Sesame and Seed Crackers

The neighborhood health shop, called a magasin bio in French, has some really great stuff. I was there just the other day to score some organic pineapple juice. It's funny how hard we have to look when we just want something plain and simple, without added sugar. I found the juice and also picked up this bag of crackers, rather expensive, but full of nice seeds and things. They were really delicious. Amazing, actually. Just munching on these crackers had me thinking of getting back into cracker making and creating a facsimile of these great but expensive crackers. Lo and behold, Heidi Swanson transmitted the message to encourage us to make crackers at home. It's a must now!

Sunflower, flax, sesame, poppy, hemp, toasted quinoa... I especially love the flavor of toasted sesame, so in went a nice dose of gomashio. The ingredients for one batch of flavorful nutty crackers fits in a jar. You can pre-measure and have it ready just to add water.

1 cup of hard semolina flour
1 cup of organic whole wheat flour (I used T80, aka bise)
1/2 cup gomashio, which consists of ground grilled sesame and salt (You can find it at any shop that sells Japanese goods and also at the health shop, since it is a staple in macrobiotic diets)
1/2 cup mixed nuts and seeds like poppy, flax, sesame, sunflower, toasted quinoa, etc.
1 teaspoon finely ground sea salt

to this, add:

3/4 cup of water, adding as much as 1/4 cup depending on the texture of the dough.

Depending on your source for the flours, you may need to adjust the ingredients for moisture content. Just remember that it's the semolina flour that gives these crackers that wonderful crunch, and never overshadows the flavor of your additions. If you have to add dry ingredients, add more hard semolina flour and not the ww flour.

The pasta roller really is the best way to get nice thin crisp crackers. The one main rule, when making crackers, is to knead the heck out of the dough, just like when you make pasta. The dough has to be kneaded so long that the gluten fibers in the wheat coil around one another and get so entangled that it becomes stretchy and pliable and won't split when flattened through the press. I used to do this quite well in the moulinex food processor using the plastic dough blade, and now just use the dough hook with the Kitchenaid. The dough will stiffen and resist, and then, all at once, it will suddenly give way and soften up. When do you know it's done? It's done when the dough is warm, not sticky to the touch, and when you pinch it, it flattens out between two fingers and won't split at the edges. Let the dough rest for a good half an hour before rolling through the pasta roller.

Although there's something about perfect square crackers that used to really float my boat, I love Heidi's method of sending the little morsels through and creating elongated oval crackers. To do this, cut the dough into pieces about the size of walnuts or robin's eggs & send them through starting with the widest setting and getting progressively thinner until they're the thickness you like. Once you've got a nice size, you'll get into a rhythm and they'll be done in no time.

Today, I tried adding more seeds to the finished crackers, but found that they didn't stick unless I rolled the added seeds one more time through the press. It worked pretty well. Next time I won't use sunflower seeds because they got caught in the pasta press from time to time.

Bake them for 8 to 10 minutes at 400F/200C. They should be brown around the edges when they're done.

I find that these crackers have so much toasty goodness in the form of the natural oils from the seeds that I don't need to add any oil. In the past I have added herbs, cheese, spice mixes like assorted peppercorns, directly to the dough. Anything that tastes good toasted is good toasted in crackers.



Thanks Heidi, for the inspiration!

The Plain and Fancy of a Great Velouté

Salsify and carrot on a guinea hen base.

Velouté means velvety in French. Have you ever had a soup that tasted so velvety and delicious you were actually taken off guard by the pleasure? It's more than a puréed bowl of soup, it's a poem in texture and flavor.

All veloutés have their base in the plain and simple. During the winter, we have cold stored roots galore: rutabaga, turnips, potatoes, carrots, celeriac, salsify, and parsnips, among others. Legumes like soissons, coco beans, fava and lentils can also be great core ingredients to a velouté. When Spring comes around, there will be all kinds of amazing flavors to play with. But beginning with roots infused and softened in your house stock with carefully selected aromatics: garlic, shallots, onions or leeks, it's easy to create a great base, kind of like stretching and preparing a canvas with a perfect smooth layer of gesso, ready for the color.

For the stock challenged: If you are short on stock, adding a little bit of meat to your simmer is an effective substitute to home made stock to infuse a rich flavor element. If you are vegetarian, your added yeast based veggie demi-glaces you have prepared at home should also be incorporated at the beginning, to give your vegetables a chance to absorb the flavors.

