Chloe: Critic Girl/Renaissance Woman

Ladies and gentlemen out there,

After a much longer hiatus than ever intended, Ms. Chloe is back to continue this quest.

With the end of the term upon me, there will be some fits and starts, but I am inspired by a couple of blogger-happenings that I intend to get myself involved in.

1. Weekend Cookbook Challenge - I’ve got some ideas to whip something fancy up to join in on this fun monthly event.

2. From my Rasoi - an Indian food challenge which I am VERY excited about. I’m not sure yet what creation I will make and submit, but since this is coming up on December 30th, I’m quite excited.

3. Tales of travel to the deep south.

4. Perhaps some photo display of recent frolicks in the snow.

And so, get ready for the return of the renaissance!

Chloe

I don’t think I could look myself in the mirror if I pretended to be able to critique the memoir of Jacques Pepin. I also probably couldn’t wait until I got all the way through to come up with one piece on the many experiences of this fascinating man. And so, I’ve decided to cook my way through the book at Jacque’s direction.

Eggs Jeannette: An original by Jeanne Pepin, Jacque’s formidable mother.

Apart from the tedium of boiling eggs to prepare, this dish is remarkably simple and tastes exactly that way. Though I’m used to more flavor with my eggs (I’m always adding this sauce or that ingredient), the combination of the garlic, herbs, and the crisp brown filling is refreshing and comforting. It is easy to see how this is the Pepin household’s version of sunday gravy or fried green tomatoes. Eggs Jeannette is also an opportunity for adventure - just as there are so many different versions of “deviled” eggs, there could be as many variations on this theme. Adding heat or spice - nutmeg or chilis or different herbs - could yield an equally satisfying treat that is dinner party worthy and not just a perfect family brunch treat.

Recipe as used from the book:

Eggs Jeannette

6 Jumbo Eggs (preferably organic)
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
2-3 tablespoons whole milk (I did cheat and use skim)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Dressing:
2-3 tablespoons leftover stuffing
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon water
Dash of salt and finely ground black pepper

Put the eggs in a small saucepan and cover with boiling water. Bring to a gentle boil and cook for 9 to 10 minutes. Remove eggs to a bowl of ice water and chill for 15 minutes.

Peel the eggs under cold running water.

Split the eggs lengthwise and scoop out the yolks gently. Mix the yolks with the milk, garlic, parsley, salt and pepper. Spoon the mixture back into the hollows of the whites, reserving 2-3 tablespoons for the dressing.

Heat the vegetable oil in a skillet. Place the stuffed eggs face down and cook for 2-3 minutes, until crispy brown on the open face side.

For the dressing, mix all ingredients together and drizzle on top of the egg halves. Serve lukewarm.

tags: recipes, jacques pepin, books, cooking

I found this at the Kinky Librarian…

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next three sentences on your blog, along with these instructions.
5. Don’t you dare dig for that “cool” or “intellectual” book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it. Just grab what is closest.

Here’s mine: I’m reading The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen by Jacques Pepin.

“He was polite, remembering names and acting attentive and concerned. At the same time, he was stately and imposing in stature and voice, which made it difficult to feel completely at ease in his presence.

Although I took orders from Aunt Yvonne for all private meals, for formal government dinners, I dealt with a State Department protocol officer through an attache to the president.”

I haven’t gotten to page 123 yet - in fact I’m in the first chapter. But Monsieur Pepin is talking about DeGaulle. I plan on working my way through this book on the blog, so we will hear from him again.

tags: books, blogs, blogging, food, jacques pepin

So, in browsing blogs I like, I discovered an interesting question that an interesting woman posed from an apparently interesting article:

American’s don’t know how to savor. They only know how to consume.

(this may have been a better stream of consciousness topic) I stand in a very uncomfortable position on this very issue. On the one hand, I wholeheartedly agree. On the other, I like to consume.

I’m constantly battling between wanting to go through the simple feng shui de-clutter everything and live very simply and then on the other hand, I want a Hogan bag and a Juicy smocked dress. And I’m not sure if I’m a sucker for the mass media and consumer society or if I really just like these nice things and also happen to really love reading about and experiencing the simple life.

I am very interested in the Slow Food Movement, for one. And I do my best to support the smaller gorgeous markets with gorgeous smaller market food items. I think that we should all be eating artisan breads and cheeses and local wine with local fruit and savor them in candlelight in stone cottages in big fields - you get the point.

And yet, I eat almost all of my meals (though they are home-cooked) sitting on the couch with a book open and something in the DVD player.

