TasteFood

A Festival of Lemons

 

To me, lemons symbolize early spring and a brightness at the end of a lingering winter season.  Mind you, I live in California now, and our winter has been unseasonably warm and dry to this point, but as I think about lemons for a moment, I am transported back to Northern Europe where by the end of January, the dark and drizzle of the long winter season would be wearing thin. The knowledge of approaching spring and lengthening days would be shrugged off in a moment of impatience when we would impulsively book a quick escape in February to somewhere south in search of warmth and light.  A favorite destination would be the south of France, for, while Scandinavia and the UK would be shrouded in chilly mist and shadow, our southern counterparts would be basking in sunshine, enjoying the blooming daffodils and mimosa, and partaking in the festivities of Carnival in Nice and the Fête du Citron in Menton.

Fête du Citron?  Yes, that would be a Lemon Festival, and each year for 6 weeks from February to March, the  city of Menton devotes a celebration to all things citrus and yellow.  Situated halfway between Monte Carlo and the Italian border along the riviera, Menton is blessed with a warm micro-climate that is conducive to growing citrus.  Its history of cultivating lemons dates back to the 15th century, and by the early 19th century Menton was a main exporter of lemons to Europe and America.  Its prominence declined following a frost and increased competition from neighboring Italy and Spain, and, in 1934, the Lemon Festival was established in order to call attention to the replanting of Menton's lemon trees and the re-establishment of their citrus production. 

And what a festival it is.  Over the course of 6 weeks the town has celebrations, parades, and fireworks. Lemons, lemons are everywhere.  Parade floats are made of lemons, statues and decorations consist of lemons, food revolves around lemons, and tours and exhibitions are held throughout the city and at private estates to view lemon and citrus groves.  Typically, this festival coincides with the Carnival celebration in nearby Nice, so If you happen to be in the area for this double whammy of festivals, you can rest assured that you will have your fill of sun, fun and celebration - a perfect antidote for the winter doldrums.

Now, for those of us far away from the village of Menton and unable to hop on a short flight to the south of France, a little imagination is necessary to visualize this event and transport ourselves away from snowdrifts and frigid temperatures.  What I can offer you in tangibles, however,  is the following dessert. This lemon tart is simple to make and very, very lemony.  Its brightness is guarranteed to add a little sunshine to  your day, wherever you are.

 

Lemon Tart - Tarte au Citron

Makes one 9" tart

For the pastry - Pâte Sucrée
1 1/4 cup flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
7 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut in 1/2" pieces
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon ice water

Combine flour, sugar and salt in bowl of food processor.  Add butter, using on/off turns until the mixture becomes crumbly. 
Stir together egg yolk and water in small bowl.  Add to flour mixture.  Pulse until dough begins to clump together. 
Press dough into bottom and up sides of 9-inch tart pan with removable bottom.  Trim edges.  Pierce crust all over with fork.  Freeze 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350 F.  Line crust with foil.  Fill with dried beans or pie weights.  Bake until crust is set, about 15 minutes.  Remove foil and beans or weights.  Continue baking until crust is lightly golden, about 20 minutes.  Transfer to rack to cool while preparing the filling.

For the Lemon Filling:

6 egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
3/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (2-3 lemons)
6 tablespoons butter, softened
pinch of salt
2 teaspoons lemon zest

In a medium sauce pan, combine egg yolks and sugar.  Mix well to combine.  Add remaining ingredients, except for the lemon zest.  Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon.  (Do not allow to boil or the mixture will curdle.)
When the mixture changes to a bright yellow color, and thickly coats the wooden spoon, remove from heat.  Pour through a fine strainer.  Discard the residue.  Stir in lemon zest.
Pour the filling into the cooled tart shell; it will continue to thicken as it sets.  Let it sit at least one hour.  Serve at room temperature or cold.

 

In Bed with Bouchon

Yep, that pretty much sums it up.  I am home sick, and I have spent a quiet morning in bed reading my Bouchon cookbook cover to cover.  It makes for good reading.  Not only are the recipes spot on and authentically French bistro cuisine, but the essays wonderfully articulate the essence, philosophy, and ambience of bistro cooking.  It makes me very happy.

Actually, bistro food should make all of us happy. It's comforting, generous, convivial, and unpretentiously rooted in French tradition. Interestingly, the excellence of Bouchon Restaurant has made it a destination of sorts requiring advance reservation, but typical bistro dining is accessible, local and immediate throughout France. Found in every neighborhood, soothing in its predictability, comfortably well worn in its ambience, and satisfying in its timelessness, the French bistro is a home away from home.

