Violet Cornmeal Macarons

Macarons Maïs Violette

[Violet Cornmeal Macarons]

If you are still trying to get your act together about what homemade edible presents to give out this holiday season, I’m here to tell you that you are not alone. I myself have done precisely zilch about it, but that’s okay: today is Tuesday, Christmas eve is this Sunday, and that still gives me plenty of time to pick a recipe, buy the ingredients, and get started, right? Right? Thank you.

I would hate to spoil the surprise for the usual recipients of my food gifts, who happen to read this blog every once in a while — especially just before they see me so they can pretend they read it more faithfully than they probably do –, so I can’t tell you exactly what I’ll make, but I will gladly point you to a few recipes I’m considering (but haven’t tested yet):

~ Jenjen’s Maple Brandy Snaps,
~ Monica Hayden’s Havreflarn, as recommended by Marie,
~ Nolwenn’s Dried fruit biscotti (in French),
~ Pascale’s Chocolate caramels (in French),
~ Bulle’s Guimauves, the French marshmallows (in French).

Add to those twelve gift-worthy favorites from the C&Z archives (a selection you would have received in your mailbox three weeks ago if you were a happy subscriber of my monthly newsletter):

~ Very Ginger Cookies,
~ Shortbread,
~ Chocolate and Cacao Nib Cookies,
~ Green Tea Cat’s Tongues,
~ Chocolate-dipped Apricots,
~ Dried Pears (which you can chocolate-dip, too),
~ Mendiants,
~ Florentins,
~ Spiced Chocolate Peanut Butter,
~ Wine Jelly,
~ Almond Lemon Curd,
~ Pear and Cacao Nib Jam.

And a bonus recipe, that of the cornmeal macarons* I’ve come up with a few months ago: I was hoping to create delicate two-bite numbers that would make good teatime companions, preferably with a lightly crunchy crust that would yield into a soft, nubby heart. I tinkered and stirred and trusted my instincts, and I was quite pleased with what I got — pleased enough to make a few more batches since then (it is such an easy one-bowl, scoop-drop-‘n-bake recipe), in different flavor incarnations: violet, citrus zest and pepper, or simply vanilla.

* Read more about the use of the word macaron.

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Just as a reminder, you have until Friday to make a donation in our Menu for Hope fundraiser and get a chance to win some of the cool prizes; my sincere thanks to all of you who have already donated with such generosity.

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Favorites of the Moment

Sables Blancs

Barbie dolls didn’t do much for me when I was little, but I had a passion for plush animals. Each of them had a name and a set of personality traits (often refined by my father, who would improvise bedtime shows for my sister and me, with voices and everything), and they felt more alive than I think grownups can really remember. A direct consequence of this was that, even though I had preferences, naturally — I remember a black crow I’d won at the Jardin d’Acclimatation: it was ugly, it smelled funny, and I couldn’t bring myself to really love it –, I forbid myself to even admit these feelings, for fear of hurting theirs.

But now that I’m more or less an adult and have a pretty strong hunch that inanimate objects can’t get upset, I feel comfortable listing a few of my current edible and drinkable favorites from recent food shopping excursions. (If, however, the rest of my pantry turns sour all of a sudden, I may have to remove the post, I’m sure you’ll understand.)

~ Beurre au sel fumé (smoked salt butter) by Jean-Yves Bordier

Bordier can be described as the butter darling of the French gastronomic scene. His hand-beaten, hand-shaped butter is indeed outstanding, and his latest creation (yes, we now live in a world where the line between the artist and the artisan is blurrier by the day) is unlike anything I’ve tasted before: it is a butter that’s flavored with a mix of salt and spices — I understand this smoked salt follows a Norwegian technique — to give it smoky, almost earthy notes that reveal themselves in the back of your palate, in the aftermath of the rich yet refreshing butter kick.

It is splendid on fish and steamed (or mashed) potatoes, it can be spread on rye bread to eat with oysters, and I had such interesting results using it in a mini-batch of shortbread, that I must try it in salted butter caramels.

I buy my Bordier butter from Les Papilles Gourmandes, a neighborhood shop I’ve mentioned before (they also stock the unsalted, salted, and seaweed varieties), but it can also be found elsewhere in the city (La Grande Epicerie, Da Rose, Fauchon, Pascal Trotté’s cheese shop…) and, of course, right at the source in Saint-Malo.

