Gaston & Josephine: Heroes of My Childhood

I have a darling husband. Recently I was telling Andy, a.k.a. Himself, about my favorite Little Golden Book from my childhood titled “Gaston and Josephine.” It’s a story about two resourceful little pigs who journey from their home in the mountains of France to America and save the ship with the broken fog horn by climbing into the crow’s nest and squealing for all they’re worth to alert the other ships.

I’m not sure why the book resonated so strongly with me, but I remembered it recently and told Himself about it. He made a mental note, hopped onto the Internet, found a copy and ordered it. But he just couldn’t wait for Christmas or my birthday to surprise me with it. He had to give it to me when it arrived today. As soon as I opened the shipping envelope and realized there was a Little Golden Book in there, I burst into tears, because I knew which one it was. I pulled it out and proceeded to read it aloud to him. I pointed out which illustrations I’d liked best and which ones had made such an impression on me as a child.

It’s a joy to discover things we loved as children that hold an appeal for us even after we’re grown. I’ve encountered so many things as an adult that I loved as a child, only to find that they were pretty ho-hum to my grown-up self. But every word and every illustration in this book still gives me great delight.

Where am I going with this? Nowhere, I guess. But Himself presented me with this really thoughtful gift and allowed me to revisit a special memory from my childhood. And I’m so very grateful. I just had to share it.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

To Market, To Market…

On our last trip to Paris, Himself and I rented a flat in Montmartre with a kitchen. Not that we wanted to spend our entire time there cooking, but having a kitchen allowed us to whittle quite a few euros off the cost of our stay. It also allowed us to do more than merely wander the city’s markets, sighing over what we could admire but not take with us. Instead, with grocery list in hand, we could strike up conversations–using our quite limited French–with the shopkeepers and get a taste of what it’s like buying groceries each day as Parisians. This is a type of “touring” the average traveler doesn’t do, and it gave us a more personal view of the city and its food culture. And as the only Yanks wandering through in search of ingredients for dinner, it bought us more than a little good will amongst the locals.

Our wee kitchen in Paris: herbs in the window box, spices on the wall...

Truthfully, we did very little cooking while in Paris. But having a kitchen in which to do it if the spirit so moved us made us feel très parisien. Silly, but oh well. Working in that tiny kitchen certainly gave us more respect for what the average Parisian cook is able to accomplish in an astonishingly limited space.

This pleasant memory sprang to mind recently as I was preparing for a luncheon I was about to cater. Buying the necessary ingredients sent me from store to store, collecting everything I needed for the meal. But this enterprise is entirely different in the United States from the way in which it is undertaken in Paris.

While in Paris, we visited a number of shops to get what we needed for a meal–to the fromagerie for cheese, the charcuterie for terrines and pâtés, the boulangerie for still-warm baguettes (the best bread I’ve ever eaten), the marchand de vin for wine and the pâtisserie for dessert. Fruit and vegetables we bought from the sidewalk produce stands, hand selected for us by the sellers. We didn’t touch a thing unless they handed it to us. All of this was done on foot, all in the same neighborhood–no car required.

No hothouse in sight...

Buying ingredients for a meal is quite a different experience back in the States, where you go to a chain grocery, and if it doesn’t have everything you’re looking for, you go to its competitor. And to another if need be. Most food shopping in the States doesn’t provide that pleasurable aspect of engaging with the person selling the goods, who is generous with suggestions and samples and makes the experience a social as well as practical one. In fact, if I ask for help in a grocery store, I’m relieved if the employee knows which aisle contains the item I’m looking for.

Parisian food sellers take great pride in what they’re offering, and they want to be sure their clientele get precisely what they need. You don’t just pick up a hunk of cheese or a tomato and buy it. You tell the seller what you’re looking for and when you plan to eat it. This guides the selection process. If you’re going to serve that brie tonight, its center should give a little more to the touch than if you plan to eat it tomorrow or the next day. The shop keep will see to it that you get the best item and even offer suggestions for how to prepare it.

I know my burbling on about this seems foolish and sentimental. It was pretty easy for us–we only lived this way for a week. We weren’t there with jobs and kids and all the busy-ness of everyday life. But it’s pleasant to muse on, especially when I’ve made my zillionth trip to our neighborhood giganto-mart which is packed with the exact same stuff as every other giganto-mart. France does have its equivalent, the hypermarket, and like its American counterpart, the food there is inferior to what you find in the specialized food shops.

