Thursday, August 21, 2014

Nutella and Toasted Marshmallow Milkshake


Paris in summer, sans air-conditioning, requires a touch of resourcefulness. In our household, we tend to favour the "strip down to underwear/diaper and loll in front of fan" technique, but for the days that require clothes, we opt for iced beverages.

Our current favorite is this Nutella and marshmallow milkshake. It tastes every bit as decadent as it sounds, and is an extraordinarily naughty treat for moms trying to regain pre-pregnancy figures. (Ahem.)

Feel free to get creative with the ice cream flavour you use - I've used cookie dough and toffee crisp when classic vanilla couldn't be found in the freezer aisle.

Nutella and Marshmallow Milkshake

2 ½ cups ice cream (vanilla, usually)
1 cup whole milk
½ cup Nutella
6-8 roasted marshmallows

1. Place marshmallows on a baking tray lined with baking paper. Place under grill/broiler and toast until  the tops are light brown (approx. 3 minutes.)
2. Put all ingredients in a blender & top with fresh or toasted marshmallows



Saturday, June 28, 2014

Grapefruit Vanilla Curd


I have always been a huge fan of fruit curds. My obsession began, predictably, with lemon; later, while manning the pastry section of a Michelin-starred restaurant in Dublin, I discovered passionfruit. We served it with rice pudding and lavender biscuits. I "sampled" a lot of my mise-en-place that season.


The other day, I found myself with a few extra grapefruits tumbling around the bottom of my fruit basket. I needed to use them up - it is time now, finally, for luscious stone fruits and jewel-hued berries (hooray!) - so I decided to whip up a curd. The addition of vanilla in this recipe cuts the sharpness of the grapefruit, I think, and yields a finished product that is beautifully unusual and versatile. Conventional wisdom dictates the use of a bain-marie when making curds - I find this unnecessarily fiddly. If you take your time, a simple saucepan will do the job perfectly.

In honor of summer, I served it atop coconut sorbet with fresh raspberries. It would go equally well with scones and clotted cream, or could be used as a tart filling. I store mine in an old Maille mustard jar - it will keep for two weeks, refrigerated.



Grapefruit Vanilla Curd
(adapted slightly from this recipe found on Serious Eats)

⅔  cups sugar
2 tablespoons grapefruit zest
seeds from 1 vanilla bean
6 yolks
2 eggs

½ cup freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, from about half a large grapefruit
¼ cup freshly squeezed lemon juice, from about 1 large lemon
approx. 8 large tbsp butter

1. In a food processor, combine the sugar, grapefruit zest, and vanilla seeds, and pulse until well combined and very fragrant.

2. Combine the grapefruit sugar, eggs, egg yolks, and juice in saucepan on medium heat.

3. Whisk until bubbles begin to form. (Be careful not to scramble the egg!)

4. Remove from heat and add butter, one to two tablespoons at a time, continuously whisking to incorporate butter.

5. When all butter has been added, pour curd through a sieve into a bowl and cover with cling film.

6. Refrigerate for a few hours - until curd has set. 

Monday, June 16, 2014

Paris on Foot: Pigalle, The Canal, and République



Saturday morning, Lou and I set out to have lunch at Holybelly, a café in the 10th arrondissement famous for awesome coffee and equally outstanding grub. We headed east, away from Montmartre and toward rue Magenta.  If you ever find yourself in Paris in need of an infant-sized white tuxedo, an ornate plastic serving platter, or a fuschia tiara, this is your neighborhood.


We passed the ubiquitous beer-drinking punk kids and the basket-wielding weekend patrons of the marché Saint-Quentin before steering the stroller up rue Lucien Sampaix. FYI, it is not usually possible to dine in Paris with a pushchair due to space restrictions. We didn't want to be those assholes, feigning obliviousness while ramming chair backs and peoples' toes (you know who you are), and Holybelly, we discovered, is teeny tiny. Alas.

Undeterred, we walked instead to the Sunken Chip, an authentic fish and chip shop located near Canal St. Martin (and less than five minutes from Holybelly.) Picnic lunch: large paper bag of cod, chips, and minty mushy peas, happily consumed along the cobblestoned quay of the canal.


After, full of fried fish and vinegar and early-summer sunshine, we wandered down rue Beaurepaire toward place de la République. One of my favourite destinations in Paris is pastry chef and chocolatier Jacque Genin's atelier, and we decided to indulge. Bikini-body be damned, I just had a baby.

As the baby slept, we availed of the spacious salon de thé and settled into a luxurious beige leather sofa. A short time later we watched the waitress carry our tarte au citrons down the spiral staircase on a large metal tray (I could never work here.) They arrived at the table alongside samples of chocolates (honey and tonka bean) and two pear pâte de fruits.


It is impossible (for me, anyway) to leave Jacques Genin without making a few extra purchases  - so I ordered a little takeaway bag of passionfruit, ginger, and vanilla caramels, for "later."

We ate them within three minutes of exiting the shop.



