Many of you have asked if my blogging life is over. The answer is “No, it’s not over”.

Life gets in the way sometimes. There are a few things on my plate that I have to deal with on an immediate basis. I will be blogging as soon as my appetite returns.

I really only believed my uncle JL is gone when I saw my aunt shaking violently with grief at the sight of the casket. That was such a painful sight. I cried buckets and still there are days worth of crying to be done.

Grief is like a heavy blanket that I want to crawl under and turn my back on the world. I don’t have energy for anything. I don’t feel like doing anything. It’s one of the few rare times in my life that I don’t feel like eating either. But I know I must. I can’t fall sick now. I have my family to take care of.

So, I’m hoping that savoury tarts and sweet breads can trick the mind and hopefully, bring my appetite back. I made “un cake à saucisse et tomates sechée”. In French, a cake is pronounced just like cake in English. But it is not the cake that we know. Un cake is like a quick bread and is usually savoury. It is also always made in the form of a rectangular loaf. Un cake is easy to make and you can be inventive with the ingredients once you get the basic dough right.

Ben found a good video showing how to make a cranberry loaf. In the video, you can see the type and size of the baking tin. The method is exactly the same as making this cake. All you really need to do is stir. Try your best to ignore the ninny commentator in the clip… she’s one of those annoying people who keeps talking but says nothing. Otherwise, I thought the clip is well done and the cranberry loaf looks healthy and delicious.

After the news, I walk around like a zombie. I am sad to the core. I carry this heavy weight with me everywhere. The grief and anger is bottling up and I need to have a big cry.

Below is the start of this crazy week, where the celebration of a new life began:

As you know, I work right smack in what I call “Le Seizieme Profond” (the deep 16th). Every now and then, during lunch break, I take a long walk at lunch time to get some fresh air, away from fussy women and their bratty kids. A long time ago, a woman kindly pulled me aside and whispered “We should never wear black during the day. Try camel or beige colors. ” I almost died. Sometimes, I walk as far away as Avenue Kléber towards Etoile. I’ve always walked by La Butte Chaillot and thought that one day I’ll have lunch there, like celebrating an important project.

So when Ben came over for lunch to celebrate some good news, I thought of La Butte Chaillot, the same time he said he saw a nice restaurant on the way. This is telepathy after 5 years of marriage.

Guy Savoy needs no introduction. He’s one of France’s most celebrated chefs. The story goes that this French star earned his first Michelin star in 1981 only one year after opening his restaurant. He earned his second in 1985 and his third in 2002. He has taken great chefs like Gordon Ramsey and Hélène Darroze under his wing and his staff has only good things to say about him. I eat better knowing that the chef’s not psycho.

La Butte Chaillot is one of the several Guy Savoy restaurants. It doesn’t have a Michelin star but the food and service are good. The d&eactue;cor is warm, modern and feels low-key. The waiters are polite and dressed casually in black T-shirts and pants. The lunch crowd is young, trendy and it seems that most people come here for business lunches. The women from the 16th with their gigantic fur coats and frou-frou dogs don’t fit in here for lunch. Thank God for some respite!

Lunch was fennel soup (EUR9), a slice of roasted sea bass with snow peas (EUR21) and a glass of freshly pressed orange juice (EUR4.50).

La Butte Chaillot (google map)
110 bis Avenue Kléber
75016, Paris
Tel: 01 47 27 88 88
Métro : Trocadéro

I’m learning to appreciate the winter season in France. It’s easy to love spring and summer. I love waking up to birds chirping and the bedroom soaked in sunshine. Fall and winter are harder for me to get used to. I miss the sun so much! So, I try to think of all the fun activities, to while the winter blues away.

In the winter, I love curling up with a book by the fireplace in the mountains and drinking mug after mug of hot chocolate. I also love eating “heavier” meals like gratins or a tartiflette. These are dishes that one can only eat in the winter time and not feel guilty about. We need the extra layer of insulation and everything is hidden under thick woolly sweaters anyways, so, eat away!

