I was in a bit of a funk earlier this week.  I wasn’t even excited about Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday.  But last night, Nick suggested we get our menu plan written down, and all of a sudden the excitement showed up.

The Menu:

Roast turkey
Turkey gravy (Remember the velouté? That’s pretty much it, with pan drippings added at the end.)
Wild mushroom bread pudding (Original recipe from this book, but now I wing it.)
Kick-Ass Cranberry Sauce (recipe below)
Sour cream and green onion mashed potatoes
Brussels sprouts with caramelized onions
Potimarron pie with (time willing) pine nut-sage brittle

So enthused was I that I took a long detour on the way home from work today to pick up a bag of overpriced cranberries.  Last year I was unable to find fresh cranberries, and made do with a jar of Ocean Spray, but I missed the homemade stuff.  My recipe, for cranberry-orange-ginger sauce, has been a hit since its inception five years ago, and since I get to have it this year, I figure you should, too, if you want.

This year I was low on granulated sugar, so I used cassonade, aka raw sugar.  I think it’s made the sauce especially delicious, but I know from experience that it is just fine made with white sugar.  I also saw the bottle of Cointreau looking lonely on the shelf, and thought it might want to join in the fun.  I think some people like having whole cranberries in their homemade sauce, but I can’t help popping them.  Cranberry sauce is like the culinary equivalent of bubble wrap.  Once those little red jewels heat up, all it takes is a bit of pressure from the wooden spoon, and pop!  It is so intensely satisfying, and I can’t stop myself.  Before I know it, all the lovely berries are gone, and I’m left with a gorgeous, garnet-red, jammy sauce.  Still tastes good, though.

Before I get to the cranberry recipe, I’d like to give you a few more ideas for your Thanksgiving spread this year.  I think any of these would be welcome additions to the holiday table.

Balsamic roasted beets with bacon and chestnuts
Potimarron-fingerling gratin with cider-braised leeks
Roast parsnips and apples
Cumin-maple sweet potatoes with spiced pecans
Date crumble bars
Brown butter ice cream (try it with apple pie!)

And now, the cranberry sauce…

Kick-Ass Cranberry Sauce

The first year I hosted my own Thanksgiving dinner, I had a grand total of three people at the table.  That didn’t stop me from going all out.  (Needless to say, we had leftovers for days.)  I wanted to give the cranberry sauce a bit of a kick, and I thought orange and ginger would do the job nicely.  They did – to quote my friend who shall remain nameless “Wow, Camille, you kicked my mom’s ass!” – and I’ve never since gone back to plain cranberry sauce.

1 bag (340 g) fresh cranberries, rinsed and drained
1 cup / 250ml water
1 cup / 200g granulated sugar or cassonade (raw or turbinado sugar)
A pinch of salt
Juice and zest of 1 orange
2 Tbsp. minced fresh ginger
A splash of Cointreau (optional)

1. Bring the water and sugar to a boil. You don’t have to do this first, but I like to hear the cranberries pop when they hit the pan.
2. Add the cranberries, orange juice and zest, salt, ginger, and Cointreau (if using).  Return to a boil and reduce heat to medium-low.  Simmer until thickened and a deep garnet color, about 25 minutes.
3. Transfer to a serving vessel and cool.  Chill, covered in plastic wrap, until needed.  (The sauce will keep for up to two weeks in the fridge.)

Makes about a pint – more than enough to accompany a turkey dinner for eight.

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

As part of my continuing infatuation with Fergus Henderson, I have made and cooked with his Trotter Gear recipe from Beyond Nose to Tail.  And I wrote all about it for the fabulous Nose to Tail at Home.  Here’s a little something to whet your appetite…

How did I get from pig’s feet to this tasty meat pie?  You’ll have to click over to my guest post to find out.

* * * * *

Speaking of preserved meats, I believe I mentioned that it was my goal to make cassoulet for Languedoc month.  I left out the part where I planned to make my own duck confit.  Well, the process has begun.  Using an amalgam of recipes from Robuchon and Ruhlman (what’s with the five-hour difference in cooking time, guys?), I have rubbed three duck legs with a mortar-and-pestled mixture of coarse sea salt, black peppercorns, bay leaves, cloves, and garlic.

Now I have to wait two days to cover the legs in more duck fat and cook them ever so slowly until they just about fall apart.  It’s going to be tough, but the kitchen now smells like garlic and bay, and that’s never a bad thing.

