Life is good in the Bull City!

My first glimpse of Durham, North Carolina came my senior year in high school in 1976. My French Club (oui, I was Mademoiselle la Présidente- another reason why my sons call me a nerd) raised money for a trip to Québec during our Easter break. I was so excited. My first trip north of North Carolina and to another country! At this point in my life, I hadn't even been on a plane yet. I wasn't able to go to France with Mme Buchanan, my French teacher, the year before because my parents couldn't afford it. I don't think I even bothered to ask, just vowing to myself that I would indeed go someday (not quite the scene at Tara in Gone With The Wind when Scarlett O'Hara rips downs the curtains to make a dress but the same idea). We left Spruce Pine on a chartered bus with a great driver we nicknamed Pierre. Our first stop was the bus station in Durham. I have no idea why we stopped. Gas, maybe? Certainly no other passengers. Anyway, that was all I remember of Durham.
My senior year at ASU, I decided to apply for a teaching position at Durham Academy. A friend from Chapel Hill told me about the independent school. It was the only "real" only job I applied for. My roommate interviewed in Raleigh while I was at DA interviewing in the spring of 1980. Two weeks later, Rob Hershey, then head of school, called me up and offered me the job. I immediately accepted. I knew I wanted to teach middle school French and I really liked all the people I met when I interviewed. Seventh grade boys? Bring them on. No match for a bossy girl, the oldest of four, from the Appalachian Mountains. I moved to Chapel Hill, where I lived for two years, first with a woman who worked at UNC's dental school and then with a friend from home. Chapel Hill and I didn't really click so when marriage happened, I happily moved to Durham.
Twenty-seven years later I am still here. I've lived in apartments and several different houses (always in the same zip code, though, I now realize). I've driven on most of the streets of Durham, carting my boys to basketball and baseball practices and games, going to various community service projects with students, checking out books at the libraries, shopping for bargains at thrift shops and the malls, of course, visiting friends and taking the boys to visit friends, just to mention a few of our activities over the years.
What struck me most upon my return to Durham from my sabbatical in France was how much I love this city. I hadn't really given it much thought before I left for six months. Changes were beginning to happen in downtown. Old tobacco buildings (the name Bull Durham comes from the cigarette and chewing tobacco business that was here) were being renovated, new restaurants were coming to town, the Nasher art museum had been built at Duke. Wool E. Bull already had his new home at the Durham Bulls Athletic Park (the DBAP as opposed to the old one, the DAP, of Bull Durham movie fame). When I returned in December, one of the first things my BFF Martha did was toss me in her mini-van for a tour. We drove by the Durham Performing Arts Center (the DPAC-- see a pattern here?), the new bus station, Central Park where the Farmers' Market is held each Saturday (and Wednesday afternoons during the summer), down Ninth Street to have a bagel at Bruegger's, just to name a few of the sights on the tour.
I was glad to be home! I did have a moment of panic, though, when shopping for Christmas gifts at Southpoint Mall. It is relatively new and beautiful at Christmas time because of the huge outdoor lighted tree in front of the cinéma. I was inside, though, and there were so many people, all of them speaking English and rushing around. All of a sudden, I felt very claustrophobic and had to get out. I was simply overwhelmed. Post-France traumatic syndrome? Withdrawal pains from hearing and speaking only French, the most beautiful language in the world?
I more or less eased back into American life-- high school and college basketball games, back to dressing up for school, occasional fast food meals, reading the Durham Herald-Sun newspaper in English every morning (and seeing my final column sent from France in print- quite a thrill). I imagine everyone around me got very, very tired of hearing me start a sentence with "In Arles, we..." or "In France, they..." I still use Pardon whenever I wish to excuse myself. I still talk about the glorious food and sights that I saw. I now try to teach my students practical words and expressions I learned. I chat on-line occasionally with Chef Érick to find out what he is cooking and eating. I email the friends I made. I try new recipes. I've discovered new restaurants and look forward to discovering more. I am back in Durham, proud to be an American, proud to live in this city.
Here are a few of my local favorites...

• The Wine Authorities (the rosé garden will get its own blog entry soon!)
  
• Foster's Market coffee, scones and fresh salads
  
• Saturday mornings at the Durham Farmers' Market (with a cup of Foster's coffee in my hand!)
• Durham Bulls baseball games (BBQ sandwiches, hot dogs, nachos and cold beer) on a warm spring/summer evening
• French movies (with popcorn, of course) at the Carolina Theatre
• Dinner at Watts Grocery - they use local produce (the Ponzi Pinot Gris there is so good)
• Chatham Hill Winery in Morrisville- Marek's wine is amazing; 4th Friday evenings there after work are quite a treat, especially if Nancy is working at the tasting bar
  
• Elmo's Diner on Ninth Street for breakfast- omelets, grits, biscuits, etc.
• Nantucket Grill at Sutton Station on a Saturday night- sitting outside, good wine, to die for desserts made on the premises, live music
• Guglhupf Bakery's bread and pains au chocolat
• Dinner at Pop's or Rue Cler with the Arles 6-- eating anywhere with the Arles 6!! (Let's go back to France, mes amis!)
  
• Saladelia's hummus and tabouli salads and warm pita bread (the BFF loves their Heath Bar cookies)
• Pulcinella's pizza and lasagna- I do plan to try other things on the menu!
• Lamb from Costco (to be stuffed with anchovies and garlic)
• Vin Rouge restaurant on a summer evening-- outdoor seating, great food and wine (mussels- oh là là)
• Cooking at C'est si Bon! with Dorette- the cooking is so much fun that eating is almost anticlimactic (almost, but not quite!!)
• Wandering the aisles of A Southern Season just to gaze at all of the French offerings
• Four Eleven's artichoke dip and their black pepper angel hair pasta with salmon
• Drinks at City Beverage- yummy margaritas and beer-batter fried asparagus
• Grilled burgers and wine on the deck of our townhome- nice shade,watching herbs, tomatoes and sunflowers grow, listening to music... ah oui, la vie est très bonne!
  

I will continue to update this list as the summer progresses and I have more time to pursue eating adventures in and around Durham. I do need to research future columns for the Herald-Sun!

