Christmas is in three days, this Friday. I suspect you know that already, but I’d like to state the obvious, in case you didn’t notice today’s date or forgot in the frenzy of the season. It’s easy to lose focus when we have so much craziness around.
I hope I’m sounding excited because I really am. I made a jaw-dropping, eye-catching, sense-rejuvenating Yule log adapted from a recipe by the one and only, best of the best Pierre Hermé. I was introduced to Pierre Hermé by my sister in law, Lamia, three years ago. She owns a cookbook of his that she treasures like her dessert bible. I love Lamia—she’s so sweet. I must say I envy her a little for her agility and ability in the kitchen. She makes you so jealous and resentful by always making perfectly perfect desserts. But then she feeds them to you, and you love her all over again. Ah, those tartes aux amandes and fondants au chocolat of hers…Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!
When I looked at Hermé’s bûches de Noël, he had recipes of every kind. I’m used to the chocolate and vanilla bûches available at every pâtisserie during this season in Morocco. My mother never made one. We either bought it or received it as a present. Moroccans—for the most part—don’t celebrate Christmas, but decorate stores and restaurants for the season. People exchange Christmas-looking cards (with evergreens, ornaments, candles…) that say “Bonnes Fêtes” or “Bonne Année” instead of Merry Christmas. Some people even go out to dinner or a party on Christmas Eve, but it’s a mindless celebration—just another occasion to have fun.
Amid Hermé’s panoply of mouth-watering bûche recipes, I liked the rose, raspberry and lychee one. I couldn’t find fresh or canned lychees anywhere near where I live, so I substituted canned Bartlett pears, which worked beautifully. I thought the fruity pink filling and topping would brighten up my table in the middle of the winter and taste delightfully light after a meal. It reminds me of the gâteau roulé au citron I ate and loved as child, which is just as playful. You’ll be surprised by the lightness of the génoise and raspberry ricotta which I liked much better than the original buttercream in the recipe.
P.S. The pictures really don’t do justice to how wonderful this Yule log tastes (I will redo them as soon as I can.)
Bûche de Noël with Raspberries, Rose and Pears
6 to 8 servings
For the génoise (cake)
2/3 cup sugar
4 eggs, yolks and whites separated
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
For the filling
8 ounces part skim milk ricotta
5 ounces fresh raspberries, plus more for garnish
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon rose water
1 (15-ounce) can Bartlett pears in light syrup (or lychees, preferably)
For the syrup
Syrup from the can of pears
1 teaspoon rose water
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a 8×10 pan with parchment paper.
Beat the sugar with the egg yolks in a medium mixing bowl until frothy. Gently whisk in the flour. Beat the egg whites to soft peaks and fold them into the egg yolk, sugar and flour mixture. Transfer to the prepared pan and bake for 10 to 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, place the ricotta, raspberries, sugar, and rose water in the bowl of a food processor and reduce to a purée. Set aside.
When the cake is cooked, unmold it onto a damp towel, remove the parchment paper and roll the cake immediately with the towel. Let it cool that way, about 20 minutes. Place the pears on a cutting board and dice them. Pour the syrup into a small saucepan, add the rose water and heat it over low heat for about 5 minutes. Unroll the cake and remove the towel. Brush the cake lightly with the syrup, spread half of the raspberry ricotta inside the cake and top with diced pears. Gently roll the cake, cover it with raspberry ricotta and cut off the ends. Garnish with raspberries and refrigerate for an hour before serving.
The week is almost over. It’s been a hectic but wonderful one. So many things happened: I did and redid homework, graded quizzes, wrapped presents, exchanged presents, met with friends, cooked pasta, baked muffins, and even mentally traveled to Morocco for my half sister Maria’s wedding. Even though we didn’t grow up together, I would have loved to be there for her wedding. Maria is a beautiful and smart 23-year-old banker with many talents. I wish her all the happiness in the world.
Tonight, I had a great dinner. I made turkey meatloaf my way (what do I not do my way?). I’ve always had this great meatloaf recipe, but this time I made changes inspired by my favorite of all cheeses: La Vache Qui Rit, The Laughing Cow. I grew up eating a tartine with La Vache Qui Rit every morning for breakfast for 23 years. Can you believe that?! 365 delicious and creamy wedges of cheese multiplied by 23! Do the math!
When I glimpsed the motherly red cow laughing on the circular box at Publix, I got an adrenaline rush. I thought I saw my own mother. They both were there for me every single day of my 23 blissful years, after all. I love adding cheese to my meatloaf. I have made the same meatloaf before with Feta cheese—and it’s fantastic. Any creamy, strong-flavored, easy to blend cheese would work—whatever cheese you have on hand would work, even if it’s a hard cheese that you have to grate.