Holybelly 
19 Rue Lucien Sampaix, 75010 Paris

The Sunken Chip
39 Rue des Vinaigriers, 75010 Paris

La Chocolaterie de Jacques Génin
133 Rue de Turenne, 75003 Paris

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Motherhood and Apple Pie


These days, my routine is comprised of the timeless trifecta familiar to all mothers: nappies, nurse, nap (for the baby, not me, regrettably.)  That initial, dizzying, post-birth shock to the system is subsiding; I no longer feel like sobbing from sleep deprivation and usually, I'm dressed by midday. Success! Nothing signifies normal like being able to pull on a pair of pants and leave the house - even if those pants are your battered maternity leggings. (I am cheerfully ignoring the fact that I am still wearing saggy maternity leggings more than a month after giving birth.)

But this is not a post about the aesthetic shortcomings of postpartum maternity wear. It is a post about pie. Ordinary apple pie. Once I was feeling up to it, about a week after the wee one and I returned from the hospital, apple pie was the first thing I baked. It was a chilly and wet Sunday in April, and I craved the restorative properties of quintessential, fat-laden comfort food. I ate the first slice warm, smothered in a thick, handmade crème fraîche that I recently discovered at our local health store. Maybe it has something to do with breastfeeding - I cannot consume enough dairy products these days: yogurt (chestnut or plain, heaped with sugar), lattes, stinky cheese (a godsend after an 8 month period of abstinence), chocolate ice cream, my beloved crème fraîche, and coconut milk - which, although technically not a dairy product, is creamy and luscious, and fits the bill. I unabashedly polished off almost the entire pie toute seule over the course of two days. No shame. Sugar + fat = endorphins = happy mama (= continued use of maternity leggings, but whatever.)


My tried-and-true apple pie recipe is one that I discovered a few years ago, while prepping for a 4th of July party in Dublin. I came across a recipe for "White House Apple Pie" and gave it a go in honor of the occasion. It turned out to be quite delectable, and, with a few minor modifications, has been my go-to apple pie recipe ever since. I'll include only the recipe for the filling below, as I use a basic pâte brisée for the crust.


White House Apple Pie
(slightly adapted from Sam Kass's recipe)

Filling ingredients:
2 pounds apples, peeled, cored and cut into chunks (I use a mix of apple varieties for contrast)

1 cup sugar
1/2 cup maple syrup
1/3 cup cornstarch
1vanilla pod
1 tsp. cinnamon
Zest and juice of 1 lemon


Method:

1. Make your pie crust as usual, set aside to chill for at least an hour (overnight is better.)
2. When chilled, roll the crust out and line a buttered pin tin with the crust, trimming the excess from the edges. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
3. Preheat oven to 375/190. Bake the crust, lined with baking paper and filled with weights, for 30 minutes or until golden brown. Set aside to cool.
4. To make the filling: combine all ingredients in a large pot and bring to a boil. Cook, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking, until the fruit thickens. Let cool. When the filling has cooled, pour it into the baked crust.
5. Top the pie with pastry lid and seal the edges with egg wash. Cut a few steam vents in the top (I sometimes use cookie cutters to make designs, like small hearts or stars) and cover with egg wash. Sprinkle generously with sugar. Bake for another 30-40 minutes - pie should be golden brown and fruit filling will bubble through vents in the top.
.





Friday, March 21, 2014

The Green Goose: Bouffe to Soothe IKEA Blues


Louis and I discovered (the hard way) yesterday that when you order a bed from IKEA, the bed slats are not included. So, after spending most of the morning assembling our new purchase, we were more than a little dismayed to watch our fresh, pristine mattress unglamorously sink through the gleaming white frame onto the floor. We were even more dismayed when we realized that instead of luxuriating on our grown-up acquisition of a new bed, we would be sleeping on the floor, like incompetent losers. The nearest IKEA is 40 minutes by car (we don't have a car.)

This morning I was able to find a friend with an available vehicle (thank you Julie!) and another friend willing to drive and help carry everything (thank you Jenny!!) So Jenny and I set off into the Paris suburbs, ready to face the bright blue monstrosity/Hell-on-Earth/IKEA Paris-Nord.

We made it.

We bought the bed slats.
(And a rug. And a sheepskin throw. And a potato masher. Don't tell Louis.)

Jenny carried everything because she is Wonder Woman and I am a waddling troglodyte at the moment.

We arrived back in Paris, unloaded the car, and quickly hopped onto the metro and into the 11th arrondissement, for lunch at a new pub that I am very excited about. The Green Goose is a "non-traditonal" (no Guinness to be found here!) Irish gastropub near Nation, and it is fabulous. I have eagerly awaited the pub's opening - both the owner, Kieran Loughney, and chef, Jim Robson, are friends of ours, and Louis designed and illustrated the bar's logo, menus, and four framed watercolors for the interior.


Lunch started with a plate of duck rillettes and piccalilli. I need a jar of this piccalilli in my kitchen - it was extraordinary. Because we are both greedy and indecisive, Jenny and I ordered the pulled pork sandwich with fennel and the chicken club with avocado and bacon, which we shared. The sandwiches come served with enormous, perfectly-crispy-yet-fluffy potato wedges, which we did not share. Obviously.


