tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1 2012-02-04T03:58:57Z Movable Type 3.36 tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1.552 2012-02-03T22:43:14Z 2012-02-04T03:58:57Z

A handira, or traditional Moroccan wedding blanket, spangled with hundreds of silver sequins, is said to protect the wearer from the evil eye. Don't we all need a little good luck? Happy Friday! All this week I’ve been packing...

SpiceLines A handira, or traditional Moroccan wedding blanket, spangled with hundreds of silver sequins, is said to protect the wearer from the evil eye. Don't we all need a little good luck? Happy Friday! All this week I’ve been packing and shipping books for the lucky winners of the SpiceLines’ Cookbook Giveaway. I’ve commandeered more boxes, mangled more brown wrapping paper, and stuck my fingers with more mailing tape than you can imagine. I just hope I’ve sent the right books to the right addresses. (Down with the flu, you see.) Then yesterday, a big box arrived—for me! I knew what was inside, but still I opened it with trepidation. I can’t tell you how my heart leapt when a magnificent Moroccan wedding blanket, festooned with fluffy fringe and sparkly silver sequins, emerged from layers of brown tissue paper. ]]> secretly longed for a vintage handira—that’s the Arabic word—for years, keeping it quiet, but poring over photos and scouring shops everywhere. But I never felt like taking the plunge until the day before Christmas when L’Aviva Home sent a few pictures of wedding blankets found in the Atlas mountains of Morocco. This one whispered, “Invite me home!” And so I did. But what, exactly, is a handira? It’s a traditional Moroccan textile worn as a blanket or cape by a Berber bride on her wedding day. Hand loomed from sheep’s wool and cotton in small mountain villages, handiras and the considerable skills required to make them, were passed from generation to generation of the same families. As L’Aviva Home notes, “It is believed that the blankets have talismanic powers and protect the users from the evil eye.“ Like many vintage handiras, this one is long with white and darker cream stripes. Every seven inches or so it erupts with thick bands of wild white cotton threads. But the real magic of the handira, at least for me, comes from the silver sequins that run like rivulets across the blanket. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of these sequins, patiently sewed by hand, that twinkle and gleam when the light catches them. If you shake the handira, they jingle ever so slightly. Every authentic wedding blanket is unique. Here, at either end, two rows of sequins expand into a diamond grid pattern, perhaps to magnify its mystical powers. Newer handiras, made for the interior design market, are said to lack feeling or intention, which is why everyone is trying to find old ones in good condition. Not so easy, it seems: According to Berber Arts, Middle Atlas tribes stopped making handira or tabbnoute in the 1970’s or 1980’s. At either end of the handira there is a thick knotted fringe; some of the threads have worn away with age and use. But I was completely surprised by these dark bands on the reverse side of the blanket. The powerful geometric designs in burgundy, black and green are similar to the patterns on a finely woven Zaiane runner I found on my last trip to Morocco. Now just one question remains: Where will the handira reside? At the moment it’s right where you see it, on the chaise longue in my office. It seems to be playing nicely with the op-art upholstery and the furry red Boujaad carpet on the floor. As luck would have it, the carpet is also imbued with protective diamonds and other arcane symbols. Take that, evil eye! But I’m tempted to move the wedding blanket to our bedroom, where I might fling it over the sofa or drape it across the bed. After all, our anniversary is just around the corner… What do you think? ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1.551 2012-02-01T22:21:00Z 2012-02-02T19:17:29Z

“Cinnamon might have reminded you of your grandmother’s apron," says the narrator of Perfect Sense, a new movie about the end of the world. "Without smell an ocean of images disappears.” From a review by Richard Corliss. In “Till...

SpiceLines “Cinnamon might have reminded you of your grandmother’s apron," says the narrator of Perfect Sense, a new movie about the end of the world. "Without smell an ocean of images disappears.” From a review by Richard Corliss. In “Till the Last Doughnut and Drumstick” (The New York Times, February 1, 2012, pp. D1 and D3), Pete Wells reveals the secret of Federal Donuts’ fabulous flavors: Spice blends by Lior Lev Sercarz of La Boite a Epice. Hot fried doughnuts “are sprinkled with sugar and a little sea salt mixed with one of Mr. Lev Sercarz’s blends, like lavender with powdered vanilla or cocoa with orange blossoms.” All the doughnuts are made from batter seasoned with another mixture that tastes like “a Turkish pumpkin pie spice,” says chef Michael Solomonov. The only other item on the Philadelphia restaurant's menu is fried chicken. This too gets the Lev Sercarz treatment with a whisper of dry harissa, a spicy North African blend, or za’atar, a mix of a thyme-like herb, sumac and sesame seeds. You can read more about the unique blends from La Boite a Epice in an interview with Lior Lev Sercarz right here on SpiceLines. What would happen if everyone suddenly lost their sense of smell? A roundup of new "food-happy" movies from Tasting Table includes Perfect Sense, the apocalyptic tale of a chef (Ewan McGregor) and a scientist (Eva Green) who fall in love as a pandemic sweeps the world, robbing victims of their ability to smell and then all the other senses. Smell is, of course, the key to taste. Without taste, there is no flavor, no memory, ultimately no life--which may be why some afflicted characters in the movie resort to eating lipstick and flowers. Though Perfect Sense might sound like another mass market disaster epic, Time Magazine reviewer Richard Corliss praises the “intense intimacy” of this “art house” film which “takes its cue from Albert Camus’ The Plague, concentrating on the victims, their panic or resilience, stabs of violence or passive acceptance.” Winner of the Edinburgh Film Festival’s prize for Best New British Feature. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1.550 2012-01-31T15:52:42Z 2012-01-31T16:19:08Z

Well! The 2012 Cookbook Giveaway is without question the most exciting yet. My inbox is overflowing with your requests—and I am thrilled! Thanks to all of you who wrote in asking for one of these great books. Cheryl Tan’s A...

SpiceLines 2012 Cookbook Giveaway is without question the most exciting yet. My inbox is overflowing with your requests—and I am thrilled! Thanks to all of you who wrote in asking for one of these great books. Cheryl Tan’s A Tiger in the Kitchen was the book most of you wanted—no surprise since this often hilarious Singapore/New York memoir is a great read and she included the tasty recipes her extended family taught her to make. (Personally I can't wait for Tan's next culinary endeavor.) Sonya was the lucky winner. But the runner-up was a surprise, at least to me: Sandeep Chatterjee’s The Spice Trail: One Hundred Hot Dishes from India to Indonesia, proof, it seems, of our boundless appetite for spicy food. Mireille, a personal chef, was first to claim this curry compendium. She also has a lively blog currently featuring paneer recipes. There are only two books left: Fashion designer Rebecca Moses' A Life of Style is charming and fun—I hope one of you decides to take the plunge. The illustrations are divine and it is just the sort of book that will brighten a dreary winter day. Curl up under a blanket on your most comfy sofa with a cup of violet-scented tea and dive in! Danyelle Freeman’s Try This: Traveling the Globe Without Leaving the Table is a good way to pass the time whilst incarcerated on a plane, especially if you’re stuck on the runway. I picked it up in an airport and spent a few hours discovering all sorts of things I didn’t know, such as why biscotti are long and thin, or exactly how late you should arrive for a meal in Mexico. Send an email to spicelinesatgmaildotcom if you’d like either of these two books. Be sure to include your mailing address. I’ll keep the giveaway open until the end of this week. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1.549 2012-01-22T17:50:51Z 2012-01-22T15:32:53Z

A baker's dozen: The 13 delectable books in SpiceLines annual giveaway span the globe, from Paris to India, Morocco to New Mexico. And for the first time, there are Moleskines and notebooks for recipe storage. At last! This is...

