burlington farmer's market

I know I haven't posted in a while. Here's my attempt to get back on track! Nourishment is: having Colin home on a Saturday, seeing lots of beautiful things at the market, nesting.

café expres, a perfect date

One of my favorite things about being in Paris is the wonderful tradition of café expres (espresso). You can pop in any old place, sit with Romance at the bar, stare at fabulous people and cool your elbows on the smooth marble countertop, while you sip a little cupful of rich, fragrant coffee. It's a very romantic, European thing—to be so grandiose, so spontaneous—to make such an event of drinking a thimble-full of anything. That anybody can accomplish such a stylish, nostalgic moment for less than $2 makes it that much more appealing.

Lately, Colin and I have been making a habit—albeit spontaneous—of popping into cafes for a little restoration. In Burlington on Church Street, there are at least two good places I can think where you can experience the inexpensive luxury of espresso, elevated to an art form. But all you really need is a bar, a good atmosphere, and of course an espresso machine (there are some really wonderful restaurants in town that, sadly, do not have one).

Lake Champlain Chocolates is perfect, because not only do they serve espresso, but they also sell what is, in my mind, the best chocolate around. The two really go hand in hand (that's why in Paris and elsewhere, they always serve espresso with a chocolate-covered coffee bean or almond). It takes the edge off the dark Arabica brew. Lake Champlain Chocolates has a little bar where you can sit and enjoy your moment while watching the passersby on the street. Colin and I dropped in the other day while we were out running errands and ordered two espressos and one square of dark chocolate (to share). The entire thing cost around five dollars, but it felt much more extravagant than that.

I know I talk about Leunig's Bistro a lot, but I can't help it. We love to eat there. And while it's true that you can get a little over-the-top with the menu, some of my favorite moments there have been the simple and spontaneous ones, sitting at the bar, with just a glass of wine and Vermont cheese plate. You could just linger there all night and really feel like a neighborhood regular by the end of it (for under $10 a person). Last night, we stopped in before a movie date for some espresso and one of their amazing maple creme brulees to share—it's the best creme brulee in town, and I'm an expert.

I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. I just felt very good when I remembered these two moments. They reminded me of other espresso moments. I love that these moments are at the same time economical, romantic, and memorable. What more could you ask for in a date?

rhubarb & custard

I grew up thinking that rhubarb and custard was some gross mush that mummy's used to make their children eat for breakfast. Rhubarb sounded gross and custard sounded even grosser.

It wasn't until many years later that I realized custard is the wonderful creamy goodness that makes many of my favorite foods happen: homemade ice cream, creme brulee, yummy quiche. And it wasn't until very recently (this year in fact) that I tasted rhubarb for the first time in years and was reminded how much I do love it. I was hit by a wave of nostalgia with every bite.

Rhubarb and cream were meant for each other. The buttery sweetness is the perfect balance to rhubarb's tangy, mouth-puckering flavor. I'm determined to experiment and come up with as many riffs on the classic combo as I can.

On our recent trip to England, my Aunt Carrie served a delicious rhubarb fool (that is cooked, sweetened rhubarb folded into whipped cream). I was hooked. Now that it's rhubarb season in Vermont, I just can't get enough of it. I made my own variation on the fool this past weekend by cooking rhubarb with some lemon and orange zest and a little sugar. Then I folded it into maple syrup-sweetened plain yogurt. Divine!

Tonight, I'm really pushing the limits of ultimate creamy tart flavor: strawberry rhubarb ice cream. Strawberries & cream meets rhubarb & custard. And the result is soooo good. The secret is in the lemon juice. You wouldn't think that rhubarb would need any more acid but it really does help bring out the flavor against all that creamy custard.

What's next? Tomorrow, I'm having rhubarb in my yogurt for breakfast. I hope I don't get a stomach ache!

better to be right—or happy?

By Penelope Wall

I wrote this post last week for Penelope Post and thought it was very fitting for Eat Peas as well. Sorry if you've already read it...

Colin's been working a lot of late—I mean late—nights these days. So much so, that this afternoon when he told me he wouldn't make it home for dinner again and he probably wouldn't be home before I went to bed, I completely lost my cool. I told him this had to stop—if not for his sanity, then at least for his health. I told him he had to figure it out once and for all. Talk to his boss. Talk to HR. Just figure it out. I mean, this isn't Wall Street, for crying out loud, this is Burlington, Vermont. After a few more terse remarks, we both decided that conversation was not appropriate for the phone—or the workplace—and hung up feeling shitty and down.

"I need a run," I thought to myself. "I need to come up with a plan so that we can figure this out once and for all." I drove home from work completely distracted. Fuming that Col was so willing to come up with reasons (excuses in my mind) why this time was so important. Why this week is so busy. Next week will be different.