Keep the base simple. Remember complimentary flavor pairings you have enjoyed in the past. Bacon and rutabaga, for example, or lamb and soissons. Keeping the number of predominant flavors down to one or two main flavors and keeping them separate and complimentary is the secret to a soup with impact. Potatoes are a very good neutral thickener. I add at least one small potato to the mix. You would be surprised at the beautiful singular flavor that can be coaxed from a root like celeriac. When paired with spatchocked quail...

Don't simmer too long. Just do it long enough to soften the vegetables. For 4 servings, When preparing velouté, I begin with my carefully chosen roots, and use in general enough so that when washed, peeled, and chopped, I've filled a small saucepan up 3/4 of the way. I put them in the pan, wedge the aromatics, herb bouquet, and meats in between, and cover the lot with house stock or even water, depending on my ingredients. Brought to a boil and then lowering the heat, this simmers for 15 to 20 minutes, until the vegetables are just soft. No more.

Blend it, then strain it. Remove any bouquet you have infused with the base ingredients, and use the stick blender to puree everything to a smooth finish, including the meats you have included with your roots. Push it through the chinois. straining is paramount in achieving the sought after velvety smooth texture of a velouté that takes you to that higher plane. If you're not going to bother with straining it, be prepared for a thick soup that might be great on a cold day with some crusty bread, but not the luxurious texture you find in a velouté. You might think that with today's technology in blending equipment, we shouldn't need to send it through a sieve, but the difference in mouth-feel really does make it worthwhile.

Enrich it. The addition of cream, butter, or egg yolks is a step that when done with care, really can have a beautiful effect. I reserve this for when we are serving to guests these days. Although it is indisputably fattening, there is something in cream: fresh or lightly cultured, that tops off the rich velvety impact for an "oh" effect. Good butter does even better. Enrichment can push a fabulous flavor combination to something sublime.

Brighten the flavor. Everyone has had home made soup that just flew under their radar. It was bland. Heavy. Stodgy. It didn't have any particular punch. It reminded them of their childhood stay in an orphanage. Brightening the flavor is a step that can take an otherwise perfectly boring soup and give it that elusive gastronomic wonder appeal. Sorrel, a lemony garden herb, is a good brightener minced and added just at the finish. Otherwise, there are all kinds of great vinegars that while being all but imperceptible in the final product, a spoonful whisked in at the last minute will add a certain brightness that can transform a pretty good but forgettable soup into a great memory for your guests. A simple squeeze of fresh lemon juice can do wonders.

Finish it carefully. Don't forget salt and pepper, plus any combination of spice additions as a last finishing touch to flavor a soup. I recently ground up some dried chipotles, and love the light smoke and warmth it gives. My house spice mix also gets lots of action in finishing my velouté, but remember, these flavors are meant to enhance and uplift the existing flavors in a soup, not become the theme.

When serving soup to guests, you can top it off with a little composition of sauteed meats, crisped bacon, wild mushrooms or sprigs of herbs. I reserve a pinch of this and that from previous meals just for this purpose. The velouté will be rich enough to support a little colorful raft of delectable goodies that compliment the flavors underneath. When you quickly crisp up meats in a sauté pan for finishing, give them a nice dose of seasoning that echoes what's in the velouté, because that little burst of colorful flavor on a translucent field of delicate velvety soup has a lot of impact. Sometimes when staying light and simple, just a sprinkle of fresh herbs is just right.

Carefully note your successes. With time, you'll realize that while happy accidents can happen, it's not always the case, and you don't want to forget how to get that great combination and balance again.

Salade Lyonnaise

We sat in the window looking out. Fran nicely listened. "Really, the Salade Lyonnaise is the perfect brunch food. Don't you think so? Bacon, eggs, and salad. Just perfect." The sun was shining off the front of the building across the street, and made everything kind of glow in the window where we were having lunch. Fran was looking across the street, watching some men talk.

The Bourse.

"Mm hmm." She had her eyes on the street. "C'mon lady, c'mon let's go. That's right, move. I'm gonna get those café chairs behind your car." A woman decked in fur slammed the door to a cheap little Smart car, a furious kind of click. The car shook delicately on its frame before she started it up. She was incensed about something. I suppose if she didn't look so severe and angry something would be missing. Nothing like a little drama to liven up lunch. Matching fiery lipstick and nails, fur, and a Smart car. Fran put down her knife and fork and took her camera out to get the cafe chairs. I was more interested in the lady. I continued to eat my salad and watched her speed away. Brunch food.

