You would not think that it’s been pouring rain outside. All night and day. Unceasingly. All weekend actually. So I bought bunches of colorful Ranunculus flowers, to cheer up the house and make it sunny.

And we took long breakfasts and played games with Lulu, teaching her new hand tricks and how to toss a ball–Oh the joy to see her so proud that she can do it. And when the games were over and she was back to take a nap, I baked muffins and made a pot of red lentil soup for lunch.

So after all, it’s been a lovely weekend. Despite the fact that we didn’t go out. Except for P. heading out to buy milk.

I also felt a sudden urge to bake a loaf of Irish soda bread. A large round loaf with a golden crust that made me want to bite in it the way I would in a baguette–le croûton (the end of the baguette), you know, is the best part.

Patricia, my mother-in-law, would have been proud of that loaf of Irish soda bread, I think. She is the one who introduced me to it during my first visit. Already thirteen or fourteen years ago. And it’s also at her place that, last weekend in Chicago, I found the inspiration to bake. I spotted an Irish cookbook with gluten free recipes, and scribbled down the recipe quickly, right as we were about to leave for the airport.

“You should bake a loaf for Saint Patrick’s day,” she said while she noticed that I was busy taking notes.

“I might, ” I said.

And I did. On Saturday morning. Adding my own touches and edits–such as, for example, not using tapioca flour since I don’t care for the taste of that particular flour in any baked goods, or adding quinoa flakes and using quinoa, millet and sweet rice flours.

“What are you making?” P. asked when he walked into the kitchen filled with the aromas of something obviously baking in the oven.

Before I had time to respond, he went on: “Oh yum!” after he caught sight of the bread in the oven.

It was the first slice of Irish soda bread that Lulu ate–since after all, she is 50% Irish too.

It was also the first slice that we ate since quite a long time.

Too long, both P. and I agreed.

Read the rest…

It’s already Tuesday and I am a day late. Désolée ! I promised a winner for the Around Fog Linen catalog. And I am happy to announce that Dawn McBeth is the one with the lucky number. Thank you Dawn, I will be sending you the catalog tomorrow.

This week is also one amongst many that requires my full attention. So you’ll have to excuse the lack of chit chat. And recipes. I have my cookbook manuscript to finish, the pictures to organize and prepare for print–and I am feeling fairly rushed with life, to say the least. But I am *so* looking forward to finally see my cookbook take shape. To see my recipes on paper, with colors and a design. To have the book be given a life outside my home. It will be published and available next Spring.

This morning, while I was chatting with a friend and I told her that I felt quite exhausted, “I am not surprised,” she said. “Your book,” she went on, “it’s like you are giving birth again!”

Obviously, it’s not exactly the same kind–we know that. But it’s definitely a life event that took its course over numerous months, growing slowly and steadily, step by step, day after day. And today, I am really keen to feel the final product between my hands.

Merci! Thank you for being here. For coming back, no matter what. Next to the love and support I receive from P. (who is well fed, under all circumstances, as he likes to tell me when I ask that he goes grocery shopping at odd times of the day) and Lulu–who took her very first steps this weekend–you are making this book happen!

Here’s a snapshot of what’s going to be the feel you’ll find inside my book.

It’s the feel of a soft fabric touching my hands that becomes addictive. Its color and pattern. And its thickness and shape. My imagination flows and my head bubbles with ideas as I look at the pile of kitchen towels loosely arranged on the old wooden corner table in the living room. It’s high enough so that Lulu cannot reach for them. Not yet.

I look at them again. They make me dream of pictures.

With food in the middle.

I think that it’s about a year ago that I discovered Yumiko’s textiles. It was love at first sight. Yumiko is simply the talented Japanese woman behind Fog Linen Work. She is a lovely, friendly woman.

I forget how it really started, that connection Yumiko and I developed. To start, there was the purchase of a few kitchen towels that sufficed to make me become a fan of her work. Then we started to email each other. And one day, when I didn’t expect it, she asked whether I would like to participate in one of her projects. She wanted a few designers, stylists and photographers to collaborate with their own personal touches to her new Spring catalog 2010. She wanted to see her linens and baskets and aprons and pretty objects to find a home in the context of these people’s own homes. She wanted to hear about these people’s stories. Their lives. I loved her idea. And I felt honored that she asked me. I accepted right away. Enthusiastically.