During my run, I almost completely missed the beautiful sunset—and the beautiful evening—because I was so worked up on working things out. But finally towards the end of my run, I started feeling better. I knew I was right and I was going to show him. In my mind, I had come up with a punch list of all the items that were wrong with our situation and all the ways he was going to fix them.

I ran up the stairs and into our apartment loaded with ammo, but feeling a sudden knot of recognition in my stomach. "We've been here before," I thought. "If this approach didn't work then, why would it work now?"

And then I wondered: Why was I so angry? Was it because he really let me down? Or was it simply because I wasn't in control? I had to admit, I think it was the latter. After all, all I really wanted was to have dinner with him. And if that was all, then I had a very simple solution.

I picked up the phone and dialed Col's work. He answered right away.

"Hello?"

"Hey Luv," I said. "How ya doing?"

"Okay." He sounded tired.

"I'm sorry about earlier." I said.

"Me too."

"Are you hungry? Have you eaten today?"

"I'm starving. All I've had to eat all day is chips from the vending machine."

"Can I bring you dinner? I can make you a sandwich. And salad. How's that sound?"

"Would you really?? That would be so awesome."

That horrible weight, that horrible knot—it immediately melted away. And after we hung up, I whipped up the best brown bag dinner ever:

• 2 salami cheddar sandwiches on honey bread
• Romaine salad with blue cheese, tamari almonds and homemade Buttermilk Ranch Dressing
• Pretzel sticks with my homemade Boursin cheese dip (Col's favorite!)
• An entire sleeve of Girl Scout thin mints (his other favorite!)
  
• And a Corona
  

I drove to Burton and presented my peace offering to Col with great pride. He was so excited to see me and tell me what he was working on. We set up his little picnic at one of the work tables, and there—admidst papers and charts and fabric samples—we had dinner together, while the cleaning ladies vacuumed around our feet.

Yes, it was a proud moment. Relationships teach you a lot about yourself. Tonight I learned that your faults—no matter how deeply ingrained—are easily remedied if you take the time to pause and consider your options. In the same moment that I realized I'm a control-freak, I learned to tame the "control" urge and use it for good: by taking control in a fragile situation. Not by pushing, but by leading. And that is a good feeling.

Phew! Another crisis diverted!

ramps, scapes and other foraged treats make for a great quiche!

By Penelope Wall

In Vermont, you know it's spring when ramps, fiddleheads and the like start springing up at the local market. Or, if you're lucky, in your own back-yard, fragrancing the air with earthy, oniony smells. But apart from being inspired by their fresh green goodness, what the heck do you do with them?

I'll tell you what I do when in doubt: bake a quiche. The creamy, cheesy filling and buttery crust complement just about every spring vegetable—its bright, newborn flavor balancing the richness of the custard.

I had the first sign of spring at my local market this weekend with a pile of ramps, or wild leeks, tempting my olfactive senses as I walked through the entrance. I grabbed a few handfuls and was immediately inspired to bring them home and get to work. Ramps smell and taste just like a mild onion. And they're beautiful too. Especially once you wash off all the dirt and trim off the roots. Once that's done—and you've discovered their stark white stalk tipped with a rich eggplant neck, then a bright green leaf—you're ready to make your springtime quiche!

To prep the ramps, all you have to do is saute them in olive oil, garlic, a little lemon juice, salt and pepper. (Just be sure to cook the stalks first, till tender, and add the leafy tips at the very end.)

To make the quiche, put your nicely cooked ramps in a bowl. Add some fresh chopped tomato, chopped artichoke hearts (canned), fresh minced chive, salt and pepper. Instead of shredded cheddar, a favorite go-to quiche cheese, try something brighter to complement the mild ramps. I like using a mixture of fresh goat cheese and cream cheese with Boursin herbs (from Arcana). That combo makes for a very rich and creamy quiche! Fold the cheese mixture gently into the ramp mixture. Don't mix too much—you can even leave some lumps. Pour the mixture into a prepped quiche crust (in a pinch, I love Maple Lane Bakery's frozen whole-wheat pie crusts) and fill in the holes with an egg and milk mixture. Add a little nutmeg and throw it in the oven for about 30 minutes at 350 degrees, give or take a few minutes.

The beauty of quiches—and springtime foraged greens—is: the simpler the preparation, the better. Let the fresh flavor shine through!



Fresh spring ramps

april showers, cakes and flowers

The shower season has officially begun. And no, I don't mean rain! Bridal showers, baby showers, weddings and the like pepper—or should I say "sugar"—the weekends on my calendar through October! If you're not careful, and don't write everything down, it can be a daunting view of the summer ahead. But once you've got it down, this is really a special time. When else do you get the excuse to dress up, travel, party with your friends, hang out with the fam, and give presents to people you adore?

