Enthusiastic Eaters and an Artichoke Frittata

Cooking can be as simple or as complex as you make it. A long rambling recipe can be such a joy to read and an inspiration with scrumptious results. A quick post-market lunch of hand-made tortellini and mushrooms picked lovingly by the same elderly man who sold them to you can be so ultimately satisfying in such a different way.

What we sometimes forget, however, is the tremendous impact of the people whom we are cooking for. It's almost like dating. First, you have the compatibility factors. How much salt, any dietary restrictions, and other personal preferences. But then comes something less tangible. Chemistry, I believe it is often called. It transcends the actual contents of the meal and touches a much more personal level. You can cook and eat with someone who likes the exact same things as you, but something just doesn't click. Maybe they are too critical, or not critical enough. Maybe they desire a formal presentation and you are more of a pan-to-plate kind of a cook. Whatever the case, finding good eating companions can sometimes be more of an accomplishment than tracking down an authentic truffle oil. 

 It's true I've not posted a recipe in quite some time. Maybe I was lacking the company of enthusiastic eaters. Or maybe I just got buried under life like so many of us tend to get.

Today I had a moment, an artichoke frittata brunch moment to be precise, in which to pause and be grateful for new friends who are very enthusiastic eaters. And this is something to appreciate.  

(Although, seeing as it is mother's day, I wish I lived close enough to share brunch with you, mum!)

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Poaching - Round 2 {Eggs Florantine}

Sauces can be daunting. Lately, Hollandaise has been taunting. Every so often, when eating my eggs, I can hear the soft and silky voice of Hollandaise, "C'mon, why didn't you make me? You know you wanted to. Oh, that's right. You can't." And there it is. Being taunted by a sauce that doesn't exist on my breakfast plate while nibbling a dry corner of toast is not the best start to a morning.

Making a bad sauce is worse than no sauce at all. In my book, anyways. Sure, it's a bit strict, but just having moved from the Czech Republic where over half the national dishes were covered in a sauce, I've learned that a bad one, once used, makes for a hungry diner. 

Hollandaise is one of the classic sauces I've been warned about. The hot butter can do a number on the egg yolk if not added slowly enough. But as vinegar pulled me out of my poaching paralysis, it came to the rescue here as well. Vinegar stabilizes eggs. I'd learned to add some to the egg-poaching water, and saw great success (past poaching post here, video tutorial here). So when I read something about a vinegar reduction sauce being used in Hollandaise, well, the light went on. 

I've kept my version light and simple, to make it as DIY-at-home as possible. Sure, there are more refined Hollandaise sauces out there, but this one (with a smidge of nutmeg added in) easily did the trick and allowed me to transform my usual egg and spinach frittata into a beautiful Eggs Florantine. A twist on the old Eggs Benedict, a good dose of bone-strengthening vitamin K found in spinach replaces the traditional fatty ham slice. 

The relative healthiness of this egg dish does not make it any less than it's Benedict original. In fact, I prefer this one, not only because of that smug feeling one gets after eating heaps of spinach before even cracking open a newspaper (or firing up the computer), but because it just tastes that good. The Parmesan, or sometimes a firm Pecorino, resounds perfectly with the sauteed spinach. And the hint of lemon in the hollandaise makes it bright enough to be the perfect breakfast accomplice. 

More eggs for brekkie: 

Poaching - Round 1 {Poached Eggs with Gouda and Tarragon}

Chicken & Quail Eggs over Asparagus

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Merry Christmas! {with Eggnog Recipe}

Merry Christmas from the Czech Republic! Or rather, Veselé Vánoce! 

 

We celebrate it all on the 24th over here, so my 25th is reserved for my 'American' Christmas...mainly a skype date with my family in Wisconsin for their Christmas morning, and then an evening spent with another expat. 

 

Yesterday, however, I witnessed one of my finest Czech Christmas days yet with a Canadian-Czech couple and their family. Of course, my friend and I had to toss in our heritage a bit. For this spirited Canadian, that means eggnog. I remember her 'nog well from years ago, my first holiday season in Brno. This year, I finally got to catch some of the action (and the recipe!)

