By Ann | March 3, 2014
I’m blogging at BonAppétit.com this week (I was there last week, too) — I hope you’ll stop by to read some of my posts! (Here’s one on ordering a kings cake for Mardi Gras, which is tomorrow (already), eek!)
Last night I visited the restaurant, Daniel, to snap behind-the-scenes shots of their Oscar party (a couple of them made it to Bon Appétit’s Instagram feed, @BonAppetitMag). What a treat to watch the line at work — so many pairs of fine needle-nose tweezers, brushes loaded with beet “paint,” and polishing cloths. Here are some of the cocktail hors d’oeuvres served last night:
(Above: Salmon millefeuille with tequila)
(Above: Shrimp tempura with biryani spices)
(Above: Nantucket bay scallop with blood orange jus.)
I’ll be back next week with a new post! Until then, I hope you’ll stop by Bon Appétit – where it’s Sriracha week! — to say hello. I’ll be interviewing
victims spice-lovers in Times Square as they eat an entire chili, and more!
*UPDATED* Here are some of my favorite posts from the past two weeks:
By Ann | February 18, 2014
Roast chicken equals love. So, if you’re Andrea Drexulius, aka the French Basketeer, you cook a plump bird on Sunday and share it with your family and friends. And then you feast on the leftovers all week!
Andrea is a life-long Francophile and owner of French Basketeer, an online store that sells baskets imported from Morocco and Madagascar, beautiful paniers that could have been lifted straight from the marché in Aix-en-Provence. She’s also a blogger and creative home cook (her Instagram feed makes me drool on a regular basis).
Andrea divides her time between Laguna Beach, California and Beaune, France, at the heart of the Burgundy wine region. Her Southern California kitchen is “blessed to have so much wonderful produce year-round,” she says, while her kitchen in Beaune is “all about the classics. I cook a lot of Julia Child and Joel Robuchon-inspired cuisine.” Today, I’m delighted to share her weekly cooking routine (it’s inspiring)!
On Sunday she enjoys her “best meal of the week”:
In winter it’s usually a roast chicken. I’ve used a pomegranate-honey glaze and root vegetables that was awesome, but I am constantly changing it depending on what is seasonal.
It’s the last chicken leg and meat pieces and root vegetables, and I’ll make a cheater’s stock from the carcass. I keep veggie trimmings in the freezer to use for a quick stock. Good chicken stock is something I must always have on hand, year-round, either a “proper” stock from a whole chicken, or an improv.
I toss a two-cup block of frozen stock into a pan to defrost ahead of time and add whatever fresh vegetables and mushrooms I find at the market. This might mean carrots, beans, potatoes, as well as a little dried pasta. The soup in my photo (top) has turkey meatballs, mushrooms, and basil chiffonade. It can be as high or low as you want; I usually brown the veggies a little and toss in the herbs and tomatoes raw. Sometimes I’ll add caramelized pearl onions or root vegetables. It’s never the same thing twice.
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday:
In winter, we could have black truffle risotto (again with the chicken stock). Or we might have a frisée salad with lardons and a poached egg. Pizza is great during the week, and my favorite is with prosciutto and a few quail eggs, topped with fresh arugula and olive oil. I will make a meal of a green salad with a few chives and tomato, or baguette with a good cheese. I often substitute a 16-ounce green juice over a huge glass of ice for a meal; in fact most days I just have juice for breakfast. For a time-saving cooking tip: Go raw. A salad with raw carrots, celery, nuts, shaved Jerusalem artichokes with a little lemon vinaigrette makes a great meal.
Saturday, her “favorite slow-food meal of the week”:
After the farmers market I usually make some kind of fresh pasta — angel hair or ravioli — topped with wild mushrooms, Swiss chard and fresh ricotta as well as home-made arugula pesto. I cook while I chat with my mom and we all share the meal afterwards.