A few months later, a few clicks and pictures after, her catalog is now available. It’s beautiful and lively. It’s full of pretty pictures.

If you happen to see it, perhaps like me, you’ll fall for Fog Linen Work. It’s easy to. It’s yet another reason that will make us travel to Japan. One day, we really will.

Here is the list of the other people participating in Yumiko’s project. Absolutely gorgeous work. All.

• Maria Alexandra Vettese
• Ryan and Alissa
• Julie Baine
• Rae Dunn
• Marisa Shimamoto
• Jennifer Causey
• Sally and Chris
• Jenny Hallengren
• Lena Corwin
• Elodie Rambaud
• Lotta Jansdotter

I’ve also recently found out that La Tartine Gourmande was nominated as one of the Best Special Interest Food Blogs in Saveur’s 1st Annual Food Blog Awards.

Yes, that’s right. It’s Saveur magazine! I am honored. Un grand merci!

If you are interested, there are many wonderful blogs nominated too, and you can vote for your favorites in each category by following this link. You have until Friday April 2d to do so.

The winners will be announced on April 5th. Good luck to everyone!

“Betty ?” I heard a deep male voice over the phone. It sounded like my father. Who else, outside my family and people from my home village in France, would call me Betty? I remained quiet for a few seconds until realizing that in fact, it was indeed my father.

“Vous êtes déjà arrivés ?” (Did you already arrive?) I asked, surprised.

I looked at my watch, and then at Lulu who was staring at my hand holding the phone. Then she looked at me, waiting for a push to get the swing moving. We had walked to the park, thinking we’d have time before my parents arrived. “P. est en route pour l’aéroport,” (P. is on his way to the airport) I went on. “Désolée, on ne savait pas que votre avion était en avance.” (Sorry, we didn’t know your plane was early.)

Perhaps my parents’ plane landed early because they felt impatient. It showed right away as they walked into the house to hug and kiss Lulu. Once. Twice. I quickly stopped counting. And instead I watched, and smiled, feeling so happy and thankful for that sweet moment between Lulu and her grandparents. The last time they had seen her was when we visited during the summer. Five months ago. I knew she would look like a different baby. And that she’d be a lucky one to have two fully dedicated playmates with her for two weeks. My parents are so good at it that it has me wonder whether they’ve taken a special class…just teasing. It’s a delight.

So this is what’s been happening in our home. The visit of my parents, as a start, which I’d very much been looking forward to. And me? Working long hours to revise the manuscript of my cookbook. Yes, it’s still going on and I have a new deadline! So add this to that, and this explains why there have not been many recipes and stories in this favorite space of mine. I cannot keep up at the moment.

I’m cooking a ton, mind you. So many foods, in fact. Having my mother in the kitchen by my side is precious. She likes to joke that she is my prep chef. I wish she were here all the time. She’s helping a ton, cooking homey foods for us–dishes I know so well. And miss.

On the night when they arrived, because they were tired from a long journey, I had prepared a light dinner. I made a soup. One that will be for the cookbook.

“Vous n’allez manger que des plats qui seront dans mon livre,” (You”ll only eat dishes that will be in my cookbook) I added, laughing, as I ladled steaming red lentil soup in our plates.
“Tant mieux!” (Good!) my mother answered.

I could see she was enjoying these simple foods. We had baguette, a wide selection of cheese–cannot have my father over without them–roasted beets and a green salad on the table too.

“Et ça aussi ca ira dans le livre ?” (Will this go in the cookbook too?) my father asked when, after we were finished, I brought dessert. I was holding a dish filled with warm pears baked with ginger, lemongrass and vanilla in one hand, and a bowl with plain yogurt in the other.

“Ah non, pas ça. Ça, c’est juste pour nous. C’est tout simple!” (Not this. This is just for us. Very simple.)

Within minutes, we cleaned the dish to the last bite.

I had forgotten how nice it actually is to have them over. We really love food in my family.

And it shows.

Thank you for your patience!

Read the rest…

Risotto. With green peas, basil and lemon.

It’s what Lulu and I will be having for lunch today. I am waiting for her to wake up from her nap to sit down at the table and eat.

“Lulu, réveille-toi, maman a vraiment faim !” (Lulu, wake up, mummy is really hungry!)

One day, she’ll understand that risotto cannot wait–although P. argues that he *loves* when I reheat risotto.

So she’d better hurry and wake up soon!

Bon weekend à tous !