Please find the new home of French Press Memos at forkandpen.com. There you can get the details on the move, name change, new recipes, and musings. Thank you for stopping by and see you at the new location.
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On a Friday afternoon, we were asked if we would be interested in attending an informal chicken slaughter and processing class at a private farm close to Denver. The answer was a categorical yes – no hesitation, no second thoughts. I called the organizer and informed him that it would be the two of us, my husband and I, and that we will be bringing our 4 year old daughter, Lulu. Not once did it cross my mind not to bring her. He hesitated. I assured him that she has been on farms around animals before and that she is very well-behaved. I was looking forward to this experience. In the morning, I told Lulu that we would be going to a farm. I wanted to make sure she understood what we were about to do. I talked to her about all the chicken things she eats- the chicken soup, the roasted chicken, the fried chicken, the chicken salad, the chicken schnitzel, and the chicken wings. I asked her where it comes from — the chicken farm, she answered. I wasn’t convinced she got it so I asked what does the chicken look like — a chicken, she said. This … Continue reading
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I am not a gardner. I am not sure what the opposite of a green thumb is but I have it. I blame my lack of magic touch on plants of all kinds (I once killed a cactus) on a lifetime of urban condo living. I have never lived in a free-standing home which means that I have never really had a garden (yes, I once had an extensive patio where mint thrived), which excuses at least some of my lack of talent with plants. That said, one year I had a zucchini plant. It not only survived but produced zucchini at a rate that was worrisome particularly since there is only that much one can do with zucchini. Zucchini grows like a weed to the most talentless gardener and there is always a lot of it. I no longer have a zucchini plant, but recently I got a few giant zucchini specimens from friends. I called on my inner zucchini lover to find a few ways to use the bounty and came up with two that bring me back to my Romanian roots – zucchini with tomato sauce and stuffed zucchini. I managed to shoot a few pictures of … Continue reading
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I am back in Denver, slowly digesting the month that I spent in Europe, some of it traveling in France, some visiting Romania. I left Bucharest 11 years ago and returned to visit each year with great pleasure. This year it was more than great pleasure – I did not want to leave. Bucharest is where I grew up, where I learned to play, to read, to kiss, to drive, to cook. There, I learned to walk on cobble stone in high heels, to hail a cab, to ride the metro, and to parallel park in impossible conditions. In the last two or three years, the city has changed – I felt revived magic, spectacular additions, great changes. I cannot wait to go back so to cure my blues I wanted to share some of my favorites. This is by no means comprehensive – it is a teaser of sorts, an insider’s short tip list to be added to an itinerary that celebrates and recognizes the culture, architecture, and art that Bucharest has to offer.
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I had dinner at the French Laundry last week – it had been a long time coming. I debated writing about it for a variety of reasons. I don’t want to brag or to review or to ooh and aah about it. And I don’t think I can add much that has not been already said. Because of these reasons, I did not take pictures of my dinner and constrained myself to only mental notes that allowed me to enjoy every second I had there.
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Not long ago, a good friend sent the link to an article talking about the new and buzzy book French Kids Eat Everything. It made me uncomfortable and that discomfort and similar previous nagging feelings gave birth to the Family Meal, a new section of the blog. I did not read the book, but the title irritated me. Say this to yourself – French kids eat everything – and you will hopefully get uncomfortable too. Seriously, think about it. There is nothing magic about French kids. They are born the same way all kids are born: 10 fingers, 10 toes, two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and a blank slate for growing, learning, and developing everything including taste in food. French kids and American kids and Romanian kids and Venezuelan kids – probably Martian kids too if there were any- all of them eat everything. They are wired to eat everything, sooner or later. Must you look up to the special French kids who eat everything? Take their example? Follow their lead? Wonder in shock and awe, whispering, How do they do it? You got it: no. If you have a kid, your kid eats everything. So stop. Stop thinking … Continue reading
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I don’t get the non-meat-eating thing. I come from the school of thought best illustrated in the statement, you don’t eat meat? I will make you some lamb! Among the cultural changes I experienced when I moved from Romania was my encounter with vegetarianism and its more extreme faction, the vegans. I swear I did not meet a non-meat-eating human for the first twenty one years of my life. Part of my attitude on non-meat eating is based on that. And part of my attitude is based on my view on food in general. It is all about taste- not about being healthier or professing some sort of ethical commitment to animal rights or living out some spiritual concern. For me, it is about achieving the most flavorsome bite. Eating is about texture, aroma and even sizzle, the hiss of a nice slab of bacon dissolving into a tantalizing mixture of glossy oil and releasing tormenting aromas. I feel some sort of solidarity with places that won’t betray their ultimate goal- taste. Such a place is Beast in Portland, a restaurant that professes a love for meat and due to a variety of pretexts, including a fixed menu, small kitchen, … Continue reading
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When I started writing the blog, I didn’t realize the full extent of why the way I post my pictures could be helpful to you, the reader. Monday night I came face-to-face with the reason- because, for example, a log is not a log. If a recipe tells me to roll the dough into a log, I roll and pat down- left hand side, while my friend (and now partner), Jen Olson, rolls and stretches. I have rolled and patted down for this particular recipe at least twenty times until Jen looked surprised and asked, what is that? You are supposed to roll it into a log. I was, I thought. While I agree now that her log is more of a log than mine, it turns out that even the most precise directions in a recipe are subject to interpretation and variations among these interpretations can be pretty serious. A visual always helps. More than once I thought, if I could only capture this smell or that taste! Sometimes my house smells so incredible from cooking and sometimes the taste of a dish is so unbelievable that words seem not to do justice. But pictures do. They break some … Continue reading
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Thirteen weeks ago, Confession Wednesday began and the time has come for me to come clean about it. I borrowed the Confession Wednesday series from my very favorite radio show, Slacker and Steve on Alice 105.9 (Denver, that is). Three long law school years bestowed upon me some dysfunctional habits, certain neurotic behaviors, and two radio show addictions – morning and afternoon- one each way in my Denver-Boulder commute. Slacker and Steve are the pm version of my radio talk show addiction. It was soothing to just listen to them ramble on and on while battling traffic on US 36 south and it is still comforting to hear them on my drive home from work. All that to say that my Confession Wednesday concept is not original. No need to reinvent the wheel, I say on a regular basis and today! I have always loved the confession Wednesday idea so I took it! Theft? Nah. Plagiarism? Meh, not really. Copying? perhaps. I will just call it inspiration with a dash of if ain’t broke, don’t fix it. And I will add that I love where my inspiration came from! When it comes to my cooking, inspiration comes standard. It always … Continue reading
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Right around the time I thought it might be totally out of season to make Bolognese again, it decided to snow in Colorado. In the interest of full disclosure, it didn’t actually snow at my house, but it was cold for a few days and it did snow about 30 minutes away from where I live and up in the mountains with some ski areas getting as much as 16 inches of snow. Yep, at the very end of April! That to say that what I cook depends on more than the season and what I find at the market, it depends on the temperature outside. And while I allow the temperature to tell me what to make, with this recipe I might have to make an exception and have a soul-warming bowl of Bolognese on a sweltering August afternoon because it is that good. That good that when recently confronted with the question what is your favorite recipe, I had no other thought but the Chez Panisse Bolognese. It is actually beyond good- I am borderline delirious just thinking about a bite of it. And Lulu loves it too- really really loves it- so it is a total winner. … Continue reading
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Andra Zeppelin : French Press Memos