The First Day Abroad

The lunch of the snobs left me giddy and defiant. Nothing could really top that. And, in a sense, it was in a league of its own. We'd only happen to wander there because there was such a dearth of restaurants to be found in Lunéville.

We'd stopped in Lunéville to see the mini-Versaille built by Leopold, Duke of Lorraine and later occupied by the deposed king of Poland, Stanislaw Leszczynski. We only saw the outside as we spent a little time walking the large gardens attached to the chateau.

We wandered through Baccarat to admire the crystal. Being there only reinforced my love of Lalique crystal even if my pocketbook fainted at the prices. After, we tried to find our way to Alsace through the Vosges Mountains. It seemed we found every twist and turn on those roads but eventually we sunk down into the grape-laden hillsides of Alsace.

I'd mistakely thought we were staying in the town of southern Alsace, Colmar. Instead, we ended up staying on the Ile du Rhine, a lovely hotel right beside the Rhine River. Our room looked out over a lake-like side channel of the Rhine where I found a bit of bliss in the early morning and the evenings watching the ducks and swallows there as well as a pair of swans with their four babies.

We ate at the hotel for dinner the first night. It wasn't the chateau by any stretch of the imagination but it was a good introduction to a new favourite of mine--flammenkueche, also known as tarte flambee. I'd describe as perogy-fixings on a flatbread.--lardons (bacon), creme fraiche (sour cream) and onions-- yet superior. I'd also had a fillet de sandre, a halibut-textured fish, with a creamy reisling sauce but it didn't match the love at first sight I had with the flammenkueche. I could have had a version with grilled cheese or with Munster cheese, but the sheer peasant simplicity of the dish would have been ruined. Having it served on a wooden board enhanced its comfort food status immensely.

While Looking for Lunch at Lunéville

The icy looks left me wondering where this trip would take us. As we stepped through the passage way to a charming, tiered garden my fears were confirmed. It did indeed seem that the longer the road into the deep country one goes to a place called "Chateau de Something", the higher up the social ladder the clientele were likely to be. The customers ringing the tables seemed to ooze money out of their pores. In the moments that passed between my first and third steps on the terrace, I'd vaccilated between wishing my clothes to suddenly turn into Chanel and telling myself to act like I owned this place. It was a bit hard to pull off as we swept past the fluttering silks and linen in runners and travelling clothes. I think I was terrified in the first moments that we'd either be snubbed by the staff or have scandalized chateau guests walk off in a huff. My fears were never realized and I considered the pleasant way we were led to our table to be a successful leap over a huge hurdle. I relaxed. I even started being a bit amused at the occasional incautious glances of the others, assessing our status.

I didn't really want to reinforce the tourist-who-mistakenly-wandered-into-the-palace image we already presented so I never took pictures of the food. There was just no privacy. That room was designed to see and be seen. The food, however, left a big impression on me, enough to remember it in detail.

Let me first begin with the setting. Imagine a well-kept Caribbean estate terrace garden leading onto a covered lanai. The lanai itself is decorated in the fashion of a colonial club room in Southern Asia. Palms, multi-drawered apothocary chests, tiles, white linens--you know, the works.

We all started with the tuna carpaccio. Three long rectangular portions of paper thin belly tuna lay across the width of the plate, parted by light dressed fresh greens with a sprinkling of raw mung beans on top. The tuna itself was dressed sparingly in soy sauce, sesame oil, toasted sesame seeds and rice vinegar. A smattering of wasabi/chili oil dots lined the sides of the plate. It was served with an avocado soup/sorbet. The tuna was very moreish, the light bitterness of the mung sprouts a nice contrast to the lusciousness of the delicate tuna. But the avocado thing, my only disappointment of the meal, had a top note of cool richness. The bottom note that played out after, however, was bitter. Not "try not to spit it out" bitter, but certainly not appealing.

After, Papa Frog and I had salmon ravioli. If the tuna was very good, this dish was heaven in a celadon-green glass bowl. In a light salmon broth, awash in a confetti of lightly cooked carrot, turnip and zucchini dice, were a few pieces of luxuriantly-textured poached salmon. Most of the few salmon pieces were half-wrapped in perfectly cooked wonton wrappers. There was a seasoning of herbs in the soup that I think was chervil, parsley and basil. It was topped off with a little green cloud of leek sprouts. It seems too simple to be good but it was a marriage of flavours that defied explination. It took all my reserve to not lift the bowl to my lips to get every last drop of the lovely broth.