While I looked on jealously, Jenny washed her lunch down with a bottle of Galway Hooker, one of the incredible artisanal beers The Green Goose has on offer. In lieu of beer, however, I enjoyed a bottle of "Pomme Tentation" apple juice by Atelier Patrick Font - which was so delicious I was momentarily unfazed by the fact I am limited to alcohol-free beverages at the moment. (Miraculous, seeing as we had just spent four freaking hours at IKEA.)


We would have loved to have stayed longer and sampled more of the menu, but the afternoon sun was waning and I had kiddies to collect at school. The next time we are in, I am looking forward to tasting the homemade scotch eggs, marinated lamb steaks with salsa verde and spring veg, and the selection of Irish cheeses. They serve homemade desserts too (including my own chocolate, stout, and marshmallow cake!)


The lads have been open for less than a week and are already churning out some serious culinary goodness and awesome beverages; I have an inkling The Green Goose is going to be a massive success. It almost makes me willing to go to IKEA every week, if it means I can convalesce here afterwards. Almost. 

 Louis Scott

The Green Goose
19, rue des Boulets
75011, Paris

+33 9 82 37 73 41


Monday, March 17, 2014

Paddy's Day Green Ombre Cupcakes



My youngest son was born in Dublin, where we lived for over 8 years. So, as the only Irish kid in his French school, we thought it would be fun to explain a bit about St. Patrick's Day to his classmates...and the American in me couldn't resist the opportunity to bake green-hued goodies.


I found a great recipe for vanilla cupcakes here, and created a gradation going from lime to grass green with food coloring to get the ombre effect (after separating the batter into three bowls.) We topped the cakes with a basic vanilla buttercream frosting, golden nonpareils, and fondant shamrocks.


After a busy Sunday afternoon (our Paris-sized oven fits 6 cupcakes at a time; there are 30 students in his class), he trotted off to school this morning - balancing boxes of cake and prepared to discuss the fate of snakes in Ireland, amongst other things. Lá féile Pádraig sona daoibh!



BASIC VANILLA BUTTERCREAM:

1 cup unsalted butter, softened
3 cups powdered (icing) sugar
½ vanilla pod
1 tsp. salt
Milk (approx 3 tbsp)

1. Chop the butter into cubes and quickly mix until smooth. I make my frosting in a food processor but you can also use a mixer or do it by hand, although that takes a bit more elbow grease.
2. Add the sugar, vanilla, and salt, and mix briefly.
3. Add the milk and keep adding and mixing until the frosting is the proper consistency - you want it firm enough to pipe, but soft enough that it spreads easily.

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Banana, Date, and Walnut Bread



We are in the process of preparing our 39 square metre abode for a fifth occupant (yes, you read that correctly) and yesterday, faced with the rather tedious prospect of another afternoon spent reorganizing our living room, I did the sensible, adult thing: I ignored the housework, and baked banana bread instead.


In my defense, two black bananas, squished into the side of our kitchen's produce basket, have been crying out for use since last week. They are the remnants of fried banana French toast, and although I intended to do something virtuous with them - say, slice them and eat them over oatmeal - the days inevitably passed, and the bananas, untouched, grew menacingly darker, until eventually I started averting my eyes when entering the kitchen.

Yesterday, however, spurred by near-desperate procrastination, I finally put those mushy fruits to the best use possible: banana bread. Donna Hay's recipe helpfully includes few other pantry items you may need to use up  - in my case, a bag of dates  -  and her addition of a maple frosting eradicated any conflicting notions I may have had regarding my afternoon's time management.


I made a few slight adjustments to the original recipe - namely, the addition of toasted walnuts, and the omission of an extra ¾ cup of flour. I will admit the flour was an accident (pregnancy brainlessness) and that I initially panicked when I realized my mistake. The resulting loaf, however, is perfectly moist and dense (the extra flour would produce a more "cakey" bread, I imagine) and when making this again, I'll stick with the reduced amount. Due to the bread's satisfying stodginess, however, I changed the cream cheese frosting to a lighter glaze. You could also forgo a topping altogether.



BANANA AND DATE BREAD WITH MAPLE GLAZE
(slightly adapted from Donna Hay's recipe)

125g butter, softened
1 cup (175g) brown sugar

2 eggs
2 cups mashed banana
1 cup (140g) chopped dates
1 cup walnuts, chopped & toasted
1 cup (150g) plain (all-purpose) flour, sifted
1½ teaspoon baking powder, sifted
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ tsp salt
⅓ cup (80ml) maple syrup

maple glaze:
250g mascarpone cheese, softened
½ cup (125ml) maple syrup
¼ tsp salt

1. Cream butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, whisking well after each addition.
2. Add the banana, dates, flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt.
3. Add the maple syrup - stir well to combine and pour the mixture into a lightly greased & lined loaf tin.
4. Bake at 160 (325) degrees for about an hour and 10 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean.
5. Leave to cool.

In the meantime, mix the marscapone, maple syrup, and salt together with an electric mixture. When cake has cooled, remove from tin and pour the glaze over top.