SpiceLines A baker's dozen: The 13 delectable books in SpiceLines annual giveaway span the globe, from Paris to India, Morocco to New Mexico. And for the first time, there are Moleskines and notebooks for recipe storage. At last! This is my favorite day of the entire year: SpiceLines annual book giveaway. For 2012 there are some particularly tasty offerings. Most but not all are cookbooks. There’s also a stellar foodie biography, a Paris guide, and a charmingly illustrated style book by a well-known fashion designer. Not to mention a couple of Moleskines, which, most grievously, are too organized for me to use. But they might be exactly what you’ve been longing for. My gift? Shelf space for all those cookbooks I got for Christmas, and the chance to hear from you. Here’s how it works: Send your first and second choices, along with your mailing address, to spicelinesatgmaildotcom. If you’re first to request a particular book, I’ll let you know by return email and send it to you by media mail. Practically effortless. But don’t delay: Most books are snapped up right away. I’m unplugging for a week, so you won’t hear from me till next weekend. In the meantime, enjoy! ]]> A Covert Affair: Julia Child and Paul Child in the OSS, Jennet Conant. Glamour, spies and a lot of alcohol. Exhaustively researched tale of how the couple met in Asia while helping to build an intelligence network for “Wild Bill” Donovan’s OSS. Shy, gawky Julia got her first taste of love and curry from the more sophisticated and artistic Paul. The book also tells the tragic story of Jane Foster, a rich bohemian artist and friend of the couple who was destroyed by the McCarthy inquisition. Full of excerpts from the couple’s letters, to and about each other. The Sweets of Araby: Enchanting Recipes from the Tales of the 1001 Arabian Nights, Leila Salloun Elias and Muna Salloun. Twenty-five recipes for Baghdad’s “sweet delights,” each accompanied by a retelling of the tale in which it is mentioned. The authors, who are sisters, combed through six medieval manuscripts for the recipes which they adapted for the modern kitchen. Rosewater, ground almonds and saffron are frequently used ingredients. Vibrant illustrations by Linda Dalal Sawaya; a riot of color. Try This: Traveling the Globe Without Leaving the Table, Danyelle Freeman. The founder and editor of Restaurant Girl wrote this book for “anyone who’s had a plate put before them and wondered what the hell was in it.“ In 14 chapters she “demystifies” unfamiliar national dishes such as mariscada (Spanish shellfish stew), bibimbap (Korean bowl of rice topped with meat, fowl, raw egg, vegetables) and chaat (Indian “finger food,” often fried and eaten as snacks or appetizers). A helpful read if you’re headed to a country (or restaurant) where menus may be puzzling. Savoring Spices and Herbs: Recipe Secrets of Flavor, Aroma, and Color, Julie Sahni. An out-of-print treasure, only in the giveaway because somehow I have 3 copies. Over 100 recipes from around the world including Pot Roast of Chicken with Rosemary, Figs and Pine Nuts, and Green Chili Vinegar Shrimp Fritters. Great chapters on 28 everyday spices and herbs, 22 uncommon spices and herbs, 10 spice and herb blends. Grilled Squab with Fragrant Spice Rub is seasoned with ground mustard, cumin and fennel seeds, black peppercorns, whole cloves, and dried thyme and rosemary. My Little Paris: The Best Kept Parisian Secrets, translated by Catherine Taret. A compilation of 54 “insider” secrets from the My Little Paris website. Learn how to Eat Live Noodles (at Les Pates Vivantes in the 9th), Spice Up Your Walls (to-die-for photo wallpaper from Le Collection in the Marais) and, this being Paris, Have One Orgasm a Week (actually a recipe for “a luscious blend of chocolate, ginger and black pepper.”) Favorite quote: “If you play by the rules, you’ll miss all the fun.” (Katherine Hepburn) Adorable illustrations. The Spice Trail: One Hundred Hot Dishes from India to Indonesia, Sandeep Chatterjee. Recipes from Asian spice routes by a restaurant chef who’s cooked in London and Australia. Many are for kari or curry, most but not all are seasoned with very spicy ground chillis or pastes. Dishes include Caramelised Chicken with Ginger and Coriander (Vietnam), Pineapple Shrimp Curry (Thailand) and Spiced Chickpeas with Tomatoes and Coriander (Punjab). Additional recipes for homemade curry pastes and powders. A Tiger in the Kitchen: A Memoir of Food and Family, Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan. Tan grew up in Singapore, but wound up in New York where she became a journalist and obsessive cook. On trips home, she was reluctantly drawn back into the bosom of her large, sprawling family when various aunts and cousins tried to teach her to cook the food she remembered from her childhood. Chapters alternate between Singapore (where she makes a hash of her Tanglin ah-mah’s bak-phang dumplings) and New York (where she nearly burns down her kitchen during a Twitter bread-baking challenge). A very funny, self-deprecating memoir with recipes, including pal Simpson Wong’s Popiah, or spring rolls with shrimp, jicama and scallions. (Wong’s new restaurant just won 2 stars from The York Times.) Morocco: Recipes and Stories from East Africa, Ghislaine Benady and Najat Sefrioui. Over 90 family recipes, shared by two friends from Fez. Intriguing dishes include Sardines in Wedlock, essentially two filets marinated in lemon, garlic and parsley, then pressed together and lightly fried, and Couscous with Cinnamon and Milk, often served as a light evening meal. The book, “the product of a real Judeo-Arab friendship,” is beautifully photographed, with yummy shots of markets, food simmering in clay pots and zellij tiles. World Cuisine: Morocco, with dishes by Mohamed Fedal, Frederic Fetiveau and Fatema Hal. 50 recipes by three restaurant chefs—Fedal runs the kitchen at Dar Moha in Marrakech, while Fetiveau and Hal cook in Madrid and Paris respectively. A mix of humble and upscale dishes ranging from a traditional Salted Lemon and Roasted Pepper Salad to luxurious Lobster Coucous. A tempting selection of desserts includes Fedal’s Apple Shukshuka, a pastry flavored with saffron, orange flower water and cinnamon. A Life of Style, Rebecca Moses. Fashion designer Moses has thought a lot about personal style: The result is a charmingly illustrated book that is also a great deal of fun to read. Among my favorite items: a two-page spread featuring a handwritten list of hundreds of ways to express your own style (“thick eyebrows,” “no eyebrows…”), jazzing up your “utilitarian” kitchen with a crystal chandelier, and thinking of a dinner party guest list as “the most original, the most intriguing meal” in which “each guest is like a flavor…a spice…a texture…The mix is everything!” The Indian Spice Kitchen: Essential Ingredients and Over 200 Authentic Recipes, Monisha Bharadwaj. A useful encylopedia of more than 100 key ingredients in Indian cooking, each presented in a few pages with recipes. For instance, the section on mint includes photographs of the herb along with info on how it grows, appearance and taste, buying and storing, and medicinal and culinary uses. Recipes include Pudine Ki Chutney, aka mint chutney, and Murg Hariyali, or Green Chicken in which drumsticks are marinated in yogurt with lots of mint, coriander and spices, then sautéed with other spices and simmered till done. Artisan Farming: Lessons, Lore and Recipes, Richard Harris with Lisa Fox. A fond celebration of small New Mexican farmers and the markets in which they sell their mostly organic produce. I especially like the chapter on chiles which has recipes for Green Chile Bison Stew and Enchiladas Durango-Style, made with red chiles and dark chocolate. Profiles of farmers and winemakers, with many photographs, including an interview with Stanley Crawford, novelist and garlic grower, whose farm I visited a few years ago. Autographed by the authors. The Order of Things: Hierarchies, Structures and Pecking Orders, Barbara Ann Kipper. A fat little reference book that you can hold in one hand. Mind-boggling information: a complete chronological listing of the emperors of Japan, the ph values of everything from stomach acid to drain cleaner, and a graph of the Morse code. The dining section has a list of cooking utensils by function and a chart depicting beef cuts. As The Dallas Morning News wrote, “Kipper… Understands the Unbearable Frustration of Unanswered Questions.” And here are two Moleskine Passions: The Recipe Journal, with super-organized sections for your handwritten notes on everything from Cocktails to Desserts. Jot down ingredients, wine pairings and cooking times, then rate the recipe from 1 to 5 stars. In the back there are blank sections which you can label using the enclosed stickers: My Favorites, Restaurants, Shopping Online and so forth. Black cover embossed with kitchen tools. The Wellness Journal. In the same vein, an organized approach to recording your inspirations, personal goals, diet and exercise. Each page has spaces for different events, with challenge levels, participants and results. You can add green stickers that say things like “best ever!” and “eye opener.” The back has blank spaces which you can label with other stickers for Music, Books, Workouts, etc. Black cover embossed with silhouettes of athletes in various poses. And from Ordning & Reda, the hip Swedish stationary shop, two spiral bound notebooks with transparent covers and pocket-pages for recipes or other clippings. A spatterproof way to file and preserve family recipes that are so often jotted on envelopes or other scraps of paper. Make your own cookbook! ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1.548 2012-01-19T02:04:13Z 2012-01-21T18:46:23Z

Another way to make the most of winter: Taking a pause with a cup of violet tea, a few raspberries and a good book. The Annual Cookbook Giveaway is just around the corner. It’s the golden hour. Four o’clock...

