Banana Pecan Cake with Maple Glaze

This banana pecan cake entered my life thanks to one of the countless blessings this blog has brought to my life, which is to have met and become friends with quite a few cookbook authors.

Cookbook authors are delicious people to be around, naturally, and if I manage to fox my way into their house they may actually cook for me, but the invaluable bonus is that, once I’ve come to know and trust them, once I’ve witnessed how exacting they are, and how much pressure they submit themselves to in order to produce bulletproof recipes, I feel I can use their cookbooks with blind faith. I know I’m in good hands, and things had better work out because I know where they live.

One of my cookbook-writing friends is Marianne Magnier-Moreno, whom I met almost years and years ago at Chocolate & Zucchini’s second anniversary party, and who wears many hats: recipe writer, journalist, translator, cheesecake maker, young mother, and significant other to a gifted painter.

The crumb is moist and fluffy, the flavors multi-dimensional, and the overall sweetness is moderate, which leaves ample room for the maple glaze to step in and do its thing.

Marianne has recently released (and received an award for) a book called Le Grand Manuel du cuisinier that could actually be seen as an epic follow-up to another wonderful one she had written years before, called Mon Cours de cuisine pâtissier, a baking manual that offers seventy recipes with step-by-step pictures and detailed instructions. Step-by-step photography is nothing new in the world of cookbooks, but I’ve always thought it could make a book look dull. Not so here, where the shot-from-the-sky visuals and tasteful styling make each double an aesthetic treat.

My dear friend’s banana pecan cake

Among the winning recipes in that book is one for banana pecan cake, which I often bake when I have über-ripe bananas to use, and top with a maple glaze that’s also one of Marianne’s recipes.

I actually do not make the cake quite as written: I substitute almond butter for part of the butter in the printed recipe, and maple syrup for part of the sugar. I also lower the amount of flour, and add a little amber rum, and use pecans in place of Marianne’s walnuts.

Now, I know I just stated that I wanted to feel I could follow a cookbook’s directions with my eyes closed, but let me explain: I like to bake and cook things my own way, but in order to tweak a recipe, I need it to be rock-solid, otherwise it might not hold up to the tweaking.

But this banana pecan cake does, and brilliantly so. The crumb is moist and fluffy, the flavors multi-dimensional, and the overall sweetness is moderate, which leaves ample room for the maple glaze to step in and do its thing.

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Clotilde’s Paris Favorites

I receive frequent requests for restaurant and food shop recommendations in Paris, so I decided to put together this map of Paris favorites highlighting the places where I’m currently most excited to eat or shop. I will be updating the list monthly, pruning from and adding to it, so you can check back regularly to see which new places I include.

If you want to tag along as I eat my way around the city, you can also follow me on Instagram. I often Snapchat my restaurant meals as well, and you’ll find me under the username clotildenet.

Clotilde’s Paris Favorites

Planning a trip to Paris?

I am available to take you on a private walking tour to show you some of my favorite food spots. Please get in touch and I will be happy to provide more details.

Join the conversation!

If you could snap your fingers right now and be transported to Paris for a single meal, where and what would you eat? Do you have a Paris dining or food shopping conundrum you’d like me to help with?

Jerusalem Artichoke Soup with Bacon

Velouté de topinambours au bacon

Jerusalem artichokes (a.k.a. sunchokes) appear in mid-autumn and stick around until March or April, so you can look for them now; you should have better luck finding them at a farmers’ market of some sort, as they are not exactly a mainstream lot. The variety that’s available in France is pink-skinned (see picture below), but you may see them wearing a beige outfit in your part of the world (no one could blame you for being a bit envious then).

In this Jerusalem artichoke soup I add bacon, introducing a smoky umami dimension that tickles the delicate sweetness of the tubers.

Topinambour is a typical example of what the French call légumes oubliés, or forgotten vegetables. It’s an umbrella term that includes heirloom varieties that have gone by the wayside in favor of hardier/more productive/glossier ones, but also those vegetables our grandparents resorted to eating during World War II, despite their cattle fodder status, because the more palatable options were commandeered and rationed (see post on my grandmother’s war ration stamps). Among those, our friend the Jerusalem artichoke and its little buddy the rutabaga (a.k.a. Swede), on which our grandparents swiftly turned their back after the war, because of the memories they conjured.

