Boxcar Kitchen

If long hours at work, the inkling of winter weather and the many days of grèves (strikes) aren't reason enough to keep you holed up at home on the weekend, then I don't know what is. Hibernating is exactly what I have been doing, spending weekend after weekend, snuggled up on the couch reading cookbooks and browsing blogs. Lately, it’s been all about the kinetic energy. And although I didn't manage to get myself out to the market to scour the shelves for cool new ingredients, I did manage to move my slippered feet into the kitchen and whip up something simple and hearty.

Basically, I was in the mood for a treat to go with tea and I had a fresh bag of oatmeal and a bowl of plums sitting on the counter. Not really divine intervention, but inspiration nonetheless. A lot of times, scones are filled with dried fruit: raisins, cherries, currents, apricots. Why not use fresh fruit instead? I attempted a bready version of a granola bar. The experiment just so happed to work out and a half hour later, we were back on the couch enjoying warm scones and hot tea.

Panna cotta has been wheedling its way to the top of my "to make" list for a while now. Originally, I planned on a lime panna cotta dressed with summer berries. But after my first attempt following a very, very bad recipe off epicurious.com, my craving for citrus and custard was thoroughly squelched. Usually, I read the comments and check the ratings religiously when I try a recipe off a website. And more often than not, I end up taking into account a least one insightful person's advice. Somehow I spaced out on that step for the panna cotta recipe. It was not until after the fact that I sat in front of the computer nibbling on some very dismal results that I discovered the many disappointing critiques.

Needless to say, panna cotta dropped a few notches from the number one slot. I wasn't able to come up with a recipe that brought something new to the panna cotta table, so I just decided to let it lie. So lie it did.... until I began to peruse the cache of treats brought back from our vacation in Corsica this summer.

One of my very prized possessions is a jar of chestnut honey. At 8 euros a jar, I decided that I didn't want to use it in just anything. The flavor is strong and woody unlike any other honey and I really wanted to spotlight it. Smooth, creamy panna cotta seemed like the perfect vehicle for the bitter honey. This time, I didn't bother with a specific recipe. Instead, I did a compilation of recipes, hoping that this time I would end up with something soft instead of rock solid cream.

The final product was exactly what I was looking for. I was nervous when I unmolded the panna cotta from the vintage tin molds I got from my mother for just such an occasion. After just a mini dip in a bowl of hot water, the cooked cream slipped out of its fluted casing without a glitch. I knew that the consistency was right even before I tasted it because when I shook it, the panna cotta jiggled and looked like it was about to burst, but never lost its shape.

The few green cardamon pods compliment the strength of the honey without masking it. The addition of a quick fig jam and a few drops of chestnut spread elevated this dessert to a zen master level. Honey and figs - a flavor marriage as old as the Romans can never go wrong.

Sorry for the radio silence but it's summertime and I've been out wandering the world.

I just recently spent about two weeks roaming the south of Corsica (as you may have already guessed) and it was absolutely amazing. The first half of the trip was spent lounging and roasting on the various beaches that sprinkle the southeastern coastline. With the not so existant summer we've had this year in Paris, I was happy to more than catch up on my daily doses of sunshine. My favorite beach was Pinarello and the number 2 spot goes to Rondinara for its breathtaking bay and herd of capicious cows. We sought shelter from the sun and hearty local dishes in Porto Vecchio and Bonifacio.

As we left the coast towns behind and made our way to the mountains, I had no idea that the best was yet to come. The roadtrip itself was worth the trip alone. We hurtled our way up the steep and narrow backroads never knowing what would be around the next corner. More often than not, we were met by a troup of wild pigs, a herd of lazy cows, or just a lonely horse out for a stroll. Corsica's free range approach to raising livestock is one of its greatest charms. Zonza was our base camp and we would end our days of hiking there at the local café, sipping 1€ pastis (51 je t'aime) bumming tips off the locals.

Everyone knows that chicken soup has healing powers. It's a fact based on years of scientific research and old wives’ tales. I know that the warm chicken broth and slurpy noodles that my grandmother prepared (straight out of the can) made my snuffled nose and general allover terrible feeling almost worth it. I got to thinking about this lately because I've been bogged down with a terribly autumn cold in the middle of July, thanks to the never-ending rain here in Paris.

Traditional chicken noodle soup is good and comforting but it's well...traditional. On a healing power scale from 1 to 10, traditional chicken noodle doesn't hold a candle to this Asian inspired recipe. Not only do you have the steaming goodness of a delicious chicken broth but you also get an energizing sweat inducing kick in the pants from the garlic, ginger, lemongrass, and red Thai pepper. You are warmed up and cleared up immediately or your money back guaranteed.

The other advantage is that it only takes 20 minutes to throw together. I managed to squeeze it in between my morning and mid-morning couch napping sessions in front of the TV. By the time you are finished preparing the vegetables, the broth is already simmering and infused with really intense flavor. It is as close as you can get to non-instant instant soup and it definitely beats the can of Campbell's.

Hint: I have developed a secret technique for the noodle stage of this process. I don't cook the noodles in the broth because I can't stand when they get that overcooked nondescript texture, especially the day after. Instead, I prepare the noodles separately and dress them with a little oil. Then you spoon the broth over the noodles as needed so that they maintain their form.

Lately, I've been getting a little overwhelmed by all the food that seems to be invading my kitchen. I envy those people who can bake and cook to their hearts content and then load everything off on their families. I always seem to be left with enough food feed 10 armies when there is only just the two of us. And since I'm not the one leaving the house every morning to go to work and I feel very guilty throwing things away, I tend to be the one making the real sacrifices by polishing off whatever seems to be left over from the previous day’s baking adventure. I've tried to cut serves 6 to 8 down to serves 2 but it is honestly a major pain in the butt. I started doing a lot more individual portions which helps but in the end it just saves me the effort of cutting another slice. I try to give things away as often as possible but I somehow still always find myself faced with the same problem.

My new resolution is totally radical. I'm going to try to (gulp) make healthy food and maybe (dare I even attempt to say it) make fewer yes, FEWER baked goods. As a result, I've been going crazy with salads lately. They are perfect for dinner especially when you considering that we don’t usually sit down to eat until 9pm.

I have been non-stop craving this particular spinach salad for the last three months or so. It is a staple on my mental weekly menu list. Somehow the mix of baby spinach, grilled vegetables and cheese never gets old and always hits the spot. Sometimes, when I have it on hand and need something more than just veggies, I add warm orzo. This last time, I changed things up and added some bulgur which seems to be quite the trend these days.

Now I'm off to attempt two single serving rhubarb clafoutis with as few eggs and as little cream as possible. We'll see how that goes... Oops, that's a baked good isn't it?