*Note from Ann: There’s no recipe today because I’m afraid roasting a chicken and then making stock was too much for this frazzled young parent. But perhaps you are one of those lovely, efficient people who keeps homemade chicken broth in the freezer? If you try Andrea’s soup, I hope you’ll let me know how it turns out!
(Photos from Andrea Drexulius.)
By Ann | February 10, 2014
I had so much fun last week at my book event at the American Library in Paris with Patricia Wells that I couldn’t resist sharing a few photos. As you can see, we shared a lot of laughs with a lovely crowd of Francophiles. I saw so many familiar faces in the audience that I immediately felt right at home.
Patricia and I divided the evening in half and interviewed each other. She asked me about my experiences writing fiction versus nonfiction (and a few other excellent questions). I quizzed her all about how she got started as a food writer and loved learning about the inspiration behind her newest book, The French Kitchen Cookbook. At the end of the program, we trotted out a James Lipton-esque series of rapid fire questions-and-answers that I’m delighted to share here*:
Who are your cooking heros?
PW: Julia Child, Joël Robouchon.
AM: Julia Child, Brillat-Savarin, Marcel Pagnol.
Fine dining or home cooking?
PW: There’s a place for both, depending the situation.
AM: Home cooking — especially if someone else is cooking.
Favorite comfort food?
PW: Pizza. We have the homemade version down to an art in our house.
Favorite city to eat in outside of France?
PW: San Sebastian.
AM: Barcelona. Or Hong Kong.
Favorite season for produce?
PW: Spring. Asparagus!
AM: Spring. Strawberries!
Favorite music for cooking?
AM: Jazz, especially TSF Jazz.
*Answers are reproduced from my rattled memory.
Heartfelt thanks to all who came (in body or spirit) — I loved meeting you! And my deepest gratitude to those who bought (or brought) books and asked me to sign them. I’m delighted to report that we sold out, which is pretty much the best thing I’ve typed this year.
Hungry for more? These bloggers have the dish:
–Marjorie Williams (author of Markets of Paris) wrote this charming post.
–Kristin Espinasse from French Word-a-Day spins this funny tale about the evening. (And here’s her account of the following night, a Champagne cocktail literary evening she shared with me at the home of Robin Katsaros.)
–Anne and Kirk of Music and Markets wrote this lovely post.
–Finally, the fifth edition of Patricia’s fantastic Food Lover’s Guide to Paris is coming out on March 11! This is a must-have book for any visitor to Paris.
By Ann | January 27, 2014
Patricia and I will interview each other (I’m preparing my hard-hitting questions now). Copies of both books will be for sale courtesy of WH Smith. There will also be free wine and snacks. If you’re in Paris, I hope you’ll join us!
A few other notes:
–Francophile and book lover extraordinaire, Robin Katsaros, is hosting a Champagne cocktail party & book signing with me and my beautiful French Word-a-Day friend, Kristin Espinasse, on February 6th at her home in Paris. She’s generously invited you guys — more information is here — including information on how to RSVP. Please come!
–Have I mentioned that I’m flying to Paris tonight?! Stay tuned for updates on everything single thing that I consume.
By Ann | January 15, 2014
Lately, I’ve been wondering if people can read my mind. Because every time I decide to cook something, I go to the grocery store and find that the recipe’s key ingredient is sold out. Split peas when I wanted to make split pea soup. Barley the day I’d settled on beef barley. And, last Sunday, after I’d spent the morning selecting the perfect mulligatawny soup recipe, I discovered a shortage of masoor dal at the grocery store. The spot where the bags of pretty, coral pink lentils usually reside — between the, ahem, fully stocked sacks of split peas and barley — was empty.
(Side note: if it seems like I’ve been making a lot of soup, well, what can I say? It doesn’t require any fiddly cooking techniques, it wards off the winter chill, it’s a healthy one pot meal full of vegetables, and, best of all, it’s easy to double in quantity, ensuring you have leftovers for the week (more on this particular quality below). Soup, I love you.)
