I am working hard at the moment. I mean, harder than usual as I sit at my desk for long hours in the evenings, busy working on the edits of my cookbook manuscript. That invariably makes my eyes look puffy in the morning, and have me crave for long naps in the afternoon. I wish I could take those naps when Lulu takes hers, but the thing is that as she reaches almost 11 months of age, her naps become scarce–and so do mine malheureusement!

Naturally, this increased brain activity makes me even more hungry than usual for healthy homemade foods.

So to keep a semblance of life normalcy and keep my energy going–and my sanity–Lulu and I take walks to the park where she plays on the swings, never wanting to leave; we have afternoon excursions to local farms before the season is over; and I take her to see the animals, oh yes, we both enjoy that part: the sheep and chicken and Lizzie the cow.

And when we are back at the house, we cook and bake together.

While I stand in front of the stove, she sits on the floor with, in front of her, a large box in which she endlessly puts miscellaneous objects in and out. In and out again.

Lulu seems to like our partnership. How we work together. She laughs when she hears the sizzling sound of butter in the frying pan when I prepare crêpes; she stares at the pot on the stove when I lift the lid to check on a meat stew. She watches me attentively when I whisk and beat and dust and make a mess in the kitchen–I am a specialist of that craft! I hope that she notices the smells that diffuse in the house, of the many cakes that go in the oven, the tarts that cool on the counter top, and the tajines and vegetable stews that simmer on the stove. The fact is that, Dieu merci, there’s always something going on in the kitchen.

A lot of things cooking.

And since I am busy retesting, perfecting and eating all of these foods that will go in the cookbook, at least, despite the lack of sleep and free time, we keep our healthy eating habits. I know that no matter what, that’s simply never going to change.

This chocolate dessert, for example, was supposed to go inside the cookbook. But as I looked back at my recipe list that keeps growing and growing, I realized that I had to stop saying “this recipe has to go in the cookbook“. You know, not everything will, and can, go in the cookbook–and it’s a good thing. It’s all yours now.

I baked the dessert last year, I remember now, and have made it a number of times since then. I find that it’s an easy way to dress-up an honest chocolate cake. In fact, thinking about it, it’s a nice idea to keep handy should you suddenly need dessert brought on the table and you’re short of time but still want something that catches the eye.

I might just have to make it again.

You probably recall that I recently wrote about making nutritious healthy baby food. What I didn’t tell you then, I realize, is about the utensil I actually use to prepare meals for Lulu. Magical! Oh how grateful I am to own a Beaba Babycook! It’s really the best kitchen gadget for a new maman! Perhaps you think you do not need one, and that’s fine too, but I must say that, it’s really simplified the preparation of Lulu’s foods. The bonus? It’s useful for that purpose and for whatever else you want.

So I wrote about it for Short Orders in the Boston Globe’s food section–and the article can be found here.

Today, for example, I prepared a white sweet potato, purple turnip and chicken meal for Lulu. I flavored her food with garlic and coriander. She ate the whole thing, with red quinoa on the side. Meanwhile, I was having a carrot and parsnip soup with coriander too. She ate some of that as well! And I ate some of hers.

We were in fact both enjoying one of the last supplies of local vegetables from our farmer’s market. I told Lulu how sad I was to see them go for the winter. She gave me a cuddle. Then we went to the park and she would not love the swing.

It made the two of us happy. With very happy bellies too.

If you recall, last year, I told you about the first cookbook I contributed to, styling and photographing the foods. Jennifer, the author, came to my house for a few days to work — we immediately became friends. Her cookbook was just published and I am so honored to have been able to work with her and the people at Chronicle Books.

It’s a book about Gingerbread and every goodie that comes with it. It’s funny to think about it. I was three months pregnant when I worked on this project last summer. It was so hot, I remember, and I was completely morning sick, but it was a marvelous experience to team with Jennifer. She’s funny and witty, and full of energy–we worked really well together.

Her book is now available in bookstores and amazon, if you are interested. And, since I baked all the recipes with pictures attached, I can tell you that they work fantastically! So if you like gingerbread, you know what to do next. It’s the season!

Note that the second picture (a gingerbread I baked from her recipes) in this post is not in Jennifer’s book, but I just liked it so wanted to put it here! Simple and tasty!

I’d been thinking about spending a long weekend on Martha’s Vineyard island for a while. Ever since we’d returned from France in late August. I knew we would wait until the summer crowds were gone and the place would become tranquil, with the exception of the activities of the locals and occasional visitors, like us.

At first, I tried to reason myself, though, thinking ce n’est pas raisonnable Béa!, but the thought faded. Really vanished, in fact. And fairly quickly, I could hear the pleasing melody of an insisting voice whispering softly into my ear: Just do it, you’ll love it!.

And this is where the story started.

One morning, in early September, I told P. in an assertive tone: “We’re going to Martha’s Vineyard!” I remember him looking back at me without showing any sign of surprise. And then he smiled. “Ooh, je sais!” he said. “I know you well enough!”

