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Dining out with kids in Paris

By Ann | June 24, 2014

Dining out in Paris with kids

Paris restaurants don’t have a reputation for being very kid friendly, so before my most recent trip—my first with baby in tow—I wondered whether I’d be able to eat out with my nine-month-old daughter. Our first lunch at a neighborhood café was not encouraging. We were seated at a corner table with the baby parked in her stroller directly beneath the door of a refrigerator. Every few minutes, a waiter opened the fridge to grab one of the carafes of water cooling within. The glass bottle passed right over the baby’s tender head while the head waiter barked: “Fais TRES attention au bébé!” (Be VERY careful of the baby!) The waiter would shoot me a look that screamed “You are in the way!” and the fridge door would slam shut. When the baby began squawking, we bolted our food and beat a hasty retreat.

After this experience, it seemed likely that we wouldn’t eat out in Paris as a family for the next seventeen years. But after I canvassed a couple of Paris parent friends, we tried again, and again, several times—and found each meal easier than the last. I’ve combined their suggestions with my tips for dining out with a baby in Paris. I’d love to hear your recommendations, too—please leave them in the comments!

baby in paris café

Choose wisely—I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Parisians are very child friendly. But not in restaurants. It’s important to pick the kind of place where kids are welcome (I offer a few addresses below). Casual spots like cafés, bistros, or non-French places like pizza or Chinese food are good choices. Only you know your kid’s limits, but personally I would avoid everything else with a baby. “I see the most kids in Asian restaurants, not traditional French restaurants,” says my friend Erin, mother of Felix, 4, and Lucie, 2. Another alternative: “Crêperies are definitely known as family friendly places.”

Eat early—French people are creatures of habit—they like to eat at the same times—that is, one o’clock for lunch; eight o’clock for dinner. If you show up at a restaurant early, you’ll catch the staff before the rush, and there will be few other customers to disturb with baby squawking. “The very best thing is to go immediately at 12pm or 7pm,” says Erin. “Make sure you’re the first people served so the kids aren’t waiting forever.”

But not too early—Paris restaurants keep rigid hours; most aren’t open before 12pm or 7pm. If you’d like to eat outside those hours, look for a place that offers “service continu”—continuous dining service—usually a café. Fair warning: the best food in Paris is not usually found in places with service continu.

baby with baguette

Don’t expect kid accoutrements—High chair? Crayons? Kid’s menu? Fuhgeddaboudit. “I’ve never been to a restaurant that has a high chair available or that could easily accommodate our own portable high chair,” says Claire, mother of Theo, 21 months. Restaurants for families do exist, “but they’re chain restaurants,” says Erin. I brought most of the baby’s food from home, and gave her a chunk of baguette from the bread basket to keep her busy.

Case the joint in advance—Don’t just show up with the stroller, expecting to be seated. Scope out the restaurant in advance to see what kind of space they have. Pop in and ask if they’d mind accommodating kids and/or a stroller. “If they’re reluctant to welcome kids, it’s almost always a space issue,” says Erin. Paris real estate is expensive; most restaurants are tiny. “My father-in-law is in a wheelchair and when restaurants see us coming with him and the stroller, they’re like, ‘Forget it!'” says Claire.

Find an outdoor café— “I usually try for a restaurant with ample outdoor seating and  sit at the end where I can pull up the stroller,” says Claire. Pedestrian streets like rue Montorgueil or rue Cler offer a large choice of cafés with wide terrasses—though they also attract heavy smokers. We had lunch in one café on rue Cler, which offered ideal seating—lots of room for the stroller, we were outside so didn’t have to worry about baby yelps—but the food left much to be desired.

Goûter is good—I’ve noticed children are more welcome at goûter, or tea time, the four o’clock hour when French people like to eat sweets. I’ve even spotted kids in chic salons de thé like Jacques Genin or Angelina. Otherwise, picnics are an obvious choice for families of young children—plus you have an excuse to buy lots of different types of cheese!

Bottom line—After several lunches with the baby (we never tried dinner since she goes to bed too early), and talking to several friends, my conclusion is that dining out in Paris with young children is not common. But it is acceptable, if you choose the right kind of place and right time, and if you’re considerate of the staff and other customers. In other words, maybe it’s not so different from anywhere else?

Paris restaurant with baby

les deux abeilles with baby

Where to eat with kids in Paris

Les Deux Abeilles
189 rue de l’Université, 7e
tel: 01 45 55 64 04
At first glance, this cozy tea salon does not seem kid-friendly—space is tight, voices are low, and there are crisp, white tablecloths. But they offer continuous service from 9am-7pm, which means you could eat super early without worrying about being a nuisance. I love their savory tarts, hearty salads, and gorgeous cakes.

Café Suédois à l’Institut Suédois
11 rue Payenne, 3e
tel: 01 44 78 80 20
This is a charming little lunch/tea counter at the Institut Suédois with housemade soups, bread, cakes, and even elderflower cordial. Best of all, there’s lots of seating in the spacious courtyard. There’s no table service here—just order at the counter and ferry the food yourself. They were kind when we rearranged the chairs to make room for the strollers (and we also spent several minutes replacing everything when we left).

West Country Girl
6 Passage Saint-Ambroise, 11e
tel: 01 47 00 72 54
Even though I said crêperies were family friendly, I would avoid one of my favorites, Breizh Café, because of the aforementioned space issues. West Country Girl is a good alternative, with excellent galettes in a less touristy (and populated) part of Paris. Admittedly, I have not been here with a stroller. But I have eaten an early, mid-week lunch here and the dining room was practically empty.