This recipe for scones is from my friend and colleague Daniela Harrell. It is so easy and so good. I prefer using yogurt instead of milk.

Quick Scones

Strawberries are in season! Serve these pastries with ripe juicy berries and whipped cream. Or serve them hot with butter and jam.

2 c. all-purpose flour (I used organic pre-sifted Gold Medal)
¼ c. granulated sugar
4 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
¼ c. cold butter
½ c. currants, raisins, or other dried fruit, if desired
1 egg
2/3 c. milk or ¾ c. (175 ml) plain yogurt (the yogurt produces a moister scone)
egg yolk for brushing tops
granulated sugar for sprinkling or fruit preserves

In large bowl, put flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Add butter and cut in until crumbly. Stir in dried fruit, if using. Make a well in the center.

In small bowl, beat egg until frothy. Pour into well. Stir in milk or yogurt slowly with a fork, stirring until a sof dough forms. Turn out on lightly floured surface. Knead 8-10 times. Divide into 2 equal parts. Pat each into a 6-inch circle. Transfer to greased baking sheet. Brush tops with egg yolk and sprinkle with sugar. Score each top into 6 pie-shaped markings. Bake in 425F oven for 15 minutes until risen and browned slightly. Brush with fruit preserves after removing from oven, if desired.

Bon appétit! Bonnes vacances!

My first visit to Arles...

I dedicate this one to Libby Lang. She will probably be mad at me for using this photo in an article I wrote for the DA magazine that will come out this summer! But, hey, I have a PERM in this photo. Love you, Libby!!

The year was 1987. I organized my first student trip to France during our spring break in early March. We had planned to go to Paris, but after some trashcan bombs, the headmaster asked me to please change my plans (these days and times there would've been wide spread panic among the administration and parents and the whole trip would have been canned, I'm afraid). No Paris, so I decided to offer a trip to the south of France. Pourquoi pas? We flew into Milan, Italy and drove across the border to France. We stopped for lunch along the way and I can still remember the absolutely fabulous melt-in-your-mouth lasagna we ate as an appetizer. Yes, it has stayed with me for 22 years! Such memories. We spent a week touring Roman Provence visiting various towns -- I remember Nîmes, Orange, Les Aigues Mortes, Arles and Avignon. The second week was spent in Nice. The students stayed with families arranged by ACIS, our tour company, and they took classes at a language school.
My co-chaperon and I stayed in a cute hotel (it reminded me of the interiors of hotel rooms painted by Matisse with the patterns of the carpets and wallpapers). We wandered around, visiting the Matisse and Chagall museums, walking on the beach and picking up the smooth stones that are found there instead of sand, and checking in with the kids at their language school. We took the train to Cannes so that I could go back and see the places I knew so well when I lived there in 1978 while still in college. We also took the train to Antibes to visit the Picasso museum there. It was beautiful. On that particular day, there was a class of elementary school children sitting on the floor in one of the rooms painting and drawing. I was so jealous, imagining that if I'd had that kind of inspiration and instruction at the age of 7 or 8 I might be able to draw more than stick figures today... Hélas.
Leigh, my colleague and co-chaperon, and I went to Monaco one day and searched for a restaurant where locals were having lunch. We ended up in a restaurant with long tables, seated next to some guys who were more than happy to give us all the gossip on the royal family, Prince Ranier and his children by his deceased wife, American actress Grace Kelly. I seem to remember having bouillabaisse, a spicy fish stew that is a speciality of southern France. We visited Princess Grace's tomb in the cathedral in Monte Carlo. Prince Ranier placed fresh flowers on it every day. A fairytale for us young American women. We strolled through a couple of casinos, looking totally out of place, of course, in our jeans and tennis shoes. (I've always dressed for comfort, I must confess here and now. Je ne suis pas très chic comme les Françaises...) It was a wonderful trip.
During the second week, I began to suspect that I was pregnant. I was a bit queasy and didn't have my usual appetite. We'd been trying for almost a year. Leigh bought champagne and we celebrated. I brought home a Cuban cigar (not illegal to purchase in France!) for Steve and broke the news to him that way. Jake was born in November.
I started thinking about that trip because I was recently asked to write an article for our school magazine about my sabbatical. I called up one of the "girls" who was on the trip and asked her to verify some of my memories. (That "girl" is a second grade teacher at DA now... she taught both of my sons and was Jake's first babysitter!) We had a great time reminiscing about the trip and she sent over the above photo. Just the fact that she could immediately put her hands on it is most impressive, n'est-ce pas? It was taken in Arles, in front of the fountain at Place de la République. The church of St. Trophîme is nearby, along with the hôtel de ville. I spent quite a bit of time sitting on a bench facing that fountain reading or writing letters home during my sabbatical. I also passed through there frequently on my way to the bureau de tourisme or la poste. On Saturdays I would go there sometimes to see if anyone was getting married. The French must marry at the mayor's office in the hôtel de ville to be married legally. They then go to a church for a second ceremony, if they wish. We went to a couple of photo exhibits and concerts in the courtyard of the cloisters adjacent to the church. It is very interesting to look at that photo taken 22 years ago and now be so familiar with the setting.
I can name all of the students in that photo, too! That is very impressive, in my opinion, considering my memory or lack thereof sometimes...
My new column appeared in the Durham Herald-Sun today. Exciting stuff for me. The last of it was cut off unfortunately, but it is supposed to be in tomorrow's paper. I wrote about the farmers' markets in Durham, Carrboro and Hillsborough. I even got an email from someone I don't know! I choose to consider that my first piece of fan mail!! He has a booth at the Eno River Farmers' Market in downtown Hillsborough and invited me to stop by and say hello next weekend. I think I will.
It's been a busy week and I haven't done much in the way of cooking. I did make Chef Érick's rice salad, one of my favorites since I tasted it for the first time in 2005.