But, consider buying La Vache Qui Rit—not only will you love it in this meatloaf, but you’ll have a few wedges left for a great-tasting, easy to transport snack. It comes in many flavors and is available light.
Meatloaf My Way
2 slices wheat bread, crusts removed
1/4 cup milk
1 1/4 pounds ground turkey breast
1 egg, beaten
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon ground sage
½ teaspoon ground mustard
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 small onion, grated
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
4 wedges Original or Garlic Herb La Vache Qui Rit (or 2 to 3 ounces of Feta)
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
Tear the bread into pieces in a large mixing bowl. Add the milk and allow the bread to soak. Add the turkey, egg, salt, pepper, oregano, sage, mustard powder, garlic, onion, parsley and cheese. Mix until all the ingredients are well blended.
Press the mixture into an 8×4 loaf pan. Bake 50 to 55 minutes.
I had pasta yesterday, and so did I tonight. I didn’t cook tonight, but I did yesterday. Ce soir, I ate at an Italian restaurant. I had Chicken Marsala (with pasta, of course). Pasta is a food that I don’t tire of easily. Maya doesn’t either.
Four years ago, while working on a chapter about food with my students, I asked them to write what they had for dinner the entire previous week, hoping they’d use as much vocabulary as possible. A girl, whose name I can’t remember, but whose light blond highlights on jet black hair I will never forget, wrote les pâtes (pasta) for every single night. When I told her I wanted more effort than writing the same word seven times, she innocently answered: but, madame, that’s what I eat every night. I asked her if she didn’t get tired of having it all week. She said it was totally fine.
I guess pasta is truly a dish one can have often and be happy every time. It’s versatile enough that every night’s pasta dinner can taste completely different.
Spaghetti with Saffron Red Pepper Sauce and Gruyère
2 red bell peppers, stemmed, seeded, and chopped
2 shallots, chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 pinches saffron
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup chicken broth
2 tablespoons plain yogurt
1 (14-ounce) box of multi-grain spaghetti
4 ounces gruyère, freshly shredded
A handful chopped fresh cilantro, for garnish
Place the red bell peppers and shallots in a medium saucepan. Season with salt, pepper, and saffron. Add the olive oil and sauté over medium heat, 4 minutes. Add the chicken broth and simmer until the red bell peppers are very soft and the liquid reduced to half, 12 to 15 minutes. Stir in the yogurt. Blend on high in a food processor until smooth and creamy.
Meanwhile, cook the pasta in boiling salted water according to package directions. Drain.
Add the pasta to the red pepper sauce and mix well. Plate, top with shredded gruyère and garnish with chopped cilantro.
I love strawberries, and I love white chocolate, and I love muffins. And I love them even more together. These are my favorite muffins to eat and give as Christmas presents. I like to make special gifts for special people. While in the past, I have often given homemade soaps of every shape, size and scent; this year, I’m giving edible gifts. Food is what’s consuming my days and nights. That’s what I want to give people. That’s what they’re expecting. That’s how it’s meant to be this year.
I have favorites when it comes to cakes and muffins. In the cake arena, my rose pumpkin cake is a constant. I have made it more than twenty times in the past year or so—mostly for other people to enjoy. In the muffin front, this recipe is my absolute favorite. I tend to keep the same base ingredients and just change the flavors and textures every now and then. I must admit, though, that this particular recipe with strawberries and white chocolate is special. The berries make the muffins so moist and melt into a gooey syrupy liquid that travels through the muffin, enriching it with flavor. The strawberry yogurt adds even more fruitiness—my mother has always made muffins with yogurt; and I have always loved how scrumptious they tasted.
I worked on an assignment for a class I’m taking for many hours yesterday. When I went back to finish it today, I found out it didn’t save. I always save my work. I always do. I’m a responsible person and I value my work enough to save it. Where do unsaved “saved documents” go? I shall find out one day. This will remain one of the mysteries I would like solved. I called my problem-solving, solution-finding engineer fiancé to have my unsaved “saved document” issue fixed. He talked about file recovery and others things I can’t nor want to remember. After about half an hour following directions over the phone, clumsily clicking on unknown commands, the conclusion was that my file was nowhere to be found. It was gone for good. I left my computer and headed to the kitchen in search of something that I know will be there after I’m done working on it. And yes, all twelve beautiful muffins were there when I was done. No technology or file recovery needed. I love the simplest things in life. They’re the most reliable. I’m sure muffins will still be around after computers are long gone and replaced by who knows what.
