This is part of a series on French idiomatic expressions that relate to food and drink. Read the introductory Edible Idiom post, and browse the list of French idioms featured so far.

This week’s idiom is, “Mettre de l’eau dans son vin.”

Literally translated as, “putting water in one’s wine,” it means lessening one’s demands or ambitions, mellowing, deciding to adopt a more moderate stand on an issue or in an argument.

It can be used in a positive sense (being more tolerant, making an effort to reach a compromise*) or, though more rarely, in a negative sense (giving up on one’s ideals, selling out).

Example: “Au début, elle ne voulait pas que son fils joue à des jeux vidéo le soir en semaine, et puis elle a mis de l’eau dans son vin, et maintenant il a le droit de jouer une fois qu’il a fini ses devoirs.” “Initially, she didn’t want her son to play video games on weeknights, but then she put water in her wine, and now he’s allowed to play when he’s done with his homework.”

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Among the many blogs I read enthusiastically is one called Coco&Me: its author, Tamami, sells homemade cakes and chocolates at Broadway Market in East London on Saturdays, and she describes her blog as “the diary of a market stall holder.”

Beautifully illustrated with photos of her displays and confections, it is full of the sort of details I crave when I read about someone’s life and craft: the number of truffles she rolled for the last market day before Christmas, the influence of rainy weather on the sales of lemon tarts, and the delicate art of offering samples.

Tamami-san is just as generous with her tips and recipes — sharing trade secrets is not a decision professional bakers take lightly, so this is all the more commendable — and I had long ago bookmarked the post in which she reveals the secret to her popular Luxury Brownies.

The chocolate flavor is intense, thanks to the combined action of melted chocolate and cocoa powder, which makes this a true chocolate lover’s brownie.

I finally got around to trying the recipe last week for Maxence’s birthday party, though I ended up tinkering with it a bit (you’re shocked, I know), lowering the amount of sugar and fat, replacing part of the butter with almond butter, and adding a touch of salt. I also changed the order of the steps, sticking to the M.O. I use for the melt-in-your-mouth chocolate cake; I am terrified of adding raw eggs to a warm mixture, lest they curdle.

Despite my oven’s vigorous attempts to sabotage the operation — I am plotting the acquisition of a shiny new one (yay!) so it is more mean-spirited than ever — the brownies turned out exactly the way I’d hoped.

The chocolate flavor is intense, thanks to the combined action of melted chocolate and cocoa powder, which makes this a true chocolate lover’s brownie — not a tautology in my book, as I often find brownies to be too strong on the sugar and too weak on the chocolate.

I garnished mine with a mix of organic nuts sold under the name of mélange du professeur — “professor’s mix,” presumably because of the nuts’ brain-friendliness — that contains hazelnuts, almonds, cashews, Brazil nuts, and walnuts, but pistachios, pecans, and/or dried fruits would be good, too. Note that the texture and flavor improve over time, so plan to make this a few hours or even a day in advance.

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This is part of a series on French idiomatic expressions that relate to food. Read the introductory Edible Idiom post, and browse the list of French idioms featured so far.

This week’s idiom is, “S’occuper de ses oignons.”

Literally translated as “taking care of one’s onions,” it means minding one’s own business, and it is used in situations when someone is meddling in someone else’s affairs*.

Example 1: “Je n’ai pas besoin de tes conseils, occupe-toi de tes oignons !” “I don’t need your advice, mind your own business!”

Example 2: “Si tu veux vraiment qu’elle s’occupe de ses oignons, il faut que tu arrêtes de l’appeler à l’aide au moindre problème.” “If you really want her to mind her own business, you have to stop calling her for help every time you have a problem.”

Listen to the idiom and examples read aloud:

(If no player appears, here’s a link to the audio file.)

The onions in question are old slang** for buttocks, or testicles (can’t wait to see the search engine hits that sentence will generate). The word “onion” is seldom (if ever) used in that sense today, but the idiom lived on.

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This is a recipe I got from David Tanis’ A Platter of Figs and Other Recipes.

I realize that naming this cookbook my favorite for 2008 and then showcasing its recipe for hard-boiled eggs sends a curious message, yet it illustrates exactly what I look for in a book: not just engaging stories, understated pictures, and seasonally sound menus — all features that ?tag=chocolzucchi-20″>Tanis’ book can brag about — but also things to learn, understand, and remember long after the book has been shut.

This is why I was bound to fall for a book that draws its title from that very premise: you need know-how, rather than a recipe, to serve a good platter of figs. A book that not only gives you a recipe for Jellied Chicken Terrine (three cheers for aspic!), but also devotes two pages to Grilled Chicken Breasts and includes a sub-recipe for the Soft-Center Hard-Cooked Eggs that you are to place, halved or quartered, around the inverted and unmolded terrine.

If, like me, you’ve long been a card-carrying member of the Hard-Boiled Eggs Loathing Society, prepare to have your mind changed. The proper way of making them, as outlined below, will not produce the dreaded dandruffy yolk, sapless and tinged with grey, but one that’s creamy and glowing, nested in a springy, just-set white.

There’s not much to it, really, yet it is one of those basic skills that everyone assumes you possess, when I myself can’t make an oeuf à la coque without calling Maxence to double-check the cooking time, so it is nice when someone takes the time to hold your hand through the process.

If, like me, you’ve long been a card-carrying member of the Hard-Boiled Eggs Loathing Society, prepare to have your mind changed.

UPDATE: David Tanis’ method consisted in lowering the eggs in boiling water and cooking them for 8 to 9 minutes. I have since changed my way of making hard-boiled eggs, and now prefer to put the eggs in when the water is cold, bring to a boil, and let rest off the heat for 10 minutes. I’ve updated the recipe below to reflect that.

And then of course you’re free to do whatever you please with those eggs. I am not sure if or when I will make the terrine — I have my eye on the Fava Bean Salad with Mountain Ham and Mint and the Fish Soup with Mussels and Chorizo first — but these perfect eggs have already become regular adornments to my lunch salads, the grated carrot and avocado salad, the red quinoa salad, and the grated carrot and beet salad. Surely you’ve met?

Raw eggs and the nifty basket I use to lift them out of the water.

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