A Croissant and a Tourteau

It started with thumbing through a cookbook at my favorite local shop. Unable to resist reaching for a binding printed with the block-letter words "New French Recipes" a luxurious but simple lunch idea was born.

Since I left Europe in December of 2005, I have been nurturing a love of its various regions. My ventures into cheesemongering and macaron-making have inevitably grown a particularly French intrigue, and so it is impossible for titles concerning this culture and its cuisine not to thoroughly entice me.

And yet, constantly aware of the ability a cookbook collection has to boom out of control, I try to be extra selective about what I purchase versus what I browse for on food blogs versus what I check out from the library. In this case, selecting and mentally tucking away one recipe within the pages of Éric Kayser's New French Recipes allowed me to peaceably put the book back on its shelf.

Not feeling rushed, I figured I would eventually get around to the recipe (if it can even be named so formally), but the next day it was convenient to stop by the local cheese shop and my grocery list started to form. I was hoping to find Comté, but the next closest option was a cave-aged Gruyère, which would do just fine. Continuing to piece together ingredients, I picked up a croissant at the bakery as well.





This is where my sights were set: a pan-grilled sandwich of melty Alpine-style cheese, crunchy bites of sweet hazelnuts, and savory nibbles of green garlic, simply seasoned with cracked pepper and assembled within a flaky butter croissant. To make it a meal, baby heirloom tomatoes waited at home to nestle along the side of the plate.

A little more grand but similar, this sandwich reminds me of the nut, cheese, and bread combination I latched onto while living in Oxford. Planning a coach trip into London or a study session at the park, I would slice cheese and lay it flat across the face of whole wheat sandwich bread. Gently pressing halved walnuts into the cheese, I would complete the sandwich with another slice of bread spread with blackcurrant jam. Sometimes I would use marmalade or a different flavor of jam, and sometimes the cheese would be Brie, sometimes Port Salut, or sometimes sharp English cheddar; it was simple and on a college student's budget, but I loved it. These sandwiches, Digestives, and ten cups of black British tea a day (plus chicken breasts from the farmer's market) were my staples that semester.



Before ending this blog post, let me revert briefly back to France. The very same day I made that grilled croissant sandwich, I received a cookbook from my brother and his wife, a cookbook I have no qualms adding to my collection.

I love curling up and reading Dorie Greenspan's voice, whether it is out of my copy of Baking, her blog, or many of her publication appearances. Now, I get to listen to her from Around My French Table, a cookbook that thoroughly won me over several months ago when first seeing it at a bookshop and flipping to this page:



This tourteau sounded so enjoyable, I am hoping to make it my first completed recipe out of the cookbook...if the strawberry, tomato, mozzarella salad or olive sables do not push their way to the top first. I will be sure to keep you posted.

Feasting on Art Recipe Contest

I do love a good challenge, especially one that involves ingredient pairings. When Feasting on Art announced that her second annual recipe contest would revolve around one of my favorite gastronomic subjects, cheese, I could not easily pass it up. Though, I have done an excellent job procrastinating on completing the project, as the deadline is close.


Floris Gerritsz van Schooten, A Still Life of Cheese, c.1585
oil on oak panel, 39.3 x 55.2 cm, Private collection

As much as I wish to be more balanced in my ease in both cooking and baking, baking tends to be my go-to, so instantly that was the direction my brain started spinning. I latched onto the idea of preserving the delicious flavors of spicy, salty blue cheese paired with sweet fruit and rich honey. It took me awhile to land securely on the form this took, as I know it has been done before in varying ways, and when including cheese in dessert-type recipes, there is a balance between intrigue and weirdness. I wanted to avoid the impression of the latter.







Hence, I hope you enjoy this creation. It was inspired by the easy jam tart recipe Smitten Kitchen provided on her blog about a year ago, which she adapted from David Lebovitz's wonderful cookbook Ready for Dessert. I modified the crust by deepening its flavors with buckwheat and honey and added a thin layer of blue cheese before laying down the jam. To finish, a honeyed marmalade glaze subtly balanced the flavors and added a nice sheen to the aesthetic.