SpiceLines Another way to make the most of winter: Taking a pause with a cup of violet tea, a few raspberries and a good book. The Annual Cookbook Giveaway is just around the corner. It’s the golden hour. Four o’clock and the afternoon winter sun streams through the library windows. As its pale light glances off the walls, it turns warm and luminous, gilding the room with a dazzling hue. It’s time for la pause. Time to curl up on the sofa with a good book and, today, a cup of violet-scented tea. Its old-fashioned perfume evokes the memory of a palace hotel in Lisbon, where the scent of the flower hung faintly in air, as if a marquesa had just turned the corner, trailing violets in her wake. This is the kind of sensory escape I adore when taking a break from all things digital, including, I must confess, a foray into the odiously addictive Twitter. And since this is la pause gourmande, there are raspberries to eat. Why? A ripe raspberry tastes, quite simply, of the flower. This “violet-like note,” says Harold McGee in On Food and Cooking, comes “from caretenoid fragments called ionones.” More than you want to know, I imagine. The flavor echoes are heavenly, though. If the raspberries aren’t sweet enough, a sprinkle of powdered sugar will balance the acidity. In a few days, SpiceLines will launch the 4th Annual Cookbook Giveaway. (Here's a look at last year's contest.) There are some delicious books coming your way. Another treat for making the most of winter. Keep watching. It’s coming soon! ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1.547 2012-01-15T23:08:17Z 2012-01-16T03:39:20Z

Winter pleasures: A crackling fire, a green and white azalea, and daydreams of nothing much at all. When you're hungry, there's a savory vegetable tagine simmering in the kitchen. How do you make the most of winter? Oh, I...

SpiceLines Winter pleasures: A crackling fire, a green and white azalea, and daydreams of nothing much at all. When you're hungry, there's a savory vegetable tagine simmering in the kitchen. How do you make the most of winter? Oh, I know: It’s tempting to defy it. To head south where turquoise water laps white sand beaches. To fill grey rooms with pots of riotous tulips and hyacinths. To wear bright colors as a talisman against the darkness. But, we could make the most of winter. This is the season for stillness. For silence after the delirious cacophony of the holidays. For stepping deliberately off the merry go round. For slowing down so we can see more clearly. For unplugging so we can dream our own dreams. No chattering, no glowing screens, no distractions. Philippe Starck, the prolific cutting edge designer, told Pico Iyer how he stays ahead of the curve. “’I never read any magazines or watch TV,’ he said....‘Nor do I go to cocktail parties, dinners or anything like that.’ He lived outside conventional ideas," Iyer wrote, "because ‘I live alone mostly, in the middle of nowhere.’” (See “The Joy of Quiet,” The New York Tiimes, January 1, 2012) So let’s take a moment to embrace the stillness of this cold, goose-pimpled season. Right now I'm nestling… ]]> a crackling fire, listening to the hissing and popping of hickory logs, daydreaming of…nothing much at all. I'm stroking the silky hair of an old dog who’s dreaming her own deep dreams. Strong legs running through the grass, thrusting as she dashes and whirls around the heels of skittish horses. I wonder if she's laughing in her sleep? Tonight when the cold wind blows and an icy rain beats against the window, I’ll wrap up in layers of blankets and woolly shawls. Some are light as woven gossamer, others are thick and heavy with fringe. Each conjures a memory: a peat fire burning in the hearth of an Irish pub, a blustery winter walk over the Pont Saint-Louis in Paris, a roadside shop in Goa where Kashmiri shawls unfurled like upended baskets of flowers. This might be armchair traveling at its best. Make no mistake. I adore scarlet tulips and the honeyed scent of hyacinths, but it feels a little early for spring. Right now the winter white azalea fits my contemplative mood; even the narcissus seems too opulent. In the corner the silver leaves of the olive tree, wintering inside, frame the garden bust, mossy green and crowned with a circle of creamy ivy. Is she is amused by the squirrels scrambling across the table outside, or does her secretive smile hide more private memories? And when hunger strikes, an even more delicious version of the Root Vegetable Tagine lures me into the kitchen. Out with the turnips and raisins, in with fire-roasted peppers and oil-cured black olives. Gorgeous preserved lemon brings in the sunshine as do the Moroccan spices. As the tagine simmers over a low flame, the aroma of well-being wafts through the house. How do you make the most of winter? Winter Squash Tagine with Fire-Roasted Peppers, Black Olives and Preserved Lemon Serves 4 to 6 Ingredients: 1-1/2 tablespoons olive oil 2 medium onions, peeled and thinly sliced 1 or 2 medium carrots, peeled and thinly sliced on the diagonal 1 large tomato, peeled, seeded and thinly sliced 1 -1/2 cups new potatoes, skin left on, cut into ¾-inch chunks 1-1/2 cups butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cut into ½-inch cubes 8 large shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, caps cleaned and thickly sliced 1 cup canned chickpeas, rinsed and skins rubbed off 1 poblano pepper, roasted, peeled and cut into thin strips (see note) 1 sweet red Bell pepper, roasted, peeled and cut into thin strips (see note) 8 oil-cured black olives, pitted and torn in half 6 to 8 strips of preserved lemon peel 4-inch stick cinnamon, broken in half 1-1/2 cups chicken broth 1 tablespoon olive oil 1 tablespoon garlic, finely chopped 1 teaspoon sweet paprika 1 teaspoon ground ginger 1 teaspoon ground cumin ¼ teaspoon saffron threads ½ teaspoon ground ras-el-hanout Garnish: Chopped cilantro (optional) Accompaniment: Harissa (optional, see note) Method: 1. Rub the bottom and sides of an enameled cast iron pot with 1-1/2 tablespoons olive oil. Starting at the bottom, layer the onions, carrots, tomato slices, new potatoes, butternut squash, and shiitake mushrooms in the pot. Add the strips of roasted pepper and sprinkle the chickpeas and black olives over the vegetables. Arrange the preserved lemon peel on top. Tuck the cinnamon pieces into the vegetables. 2. In a bowl, whisk together the chicken broth, 1 tablespoon olive oil, and the rest of the spices. Pour the mixture evenly over the vegetables. 3. Put the pot over a high flame and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, cover and cook for 30 to 40 minutes, until the vegetables are very tender. (If using an earthenware tagine, soak the bottom in water for several hours. Place a flame tamer on a cold burner and put the pot on top. Keep the flame low to medium low as you cook. The dish will take at least 1-1/2, but more likely 2 hours.) 4. Serve in bowls with crusty bread, sprinkled with cilantro and a spoonful of harissa, if desired. Note: Go here to learn how to prepare roasted peppers. You can either make your own harissa, or buy it on-line from purveyors such as Kalustyan's or Mustapha's Fine Foods of Morocco. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1.546 2012-01-11T20:23:09Z 2012-01-11T21:08:06Z

Pears poached in red wine with black pepper, cinnamon, star anise and other spices can satisfy dessert cravings when you're on the austerity diet. Sort of.... OK, I admit it. The austerity diet of 2012 is fully operational—and I...