Érick's Rice Salad

400 grams (2 cups) rice cooked and drained (in Arles we used red rice from the Camargue- it gives a nutty taste; white or wholegrain works well, too)

2 cans of tuna (I use the type packed in olive oil, undrained)

1 15-oz can of chickpeas, drained

1 jar (about a cup) of artichoke hearts, optional

1 tablespoon capers

the lemon juice of 1 lemon

1/2 cup olive oil

2 tablespoons mustard

salt

Mix together the cooked rice, the tuna, the chickpeas and the capers. In a separate small bowl, blend the sauce of lemon juice, olive oil and mustard. Pour over the rice mixture, sprinkle a bit of sea salt. Serve warm or cold.
You can cut the recipe in half if you don't want to make quite as much. Add in chopped green and/or red peppers, if you like them.

Bon appétit!

How my garden grows

Time marches on... and at a very fast clip. The school year will be over in just a couple of weeks. All of my middle school colleagues and I are in a bit of panic, wondering how on earth we will cover the material that's left. I especially feel that way with my 8th graders. They will move on to the upper school and French 3 and leave me behind. Did I teach them as much as I could/should have? The 7th graders will be back next year. I had to solemnly promise three girls last week that I would not leave them again. I guess that is a good thing, but they may change their mind when they take my final exam...
Before I came home, friends promised me that I would not be disappointed this spring at the Durham Farmers' market. They were so right! I wake up every Saturday morning now, hoping for sun so that it will be a nice morning in downtown Durham at Central Park. Steve and I have gone several Saturdays, after stopping for coffee at Foster's Market (the very best coffee in all of Durham-- I admit to missing it while I was in France, even though Érick's Ethiopian coffee brewed in an Italian pot was really good). I now have basil, thyme, French tarragon, rosemary, mint, sage, two pots of lavender, a cute little pot of sunflowers and two tomato plants growing on my deck. They love the morning sun and are thriving. No, Martha, as you have seen with your very own two eyes, I have not killed them yet. One pot of lavender is already blooming, as are the mini-sunflowers. One of the tomato plants already had "babies" on it when I bought it, so I guess I can't take too much credit for that, can I?
This past Saturday, Steve was busy watching the DA women's lacrosse team win the state championship in Raleigh (Go, Lady Cavs!), so I called up Martha and took her with me to the market. It was her first visit. We were in heaven. It was a beautiful morning. Quite a crowd had already assembled by the time we arrived around 10:00 am. We stopped at a booth selling the "Soon-To-Be Best Pecan Pie" in the south. Trust me, it is good. Deep dish. Not too sweet. Very nice crust. I think the secret ingredient might be sweet potatoes. I will be back for more. We bought fresh mozzarella cheese from Chapel Hill Cremery to go with the tomatoes we found. Fresh mozzarella, sliced tomatoes, basil from my little garden, sea salt and olive oil. My, oh my. We made the rounds of the craft booths-- stained glass, jewelry, recycled junk turned into very creative yard art and beautiful photos of Durham. We found someone selling more of the cute little sunflowers so I bought one for MK for her upcoming birthday. She needs a little Provence on her porch, too. You really haven't lived until you've seen them growing along side the road between Arles and St. Rémy de Provence. Such was Vincent's inspiration back in the 1880's. (Anyone out there want to go to Provence with me next summer??) Oh, and BTW, Salamanzar, those sunflowers will never be as tall as me so can you amend the rosé offer, s'il te plaît?
Back to our circuit of the market. We bought melt-in-your-mouth strawberries from Lyon Farms. We watched a competition between three local chefs, using radishes, the week's secret ingredient. Chris Stennant from Pop's and Rue Cler grilled sea scallops, placed them on a bed of greens and asparagus, then topped it with a beet and radish sauce. Absolutely stunning colors. We ran into Pat Fox, one of my favorite people in the whole entire world and a member of the Arles 6. I had the pleasure of introducing him to Martha.
Everyday after school I proctor study hall until 5:00 pm. Well, Monday through Thursday I do this. It forces me to get my work done and I do get paid extra for this duty. This past Friday afternoon Martha and I spent an hour sitting on the really comfy sofa at Wine Authorities with a nice glass of rosé. We sampled Giacomo's Black Label Limited Edition Salami with provolone cheese and calamati olives in it. A very nice start to the weekend, n'est-ce pas? Seth pushing his daughter around the store in a shopping cart was a sight to behold. Her giggle was music to our ears.
Saturday night, Steve suggested dinner out. Never one to turn down an invitation to go out and about, I immediately said yes. Both of our sons have their driver's licenses and were out with friends-- we are glad to be past the babysitter stage, trust me. We decided to try Watts Grocery without reservations. Steve had been there for lunch but not for dinner. I had heard great things about it from the Goolsby clan (Betty is also of Arles 6 fame) when they were in Arles with me at Thanksgiving. Chef Amy Tournquist's name has popped up in several articles I've read lately about Triangle dining. It was crowded when we arrived around 7pm, but we didn't have to wait long for a spot at the bar. We ordered glasses of Ponzi Pinot Gris from Oregon while we studied the menu and waited for a table. A delicious crisp white wine. They have nice wine glasses, too, just as WA does, with thin rims and delicate stems. Kind of has a ring to it, doesn't it? A table came open for us in about 30 minutes and we decided upon our order. Steve chose NC Gumbo with shrimp and house andouille sausage served with rice. He ate every little morsel (he did let me sample a bit of the sausage). I ordered a salad from the appetizer menu with a side order of hushpuppies. My salad was heavenly. Lovely new lettuces, strawberries, walnuts that seemed to have a little extra sweetness to them, fresh goat cheese and a Dijon mustard dressing. Oh my great goodness. I practiced putting my knife and fork down in between each bite in order not to gobble it down too quickly! The hushpuppies and dipping sauce brought back memories of the "Put the South in Your Mouth" meal that Dorette Snover and I prepared for our skeptical friends in Arles before she left to come home to Carrboro back in August. I did let Steve have one of them. Nice of me, I thought. We were also served squares of warm cornbread. What a wonderful meal!
And lest you think that it has been a perfect food weekend, I managed to ruin the spicy chicken strips I made for dinner tonight. I didn't have all the spices my recipe called for so I used a Cajun seasoning mix I found in the cupboard. Big mistake. They were so salty none of us could eat them. At least we also had bowtie pasta and Caesar salad. The boys have already been down stairs rummaging through the cupboards twice since dinner. Tomorrow night's dinner had better be good, I guess. Maybe Mexican lasagna, one of Jake's favorites. Not French, but good for satisfying hungry boys! I've also included Grant's favorite pork chops. Very easy and a big hit.

