Yes, the rumors are true. In need of some intensive digestive therapy (is that the gastronomic equivalent of retail therapy?), I jetted off to Paris last Thursday for three days of marathon eating with my dear friend Michele. There was no Louvre on my itinerary, no Sacre Coeur or Notre Dame or even admiring the Eiffel Tower (though we had a lovely view of it as we raced to a particular lunch reservation). Nevertheless from my perspective, speaking as one who prefers patisseries to museums, there were still plenty of landmarks on this trip – landmarks which, I can assure you, were infinitely more tasty than the Eiffel Tower (though in all honesty I haven’t actually verified that myself).

Day 1: I arrive at midday, hungry and ready to hit the ground running. I hand my list of ‘must-visit’ places to Michele and watch her eyes bug out for only a second before she regains her composure and says, "sure, no problem". (What are foodie friends for?) After dropping my bags at her place, we hop on the metro and go on a macaron-buying spree, tasting just about every variety that Pierre Hermé, Jean-Paul Hévin, and La Maison du Chocolat have to offer. Still sucking the macaron crumbs from our teeth, we squeeze in a three-scoop gelato at Amorino. We then breeze through the aisles at La Grande Épicerie, the nexus of all gourmet energies swirling around Paris, where I proceed to purchase seven varieties of jam (more remarkable, however, is the restraint I show in not purchasing the other 30 varieties I want). We stumble upon an outlet of O&Co, where I buy even more jam, this time of the olive kind. We meander home via window shopping in St-Germain-des-Prés in order to drop our purchases and gasp for breath before racing out the door for dinner. We meet up with Paris’ most famous non-blogger Alisa for a hearty three-course meal at the bistro everyone is talking about, L’Entredgeu, where I have a salt cod and chorizo soup that qualifies as one of the most delicious forms of liquid I have ever put into my mouth. We bravely soldier on through dessert, and stagger home at midnight, stuffed and sated and babbling deliriously about what we’ll eat tomorrow.

Day 2: We’re up bright and early and waiting at the door to the Salon des Saveurs when it opens. The Salon is an enormous exhibition of food products that happens twice a year – artisan producers of everything from butter to Armagnac bring their wares from all across France to sell to hungry Parisians. The great thing about the Salon is that you can try almost everything before you buy, and that’s exactly what Michele and I do, naturally starting with the alcohol and foie gras (this is breakfast, after all!) and moving on to cheeses, saucissons, honeys, jams and chocolate. Two hours later we’re stuffed with samples, giddy from the sheer scale of offerings, and clutching little vacuum-packed lobes of the most delicious foie gras we’ve ever tasted. We rush the precious morsels home to the protection of the fridge before heading out again for our lunch date, somehow managing to coax our appetites back into service along the way. This is important, since what awaits us is a three hour multi-course 3-star culinary extravaganza chez Pierre Gagnaire, and in the company of no less than the blogosphere’s own Michelin Olympian herself, Pim [but more on lunch a bit later]. When we stagger into the light of day again, there isn’t much of it left, as hours have mysteriously disappeared as we sat enraptured over lunch. Michele and I eschew the metro in favor of walking off our meal, and after strolling for a while find ourselves at the doorstep of E. Dehillerin, a monstrous and confusing homage to kitchen equipment in every size, shape and finish imaginable. I ponder buying a pot big enough to whip up a paella for 200 people, but instead content myself with some mini tart pans. A metro ride later and a brief rest at home somehow revives us enough to contemplate dinner, which ends up being decided for us as Pim is eager to trek out to Le Bambou, one of her favorite Vietnamese eateries in Paris, and promises us the best bowl of pho ever. Seeing as we’ve never had pho, the promise isn’t hard to keep, but she sweetens the deal by also introducing us to shrimp skewered on sugar cane, spicy steamed pork dumplings and crispy rice pancakes with seafood. The restaurant stands in almost comic opposition to our lunch venue – it’s noisy, crowded and fast-moving, but the food is fantastic and we scarf it down with the appetite of people who haven’t eaten all day. When we emerge into the Parisian night Pim tempts us with the suggestion of a nightcap of Berthillon ice cream, but alas, I have finally reached that frustrating point where simply nothing else will fit in no matter how badly I want it to. With regret, we bid adieu sans ice cream.