SpiceLines Pears poached in red wine with black pepper, cinnamon, star anise and other spices can satisfy dessert cravings when you're on the austerity diet. Sort of.... OK, I admit it. The austerity diet of 2012 is fully operational—and I hate it. Farewell to the creamy pots au chocolat, crisp and buttery gingersnaps, rich lemon tarts, and the late, lamented New Orleans pecan cakes saturated with 5,000 calories worth of sugar-shock-inducing toffee sauce. Now it’s about oatmeal cooked in water, quinoa and swiss chard for lunch, longing glances at the banks of Scharffenberger chocolate at the grocery store. And no dessert to reward the virtuous eater. That’s where fruit comes in. Not, sadly, spiced apples oozing butter, brown sugar and chopped walnuts, but fresh apples, clementines and pears. Especially pears. Winter is the season for pears. I love slicing a ripe Comice and spreading its sweet, silken flesh with tangy goat cheese. And the Concorde, a British cross between the Comice and Conference pears, has the Comice’s succulence and the Conference’s elongated neck. Excellent with a handful of toasted walnuts. But when I can’t stand the austerity any longer and visions of chocolate bars bombard my crumbling willpower, I divert and make poached pears for dessert. ]]> just a little sugar and wine, and I can ration the delicious liquid in which they are poached to just a spoonful or two. As fond as I am of Comice pears, they’re so juicy that they may collapse when poached. This doesn’t matter, of course, if you’re just making them for yourself and eating them with a spoon standing up in the kitchen. (Guilty!) In fact their superior flavor and texture makes them my top choice for poaching despite the fact that they lose their shape and every tiny bruise turns into a crater. When beauty matters, though, the Bosc pear is a better choice. When ripe, the flesh is sweet but crisp, and when peeled, it looks almost translucent. The only problem is that its texture can be a little grainy, which makes for a somewhat less seductive dessert. Oh, the sacrifices... (In either case, test for ripeness by pressing the neck of the pear very gently. If it gives just slightly, it is ready to be eaten or cooked.) A few tips: 1. Look for firm unblemished fruit with stems attached. Some Boscs are short and dumpy, but if you can find the ones with long, slender necks, they will look quite elegant when peeled and poached. 2. Don’t overwhelm the pears with strong-tasting spices such as cinnamon and herbs such as rosemary. Instead, poach the fruit gently, then discard the strong seasonings and reduce the cooking liquid. This will intensify its flavor and the liquid can then be drizzled over the pears for extra taste. By the way, it’s a good idea to corral the spices in a muslin bag or to tie them up in a piece of cheesecloth before adding them to the cooking liquid. Otherwise they will sink into the soft flesh of the pears and you will have to dig them out. Not a pretty picture.. 3. If possible, poach the pears the day before you plan to serve them. Refrigerate overnight with a little of the reduced cooking liquid spooned over them. This will make them especially luscious. Here are two recipes. The first is for pears poached in red wine with spices and orange zest. Red wine’s heartier flavor stands up well to seasonings and when reduced, the poaching liquid has a delicious peppery-cinammon-orange taste that turns nice cooked pears into a rousing dessert. The second is for pears poached in white wine. Often recipes call for pears to be cooked with vanilla since the two flavors have a natural affinity. But here I’ve pushed the envelope a bit and cooked the pears in white wine with a sprig of rosemary and Meyer lemon slices. It’s a different, slightly savory approach to poaching pears which I find oddly addictive. If you’d rather take the vanilla route, follow the recipe using white wine, but substitute 2 vanilla beans for the rosemary and Meyer lemon slices. Slit the beans lengthwise and scrape the seeds into the cooking liquid. Add the pods as well. You could also use a little Meyer lemon zest if you like. The choice is yours. Both ways are delicious, even if…. Oh go ahead. Break out the chocolate. A few bittersweet shards are just perfect with pears when you’re on the austerity diet. Pears Poached in Red Wine with Black Peppercorns, Cinnamon and Orange Zest To serve four Ingredients: 4 ripe, unblemished Comice or Bosc pears, stems attached 3 cups red wine ¾ cup water ¾ cup sugar 1 2-inch piece cinnamon 2 teaspoons black peppercorns 1 teaspoon fennel seeds 1 whole star anise 2 large slices fresh ginger, peeled Zest of one orange, white pith removed Optional garnish: 4 whole star anise Method: 1. Peel the pears but leave the stems attached. Cut a thin slice off the bottom of any pear that cannot stand up without toppling over. Put the spices in a muslin bag or wrap in a piece of cheese cloth and set aside. 2. Combine the wine, water and sugar in a saucepan large enough to hold the pears. Bring to a boil, add the pears lying on their sides, and lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Immerse the bag of spices and the orange zest in the liquid and simmer for 30-35 minutes. Turn the pears once after 15 minutes. 3. Gently remove the pears using a slotted spoon and place them in a bowl that can comfortably hold them. Leave the orange zest and ginger in the liquid, but remove the bag of spices and discard. Boil the poaching liquid until it has been reduced to approximately 1-1/4 cups. It should be spicy tasting and slightly syrupy. 4. Let the liquid cool, then pour half of it over the pears. Refrigerate the pears and the remaining liquid overnight. Poached pears are best served cold either the next day or the one following. 5. To serve, place one pear upright in a bowl or on a plate and spoon some of the poaching liquid and cooked orange zest over it. If using star anise as a decorative garnish, soak the spice in a tablespoon of cooking liquid for a few minutes, then arrange as desired. Do not eat the star anise. Pears Poached in White Wine with Rosemary and Meyer Lemon To serve four Ingredients: 4 ripe, unblemished Comice or Bosc pears, stems attached 3 cups white wine ¾ cup water ¾ cup sugar 1 large sprig fresh rosemary 1 small Meyer lemon, cut into 6 thin slices Optional garnish: 4 small sprigs rosemary Poached Meyer lemon slices, reserved Method: 1. Peel the pears but leave the stems attached. Cut a thin slice off the bottom of any pear that cannot stand up without toppling over. 2. Combine the wine, water and sugar in a saucepan large enough to hold the pears. Bring to a boil, add the pears lying on their sides, and lower the heat to a gentle simmer. Add the rosemary sprig and lemon slices and simmer for 30-35 minutes. Turn the pears once after 15 minutes. 3. Gently remove the pears using a slotted spoon and place them in a bowl that can comfortably hold them. Leave the lemon slices in the poaching liquid, but discard the rosemary. Bring the liquid to a boil and reduce to about 1-1/4 cups. It should taste of rosemary and lemon, and be a bit syrupy. 4. Let the poaching liquid cool, then pour about half of it, including the lemon slices, over the pears. Refrigerate overnight. The pears are best eaten cold the next day or the one following. 5. To serve, stand a pear upright in a bowl or on a plate. Spoon some of the poaching liquid over it. Garnish, if desired, with poached lemon slices and a sprig of fresh rosemary. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1.545 2012-01-08T19:01:40Z 2012-01-08T19:40:05Z

How real are nutmeg's hallucinogenic properties? Here nutmeg fruit, freshly plucked from the tree, opens to reveal scarlet mace covering the nut's shiny brown shell. When dried, mace becomes pale orange. “Stock up on nutmeg,” said Kathryn as she...

SpiceLines How real are nutmeg's hallucinogenic properties? Here nutmeg fruit, freshly plucked from the tree, opens to reveal scarlet mace covering the nut's shiny brown shell. When dried, mace becomes pale orange. “Stock up on nutmeg,” said Kathryn as she handed me a neatly folded clipping. “The price is about to go up.” In “My Nutmeg Bender” (The Atlantic Monthly, January-February, 2012, p. 31), writer Wayne Curtis says that nutmeg is “enjoying something of a revival in the craft cocktail world.” But the spice’s affinity for punches and eggnogs may not be the only reason that savvy bartenders have added nutmeg graters to their arsenal of cocktail tools. Curtis’s research into nutmeg revealed that it has a “psychoactive element called myristicin, whose chemical structure shares similarities with mescalin, amphetamine and ecstasy.” In other words, ingesting the spice is another way to get high. This is not exactly a new discovery. As far back in the 12th century, a Benedictine abbess named Hildegard of Bingen wrote about nutmeg’s "mind-altering effects." (In Physica, she gave a recipe for spice cookies containing nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves and said that eating them often "will make your spirit happy.") But really, how potent is nutmeg? To find out, Curtis ate 1-1/2 tablespoons of the grated spice.... ]]> a giddy phase when everything seemed immensely amusing—including the shingles on my neighbor’s house….and a slight floating sensation when walking around the neighborhood.” But the main effect was “two days of feeling out of sorts” and some difficulty writing. On second thought, maybe we're better off keeping nutmeg in kitchen cupboard. You might like to try recipes for Moroccan Coffee with Six Fragrant Spices and A Dutch Cake Fragrant with Nutmeg, Cinnamon and Clove, both right here on SpiceLines. Like everything else, spices are getting more expensive. In “McCormick Spices Up Its Product Line for Home Cooks” (The Wall Street Journal, January 3, 2012, p. B6), CEO Alan Wilson reveals that the cost of pepper “has basically quadrupled in four years and doubled in the last eighteen months. Cinnamon is up about 30%.” There are multiple reasons for these increases, including “a lot of weather events” in the equatorial regions where most spices are grown, as well as political unrest in the Middle East. “We source a number of herbs in Egypt,” said Wilson, “and as that country became more uncertain, we immediately…shifted some of our sourcing to other parts of the Mediterranean.” Vietnamese pepper and cinnamon farmers are also shifting to even more profitable crops such as cocoa, further driving up spice prices. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2012://1.544 2012-01-05T01:44:10Z 2012-01-06T02:51:21Z

New Year's resolutions are easier over a cup of detox tea from Morocco. Made of nine mostly familiar herbs like lemon verbena and mint, it's a delicious way to soothe the ravages of the holiday season--and it's simple to...