My Frog had ordered a cut of beef with a pepper sauce. We thought we knew what to expect. Oh how wrong we were. The rare-cooked piece was so rich and buttery under the knife that I expected Froggie's eyes to roll back in his head. The 'sauce' was actually a pale-green pepper oil served on the side. It only added to the unctuous nature of the little beast. Also on the side was served a collection of lightly poached white asparagus spears and poached radishes. Again unexpected but they worked so well with the rest of the dish. I can say this because it became too much of a curiosity for me not to beg a piece. It was every savoury bit of butteriness that he promised. Every bit.

As I'd ordered from a menu I still had a dessert to arrive. While we waited for the course to come we were given a small bowl of top notch dark chocolate cut into cubes and the most darling thumb-sized madeleines. Those little cakes were strawberry pink and rose-flavoured. Yum! I would have been happy if THIS had been my dessert but the best was yet to come.

I didn't know what to expect of a "passion tart" but I didn't expect what came. A tiny glass of canary yellow passionfruit smoothie with a tiny black straw hovered on the plate above a tart of simple splendour. A cookie-like crust was filled with the most breathtakingly rich, yolky custard, crowned with four perfect fat raspberries and dusted with silver leaf. Yeah... edible silver leaf. Honestly, the snobs could take a hike. I was going to relish this.

I'd entered this place feeling like I better pretend to own this joint. By the end I didn't need to pretend to act pampered. I was.

The Next Mission

The Frog and I were surprised by Papa Frog to find that we'd already been booked for our first vacation within a vacation so soon. This Thursday we are off to the French-German border for four days. Strasbourg and Freiburg im Breisgau are on the visit list. I do happily have a memory disk reader now so I'll have pictures to share when I get back as well as stories. However, to those of you who have supported me through my pictureless days, you made me realize again the power of prose. So, sometimes in the future I just may happen to 'lose my camera' to play with the power of the written word.

See you in a few days! Coq au Reisling, Munster Cheese and Gewürztraminer here I come!

The Secret Mission

The sun trickles its way across the dark wardrobe. The air coming in from the window, slightly ajar, is fresh. You look out and see a picture perfect blue sky. Closing your eyes, you feel the wind catch slightly on your face and you hear the sweet sound of chirruping birds and the softly distant sound of a bell, tolling Matins. You look back towards the bed and see your beloved gently snoring, splayed across the bed like a child. You smile and return to the few pages left of your book.

As he awakes, your man suggests a lovely surprise for his father and the guests of the last two days, an aunt and uncle. His suggestions pleases you as you wish to do something nice for these two lovely people. Almost instantly after meeting them you warmed to them, their presence in your first few days in France a sweet and unexpected blessing.

Quickly you both dress for the day, whispering in hushed but fervent tones about favourite topics. Quickly you both slip out of the house, trying not to wake anyone. Out of the gate you wander down the lane, chattering and admiring some of the fruit trees belonging to neighbours. The apples seem bonny and abundant and surprisingly flush for the time of year.

You turn to the main village road, pass by the park and cross the street quickly. The road is actually quite busy for the morning but not unexpectedly. People are racing back to work and home after France's National holiday, a long weekend this year. You can even still see a little of the detritus of the weekend's festivities and fireworks along the curb.

The houses of the village press close together like long stone snakes bordering the roads. The early morning sun presses against their shuttered windows. Were it not for the constant bustle of passing cars and trucks, you would have felt quite alone in the streets, so few living things are in your path except the odd cat and the swift-darting barnswallows. But the scent of the flowers are quite alive as you walk, some well known like the deep red roses splashed across the farm building and some haunting, unknown perfume--green yet sweet.

You pass under the blue shadows of the tall, typical Eastern French church. You both pause to admire the tower, topped with a weathered but proud cockerel before continuing on to your destination--the bakery. The shop is quite modern looking, inset amongst the archaic stone buildings. You look in the window and realize that there is indeed life stirring in the quiet country village.

As you enter, an ancient but proud-looking little lady passes by you, a bread loaf half her size tucked almost militarily under her sweatered arm. She greets you with the abbreviated street-greeting so familiar to you now--'Bonjour M'sieurdame'. The greeting is echoed by the cheerful baker's wife, young and energetic-looking. Your darling quickly asks for all the remaining ten croissants, freshly baked that morning. His eyes wander to the little quiches beside the croissants and folds to temptation at the thought of having good French quiche. He orders two. You must hurry out and no longer tarry as people of all shapes and sizes suddenly try to squeeze into the shop, waiting for their daily fresh bread. The village, it seems, is now awake.