Day 3: The day starts inauspiciously as we cancel our lunch reservation at L’Ourcine, not being able to face another multicourse meal again so soon. Instead, we set off to the Marais and make the rounds of Mora, a slightly more user-friendly kitchen-equipment venue, and G. Detou, a purveyor of all kinds of edible things in large quantities I wish I had room for in my luggage (including a 7-lb sack of Valrhona chocolate that I come dangerously close to buying). All the shopping has started to revive our appetites,
however, so we swing by the Jewish quarter in order to pick up falafel for lunch, messily downing them on the curbside as we watch one-legged pigeons fight for the crumbs. Our next stop is Izrael, another purveyor of specialty foods, this time with more of an international scope, and we marvel over crammed shelves stocking everything from pumpkin pie mix to angelica jam. I’m really wishing I brought another suitcase and about 1000 euros more, but I don’t really have time to dwell on what I don’t have as Michele is leading me towards the Île St-Louis, the island heart of Paris in the middle of the Seine. Here we stop for what might qualify as the best ice cream of my life at Berthillon (their salted caramel flavor has us furtively licking our tiny cups clean), and to pick up some honey at the upscale L’Epicerie, a haven of gourmet jams, honeys and mustards in flavors you never dreamed possible. After that it’s a pit stop for hastily-devoured pastries at Eric Kayser, a leisurely cup of Marco Polo tea in the elegant Mariage Frères tea rooms, yet another macaron stop at Gerard Mulot and a return trip to Pierre Hermé (complete with the requisite standing-in-line for half an hour just to get inside the shop) for some to-go dessert. And just when it seems we can consume no more, a couple of hours later we rally for one last gasp of appetite and end the day supine on the sofa, feasting on cheese, rabbit terrine, fig salami and wine, oh yeah, and topping it off with those incredible pastries from Pierre.

When I arrived back in Edinburgh yesterday morning, so early the wet skies were just beginning to shed their darkness, I had a hard time believing that the whole trip wasn’t just a particularly vivid dream. Had we really managed to fit in that much gastronomic ecstasy in three short days? If my pants are anything to go by, it is – just don’t ask me to fit into them anytime soon.

Merci, chère Michèle… I hope your pants are fitting better than mine! 😉 

P.S. Did I mention that my hot chocolate photo came in second overall in this month’s DMBLGIT? Now that was some news worth coming home to!

 

This month sees two of the blogosphere’s most celebrated events, Is My Blog Burning? and Sugar High Fridays, combined into one diet-busting extravaganza: a Holiday Cookie Swap! I must have been feeling guilty about my recent lack of participation in blogging events, or else I was bitten badly by the cookie bug, because it seems I went a little overboard. I woke up Saturday morning and immersed myself in a marathon session of sugar, butter, eggs and nuts, only to emerge Sunday evening with not one, not two, not even three, but four types of cookies to show for it. Luckily the results were more than worth the effort – they’re all unbelievably delicious, and hopefully they’ll provide the inspiration for some new and exotic treats to add to your holiday cookie table. Thanks to both Alberto and Jennifer and happy baking!
 

Persian Rice Cookies 

Persian Rice Cookies

These naturally-wheat free cookies come from Iran and the beautiful (and highly recommended) book on Persian culture and cuisine called New Food of Life by Najmieh Batmanglij. They’re intoxicatingly scented with one of my favorite flavor combinations, cardamom and rose water, and crumbly and rich from the addition of clarified butter. I was tempted to rename them ‘Persian Wedding Cakes’ – alluding to their similarity with a certain crumbly dome-shaped cookie from Mexico – but I decided these are good enough to merit their own linguistic identity. I did have a problem with the recipe as written, I must say. Using the specified amount of rice flour left me after mixing not with a shiny, moldable dough, but rather with a sticky, viscous paste. It took the addition of nearly twice the amount of flour called for to achieve a consistency suitable for shaping. I was worried about the impact of all that extra flour on the cookies themselves, but I needn’t have worried – they were perfect: dense, tender and just sweet enough. This may vary based on the brand of rice flour you use, but don’t fret if you also find that you need to add much more flour than called for – the important thing is that the dough is firm enough. 