SpiceLines New Year's resolutions are easier over a cup of detox tea from Morocco. Made of nine mostly familiar herbs like lemon verbena and mint, it's a delicious way to soothe the ravages of the holiday season--and it's simple to make at home. No more laundry lists. You know: Twenty-seven (or more) resolutions that you absolutely must keep in 2012. A giant, overarching to-do list with impossible ambition written into every word. I blush when I look back at some of my old lists. All well-intentioned, but forgotten by, oh, February. And how about the sense of disbelief when you run across them in the fall? Did I really intend to do that? Seriously? So this year I’m keeping it simple. Yes, I must get back to yoga class, cut down on the bourbon, and lose enough weight to zip that one-size-too-small Chloe chiffon skirt (just had to have it) all the way up. But my real resolutions are different. Here are the five that I absolutely positively will keep in 2012. ]]> Take la pause gourmande three times a week. Never at my desk, and always between 4 and 6 PM when I most need a break. I’ll be reporting to you on this supremely civilized moment each month—where I’m taking la pause and what I’m drinking and eating. As Robert Arbor wrote in Joie de Vivre, la pause, which almost everyone (except Americans) enjoys, is “a perfect solution to the afternoon blahs.” I hope you’ll join me! 2. Keep my office a private sanctuary. A place to write and dream, to invent and unwind. In 2012 this will not be the place to trip over old travel files and stacks of unread books. No more discovering packets of rare Cambodian peppercorns buried under forgotten newspaper clippings. There will be room to breathe and order to the romantic disorder (peacock fans, Ganeshes galore, tango photos atop a Tibetan chest….) in which I clearly thrive. 3. Bring lots more spice into everyday life. Paint a wall red, search for wasabi in mountain streams, travel to Bhutan, world capital of happiness. Paris is sublime, but a walk in the Himalayas would radically shake up my perspective. In the end the spice life is about discovering new ways of being in the world. Start by pushing the envelope. 4. And in that vein, give SpiceLines a fresh look. I see my blog as a portal into a world of bright colors, exotic travel, delicious flavors and adventures of all sorts. Flirty camels, bigger, better photos, easier-to-read type would be a start, but there will be much more to help you get there. Target date? I’m shooting for April… 5. Be a kinder, gentler person. Cheer up my mother, hug our aging pup, praise the people I love for their many great and small acts of kindness. Compliment someone, even (especially!) a stranger, everyday. Love your earrings, thanks for holding the door, so fun to talk with you. Joy will be my reward. A fountain in the Jardin Bio-Aromatique in Ourika, a town not far from Marrakech. All the herbs grown here are not only organic, but intensely flavorful and quite potent. My resolutions took shape while drinking a cup of Moroccan detox tea that I first tasted at the magical Jardin Bio-aromatique in Ourika. At a long table strewn with rose petals we sipped this aromatic brew from small earthenware cups while a Berber woman made barley flatbread with nigella seeds in a clay oven heated by fiery olive wood coals. Later we soaked our feet in warm water fragrant with orange oil before receiving a delicate foot massage using argan oil perfumed with lemon verbena. I’ve long since finished the package of l'infusion depurative that came home with me, but I kept a list of the ingredients–-lemon verbena, pergolarium (scented geranium leaf), marjoram, sage, rosemary, fennel, mint, lemongrass and lemon thyme—and a memory of the sweet-minty-earthy aromas rising from the cup. All nine herbs, organically grown in the garden, have soothing, healing properties and some are especially good for insomnia and the digestion. No wonder I felt lighter than air. A few days ago, I made my own batch of detox tea. Although the herbs I used were not as vibrant as those from the Jardin, the flavor of the tea is quite close to the original. Still a couple of ingredients were hard to find: I couldn’t get a source for dried lemon thyme, so I substituted lemon myrtle, a delightful citrusy Australian herb that I discovered at a local coffee house. Nor could I find dried geranium leaves so I left them out—but you could add a little camomile or a few dried lavender flowers. If you’re overwintering scented geraniums inside, just harvest the dried up leaves and add them to the mix. And that’s the thing. You can add or subtract whatever herbs you like. Just be sure that you choose herbs that are soothing. The key flavors are lemon (as in lemon verbena, lemon myrtle and lemon grass), mint (but not too much) and fennel seeds for sweetness. Drink this whenever you’ve ingested too much delicious food or drink, or when you’re tired and stressed. Come to think of it, the Moroccan infusion depurative is a perfect beverage for la pause… In Morocco, earthenware cups and saucers awaiting a pour of the sweetly aromatic infusion depurative. The pottery is made near the town of Ourika. Moroccan Detox Tea with Nine Herbs Bulk herbs can be ordered from Penzeys, Frontier or other online purveyors. I found lemon verbena at In Pursuit of Tea; organic lemon myrtle leaves are available thru Amazon. If you can’t find whole lemon grass stalks and leaves, buy them fresh, snip off the slender stalks and dry them in the oven for about 30 minutes at 250 degrees before adding them to the mix. Makes 1-1/4 cups loose leaf herbal tea Ingredients: 2 cups dried whole lemon verbena leaves, tightly packed 1/3 cup dried peppermint leaves, crumbled 1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons dried marjoram 1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons dried sage leaves 2 teaspoons dried thyme leaves 2 teaspoons dried rosemary 2 tablespoons dried lemongrass leaves and stalks, snipped into ½ inch pieces 1 tablespoon dried lemon myrtle leaves (substitute for lemon thyme) 1 tablespoon fennel seeds, lightly bruised in a mortar and pestle Optional: 1 tablespoon dried camomile or a small pinch dried culinary lavender Method: 1. Put the lemon verbena leaves in a large bowl and crumble them with your fingers until the pieces are very small. Use scissors to cut them up if necessary. Add the other ingredients and stir vigorously to combine. All the herbs should be evenly blended. 2. To make one cup of tea, place 2 rounded teaspoons of the mixture in a strainer or tea ball and set it in the cup. Bring a tea kettle just to the boil, pour the hot water over the leaves, and steep for 5 minutes or more, to taste. For a pot, use 1-1/2 to 2 rounded teaspoons for each cup. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2011://1.543 2011-12-31T18:44:37Z 2011-12-31T19:13:09Z

In Asia mandarin oranges symbolizing good fortune and abundance are often presented as New Year’s gifts to family and friends. The sweet juice is delicious with champagne. In China and much of Asia, the mandarin orange is a popular...

SpiceLines In Asia mandarin oranges symbolizing good fortune and abundance are often presented as New Year’s gifts to family and friends. The sweet juice is delicious with champagne. In China and much of Asia, the mandarin orange is a popular New Year’s symbol of good fortune and abundance. Like the golden orb of the sun, this radiant fruit, often bestowed on loved ones, evokes the dawning of a new day. Old ills and travails are left behind as bright hopes are launched for the future. In the ancient Teochew dialect, the fruit is called gik, which resembles the word for “luck” or “fortune”. It’s said that in Malaysia and Singapore, unmarried women write their phone numbers on the skin of the oranges and toss them into a river or lake. Single men pluck the fruit from the water and eat it—but bad fortune awaits the man who bites into a sour mandarin. Chinese New Year celebrations won’t begin for a couple of weeks, but around here, as the battered old year limps to a close, we’ll be greeting 2012 with a glass of bubbly poured over the luscious juice of mandarin oranges. May the coming days be filled with sweetness and joy, and may your dearest wishes come true. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2011://1.542 2011-12-24T19:57:30Z 2011-12-25T03:30:10Z

No matter how far and how widely we roam, home is where I want to be on this the most magical night of the year. Because home is where the heart is, especially when the chicks return to the...