 

I became familiar with bistros when I lived in Paris and then Geneva.  The bistro was the go-to restaurant for consistent, delicious, and fun food.  Welcoming, bustling, and casually elegant, I knew what I could get - whether it was a date night or a group dinner, whether I was pregnant or with young children in tow.  Now, years later, there isn't a bistro in my neighborhood, and I don't have a standing reservation at Bouchon, but I do cook bistro fare at home.  It's perfect for entertaining and families, and since my family was raised eating bistro food in Europe, it's one of our preferred cuisines  for home cooking.

 

Roast chicken is a staple in bistro cuisine.  Inspired by recipes in both the Bouchon and Zuni Café Cookbooks, I roast the chicken in an oven-proof skillet in a very hot oven.  Nearly an oven to table dish, all it requires is resting before carving and capturing the delicious juices from the bird for basting and serving.  Save the bones to make chicken stock after the meal. 

 

Roast Chicken
Serves 2-4

 

One organic chicken, 2-1/2 to 3-1/2 lbs. (1- 1.5 kg.)
4 thyme, sage or rosemary sprigs
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Salt the chicken: 
Rinse the chicken and pat dry thoroghly with kitchen towels outside and inside the cavity.  Sprinkle all over with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. Refrigerate up to 24 hours before continuing. 

 

Preheat the oven to 450 F. (225 C.)
Slide your finger under the skin of each breast.  Insert an herb sprig in the pocket.  Repeat with the skin at the thighs.

Place chicken breast-side up in an oven-proof skillet or shallow roasting pan.  Place the chicken in the oven.  Roast 30 minutes, then turn chicken over breast-side down.  Roast additional 20 minutes.  Turn chicken over, breast-side up.  Roast 10 minutes more or until done. 
Remove from oven, baste chicken with juices.  Transfer chicken to a cutting board, and let rest 15 minutes. 

Pour fat from skillet, leaving drippings in pan.  Pour any juices from resting chicken into pan.  Add 1-2 tablespoons water or chicken stock into pan and deglaze.  Keep warm.

Carve chicken and arrange on warm serving platter.  Spoon juices over chicken.

Garnish with additional herb sprigs.

 

Serve with  a green salad and roasted potatoes.

 

A French Country Menu: Beef Bourguignon

During the winter season I like to prepare rustic peasant-style food from the French countryside. These hearty dishes are made with staples from the land such as potatoes, root vegetables, bitter winter greens, cured meats and cheese.  My favorite is Beef Bourguignon, a stew consisting of a tough cut of beef slow-cooked in Burgundy wine until falling-apart tender, mingling with carrots, onions and mushrooms in a rich, savory stock.  It's a delicious one-pot meal perfect for a cold night.  Try to make it one day in advance, so the flavors can develop overnight.  It you have a big appetite, serve it with Potato Gratin - preferably in front of a roaring fire.
 

Beef Bourguignon 

Serves 6-8

5 tablespoons olive oil
3 lbs. beef chuck, cut in 1 1/2" chunks
Salt and pepper
1/2 cup cognac

4 large carrots
1 large yellow onion, cut in large chunks
4 large garlic cloves, smashed
1 - 750 ml. bottle full-bodied red wine
1 cup beef stock
1 - 6 ounce can tomato paste
2 teaspoons dried thyme

10 oz. (300 g.) pearl onions, peeled
1/2 pound white mushrooms, halved
1 tablespoon brown sugar

Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium-high heat in a large oven-proof pan with lid or Dutch-oven. Season beef all over with salt and pepper. Working in batches, add beef to pan in one layer and brown on all sides. Transfer to a bowl. Add cognac to pan and deglaze pan over medium-high heat, scraping up bits. Allow to reduce by half. Pour cognac over beef and set aside.

Preheat oven to 325 F. (170 C.)  Coarsely chop 2 carrots.  Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in same pan. Add chopped carrots, onion and garlic. Sauté 3 minutes over medium heat. Add beef, wine, stock, tomato paste, and thyme. (Beef should be covered by the wine and stock. If not, add more wine or stock to cover.)  Bring to boil, reduce heat to low and cook 2 minutes.  Cover and place in oven. Bake until meat is very tender 2 1/2 - 3 hours.  

About 30 minutes before beef is done, cut remaining carrots in 1/2" slices.  Steam or blanch carrots until crisp tender; drain. Sauté mushrooms and onions in a skillet with one tablespoon olive oil until light golden brown.