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

It is my pleasure to announce the French region where we here at Croque-Camille will be spending November: the Languedoc!  This is another one (like Bourgogne) that I’ve been looking forward to almost all year.  My original plan has written “November – cassoulet.”  Of course I had to do a little digging to figure out which region, exactly, cassoulet exemplifies, so here we are in the Languedoc.

The Languedoc is a fairly large region that comprises a lot of the Southwestern part of France.  It stretches from the Spanish/Catalan border all the way to the Rhône river – the old capital was Toulouse, the new one Montpellier.  The region gets its name from the language used there prior to the French Revolution: Occitan.  Occitan is a romance language whose use was most widespread in the medieval period.  It was distinguished from dialects further North by the way they said “yes.”  In Occitan, they say “oc,” while in old French, they said “oi,” which became the present-day “oui.”  Get it?  Langue d’oc.  (Thank you, class in medieval French literature.  Who knew I’d ever need that tidbit again?)

Now, it just so happens that I correspond regularly in the blogosphere with an amateur cheese expert (oxymoron?  Nah.) who lives in the Languedoc.  I wrote to her for advice on regional cheeses, and among her suggestions was Cathare, a goat’s cheese embellished with an Occitan Cross, the symbol of the region.

Cathare is a raw-milk cheese, aged only a couple of weeks (sorry Americans – it’s unavailable in the US due to silly regulatory laws).  The rind is thin and wrinkly, with ash coating only the top of the slim wheel.  The cheese just inside the completely edible rind is smooth and gooey, while the inside is just a bit firmer and drier.  The cheese definitely has that goaty tang with a hint of chalkiness, but the flavor is full and rich.  The ash contributes no grittiness, as is always my (generally unfounded) fear.  It would be nicely complimented by a dry yet fruity white wine.

It should come as no surprise that I am sending this in to La Fête du Fromage Chez Loulou.  As always, look for the roundup on the 15th – there’s always something new!

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

I have a bad habit of letting recognition from my fellow bloggers go unacknowledged for way too long.  I do really appreciate the mentions and links, I just have a hard time working them into my regular posts.  But let enough of them pile up, and boom!  Instant post!  Perfect for those unexpected days off work when you planned to get a lot of work done but instead spent the afternoon playing video games.  (Being a grown-up is sometimes every bit as awesome as I thought it would be.)

Without further ado, the first/longest-neglected award in my collection:

I have Jenni of Pastry Methods and Techniques to thank for this one.  If you are as-yet unfamiliar with her blog, I highly recommend checking it out as it is both Informative and Hilarious. 

The Zombie Chicken Award is given to “the blogger who believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken– excellence, grace, and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words.” 

I’m flattered, and I hope it never comes to that.  But if it does, I know just the guy to take care of all those zombie chickens, by way of grill, oven, or cast-iron skillet: Ryan, of Nose to Tail at Home.  (Technically, the rules say five winners or I suffer a horrible death at the hands/beaks of a horde of zombie chickens, but Jenni ignored the rules and she’s still around, so I’m going to take my chances.)  Back to Ryan, he’s cooking his way through Fergus Henderson’s now-classic Nose to Tail Eating.  It’s a wild ride.

Next up, Hungry Dog gave me the One Lovely Blog Award.  The award exists to spread the love for favorite blogs, especially new or new-to-you ones.  I admit I haven’t been adding many blogs to my already too-long reading list of late (other than Hungry Dog, which is an enjoyable, relatable read by a girl who “lives in San Francisco at the top of a hill”).  But my friend Lissa has finally started writing the blog she’s been talking about since moving to Paris a year ago, so I’d like to pass this award along to her, at Researching Paris.

Finally, Jennifer (aka Loulou) has made me a “victim” of the Kreativ Blogger Award.  The rules for this one are as follows: write seven random/interesting things about yourself and coerce seven others to share their quirks and secrets with us.  Here goes:

• I am a night person.  (How I ended up in an early-morning industry is a mystery.)
• I was a total Beatlemaniac in high school… in the ’90’s.
• I just read Rant by Chuck Palahniuk (hometown hero) and can’t stop thinking about it.
• I won’t eat canned peaches or green beans, but I will eat canned pears or corn.
• Cheap, poor quality chocolate makes me angry.
• In the winter, I hang my socks on the towel warmer while I shower.  Warm toes make me happy.
• I am completely overthinking this.

