October 10, 2008

[Edible Idiom] Couper la poire en deux

Two weeks ago, I had dinner at a French restaurant called La Table d'Eugène, on the other side of the Montmartre hill from me. As my friends and I were handed the menus, we all stopped to comment on their fetching design: on the front and back were dozens of French idiomatic expressions, all relating to food, each of them printed in a different, retro font.

Once we'd ordered our food and asked to keep one copy of the menu, I, as the only native French speaker in our party, went over each of the locutions, trying to shed light on their meaning. It was so much fun -- you've perhaps noticed how dearly I love words, etymology, and linguistics -- that I thought I would start a series on C&Z.

The French language, like all Latin languages, is particularly rife with culinary-inspired idioms, and I will offer one every week or so.

The opening, seasonal expression is, "Couper la poire en deux."

It means, literally, "cutting the pear in two," or reaching a compromise: if two people want the same pear, halving it is the most equitable way to settle the dispute.

For example: "Nos deux familles voulaient nous avoir à Noël, donc on a coupé la poire en deux : on va chez ses parents le 24, et chez les miens le 25." ("Both our families wanted us to come over for Christmas, so we cut the pear in two: we'll spend Christmas Eve at his parents', and Christmas Day at mine.")

October 7, 2008

Orange and Rosemary Pork Tenderloin

Why is it that no one ever told me about the pork tenderloin?

Has everyone been cooking pork tenderloin all this time, licking their lips and giggling covertly as I fought to make other cuts palatable, trying my best to prevent them from turning out dry, and grey?

Oh, it's not that I haven't been happy with my pork experiments, not at all. Looking through the C&Z archives, I've found five recipes involving our pink friend -- a cured pork shoulder with lentils, a loin blade roast stewed in cider, a roast with spiced red cabbage, and two terrines -- that were all, if I remember correctly, consumed with unequivocal pleasure.

It's just that, now that I've had a taste of filet mignon de porc -- for such is the French name for it* -- I wonder what took me so long: it is truly the most succulent, the most flavorsome cut of pork I've ever dealt with.

If you're at all excited about the butcher's craft, you may be interested to learn that the pork filet mignon (tenderloin) is a long muscle located on either side of the lower end of the animal's spine (so each pork yields two), underneath the filet (sirloin) and the pointe de filet (the tail end of the sirloin). (And lest you assume I've become an overnight expert in butchery, let me note that my life changed when I acquired a Larousse gastronomique and laid eyes on its crystal-clear meat diagrams.)

The tenderloin is lean, and remarkably tender, so it is a choice cut that comes at a higher price than most: my organic butcher charges 19.50€/kg ($12/pound) for it, but it is net weight with no waste, i.e. no fat, bone, or gristle to remove.

Pork does well with sweet and tangy flavors, so I opted for a simple marinade of orange juice, honey, and rosemary, which, reduced and creamed up while the tenderloin was roasting in the oven, made for the perfect sauce to ladle over the butter-tender slices of meat.

~~~

* In French butchery, the term filet mignon is used not only for beef, but also for veal, venison, and pork. It refers to the same muscle in all cases, insofar as muscular similarities can be found in these different animals.

"Orange and Rosemary Pork Tenderloin" continues »

September 30, 2008

C&Z's 5th Anniversary Party!

Chocolate & Zucchini turned five yesterday, and because every five-year-old in the world deserves a birthday party, I would like to invite you to a celebratory get-together in Paris.

It will be held on Wednesday, October 8th, from 7pm till 9pm, at Bocata, a cosy tapas bar in my neighborhood, located at 31 rue Milton, Paris 9ème.

Drinks and homemade nibbles will be served, and the cost will be 21€ per person*.

Space is limited, so it will be reservations only: if you'd like to join us (yay!), please send me a note no later than this Monday, October 6th, with your name, telephone number, and the number of people you'd like to come with. I will confirm your reservation, and send you the instructions for Paypal payment then.

I hope you can make it, and if you have any question, please ask!

Bocata / map it!
31 rue Milton, Paris 9ème
01 40 16 82 85
M° Anvers or Notre-Dame-de-Lorette.

* 20€ go to the restaurant; the remaining 1€ pays the Paypal commission.

September 29, 2008

C&Z turns 5!

Today marks the fifth anniversary of Chocolate & Zucchini -- and, I might add, the first anniversary of its French version. My first impulse was to comment on the fact that time flies, it seems like only yesterday, or something to that effect, but the truth is, I find it so extraordinarily difficult to remember what my life was like before I started C&Z, it's almost embarrassing.

Creating this blog five years ago has undoubtedly been among the most life-altering decisions I've ever made -- up there with giving up thumb sucking when I was eight, and switching to contacts when I was fourteen. Chocolate & Zucchini has since done so much for me, it has become so familiar and indispensable a part of my life, I think of it practically as a family member.

And I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to you, readers of C&Z. If it weren't for you, your visits, your comments, your emails, your participation in forum discussions, and, in general, what you bring to this not-so-virtual table, I don't think I would have come this far, learned this much, or had this much fun. So, thank you, your support means the world to me, it truly does.

As has become the tradition, Maxence and I will host a get-together in Paris in mid-October; I am still ironing out the details -- organizational skills? what organizational skills? -- but they will be announced v. soon.

Perhaps you'd like to hear about a few things that have happened since we last celebrated C&Z's anniversary? Here goes: my first cookbook, Chocolate & Zucchini, was published in France under the title Chocolat & Zucchini; my second book, Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris, came out in the US; I was offered a column in ELLE à table, the food edition of the French ELLE (I accepted); and I started working on an idea for a television show -- the project is still in its early infancy, but I should have more on this in a few months.

And on a more personal level, I embraced the lifelong, glorious role of being somebody's aunt: my nephew is now 6 1/2 months old, and I am happy to announce that he has just started eating puréed zucchini with great enthusiasm.

And before we part, please accept this little anniversary gift: I have created online maps of the restaurants and shops featured in Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris -- I hope you find them useful in your explorations of the city.