After striking out at another grocery store, I headed to Whole Foods for my second visit of the day (!) where I found a bulk bin of red lentils. By this time, I was in a hurry, and when I fitted a plastic bag to the spout and yanked the handle to release the beans, the bag broke free and tiny lentils cascaded. Everywhere. And when I say everywhere, I mean flooding onto the floor, the shelves, settling on the tops of boxes, down my coat — down my bra — in my handbag. (In fact, I just checked and found a few lentils still at the bottom of my bag.) The clerk stocking shelves right next to me witnessed the whole escapade. His heart must have sunk at the mess, but he couldn’t have been nicer about it.
Anyway, once you have the red lentils in hand, this recipe from Epicurious is a snap. It involves a lot of chopped onions — more than you might think necessary — a lot of garlic, a lot of spices and the lovely red lentils that you’ve worked so hard to find. Simmer everything until the lentils softly disintegrate, lose their lovely pink color and turn a less appealing shade of brown, and blend into a silky purée with your handy immersion blender. At the very end, stir in some finely diced cooked chicken — you could use the leftovers of your Sunday roast, though I admit I used a surprisingly moist rôtisserie chicken bought at my lentil-free neighborhood D’Agostino. The recipe also calls for a cup of coconut milk, and I was poised to add it! But when I tasted the soup, I found it rich enough, already satisfyingly thick, so in deference to my waistline (it’s January, after all) I left it out. I bet it would add a decadent creaminess, though, so if you make this recipe feel free to use it and then come back and tell me what I’m missing.
Finish the soup with a generous squeeze of lemon juice, which tempers the heady spices, and serve over basmati rice. The rice, I must note, stretches this nutritious one-pot meal even further, which means that if you’ve doubled the recipe — as some of us with a mania for stocking the freezer are wont to do — you’ll have enough for a lot of meals (so far I’ve had three, but it’s only Wednesday). They say the definition of eternity is a ham and two people, but I think it just might be a double batch of this soup. Not that I’m complaining.
Adapted from Epicurious.com
With its bouquet of warm spices, mulligatawny soup may fool you into thinking it’s Indian, but the name (and dish) are actually a British invention — much like the word “curry” — a mangling of Tamil that translates to “pepper water.” There are many variations — some include cream, chopped granny smith apples, celery, cooked lamb, turkey, and/or almonds — but this one achieves that rare balance of healthy and satisfying (not to mention frugal!).
Serves a lot of people (eight?). Double at your own risk.
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 lb onions, chopped
5 garlic cloves, chopped
1 1/2 tablespoons garam masala
1 1/2 teaspoons round coriander
1 teaspoon turmeric
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
2 bay leaves
2 cups dried red lentils, rinsed
8 cups chicken broth
2 cups diced cooked chicken
1 cup canned unsweetened coconut milk (optional)
Cooked basmati rice
In a heavy large pot, heat the oil over medium flame and sauté the onions until they start to turn color, about 15 minutes. Add the garlic and stir to release its fragrance. Add the ground spices and bay leaves and stir for a minute. Add the lentils, stirring them into the spices. Add the chicken broth, bring to boil, reduce to a simmer and cook until the lentils fall apart, about 20 minutes.
Discard the bay leaves. With an immersion blender, purée the soup until smooth. Stir in the chicken and coconut milk (if using). Taste and adjust seasonings. Squeeze over the juice of half a lemon, taste and add a few more drops if necessary. Serve over the basmati rice, passing more lemon wedges at the table.
P.S. This is the 500th post on my blog!
By Ann | January 8, 2014
Happy New Year! I’m back from my annual Christmas sojourn in sunny Southern California… which seems very, very far away today, as the polar vortex sweeps through New York. Two weeks ago, I was watching surfers from the Huntington Beach pier and lunching al fresco; my mother turned on the air conditioning on Christmas day and we cheered. Today, I forgot my gloves and my frozen fingers almost snapped off.
