“I’ll be back.”

Tiramisu surrounded by hearts

My train for Paris leaves in less than a week. I am looking forward to it, in an abstract way. Because I can’t really picture what life in France is going to look like. At all.

It feels like I should be doing things about the move. Arranging matters, sorting through stuff, perhaps making a few panicked last-minute phone calls or tracking down important missing documents. Thing is, though, don’t know which things to do. I have a place to sleep for the first weeks, and a contract for the room after those first few weeks. I have a train ticket, and an appointment with a French bank to open an account. Seems like the only thing left to do is pack my bag. But I can’t pack my bag a week before I leave (what if I still want to wear that stuff I just crammed into the suitcase?), so I have been doing a lot of laundry. Anything I could want to pack will be clean.

Amen.

In the mean time, I have happily started the year like nothing is about to change. Meeting friends, going to the office, cooking my way through my cookbooks and pantry. It has been a good first week, reconnecting with quite a few friends I don’t see nearly enough of. For a second New Year’s Eve party with a number of them, I made tiramisu with Frangelico from Nigella Lawson’s Kitchen. Well, tiramisu with Koffiekaatje. I went out to buy Frangelico, but the size and price of the bottle at the liquor shop so terrified me that I scuttled back to the domestic distilled shelf and picked out a bottle of Koffiekaatje. I had no idea what it tastes like, but the bottle said it is “the tastiest extra to serve with coffee”. Tiramisu has coffee. Koffiekaatje is affordable. Deal sealed.

Tiramisu and Koffiekaatje like each other, as it turns out. Koffiekaatje tastes like Bailey’s, and brings a chocolaty flavour to the cream, cookies and coffee, with a bit of a bang from the alcohol. The combination with the cocoa-dusted hazelnuts on top would probably have worked better with the hazelnut-flavored Frangelico, but that just means I won’t have to chop hazelnuts (round and slippery with a tendency to end up on the kitchen floor) next time I make this. Because a next time there will be, soon. And not just because I have an opened pack of lady fingers that needs to be used.

If only I were this sure about anything surrounding the move toParis. Ah well, there are 246 types of cheese in France. Preparations all in order or no, I am sure I will be happy.

But first, tiramisu:

Tiramisu with Koffiekaatje

Based on a recipe in Kitchen by Nigella Lawson

Serves 6

•  125 ml espresso coffee
• 125 ml + 1 tablespoon Koffiekaatje
• 14 lady fingers
• 1 egg
• 250 gr mascarpone
• 40 gr sugar
• tablespoon of cocoa (not sweetened!)

Mix the coffee and 125ml of Koffiekaatje. Split the egg into yolk and white, and mix the yolk with the sugar and a tablespoon of Koffiekaatje. Then add the mascarpone and whisk thoroughly until you have a pale golden mixture.

Whip the white until firm, but not dry. Gently fold it into the mascarpone mixture.

Pour half of the coffee/Koffiekaatje mixture into a shallow dish and dip 7 lady fingers into it, turning them a few times to cover all sides. Leave to soak for a bit, until most of the liquid has been absorbed but the cookies aren’t mushy. Place the soaked ladyfingers in a dish that fits them in one layer. Pour over any liquid that might remain in the shallow dish.

Take half of the mascarpone mixture and smooth over the ladyfingers. Soak the remaining ladyfingers, spread them over the mascarpone layer and pour over any liquid left. Top with the second half of the mascarpone, even the top and cover the dish with plastic foil. Refrigerate for three hours or more.

When you’re ready to serve, take the tiramisu from the refrigerator and dust with the cocoa. Cut into six portions and serve.

Le shopping

The year, it flew. Which is more than a little trite, but there you have it. In my defense, a few things happened that would legitimately qualify the year for roller coaster status. I read 31 books, for example, and am hopeful I will finish number 32 (Heat, by Bill Buford) before the year is out. I cooked 114 new (to me, or at least almost new) recipes, 75 of which came from websites. (This probably means I should throw out some of those cookbooks taking up precious space in our shoebox. But I won’t, because I love them so.)

My favorite new recipe this year was for warm red cabbage salad. Or no, pao de queijo. No, strawberry summer cake. Huhm. Let’s call this a year with three new favorites. The new recipe I cooked most was probably shrimp and feta in tomato sauce, though. Quick, easy, tasty, and just a little more special than pasta with tomato sauce (not that there’s anything wrong with that, as the stack of empty tomato cans in my imaginary 2011 trash pile can testify), shrimp and cheese were dinner on more than a few hungry weekday nights.