The bourse is reflected in the new Bazaar. Place Cordeliers.

A Bed of Hairy Bittercress

My garden salad seller today had a platter out with two days worth of mixed greens for a euro and quite smoothly informed me that this week's platter featured cresson de vigne. I felt quite fashionable handing over my one euro coin for the pleasure of having this exotic green in my salad today.

It is a deliciously tangy salad green that is infused with a delightful citrus flavor, the perfect peppery counterpoint to lambs lettuce. It made me laugh and remember, once I realized what it is. It is considered an invasive weed where I grew up, with an ugly name, hairy bittercress.

Back in the days when we played kick the can, we had a neighbor a couple of doors down who simply adored her lawn and everything to do with maintaining it. She had a marvelously quiet and light electric mower and would stroll to and fro in fancy white sports pants and espadrilles, carefully trimming the grass in her front lawn nearly daily. She also spread all kinds of things to make it grow just so and deepen the color, manicuring the lawn to lush golf course green quality.

I guess she knew that her lawn had a slight incline, and cradled the body of a child at just the right angle to watch the clouds. One day, after a particularly hard game of something or other, we lined up in a row, 5 or 6 of us, to watch the clouds drift by, not a care in the world. We reclined on the delicate slope of her deliciously thick and soft lawn. The birds sang, the clouds floated by, and we were at one, friends.

Suddenly, there was the lady, pounding on the picture window, her silhouette shaking her fist at us in the most shocking and ugly way. At first we didn't realize what was happening. Here a simple patch of grass, out in the open, not being used by anybody. And here was a crabby mean lady ordering us off her lawn. How rude.

Danny, a boy that had recently become the star of my summer, was particularly miffed by her behavior. In his fury, he took it upon himself to rectify the karmic imbalance caused by the situation and to impregnate her lawn with an onslaught of hairy bittercress seed. The next evening, she had her sprinklers going and he pranced onto her lawn and spun around, spewing seeds all over her lawn. The seeds spewed, the water sprayed, Danny's blond hair spun with the sun shining on it, all in glorious harmony. I never really knew if they sprouted into weeds, it was a passing incident in one of many long summers on Circle Road that was soon forgotten. It was the longest time Danny had ever sat in one place at one time, however, and at the time I was thankful it was in my yard where the hairy bittercress grew.

I didn't think of the incident again, until at least 30 years later. I'd carried it in a basket up by the river, handled it carefully, washed it, set it in the salad bowl, proceeded with a simple lunch, and dressed it with vinaigrette. I sat at this big wooden table at Sunday noon amidst grey painted boiserie, all the way across the ocean. I took a bite and it all flooded to me. It's funny how things like this can lay dormant in the crevices of the mind. The flavor of a weed can unlock it, complete with emotions, just like that. I would like enough of this particularly delicate hairy bittercress, cresson de vigne, to fill a bathtub, and lie in it. Just once. That's what I'd like.

Lingering Tea Memoires

Tai Ping Hou Kui

Chulan has two native languages, Mongolian, and German. She grew up a diplomat's daughter in East Germany when Germany had two sides. We met when we were thrown together in the company apartment when I first arrived to Beijing. She was learning English, and we also had a Chinese teacher coming to the house, named Peter Wang. She and I quickly became kindred sisters, and made up jokes to occupy our idle and evil minds. Peter "trink-a-trip" Wang (don't ask why or how we settled on the name, we were in our mid 20s) came to the house on weekends to rouse us out of bed after our late night escapades to distant dance houses, of which she knew all. He slurped endlessly from a jar of tea.

Our colleagues were jealous of Chulan. She was brilliant. Gifted. Beautiful. Connected. Well, pretty much everyone was connected. I was pretty good at keeping a low profile. Chulan caused waves everywhere she went. She brought me caviar and cashmere from Russia. She also spoke Russian.

