Other good news is that On Rue Tatin was featured in a gorgeous article in the March issue of Traditional Home magazine.

http://www.traditionalhome.com/food_entertaining/cookingschool/recipes-french-cooking_ss1.html

And now, on to further delicious notes….

I love tarte tatin, and I’ve made  a reputation for myself among friends and  collaborators for the quality of mine.  To make it, I simply follow a recipe I’ve honed over the past many years, I choose great apples, and I take my time. When I teach people how to make my tarte tatin, I insist they do the same. The result is always spectacular.

But there are times when I don’t really feel like making tarte tatin, even though I might have a friend clamoring for me to do so. This was the case last weekend when  Adrian Leeds (www.parlerparis.com) came to visit. She was on a mission, and part of it was to eat a piece of my tarte tatin.

When she arrived late Saturday, I’d been at work since very early that morning, and had a full schedule the following day as well.  I won’t say I wasn’t in the mood to make Tarte Tatin; I simply didn’t have the time to give to this particular enterprise.  So, I came up with a more-than viable alternative which I now refer to as Cake Tatin.  Buttery, caramel-y, appley, it is a simple, quick wonder.  In fact, I made it while Adrian and I were talking in the kitchen, and when the air began to smell of butter and caramel her eyes opened wide. “What is that smell?” she asked. I told her.  “When did you make it? I didn’t see a thing.”

Cake Tatin, post sampling

I’m giving you the recipe here, along with the post-sample photograph.  I urge you to make it while apples are still delicious. Bon Appétit.

 
CARAMELIZED APPLE CAKE LE GATEAU AUX POMMES CARAMELISEES DE PIERRE YVES
ASTUCE: You must be very careful when caramelizing the apples before adding the batter because you don’t want to burn yourself. I place the cake pan over medium heat and handle it with tongs, keeping my distance from the heat.
For the fruit:1/3 cup (65g) vanilla sugar1-3/4 pounds;875g tart apples such as Gravensteins, Cox Orange Pippins,Criterion, Melrose or Boscop, peeled, cut in eighths, (or 2 pounds;1 kg apricots, pits removed)
For the batter:½ cup plus 3 tablespoons (about 100g) all-purpose flour1/2 teaspoon baking powderPinch fine sea salt6 tablespoons (90g) salted butter 1/2 cup (100g) vanilla sugar3 large eggsThe seeds from 1 vanilla beanGeranium blossoms
1.  Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).
2.  To prepare the apples, place the sugar in the bottom of a 8-inch (24cm), flame-proof  cake pan (you can use a non-stick pan here), and place it over medium heat to caramelize the sugar.  Using kitchen tongs, tilt and swirl the pan slightly to evenly caramelize the sugar, being very careful not to burn yourself, and when the sugar is a deep golden, remove from the heat and add the apples.
3.  To make the batter, sift together the dry ingredients onto a piece of parchment or waxed paper.  Place the butter and the sugar into a large bowl or the bowl of an electric mixer and mix them together until the mixture is pale yellow and light.  Add the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition, then add the vanilla seeds.  Finally, fold in the dry ingredients until they are thoroughly incorporated into the butter and eggs.  Pour the batter over the apples and bake the cake in the center of the oven until it is golden and puffed slightly and your finger leaves a slight indentation on the top of the cake when you press on it.  You may test it with a knife which, when inserted into the cake  should come out clean (it may come out slightly moist if it pierces a piece of fruit, but it shouldn’t have any un-cooked batter on it), for about 30 minutes.  If the cake isn’t baked, return it to the oven until it is baked through.
4.  Remove the cake from the oven and place a large platter atop the cake pan.  Working carefully so you don’t burn your hands, turn the cake pan over so the platter is on the bottom, and the cake falls out onto the platter with the fruit on top.  You may need to give the cake pan a sharp shake or two to release the cake from the pan.  If some of the fruit sticks to the pan, don’t be concerned – just remove it and place it atop the cake – no one will ever know the difference!  Let the cake cool to room temperature then serve, garnished with geranium blossoms.
Serves 10-12 people

***

Apple cakes and tarts aside, the news of Japan precludes almost everything, and it isn’t getting better. If you need a place to donate, please consider www.mercycorps.org which makes certain that more than 88% of funds it receives goes directly to those who are in need.

I think not. We can enjoy it, but it’s our annual February tease. Root vegetables, cabbage, stews and soups will be de rigeur for awhile yet!

