I’ve been meaning to tell you about my weakness for anything involving potatoes.

Growing up, my mother prepared râpés de pommes de terre (grated potatoes cooked like small galettes, close to latkes) perhaps once a week, which invariably made my brother and me extremely happy. Because it was food that involved potatoes, and because hers were deliciously crispy, always cooked to perfection. She liked to serve them with a dollop of silky fromage blanc, a sprinkle of sea salt and freshly chopped chives, and a side lettuce tossed in a vinaigrette with piquant. That was dinner during a wintry week day: simple and gorgeous in every way.

I’ve been a lover of that type of comforting food since then. During the winter, that’s what we have for dinner at least once a week.

Sometimes my râpés will make a casual meal, just as we used to eat them at home, and at other times, they’ll dress up our meal, as I prefer to serve them as an appetizer, topped with crème fraiche or mascarpone, a slice of tasty smoked salmon and pear.

While my mother never uses eggs to prepare hers, I use a few — like in this recipe. I also find root vegetables delicious in this dish, and often make new variants following the produce seasonality and my fancy. Here, you’ll see that I used white sweet potato, parsnip and carrot. You’ll thank me for it! It’s a real boost of flavors and vitamins in your plate.

When I prepared these a few days ago, I remember looking at Lulu when she and I sat at the table for lunch. “Je suis sûre qu’elle va aimer,” (I’m sure she’ll love that) I couldn’t help but think.

That didn’t fail.

She took a small piece in one hand and looked at it cautiously at first, as she always does. Then she grabbed another piece delicately with the other hand, before bringing the food to her mouth and looking at me with a smile in her eyes.

It’s a funny thing to admit but the fact that she ate the râpé enthusiastically really made me happy. Enjoying these just like her papa and her maman.

Tomorrow is Christmas. It’s the day when many of you, and us too, will celebrate with family and friends. For us, it’s also the day when last year, our little Lulu was born. The meaning of Christmas has completely changed since then; life has never tasted as sweet since our daughter has been with us.

She is truly the best Christmas gift that we will ever have. What an amazingly rich journey this year will have been! I wonder what 2010 will keep ahead…

Have a wonderful celebration! My best wishes for this end of year and for the next.

And many thanks for being such a fantastic crowd on the other side of the screen! Between the writing of my book and taking care of Lulu, I might not have been as present, but know that every email and comment you wrote was special and meant a lot. Merci !

Joyeux Noël et bonne année à tous !

And testing recipe ideas for our Christmas appetizer.

Are you too?

I still have to decide what we’ll eat. So I better get my act together I am curious to know what you’ll be doing.

Moules marinières — mussels cooked in white wine, shallot and parsley — is a French classic. It’s also a dish that P. and I adore, especially if the dish is paired with thin oven baked fries on the side — our favorite are parsnips and carrots (these are yellow carrots!)

This is exactly the kind of dish I wanted to prepare for my most recent contribution to the Seasons column in the Boston Globe.

In fact, I made the recipe last week when my mother was visiting. She helped to clean the mussels — and I was glad since we bought three kilos — and gulp down the food. Because whenever there are mussels and fries for dinner, this is exactly what we end up doing! I am not sure how much each of us ate, but by looking at the pile of mussel shells on the table, I guess it was a lot. Then, I shelled the remaining mussels, kept the broth, and the next day, prepared a dish of spaghetti and sauteed julienned vegetables in which I added the reserved mussels and broth. Scrumptious!

In this mussel recipe, the flavor of the white wine-based broth is boosted with the addition of an earthy spice like saffron, orange bell pepper for a touch of color, and crème fraiche for smoothness. Make sure not to forget a loaf of crusty bread on the side, to sop up the broth.

It’s simple but delicious! The kind of honest food that tastes even better eaten with your fingers, making sure to lick them afterward.

“Let’s have a lobster weekend,” my friend R. said. “I’ll talk to my lobster guy.”

“Your lobster guy?”

“Yes. You’ll see. You’ll love to meet him.”

Quite frankly, I was excited. First, we really love to hang out with our friends R. and E. Secondly, they live in a beautiful house on the South Shore, with an amazing view on the ocean, a huge (me happy!) pool and jacuzzi. Then, my friend R loves to cook — and does it very well — and he grows a vegetable garden. He also speaks French, and that’s always something relaxing for my end-of-week tired brain.

“I’ll make dessert!”

“Parfait! he exclaimed joyfully.“And what do you think about a lobster salad with tarragon?”