Remove beef from oven.  Strain liquid from stew into a saucepan. Separate meat from vegetables and discard vegetables. Boil liquid until sauce is reduced by 1/2 and has a sauce consistency, skimming fat from surface. Add sugar. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Pour sauce back over beef.   Add carrots, mushrooms and onions to stock. Simmer 15 minutes. Serve.

Beef bourguignon can be prepared up to 2 days in advance. Cover and refrigerate. Remove solidified fat from surface before reheating. Reheat over medium-low heat on stovetop, or in a 325 F. oven.

Hunter's Stew, Mediterranean-Style

  

Provence or Sicily?  Late summer or fall?  Part coq au vin, cacciatore and ratatouille, this stew is a perfect do-ahead weekend dinner for family and friends.  In one family-style serving bowl, this stew combines the freshness and colors of summer with the comfort and richness of autumm.  Vibrantly spiced with paprika and red chile pepper, late-summer vegetables mingle with chicken in a rich, sweetly rounded soup of red wine, stock and tomato.  Olives and capers add sharpness and zing with the stamp of the Mediterranean.  Don't crawl under that sofa-throw just yet; this stew is flirting with you on the cusp of the changing seasons.  

Hunters Stew - Mediterranean Style
Serves 4-6

One chicken, broken down into 8 pieces
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 yellow onion, halved, each half quartered
4 cloves garlic, smashed
1 yellow squash, cut in 1/2" slices, each slice halved
1 zucchini (courgette), cut in 1/2" slices, each slice halved
1 large carrot, peeled, sliced in 1/2" rounds
1 red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, cut in 1/2" thick slices
1 green bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, cut in 1/2" thick slices
1 cayenne or serrano chile, stemmed, seeded, chopped
4 roma tomatoes, cut in chunks
8 medium white mushrooms, halved      
1/2 cup pitted green olives or kalamata olives
1/4 cup capers, rinsed, drained
2 tablespoons fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 tablespoon hot paprika
2 teaspoons dried oregano
1 bay leaf
1 1/2 cups dry red wine
3 tablespoons tomato paste
1 - 1 1/2 cups chicken stock
Salt and pepper, to taste

Fresh Italian parsley for garnish

Make the stew:
Salt and pepper chicken pieces.
In a heavy pot or dutch oven, heat olive oil.  Add chicken pieces, skin-side down, in batches in one layer to pot.  Cook until brown over medium-high heat, about 5 minutes each side.  Remove and set aside.

In same pot add squash, zucchini, carrot, peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, olives, capers, paprika, oregano and thyme. Cook stirring, allowing vegetables to brighten in color and soften slightly, about 4 minutes.  Add bay leaf, red wine, tomato paste, chicken.  Add enough chicken stock to just cover chicken and vegetables.  Bring to boil.  Reduce heat to simmer.  Cook over medium-low heat, partially covered, until chicken is cooked through and tender and sauce thickens, about 1 hour. 
Serve garnished with fresh parsley leaves.

Tip Jar:
This recipe can be prepared in advance.  Cool and refrigerate covered up to 1 day ahead.  The vegatables may lose some of their vibrancy in color, but the flavors of the stew will develop.  Rewarm gently over medium-low heat.

Before and After - avec enfants

Now in all fairness, there are probably a number of you who have read my post Before and After and thought: she was single and had no children, so she could afford to walk and eat all over Paris, both literally and figuratively. I understand, and I share these anecdotes with a great deal of nostalgia. However, this approach to cities is one that I follow even when traveling with our children to this day. Just ask them how they feel about walking in cities with their mother, and you may get an assortment of responses ranging from groans and feigned leg injures to deadpan comments such as, "Oh? Is there really a Metro in Paris, because we certainly wouldn't know." (I do exaggerate somewhat - during evening hours I am the first to jump in taxis or venture in the Metro. After all, as mentioned earlier, my most favorite past-time is eating in restaurants, and I will do whatever is necessary to arrive at said restaurant in a timely manner.)