Meanwhile, I was asked to prepare lunch for a group of executives from a local multi-national. The menu was easy: scallops baked in green tea cream, Piment d’Espelette peppered pan fried pork chops with melted Savoy cabbage and buttery mashed potatoes, a salad of lambs’ lettuce heightened with shallots, and gorgeous local neufchâtel cheese. But dessert…oh dessert. I’m just the slightest bit weary of cooked apples and pears; it’s too soon for strawberries….

Then I remembered Claude Colliot’s Tout Blanc, a brilliant creation of exotic flavors and smooth Italian meringue. I proceeded to recreate it by grating combava zest into sheeps’ milk yogurt and letting it drain overnight. Then, I puréed lychees with sugar syrup, strained them, and made sorbet. These two tasks were done the night before. The morning of the lunch I made Italian meringue. The challenge of this dessert was manifold because it had to be assembled at the last minute, and I’d never made it before so I couldn’t anticipate pitfalls.

Mercifully, there were none. The yogurt was perfectly, delicately seasoned, and I spread a shallow round in the center of each plate. When the time came to serve the dessert, I quickly and carefully scooped out the sorbet, which held it’s shape without melting long enough for me to put a whoosh of Italian meringue on top. I garnished each plate with a very lovely basil leaf, and set a sablé that I’d seasoned with cinnamon and fleur de sel on the plate next to it.

I have Mr. Colliot to thank for the happiness of my diners, who literally rushed into the kitchen after lunch to ask about the dessert. They’d eaten every bite of both starter and main course, but the dessert kept them talking all the way out to their cars, I could hear them.

I offer you my version of this marvelous dessert.

Tout Blanc

1 cup sheeps’ milk or Greek yogurt

The minced zest from half a combava or lime

For the sorbet:

Three 15 oz. cans lychees in syrup

For the Italian Meringue:

2-1/2 cups (500g) plus 2 tablespoons granulated vanilla sugar

2/3 cup (150ml) water

1/3 cup (80g) glucose, or inverted sugar such as Karo syrup

The whites from 6 large eggs (9 oz; 240g)

Pinch fine sea salt

3 teaspoons of vanilla, orange flower water, raspberry puree, mint extract, rose water,

or flavoring of your (you will need to taste the hot mixture to adjust the flavoring)

6 basil leaves, for garnish

1. Whisk the zest into the yogurt.

2. Line a fine-mesh sieve with two layers of cheesecloth and set it over a bowl. Scrape the yogurt and zest into the sieve, and refrigerate overnight.

3. Drain the lychees, saving the juice. Puree the lychees and strain them through a fine mesh sieve. Whisk in ½ cup of the reserved syrup and refrigerate overnight.

4. To make the Italian meringue, place the 2-1/2 cups sugar, glucose or inverted sugar, and water in a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. Stir, using a stainless steel spoon, until the sugar is completely dissolved. Cook the sugar until it reaches a temperature of 2651F (1301C), which will take about 15 minutes.

5. Place the egg whites in the bowl of an electric mixer. When the sugar has reached 2651F (1301C), remove it from the heat immediately. Add the pinch of salt to the whites, and begin whisking on medium high speed. When the whites turn frothy, after about 30 seconds, add the 2 tablespoons sugar, and continue to whisk until the whites are smooth and very creamy, and form stiff peaks.

6. Using a sturdy kitchen towel or a hot pad to hold the saucepan handle, pour the cooked sugar mixture very slowly into the whites while the whisk attachment is still running, being very careful to avoid pouring onto the whisk itself, as the extremely hot sugar could splatter. Once all of the sugar and syrup are incorporated and with the whisk still running, add any chosen flavoring or extract, if using, to the mixture and mix well.

7. To assemble the dessert, divide the yogurt among six dessert place, spreading it in a small round in the center of the plate. Top it with a generous scoop of the sorbet, then top the sorbet with Italian meringue. Garnish each plate with a basil leaf, and serve immediately.

6 servings

.

When I arrived at for an 8 p.m. reservation, the friends I was meeting weren’t there because, as I discovered, the reservation was actually for 8:30. Not wanting to sit waiting I told the maitre d’hotel I’d go take a walk ” Madame, we are so glad you are here, please stay and I’ll get you something to drink.” After a day of walking the streets of Paris in search of the finest for the iphone application update of Food Lover’s Guide to Paris by Patricia Wells, I realized I’d be only too happy to comply.