A gratin is a dish, usually made with potatoes topped with cheese and baked in the oven. One of the French favourites is “tartiflette” (tart-t-flat) is a type of gratin, made with bacon, potatoes and Reblochon cheese from the French Alps, invented in the early 1980s to increase the consumption of the reblochon cheese. A tartiflette brings to mind images of snow falling on window sills, somewhere in the high mountains, after a long day of ski or strenuous exercising. Well, because after you’ve had a tartiflette, you haul yourself to bed with difficulty. It’s a heavy winter dish!

I also associate gratins to winter time because it’s a heavy dish that is eaten hot, right out of the oven and with friends. The best thing about gratins is in the sharing. As soon as the gratin is out of the oven and placed in the middle of the table, everyone digs in and the cheese strings out in all directions. Somehow the gratins get finished with a smile… we were all in it together.

This gratin is made with potatoes and celery rave (celeriac in English). When I first saw celery rave, it reminded me of an ohmu∗ (minus the blue/ red eyes of course) from the most recent Miyazaki movie, Nausica&amul;. It has knobbly bits on its skin and little roots that stick out. Come on, you have to admit. It does look like …

Try to get over its appearance. Cooked celery rave tastes really good. This is quite an unusual gratin as it’s made with a tomato sauce.

This recipe is an adaptation taken from Patricia Well's Bistro Cooking Cookbook.

∗Ohmu means Insect King.

Being the great planner that I am, I failed to order a turkey in advance for our Thanksgiving dinner party. Oops. As I was walking to the market, I was thinking up all plausible excuses for my American friends about why the turkey never made it to our table- Isn’t it nice to have a vegetarian Thanksgiving? Or chicken’s just as good! Urgh. What was I going to do without a turkey? I started to invoke divine intervention.

Thank Goodness! There was one last turkey at the volailliere at 11am. An American woman had ordered it for the day before for Thanksgiving, but failed to pick it up. I could have it for EUR25 instead of EUR65 if I wanted it. Duh! Of course, I would love to have it! Then he gave me a whole kilo of chicken wings for free and proceeded to tell me how to make a good broth for the sauce. “Vous serez regalé” (You will have a delicious meal!) In Asia, it wouldn’t make a difference to the price if the bird was a day old. A turkey is a turkey and hard to get on Thanksgiving week. And no one would be giving away chicken wings for free. The French never fail to surprise me with their generosity.

His generosity gave a kick start to my day and gave me the confidence to tackle roasting my first turkey and making my first bread stuffing. Below is the recipe from the magazine “Fine Cooking” I followed like a pedant in the kitchen, word for word.* I was really worried I would screw up the turkey and ruin Thanksgiving for my friends. The recipe worked. Everyone seemed pleased with the turkey and there were leftovers only for one sandwich the next day.

Lunch, the day after Turkey day, is layers of roast turkey with a thick slice of country bread soaked in gravy in the middle… just divine!

I’ve never been a big bean fan. I would flick out all the red beans in ice-kachang*. Red bean soup is always served at birthdays or weddings or any celebration. Ewww. Do I really have to eat that? I think the grimace on my face is enough torture to everyone around me that my parents usually say they’ll eat my red bean anything, as soon as the dish arrives.

On one of our earlier dates, way back when we were both living in the States, Ben and I went out for Mexican food. Ben was so enthusiastic that I was about to taste my first Mexican meal ever. He ordered something of everything on the menu. The quesadillas were nice. I like avocados. The margaritas – well, anything alcoholic, and sipping them through straws. The Mexicans know how to party. Then there was the burrito. Hmmm, tastes good. I like the black thing. What’s that? Oh, that’s refried beans.

PAUSE.

What?

I hate beans!

But you just said you liked it. *twinkle in his eye*

Oh, the deception! How could he! Well well well, this is the end. The nerve on this boy!

10 years later, I’m still with Mr Refried Beans. And now, I have to admit: I actually quite like (some) beans. (Still can’t do red bean soup though.)

Here is a bean recipe that is our household favourite. It’s just the way we like it. Sometimes, I add diced sausages instead of bacon. For my vegetarian friends, you can leave out the meat, it tastes just as good.

* Ice kachang means “red bean ice” and is a popular Singaporean dessert of shaved ice and red beans. We can find ice kachang in many hawker centres, food courts and they’re served with palm seeds, corn, agar agar, corn syrup and always with those lovely red beans.