My point is that I like to see everything. And my view is that when walking you see and learn so much more about a city. You can window shop, read menus posted outside of restaurants, admire building façades, and people-watch endlessly. Feeling tired? Just stop spontaneously for an espresso or jus pressé, and everyone can find something to nibble on from the menu carte. OK, so maybe there won't be shopping for those Robert Clergerie shoes, but I know our family-unit limits and have learned to respect them if there is any hope of enjoying the city. So, instead, we amuse ourselves looking at curios in the souvenir shops in Les Halles or at street performers at Le Centre Pompidou. After all, we are in Paris! And let's just be honest with ourselves: it is not - and never has been - humanly possible to digest the Louvre in one day. So why not just zip in and give Mona Lisa a good eye over with the kids in tow; after all there are a number of treasures and titillating Egyptian sarcophagi you pass in the maze you must walk to view her. With luck you might even get lost along the way and suddenly find yourselves glimpsing the Venus de Milo. The possibilities are endless! As for distances covered, it all becomes relative; a walk may not be across town, but if we can get from one end of le jardin des Tuileries to Ile Saint-Louis during the afternoon (with ice cream, feed the duck, look-at-barges-on-the-Seine stops along the way) then we are way ahead of the game. To me, living and traveling in Europe is about simple pleasures, and successfully navigating Paris with children is truly a very simple pleasure - and a huge victory.

Before and After

I confess that when I first moved to Paris to study cooking, I was somewhat inflexible in terms of feeding myself.  Here I was, twenty-something, educated, professional, and, at least in my opinion, worldly. Now, this is my own small story, but I will dare say that I conformed to a rather structured, and, perhaps American, way of viewing diet and exercise: compulsive, rigorous and disciplined. This translated to a philosophy that excluded butter, red meat, caffeine, little alcohol and included fresh fruit, veggies, fish and so on. It also included a regimen of daily exercise, even if it meant rising at 5 a.m. to squeeze a workout into an active, fully-booked life. A day without exercise was unthinkable; deviation from my super healthy diet bordered on cataclysmic.

So, wouldn't it make perfect sense that I would apply to cooking school in Paris? Not only cooking school, but the revered, classical, traditional French cooking school, Le Cordon Bleu. Goodness knows what I was thinking. Perhaps it was a subconscious acknowledgement of the starkness of my present routine and the need to just live a little; the gap of an ocean and the excuse of a new culture to step away from life as I knew it. Or perhaps it was the lack of meat protein in my diet that impacted my reasoning skills. Whatever the case, off I went to cook and eat in the land of butter, cream, pastry, runny cheese and terrines, at a school that for over 100 years held the distinguished and elite position of teaching classical French cuisine et pâtisserie.

And guess what? Nothing untoward happened. In fact, lots of delicious, sensual, pleasurable, yummy, gooey, and rich experiences befell me. The foods I wistfully admired from the sidelines of my healthy regimen back in the U.S. became the daily staples of my new Parisian life. I had an encyclopedia of cheeses at my disposal, bakeries on every street corner displayed gorgeous oven-baked breads and flaky croissants, cafés dotted every neighborhood serving comforting French bistro fare. Open air markets peppered the city, and depending on the day I could alter my route to school to pass by stands displaying a rainbow of fresh seasonal produce, glistening fresh meats and a sea of fish. Cheeses, pâtés, and more breads were prominently displayed along with a kaleidescope of cut flowers readily available for the finishing touch to the table.

For exercise I walked to school every day - literally across town - from the 18th to the 15th arrondissement. I risked life and limb crossing streets and boulevards, skirting the occasional mob of striking postal workers, protesting students and subsequent swarms of police, allowing 20 minutes at the minimum to navigate across the sweeping Place de la Concorde as I would officially cross from the right to the left bank over the Seine. Each day I would change my walking route, either purposely or more often erroneously, discovering new streets, neighborhoods, shops and cafés. I had a short list of favorite cafés where I would stop for my morning tartine (avec beurre) and café au lait (avec caféine.) Outside of the school I learned which bakeries had the best sandwiches - simple, satisfying packages with thickly sliced Comté cheese or paper-thin tongues of jambon sechée, a little butter and mustard, and perhaps a cornichon for garnish on a crusty, airy baguette the length of a forearm. So satisfying and so uncomplicated. An afternoon pick-me-up between classes or along my walk home would include an espresso and perhaps a tarte au citron - a dollop of perfectly balanced sweet, tart and very lemony curd nestled in a palm-sized shell of pâte sucrée. If I could bear to make dinner after a day of cooking in class, I would improvise a light dish with some of the purchases from the market or head out to a bistro or restaurant on my un-ending list of new places to try. Simply put, my life in Paris revolved around eating, cooking, walking and eating more.  I was very happy.  Bon Appétit.