I don’t think I’d ever felt as at ease sitting alone in a restaurant before. The respite of calm and near silence of those exposed stone walls and pale olive green accents – despite other early diners – was gorgeous.

And everything that followed was equally gorgeous. I’d never had Chef Colliot’s signature oyster sorbet, and found it the most intensely pleasurable experience, down to the dab of bitter lemon jelly on the side, and the bed of grated cauliflower “ice” which, when I tasted it turned out to be more than a clever conceit – it was delicious because it was perfectly “seasoned” with a bit of the melted sorbet.

Oyster Sorbet

So many rich and lively flavors followed as I sampled a gingery broth with curls of raw beef, perfectly tender dorade rose, or sea bream cooked a l’unilatérale (on the skin side) so it was bot crisp and soft, and just the tiniest bit crunchy with fleur de sel. A small mound of beet “caviar” was a sweet accompaniment.

The Challons duck was blood red and tender, it’s thighs grilled to a perfect crisp. But even more than the main courses, what caught my eye and my palate was a side bowl of vegetables. They reminded me of the young Japanese woman who lived with me and my family for a year and who would, upon occasion, take three ingredients and make a satisfying meal for six. In the bowl, then, were two small Savoy cabbage leaves, several shavings of carrot, a trio of halved Brussel sprouts and a little nest of butter-braised white onions. Each vegetable still had a slight crunch; the whole was a fresh, buttery, abundant seeming and perfectly seasoned ode to the moment.

And then came dessert. We asked the Chef to “do for us” and he did, with his all white confection that I will recreate at home, often.. Sitting in a pool of fromage blanc seasoned with uzu powder was a perfect scoop of Lychee sorbet topped with a wave of Italian meringue. As you know if you read yesterday’s posting, I’m now adept at Italian meringue; the other two elements are easily doable too!

When next you’re in Paris, don’t miss this spot.

CLAUDE COLLIOT, 40 Clos des Blancs-Manteaux, 75004 Paris Tell 33 (0)1 42 71 55.

www.claudecolliot.com

Fiona had a friend with her to help and as they worked and played I decided to make marshmallows. Egg whites were in the bowl of the mixer, the sugar, water and sugar syrup were in the pan, bubbling. Vanilla extract was standing by, the gelatin was softening in a bowl and the marble was covered with confectioner’s sugar and cornstarch which would keep the marshmallow mixture from sticking.

The best part

Marshmallows Cooling

I was also making brownies – Fiona’s birthday cake request – and cutting up vegetables and fruit for snack. It was a slumber party and dinner was to be hand-made pizzas, so I had bowls of sliced cheese and salami, tomato sauce and olives here and there, and dough rising on the counter.

I made the marshmallows and spread them evenly out on the sugar-dusted marble, then turned to the sink, the bowl in my hand. Oh no. The leaves of gelatin were still there, sitting in water. I’d forgotten to add them to the marshmallows, so that sticky mixture I’d spread on the counter wasn’t marshmallows at all.

Working as fast as I could I put the bowl back on the kitchen aid, scooped up the white, frothy mixture thinking I’d add the gelatin now. But I realized it was doomed; the mixture was already cooled down. I put it in a big bowl, wondering what on earth I’d do with it, and proceeded to make another batch of marshmallows which, this time, had my undivided attention.

That white mass sat in a bowl until one of the moms came to help out and said “Why don’t you just make meringues?” I wasn’t sure it would work but it was a great idea, and I shaped the mixture into quenelles and popped them into the already warm oven.

Then, the party began in earnest and I supervised three-legged races and “carry the egg in the spoon” races, find the treasure, bob for apples, pop the balloon games. The girls decided to do a fashion show, which released me and I checked on the meringues. To my delight, they were just slightly golden, crisp through, and perfect!

Bobbing for Apples

I cut up the marshmallows, dusted some with sweetened cocoa, and others with cinnamon sugar. I cut up the brownies and piled them abundantly on a plate. I surrounded them with my home-made meringues. When Fiona came in to ask for cake, all was ready.

Who was happiest when all was said and done? I’m not sure. But one thing I do know – I now can make meringues, and I’m going to do so with gusto, for every future birthday party, and many times in between.

MARSHMALLOWS

GUIMAUVE

If you’d like to follow my lead and make meringues, omit the gelatin from the following recipe. You’ll end up with something called Italian Meringue. Bake it at about 250F for a couple of hours, or until the meringues are crisp through. Yum.

