Let me tell me you a little more about today, and Rome.

If you had told me a few months ago that I would be in Rome for my birthday, I would not have believed you. I mean, how spoiled am I? It feels like a real dream to be in such a city today. I will have so much to tell you about Rome and the romans.

So I guess today is my birthday, the day when I count a few more wrinkles, but so much more wisdom! N’est-ce pas ?

I won’t have the time to share a recipe with you I am afraid, even if I am dying to tell you about this scrumptious dessert — I made it before I left. As you can imagine, a birthday girl in Rome has plenty on her plate to do before the day is gone!

But I thought to celebrate a piece of this special day with you anyway, especially since it celebrates a few of my dear friends too: lovely Anita from Dessert First in San Francisco — she and I decided to both prepare a strawberry rhubarb tart today — my dear Tina in Melbourne, and Melissa in New Zealand. How cool is that to have the same birthday as them?

So what about the tart, you will ask?

You know my love for strawberries, and rhubarb too. So I decided to treat myself with two of my favorite things in a dessert, and made sweet tartlets with fresh strawberries, a vanilla flavored rhubarb compote with a light vanilla custard , everything on top of a sweet crust made with rice and quinoa flours. When I come back, I will have to take the time to write it down for you.

Today in Rome?

It was hot; it was fun.

We walked until our legs felt heavy and sore.

We ate; we shopped; and we even had a drink with the lovely Sigrid and her husband.

I wish that every day was like today. But then, that would make me very very old indeed, so let’s forget about that part, shall we?

Tomorrow is the day when we leave. Can you tell that I am happy and excited?

Well, I am ready!

But I meant to share an exciting piece of news with you before going. It has to do with tomorrow Thursday April 24th too. I did something that I’d never done before — and oh oui, I was nervous! But what fun!

I was honored to be invited as a guest on NHPR’s radio show, a Word of Mouth, hosted by talented Virginia Prescott. The show will air Thursday April 24th in New Hampshire, between noon and 1 pm EST. Here are the call numbers:

88.3, Nashua, WEVS
89.1, Concord, WEVO
90.3, Nashua, WEVO
90.7, Keene, WEVN
91.3, Littleton, WEVO
91.3, Hanover, WEVH
97.3, Plymouth
99.5, Jackson, WEVJ
103.9, Portsmouth
104.3, Dover, WEVO
105.9, Colebrook
107.1, Gorham, WEVC

And it will be available on line after that time on the NHPR Word of Mouth’s website — I will update with the detailed URL when it is available.

What is it about?

Food blogging, bien sûr, what else?

I cannot wait to hear the show, of course. I mean, how often does something like this happen? I am sure I will find my voice weird — like it is not mine — but then, this always happens, non ?

Many thanks to the very friendly staff at Word of Mouth.

Anyway, I will be in touch while traveling around.

A bientôt ! And stay healthy and eat well!

It’s hard not to love spring. Well then, it’s hard not to love fall, winter or summer too. Perhaps because I was brought up in a French region where seasons are well-defined, I like it this way. After winter, I rejoice about spring. After spring, I get excited about summer. And after summer, I look forward to fall. Simple facts of life but nature is wonderful this way.

I call myself lucky. Imagine if I had left too early in the season, missing the beauty that spring generously offers to us these days. Just have a look at these colors and tell me that you think the same thing too.

And then there are the new produce that spring offers.

And then there are strawberries.

La saison des fraises.

I mean, have you been waiting for them just as much as I have? — and I even gave in before I was supposed to!

The strawberries I buy may not be fully local yet — California is still on the other side of the country — but I find them already tasteful, sweet and juicy. They are always organic.

And always a great source of inspiration for numerous desserts to finish a meal on a happy light touch.

And oh yes, you know already how much I love to cook with strawberries. Don’t you too?

Well guess what, there will be more strawberry desserts to come! I am a May girl, after all.

The car pulled in front of the house five minutes earlier.

Mince, déjà ? (Already?)

In my rush to leave the house to get to my chiropractic appointment on time, I forgot one of the strawberry chocolate tartlets I had made earlier in the day, that I meant to bring to my friend H., my chiropractor. P. being stuck at work, I had to call a taxi at the last minute.