~~~

The celebratory macarons pictured above (pistachio, raspberry, dark chocolate) come from Grégory Renard's shop, located at 120 rue Saint-Dominique, Paris 7ème (01 47 05 19 17).

September 24, 2008

Twelve Hours in Paris

My friend Adam has just had what I think is a brilliant idea of a meme, named Twelve Hours in Dot Dot Dot: if you had only twelve hours left to spend in your home city/town/village/oasis, what would you do with them?

Because I lived abroad for a while, I have, on several occasions, spent twelve semi-final hours in Paris, and I admit they usually involved a combination of the following activities: 1) buying several months' worth of my then-favorite face cream, 2) trying to locate my passport, 3) spending time with people I knew I was going to miss, simply enjoying the normalcy of being in the same time zone.

But I posit cosmetics, traveling documents, and companionable silences weren't what Adam had in mind for this meme, so I came up with a more suitable -- and food-oriented -- timetable for my hypothetical last twelve hours in Paris.

It goes without saying that difficult choices were made, and that for every item I included, there were about ten more looking at me with a crestfallen expression. Most of these places are included in my Paris book, Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris, in which you'll find many more options to fill however many hours you get to spend in Paris (more info here).

I should also note that I chose to assume these weren't the last twelve hours before I die, first of all because that would be a little depressing, and also because I worked in a few opportunities to buy things I would want to take with me wherever I was supposed to travel next, and who knows what customs policy they have in the afterlife.

Without further ado, I give you my Twelve Hours in Paris, which I've decided would take place on a Thursday, from 12:30pm to 12:30am. And of course, if you want to chime in with your own Twelve Hours in Dot Dot Dot, in the comments section or as a post on your blog, I'll be curious to read your take!

"Twelve Hours in Paris" continues »

September 22, 2008

Roasted Eggplant and Goat's Milk Yogurt Dip

When I recovered my kitchen after seven weeks (seven! weeks!) of renovation chaos -- and this was just to redo the bathroom, mind you -- the very first thing I made was a yogurt cake, to fortify us through our next mission: the meticulous cleaning of, well, the entire contents of our apartment, which we had ill-protected from the dust storm. (Never again will we underestimate plaster and tile.)

And as soon as our home regained a sense of cleanliness and harmony, I was able to pick up my cooking life where I'd left it seven weeks (seven! weeks!) earlier, and -- oh, the bliss -- return to the Batignolles farmers' market. "Where have you been all summer?" my produce vendor asked, as I went on a bit of a vegetable shopping spree.

I rode home on a cloud, unloaded my baskets into my squeaky-clean vegetable drawers (I'd also scoured the fridge while I was at it), and started to plot ways to use my loot. Of particular concern to me were the fist-sized eggplants I had fallen for, so shiny you could use them as pocket mirrors (handy when the contractor has yet to afix the mirror above the bathroom sink).

You see, I am hopeless with eggplant. The only way eggplants and I get along is when I reaffirm my authority by roasting the living daylight out of them. I usually go on to make my neighbor Stephan's eggplant caviar, the recipe for which is featured in my first book, but I was in the mood to try something a little different this time.

Coincidentally, I had just received a review copy of Janna Gur's Book of New Israeli Food, an enticing book that's as much about the food as it is about the people and daily life of Israel. And on page 28, the author quotes an Arab adage that made me laugh: "If your future bride can't prepare eggplant fifty different ways -- don't marry her," it says.

Janna Gur goes on to give about a dozen, which is a lot more than most cooks have in their repertoire, I daresay, yet still leaves them to do a bit more research if they are to be ready when an Arab prince comes to whisk them away.

Among Gur's suggestions are eight mini-recipes for dips and salads that involve just a few ingredients, and because I had goat's milk yogurt in the fridge, the one that tempted me most was the Roasted Eggplant with Yogurt. It went something like this, "add 2 cups yogurt to the flesh of 2 roasted eggplants; add crushed garlic, salt, black pepper, and, optionally, chopped mint and coriander leaves."

I ended up preparing mine a bit differently -- see recipe below -- and was delighted with the use of yogurt, which gives the dip a rich, creamy texture, yet keeps it light and tangy. Eggplants are scheduled stick around for just a little while longer before fall begins in earnest, and this is a fine way to bid them farewell.

"Roasted Eggplant and Goat's Milk Yogurt Dip" continues »

Previously on Chocolate & Zucchini

Croatia Highlights 15 Sep 2008
Croatia: Got Recommendations? 25 Aug 2008
The Omnivore's Hundred 17 Aug 2008
Chiffon Cake 13 Aug 2008
The Sustainable Seafood Dilemma 5 Aug 2008
Lemon Kefir Ice Cream 28 Jul 2008
The Dough Whisk 21 Jul 2008
Bleu Blanc Rouge 14 Jul 2008
Fresh Fig and Rose Smoothie 8 Jul 2008
Pistachio Gelato 30 Jun 2008
On Reusable Shopping Bags 24 Jun 2008
Banana Pecan Cake with Maple Glaze 18 Jun 2008
Chilled Pea Pod Soup 9 Jun 2008
Sesame Mill: The Gadget You Never Knew You Needed 4 Jun 2008
On Fresh Peas, and How to Shell Them 27 May 2008
Tahiti Vanilla 20 May 2008