Oh My God!

Keeping with the bizarre Japanese theme of my life in Dijon I celebrated my birthday two weeks ago. I baked cookies in an attempt to bring the festivities to my French class. I may not want my classmates in my apartment but I still wanted them to feel a bit of the fun. Double chocolate chunk cookies were the only option. I first made them when Leslie visited back in October. They are adapted from a recipe from the Barefoot Contessa for White Chocolate Chunk cookies. I don’t know a single person who will admit to enjoying white chocolate. Leslie and I made the cookies with milk chocolate, 90% cacao dark chocolate and Van Houten Cacao powder. The recipe calls for a teaspoon of salt. I cut this down by a third. The dough is a thick, almost dry, delicacy. It was all we could do to get the cookies in the oven. The turned out perfectly round, slightly chewy, the sweetness cut by the salt. Perfect.

I repeated the process with Monica on the eve of my birthday. I didn’t have any light brown sugar and thus substituted with ¾ cup dark brown sugar and a ¼ of a cup granulated sugar. This gave the cookies a rich molasses flavor that I found more interesting and sophisticated than the first batch.

I didn’t have tin to transport them to school. I am so spoiled by my mother’s endless collection of everything tasteful and necessary. I had to make do with a Ferrigamo shoe box lined with tissue paper. The deep red color of the box was striking and, as the recipe makes a great deal of cookies, the size was appropriate. The cookies were a hit and the “at school” portion of my birthday went wonderfully. How very elementary school of me! I even wore a cable knit sweater and colored tights.

The Japanese element came into play that evening. I wanted to eat at a sushi restaurant near J.J. Rousseau since I first discovered it this summer. I finally made it on my birthday. I’m glad I waited. It was one of those times I have remind myself I am in Dijon. The last time I felt that way was this past summer. Jim and I gave Cote de Terrace a try. It was a then new restaurant in Place du Republic that was a bit too chic for Dijon. The ambiance is wonderful for a before dinner drink but the food was terrible. Successfully bringing big city décor to our small city didn’t pay off for our snobby bourgodian palates. Luckily Bento, the sushi restaurant, was a hit in both the color palate and flavor palate. The French do love their modern style notes. Modular lighting, gray, green and black accents, and Swedish tables work in Bento. I didn’t find it at all pretentious. Monica later reminded me that the bottle of champagne we imbued before going to dinner may have made everything sparkle. I’ll have to give it a second go.

Gobble Gobble?

I tried to scan my exam onto the blog but to no avail. You’ll just have to take my word for it. French is kicking my butt. It isn’t so much frustrating as embarrassing. On my right sits H. who looks, and I’m not exaggerating, like that slow dinosaur from the Land Before Time. On my left sits D. who may or may not be competing in next years Miss Mexico pageant.

It is odd to have my 23rd birthday only a week away and to be completely tied up in noun conjugation and placement of adjectives. And I don’t get it. I always leave out an e or a u or both. I am not really worrying that much about accents and my speaking accent leaves a lot to be desired.

But I did finally brave the scary kitchen guy and set up a time for him to stop by. I turned on the garbage disposal while a spoon was in it. I DIDN”T KNOW and cannot get it out. He was so nice, charming even. I can never tell what his mood will be. I flashed him a nipple once and things have never been the same with us (the same thing happened with Daniel Wallace oddly enough).

So I’m off to bed before a busy day of Thanksgiving planning. I’m thinking a lot of Turkey, Wild Turkey that is, and maybe a little stuffing.

Japanese Chips

First I have to say I love Christian. "I'd rather buy clothes than buy a bed." Finally someone who is on the same page.
I had drinks at Go’s on Saturday. It is becoming something of a routine now that the weather here is so bitter and I am so cheap. Go is half of the Japanese duo Go and So from my French class. So might not be wild about my reference to this pairing, he is married and has a four month old baby, but in my mind these two men will always go together…like potato chips and Spanish spice powder.

What you ask? Go is a good host. There is always a selection of cold beverages, assorted liquors and a spread of munchies. Potato chips fill the requirements for Go’s good time food: cheap. Cheap in France means low quality and flavorless, just like in America. At Go’s the less than enticing flavor of the chips is improved by your choice of spice blends: curry, red pepper flakes, or Spanish Seasonings. I prefer the Spanish. The kick of garlic along with the smoky paprika flavor
It was a typical night in…beers and potatoes.

Foire Internationale et gastronomique de Dijon or Food Fest!