Lemon Tart - Tarte au Citron

Makes one 9" tart

For the pastry - Pâte Sucrée
1 1/4 cup flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
7 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut in 1/2" pieces
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon ice water

Combine flour, sugar and salt in bowl of food processor.  Add butter, using on/off turns until the mixture becomes crumbly.  
Stir together egg yolk and water in small bowl.  Add to flour mixture.  Pulse until dough begins to clump together.  
Press dough into bottom and up sides of 9-inch tart pan with removable bottom.  Trim edges.  Pierce crust all over with fork.  Freeze 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350 F.  Line crust with foil.  Fill with dried beans or pie weights.  Bake until crust is set, about 15 minutes.  Remove foil and beans or weights.  Continue baking until crust is lightly golden, about 20 minutes.  Transfer to rack to cool while preparing the filling.

For the Lemon Filling:

6 egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
3/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (2-3 lemons)
6 tablespoons butter, softened
pinch of salt
2 teaspoons lemon zest

Combine egg yolks and sugar in a medium sauce pan.  Mix well to combine.  Add remaining ingredients, except for the lemon zest.  Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon.  (Do not allow to boil or the mixture will curdle.)
When the mixture changes to a bright yellow color and thickly coats the wooden spoon, remove from heat.  Pour through a fine strainer.  Discard the residue.  Stir in lemon zest.
Pour the filling into the cooled tart shell; it will continue to thicken as it sets.  Let it sit at least one hour.  Serve at room temperature or cold.

 

Border Crossings

As mentioned, Switzerland is a landlocked country bordering a handful of countries. From Geneva, you can be in France within 10 minutes, Italy in an hour, and from Basel and Zurich you are close to Germany, Leichtenstein, Austria. To an American this is just nifty. I mean, honestly, the most common border to an American is a state border, and crossing from California to Nevada or Massachusetts to New Hampshire is not nearly as thrilling as driving across a Swiss border to another country! When you cross a Swiss frontière, suddenly you enter another culture with another language, another way of making very good espressos, another set of road signs that you don't understand. Crossing a U.S. state border, you mostly find speed traps.

The first house I lived in was in a small village between Geneva and Lausanne. In this small hamlet, there was a marie, or town hall, a boulangerie(no self-respecting village would be without one) and a douane, or border guard. We lived one mile from the French border and could easily drive to and fro between Switzerland and France to our hearts' content. On Sundays we would shop the open air market in Divonne-les-Bains, purchasing fresh seasonal fruit and vegetables, roasted chicken, artisan cheese, paté and foie gras. We would then head to the local tearoom and recharge ourselves with a luscious croissant d'amandes and cappuccino before crossing back over the border to our home in Crassier.

When I first arrived, I loved casually inserting into a conversation with friends or family back in the U.S. that I had just shopped for groceries that morning in France, or that I would dine that evening in a French countryside auberge. My friend Kingsley arrived from the U.S. to visit me, and one of our first outings was to walk to France. Now, mind you, this was not the most scenic walk to do in the area, but, by golly, what a good story to talk about after. We nonchalantly waved bon jour to the Swiss border guards as we strolled past their guardhouse and casually glanced at the decidedly empty French border guardhouse (the guards were most likely fortifying themselves over a 2 hour lunch break) and then voilà! We were officially in another country! We trudged on to our destination, a simple café in a French village where we ordered Salade aux Crottins de Chavignol, a glass of wine and the French version of very good espresso. We then walked back over the border and still are, clearly, talking about it.

Bon Appétit

For the past 18 years I have lived in 5 countries. In 1990 I moved to Paris to study cooking with the intention of lingering on after my cooking program finished and finding a job. Originally I planned to work as an interior designer. After all, that was my profession in Boston before I moved, and while I loved cooking, I approached it more as a hobby and a ticket to Europe. I figured that once I got myself to Paris, learned the ropes of La Cuisine Française, magically learned French (I studied Spanish in school), endeared myself to the all-embracing French population and became a local, well, then, I might just get a design job with Euro-Disney, which was in the process of being constructed on the outskirts of Paris. I would nimbly straddle the French-American culture, drinking café au lait and eating baguettes (I was on a tight budget, after all) while involving myself in the construction and decor of the Magic Kingdom and home of Mickey Mouse. Sounded like a plan.

As all best laid plans go, before I even boarded the Jumbo to take me to Paris, I met a Dane who was in town on business from Geneva, Switzerland. What does this have to do with anything, you may ask. Well, everything. We hit it off, we liked each other. I thought he was cute, and apparently he felt the same about me. So, when I did fly over to Paris to cook, that was not the only thing that began cooking. Geneva and Paris are a 3 hour TGV train ride apart, and for the next 6 months we spent nearly every weekend together either in Paris or Geneva. So, upon my graduation from La Cuisine Base de Française in Paris, I decided that Euro-Disney would have to be built without me, packed my bags and took another TGV ride to Geneva - this time with the plan to stay.