My weekday lunches revolve around salads like this one, built on grains, fresh vegetables, some sort of protein element, and fresh herbs. I prepare a few servings at a time, and that conveniently takes care of lunch for the next couple of days.

I do try to mix things up so as not eat the same thing all the time, but I admit I’ve become a little fixated on this particular one lately: it is full of flavor, refreshing and filling, with a satisfying mix of textures from the fleshy tomatoes and the chewy grain.

The cereal I am using is petit épeautre (literally, small spelt), an ancient cousin of spelt that goes by the Latin name Triticum monococcum or the common English name einkorn wheat.

Petit épeautre was one of the first cereals cultivated for food*; it is a nutritious grain that thrives on arid, mountainous grounds where little else will grow. The one I buy, an organic petit épeautre de Haute Provence grown in the Southeast of France, is said to have been grown unchanged — without cross-breeding that is — in the area for 9,000 years**. It is protected by a geographical indication, and it hopped aboard the Slow Food Ark of Taste a few years ago.

Einkorn wheat has long been displaced by higher-yield crops, but it is regaining a little popularity in France and elsewhere, as conscious eaters try not to rely so heavily on common wheat, and also because it has been suggested that the grain, although not gluten-free, might be safe for gluten-intolerant patients. (I’ll hasten to note that more research is needed and it is too early to be taking any risks, but these initial findings are hopeful.)

Einkorn wheat is worth seeking out, but if you can’t find it, feel free to substitute spelt (Triticum spelta) or emmer wheat (Triticum dicoccum, a.k.a. farro) here, depending on what’s available locally.

While the tomatoes and petit épeautre are permanent fixtures of this salad, the third wheel varies according to what’s on hand: I like it with firm tofu, as pictured, but it is also very good — perhaps better — with feta or mozzarella. You’ll also note that I add a touch of ground cinnamon to the seasoning mix; I like the spicy tickle it brings.

* See Alternative Wheat Cereals as Food Grains, G.F. Stallknecht, K.M. Gilbertson, and J.E. Ranney, 1996.

** If you understand French, I recommend reading this interview with einkorn wheat producer Etienne Mabille.

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Whenever I walk, bike, or metro my way somewhere, whenever I busy myself in the kitchen or sit down for a lengthy fava bean peeling session, I rely on podcasts to keep me entertained.

Although there are a few I listen to that are not food-oriented — some of my favorites are Happier, The Lively Show, The Food Blogger Pro Podcast, Dear Sugar Radio, and Respectful Parenting — you won’t be surprised to hear I lean toward those that discuss cooking, eating, and the cultural or political ramifications of both activities.

I can’t be alone in this, and I’d like to share those podcasts I listen to regularly.

Naturally, if you have favorites of your own to recommend, I’m always happy to add new ones to my rotation!

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I had my first taste of this cake at my friend Adam‘s last December. I was in New York for a whirlwind visit to promote the big fat pink book, and he and Craig had invited me to dinner at their place.

I would have been grateful for any home-cooked meal, which is by far my favorite kind when I travel, but this was a truly delicious dinner, one that refutes the “amateur” in “amateur gourmet.”

After a salad of roasted beets and a dish of milk-braised pork (read Adam’s post for the recipes), dessert was this almond cake, after a recipe Amanda Hesser published in the New York Times, and then in the edited collection of her columns, Cooking for Mr. Latte.

It was a spectacular almond cake, buttery and fragrant, moist in the middle with a good crust all around. After I’d finished the extra slice Adam gave me to take home (or in this case, back to the hotel) with me, I vowed to bake one just like it.

It took me a few months to act upon this wish, but I finally did when my nephew turned two in the spring, and the family got together to celebrate.

The distinguishing trait of this recipe is that it draws its flavor not from whole or powdered almonds, but from almond paste, and this contributes to the smooth, tender texture of the crumb. (It also reminds me of Julia’s Swedish cake, which I’ve had my eye on for a while and hope to make when apples return.)

I lightened up the recipe a little, lowering the amount of butter and sugar*, and using yogurt in place of sour cream, but the cake remained a pleasingly indulgent affair.