Along with baking a chocolate cake, basking in the sunshine (I now can’t believe there were days when I told my husband it was too bright), tucking into my dad’s Hatch green chile pork stew, and meeting so many new Francophile friends at my fantastic event at Laguna Beach Books, I spent some time re-reading my friend Meg Bortin’s rollicking new memoir, Desperate to be a Housewife. Set against the backdrop of the 1960s and 70s, this is the story of Mona Venture (Meg’s alter ego), a young woman struggling to reconcile her life as an independent journalist with her desire for a happy family life.
We first meet Mona as a student at the University of Wisconsin, and accompany her as she suffers the throes of suddenly requited love, joins student protests, and hides it all from her parents. We follow her to 1970s Paris and watch as she falls in love with an eccentric Frenchman and his funny, quirky band of lefty friends — and with France itself, with the beauty, joie de vivre, and exhilaration of being amidst the Left Bank intelligentsia. Meg’s journalism career takes off and she moves to Moscow, London, and beyond, a witness to some of the era’s most important news stories while continuing to look for love. Her tale, which juxtaposes unlucky romance against her feminist ideals, kept me turning the pages, hoping that Meg would find her happy ending.
Among young Mona’s suitors is a Frenchman named Jacques, a dynamic, quirky intellectual who seems ripped from a Truffaut film (amusing for the reader, less so for poor Mona). Jacques woos Mona with sumptuous food — a pear tart, a plate of icy, briny oysters. But when they eventually move in together, Mona discovers Jacques has a rigid cooking routine: une semaine de soupe, une semaine de riz. One week of soup, one week of rice. Just like today’s harried working parents, Jacques does all his shopping and cooking on Sundays. On soup weeks, he prepares a potage of carrots, leeks and bacon (Meg offers a recipe on her wonderful food blog, here), which “he ate for the next five nights, accompanied by wine, bread and cheese.” Rice weeks feature similar ingredients, but in a less liquid form.
Some might call Jacques’s weekly routine monotonous, but as a harried working parent myself (or — ironic side note — the housewife, Mona is so desperate to become?!), I found it appealing. Meg sent me the recipe for Rice Week and I made it on a rare, quiet afternoon home alone. I intended to save the food, as Jacques did, and eat it for dinner during the week. But the rice was so delicious, hearty with bacon and winter vegetables, I ended up sampling an overly large portion. (We polished off the rest for a quick lunch the next day, standing up scoffing it in the kitchen, before the baby woke up from her nap.) It reminded me of something familiar, and I realized later what it was: fried rice. Perfumed with herbes de Provence (I used thyme), this was fried rice French style. Next time, I’ll add more vegetables — shredded kale or Brussels sprouts? — and maybe scramble an egg at the finish. Et voilà, a one-pot meal enjoyed by housewives, singletons, French intellos, American feminists, and/or Chinese-American families everywhere. No spoilers here, but you might agree with Mona that the happy ending is the one you create for yourself.
Une semaine de riz
1 cup brown rice
2 cups water
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
3 large carrots
1/4 pound thick-cut bacon
1 tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. herbes de Provence or dried basil
Rinse the rice and transfer it to a saucepan. Cover with the water and add the salt. Bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to low, cover the saucepan, and simmer until most of the water has been absorbed, about 20 minutes.
While the rice is cooking, pare the leek and chop it crosswise into rounds about 1/2 inch thick. Peel the carrots and chop them crosswise into slices about 1/4 inch thick. Chop the bacon into lardons about 1/2 inch wide.
Heat the olive oil to sizzling in a large frying pan. Add the leek and carrots, and stir fry for 5 minutes. Add the bacon and stir fry for 5 minutes more.
When the rice is ready, add it with its liquid to the frying pan. Add the herbs. Cover and simmer until all the liquid is absorbed, about 10 minutes.
Serves two generously, and it’s delicious as is, or with a dash of soy sauce.