What did I think about it? I loved the idea!

That’s how our conversation ended and how P., Lulu and I had a great plan to look forward to for the weekend.

I packed on Friday night, filling our bags with delicious foods I wanted to bring, and on Saturday morning, we drove down south.

“J’ai déjà commencé,” (I’ve started already) R. said when we walked into the kitchen. He seemed jolly, busy working along behind the stove. I caught sight of three pink lobsters on the counter and felt relieved. I’ve never liked the part that involves plunging the lobsters into a pot, and I was glad that he had done it for me. “I still have four more,” he added with a wide smile lighting his tanned face. Clearly, we were going to dine on a lobster feast.

We sat in the small wooden shelter nested by the pool, eager to chat and catch up — we hadn’t seen each other in weeks. We were treated with a lunch of homegrown juicy tomatoes and cucumber that we ate with Italian prosciutto and Tallegio cheese. And as expected, R. and I started to talk about our dinner plan.

“Demain, on ira voir Tommy Alioto,” he said. He was talking about his lobster guy, Tommy, who owns and runs the Cohasset Lobster Pound on picturesque Cohasset Harbor. “You’ll see, he is quite a character! He’s got a smile!”

We made a salad with local Heirloom tomatoes and the next day, I picked vegetables — squash, eggplant, pepper and fresh herbs — that filled a basket to bring home. We debated what best lobster salad recipe to follow for our meal and settled on one inspired by Jasper White.

R. cooked four small 1 1/4 pound lobsters and removed the meat for the lobster salad along with the meat from the 5 pound lobster we used to serve the salad. He made the tarragon mayonnaise and I assembled the lobster salad and baked raspberries almond mascarpone flans.

We chatted and ate our food and drank a Chassagne-Montrachet Premier Cru “Les Chaumées” 2002 — a perfect accompaniment to lobster. We enjoyed a fabulous dinner.

And the next morning, as planned, we went to see Tommy.

Tommy had quite a smile indeed! He gave us a generous welcome, we shook hands and he took us downstairs to see the lobsters.

“Here’s the beast!” he said after pulling a gigantic lobster from the tank which he held proudly in front of him. The lobster weighed twenty pounds and seemed enormous. “Wow, that’s a big one for sure!”

I could not help but think that that one was just as heavy as Lulu!

I learned that Tommy buys his lobsters from about thirty Cohasset lobster boats and arranges their sale. Up to 7000 pounds of lobster are stored live in his large seawater tank and many are shipped daily to Milan in Italy.

“What about a lobster bisque?” R. asked after we had finished our dinner. It was hard to believe we were already thinking about the next meal but it’s never a surprise, really. Quite a habit instead. “Let’s make one for lunch tomorrow,” he added.

So this is how he started to make lobster broth late at night while tidying the kitchen. He took a large stock pot out in which he dumped the lobsters carcasses from our feast. He covered with water and brought the food to a boil. Then, he added some white wine leftover and added an onion, a leek, a few tomatoes and carrots. He added a few celery branches and 1 tablespoon of tomato paste — you can also add saffron. He brought the broth to a boil, seasoned with salt and pepper and then reduce the heat to let it simmer for 1 hour and a half. We left the broth sit overnight so that the flavors develop even more, and the next morning, R. strained and reduced the broth on high heat. To serve the lobster bisque, we added a few pieces of lobster meat we had kept and thickened the bisque by adding 1 to 2 tablespoons of cornstarch. We finished with fresh tarragon, a generous dollop of heavy cream and a dash of sherry to round the taste. It was simply astonishingly delicious. Trust me, you’ll have to try it!

“Do you want to take some broth home?” R. asked.

It was hard for me to hide my excitement. Of course I wanted broth! I was so happy that I could have kissed him for even suggesting it. Well, I think I gave him an honest kiss on each cheek as French people like to do!

And so the next day, when we were back at home, I made my own lobster bisque for dinner. It was so good that both P. and I ate as slowly as we could, making sure not to leave a single drop in our bowls.

“Nothing goes to waste,” I remembered R. had added when preparing the broth.

I couldn’t agree more, especially when food tastes that good.

“Oh, that’s so nice!” my friend E. exclaimed when I placed the small plates on the table. She had stopped by on her way back from the market and I had asked her to stay for lunch. I wanted to share my tomatoes with her, or else I was worried they would spoil too quickly. So it didn’t matter that I didn’t have real lunch plans. I remembered the tomatoes lined on the kitchen window sill, perfectly happy it seemed to receive more of the warm afternoon sun, and the idea of tomato millefeuilles popped into my head.