I had fun adjusting the purposes in my photography for documenting this tart as well. In honor of the still life by Floris Gerritsz van Schooten that inspired this contest, I wanted to present it in a still life form as if I was setting out to render it with paint myself. Originally my intention was to carry on and do just that, but the afternoon didn't allow for it, and I am about to head into a busy week in which I really shouldn't leave cheese, sliced pear, and this tart (all of which I would like to eat) out in the open air indefinitely. I often wonder how the many still life artists from earlier centuries managed this, regarding food subjects. How long did it take them to finish their paintings? Did van Schooten's enormous chunks of cheese become too moldy? How much food was sacrificed in these endeavors as layers of oil paint dried, similar light was sought each day, and details were meticulously rendered?



Fig Jam and Blue Cheese Tart with Honey Buckwheat Crust

In selecting the cheese to use, I went with Bleu d'Auvergne because it has a creamy richness that is appropriate to dessert but also a relatively assertive spice that would help it hold its own among the other flavors. Any blue that balances these elements will do. I also had the advantage of using a wire cutter to slice the cheese thin, as I work at our local cheese shop. Do your best to get the cheese as thinly sliced as is reasonable with whatever tools you have on hand.

I chose to use a fig jam here because I had a fabulous one on hand. Its rustic texture and honey-like sweetness worked well, but you can certainly be flexible in the flavor you choose.

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup buckwheat flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
9 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, whole
1 large egg yolk
3 Tablespoons honey, divided
1/3 pound blue cheese (see above)
1 1/2 cups jam (see above)
1/2 cup orange marmalade

Prepare a 9-inch (23 cm) tart pan with a removable bottom by thoroughly buttering it.

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, buckwheat, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, mix the butter and sugar until smooth. On low speed, add the egg, the yolk, and 1 tablespoon of honey. Beat until all is combined, and then gradually add the dry flour mixture. When the entire dough begins to look wet and come together, remove the bowl and stir with a spatula for a few last turns to bring it together into a large ball.

Placing a large square of plastic wrap on the counter, transfer a third of the dough onto it and shape into a a log by folding the plastic around it and squeezing it long. It should measure about two inches (5 cm) in diameter. Place in freezer to harden until needed for the top of the tart.

Transfer the rest of the dough into the buttered tart pan and press it evenly around the pan. Using your fingers, spread the dough up the sides to the scalloped rim, bringing it level. When this is completed, refrigerate or freeze the dough until firm (I froze it for thirty minutes, and then it was ready to go).

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Lay a single layer of blue cheese down against the bottom crust of the tart. Spoon the jam over this and spread evenly.

Retrieve the log of dough from the freezer and cut it into very thin rounds. Layer each round on top of the jam, arranging to overlap each other and cover the top completely. Bake until the top crust is golden brown, 20-25 minutes.

As the tart is cooling, heat the marmalade and remaining 2 tablespoons of honey in a small saucepan on medium heat. Stir frequently, until it smooths and thins out. Pour through a fine sieve, separating the orange rinds from the hot liquid. Discard rinds and brush the top of the tart with this glaze.

Savor and enjoy! The tart will keep well at room temperature for a few days and still taste good if kept longer in the refrigerator. Perfect for breakfast, afternoon tea, or dessert.

BlogCrush: Feasting on Art

Mondrian Pound Cake Assembly

Food is integral to our daily living, and I would argue that so is the interaction with art. This does not mean you have to be creating art or overtly involved in the appreciation of it, but (without getting into a conversation on the definition of art) it taps at our senses and exists alongside us whether or not we take notice. Through the beauty of a sunrise, the tapping of a foot or swaying of a hip to rhythm, the lacing of cream through a fresh cup of coffee, the adornment of a necklace...and if we keep counting and collecting with each step we take, we might just get dizzy. At least I do from time to time.