By Ann | December 10, 2013
I think of puff pastry as a festive food. But puff pastry with caramelized onions and goat cheese, flipped upside à la tarte tatin? Hello, Christmas! I’m excited the holidays are here again so I can revel in this luxurious savory tart, a recipe from Jill Colonna, author of the cookbook, Mad About Macarons: Make Macarons like the French.
Jill is an expert at creating simple luxury — her genius cookbook offers practical step-by-step instructions for producing the notoriously finicky macaron in the home kitchen, recipes perfected over her twenty years as a macaron aficionado. Born in Scotland, Jill now lives in the Paris suburb of St-Germain-en-Laye (“next to the river Seine; the land of the Impressionists,” she calls it), where she juggles life with her husband, two teenage daughters, and a job leading chocolate and macaron tours for Context Travel. (Yes, clever Jill has found a way to actually get paid to eat sweets.) Today I’m delighted to share her quick weeknight cooking tips and a recipe for onion and chèvre tarte tatin!
On what she cooks when she doesn’t feel like cooking:
–A ‘pizza tarte’ using ready-made puff pastry circles and top with tomato paste, ham, grated cheese and whatever kind of leftovers I can throw on top.
–We’re huge pasta fans, so a tub of crème fraîche, lemon, yolks and roasted chicken leftovers (or conveniently from Picard, our French frozen store) or a mushroomy sauce, for example, gets tossed about and all served with a roquette salad.
And when she really, REALLY doesn’t feel like cooking:
On days when I feel like mumbling, ‘Mum is on strike!’, I serve fresh store-bought ravioli, toss it in butter, sprinkle with fresh herbs from the garden, liberally snow on the parmesan and serve hubby and I a glass of chilled Chardonnay and before I know it, I’m discussing tomorrow’s dinner again.
On buying vegetables that last:
I normally pack the fridge once a week with fresh fruit and veg. If I buy them from my favourite help-yourself farmers’ market nearby in Mesnil-le-Roi, they last easily a week — which is no comparison to a quick shop at the supermarket: their offerings always wilt miserably after a couple of days so I rely on frozen spinach for quiches or frozen peas for a quick pea and basil soup.
How she adds a quick crunch:
In our pantry you’ll find walnuts, hazelnuts and pinenuts — I love to toast them in advance and store them in jam jars, so that I can sprinkle them on salads and gratins at the last minute for some extra flavor.
Why you want to live at Jill’s house:
It goes without saying I always have ground almonds, icing/confectioner’s and caster sugar and a handy stock of homemade macarons in the freezer…
Onion and chèvre tarte tatin
by Jill Colonna
“I’ve chosen my favorite quick dish,” says Jill. “It takes ten minutes to prepare, twenty minutes to leave on the stove, then I can set the timer on the oven for twenty minutes and dinner is ready when we get back. This is perfect served with a Sauvignon Blanc. Cheers and bon appétit.”
*Note from Ann: Jill’s tart tastes complex and luxurious, but is one of the simplest things I’ve ever made. I found four onions overcrowded the pan (maybe American onions are bigger than French onions?), so use your best judgement. I used two disks of fresh goat cheese and broke them across the top of the onions. Jill cooks her tart at 360°F/ 180°C, but I found the temperature far too cool — instead, I recommend using the baking instructions on your box of puff pastry. Finally, I wasn’t sure when to add the walnuts, so I toasted them and scattered a handful across the top of the flipped tart.
Serves 4 as a light dinner
Special equipment: a frying pan that can transfer to the oven
2 large onions
2 red onions
large knob of butter (30g)
2 tsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp herbes de Provence
3 crottins de chavignol (fresh goat’s cheese)
1 ready-rolled puff pastry round (all butter is best)
Handful of walnuts
Peel and cut the onions into thin slices. Meanwhile, over a medium-low flame, melt the butter with a dash of olive oil in a sauté pan that can be transferred to the oven. Add the onions to the pan and leave to soften and cook for 20 minutes, turning only once or twice to coat the onions in the butter and oil.