Showers are a celebration of love. They are a symbolic demonstration of that love. Shower them with your love (or presents). That's the whole idea, right? Nourish them as a whole, so that they can carry on a wholesome and healthy life on their own, as a couple and as a family.

I had two showers this weekend—one for a bride and one for a baby. I could only make it to one or the other, so I chose the bride-to-be, Colin's sister Jill. It was a lovely luncheon, with lots of ladies!

Afterwards, Jill, Colin's mom and I went to a cake tasting for the wedding cake at Anjou, a sweet little French patisserie in Mount Kisco. The chef, Patrick, brought us about 12 different mousses to try and two different cakes. We mixed and matched flavors and finally decided on two mousses—raspberry and pear—with vanilla sponge cake. Yum!

4 foodie blogs, 1 fabulous dessert

Sometimes it's enough to read what other people have to say about food in order to feel nourished oneself. There are a lot of food blogs out there—they're not just about food either. Here are some that I find nourishing tonight:

Mostly Eating
Lobster Squad
Orangette
Becoming a Foodie

And here's my own contribution—a picture of what I had for dessert tonight: homemade strawberry frozen yogurt, adapted from this recipe (sans chocolate) and a real English shortbread biscuit. Yum!

the english roast

For every wonderful adventure there is a beginning and an end. These are oft the moments we remember most, because it is there we pause and take note. These moments are the bookends to an wonderful story—the first impression and the final moment.

The bookends of our recent trip to Southwest England (and to be honest, every day in between) consisted of—dare I say?—the traditional English roast. I do say this with some hesitation, for, it seems to prove a simplemindedness to be thus impressed. By crunchy crackling rather than architecture. By artful Yorkshire pudding rather than English art. By potatoes browned to perfection. Aromatic bread sauce and gravy. Oh woe is me and my vegetarian heart! The English roast had its way with me last week.

I'm sure there are more wonderful things to remember. Shouldn't I instead be raving of museums and historical sites? Of castle ruins and the Cerne Abbas giants' arrangements?

Doesn't matter what should or shouldn't be. It's not just what the roast entails; it's what the roast implies: good food tenderly prepared, sitting with family around the table, a warmth of spirit, a sip of Scotch whisky, letting the candles burn low, and singing a final goodbye to good 'ol Granny Dot.

how to have breakfast at "hom"

By Hannah Wall


"Hom."

That's the name of the house that Granny and Gaffa used to stay in when they came to visit us in Pawlet, Vermont, the little town we grew up in. The house was shingled with red and green trim, and sat on the curve of a hill with a river running behind it.

This morning I had a breakfast that reminded me of home. First, I woke to the sound of Alexis' voice, which was strange, because I was dreaming about her at that very moment. So her voice pulled me out and away from her voice.

Second, I had an orange to eat from the tree in the back yard, and for me right now, this is the essence of the house I live in, and a big part of what makes it a home. We've had a lot of wind lately and there are oranges all over the back yard. I looked them over, trying to find one that hadn't been damaged by the fall, or succumbed to those weird potato bugs that also love the sweet treat inside. I found one, it was covered it dirt and webs, there are a lot of spiders living in that tree... but once rinsed it looked like a miniature sunshine, and it was warm from sitting in the morning heat. I've learned that the very best oranges are the ones that the tree gives me. Those are the ones that are at their peak of sweetness. The ones that I pick are always good, but they have less sugar.

Third, coffee. Need I say more? Well, I will anyway. I have found the most wonderful coffee shop where they roast their own coffee. I hate to say this, you know that I do, but I think it might be better than speeder's. They roast it in the same style, full city roast, to the point of the best flavor highlights for the bean, but not so dark that the bean is burnt. And, I re-confiscated my little sugar jar from Brian that he'd been using for q-tips. It's one of my favorite pieces I ever made. That and the mug I'm drinking the coffee out of...

Fourth, and the inspiration for this piece, Wasa rye crackers with butter, and honey on one, Marmite on the other. When I was staying with Granny in the summer after 7th grade, every morning consisted of this combination for us. She would make toast and place the pieces neatly in the little toast rack on the table. The we would butter each one and choose between all of these wonderful options: Marmalade, thick cut in the white jar and appointed by Her Majesty the Queen. Marmite: one of my favorite things in the entire world. So wonderful to have a cucumber and tomato sandwich with Marmite, veggies fresh picked from the garden, still warm from the sun, in the afternoon. So comforting to know that even when the bank was empty, the garden was always full of the very best of the best.

