TasteFood

Tarte Tatin

 

Tarte Tatin is pure heaven for lovers of caramelized fruit.  Essentially, it's an upside-down tart, with the fruit slowly caramelized in buttter and sugar on the stove top, then topped with pastry and baked in the oven.  The origin of Tarte Tatin lies with the Tatin sisters who had a restaurant in the French village of Lamotte-Beuvron at the turn of the 20th century.  The story goes that they made an error while baking a traditional apple tart, when the pastry was omitted from the bottom of the tart pan.  Not to be deterred, the Tatin sisters added the pastry as an afterthought on top of the fruit, and so we have the Tarte Tatin.  This is a perfect example of going with the flow in the kitchen - with spectacular results.  

 Tarte Tatin
 
A perfect dessert to finish an autumn meal.  Traditionally prepared with apples, but pears and apricots work well, too.
Serves 10-12

Sour Cream Pastry:
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt 
1 cup chilled unsalted butter, cut in pieces
1/2 cup sour cream

Apple Filling:
1/2 cup unsalted butter, divided into 4 pieces, room temperature
1 cup plus 2 tblsp. sugar 
5-6 large Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, quartered top to bottom

1 egg, lightly beaten

Prepare pastry:
Combine flour, sugar and salt in a large bowl of a mixer fitted with a whisk attachment. Mix well. Add butter and mix at medium-low speed until butter is size of peas, 2-3 minutes. Add sour cream and mix until moist clumps form.  Gather dough into ball, flatten and wrap in plastic.  Refrigerate at least 2 hours. (Can be made one day ahead. Refrigerate until use.) Let soften slightly at room temperature before rolling out.

Arrange butter over bottom of large oven-proof skillet (preferably cast iron.)  Sprinkle 1 cup sugar over butter. Place skillet over medium-low heat and cook until butter melts, sugar begins to dissolve and mixture starts to bubble, about 3 minutes.  Remove from heat.
Arrange apples, core side up, around edge of skillet, placing tightly together. Place remaining apples in a circle in center of skillet.  Sprinkle with the remaining sugar.
Set skillet over medium-high heat. Boil until a thick amber-colored syrup forms, occasionally turning skillet to ensure even cooking, about 30 minutes.  While apples cook, fill in gaps with additional apple quarters. Remove skillet from heat.  

While apples are cooking on stove, preheat oven to 425 F.
Roll out pastry on floured surface or parchment paper to a round shape to fit size of skillet. 
Place dough over apple mixture once removed from stove, pressing dough down around the apples at edge of skillet.  Cut 4 slits in top of pastry.  Brush pastry with the egg glaze. 
Bake tart until pastry is golden brown, 30-40 minutes. Remove from oven and cool one minute.
Cut around edge of skillet to loosen pastry. Place large platter over skillet. Using oven mitts, hold skillet and platter together tightly together and invert tart onto platter.  Cool at least 30 minutes. 
Cut in wedges and serve warm or at room temperature with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

 

Shrimp Spring Rolls with Coriander and Mint and Chili-Peanut Sauce

 

Rule of thumb: When traveling to far flung destinations, eat as the locals do. 

This has merit for several reasons.  First (and clearly stating the obvious) if you are in France, for goodness' sake, eat French.  This is, after all, where you will find the authentic real deal.  Second, when far off the beaten path (for instance, the garden route along the south coast of South Africa circa mid-90's) steer clear of restaurant establishments that offer such delicacies as Authentic Tex-Mex! or Authentic Japanese Sushi!  Same principal yet the inverse: this is far from authentic and far from the real deal.  And, if you do find yourself far from home, hungry and homesick for a taste of your favorite neighborhood ethnic cuisine and succumb to the temptation, beware that, quite likely, you will be supremely disappointed.

This raises an interesting challenge of living abroad.  Some of the wonderful aspects of the expatriate lifestyle are experiencing other cultures, tasting the local food, celebrating the different traditions.  For all the experiences and pleasures, however, there can be moments when you simply crave the ribs from Redbones, the tacos from Olé Grill or the dim sum from China Pearl  - your old favorite haunts, thousands of miles away and sadly ignorant of your self-imposed exile.  During these unsympathetic, nostalgic and hungry moments, I learned that the best way to satisfy my craving was to make the dish myself.

This recipe for Shrimp Spring Rolls with Coriander and Mint is a result of my DIY culinary curve while living in Europe in the nineties.  Unable to find a decent version in the restaurants, I learned to make these fresh, crispy, toothsome Vietnamese-inspired spring rolls at home.  They are not cooked, but wrapped in rice paper and rolled up, stuffed and bulging with fresh mint and coriander, carrots, shrimp and vermicelli noodles.  Dipped in a sweet and spicy chili-peanut sauce, these rolls are positively addictive and perfect food for the hot summer weather -  and a perfect tonic to a homesick expat.

