Clearing out the kitchen this week, before I put everything back in the new cupboards, I found some antique yeast, a vintage packet of baking powder and many other long expired historic foodstuffs.There were baking trays which had developed their own culture and civilisations and substances that NASA may well be interested in. I'm sure the black treacle stuck to the top of the shelf is really from a Tudor roof and certainly would have been something the children could have used in a science experiment.Now we are approaching the end of the year and December has its icy tentacles wrapped around my neck like a frozen octopus disguised as a scarf, we need to start getting into the spirit of things. The children are tired, as they always are by the end of term -- if their toast is a little too dark there are howling tears -- and I'm ready to wear a festive jumper and eat mince pies for supper.But before we go full steam(ed pudding) ahead into Christmas, and while a little of me is still mentally in Paris, I've made these Tartes Bordaloues. They are named after the bakery named after the Parisian street named after the Jesuit preacher where they were invented. It's a simple poached pear and frangipane in a short and sweet, buttery, crisp pastry. Easy to make and impressive looking, it's as if they've come straight from the patisserie. And with a strong, black coffee they make a perfect elevenses. Forget the partridge in the pear tree, just go for the tart rich in pear, see.IngredientsFor the pate sucrée200g plain flour130g butter40g icing sugar1 egg, beatenFor the frangipane115g ground almonds115g icing sugar115g melted butter1tsp vanilla pasteFor the pears4 small and firm rocha pears or similar. Soft ones will collapse to mush1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise800ml water (enough to cover the pears)300g sugarMethodPoach the pears in the vanilla, water and sugar until al dente then leave to cool.Make the pastry by mixing the flour and icing sugar together then stir in the ground almonds.Add the butter and mix well. Add the beaten egg and bring together to a dough. Lay in between two sheets of baking paper and roll flat. Put in the freezer for 15 minutes or in the fridge for half an hour.Make the frangipane by beating all the ingredients together until you have a paste, then put into a piping bag. Set aside.Heat the oven to 180c.Remove the pears from the syrup and slice.Line 4 small tart tins with the pastry. (With removable bases)Pipe in the frangipane then layer the pears into each.Bake for about 30 minutes, until golden.Leave to cool to room temperature and serve.This weekSaw:Glengarry Glen Ross. Christian Slater at the Playhouse Theatre. Excellent, and swearyBraquo on Netflix, gritty Parisian cops from about six years ago.Listened:Maya's Christmas carol concert at school. So, so sweet. She was very excited, saying it was "the BEST day ever."Johnny Hallyday. French radio playing nothing but his songs. Sounded the same as usual to be honest.Eat:Flatbreads with and Sicilian oregano and harissa slow-roast lamb leg . Piled with houmous, guacamole, olives and chilli oil. Sort of Moroccan tacos.Lahore Karahi fenugreek chicken as we sat surrounded by our house still in boxes.I made a sausage, pea and tomato risotto for the children which they hoovered up. As did I while I was dishing it up.Bratwurst hotter than the sun at Herman ze German on the way to the theatre. Thank God I made it through the whole play.Read:Fred Vargas' Quand Sort la recluse. Still enjoying this French thriller.Viz Christmas issue. Obviously a little levity is good for the soul.
paris
Spring a leek
in Recipes, Vegetarian
I've been meaning to make leeks with vinaigrette since we got back from Paris at the beginning of March. We were primed for a fancy lunch for my great Aunty Suzy's 100th birthday, but selfishly, she got ill and was in hospital on the day. So instead, we all ended up going to a brasserie next to the hospital in the south west of the city. 30 of us. Just outside of the périphérique. Can you imagine sinking so low? We visited her after.We piled straight in at the height of lunchtime, all seated without so much as a Gallic shrug. And while we were split into two tables, we still managed to eat at the same time. The very nice man looking after our table only forgot to bring my citron pressé. Three times. And then he told me they didn't have any more lemons and "how about orange?" I still haven't let go of my disappointment. I can't. I was really looking forward to it.I haven't got a clue what anyone else ate. I dimly remember my main course as something to do with cod. It was a busy place, lively, fun and full of Parisians being Parisian. Doing French stuff like reading poetry and having affairs, all in their lunch break. But it was my starter which I loved and which reminded me of how simple food is often the best. And you can't get much simpler than some leek, cooked until soft and dressed in vinaigrette. Theirs had a touch of cream in it, softening it gently and making it silky smooth. Mine has some finely minced shallot in and I've sprinkled some croutons on top to give a little crunch.Make sure you use fresh and tender leek. Steam them if possible, this dish can end up a little 'leathery' and chewy if you're not careful. Served gently warm or slightly cold, this is an elegant starter with friends for supper or even a light lunch. You can prepare it ahead of time too, one job fewer if you're entertaining.Ingredients for four people1 leek, tough green part removed then sliced lengthwiseA couple of slices of bread. I used some slightly stale pitta I had in the bread bin. Yum1tsp garam masala1tsp fennel seeds1/2 banana shallot, minced2tsp Dijon mustard2tsp tarragon vinegar (or cider vinegar)4tbsp olive oil4tbsp rapeseed oilSalt to seasonMethodSteam the sliced leek for about four minutes then drain and run under cold water to stop the cooking.While the leek is cooking, heat a sauté pan with some olive oil and cut the bread into small cubes.Toast them in the oil until nice and crisp then drain on kitchen paper and toss through with the garam masala and fennel seeds.Make the vinaigrette by mixing the vinegar with the mustard and a pinch of salt, then slowly whisk in the oils to make an emulsion. Loosen it a little with a splash or two of water and mix in the shallot.Toss the leek through with the vinaigrette and divide between four plates, scattering over the croutons and a few more fennel seeds if you like. Finish with another pinch of salt on the leeks.
Artichoke with Vinaigrette
An unseemly noise for a teenager, let alone a human came from me when I first dipped the leathery leaf of an artichoke into a mustardy vinaigrette in Brasserie Le Linois, Place Charles Michels.Usually, it's difficult if not impossible to recreate those dishes from memories of the past in a foreign country. The smells, the sounds, the air all colour our memories and we are destined to be disappointed. But fear not! The artichoke doesn't suffer from this problem. It tastes the same to me now, dipped in that dressing as it did all those years ago.How does this happen I imagine myself hearing you ask? I have no idea, but being May, and them appearing in my greengrocer I'm not going to ask too many questions.You can cook them in simmering water, covered for 30-45 minutes depending on their size, or, if you are desperate for your hit, they do just as well in the microwave, wrapped in clingfilm for about ten. I prefer simmering them though, you can add aromatic flavours to the cooking water.To the water, add 2 fresh bay leaves, a tablespoon of peppercorns, a large splash of tarragon vinegar (or plain white wine vinegar if you prefer) and some salt. Bring the water and artichoke to the boil, then simmer until cooked, that is, when the leaves come away easily.Leave it to cool a little and eat slightly warm dipped in vinaigrette made by whisking together one tablespoon of Dijon mustard, a pinch of salt, two tablespoons of tarragon cider vinegar (or again, plain) then slowly incorporating about ten tablespoons of olive oil. Use less if you prefer a sharper dressing.Pull the leaves from the globe, dip them in and tease off the flesh into your mouth as you remember your long lost youth...