Pizza Chic
w 13 rue de Mézières, 6e
tel: 01 45 48 30 38
I love their pizza. But this restaurant is as chic as its name indicates. I have, however, seen older kids (aged seven and up) dining here—early. There are also a few sidewalk tables, which could be possible for an early meal with a stroller. However, wild horses couldn’t drag me to bring the baby to eat at this restaurant during regular service, either indoors or out.

Happy Families
5 rue du Cloître Saint-Merri, 4e
tel: 01 40 29 89 99
This center near Beaubourg offers everything from a kid-friendly café (with high chairs and simple meals), dance and music classes (for kids), meditation sessions (for parents :), as well as a beauty salon, massages—and babysitting. I haven’t been here yet, but it sounds great for a rainy day.

Do you have any tips to add or addresses to share? I’d be grateful for your advice!

Topics: Dining Out and About, Kids in Paris, Paris | 21 Comments »

My Paris walking tour with La Cuisine Paris

By Ann | June 12, 2014

tour la cuisine paris 2

Three of my favorite things are Paris, walking in Paris, and food. And so, when Jane of La Cuisine Paris and I started planning my Paris popup tour, I couldn’t wait to hit the ground. And even though it rained on the day of my tour—comme une vache qui pisse (as they say so charmingly)—my stalwart fellow food lovers and I enjoyed a delicious (albeit damp!) afternoon.

E Dehillerinjpg

I wanted to offer insights into Julia Child’s Paris, and so one of our first stops was her favorite cookware shop, E. Dehillerin. Julia described herself as “a knife freak, frying pan freak, and gadget freak,” and it’s easy to imagine her wandering the narrow aisles, admiring the giant whisks and rolling pins, and asking the seasoned salesmen for advice. Two photos of Madame Child still hang above the register and one of the clerks said he’d met her in 1986. The shop has been open since 1820, and it’s still targeted mainly to professionals, which means its prices are listed before tax—hors taxes—unlike most retail shops in France.

au pied de cochon

We stopped outside Au Pied de Cochon, which is the only restaurant I know of in France that’s open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The special dispensation for extra hours was granted in 1947, after several lean war years. I like to imagine Julia squeezing into a narrow booth, digging into a gratinéed bowl of soupe à l’oignon after a frosty, wee hour visit to the market at Les Halles (which used to be located just across the street).

rue montorgueil la cuisine paris tour

rue montorgueil


We also visited Stohrer, one of Paris’s most venerable addresses, opened in 1730. When Louis XV married Marie Leszczynka of Poland in 1725, her pâtissier accompanied her to France in her retinue. Five years later, he opened this pâtisserie—and allegedly invented baba au rhum in the same spot. More recently, Le Figaroscope named Stohrer’s éclair au chocolat the best in Paris—a pronouncement that I don’t entirely agree with. Nevertheless, we bought a couple just to make sure :)

la cuisine paris tour

andouille de guéméné

pâte de campagne

The rain, by the way, finally stopped somewhere between the charcuterie and the fromagerie, just in time for us to squelch back to La Cuisine Paris for a decadent dégustation. On the menu: andouille de Guéméné, a tripe sausage from Brittany, which—I’m proud to say—was sampled by every single member of the group. We also tucked into rillettes of goose and of pork, rabbit pâté, foie gras, several types of cheese, and more, accompanied by a spritely white wine.

mastering the art of french eating

book signing

The afternoon ended with a book signing (every author’s favorite activity :) and then I was sad to say au revoir. I enjoyed meeting such a curious, enthusiastic group and loved introducing them to tripe sausage (among other things). My thanks to La Cuisine Paris for a lovely afternoon—I hope to do it again soon!

tour la cuisine paris

If you’d like to create your own walking tour of Paris:

E. Dehillerin
18-20 rue Coquillière, 1e, Paris
tel: 01 42 36 53 13

Au Pied de Cochon
6 rue Coquillière, 1e, Paris
tel: 01 40 13 77 00

51 rue Montorgueil, 1e, Paris
tel: 01 42 33 38 20

Or visit La Cuisine Paris for one of their wonderful walking tours, excursions, market tours and/or cooking classes.

(Photos that include moi thanks to Jane at La Cuisine Paris.)

Topics: Mastering the Art of French Eating, Paris | 16 Comments »

Paris pop up tour!

By Ann | June 2, 2014

sacre coeur

I’m excited to announce that I’m leading a special Paris pop up tour next Tuesday, June 10, with the delightful cooking school, La Cuisine Paris!

I’ll be hosting a gourmet afternoon visiting a few of Julia Child’s favorite haunts, as well as a selection of wonderful food shops. We’ll shop for some of France’s finest delicacies, from fromage to foie gras, andouillettes (for the daring) to pâtisserie! Along the way, you’ll learn a bit of history of some of France’s most iconic dishes.

The tour will end at La Cuisine Paris where we’ll tuck into our treats and chat over wine!

Please join me for:

–Insights and visits to my view of Julia Child’s Paris.

–A walking tour and tasting of France’s finest, including a visit to the charcutier, fromager, pâtissier, et plus!

–Each participant will recieve a signed copy of my new book, Mastering the Art of French Eating!