Forgotten vegetables are back!

But sunchokes are now back in style (that gum you like, too) and it’s a good thing, for they are a truly delicious vegetable with a distinctive artichoke-like flavor, and a creamy texture similar to that of baking potatoes.

This means they’re perfect soup material: they’ll turn to velvet when cooked in stock and blitzed with a blender, making the French word velouté a fitting descriptor for the resulting dish. I sometimes pair Jerusalem artichokes with mushrooms or apples, but in this particular Jerusalem artichoke soup, I’ve decided to add bacon, introducing a smoky umami dimension that tickles the delicate sweetness of the tubers. A sprinkle of snipped chives for clarity, and you’ve got yourself a rustic, yet subtle soup that you can serve with long fingers of day-old, toasted baguette.

Aside from making sunchoke soup, I like to braise or roast them; I also mash them like potatoes and garnish the purée with chopped hazelnuts to serve with rabbit or game; I add them along with parsnips to gratin dauphinois; I use them in risotti or frittate with mushrooms and leafy greens; I add them warm to salads of mâche and walnuts… I have yet to try them raw (carpaccio-style) or fried (in chips), but I hear that works well, too.

Okay, let’s talk intestinal discomfort.

It would seem disingenuous to talk about Jerusalem artichokes and not broach the delicate subject of digestion, so here we go: Jerusalem artichokes can be, well, difficult to process. The blame is generally placed on inulin, a type of fiber that these tubers contain, and to which most (though not all) people are sensitive, as Tamara Duker explains in more detail. This helps explain why our grandparents were so eager to banish them.

It would seem disingenuous to talk about Jerusalem artichokes and not broach the delicate subject of digestion.

But we’ve established that sunchokes are otherwise excellent for your taste buds and your health (see Tamara’s post again), so I’ve done a little reading and I’ve identified three tips that seem to help significantly. I readily admit that, short of conducting a comparative chemical and physiological study, they are merely suggestions of what has worked in my kitchen, but I trust that someone with more lab time on his hands will one day get to the bottom of it (sorry, a bad pun was bound to be made at some point).

The first tip, and the most important one I think, is to get the freshest Jerusalem artichokes you can — they should feel firm and tight-skinned — and to cook them within a day or two. It is counterintuitive, since they’re root vegetables and we tend to think of those as fit for long storage, but the molecular structure in all vegetables continues to evolve after they’re picked, and it seems to be the case here. So, buy them fresh, and use them fast.

Secondly, their effect is alleviated if they’re parboiled first: start them in cold water, add baking soda for good luck, bring to a simmer, then drain and toss the cooking water, before you go on with the rest of the recipe. Lastly, they seem to fare much better in combination with potatoes — something about an enzyme in the potatoes that would help break down the infamous inulin — and because the universe is cleverly designed, they happen to be a fine flavor match, too.

Join the conversation!

Do you have a favorite Jerusalem artichoke recipe, or tricks of your own to share?

Jerusalem Artichokes (Sunchokes)

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Top 10 Recipes from 2015

Among the recipes and posts I published to Chocolate & Zucchini in 2015, do you know which ones proved the most popular? Here are your 10 favorites, if we’re to believe the numbers in my analytics program. Is there another one you think should have made it to the Top 10 Recipes from 2015? What’s been the best recipe that you cooked, from C&Z and elsewhere, this past year?

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Best of December

Morning light on rue de l'Abreuvoir in Montmartre

I hope you are all having a wonderful holiday season! We celebrated Christmas with delicious family meals, and a select few gifts at the foot of the tree. My eldest is now three and a half, so it’s his first year of really “getting” the Christmas spirit, and I must say few things melt the heart like your own kid singing Christmas songs for you (this is his favorite).

December has been a beautifully sunny, busy month spent preparing food gifts, completing an article on the perfect Paris croissant (more on that soon!), and generally striving to make Chocolate & Zucchini as helpful as it can be. Below are some highlights of my month. Please share yours in the comments!

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