½ cup (60 g) confectioner=s sugar

2cup (60 g) cornstarch

2-1/2 cups (500g) plus 2 tablespoons granulated vanilla sugar

2/3 cup (150ml) water

1/3 cup (80g) glucose, or inverted sugar such as Karo syrup

12 sheets gelatin leaves (one scant ounce; 24g)

The whites from 6 large eggs (9 oz; 240g)

Pinch fine sea salt

3 teaspoons of vanilla, orange flower water, raspberry puree, mint extract, rose water,

or flavoring of your (you will need to taste the hot mixture to adjust the flavoring)

1. Mix the confectioner=s sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl until combined. Line a jelly-roll pan with parchment paper, and sprinkle it with half the cornstarch mixture. Alternatively, sprinkle half the cornstarch mixture directly onto a marble, granite, or other even, flat work surface in a 17 x 9-inch (42.5×22.5cm) rectangle.

2. Place the 2-1/2 cups sugar, glucose or inverted sugar, and water in a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. Stir, using a stainless steel spoon, until the sugar is completely dissolved. Cook the sugar until it reaches a temperature of 2651F (1301C), which will take about 15 minutes.

3. While the sugar is cooking, place the gelatin leaves, one by one, into a bowl of cold water. Reserve.

4. Place the egg whites in the bowl of an electric mixer. When the sugar has reached 2651F (1301C), remove it from the heat immediately. Add the pinch of salt to the whites, and begin whisking on medium high speed. When the whites turn frothy, after about 30 seconds, add the 2 tablespoons sugar, and continue to whisk until the whites are smooth and very creamy, and form stiff peaks.

5. Using a sturdy kitchen towel or a hot pad to hold the saucepan handle, pour the cooked sugar mixture very slowly into the whites while the whisk attachment is still running, being very careful to avoid pouring onto the whisk itself, as the extremely hot sugar could splatter. Once all of the sugar and syrup are incorporated, keep the mixer whisking the egg whites and squeeze the water from the gelatin leaves one by one, adding them once you’ve removed as much of the water as possible. Once all of the gelatin is added to the egg white mixture, continue whisking it until the egg white mixture is elastic and has cooled to room temperature, about 15 minutes.

6. With the whisk still running, add any chosen flavoring or extract, if using, to the marshmallow mixture. Pour out the mixture onto the prepared pan or surface, then using a long spatula or offset spatula, evenly spread it over the prepared surface. The marshmallow mixture should be about 2-inches thick. Sift the remaining sugar-cornstarch mixture over the top and sides to completely cover the surface. Let the marshmallow mixture sit at room temperature for 4 to 5 hours so it has a chance to set.

7. Using a pastry brush, dust the cornstarch mixture off the marshmallow. Reserve the cornstarch mixture. Cut the marshmallow into long strips, and roll the strips into the reserved cornstarch mixture, then roll the strips into a spiral, to serve or store. Alternatively, cut the marshmallow into the shape of your choice. Dust the shapes in the cornstarch mixture to keep the pieces from sticking together, dusting off any excess. The marshmallows keep well for one two weeks in an airtight container, stored in a cool, dry place. Reserve the cornstarch mixture. Store any excess cornstarch mixture in an air-tight container for a future use.

About 80 (1 2 x 1 2 inch; 4 x 4 cm) guimauve

.

Just this morning I was speaking with a friend about our current cold wave and he said “It looks like an Impressionist painting outside.” He is right, the air is misty with cold, and suffused with delicate roses and blues here, soft yellows and violets there. I don’t remember such cold, and I don’t remember quite such texture of light either. It is impossible not to think of Claude Monet’s Cathedral of Rouen paintings each time I look out the window. I wish you could all be here to see it.

In the French kitchen it’s time for crepes and La Chandeleur, the Festival of Light, which is traditionally celebrated today, February 2nd. Originally, this date was an end of winter celebration, for right about now (in normal years when it isn’t so cold) farmers begin to work the soil. The crepe, it is said, symbolizes a healthy wheat harvest; its shape makes allusion to the sun, and to good luck and fortune for the year.

For us, the crepe symbolizes deliciousness and a crepe meal is always a fete. I’ve already mixed up the batter for buckwheat “galettes,” the nutty, thin crepes from Brittany, which I’ll stuff with ham and cheese and serve piping hot. I’ll make a few that are simply brushed abundantly with butter, sprinkled with minced shallots and a dusting of fleur de sel, and if anyone wants an egg in their galette, they’ll get one.