Preheat the oven to temperature suggested on box of puff pastry.
Stir the balsamic vinegar, herbes de Provence and salt and pepper into the onions. Slice the crottins of goat cheese in half horizontally and distribute them on top of the onions. Top with the large disk of puff pastry, tucking it in around the sides of the pan. Prick the pastry with the fork then transfer to the oven and bake for 20 minutes, or until golden (consult back of puff pastry box for suggested cooking time).
Remove from the oven. Place a plate larger than the pan over the top. Turn the tatin upside down quickly on to the plate. Serve with a salad tossed in olive oil, balsamic vinegar and extra toasted walnuts (which you have in stock in your pantry!). Jill normally also adds bits of charcuterie or fried bacon bits to the salad, so that it resembles a salade de chèvre chaud.
(All non-tart photos from Jill Colonna.)
By Ann | December 9, 2013
The new season of everyone’s favorite upper crust English soap opera starts airing in the States on January 5. But this week, the Downton Abbey tea truck is cruising the streets of New York, helping Americans swallow their impatience with free cups of tea and biscuits. This morning, I visited the truck at Union Square, and
chatted with waylaid PBS representative, Amy Tam:
On the tea being served:
“It’s an English Rose tea, rose-flavored with raspberry notes – the official tea of Downton Abbey. Made by the Republic of Tea, and available for sale at PBS.org. I would picture Lady Grantham having a sip with her pinky out. Or all the ladies. They have so much tea all the time.”
On the fifty-minute wait for tea:
“There’s been a group of [about 15] people standing here to get free tea since we pulled up at 11am. The tea is brewing — the water is boiling right now. It’s taking longer than we anticipated.”
On the credentials needed to serve tea at the tea truck:
“The maid’s outfits are Downton-inspired, but you don’t have to be a Brit. You just have to be a Downton Abbey lover.”
On the missing photo-op backdrop of Highclere Castle:
“We’re encouraging people to just take photos with the maids and tea truck. Or pose with these signs.”
Read more about the “Downton Abbey on Masterpiece on PBS tea truck” (as Tam asked me to refer to it) at Variety.
Would you like to sip your own cup of pink, fruity (Lady Violet would be horrified) tea? Find the tea truck this week in New York:
12/10, Tuesday, 11am-7pm, Sixth Ave between 40th & 41st Streets
12/11, Wednesday, 11am-7pm, 50th Street between Sixth & Seventh Avenues
12/12, Thursday, 12pm-8pm, The New York Times TimesCenter, 41st Street between Seventh & Eighth Avenues
12/13, Friday, 11am-7pm, Broadway between 66th & 67th Streets
By Ann | December 4, 2013
You guys, it’s DECEMBER already. What happened? Actually, I think I know what happened: time got swallowed up in the SDZ (sleep deprivation zone). But now the twins (pictured above) are three months old (!). And the human baby and I have settled into a routine rich with literary supplement (favorite subjects: apiary and the science of the common cold), and fine dairy products. Life is starting to feel normal again. A new normal, where the week’s meals are cooked in one fell swoop on Sunday afternoons, and sleeping until 5.30 am feels luxurious. Also, after ten years, I’ve started to drink coffee again. It’s like a magic headache-relieving elixir of the gods, people, why didn’t you tell me?
To all of you who have read Mastering the Art of French Eating over the past few months — thank you. I am truly grateful for your support. I’ve loved hearing from so many of you about your own dodgy adventures with andouillette, your favorite French dishes, the trips to Paris that you dream about, and the visits there that changed your life. I’m thrilled the book was chosen as an Amazon best book of the year, and a winner of the Elle Readers’ Prize. Also, though a few months have passed, I still cannot believe it received this review in the Wall Street Journal.
December Book Events
I’m excited about two book events this month. I would love to meet you! Also — signed books make a lovely holiday gift (hint hint)!