And so this is how on Saturday of last week, with the car loaded with luggage, a loaf of chocolate cake , fresh produce and groceries, we hopped on the ferry that took us to the island.

And ooh how glad I am we made the trip!

To start, there was the lovely house where we stayed. Set in a secluded area near the gorgeous Long Pond Wildlife Refuge, it was full of charm and character. Because of its large open living area and perfectly equipped kitchen, we immediately felt cozy staying there.

“What a gem!” I exclaimed after I walked inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to the long farm dining table and tall silver milk jug sitting in the middle of it. I so much wanted it!

The house had inviting patios with colorful long chairs where we relaxed, enjoying an early morning cup of tea in the shade of the tall oak trees surrounding the place. The decor witnessed an obvious attention to detail. And naturally, Lulu made the place her home too, crawling into every corner she could find. Finding them all, in fact!

We had visited the island once before, but never in the fall. It was a real chance to be there at this time of year: the trees were magnificent, showcasing the first shades of red, orange and yellow which confirm that fall is winning over Nature; the beaches were empty.

We did easy things, clearly with the intention to catch up with life and spend quality time together. Just the three of us, as a family.

So we enjoyed long breakfasts, napped, played and read books with Lulu. We took walks to the beach and visited local farms where we bought apples. In the mornings, I also set time to work on my book, and then, in the midst of our daily activities, I cooked homey foods for us to enjoy.

Of course, how could I have done otherwise?

One night, I prepared a pot of winter squash soup that we ate with cheese, crusty bread, salad and fried eggs. One morning, I served lemon poppyseed pancakes at the breakfast table and the next day, we started with bowls of warm porridge topped with brown sugar, roasted nuts and blueberries.

On another evening, I stuffed eggplants and served them with sauteed quinoa and a tossed salad on the side.

Lunch was made of straightforward but nourishing foods: a mixed rice salad with cheese and leftovers from dinner the night before or plates of spicy tagliatelle cooked with lime and zucchini, and topped with generous amount of freshly grated parmesan cheese.

With dessert to finish our meals.

One evening, I baked apples in a light sweet sauce infused with vanilla, cinnamon and lemon and served the fruit with yogurt on the side. The juice the fruit released was so rich in taste that P. and I kept adding yogurt to our plates to prolong the taste in our mouth. Actually we were so eager for more that the next day, I baked another batch to repeat the experience over again.

And another night, we enjoyed coconut rice pudding with pomegranate seeds and cranberry sauce, scraping the pot to the last bit of rice.

Our meals were made of humble, rustic foods that, in many ways, connected us even more to the tranquil slow time we had decided to have.

“It was too nice to be real,” I said to P. on the last morning while we were packing the car. I just didn’t feel like going home!

“Me neither,” he said. ”

It’s a simple idea to have a weekend like this one, doing uncomplicated things; it’s a down-to-earth episode in our life with, at its center, family, nature and food.

“Easy!” he added. “We’ll just have to come back.”

It was all I needed and wanted to hear.

They’ve arrived, the colors of fall. I’ve been waiting for them!
Is it really possible not to cheer up just by looking at those beautifully colored trees?

Ah, it’s such a lovely time of year to cook, don’t you think so too?

It’s wonderful the things we do for the people we love.

Prepare food, for example.

With Lulu, it started when she was still cozily nestled inside my belly. I remember thinking, every time I was putting food into my mouth, how much she would benefit from those foods. Comté, sole, rice pudding, carrots, zucchini, gratin, sweet potatoes, sweet and savory tarts, kale, peach, watermelon, apple, pear, blueberries, granola, veal, beef and milk — Oh the foods that I ate and enjoyed!

Then when Lulu was born, I started to nurse her, and then, when she was interested and had teeth too — did I tell you she has 8? — came the time to prepare foods for her.

It was somewhat intimidating, at first, knowing what foods to prepare for my baby. Trying to guess what she would like. What she would dislike. How would I know that she would love peaches and doesn’t care too much for bananas? That she’d love sheep milk yogurt and turns her head away from a piece of tofu? It’s a process I’ve learned. A world that I continue to explore, every day. Something that keeps changing too, with her. A life that I truly enjoy.

And somehow, along the way, I started to improvise fabulous food associations, combining vegetables with meats or fish, herbs and spices. Making the food nutritious and taste delicious. In fact, my rule is simple: if I like what I’ve prepared and want it for my lunch, then Lulu will have it! And hopefully she’ll enjoy it as much as I do.

Lulu is almost 10 months now — does time fly by for you too? She’s been eating many things. She loves quinoa buttermilk pancakes and anything that tastes like sweet potato — especially the Japanese white ones — and winter and summer squashes, cauliflower, broccoli and fennel. Yesterday, for example, she ate sole with Japanese white sweet potato, cauliflower and zucchini flavored with thyme and olive oil while dancing in her high chair to the tune of Charlie Winston playing in the background. And tonight, she had red quinoa to start, then winter squash steamed with fennel, chicken, sage and cumin. Not a single spoonful was left on her plate.