La 77ème foire internationale et gastronomique de Dijon aura lieu du 31 octobre au 11 novembre au Parc des Expositions. Ce rendez-vous incontournable de la vie régionale est également un événement reconnu sur le plan national : avec près de 200 000 visiteurs, la foire de Dijon se classe en effet au 7ème rang des foires de France ; elle bénéficie également du label « Foires de France ».
Lieu d’échanges et de divertissement, elle offre aux visiteurs l’occasion de découvrir de nouveaux produits, de s’informer, de s’équiper dans une ambiance festive et conviviale. Plus de 500 exposants proposent un vaste choix de produits ou services dans de nombreux secteurs : la gastronomie et les vins (de loin le plus important avec 200 exposants), l’ameublement et la décoration, l’artisanat, la mode, la beauté et la santé, l’habitat, l’équipement ménager, le bricolage, le temps libre et les loisirs …
Le Liban hôte d’honneur
Après l’Espagne en 2006, la foire accueille cette année le Liban en qualité d’hôte d’honneur, un pays fort de sa culture et de sa situation géographique, à la croisée de l’Orient et de l’Occident ; un pays apprécié non seulement pour ses beautés naturelles et ses sites archéologiques mais aussi pour la richesse de son artisanat, de son folklore et la finesse de sa cuisine. Ce sont toutes les facettes culturelles, touristiques, historiques, économiques et gastronomiques de ce pays que les visiteurs de la foire découvriront au sein d’un pavillon au décor pittoresque. Dépaysement garanti !
Animations gourmandes…
Les découvertes culinaires seront au rendez-vous de cette nouvelle édition, que ce soit sur les stands de vente et de dégustation de produits du terroir ou dans les restaurants de spécialités régionales et étrangères ; une véritable invitation au cœur des saveurs !
Pour faire le plein d’idées gourmandes, les visiteurs se rendront sur l’espace des « Rencontres Gourmandes de Lucullus » : ils pourront assister à des démonstrations et concours culinaires, participer à des cours de cuisine, suivre des conférences sur les vins de Bourgogne ou encore apprendre les tours de main des chefs qui se produiront tout au long de la foire.
…et musicales
La foire fera la part belle cette année à la musique en accueillant, pour la première fois, le Grand Ensemble de Cuivres du Conservatoire régional Jean-Philippe Rameau, dirigé par Thierry Caens et Gaetan Kuchta. Composée de 22 musiciens, la formation se produira à plusieurs reprises, contribuant ainsi à renforcer l’ambiance festive de la foire.
Informations pratiques
Heures d’ouverture : du 31 octobre au 11 novembre, de 10 h à 20 h – 5 nocturnes jusqu’à 22 h (23h pour le hall de la gastronomie) les 2,3,6,9 et 10 novembre.
Prix d’entrée : 5,10€ - tarif réduit : 3,50€ (familles nombreuses, comités d’entreprises et groupes de plus de 20 personnes) – tarif jeunes (13-25 ans) : 2,60€ - tarif enfants (5-12 ans) : 0,30€
Renseignements : 03.80.77.39.00
Date :
Du 31 Octobre au 11 Novembre

Missing My Boy

There we were. Together and happy. And I had to leave... Tomorrow is a birthday. Not mine, yet. But listening to the birthday girl talk about how far away everyone she holds dear will be on her "special day" I could not help but think of my boy. Birthdays have stopped being such a big deal. This from the girl who once upon a time celebrated her half birthdays with cake and presents. Now I am happy to have made it through another year. I am no longer crying as I cling to the final moments of the past year nor am I holding a big welcome sign.
Things I wish for: Clark, my dog, at the foot of my bed, new books in English, cooking supplies, a new pair of shoes...but my wish list is the same every day. So if my birthday wishes don't come true it is no big deal, maybe I can do something to make someone else's wishes a reality. For tomorrow's birthday girl this means baking a cake. A very chocolate cake. She wants seven minute icing but I am thinking ganache. Sometime people have to adjust their dreams, right?

Clean Up Time

Adjusting to a new home takes time. I have been here for over five months and still haven’t finished decorating. I probably will never accomplish that goal as I depended on the kindness of strangers and the large pieces of furniture they place on the curb one a month. Without these cast offs I would be living in an empty room. Instead look at this place…it is only sort of bare.