My taxi driver was Armenian and chatty. And extremely polite too.

“I don’t know,” he said after a few minutes. “I keep telling my boss that America is nothing without immigrants,” I forget why, but we engaged in a conversation about living in the US while not being from here. He seemed to have a lot to say. “Immigrants are what makes America. Every American’s heritage is from elsewhere, not America.”

The United States a land of immigrants? Of course, we all know that.

I listened and asked “When did you move here?”

“In 2000. But I still feel a stranger here, you know?” he responded. His accent was stronger than mine.

It takes many years before this feeling, being a stranger, disappears ; sometimes even a lifetime. And sometimes it simply never disappears. There is not one single experience. When I stepped out of the car, I wondered whether he would continue the conversation with the next customer.

I was really glad to see H. : my foot needed it, and I also needed him to encourage me, to tell me that I would be fine next week when walking the streets of Florence, Siena, Cinque Terre and Rome. I’d never sprained anything before, so I had no idea about how long it would take to heal.

As expected, H. helped a lot. H. is incredible that way. He has magical hands, as I like to joke.

“I forgot a dessert for you at home,” I told him while he was massaging and moving my foot around. I grimaced in pain.

He paused and looked at me. “You didn’t! You couldn’t.”

“Yes I did. Sorry!” I said with a smile. I was feeling sorry too, but I laughed at the same time. It was quite amusing to tease H. and see him somewhat upset. H. is quite a gourmand and I know that he loves chocolate.

“I guess I will have to eat it and think about you!”

“Right, rub it in!” he answered, with a smile.

He was the one who once came over for dinner and ate three chocolate pots de crème made for dessert. I think that if there had been more, he would gladly have eaten it.

“Are you able to come and pick me up?” I asked P. when I called once outside H’s office. These are the days when we regret not having an automatic car. Driving a stick shift with a left sprained ankle is not working too well!

“Sorry, I can’t.”

My second taxi driver was Haitian this time, and just as chatty as the first one. He spoke about the weather, and how happy he was that spring was finally here.

“I don’t know, I think winter was real long this year,” he said. “Dunno why.” At that point, I think I must have already switched off. I was thinking about dinner, even if I knew that there was a big chance that I would dine alone.

“I bought really nice mackerels,” I told P. when he called five minutes after I arrived home. “It’s a real bummer, I will have to save the second one for tomorrow.”

He was disappointed. We both love fresh mackerels.

I set the table to eat dinner: a fingerling potato salad and oven roasted carrots, beets and leeks with thyme and ginger accompanied my fish, and in view of the situation, I would have plenty left for the next day.

I put the food away and walked into the living-room.

Le dessert!

How could I possibly forget about the tartelette au chocolat et aux fraises I had teased H. about!

Even if dining alone, I would surely not skip this important part of dinner.

There is nothing complicated in the making of this dessert. You need a sweet chocolate crust (plan ahead and make it the day before), chocolate custard and fruit. My sweet chocolate crust used white rice flour, cornstarch, confectioner’s sugar and cocoa; I made the chocolate custard using unsweetened soy milk — I use the brand Silk — because I was curious to see whether I would get a custard as nice as if using cow’s milk. Well for anyone skeptical, you should really give it a try as it is really just as lovely. I did not miss anything in the taste. Actually I preferred it even, finding it somewhat lighter.

I sat down in front of TV5 and savored my treat with a cup of white tea.

Tant pis pour eux ! (Too bad for them!)

I actually enjoyed eating my tartlet solo.

For a change.

There are words that simply get lost in translation.

Really, they do.

Take the French expression “J’leur ai fait leur fête” for example. Of course, if I kept to a word-to-word translation, it would mean, I made a feast to them (them being the fish). But in fact, the meaning is not this at all. The expression actually means I found a destiny for my fish: I cooked them, but in an ironical way.

And even this translation sounds awkward and unsatisfactory.

C’m on! Any French person or expert to help me with a better way to say this?

In any case, I did indeed manage to find a destiny to my two lovely mackerels. I must say, I really found them elegant and beautiful with their shining blueish gray color.