One fine day we lounged with our legs sticking to the puffy leather couch in the company apartment and talked about the herbs. Everyone in the office had these jars, you see, and they'd come in every day with a white paper packet, containing herbs. Herbs and sticks and various strange-shaped chips of fungus. A lady would seem to step through time into our pristine and contemporary office newly made of glass and wood. She'd putter around with hot water in cork topped glass thermoses covered with paintings of mums. She dispensed the water in an endless loop through 21 trading departments, and the people in our offices slurped from their replenished jars, recycling the twigs and leaves all day.


Chulan and I decided to bring something to slurp all day. Slimming tea became our mix of choice, the one with the picture of the girl in the orange swimming suit purchased from the second floor of the Friendship store. It worked too. We became more and more slim. So slim, in fact, that my suits no longer fit and I had to get a whole new wardrobe at Macy's the next time I went through New York. But now I don't think that product exists anymore. There are a lot of fakes out there. Almost as soon as a product that works is created, a legion of fakes producers is at work to make something that looks identical but costs much less.

When I went home with the rock star with the tattoo in the middle of his forehead for Chinese New Year, much to the further horrified chagrin of his family (not being Chinese and all), we squeezed onto an overcrowded train and wedged ourselves in for a long haul down to Shanghai. We would meet his brother who made Barbies in Hong Kong, the pinnacle of success. We headed in one group to his small home town in the province of Anhui by car. In an intermediary town that was like an enormous dust cloud, his friend arrived by dirt bike and met us, carrying a large plastic bag full of leaves. "What is it?" I asked, intrigued by the precious way they were handling the merchandise.

"Cha." They pronounced the word with a tender elongation of the vowel that lingered just above the wisdom teeth and was pretty and sweet, and kind of sexy. I loved the accent in that region. I learned about tea down there in Anhui.

I didn't look at the prices last week when I was at Cha Yuan, I just told the girl I wanted something from the Anhui region. I was hoping to rekindle some memories. She brought out my tea with a little tiny version of the old lady's thermos and asked me if I knew how to do it. I said no, because I wanted to hear her explanation.

"Use the top to your cup to sweep back the leaves like this" she said, in French. I sat and daintily sipped and occasionally slurped, and waited for the rain to stop. As soon as the raindrops stopped pelting down, I had to get right back out again, not knowing if it would start again. There were pictures to take. I wanted to stay and keep drinking tea there all day long. I decided to buy a packet, and raised my eyebrow at the price. I don't regret it, though.

The Basket

Did you ever think of scaling down your basket size? I recently did just that. I used to carry an over the shoulder tote-like market basket, and sometimes my back hurt if it got too heavy. Not only that, but sometimes we'd buy that kilo of this or that at a special price on a whim and then have to figure out what to do with it. I have changed to a small one, and it suits our needs well. I can carry it without hefting my weight to one side, saving my back. My thought is, if it doesn't all fit in the little basket, I'm overdoing it.

Just 1 or 2.

They are well prepared for the Sunday rush.

Early is better. If you go even as early as 9am, you can be reasonably sure to have elbow room, a good choice, and time to chat with the vendors.

After last weeks capricious blustery weather that brought rain and fog, the sun is out and the air is brisk. The church bells sound here and again. The book sellers are setting up. Just walking down the quai gets me in the mood to make a soup.

You can buy one leek. Just ask.

I should knock on wood when I think nobody will see me. A friend I met just the other day at a social gathering came up and said hello. I got a strange vibe from her for a second. Then I remembered my hair was up in a bun held with a chopstick, I had no makeup, and I had wrinkled turquoise colored yoga pants sticking out from the bottom of my coat. Please note: When you go to the market, you should probably look presentable. You never know who you might meet!

Specialty shops sell soissons, and man, they cost a pretty penny. They contain enough beans to last about a year! You don't need to buy very many of these beans because they swell up to nearly 4 times their size and remain extremely flavorful. One small handful, taking me back less than a buck, will provide enough Soisson power for a glorious soup for four.

Loic's only request this morning was clementines.
I didn't buy these particular ones, but they were pretty.

There are certain things I buy from the same person all the time, people I have gotten to know. Each producer has his own product, sometimes several that vary throughout the year.

There was a man from Dieulefit, Mr. Vidal, up to sell truffles today. He isn't at the market but a couple of times a year. He may not even be back next week. I have a special guest coming on Thursday so I indulged in a little one. Wow, do they smell great. A 20 gram whole truffle took me back 12 euros. That was the indulgence of the week, it took more than 30% of my budget!