I’m not kidding. These really are the best-est, moist-est, fudgy-est brownies in the world! They are so good I received a marriage proposal because of them. Ben was not amused.

And they are SO EASY to make. All you need to do is stir. If you’re a new baker, like me, this is the type of recipe you should try. It makes you feel good. If only everything in life is as easy peasy as these brownies.

You can make plain brownies. Or brownies with nuts. Or in my case, brownies with walnuts and white chocolate chips on top.

Now that I am no longer a poor starving student, with a little bit of disposable income to spare, I have picked up a new hobby – SHOPPING! How can a woman not shop, right? When I first caught the bug, I would come back every night with a bag or two… Well, I was just making up for the years that I could not really shop.

The more I shopped, the more I realised I have a thing for numbers. I do. Especially when the number has to do with food. I have the uncanny ability to register prices and door codes. I quite like this new found ability. I know when a jar of peanut butter is EUR9 in one store and EUR3.50 in a regular Monoprix, EUR3.69 in a Gourmet Monoprix and EUR3.99 in Inno (which is BTW, also a Monoprix, but an “upscale” version. I say “upscale” because apart from softer lighting, rude service and paying more for the products, I can’t see why it’s “upscale”.).

I begin to question the real value of whatever that I’m buying. I’m by no means stingy or cheap or a bargain hunter. I just like the satisfaction of paying a good price for the goods. For my baking needs, I’ve found two stores that does just that.

For all my baking utensils, I go to Mora. It was founded in 1814 and is still family-owned. There is every imaginable baking apparatus and every brand you can possibly want under this roof. I paid EUR9.20 for 12 small non-stick tartlet moulds. I like the arrangement of the shelves and having prices on the shelves that correspond directly to the baking goods.

For baking ingredients, I go to G. Detou (pronounced as jay der-too). It also rhymes with “J’ai de tout.”, which in French means “I have everything.”. This is not a joke. There really was a Monsieur Gerald Detou, who founded the store in 1951. I mean, with a name like that, how can he not run a store?! I’m just glad he thought of baking goods and not mechanical spare parts for cars and such. At G. Detou, you buy cocoa nibs, vanilla pods, almond powder in bigger quantities. I paid EUR8 for 1kg of ground almonds (versus EUR3.40 for 120g in Carrefour) and EUR6 for 1kg of 70% chocolate cocoa nibs.

MORA
13 rue Montmarte
75001, Paris
Tel: 01 45 08 19 24
Métro : Chatelet, Les Halles
Opening Hours : Mon-Fri, 9am – 6 :15pm, Sat : 8 :30am – 1pm, 1 :45pm – 5pm
Click here for MORA’s website

G. Detou
58 rue Tiquetonne
75002, Paris
Tel: 01 42 36 54 67
Métro : Chatelet, Les Halles
Opening Hours : Mon-Sat : 8 : 30am – 6 :30pm

Note:My two baking suppliers are located in two different arrondissements… but they are in fact a stone’s throw from each other.

For the past couple of weeks, the blog was under attack from spam comments from car loans to acne cream to penis extensions. For a new blogger with basic IT knowledge, this is catastrophe. I lay awake at night knowing some bot somewhere out there is posting nasty comments which I will wake up to receiving. For countless weeks, DH and I have been busy learning how to block spams, the blight of the earth and a total waste of energy. I think we have somewhat solved it by asking for authentication. So, we’ll see.

Tonight, we came up with a variation of the potato soup that we love. This soup definitely falls into the category of “Comfort Soup”. And boy, do we need it!

These knobbly looking tubers are called Topinambour (taup-pin-nam-bore) or Jerusalem Artichoke in English. I guess because the shape resembles baby artichokes. They’re sold all year round in the markets in Paris. I’ve always looked at them and wondered what they were and what they tasted like. The woman in front of us today bought 1kg of topinambour. So, I jumped in and asked for 500g of the same.

I often joke (only half joking) with Ben that one day I’ll quit my day job and set up my own little lunch-tea shop. I feel that there is a big need for good no-fuss lunch stops in Paris. Really, gone are daily two-three-four hour French lunches. As much as the French are holding onto long lunches, it’s impossible to work les trente-cinq heures (35 hours), have long lunches, get the work done and still have a life.