Shrimp Spring Rolls with Coriander and Mint and Chili-Peanut Sauce
Makes 8

Remember that the key to a good roll is to have a balance of sweet, savory, heat and salt in the ingredients and to combine a variety of textures for a satisfying bite.  Be sure to prepare all the ingredients in advance, so that when you are ready to assemble the rolls, everything is in place.

3 oz. vermicelli rice noodles
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
8 (eight inch) rice paper rounds
4 Boston lettuce leaves, ribs removed, halved
1 cup shredded carrot
1 bunch coriander leaves, about 1 cup
1 bunch mint leaves, about 1 cup
1 english cucumber, peeled, seeded, cut in matchsticks
4 scallions, cut length-wise in julienne strips
1 serrano chile, stemmed, seeded, cut in julienne
15 medium cooked shrimp, peeled, halved horizontally

Chili-Peanut Sauce for dipping

Make Spring Rolls:
Place noodles in a wide bowl.  Pour hot water over to cover. Let stand 15 minutes.  Drain well in a colander.  Toss with rice vinegar, sugar and salt.
While the noodles are soaking, prepare all of the ingredients, so that the spring rolls are ready to assemble.
Pour warm water into a shallow pan.  Immerse one rice paper round in water until pliable, about 30 seconds.  Remove and spread on a plastic cutting board.  Blot dry with a towel.
Arrange a lettuce leaf half over the bottom half of the rice paper round, taking care to leave a 1" border along the edge.
Top lettuce with 1/4 cup rice noodles, arranging them horizontally over.  
Top noodles with a line of shredded carrot, coriander and mint leaves, cucumber, scallions and chile.
Fold bottom of rice paper over filling and begin to roll up tightly.  At halfway point arrange 3 shrimp halves horizontally over the crease, then fold in the ends and continue rolling.
Transfer roll, seam-side down to a plate and cover with damp towel.  Repeat with remaining rolls.  (Adjust ingredient amounts to taste and to ensure the roll is plump and full, while still allowing it to be folded in and sealed.)
Spring rolls can be made 4 hours in advance.  Cover with damp paper towels and plastic wrap and refrigerate.  Serve with Chili-Peanut Sauce.

Chili-Peanut Sauce

2 garlic cloves, minced
3 tablespoons creamy peanut butter
2 tablespoons water
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
2 teaspoons sweet chili sauce

In a small bowl, whisk together all ingredients.  Set aside.  Can be made one day in advance.

Tip: If you have left over filling ingredients and sauce, try tossing them together in a bowl for a light Asian Rice Noodle Salad with Chili Peanut Dressing.  It works!

Le Marché au Place des Lices - St. Tropez

 

Summer Solstice Danish-Style

 
Denmark is the land of the (nearly) midnight sun. The sun sets just before 11:00 in the evening, only to begin its ascent again in the wee hours of the morning. In a land where the winters are long and very dark, it is no wonder that celebrations, and even a God or two, have been delegated to give thanks and perhaps curry favor with the fiery powers that be. Summer Solstice, or Sankt Hans Aften (which means the eve of St. John the Baptist Day), is the height of these jubilations, as it celebrates the longest day of the year. Bonfires are lit, and food and drink are plentiful, as the Vikings of yesteryear, and in spirit, party and feast until dawn.

This year we will attempt our own celebration on a nearby beach.  We will light a bonfire and have a picnic dinner as the sun sets.  It is likely that we will forego the authentic tradition of burning an effigy over the fire, as that may not go over too well with the local residents and could quite possibly get us arrested.  (Proper solstice tradition would have a straw witch burned over the fire.  This symbolizes the riddance of problems, worries, and threats from people's lives.)

Food typically associated with the solstice celebration is simple picnic fare: grilled fish or meat, fresh boiled local crayfish (which can be a party unto itself) and remoulade sauce, potato salad, green salad and a dessert featuring summer strawberries.  All of this would be accompanied, Viking-style, by beer, snaps and wine throughout the evening.

Summer Solstice NOMA-Style

Last summer we were in Denmark visiting friends and family during the summer solstice.  Miraculously, we managed to get a coveted dinner reservation at the acclaimed Copenhagen restaurant NOMA, and realized that our luck was only due to the general population out partying in traditional solstice-style on beaches before bonfires rather than in restaurants.  Seizing our opportunity, we invited our Danish friends and hosts (who were more than happy to abandon tradition for a table at NOMA) to join us. 