More common fresh mushrooms are for sale, shitake and oyster, both freshly cut this morning, and flavorful. I bought a couple hundred grams of oyster mushrooms that I will use to finish the soup today.

This gets sealed up tight with the eggs.
Over the next few days, the eggs will absorb the flavor of the truffle.

The basket was nice and full when I got home with eggs, fresh oyster mushrooms, 4 clementines for Loic, winter greens, a leek, a truffle, a small bundle of radicchio, bunches of fresh sage, chervil and sorrel, a handful of soissons, 2 small turnips, a small fresh celeriac, a rutabaga, two potatoes, 80 cents worth of guinea hen necks for stock, and a couple of quail to flatten and roast for Sunday's supper.

Some special things to see us through the week.

I will slip out in the neighborhood with the same basket throughout the week to supplement what I got today with fresh bread, maybe fresh greens here and there, a lump of bacon, dry goods when I don't have them in the pantry. I don't ever need to buy more than I can easily carry back home on foot. Why should I?

Lyon 2ème: Ampère Victor Hugo

Plunge down the presqu'ile three subway stops down the line from Hotel de Ville and step out onto the cobblestone there. Not as young and eclectic as La Martiniere, but with a steady Mary-Janes and lipstick style charm, Ampère Victor Hugo is replete with gourmandise. Get off rue Victor Hugo and get lost in the details.

Ampère Victor Hugo is the city's center for antique trade and has begun to flourish into a bustling desirable place to live. It is teeming with a classic warm teahouse flair, while at the same time maintaining its identity as a historical center for the art of interior decoration, Lyonnais style. Many of the antique shops from the original quartier are going strong, but a careful eye spots chic fashion boutiques for the prim high-maintenance stay at home moms looking for that creative touch. Craft shops bloom like fragile wildflowers, with knitting and patchwork clubs regularly gathering in creative ateliers, while the antique elite hold their own in their long established trading houses. A sprinkling of cherished mom and pop toy and game boutiques forge their anchor-like presence on corners here and there. The one-lane thoroughfares are narrow and the architecture dates to the Belle Epoch, so naturally the light is soft and shadows manage to dominate just about everywhere along the small canyon-like side streets. All the more to draw you in with little nests of warmth, my dear.

A basket full of Limoges teacups seen through a shop window.

Anyone can easily make a day of it here. You can start with a visit to the Musée des Tissues et les Arts Décoratifs. It is hands down my favorite pair of complimentary museums in Lyon. Housed in a beautiful rambling restored hôtel particulier on rue de Charité, one ticket opens the door to both. Everything from the history of Lyon's silk trade to Hermes' beginnings and factory works in the region. They also have a well run document collection and reading room that is available to the public by appointment. Excellently curated and maintained, the Arts Decoratifs side will progresively get your standards calibrated in the course of a visit to venture into the shops and galleries and examine the antiques for sale in the neighborhood.

Restored and contemporary paintings galore, pretty old dishes and cutlery, furniture, vases and retro items. I always bring my antique loving friends here before shuttling them off to the various auction houses and markets.

Once you’ve seen enough, rest your weary bones for a nice moment of comfort, dear. You’ve had quite a productive visit.

lang lang a lang a, I miss you! Thank you for the card!

Cha Yuan, 7 rue Remparts d'Ainay, LYON 2e, 04.72.41.04.60. A teahouse decorated like a little Beijing opera house I used to know, all red and wood and lacquer. This place has a nice selection of teas for drinking, but also for presenting to those you adore as gifts.

La Langue de Chat, 11 rue François-Dauphin, LYON 2e, 04.78.37.06.41. Across from the Bellecour Insitute of Art, there's a cute little blini place. This one of those nice little rest stops to go when out shopping with a friend, perfect for sustenance and conversation. At lunchtime, you can enjoy a light meal for €10 including coffee, or just a snack in the afternoon. The coffee comes with a complimentary little house baked langue de chat, a nice touch that resonates with the name. Open every mid day and afternoon except Sunday, €9-12.50 for a snack

Ninkasi Ampère, 1 r Henri IV, LYON 2e, 04 78 38 14 28. Lyon’s own local microbrewery offers a selection of house beers, sandwiches, big burgers and fries, salads and menu offerings at lunch and dinner for a young crowd. If you’ve missed lunch service at the restaurants, you can get things to eat all day here from a shortened pub menu. €12 on average for a meal.