I’ve also got batter for white flour crepes, which we’ll have for dessert. Our fillings this year? A tasty blend of peanut butter and honey (the American influence!), Something a Lot Like Nutella (see recipe below), red currant jelly, butter, freshly made apple compote, sugar and freshly squeezed lemon juice. While the buckwheat galettes come to the table filled, I set a stack of crepes in the center of the table surrounded by bowls of filling, and everyone rolls their own!

It’s too cold to work the soil, but it’s never too cold for crepes! Vive La Chandeleur.

Apple Sauce Crepes about to be warmed up

Sweet White-Flour Crepes (French Farmhouse Cookbook, Workman, 1996)

1-3/4 cups 230g) unbleached all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

2-1/2 cups (625ml) milk

1 tablespoon Vanilla Sugar (optional)

3 large eggs

1 tablespoon clarified butter

1. Sift the flour and salt together into a bowl, and make a well in the center. Add 1-1/4 cups (310ml) of the milk and all the vanilla sugar, and gradually whisk the flour into it. Add in the eggs one at a time, whisking just until they are blended. Then, whisk in the remaining milk. Let sit for 30 minutes.

2. Heat a 10-1/2 inch (261/2cm) crepe pan over medium-high heat. Brush the pan with some of the clarified butter, and using a 1/4 cup (60ml) measure, pour the batter into the center of the pan. Quickly turn and shake the pan until the batter coats the bottom. Let cook until the crepe is golden and beginning to curl at the edges, about 1-1/2 minutes. If the crepe is cooking too quickly and getting close to burned on the bottom, reduce the heat slightly. Take the edge of the crepe in your fingers, or lift it using a wooden or plastic spatula, and gently pull the crepe up. Turn it over and continue cooking until the other side is slightly golden, 30 seconds. Repeat with the remaining butter and batter.

3. Place the crepes on a plate and keep them warm in a very low oven, covered with a cotton tea towel. Or serve them as you take them from the pan.

14 crepes

Buckwheat Galettes

1-3/4 cup (235g) buckwheat flour

2-1/4 cups (560ml) water

2 large eggs

½ teaspoon sea salt

1. Place the flour in a medium-size bowl. Slowly whisk in the water to form a smooth batter. Then whisk in the eggs and the salt Whisk vigorously for several minutes, until the batter is smooth and the ingredients are thoroughly combined. The batter will be quite thin but elastic. When you lift the whisk it will drop off in “ropes.” You may use it immediately or let it sit for up to 2 hours. If you let it sit, whisk it before using.

2. To make the galettes, follow the instructions for making crepes, only let them cook a bit longer.

About 10 galettes

　SOMETHING A LOT LIKE NUTELLA

Nutella is that sinfully rich chocolate and hazelnut spread that Mr. Pietro Ferrero, Italian candy magnate from Piemonte, Italy developed after World War II. Only he called it Gianduja, and it wasn’t until many years after he developed the recipe that the mixture was mass produced, and put in everything from giant, 2 pound jars to tiny, one-portion tubs and sold the length and breadth of Italy.

Mr. Ferrero apparently developed the spread in response to the post-war chocolate shortage, in an attempt to make what he could get stretch further. Originally, nutella was sold in a block, like Velveeta, ready for slicing and slapping between two pieces of bread, for a sandwich (what a fantastic idea!!!). The rest is really history.

About 2 cups (500ml) nutella like mixture!

2 cups (300g) hazelnuts, toasted, skinned, and finely chopped

3/4 cup (90g) confectioner’s sugar

1/4 cup (40g) unsweetened dark cocoa powder (such as Scharffenberger’s cocoa)

2 tablespoons canola oil or more if necessary – optional

1. Place hazelnuts in the work bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Process until the nuts make a smooth paste, which will take some time, about 10 minutes. Add the powdered sugar and cocoa powder and process again until all the ingredients are thoroughly mixed. Add the pinch of salt, process, and if the mixture is very dry, add the canola oil while the machine is running. Taste for seasoning. If the mixture is very warm, let it cool completely before transferring it to a jar and sealing it. The nutella will keep for about one month in a cool, dark spot.

Last night I hosted the annual “Pulling the Bean” cocktail party. It was so much more fun than it sounds.

