[Monkfish Liver on Toast]

I had purchased a can of foie de lotte at the Salon Saveurs last spring, and it had been quietly sitting in our kitchen cabinet ever since, waiting for its turn to get a little attention. We finally opened it for a quick and easy lunch recently, spreading the chunks of liver on freshly toasted bread — just like we used to when I was a child and foie de morue (cod liver) on toasts was an occasional Saturday lunch treat.

Monkfish liver is sometimes referred to as le foie gras de la mer (foie gras from the sea), and quite rightly so if you ask me. The similarity between those two distant cousins is pretty striking : same pale orangey pink color, same soft texture, same peculiar earthy flavor, same sweetness at the back of your mouth.

Monkfish liver turns out to taste very much like cod liver, just a tad more subtly flavored, and is extremely enjoyable on the warm and crispy slice of bread, topped with just a squeeze of lemon and a grind of pepper.

One important thing I cannot stress enough : do not dump the leftover fish oil in the sink, under penalty of having to live with that smell for a week at least. And as much as I adore fish liver for lunch, breakfast is an entirely different matter.

On Saturday night, we had the pleasure of attending the fourth edition of the Paris Potluck, hosted by Alisa and her husband Jean-Yves. This time around, Alisa had suggested that we follow a theme : no more random assortment of everyone’s current food obessions! And as she (and I and pretty much everyone else) had been suffering from terrible Mexican food cravings since moving to Paris, her theme of choice was Mexican, as announced happily in an email with multicolored letters.

As always, I toyed with different ideas for a while, and waited until the very last minute to decide what I was going to make. I asked Alisa what everyone was bringing, and she told me that appetizers and main courses were well covered, so a dessert would round out the menu nicely. I’ve never been a big fan of the desserts they served at Mexican restaurants in California (much less in Paris, where the Mexican restaurants I’ve tried are an insult to Mexican cuisine), so I decided to just come up with my own idea of a Mexican dessert.

So. Mexican dessert… Inspiration struck : chocolate and chili are both very Mexican, right? How about adding ground chili to my dear melt-in-your-mouth chocolate cake? And since this is a very rich cake and my petit-four silicon molds are begging to be used, stomping their tiny little feet in my kitchen cabinet, how about baking mini bites of chocolate and chili cake?

And so after a fabulous Mexican food bonanza — margaritas, three kinds of salsa, guacamole, tortilla chips, two kinds of enchiladas, chicken mole, spicy shrimp, zucchini and corn salad, cactus salad, refried beans, oh how I missed you guys — desserts were brought to the table : a delicious lime pie, wonderful crepes with pecans and homemade dulce de leche, and a bowl of my Chocolate and Chili Bites.

Those little bites are a delightful rollercoaster in taste. You pick one up, study it with curiosity because you’ve been told there’s chili in there, but it looks harmless enough so you pop it into your mouth. At first, all you’re aware of is the moist and intensely flavorful chocolate cake, with its little crusty top. And then, as an afterthought, just when you’re starting to wonder well, where did the chili go, there it comes, and a miniature heatwave invades your mouth. And as your palate tingles, you have to laugh at the spicy little trick that’s just been played on your tastebuds, and hop gaily onto the rollercoaster again.

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On a night of ravenous hunger, decide that what you want is something warm soft and tasty with a little crunch, to be eaten in a bowl with a spoon, curled up on the couch and reading a magazine.

No need to forage through your kitchen cabinets, you know precisely what will hit the spot.

Wash and slice three zucchini thinly with your magnificent mandoline. Sauté in a bit of olive oil, with lots of herbs and just enough salt to bring out the zucchini flavor.

Heat up a small skillet and dry-toast two handfuls of pinenuts which you purchased in bulk at G.Detou — thinking then “how am I ever going to use this up”, thinking now “uh-oh, need to get some more”. Send some warm thoughts in the general direction of your sister, whose eyes light up and sparkle at the mere mention of the words pignons de pin.

Bring water to a boil, and dump in some Fregola Sarda, those small dot-shaped pasta grains that your friends brought you back from Rome, and which turn out to be the tastiest little pillows of pasta goodness ever, plump and soft between your teeth. Cook them for a random amount of time since the package does not say; wait until the pasta gets just to the point of tenderness or until you decide that you simply must. eat. now.

Drain the pasta and toss with the zucchini slices and pinenuts. Grate liberal amounts of parmesan on top, making sure your eagerness doesn’t cause you to scrape the tips of your fingers on your extra sharp cheese grater. Toss again, ladle a generous helping into a pretty bowl, do that curling-up-in-the-small-of-the-couch thing you do so well, balance your magazine on your knees, and dig in joyfully with little murmurs of delight.

And when you’re done, smile a contented smile and cherish the thought that you have another serving for lunch the next day…

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Oeuf à la Coque, Mouillettes Rouges

The Oeuf à la Coque: one of the simplest pleasures in life.

It is the easiest thing to make — although, believe it or not, I have to ask Maxence every time how long the egg should be boiled for — and conveniently single-serving if you want it to be.

It is fun to crack and pop its little hat open, and it is also the best companion to a few mouillettes. Mouillettes? Yes, those little fingers of toasted bread, a small set of edible cutlery with which to stir, mop and thoroughly enjoy the inside of your egg.

Mouillettes are traditionally spread with butter (preferably salted), but the concept is more than open to variations, and you should absolutely feel free to dress your mouillettes with whatever apparel strikes your fancy. Eggs are such easy-to-please, lenient little fellows.

The Oeuf à la Coque is also, undoubtedly, the king of egg dishes. I mean, what other egg dish requires the use of its own little throne, the royal coquetier, giving me the occasion and joy of whipping out my designer egg cup, complete with matching spoon and integrated salt dispenser?

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