anatomy of a winter salad

Back at Thanksgiving, my friendJ. brought a most different salad that she had make with raw kale. It was so good that I have been trying to reproduce it many times, craving it so much in between.Kale is notoriously difficult to cook to a tender bite, but what a revelation: just chiffonade the dark beast,make a zippy vinaigrette with garlic, salt and pepper, sherry vinegar and a good olive oil, add some toasted pine nuts and organic thompsons, mix it, dust it with freshly grated parm and you are good to go , with a glow and a healthy heart.

Macaroons

If I am right, it all started at the now famous La Duree tearoom, on the rue Royale around 1860, created in part to give a place for women to sit, have a cup of coffe or tea with a little pastry and not be harassed. My mother swore that in her day, if a woman went in a cafe alone, she was looking for IT, and might even be considered a slut ! or something...So,to the tearoom it was, conveniently located close to the luxurious rue Saint Honore,the Place de la Concorde and all the big departement stores It became a destination to a few in the know back then. As a child, I have very warm memories of stopping there with my mom on the way home after some big shopping spree, and entering a very small wood paneled and carpeted room, women in furs, waitresses in uniforms,carrying on silver trays the macaroons already sought by some. Back then, the rich chocolate ganache envelopped by the two crispy almond cookies was the best in Paris.I remember three flavors:chocolate, coffee and vanilla. It was ,in a busy and tumultous world, an affordable luxury, a nostalgic voyage into a time of leisure, pleasure, decadence,and privilege. Then, a pastry chef named Pierre Herme started working for them and changed it forever, they opened 2 new outposts ( in the most touristy neighboorhoods) and expanded the flavors of the macaroons , creating a mosaic of colors and tastes.Soon, it was on all tour guides and Pierre Herme left to start his own boutiques and finally garner the sucess that he deserved.
I went on this trip to the Saint Germain outpost with my Parisian friend F.The upstairs room was dark and cosy, but a single harsh light was right in F's eyes.The server bringing tea in similar silver teapots, got the order wrong, and we had to plead for sugar, milk and my mini macarron "red diva" which was I have to say divine.( you can see displays of them in the original laDure window, couture red with bay fruits, chocolate and winter spices...
Then on to try some Herme creations for the season: white truffle and hazelnut, salted caramel. I was uterly seduced by the melting earthy buttercream with the hidden roasted crunchy hazelnut in the center. Always a play of textures and suprises in the mouth.To make it even more special, a dusting of silver adorn.

moods in colors

French faces

From Berkeley suburbs to big city Paris.... a shock of crowds.If anyone is recoiling from shopping at the busy Berkeley Bowl of note, then, this person shouldn't attempt Paris. Everywhere I went, mobs of coughing, sneezing noses congesting in public transports, or shopping on a grand scale, or drinking at popular spots, or crowding around pieces of art..... But on the other hand, the allure of a place is made in great part by its inhabitants. The French can be so generous, friendly, gossipy,artsy, perfumed.Here is jacques, the sweet owner of a micro art bookstore, specializing in small publishing houses, a Franco-american family met at the train station, a college friend ..........

muted

In muted tones, I walked through windy streets where the past still exist ,making the impermanence of the self even more acute.After seeing a retrospective of the works of Alberto Giacometti (brilliant), and reading an autobiography of Vladimir Nabokov, I became even more keenly aware of our short time on this beautiful earth.As I told my friend G. over a deliciously lemony grogg at the Bar des Editeurs: " life is but a succession of pleasures", at least that is how I want my life to be, and by pleasures, it could be a bird song, a smile, a strong lemony grogg one winter day in Paris, a walk through the Tuileries gardens bordering the Louvre, or stumbling upon the surprising shop of a famous ceramicist on a very fashionable street. I had just left the trendy"Colette"concept shop that I deemed over with ( It had been open 10 years,capturing trends in Japan, the U.S and other hip centers): I thought it looked tired, and gold plated motorola cell phones didn't look very exciting. The shop I loved is very old and uses that inspiration for their displays of incredibly delicate white tableware,glasses and notebooks.It is old and new, delicate and crude,with a nod to a time when everything was handmade. Even the Balzacian staircase dividing the front of the shop to the back rooms, was left pure and intact in its muted past.http://www.astierdevillatte.com/

back from Paris

I am still a bit dazed and slightly confused after coming home yesterday. I will write details about chocolate shoes,skull portraits,white truffle macaroons,silly art books and more later. For now I will leave you with the iconic view of the heart of Paris, a view countless times reproduced, but always glorious.The Pont des Arts is where I stood, mesmerized, as usual by the beauty.this time a late afternoon winter scene. a cold January 1, 2008.

Just click on the image to see it bigger, if you want.

le monde vegetal

Nature is full of amazing surprises.Some are even good to eat. Now is the season of brussel sprouts, which is one vegetable that I never used to enjoy. I have to admit that growing up, the dish was seldom served, but if it was, it was overcooked ( as they used to do) and served with melted butter ( as they used to do ).The bitternes didn't seem to get tamed by that pad of richness, and so, I always refused the cute micro cabbage.Until rtecently, when I discovered a new technique to sweeten the babies.
You cut them in half, rub them with olive oil and salt, and in the oven they go ( 450o) for 25 minutes until they are slightly caramelized and tender.A handful of persillade (chopped garlic and parsley) brings the hated vegetables to revered status.
I had to buy the prehistoric stalk and had fun holding it up like a weapon of visigoth proportions , or the spine of some martian body.As a seasonal contrast,roses from my garden continue to delight.....

grateful

Traffic was the old stop and go.For what seemed forever. I decided to put a Jacques Dutronc CD and was brought under a spell of nostalgia and happiness.Because as I looked to my right, about to cross the bay Bridge to San Francisco one early morning , as the dark was melting into day, the water seemed phosphorescent and glowing,the mist was like a soft silk drapping a shoulder,and the sun, just about to turn a shade of abricot, was going to shine.

puff mommy

This week, I haven't been able to wear my blacks.I have been covered in flour.working with puff pastry. WE are all feeling a little bit bigger in the waist, after sampling airy deep fried puff pastry doughnuts,or potato samosas with cilantro chutney or even those mini"palmiers' with gruyere and smoked ham, or even those "langues de boeuf" of caramelized crispy wafers of puff. I think that I might have to puff a bit as I go up the stairs to the 3rd floor to the big loft where we work.

the season

Driving home in the Santa Cruz mountains, we came upon this vision in the darkness of night.