In a similar vein, the Amateur Gourmet’s vegetarian chili was the star of several dinner parties this year. It is not difficult to put together a-whole-lotta food for a table full of hungry bellies with this recipe, and the flavor is interesting enough to make people feel special that you’ve cooked for them. Plus, there are always tortilla chips and grated cheese and sour cream to accompany the chili. ‘Nuff said, I suppose.

A recipe I did not expect to repeat but have found myself making several times is Orangette’s egg salad with mushrooms . That does not sound very attractive, I know, nor does the yellow-grey mixture look it, but it is oddly addictive, especially if the mushrooms are thoroughly well-done and the dressing gets an extra oomph from fresh chives.

The same (lovely, oh so lovely) blog also has a recipe that worked in the exactly opposite direction. I liked the idea of deviled eggs with basil aioli and capers so much that I asked the caterers for our wedding to make them. And when their version lost its aioli topping in a last-minute panic, I made them myself a few weeks later. Don’t let it be said that I will not work for the ideal deviled egg. And then… I liked them. Liked them, but not enough to feel the need to make them again. Surprising, but for our New Year’s Eve’s eggs I have my eye on these. Let’s see if we can finish the year with an eggy bang.

There were a few other surprising recipes this year. Chickpea salad with cumin vinaigrette I made mostly because a can of chickpeas was looking forlorn, but turned out to be a great summer dinner when combined with fat slices of tomato. Sloppy joes were a way of using up a shriveled bell pepper and were so good I now have a second recipe for them, for variety. I have never met a gazpacho I didn’t love, so I was prepared for good things when I made this recipe. But even so, I couldn’t quite believe how much loveliness came from so few steps. My crystal ball is hinting there will be more of this soup in 2012.

So you can see where the roller coaster feeling comes from. No? Well, maybe there was also the becoming a Mrs, quitting a job, starting a new job, loving the new job but still finding a second new job, and then a second shoebox to live in. In Paris. I suppose those all might have had something to do with it. But whatever it was, I hope the new year will bring as many exciting developments, and delicious things to eat. Here’s to a lovely ending and great beginning for you and yours. See you in 2012!

Poached pears

This year, I am a little late to the pre-Christmas party. It wasn’t until today that I heard the first Last Christmas (I gave you my heart) of the year. Six measly days before Christmas. And we all know the festive season doesn’t start until you hear Wham.

Luckily, I got a head-start on the season before it officially began. Lookit, I have the menu for 26 December all planned out:

Antipasti

• Parmesan grissini, crusty white bread
• Caponata
• Sweet and sour pumpkin pickles
• Prosciutto and salami
• Mozzarella
• Olive oil

Primo

• Tagliatelle with buttery mushrooms

Segundo

• Meat balls in tomato sauce
• More crusty bread
• Fennel gratin
• Green salad

Dolce

• Poached pears with chocolate sauce

The man and I are cooking for his family, in rented holiday accommodation. If you have heard me bitch and complain about the knives and chopping boards in our honeymoon apartment, it will come as no surprise that I am planning to bring all essential cooking equipment. There will be no chopping boards that could double as fruit bowls in my hands ever. again.

Still, to avoid dragging the entire contents of our kitchen to Belgium, it seemed sensible to pick food that does not require fancy equipment. A chopping board, a knife, a garlic press, some pans and a large bowl and I think we’re good to go. Ooh, and a pasta maker. But that doesn’t count. Pasta dough is like play-do, which is a toy and so a pasta maker is a… toy-extension, not kitchen equipment. True story.

The pears (a recipe I found at Orangette) only require a sharp little knife, a teaspoon and a large pan. But I would bring a whole lot more than that for these beauties. They are that good. Sweet with vanilla, cold grainy flesh played off by warm, smooth chocolate sauce. I am drooling a little writing this. Which must stop, because it is not v. Christmassy and the season has now started. On with the recipe, then.