So this is one of the ways we started to eat our delicious Heirloom tomatoes, dressed up in a millefeuille. The flavor of tomatoes stands as the queen in this summery dish. It’s a classic: fine slices of fresh mozzarella with juicy sun-filled tomatoes, olive oil with body, the best you have handy, fragrant basil, a tasteful aged balsamic vinegar and salt with character. The association works at each time.

And for the days that followed, I prepared the same appetizer for P. and I, with this time, the tomatoes more casually layered on a plate.

It’s a dish simple to prepare, one that makes you rejoice about summer.

And homegrown seasonal tomatoes.

Quinoa is, by far, one of my favorite grains*. I remember when we traveled to Peru a few years ago and we ate quinoa at almost every meal, in soups, salads, warm savory dishes and desserts. Quinoa was to Peruvians what rice is to Asians and pasta to Italians. I was already familiar with the grain before we arrived but our Peruvian trip inspired me to use the grain even more frequently than I did. I simply never grow tired of it. Quite on the contrary.

* Quinoa is, in fact, the seed of the Chenopodium (or Goosefoot) plant. It’s technically not really a grain, but considered like one as it’s cooked like many grains.

So we eat quinoa quite regularly, perhaps twice a week, and I also love to use the flour made from the grain in many of my baked goods and tarts (simply check the cake section).

I was excited, in fact, the first day I also decided to prepare quinoa for Lulu. *So* happy because I knew I was sharing with her one of my favorite foods, giving her a food full of nutrients and flavor. And delighted to watch her eat and enjoy it, as much as her maman — and papa.

To start, quinoa is extremely nutritious. It is full of protein, offers niacin, iron, phosphorus and potassium. Since it contains all eight essential amino acids, it is also considered a complete protein, very easy to digest. Quinoa is high in unsaturated fats and lower in carbohydrates than most grains.

Most of you know that white quinoa is the most common variety. But red and black are also available despite that they are somewhat more challenging to find. But, if you are like me, you’ll easily go out of your way to put your hand on a box.

Until recently, I had only cooked with the white and red varieties. Black quinoa was something new but really exciting. I loved its deep rich color, especially after the grain was cooked, and I was curious to find out whether I would notice any difference in taste.

I truly loved it. It was full of flavor, nutty and light. It paired wonderfully with seasonal ingredients I had purchased, lovely colorful baby beets and cherry and green zebra tomatoes. In fact, I liked it so much that I was inspired to try different types of salads.

I wanted salads boosted with vitamins. I wanted contrast of flavors, with sweet ingredients balancing savory ones. I wanted to taste the smoothness of an avocado next to something zesty and juicy like grapefruit and grapes. In one salad, I used pieces of crumbled French feta cheese and in the other, ricotta salata. I added fragrant herbs and made a vinaigrette with body, using honey-flavored French mustard, garlic and flavorful oils and vinegars. It was really fun to try different variants on the same idea. One salad had thin blanched haricots verts and sweet juicy cherry and zebra tomatoes, and in the other, I preferred to add baby beets and smoked salmon.

I learned that combinations are endless and experimenting with the grain always inspiring.

So you’ll see why it’s not difficult to make quinoa a favorite, especially when you’ll hear that it cooks extremely quickly (between 12 to 15 minutes, covered in boiling water, depending on the variety + allow 5 minutes to rest).

Use it in its most natural state to accompany roasted vegetables, fish or meat, or serve it with a simmered sauce. Saute it as you would rice, and add fresh herbs and spices (my next thing in line!) Or, just like here, prepare fun colorful salads to keep you happy and healthy, whether you eat in, at work or out on a picnic (lucky you!) at the beach. You’ll understand that quinoa is a great grain to keep handy for any type of dinner or lunch occasions.

Are you as hungry as I am?

It’s been so hot since I’ve returned from France that the oven has remained unusually quiet. Almost untouched — beside the berry sabayon au gratin and coconut macaroons I made (and that’s because I was too bored, upset to feel stuck inside all day.) So I am patiently (and that’s saying a lot!) waiting for the cooler days to come. Counting them, one by one. Un, deux, trois, quatre….reloading the weather forecast page on my laptop every time I walk by, with the hope that it’s a mistake, that they‘ve made a mistake, that tomorrow, the temperatures will be bearable, and life will resume its course. Quietly.

