The most beautiful pictures of Paris...

Oui, mes amis, les plus belles photos de Paris are by my cyber-pal Peter (no, we haven't met and may never meet, but that doesn't keep me from commenting on his blog).  They are absolutely délicieuses!  I have "borrowed" one or two of his photos from time to time, always letting him know when I do it, of course, although secretly wishing I could take credit for them myself. 
Just click and check them out!
http://peter-pho2.blogspot.com/2009/12/merry-christmas-and-happy-new-year.html

Merci, Peter, quel beau cadeau de Noël!
Bon voyage en Suède et bon appétit!
The Sabbatical Chef

Abbaye de Frigolet

It's funny sometimes how the mind works.  I woke up this morning thinking about my visit to the Abbaye de Frigolet in September of 2008 with Chef Érick.    It was a beautiful day and we were clientless so we decided (well, he decided, I just went along for the ride, as usual) to take advantage of the weather and get out and about.

The abbey is located between Avignon and Tarascon, not a far drive from Arles.  It was founded in about 960 by Conrad the Pacific, King of Arles, and dedicated to Saint Michel.  It is a Premonstratenian monastery.  There is more history, of course, but as I am not Catholic or French, it just doesn't make too much sense to me.  If you are interested, here is the official link:  www.frigolet.com.  There is a restaurant, rooms to stay in, and a gift shop.  I think it is a retreat center, too.

We wandered around the grounds for a bit, hiking around and checking out the herbs and berries growing wild everywhere.

.

We went into the church, where sunlight was streaming through the windows.

And we checked out the little village that is set up behind glass, kind of crèche style.  To tell the truth, that is probably why I started thinking of this place to begin with.  Christmas, manger scenes, etc. on the brain.

 

It is very elaborate, filled with all kinds of characters from the village, the Bible and local stories, but I was fascinated by the monk and his still.  He is having some of his liqueur and his nose is quite red, meaning he has had quite a bit of this lovely liquid that even Alphonse Daudet wrote about in his Lettres de Mon Moulin.  We probably spent 30 minutes in front of this display, laughing and pointing at all the various figurines.
I did indeed taste this drink, Liqueur des Prémontrés, as Chef Érick bought some to take home.

Unfortunately, I did not bring any home with me.  I am quite sure he still has the bottle stashed in the secret cabinet in the dining room...  This drink is also known by the name L'Elixir du Révérend Père Gaucher.
Having grown up in a very strict Baptist church ("Thou shalt not partake of anything even resembling alcohol" or something to that effect was on the wall of my grandmother's church), I find this fascinating.  Dom Perignon and his champagne is another example of enterprising monks finding ways to support their monastery. The fact that Catholics could consume alcohol made us Baptists very, very suspicious of them.  Oh, it was being consumed (and probably made) by members of my family, we just did not talk about it.

I found several links to the Frigolet Liqueur by googling the name, but not too much information.  I did find this lovely poster--

Isn't it beautiful?

À votre santé, les Prémontrés! 

Half of the Arles 6

The Sabbatical Chef, Betty and Yolanda

Here we are!  Half of the Arles 6 gang.  At the Piedmont restaurant in downtown Durham, just right up the street from where our Farmers' Market is held every Saturday.  Yolanda was the photographer, holding my camera out at arm's length to snap the photo.

Betty's melted Brie and fig chutney sandwich

Yolanda's house made pastrami, caramelized onions and gruyère sandwich

(she pronounced this the best pastrami she's ever eaten)

my trout, pickled red onion and caper aïoli sandwich

The sandwiches at the Piedmont come with pommes frites or salad.  I cannot believe I turned down frites, but I also love house made vinaigrette dressing and this one did not disappoint. It's amazing what one can do with olive oil and vinegar.

While we were eating and talking (quite a bit of the latter), it started to snow.  The Piedmont's front is entirely glass so we could see the flakes falling.  It didn't last long and we didn't get much, just a dusting, but it was appropriate on the last day of school before our break.

Betty came bearing gifts for Yolanda and me.  The woman has excellent taste.  I know this firsthand, having observed her shopping in Paris!

She brought handmade chocolates by François for Yolanda and a French flag tree ornament for me. 

What thoughtful cadeaux.  She certainly knows us both very well.

Here's to a hopeful Arles 6 reunion in 2010!