You take a quieter, quicker route home, admiring the still-flowering wisteria crawling across the expanse of three stone houses. Faces are now peeking through windows as you pass. The waking of the village has happened so quickly, you're almost breathless. An old lady waddles along the narrow alley to her garden. A troupe of young men discuss loudly as they start working on refurbishing a house. A child babbles as a mother coos in some unseen upper floor. The buttery scent of the croissants drives you on to quickly get back home.

Flushed with excitement and the walk, you both dash through the gate and up the hill to the veranda, laying your treasure out on the table for the sleepy-eyed but obviously pleased guest. Breakfast goods are gathered up and all emerge to partake of the coffee, juice and croissants. You share a bit of quiche with your sweetie and your eyes widen at the beautiful taste of the eggs and bacon. This is nothing like the quiches you've known from Canada. It's far more dense and rich. You know how much the quiche means to him, so you refrain from grabbing the rest. Instead you sink your teeth into a flaky, buttery croissant. Again your eyes widen as this freshly made treat melts against your tongue. 'We ain't in Canada anymore, Toto', you think. They may not be the prettiest you've seen but their bare touch of salt and understated sweetness are infinitely superior to anything you've had before, at least in recent memory.

As you listen to the conversation open up around the table, blending with the hum of a distant lawnmower, you realize that this really IS the life.

Doh!

There's nothing as disheartening as realizing that you've travelled thousands of miles to a foreign country to stay for a month and find you've forgotten something you consider rather vital. I brought my camera, batteries, recharger, french plug adaptor... but no download cord. I mean, I suppose it could be much worse. I could have found that I'd left the picture cards or the camera itself at home. THAT would have been worse. We're going to have to see if we can get an outside source download port. The French don't seem to be nearly as tech crazy as North America so I am crossing my fingers on this. The Frog has a friend who has a small computer store/repair shop. He may know what to do if we can't figure it out.

If there is nothing to be done, I'm going to have to rely on my word skill to describe the food. I hope you don't mind. Then, maybe after I get back, I can upload pictures to go with the words.

Let the Games Begin

I've posted so little lately that I may just have last year's France visit on the same page as this year's visit. Yep, you read right. It's that time of year again--a month in France ( and other participating countries).

I anticipate the month with nostalgic and gastronomical excitement. Old friends like my beloved chèvre cheese, brut de pom (apple pop) rilettes de canard and French yogurt have already zipped through the shopping scanner as well as some new hopes like raspberry juice with violet aroma. They are still sitting placidly in the fridge ready to seduce my tastebuds.

One unexpected surprise so far was the champagne we drank on our arrival back to the homebase. I'm not always so keen on champagne alone, preferring the addition of crème de cassis. but this one had such a haunting grape tone that it was far more interesting to my palate.

We hope to travel a bit to the east and a bit further north so my future may hold such delights and curiosities as waffles and coq au Riesling on Spätzle. I know Ze Frog wants to ask about another more local specialty--pig's feet. I'm not sure about it but I'll try at least if offered the chance. Life is too short to be weird about food.

Easing Back Gently

Perhaps I think that I need to create a masterpiece of modern food commentary. Or maybe I think I need to create a masterpiece of modern food recipes. But this is blog, baby! It's not The New York Times or a potential Pulitzer. If it's supposed to be, I'm doomed.

But I say basta ya to my inner self-critic and throw caution to the wind. This IS a food commentary and so, dang it, I'll comment. This IS a place to share food adventures, so, By God, I'll share. No Olympic swimmer dipped into the pool just yesterday and won the gold medal on the day of swimming lesson #2 so I don't know why I seem to think I need to write Shakespeare on my first tries.

So I'm jumping into the dictionary with my waterwings, sweetheart, and preparing to bob up and down until I find my strength. Practice makes perfect says the old adage so I'll work my way up in wordcraft. They may be diatribes, they may be little bubbles of thought but I need to stop kidding myself that I'll be a master with no preparation. I just need to write. So sit back and strap in--you're in for a bumpy ride.

Spring Renewal

It's a start, at least. It may be nothing new and groundbreaking for well-stocked foodies out there in the bloggieworld but I had to share my next level of foodiedom. I made pasta from scratch for the first time.

Even with all the quirks and annoyances getting to that stage, I am very proud of myself for getting there. And to think it was all so easy (if you don't count a borrowed pasta maker that would rather fling itself off the counter than stay put). Now I'm hooked. I want to try again. And again. And maybe... again!