 

Fresh eggs are a must. As is the cream. The booze gets a bit of wiggle room. Rum, whisky, or a bit of both. And freshly grated nutmeg on top..mmmm...

Careful on the mixing. It is a drink, i.e. liquid. And it can, and will, fly everywhere if not careful! Use a combination of electric mixer for the eggs, and hand whisk for the rest.

Czech Christmas usually starts with decorating the tree in the morning, and preparing the food for later. A light meat-free soup (often lentils for luck and prosperity) can be had for lunch, that is, IF you don't want to see the golden pig. There are many, many Czech Christmas traditions associated with one's future. A widespread one is to fast all Christmas day until dinner so that one sees a golden pig. I think this hallucination should bring money next year.

After the soup, we warmed up with the eggnog before heading out for an afternoon walk through a gorgeous woods that had the exact amount of snow sprinkled about to make it wet enough for the dogs to get good and muddy.

Permission to roll in the mud turns out to be exactly what my Saffi wanted for Christmas!

After the walk, we arrived back home for some mulled wine and Christmas dinner of salmon and potato salad. It did take me awhile to get used to the Czech holiday dish of fish (traditional is fried carp, but most families seem to be substituting salmon these days), but I now find myself looking forward to it.

The potato salad is one which I adore. Not at all cloying and sweet like some American ones I've had, but light and tangy with the addition of pickles. With the fish, sensational!

As soon as everyone had savoured the last bite, a bell is rung to signify the arrival of Ježíšek (baby Jesus) who has just brought the presents under the tree. Gift opening, laughing, and more eating closes out the rest of a very special evening. 

More holiday libations:

Mulled Wine

Chocolate Cinnamon Cream Liquor

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Chocolate Pavlova with Caramely Bananas & Mascarpone Cream

Christmas morning is the perfect time to justify a leisurely dessert-like brekkie. And it seems to me that the messiness of pavlova certainly mirrors the disarray of little ones rushing down the stairs Christmas morning. I don't know about you, but for me, Christmas mornings are as relaxed and comfortable as a holiday gets. No one minds if they don't look their best in front of mom's camera when there are gifts to unwrap and gasps of surprise to be heard.

While Pavlova is usually thrown together with summer berries (as in last summer's strawberry-basil pavlova) it can take a winter turn as well with the addition of chocolate in the meringue base. Sauteed bananas are coated in caramel and a sprinkling of nutmeg, and a mascarpone cream sweetened with maple syrup simply resounds of breakfast.

And did I mention it's all spiked with a wee bit of Baileys Irish Cream? Good Christmas morning!

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How to Poach an Egg {and Eat it with Gouda and Tarragon}

So I've been poaching lately. Eggs, that is. And if anyone has not yet delved into this kitchen territory, let me beseech you to do so. When you've got the time in your morning to start a pot of water boiling (it's the first thing I do, before starting my coffee), you've got the means to make the softest, most beautiful and flavourful egg breakfast ever.

Now, I wasn't intending to blog about this, as I had changed my mind on my earlier consideration of making a hollandaise for it. I figured, no hollandaise, no blog post (which means no photos of the process, which, anyways, is actually so easy it doesn't even require any. Really, I promise.)

No sauce required a little improv on dressing up the eggs - topped on rye toast with gouda and a scattering of tarragon over top. And this, if I do say myself, was genius. Simple, easy, cheap...and sensational. My stomach was doing a happy dance while I ate the first one. I paused for a moment to snap a photo of the second before he was gobbled up in turn.

Eggs. Incredible, and oh so very edible.

More egg recipes:
Asparagus and Eggs with Parmesan
Classic Egg Salad Sandwich

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I Met Him in a Cherry Tree...Part 2 (& Strawberry Pavlova Recipe)

Continued from Part I

...I gasped. He was cuuuute!  