Artisan Cheese Gallery in Studio City: A Treasure!

The good news is that I can engage in this style of food shopping, if only in a limited way. I try like crazy to wait for the Saturday morning farmers’ market to buy fresh local produce that has been ripened on the vine, not with chemicals, and certainly not picked green and shipped halfway around the world. Likewise, unless I’m truly short on time I’d rather hold out for the quality cheeses I can get from one of the area cheese stores, rather than settling for the rubbery, off-tasting mass-produced stuff from the grocery. Perhaps I can’t find everything I’d like to in our neighborhood, but our meals are much better for us and much more enjoyable when we can incorporate as many foods into them as possible that are made with integrity and grown with care.

They may be more expensive than the mass-produced stuff, but paying more for a little less in quantity and a lot more in quality is still a bargain in my book.

Posted in Hungry Passport | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

How To Find a Good Olive Oil

This is all I want to taste when I'm sampling olive oil.

I view with suspicion the prospect of buying olive oil that I haven’t first been allowed to taste. No matter how many cute hand-lettered signs they post in the olive oil section decorated with hand-drawn olives and leaves and such, I don’t trust even the most well-intentioned marketing when it comes to plunking down a considerable sum of money for what is supposed to be a quality olive oil. So when I find a store that encourages customers to have a taste, I like to be prepared to take advantage of the opportunity.

Most of these set-ups have bread cubes for you to dip into the oil you wish to try. My problem with this is method of tasting is that the bread gets in the way. We wouldn’t dip a cube of bread into a glass of vino at a wine tasting, so why do this when we’re trying to explore the flavors and nuances of olive oil?

If the store provides tiny paper cups, I pour a bit of the oil into a cup and then pour that into my mouth, so that I can coat the various taste buds with the oil itself, unadulterated by the bread, which carries its own flavor and texture. Alternately, if I think I’ll be doing some olive oil tasting, I’ll throw a plastic, disposable spoon into my purse, and pour samples of oil into it for tasting, just in case no tiny cups are available.

As for whether to buy light or heavy, peppery or smooth, these choices are up to us as individual consumers. An olive oil isn’t good merely because someone else says it is. It’s our money we’re spending, so we should sample several olive oils and buy what we like.

Author Nancy Harmon Jenkins offers even more great advice on how to find a good olive oil and insight into the process. (And I see from her blog that we agree on the business of tasting those oils sans bread.)

The best way to get me to buy something is to give me a chance to sample it. I’m sure I’m not alone in this thinking. Are any of you olive oil sellers out there listening?

Posted in Hungry Passport | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Red Beans & Rice for…Dessert?!

Just when you think you know a particular dish, it goes and surprises you. Or it surprises me, anyway.

Red beans & rice: yeah, I kinda went crazy with the onions.

Red beans and rice have long been a standard of Southern tables, particularly in Louisiana, and throughout Latin America, too. Historically, in Louisiana’s Creole culture it was the Monday standard, the washing day meal, with the weekend’s ham bone thrown into a pot of beans to enrich the dish. To me it’s as familiar a combination as peanut butter and jelly.

fried sesame mochi ball: fork-free enjoyment of red beans & rice!

But when we first became acquainted with Chinese bakeries, Himself and I discovered that red beans and rice make a great dessert, too. Mochi is a sweet snack available throughout Asia, made of glutinous rice that has been pounded into a paste, formed into a ball, filled with another paste, this one made of sweetened azuki beans, and then either fried or steamed. It’s not something to make a steady diet of, but whenever we’re in Chinatown–any Chinatown–we always have to stop in at a bakery and have one or two.

butter mochi cake

Lately our friend John has been turning us on to dishes he grew up with in Japan. In the process, we’ve learned more about the possibilities of red beans and rice than we ever imagined. For my recent birthday, he made mochi cake for me. In a nod to the Western half of his makeup, it was a butter mochi cake (the butter is omitted in Asia).

Mochi cake doesn't take much more than this.