I even made sure I tried the pasta maker before I went down south to Vancouver so I'd know what little things would make my next time easier. For example, I definitely needed to level up on the scale. So I got one. Wish I could have got one of those hundred dollar examples out there but I'll just have to save up for it along with the pasta maker, a new car, etc. But I have other things I got to make the three month wait worth it--fresh herbs for the garden, Italian tomato paste, anchovy paste and the funkiest kitchen shears given as an early birthday present from my dear friend.

Freshly made pasta ready for the pasta pot.

The homemade pasta with asparagus and prosciutto, cream sauce

I've been doing some spring cleaning of my more whiney posts and maybe take the Easter message of rebirth seriously this time. Can't think of a better time to blossom back into the foodie world. Let's just hope I mean it this time. ;-)

Bonny Bretagne, land of seafood

St. Malo

I really am a coastal girl. I really miss being close to the sound, the smell, the sight of the ocean. I wasn't too many days ago spending my waking hours at least within sight of the saltwater at least once a day. I know that is why I love Bretagne. The littoral nature of the area fits what I've loved about my regular home on Canada's west coast. Hey, even my name means 'of the sea'. So I guess it's in my nature to need the nearness of the water and all that comes of it. And I did love what came from it. The seafood of Brittany rarely disappoints me and I had a number of tasty fish, shellfish and crustacean dishes in the area this past visit.

The HRH Frog and FIL also had their fair share of sealife, too. Frog's been talking about nothing but Bretagne oysters for at least a couple of months. At least. And I too was looking forward to something--langoustines. Sadly there weren't as many options for it this time around and what I did have was, if fact, one of those disappointments I mentioned. Overcooked and far too few for the price. I could almost forgive it since we ate in SUCH a beautiful hotel dining room. But not quite. Here's a sampling of the more fishy dishies I ate. I was such a slacker that in some cases I've totally forgotten names of the fish and what the name of the restaurant was but I think the food speaks of itself in the beauty at least.

Coquilles St. Jacques cooked in Pommeau (apple alcohol)

Trout with Normandy Sauce (cream, mussels)
Yeah... I know it is Normandy border food but I was really close to Brittany. I promise!

The unfortunate langoustines I mentioned (St. Malo)

Tuna Tartare--not what I expected but still quite good. I was thinking something sashimi-like since the salmon is served like that. (Oceanopolis aquarium's restaurant--near Brest)

What I think mi-i-i-ght be loup-de-mer with a cream sauce (the apple was SO not acceptable)
(Oceanopolis aquarium restaurant --near Brest)

Le Duguesclin restaurant/hotel: friggin' outstanding food! (this pic and the next)
This is a carpaccio of salmon and scallops so delicately laced with flavour I thought I'd died and gone to heaven! And perfect on the hot, hot day we had

This fish, I cannot for the life of me remember the name, was lovely and refined in taste with a seaweed-flavoured cream sauce

Lieu Jaune with Naintes (sp?) butter sauce: quite nice, from the L'Atlantique restaurant in Vannes (I adore that quaint city--a visit to Bretagne wouldn't seem the same without a visit)

Back to Bretagne

I will be away for about a week with the Frog n FiL to Bretagne. Chartres, Mont St. Michel and other such things await. Adieu until next week.

Caught Between Two Cultures

My mother could survive a nuclear winter. No, she's not a termite nor is she currently radioactive. My mother 'stocks-up'. There sometimes seems there isn't enough storage space for the amount of food items that exist in my parent's home. Maybe I exaggerate a bit but I don't think by much. I grew up thinking it was quite normal to have enough rice in the pantry to last for three years. And maybe it isn't just my family. On any given day in warehouse-type shopping centres like Costco you'll find umpteen people racing around with huge carts buying ginormous hunks of cheese or case-lots of toiletpaper. My mother shops weekly and, like many people around her, get a heaping amount of stuff for 'just in case' or 'it's on sale' as well as food for the next week.

Then I go to France.

I'm sometimes in awe how little my Frogger in Law has in his cupboards and fridge. It's such a European thing, it seems, to have more dishes than food in the house at any given time. Mind you, I've never actually been to a working farm's pantry in France so I could be wrong. Going shopping for the next few days meals, and whatever household item you currently need, seems much more par for the course. You get what you need and that is that. Yet that seems to go hand-in-hand with some better quality 'convenience food' as well as top notch fresh items. I rarely see people in the supermarket buying more than half a regular shopping cart's full of food. And, often, it is things like paper products and beverages that take up the most space. Given that waistlines like European cars and homes, seem smaller on average here, perhaps this is a good thing.