Poached pears with chocolate sauce

Combine 1 liter of water with 100gr of sugar (light brown if you have it, but white works too), a split vanilla pod and a squeeze of lemon juice in a medium pot (the liquid should come at least half way up the pot). Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally to dissolve the sugar. When boiling, turn down the heat so the liquid simmers. Meanwhile, peel one ripe, juicy pear per person, cut it in half and take out the pips and the fibrous bit that runs the length of the pear. Slip peeled pear halves into the simmering liquid as you go so they don’t turn brown. Poach the pears for 15 to 30 minutes, until tender and translucent (and oh so pretty). Cool in their liquid, until completely cold. You might have to work in batches. This amount of liquid was plenty for my seven pears, but I did have to poach in two rounds to avoid overflowing the pan.

When you’re ready to eat, put 200 gr of dark chocolate* in a microwave-proof bowl, cover with about 200 ml of cream and a splash of strong coffee and heat in the microwave until the chocolate starts to melt. Give it a good stir, and heat a bit longer if necessary to fully melt all of it. When the chocolate has melted (but not burned, easy does it on this one), add a chunk of butter- about 2 tablespoons. Stir until incorporated into the silky chocolate.

Plate two pear halves per person (straight from the fridge), top with a generous amount of warm chocolate sauce and serve.

*The original recipe apparently gives this amount for four pears. I found it was enough for at least seven.

Breakfast in bed

What nicer way to start a rainy Sunday? And, no, that’s not my bed. But it is a rack full of bedding sheets. Close enough, I say.

The light is much better here than in the actual bedroom. I needed it, apparently, because even with this light the picture is blurry. I blame playing around with the manual setting on my camera and not realizing the shutter speed was too slow for my quivery little hands. Or the autofocus is broken. Could be.

There is nothing home-made on that tray, so no recipe with this one. But at least I took the picture on manual, right?

Sigh. Cool creative ideas make me jealous. And give me a big smile on my face.

Sicilian pizza bread roll

My man looked out the window at a gray, rainy world, and said “I really like this time of year, when it is so nice to stay inside”. Ah, yes. But lest you think he is a romantic who relishes the chance to put on an opera, light candles and sit in front of a crackling fire, I think he means “awesome, an excuse to glue myself to my Wii and shoot aliens”.

Me, I think this time of year is just right for baking bread and making pasta. A golden loaf in the oven, delicious scents wafting through the house. Pasta bubbling away for a home-made meal.

Well, that’s the idea. Recently I found reality is more like flour all over the counter, bowls piling up in the sink, tantrums over dough that won’t come together. Oh, and bits of flour paste scattered over the living room floor when I retrieved a cookbook and only noticed on my way back to the kitchen that I was shedding chunks of dough from the back of my hands. After which working the &*%^^%$ dough might have resembled the alien shooting just a little bit in its violence. Just a little bit, naturally.

But the angry pounding did convince the dough to form a more or less cohesive ball and after an hour’s rest it was stretchy enough to pass through the pasta machine with surprising ease. Turns out pasta is a bit like Play-Do once you get past the infuriating “I won’t form a ball and you can’t make me”-stage, and every bit as much fun. I don’t know why I waited three years to use my pasta machine, but will make this mistake no more. Never mind that the carefully cut tagliatelle strands had worked themselves back into a solid dough tangle by the time dinner came around because I skimped on the drying time before plopping them into a container. These are details and we must not get side-tracked. The giant tagliatelle monster was cut into chunks, dinner was had and bellies were full.

Full of Sicilian pizza bread roll as well, which was the other cause of dishes piling up in the sink The KitchenAid actually did most of the work on that one, and it was beautiful. Seven minutes of motorized action and I had a chunk of soft, smooth dough to wrap around a pile of broccoli with garlic and anchovy butter. Which I then baked for a little under an hour, into the first fully cooked loaf of bread of my life. Lovely, especially since it could deflect some of the attention from the tagliatelle clump. Now that’s what I call gray day success.

Recipe for Sicilian pizza bread roll from Rose Levy Beranbaum’s Bread Bible

Chicken meat balls (and carrot sauce for pasta)

It is a meatball time of year. The fig plant is naked again (after a whole summer of profuse leaf growing and not a fig in sight), grey has become the usual color of our sky and November flu has struck. I need warm food, kind, soft food for easy eating alongside a plate of pasta or a pile of braised red cabbage. Yes, I need meatballs.

This year, I need meat balls more than I might have in other years. (Although I can’t be sure. Perhaps there is always a reason to need meatballs a little more? A job applied for but not won, a plumbing problem when you turn on the heating again, sore fingers from cycling with no gloves. Meat balls heal many things.) House hunting inParis is as difficult as people said it would be. It has only been three weeks or so, but already I have an inbox full of rejections (and messages from a man who apparently thinks he can rent out half of his bed for 600Euro/month), a credit card full of website memberships and no good ideas for where else to search.