And the  seven: Jenni, Hungry Dog, Hope, Andrea, Ken, Jeanne, and Hails.

Thanks again to all who tagged me!

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

October, aka Burgundy Month, may be over, but it has left a lasting impression on my kitchen in the form of Large Quantities of Mustard.  Mustard, believe it or not, does expire, so now I’m faced with the enviable task of figuring out what to do with all of it.  Vinaigrette is easy – the more mustard you add to it, the easier it is to emulsify! – but no one wants to eat salad every night, no matter how beautiful and flavorful the dressing.

Shortly after our return from Dijon, I had a cauliflower from the CSA panier idling in the fridge.  Cauliflower in cheese sauce is a classic, but it occurred to me to swap out the cheese for a healthy dose of fresh mustard.  I whipped up a quick béchamel sauce (remember last week’s velouté?  Same thing, only with milk instead of stock), using an 8:1 ratio of milk to roux - going for saucy, not soupy.  Meanwhile, I was roasting bite-size chunks of cauliflower in the oven.  When the sauce was ready, I whisked in a few big spoonfuls of mustard, then tossed the sauce with the cauliflower and popped it back in the oven for a few minutes to get a delicious tan.

And it was fantastic.  We ate it as a main course, but it would make a great side dish, too.

Still looking for ways to incorporate mustard into my menus, I thought I’d check the selection of exotic (well, to the people who stock the vegetables at Monoprix, anyway) greens at my local Asian market (ok, one of the many).  Mustard greens sounded like they might end up a little one-dimensional, but broccoli greens seemed right on.  (Not entirely sure what these are called in English.  In French, they’re labeled “feuilles de brocoli,” and they look a bit like broccoli rabe or rapini, but don’t taste bitter the way those do.)  Using this recipe sketch as a jumping off point  – which I have done many times, all recipes should be written this way – I softened some shallots in a pan before adding sliced broccoli greens until they wilted.  A splash of white wine vinegar and a couple of large dollops of mustard went in next, and when the greens were coated to my liking, I served them up next to loaded cheeseburgers – dark leafy greens make any meal healthy, right?

I never did much actual cooking with mustard before, but you can believe I’m going to keep at it!

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

Bonus points to anyone who gets that reference before I go ahead and explain it.  (These are honor system bonus points.)

It may be noted that I am a huge nerd, but I’ve been wanting to post this song forever – it seems like a good little Friday evening post, because let’s face it, I’m not so much of a nerd that I would prefer to spend my whole Friday night on the computer, I’ve got better things to do like drink beer on the couch with my husband and I’m going to stop now before this sentence reaches Proustian lengths.

I find it unbelievable that there are only two YouTube videos dedicated to this They Might Be Giants classic, one a live version from 1992, and the other this fan video, which is clearly the product of a significant amount of effort (and which has better sound).  Enjoy!

So what’s your favorite food song?

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

When I was in culinary school, we had to memorize three different methods for making cream soups.  I couldn’t tell you now how, specifically, any of them went, but I do know how to whip up a cream soup when I want one, so something must have sunk in.  I got a couple of heads of broccoli in my CSA panier last week, and on a recent cold, rainy (i.e. par for the course) evening, cream of broccoli soup sounded like just the ticket.  Cream soup is a great way to get kids to eat vegetables they don’t ordinarily like (just ask my mom – this was the only way I would eat broccoli or asparagus as a child) and may even cause a change of heart towards those very vegetables.  I can actually pinpoint the day I started liking asparagus, and a cream soup was responsible.  But enough about me.

A cream soup is essentially made in four steps:

1. The Velouté

Velouté is a classic French sauce made from stock and blonde roux.  Blonde roux is made by cooking equal parts butter and flour until they begin to smell slightly toasty.  The ratio, according to Ruhlman, is 10 parts liquid to one part roux.  (In school we learned 8:1, but I trust Ruhlman and I figured the puréed broccoli would eventually help to thicken the soup if necessary.)  So I had about 800 ml/29 oz. of stock.  It was so close to a nice, round quart that I decided to go ahead and top it up with 100 ml/3 oz. of milk, thus creating a sort of velouté/béchamel hybrid.  Going from the ratio, I would need 3 oz. of roux.  I melted 1.5 oz. of butter and when it stopped foaming, I added 1.5 oz. of flour.  I stirred it with a wooden spoon until it started to smell like parbaked pie dough.  Then, bit by bit, I whisked in the stock/milk mixture.  Once it was all incorporated, I seasoned it with a bit of salt and pepper and let it simmer for about 30 minutes.