Because this heat is severe and aggressive, and when I think about it, this is what I dislike about summer. When it’s too much of everything: too much noise, too much heat, too much AC — and an obvious lack of fresh clean air. I am trying not to miss the cherry trees in my parents’ garden too much, but frankly, it’s hard not to. They were so relaxing and soft, ces arbres. So quiet and tranquil.

It’s no surprise then that after I put Lulu to bed tonight, I felt exhausted. She was exhausted too. At first, I thought it was the jet lag still playing on us. But in fact, I know that it’s the heat that sucked the last bit of my energy.

I am not trying to complain. There are many worse things than reading 95 F on the thermometer. Sometimes I hate being so affected by this sacrée chaleur (damned heat). But I am looking forward to the early fall when I can use my oven again. When I feel like it.

No wonder that I felt like preparing a cold verrine for dinner. To start. Something simple to make, no fuss, a dish refreshing to eat on the porch with my feet dipped in Lulu’s pool, trying to feel better.

I started with grated cucumber sprinkled with salt to release some water. Then, I added local radishes, sticks of apple and plain yogurt. With a drizzle of lime juice and one of olive oil, more yogurt and slices of smoked salmon, I had food perfectly right to cool off. My dinner.

Still hoping for the cooler days to finally arrive, and for summer to go away with its luggage of unwelcomed heat.

I’ll just have, once again, to reload the weather page before going to bed. Hoping!

Note that this verrine also makes a lovely and pretty appetizer for a casual dinner with friends.

After one single bite into the plump fruit, I fell in love.

I had not seen Rainier cherries before I moved to the US. Where I am from in France, we grow des cerises noires (black cherries) and des cerises aigres (sour cherries) , delicious and juicy, especially those I am able to pick and eat right from the cherry trees. But Rainier cherries have a je-ne-sais-quoi that takes any variety of cherries a step up. They are sweeter and with their yellow orange hue, seem to be smiling and beaming like the sunshine at sunset.

I remember that when my father and I talked over the phone one Sunday sometime in June, he had told me that their cherry trees were so heavy with fruit that every day during an entire week, he filled buckets with delicious overly ripe fruit, which incidentally made every neighbor and friend stopping by happy as he gave the buckets away. C’est une année à fruits (It’s a good year for fruit), he had carried on, explaining at length how they were going to use the fruit. My father likes to talk about those things too.

My parents worked as a team: while my father was busy with the picking, my mother made jams and filled bags for the freezer. Then, she used the leftovers in clafoutis and tarts.

“Il y aura encore des cerises et des groseilles quand on vient ?” (Will there still be cherries and red currants when we come?) I eagerly asked when, a few weeks later, we chit chatted about this and that as we were — are — getting ready for our upcoming stay with them.

“Ah non ma grande, ça malheureusement c’est déjà fini!” (Oh no, that’s unfortunately already over!)

They knew well that I was going to be disappointed to hear that. This time of year is so special!

So instead, I indulged in Rainier cherries and all the other pretty fruits rouges (red berries) that summer offers here too, and that I am such a fan of. And then fairly quickly, I forgot that I was jealous of my parents’ cerisiers (cherry trees) and cherries and red currants. I could have a taste too and c’est mieux que rien ! (It’s better than nothing!)

I’m sure you know that Rainier cherries come from Washington State, and are a cross between the Bing and Van varieties. Since these jewels have appeared in my local store, I never seem to have enough of them. In fact, every time I buy a bag, I have a plan to cook something cute and scrumptious with them, but they rarely seem to make it into a dish.

Instead, we love to eat them nature.

I like to wash a few handfuls and keep them in a bowl on the kitchen island. I look at them and they make me smile. They are a favorite snack every time I walk by — and I’d walk around with pits in my mouth. At other times, P. and I enjoy them in a fruit plate after dinner, with a little cane sugar sprinkled on top, and a large bowl of sheep plain yogurt and homemade granola on the side.

It’s nice and simple but so rewarding. It makes us rejoice in summer, especially if we are able to eat sitting outside, with the grass brushing against our feet, and nothing to worry about but enjoy the moment — and the fruit.

But on some days, these summer fruit really inspire me to prepare a more elaborate dessert or a salad.

Like these two recipes.

My first idea was to bake a fruit crumble. P. and I really love crumbles! Do you too?