For more information, visit La Cuisine Paris. There are only a few spots left!

*UPDATE: The tour is sold out! Thanks for helping to spread the word, tout le monde!

Topics: Mastering the Art of French Eating, Paris | 7 Comments »

Weekend cooking/ weeknight eating

By Ann | May 30, 2014


broccoli rabe

As you might have guessed from my Tuesday Dinner series, I’m fascinated by what people cook during the week—not fancy food, but the fast, ordinary meals prepared after a tiring day of work. Ever since the baby arrived, I’ve developed a new strategy. Instead of grocery shopping one meal at a time (I now think of those days and laugh), I cook large quantities during the weekend and reheat during the week. What I lose in spontaneity, I make up for in speed and peace of mind.

On the internets, people’s lives have a tendency to look glossier than they really are. (Surely this explains the email I received after this post appeared, from a reader accusing me of being a trust fund baby.) The truth is this: I try to get a home-cooked dinner on the table about 70% of the time. Do I enjoy cooking every night? No. Sometimes I’m so tired I wish I could swallow the balanced-meal-equivalent of a pill, and collapse into my pillow. But I try to eat at home most nights because I care about the food we eat, I don’t want to weigh 1,000 pounds, and I pinch pennies like everyone else.

Today I’m sharing my week’s cooking routine: what I prepared one weekend, and then how we ate it during the course of seven days.

asparagus broccoli rabe

chicken tetrazzini

What I cooked:
Over the weekend, I steamed a pound of asparagus, sautéed broccoli rabe with chili flakes and garlic, boiled up a pot of quinoa and couscous for packed lunches, and prepared a chicken tetrazzini casserole. (I also made some baby food.) My husband cooked a pot of chili.


What we ate:
Sunday – Turkey chili, basmati rice, cheddar cheese, and pickled red onions (made the previous week).

chicken tetrazzini

Monday – Chicken tetrazzini, reheated at 350ºF for an hour until golden and bubbly.

pb sriracha toast

Tuesday – Peanut butter/ sriracha toast, sauteed broccoli rabe. (Note: husband ate chicken tetrazzini, but I’d had an enormous lunch.)

chili 2

Wednesday – More turkey chili, basmati rice, cheddar, avocado, and pickled onions.

salmon donburi

Thursday – Japanese-style donburi bowl. Salmon (cooked this way), avocado, asparagus, broccoli rabe, pickled red onions, black sesame seeds, and dashi broth over sushi rice. This is one of my favorite meals, but it’s only fast if you’ve cooked the vegetables in advance.


Friday – Vegetarian burrito from Chipotle. We get take-out once a week and I look forward to it.

Saturday – Dinner out with friends (delicious Korean food at Hanjan). Drank a martini and forgot to take pictures (sorry).


A few observations:

–We eat a lot of food in bowls!

–My late-night food photography needs work (sorry about those #struggleplates :)

– Not pictured: the asparagus and broccoli rabe also appeared at lunch, atop of quinoa, with sliced turkey breast and cherry tomatoes.

– The rice cooker is my best friend–it produces perfect grains every time, with no pot watching. I’m not sure how I survived so long without one.

– Though we didn’t dip into our freezer this week, I rely on it most weeks.

I’d love to hear about your weekly cooking routine!

Topics: A year in a French market: Spring, New York City, Tuesday dinner | 8 Comments »

Tasting France through five dishes—EXTRAS

By Ann | May 24, 2014


Last summer, I traveled around France with the sole purpose of eating. It was a memorable journey for many reasons (among them this and this), and I’m absolutely thrilled the resulting article is in this Sunday’s New York Times Travel section—my first cover! I hope you’ll read the story and leave me a comment with an answer to this question: What’s your favorite regional dish—in France, or beyond?

I thought I’d share the article’s EXTRAS*—the material left on the cutting room floor, in this case, the hotels I stayed at on my trip, and a few of the food souvenirs I brought home. I’m always on the hunt for les bonnes adresses, and I hope you find these helpful!



Seemingly torn from the pages of a French fairy tale, the Manoir de Lanroz (282 Chemin de Lanroz, 29000 Quimper, tel: 33-2-98-90-64-43; is steeped in the charm of an old-fashioned manor house. Bedrooms feature family antiques and views that stretch across green fields to a sparkling lake.

Château Coquelicot (250 route de Castelnaudary, 11400 Souihanels-Castelnaudary, tel: 33-6-42-74-55-90;, on the edges of Castelnaudary, is a sprawling country house with spacious rooms, a pool, and sweeping views of grape vines. Upon request, the Belgian owners, Françoise and Frédéric Bernier, will prepare a home-cooked supper at their table d’hôte.

L’Avila Cassis (15 Avenue Joseph Liautaud, tel: 33-4-42-03-35-37;, a 10-minute walk from the town center, is a bed and breakfast with comfortable, modern rooms, a pool, and a sunny terrace for morning coffee.

Located in the heart of Lyon’s presqu’ile, the eccentric Chambre d’Hugo (21 rue Victor Hugo, Lyon, 69002; tel: 33-6-18-38-27-68;—housed in an elegant, 18th-century apartment—has only one room, a serene space with parquet floors, linen curtains, classic moldings painted in pale grey, and an en suite bathroom. Breakfasts include homemade fruit compote and fresh smoothies—the perfect antidote to all those bacon-strewn Lyonnais meals.