We, les travailleurs (the workers) want fresh meals of a decent size. And we want it quick! We don’t want to have to go to a bistro for two years before they, the servers, recognise us and serve us as soon as we sit down.

I discovered Jour with my friend Jodi, as we hopped on a bus and ventured away from the company’s lunch perimeter. Jour serves salads, wraps and soups. Their forte is salads. First you pick a base of salad leaves or pasta. Then you choose whatever salad ingredient you like and it all gets tossed with vinaigrette of your choice in a big silver mixing bowl in front of our eyes. There is every ingredient under the salad sky: honey chicken, sweet shrimp, beef, sardines, fresh corn, artichokes, mushrooms, carrots, lentils, bean sprouts, falafel sprouts, croutons, olives, cheeses and so on. The ingredients range from 20 cents, 50 cents, 75 cents, EUR1, EUR1.50 to EUR2 for the meats and shrimps. Everything looks and tastes fresh.

What more? It’s a luncheon place with nice clean design.

Jour
40 avenue Kleber
75016, Paris
Tel: 01 45 53 12 31
Métro : Kleber

Other addresses :
29, rue du Louvre, 75002
13, blvd Malesherbes, 75008
12 rue Clement Marot, 75008
35 rue de Ponthieu, 75008

All open from Mon to Sat, from 11 :45am to 16 :30pm, well, they are called “Day”…
Ticket restaurants accepted
Click here for Jour’s website

If you are a new cook like me, you’re probably wondering what a Doufeu® is. Doufeu is Doux Feu which means “Gentle Fire or Gentle Flame”. Le Creuset*, the company that makes Doufeu ® calls it a “French oven”, but it is basically a “Dutch oven” with a special design. And what exactly is a “dutch oven” you ask? Well, it’s a cast iron casserole with a lid on. The dutch oven is probably the first primitive type of oven. The food was put in a heavy casserole and covered with an equally heavy lid and buried with burning coals. A Doufeu® casserole has a concave lid for ice cubes. We put ice cubes on the lid and the condensation from the ice cubes form on the bottom of the lid and keeps the food moist.

My Doufeu’s first recipe is beef bourguignon (berh-ghee-kneeon) or Bœuf à la Bourguignonne … I’m living up to the dream Monsieur BHV sold me. The recipe is an adaptation from Epicurious. Beef bourguignon is a very popular traditional French dish from the Burgundy or Bourgogne wine region in France. It is a beef stew with pearl onions, mushrooms and carrots simmered in red wine from Burgundy.

Many beef bourguignon recipes say to use a Côte de Rhone wines or any red wine. I don’t know how the beef bourguignon will taste with a Côte de Rhone, but I think we should try to stick to a Pinot Noir, preferably from Burgundy.

Wines from Burgundy are very particular and highly valued. Almost all Burgundy wines are produced from small family plots for personal consumption and made from a single grape variety. Pinot noirs are especially highly valued because it’s a difficult grape to grow and ferment**. There are many variants of the grape pinot noir (hundreds or thousands?) and thus pinot noir wines have very different aromas and flavours. I suggest choosing a reasonably priced appellation regional (wine made from pinot noir grapes in Burgundy region) Burgundy with “terroir” tasting note for a beef bourguignon.

The first page of Lolita by Nabokov reads like a beautiful love story, which degenerates immediately into ugliness, vileness. I flipped back to the cover to reread the quote from Vanity Fair that “Lolita is the most beautiful love story of our century”. What? Since when did rape become love stories?

A recent IHT article writes this winter’s fashion trend of women discovering their “inner child”. The look is pipe-drain jeans and collared shirts with ruffles for sleeves. It’s that pre-pubescent look that women are striving for. Igor Chapurin opened his fashion show with the word "Lolita." The article goes on to say that there was more depth to this parade than just the wispy, pale blonde Russian models who have been in the firestorm of accusations of anorexia.

"I didn't even realize that I had booked almost entirely Russia models - but Nabokov was Russia and Lolita has grown into a new women who is sensual and strong," said Chapurin backstage.