Bon appétit, mes amies!

PS- Yolanda did not share the chocolat...  But that's ok, I doubt I would've either.

Mary's Menagerie

It is Friday, December 18.  Most of the middle school mid-term exams have been taken and my French 7 and 8 ones are sitting in my bag ready to go home and be graded at some point during the break.  (I have actually started my 8th grade ones... go me!).   The kiddies are happy and the teachers are happier.  Breaks are good.  Snow is predicted for this afternoon.  The grocery stores are probably out of bread and milk by now.  My college-aged son arrived home yesterday, his truck loaded down with dirty laundry.  He is working today to earn some money for second semester.  I did indeed love waking him up at 6:45 am, in some sick mom kind of way.

I told my 6th graders all about the Christmas crèche or manger scene and santons figures.  A.C. Moore was generous enough to put a half-off coupon in the paper a couple of weeks ago so I went there to buy Sculpey clay for our project.  Everyone decided which animal they would make for the crèche.  I encouraged farm animals but didn't insist.  I tried to keep away from religious overtones, too, since we are an independent, non-religious school.  We kneaded, rolled, shaped, ate éclairs and listened to Yannick Noah while we worked.  For inspiration, you know.  I love his upbeat music!

So here is what we managed to come up with in about an hour's time--

 

One girl did fashion a Mary out of clay so I've titled our work "Mary's Menagerie."

We have a giraffe, a duck, a pig, a bunny, a snail, a rooster, a snake, a goat, a cat, two sheep, a jelly fish, a puppy, two Christmas-colored mice, Mary and a bearded dragon ("NOT a gila monster, madame," to quote the young man who made that one).

Up close views of a few of them--

Oui, my chèvre is pink... a lot of good things are, you know!

 

Les souris not yet being chased away by the cat...

Just wouldn't be French without an escargot, now would it?

And, bien sûr, the most Gallic of them all, le coq, symbol of France.

Once again, I thank my friend Daniela for her artistic help and input.  It pays to surround oneself with talented people.

Yolanda, of the infamous Arles 6, and I are heading off to lunch at Piedmont in downtown Durham in just a little bit.  Betty, also a member of my Arles gang, is coming to town and we are meeting her.  I've only been to Piedmont once and I can't wait.  I googled them, of course, and my tummy is growling as I salivate over the menu.  Take a look and you'll understand.

http://www.piedmontrestaurant.com/

Sandwiches:  melted brie, beef meatballs with marinara and mozzarella, fried trout with caper aïoli (I LOVE this stuff), housemade pastrami with caramelized onions (if you know me or have read this blog before you KNOW how I feel about caramelized onions); other stuff: soup and pizza of the day, vegetable risotto, charcuterie (a recent French 8 vocab word) plate with pâté...  How on earth will I choose?  At a Wine Authorities Saturday tasting, Seth and Craig served up some of Piedmont's housemade sausages while we sampled wines.  The boudin blanc was far better than any I tasted in France.

J'ai faim, j'ai très faim...  je meurs de faim... j'ai une faim de loup.  Lovely sayings to express hunger.

I am hungry, I am very hungry (literally I have hunger)... I am dying of hunger... I am hungry as a wolf.  Sounds better in le français.

Chef Érick's Classic Aïoli

1 egg yolk

1 tsp Dijon mustard

Fresh lemon juice

Pinch of salt

1 c. or so olive oil (preferably a fruity and not highly acidic oil)

2 garlic cloves, pureed

Prepare the garlic:

On a small plate, squeeze juice from half a lemon, take a sharp-pronged fork and place the prongs flat on the plate, take a peeled garlic clove (the larger the easier to handle) and scrape it back and forth on the tips of the prongs.  The puree will be fine and lightly cured by the acid of the lemon juice, making it more digestible and perfect for cold sauces and salad dressings.

Prepare the mayonnaise:

In a bowl, start stirring with a whisk or a fork the egg yolk, another squirt or two of lemon juice, the pinch of salt and the mustard; pour in olive oil in a steady, thin stream, carefully whisking it into the yolk mixture, stop when you reach a good and relatively solid texture (this takes a while-- it is nice to have a partner to help pour the olive oil for you and to take turns when your arm gets tired!).

Pour the pureed garlic into the mayonnaise, whip up stiff and put aside.   (Ok, you can use a blender, if you want!)