I’m working on the art of the single meal, eaten by candlelight (I do sometimes remember to light the triple wick as a mock fireplace) and savoring every bite and really focusing on eating what I’ve created with good quality ingredients and a fine glass of wine.

But then, the point of the getting the good ingredients is to “consume” from these smaller gourmet artisans and thereby support them. So the real question is, can I make the same argument for consuming haute couture?

Mainly for creating feasts of a similar magnitude…

She opened with a turtle soup and a light aperitif. Not my particular favorite starter, but a nice rich broth-y soup to whet the appetite.

Next, she served Blinis Demidoff with a classic champagne. Yes, please!

I believe the next course was her centerpiece, the Caille en Sarcophage. And the Clos Jouveau (mental note to find that out, for knowledge’s sake - I do know that young Erik calls it Clo Juvo in the subtitles).

She cleansed the palates with a light salad. The quick glances we see seem to have endive and other lettuces and possible walnuts on top.

Then the cheeses and some water to clear out the tastes.

She finishes with a lovely cake Baba au Rhum dressed with cream, liqueur and fruit as well as a large and significant fruit tray.

Finally, coffee and a port (?) to finish.

Debra Ollivier has assembled some recipes for a couple of the dishes which I will add below:

Blinis Demidoff

Olllivier takes her recipe from Chicago’s Theater Oobleck (included in Entre Nous, see link above). In the movie, Babette definitely tops her blinis with caviar, creme fraiche and chopped onion. Blini at your own risk.

Baba au Rhum

1 package yeast
1/3 cup warm milk
2 1/3 cups sifted flour
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
2 2/3 cups sugar
6 eggs
5 1/2 cups water
1/2 cup dark rum
candied fruits or thinly sliced almonds for decoration

Dissolve yeast in milk in a large bowl. Stir in 1/2 cup of the flour, cover, and set aside in a warm place to rise for 30 minutes.
Beat 7 tablespoons of the butter in a food processor (or equivalent, as I do believe Babette did not have a Cusinart in Denmark). Add two tablespoons of the sugar and 2 tablespoons of the flour. Then beat in the eggs one at a time.

Beat remaining flour into the risen yeast mixture; then beat in the butter and egg mixture to form a thick , doughy batter. Butter a large baba or Savrin mold (modern day: Bundt pan) with a tablespoon of butter, then spoon batter into the mold. Cover with a clean cloth and set aside to rise until dough reaches the top of the mold.

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Bake baba for 40 minutes until golden brown on top.

Meanwhile, combine remaining sugar and water in a saucepan and boil until syrupy and reduce to about 3 cups. Remove from heat and stir in rum.

After baba is removed from the oven, spoon warm rum syrup over it entirely, allowing it to saturate the cake completely.

Let cake cool and then unmold and decorate with fruits or nuts.

Serves about 8.

…..Now if only I had a Bundt pan!

Long had I held in my impressions that this movie was gastroporn, and that it was French! I suppose I had no real reason to believe these things other than the title and a recommendation from Entre Nous.

As I should have from my previous misconceptions, I believe I have now learned to keep an open mind and simply believe.

While the food that Babette creates is wondrous in itself, it is the power of touching people’s lives with what you do best that resonates throughout this film. Set in a small religious community in Denmark, Babette truly creates a life-changing, or at least enlightening, event with her culinary expertise. It took it’s time to get there, like any classic gastronomic phenomenon, and the creation was too much of a blur to be the miracle in itself. I was desperate to enjoy that meal and savor every taste with the unknowing recipients.

There also is a fair amount of religious symbolism that I am sure can be explored further and I would like to take the time to address after I’ve had the opportunity to watch this film several more times. The first that jumps out at me is the 12 diners at the table, breaking bread together. The diners themselves refer to the wedding at Cana, though the miracle here is not in riches made out of mere paucity. More significantly, the sisters - the right and left hand of their father, the prophet-priest - have arranged this dinner to celebrate their father, on the anniversary of his birth. Is he the Jesus figure to complete the Last Supper? Is the General, who guides the reluctant participants through the wonders, instead? Or is the sacrifice made by the woman in the kitchen, behind the scenes, who may have been able to be the twelfth at the table had not the General come to call?

The true miracle, though, is in the kinship and reconciliation that is brought out through good food, fantastic wine, and a well planned menu. May Babette forgive me for eating an improvised version of Don Henley’s chili over leftover grains when I could have been eating Caille en Sarcophage!

I do believe that my culinary adventure, though, in creating a warm late-winter stew on one of the last nights of the winter season might indeed be considered my art, as in Babette’s words, I simply strove to “do my best.”

see also: thoughts on the actual menu for Babette’s feast