They tasted heavenly too, baked quite simply in a large papillote cooked in the oven, with olive oil, lemon slices and juice, thyme, fennel seeds, salt and pepper. Of course, mackerels are excellent grilled too, since they are an oily fish.

In fact, they fascinated me so much that the next thing I did was to go and buy more the next day, this time to prepare a type of rollmops — rollmops are actually made with herrings. It was my first time.

And they are still marinating in the fridge.

Another week when I am bringing to you more news, and articles.

The first thing?

• I was really nicely surprised, and honored, that Kim O’ Donnel tried one of my recipes and wrote about it in the Washington Post’s Food Blog, a Mighty Appetite. She reminded me that I should make my quinoa and amaranth chocolate cake soon, probably to pack on our soon-to-come trip to Italy. Mind you, I am in love with a new chocolate cake recipe I created this weekend, this time using teff flour and almond butter! I cannot wait to have the time to tell you about this one. I bet you are going to love it as much as P. and I did. I did not have time to take pictures, we ate the whole thing quickly!

  Merci Kim!




• Then, here is another contribution to the Boston Globe’s Seasons Column. This time, I am talking about the wondrous of papillotes, you know, this cooking technique that consists of wrapping food in parchment paper later baked in the oven. When used with fish for example, prepare the food with herbs, lemon or orange juice and spices, and then wrap! Healthful and quick to make. I chose to share a fish papillote recipe, using tasteful ocean perch filets, lemons, ginger, julienned vegetables and plentiful of herbs. Olive oil finished the dish.

  Scrumptious!

  I wonder why I waited for so long before sharing with you papillotes since I am a huge fan — almost as much as of tajines. So there will be more papillote recipes on my blog soon.

Check the full article here with recipe, if you like.

And on these words, well my dear readers, many thanks again for your visits and generous comments at each time.

Oh mince! I had forgotten about those beets!

I had to find something to do with them, n’est-ce pas ? Nothing hurts me more than tossing food because I forget about it. I could have done something I knew well how to, but I did not feel like making neither a soup nor a salad, although these sounded both good too. I was in fact looking forward to something new to use my bunch of soon-to-fade beets.

So when P. walked into the kitchen on Saturday morning to tell me I take that we stay here this weekend, don’t we?, he gave me a brilliant idea. Inspiring!

Of course, we were staying in! There was really little chance that anything more exciting and adventurous could happen with my turned-black foot still bothering me — and that’s a mild way to put it as I have never had such a pitch black bruise. Within a few days, I’ve mastered the hopping technique like a pro and I can even cover distances in the house — from stove to couch — quite fast. I think I even like it.

“Gnocchi?” I said after I caught sight of lost potatoes in the vegetable basket. They too looked like they needed to find a happy destiny on my stove soon.

“Oh yes!”

P. and I love gnocchi. There was a time when I would make gnocchi quite often, but as with many foods, my cooking inspiration goes in phases: when I tire of one dish or ingredient, I move to the next to find new stimulation, only to come back to it later. Like many of us, I like to play with a recipe for weeks, to understand it better, and improve it. And then, by some sort of unexplained reason, I seem to forget about it for months, as if it never existed. Enfin presque !

Things would be slow during the weekend, I knew that far. So perhaps it was natural that the thought of being comfortably home made me crave for comfy food, you know, the kind of food that you imagine enjoying with a good bottle of red wine, and a good movie afterwards. I knew that gnocchi would be a winner for our mood: not difficult to make, and comforting.

I had not made beet gnocchi before, so I was quite pleased to take advantage of the situation to be inspired. With potatoes and lovely flours, I could not possibly go wrong. So I imagined my gnocchi served warm at lunch, arranged in a salad dressed in a hazelnut vinaigrette, with toasted hazelnuts and fresh spinach — I bet pieces of gorgonzola in it too would be a nice addition. Then on the same day, I served the leftovers for dinner – yes I do this type of things — with an oven-roasted tenderloin pork prepared with sage, pesto, prosciutto and cherry tomatoes. A different way to accommodate the same food for different moods, making for an entire gnocchi day.

And the next day, I served the only ten left as a tiny appetizer dressed in the pistachio, arugula and basil pesto I had prepared for my meat the previous night.