SpiceLines No matter how far and how widely we roam, home is where I want to be on this the most magical night of the year. Because home is where the heart is, especially when the chicks return to the roost. Tonight we’ll sip a cup or three of old-fashioned bourbon-vanilla eggnog and unwrap a single gift, then set the lights to twinkle all night long so that good karma will visit in the wee hours. Just in case, there’ll be a plate of gingersnaps by the fireside for good St. Nick. Or maybe on the table so the pup won’t get there first. After midnight you’ll find me in kitchen, making pots au chocolat for our holiday feast. On the 25th we’ll light the fire even if it is 55 degrees outside and listen to Andre Rieu’s “Christmas Medley” and all B’s other favorites of the season. The wrapping paper will pile up in the library like banks of snow, the aroma of herb-crusted tenderloin slow-roasting in the oven will drift through the house, and as the sun goes down, we’ll light the candles and join hands in gratitude for the deep domestic joy of being together on Christmas Day. Wherever you are, at home or away, in Paris, Istanbul or Buenos Aires, in London or Lisbon, in Mumbai, Mendoza, San Antonio or Singapore, we wish you the most joyous of holidays and a 2012 filled with miracles. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2011://1.541 2011-12-18T16:57:00Z 2011-12-18T17:20:20Z

A holiday pause: Girl talk and a glass of Vosges La Parisienne cocoa infused with Madagascar vanilla. Heard on the street: “So that’s how much my mother makes!” (Aggrieved tone of voice.) “So why does she always buy my...

SpiceLines A holiday pause: Girl talk and a glass of Vosges La Parisienne cocoa infused with Madagascar vanilla. Heard on the street: “So that’s how much my mother makes!” (Aggrieved tone of voice.) “So why does she always buy my Christmas present on the street or in Chinatown?” (Fury rising.) “I swear, if I get another crummy scarf or hat this year….” The couple, one red-faced and sputtering, swept by me. I couldn’t hear her companion’s reply. Yes, it’s the most wonderful time of year. Jostling crowds, screechy holiday music, impossible decisions to make. The Istanbul Grand Bazaar limited edition ($500) or a decoupaged plate of an iridescent blue beetle ($88, but strange)? Neither one is exactly right, of course. Time to breathe. Wander into your favorite café and order a tall glass of very dark, divinely rich hot chocolate. No whipped cream. Drinking the hot stuff from a glass makes it special enough. Share la pause with a good friend. There’s plenty to gossip about. Men for one thing. That’s always a compelling topic... ]]> Oh, here’s where I took my December pause: At Vosges Chocolate in Soho. The old apothecary shelves crammed with buddhas, peacocks and Chinese jars (and chocolate-y things to eat and drink) gave us a quick trip to wonderland. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Back to the to-do list….but lighter in spirit. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2011://1.540 2011-12-09T15:50:00Z 2011-12-10T02:52:56Z

For the pepper addict: At Epices Roellinger in Paris, dried red peppercorns from Cambodia are sweetly spicy. Notes of caramel, vanilla and honey make Poivre Kampot Rouge the ideal dessert pepper for adding heat to chocolate mousse and apple...