That alone never fails to make me feel warm inside. Happy.

I decided to walk to the farmer’s market with Lulu. It was going to take us a solid hour, which I was really looking forward to since it was one of these perfect sunny days of late summer, early fall. Lulu was chatty, making all sorts of ma ma ma da da sounds in my ear, and I was singing silly French songs that I was just making up as the words came out of my mouth.

” ♪ ♪ C’est ♪ ♪ jeudi ♪ et Luluuuuuu ♪ et mamannnnn ♪ ♪ vont au marché ♪ ♪ tra la la la”. Really silly! But it made her laugh so joyfully that I didn’t care — we formed a happy pair and that’s all that mattered on that sunny day.

I told her about the farmer’s market. And to start, about the beautiful eggs that we were going to buy.

“Tu verras, ce sont les plus beaux oeufs du monde!” I sang to her. (You’ll see, they are the most beautiful eggs in the world). I really meant it! The first time I saw them, I fell in love with their color — soft shades of blue, beige and green — and the deep orange yolk they reveal once they are cracked open. The taste is incomparable!

“What kind of chickens lay these eggs?” I had felt curious to ask the young pretty woman selling them. “They’re called Araucanas, ” she had responded. Her smile stretching her mouth wide open revealed perfectly aligned white teeth that contrasted with her tanned face and long dark curly hair. She’s got the healthy look of someone who spends a lot of time outside, I had thought watching her pack my eggs carefully. I liked it. It had me dream again of the life in the countryside.

Then I told Lulu about the tasty crab apples, the corn and eggplants, the Heirloom tomatoes and French beans, yellow zucchini and carrots that we would buy too.

When we arrived on the square, the place was already buzzing with activity even if the market had just opened. I imagined how pretty it would be to look at the place from above, and see this patchwork of bright colors and people busy like ants. We strolled around to look at the vegetables and fruit, comparing them from one stand to the next.

We bought eggs and apples, different varieties of zucchini, raspberries and peaches, and I packed up a few beautiful purple eggplants, tomatoes, fingerling potatoes, French beans and carrots as well. The gorgeous produce inspired me so much that thoughts of menu ideas filled my head, making me seriously forget that I would have to carry everything home — and would just as donkeys do. It’s funny how, whenever I go to the market, I always end up coming back with much more than I plan to buy. Do you too?

“C’est tout!” (that’s all!) I told Lulu. “Y’a plus de place!” (there’s no more room!)

But that’s when I saw them. Those lovely plums neatly arranged on a display in the middle of the market.

You see, those plums were just calling my name with their attractive subtle shades of pink and fushia. They were too cute to walk by and go unnoticed. So, of course, quite predictably, I stopped. I leaned towards Lulu and drawing my face close to hers, I whispered as if I were telling her an important secret: Regarde ces jolies prunes! (Look at those pretty plums!) Ce soir, je te préparerai de la compote de pommes et de prunes avec de la cannelle et de la vanille.” (Tonight, I’ll prepare stewed apples and plums with vanilla and cinnamon).

She smiled. But of course, it’s most likely the buzz of the market that she found funny.

But as promised, when we were back home, I stewed the plums for her. I really wanted Lulu to be the first one to taste our plums.

The fruit wasn’t too sweet, perhaps still in need of maturation under more sun, but at the speed by which Lulu ate it, she obviously didn’t seem to find it too tart. In fact, she kept opening her mouth like a bird, asking for more.

“C’est si bon que cela?” (Is it that good?) I asked her, laughing while giving her the last spoonful left.

It was really nice to watch.

And then, it’s really what made the story of these plum cakes. And how making natural foods for Lulu inspired me to bake.

I felt like baking simple plum cakes that I would be able to eat when they are still warm from the oven. Still to this day, my mother keeps telling moi-at-forty-years-of-age that doing such a thing is silly and a bad idea and that it will hurt my stomach. But I don’t believe it. Or I don’t want to hear it. And I am sure that Lulu won’t want to hear that from me either when she is older.

Anyway, these cakes.

I used buckwheat flour (because it’s one of my new favorite flours to bake with) and quinoa flour, roasted ground walnuts, stewed plums, a couple of my favorite eggs and a few other things.

And do you know what? Eating the cake out of the oven was exactly the right thing to do.

Actually, I ate two, dreaming about what Lulu and I would find at the market the following week.

“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.

I haven’t got much to chat about, but I just could not wait to share these lovely jewels Lulu and I found yesterday at the farmer’s market. My kitchen is turning into a tomato house. I swear!

While I was preparing dinner last night (stuffed tomatoes, tada!) — and I was starving — I ate them as I would strawberries. The best summer snack! I’m sure you have similar goodies at home, non?

Have a great weekend everyone! It’s promising to be a fantastic Indian-summerish one here. Oh it’s the best time of year! We’ll be eating many more tomatoes I feel.

“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.