And honey: all of my life I've had a love affair with honey. We had friends up on the hill in Pawlet, the Winpennys, they kept bees and had the BEST honey! Their bees were happy bees, and the honey was raw and unfiltered, like cream. (pause for coffee refill) There is a wonderful apiary in Ferrisburg, Vermont—Honey Gardens—that makes all kinds of honey products. I fell in love with their cough syrup one year when I was very sick for a long time. I don't know how effective it was medicinally, but it was soothing and tasted like heaven. Good thing you can't really o.d. on that stuff! Guess what? I found a jar of raw honey from Honey Gardens apiary at the local market! And I am savoring it like the rarest jewel, like golden flowers from that tree that grew underground where the Twelve Dancing Princesses would go every night.

Fifth, I have my Meow, Mister the Terrible, nesting at my feet in a pile of freshly hand-washed sweaters. His ear is FINALLY healing. And we are happy and content this morning.



This post was originally published on Hanushka's blog.

extreme pleasures

By Emma H. W. Kouri


I’ve never liked the idea of extremism. Actually, people with extreme views really turn me off. Extreme religion, extreme lifestyle, extreme political views… it’s all so extreme!

Because I live in America, I am constantly exposed to extremism. In America, extreme is the way to go. And as an American, you must try to reach your goals via the most extremely efficient route possible.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not perfect. I am the first to admit that I get sucked in. I love being efficient, and my husband loves it too. I’m always on the search for the latest extremely cool thing, especially when it comes to luxury bath products, and make-up. I’ll call my sisters and tell them they have to try this or that, that it has really changed my life. Then 2 weeks later, I’ve forgotten about it.

Here’s another thing that I don’t like: obsessing about my weight and my body. We all do it, especially in America. Just to let you know, I am 5 foot 10 1/2 inches. I weigh between 140-145 pounds, and my size is a tall 4 or 6, depending on the brand. I’m in excellent shape, walk and run daily, and eat healthful food (I am an extremely loyal EatingWell fan). Why does someone like me obsess about my weight? Maybe it’s because I was chubby as a child and ridiculed for it. Maybe it’s because I’m addicted to People magazine so I constantly have an unattainable image in my head. I really don’t know what the reason is, but I am sick of it.

The two topics mentioned above can be combined together to form one of the other things I can’t stand: extreme dieting. Or extreme diet choices. What is this all about? Why does America love it so much? The Atkins diet, the liquid diets, the milkshake diet… I could go on forever. My girlfriend told me she is reading this new book, called Skinny Bitch, which informs the reader that they are not taking care of themselves if they are eating meat or drinking milk. So now my friend's eating lots of fish. Guess what would happen if we all did that? That’s right, there would be no fish left to eat.

This feeling of frustration with my own obsession and America’s obsession with dieting really came to a head this weekend. I was walking on Church Street with my husband, and we walked into Borders. I was browsing, and caught sight of a book: French Women Don’t Get Fat. For some reason, I picked it up and bought it. Kevin got a book too, and we went home and read together.

Only 70 pages in, and I’m hooked. Seriously, in 2 days, I have felt a total revolution and a huge weight lifted off my shoulders! Based on the philosophy of a French woman, I have come to realize that I need to love food (and I really do love food, especially good cheese and chocolate) and not hate it! What good food (not low-fat high-sugar loser foods, but the real foods) needs is to be respected—and relished. Embrace it, and embrace yourself. Take each bite slowly and seriously, and consider all the different textures that you feel and the flavors that you taste.

I immediately poured a glass of Le Freak, and made a cheese plate for my husband and me. I carefully took 1 Carr’s whole wheat cracker, and placed a slice of Cabot Private Stock Cheddar on top. Then, I placed on top of the cheese a small dollop of homemade hot pepper jelly (from Liz’s friend).

I sat down, and took a small bite. Closed my eyes, and chewed. It was orgasmic! Amazing! I’ve never tasted anything so outrageous. It took 4 bites to eat this cracker, and guess what? I didn’t want a second. Anyone who knows me will find this hard to believe. But it’s true, and I was more satisfied than I’ve ever been even after scarfing down 5 crackers with cheese.

My new-found approach can be illustrated with this: imagine that you have to drive somewhere, and you have a choice: interstate or back roads. The interstate will no doubt get you there faster, but the back roads will be filled with character, scenery, picturesque moments and maybe even a little meditation! This is what the French do when they eat. It is an experience, not a chore. It is a friend (or lover), not an enemy. Savor every moment, and you’ll find yourself only needing one bite of that cake, because one bite was enough to send you reeling into ecstasy. After a while, you’ll find yourself being more thoughtful while you eat, and automatically eating less. Then you won’t feel guilty afterwards. If you’re lucky, you’ll find yourself indulging in extreme pleasure every time you sit down for a meal.