Last week I helped Monica move into her new house. She is living near Place Wilson. There is a wonderful patisserie near the Hotel Wilson that makes the best croissants in Dijon. The place is not much from the outside but perhaps this is because they spend their decorating budget on butter. With good reason! Monica is living with two British boys who are also language assistants in Dijon schools. They’d moved in a week or so before Monica but were not finished with the process either. The house just needed a good spring cleaning. Now that we’ve accomplished that task I think she’ll soon be thinking of it as home.

I for one will think of the house as a goldmine. While Monica tackled her bedroom and the two enormous suitcases she carried so far I rolled up my sleeves and started in the kitchen. It was a glorious mess. Perfect.

Though I love my apartment’s view on J.J. Rousseau and high ceilings I often feel something is lacking…stuff. Monica’s house has stuff spilling from every drawer and closet. I could not have been happier. I gave the kitchen a good scrubbing. I think it was a good way for her roommates to get to know me. I heard one of them exclaim, “she’s washing the walls!” How else am I supposed to get them clean?

Behind the sticky cabinet doors was an amazing collection of bad kitchen appliances: electric knives, a blender with a plastic blade, a citrus juicer as big as a crate of oranges. It seems as though the previous tenant enjoyed watching late night infomercials with her credit card a little too handy.

She also had every manner of tin pan. Tart pans, cookie sheets, Madeleine pans, financier molds…spread across three shelves. I washed everything and organized all afternoon. If only Monica had an oven to use them. I may have to liberate a few for a few culinary attempts in my clutter free kitchen.

Finding the Beet

In almost every French refrigerator I've had occasion to peek into I will find a few standbys. These are a little different than the pb&j or yellow mustard so often seen in American refrigerators. On the bottom shelf of forgotten condiments there is usually a small jar of confit, pickles (with tarragon that I've mentioned previously) and beets. Beets you say?

My family usually has a jar of pickled beets in the fridge during the cooler months. They find their way to the table when we have a crudites platter at Thanksgiving, etc. But in France the beets are vacuum packed rather than pickled. They can sit there for months in the vegetable drawer until inspiration hits or people get desperate.

I am too excited about these to wait. My favorite thing about the beet is the texture. There is a tenderness to cooked beets that is unique. Cook other root vegetables--carrots, turnips, parsnips--and without a doubt you will have a delicious meal. But I get the same satisfaction from a thick slice of roasted beet as I do from a nice piece of meat (this isn't true with me and a carrot). Not a vegetarian, I am unsure if the protein provided by my rosy beet is a good replacement for animal protein but it is yummy and guilt free.

Also I want to point out the packaging of these beets. The mark Betty Loire is a subset of Terr'Loire. They have a website offering simple recipes that highlight the delicate flavors of their products. Beets seem to play second fiddle to the potato in the eyes of Terr'Loire but the recipes are worth checking out. Their beets are sold in threes and you have to be careful when you cut open one of the packages. That deep magenta juice is gorgeous but not easy to clean up. Especially for those of us who can't help but make a mess with food.

I am full of ideas for my beets and I'm starting with lunch today. I am considering a warm beet and goat cheese salad with a little sherry vinaigrette. I'm off to the market for shallots and we'll see what else. It has been raining for the last few days and the earthy flavor of a burgundy beet will be just right. If only I could find a great cider to accompany the meal.

Broken French

I am the kind of person who needs to recover. Give me a task (planning a dinner party, cleaning the fridge, painting my toenails) and I am silently tabulating the time I’ll need to regroup. A lot of thought and intense in the moment energy goes into each of those task. It takes time to fully understand the implications of whatever task I have completed. Post fridge I consider the time a jar of pickles can stay in the fridge. I weigh how often I actually crave a pickle and compare my cravings to the amount of fridge space the Mt. Olive jars take up.

Except here in Dijon we don't have Mt. Olive, we have Maile. They make mustard...it is very good mustard but the pickles have too much tarragon in them. There are some of us out there who are very particular about pickles. I prefer mine with more mustard seeds and garlic and less tarragon, but since I've yet to master pickling I will continue the taste test. For the record there is only on jar of pickles in my refrigerator right now and, umm, five jars of mustard. It is forever a hostess gift.

My dinner guests this week were my first strictly french group. Jim, my fellow Carolinian and fearless leader of Eats 101, was back in town for the weekend and suggested we host a little fête for the folks on JJ Rousseau. Jim would provide the dining space and I would provide the dinner. At his suggestion we decided on a Spanish feast. We are slowly moving towards autumn so I took advantage of the last of the summer's tomatoes to prepare an Andalusian gazpacho, paella, salad with membrillo and manchego, and lemon cream with fresh raspberries.