Slightly off the bouchon trail (though convenient to public transportation) Mama Shelter Lyon (13 rue Domer, Lyon, 69007; tel: 33-4-78-02-58-00;—the latest outpost of the Philippe Starck-designed hotel chain—offers a throbbing bar downstairs, while upstairs rooms are like a modern cocoon, quiet, with fluffy duvets and industrial-chic furniture. Though space is cramped, prices are reasonable, and the staff is young and friendly.

In the pretty, half-timbered village of Rosheim, La Rose d’Alsace (10 Rue de l’Eglise, 67560, Rosheim; tel: 33-3-88-50-10-44; has simple, clean rooms and makes a good base for a choucroute (or wine) tour of the region.

Housed in a newly restored 16th-century hôtel particulier—check out the medieval well at the flowery courtyard’s entrance—La Cour du Courbeau (6-8 rue des Couples, 67000 Strasbourg; tel: 33-3-90-00-26-26; offers spacious, quiet rooms with modern fixtures in the heart of Strasbourg.



Galettes from Brittany
Buttery treats abound in the region, but the picturesque village of Pont-Aven—once, briefly, the home of Gauguin—is famous for galettes, in this case sugar biscuits made with local butter and studded with flakes of sea salt. Each shop has its own secret family recipe, but the thick-cut “palet” cookies at La Boutique de Pont-Aven are delicately sweet with a lightly crumbly texture. Where to buy it: La Boutique de Pont Aven, Place Paul Gauguin

Pralines from Lyon
Rough-textured and hot pink, these sugar-coated almonds are a familiar sight in the city’s pâtisseries, whether used as a filling for tarte aux pralines, crushed and sprinkled on rice pudding, or studding soft loaves of sweet brioche. Buy your own bag and experiment at home. Where to buy it: Monoprix, locations all over the city.

Cassoles from Languedoc
The region’s traditional terracotta cooking vessel, is essential for preparing your own cassoulet. At the Poterie Not Frères, a family business started in 1830, each cassole is made on a man-powered pottery wheel and shaped by hand. Where to buy it: Poterie Not Frères, Mas-Saintes-Puelles

Garrigue herbs from Provence
A mix of rosemary, thyme, savory, lavender and other plants that grow wild along the Provençal Mediterranean coast, the earthy perfume of this dried herb blend enhances everything from bouillabaisse to roast chicken. Where to buy it: Cassis open market, town center (Wednesday mornings)

Pain d’épices from Alsace
Gingerbread doesn’t need to be limited to Christmas—at least not in Alsace, where slices of the moist, sweet, spice bread are enjoyed year-round with a cup of tea, or at cocktail hour, topped with foie gras and paired with a glass of Riesling. The artisanal loaf from Le Bucher des Buissons, tastes delightfully old fashioned, dense with honey and rye flour. Where to buy it: Pains Westermann, 1 rue des Orfèvres, Strasbourg

*Note: This material was originally prepared for a longer version of the article.

Topics: Mastering the Art of French Eating, Where to eat in France | 10 Comments »

Russ & Daughters Café (New York)

By Ann | May 22, 2014

russ and daughters cafe

My love of Russ and Daughters is well documented, so when I heard that the 100-year-old appetizing store had opened a café, I sprinted for a table. I was greeted by a long and narrow space, herringbone tile floors, a  counter in the front, tables and booths in the back. The decor reminded me a malt shop from another era sharpened up with a contemporary edge, a little bit Art Deco, a little bit post Modern.

At a table in the back, a friend and I settled down to business right away, gazing at the placemat that doubles as a menu. While I hemmed and hawed over smoked salmon paired with eggs benedict, scrambled eggs, or potato latkes, in the end I went with a sandwich called the Shtetl: smoked sable, plain bagel, goat cream cheese. My friend, Shana, had the chopped salad: rows of smoked whitefish, beets, avocado, apple, hard-boiled egg, and bits of broken matzo arranged on a bed of lettuce.

The sable was velvety rich with a tang of woodsmoke, offset by the mustard bite of pickled capers. I liked the goat cream cheese, but to be perfectly honest, it didn’t taste that different from a regular schmear. Shana reported that her salad was delicious (and I do love Russ & Daughter’s whitefish), but it was small, and afterwards she was “still a little noshy.”

We filled in the cracks with an egg cream each—chocolate for her, malt for me—mine was a drink of milk, seltzer, and malt syrup (?) that managed to be at once fizzy, frothy, sweet, and rich (is malt umami?!). And as a final treat, we ordered up a pair of blintzes, browned in butter, stuffed with sweetened farmer’s cheese that breathed a gentle note of cinnamon.

I will admit, the bill was not cheap—$60 for two of us, quite a bit heftier than what one might expect from your corner diner/deli/malt shop. (It broke down like this: $18 for my sandwich, $14 for the salad, $7 per egg cream, $14 for the blintzes—needless to say, this is a place for a special lunch treat.) The prices, however, weren’t any more expensive than any other trendy New York lunch spot. And the quality, ah, the quality was sublime. Can you really put a price on that?

Russ and Daughters Café
127 Orchard Street
New York City
212 475 4881

russ and daughters cafe 2

russ and daughters 5

russ and daughters cafe menu

russ and daughters cafe bagel

russ and daughters salad

russ and daughters malt egg cream

russ and daughters blintzes

Topics: Dining Out and About, New York City | 3 Comments »

Piroshki for perfectionists

By Ann | May 20, 2014


I am not a perfectionist. (Then again, nor am I very self-aware.) But this recipe for piroshki seemed to bring out the very best (worst?) in me.