 I wanted nothing more than to fold him up and stick him in my pocket. Unfortunately, some fruit needed picking, so it was back to work for the moment. 

Ensuing days found me constantly in his path - quite literally. I did everything in my power to end up picking cherries in the same row, so that one day I could 'casually' wander over (carrying my 6-plus-foot ladder under my arm, mind you) and holler up to him - 

'So do you want to hang out some time?' 

(Embarrassingly unclever, I do realize, but in my silly-girl-nervousness state, that's all I could muster up, despite days of planning this very moment.)

He says: Uhhh, what does it mean, 'hang out?' 


Fuck. Phrasal verbs. Really? He doesn't know 'hang out'? What did they teach in English class in the Czech Republic? Well, certainly not phrasal verbs, I thought.

Once we got that all sorted out, and he vigorously agreed to 'hang out' with me that evening (his head-bobbing nearly threw him off his ladder), I 'casually' walked away. After a few steps: 'Josie!'

My heart briefly considered skipping a beat, but no use, as it was not my beloved - rather the voice of the orchard boss. 'Josie - this way!' he yelled.

I had 'casually' walked the wrong way down the cherry row. This did not exactly go unnoticed by the above-mentioned beloved, especially while turning around, what with that six-plus-foot ladder pinched under my arm.

Returning to my camp site, I furiously prepped for that 'nonchalant american cool' I so eagerly wanted to convey. He still jokes about the orange clown shoes (his words),which were actually authentic Berber loafers picked up in Morocco (my words), in which I arrived.

The impromptu date involved a dictionary, pen and paper, and wildly gregarious hand-gestures. We were in a small town with little else to do but to draw maps of our hometowns and teach one another the dearest and the nastiest of all phrases in our language. 

Within the year, we left New Zealand, and I moved to his county ('My Republic' he called it), and I have been teaching boat-loads of phrasal verbs ever since.




New Zealand = Aotearoa = land of the long white cloud = pavlova = damn fine dessert.

Pavlova.

What a funny name for a dessert. My Czech friends were a bit suspicious...hmmm, sounds Russian, they said. Well, I had to dig into the lore a bit, since when I was in New Zealand it was drummed into my head that the Pavlova is as New Zealand as can be. Then I start seeing it pop up on all sorts of Australian blogs as a -what?- classic Aussie invented dessert?! The internet tells me that it was named after a Russian ballerina, but by a Aussie or a Kiwi chef in the early 1900s is the big debate. 

I really didn't want this dessert to be too sweet, so my recipe here uses limited sugar for the strawberries and cream. Basically, it's just enough to do the job extracting the strawberry juice and flavouring the whipping  cream. But the sweetness should really be understated to let those fluffy meringue layers shine. 

The meringue itself has the added kick of a bit of allspice. It really marries well with the basil syrup. For a more traditional pairing, the basil could easily be replaced with mint, and the allspice with a some lemon zest. But I like the offbeat allspice/basil zing. It provides a little earthiness to an otherwise sugar-spun and  fairy-light mouthfeel.

It was my first meringue attempt, and I spent the morning pouring over two of my fave cookbooks (in terms of explanations and techniques) - Cook with Jamie and French Lessons. 

Both these books are excellent sources on dessert techniques, among other things. I'm not sure the confidence would have been flowing as much as it was without them. I must say, making meringues was really fun in a science-experimenty kind of way! 

Note that this cake does not keep well for the next day. Share generously and that won't be a problem anyways! It's great made the morning of some get together, keep the meringues on the counter and the berries, syrup, and cream in the fridge. Assemble just before people arrive.

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Asparagus & Eggs

Local asparagus has finally arrived in Czech Republic. After eyeing up so many lovely blog posts featuring the brilliant green vegetable all crispy and tangy, I needn't lust any longer.

Later this week today we will have a taste test of green and white asparagus varieties. (You can check that out here.) But for now, let me tempt any of those still patiently waiting for their local season to arrive with my breakfast - asparagus and eggs with parmesan. The classic. I can't resist this flavour punch - nor the cute as all heck little quail eggs that I picked up recently.