This is why I think it was absolutely genius for art historian and food lover Megan Fizell to strike up an educational conversation on the interaction of food and art in the format of her blog Feasting on Art. She leads this conversation with poise and intrigue, and I have been drawn to her posts ever since discovering the blog just over a year ago.

Beer Soup: a recipe I have made and loved!

I am not the only one to get hooked. Her comprehensive treatment of the site and each art piece, recipe, and photograph have earned her a lot of well-deserved publicity. If you have not seen her beautiful work, this is what each of these new BlogCrush featurettes is all about: sharing blogs that please and inspire me, in hopes that you might encounter more inspiration and pleasure in your life.

Giorgio Morandi, Still Life (The Blue Vase), 1920
Oil on canvas, 49.5 x 52 cm, Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen
[I love Morandi!]

I love the taste of art history included in each post, taking me back to the lecture room in my university's art department where I spent many hours jotting down dates, cultural trends, and questions while viewing projected image after image under dim light.

Currently, Feasting on Art is in the midst of its second annual recipe contest, and I would encourage you to check it out. The topic this year is cheese, based on the painting below.

Floris Gerritsz van Schooten, A Still Life of Cheese, c.1585
oil on oak panel, 39.3 x 55.2 cm, Private collection

I couldn't possibly decline such a challenge with all the hours I spend working behind the counter of my city's fine cheese shop. It will be fun, and there are some great incentives, including the opportunity to win a hardcover copy of the cookbook Food of the Louvre (Musee Du Louvre)!

Note: All photography is by Megan Fizell and used with her permission.

To the Business of Cheese

I started this blog over three years ago as a college student craving a varied form of creativity from my numerous art courses. I found solace and inspiration among the web pages of Orangette, Smitten Kitchen, 101 Cookbooks, Foodbeam, and Chocolate & Zucchini. Today I still enjoy these blogs and more, but my own participation in food blogging has ebbed and I have wondered if that's what I want.

Let me state that is not what I want at all. Of late my desire to food blog has turned to resolve and determination and, thus, some discipline is going to have to come alongside. Initially, post-college, maintaining One Hungry Soul as a food blog simply was not possible as I nomadicly lugged suitcases around the West Coast for two months and then on to New Zealand. I did not have a kitchen of my own, and food blogging was forced into travel blogging with a good dose of musings and photographic snapshots contributed.

It worked, and I enjoyed it. However, I have now had a kitchen for eight months, and just last week I was gifted my very own KitchenAid mixer. It's time to get down to business.



It is rare that my sister and I get the same window of time off work, but on Wednesday we spontaneously managed to get two hours of the afternoon together. Being near Quel Fromage, we had to stop and properly refurnish our refrigerator's cheese box. Arriving home with hungry bellies, we laid out our cheese assortment and popped open a particularly barnyard-y bottle of French cider. To accompany, we took turns reading out-loud from my copy of Best Food Writing 2009.



I am finishing the remainder of Idiazabal and Bonne Bouche as I write this post. Both are absolutely lovely, but the Bonne Bouche, the grey brainy looking round, is always a certain palate pleaser for me. I have a weakness for well developed creamy mold-ripened cheeses, and this young goat cheese by Vermont Creamery is soft and oozy around the edges of the interior (at the age I enjoyed it) with a musty aroma from the ash and humid aging environment. I would love to experience it at a further ripened more piquant point but also love the fresh chèvre acidity combined with subtly developing notes of floral and nutty maturity.

As for that cider I mentioned, I would not recommend it with this Bonne Bouche. I knew they were not right for each other, but since I had both on hand they ended up together briefly. Second time around, I nibbled on an aromatic Brie-type that was the closest I could come to an authentic Camembert and found that the alternating of sips with slices helped me appreciate the cider.