Source: New Food of Life by Najmieh Batmanglij 
Yield: 36 cookies

For the syrup:
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup rose water
1/2 teaspoon lime juice

For the batter:
1 cup clarified butter (instructions follow)
4 egg yolks
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cardamom
3 cups rice flour (have up to 6 cups handy)
1/4 cup pistachios, chopped, for garnish (optional)

Clarify the butter by bringing it to a boil over very low heat. Simmer for 15 minutes, removing foam from the top as it rises. When the liquid looks clear and the milk solids have settled to the bottom, decant the liquid into another bowl (leave the solids behind).
Prepare the syrup by combining the sugar and water in a pot. Bring to a boil and simmer for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat, add the rose water and lime juice, and set aside to cool. It should be room temperature and not too thick before proceeding.
Beat the egg yolks into the cooled syrup until incorporated. In a large bowl, combine the cooled butter, cardamom and rice flour. Mix well, then add the syrup mixture and mix until the dough is quite stiff and is no longer sticky [my note: it should be thick enough to hold its shape; if it’s not, add more rice flour in 1/4 cup increments until it is firm and shiny, with a texture like PlayDoh®].
Preheat the oven to 350F/180C. Line a cookie sheet with baking paper. Take a spoonful of dough the size of a walnut, roll into a ball between your palms, flatten slightly, and place on the cookie sheet. Repeat, leaving about an inch between cookies. Place the cookies in the preheated oven and bake for about 15 minutes, or until firm and cracked on top. They should still be quite white.
Remove from the oven and allow to cool before removing from the paper, and be careful – these cookies crumble very easily.
 

 

Scourtins

One word describes these cookies: amazing. After my recent love-affair with olive jam, when I spotted the recipe for these cookies I knew I had to make them. They’re unlike any other cookie I’ve had before, combining the texture of a tender shortbread with the floral grassiness of olive oil and the salty bite of cured black olives. There’s a bit of hesitation at the first bite, but after that, you simply can’t stop eating them. The recipe for these comes from the talented Susan Herrmann Loomis, resident expert on French cuisine and author of several books including On Rue Tatin. This particularly recipe, she explains, "comes courtesy of Jean-Pierre Autrand, whose family produced olive oil at Les Vieux Moulins in Nyons, an ancient olive mill, until 1952. Mr. Autrand found this recipe in his family’s archives, updated it, and sells the results at the gift store adjacent to the olive mill." You can find Mr. Autrand at Les Vieux Moulins, 4, Promenade de la Digue, 26110 Nyons, France. 011.33.(0)4. 75. 26.11.00.  

Source: Susan Herrmann Loomis, recipe online here
Yield: about 34 cookies

9 Tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup powdered/icing sugar, sifted
1 Tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
pinch of fine sea salt
1/2 cup cured black olives, preferably from Nyons, pitted and coarsely chopped

Preheat oven to 350F/180C. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
In a large bowl or the bowl of an electric mixer, cream the butter until it is soft and pale yellow. Mix in the sugar until blended, then drizzle in the olive oil and mix until combined. Add the flour and the sea salt, and mix gently but thoroughly until the dough is smooth, then add the olives and mix until they are thoroughly incorporated into the dough.
Place a piece of waxed paper or parchment paper on a work surface, and place the dough in the middle*. Cover it with another piece of waxed or parchment paper and roll out the dough until it is about 1/4-inch thick – 1/2 cm. (The dough is very sticky, and the paper makes it possible to roll out.) Refrigerate the dough for at least 30 minutes, and up to 24 hours. Cut out 2-inch (5 cm) rounds of dough and place them about 1/2-inch (1.3 cm) apart on prepared baking sheets. Gather the trimmings into a ball and roll it into a 1-inch (2.5 cm) diameter log. Wrap well and refrigerate, and when you are ready to bake, cut off 1/4-inch thick rounds. (This avoids over-rolling the dough.)
Bake until the scourtins are golden, about 15
minutes. Remove from oven and cool on wire racks.

*Instead of rolling and cutting, I actually found it easier to press all the dough into a shallow pan by hand, shortbread-style, score rectangles, and cut them immediately after baking.
 

