe found here. 

It came out great.  Like summer in a glass.  YUM!

P.S. I just found out that cucumber beverages are trendy.  Of course they are.  I'm hip like that.

Say Cheese!

There is an entire magazine devoted to cheese.  My. Life. Is. Complete.

Kale Is Cool

Kale is having a moment.  What was once a relic of peasant cooking and Victory gardens is now the darling of foodies everywhere who are finding out what grandma knew: kale is delicious and good for you.

This month's Eating Well magazine had some wonderful green soup recipes by Anna Thomas, the author of Vegitarian Epicure.  I made the Basic Green Soup using kale instead of chard since the soup is designed to work with any combination of greens.

Another change I made was that I added the vegetable broth at the same time as the kale instead of at the end.  Winter greens make a delicious pot liquor that brings a lot of flavor to the party, and I wanted time for it to meld with the vegetable broth.  It just goes to show you: if you want to know about peasant food, ask a peasant.

Not THAT Kind of Shrub

The Foodie recently introduced me to shrubs, which are drinking vinegars.  He says shrubs were developed as a way to take advantage of the health benefits of apple cider vinegar in a more palatable form.  They are created by infusing the vinegar with flavoring such as fruit or vanilla bean, adding some sugar, and then mixing a little of the resulting syrup with club soda or tonic water.

I recently tried a shrub when The Foodie made a batch of rhubarb-raspberry syrup.  The resulting beverage was delicious and surprisingly refreshing.  Now, of course, I'm going to be mixing up shrubs like some kind of ruffled-apron-wearing mad scientist in a lab.  If you want to try them too, you can find recipes here.

P.S. At the Department of Home Economics, I posted a recipe using apple cider vinegar that can help with tummy troubles, along with other information and links about vinegar. 

Food Shopping In Paris

Gentle readers, Paris is heaven for the food lover. Everywhere we went, we saw gorgeous produce, fresh seafood, meats, sausages, and a stunning variety of cheese. There is a bakery on almost every street corner.



Maille has long been my preferred brand of mustard, so I was excited when The Foodie introduced me to their retail shop on the Place de la Madeleine. I had no idea Maille made so many varieties of mustard! Alas, my local Stop&Shop only carries the dijon and grainy styles, so I bought a jar of mustard with walnuts for myself and a sampler package with five or six little jars of different flavors (including blue cheese, black currant, and hazelnut) for the Army Dude. I'm kind of hoping he'll share.

This photo of Fauchon is courtesy of TripAdvisor

We also went to Fauchon, which carries all sorts of luxury food products: teas, preserves, honey, wine, truffles, foie gras, spices, and more. When the woman behind the chocolate counter offered us samples, we each took a bite, looked at the other wide-eyed and said "Oh. My. God." The chocolate was delicious. I immediately put together a gift bag for the Army Dude. It's in my kitchen cabinet as we speak, because he loved the chocolates so much he knew he'd eat them all that day. I have temporary custody and I haven't eaten a single one. That, my friends, is devotion.




Twice a week, there is a traveling market at the Rue de Breteuil. It's kind of like an outdoor flea market with lots of food, jewelry stalls, clothing, linens, and ceramics (among other things). We went on Saturday to check it out and buy souvenirs, and then returned on Thursday to do some serious food shopping for a dinner The Foodie was cooking that night.




The Former Farmer (who has quite the cooking chops herself and who cooked a delicious pasta dinner for us on another night) acted as sous-chef. I helped a little and ate with gusto. The cop also ate with gusto and kept the wine glasses full. Each according to his ability.





The Cop and the Former Farmer bought us this lovely dessert at a bakery near where we were staying. That pink stripe is raspberry filling and the rest is composed of several varieties of yummy chocolately goodness.

I know I'm not the first person to make this observation, and I won't be the last: it beats me how the French stay so thin.

Food Bloggers In Paris

A coffee and tea break at a cafe in the Marais.