SpiceLines For the pepper addict: At Epices Roellinger in Paris, dried red peppercorns from Cambodia are sweetly spicy. Notes of caramel, vanilla and honey make Poivre Kampot Rouge the ideal dessert pepper for adding heat to chocolate mousse and apple tart. Tis the season to be jolly—even if pervasively Scroogish attitudes are doing their best to dampen our merriment. So let’s buck the gloomy trends. Here are a host of imaginative holiday gifts to make the spirits soar. You may even rekindle that giddy sensation of wonder and excitement felt when, as children, we knew that a beribboned gift was a harbinger of all things magical and delightful. This list will not include such dreary novelties as the Achoo Peppermill, a giant snuffling nose (instant re-gift) or mundane necessities such as a handy-dandy expandable wooden trivet (yawn). Really, do you know anyone who would be gaga over a set of Animal Butt refrigerator magnets, except perhaps the 9-year old boy in your life? Luckily, this is an excellent year for the spice-obsessed. As you might know I myself am mildly fixated on Olivier Roellinger’s Paris spice shop. If there’s a pepper addict in your life, especially one who gets a pleasurable frisson from nuances of aroma and flavor... ]]> Epices Roellinger where you will discover 17 rare peppercorns that most people on this side of the Atlantic have never even heard of. Consider giving a quartet of recherché black Indian peppercorns, each named after the region in which it is grown, each with its own special flavor profile. Jeekarimundi (40 grams/5.25 euros), for example, has “a spicy nose of almonds and pine resin,” which the chef recommends for jazzing up pasta, potatoes and chicken. Or how about Cambodian Poivre Kampot Rouge (100 grams /11.55 euros)? This is the almost-impossible-to-find dried ripe fruit of the pepper vine, not the faux pink berries often sold in peppercorn mixes. Most of Kampot’s peppervines were destroyed during the Khmer Rouge’s 30-year reign of terror, and even now, very little of this sweetly spicy pepper is being produced. Roellinger describes it as “a dessert pepper with notes of caramel, vanilla and honey"—ideal for adding a little heat to chocolate mousse or a thin-crusted apple tart. Roellinger’s peppercorns are a bit pricy and, yes, you also have to pay Fedex International 2nd-day delivery from France, but I promise you: Any of these peppercorns would make a never-to-be-forgotten gift for the right person. Photo: SeeSmellTaste Especially if you pair it with Roellinger’s stylish beechwood pepper grinder. An old fashioned crank handle modeled after a boat winch—the Brittany-born spice maven is also an avid sailor—activates “a double row of case-hardened steel grinding teeth guides and holds peppercorns for a … grind that is fully adjustable.” (This, according to the spice website SeeSmellTaste which sells the chocolate brown model for $100. ) The mill can easily be filled from the top and a pull out drawer with a curved indentation catches the ground pepper. (Note: the Peugeot instructions which came with my pepper mill were useless as they referred to an entirely different model.) Dean & DeLuca has--whoops, had-- the holiday red model (also $100). Both models are available at Epices Roellinger (60 euros). Colibri vanilla beans from Epices Roellinger Don’t leave without peeking into Roellinger’s cave a vanilles. What a treasure vault! Eleven varieties of vanilla beans are stored in metal coffers that preserve suppleness and aroma. I almost fainted when I inhaled the fragrance of Madagascar Gourmet North East Antsirabe (8.80 euros/3 vanilla beans). It is vanilla incarnate, rich and powerfully aromatic. By way of contrast, beans from Grande Cormore, an island in the Indian ocean, (8.80 euros) have a "tomboy character," a leathery, almost tobacco-like scent, while plump Vanille Colibri from Chiapas, Mexico is sweetly mellow. This “dreamy,” exceedingly rare vanilla (12.60 euros) is said to be pollinated by a species of hummingbird found only in the Chinantle Forest. How to use it? Click on Roellinger’s recipe for a sumptuous crème anglaise. And if you are feeling generous (and the recipient reads French), wrap the vanilla beans with Voyage au Pays des Merveilles, a lavishly photographed book that focuses on the 12 ingredients (including vanilla and cinnamon) that formed the tastes of Roellinger’s childhood. Thirty chef-like recipes. Spice blends from La Boite a Epice: (top to bottom) Cancale, Mish Mish, Apollonia, Vadouvan, Ararat Closer to home: Lior Lev Sercarz, an elegant Israeli-born chef and spice “mixologist” who apprenticed with Roellinger at Les Maisons de Bricourt, sells 40 remarkable spice mixtures through his New York gallery and shop La Boite a Epice. Like a perfumer, Sercarz uses taste and scent memory (as well as intution and observation) to craft blends that evoke a place, a person or a moment in time—a far cry from commercial spice mixes which seem to include everything but the kitchen sink. Catalunia, for instance, conjures up the flavors of the Spanish kitchen with dominant notes of pimenton and smoked cinnamon. Apollonia, an hommage to the daughter of baker Lionel Poilane, includes cocoa powder and orange blossoms, and is a spectacular addition to hot chocolate. You could buy any of these blends individually (most are $15), or break the bank with a Global Spice Blend Collection that “lets you travel the word without ever leaving your kitchen.” (11 blends/ $162 from The Ingredient Finder). Or do as Food & Wine writer Susan Choi did and ask him to create a personal blend just for you (or your friend). For more on Sercarz, go here to see SpiceLines’s interview earlier this year. Ever since the demise of Gourmet and House & Garden, I’ve been haunting the magazine racks, lusting fruitlessly for a quick but satisfying read that will take me, momentarily, to some other world. The mainstream mags have lost their sense of direction, but here are four niche publications with a refreshingly focused point of view. Photo: http://sarahjwinward.blogspot.com/ For the photographer: Kinfolk, a Guide for Small Gatherings, celebrates the communal pleasures of entertaining with family and friends. The lyrical photographic essays—cloth napkins clipped to a clothes line, fluttering in the breeze, a barefoot couple picnicking in the woods—have a moody look that is about as far from conventional food porn as you can get. The collaborative product of over 50 young artists, photographers and writers, Kinfolk aims to be a quarterly magazine. Issue One, now sold out, featured soulful articles like “The Concert of Conversation” (“…my favorite kind of dinner party is the small, uncomplicated one—where each person sits close enough to hear each other and to look into each other’s eyes…”) and “The Spice Warehouse” (“In the sweltering Keralan gloaming, over a tiny stove with just enough pots and pans for cooking and cheap Kingfisher beer to get us through the night, we made a feast.”) There’s a big emphasis on DIY get-togethers, but not many recipes. “A Darn Good Sandwich,” based on salade aux lardons with crème fraiche vinaigrette is one of four in the first issue. Kinfolk can be viewed on-line for free, but a print version, which I highly recommend, can be ordered for $24 via the website. Volume Two will be available on Monday December 12. Go here for a sneak peek. Photo: Canal House Cooking For the aspirational home cook: Canal House Cooking is a joint collaboration of Christopher Hirsheimer and Melissa Hamilton, mega-watt talents—writer-photographer and chef, both editors—formerly associated with Saveur. An annual subscription ($49) brings three seasonal “books” to your mailbox . These collectible, cloth-covered volumes feature appealing food photography and lots of fairly easy recipes “by home cooks writing about home cooking for other home cooks.” Like me, you might be a tiny bit jealous of these two very nice women who work together in an “old red brick warehouse…with a simple galley kitchen” alongside a “beautiful lazy canal” in New Jersey, but their approach to food and life is just so down to earth that you have to admire them. The cover of Volume 7—magnificent marbleized Florentine paper inset with photo of a plate of pasta—lets you know that it’s all about la dolce vita—yes, they rented a farmhouse in Tuscany last summer—with Italian-ish recipes like Meatballs with Mint and Parsley and Apple Cake with lemon zest and vanilla. Besides subscribing, you can buy back issues for $19.95 each or boxed sets of three for $49.95 Photo: McSweeneys/Lucky Peach For the diehard foodie: “Diametrically opposed,” as my Dad used to say, is David Chang’s Lucky Peach. The celebrated New York chef and owner of the Momofuku empire has teamed with writer Peter Meehan and Zero Point Zero Production, producers of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations to publish a quarterly journal of food and writing, sometimes with bizarre results. Meehan describes Issue 1 as “the magazine equivalent of throwing an M-80 into a bowl of ramen and taking a crime scene photo of the results.” In Issue 2, The Sweet Spot, Bourdain riffs on Chang’s obsession with Road House, a “Zen western” starring Patrick Swayze; Meehan and Chang stage a gourmand road trip to Kyoto, Kentucky and Copenhagen; pastry chef Christina Tosi shares her cult recipes for the Arnold Palmer Layer Cake and the Corn Cookie Ice Cream Pie. There’s a “foam party” with Ferran Adria, a page of fruit stickers to put wherever you like, plus a serious article by Adam Leith Gollner on the search for the perfect apricot in Tajikistan. Go here to subscribe (4 issues/$28) or buy Issue 2 for $12. Photo: Put A Egg On It Hipster Stocking Stuffer: Put A Egg On It (4 issues/$28) is “a digest-sized art and literary magazine…printed on green paper about food, cooking and the communal joys of eating with friends and family.” This pamphlet-like zine appears to be haphazardly thrown together by a group of New York-based writers and photographers, but it’s more artfully composed than you might think. Issue #3 features an essay on the fried egg sandwich, photos of hand-painted New Orleans food signs, and recipes like lamb neck schwarma spiced with cayenne, paprika, cinnamon, cumin, cardamom, mace, lemon and rosemary. A slim read, but a fun one. Photo: Williams Sonoma During the holidays copper kitchen tools twinkle brightly, especially the hand-hammered exotic kind. For a very special someone, consider this gleaming couscoussiere (Williams Sonoma, $199). The bulbous two-tiered Tunisian pot, perforated on top for steaming couscous while luscious stews of meat and vegetables simmer in the bottom, would make a stunning gift for a cook with a yen for the food of North Africa—and it would look amazing on the stove. Now to go with the couscoussiere you must wrap up a copy of Paula Wolfert’s brand new tome, The Food of Morocco. To call this stunning book an update of her 1973 Couscous and Other Good Food from Morocco is to miss the point entirely. It includes many of the same recipes (and new ones as well) but the sumptuous photos of the Moroccan people, colorful markets and titillating design elements like zellig tile turn what was a modest paperback into a gorgeous volume to curl up with on the window seat and read while snowflakes drift by the window. Not that you won’t be taking it into the kitchen: There’s a whole chapter on couscous, with detailed cooking instructions for dishes like Couscous with Lamb, Pumpkin, Carrots, Chickpeas and Raisins. Other tempting recipes include Chicken Tagine with Prunes and Almond in the Style of the Rif Mountains and Roasted Beet Salad with Cinnamon. Add a jar of sassy Moroccan cumin (Mustapha’s Fine Foods of Morocco/$7/3oz.) and you’ve put together a gift that’s almost as good as a trip to Marrakech. And don’t forget the down-to-earth pleasures of DIY gifts. Personally, unless you are a blue ribbon jam or pickle maker, I would skip those ho-hum categories and instead spend Sunday afternoon making a few bottles of Madagascar Vanilla Bean-Rum Syrup. This French dessert “sauce” for the classic Baba au Rhum is equally luscious drizzled over plain pound cake, vanilla ice cream and mixed into winter cocktails. A good gift for home bakers and budding mixologists. Photo: RunFastTravelSlow For the breakfast lovers in your life, consider whipping up a batch of Classic Cranberry Almond Granola. The secretive cook at RunFastTravelSlow recently shared her recipe for the toastiest, tastiest granola I’ve eaten in a long time. (Full disclosure: the crumbs of the last batch she personally made is in my pantry at this very moment.) Rich with coconut, barely sweetened with honey, studded with jewel-like dried cranberries, it’s the kind of gift that could turn a grumpy morning into a brunch party. Present a glass jar of this homemade cereal along with a linen dish towel, a vintage bowl and a spoon, and be enwreathed in smiles, no matter how stormy the weather. ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2011://1.539 2011-12-04T18:22:55Z 2011-12-04T19:04:46Z

Dear Santa: All I want for Christmas is this set of rustic chic table and chairs. They'll be just perfect in the woods behind our house. Of course the crystal chandelier is also a must...did I mention that you'll...