Back home in my isolated little village, I am truly stuck for what to do. I'm rather beholden to stock up on things in case they run out of things at the store for a long period of time yet I still go nearly every day to see what they have. After all, they mayve have had some perk or extra brought up fresh on the plane. Things like that don't last very long in the village. I'd really like to go every few days for fresh items as in France but I see the necessity of pioneer attitudes in keeping lots of food stuffs around 'just in case'.

However, while in France I enjoy the freshness of food that looks like just came from field, water or tree. Here's some of the things out of Papa's kitchen that we've had in the last two weeks:

Atlantic Salmon with noodles and peas'n'lettuce (my addition)

Jumbo-sized shrimp with mint tabouli and a fresh salad

Shoulder of lamb with flageolet and Charlotte potatoes

Paupiettes de veau with noodles

Floured Sardines, fried

Quail with mashed potatoes
(yes, people, the head DOES come with the bird from the store)

New and Old Obsessions

"Bonne Maman, Bonne Maman
C'est toi que j'aime tant"

I can't get that stupid jingle out of my head. I hear it nearly every year on the radio station, RTL, or occasionally see it on the TV when I visit France. And now it is driving me bonkers as it stomps through my head relentlessly! But, I can't actually complain about the products. The fact is, the jams and jellies of Bonne Maman are stupendous! And this year I have a new favourite: Confiture de Châtaignes à la Vanille (Chestnut Spread with Vanilla). Maybe favourite isn't even the right word; obsession would be more apt. It's lovely and sumptuous, hugging your tummy like an angora sweater. I've since found that eating it on brioche takes it to an all new level. Too much spread on it and it might cause your brain to implode from too much sweetness. I could think of worse ways to die.




It wasn't even the jams or spreads I was dreaming of when I thought of coming back to France, though. All I could dream about was the yogurt. France is a yogurt-lover's paradise. Imagine a whole aisle devoted to yoghurts. It makes the average British Columbian store look pathetically amateur in comparison. And the flavour list must be at least as long as my arm, some of which I've never even seen in my end of Canada: coconut, chocolate, apple, litchi, passionfruit. But it isn't even those flavours I dreamt of. I dreamt only of Greek Sheep's-milk Yogurt. If you love yogurt, chèvre cheese and the texture of pudding, this is the yogurt for you. Yaourt de Brebis (sheep) has the rich, toothsome taste of goat's milk but it isn't nearly as pungeunt. I'm afraid cow's milk yogurt is insipid by comparison.

I can't imagine a better place to breakfast than France. Can you?

Stinky, Slimy Squid Guts: A Tale of Seduction

I've seduced the Frog. Again.

Well, that makes it sound sudden-like. Actually, over the space of a year my obsessive watching of the Food Network (Canada's version) has altered the Frog's attitude. He has gone from "Not again! Don't you watch anything else? What is that? Iron what?" to "Nothing good is ever on the TV except on the Food Network. Oooh! Look! License to Grill is on! That guy is really cool! Oooh! And look! Iron Chef is on next. I wonder what the secret ingredient is!"

It's all rather funny and kinda cute to see a guy who was inordinately proud that he cut one pepper into slices for me in 15 minutes become the guy who is listening intently to Jamie Oliver about how to cut up a clove of garlic in 15 seconds. And now we've gone to a new level. A hands-on level.

On Friday morning, we went shopping at Auchan for three day's meals. In choosing at the fish mongers, Frog became obsessed with the idea of eating squid cooked from fresh (frozen or bad resto versions have been our lot in the past). He tried to beg me to cook them and, to be frank, I balked. But, to his credit, he didn't and was so desperate he decided he'd do it himself as long as I helped him find a recipe.

The next morning, he had a stomach-turning moment when he thought that he'd gotten himself into deeper water than he could handle. I helped him track down gutting procedures and recipes on the net, suggested replacements for a couple of ingredients not possible to obtain in the given time (long story) and willingly coached him through the steps. He went a little green again when he looked at the little squiddies laying in their inky, stinky, slimy pool but he washed, skinned, gutted, cut, debeaked, etc., while gaining, in leaps, his confidence back.

What we ended up making was a marinated squid dish cooked from residual heat and then chilled. He even made the rice to go with it. He was very proud of his creation, loved me all the more for helping him make it happen and strutted like a peacock when his father asked for the recipe and praised his efforts. It just may happen that I won't be the only one obsessing over a hard-to-get ingredient anymore. I, ashamedly, didn't take his budding interest in cooking too seriously in the last month or so. But now I know it's love.