 

Polish Raspberry Mazurkas  

I’ll start off by telling you that this recipe probably doesn’t come directly from Poland. While there is a type of pastry there called a Mazurek, which I believe is eaten at Easter and contains a rich dough topped with fresh and dried fruits and nuts, this particular cookie seems to be a Seattle delicacy. When I was in college I spent a summer working at a small coffee shop on Bainbridge Island, across the sound from Seattle, and by far the most popular pastry we sold was a small bar cookie with raspberry jam called a ‘mazurka’. I never found out who supplied these ambrosial cookies, but I have since seen references to several Seattle bakeries making and selling them, and I have to assume it’s a local adaptation of the Polish pastry that has taken on a life of its own. I’m happy to stand corrected if anyone knows anything more about them or has another recipe to share, but for my attempt to recreate them I turned to the only recipe I could find on the internet and modified according to my memory and tastes. While not quite living up to what I remember, they are pretty close, and got the thumbs-up from Manuel as he proclaimed them his ‘favorite of the weekend’. Don’t ask how many he ate. 

Source: adapted from this recipe
Yield: makes about 12 bars, depending on how you cut them 

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup rolled oats
3/4 cup walnuts, ground or very finely chopped
1 cup sweetened flaked coconut
3/4 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 lb raspberry jam

 

Ricciarelli (Sienese Almond Cookies) 

Ricciarelli (Sienese Almond Cookies)

These chewy little almond gems are similar to the more famous Amaretti Morbidi (soft Amaretti), but are a specialty of the Tuscan town of Siena. When Manuel and I were last in Siena a few years ago, I spent the better part of a day searching for these elusive cookies and buying as many variations as I could. I had hoped to have some to take home as gifts and edible souvenirs, but they were so good we had finished them all by the end of the day! Snow-white outside and meltingly soft inside, they’re a fragrant, cloudlike version of the best marzipan you’ve ever eaten. This recipe comes from Tessa Kiros and her enchanting book on Tuscan food, Twelve. I loved Tessa’s version of these cookies for the orange peel she adds – it raises the almond ecstasy to new heights and gives the cookies an injection of citrusy freshness that cuts the sweetness a bit and provides the perfect counterpoint to a cup of strong black espresso. 

Source: Twelve by Tessa Kiros 
Yield: Makes about 20 cookies

3 cups (300g) almond flour
1 1/3 cups (280g) caster/superfine sugar
1 1/4 cups (150g) powdered/icing sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
grated zest of 1 orange
2 egg whites
2 teaspoons almond extract

Line a baking sheet with baking or parchment paper.
Mix the almonds with the sugar, two-thirds of the powdered sugar, the baking powder and the orange zest in a bowl. In a clean bowl, beat the egg whites to soft peaks, then stir them into the almond mixture. Using a large spoon, mash the mixture to a wet, sticky mass. Stir in the almond extract.
Form oval or torpedo shapes about 2.5 inches long, roll in the remaining powdered sugar, and flatten slightly. Put them onto the parchment-lined baking sheet, allowing room to spread slightly, and sift the remaining powdered sugar over the tops. Leave the cookies at room temperature for about 2-3 hours to dry a little before baking.
Preheat the oven to 275F/140C. Bake the cookies for about 30 minutes, or until they are lightly golden and a little firm on the outside (the insides should still be soft). Cool completely and store in an airtight container.

 

Pistachio and Almond Tart with Orange and Cardamom

I love Thanksgiving. I love coming in from the crisp November air to a warm, bustling kitchen. I love the smell of dozens of dishes in final stages of preparation, savory intermingling with sweet. I love the coming together of generations around the table, the threads of conversation picked up from last year as if they were never interrupted. I love that there is no anxiety over present-buying, no over-the-top commercialism, no religious overtones one either feels obligated to respect or rebel against. I love the way that people are given two whole days of public holiday to eat. I also love the thought that I can predict what nearly everyone in America regardless of time zone is doing at any given moment on Thanksgiving Day – they are either preparing food, eating food, or sated and stuffed from the overabundance that gives this feast its character. I love the sheer indulgence of it all.

