If you’re the observant type, you may have noticed the walk-on actor in the fig sorbet picture two weeks ago. And you know what happens to walk-ons when they’re talented and good-lookin’ and lucky: they graduate to leading roles. Today is the cookie’s big break; today, the cookie gets to be the hero of the post.

The recipe comes from Laurence Salomon’s cookbook, Fondre de plaisir*, which I purchased after reading about it on so many French food blogs that it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Who is Laurence Salomon?” you may ask — and a valid question it is. She’s the chef of Nature & Saveur (need I translate?), a restaurant in the town of Annecy. She trained as a naturopath before she became a chef, and her cuisine, which I hear is outstanding, focuses on whole ingredients, health, and balance.

I was 100% sold on the idea, but I can’t say the book had me jumping up and down with excitement, or feverishly earmarking recipes. Don’t get me wrong: it is a good book, full of valuable tips and information, but it feels a little too ascetic for me, the voice of the nutritionist a little too present. I’m holding on to it because I feel it has things to teach me, but it’s not the sort of book that I crack open with a grumble in my stomach, rubbing my hands and thinking, “So! What’s for dinner tonight?”

Small wonder then, that the first recipe I try from it should be a cookie. The recipe can be found on page 156, where it features as a crumble-like topping over the Compotée pommes-abricots au yaourt de soja vanillé et coulis de noisette (stewed apples and apricots with vanilla soy yogurt and hazelnut coulis).

I might not have noticed the recipe at all if it weren’t for Claire, who had used it as a sorbet accessory last June. And I’m immensely grateful she did, because these are the best sablés I’ve made in a long time — my live-in taste-tester would tell you as much if he didn’t have his mouth full.

I modified the recipe a little bit (ahem) to use butter (instead of margarine), spelt instead of oats (it’s what I had on hand), pepper instead of cinnamon (cinnamon bores me, while a dash of pepper exalts the flavor of hazelnuts like no other), and rose water in place of plain water: the cookies were to be served with my fig sorbet, and rose and fig are notorious flavor pals.

And as a final bonus, let me share the following life-altering tip. Have you ever chopped hazelnuts with a knife? Is it not maddening how they go flying every which way, so that you end up with more hazelnuts lurking amongst your spice jars and rolling underfoot, than on your cutting board? Fret no more, for there is a better way: equip yourself with a sturdy food storage bag and a heavy-bottomed pan. Place the hazelnuts, whole, inside the storage bag. Zip the bag shut, place it on a cutting board, and bang on it with all your might. Feel better now?

* Fondre de plaisir translates roughly to “melting from pleasure”, which can be understood as shedding pounds while still eating well. It isn’t a diet book at all, but I’m guessing the publisher didn’t mind the ambiguity.

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Ah, the Curse of the Potluck and its familiar dilemmas that grip and nag — what to bring, what to bring?

Something sweet, something savory? Something indulgent that will please everyone who doesn’t know how much butter went into it, or something healthful so your friends will live longer with a healthy heart and glowing skin?

An old favorite that won’t let you down but won’t electrify anyone either, or a new recipe that has great potential but involves a non-negligible risk of failure, mortification, and the glare of disgrace cast upon your offspring for seven generations?

Add to the equation the need for something that will require neither silverware nor last-minute prep and that will travel well in the basket of your vélib during the cross-city ride, and you’ve got yourself one big-mama quandary.

And yet, in the murk, the gleam of an idea that would tie all those loose strings together: bite-size scones, flavored with aged Parmesan, carrots, and home-grown rosemary.

Savory yet so caressing in texture as to be almost sweet, indulgent but not damnably so (hey, there’s carrots in there!), they would be built as a riff on this time-honored recipe. Safely wrapped in foil, they would be transported to their final destination, where they would be stacked on a serving plate I would also bring, so my friend the hostess wouldn’t need to rummage for one and I would earn brownie points (she makes really good brownies) for being so provident.

Everything went as planned: I did not burn the scones, I managed to fend off hungry fingers for most of the afternoon (a few specimens had to be sacrificed to appease the gods of the 5 o’clock munchies), and the scones soon found a comfortable spot in which to settle, cozying up to the marvels produced by the other contributing cooks.

The one thing that did not go as planned had nothing to do with the potluck party, or my scones. It stings nonetheless.

~~~

Speaking of which — have you noticed the little French flag floating around in the upper right-hand corner of this page, and at the bottom of some entries? It links to the brand-new French version of C&Z, where I will, from here on in, publish a translation of the recipes with an abridged intro.

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Perhaps you remember Braden and Laura from the post I wrote about their underground restaurant venture: Hidden Kitchen has been doing well since then, waiting list and all, and Maxence and I have had the finger-licking pleasure of going back to their apartment a few times, as friends, on their off nights.

Last time we did was burger night or, more accurately, slider night*, Laura having reached the point where, after a severe bout of experimentitis the sort of which bakers are prone to, she was finally happy with her homemade buns.

I remember when this popular potato side was first introduced, back in my teenage days, when a fast food meal still felt like a treat, before or after catching a movie on the Champs-Elysées.

Once we’d arrived, greeted Tati, who’s running for Cutest Dog in the Underground Restaurant Business, settled down for an apéritif drink, eaten a few canapés, and scraped the last drop of a chilled lettuce soup — this is when you should start to get a better idea of what Braden and Laura call an “off night” –, the sliders appeared, keeping warm under their miniature brushed metal cloches.

And alongside the sliders came a platter of golden potato wedges that prompted Maxence and me to clap our hands (okay, only I clapped my hands) and exclaim: “Oh! Des deluxe potatoes!”

Jo Jo Potatoes or Deluxe Potatoes?

You see, in France, those who visit the Fast Food Chain with the Golden Arches are given a choice of two potato sides with their (quote unquote) burger: dishwater blond, slim fries (des frites), or skin-on, breaded and fried potato wedges called deluxe potatoes, pronounced with a French accent and served with a mayo-like dressing.

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I have to admit that the C&Z anniversary takes me by surprise each fall: I was drifting off to dreamland a few nights ago when I was seized by the sudden worry that I had let the day slide by unnoticed. I jumped out of bed, checked the calendar — all right, four more days to go — and resumed my dozing activities.

It’s not that the world would self-pulverize if I forgot, but it has become a tradition of mine to take this anniversary as an opportunity to look back on the weeks, months, and years since the birth of Chocolate & Zucchini, and indulge in a tall cup of thankful thoughts, topped with whipped joy and multicolored flecks of vertigo.

What this blog has done for me over the past four years, the places it has taken me*, the people I’ve interacted with, the things I’ve learned, the flavors I’ve tasted, the friends I’ve made — these blessings continue to amaze and fulfill me, making me feel happy and alive every day, which is all I wish upon anyone.

Above all, it is you, readers of C&Z, that I want to thank: this blog wouldn’t amount to much if it weren’t for you, your visits, your words, and your support. Thank you.

If you happen to be in Paris on Tuesday, October 9th, and want to join us and celebrate, it will be my pleasure to thank you in person. We’ll be at Floors, a great bar and diner that has just opened at 100 rue Myrha in the 18th (M° Anvers or Château-Rouge / map it!), starting from 7pm for a pre-dinner drink, and will stay on to eat there afterwards. (And I will have my trusty sharpie with me, so if you bring a copy of the C&Z book, I will gladly sign it for you.)

* And it looks like it may take me as far as Australia next year! Could I be more thrilled?