A crumble is one of many comforting everyday desserts so easy to make, one that always seems to welcome any seasonal fruit wonderfully. It does not matter whether the fruit isn’t the prettiest; it’s always going to be tasty in a crumble. In this recipe for example, I combined Rainier cherries and red and white currants and I tossed them in cane sugar and lime juice. Then, I topped the fruit with a mixture made with almond meal, quinoa flour, butter, brown sugar and a generous amount of nuts. With the sweetness of the cherries balancing the tarter taste of the currants, the dessert bursted with flavor. I think that like P. and I, you’ll fall in love with it!

Then on that same day, as I was about to prepare my lunch, I thought about adding Rainier cherries in a crunchy fennel and radish salad. I completed the dish with my favorite soft goat cheese and freshly chopped chives picked in the garden. It was delicious and refreshing, so much so that I made more to accompany our dinner the next day. A recipe that is a real keeper.

And when I was done with my bag of cherries and boxes of currants, I walked to the store to buy more.

I am sure that you’ve already noticed that I am just addicted. It shows and I cannot help it.

Be aware, it’s contagious.

June.

Juin

Is it real?

Tomorrow is my older brother B.’s birthday. He will be 43 — and he will probably spend his day in his wonderful garden. A gift.

So I can’t believe it’s June! I know, you’ve heard me say this before. But really, I mean it. This time, it’s just too quick to arrive.

My apologies for not being able to respond to your emails and notes, or being more present. I don’t like it — hopefully you won’t even have noticed — but I am simply not able to follow up right now. I have the cookbook to finish in a month.

Yes, you read well.

A short month.

With our Lulu to take care of, growing by the second, by my side. She’s all about stuffing her feet into her mouth at the moment. It’s her new thing. I had forgotten how fascinating a pair of feet can be. Oh, and blowing bubbles with her lips pursed too. That’s actually quite funny! I must say, I’ve spent a fair amount observing and discovering things through her fresh eyes. And giving her kisses — at least ten at a time — every two minutes.

It’s addictive.

Needless to say that I am b.u.s.y! Too busy!

It will change over time.

Now, of course, I am not complaining. It’s all fulfilling. But frankly, I’ll be happy to get to the depth of the summer when P., Lulu and I travel to Ireland and France — oh I love it already — and we can take long walks through the fields in the countryside, à la campagne, and smell the flowers again.

I cannot wait.

So I thought I would stop by quickly today, to share a recipe I’ve enjoyed preparing for my lunches these past weeks.

It’s a dish full of vitamins, taste and color — that’s, if like me, you like the color green and spring vegetables and a vanilla-flavored vinaigrette to go with it. But it’s also all about the egg too, you know, the kind you cook on the runny side. We call them oeufs mollets in French.

I just like the name.

And it’s just the type of foods that I need at the moment to keep me to go forward.

Well, you can try and tell me what you think.

We love soft fresh goat cheese.

Everyone in my family, in fact, except my dad. One of the best memories I keep from the yearly summer trips my family took to southwest France was the weekly expédition to the marché where, invariably, we would return with a few fromages de chèvre frais (soft fresh goat cheese) in our basket. These types of goat cheese were made by local artisans and had me dream of owning goats, so that one day, I would too be able to make that delicious type of goat cheese. I really loved the idea.

But of course, that never happened.

I don’t own goats — although I am still in the love with the idea — but I am a huge fan of fromage de chèvre frais.

Much to my regret, that type of cheese is hard to find where I live. Or at least this is what I thought before I recently visited Formaggio, in the hope of buying goat cheese for a recipe I was writing for the Boston Globe.

“What fresh goat cheese would you recommend?” I asked the young girl at the cheese section of the small Cantabrigian delicacy store. Lulu was staring at the glass window behind which various attractive goat cheese were on display.

“You’ll love this one,” she answered without hesitation. She was pointing at a small table hidden in a corner, where two types of cheese were arranged for sampling. “It’s Belgian and really tasty. Would you like to try some?”

She was right.

The cheese was perhaps not looking like those I remembered from my vacations, but it was still excellent: extremely light and balanced, and with great texture.

“It’s a St Maure? I’ve never heard about this one,” I said, feeling content to have discovered something new.

“You know what Lulu? We’ll come back soon to buy more,” I told her as we returned to the car.

I used the cheese for the Herb and Red Peppercorn Goat cheese recipe I wrote this week for the Seasons Column of the Boston Globe.

It’s always nice to have this kind of recipe handy, should you feel like enjoying an easy-to-make, yet dressed-up snack. We ate ours with crusty baguette and red wine a few weekends ago, when our friend J. came to visit.

The whole thing disappeared within minutes.

It happens that quickly, with tasty fromage de chèvre.