Strawberry and White Chocolate Muffins
Yields 12 muffins
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 tablespoon baking soda
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 cup strawberry yogurt
2 ounces unsalted butter, melted
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup quartered strawberries
1/2 cup white chocolate chips
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a 12-cup muffin tin with baking cups.
In a large mixing bowl, combine the two flours, baking soda, brown sugar, and salt. Mix the dry ingredients until well combined.
Add the eggs, yogurt, butter, and vanilla and mix well using an electric mixer. Fold in the strawberries and white chocolate. Spoon the muffin batter into the baking cups and bake until golden brown, 20 to 25 minutes.
Also called bean thread noodles or cellophane vermicelli, these noodles can be found in any Asian market. They are made of green beans, mung beans, broad beans, or peas and are gluten-free and much lighter than wheat noodles. In Morocco, this Asian “breakthrough” has been used for the last couple of decades and has made its way into many traditional dishes. Glass noodles are commonly used to stuff birds, b’stillas and squid, but my favorite way to savor them is as a side dish.
I especially like them lemony, with capers or chopped preserved lemons, and often add sliced green olives or mushrooms. Julienned carrots, lightly sautéed, also go really well with glass noodles and blend in beautifully as you’re twisting your fork in a ballet pirouette motion to gather a mouthful.
If you wish to add protein and transform this into a main dish, opt for an aliment that matches glass noodles in lightness. Shrimp or clams would complete them to perfection. Anything heavier—say, for example beef or chicken—would yield a mismatch made in heaven. This is one of those dishes where you want to keep all the ingredients soft, and adding a crunch or a contrast is not desirable.
These “angel food” vermicelli are white and opaque, but become transparent when cooked. I wish I had taken a picture of the package and the before-and-after picture of noodles, but of course I was in a hurry to cook, eat, and be done. The noodles I used this time are the ones my mother brought on her last visit from Morocco. It’s an item I always request from her that she started bringing it without being asked. The brand she’s always used is the only one that probably makes it all the way to Morocco—it’s called Longkou. Other brands that I’ve seen here in the US are just as good and readily available.
Glass Noodles with Lemon, Garlic and Cilantro
8 ounces glass noodles
6 garlic cloves, minced
6 tablespoons olive oil
24 sprigs cilantro, chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper
1 lemon, freshly squeezed
Soak the glass noodles in hot water until soft and transparent, 15 to 20 minutes. Drain the noodles.
In a medium skillet, sauté the garlic in olive oil over low heat until golden but not brown, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the noodles, cilantro, salt, and pepper and cook, turning constantly, 3 to 4 minutes. Mix in the lemon juice.
Transfer to a plate and serve warm.
The temperature has dropped considerably today, and our warm and sunny Florida is on its way to becoming frigorific as the end of the year approaches. This afternoon when I left work, it was gloomy and somewhat blustery as I trotted to my car. How can Florida get so cold? I felt betrayed by her.
I don’t want to scare away northerners coming to my Floridian blog in search of a little warmth. It’s honestly not that bad. Whining about temperature in the fifties when you live in one of the warmest places on the planet is pretty pathetic. I’m in complaint mode lately, grumbling about everyone and everything––even my favorite perfume bothers me these days.
Having had a very restful vacation not too long ago with a few activities scheduled between naps, I had so much sleep that John made me promise not to complain about being sleep-deprived for at least another month. But here I am, after less than two weeks, shamelessly griping again. I thought about browsing cheap flights to check out deals; but reminded myself of tuition fees, mortgage payments, insurance bills and Christmas presents, and opted for homemade comforts I can afford.
Just coming home to a lit up Christmas tree and a loving family warms me up. I love slipping into my flannel pajamas and jumping onto the couch with a cup of hot chocolate in hand (without spilling any)—it wipes away the weariness of the whole week. Vive le weekend!
Whether you’re baking, contemplating baking or envying those who are either baking or contemplating baking, you’ll find this post useful this season. Maybe you’re none of the above, just someone who loves eating his/her hazelnuts peeled—and rightly so because they taste much smoother that way. Unless you buy your hazelnuts already peeled—which would surprise me because most grocery stores sell them with the skin on—prepare yourself to do some work to give them their satiny ivory finish.
Here is one of the easiest ways to peel hazelnuts:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
Toast the hazelnuts until browned and fragrant, 15 to 20 minutes.
Let them cool then rub them between your hands or inside a towel—the friction flakes away most of the skin.