L’Impératoire, 11 rue Laurencin, LYON 2e, 04.78.37.18.47. Chef Michaël Toledo and his staff have a reputation among local serious dining enthusiasts for taking care of details on a fresh light and inventive menu. You'll want to reserve here for dinner, but it's worth a try to stop by at lunch time to see if there's a table. Closed Sunday, Menus €16 (lunch), €35 and €41.

La Plage, 40 rue de la Charité, LYON 2e, 04.78.42.25.12. Guy Benayoun regales his faithful clients in a warm and contemporary atmosphere, and they revere him in return. Market menu, variations on themes, creative liberty taken by the chef. 80 covers.
Closed Sunday. Menus €15, €19 (lunch), €28, €35, €41


Restaurant Thomas, 6 rue Laurencin, LYON 2e, 04.72.56.04.76. This restaurant was first recommended to me by the woman who runs the Emile Henri cooking school up in the 1ere. The lunch menu is classic, while by night the tone changes completely and the presence of the chef comes through meticulously to the table with care. Clearly worth a visit for dinner. Closed Saturday and Sunday. Menus €16 (lunch), €37

Tartufo, 37 rue Ste. Helene, LYON 2e, 04.78.37.22.42. If you're a fan of Italian food and you want good quality at a reasonable price in modest, informal surroundings, try Tartufo. Closed Saturday and Sunday. €18.50

Le Petit Grain, 19 rue de la charité, LYON 2e, 04.72.41.77.85.
Vietnamese in a cozy atmosphere. Two distinctive and amusing diningrooms. Popular with the locals for a quick lunch.


Cap Epices, 39 rue Charité LYON 2e. The spice shop that used to be located at the top of Croix Rousse, this place is a must for replenishing your spice supply. Spices by the scoop, but also top quality house spreads, dips, crackers, snacks, and aperos with an international theme.

Cas’Italy, 56 rue Charité LYON 2e. Buy your Italian cheeses, crackers and bread sticks directly from Italy here, then go across the street to Cap Epices and get something good to dip them in. This Casino is different in that they have stocked the place only with imports, mostly from Italy. They have an Italian charcuterie by the cash register, and the pasta selection is great at prices you’d expect from a Petit Casino. The prices can't be beat.

The north edge of the Ampère Victor Hugo neighborhood ends at Place Bellecour, which looms like a desert pass - you can bathe in the open light before you enter a very different chic and fancy window shopping world, where everything is new.

Sandwich Direction

leftover salad, with bread inspired by
Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Cooking.

Simple themes, simple ideas, simple logic, baby steps. Reasonable progress. I have taken a new interest in my books about natural healthy eating. The Tassajara Cooking book, and more concrete and contemporary, a copy of Heidi Swanson's Supernatural Cooking, five ways to incorporate whole & natural ingredients into your cooking. Get this book, you won't be sorry.

Barley flour is one in Heidi's list of non-wheat whole grain flours, and after reading about it I ran into some at the local bio shop. I substituted barley flour (called orge in French) for corn meal in my favorite corn bread recipe as an experiment. The reward was a wonderful aroma throughout the house. The flavor was intoxicating.

It kept well. More pliable and moist than the corn bread, it makes good sandwiches and soaks of lots of good salad juices. It is a step in the right direction. I am all about direction right now.

As for the 2 pounds of butter I purchased on a whim in the Alpes this past weekend, I convinced myself to give it away, can you believe that?

Navets for Epiphany

When you're ending a meal with the galette des rois, you want to keep things simple. The foie gras and capon fest is over, and now it is time to remember the simple gifts that we find from our producers at the market this time of year. This recipe makes use of the turnip, a root vegetable that is prominently featured at the winter markets in Lyon. Just a simple simmer with some aromatics and cream, and we have a warming vegetable mix that makes a meal, and most of all, something that will make one indulgence into the galette raisonnable, quand meme.