Oh yes, it’s rich and wonderful. A small piece will do, which is okay, for this is a treat to savor.  The rice flour dough has an appealing chewiness to it. Dotted throughout it are pockets of red bean paste that provide a rich, sweet mooshiness as a counterpoint to the jaw-exercising quality of the rice dough. It’s lovely freshly made, and it holds up well while you work your way through it, so you can spend several days noshing on it without it going bad on you.

Lest you think the idea of beans and rice for dessert is too peculiar to entertain, it helps to keep in mind that this sort of thing is cultural, that is, a preference that is learned, not inborn. If you don’t like it after you’ve sampled it, that’s just fine. But as they say, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!

Butter-Mochi Cake

Preheat your oven to 350°F. Coat a 9″ x 13″ baking pan with butter and it set aside.

In a large mixing bowl combine 1/2 cup (1 stick) of melted, unsalted butter (not margarine!), 1 1/4 cups of granulated sugar, 3 eggs, 1 teaspoon of pure vanilla extract and 3 cups of milk and mix well. (You can do this by hand–you don’t really need an electric mixer to make this cake.) Sift together 3 cups of rice flour and 1 teaspoon of baking powder and then stir this dry mixture into the wet mixture.

Pour this mixture into your prepared pan. Then dot the batter all over with blobs of red bean paste, about a teaspoon in size. I use a package of paste that’s in the vicinity of 18 ounces (by weight). It may look like too much paste for the one cake, but it isn’t, so use it all!

Pop this concoction into the oven and bake it for about 70 minutes, or until it springs back when you touch it. It will be lightly crackly and golden on top. This cake retains heat like a fiend, so let it cool a bit before you dig in.

If you balk at the idea of eating sweetened beans, you can make this cake without the bean paste and serve it with fresh fruit. But it’s your loss!

Posted in Hungry Passport | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Our Cool New Neighbor

Whenever new neighbors move in, don’t we all find ourselves taking in as much info as we can, trying to glean enough clues to answer the questions, “Are these people cool?” “Will we like them?” So not only do we note what kind of car they just parked in the drive, but we also size up the bumper stickers on it. And we watch with a curiosity bordering on the perverse as various unboxable items from their lives are pulled from the moving van and carted into the house. Oh my gawd! A wagon wheel coffee table! Wait…is that sincere or ironic?

This job was a lot easier when Olive & Thyme opened recently. It’s a combo restaurant and gourmet market that is technically in Toluca Lake, but that’s the fringe of Burbank and close enough for me to consider it part of my stomping grounds.

...ahh, cheese...!

Anyway, it doesn’t fit the usual mold for Burbank, which has long been the repository of chain establishments too numerous–and dull–to mention. Sometimes it’s a chore figuring out where to get something good to eat without driving a considerable distance–or having to make it myself. Himself and I have long pined for a place close by to have a good meal that didn’t involve reservations or too much advance planning.

"secret sauce" and pickles included!

Olive & Thyme fits the bill nicely. We popped in recently to check it out, and I’m happy to report that our first visit won’t be our last. Himself’s grilled three-cheese panino with bleu, fontina and white cheddar, and my Middle Eastern Chicken, a grilled pita filled with chicken and tomatoes and slathered with hummus, harissa and aji sauce, made us both sink into our chairs and lean closer to our table. We made yummy noises, smacked our lips, licked our fingers and purred like milk-fatted kittens. We exchanged bites of each other’s entrées and stole forkfuls of each others sides of kale salad and farro with roasted beets. As we chewed happily we not only took in the decor and ambiance, but we examined the cheeses, charcuterie, condiments, sweets and other delights lining the walls and filling the counters. We planned our next visit, and our next and our next…

This really isn’t a restaurant review. Nor is it a business profile. I leave those forms of information sharing to those who choose to write them. I’m just happy to report that we have a cool new neighbor, one that produces a great variety of good food, carries a dizzying assortment of fine foods to go, has a great vibe and style, and is staffed by friendly sorts who are passionate about what they’re doing.

A happy Himself

What’s not to love?

If you’d like to check out Olive & Thyme, you’ll find it at 4013 Riverside Drive. Right now it’s open Monday through Friday from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. They’ll eventually be open on the weekends, too.

Posted in Hungry Passport | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment