Oh la la le pauvre, my poor neglected blog. I don’t even want to think about what the long vacation from writing has done to the random distribution of inter-post-intervals. Oh, how life has changed since the warm zucchini summer! Mrs. Farmer inquired about my blog recently, and after confessing that it had gone the way of most new year’s resolutions, the way of the dodo, the way of day-old tomato salad, I related the problem that assails authors of neglected blogs and pen-pals alike. That is, where to start? I could write to you, poor blog, about an unexpected “temporary early retirement” in New Haven, waiting for the creaky wheels of bureaucracy to produce a visa in the good company of fall color, old and new friends who graciously shared their couches, kitchens and guest rooms. I could write about five weeks of intensive french classes in Nice, watching the Mediterranean shift color along the Promenade des Anglais, living with a belle famille français très bavarde, who graciously welcomed me into their home, their kitchen, their table, and encouraged me through my first stammering conversations. Although I still speak comme une vache espanole, I was told last night at a soirée that I speak very well (for an anglophone), but have an accent Niçois! (Je serais très fière d’être Niçoise ! Issa Nissa ! Merci D&D&family, vous me manquez!) I could write to you now about work, about funny encounters with Parisians, churches, open air markets, pastries, chocolate, and a love affair with la baguette monge from the boulangerie around the corner, mais tout ça ferait trop for my out of shape finger and writing muscles. Donc, I will take Mrs. Farmer’s advice and stick to sights, smells, sensations of the present, which this morning are dominated by Jacque Pepin’s “bread flip”:
It all started Friday night, wiped out from the week’s work, finding nothing on French TV to amuse and benumb my aching brain, I turned to good-humored Jacque Pepin for help: http://www.kqed.org/w/morefastfoodmyway/episode221.html
In this episode, he shows how to make a stove-top quick bread fried in olive oil, which he discovered at a Thai restaurant in Middletown, CT. Having no oven here in my studio, I marked it on the “must try” list and also shared it with my parents last night over skype. I few hours later my dad, le vrai boulanger de notre famille, emailed a photo of his first flip bread. That photo being the last thing I saw before drifting off to sleep post-soirée, I woke up full of motivation to try my own hand at the “flip.” It began with gooey dough: flour, salt, water, baking powder, olive oil, covered, frying and steaming on the stove top for ~10 minutes. Then, came the point when Jacque had deftly turned the doughy disk with a flick of the handle. At first, I was scared. “Perhaps I should dig a spatula under the edge first to make sure it’s not stuck.” to which, J. Pepin in my brain retorted, “perish the thought, Foust; that baby is swimming in so much olive-oil, she’s almost green!” So I took the handle in both hands et voilà! Maybe it was a beginner’s miracle, mais en tout cas, my fragrant frisbee ended up reversed and back in the pan ready to finish. For sure it wasn’t perfect; I used a little too much oil and not enough heat to generate the nice air pockets like Jacque’s, so it turned out a little gooey, but fresh, warm, and incredible all the same. I ate half of it for breakfast with coffee, an apple and yogurt, and presently trying to resist the other half until dinner time. I guess it goes to show that not even the world famous boulangerie down the street avec sa belle baguette monge can complete with the pleasure baking a fresh little something at home.
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One more New England Fall
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Issa Nissa!
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Paris blanche
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A break from the cold
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pre flip
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post flip!
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The Senat
Printemps
Upsidedown trees and snowmen in a cheese shop 🙂
randomfoust 