About a week and a half ago, my mother asked me to “cook dinner for the fogies.” “The fogies?” you ask. Yes: my parents had invited four of their same-age friends round for dinner. Now I’m not saying that people in their seventies don’t get their food on. Still, I thought I’d eschew my romance with chili peppers and go for rustic, warming comfort food. Hence this dish. It’s seasonal, it’s pretty, it’s easy, and it goes well with wine and fogies. Continue reading
First, some background. Five years ago I spent five weeks in Panama. I contracted dengue fever, but that’s another story. While there, I was introduced to what became and has remained my absolutely favourite hot sauce Continue reading
Street food is my favourite thing to eat almost all the time. If food is salty, fried, spicy, pickled, if it’s handed to me wrapped in paper by some guy I just saw cook it, and I can dispense with forks and plates and cram it in my mouth, I’m ON IT like white on rice. Falafel – which arguably is older than the New Testament – is a perfect food. Done right, it’s a glimpse at the ineffable. It’s a pleasure loop. Continue reading
Three minutes after I got to Au Passage restaurant/wine bar, I started to fret that taking my parents there was a mistake. Let me explain: Au Passage is a hipster spot. Located down a slightly grungy alley in the 11th arrondissement, Au Passage looks and feels like a dive bar. The tables and chairs are a mish-mash of club chairs and hand-me-downs, the bar is fully stocked, the playlist seems to consist of nothing but the White Stripes, and the menu is 10 or 12 items scrawled on a chalkboard. In other words, it’s the kind of place where I feel right at home Continue reading
I love making mayonnaise. I love the colour, I love the texture, and I especially love the flavour of homemade mayonnaise. Aioli, the rich garlicky mayonnaise from southern France, is particularly delectable. Serve it with fried fish, cold cooked shrimp or crab, or put some on the table when serving roast chicken. Continue reading
In the Rue Montorgeuil, in Paris, is a fishmonger who’s got my number. Not literally! (Not yet, anyway.) He knows I can’t resist nice seafood – and, more than that, he knows I eat everything. Yesterday, as I was walking past, he beckoned me over. It was a hot day and most of the seafood was covered or in boxes. He lifted the lid of a Styrofoam box like he was unveiling a great secret. Inside were beautiful little bright silvery fish, 10 euros a kilo! In French, éperlan. In English, SMELT! Continue reading
I have to confess a sentimental attachment to this little restaurant. I came here for the first time two years ago with my beloved friends, Jason and Andrew, with whom I was renting a flat in the Marais for five delirious days of eating, drinking, and shopping. I remember very few specifics about that meal other than the time of day (late afternoon), the champagne cocktails (lovely) and the seared foie gras on olive oil mashed potatoes. Continue reading
There are as many recipes for this classic preparation of mussels as there are crotchety fishermen on the Normandy coast. Some people use butter, some use olive oil, some add bay leaves and fresh thyme. On a few things, however, everyone is agreed: the recipe must involve white wine, onion or shallots, parsley, and just a touch of cream. Continue reading
Although London basically had no summer this summer, I am reaping the fruits, literally, of summer in other places. The markets in Paris are full of the most glorious black figs. I sampled one at the Marché d’Aligre in the 12th Arrondissement and had to buy a kilo of them. (They only cost about three euros, by the way.) My dad, who’s got slightly antiquated notions about food, did not believe me when I told him that figs and balsamic are one of the most glorious pairings known to man. I set out to prove him wrong, and succeeded. The addition of crème fraiche made this easy dessert HEAVENLY. Continue reading
I don’t understand why it is SO DIFFICULT to find affordable fresh fish in London. England’s an ISLAND, people!
Anyway, two and a half hours away by Eurostar is a seafood mecca. It’s called PARIS, which is where I am as I write this. You can hate me later. Today at the Rue Montorgeuil market I bought four beautiful, extremely fresh sea bass (en français, “bar”) for 10 euros and half a kilo of girolles for 2 euros. My philosophy with fish is that the fresher it is, the less you want to mess with it. Continue reading
Susan eats London 