That evening, we dined on a fabulous prix-fixe menu consisting of 7 courses composed exclusively of ingredients hailing from Nordic countries.  (NOMA is an acronym for Nordisk Mad - or Nordic Food in Danish.)  A visit to this restaurant is highly recommended if you are in Copenhagen, although advance reservations are a must. It is a fantastic collaboration between Danish chefs Claus Meyer and René Redzepi.  All ingredients originate from Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Iceland, Greenland and the Faroe Islands.  They run from the familiar to the exotic: eel, musk ox, green strawberries, hare, seaweed, rye bread, black lobster are a few examples (quite out of context.)  You may feast on dishes such as Sautéed Dover Sole with New Danish Potatoes, Green Strawberries and Elderberry Sauce perhaps accompanied by Stirred Mashed Potatoes with Lumpfish Roe and Crispy Chicken Skin, and finish with Caramel Ice Cream with Icelandic Buttermilk, Dried Swedish Berries and Sorrel Crème Anglaise. 

I enjoy poring over the NOMA Nordic Cuisine cookbook, which I bought as a memento after our meal. It is an inspirational and unique testament to Nordic terroir, and apropos several interesting blogs that attempt to prepare every single recipe in a particular tome of a cookbook, I would seriously have a go at reproducing NOMA's - if only I could get my hands on chickweed, seakale and sweet cicely.  For now, I do what I always do and improvise with the seasonal and local products I find in my part of the world.   

As we drove home after our long dinner, it was approaching midnight.  To the west the sun had just set and exited the sky in a swirl of orange and purple flourishes in its haste to rise again. To the east it was doing just that, where the sky was brightening and soft pink tinges nudged the gray-blue midnight summer sky.  It was truly a magical Danish solstice moment. 

San Francisco Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chino Farms

Size is not everything at this wonderful little farm stand in Rancho Sante Fe, California.  Just north of San Diego, Chino Farms is a family-run farm that has been in business for over 30 years.   Tucked in the countryside east of Del Mar, Chino Farms sells its just-harvested produce to any and all who stop at their roadside stand.  Chefs and home cooks alike patiently stand in line to choose their produce. If you dine in any of the area's best farm-to-table restaurants, you can be sure your veggies are from Chinos. 

Since we were there as tourists, and unable to return to our kitchen to prepare a farm-fresh meal, we satsified ourselves with baskets of wild strawberries to nibble on as we drove down coastal route 101 on our way to the beach.  In the evening, back at the Lodge at Torrey Pines, we were lucky enough to enjoy a meal at A.R. Valentien where we were told the chef uses fresh produce from Chino Farms.

 

 

 

 

 

A Festival of Lemons

 

To me, lemons symbolize early spring and a brightness at the end of a lingering winter season.  Mind you, I live in California now, and our winter has been unseasonably warm and dry to this point, but as I think about lemons for a moment, I am transported back to Northern Europe where by the end of January, the dark and drizzle of the long winter season would be wearing thin. The knowledge of approaching spring and lengthening days would be shrugged off in a moment of impatience when we would impulsively book a quick escape in February to somewhere south in search of warmth and light.  A favorite destination would be the south of France, for, while Scandinavia and the UK would be shrouded in chilly mist and shadow, our southern counterparts would be basking in sunshine, enjoying the blooming daffodils and mimosa, and partaking in the festivities of Carnival in Nice and the Fête du Citron in Menton.

Fête du Citron?  Yes, that would be a Lemon Festival, and each year for 6 weeks from February to March, the  city of Menton devotes a celebration to all things citrus and yellow.  Situated halfway between Monte Carlo and the Italian border along the riviera, Menton is blessed with a warm micro-climate that is conducive to growing citrus.  Its history of cultivating lemons dates back to the 15th century, and by the early 19th century Menton was a main exporter of lemons to Europe and America.  Its prominence declined following a frost and increased competition from neighboring Italy and Spain, and, in 1934, the Lemon Festival was established in order to call attention to the replanting of Menton's lemon trees and the re-establishment of their citrus production. 

And what a festival it is.  Over the course of 6 weeks the town has celebrations, parades, and fireworks. Lemons, lemons are everywhere.  Parade floats are made of lemons, statues and decorations consist of lemons, food revolves around lemons, and tours and exhibitions are held throughout the city and at private estates to view lemon and citrus groves.  Typically, this festival coincides with the Carnival celebration in nearby Nice, so If you happen to be in the area for this double whammy of festivals, you can rest assured that you will have your fill of sun, fun and celebration - a perfect antidote for the winter doldrums.

Now, for those of us far away from the village of Menton and unable to hop on a short flight to the south of France, a little imagination is necessary to visualize this event and transport ourselves away from snowdrifts and frigid temperatures.  What I can offer you in tangibles, however,  is the following dessert. This lemon tart is simple to make and very, very lemony.  Its brightness is guarranteed to add a little sunshine to  your day, wherever you are.

