Walnut Oil Vinaigrette

You know those things people say. Like "nice weather we're having" when you see them on the street. Coming up on the adoption, people would rather offhandedly say "Your life is going to change completely!" This, I must say, was most disconcerting. What can you say except, "oh yes, change completely..." while wondering what is in store?

As the time got closer and closer, and the change completely banter reached a feverish pitch among our acquaintances and loved ones, I began to have doubts in myself. More than once, I had been in a situation where I had tried, really tried to completely change and it didn't work. Like that time I tried to get my house organized. Or even worse, maybe I would be forced to let go of some really important part of me, bid the old Lucy Vanel adieu, leaving her at the shore of a long lost deserted island, and usher in the changed completely Lucy Vanel, now a mother. Would the former me exist only as a kind of supernatural apparition? I feared the worst.

Baby Ian came home. I watched and waited anxiously for Mr Hyde to kick in. When would metamorphosis into a tired old bottle-washing diaper-scrubbing wench take place? Then I realized that we had made most of this famous life change over the course of years, long before I held Ian in my arms. I made a space inside, a very special space. Yes, falling in love with this baby has been exhilarating and a little scary (because you know, you worry about the little one), but nothing I can't handle. Yes, the bottles and the changings take place, but they're kind of nice. The schedule has been pretty easy to adjust to.

I think the biggest change so far has been - that which was empty is now full. I had carved it all out, you know. That empty space. A bulldozing machine came in years ago and dug out a nice deep hole (now that, my friends was life changing), and like other parts of me, I tended to it. At first it was gaping and empty. Then one day I took a good look around, dusted myself off, and we decided to decorate it like a nursery. On the practical side, we tended to the dossier over the years. We reserved this place for someone, and now he is here.

Maybe people come forth with these warnings just to get that one last chance to scare the bejeesums out of new parents. A kind of good natured hazing. Having a little chuckle, you know? It has been a relief to note that I am still the same old me, 100%. The house is a little fuller, the heart is pumping gladly with essence of maman caused by some enzyme created by contact with a baby's smile, MY baby's smile, my husband is proving to pull his weight, and here I am. I can count and see and look around at all the things that remain the same, and be thankful for all of that too.

Walnut Oil Vinaigrette

My walnut oil still comes from a charming old bee keeper on the quai who sells it in individual Perrier bottles, pressed from his own nut production. Walnut oil is one of my favorites of all to use in the kitchen. Nutty and delicate, fragrant and fragile, it has to be used quickly. Once I get mine, I use it up, lickety split. It took me a while to find this particular oil from this particular man, the kind that you taste and a little spot in your mind brightens and says - Oh THIS is walnut oil! In that way, it changes your life. I suggest you make a little place in your heart for walnut oil, then find just the right one where you live.

I use this precious oil fresh in pancakes, any and all kinds of baked breads, wherever you might use a nice green olive oil. In pizza dough, drizzled on pasta, on grated carrots, on a salad graced with blue cheese. It can be used in place of sesame oil in your favorite sauce for Beijing cold noodles, and on the season's very last sigh of endives chopped raw with cracked walnuts. Walnut oil is good even just for dipping fresh bread with some sea salt. A vinaigrette seasoned with virgin walnut oil is one of the very best ways to heighten the delicate flavors of spring and add a touch of something new.

- For one salad for two. Double or triple this recipe as necessary for larger salads.

1 tablespoon of fresh first pressed walnut oil.
2 tablespoons of neutral oil (whatever is your favorite, but make sure it is neutral so it won't compete with the fresh nutty taste of the walnut oil)
1/2 teaspoon strong prepared dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 tablespoon Banyuls vinegar
1/2 teaspoon pepper or 6 salt-brined green peppercorns

Mix the oils together in a small bowl, and whisk in the salt and Dijon mustard. Add the vinegar, and then the pepper, whisking to make a salad dressing that slightly thickens. If you're using the green peppercorns, mince them small or put them whole in the dressing and then give it a quick pulse with the stick blender. You can also just add them whole if you like pepper. I enjoyed this sauce today on a spinach salad, sprinkled with a few toasted sesame seeds. If you only use a little, know that it keeps for a few days in a tighly fitted jar in the refrigerator.

Baby Ian is Home.

Many thanks for the kind messages of support and congratulations while we've been going through the final steps to adopt our son. We finally made it home with Ian. We are now a family of 3. Thanks for keeping us in your thoughts and we hope you don't mind us cocooning like this for a few more days. I won't get into Ian's adoption story here but if you have any questions, feel free to ask them in the comments section - It will be a pleasure to answer them in these next few days.

Baby...

The day has come, after years of waiting, to see our little baby boy. We have picked some names but won't announce anything until we have seen him. Kisses from Lyon, lots to do.

