an ode to foie

Foie gras has yet to be banned in California.  That means as of today it's not.  And it also means chefs are preparing more dishes with it to make a statement.  Many chefs are willing to stand up for what they believe.  And so are the people supporting them. 

Yesterday I woke up to a facebook post by my favorite ice cream shop about their fresh batch of foie gras ice cream sandwiches.  I had a busy day and by the time I got around to thinking about going, a new post about chocolate covered ice cream pies came out, leading me to think they had ran out.  When I called the phone rang and rang and no-one answered but that only made me think they were swamped by foie-hungry customers.  I made a mad dash to the store, all along thinking most likely I could come home empty handed.  The two girls in line in front of me took their time tasting practically every flavor before buying one scoop to share.  I was trying to be patient so I kept on a smile but could tell my weight was shifting from leg to leg which meant the guy behind the counter could see my shoulders shift.  Smile, I told myself.  Worse comes to worse just buy a pint of another favorite flavor, like chocolate sea salt.  But that wasn't consoling enough.  No other flavor would have the same meaning.

Before he had finished serving the two girls, the guy nods at me with a "How are you doing?" comment.  Perhaps it was his way of saying that he's been watching my shoulder shifting and I should be more patient.  I smiled again and said, "Do you have any of those sandwiches you posted on FB about?"  I had to be careful what I say for several reasons.  Fearing the girls could overhear me and buy the last ice cream sandwich before I could get to it would make me feel stupid to let them in on the secret.  Saying the word foie gras could raise many ears.  I felt safe about the people behind me.  After all, it was my turn after the girls would leave and I had first dibs in whatever I could buy.  But those words that bring so much instant pleasure to my mind are to be used carefully in public these days.

When I hear the word foie gras there are so many memories imprinted in my taste buds that come up.  There's the foie gras soufflés I eat in Paris every time, melting in my mouth.  Then I think of the salade gourmandise with a huge piece of foie gras on top of the haricots verts.  How about the Tournedos Rossini we made a few years ago with the perfectly seared filet mignon placed on top of a grilled buttery brioche, topped with truffles, foie gras, and bordelaise sauce?  Many trips to Paris farmers markets and even stops in Pays Landais at a corner butcher store to pick up jars of the delectable creamy mad tasting liver, cross my mind as I go through my memories.  Yes, the rich creamy delicate flavor of pure delicious goose liver, drives me mad. The one preparation that stands out the most is the perfectly seared piece served at a tapas bar in San Sebastian where they simply refer to foie gras as "foie".

But I'm not in Spain nor France right now and I've read about protests outside places in California serving foie gras. Last month a special multi-course foie gras dinner I attended was only announced to regular customers through Facebook and the door read "restaurant closed for private event tonight."   So I say the words "those sandwiches" as a code between me and the guy at the ice cream shop to let him know that I am in the know about the proper protocol.  His busy face changed to one with a mischievous wide grin of kinship and he matched my smile, "Yes, we do."  Finally,  I could truly be patient.  The anxiety of not knowing whether I would return home empty handed was over.  When the girls were done he asked how many I wanted and his face quickly shifted to a frown when I said "Six."  Oh no, I thought!  I was too greedy.  I should have only asked for two.  He's thinking I should be fair to all the people calling in and asking him to put some aside for them which he can't.  I should just take what I need.  How do I tell him about my need to have as much foie gras ice cream sandwiches as possible?  Do I start by telling him about how my love affair with foie started one gras at a time?  Do I beg?  Do I demand?  Or do I just take what he gives me and learn to be content, although just like my lack of patience, I knew contentment was another virtue I lacked.

I should have been patient because the frown followed with "Let me check the freezer.  We might not have that many left."  He quickly came back with "I only have five" to which I said, "I'll take them please."  Phew!  One short of the six sandwiches I needed but I now held what I had been craving.  It was a bittersweet victory as I drove home all along feeling guilty that I deprived another person in my shoes from tasting any.  But it was more sweet that anything else when I took my first bite of the ice cream nestled in its gingery cookie.  I could taste all my previous memorable experiences in one bite.