2. The Garnish

What? Garnish?  Now?  Yes.  While the velouté is simmering is the perfect time to prep the vegetables for the soup.  In this case, I washed and trimmed the broccoli and cut it, stems and all, into small pieces.  I set aside a small bowlful of the prettiest florets for garnish, then put them in a strainer, which I then placed over the simmering soup base.  I slapped a lid on top for a few minutes, and voilà!  Pretty steamed broccoli florets for later garnishing purposes!

3. The Flavor

When the velouté is ready – taste it, it should feel silky smooth on your palate – throw in the chopped vegetables that will become the main flavor of the soup.  Simmer until very tender.  The actual amount of time will depend on how small you cut your vegetable; this time, the broccoli took about 15 minutes.

4. Purée and Finish

Almost there!  Purée the soup – I used my trusty immersion blender, but you can also do it in batches in a traditional one, just be careful not to overfill the jar.  Strain it, if you’re so inclined (I wasn’t) and finish with a swirl of cream if you’re feeling decadent (not necessary but adds a touch of luxury).  Reheat the garnish in the soup and serve.

Piece of cake.  Or should I say bowl of soup?

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

This is pretty much the last post I expected to write in Burgundy Month.  But yes, Nick and I did stumble across a locally made beer while in Dijon.

When we go on these weekend jaunts, I research the dining options, and Nick finds out about the beer scene.  He found a neat-looking place called Le Cappuccino that he wanted to check out, so we headed to a less-touristed part of town for a little local flavor.  Inside, we found that they even had a local beer on tap – La Mandubienne.  They even had brochures from the brewery, Brasserie des Trois Fontaines, which we unfortunately did not have time to visit.  In any case, we enjoyed the beer, and Nick wrote up a review for the website Beer Advocate.  He writes:

Color is opalescent wheaty-yellow to dark straw. Good high head that eventually settles into a nice lace over the beer. Aroma is rather full of esters (banana & pear mostly), but not over-the-top Jolly Rancher by any stretch.

Read the rest here.

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

Sadly, we are running out of October.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween, and Thanksgiving even more, but I wish I had more time to explore the rich culinary heritage of Bourgogne.  There were two pretty stellar lunches, featuring Burgundian classics like kir, oeufs meurette, and all kinds of mushroom dishes (we picked the right time to go to Burgundy – just as mushroom season was getting into full swing!); and one rather disappointing dinner, which I didn’t bother photographing.  We did a lot of walking around the city, admiring the timbered houses and colorful tiled roofs.  Since I’d be here all night if I tried to cover it all in one post, instead I have built a mosaic of my favorite pictures from the trip.  Click on the title of the photo at the bottom if you want a better view or a little more info.  Enjoy!

1. Kir in its Natural Habitat, 2. St-Begnigne Cathedral, Dijon, 3. Velouté de Poireaux, 4. Lentil Salad with Ham at L’O, 5. L’O – Chicken in Mushroom Sauce, 6. Entrecôte at L’O, 7. Pear “Biscuit” at L’O, 8. Boules de Glace at L’O, 9. Hôtel de Vogüe, 10. Place de la Libération, 11. L’Eau d’Origine Contrôlée, 12. Oeufs Meurette at Café Gourmand, 13. Mushroom Tatin at Café Gourmand, 14. Crumble au Potiron at Café Gourmand, 15. Veal Burger, 16. Pompon Boar, 17. L’Assommoir, 18. Gargoyles

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

It’s actually been pretty fun at work this week.  I haven’t said that in a year and a half, and I was afraid I never would.  We’ve been trying out new recipes for the bûches de Noël for this holiday season.  Not only do I like experimenting in the kitchen for the way it breaks up the general work routine, but this year I have been included in the proceedings.  As in, asked for my opinions and for any ideas I might have in the way of new bûche flavor combinations.

I really wanted to do a chocolate/banana/peanut butter thing, but I know better than to get too wacky (i.e. American) with this crowd.  So I Frenchified the idea, swapping in praliné mousse for the peanut one.  I ordered some bananas and when they were good and ripe I sliced up a couple and sautéed them with butter, raw sugar, and rum.  The chef found an intriguing recipe for a banana biscuit, so we tried it, and it’s delicious.  I put a sample of the cake together today, and when we tasted it, we knew we had a winner on our hands.  So just like that, my creation is going to be produced and sold this Christmas and New Year’s.  If you live in Paris, I highly recommend you come pick one up when the time rolls around.  (Or better yet, reserve one in advance.  I’ll let you know the details at a later date.)