4 carrots
4 turnips
1 small pattypan squash
2 onions
1 small sweet potato
4 parsnips
1 Tbsp. butter
one slice of ginger root
1/3 cup cream
2 Tbsp. sunflower or peanut oil
1 branch of fresh thyme
1 bunch of chervil
1 cup mixed poultry stock
2 to 3 very thin slices of smoked bacon, cooked crisp, for serving

Peel the vegetables and cut them into large chunks. Roughly chop the onion. Parboil the turnips for 5 minutes in boiling salted water and strain. In a heavy cocotte, heat the oil and butter. Crush the ginger with the back of a spoon and let it sizzle in the hot oils. Add the thyme and push it around a bit. Add the onions, lower the heat to medium, and push them briskly around the cocotte, until they begin to turn transparent. Add the carrots and parsnips, and the stock. Cover and let cook gently for 15 minutes. At the end of 15 minutes, add the turnips, pattipan, and sweet potato. Cover and simmer another 15 minutes. Toss the vegetables and add the cream, then let it reduce uncovered over medium heat for 5 minutes. Transfer the vegetables into a serving dish with a slotted spoon. Mix the minced chervil into the reduced cream mixture. Add salt and white pepper, and coat the vegetables with the sauce before bringing it to the table, to be served with crusty bread, graced with a crisped thin slice of smoked bacon or two.

Piscining the 'Fridge

Tabasco does last forever, doesn't it?

I laughed like a banshee when Mother informed me over the phone nearly three weeks ago that she was "clearing out the kitchen" instead of "cleaning up the kitchen". In retrospect, I see that her slip of the tongue planted a seed in my mind. Nearly all of the work of giving the fridge and pantry a full style clearing is in the inspiration, n'est ce pas?

Repeat the mantra: I have a will of steel. Reading the recent article on clutter and health in the New York Times the other day, I realize I have a problem with food clutter, and perhaps it is affecting me, affecting my food karma. I have a problem. This problem is related to my attaching symbolic meaning to food items.

While some people see that two year old unmarked jar containing something close to primal sludge as garbage, I fondly see it as that beautiful evening's successful batch of caramel sauce made with salted butter. While some people see the forest of two full shelves crammed with jars of pickles, sauces, pestos and home preserves with unknown expiry dates as a health hazard, I see that jelly we bought in the Alps, our trip to the food fair in Paris, this gift, that one, the time our friends came and we made those onion preserves, etc.

In other words, I count them as evidence. Evidence that we have lived. I fully acknowledge that I will not ever open these half filled jars, for fear of setting off the next Ebola outbreak. I do know they aren't safe. Facing this logic is the first step in taking care of it.

Today I was on the phone to Fran and said that it would probably take me about 12 minutes to completely clear out the fridge to start anew, what seemed to be the problem? In her girlfriend kind of way, she quietly supported me. "I know it's not easy."

This afternoon, a large garbage bag rolled out before me like a magic carpet. I closed my eyes. The pickle jars cried the loudest. "We never spoil!" they screamed as I pitched them, juice and all, some just jars filled with juice. I didn't even check expiry dates. It had to be all or nothing. A sexy long forgotten jar of salicorne, pickled seaweed from the coast of Brittany, gave me a mournful look as she slid into the sack with the rest. The jellies were easier. Less safe, easier to justify. Oyster sauce and an unknown bottle of small pills were almost effortless. I drew the line at the Tabasco and Sriracha. These things do last forever. Right? When I was done, the sack was too heavy for me to lift. Loic was not going to like this. I had to get it out of the house before he had a chance to ask questions. I just felt like he would be better off spared from the gory details.

I managed to get the laden sack onto the kitchen mat just in case it might leak. I dragged it on the mat through the house to the door. It felt strangely criminal. I wasn't recycling the jars, maybe I should save them. No. I dragged the load into the lift. The jaw-like doors of the French elevator mercilessly closed behind me. On to the bins. In the darkened marble hallway, I gave the lot a big heave and it slid into the bin with a thud. Done. I shook out the mat and went back upstairs.

"It smells piscine here" said Loic, when he came in. This means in Loic-speak that it smells like a swimming pool. Ah, that would be the shelves I soaked in a mild bleach solution before scubbing them. "I piscined the fridge, honey." "Ah bon? What's for dinner?" No questions.

A Note from Lucy

We've just got back from Christmas in the Midi and then the New Year on a horse and sheep farm in the Auvergne. Although I haven't been connected to the outside world, I have been thinking of you and wish you all great new beginnings in 2008. May you harness every last bit of that wonderful inspiration you have inside, and may all of your goals finally come to fruition in the year 2008!

Love,
Lucy