I am quite inexperienced in the realm of ciders, especially traditional French styles and this unpasteurized version, Cidre Bouché by the Dupont Family Estate and its orchards in the Pays d'Auge region of Normandy, surprised me with the undeniable barnyard characteristics of its nose. The flavor contained deep cooked apple and savory leather that grew on me, especially when paired with that satisfying hunk of Brie. My sister preferred not to finish her glass, but I would like to keep tasting Normandy ciders in order to compare and contrast them and ever broaden my palate.

I have learned so much about cheese in the past year. Working at a fine cheese shop has done this for me, and yet every day at my job, whether conversing with customers, researching, or thumbing through one of Max McCalman's superb books, I am reminded how little I know. I hope to set aside a regular space in this blog in which we converse about a certain cheese.

As I appear more regularly again as a food blogger of sorts, I cannot help including the "of-sorts" portion. I love to food blog because I love to converse and share ideas and collaborate with others. Gastronomy is a very accessible arena, and yet I do not want to limit this space to this one topic. Food is one of many beauties in life that I desire to be ever grateful to enjoy with the ease and abundance I am able to. I want to savor other rich aspects of life within these white scrolling pages as well, so beyond recipes and favorite food and drink you can expect mentions of art, travel, relationships, and the many little details of life. Please lend your voice to my humble notations.

Thanksgiving and Springtime

Well, it's the week of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving week, and I'm eating local strawberries and visiting the farmers' market for fresh tomatoes and spring lettuces. It's all a bit bizarre, but I love the oddity as well. In fact, I'd be content forgoing the heavy Thanksgiving food if I didn't happen to be around other Americans. But we seem to be inescapable people, so, of course, I'll embrace the festivities. (And, really, pumpkin pie goes down well any time of year.)

In the meantime, let's talk farmers' market. One of my favorite subjects.



This weekend was my first time to visit the Auckland City Farmers' Market, and while it was lovely, and I hope to go back, it was quite small. For the time it took to get into the city (not to mention park - I'll definitely bus next time), I was underwhelmed. I suppose there are other farmers' markets around the city, but this seemed like The One. If that's true, then a small city like Bellingham just put Auckland to shame.







Still, I'll go back. All the more reason, right? This place needs some lovin'. And ordering a coffee at the Kokako Coffee stall to sip while strolling by the cheeses, honeys, herbs, and pastries doesn't sound half-bad on a Saturday morning, even if you find yourself back where you started in five minutes.





I picked up some fresh hand-stretched mozzarella from a vendor whose name I don't recall and enjoyed it in a simple tomato-full panzanella yesterday. If only it was practical to carry a pot of basil home with me too.

Being that last Saturday was the market's third anniversary as well, there was live music by Reb Fountain. I didn't stay around too long for a good listen but liked the little I heard. Without her, her band, and their groupies, I'm curious as to the atmosphere of the market on the average day. Will it feel emptier? Quiet?





Only one way to find out.

A Few Discoveries

I'd like to share a few discoveries with you since coming back to Bellingham. Coincidentally, they have to do with food - this little city does quite well for itself in that area.

Our local food co-op opened a location just a couple minutes from my mom's place while I was away, and being the grocery shopaholic I am, it's a delightful place to go.



On Saturday I was in search of apples for a compote I was making, so when a mound of local organic Ginger Gold apples caught my eye in the produce area, I made sure to add an extra one to my bag to eat fresh and crunchy.



At home I sliced up the spare apple and passed a couple juicy slices on to my mom. Thankfully it occurred to me before we got any further into oohing and aahing that this apple would probably pair perfectly with the Whiskey Cheddar in our cheese drawer. And, oh, was I right!



The cheese came from my other Bellingham discovery in the past week: a superb little cheese shop in Fairhaven called Quel Fromage. It's small but pristine with clean white walls and a beautiful cheese case, filled with goat, sheep, and cow milk cheeses in all forms and textures. While I was there, per recommendation of my sister, I picked up a Bucherondin and my previously-mentioned Whiskey Cheddar. Both are amazing, but the cheddar leaped ahead in favor when placed alongside a slice of crisp green Ginger Gold apple and eaten in one harmonious bite.