La Galette des Rois

“Pulling the bean” translates as “Tirer la f ve,” which is a tradition in France that began long ago among the cardinals of Besançon, near Dijon. They held a sort of lottery on the Epiphany (the feast of the Magi which occurs twelve days after Christmas) to choose a chapter head. The lottery consisted of hiding a coin in loaf of bread. Whoever got the coin became the chapter head. Over the years, the bread evolved into a brioche, the coin became a f ve, or bean, and the custom spread throughout the land. Today, the galette is most often a thick layer of almond paste sandwiched between two layers of puff pastry that are baked to a golden, flaky crisp. Inside the galette is the “f ve,” most often a porcelain figurine.

As anyone visiting France in the past month has witnessed, Galette des Rois are in every patisserie and boulangerie in the country. We all buy them periodically, for our children we say, as the f ve collection is added to, the qualities of galette debated.

Our Galette event began some years ago at the instigation of Michel and Chantal Amsalem, our area’s finest patissier, and his wife. They, naturally, bring the galettes. Everyone else brings something to eat for the “apéro-dinatoire” or stand-up dinner, that precedes. Last evening it was below zero outside, but inside was warm from the fire, the candles, the crowd. We sampled ginger guacamole with crudites, a salad of home-cured haddock with apples and endive, shrimp speared with chunks of pineapple, crisp potato cakes topped with slices of goat cheese, and Goug res. Everything was delicious, washed down with champagne.

Normally, when it’s time for galette the youngest child hides under the table and determines who gets each piece by calling out their name. This keeps things fair. Last evening was for adults, though, so no one hid anywhere, and galettes were cut and freely passed and we have a couple of rabid f ve collectors in the group – called “fabophiles” – but their identities have long been revealed and, sure enough, they were unabashedly poking into their slices to see if they were the winner.

it’s all in good fun, and this year a surprise became clear – Michel had put two f ves in each galette, so there were plenty of happy “bean pullers”. Each winner, by the way, wears a paper crown and chooses a Queen. Then, everyone eats the galette and drinks more champagne.

I didn’t get a f ve in my galette, but I got one in my hand as Chantal bid goodbye. “Here’s a poule, ma poule,” she said, handing me a miniature chicken. “These were our best f ves and we’ve long ago run out, but I saved this for you.”

It will have a place of honor in my “fabophile” daughter’s collection,

Black radishes are a fixture of the French winter farmers’ market. They’re fat, long and crisp, they look like a sin and they taste like heaven. Just like a red radish, they can be hot or mild, and they provide rare crunch and juiciness in the dead of winter.

They are considered both food and medicine here. As food, they are sliced thin, put on a baguette that is slathered with butter, and seasoned with fleur de sel and pepper. I serve them this way often as an amuse-bouche. They are always a welcome surprise.

If you have a sore throat, the best cure (according to farmers at the market), is to boil a grated black radish with a great deal of sugar and water until the mixture is golden and caramelized. The juice is said to heal the throat. I’ve never tried this because I almost never have a sore throat. But if you believe it will work, it probably will

Very few people I know actually eat black radishes and I am almost certain this is because they fit into the same category as the Jerusalem artichoke – old fashioned and exceedingly humble. When I’m at the market I watch what everyone buys, and the only people buying black radishes have a good decade or two on me. I do as they do, because those people know what to eat and when.

There is at least one youngster out there making hay with the black radish. His name is Toyomitsu Nakayama, he is the chef and owner of the jewel-like little bistro in the 6^th arrondissement called Toyo, and he was once the personal chef for Kenzo. Naturally, when I went to the restaurant I wore my royal blue Kenzo wool scarf, for fun.

Mr. Nakayama turns out gorgeous dishes, each a delicate work of art with commensurately delicate yet distinct flavor. We enjoyed so many dishes, but the one that stole my heart was the steamed black radish cake. Mr. Nakayama told me how to make it, which I did as soon as I returned home. It’s simple, though not simple to succeed quite the way Mr. Nakayama does. I’ll need to return to Toyo often to taste his version, but meanwhile I’m quite happy with mine, which I want to share with you here. This is a work in progress, a very tasty one!

Bon Appetit!

Steamed Black Radish Facon Toyo with Yellow Beet Garnish

STEAMED BLACK RADISH CAKES

GATEAUX AUX RADI NOIR A L’ETUVE

This Asian inspired appetizer is gorgeous in both flavor and texture, and it takes black radish to new heights! It is very simple to make, but it takes some planning because you want to chill the steamed radish mixture before you brown it, otherwise it is impossible to cut. Even steamed, cutting it into squares is a bit of a challenge, but you can do it!