The evening, despite my worry, was a total success.

The Rest of It

Yesterday we had a rainstorm in Dijon. It rains often here but never have I seen the sky open and the rain pour down on my little street. It was wonderful. It reminded me of home, summer nights when a thunderstorm would bathe the balmy Carolina nights, breaking the unbearable heat. Then I realized that the skylights were open upstairs and that my bedroom ceiling seems to be leaking and I wished it would stop.

I believe that summer is on its way out here. It has been nine months since arriving in Dijon and, though the summer kept me out of town for weeks on end, I am excited about my first fall in Dijon. It feels like home. I am finally becoming a familiar face in my favorite boulangerie, the little epicerie, the best kebab, and of course the homeless guy. I think that he and I are a little in love because of our similar fashion sense. We both favor short shorts with oversize vintage jackets. AND he prefers neutral tones! Just like me. He may be my best friend in Dijon.

I thought I'd better take today to finish up my report on this summer's travels before I turn to the first food posts. So...

After my plane from Glasgow touched down outside of Paris I had a very tight schedule if I wanted to make it back to Dijon that night (bus ride into city-an hour and a half, metro from bus station to Gare de Lyon - 20 minutes). It looked like I was going to make it until our bus hit a car as we merged into Paris traffic. It was more of a scrape than a head on collision but meant that I missed my plane. I spent the night on the couch of friends in Paris and thought I'd rendezvous with a friend from the States the next morning. We missed each other after both waiting in the rain for forty-five minutes. Not the end of the world. I thought I'd go out to lunch. Every time I make it to Paris for more than a train change I head over to metro stop St. Paul and get the Falafel at L'As du Falafel in the Marias. This visit everything seemed a little off. The rain was so heavy when I left my friend's apartment I decided to throw in the towel and just head back to Dijon...Erin was arriving in a few days.

I eventually made it with Laura and Erin. It is located at 34, rue de Rosiers, in the Marais. (Open every day, except closed Friday beginning at sundown, reopening for lunch Sunday, four euros for an incredibly delicious and satisfying meal. Get extra harisa for the kick that I am addicted to.

Before Erin and I went to Spain for Sigrid's wedding we visited Laura in Paris. The visit consisted in picnics in the park, cheese shopping and a minimal amount of museum time.

Cupar: Where Summer Began

Adjusting to life in Dijon has been a bit difficult because I just haven't been here. Starting in June I've traveled every ten days or so. From Scotland, to Spain, to Paris the summer has been like a great sandwich...a little Dijon in between it all. I thought I'd post the photos that best represent the travels.

It began with a flight to Glasgow the easiest and cheapest way for me to arrive in Cupar, Fife where my dear friend Lauren was living for the summer. This is a view from her window. Those are chickens in the backyard. Cupar was amazing. About an hour by train from Edinburgh it was the perfect vacation for someone with my taste. That means no heat, no sun, hard cider, a gourmet cheese shop (with award winning ice cream Best Strawberry in Scotland-it was very good), and a butcher with meat it really might have mooed.

Lauren has an illustrious job in an Edinburgh auction house leaving me alone most days. I was free to layer on Lauren's clothes (a activity I'd sorely missed with the channel between us), walk down the high street and plan the next evenings meals. The kitchen featured the Scottish version of an Aga those fabulous stoves so popular in English country kitchens. I taken my first tentative, solo stirs on an Aga in Crawthorne, Yarm four years ago and it felt good to be back in front of a stove that you had to intimately understand. I am all for close relationships.

We hit the stores after a reunion night of Martinis on Queenstreet. It seems close to impossible to find a great Martini outside of Paris. These were good. By stores I mean the grocery store where Lauren and I decided we missed Mexican. In award of an award winning chili recipe we soon found ourselves in the kitchen in Cupar prepping and then waiting. Luckily we had cider to keep us busy.

Amuses-Bouche

Do I do anything the easy way? No...you'll find this out quick enough. I came to Dijon, France in January to study the culinary implications of religion, politics, globalization.... and for five amazing months ate wonderful meals, traveled to tastings, and generally lived in bliss.

And when my fellow students and our professor returned to North Carolina I stayed. I live in Dijon and am trying to begin life as a freelance writer and food aficionado while I study French for the next ten months. I have an apartment with a kitchen, a computer and that is about it.

We'll see and hopefully taste what happens...