And because a meal would not be complete chez nous without dessert, I also used the lovely strawberries P. had brought home — oh yes, did I tell you that he did the grocery shopping for me this week, I could get used to it – to make Lemongrass strawberry floating islands.

To feel a taste of Spring. After all, we managed to have our first lunch outside in the garden.

We loved the gnocchi the three ways, didn’t leave a drop of the dessert. All this red turned our plates into an explosion of cheerful colors and heathful food.

But listen, do you actually know what my first thought was when I fell on my foot?

Oh no!!!! Our trip to Italy!

Really!

Needless to say that the gnocchi and our strawberry dessert really helped, making me feel as if we were there already.

And making me forget about my painful foot.

When the Fedex truck pulled in front of our house this morning and I heard a noise of a package dropped on the floor, I knew that it might be for me: I was expecting mail from France. Excited, I hopped to the door as fast as I could — I should perhaps tell you that I’ve sprained my left ankle earlier this week, so the speedy running moi has turned into a French snail, un escargot. I opened the door and saw a white envelop lying on the doorstep, with large blue and red Fedex characters printed on it.

Aha! That was it indeed.

I walked in and made myself comfortable on a chair, with my foot lifted. With curiosity winning me over, I tore the envelop open in less than two seconds, and was thrilled to find a copy of the April/May issue of the French magazine Cuisine Light that I’ve recently contributed to.

Cuisine Light is a French cooking magazine with fresh recipes that focus on healthy eating — and light cooking too. It features recipes easy to make, and gives nutritional advice about the ingredients used.

Since it is one of the first publications I contribute to in France, needless to tell you that I am really happy. Imagine that: my mother leisurely walking to the marchand de journaux to buy a cooking magazine where she can find pieces of my work. This has to be special!

I know well that for you, my dear English speaking readers, it will be somewhat challenging to find a copy of the magazine, should you be interested. But who knows? If you travel to France in the coming months, well then, indulge!

To give you an idea of the contents: to start, you will find a theme on Savory Tartlets — how fun that was for me to design these cuties! Think a Ceviche on filo pastry tartlet, a Slow roasted tomato tatin tartlet, a Bicolor zucchini and carrot tartlet, a Blue potato, red onion and zucchini tartlet and to finish, a Saffron-flavored crab and tomato tartlet! Then, there are also Chocolate treats and the recipe of my Lime Mousse and Stewed Rhubarb and Strawberries as shown before.

Ideas to get inspired by?

Many thanks to the team for including my work in this issue.

From high above, the rare spotless white patches of snow on the ground sparkle in the morning sun like precious gems. They are irregular in shape as they are scattered in the still rather gray-looking landscape, but when I imaginatively frame them together, they form a pretty natural patchwork that makes me almost miss the disappearance of winter. But only for half of a second, not even: I am really too keen for spring to settle comfortably and show us its talent. I am really craving for green plants and flowers to grow again, and I am jealous of my brother in France who tells me that they’ve started to garden already. When I visit in May, I want to be able to help and feel the soil with my hands too.

My flight to Chicago is uneventful beside the bowl of warm mixed nuts — pecans, pistachios, cashews and walnuts — brought to me by one of our half-smiling air hostesses; I take that she must be having a bad day for being so grumpy and unfriendly. The nuts are one of the privileges of sitting in a good seat*** as my father-in-law likes to say. When I fly stand-by, I am sometimes lucky to get one of those seats. I often plug my Ipod and take my laptop out then, managing to get a few good hours worth of work while also daydreaming as I look out of the window to catch a glimpse of the busy life below.

“When are you coming?” I ask P. before leaving. He cannot travel with me because of a late meeting on Friday afternoon.

“Tomorrow, hopefully,” he says. There is a pinch in his voice. “Did you take your Ipod?” he then asks, as he always does. That makes me smile. He never fails to make sure I have good music to listen to.

“Yeeesssss, I have it.” Cold Play, Joseph Arthur and Rufus Wainwright keep me company for most of the flight.

“You saw the beet soup and smoked trout, apple and avocado salad in the fridge, didn’t you?” I ask. “Don’t forget to finish them up.”

He takes care of music; I take care of food.