Mexican Lasagne

Flour tortillas
1 lb ground beef
1 c salsa
1 15-oz can tomato sauce
1 package taco seasoning mix
16 oz cottage or ricotta cheese
2 eggs
1 1/2 tsp oregano
Shredded monterey jack and cheddar cheese

Brown meat; drain fat. Stir in salsa, tomato sauce and taco seasoning. Simmer 5 minutes. Combine cottage/ricotta cheese, eggs and oregano. Layer tortillas, 1/ 2 meat, 1/2 cottage cheese and shredded cheese. Repeat. Bake in 375 F oven for 30-35 minutes. Let stand for 15 minutes before cutting.

Pork Chops à la Provençal

(I thought that up all on my own!!)

4 center cut boneless pork chops, trimmed of any visible fat
1 egg
1 c breadcrumbs
2 Tbsp herbes de provence
Olive oil
(I am really guessing at the quantities here-- I just kind of make this up as I go along)

Put the breadcrumbs and herbes de provence in a ziploc bag and shake them up to mix.
Dip the pork chops in the egg and then place them in the bag, one at a time. Shake to coat well.
Heat the olive oil in a skillet. When it is nice and hot, put the chops in. The time will depend on the thickness. I brown them on both sides and then reduce the flame. Or you can put them in the oven to finish cooking. Cover the pan with aluminum foil and bake at about 325 for 20 minutes or until juices run clear. I've used this for boneless chicken breasts, too. Pound them a bit beforehand if they are thick. Quick and easy!

Bon appétit!

A Chicken Crows in Carrboro

I spent the past two days with eight middle schoolers, two boys and six girls, and another teacher from DA, Kim Aitken, cooking up Provençal goodies at C'est si bon! cooking school in Chapel Hill. Or is it in Carrboro? The address is Chapel Hill, but I think Dorette's house and the cooking school are actually zoned as Carrboro. Yes, a bit confusing. I just know how to get there. I'm not as good at getting back-- I am the queen of wrong turns. I was not blessed with a strong sense of direction. Getting turned around and taking wrong turns is just a part of the adventure of going on a trip with me. One time I didn't make it to one of my son's basketball games in north Raleigh until half-time because I could not find the road. I think I was actually in Wake Forest before I realized I had missed the turn.
Back to cooking. At DA, our Parents Association sets aside money for seminars. For the past three years, I have offered a two-day cooking class at C'est si bon! with Dorette Snover, her husband Rich and assistant Renee. Dorette is an amazing chef and an extremely patient teacher. Her sense of humor keeps me on my toes! I feel it is very important to get kids out of the classroom once in a while and out and about in the world.
When I was in high school in Spruce Pine, all freshman girls had to take Home Economics. I do not think it is still called that. I don't even know if high school students take this course any more. I'll bet it is no longer required for freshman girls. We aren't in the '70's anymore after all, are we? And I can spill all the flour I want to on the counter without putting my Home Ec grade in jeopardy. Nowadays, at least at DA, kids learn to cook on their own or from their parents, schedule permitting. Kids are really busy these days-- school, homework, sports practices and games, tutoring, music lessons, lessons of all kinds, actually. Do kids spend much time in the kitchen watching mom and/or dad cook? Do they help chop and measure? Do they wash dishes? Load the dishwasher? I spent hours next door in my grandparents' kitchen watching my grandfather cook. As a young man he was a chef in a hotel in High Point. That's how he met my grandmother who was a waitress. Or so the Bell family legend goes. My grandmother was the breakfast cook in their house. I learned to scramble eggs from her. She was well-known in First Baptist Church for her coconut cakes. She kept the preachers happy with those little gifts. They were often lop-sided, but they were so incredibly good. The homemade frosting was kind of crunchy and she did not skimp on the coconut. And her banana fritters-- oh my gosh. My grandfather cooked the "real" food-- stuffed peppers and beef stew are the two dishes I remember the best. I now wish I'd asked more questions and paid more attention while in his kitchen.
Dorette teaches kids to cook. She also teaches the importance of teamwork. Much of life consists of teamwork, to tell you the truth. Families are teams. A group of friends is a team. A class, an advisory group, clubs we belong to, all of these are teams. At cooking school, the kids didn't get dessert the second day. There wasn't enough time. After thinking about that on the drive back to DA, I realized that it was because they didn't work together to get dishes cleaned up in between courses. The kids were divided into four teams of two. Each team was responsible for a dish or course for our meal. After each course, the two team members cleaned up their serving dishes and put the leftovers away. The rest of the kids didn't realize that if they got up to help things would move more quickly. We tried to warn them an hour before departure time. At that point we still had one course to go and clean-up. That didn't motivate them. I guess an hour is a lifetime to middle schoolers. It probably is when you are sitting in class on a sunny Friday afternoon in May waiting for the 3:02 bell to ring and end the school day and week! In the kitchen, however, 60 minutes passes very quickly. I hope they learned that lesson, as well as the difference between an herb and a spice!
The chicken pictured above is one of Dorette's flock. They are Carrboro "free range" chickens. They get to eat all the yummy bugs and worms in her yard and around the amazing garden she and Rich have beside the cooking school. There is, I believe, one rooster and about 15 hens. One of the boys participating in the seminar expressed sympathy for the lone male because he has no other male buddies to hang out with on Brace Lane. Dorette and I decided not to get too far into a birds and bees lesson with him. She did ask him if he knows how eggs get fertilized and he assured us he does. So we let it go at that. I am sure he was quite relieved.
One of the lessons Dorette and Rich gave the kids was on the difference between the eggs from their hens and store bought eggs. They cracked open both kinds, examined the color of the yolks and the amount of whites in both before we scrambled them up. We used very well-seasoned pans, added olive oil and let the pans get quite hot before adding the beaten eggs. The secret to good scrambled eggs is to cook them quickly. We added salt and pepper at the end and let the kids taste the difference. Dorette's hens' eggs were described as "egg-ier." She told them that chefs decide which type to use depending upon whether or not they want an "egg-ier" taste in their dish.
We had fun going out to the hen house to look for eggs. That brought back memories of doing the same with my maternal grandmother who lived on a farm on top of a mountain in the Blue Ridge Mountains, just outside of Spruce Pine in the area known as Penland, famous for the Penland School of Arts. Once again, I now wish I had enjoyed those times on the farm more and learned more from my grandparents. Is youth wasted on the young who are usually so eager to grow up and get away?
Enough philosophy for the week. Back to food. The recipe this time is a speciality of Nice, a large city found on the Côte d'Azur, the beautiful French Riviera, bordered by the brilliantly blue Mediterranean Sea. We filled these chick-pea crêpes with caramelized onions and rolled them. We served them with cut up sorrel, freshly picked from Dorette's garden, sprinkled on top as a garnish.
Socca crêpes make a wonderful appetizer. Serve with a nice bottle of chilled rosé. Either of the Domaine Pinchinat rosés in stock at Wine Authorities, the 2008 Venus or 2008 Côtes de Provence would be an excellent choice on a hot summer evening. Sip in the shade on the back deck and sample the socca.
And speaking of Wine Authorities, I ran into Seth, at the Durham Farmers' Market this morning. He was wearing a really cool hat while out shopping with his wife and daughter. I have now added mint to my herb garden and I have a pot of sunflowers to watch grow and bloom this summer. If I can't be in Provence this summer, I will bring some of it to my back deck in the form of sunflowers, lavender and rosé!