Bravo to foie gras ice cream.  Hopefully this will not be the dernière fois that chefs and artisans make their best foie.

summer of rosés

I used to think I'd enjoy being a winemaker until I started observing some at wineries. It was always easy for me to spot the winemaker based on their rosy cheeks. I'm guessing despite all the proper spitting if you're a winemaker, you like wine which means you like drinking wine. Eventually you'll build a deposit strong enough to make your cheeks stand out. Bad, bad made-up theory of mine. Probably goes hand in hand with the myth my Mom told me growing up that if I crossed my eyes for fun they would stay that way. It didn't scare me to hear it but the assistant at the barbershop where I got my haircuts had crossed eyes. Seeing this man wearing a striped apron sweeping all the hair off the floor with his head down was one sad sight but every time he looked up and I saw him, I freaked out thinking I was going to grow up to look like him.

Giving up on the momentary whim to study winemaking I decided to continue pursuing wine tasting which is unnecessarily a very intimidating science. I try to follow an easy formula for wine tasting: its a matter of your personal preference. Which means you can know all the rules of what constitutes a good wine but if a wine doesn't meet those criteria is your favorite, say white zinfandel, then that is a good wine. That's a bit of a stretch. I am too much of a purist to consider white zin a wine but I will go as far as saying that its look-alike cousin, the rosé is a great wine.

On my first trip to France, July turned to August and Paris became deserted. I found myself following the French and headed south. The beautiful beaches with the topless women was one sight but stepping on the huge rocks at the beach was another reality I was not used to. The big pieces of rock in no way resembled the fine sand beaches we have in the States. So I hung up my bathing suit and sat at at cozy table at "La Pizza" in Cannes, the seaside French Riviera town famed for its celebrity-filled film festival, ordering a Domaine Tempier Bandol Rosé with my Aubergines pizza. I kid you not, I can still taste the combination of the eggplant pizza and rosé wine. Across the water from Italy in the French Riviera they know how to make an amazing pizza. August is too hot to drink red wine during the day and white wouldn't pair with a tomato sauce. A tangy rosé with a slight hint of tannins was the right choice.

Needless to say when it comes to rosés Bandol is king. And in France that summer I drank plenty of this lovely wine from Provence. A Domaine Tempier Bandol made with mourvèdre, cinsault, grenache, and carignan with flavors of woodsy berries, spice, herbs, and olives costs close to $37 here in the US. There are less expensive Bandol rosés in the $25 range. But if you're going to skip the king, skip all royalty and settle for the people's wine. On a recent trip to K&L Wines in San Francisco I set out to identify the best priced people's rosé wine that had a chance at making up for not being a Bandol . I came home with four bottles: 2008 Cave de Tavel "Lauzeraies" Tavel ($13.99), 2008 Domaine Begude Pinot Noir Vin de Pays d'Oc Rosé ($12.99), 2008 Château Viranel "Tradition" Saint Chinian Rosé ($12.99), and 2008 Les Vignerons de Fontès "Prieuré Saint-Hippolyte" Languedoc Rosé ($10.99). One by one I tried them after chilling to perfection between 45-50 degrees farenheit.

The four wines tasted were in the $11-$14 range with colors ranging from rosy pink to flush peach. The Tavel was the most complex while the Pinot the least. The sweeter wines didn't work and reminded me of California rosés while I wanted to recreate a scene from that summer in France. In the end, of the two remaining Languedoc wines my favorite was the 2008 Château Viranel "Tradition" Saint Chinian Rosé made with 40% syrah, 40% grenache and 20% cinsault priced at $12.99. On the way to K&L Wines to pick up a case of my favorite, on a whim I stopped at The Wine Club and asked for their best afforable rosé and came home with a 2008 Domaine de la Fouquette Rosé d'Aurore from Côtes de Provence. The Fouquette with the lighter salmon color was indicative of older vines with less flavor but to me this blend of 65% Grenache, 30% Cinsault, and 5% Rolle was as close to a Bandol rosé I could get my lips on. On the palate it was instant strawberries for fruit, citrus for crisp acidity, and a hint of minerality. Perfect for a hot summer day.