My man tells me daily that things will work out, we’ll find some place for me to live (I love how he considers this “our” problem). And I believe him. I do. Many people live in Paris, they have all found a house, there is no reason I shouldn’t too. But, eh. When yet another “I am sorry, we have found someone else”-message comes in and I consider myself lucky because at least I got a reply, I need meat balls. Cooking them, having their scent fill my house and, of course, eating them. It all helps. Today, we have chicken meat balls.

My supermarkets don’t sell ground chicken, leave alone ground organic chicken. So for meat balls I grind up chunks of boneless chicken (thighs if I can get them, breasts if I can’t) in the food processor attachment of my immersion blender. This makes it difficult to avoid chicken mush, but the meat balls don’t seem to suffer too much from this indignity. Sure, they’re a bit soft, but who minds a soft meat ball?

I use this Gourmet recipe for my chicken meat balls, but leave out the tomato glaze since I don’t like the metallic taste of tomato puree. Try it too, next time a stranger offers you the use of half his bed. They’ll help. Or at least they’ll make laughing at him that much more enjoyable.

Baked chicken meat balls

Based on a Gourmet recipe, found through Food and Thoughts

• 3 slices stale bread, crusts removed
• 1/3 cup milk
• 100gr bacon bits
• 1 small onion, finely chopped
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• olive oil
• 1 egg
• 450gr boneless, skinned chicken
• handful of flat-leaf parsley

Preheat oven to 200 degrees Celsius. Soak the bread in the milk. Oil a baking dish.

Put bacon and chicken into food processor and pulse until ground. Try not to create complete mush, but don’t worry if you do. Things will still work out. If your processor is as small as mine, work in batches.

When the meat is ground, take the bread from the milk, squeeze and tear into shreds. Cook the onion and garlic in a splash of olive oil until the onion is soft. Cool. Whisk the egg, then add to the chicken along with the soaked bread pieces, salt and pepper, the onion/garlic mixture and the parsley. Mix well. Form the mixture into 12 meat balls (or ball-like blobs if it is very soft) and put in the well-oiled baking dish. Put in the oven and bake for 15-20 minutes, until just cooked through.

Feeling ambitious (quite easy, when you’re lounging on an Italian camping, unable to do much about it), I also included “find a new place to live” and “find a job abroad”. Dream big, right?

Well.

Find a job abroad just earned a check.

As from mid-January, I will spend my weekdays and about half my week-ends inParis. Or should that be PARIS!!!? Yes, PARIS!!! It feels like that. A new job to sink my teeth into, anew cityto explore, new foods to eat

Now all I need is a check behind “find a new place to live”. PARIS!!! probably deserves quite a few exclamation marks less if you’re sleeping under a bridge. Even if it is one over theSeine.

Pizza

Kale on Monday was boiled and served over garlic-rubbed bread. The rest of the week there were lentils with carrots and celery, shrimp in tomato sauce, warm red cabbage salad, chicken and mushrooms in tomato cream sauce and caesar’s salad. Yes, much better. (The chicken was cooked by my man and the caesar’s salad by a pub, but no matter. There was real food and my body feels better.)

So, today was time for pizza. Naturally.

Pizza dough

I broke out Rose Levy Beranbaum’s Bread Bible, even though it still intimidates me. I figured I have spent so much time reading it, it was time. Time for trying my second ever recipe from it. So I stirred together flour, yeast, sugar, salt and water, and let it sit in a well-oiled container for about seven hours. After that there was a (very) little kneading, more proofing, some baking. Followed by the toppings (tomato sauce, softened onions and bell peppers, gorgonzola for me and ham for the man) and some more baking. And then: pizza.

Or so I’d hoped. But no. The crust was firmly stuck to the baking sheet after all that hot time together, so I had to get in there with a metal spatula and serious elbow grease. The man got stuck in too, and together we separated the dough from the sheet without losing too much of the good stuff on top. Once we did: yum. The crust had lots of flavor, quite a bit of crunch and a good chew. The toppings were creamy, savory, a little sweet, alive. This is definitely a pizza I’ll bake again, if only so I can tell you how to do the same. You know, after I figure out how to prevent a dough-sheet marriage.