One of the highlights of my trip to Paris was getting the chance to meet Emily of Tomato Kumato. (If you don't already read her blog, you totally should -- she is lovely, inside and out, and her writing is terrific.) She was so sweet to spend an afternoon with The Foodie and me, showing us vintage shops, translating for us, and filling us in on lots of fun facts.

We started the afternoon with lunch from L'As Du Falafel (fun fact: it's Lenny Kravitz's favorite). The sandwiches were delicious, and different than the ones I get locally. To begin with, they are a more manageble size and served in a pita pocket. There was also cole slaw (or a similar cabbage salad) in it. The combination was really good.

We sat in a park and ate our sandwiches, surrounded by French people on their lunch breaks. The afternoon was filled with food talk, laughs, and shopping, and it ended with delicious ice cream from Berthillon and a stop at Shakespeare and Company, an English-language bookstore. (Fun fact: part of the building housing the bookstore is in the half-timbered style dating from Shakespeare's time.)

A day doesn't get much better than that.

Pretty Cool

I've been thinking about this Mobile Foodie Survival Kit ever since I saw it in InStyle magazine. (What? It advertised "10 Style Rules You Should Break" and I needed to know what they were. It turns out I'm breaking them all, but not necessarily in a good way.)

I'm captivated by the idea of having herbs and spices on the go. Or maybe I'm captivated by the idea of needing herbs and spices on the go: spending the month of July in the Hamptons, or renting a condo in Barbados for a week in February. Or most exciting of all, being on an Everest expedition and needing a little wasabi to perk up my dehydrated yak.

The whole kit is about the size of a book, so I could easily fit both it and my NOOK into my luggage and be ready for all literary and culinary emergencies that may arise. I'd be like a slightly nerdy superhero.

Chowder?

My friend Annie went to Tallulah on Thames last weekend, and she reported that she was less than thrilled with her "Deconstructed Clam Chowder." Personally, I'm getting tired of hearing the term "deconstruction" bandied about. In the same way that using the word "ironic" when you mean "funny" doesn't make your fart joke highbrow, saying something is "deconstructed" doesn't automatically make it artistic. Or, in this case, good.

From what I can tell, they used "deconstructed" as shorthand for "we didn't bother to build flavors in this soup, we just had the server dump broth over a couple of clams and some potatoes at tableside." The whole point of soup is that the process of making it creates a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.

To quote Inigo Montoya, I do not think it means what you think it means.

Sushi

Seriously. Our ancestors were onto something when they invented fire.

Monkey Bread

I always wonder how certain things become trendy - particularly something with a name like "Monkey Bread." It just does not create an appetizing mental picture.

Behold The Kumato

In case the fact that I draw the things I eat has not tipped you off, I admit that I am not cool. I never have been, and at this stage of the game, I'm okay with the fact that I never will be.

Given that I am coolness-challenged, I am unlikely to have heard of the kumato unless a Foodie friend served it to me. Which one did, at a dinner party on New Year's Eve. Basically, a kumato is a brown tomato. Even on the kumato website (and it does have one, that's how cool it is), they are hard pressed tell you what sets it apart from a regular tomato besides its color.

The color is odd. A kumato kind of looks shenanigans have been going on between a tomato, a plum, and a meatball while the light is off in the refrigerator. According to the website, the color, flavor, and size are fairly consistent from kumato to kumato because they are grown hydroponically and "ripened under optimum climactic conditions." All of which makes me think that the fruit has never actually seen the light of day.

The website insists that the taste of a kumato is far superior to a regular tomato, but even they have difficulty describing why. To be honest, the taste didn't knock my socks off. It was good. It was certainly better than a lot of the watery tomatoes available at this time of year. It was maybe a little firmer and sweeter than a regular tomato.

But you know how in late August and early September, the tomatoes at the farmer's market are so good that you make caprese salad almost every night and have BLTs every day for lunch? How the bright red color of the tomatoes makes you start looking for new gazpacho recipes, and you start wondering if you can preserve a bit of this perfect tomato moment by making a big pot of pasta sauce and freezing it?

The kumato wasn't that good. And maybe that's a good thing, because perfect moments become less perfect if you can have them anytime.