Delectable fruit and cheese plate from Leunig's Bistro in Burlington, Vermont.

frozen peas & cozy kitties

Frozen peas. That's what Mummy said to me when there was no Eat Peas entry yesterday. I'm sorry to you all. A sickness kept me feverish and bed-ridden throughout the night and I just couldn't make it to my blog. Nourishing, the experience was not. But if I had made it to the computer in time, I probably would've written something like this:



6 Things That Nourish When You're Sick
(when you're all alone and there's no one to take care of you)

When you're sick and icy-hot, achy and coughy, cough, cough, cough, it can be difficult to pinpoint what will make you feel better. Especially if you're all alone and have to take care of yourself. Last night I was alone and sick (Colin is away for work) and managed to find some nourishing options without too much exertion. Whether they're truly healthful is another story altogether, but they got me through the night and that's really what matters.

• Cheesey Toasts: Toast a piece of bread. When it's nice and crispy, take it out and layer some nice, yummy cheese on top. (Gruyere and Cheddar are my favorites). Put it back in the toaster until nice and melty. Voila! Hot cheesey toasts are the best comfort food when you're sick. Or any time really. Frank's Red Hot goes nicely with this combo.
  
• Homemade Peach Ice Cream: I made this last week using frozen peaches, lemon and a touch of Grand Marnier. So good and soothing on the throat and to calm a raging fever. I was lucky I had some ready to eat in my freezer. In my mind, everyone should always have homemade ice cream or sorbet on hand in their freezer. But I realize that's not very realistic. You could just chew on an ice cube. Or make a quick smoothie in the blender with ice, fruit, honey, and yogurt or milk.
  
• Hot Garlicky Chard: After all that creamy, cheesey goodness, you'll probably be craving some vitamins to fight the bug. Last night, I had a bunch of gorgeous yellow chard in my fridge and wanted to make something really quick and easy that required little time on my feet. Here's the trick: slice up the chard and put it in a hot skillet with a little olive oil. Cook it down a bit on high heat for a couple of minutes. Then add a clove of minced garlic and cook for another couple of minutes. Take off the heat and stir in 2 teaspoons of balsamic vinegar. Serve with Frank's Red Hot (I was all about the Frank's last night). This was so delicious, I ate the entire batch and am convinced it's the thing that drove my sickness away.
• Hone-gar (honey + vinegar): This one I learned from my mother. Combine equal parts honey, apple cider vinegar or lemon juice, and boiling water (a couple tablespoons of each; maybe a little more of the water). Stir till dissolved. Sip slowly. This is a perfect concoction for chest congestion or sore throat.
  
• Warm Kitties on My Belly: Enough said. When you're feeling crummy, there's nothing better than two little friends to warm you all over. It's better than hot water bottles!
  
• Cadbury Mini Eggs: I just had to throw this one in there, because if you know me at all you know I'm obsessed with them. And you may even have read my Penelope Post last year about the scarcity of my favorite Easter candy. Last night, since I was alone, I had to go to the drugstore myself to stock up on flu medicine, cough drops and what-not. Well, wouldn't you know it, there were shelves and shelves of mini-eggs (right next to the Valentine's hearts) and in my feverish delirium, I bought 3 lbs ($15 worth). Still, today and feeling better, I don't regret the purchase at all.

There, I hope these tips help all of you in your time of sickness. They certainly helped me.

functional foodz

Nourishment also has very much to do with nutrition and eating to promote good health. Your body is your temple, right? Here's what my friend Jess has to say about that—plus 11 foods she thinks we all should eat every week.


I took a class last semester called “Functional Foods” and it has really influenced me. Just yesterday I spent a fortune on blueberries and amazing green tea without a trace of guilt. Anyway, I am just going to quote from my teacher Dr. Mingruo Guo’s book, “Functional Foods: Principles and Technology” for a little clarity on functional foods.

“A food may have three functions: (1) providing energy in the form of carbohydrates, proteins and/or lipids, and basic nutrition; (2) giving us pleasure, i.e. aroma, color and taste and (3) having health benefits. A functional food may be similar in appearance to, or is a conventional food, is consumed as a part of normal diet and has physiological benefits and/or reduces the risk of chronic disease beyond basic nutrition.”

Here are the selected foods that my functional foods teacher, Dr. Mingruo Guo, recommends consuming weekly.

• Tomatoes (lycopene)
• Spinach (folic acid)
• Broccoli (fiber, antioxidants, vitamins, sulfur compounds)
• Nuts (vitamin E)
• Oats (soluble fiber/prebiotics)
• Yogurt (probiotics)
• Pink color fish like salmon (omega-3 fatty acids)
• Berries such as blueberries (antioxidants)
• Garlic (antioxidants)
• Green Tea (antioxidants)
• Soy Foods (isoflavones)

Dr. Guo is also a huge fan of cranberries and pomegranates because of their high antioxidant content, as well as cold-pressed olive oil for its oleic acid and antioxidants.