 

Lemon Tart - Tarte au Citron

Makes one 9" tart

For the pastry - Pâte Sucrée
1 1/4 cup flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
7 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut in 1/2" pieces
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon ice water

Combine flour, sugar and salt in bowl of food processor.  Add butter, using on/off turns until the mixture becomes crumbly. 
Stir together egg yolk and water in small bowl.  Add to flour mixture.  Pulse until dough begins to clump together. 
Press dough into bottom and up sides of 9-inch tart pan with removable bottom.  Trim edges.  Pierce crust all over with fork.  Freeze 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350 F.  Line crust with foil.  Fill with dried beans or pie weights.  Bake until crust is set, about 15 minutes.  Remove foil and beans or weights.  Continue baking until crust is lightly golden, about 20 minutes.  Transfer to rack to cool while preparing the filling.

For the Lemon Filling:

6 egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
3/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (2-3 lemons)
6 tablespoons butter, softened
pinch of salt
2 teaspoons lemon zest

In a medium sauce pan, combine egg yolks and sugar.  Mix well to combine.  Add remaining ingredients, except for the lemon zest.  Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon.  (Do not allow to boil or the mixture will curdle.)
When the mixture changes to a bright yellow color, and thickly coats the wooden spoon, remove from heat.  Pour through a fine strainer.  Discard the residue.  Stir in lemon zest.
Pour the filling into the cooled tart shell; it will continue to thicken as it sets.  Let it sit at least one hour.  Serve at room temperature or cold.

 

Holiday Timeout: Turkey Vegetable Soup with Swiss Chard

  

I am going to slip this recipe right in. Flanked by a Christmas Eve house party with lots of gløgg and hors d'oeuvres and a looming New Year's black tie dinner, I made this simple, healthy and restorative soup the other day for a gastronomique time-out.

In addition to a Christmas Eve party spread of food, we roasted a turkey for our Christmas Day meal. It may sound redundant on the heels of Thanksgiving, but for Thanksgiving this year we were graced with airport and airline food as we were in transit home from a trip to New York City. While we missed the traditional holiday, it was refreshingly civilized at JFK; we enjoyed a smooth glitch-free day of travel courtesy of the Thanksgiving holiday. We comforted ourselves with the thought of saving our turkey binge for Christmas Day, instead.

So, back to the recipe:  I made this soup using the stock I made from our Christmas turkey, and filled it with vegetables left over from our party.  While the recipe calls for turkey stock and turkey meat, chicken can easily be substituted.  During the ever-so-festive-and-excessive holiday season, this homey soup is delicious, comforting and healthy.  I cannot think of a better gastronomique time-out.

Turkey Vegetable Soup with Swiss Chard
Serves 4-6

The chard adds heartiness to this flavorful soup.  Choose either red or green chard; you will find the red chard will add a deep red color to the stock.

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large yellow onion, halved lengthwise, cut in thick slices
3 large carrots, sliced 1/2" thick
4 celery stalks, sliced 1/2" thick on the diagonal
8 cups turkey stock
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon fresh thyme or 2 teaspoons dried thyme
1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 cups Swiss chard leaves, shredded
2 cups cooked turkey meat, in large chunks


Heat olive oil over medium heat in a large pot.  Add onion, celery and carrots.  Sauté over medium heat until the vegetables begin to soften, 3 minutes.  Add turkey stock, bay leaf and thyme.  Bring to a boil, and simmer until vegetables are tender, about 20 minutes.  Add salt and pepper to taste. Stir in Swiss chard and turkey meat.  Simmer until chard is wilted.  Discard bay leaf.  Serve immediately.

Kitchen Table Philosophy: Thanksgiving

The more the merrier - 
especially on Thanksgiving.

For 17 years I celebrated Thanksgiving abroad in three different countries.  Naturally, this could have been a lonely experience, as this is uniquely a North American holiday. However, these were the best Thanksgivings in my memory.  Each year I would host the Thanksgiving meal, and I invited any American or Canadian I knew and their partners, spouses and families.  These would be friends, friends of friends, family of friends, colleagues of friends - anyone seeking a Thanksgiving celebration and finding themselves far from home.  

I would make the turkey, and everyone was invited to bring a favorite dish from their traditional Thanksgiving table.  The meal would be held in the evening on Thanksgiving as the day was not a recognized holiday in other countries.  Guests would arrive - alone, with friends, significant others, and with children in tow. I don't think there was ever fewer than 20 people at our table any given year. And what a feast we would have:  brined turkey and gravy, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, wild rice, beans, carrots, collard greens, salsas, casseroles, carrots, beans, brussel sprouts, cranberries, compotes, pumpkin pies and cheesecakes, pecan pies, apple crisps.  It was a rainbow of Thanksgiving traditions spanning the North American continent, each year different from the next.  

These moments were to me the best of Thanksgiving:  connecting with others, opening a home and table to friends and strangers, celebrating traditions and giving thanks for friends and family.   I wish all my North American readers - everywhere - a very happy Thanksgiving.