Igor Chapurin probably likes nymphets himself. He clearly has not read Lolita. What kind of person thinks that raped 12 year olds grow into sensual new women? The movie is a faint resemblance of the novel with a sick twist to cast blame on a 12 year old “seductress”. Yes, young boys and girls create paedophiles.

The book starts out with Humbert at a trial, at his own defense, laying out the reason for his lust for nymphets. Humbert documents well the course of events in the 3 years he raped Dolores Haze. Nabokov cleverly brings the reader into the fold and into Humbert’s obsession with prepubescent girls, including his helplessness, his total surrender to his lust.

So, what is the point of this novel and what is the author trying to say? Nabokov in the afterword writes about a drawing of an ape in the Jardin des Plantes in Paris, how the first ape who ever drew, pencilled the cage bars within which it lived in. So, Humbert was depicting the cage of a person who was living within the cage of his own horrors? Did Nabokov experience these sexual urges towards his nymphet students?

I feel no remorse for Humbert. He took advantage of her disadvantage. His paedophilic lust destroyed her for life. In the end, there is nothing left. It’s not basic instinct, not survival instinct. It’s vile.There is nothing to analyze, nothing to understand.

Our next book is Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller

Last Sunday, France officially set the clock back an hour for “Daylight Saving”, which means I get to sleep an extra hour. It also means that we have fewer hours of sunshine during the day. It gets harder and harder to get out of my nice warm duvet in the mornings. When I go to work at 8am, it’s dark. When I get out of work at 8pm, it’s still dark. My favorite time of an autumn day is at 4:30pm when I take a short break during “le goûter” (tea break) to look at the sky swathed in orange sunshine.

Autumn seems to be orange or various shades of orange. The winter squashes have made their appearance in the markets this week. From huge pumpkins that weigh as much as I do, to gourde-like butternut squash to the colorful turban squash… orange is the color that brightens up a winter day!

Winter squashes have thick hard shells that are difficult to cut through, are totally inedible but act as protection for storage between 30 to 180 days depending on variety. Pumpkins are harvested when they are ripe. Choose a pumpkin that is firm and intact, with a dull-colored skin. It means that that the pumpkin was picked when it was ripe. If the skin is glossy, it will not have much flavor. If the skin is old and woolly, the flesh will be very fibrous. Choose a pumpkin that has its stem intact, as it will slow down the loss of moisture.

The skin of a pumpkin is usually orange and smooth. Pumpkin flesh is a deep orange yellow in color, is thick, dry, sweet but fibrous. Pumpkins are usually used in soups, desserts and jams. This ginger pumpkin soup is easy to make. The ginger gives the sweet pumpkin a little zest.

A walk in Le Jardin des Tuileries on Toussaint or All Saints' Day at sundown... It's so beautiful... some days it still escapes me - I can't believe I'm living in Paris.

Fishy fishy in a brook,
Daddy caught him with a hook,
Mommy fried him in a pan,
And Ginny ate it as fast as she can.

My Dad’s an avid fisherman. Any chance he gets, he goes deep-sea fishing with his buddies. And he always comes back with heaps of fish. We help him clean and gut the fish, divide them into portions. We keep a third of the catch for ourselves and deliver the rest to the old folks’ homes in the surrounding neighbourhoods. Only after the delivery, do we sit down and eat some of his catch. One of my favourites is Dad’s fried fish with spicy tomato sauce. I like it because it’s done in a flash and I’m usually famished by then.

Ben and I took a cooking class last week at L'Atelier des Chefs and we learnt an even faster way of preparing fish. Lunch was a “Brandade de Cabillaud”, which is a cod fish paste made with olive oil, milk and garlic. Traditionally, a “brandade” (brawn-dud) is made with salted morue (another type of codfish) and is a specialty from Nîmes in France.

Postscript: My French aunt tells me that the traditional "Brandade de Morue" is not made with potatoes, but with salted cod fish, olive oil, garlic and crème fraîche. You can use the the same quantities in the recipe I listed and mix the fish with 15cl of sour cream or crème fraîche. It would be a thick fish paste.

]]> http://www.lapetitechinoise.com/2006/10/brandade_de_cabillaud.html http://www.lapetitechinoise.com/2006/10/brandade_de_cabillaud.html Fishy Business Tue, 31 Oct 2006 11:14:24 +0100