SpiceLines Dear Santa: All I want for Christmas is this set of rustic chic table and chairs. They'll be just perfect in the woods behind our house. Of course the crystal chandelier is also a must...did I mention that you'll be shopping in Paris? Santa Baby, You’ll be so relieved. My list is short this year. Just one or two teensy-weensy items. Oh, did I mention that you'll be stopping in Paris? (Do I hear gnashing of teeth? Really?) Well here goes: Maybe, just maybe, on the 24th you could set your GPS for Merci, the uber-cool Marais boutique on Boulevard Beaumarchais where I found those exquisitely biodegradable Wasara plates and bowls this fall. (It’s all in a good cause since every cent of the profits goes to help women and children in Madagascar—and of course you’ll be making moi deliriously happy.) Just zoom up to the second floor, where hopefully there’ll be a crate with my name on it. Oh it’s nothing much, just a one-of-a-kind table—a freeform slice of a massive tree trunk balanced on three legs fashioned from a single branch. And please don’t forget the matching chairs: Each is a gnarled tree with a wedge cut out for the back and seat. I especially love the groovy bark. It’s the last word in rustic chic, especially with that crystal chandelier dangling overhead. (Santa darling, I think you’d better wrap that up too.) Surely you’ll have room in the back of your sleigh…. When you get here, please drop it off—oh so gently—in the woods behind our house. In my fantasy life, I’ll be dining in the snow this winter, chandelier glittering under the stars, sharing something spicy—maybe lamb shanks braised with cinnamon, ginger and dried apricots—with my nearest and dearest. We’ll bundle up in colorful blankets—the pup will wear her plaid vest—and keep warm with glasses of hot the a la menthe. ]]> fete. For fall, I see golden leaves swirling around warm spiced apple cider and Annie’s buttery financiers. I’m counting on you, Santa. And be sure to look for the gingersnaps. This year they’ll be on the hickory stump in the woods, along with a bottle of bubbly that has your name on it. Love et mille baisers! P.S. Just in case you get lost, here’s a photo of Merci. You can’t miss that cute red vintage auto, even from overhead! ]]> tag:www.spicelines.com,2011://1.538 2011-11-30T17:48:38Z 2011-11-30T19:19:53Z

For anyone who has a sweet tooth, this sultry DIY dessert syrup is a perfect gift. Based on the vanilla bean-rum syrup poured over the baba au rhum at a Paris bistro, it can also be drizzled over poundcake...

SpiceLines For anyone who has a sweet tooth, this sultry DIY dessert syrup is a perfect gift. Based on the vanilla bean-rum syrup poured over the baba au rhum at a Paris bistro, it can also be drizzled over poundcake and vanilla ice cream, or mixed into holiday cocktails. The house across the street is festooned with red wreathes hanging in the front windows. A giant inflatable snowman appeared—and then mysteriously disappeared—on the lawn nearby. Çhez nous the lighted grapevine balls didn’t exactly go down this year, so I can truthfully say they’re up and twinkling brightly. Glittering reindeer are prancing through the woods, and soon the apple arbor will be aglow. The holidays are upon us, and with them shopping lists that seem to grow longer by the moment. So I’ve been thinking about DIY gifts, which is why I spent Sunday afternoon in the kitchen making a luscious treat that I discovered in Paris: Madagascar Vanilla Bean-Rum Syrup. It will thrill anyone who loves dessert. Isn’t that everyone? Maybe it has to do with the bistro revival, but I don’t remember ever seeing so many Paris menus on which the traditional baba au rhum was front and center. At Bistro et Terroir, tables of 20-somethings topped off plates of giant pork ribs with hefty conical babas liberally doused with sirop du rhum. The bottle was left on the table alongside a bowl of whipped Chantilly cream so they could help themselves—repeatedly. At Astier, the garcon was less generous—he poured the syrup, then whisked the bottle away—but the babas were just as big. But what exactly is a baba? ]]> Oxford Companion to Food, Alan Davidson describes it as a “sweetened bread or cake, made from rich dough, baked in tall cylindrical molds.” He goes on to say the “the shape is Slavic in origin and of great antiquity,” perhaps going back to prehistoric fertility rituals. In the Slavic world, baba or babka means "grandmother" or "old woman," and one researcher notes that the cake’s top-heavy shape resembles a “statuesque matron.” Eventually the baba traveled west from its birthplace in Poland or Russia, landing in France where dried fruits were added to the batter and the cake was soaked in an “alcoholic syrup” at first made of sweetened wine and eventually of rum. Although made from the same ingredients as a brioche—eggs, milk, yeast, flour, melted butter—Davidson says the baba is “lighter and spongier than a brioche, with an open texture that makes it ideal for soaking up the syrup or liquor added after cooking (to many its chief attraction).” Bien sur! Traditional recipes call for a simple syrup lightly flavored with a few tablespoons of rum. But the sirop du rhum that I tasted in Paris was near to 100 proof, sweet but quite definitely packing a punch. And at Bistro et Terroir, the cook went a step further, stuffing the bottle with fragrant vanilla beans. The result was a sweet and powerfully sultry syrup, redolent of tropical vanilla, which, when poured over a baba, elevated the rather plain cake to intoxicating heights. But why stop there? This syrup can be drizzled over vanilla ice cream or pound cake, used to spike apple cider (hot or cold) or mixed into wintry cocktails. I’m sure you’ll think of other ways to use it, short of guzzling it right out of the bottle. So here’s the DIY plan: First, gather up as many empty bottles as gifts you want to make. Untinted wine bottles, corks intact, are a good choice since you can see the vanilla beans macerating in the rum; ditto for clear vinegar bottles and the bottles with rubber and porcelain stoppers that Lorina uses for its sparkling lemonade. Soak off the labels, rinse the bottles well and let them dry. Make sure there’s no residual odor. Next assemble the ingredients. Sugar you already have. You’ll also need whole vanilla beans. If you’re making lots of syrup, buying in bulk will bring the cost down. For instance, The Kitchen Project is selling 25 premium Madagascar beans for $35 plus $5 shipping, which works out to $1.60 each. Plan on using 3 or 4 per bottle. Beans from Madagascar or Mexico will produce a rich, mellow flavor, but the flowery taste of Tahitian vanilla beans can be off-putting for some. As for the alcohol, save your fine sipping rum for drinking neat and buy a bottle of good quality mixing rum like Mount Gay Eclipse. You want an easy rum with a smooth, straightforward flavor that marries well with simple syrup and vanilla. Nix on the spiced rum. Last but not least, you’ll need a bottle of real vanilla extract—nothing artificial, please—for boosting the vanilla flavor, if necessary, after the beans have macerated for a few days. All set? Let’s make the syrup: Madagascar Vanilla Bean-Rum Syrup This recipe makes about 3 cups, enough to fill a 750 ml bottle or several smaller bottles. You can double or triple it if you’re making more. Ingredients: 1-3/4 cups white sugar 1-1/4 cups water 7/8 cup rum 3 to 4 plump Madagascar vanilla beans Few drops of vanilla extract or to taste Method: 1. Combine the sugar and water in a saucepan over a medium flame and bring to a boil, stirring until the sugar is completely dissolved and the syrup is clear. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool for 10 minutes. 2. Slit the vanilla beans lengthwise, open them up like a book and scrape out the seeds. Add the pods and seeds to the simple syrup. Cover and let cool to room temperature. 3. Stir in the rum and taste. (Um, but not if you’re negotiating a contract or getting in the car anytime soon.) The flavors of the rum, the vanilla and the sweet syrup should be nicely balanced, so if you need to add a little more rum or a few drops of vanilla extract, now is the time to do it. Don’t go overboard on the vanilla, though, as the syrup will continue to absorb the flavor of the beans. 4. Bottle the syrup: Remove the vanilla pods and insert them into a clean, dry bottle. (If you’re using small bottles, there should at least two beans in each bottle, so add more as necessary.) Pour in the rum syrup, including all the vanilla seeds, and seal with a cork or other stopper. 5. Let the bottle rest at room temperature for 48 hours. Then taste (someone has to do it!) and add a little more rum or vanilla extract if necessary to bring the flavors into balance. Refrigerate. When you’re ready to present a bottle of this delicious syrup to a friend, make a holiday tag—manila shipping tags are great—and in your nicest handwriting, using a red pen, inscribe the following: Merry Christmas to…..(your friend’s name) From….(your name) Madagascar Vanilla Bean-Rum Syrup A sweet, sultry syrup for drizzling over pound cake, vanilla ice cream or the traditional Baba au Rhum, and for mixing into apple cider or holiday cocktails. (Please keep in the refrigerator.) Tie the tag to the bottle with a silky red ribbon and tuck in a sprig of fresh holly (if it happens to be growing in your garden). For avid bakers, you could also copy a recipe for Baba au Rhum from Julia Child, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume One, p. 658, or Dorie Greenspan, Paris Sweets, p. 112. Et voila! You are done—and you didn’t go to the mall. ]]>