I first made these savory stuffed pastries in March when the weather was frigid, filling large circles of pâte brisée with a mixture of mashed potatoes and mushrooms. They appealed to my love of meals in a package—Cornish pasties, Thanksgiving croissants—with a hint of chopped dill adding an exotic, eastern European earthiness. Alas, when I popped the pockets in the oven to bake until golden brown and puffy, the filling leaked from the pastry. I vowed to try again.

The recipe comes from the new Moosewood Restaurant Favorites (yes, that book again—I really love it) and it’s easy enough, though perhaps a bit time-consuming, the type of thing that’s A PROJECT—but in a good way. First, you whip up some homemade pastry dough. Yes, I just used the words “whip up” and “homemade pastry dough” in the same breath, but I’ve actually gotten pretty fast at it. (Yikes, have I become one of those people?!)

stinging nettles

stinging nettles


While the dough is resting, prepare the filling. The first time I made these piroshki, I mixed up a wintry blend of mashed potatoes and sauteed mushrooms. But the second time—the time I vowed to conquer the recipe—I created a springtime filling of stinging nettles, cabbage, ramps, parsley, dill, and a scoop of cottage cheese.

Maybe you’re wondering about the stinging nettles? When I saw them at the Union Square Green Market, I couldn’t resist—they reminded me of hiking in Scotland. They really do sting—according to this site, the fine hairs coating the leaves and stems act like “hypodermic needles,” injecting the skin with histamines and other chemicals that cause a painful rash. Even though the nettles I bought were babies, with no real threat to them, I still used my kitchen tongs to handle the leaves before blanching them in boiling water. Heat removes the danger, leaving a spinach-like vegetable that tastes like cucumbers.

Piroshki stuffed with potatoes, cabbage, and herbs

Piroshki stuffed with potatoes, cabbage, and herbs

Piroshki stuffed with potato, cabbage, and herbs

Once your filling is prepared, and your dough has adequately chilled, you’re ready to roll (so to speak). The Moosewood cookbook suggests making large, meal-sized turnovers, about the size of a dinner plate. But after my first experience, I knew I wanted them smaller, so I divided the dough further, making sixteen dainty pockets instead of eight large ones. I rolled each ball of dough into a circle, dolloped on a scoop of filling, folded over the flap, and crimped the edges with a fork, pricking the tops to create vents so the steam could escape. I popped them in the oven with high hopes. Thirty minutes later, I found this:

Piroshki stuffed with potatoes, cabbage, and herbs

You guys, I was so sad. See that filling leaking across the baking tray? It was nothing compared to the tears leaking from my eyes. (Well, not really, but allow me some poetic hyperbole here.) What had I done wrong? Why were my piroshki as explosive as the situation in Ukraine? (Hyperbole, again.) I gazed at the cooling sheet pan and felt hollow with disappointment, sad and frustrated. (That is actually not hyperbole.) I wanted to make another batch, but I was out of time and dough. Instead, I did three things: First, I ate the mashed potato mixture that had run all over the tray. Second, I stored the leftover filling in the freezer. Third, I posted about my problem on Chowhound. The consensus was this: I was overstuffing them.

Moosewood savory piroshki

Last weekend, I tried again. But this time, I was more scientific. I measured the filling in tablespoons and marked the amount I added to each pocket: One stab of the fork for one tablespoon, etc. As you can see from the photo above, there was very little leaking! However, when I ate a pirogi for lunch, I had to admit that the pastry-filling ratio was off—there was too much dough, not enough potato. I think I’m caught in the old cooking catch-22 of appearance versus taste. Am I destined for round four?

Piroshki with potatoes, cabbage, and spring herbs
Adapted from Moosewood Restaurant Favorites and New Recipes from Moosewood Restaurant

Makes eight large, or sixteen small piroshki

For the dough:
2 cups unbleached white flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 lb unsalted cold butter
6-10 tablespoons of ice water

For the filling:
2 cups peeled and diced potatoes
3 tablespoons butter
1 cup chopped onions
1 1/2 cups finely chopped cabbage
1/2 cup stinging nettles (or another green leafy vegetable, or more cabbage)
1 cup cottage cheese
1 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese (4 ounces)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
2 tablespoons chopped fresh scallions (or ramps)
Salt and pepper
1 egg, beaten with 1 tablespoon water
sesame seeds for topping (optional)

Prepare the dough. In a large bowl, combine the flour and salt. Add the butter in small pieces, rubbing it into the flour with your fingers until it’s in pea-sized lumps. Add the ice water in short dashes, kneading and squeezing lightly until the dough comes together and forms a ball. Divide the dough into sixteen (or eight) equal portions, rolling each one into a ball. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate.

Prepare the filling. In a saucepan, cover the potatoes with cold water and boil until soft. In a medium skillet, melt one tablespoon of the butter and sauté the onion until soft. Add the cabbage and nettles and cook until the vegetables are tender, about 5 minutes. Mash the potatoes with two tablespoons of butter. Stir in the sauteed vegetables, cottage cheese, cheddar cheese, dill, parsley, and scallions. Taste and season.