The Domaine de la Fouquette takes me back to that summer in the French Riviera years ago. I paired it with a home-made eggplant parmesan to remind me of the aubergines pizza and the wine's acidity cut through the cheesy tomato sauce dish. For a faint salmon-colored wine to stand up to such strong food, my summer wine has been identified. Good thing summers in San Francisco start in September. Salut!

where to buy:

Click on shop for more information on where to find The Wine Club or K & L Wine Merchants.

La Pizza Cannes (Pizza Cresci)

3, Quai St. Pierre

06400 Cannes, France

poor man’s caviar

Lentils are my top choice for legumes. Found primarily in Mediterranean, Middle-Eastern, Indian, and French cuisine, they cook faster than most other kinds of beans, are packed with complex earthy flavors and are high in iron and protein in nutritional value. My favorite kind are the lentils du puys -- pronounced like "pwee" -- (or “lentilles du puys” in French) which are small with a dark blue-ish and green hue. They can stand up to stronger flavors for pairing and keep their shape when cooked.

As a kid I didn’t like to eat too much meat and loved it when my Mom made lentil-rice. While my parents ate it with a side of braised lamb cooked in allspice, mine was always served with a spoonful of sugar on top sans the lamb. A kid’s delight! Unfortunately we didn’t eat it often because lentils reminded my parents of hard times when meat prices were higher than their budget in their early years of marriage and they had eaten lentils way too often as they are known to be poor man’s caviar. It was no longer special to them. Since we ate it seldom as I grew up, lentils are a treat I savor with very special memories of my childhood when I want to feel rich.

ingredients:
4 cups lentils du puys soaked several hours in cold water
1 small onion, chopped
1 cup chopped fresh tomatoes
1 tablespoon olive oil
½ teaspoon turmeric
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon ground coriander
salt and pepper to taste

method:
Sautee onions in olive oil until golden brown. Add turmeric and stir one minute. Rinse soaked lentils and add to the onion mixture. Turn the heat to high and sautee while stirring often for 3-5 minutes. Reduce heat to medium and add enough water to cover 1 inch over the top of the lentils. Add salt and pepper to taste and cook covered until lentils are semi-soft, about 10-15 mintues. Add tomatoes, cumin, coriander and water as necessary and cook covered on medium-low for another 10-15 minutes until all the water has evaporated and the lentils are done.

suggestions:
Either serve the lentils with rice for vegans or let it become a flavorful bed for serving roasted salmon. Alternatively pair lentils with duck or lamb cooked using either French herbs or Moroccan spices respectively.

where to find:
Lentils du puys (also known as French lentils) can be found in bulk for $1.88/lb. at Rainbow Grocery.

paulette macarons

Anyone who’s been to Paris has surely paid well over 5,00 € for a macaroon from the famed Ladurée shops on avenue des Champs Elysées or rue Royale. Theirs is the most delightful Parisian almond-based treat made to perfection.

Last time I checked airfares to Paris had dropped but adding up the airfare and macaroon price would make this one very pricey treat. In comes Paulette to the rescue. Located in Hayes Valley, Paulette Macarons is one of the latest additions to the row of shops, cafés, and restaurants in this trendy hip San Francisco neighborhood. While there is one less “o” in the name than one would expect, it is made up by the “oh” one exclaims with the first bite of macaron… moist, fresh, delicate, and balanced. My absolute favorite is carribean chocolate but with flavors like rose, salted caramel, lemon, Sicilian pistachio, violet cassis, Madagascar vanilla, and several others you can’t go wrong.

The atmosphere is modern with limited seating in the shop. The macaroon counter is sleek and sparse. Check out the steel large pieces in the shop which are actual airplane parts that have been turned into objects of art. My box of 12 macarons for $19 also looked like a piece of art. And a bargain compared to Ladurée.

A note from their website:
“After purchase we recommend keeping Paulette macarons in the refrigerator; let them come to room temperature before serving—about 10 minutes. For best degustation, our macarons should be consumed within 3 days.”

suggestions:

If you opt to hop on that plane over to Paris, stop in at Ladurée for lunch and do not skip the dessert. To find the shop locations, visit their website and don't forget to bring some back for me.

where to find:
Click on shop for information on where to find Paulette Macarons. Happy Shopping!