If you don't have a specialty cheese location where you could possibly track down, or request, a Whiskey Cheddar (this one comes from County Limerick in Ireland), then at least make sure you buy some good sharp cheddar cheese as you head into fall. As the apple season peaks, this is one of my favorite snacks.

Urging Fall into Existence

The walls of my bedroom are empty. I still haven't gotten around to putting up my maps, photos, and artwork since moving in and haven't minded so much, but today their white scratchy texture is ominously silent. I think it's time to let myself settle in a bit more.

One year just sounds like so little time until I pack up my bags, tuck my college diploma under my arm, and head off to another chapter of life.

Yesterday I came back from a couple days in Dallas, and sometimes it is leaving that reminds me that I don't mind staying. This apartment in Abilene is the closest thing to home I have right now. So it's time to decorate the walls.

It's time to let myself move in a bit more and release some grudges against this place that has become home against my will. One grudge I hold right now is against the weather. It is so dang hot here, and we just stepped into October!

I'm looking forward to the night I can crawl into bed and pull all my warm, heavy blankets on top of me. I've tried, but within a couple minutes, I end up kicking everything except the sheet down to the bottom of the bed. I'm hanging onto the idea of baking on a Saturday and enjoying the warmth from the oven, versus walking into another room as often as possible to cool off. And I'm anticipating the foods of fall. Right now, they just don't suit very well. But still I try.

Last night I tried to whip up some fall fare, and it was delicious, despite the fact that as we sat down in the coolest part of the house we could find, our warm bowls did little to keep our sweat at bay.

But if you are in a cooler place than I am, then I encourage you to pull out your cornmeal and make some classic polenta. Its golden yellow color just goes so well with the changing leaves. And even if you're not heading into fall (because I know spring is beginning for my southern friends), polenta is just so good. I don't think your stomach can ever protest against this stuff.

I took my leftover french red onion soup, which I had gratefully been working on since making a big pot of it, and found that age allowed the flavors to mellow out very pleasingly. Slowly softening them a little while longer, and scooping them onto creamy polenta, with the gruyère I bought to accompany they, made for a very happy combo.

It's perfect for fall. Or for those of us who just like to pretend.

Basic Polenta
Based off so very many sources but mostly common sense.

6 cups water
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups stone ground cornmeal
1 tablespoon of butter (or up to 3)

Bring water to boil in heavy saucepan. Add salt, and reduce heat to low. Then slowly pour in cornmeal, stirring with a whisk as you go.

Attentively whisk for the next five minutes or so to prevent lumps. Then cover and stir every few minutes. Continue to do this until cornmeal grains have softened and begins to pull away from sides of the pan, about 30 minutes.

Remove from heat. Stir in chunks of butter until melted and combined. Serve immediately.*

*The picture you see at the top of the page is of my polenta the next day, so it has more form to it after being in the fridge in a container. Yours should spread out more on the plate or within the bowl.

French Red Onions
Adapted from this recipe

Red onions, prepared according to this recipe**
3 tablespoons port wine
Gruyère

Using a generous amount of butter (depending on how many onions you have and how much softer they need to get -- I had about half of my soup left and used 4 tablespoons of butter) heat red onions (strained from broth) in a heavy skillet at medium-low heat.

Occasionally stir, slowly letting onions soften, about 30 minutes (mine needed this much time because they never got as soft in the soup-making process). Pour in a generous splash of port. Allow all to combine for a couple more minutes.

Spoon onions and sauce over polenta. Shred gruyère over top.

**I had made the soup earlier in the week. Obviously, you don't have to go through the exact same process to get these red onions. I have ideas for how to get the complex flavor of the already prepared onions without a lot of broth left over, but since I did not do it, I do not want to give you specific directions. I'm sure you can figure it out with some experimentation. Just don't neglect the anise. (It's not so bad after all.)