Bon appétit!

Socca de Nice

300 g (2 1/3 c) chick-pea flour
500 ml (2 c) cold water
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 tsp salt

Pour the cold water into a bowl and use a whisk to mix in the olive oil and salt. Add the flour and whisk thoroughly to remove any lumps. The batter should be thinner than typical crêpe batter (significantly thinner than pancake batter).
Lightly oil a non-stick pan with olive oil. The pan should be quite hot before pouring in batter. Pour in a ladle-full of the batter, quickly spreading the batter around in the pan by rotating it. Place on the flame and allow to cook for a couple of minutes, until you can flip it or turn it. Cook very briefly on the second side. Slide out of the pan and keep it warm until you have made all the socca and are ready to serve them.

We are civilized!

There were many times during my stay in France when I felt as if my new friends did not quite believe that Americans know much at all about food, wine and the finer arts of living. I even felt apologetic at times, explaining my American lifestyle. I shocked everyone when I told stories of lunchtime at school. I eat in my classroom Monday through Friday with my 12 seventh grade advisees. At the middle school, we make them stay in to eat for 20 minutes before they can go out to play. We do not have a cafeteria. No 1 1/2 hour lunches with a glass of chilled rosé and adult conversation. As much as I love my advisees, I do miss that. I still smile when I think of the summer of 2007 when I cooked for mon équipe, the men who were remodeling the 5th bedroom at the B&B in Arles. I thought I'd been dropped onto a movie set or into a book entitled How the French Really Live... Conversation ranged from airplanes to music to movies to philosophers to politics to the Tour de France. Then at the end of lunch, everyone retired to a separate sofa or chair for a 20-30 minute nap. Back to work around 3:00 pm, quitting time around 6:30 pm, a drink at the café and then either home for dinner or leftovers in the kitchen with us. Two children on the train I took from Arles to Paris in November didn't believe that I was American because I wasn't fat. They were traveling with their grandmother and we sat together. She was embarrassed that they said that loudly enough for me to hear. I assured her it was quite alright and that we truly aren't all obese.
Since I returned from France in December, I've given eating and food much more thought than I ever did. My son Grant was very happy to have me home and cooking for him again. Pasta and freshly grated Parmesan cheese was one of the first meals waiting for him when he came home from basketball practice. I visited most of the grocery stores in Durham and Chapel Hill to see what they offered in the way of cheeses and meats. I read every label on the bottles of French wines at Wine Authorities to see which ones were from Provence. I even recognized a couple of them. I am sure that most of my friends were ready to strangle me the next time I started a sentence with When I was in France... or In Arles, we... I have experimented with new recipes. I've tried quite of few of Chef Érick's recipes on my own. I have even stopped following recipes as closely as I did before my sabbatical, adding a little of this or a little of that on my own.
Just recently, I have come to the realisation that we are not as barbaric as the French believe. The Durham Farmers' Market is amazing already and it is only the end of April. This past Saturday, there were strawberries, onions, radishes, and several varieties of lettuce already for sale. I bought basil, thyme, sage, tarragon, rosemary, lavender and parsley for my eagerly anticipated back deck herb garden. I bought them from Tim and Helga MacAller who own Four Leaf Farm. Tim taught at Durham Academy one year and I renewed my friendship with them through Pat and Joan Fox. There were cheeses, soaps, buffalo steaks, fresh farm eggs, pottery, handmade baskets, flowers, bread, and pastries for sale at various booths. Our Farmers' Market is downtown in Central Park. I cannot wait to see what each Saturday will bring. I plan to go to the Carrboro market next Saturday as well.
I've been to Dorette Snover's for a wonderful dinner. Pâté with spicy mustard, couscous, cauliflower casserole, grilled salmon and lemon sorbet. We went to dinner Saturday night at Nantucket Grill in Sutton Station here in Durham. We sat outside, listening to live music and spent a couple of hours enjoying the company of Steve's sister, Cindy, her husband, Rick, their son Aaron and his girlfriend Megan. We all had fish in some form, from Cindy's blackened salmon salad to Steve's sea bass to my pasta with scallops, calamari and shrimp.
On Friday afternoon, after school, Yolanda invited me over for what we call Wine & Whine. It is simply an excuse for us to get together and get caught up. Wine a necessity, whining optional. We were in her kitchen, talking while she pulled out St. André cheese, bread and a bottle of Domaine Pinchinat Côtes de Provence rosé. Yolanda is an art teacher and has an incredible eye for color. After she arranged the bread and cheese, I grabbed my camera from my purse (I still never leave home without it!) and took the photo for today's post. How elegant. And just for sitting on her back porch on a late April Friday afternoon.
I still am not a chef. I am not a food or restaurant critic. I have found ways to incorporate food into my life other than simply eating it. I've been to the Durham Nativity School to teach 6th, 7th and 8th grade boys how to make crêpes, Tarte Tatin and real whipped cream. I've shared recipes with some of my 7th graders who already love to cook. I even have an advisee who brings me asparagus from his garden! Merci, André! I've read Julia Child's My Life in France and found a copy of Julia and Jacques Cooking at Home at the Durham Academy Used Book Fair. I helped Dorette with a corporate event and she has asked me to help with two weeks of her cooking school this summer. I've called my sister to ask for her banana pudding recipe. And last, but certainly not least, I have been asked to write a column about local food for the Durham Herald-Sun newspaper. This time for pay! How cool, n'est-ce pas? Life is full of unexpected surprises, opportunities and new friends.
Tomatoes will be in season soon here in North Carolina. The following recipe is found in Recipes from Provence, a compilation of recipes pout together by René Husson and Philippe Galmiche and published by Éditions Fleurines. Madeleine Vedel translated it into English from the original French, Recettes de Provence.