Jean-Yves Bordier Map it!
9, rue de l’Orme – 35400 Saint-Malo
02 99 40 88 79

Les Papilles Gourmandes Map it!
26 rue des Martyrs – 75009 Paris
01 45 26 42 89

~ Sables blancs, a lightly flavored white tea from Le Parti du Thé

I like Mariage Frères as much as the next girl (though probably not as much as this next girl) but these days I am much more excited about the teas at Le Parti du Thé. This independant tea seller was recommended to me by Valérie Gentil of Beau et Bon (a quirky food shop I just as heartily recommend), and the first time I visited I had to physically restrain myself from buying a bit of each of their varieties — since they have over three hundreds, you can imagine why restraint is important.

The three kinds I’ve liked best so far are the Sables Blancs (“white sands”, a Pai Mu Tan Imperial white tea with discreet notes of coconut and vanilla, pictured above), the Oolong Fleurs d’Oranger (semi-fermented tea from Taiwan with orange blossoms; Beau et Bon carries it), and the Pousse-Pousse (a mix of semi-smoked teas).

Le Parti du Thé / Map it!
34 rue Faidherbe – 75011 Paris
01 43 72 42 04

Beau et Bon / Map it!
81 rue Lecourbe – 75015 Paris
01 43 06 06 53

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Cauliflower Soup with Turmeric and Hazelnuts

Soupe de Chou-Fleur, Curcuma et Noisette

I know a lot of people who dislike cauliflower. Perhaps I am biased since I grew up eating my mother’s killer gratin de chou-fleur, but I really don’t see what’s not to like in a vegetable that’s mild-flavored without being bland, that’s so good-looking it is described as a flower in numerous languages (chou-fleur, cavolfiore, coliflor, Blumenkohl, bloemkool, couve-flor — wanna add yours?), and that plays along admirably in the most gratifying of cold-weather kitchen activities: the making of the soup.

The best argument that can be made in favor of cauliflower is not to serve it as is and insist that it is delicious, but rather to pimp it and let doubters taste and decide for themselves

But, as I said, I know a lot of people who dislike cauliflower, some of whom live and sleep and eat pretty close to me, and I have found that the best argument that can be made in favor of cauliflower is not to serve it as is and insist that it is delicious (years of doing that have gotten me exactly nowhere), but rather to pimp it and let doubters taste and decide for themselves. Oh, we are not talking extreme makeover here, no, just a bit of makeup and a flattering outfit, so the cauliflower soup will be gulped down and enjoyed and complimented.

