Salicornia

Salicorne

Not quite a vegetable but not quite a seaweed, salicornia must have gone through a tough identity crisis as a teenager. And that’s not even taking into account the multiple names it has to answer to — sea bean, sea asparagus, glasswort, or marsh samphire in English, perce-pierre, salicot, cornichon de mer, or criste-marine in French.

Whatever the moniker, salicornia is a wild, succulent plant that grows along the seashore and in salt marshes. It comes in bushes of crisp and juicy twigs that are harvested in late spring to early summer (i.e. now) and can be eaten raw, cooked, or pickled.

Pickled salicornia is easy to come by in Brittany, and in fact this is where I first encountered it as a child: my family vacationed on the coast for a week every spring, and we would buy the occasional jar of softly pickled salicornia to add to the salads my mother made in the awkward kitchen of whatever house we rented.

I was already fond of the sour/salty combo at the time so it was a treat for me, but I suspect that part of my appreciation came from the fact that the word salicorne is so similar to the word licorne (unicorn), which is very cool by any standard, whether you’re an eight-year-old girl or a fan of Blade Runner or both.

The above-pictured salicornia, however, is not pickled. Its bright green color, starkly offset by the fish market blue of the plastic bag, indicates that it is raw: Maxence and I bought it fresh at the poissonnerie last weekend, happy to stumble upon this relative rarity a mere two days after having it at the British ambassador’s house.

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Chermoula

The June/July issue of Régal* has just been released, with its fresh batch of inspiring ideas**, and it was my reading material of choice when Maxence and I went out for a drink on a terrace on Saturday afternoon, to bask in the fine weather.

And in the midst of the section on farmed vs. wild fish, a ray of sunlight fell on a recipe for barbecued herring served with chermoula.

If this is the first time you and chermoula meet, let me give you a brief introduction: in Moroccan cuisine, chermoula is the magic wand to deal with fish. It is classically a mix of fresh cilantro (a.k.a. coriander), garlic, and spices, bound together with lemon juice and olive oil***. The combination of spices varies depending on the cook’s preferences, and fresh parsley, fresh mint, or chopped onions may be added, but the basic idea remains the same: to form a thick paste that will be used as a marinade before grilling or baking the fish, or as a condiment at the table.

In Moroccan cuisine, chermoula is the magic wand to deal with fish.

I had purchased a whole dorade that morning, and chermoula seemed like the perfect foil for it; I bought a bunch of cilantro on the way home, and got to work. I used the printed recipe as a starting point, and modified a few things: I took the opportunity to use a Meyer lemon and the aleppo pepper I had brought back from the US, I used smoked paprika instead of regular, I added whole coriander seeds and a good pinch of saffron, and I decided to grind the ingredients together in my beloved mortar, instead of chopping them by hand or in a mini-chopper.

I will note here that it is not a difficult recipe (grind, pluck, grind again), but that one should not underestimate the time that is needed to pluck the leaves from the bunch of cilantro. However, this task is executed in a divine cloud of cilantro smell that makes it all okay — unless you’re one of those people who loathe cilantro, in which case you can just use flat-leaf parsley, but it’s not quite the same.

And the resulting emerauld green condiment accomplishes its mission remarkably well: its fresh, tangy, earthy notes, and its lingering heat make it flamboyantly flavorful, yet respectful of the fish’s sensibilities. Other uses include eating it by the spoonful, spreading it on thin slices of baguette, or mixing it with good-quality canned tuna for a mean tuna sandwich.

* Régal is a French bimonthly cooking magazine that was created three years ago. They don’t have a website (I know, I know, don’t get me started), but French residents can subscribe online here, and you can enquire about foreign subscriptions by writing to: abonnements [{ at }] uni-editions [{ dot }] com.

** And, I might add, an amuse-bouche recipe by yours truly on page 10.

*** [Wow, asterisks are flying low, today!] The name chermoula is sometimes given to spice rubs that combine a similar mix of spices with dried herbs and dried garlic.

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More Notes from the Book Tour

Signing books

Where were we? Ah, yes: last time we spoke, I had just arrived in Seattle. I am now home, tired but happy, and I thought I would share a few more thoughts and highlights from the final week of my US book tour, between Seattle and San Francisco.