Here is the orginal recipe from Recipesource.com: White Wine- Marinated Squid


We changed two things as we couldn't get to the store. I know it would have been better with the original lemon juice but we had to use a mild vinegar for the acid. FiL's cupboards are pretty bare of herbs so we used thyme instead. But, despite these changes, the squid was meltingly soft and nicely, lightly flavoured. A nice hot summer day recipe.

That Time of Year Again

Ack! Quiet again for so long? I've really got to kick my butt more often.

As a teacher I don't have any munchkinlettes around at this time of the year (even if I've started working hard for the next school season). But all that hard work can't always be that bad if done in the foodie heaven called France. Yes, folks, I am in France again this summer with zee Frog and zee Frogger-in-Law.

Please understand that these trips are less about finding as many touristy spots as possible as it is about family. I experience what the average tourist does not--everyday life in the land of wine and cheese. So I get to go to the regular supermarkets. I eat regular family meals. I sit at the local café-bar on the terrace and watch a little life go by. I take small trips to local spots of beauty (hoping to see a local ruined abbey soon). And that can be just fine for me as I enjoy the quiet, unpestered way of life. I enjoy exotic locations but I also enjoy biding my time and getting to know a place well.

So, if you're still interested in knowing a less Versailles-and-Eiffel Tower kind of France through a North American's eyes, please raise your hand. I can't promise Victor Hugo on a blog page but I'll try and keep you interested.

Strawberries and Chocolate: Quesadilla-style

Spring is good here. Real fruit actually haunts the aisles of our little store. Strawberries with real strawberry taste have been making their debut here in the village and the cartons disappear faster than ice in a heatwave.

Begging and wheedling are a part of my lifestyle at the village store. Sometimes some extra goodies lurk in the back room. I've never been brave enough, like some, to just walk in the back and take what I want, so I must resort to begging and wheedling to get the goodies. I've gotten things like radishes, Ribena and, yesterday, strawberries in such a way.

Yesterday there were only three cartons left in the back to go on the shelf: mine, the ones I saved for a favourite village elder, P., and one that was whisked away in the space of one minute while I was searching to give the saved, desired box to said P. I swear to you, that those strawberries didn't last two minutes on the refrigerated shelves before they were all swept away. Money is no object for fresh fruit in this village once spring rolls around.

While I could have eaten them all straight up, I did actually have a plan for those beauties that would hopefully turn out to be everything I could hope for in a dessert: fruit, chocolate and bread. Thus the strawberry and chocolate quesadilla was created for yesterday's dessert. I wish I could claim it as my own inspiration but I came across it in my newish cook book: Moosewood Restaurant Celebrates by the Moosewood Collective. There are many recipes I've enjoyed from Moosewood books and this one turned out to be a new favourite and potential inspiration, too.

Strawberry Chocolate Quesadillas

3 cups thinly sliced fresh strawberries
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 cup confectioners' sugar
6 flour tortillas (8 inches across)
vegetable oil
3/4 cup chocolate chips [I used milk chocolate chips]

Combine the strawberries, cinnamon and 3 tbsp of the confectioners' sugar in a bowl. Leaving a 1/2-inch border at the edges, spread half a cup of the strawberry mix on one half of each of the tortillas.

Brush two large heavy skillets with oil and heat until hot but not smoking. Place one tortilla in each skillet and put 2 tbsp of the chocolate chips on the plain half of the tortilla, leaving a border of about 1 1/2-inch at the edges. Cook for about 2 minutes, until the chocolate [starts to] melts. Fold the tortilla in half and press the edges together with a spatula. Remove the quesadillas from the skillet and repeat the procedure with the remaining two pairs.

Serve immediately, dusted with the remaining confectioners' sugar and sliced in half.



Notes: An unbelievably easy and fast dessert. The strawberries could even be prepped ahead of time to sit a moment in the sugar and cinnamon. Really be careful of the heat as I burned the first tortilla, even on a lower heat, the moment I took my eyes off to say something to my guest. But the rest were an amazingly quick process with few ingredients but still looked good enough for my last-night guests to elicit gasps of admiration.

I've been dreaming of making a pear version in the "Belle-Helene" style now. I'm sure it would be good too. Yum! :9

A Merry Christmas to all!

Well, my promise to be more active didn't hold up, did it? This isn't good because I really did mean to. I can't believe that Christmas is here already. Can you?

I have already decided that the chocolate thumbprints I made before are good enough to be considered a Christmas favourite for the recipe files. I made at least 10 batches of them during the first week of December for home, school nosh or gift donation.

oooey, gooey cinnybun centers--it's all butter,brown sugar and cinnamon, baby!