Preheat the oven to 400ºF. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Ready the egg wash and sesame seeds. On a lightly floured surface, roll out a ball of dough into a rough, 10-inch circle. Place 1-2 tablespoons of filling (or more, at your risk!) on the circle of dough. With a spoon, spread the filling into an even layer. Fold the dough over  to create a semi-circle, seal with egg wash, and lightly crimp the edges with a fork. Repeat with the remaining dough and filling. Stab the tops of the piroshki with a fork to create steam vents (though I’m not sure this really helps). Brush the tops with the egg wash and sprinkle with the sesame seeds.

Bake for 25-30 minutes, until puffy and golden brown. I store these in the freezer, individually wrapped in foil, to eat with soup for a quick and easy dinner. Reheat at 350ºF for 20 minutes.

Topics: A year in a French market: Spring, Cooking the Books, Recettes | 10 Comments »

Tuesday dinner with Ava Chin (+ giveaway!)

By Ann | May 13, 2014

Ava Chin: Eating Wildly mushroom pasta

Try as I might to change my ways, I’m a city girl through and through: brisk walker, fast talker, insect hater. But last week I read my friend Ava Chin’s new memoir, Eating Wildly, and found myself reconsidering the concrete landscape. As an urban forager—and author of a New York Times blog of the same name—Ava visits New York’s green spaces (like Prospect and Central Parks) to collect wild plants (like day lilies, mulberries, stinging nettles, and mushrooms of all stripes—oyster, reishi, morel). And then she cooks and eats them. Her memoir tells the story of a young woman grappling with childhood scars, the loss of her grandmother, and heartbreak, who learns to view the world anew with “foraging eyes,” patiently seeking the unexpected treasure that might lie in plain sight. Today, Ava shares tips for foraging, fast meals, and a recipe for mushroom pasta. (AND, I’m giving away a copy of her book! Stay tuned to the bottom of this post for more info.)

Eating Wildly by Ava Chin

Ava Chin / Eating Wildly

On quick—but local—meals:
As a working mother of a rambunctious two-year-old, Tuesday nights can be hectic, especially if I’m doing an hour-long commute between the boroughs of New York City for my job as a professor. This time of year and especially as it gets warmer, I usually make some sort of salad with beets or whatever’s in season (ramps, spring onions) and grilled chicken.

Morel mushrooms, photo Ava Chin/Eating Wildly

On the forager’s freezer and pantry:
I keep wild oyster mushrooms and morels in my freezer to add to pasta as a quick-fix dinner. For example, morels are in season right now. Instead of dehydrating them, I might slice and saute them in butter and shallots and garlic. After they’ve cooled, I pop them into the freezer in bags. I also have plenty of dried mushrooms on hand. Last fall, I grew shiitake mushrooms from an inoculated patch, and we had shiitakes for months. What we couldn’t eat right away, I dried and now add to soups and stews.

On growing vegetables in her city apartment:
I keep scallions growing hydroponically from shoots in a jar by the kitchen window—it’s still a miracle to me that they sprout new shoots every time). I just snip them with kitchen scissors and toss them in everything from stir fries to frittatas.

On the busy cook’s best friend—the braise:
I try to cook certain slow-cooked foods, braises, etc. the night before, so on any given night I will most likely be cooking food for the following evening. For certain dishes the flavor is better and I’m not operating under the rush and panic of having to get dinner ready for that night.

On how to start foraging:
First, go on a walk with a foraging expert who can introduce you to what’s edible—these days, there are more and more of us across the country leading tours. Then, get a hold of a few good foraging guidebooks (Euell Gibbons’ Stalking the Wild Asparagusthe Petersen’s field guides, and Leda Meredith’s Northeast Foraging just to name a few) and go on walks of your own. If you can recognize a dandelion, then you’ve already started foraging!

On what to gather now:
This time of year, and depending where you live, dandelions, violets (not to be confused with African violets, which aren’t edible), ramps, and garlic mustard are all coming up, and soon the mulberries will be fruiting. We’re nearing the end of morel mushroom and ramp season, so get them while you can!

dried mushrooms


crimini mushrooms

(Wild Morel) Mushroom Linguini
Adapted from Eating Wildly by Ava Chin

Serves four

*Note from Ann: Ava’s recipe calls for sumptuous morel mushrooms—which can only be gathered from the wild. I went to the Farmer’s Market three weeks in a row, but, alas, couldn’t find any. Instead, I substituted cultivated crimini mushrooms and a handful of dried fungi. For a local, seasonal touch, I took Ava’s suggestion and used ramps instead of shallots. “The ramp leaves will cook even faster than the shallots,” she says, “and they are lovely.”

1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon butter
2 small shallots, diced (I used 3-4 ramps)
8 oz sliced morels (or crimini mushrooms), sliced
2 oz dried mushrooms, reconstituted in hot water (optional, but if you use them, save the soaking water)
1/4 cup cream sherry
1/4 heavy cream
Small handful of chopped dill and parsley
1 lb linguine
Salt and pepper

In a skillet over medium heat, melt the butter and sauté the garlic until fragrant. Add the shallots (or ramps) and cook until wilted. Add the sliced and dried mushrooms and cook until softened, about 8 minutes. Add the cream sherry, lower the heat and simmer for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, prepare the pasta by bringing a large pot of water to boil over high heat. Add the linguini and cook, stirring occasionally until al dente (check the package for a suggested time).