Once you’ve tasted this, you’ll find yourself making it often, both as an appetizer and as a side dish, for grilled or steamed seafood.

For the radish cakes:

1 pound (500g) black radish, trimmed and peeled

1 medium yellow onion, peeled

1/3 cup white or brown rice flour

½ teaspoon sea salt or ½ teaspoon soy sauce, or to taste

Pinch of Piment d’Espelette

1 small bunch chives, or garlic chives

For the salad:

3/4 cup tiny greens, washed and patted dry

2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil

1/4 teaspoon soy sauce

Fleur de sel

1. Grate the radish and the onion together, and put them into a medium-sized mixing bowl. Toss several times, to make sure they are thoroughly blended.

2. Sprinkle the rice flour over the mixture, along with the salt and the Piment d’Espelette and mix it into the vegetables until everything is combined.

3. Put a steamer filled with 4 cups water over medium-high heat.

4. Pat the radish mixture into two 4 x 6 inch, heat-proof pans.

5. Cut several chives into 4-inch lengths, on the bias, and arrange the chives atop the rice mixture. Cover with plastic wrap.

5. When the water in the steamer is boiling, set the dishes (or one dish at a time) in the steamer, cover, reduce the heat so the water is simmering vigorously, and steam the radish cake for one hour.

6. When the radish cake has steamed for one hour, remove it from the heat, remove the plastic wrap, and let the rice mixture cool, thoroughly. Refrigerate for several hours or overnight before eating. (Alternatively, you may eat the radish mixture direct from the steamer. It is delicious!)

7. When you are ready to make the cakes, heat the oil in a large, heavy skillet over medium heat.

8. While the oil is heating, cut the rice cakes into 8 equal-sized squares.

9. When the oil is hot but not smoking, put the rice cakes in the oil and fry them until they are golden on the outside, and hot through, which will take about 3 minutes per side.

10. While the radish cakes are browning, whisk together the oil and the soy sauce. Add the salad and toss, then season with salt.

11. Transfer the rice cakes to the center of 8 small plates. Garnish with the salad and a chive or two laid over each serving. Serve immediately.

8 servings

Toyo, 17 Jules Chaplain, Paris 6, Metro: Vavin  Tel: 01.43.54.28.03

This time we decided to go out on the town, and I chose a brand new little restaurant in Rouen as our destination. Called l’Origine, http://www.restaurant-origine.com/ it opened its doors just a month ago.

Chef and owner Benjamin Lechevallier had won my heart before I ever ate his food, because he buys his produce from my favorite farmer, Baptiste Bourdon. Anyone who takes that kind of care with ingredients is someone I want to know.

I wasn’t disappointed. From the welcome to the food, everything at l’Origine is sincere, simple, intelligent, delicious.

Chef Lechevallier, among whose credits includes a stint with the Pourcel Brothers in Montpelier, and the Park Hyatt Vendome in Paris, has two offerings – the “Discovery” and the “Tasting” menus. This makes it so easy, as does the possibility of having the sommelier choose the wines.

We opted for the tasting menu because we wanted to see what this young chef was all about, and we also took advantage of the sommelier, letting him choose a wine for each dish. This way, the feeling of being on vacation was complete.

From the cubes of foie gras accompanied by yellow and red beet, leaves of perfect spinach and a light preserved lemon vinaigrette to the brilliant quince rice pudding, the menu was a stunner. I particularly loved the potato risotto that accompanied perfectly sauteed Coquilles St. Jacques – the tiny dice of potato was slightly crunchy, the cloud of horseradish cream subtle, offering just a wisp of flavor.

The first course of foie gras with preserved lemon vinaigrette

The main course was shoulder of veal roasted slowly and accompanied by perfectly caramelized sweetbreads with another cloud, this time of parsnip. Crisp truffle shavings provided a perfect accent.

We took a quick look into the kitchen after our meal. There, Chef Lechevallier works his magic with just one sous-chef, and a bevy of machines, from a vacuum cooker to a high-speed freezer. Once wary of such devices I’ve come to understand and accept them. From tasting Chef Lechevallier’s meal, I’ll soon embrace them!

I’ll certainly return to l’Origine, often. As for the Dutch contingent, they’ll be back, sooner than later. My fireplace awaits and now, so does L’Origine!