Today’s version, flavored with turmeric and velvetized [of course it is a real verb] by ground hazelnuts, is a combined tribute to Rose Bakery (ground almonds are used for body and texture in their green bean soup), Eric Kayser (his hazelnut and turmeric bread has become a classic), and a strange man who once engaged Maxence and I in conversation at the terrace of a restaurant, explained that turmeric was a natural remedy for many an illness, and that one should (ideally) eat a spoonful at every meal. I’m not quite there yet, but the turmeric obviously did the soup a lot of good.

~~~

On another, much more important note, please consider making a donation in the food bloggers’ third fundraising campaign, A Menu for Hope. Every US$10 you donate will buy you a raffle ticket to win one of the fantabulous prizes on offer, and all funds raised will go to the UN World Food Program. Check Pim’s blog for the skinny with a complete list of the prizes, and David‘s for a detailed list of the prizes contributed by European bloggers (what you’ll get from me — prize EU22 — is a copy of my upcoming book, with a little note just for you).

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Kitchen Toolbox, Part III

Blades

[Looking for Part I and Part II?]

Sharp things

I am not a knife geek, so you won’t find any opinionated, my-knives-are-holier-than-thine talk here. The three simple pointers I can share are: 1- you should first and foremost choose knives that feel comfortable, hefty (but not heavy), and well-balanced in your hand, 2- a high price doesn’t necessarily equate a high performance (see edifying rating here), and 3- less is more. Here’s my basic kit:

– A 20-cm/8-inch chef’s knife (couteau de chef), to cut, slice, mince, chop, and dice. My first was a stainless steel Dumas. Years later I won a Füri knife (with dimples on the blade) at a festival, and I’ve been quite happy with it ever since (although I wish the company hadn’t felt the need to get a celebrity chef endorsement; I find it mildly embarrassing).
– A 12-cm/4.5-inch paring knife (couteau d’office), for when the item to work on is small or handheld and more control is needed. I started with a basic one from Dehillerin‘s own line, until Maxence came home one day with a Wüsthof; we like it.
– A knife sharpener to keep these two knives happy. I use a diamond-shaped stone that looks like this one, bought at Dehillerin and used according to the salesguy’s instructions — I soak the stone in water first, set the knife at a 15° angle, and swish the blade away from me.
– A 25-cm/10-inch serrated bread knife to slice bread and cakes without making a horror movie scene out of them. Mine is, again, from Dehillerin’s line.
– A swivel-bladed vegetable peeler. I use it to peel vegetables (how very creative of me), but also to cut shavings of hard cheese or chocolate (chill the chocolate first). It is worth investing in one that has a good, sharp blade; I am very happy with my OXO peeler. It is in fact the second one I buy, since the first one disappeared one day: it either ran away with the lobster cracker or, more likely, I threw it in the trash along with the potato peels it had helped produce. Such is the saddening fate, I hear, of 90% of vegetable peelers throughout the world.
– A four-sided box grater, for cheese and vegetables; my favorite side (of course one has to have a favorite side) is the large hole one. Again, make sure it is sharp as a whip (I can recommend the Gefu brand), otherwise the merest carrot to grate will be such a hassle you will stop eating grated carrot salads and that would be a pity, wouldn’t it, because grated carrot salads are rather nice, not to mention good for your complexion.

Not indispensable but nice to have:

– A mandoline, to slice vegetables and fruit quickly and in thin, regular slices. It can also be used to cut matchsticks or crinkled slices, which is pretty neat, and chunks of your fingers, which is pretty painful (be careful with that thing). Depending on your budget, you can go all out and get a professional model (mine is a Bron) or buy a cheaper plastic one outside any Parisian department store: the latter may not have as long a life, but it will work acceptably well.
– A microplane zester to grate citrus zest, cheese, ginger, chocolate, etc. finely and effortlessly.

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Kitchen Toolbox, Part II

Kitchen Toolbox, Part II

[Part I can be found here.]

Utensils

– A slotted turner, to lift and turn food in the skillet or sauté pan. Choose a heat-resistant one made of silicone or nylon so it won’t scrape your pans.
– A pair of locking tongs, to grab, flip, and arrange food in the pan as precisely as if you were using your fingers, minus the burns.
Wooden spoons, to stir and mix. It’s nice to have at least two of these. Choose them with a long handle (about 30cm/12”) so your hand will be far from the heat source as you stir.
– A slotted spoon, to lift the solids from a pan and leave the liquids behind. Very handy to serve stews, too.
– A ladle, to transfer and serve soup.
– A heat-resistant silicone spatula, to scrape bowls to the last drop, and smooth out the surface of cake batters.
– A wire whisk.
– A set of measuring cups and spoons. I personally use the same set of cups to measure liquids and solids, and I am still alive.
– A nesting set of mixing bowls. Three is enough; don’t get tricked into buying one of those rainbow-colored sets of ten, however good-looking. Choose plastic or stainless steel; make sure they are stable and don’t tip over too easily. If you’re short on space, get glass or ceramic bowls attractive enough that they can also be used as salad bowls.
Cutting boards. Wood and plastic are both fine; I myself am partial to bamboo boards. (Note: to avoid cross-contamination, our friends the food safety experts say you should assign three different boards to work with produce, cooked products, and raw animal products.)
– A cooling rack, to speed up the cooling of baked goods so you can eat your cookies sooner.
– A fine-mesh sieve, to strain sauces and marinades. I use mine to sift the flour for cakes.
– A large colander, to drain pasta and set vegetables aside as you chop them.
– A salad spinner to dry your salad greens. It does a good job with fresh herbs, too, no real need to get the miniature one.
– A pepper mill. I love the one Meg gave me, which you operate with one push of the thumb (although, when the reservoir is full, my thumb is not quite strong enough).
– A can opener, preferably one that also has a little metal lip to open jars of jam (and, incidently, bottles of beer).
– A nut cracker. I use a simple yet sturdy vintage one that Maxence’s grandparents gave us.

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