Tomato Tart
Tarto à la poumo d'amour (in Provençal)

Pie crust (I buy mine at the grocery store-- refrigerated ones you can roll out)
500 gr (1 lb) tomatoes
200 gr (10 oz) strips of Swiss or Gruyere cheese
100 gr (1 cup) grated cheese
1 sprig of thyme
Dijon-style mustard
olive oil
salt, pepper

Peel, seed and slice the tomatoes in rounds.
Put the pie crust in a pie pan and spread a nice layer of mustard on the bottom.
Lay the cheese strips on top, then cover with the tomato slices. Salt and pepper.
Sprinkle with the grated cheese and the crumbled thyme.
Drizzle olive oil over all.
Place in a hot oven (about 350 F) for 40 minutes.

Serve warm, as an appetizer or first course, with a glass of chilled rosé.

Bon appétit!

Reliving Italy

Here we are in Tuscany and Florence... you have to have lovers kissing in photos in France or Italy!


I've decided two things this morning... well, actually it is afternoon now, but I started thinking about this in the morning, so that counts. Thing #1: Create your own paradise wherever you are however you can. At this very minute, I am sitting in sunny North Carolina on a deck overlooking High Rock Lake. I am listening to Michael Buble on iTunes, sipping Weingut Michlits Pinot Noir 2007 frizzante rosé, a bubbly organic pink wine from Austria recommended to me by Randy at Wine Authorities. My two buddies, Martha and Monette (it is Monette's lake house) are off at the Childress Winery in Lexington, NC hosting a bridal shower for the daughter of a deceased friend. As much as I love these two amazing women, getting me away from home for an entire weekend was not easy (this is unbeknownst to them-- well, it was until I started writing about it!). I love my new home in Durham. Steve and I had talked about going to the Durham Farmer's Market to buy herbs for my planned herb garden, then heading to Cary for Great Grapes, an outdoor celebration featuring wineries from all over our state and later cooking something on the grill. My weekends with him are relaxed now and always include a trip to the grocery store for our weekly shopping, a chore I used to hate. We've discovered it's much more fun to share the job on a quiet Sunday morning. (We even share cleaning the house in this second phase of our relationship-- he is a darned good househusband! I am the bathroom cleaning pro after my experience in Arles, he does the floors beautifully.) Anyway, Martha and I left Cary after watching game 1 of a baseball doubleheader against Cary Academy. Her son pitched the first game. (He hit a home run in the second one, but we missed it. There goes her Mother-of-the-Year bid for 2009...) My son is the best center fielder in Durham Academy history, not that I am prejudiced or anything. We arrived at the lake around 8:00 pm, ate pizza, drank wine and visited with Trudy and Dan, friends from Lexington. I downloaded Martha and Monette's photos from our week in Italy and then put them together with mine to create a slide show. This is our designated It-Lee Reunion Weekend. We stayed up until 1:30 am laughing at our pictures and reliving that week in Rome, Florence, Tuscany and Cinque Terre, with a couple of days in Arles and Marseille thrown in before they left me mid-way through my sabbatical. So, I have at this very minute, created my own little paradise. I have indeed put on sunscreen but will end up sunburned anyway. To say that I am pale, is an understatement.
That leads me to Thing #2. Do not allow what you look like to interfere with potential fun. I am nearing my 51st birthday. I have not been very active since returning from France. No long, strenuous walks at Duke, no pilates classes. Settling back into wifedom, motherhood and teaching full-time takes every waking minute of my time. Add in cold, rainy weather, darkness by 5 pm for a couple of months and I've become mushy. At least mushier than I want to be. Therefore I very reluctantly dug out my black swimsuit, the same one I wore on the beach of Monterosso and along the French portion of the Mediterranean Sea. I make no excuses for being mushy... menopause, hyperthyroidism, busy schedule (ok, ok, so I am making a few excuses here). However, I decided to not let that stop me from putting on the swimsuit and sitting out in the sun right now. Last night Martha, Monette and Dan talked about a friend from high school who will not attend their reunions due to the fact that she has gained weight. She has gone from being the high school homecoming queen to a middle-aged mom carrying around extra pounds. Why do we women allow the numbers on the scale to rule our sense of self-worth? Sure, I would love to look just like Diane Lane. (I've chosen her to play me in the movie version of my unwritten book. Martha can't decide who will play her. I haven't asked Monette yet.) But I don't. I am me. 50 and a little mushy. I love my (highlighted- thanks to Sarah at Studio K) hair. I love my green eyes. I could do without some of the wrinkles and under eye circles that surround them. But I am me. A work in progress!
Book update: I finished Julia Child's My Life in France and am afraid I have become a Julia fanatic. I really want a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, both volumes, no less. I can't wait for the movie Julie and Julia to come out in August. It stars Meryl Streep as Julia. The book by the same name is a great read. The movie is a combination of the two books, according to USA Today this past week. I am now reading The Widow Clicquot by Tilar J. Mazzeo. She researched the life of Barbe-Nicole Clicquot Ponsardin, the woman behind the stunning Veuve Clicquot champagne empire. Ghislaine and I visited their cellar in November on our trip to Reims. It was actually Betty Goolsby, my traveling companion who has unbelievably good taste, who introduced me to Veuve Clicquot yellow label champagne. It was the summer of 2006 in Paris. Yolanda Litton, Betty and I were walking back to our hotel, Les Jardins d'Eiffel, off of Rue Cler. It was late, around 11:00 pm, but Rue Cler doesn't go to bed early. We found a little table at a café (I get nostalgic every time I walk past that table and tell whomever is with me about that evening) and Betty ordered the whole bottle of champagne. We consumed every single drop, fell in love with the cute young guy at the table next to us wearing the amazing cologne (we didn't have the nerve to even ask him what it was-- can you even believe that?) and then decided to bring the glasses back with us. Closet kleptomaniacs that we are. Sorry, girls, the secret is out.
Another summer movie I look forward to seeing on the big screen is My Life in Ruins with Nia Vardalos. She plays a tour guide who needs to get a life. She was the star of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. She has a wonderful sense of humor and writes about raising an adopted child who has the same gift of humor in the May 2009 edition of Good Housekeeping magazine. I'll bet her mom is laughing at the fact that her daughter finally understands what she herself went through. Mildred, my mom, spent years wishing I would have a daughter who would never shut up... Sorry, Mama!
Since summer is coming and I can hardly wait for fresh vine-ripened tomatoes and zucchini, I will leave you with Julia Child's recipe for Ratatouille and Chef Érick's recipe that uses the same ingredients but in casserole form. And, if you haven't watched Walt Disney's movie by the same name, rent it! It is one of my favorites!
Bon appétit!