My friend Tammy in Arizona recently tried to whip some up and it never became mayonnaise consistency.  I hope she will try again sometime.  I met Tammy in Arles when she and her husband Chuck came for a cooking week.  We've stayed in touch and even saw each other last summer when she came to Raleigh to visit a friend.

This is pure gold... very good with steamed vegetables (carrots, potatoes , cauliflower, turnips), fresh vegetables (tomatoes, mushrooms, celery, carrots, etc), fish (salmon, shrimp, tuna, poached de-salted salt cod), hard-boiled eggs, crusty French bread to name a few of the ways I've eaten it.

In Provence, there are aïoli-making contests, much like we Southerners have BBQ sauce cook-offs.  I believe that generous amounts of rosé are necessary, however.  Keep that in mind and drink pink!

Bon appétit, mes animaux!

Gifts 2

Today, Jim,  one of my former students (known as Jimmy when he was a student in my very first 7th grade homeroom in 1980-81) sent me a little gift-- two jars of his very own barbecue sauce.  I didn't even know he was making it!  His daughter comes to the after school study hall I supervise every day.  His wife made the delivery.   Quelle bonne service, n'est-ce pas?

For those of you who do not live in Durham, North Carolina, I will explain the name.  Durham is known as The Bull City because we were home to the Bull Durham Tobacco Factory.  Yep, we had a thriving tobacco industry going on here in the not so distant past.  When I first moved here in 1980, on a day when the wind was blowing just right I could smell tobacco being turned into cigarettes by just stepping outside my classroom.  The tobacco and cigarette industries are gone now, but the nickname, The Bull City, has stuck with us.  Our AAA baseball team is the Durham Bulls.  Kevin Costner and Susan Sarandon made us famous in the movie Bull Durham.  We were single A then, owned by the Atlanta Braves.  We are now owned by the Tampa Bay  Marlins Rays (merci mille fois to Betty who caught my goof-up here-- where is my un-ex sports expert editor when I need him??).  There is talk of a sequel... I will be on the set for that one, if there is any way possible.  I will not allow Kevin to come to town a second time without meeting me.  (I missed it the first go-around... I was pregnant in 1987.  The film was released in 1988.)

But I digress here.  Back to the BBQ sauce.  I plan to try it out on my eaters tonight and see what they think.  Here's the website: WWW.BULLCITYBBQ.COM

To read about my eaters, check out today's Durham Herald-Sun article at:

http://www.heraldsun.com/pages/full_story/push?article-Dinner+is+not+a+foe+to+be+faced%20&id=5155362-Dinner+is+not+a+foe+to+be+faced&instance=main_article

I'll let you know how the taste test goes!

Bon appétit, Bull City!

Note:  We tried the sauce with poulet rôti, (Harris Teeter roasted chicken) and it was really good!  Go, Jimmy!  Bravo!  When the weather warms up a bit, I plan to try something on the grill and use it.

Gifts

Le Père Noël is here in my classroom with some beautifully wrapped gifts.  My advisees and I decided we would draw names and play "Secret Snowflake" -- our version of Secret Santa.  We brought in little gifts for each other for 5 days.  One of my advisees brought in the little French Père Noël and he kept watch over the gifts.

Choosing just the right gift for someone is one of life's greatest pleasures.  I am lucky if I am able to do that once or twice a year.  You know, the AH HA! moment when you see something that you just know is the perfect fit for a friend or relative.  I gave my Secret Snowflake some bubblegum shaped like coal and she loved it.  It turned her tongue and teeth black when she chewed it.  Just a little thing but right up a 7th grader's alley.

My friend Daniela came in one day this fall with a gift for me.  She is like that-- always very thoughtful.  I am the recipient of her generous nature more times than I deserve.  She loves thrift and secondhand shops as much as I do.  Just one of the things we have in common.  This is what she found for me:

This, mes amis, is the Bible of French cooking-- Larousse Gastronomique.  She found this tome, formerly on the shelf of the Muscle Shoals Regional Library, while she was out and about one day.  It is the English version,  printed in 1961.  It includes prefaces to the original version written by Auguste Escoffier and Philéas Gilbert.   It is 1101 pages thick and has 8500 recipes and 1000 illustrations.  It is known as the "Encyclopedia of Food, Wine and Cookery."  I must admit that it scares me a bit.  Or maybe overwhelms me is more appropriate.  However, I pull it out once in a while and just randomly open it to a page and read. 

