LOVING RACHEL KHOO

Ms. Khoo is a beautiful, young British celebrity chef living in Paris (she is part-Asian and part-Gaia, the mythological Greek goddess of earth's harvest and floral elements). Having spent the holidays there and returning to New York feeling post-vacation blues, watching her show my first night back, her cooking this dish - a salmon roe benedict made with crème fraîche hollandaise dill served with toasted baguette cut into strips and buttered on the side - I was infatuated again, with Paris-with her-food. (I hear that she has gathered an adoring fan base in Paris because of how effortless her style is around the kitchen, artistically precise, simple but evocative, imagining a caviar for breakfast.) I did exactly as she mused: the crème, nutmeg powder, the egg, the roe, the dill, salt and pepper - and baking it in a water bath 3/4 the height of the ramekin like making flan, but its resulting flavor has layers of salt of beluga and quiche without the crust. The bread is not the regaled crust but the spoon. And this is a very sexy French table manner using it to sop up the plate clean of sauce. So, I got rid of the demitasse spoon and remembered the bread, breaking a piece and sopping up an exquisite late lunch meal at one of the 11th arr. bistros, like Chez Mamy and Le Paul Bert. For woe, I deliciously left my heart in Paris! And wished had stayed, with her-food.         

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Foodnote: Septime (in Paris, 11th arr.)

Let's fast forward the greatness of this restaurant to the end: clementine a la mode (sprinkled with fennel seeds) on a bed of yogurt and olive oil boat. That it is a dessert is a miracle, let alone scooping it like seven fruits in one on seven seas. The invigoration of a "sailing sweetness" taste is the sexiest attribute of this food invention. And appropriately so for this New Year's Eve. The ice cream was the best "gin and tonic" of my life, with notes of lime twist and juniper berries blending their freshness together, and the timing of their sweetness slow like a blue morning melting in the ice from the sun through the restaurant's garden window like an edge of a kiss. The great poet Neruda is love's bard because he prepared a table for her, like this that you see, with bass tartare seasoned in tarragon leaves, grapefruit dices, breadcrumbs and eyes of roes assembled apothecaries. Powdered parsley the make up on oyster soup. Truffle chips on grilled crosses of Jerusalem artichokes. Urchin glaze and salted ferns on amulet scallops. And the cognac streamed the game with a hand of dandelions and disorienting endives, falling pomegranates, falling in love. Yes, I am writing a review of this restaurant. Yes, this is the poem. 

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GIFT GIVING

Polenta-Carrots-Kale Quiche

Agave and Nutmeg Scones

I cook
to surprise the people I love. A few friends this Christmas don't know I cook. But I don't distinguish it from a gift. The quiche box and the scones box are recipes in my head written on pan and patience. Food are tastes of descriptions - their flavor their words. Writing is cooked up. And that is why I can cook. And wrap it too. 

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CHOCOLATE PEANUT BUTTER AND BANANA JAM CRÊPE

Folding was the best part. The combined use of cornmeal and bread flour, fifty-fifty ratio, made for a great texture to achieve a crisp "waffle" browning around the edges for this sweetie. I doubled down - meaning, two crêpes instead of one: the first layer with chocolate and the other with monkey jam (the producer, Jam Stand, called it that name; it made sense). Anyway, here's a tip: Make sure you prepare the crêpe straight hot from the pan so as to melt the chocolate peanut butter as you press down the second layer with the jam! Ready? Half moon the crepe, then to a quarter moon bite - like the picture. Don't forget the powdered sugar. We're not in New York this Christmas, and I wanted to feel home for the holidays before our trip. So, this morning I lit a pumpkin-spiced candle and turned on jazzy Christmas tunes (ambient sound low). And the crêpe breakfast with black coffee (Turkish style) was waiting for us - the family.

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THIS CHRISTMAS

On December 24, it's lights out. By noon on Christmas day, we will be in Paris. I'm taking a recipe (Fesenjan, a Mediterranean stew using pomegranate molasses, ground walnuts, saffron and squash) to cook as holiday dish with friends getting together in the countryside of Brive, four hours a way. I learned about the recipe from the Times Magazine food section; the article showcased holiday food traditions from different immigrant families (http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2014/12/07/magazine/Diverse-Holiday-Feasts). The dish comes from Iran. Their table was decorated with late harvest watermelons and open halves of pomegranates, and dried fruits teeming over yellow-white rice. Very festive! Cultural food is very eye opening.

This Christmas, this cook has this abundance in mind. ("Abundance without  attachment." Read a piece about it in the Sunday Review: about collecting "experiences." So there I go.) 

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