Ratatouille
From Julia Child

Ratatouille perfumes the kitchen with the essence of Provence and is certainly one of the great Mediterranean dishes. As it is strongly flavored it is best when it accompanies plain roast or broiled beef or lamb, pot-au-feu (boiled beef), or plain roast, broiled or sauteed chicken. Equally good hot or cold, it also makes a fine accompaniment to cold meats, or may be served as a cold hors d'oeuvre.

A really good ratatouille is not one of the quicker dishes to make, as each element is cooked separately before it is arranged in the casserole to partake of a brief communal simmer. This recipe is the only one we know of that produces a ratatouille in which each vegetable retains its own shape and character. Happily a ratatouille may be cooked completely the day before it is to be served, and it seems to gain in flavor when reheated.

For 6 to 8 people

1/2 pound eggplant
1/2 pound zucchini
A 3-quart, porcelain or stainless-steel mixing bowl
1 teaspoon salt
A 10- to 12-inch enameled skillet
4 tablespoons olive oil, more if needed
1/2 pound (about 1 1/2 cups) thinly sliced yellow onions
2 (about 1 cup) sliced green bell peppers
2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil, if necessary
2 cloves mashed garlic
Salt and pepper to taste
1 pound firm, ripe, red tomatoes, peeled, seeded and juiced (makes 1 1/2 cups pulp)
Salt and pepper
A 2 1/2 quart fireproof casserole about 2 1/2 inches deep
3 tablespoons minced parsley
Salt and pepper


Peel the eggplant and cut into lengthwise slices 3/8 inch thick, about 3 inches long and 1 inch wide. Scrub the zucchini, slice off the two ends and cut the zucchini into slices about the same size as the eggplant slices. Place the vegetables in a bowl and toss with the salt. Let stand for 30 minutes. Drain. Dry each slice in a towel.

One layer at a time, saute the eggplant and then the zucchini in hot olive oil in the skillet for about a minute on each side to brown very lightly. Remove to a side dish.

In the same skillet, cook the onions and peppers slowly in olive oil for about 10 minutes, or until tender but not browned. Stir in the garlic and season to taste.

Slice the tomato pulp into 3/8-inch strips. Lay them over the onions and peppers. Season with salt and pepper. Cover the skillet and cook over low heat for 5 minutes, or until tomatoes have begun to render their juice. Uncover, baste the tomatoes with the juices, raise heat and boil for several minutes, until juice has almost entirely evaporated.

Place a third of the tomato mixture in the bottom of the casserole and sprinkle over it 1 tablespoon of the parsley. Arrange half of the eggplant and zucchini on top, then half the remaining tomatoes and parsley. Put in the rest of the eggplant and zucchini and finish with the remaining tomatoes and parsley.

Cover the casserole and simmer over low heat for 10 minutes. Uncover, tip casserole and baste with the rendered juices. Correct seasoning, if necessary. Raise heat slightly and cook uncovered for about 15 minutes more, basting several times, until juices have evaporated leaving a spoonful or two of flavored olive oil. Be careful of your heat; do not let the vegetables scorch in the bottom of the casserole.

Set aside uncovered. Reheat slowly at serving time or serve cold.

Le Tian Provençal - Mixed Summer Vegetables Provençal

The Tian is the name for the red clay baking dish of Provence, now primarily made in Spain. These dishes are now being exported to the States. They are wonderful for baking and roasting in the oven. Be sure there’s enough liquid in the dish to prevent drying in the oven, and when you remove the dish you can place it directly on the table. It holds its heat and looks nice.
(I brought a medium-sized one home from Arles in my carry-on bag-- merci, Chef Érick!!)

Preparation time : one hour ; Cooking time : 30 minutes

2 fat eggplant
3 zucchini
4 tomatoes
1 bell pepper (color of choice)
1 onion
2 garlic cloves
3 bay leaves
thyme
1/2 cup of olive oil
Grated cheese (in France, often it’s often gruyère, or Parmesan)

This recipe has two stages, some of the vegetables are pre-cooked, fried in olive oil, and others are put into the tian fresh.

Cut the eggplant in rounds and salt liberally, set aside to sweat for an hour. Cut the zucchini in rounds, the tomatoes likewise, set aside. Mince the onions, and chop the bell pepper in small pieces, set aside.

Take out a large frying pan and put in olive oil, fry lightly the minced onions and bell peppers, simply melting them down, reducing them, to a smooth caramelized mixture. Remove with a slotted spoon and layer on the bottom of the oven-proof casserole dish. Next fry the zucchini rounds, a minute per side, in the oil. Put aside.
When the eggplant rounds are nicely sweated and rinsed of their excess salt, tap them dry and then fry them a minute each side as well, set aside.