Now I have cinnamon buns to look forward to on Christmas morning. Never has there been a Christmas without those gooey, bready, sweet confections (sans icing...bleah!). EVER. It wouldn't be the same.

I hope all of you out there have a wonderful winter holiday season and enjoy the traditional treats it brings. Peace, Love and Harmony to you All!

Thumbs up to Christmas

I guess sometimes you can just loathe the idea of using the kitchen. Especially when you are busy and reinvigorating your love of teaching. It’s not that that I didn’t cook some creative things. I roasted duck for the first time in my life back in September and, according to the Frog, it turned out perfectly. I’ve just spent so much time trying to be creative all day at school that all I wanted to do at home was crash. Well known, quick recipes have been the norm. No Boeuf Bourguignon. No sushi. Nothing that required too much planning or thought. But now that reporting period is over and I feel more in the swing of things at school, I’m coming back to haunt the foodie blog halls. After all, who can resist the temptation of Christmas baking. I’m already ten-fold happier with the scent of spilled cinnamon wafting up from my be-floured clothes and the multi-coloured lights glimmering around the computer nook window.

I’m actually playing around with a recipe right now that has been one of my less favourite family Christmas cookies--the well-known thumbprint. When you are in the mood for them they are so perfectly sweet and rich with their dabble of nuts and little cup of gooey jam. But I’m often not in the mood for them because I find them too sweet and, okay, let’s face it—I really don’t like the walnuts on them. So I’m on the hunt for a good thumbprint recipe that will satisfy a sweet tooth without being too cloying and a little less walnutty. I'm not even sure what I'm looking for. I'll know when I've found it. ;-)

Experiment thumbprint cookie # 1 : Chocolate thumbprint cookies
Source: One Smart Cookie by Julie Van Rosendaal
Tweaks: for half the recipe, I added chestnut spread in the indentation
Marks out of 10: 8 (quite good as a carrier but base can't stand on its own as well)

¼ cup stick margarine or butter, softened (I used salted butter)
½ cup sugar
¼ cup packed brown sugar
2 tbsp corn syrup ( I used golden)
1 large egg
1 tsp vanilla
½ tsp instant coffee granules, dissolved in 1 tsp water
1 ½ cups flour
1/3 cup cocoa
½ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
¼- 1/3 cup raspberry jam or other preserves ( I used raspberry for ½ the batch and
chestnut for the other ½)

icing sugar for sprinkling (optional) (I used ground up pink decorating sugar for
the raspberry preserves and cinnamon for the chestnut spread)

* Preheat oven to 375ºF
* In a large bowl, beat butter, sugar and brown sugar until well-blended. Beat in corn syrup, egg, vanilla, and coffee until smooth
* In a medium bowl, combine flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Add to the sugar mixture and stir by hand just until you have a soft dough.
* Roll dough into 1” – 1 1/2” balls, and place 1” – 2” apart on a cookie sheet that has been sprayed with nonstick spray (I actually used parchment paper and it worked just fine). Make an indentation in the middle of each cookie with your thumb ( I dusted my thumb with flour after I found the dough too sticky to use just my thumb). Fill each dent with jam.
* Bake the cookies for 12-15 minutes, until just set around the edges. Transfer to a wire rack to cool. If you like, sprinkle cooked cookies with icing sugar (or crushed sugar/ cinnamon in my case)
* Makes 2 dozen cookies.

My thoughts:
(1)The chocolate dough acts as a good carrier for a more prominently-flavoured filling. The French chestnut spread I had was relatively weak in flavour to stand on its own but with a touch of cinnamon it was certainly elevated. Raspberry, of course, took center stage and needed little help. In fact, it made the chocolate really come out in the base cookie.
(2)The timing they give was probably fine for a less finicky oven as mine. Keeping it to a 11 minute period was just fine and made the cookie more chewy, which I like. You really have to be careful with the timing of cooking. The first batch was a bit dark around the edges because I relied on the book’s timings instead of instinct.

The results:

Memories of France

Since I was such a slacker in Summer to show my Brittany food, here's a teaser of items I ate:


A tartar of salmon with beets and creme fraiche: surprising flavour mix 9/10

Foie gras with an apple tart and parsley salad: amazing taste, way too rich for me 8/10

sliced rolls of pistachio and pigeon: I can say I had pigeon.Very strong in taste 7/10

Rouget with Mediterranean veggies and a sauce with black olives: 7/10

Palais of cream cheese with strawberries. Lime Creme Anglaise. Almond scented cookie
20/10... I would live in this dessert if I could. For Life. It is what I would describe as perfect. Everything was so perfect you'd either have to cry or swear to get out the type of emotional impact it had on me. God, those strawberries were absolutely perfect.