The Garden

Our neighbor up there was working in his garden a few weeks ago at the same time we were, and he came to the fence and handed me a sprinkling of seeds. They looked a bit like poppy seeds. I planted them in a circle. I don't know, it seemed like the thing to do at the time. A little wreath of goodwill sprouted up shortly thereafter.

They were radishes, and I was told that I would have to cull out some to make sure the best ones got big. I couldn't bear to thin them out, I guess because I liked looking at that perfect ring. So we got all sizes of radishes. I like them that way.

We planted a whole bunch of stuff, but not in rows, so now I don't know what anything is now. I figured at the time that if an animal saw nice neat rows of things growing, they might come on up and start munching. But if I kind of planted stuff all willy nilly, keeping some loose rules in mind about what likes to be next to what, we might be able to slip some by the deer and rabbits. I even went so far as to toss a whole sack of bulbs into the air and plant them where they landed. Our gardening technique is a source of great amusement to our neighbor. He is an encyclopedia of rules and parables about how a garden works. I gave him a handful of Soissons, big white beans I bought from a producer, at the market. They were dried eating beans, and I was hoping they would sprout. We both planted some, and my neighbor's are growing much more handsomely. I still have faith that one day this summer we'll shell some beans.

There are millions of wildflowers, everywhere. Looking out over the pasture that goes down into the valley from out the kitchen door, you can stop there for a minute and try and take it in. Keep still except maybe drying your hands in a dish towel, and watch for a bird at the feeder. Wait for every part of you to come outside into the sun. Start thinking about just what the field looks like. You'll see that the pasture is actually a palette of hundreds of colors, a sea of color, not just green. These colors are in so many gradations, and dabbed all about. The spots are literally thousands of wild blossoms splayed out in natural patches. That's when you'll take notice of the hum of the bees like they've just started, even though they've been out there all along. Stroll on out into it, go around plucking wild flowers, and have a pitcher full in a matter of 5 minutes. The reason why it will take so long is that nine times out of ten you have to wait for a bee to finish a particularly pretty flower you've chosen before you can pick it. Of course you want to be choosy, the pitcher is a small one.

Canelés

This is a lovely spongy cake originating in Bordeaux, but it has won hearts across the country and can be found in bake shops almost anywhere in France. They are normally baked in copper molds, but you can also find a silicone version of the canelé mold that can turn out a still delicious product, even if the surface is not as caramelized as with the copper mold. This recipe takes two days of rest in the refrigerator, but from what I have learned, patience is a virtue.

For a dozen copper canelé molds:

2 cups whole milk
40 grams or 4 tablespoons butter
2 large eggs plus 2 large yolks
150 grams of flour
250 grams white granulated sugar
1/2 vanilla bean
2 tablespoons aged rum

- In a large mixing bowl, beat the eggs and sugar until they lighten in color and turn fluffy.
- Split the vanilla bean and scrape the inner seeds out with a knife. Put the seeds and the scraped pod with the milk in a saucepan and bring it to a simmer.
- Remove the milk from the heat and let it cool slightly, remove the pod, then add the vanilla seasoned milk slowly to the egg and sugar mixture.
- Cut the butter into little cubes and add it to the batter. Beat until fully incorporated.
- Add the flour in batches until it is fully incorporated.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and put it in the vegetable drawer of the refrigerator, leaving it alone for 2 full days. When you are ready to bake the cakes, generously butter the insides of the molds with a brush (do not butter silicone molds if you are using them), and fill them about 2/3 of the way full (slightly fuller for silicone). Heat your oven as hot as it will go for 10 minutes, place the cakes on a sheet in the hot oven, and reduce the heat to about 175C/300F, continuing to bake for 40-45 minutes. Turn out from the molds immediately while hot.

Calice Artichokes

Since Friday was Labor Day in France, my market was full and doing brisk business. On Fridays it is usually just a little cluster of the regular stands.

"This is my mother," I said to my market peeps, as Mama nodded and diligently focused in on baskets of this and that, cropping close with her new camera set on "flower setting". They all responded "Yes, I see that."

Lyon is a city that gets goodness fresh from many directions, and on Friday, I saw that the ladies coming up from Provence have begun selling what in France we call the Calice artichoke. Calice translates in English to calyx, and in Italian to wineglass, you choose. Perhaps the gardeners will chime in and tell me what this young artichoke is generally called in English. These are the first cuttings from the plant, young underdeveloped artichokes. They are removed from the plant early in the season to allow the plant the resources to render more healthy artichokes later on, having fewer blossoms to nourish. Calice artichokes' market season endures only the blink of an eye. Hesitate, and you might miss them.

I asked my friend Judy Witts Francini about them, and she told me that in Italy, this petite tender spring vegetable's short market season creates a buying frenzy because they are very popular for pickling and preserving in oil. She recommended a recipe from her cookbook, which I plan to prepare for dinner guests at the country house this weekend.

In the meantime, I simply steamed my first batch and we enjoyed them cradled in a bowl with other goodies as a warm composed spring salad.