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!

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 !

I woke up craving a bowl of lentil soup.

”White lentils! How unusual!” I thought after grabbing a bag from the shelf, so that I could look more closely. The label on the package read Ivory white lentils, and that name piqued my curiosity right away. With their pale fair color, the lentils looked delicate. Will they cook like green lentils? I wondered. Or like red? I didn’t think twice. I knew that I had to try them and dropped one bag into my cart. And as I walked through the aisles of the store to finish my grocery shopping, I started to brainstorm ideas on how I would use the légumes. Perhaps a salad, or add them to a vegetable stew.

Until I thought about a hearty soup.

For the entire week that followed, however, the bag sat at the corner of the counter top. Untouched. I’d catch a glimpse of it every morning when I walked into the kitchen. It seemed that it was looking back at me, saying “c’mon, do something with me!” So I thought about my soup idea again. The hearty soup I had imagined at the store with slices of spicy Spanish chorizo and winter vegetables. The soup I eventually imagined to serve topped with a poached egg, a generous dollop of crème fraiche and a dash of paprika, so that the dish would become substantial and more nourishing.

Soups like this one are dishes I enjoy preparing during the winter a lot. Perhaps once a week. They are everything-in-a-pot kind of dishes that are really easy and quick to prepare, something that I must say, I find quite convenient while I am trying to work and look after Lulu at the same time. Once started, I can leave the soup to simmer on its own, almost unattended, and come back to it half an hour later to find a pot of delicious nutritious food.

If you decide to make the soup, you’ll find that white lentils cook quickly — just as red lentils do. They do not require any soaking, which is rather practical too, should you decide to prepare the soup spontaneously. Once the lentils are cooked, they develop a mild flavor and soft texture that blend perfectly into a thick broth when combined with small pieces of butternut squash, carrots and tomatoes. The overall flavor is spiced up with Spanish chorizo and the soup becomes truly irresistible with a generous dollop of crème fraiche dusted with paprika, and a poached egg. Who, really, could resist the thought of a soup finished with a poached egg in it? In our household, we surely can’t.

The first time I made the soup, Lulu and I ate it with pieces of whole grain bread for lunch. At first, I was unsure whether she was going to like it but was still decided to give it a try. When I saw that after the first spoonful, she was asking for more, I felt my heart leap with excitement.

“C’est bon, non?” (It’s good, isn’t it?) I told her while putting the food inside her mouth. She was banging two teaspoons on the table with her mouth wide open. Asking for more.

We left the table filled with great energy from our food, which Lulu was quite pleased to use later on the swing. And I just went along.

I was looking at my baby girl and started to feel tears in my eyes. She was playing with her music box, unaware that I was observing her. I felt thankful. And so lucky. To have her. To be sitting in the comfort of our home. To have food and everything we need. Us. Our family together.

I had just watched pictures of Haïti. Pages of them, the ones more painful to look than the others. It was hard to imagine that this natural catastrophe had happened. That it is real. And that it’s leaving a country already destituted in an even more precarious state . I don’t think that it’s possible to even start to imagine what it must be like. Awful. Once again, it shows how fragile life can be, and how one second will never look like the previous one.

So when I take food and water — and medical care — for granted, the Haitian population is struggling for their basic vital needs.

Words weigh little if there aren’t gestures. Anything we do to help can make a difference.

I personally chose to donate to Unicef so that food is sent to children who are always so much more vulnerable. Many other donation organizations exist, and other bloggers have shown wonderful support, to only name a few.

Thank you for any help you can give too.

“Everyone is in for a hot chocolate?” I asked our friends M. and A. as we all sat around the table. It was early afternoon and despite the bright sun shining outside, it felt bitterly cold. We didn’t mention it but we felt glad to be sitting inside. Home to drink hot chocolate. And eat muffins.

“You don’t mind if my muffins have cocoa in them too, do you? I added, suddenly unsure that we should actually drink hot chocolate to go along with the muffins I’d baked.

A. was the first to look at me. His face lit up with a wide smile that made him look like a child excited to be standing in front of a piece of beautiful candy.

“Are you kidding?”

He was right. What was I thinking? It didn’t matter that we had them together because when it’s cold and snowy outside and the fireplace is going–and it feels so toasty warm that I could almost sleep inside it–I cannot help but think about Chocolate. Baking. Muffins.

These words sound so melodious when they are put side by side. Enchanting. They feel cozy.

Baking, to start, has a magic buzz. It carries this je-ne-sais-quoi that invariably makes me feel peaceful. Secure. When it happens spontaneously, I like that I don’t feel the need to be original. A list of ingredients naturally flows in my head and that’s enough to start the process. I’ve done the maths and tried the combination so often before that I am confident that nothing can go wrong. Nothing can get between me and my muffins.