Rest assured O my mind, your traipsing is over. Decisions of what to make with apples have taken unrealistic proportions, taking my mind on a merry-go-round, nay, on a dizzying race through a labyrinth that ended right where it started: with the idea of making a chilled apple soup.
I had a chilled soup almost every night at the formal dinner restaurant–where I was always on time–while cruising the ocean not too long ago . I am on time for very few things in life, but formal dinners I am punctual for. It was in warm season and a chilled soup was a welcomed and refreshing start to my dinner. But like ice cream, a chilled soup is good all year round. And who said it has to be ice-cold, it can be chilled-ish, barely cold-ish enough to get your senses erect. If you’re one of those yuppies who walk around in the middle of the winter with an iced latte in hand, you can do this. And of course, if you’re anywhere near Florida, winter is something you only see on TV and read about in books anyway.
While I believe in learning from others and often cook from cookbooks I love, I do sometimes let my creativity loose. Ahem, this recipe is one that I’m proud to say I created. Thanks, Mom, for inspiring me to be an intuitive cook. Merci, maman…les p’tits bateaux qui vont sur l’eau…(I’ll explain that some other time).
Enough talking I shall say. Chop up those apples, peel that ginger, take out those pots, bowls and spoons and let’s get busy!
Chilled Apple Soup
2 large Golden Delicious apples
Juice of half a lemon
2 cups water
½ inch fresh ginger, peeled
1 tablespoon sugar
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon, plus more for garnish
3 tablespoons plain yogurt
Place the apples, lemon juice, water, cloves, ginger, sugar and cinnamon in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Boil until the apples are softened, 10 to 15 minutes. Discard the cloves.
Transfer into a blender and process until liquefied. Add the yogurt and blend again. Refrigerate for 2 to 4 hours. Serve sprinkled with ground cinnamon.
Today is National Chocolate Brownie Day. Yes, it really is. There is an Apple Pie Day, Gazpacho Day, Turkey Neck Soup Day, Roast Suckling Pig Day, Eat Whatever You Want Day, and even an Oatmeal Day. Whoever gave oatmeal its own day is someone I do not understand. I thought only exciting things were worth celebrating—but then again, what do I know about exciting? I am like my four-year-old daughter who thinks unless it’s flashy, tacky, cheesy or sugary; it ain’t exciting. Maybe we’ll both grow up one day to realize that beauty and excitement come from within.
Anyway, both she and I thought Brownie Day was worth celebrating, got right down to business and worked on a decadent double-chocolate flourless bean brownie (of course, I added the beans while she was looking away.) As if chocolate and cocoa weren’t exciting enough, she also wanted to add icing, sprinkles and gummy bears, but after much arguing, I managed to convince her to save them for Christmas cookies.
I searched for the best flourless brownie and actually tried a couple before deciding on this one. It is an amazing brownie—one of the best I’ve had: not too sweet, moist, gooey and best of all made with nutrient-rich black beans. This is a dessert that’s beautiful inside and out.
Happy National Brownie Day! Celebrate.
This recipe is adapted from wholefoodsmarket.com
Flourless Black Bean Brownies
1 (15-ounce) can no-salt-added black beans, drained and rinsed
1/4 cup cocoa powder
3 large eggs
1/3 cup melted butter
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease an 8-inch square baking pan.
Place the black beans, cocoa powder, eggs, butter, vanilla, salt and sugar in the bowl of a food processor and process until puréed. Stir in the chocolate chips. Transfer the batter to the prepared pan. Bake the brownie until a toothpick comes out clean, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool and cut into squares.
I am still in apple mood ever since I had my great-tasting, sleep-repelling, energy-boosting apple last week. My mind keeps traipsing from apple pie to apple cider and everything in between, but I haven’t made up my mind about what to make yet. Along the way, I remembered these pearls of wisdom:
And when you crush an apple with your teeth, say to it in your heart,
“Your seeds shall live in my body,
And the buds of your tomorrow shall blossom in my heart,
And your fragrance shall be my breath,
And together we shall rejoice through all the seasons.”
This is a quote by Gibran that I love. Of course I love everything else he has ever written. I love him. This will certainly not be the last time I mention something by him in this blog.
What a great depiction of our relationship with food—or, maybe, how we ought to view our relationship with food. It is a poetic way to plainly say “you are what you eat”. At least that’s how I understand it: a relationship that’s uniting and enduring. Literature like this is so profound, everyone understands it differently. In fact, I feel like I “grow up to it” and understand it a little better throughout the years.
How do you understand it?