Because the almond and the blueberry are BFFs, I also prepared a quick blueberry coulis to serve with the cake: the idea was to make it a little more sophisticated, and provide a note of tartness to cut through its richness. And, well, I also had some blueberries in the freezer that I was hoping to use in preparation for a much-needed spring defrosting, which still hasn’t happened, but let’s not dwell on that.

The grown-ups around the table agreed this was a very, very good almond cake, but more important, the birthday boy wolfed down his (admittedly small) slice, asked for seconds, then thirds, and eventually had to be distracted with the toy shinkansen we’d brought him back from Japan so there would be leftovers for tea the next day.

* The original recipe calls for 8 ounces of butter and 1 1/2 cups sugar; I used 7 ounces butter and 3/4 cup sugar.

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Rue des Martyrs, a street that shoots up from the 9th into the 18th arrondissement, is one of those typical Paris market streets that seems to defy business logic by offering no fewer than seven bread bakeries, some of them but a block from one another.

Because I live in the neighborhood, I’ve had the opportunity to sample the goods from (almost*) all of them, and I’ve been particularly impressed with the breads I’ve purchased from Maison Landemaine, on the eastern sidewalk: their tourte de meule (a round rustic loaf) and their baguette**, both leavened with their natural starter, are excellent, and they make a very good chocolate bread, too.

In French, the concept of chocolate bread poses a slight semantics problem, because the name pain au chocolat (literally, chocolate bread) is already taken by a much-loved member of the viennoiserie family that involves croissant dough wrapped around one or two sticks of chocolate to form a rectangular little pad. In some parts of France — especially in the south — this is cutely called a chocolatine.

But what we are talking about here is a regular bread dough that is flavored with cocoa powder and studded with small bits of chocolate — an entirely different animal, one that’s more to my taste. And since I’m always looking for new and delicious ideas to keep my natural starter entertained, it wasn’t long before I decided to make my own.

I remembered Nancy Silverton has a recipe for chocolate cherry bread in her sourdough baking book Breads from the La Brea Bakery, so I looked it up, but hers involves sugar and butter — she developed it to please the customers who came in wanting dessert rather than a loaf of bread — and I wanted my dough unenriched.

Instead, I simply elaborated on the recipe I use for my sourdough baguettes, substituting cocoa powder for part of the flour and folding coarsely chopped chocolate into the dough, and making bâtard-shaped loaves. Because Nancy Silverton notes that the cocoa powder hinders the rise of the bread, I followed her lead and added a little fresh yeast to aid the action of the starter.

Aside from this addition of yeast, the technique is very similar to the one I describe in my baguette post, with an overnight fermentation for flavor and flexibility; you can refer to it for pictures of the different steps.

Because it is just bread with cocoa powder and a little dark chocolate, it is neither too rich nor too sweet for breakfast (i.e. no brick feeling in your stomach, and no sugar crash by mid-morning) and it is a luxurious treat to begin the day with, lightly toasted, and spread with butter or almond butter.

The tight crumb makes it ideal for tartines and I probably don’t need to elaborate on the list of things you can spread on chocolate bread, but I will say this: raspberry jam or dulce de leche make it quite irresistible.

I like it like this, with just chopped chocolate folded in, but you could imagine endless variations, incorporating dried fruit (cherry, fig, prune), orange peel (as in this loaf) or nuts (pistachios, almonds, walnuts), or possibly replacing a little of the wheat flour with chestnut or malt flour.

This bread stays fresh for a few days, like most starter-leavened breads, but if the leftovers dry up they’ll make a fine bread pudding or great breadcrumbs; they’re the ones I used for the Noma-style radishes in soil I wrote about recently.

Maison Landemaine
26 rue des Martyrs, Paris 9ème
M° Notre-Dame de Lorette
+33 (0)1 40 16 03 42 / map it!

* A few of them I didn’t bother to visit; sometimes a glance at the bread shelf is all it takes to form an opinion.

** Bruno Verjus shot a few videos of their baguette-making process.

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