And Chocolate, more precisely.

It’s something that I’ve noticed. The fact that I obviously enjoy making all kinds of dessert. From fruit tarts, clafoutis, petits pots de crème, oeufs à la neige, crumbles, charlottes. But that one way or the other, I invariably come back to anything that involves chocolate.

Chocolate. It’s a charming word that I just know oh too well will make my stomach smile in any occasion.

And these muffins were indeed just right. They used delicate unsweetened cocoa (Valrhona is a favorite), flours with character, and bananas that made them moist. The muffins felt light and nutritious.

“Anyone for a second?” I asked as we were engaged in a lively conversation.

“Of course!” A. was once again the first to respond. I watched him pick a second muffin and felt pleased. I’ve always liked that he has such an obvious enthusiasm for desserts.

I also told him to bring the muffins left home. I thought he might enjoy one on his flight back to Paris. But as I was clearing the table shortly after they’d left, I realized he’d simply forgotten.

“Ah well,” I thought. “Tant pis !” (bummer)

I didn’t tell him but in the end, I was glad that he had forgotten. I was thinking about the walk I’d have in the cold with Lulu the next day, and despite the fact that I’d have my feet frozen and my cheeks and nose turned pink red from too much wind, I’d feel quite happy to have yet another hot chocolate and muffin moment.

Deep inside, you know, I am really a winter kind of girl.

And I think that Lulu is learning to turn into one too.

Non?

I know. The title does neither sound nor look like a yummy chocolate dessert or a delicious vegetable soup.

But it’s fun! And it might surprise you as much as it did surprise moi. The truth is that the engineers at Google have been pretty nice with me. Consistently. It’s the third time that they are asking whether they can use La Tartine Gourmande inside one of their projects.

This time, we are talking about Nexus One, the new phone that they’ve just launched. So if you are curious about it, simply check their link here and click on the Browser icon to get the demo. You’ll see that my blog is featured in it. More particularly my post about Martha’s Vineyard. (Arstechnica.com, a technology site, talks about it here too)

I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t excited. I mean. It’s Google!

That was undoubtedly a highlight of my day.

Merci Google!

The day started in the kitchen with aromas of finely sliced apples sautéed in butter and brown sugar; warm oatmeal and toasted almonds; and quinoa waffles dusted with a cloud of confectioner’s sugar. There were pots of green and Roibos teas on the table, and Taken by Trees was playing on our stereo. Lulu was sitting in her high chair at the head of the table with one of us on either side, looking happy–who wouldn’t, really, after sleeping for a solid twelve hours? Breakfast to start the new year.

It looked promising.

I am not sure whether I’ve yet realized the good things that 2009 gave us. The most overwhelming one being a healthy happy daughter that is bringing an incomparable joy, allowing us to look at details of life that we wouldn’t see otherwise, were she not here. Of course, it’s been crazy and messy and challenging at times; in the early months of 2009, we missed sleep. Some days, I even cried when I felt too exhausted–especially missing to have our families living nearby. There were moments when we felt excited and slap happy. One friend once said when he spoke about this early time when a baby enters a couple’s life that “it’s as if you are divorced from reality.”

Oh yes!

I know we are extremely lucky, though. We’ve come out of the first year of Lulu’s life feeling stronger and happier.

Closer.

In 2009, one of my biggest challenges, too, was to balance raising our baby and writing my cookbook. Despite days that always seemed too short, naps that were too scarce, I don’t know how I managed but I’ve never lost my appetite to cook. I’ve never stopped to want to cook. I don’t think there was a single day passing without something being made in the kitchen. Without my hands touching and preparing food. Whether it being a hard boiled egg, a grilled sandwich — P. who is mastering the art beautifully taught me how — or a more time-involved meal with Osso Buco and Milanese risotto. Always baking a cake. Or having friends coming over for dinner. Despite the house looking untidy. And baskets of laundry waiting in the corner of the bedroom.

Life’s been full. Rewarding. Without any doubt, 2009 has been the most intense and fulfilling year of my life. Turning forty has felt enriching. I feel blessed to be able to continue to feed my passion to create foods that I believe in–that we love.

Like these rose-shaped teacakes.

I made them yesterday after we returned from an early walk to the park, to enjoy the freshly fallen snow. They made the house smell delicious and sweet. Homey. They were moist with a subtle taste of almond, quinoa and vanilla combined, enhanced with delicate Fleur de sel. We ate them while sitting on the wooden floor to build tall Lego towers with Lulu–who joyfully and swiftly knocked them down as soon as they were up–, hoping to continue the journey we’ve now started.

Better and fuller.

Healthy and happy.

A toast to all of you for a wonderful New Year ahead, with delicious foods!

I never want to forget that life is beautiful.

Bonne année!

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 !