But I also love breaking tradition on Thanksgiving. While others revel in the continuity and comfort of perennial favorites, I’m always looking for the next culinary thrill. Some people think I have a pathological fear of gastronomic commitment, but I think it’s better described as an insatiable lust for adventure. I believe that if I’m going to spend all day (or two or three) in the kitchen, I might as well tackle some items on my ‘must cook’ list, which each year seems to stretch longer than the last. And let’s face it, even if I were one for repeat-cooking, turkey, potatoes and cranberry relish can get kind of old. As a result, in my house just about anything goes for Thanksgiving, as long as it’s delicious, as long as there’s a lot, and as long as there are people around to share it. I’ve done full-on ethnic themed dinners, and hodge-podges of everything that looks good in a new cookbook or two. There have been Thanksgiving tamales, Thanksgiving curries, Thanksgiving pizzas and Thanksgiving tapas.

This year, we’re a little short on company, a little short on food, and a little short on time to celebrate. But luckily we’re not short on pistachio tart. Nutty, citrusy, subtly spiced and sporting a lustrous emerald hue, it’s the kind of confidently spectacular dessert that would be equally at home quietly biding its time on the buffet table with the more traditional post-feast sweets as it is shining in the spotlight. It’s decadent, exotic, and downright delicious. In fact, it’s almost good enough to merit a tradition of its own.

So whether your table encompasses turkeys or tagines, apple pie or tarte tatin, have a wonderful, belly-stretching holiday. And if, like me, you live in a part of the world that hasn’t woken up to the charms of giving thanks, rest assured that a little pistachio tart certainly can’t go amiss on any chilly Thursday in November.

 

Pistachio and Almond Tart with Orange and Cardamom

Source: adapted from Casa Moro, by Sam and Sam Clark
Note: Since shelling your own pistachios is a real pain (literally!), try to find them pre-shelled – Indian, Turkish, Persian and Middle Eastern shops (or shops that sell things imported from these countries) are good places to look. To blanch pistachios (and almonds, for that matter), drop them in boiling water for a couple of minutes, then drain. The skins should peel off easily. If they start to dry before you get through the batch, cover them with cold water until you finish the blanching. This does take quite a bit of time; you can use unblanched pistachios but the color will not be quite as vibrant.

for Crust:
225g flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
50g caster/superfine sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
250g butter
1 egg yolk

for Filling:
200g blanched almonds
300g shelled, blanched pistachios
250g caster/superfine sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
150ml orange juice
4 egg yolks
finely grated zest of one medium orange
pinch salt

for Glaze:
1 egg yolk
2 tablespoons cream

for Topping (optional):
1 pint heavy cream, softly whipped
1 teaspoon rose water
1/4 teaspoon cardamom
mild honey, to taste 

For the crust, combine the dry ingredients in a food processor with the butter, and pulse until only small lumps of butter remain. Add the egg yolk and process for 20 seconds more, then turn out into a bowl and bring together by hand. Form the dough into a ball and refrigerate for at least half an hour. Roll out on a floured work surface to a large circle, and fit it into a 10 or 11-inch tart pan, trimming the top to an even height. Prick the crust well with a fork and place in the freezer.

Preheat the oven to 350F/180C. Spread the blanched almonds and pistachios on a baking tray and bake for about 10 minutes, or until lightly colored. Set aside. Take the frozen crust out of the freezer and line with baking parchment or foil, line with beans or pie weights, and bake in the preheated oven for 20 minutes. Remove the beans and parchment, and continue to bake until the pastry is an even, light gold color, about 10 minutes more.

For the filling, process the nuts, sugar, and cardamom in a food processor until ground very fine. When ready, the nuts will have begun to release their oil and cake together. Slowly add the orange juice to make a very thick, smooth paste. Finally, add the egg yolks, orange zest and salt, and process until incorporated.

Spread the filling into the shell and smooth with a wet spatula. Bake for 10-15 minutes to dry the surface, then brush on the glaze (made by mixing the egg yolk and cream). Continue to bake for a further 10 minutes, or until golden.

Serve warm or at room temperature with a spoonful of the cream, into which you have stirred the rose water, cardamom and honey.