Once upon a time, there was something calledย I Hate Peasย โ French fries with ridges that you baked in the oven, aimed at kids who wouldnโt eat their vegetables. They supposedly had all the nutrients of peas without whatever it is about peas that apparently some kids donโt like. They didnโt last long, and I (or my mom) was fortunate because I always loved vegetables, includingโฆ
The French are big on braising. Itโs a technique used to soften tough cuts of meat, which are often the most flavorful ones (and least-expensive), and traditionally, the ones French people liked to eat. But also during tough times, cooks would bring pots of food to their local bakers, who keep their ovens going while they were baking bread, and forย a few coins theyโd haveโฆ
A few months ago, I was gifted a very large bag of farro, overย five pounds of it. I never thought I could have enough farro, and sure enough, Iโm almost at the end of it. Farro is popular in Italy, and nowadays, itโs available inย the United Statesย and elsewhere. Itโs a particular strain of wheat, similar to wheat berries, or รฉpautre, in France, known elsewhere asโฆ
Over the holidays, we were in the U.S. to spend time with my family (and โ gulp โ to see my editorโฆ), and I made brisket for Romain. He doesnโt like bลuf bourguignon, because it he says itโs alwaysย โdry,โ so decided for a treat, Iโdย make brisket, a beef dish thatย is anything but. Because Iโm such a champ, I actually made it a few different times,โฆ
One of the great French dishes that I make every summer, when I gather fresh vegetables and basilย at my market, is Soupe au pistou. Originally from Provence, the soup is meant to use the lovely vegetables of the season, andย is crowned with a spoonful of pistou in the middle of each bowl, which guestsย are encouraged to swirl in themselves.
Itโs not a drag to be in Paris in August. In fact, those who stay in town always say the same thing โ โThis is the best time of year to be in Paris.โ (Or, โWouldnโt it be incroyableย if it was like this all year?โ) Even though Paris is a lot smaller, imagineย if 85% of the people left New York City or San Francisco inโฆ
My desert island food is corned beef. Hot, piled up on a sandwich, between two pieces of rye bread withย spicy brown mustard smeared liberally inside, corned beef is the one food that I could find myself being happily enjoying if trapped on a desert island. (With unlimitedย ice-cold pitchers of tropical cocktails, of course.) I also want cole slaw and half-sour pickles, too. Although if truthโฆ
Holidays always feel like a sprint to me. Perhaps because I spent a lot of time working in restaurant kitchens, holidays donโt feel so much as celebratory, as they do an extra doseย of work. Iโm used to it and know that the key is advanced planning. I donโt cook much in advance, nor do I freeze things (except ice cream), but I make sure Iโveโฆ
Whenever I visit a foreign country, I go to the supermarket. Iโve found myself pushing carts through supermarkets in countries, from Mexico and Lebanon, to Italy and Portugal. Not only does it help with my vocabulary, and provide a little glimpse of how the locals actually eat, but I invariably find a number of things to stash in my suitcase which are better souvenirs thanโฆ
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