Hope to see ya soon and remember…we are what we eat.

—By Jessica Lynn Mateik

a cool and wet winter

Every month, I receive a welcome missive from my good friend Madeleine Vedel. Together she and her husband Erick run a cooking school in Provence, France. It is there I stayed for several months after college, and the memories from that time run deep and vivid in my mind.

The most recent missive in my mailbox talked about mushrooms and reminded me of when we went mushroom hunting during a stay in the gorgeous lush hills of the Cévennes mountains in Southern France. I was very homesick at the time, and the green, rolling forests reminded me very much of my home in Vermont.

At the end of an adventurous treasure hunt, I had found a total of 3 large cèpes (also known as porcinis). A proud moment! We brought them by the local pharmacy (to check for poisonous varieties) and then whisked them home to cook up a fabulous supper.

And here is Madeleine's letter...



When it rains... mushrooms come popping up! And Provence, a land of agriculture and outdoor beauty, soaks up the gentle bounty of the skies. The beekeeper is pleased for her bees, and the future rosemary honey; the farm next door is pleased as he'll not need to irrigate this winter (and nor should he! this is "normal" winter weather for us... but the past few years weren't too normal). Already the dark fields are sprouting tender green shoots of winter wheat.

Next week brings us our special week of winter decadence: truffles, foie gras, duck confit, chocolates, Chateauneuf-du-Pape wines... mmm I can't wait! We get our barbary ducks, well fattened from a farmer in the Southwest who raises them in a small, hands-on operation. Though for many, foie gras is not "politically-correct" I must admit to truly loving it -- in moderation. In my defense, I could mention that the Egyptians already enjoyed it thousands of years' ago, after noticing that both geese and ducks store extra energy in their livers in preparation for the long flight over the Mediterranean to their nesting grounds in France...

Of course, we'll also be liberally sprinkling our food with truffles -- those rough and funky lumps that our friend Rene's dog will find for us. We'll imbibe the potent aromas of this rare species in the cafe beside the market -- now smoke free!!! Yes, France has turned smoke-free in public spaces. Amazing, hm? T'will be interesting to see to what degree they abide by the new laws.

As we begin the year 2008, I treasure the memories of 2007, and all the wonderful visits of friends of friends, past clients and so many more. We were the happy beneficiaries of oodles of word of mouth contacts. Thank you! and please, feel free to share this email missive and your stories of your time with us with any and all. Provence is our home, and we love sharing it with you.

—Madeleine Vedel, Association Cuisine et Tradition, www.cuisineprovencale.com








Photos: Penelope, Madeleine and friends mushroom hunting in the Cévennes in Southern France, 2002.

lucky girl

By Emma H. W. Kouri


I am a lucky girl. Really. Not a day goes by that I am not grateful for my life and my family. Each day is filled with joy; I love my house and my dog, and of course my parents and my sisters. I also love my boss and I love school. But today, I am especially grateful for my husband.

Kevin has several unique characteristics that make him a desirable mate. First, he has a great appreciation for expensive and well-made women’s lingerie. If that isn’t enough to convince you, he also loves expensive and well-made women’s shoes. These two things together make my life much easier than most of the women I know, because I never have to think up an excuse of why I need this bra or those fabulous shoes. To the contrary, I sometimes have to convince him that I don’t need them!

Despite these amazing attributes, the best thing about Kevin is his ability and desire to provide constant emotional nourishment. Today, I am particularly grateful that he is so supportive and loving. During this busy week, he decided to do all the cooking. Right now, he is making us breaded pork chops. He is taking the task very seriously and is following the recipe to a T. A little bit of Mama Sonia came out in me tonight, as I lingered in the kitchen…

“Are you going to pre-heat the oven?”
“What are you doing with that milk?”
“Why did you cook the garlic and then throw it in the sink?! The recipe says to set it aside!”

It turns out the garlic was just to flavor the pan, and the recipe said to set it aside if you want to use it for something else. So I poured myself a glass of wine and banished myself to the office, where I should be working on my grant.

I can hear pots clanking, and I know Kevin is now working on his homemade pasta sauce for dinner tomorrow night. He is a very good boy and I am a very, very lucky girl.

figgy pudding

Sometimes things that are nourishing don't necessarily taste good—like cod liver oil or lima beans. I don't think I'll ever love those little buggers, and I don't care. But sometimes there are things that you don't like, but that you really want to like—because they're so cool—that you end up liking them eventually. Even if they still taste kind of yucky. You just crave them. Such is the case with me and Marmite. And figgy pudding.