Strokin' Ye Ole Ego

I love teachers. Seriously LOVE them! Not only are they ready to piranha-swarm any food you lay out for them like it was their last meal but they will compliment you when they come up for air. It can really go to a person's head when you have people saying, "Oooh! Who made this? I'll bet it was Nerissa!" That's what I heard at the last potluck luncheon we had at the Friday workshop.

Potluck luncheons are fairly common in our corner of the world if a workshop is at hand. There's a variety of foods brought every time but salmon presence is particular evident. Everything from spreads to the latest batch of salmon from the smoke house made regular appearances. In this season and on this coast we are spoiled rotten with salmon. So, on Friday, who was I to change anything? I had a yen for a holiday treat gleaned from my grandmother's recipes so I treated everyone to it. With all the cream cheese in it, it wouldn't be wise to eat it all by myself anyways ;-)

It is seen here without the nut decorations but we have staff with severe allergies (sucks to be him). However, sans the nuts I found a great opportunity to use my new dishes which I got for a song.

Salmon Log

2 tins Pacific Salmon (7 1/2 oz.)drained of most its liquids
8 oz Philadelphia Cream Cheese
1 tbsp Horseradish
dash Lemon Juice
1/4 tsp Liquid Smoke
1 tbsp green onion

Mix all ingredients together until well blended. It is best when made the night before serving. We've put it in decorative moulds or chilled it in bowls. You can shape it into a log hence the name. Garnish with walnuts and chopped parsley. Serve with crackers, toast points, a spoon ;-)

***

That's it! It's really easy with lots of yummy comfort food goodness. I like it best on Saltines or Melba toast.

5 Foods To Eat Before You Die

Four score and seven years ago I was sent a meme... I'm just getting to it now. I do apologize to all those who tagged me for the 5 Things to Eat Before You Die meme for the long wait. Bless you, Bonnie, Cyndi and Jasmine for your patience.

Narrowing down foodly perfection isn't easy. And sometimes the best food in one's eyes isn't necessarily exotic or rare. Often it's the food we desire in the moments of comfort. We wonder why everyone doesn't love it or has not yet experienced it. I thought of foods that changed my view of the world and the way I eat.

My list is as follows:

1) Wind-dried Pacific salmon flesh and sun-dried kelp with a dipping sauce of Nass Valley ooligan-fish grease. I know it's rather specific but of the three kinds of ooligan grease I know, Nass grease has better flavour. This suggestion really has ocean written all over it. Each one has a unique flavour but together they are better than the sum of their parts.

2) Foie Gras. This blew my mind more than once. The taste experience, the texture, everything about it is so overwhelming that it defies better words to describe it. And it tastes even better with cooked fruit. Buttery and sweet, it's a great treat but make sure your gallbladder is prepared.

3) Thin-skinned green eating apples taken right off the tree after it has been warmed by the afternoon September sun. I know, I know... very specific again. You have to trust me. By the afternoon in September, the apple is a perfect temperature to release every nuance of sweetness and yet still retain a bit of a sour edge.

4) Duck. This is not your average poultry meat but it isn't so difficult to find. The breast really is the best part, I think. Cooked well, it will make your toes curl in pleasure. I did, however, cook a duck recently. I would be hard-pressed to find a part that wasn't lovely to taste.

5) Dragon-eyes (Long-an): These odd little fruits are an experience unto themselves. Borne on their branches like bark-covered grapes, you can easily peel off the skin to reveal a translucent litchi-type flesh. The best ones have a perfume that takes a joyride through your sense. There is a large black marble sized seed inside the flesh but it gives a cool look to the fruit and makes the name understandable. They do rather remind me of the eyes on Oriental dragons--a black dot encircled in white. Bite into one and find out for yourself.

Gosh... There are so many more things. Five only? This really sucks.

Just a word about my disappearance. I am sorry it took so long to get back on track. With some things I really have been bogged down but some of it wasn't entirely just that. I beg forgiveness because of two things. I kinda lost the steam to blog in the last while and was quite delinquent. I didn't feel any creative juices flowing in the food department because I was spending so much of it in school. I also got satellite... and, um, errr... the Food Channel. I've been watching food being made instead of making it when I had spare moments. This will change promptly.