Drizzle the cream into the mushroom mixture. Using kitchen tongs, fish the cooked linguini from the pot of boiling water and add to the skillet with the mushrooms. Sprinkle in the dill and parsley and toss to combine, adding dashes of mushroom soaking liquid or pasta cooking water so that the mixture is loose and supple. Taste and adjust seasonings. Serve immediately.

Ava Chin's mushroom pasta

*Eating Wildly by Ava Chin Giveaway!*
Thanks to Simon & Schuster, I’m giving away a copy to one lucky reader!
To enter:
1. Leave a comment below with your favorite spring vegetable.
2. For an extra entry, follow Ava on Twitter: @AvaChin, then leave a separate comment to let me know.
3. For an extra, extra entry, tweet the following and leave a comment to let me know: I’m entered to win Eating Wildly by @AvaChin from @AnnMahNet + @SimonBooks. More info:

The contest ends May 19. A winner will be selected at random and announced here. Good luck!

UPDATE: The winner is Jamie! Thanks for playing tout le monde!

(All non-pasta photos from Ava Chin.)

Topics: A year in a French market: Spring, Tuesday dinner | 35 Comments »

Moosewood’s country moussaka

By Ann | May 6, 2014

Moosewood's country moussaka

I’ve mentioned this before: I have a thing for casseroles. It started in grade school, when I read a bunch of books set in the 1950s—in particular, Mrs Piggle-Wiggle, which was about a twinkle-eyed, hump-backed woman who lives in an upside-down house and finds creative solutions to children’s problems. (For example: one little girl hates taking baths. Mrs P-W suggests her parents let her loll in her own filth until she’s built up a half-inch rind of grime on her skin—whereupon the parents sneak into her room at night and sprinkle her with radish seeds. Plants sprout, the little girl freaks out, and bath-time becomes regular :)  The kids in these books were always eating casseroles for dinner. They hated them. But for me—raised on a steady diet of Chinese food—casseroles sounded like the most exotic and delicious food in the world. I hardly knew what they were, yet I longed to try them.

My casserole curiosity followed me—unsatisfied—all the way to my very first apartment in New York. One of the first things I bought for my kitchen (if that’s what you call a stove wedged in the corner of a studio) was a casserole dish. White and sturdy, it has now survived seven moves (I just counted), traveling up and down the Eastern seaboard, across oceans and continents. Was ten dollars ever better spent? I filled it with lasagna, eggplant parmesan, and macaroni and cheese, but the bubbling, golden-crusted casseroles of my dreams evaded me.

Moosewood Restaurant Favorites 2

If we were conducting a word association test, right now you’d be shouting “cream-of-mushroom soup!” Yes, casseroles get a bad rap, typically laced as they are with Campbell’s. But recently I’ve noticed that the homemade versions have been making a comeback. A few weeks ago, this New York Times article offered three unusual recipes (as well as one for great quick pickles). And a few months ago, a friend gave  me a copy of a new cookbook, Moosewood Restaurant Favorites, which has a whole chapter on from-scratch casseroles.

Moosewood is synonymous with vegetarian food, and I love their recipes because they’re like the best comfort food: simple, satisfying, unafraid to add butter, cream, or cheese when the occasion is right. This book gathers the most requested recipes from their restaurant in Ithaca, NY, where I will eat one day, come hell or high water. I have enjoyed orange-scented Cuban black beans, Rumbledethumps (a cheesy broccoli-laced version of bubble and squeak, which—I hesitate to confess—paired beautifully with a pork chop), made two batches of the mushroom piroshki, and can’t wait to try the classic tofu burgers. But my favorite recipe so far has been this country moussaka, which is one of those magical dishes that turns ordinary ingredients into something more special then their individual parts.

Moosewood's country moussaka

There are slices of roasted eggplant and courgette, a spiced tomato sauce, a sprinkle of raw couscous—which cooks among the layers and adds almost a meaty texture—generous crumbles of feta, and a crowning cap of béchamel. I’ll be honest, all those elements involve a bit—okay, a lot—of extra work. But none of it’s very difficult or fiddly and you can make most of them a few days in advance, before assembling.

Before I leave you to this recipe, may I end on a pedantic note? I was curious about the history of casseroles, so I did some research in the Penguin Companion to Food. Though the word “casserole” has been used to refer to a ladle, or pan (as in French), it originates from a classical Greek term for “cup.” Greek! Could a casserole of moussaka be more apt?

Moosewood's country moussaka leftovers

Moosewood’s Country Moussaka
Adapted from Moosewood Restaurant Favorites

Serves 6-8

3 lbs eggplant
1 1/2 lbs zucchini
Olive oil
8 oz feta cheese
4 tablespoons raw couscous
1/4 cup Parmesan cheese

Tomato sauce:
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 red bell pepper, seeded and diced
1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes
1 teaspoon oregano
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon crushed red chili
Salt and pepper to taste

Béchamel sauce:
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup flour
2 cups milk
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs, beaten

Prepare the vegetables: Pre-heat the oven to 400ºF. Slice the eggplant and zucchini into 1/4-inch-thick rounds. Brush them lightly with olive oil. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper, arrange the slices in a single layer, and bake until tender, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the tomato sauce. In a saucepan, warm the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onions and garlic, stirring until fragrant, then the bell peppers, cooking until tender, about 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes, oregano, cinnamon and crushed chili. Simmer over low heat for about 20 minutes, until the sauce has thickened slightly. Taste and season.