Restaurant Origine
26, Rampe Cauchoise
76000 Rouen
Tél. +33 (0)2 35 70 95 52

Open Monday to Friday
12h15 to 14h15 and 19h15 22h00

And Saturday night from 19h15 to 22h00
Closed Sundays

On a much happier note, I just returned from the farmers’ market at le Neubourg, where Fiona and I go every other week. This chilly Wednesday we left Louviers in the pitch dark and pea-soup fog. Once out of town and driving through the Plaine de Neubourg, however, the fog had mostly lifted, aside from vestiges wrapped around farmhouses and church steeples that were etched against the sky.

Fiona and I have a routine at Le Neubourg. Our first stop, after parking helter-skelter on the sidewalk, is Le Fournil d’Eugénie where we buy apple beignets, and bugnes. Bugnes are tiny bits of beignet dough fried and dusted with sugar, and they melt in the mouth. We take our little treasure bags to the Café de la Place in the heart of the market, where owner Xavier brings us the usual, a double espresso for me, a small hot chocolate for Fiona. We enjoy it amidst the cacophony of vendors and market-goers; this time the crowd included a handsome, elderly gentleman sipping a Calvados and a coffee, a regional habit that is mostly out of fashion.

We headed straight for Bruno’s fish stand where there were so few customers we ended up with a lively lesson on scallops, fishing, and general market life. Baptiste, our favorite farmer, stopped by – he didn’t have any customers at all, and was making the market rounds. He and Bruno kissed with affection. They attend the same market each week not 100 meters from each other, yet there are so many stands and so much hubub between them they never visit. Both close friends of mine, it turns out they’re linked through family, and I didn’t even know they knew each other. I should have known. Everyone at every market knows everyone.

Baptiste the Maraicher

Fiona and I ended up with scallops for lunch and goat fish for supper from Bruno; leeks, bright yellow beets and the worlds’ best potatoes from Baptiste. Fiona wished for blood sausage, so we stopped into the charcuterie for a fat one, some air-cured sausage and two fat, juicy pork chops.

Bruno the poissonier

Our shopping finished, we headed for home over a now sun-flooded plain, our cheeks chapped from wind and cold, our stomachs rumbling with hunger for all those luscious things in our basket.

Our take from the market

Meringue of Snow

I’ve lived in Normandy for seventeen years and never seen snow like this. It began more than a week ago, and is still blanketing fields and prairies, untouched except for rabbit paws and bird feet The skies are blue, except when they turn gun-metal grey and start to blow flakes down upon us. This is a true, Christmasy winter, the like of which we just don’t expect.

I think the cold has made everyone warm. As parties are cancelled because of icy roads, friends who live nearby are gathering to cook and eat together, around a blazing fire. No one is leaving town to shop, and local shopkeepers are ecstatic with the business. Maybe this winter will usher in the beginning of an era where the outlying supermarket and shopping mall become less important, in favor of the quality and service one finds right here at home.

In my home we’ve certainly surrounded ourselves with warmth, music, Christmas cookies, oysters, duck, foie gras, champagne and gorgeous Cuvée Armand from Peyres Roses, in Gaillac. We’ve walked and bicycled, swum in our neighbors’ heated outdoor pool through cushions of steam, sipped mulled wine with slivered almonds floating on top. It has been, and will be for the next few days, a glorious season.

Tomorrow, we head to Vienna for the opera and more. Meanwhile, Merry Season to you all, and stay tuned in 2011.

I leave you with a quick recipe for Cinnamon Pecans (Nuts in the Kitchen page 26), just in case you need inspiration for New Years’ Day brunch!

CINNAMON PECANS

1/3 cup (65g) vanilla sugar

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, preferably from Vietnam

1 large egg white

Pinch fine sea salt

3 cups (350g) pecans

1 cup (150g) almonds, coarsely chopped

¼ cup (30g) sesame seeds

¼ teaspoon fleur de sel

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C).

2. In a small bowl, whisk together the sugar and the cinnamon, so they are mixed.

3. In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the egg white with a pinch of salt just until it foams. Add the nuts and the sesame seeds, and stir to coat. Add the cinnamon sugar mixture and toss with the nuts so that they are thoroughly coated. Sprinkle with the fleur de sel. Turn the nuts out onto a jelly roll pan and place them on the center rack of the oven. Toast until they are golden and smell like heaven, 15 to 20 minutes.

4. Remove the nuts from the oven and let them cool on the pan. They will cool into clumps. To serve, break up the clumps. These nuts will keep in an airtight container for up to two weeks. They can also be frozen, and they will keep in the freezer for 2 months.

Yield: about 4 cups (500g) nuts