Where: Smithsonian Museum of American History
When: Saturday, December 7, 3-5pm (that’s this Saturday)
What: Informal book-signing at Julia Child’s kitchen — stop by any time to say hello!
Laguna Beach, CA
Where: Laguna Beach Books
When: Thursday, December 19, 6pm
What: Reading, book signing, and cheese tasting
Finally, if you own Mastering the Art of French Eating, or would like to offer the book (or several!) as a holiday gift, I’d be happy to send you a signed book plate to personalize your copy. Just drop me a note via the contact form at the top of the website. The book plates were designed by my talented friend Anna Tunick; they feature 19th-century engravings of garden vegetables and were printed on acid-free paper by Bookplate Ink.
I’ll be back soon with a new post (and more Tuesday Dinner)! In the meantime, thanks for reading. Leave me a comment and let me know what you’re reading and cooking, won’t you? I’ve missed you guys.
By Ann | November 25, 2013
It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without turkey. But in New York’s East Village, it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without Momofuku Milk Bar’s Thanksgiving croissant. I first spotted this hot-pocket-esque beauty a few weeks ago when I stopped in the hipster (for lack of a better term) bakery to buy cookies. “It’s one of our most popular items,” the cashier told me. “We sell out every day by late afternoon.” A few weeks later, I was back in the morning, early enough to catch a new shipment of the popular meal-in-a-hand.
What is a Thanksgiving croissant? As the name — and sign — suggest, it combines stuffing-flavored bread, shredded turkey, gravy, a dab of cranberry sauce, and lots and lots and lots of butter. Purists have criticized the pastry, saying it is nothing like a real croissant. That is true. The pastry is like stuffing (er, obvy?), savory with celery salt and thyme, greasy (but in a good way), a contrast of textures — crackly on the outside, soft and steamy within — reminiscent of a crusty pan of baked dressing.
For a place as self-consciously ironic as Momofuku Milk Bar is, I’m always surprised by the genuine friendliness of the staff. The guy behind the counter cheerfully heated up my Thanksgiving croissant (and this after I hemmed and hawed over compost cookies vs. birthday cake truffles) and I ferried the warm, foil-wrapped package to my office a few blocks away. That’s where I’ve been spending a chunk of my day lately, writing email and, well, mainly writing email. In the aftermath of book and baby, I’m still thinking about the next big project and I’m beginning to suspect that contemplation may go on for a while. Anyway, as I ate in the office’s communal kitchen, it occurred to me that the Thanksgiving croissant is misnamed. With its doughy crust, shredded meat, and savory heft, it’s more like a Cornish pasty. (Which is a term I don’t like to use because I don’t know how to pronounce it. Is it “pasty” like “paste”? Isn’t that something worn by burlesque dancers? Or is it pasty, with a short “a” like “pat”?) I thought about the Cornish pasties I used to eat after country walks in Scotland. We’d come in from the rain, and my trousers would be soaked from wading through wet heather, and my friend Andrea’s mum would pour us cups of tea and heat pasties in the Aga. You had to be careful biting into them for fear of burning your mouth on the scalding beef stew within. We’d eat and drink tea, page through the Guardian and relax against the warmth of the kitchen because it’s always cold in Scotland, even in the summer. Eventually the tea would become glasses of wine, and we’d drift toward the stove and start cooking dinner. Those are some of my happiest memories.
I don’t know if it was the light filtering in from the skylight above, or the long table, or the newspapers scattered about, or the Thanksgiving
croissant pasty, but sitting in the kitchen of the communal writers workspace, I was back in Scotland again, transported by food and nostalgia. And then, in a second, I was back in New York with greasy fingers and an eye on the clock, ready to dash home to relieve the nanny once the long hand on the clock hit the hour.
Like most of the best things in life, the Thanksgiving croissant is a fleeting pleasure, available only November. Find out more details here.