Prepare the béchamel sauce: In a small saucepan over low heat, melt the butter. Stir in the flour and cook for 1-2 minutes, stirring constantly. Gradually whisk in the milk, and cook until the sauce has thickened and is starting to bubble around the edges. Remove from the heat and stir in the nutmeg, salt, and beaten eggs.

Assemble the casserole: Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Grease a ceramic baking dish. Pour half the tomato sauce into the baking dish. Layer the eggplant slices. Sprinkle over half the feta cheese and 2 tablespoons of couscous. Cover with the zucchini slices, then the remainder of the feta cheese and couscous. Pour the béchamel sauce over the top and smooth with a spatula. Sprinkle with the Parmesan cheese. Bake uncovered until golden and bubbly, 50-60 minutes. If you bake this ahead of time, cover the dish loosely with foil and rewarm in a 350ºF oven, for 45-50 minutes.

Moosewood's country moussaka

Topics: Casseroles, Cooking the Books, New York City, Recettes | 13 Comments »

Quick pickled red onions

By Ann | April 24, 2014

pickled onions and bagel

Here is what the weekend looks like: Friday mornings on the way to my office, I stop at the Union Square Green Market to check out the produce. The past few weeks, the offerings have been in that awkward, gangly, tween stage, no longer winter, not yet spring. Too late for butternut squash. Too early for asparagus. I usually pick up some apples, maybe a few carrots. Last week I also bought a bunch of kale and a few parsnips.

Saturday mornings dawn bright and early with a reliable 6AM wake-up call from a certain someone. My husband and I have one of those thank-God-the-baby’s-still-alive/ Jeezus-it’s-early moments and then one of us sets to baby wrangling (him), while the other (me) starts… cooking. At six in the morning. I know, I never thought I’d be that person, either.

quick pickled onions

The thing about being a parent (which I’ve learned during my long tenure of seven months :) is that I always feel like I’m behind, running from one thing to the next, trying to squeeze in visits to the grocery store, playground, and post office in between naps, bottles, and solids. We have a wonderful nanny—hence, the time to write this blog post—but she leaves at 4:30 pm. Since my husband doesn’t get home until eight o’clock or later, making dinner during the week has gone completely out the window. This is all a long-winded explanation for why the weekends have become cooking marathons. I make purées for the baby—she likes her butternut baked, her parsnips steamed, and her peas strained. I cook up a big pot of grains to portion out for lunches during the week. I roast a tray of cauliflower or broccoli, sauté kale, toast nuts. I make a double batch of soup, or stew, or spaghetti sauce (like this red curry, or these meatballs, or this mulligatawny, or these baked beans). We eat half for Sunday dinner; the other half gets stored in the fridge or freezer—and no more cooking takes place for the rest of the week.

onion slices

By now you’re probably thinking, “Wow, is this the most mundane blog post ever?” But wait, can I redeem myself with these lively quick pickled red onions? See, even though my cooking schedule doesn’t allow time for frivolities like homemade garnishes, I love their sparky crunch so much, and they’re so easy to make, I’ve been squeezing them in between the broccoli roasting and quinoa boiling.

The idea comes from Melissa Clark’s recipe for black bean casserole. The very word casserole evokes cozy, oozy deliciousness to me (weird, I know) and I became fixated on cooking this one the minute it appeared online. In fact, I was so enthusiastic that my dad also decided to make it and we spent a few days exchanging cooking notes. (Side note: I couldn’t find the dried pasilla chiles, so I substituted canned Hatch red enchilada sauce. My dad then sent me some chiles, but I haven’t made the recipe again.) Anyway, in a flurry of text messages, we both agreed that our favorite parts of the recipe were the lime cream (simply lime zest stirred into sour cream, or—if you’re a hypochondriac like me—Greek yogurt) and the pickled red onions, tangy, bright, and crunchy. We couldn’t stop emailing about the onions. We started to eat them on a sandwich here, a bowl of chili there. And then, without discussing it, we both ditched the rest of the recipe and started making just the onions.

quick pickled onions raw

Here’s what you do: cut a red onion in half lengthwise, and then cut half moon slices, as thin as you can make them. Toss with a dash of lime juice, a pinch of salt and one of sugar. Let the onions marinate at room temperature until their body and bite have been softened by the acid, and the pink color seeps magenta. Enjoy on everything. C’est tout.

These pickles keep for about a week in the fridge and I eat them mainly in a Japanese-esque donburi bowl with salmon, kale, and avocado that I’ll try to blog about soon. But their real beauty—besides the fact that you can whip them up in less than five minutes—is that they add a bright spark to almost anything. Turkey sandwiches. Hog dogs. Bagels and cream cheese. Tuna melts. Breaded chicken. I’d love to pair them with whitefish salad. The possibilities are endless. Now that you know how easy they are to make, I hope you’ll try them and let me know how you eat them, too.

quick pickled onions 2quick pickled onions and bagel 2

Quick pickled red onions
Adapted from Melissa Clark’s black bean and chorizo casserole

Half a red onion, sliced from root to tip (save the other half for next week’s pickles)
1 lime or lemon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon sugar

Cut the onion into half moon slices, as thin as possible. In a bowl, combine the onions with the juice of the lime (or lemon), salt, and sugar. Toss and marinate for at least one hour at room temperature.

Topics: New York City, Recettes | 13 Comments »

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