Crush and chop the garlic, and put the entire tian together. Place the onion and pepper mixture on the bottom, then start layering the eggplant rounds (just one layer thick), and then the raw tomato rounds, and a bit of the chopped garlic, crumbled bay leaf, a little salt, and then a layer of zucchini rounds. Start again till the tian is full and you have used all the vegetables.
Sprinkle the top with the cheese and place in the oven for 30 minutes at 375F/180C.

Monday reflections and Millefeuille

I sit here, monitoring after school study hall, gazing out the window watching the JV softball team practice and the dogwood tree blooms beginning to open. It rained this morning, typical since this afternoon my son's varsity baseball team has a game. Steve, my soon-to-be un-ex husband called to tell me that he had ripped the navy blue pants I admired on him this morning. He was dragging the baseball field when it happened. I imagine his tennis shoes will need to be washed again tonight, along with Grant's muddy baseball pants. Jake's checking account was recently overdrawn again so we dealt with that drama. I did my part by going on-line and setting up his account so that he can track his expenses instead of relying on the ATM to give him his inaccurate balance. (Strange when the 50 year old mom is the computer savvy one instead of the 21 year old college student, n'est-ce pas?) Steve did his part by going to the bank and asking them to please remove part of the exorbitant fees (they did so, I am happy to report). We both talked to Jake, together and separately. The one thing we were always able to do well together was parent our children, even when the marriage wasn't on track.
Yes, I am back smack in the middle of "real life." Do I long for the days in Arles when all I had to worry about was getting the towels and sheets dry? Ah, oui. But am I sad to be back in the role of wife, mom and middle school French teacher? Absolument non! I feel like me here. I didn't always feel like me in Arles. I wasn't speaking my native language. Expressing one's feelings in another language is not easy. I felt as if all my new friends only knew half of me. They didn't even know that I could tell jokes and even remember the punchline occasionally.
For Christmas, Martha gave me a book hot off the press named I'll Never Be French (no matter how hard I try) by Mark Greenside. I loved this book written by an American who goes to spend a summer in Bretagne and falls in love with it. Who wouldn't fall in love with Bretagne or any other region of France, for that matter, after spending time there? But I identify with the title and I have come to terms, finally, with the fact that that's okay. I could have stayed in Arles. Physically, that it. Emotionally, never. I belong here and am happy here.
I just finished another book whose title could be my autobiography. A Pig in Provence by Georgeann Brennan. I admit to being green with envy most of the way through the book. She and her husband bought a home in Provence (very rustic- no electricity or plumbing for a while) and she made great French friends and learned to cook wonderful Provence specialities. She runs a cooking school and hosts writing workshops during the year. When I win the lottery... As I read it, though, I realized just how lucky I am that I can read it and think to myself-- "Pardon, madame, but we made brandade de morue differently!"
Now, I have begun Julia Child's My Life in France. What a treat to read a couple of chapters before falling asleep every night. Another American who moved to France and fell in love with the people, the food and the country.
I am not alone. I am much changed by my wonderful six months in France in 2008. I will never be the same. Just as the three authors mentioned above were changed by their experiences. They were all able to buy homes there, though. There's the difference. Oui, when I win the lottery...
The Durham Farmer's Market opened this past Saturday. I was thrilled to see that it has grown since my last visit a couple of years ago. For sale was goat cheese, little pots of herbs and garden plantings (I have grand plans to grow my own herbs on my back deck to use in my cooking experiments this summer), lamb, soaps, honey, homemade bread (we were too late for that, unfortunately) and other wonderful goodies. I can't wait until the vegetables come in!
In looking back through the blog last week, I realized that I had not posted the recipe for my 50th birthday cake, the beautiful and delicious Millefeuille that Chef Érick made for me. So, I will make up for it now and post the recipe. The photo does it justice!
Bon appétit!

Millefeuille Cake


This is a dessert that can be made very simply, or livened up with fresh raspberries, blackberries, blueberries…. Or chocolate shavings.

Ingredients for 8-10 portions

3 sheets of flaky pastry (this will be 2 boxes of Pepperidge Farm flaky pastry dough found in the freezer section of the grocery store or you can make your own)

For the cream:

1/2 liter whole milk (one pint)
4-5 egg yolks (depending on the size of your eggs)
2/3 cup sugar
3 tablespoons flour
optional flavoring: vanilla bean, nutmeg., sweet orange essence, lemon rind/zest

Plus 1/2 pint whipping cream whipped till stiff (this is optional- you can use just the cream, if you wish)

Heat the milk in a heavy bottomed sauce pan. While the milk heats, mix the egg yolks, sugar and flour in a mixer until light yellow. When the milk is hot, pour it slowly into the egg mixture whisking all the while. Then pour the mixture back into the sauce pan and whisk until it starts to bubble and thicken. The addition of flour will prevent the eggs from curdling too quickly.

When thickened, remove from the flame, put the sauce pan and place in the refrigerator to chill. (Lining the pan with plastic wrap makes it easier to remove and easier clean-up.)

Lay your flaky pastry sheets* out on baking pans, poke holes throughout to prevent them from puffing in the oven and bake at 400F / 200C till golden brown. (15-25 minutes). Remove the sheets from the oven and let cool.

Take the pastry cream from the refrigerator and fold in the chilled whipping cream, if you decide to use it. Place one pastry sheet on your cake plate, spread a layer of cream, then lay the next sheet, spread a layer of cream, then the final sheet. You can place raspberries, strawberries or blueberries on the cream, if you wish, before adding the next layer of pastry. You can finish off the millefeuille with powdered sugar or a glaze of powdered sugar and lemon juice and/or Grand Marnier, or sprinkle fresh berries, or melted chocolate. Chill until ready to serve.

*It is difficult to neatly cut millefeuille once assembled, you might want to cut the sheets ahead of time and make individual size millefeuille. The dessert is best when the pastry is quite fresh and crunchy, and just assembled. But, if you make it ahead of time, the pastry will wilt just a bit from the humidity of the cream filling to make it easier to cut. Another option is to put it in the freezer for a couple hours before serving, and then cut it with a slightly warmed knife