***understand “business class”

The prospect of a weekend away with P.’s family sounds more than appealing, especially when I find out that the weather turns out sunny and springy in Chicago. There will be relatives who have traveled from Ireland, a birthday party, Irish jokes and music — and good food too. In truth, I am craving to have a meal, or more, prepared for us. I always enjoy the thought of tasting someone else’ s home cooking. Don’t you too?

These are great days for family stories. Uncle Paul is good at telling stories. His body language complements his words well. He tells us about his dad, P.’s grandfather, and the banana sandwiches he used to eat during the war. “Well you see, bananas were very rare in Ireland at the time, so when Papa was seen with banana sandwiches while on duty during the weekends, you can imagine that everyone wondered where on earth he got bananas from!” he says, laughing. “He only found out the truth years later. When Nana heard about upcoming food shortages, she went to the village to buy a bottle of banana essence. So the banana sandwiches were actually mashed parsnips flavored with banana, and that was it!”

I am in love with this story, all the more as I imagine Papa’s face when he finds out. What a joke! “He used to trade the banana sandwiches against beef sandwiches,” Paul adds. “He surely got a good deal out of parsnips!”

We don’t really have much time to cook elaborate dishes, and as matter of fact, it suits me well since I am looking forward to a break, away from the kitchen. But I am not even half a day there that my hands start to feel itchy to prepare something.

Perhaps I could put together a salad or a dessert.

“What would you like me to cook? ” I ask my mother-in-law when we start thinking about dinner.

“I have a box of sweet strawberries,” she replies. “Just look in the fridge and help yourself with whatever you like.”

The strawberries look sweet and juicy indeed, not too big either. I think about the crowd gathered for dinner and try to pick something that everyone will like. Not always an easy matter.

“What about strawberry rice pudding? Would you like that?” I hesitate to make my lime mousse with stewed rhubarb and strawberries but there is not enough time.

“Oh yeeesss, please!” she exclaims with great enthusiasm. “Papa used to make it for us all the time. We would sneak in the kitchen and do it secretly! Don’t tell your mother, he used to add too.”

I know that well from living with P. It continues to run in the family.

Since I am not in my own kitchen, I use what I find handy to prepare rice pudding, following the recipe of this one, but with coconut milk and unsweetened soy milk instead of milk, and cinnamon sticks instead of cardamom. And it tastes just as good.

“Do you mind if I bake something tomorrow too?”

“What kind of question is that? “, she says laughing. Of course, I should know better. Irish people like to have many cups of tea a day, and a nibble to go with it.

So the next day, I prepare a batch of twelve small gluten free poppyseeds and lemon muffins.

The challenge of cooking in someone else’s kitchen is somewhat interesting, don’t you find too? Although I am not really of the shy-type to make myself comfortable in someone else’ kitchen, I still find it challenging. Where is everything? Am I just too used to my own kitchen gadgets? But I choose a recipe I’ve experimented with before, making improvisation easy.

The muffins use quinoa and white rice flours, a hint of hazelnut flour, lemon juice and zest for taste and moistness, and poppyseeds for added crunchiness. Canola oil replaces butter while soy milk is used in place of milk.

I’ve made these muffins a few times, but with variants. For some, I prefer to replace quinoa flour with millet, and for others, I like to add berries at the bottom. I personally find that quinoa makes the muffins moister while millet gives a little grittiness. Note that because these muffins use gluten free flours, they will always be denser in texture, and do not rise as much: fine by me since I prefer this type of texture. The muffins can be baked in individual paper cases, regular muffin molds or small ramekins if, like me, you like the idea of enjoying the cakes eaten by the spoon.

In fact, everyone likes them a lot, especially my celiac father-in-law and my mother-in-law — she is thrilled to have a new recipe to use. Gill, Paul’s wife, is curious about the flours used.

“I would never have guessed that you used rice flour, or quinoa even!” she says. “The muffins are really light and moist. Really nice!”

Perhaps another one of my friends who will now welcome alternative flours in her kitchen.

This actually makes my day.

Happy.

When we leave on Sunday, I make sure to pack a few into our cabin bags, to keep us company while traveling back: a nice change from your typical wanna-look-like-real food found on planes.