Both foods have been passed down from my English roots. Our mummy has been making traditional figgy pudding every Christmas since we were kids. Made from lots of dried fruit and a little flour and Guinness to bind it, figgy pudding is really nothing more than a glorified fruit cake. And how many kids like fruit cake?

But then mold it in a mound, add a sprig of holly on top, a splash of Grand Marnier, light the whole thing on fire and you've got another thing altogether. A pyrotechnic site for sore eyes.

Since childhood, I've tried very hard to love it. I really, really wanted to crave the dark, rich dessert. But it was so bitter, the only way I could get it down was by drowning it in a sea of melty brandy butter. In fact, to this day, that's really only the way I can eat it. But I still really, really, really want to like it. To crave it like my parents do.

For now, at least I can still love the experience. This year, the lighting of the figgy pudding was so exciting. It was Colin's first time. We banged our forks on the table and sang, "Oh we want some figgy pudding, oh we want some figgy pudding, so bring it right now!" Papa poured some brandy on the pudd while Mummy stood by with the match. He was a little overzealous and spilled a heap of the precious Grand Marnier over the side of the dish and the tablecloth caught on fire! Then some of us screamed. And then we started laughing. And then it took forever for all of the alcohol to burn off. What a commotion. I think Kevin got it all on video—I'd really love to get my hands on that and post it here. But for now, here are a couple of photos (the second one was taken about 5 minutes later—usually the brandy burns off in 5 seconds):

oranges

This time of year, we bring oranges to the table and the smell alone is enough to evoke Christmas memories and remind us of the traditions we once loved dear.

In our house growing up, oranges were a holiday treat. We'd shave the zest into Mummy's English shortbread. We'd flavor the brandy butter for the figgy pudding with orange liquor. Every year we'd receive a large box of fresh Florida oranges from Mama Sonia and Papa Roger—each fruit individually wrapped. When Santa came he'd always leave an orange in the toe of our stocking. (That's how we knew we were at the bottom!)

We'd make pomander balls by poking a plump orange with fragrant whole cloves and hanging it to dry. As a child this was one of my favorite Christmas activities—and it still is! Moreso than gift-giving, carol-singing, Christmas-shopping and cookie baking. Now, whenever I smell orange and clove, I think, "Christmas, special, family, shortbread, happy, cozy, pomander ball!"

I love the idea of relegating the orange—such a special fruit—to holiday enjoyment. These days, when we're able to get any kind of food or fruit any time of the year, I yearn for the simplicity of yesteryears' traditions. When having certain things at certain times made those things special (oranges in December, strawberries in June). We find nourishment in that simplicity and we pass it on so that others may also know that feeling and grow from it. So here, I pass on our beloved pomander balls to be enjoyed during the holidays:

How to Make Pomander Balls

You'll need: 1 orange, ribbon and whole cloves.

Wrap the ribbon around the orange once, then twist and wrap the other way like a present. Tie the ends into a bow. Insert the cloves into the skin of the orange until the surface is evenly covered. If the fruit is juicy, you can roll the pomander ball in ground cinnamon to absorb the liquid. Then hang the fruit to dry in an airy place. Retie the ribbon every couple of days as the fruit dries and shrinks. Eventually, after a few weeks the fruit will harden and become completely dry. At that point, you can tie off the ends of the ribbon into a knot and hang as an ornament on the tree!

hugs & love

By Emma H. W. Kouri


My sister Penelope and I have spent 4 days with our grandmother in Winter Park, Florida. This is the first time we've been to visit (together) since Papa Roger died last February. Everything is different now.

Mama Sonia is not the peppy, let's-go-shopping-and-out-to-lunch grandmother anymore. She doesn't want to go out, or even leave her apartment. She doesn't want to get dressed, and just wants to sit in her chair and think (and read, and watch T.V.).

When we were growing up, Mama Sonia was our sassy Puerto Rican grandmother who always spoiled us. She never forgot a birthday, she always took us to the latest Disney theme park, and she loved to go shopping. She was an amazing cook and loved to entertain. She has spent much of her life entertaining and socializing; nurturing others with her culinary skills and her knack for conversation.

Papa Roger always chose the route out of the building where he would run into the least amount of people. However, if he was with Mama Sonia, they had to go out the front so she could see/greet everybody who was out and about. Wish them happy birthday, tell them she is so sorry for their loss. Whatever people were experiencing, she knew it and she even knew the names of their loved ones. That Mama Sonia is not here now.

Mama Sonia does not remember birthdays or anniversaries, and most of the time she forgets what day it is. She has a new routine now, and it is one of solitude and peace. I have to say that I was extremely worried about her—she hasn't walked out of the door since we've been here! But, when I was having a glass (or two) of wine at Park Plaza Gardens today with Penelope, we talked and tried to understand. Here are some points that we came up with:

1. We could never, ever, understand the pain and loss that Mama Sonia is experiencing right now, since Papa Roger died
2. We cannot imagine what it's like to be (almost) 84
3. Mama Sonia's needs NEED to come first.