Oh, and a quick reminder to click over to Foodie Fights and vote for me in Battle Cumin and Pecan!

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

That’s cumin and pecans for any strict Anglophones out there.  Two decidedly not-French ingredients.  But they are the two featured ingredients for Foodie Fights Battle #14, in which I was chosen to participate.  Cumin, at least, is fairly easy to come by around here, but pecans are horrendously expensive.  Lucky for me, Nick recently brought back a bag full of goodies from Trader Joe’s, including some pecan halves.  Game on!

At first it felt a little weird trying to construct a dish based around a spice and a garnish; but then I have been known to build an outfit around a pair of shoes, which I guess would be the sartorial equivalent.  So… cumin and pecans.  Cumin makes me think of Mexican or Indian food, while pecans are 100% americana.  I had a number of ideas floating around – curried carrots on cumin rice, cumin-pecan kettle corn - none of them really gelling into something I wanted to get off my butt and cook.  Then I remembered that it’s sweet potato season.

And suddenly I had to have something Thanksgiving-y.  The cumin would be an unusual twist, but I thought I could make it work.  Smoky bacon (what else?) and sweet maple syrup provided the catalysts that ended up tying it all together.  The pieces of the puzzle fell together while I was at work, so I quickly scribbled “Cumin-Maple Roasted Sweet Potatoes w/ Sweet + Spicy Pecans   Bacon!” on a torn-off scrap of paper, very excited to buy some sweet potatoes at the Asian market and make this dish happen.

Which it did, Saturday night.  We had some guests for dinner, so I made the sweet-spicy-salty pecans first, appropriate for nibbling in between Wii bowling games.  Honestly, the pecans by themselves were a huge hit, and I got repeated requests for the technique.  I could have left it at that, but why would I, when I could use the pecans to top cumin- and bacon-scented sweet potatoes?  I definitely wanted to use whole cumin seeds, but I didn’t want them to be too crunchy, so I tossed them with the potatoes, some chopped onion, blanched lardons, and a little oil before covering the baking dish with foil and baking/steaming it for 30 minutes.  However, steamed sweet potatoes don’t excite me nearly as much as roasted ones, so after the initial half hour, I took off the foil, drizzled on a vinaigrette made with maple syrup and apple cider vinegar, and continued roasting for another hour while I prepared the rest of the meal: duck breasts and spinach wilted in the duck fat.

It was a great dinner for a chilly autumn night, and I can definitely see this one on the holiday table.

The battle starts tomorrow (Tuesday, October 20).  I’d love it if you headed over to Foodie Fights and voted for me.  It should be worth checking out, even if you ultimately decide I didn’t earn your vote – I haven’t seen the other entries yet, so I don’t know what I’m up against.  The winner will be announced on Thursday, so get your votes in!

Click through for the recipe, which I heartily encourage you to try.

Cumin-Maple Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Spiced Pecans

A Fall side dish par excellence, these heady, flavorsome potatoes would make a great accompaniment to just about any meat from sautéed duck breast to roast chicken to grilled venison steaks.  The cumin perfumes the potatoes while the maple syrup enhances their sweetness.  Toasted sweet and salty pecans provide crunchy contrast.  Or you could just snack on them while you wait for the potatoes to finish cooking.

For the pecans:
1 cup / 130g pecan halves
2 tsp. oil, preferably peanut, though any neutral vegetable oil would be fine (not olive!)
¼ tsp. salt
½ tsp. sugar
1/8 tsp. cayenne pepper
1/8 tsp. cinnamon
Pinch ground cumin

1. Preheat the oven to 375 F/190 C.
2. Toss the pecan halves with the oil until evenly coated.  Add the salt, sugar, cayenne, cinnamon, and cumin and stir again to distribute.
3. Spread nuts on a foil-lined baking sheet and bake about 15 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes, until they deepen in color and entice you with the aroma of toasted spices.
4. Remove from oven and cool to room temperature.  If you’re going on to make the sweet potatoes, leave the oven on.