Potatoes is the heading I am looking at right now.  Parmentier potatoes (Oh, Julia!), parsley potatoes, potatoes à la paysanne (made with sorrel, butter, chervil, garlic, salt pepper and meat stock), potato purée (otherwise known as mashed potatoes), potato purée à la crème (is there any other way??), potato purée au gratin (with some grated cheese on top and baked), potato purée soup, potato quenelles à l'alsacienne (mashed potatoes with eggs, flour, salt, pepper and nutmeg added to make a paste, quenelled or shaped into balls and then poached in salted water, drained, placed in a buttered dish and drizzled with hot noisette butter mixed with freshly grated lightly fried breadcrumbs), potato quenelles with Parmesan cheese, etc etc etc.  Since it is now noon and I am starving, I think I will stop right here.  Hmmm... wonder where I can find some potatoes for lunch?

Parmentier potatoes are named for Antoine-Augustin Parmentier (1737-1813) a fascinating fellow who is remembered as a "vocal promoter of the potato as a food source for humans in France and throughout Europe" according to Wikipedia.  Here is the recipe found in Larousse--

Parmentier Potatoes

Pommes de terre parmentier

Cut potatoes into pieces about 1/3 inch square.  Cook them in butter.  Serve in a vegetable dish and sprinkle with chopped parsley.

Note:  These potatoes are more often cooked with the meat with which they are served.

Here is another version, with specific ingredient amounts... Julia loved them and they are so simple!

Parmentier Potatoes

Serves 4

1 1/2 lb. potatoes

1 c. butter

1 Tbsp. parsley, chopped for garnish

Salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 400F.

Peel and cut the potatoes into small pieces, about 1/2 inch square.  Season the diced potatoes with salt and pepper.

Cook in melted butter in the oven for about 25 minutes, turning occasionally, until they are golden brown.

Sprinkle with the chopped parsley as a garnish.

Bon appétit, Larousse Gastronomique!

Christmas and cookies

Look who is climbing La Tour Eiffel on my Christmas tree, mon sapin de Noël.  That's right,  Santa himself.  Le Père Noël.  I hope that he will be the only one climbing the tree and not Rusty or Callie, the cats.

But, yes, the tree is up, the front porch is strung with lights and there are two presents under the tree, thanks to my in-laws.  First and foremost this week, though, is not Christmas, but surviving exams.  Both sons are taking them and I am writing them.  A bit of stress.

So what does one do when one is stressed?  One bakes.

 

I made scones yesterday morning and even sent some to the head of my school.  He has taken to stopping me on the sidewalk to discuss cooking, even going so far as tell me all about the homemade apple pie he made a couple of weeks ago.  There are no photos, he says, so I guess I just have to take his word for it.  His daughter helped him so I could ask her if I wanted to, but I suppose I believe him.  He was quite proud of himself for making this pie.  He did tell a story on himself, though.  It seems that when he was first married, his wife made an apple pie for him.  He made the all-too-familiar newlywed mistake of telling his lovely bride that it didn't taste as good as his mother's.  I think he didn't appreciate her crust.  Well, twenty plus years of marriage later, he has not tasted another of her apple pies because she never made another one.  He made the same mistake with her macaroni and cheese, too.  You guessed it, he hasn't had homemade mac and cheese since. 

I also made cookies.  I love to bake cookies.  (I also love to eat cookies, of course.  I'm afraid that one day I will look in the mirror and I'll be blue and have googly eyes...)

But the cookies and accompanying hot chocolate did help with the studying and writing.

Snickerdoodles

makes 6 dozen cookies

1 c. shortening

1 1/2 c. sugar

2 eggs

2 3/4 c. sifted flour

2 tsp. cream of tartar

1 tsp. baking soda

1/4 tsp. salt

2 tsp. cinnamon

Sugar, for rolling

Preheat oven to 400F.  Mix shortening, sugar and eggs thoroughly.  Blend flour, cream of tartar, soda and salt.  Stir into shortening mixture.  Shape dough into 1 inch balls.  Roll in mixture of 1/4 c. sugar and cinnamon.  Place 2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheet and bake 8-10 minutes.

Bon appétit, Cookie Monster!