Sharpie. In under two weeks, I managed to go from not knowing what a Sharpie was — this brand of marker doesn’t exist in France — to being very particular about the Sharpie that I used: if it’s a fine point, I need it to be brand new, otherwise the line is too thick; if it’s an extra fine point, I need it to have a bit of mileage, otherwise the line is too thin.

Bookplates. Before I left New York, my publicist gave me a bundle of bookplates, a.k.a. ex libris — in my case, just blank stickers with a small Broadway Books logo at the bottom. This turned out to be a smart move (unsurprisingly so, for my publicist is a smart person) because we usually ran out of books to sell at the different events. The last people to arrive would look disappointed that they couldn’t get a copy, until I whipped out my stack of stickers and said, in my consolation prize voice, “Would you like me to sign a bookplate for you?” To which most people responded with a vigorous nod, and asked if I could sign one for their sister-in-law and their best friend, too.

A chef’s take on my recipes. About half of the events of the tour were booksigning dinners or lunches, i.e. meet-the-author events hosted at restaurants, during which our guests could eat, drink, and mingle. The chef could — but didn’t have to — plan the meal around recipes from the book, and a large part of the fun for me was to see what they’d done with them. They all did a great job, obviously, and after my initial feeling of relief (1- the guys in the kitchen do not smirk at me; 2- the food tastes great), I relished it when they took creative license with the dishes and made them their own.

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Notes from the Book Tour

Notes from the Book Tour

I am writing this post from above the clouds, somewhere between Chicago and Seattle*. I am about halfway through my book tour, and because I’m all for sharing the behind-the-scenes details, I thought I would tell you a bit about the life of a touring author.

Media escorts. In each city that I visit, a media escort has been hired to accompany me: this is someone who knows the area well, who has my schedule, and who drives me from one engagement to the next so I don’t have to worry about taxis or driving directions.

This person (man or woman — it’s not that kind of escort) can sometimes act as a food stylist, too, if there is a TV appearance scheduled, and usually makes a point of showing me the sights and sharing little bits of trivia as we drive around, which I really appreciate. I had no idea such a job existed and I don’t know how well it pays, but it strikes me as a rewarding occupation, which allows you to meet engaging authors (present company not included) and attend a variety of events — in any case, the ones I’ve met seemed quite happy.

Schedule. The events listing is really just the tip of the book tour iceberg: in addition to these engagements, the goal of a book tour is also to reach out to the local media — television, radio, or print — and get a chance to spread the word about the book.

You’ve read about my segment on the Today Show, and I am scheduled to appear on KNTV‘s Bay Area Today sometime between 10 and 11am this Thursday Friday, but I’ve also had a chance to visit a few radio studios, which I’ve always found mysterious and cool and fascinating, for some reason, but had never realized were that chilly (note to self: don’t forget the sweater). As for the print media, journalists either choose to attend a booksigning event, or we have a one-on-one conversation that usually takes place in the bar area of my hotel, which makes my life easier.

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The Shortest 3 1/2 Minutes of my Life

Today Show

As some of you have already reported, my cookbook was featured on the Today Show* this morning — you can view the segment online. This was my very first television experience, and it was a fun, fascinating, and rather nerve-racking one: I’ll admit I didn’t sleep so well the night before, and the jetlag can’t have helped.

But the segment was so short — just three and a half minutes — that it was over before I had time to even realize it had started, so the part I enjoyed the most was the peek behind the scenes (the brand-new kitchen set; the so-called “green room” — not green at all — where assorted guests eat cookies as they wait for their turn; the make-up room, from which they emerge with glossier lips, shinier hair, and a heart that beats noticeably faster) and the advance prep work.

Because I was a guest from (way) out of town, a food stylist named Deb was to prepare the food that would be shown during the segment. I had been in touch with her and the segment producer a couple of weeks before, to decide which recipe I would be demonstrating (the Two Tomatoes and Parmesan French Toast) and what other dishes would be displayed as beauty shots on the set (the Very Chocolate Cookies, the Zucchini Carpaccio, the Pan Bagnat, and the Cumin Cheese Puffs).

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