For the sweet potatoes:
3½ oz./100g lardons or diced bacon (optional) (not really)
2 large sweet potatoes (about 2 lb./1 kg), peeled and diced
1 small onion, diced
1 tsp. cumin seeds
A generous pinch of coarse sea salt
1 Tbsp. vegetable oil
Vinaigrette (whisk together):
            2 tsp. maple syrup
            1 Tbsp. apple cider vinegar
            Fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
            3 Tbsp. vegetable oil

1. Bring a pot of water to a boil.  Dump in the lardons or bacon and return to a boil for 1-2 minutes.  Drain.
2. Combine the sweet potatoes, onion, lardons, and cumin seeds in a roasting pan.  Drizzle with 1 Tbsp. oil and season with coarse salt.  Cover with foil and bake for 30 minutes, until potatoes are beginning to become tender.
3. Remove the foil and stir the vinaigrette into the potatoes.  Continue roasting for another hour or so, giving them a stir every now and then.  When the potatoes are fully tender and are starting to brown on the edges, they’re ready to eat.
4. Gently stir in the pecans and serve hot.

Serves 4-5 as a side dish.

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

Dijon, located in the Côte d’Or département, is a city full of great food, wine, and shopping opportunities.  Nick and I arrived in town Saturday morning and headed straight for the market, which was packed with local and regional cheeses, charcuterie, wines, and produce.  If the weather had been nicer, we would have picked up some goodies and found a picturesque spot to enjoy a picnic.  Alas, it being October, we got gray skies and intermittent rain.  Nonetheless, we did not go hungry.  After a long lunch in a restaurant near the market, we wandered over to the rue de la Liberté, the city’s main shopping street (in fact, it is what I remember most about my last visit to Dijon, in 2000, particularly the H&M).  This time, though, I was shopping for mustard.  The Maille boutique features dozens of flavors of mustard, from cassis to herbes de Provence to marc de Bourgogne.  I wanted to try them all, but feared for my sinuses.

My favorite feature of the shop is the mustard taps, where you can have a stoneware mustard pot filled with your choice of fresh mustard.  Apparently Maille has one other boutique in France, located in Paris – D’oh! – so when I run out, I can go there to get my pot refilled.

And then we were off in search of wine…

… which we found at the charming Ô Gré du Vin.  (Or is it Ogre du Vin?  The former roughly translates to “In the Mood for Wine,” while the latter becomes “Wine Ogre.”  While I enjoy silly mistranslations as much as the next language geek, I’m fairly certain the first spelling/translation is the correct one.)

Either way, the shop, run by the very friendly Bertrand Joinville, had a lovely selection of French wines, with a focus on Burgundies and organic wines.  We had an informative chat with Bertrand as we tasted a few of his offerings, and we let him convince us to buy two different reds (pinot noir  – nearly all the red wine from Bourgogne is pinot noir) from neighboring parcels (wine classification and nomenclature in Burgundy is arguably the most complex in France) to compare the effects of the terroir.  Hey, I’m all for educating my palate.

We also picked up a couple of bottles of white wine.  I love the Burgundian style of Chardonnay – it’s crisp, clean, and food-friendly, in stark contrast to the American perception of Chardonnay as buttery and almost sweet.

Now, seeing as it’s Friday night, I think I’ll go cook something mustardy, crack open a bottle of Burgundy, and pretend I’m a Dijonnaise.

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

Can you believe I spent an entire weekend in Dijon and didn’t have a single regional cheese?  Well, it’s true.  Not for lack of trying, mind you – I foolishly thought that two-plus hours was a sufficient amount of time for a three-course lunch.  Unfortunately, I had to cancel my cheese plate order (all made in Beaune!  I was so excited!) in order to catch the train home.  On the upside, Paris is still a pretty good place to buy cheeses from all over France.

I found a little round of Délice de Bourgogne without much trouble, and took it home, stopping by Du Pain et Des Idées for some bread, which gave it just enough time to come up to temperature for my afternoon snack.

Délice de Bourgogne is a triple-crème cheese (one of my favorite categories), clocking in at around 40% butterfat.  It is made from pasteurized cow’s milk, and tastes, rather unsurprisingly, buttery.  This one is a tad underripe in my book – I like it more gooey than firm – but still has a pleasant smooth texture and buttery flavor with a hint of yogurty tang.  Later on (if I can wait that long) it will develop a fuller aroma, grassier and earthier, though it will never get as strong as its raw-milk brethren.  I think a glass of white Burgundy – that’s Chardonnay, but not the oaky juggernaut it’s become in California – would be a perfect accompaniment.

Once again, I’m just in time for La Fête du Fromage at Chez Loulou.  Be sure to see what the rest of the roundup has in store on the 15th!