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Lavender Custard Tart

It all started during the Easter market a few weeks past. A stand with lavender-based products was also selling bunches of dried lavender.

I was feeling the spring in the air and had a strange desire to buy a bunch of flowers. Now, some may question why this desire is strange, so I must reveal that I consider myself to be an anti-cut-flower kind of girl. They die. They belong outside anyways, what are they doing in a vase on the table with a greatly reduced life-span than they would outside? I don't know, it's a practical thing I suppose.


On the other hand, flowering plants and herbs offer one's dwelling both a bit of living greenery AND their more practical nature. Most herbs surprisingly do just fine tended by my thumb, which, sadly, only has a hint of a green hue to it. More like a green desire really than any deeply saturated green-coloured knack.



Lavender is the one plant for which I deeply yearn for a garden. Fresh veg I can get a good variety of at the market, herbs are on the windowsill. Lavender I hear, however, has a deep-root growing requirement that would make me have to convert a big barrel of a garbage pail to grow one plant. And who wants lavender growing from a garbage pail?

A dried cluster of fragile lavender buds peeking over their brown paper wrapping, however, offers me both the fulfilled feeling of being a girl strolling around the central market holding a bunch of flowers AND that practical value. You see, I've been yearning to cook with lavender. I had a nice little chat in Czech with the man tending the stall who (I think) assured me that it was food safe, without nasty sprays and so on.



I thought a lot about what the first lavender infused dish will be and decided on following a recipe I found for a Lavender-Scented Custard Tart.

It was created by Marcus Wareing, the British chef who made this for the Queen's 80th Birthday. Yep, the Queen. He made dessert for the the Queen's birthday. One doesn't mess around with a recipe like that. I kept it exactly as is. And you know what? I can see it being absolutely adored by anyone, royalty or non-royalty.

The lavender steeps in the cream overnight (or in my case, two nights.) His recipe calls for fresh lavender, but I just doubled up on the dried lavender and it imparted a subtle but noticeable flavour. The custard was sooo smooth and the pastry crust was crispy, crumbly, and lemony. It's only a pity that I made this with significant doubt of my custard tart abilities and thus didn't plan on sharing with anyone. Or maybe that wasn't such a pity after all. Yum!

For the recipe, please see the write-up in The Times

(Edited Note: I tried to make it again, and to my dismay, one now needs to be a subscriber of the The Times to access the recipe. A little googling resulted in a repost of it on Nigella's site)

Dobrou Chut'/ Enjoy.
-- Jo

Best Ever Egg Salad {with Tarragon!}

The morning after (Easter, that is.) Ahhh, egg salad. Here we come. 

I felt just compelled to share my classic egg salad recipe. I stumbled upon it a few years ago and it still pops up in my repertoire at least every other month.

Before discovering this recipe, tarragon was only known to me by name. What was it for? Did people still use it? Was it a British thing? I even romanticized it a bit. I must confess that one line from a homework assignment during my high school poetry class sticks in my memory. Something to the embarrassing effect of tarragon-haired starling on roller skates... Please don't tell anybody this.

Around the same time I found this recipe, my little sister had started her very first garden outside her very first house. I went to visit. She had assorted lettuces, tomatoes, and, yep, tarragon. Tarragon? Really? Isn't that a British thing?

So this is for my sister, who lives seven time zones away from me and I rarely get to see. I haven't asked what's going in her garden this year.

And by the way, I've since learned that tarragon is not so much a British thing as it is a French thing. I envy my sister's access to the fresh stuff, as the dried proves to be little in comparison. I've found that Marks and Spencer does have a fairly good quality dried one though.


If you've got the day off, enjoy your Easter Monday. The hubs and I will be running around with Saffi this afternoon. Just a quick puppy update - she's grown an incredible amount in the last month. She is just over 3 months and is already looking like a full-on dog!

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