So, we came home today with a new attitude. Mama Sonia needs to be showered with love, and not judged for her actions. We bought her roses and the chocolate-covered popcorn that she loves. We made her (well, she asked actually) drink 2 glasses of wine with us. We made her laugh.

We had a talk with her and discovered her own take on things. First, she says, everybody is different in how they deal with things. She really doesn't want to go out and really doesn't feel sad when she's alone. She feels badly that people are worried about her. We told her that she needs to follow her heart; that she should not go out for anybody but herself. Only she knows what is best for her, after all she is 84 and full of wisdom. She still looks amazing, has great skin, and even smells wonderful! The old Mama Sonia may never come back to us. But the new one is real, honest, and just as nurturing as the old one. But she needs to be nurtured and accepted now. She needs to be nourished. By nourished, I mean (using her own words, after 2 glasses of wine):

To be hugged
To love others
To love yourself.

We love our grandmother and hope we have many more special times with her in the future.

hungry creatures

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.

The purple headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;−

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,−
He made them every one:

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;−

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.

(Amen)

—All Things Bright and Beautiful, hymn by Ce­cil F. Al­ex­an­der

gratitude

By Penelope Wall


For Americans especially, this particular week leading up to Thanksgiving is one in which nourishment is inextricably linked to the idea of gratitude. We give thanks for our bountiful feast and the bounty in our lives.

We should always be grateful, not just on Thanksgiving. But it's human nature, I think, to want to compartmentalize our rituals--and to say, for example, "On this day I'm going to be especially grateful," and "on that day I'm going to be especially loving." And to put marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes for just that one meal during the year.

What if we had marshmallows on top of our sweet potatoes all the time? For one, the dish wouldn't be special anymore. We might lose sight of its importance (do we know what the importance of marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes is?). And, we might all become overweight, because marshmallows on top of sweet potatoes is certainly indulgent.

We reserve that wonderful treat for special occasions so that all of the other days may build up in anticipation. In other words, we give our symbolic moments strength by letting them shine just one day of the year.

And we like traditions to dictate how we spend our days and how we celebrate--with roast turkey, of course.

But in our family at Thanksgiving, turkey never really took center stage (my mother's English after all). Some years, we just couldn't afford it. Other years, one of us was vegetarian and it was tofurky or bust. Other years, we'd say, "let's just have fish!" And so, when I look back and take note of the common thread throughout the years, it wouldn't be the roast turkey or the marshmallows; it would have to be, well, the gratitude--ritualized by going around in a circle and saying out loud something we're thankful for.

If you really think about it though, what you're thankful for changes every day, every hour. What you're thankful for on Thanksgiving is really just a snap-shot in time. You might wake up thinking, "I'm grateful for the sunshine on my face." And you might go to bed that night thankful for the dark to woo you into slumber. Such is the fleeting nature of human emotion. Which is why, Thanksgiving is one holiday that doesn't really benefit from the build-up of anticipation. Rather, it should glow beneath the surface throughout our days.

And so in the spirit of gratitude every day, I want to say:

Right now, I'm thankful that I didn't hit the two deer that leaped right in front of my car on the drive home from work tonight. I'm thankful for the wild (alive) turkeys in my parents' yard (and they're thankful, I'm sure, for the tofurky). I'm thankful for Suki kneading my belly and Au Lait warming my feet. For the birds on the feeder and the entertaining squirrels. I'm thankful for all the creatures in this world that live beside us nourishing us quietly and perfectly in their own way.

unexpected pleasures

From my sister...

My husband and I have re-discovered China Express on Shelburne road.
Anybody who knows us will be surprised to know that we eat there (since
we are such food snobs). Actually, we really like the food, and have
been ordering take-out from there once a week for the last month. The
same guy answers the phone every time, and is always a pleasure. Once,
he convinced me to have my shrimp breaded and fried (he said it tastes
better, which it does, but I didn't feel very good eating it). In fact,
we're eating it right now and we're both in ecstasy. Here is our
regular order:
Steamed veggie dumplings
Steamed shrimp shumai
Beef with garlic (extra spicy for Kevin)
Shrimp with garlic (for me)
Brown rice.

We share the appetizers, and always have a ton of food left for lunch
the next day. The main dishes are sauteed with lots of veggies, like
carrots, snow peas, broccoli, water chestnuts, and onions. Kevin likes
to eat his dinner with a beer, and I like seltzer.

Yummy!

—Emma H.W. Kouri, M.S., Graduate Teaching Assistant, Animal Science Department, University of Vermont