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

I know you’ve all been wondering when I was going to announce the French Region for October.  (Actually, I know you haven’t.  Statistics show that these “Regional French” posts are some of the least visited on this site.  And yet, some of the most searched… hmmm.)  At any rate, this is a region I’ve had planned since the beginning, and one I’m very excited about: Burgundy.  Bourgogne to the French.  I will be using the terms interchangeably.  Some of my favorite wines and cheeses in all of France come from Burgundy, not to mention some of the dishes that are inextricably linked with Classic French Cuisine, such as Boeuf Bourguignonne, Coq au Vin, and escargots.  (Let’s not forget gougères are also a Bourguignonne specialty.)  My trip is planned, and in honor of Dijon, whe’re I’m headed for a weekend, as well as in honor of Friday, I present to you Kir.

Kir, a classic French apéritif, was invented by Félix Kir, a former mayor of Dijon (who I can’t stop imagining as the Bud Clark of France).  Cassis, aka blackcurrants, grow very well in Burgundy, so naturally the wine-loving populace came up with a way to make them alcoholic.  By soaking fresh cassis berries in alcohol, they extract a sweet liqueur heady with the aromas of the ripe fruit.  As the story goes, the drink was invented to make less-awesome white wine more drinkable by mixing it with one third crème de cassis.  And believe me, it does.  Cheers!

Originally published on Croque-Camille.

Apple season is rapidly approaching full swing, and for the time being, I’m full of apple ideas.  (Give it a few months.)  One of my very favorite things to do with apples is carameleize them à la tarte Tatin.

Which I did, Saturday morning.  However, I just couldn’t get excited about making the puff pastry for a tarte Tatin.  Also, I only had four small apples, which wasn’t going to be nearly enough.  What I wanted was a poundcake, but lighter, maybe made with some yogurt.  So I tweaked the Ratio, a lot.  As in, changed the leavener, removed some butter, added some brown sugar and bourbon, and of course the yogurt is not a traditional poundcake ingredient.

And it worked!  Astoundingly well.  We ate it for an afternoon snack and a few subsequent breakfasts, but it would be an excellent dessert, served warm with some crème fraîche or Greek yogurt alongside.

Apple Cake, Tatin-Style

For those fall days when you’re craving tarte tatin, but puff pastry or even pie dough seems like too much work, a quick brown sugar pound cake makes the perfect base for buttery, caramelized apples.  (Which are also excellent on their own, or over ice cream.) A hit of bourbon feels right.

For the Tatin apples:
4 apples, peeled, quartered, and cored
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter
¼ cup / 50 g sugar
Splash of bourbon (optional)

1. Melt the butter in a medium nonstick skillet.  Add the sugar and cook until the sugar starts to melt.  Place the apple quarters in the sauce and cook over medium-low heat, turning occasionally, until evenly caramelized.  Pour a little bourbon (if using) over the apples and cook a few more minutes to evaporate.  Remove from heat.

For the cake:
4 oz. / 115 g unsalted butter, room temperature
4 oz. / 115 g sugar
3 oz. / 85 g brown sugar
1 tsp. salt
3 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 Tbsp. bourbon
8 oz. / 225 g all-purpose flour
½ tsp. baking soda
4½ oz. / 125 g plain yogurt
Tatin apples (see above)

1. Preheat the oven to 375 F / 190 C.  Butter an 8”x8” / 20×20 cm (or approximate equivalent) baking dish.  Combine the flour and baking soda in a bowl.
2. In another bowl, cream the butter, sugars, and salt until fluffy.  (You can use an electric mixer with the paddle attachment or your arm with a wooden spoon attachment.)  Beat in the eggs, one at a time, followed by the vanilla and bourbon.  Gently stir in half of the flour – I recommend doing this part by hand – then the yogurt, then the rest of the flour.
3. Arrange the apples in the bottom of the baking dish, being sure to pour any excess caramel sauce over them.  Pour the cake batter over the apples and even out the top.
4. Bake until a knife inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean, about 50-60 minutes, rotating the dish halfway through baking.  Remove from oven and cool 10-15 minutes.  Loosen the sides of the cake with a small knife and turn it out onto a plate.  Serve warm or at room temperature, for dessert, breakfast, or a snack.  Cover leftover cake with foil – it will keep 3-4 days on the counter.

Serves about 8.

Originally published on Croque-Camille.