Algerian Baked Fish

Today I came with the intention of telling you about the reason that made me disappear from my blog and fills most of my days, and my heart, with joy, perfumes of orange blossom water and so much bliss. (No, it’s not another baby!) But then, on Saturday, I baked these cute Sea Bass pictured above and they were so amazing, so lip-smacking delicious that I had to tell you about the fish and leave my life for later.

Meatballs and peas Tagine with asparagus and eggs

I should have called this dish: compromise peas; finding the middle ground peas.

A warm spring day, about seven years ago, back when I was a new bride with smoother hair, smaller waist and nonexistent squeaky toys in my living room, Mohamed and I came home from the farmer's market with a bag full of fresh green peas for dinner. He made mint tea for both of us and we took the bowl of green peas to our then tiny, but beloved, balcony and started shelling. We shelled, he ate and I talked. It was the perfect harmony, the perfect start to a beautiful dinner and evening; until I went to the kitchen and cooked peas the way I always had them at my parent's house, which is in a hearty stew with meatballs and a touch of cream.
It was delicious, comforting; at least to me. He set the table, must have lit some candles (we don't have candles on the table anymore, as all our daughters want to do when they see them is either touch them, blow on them or sing happy birthday) put on some music, must have made his way to the living room table dancing (thank goodness he still dance. I love his moves and so do the girls) and sat down to see in front of him a pool of green-brownish peas with scattered meatballs swimming.

Caraway spiced carrot salad

Lunch parties. For years I have cherished this vision about the perfect lunch party at my house: our friends and loved ones would gather around a long farm table in the backyard. The carcass of our basketball hoop laying by the grass would magically disappear and a large vase of ranunculus would garnish the peach colored tablecloth.  Adults will be nibbling on marinated olives and muhammara dip, while the kids would be playing knights with cheese straws or, even  better, eating them. The food, and I, would be ready well in advance and I won't have my hair still soaking wet from the last minute shower. 

Sautéed Kale with Cumin and Smoked Paprika / Chou frisé sauté au cumin et paprika fumée

Now I have a confession to make. Until recently, the only reason I was buying kale was that somehow it made me feel healthier. Kale was my morning run, the responsible, and sometimes boring, part of me; my pretext for eating more of that mocha ice cream. Other than that, I thought Kale tasted bitter. It was OK, but nothing like my favorites: spinach and Swiss chards. And I’m not even talking about Mohammed’s opinion on the subject. The man rolls his eyes every time I reach for that Frizzy looking green at the market. I think that our aversion with Kale had something to do with my lack of confidence and ideas when cooking this intimidating green.

My mother often tells me this story about the woman who taught her how to turn any kind of greens into an exciting dish. This woman, her name was Ghazielle, which literally translates to little Gazelle. Ghazielle was by no mean petite. She was 6 feet tall, had strong shoulders, a suntanned face, from working in the fields all her childhood, and beautiful, dark kohl eyes. When she wasn’t looking after my younger brother, Ghazielle would sometimes make fresh bread for us. Bending over the gassa* (a large earth ware where you knead bread and make couscous) she would push and fold the dough back and forth until elastic and smooth. Her bread was, and still is, the best homemade bread I’ve ever had. It’s rustic, imperfect in appearance, humble, chewy and so flavorful.

Weeknights Potatoes / Les Potatoes de la Semaine

I'm slowly learning to juggle life with a second child, sleepless nights, milk scented clothes and one active toddler. It is not always easy. It is never the same. But at the end of the day, when I finally lay my head on the pillow, I am content. I am happy with my life, my family, my hectic days, my messy hair and the uncomplicated and unsophisticated, but always heartwarming, dishes I've been making lately.

We've been having these potatoes at least once a week for the last couple of weeks. They may not look like much. After all, they are just roasted potatoes sprinkled with herbs and garlic and some spices. Though I do believe that when equipped with a good potato specimen and the right amount and the right combination of spices, nothing beats Roasted spiced potatoes.

The recipe comes from my sister in law, who is a great cook and an even greater baker. What I like about this dish, besides being comforting and spicy and delicious, is that I can do it with my eyes half open. Perfect for my lethargic state these days. Peeling and slicing the potatoes is the only work you would do. The Potatoes basically cook themselves and the rest is chemistry between the herbs, the sharpness of the garlic, the freshness of the lemon and the warmth of the cumin, paprika and Harissa sauce. Perfect as a side dish with a roasted chicken or lamb.

A Mouthful of Spring / Une bouchée de Printemps

Though she seems to be all about cooking and stirring and baking, there were days where cooking was the last thing she wanted to do. Days where she couldn't stand spending more than an hour in front of the hungry stove, the piling dishes and the scratched cutting board. yes, there were days where she believed a sublime meal could come from a can of creamy pinto beans, some spices, a roasted red pepper and fresh, hearty Tuscan kale.

On those days, she enjoyed watching the blooming trees and flowers. Seeing the backyard flourishing, last year basil raising its tiny leaves from the dirt again and the hairy chives waving goodbye whenever the wind blows at the window.

She saw life nestled in a tree.

She saw life in the eyes of a little fairy.

She felt good walking barefoot in her house, on the grass, on the dirt, on the concrete. She smiled at the sight of her daughter throwing her little shoes and baring her naked feet to the warm sun while counting the bees.

She wore skirts and sandals. She curled her hair and opened wide her windows. She took a nap while a familiar breeze lifted the curtains to the ceiling tickling her toes and bringing back sweet memories.

She gave her family a helping hand when needed, a glass of tea when thirsty, a slice of tart when hungry. They all sat outside watching the sunset. Silent, they listened to the birds going to bed, the squirrels running up and down the trees. And the breeze. Always this familiar, sweet breeze.

On those days, near the river, the grass, the dirt, the blooming trees, she saw life. And it was beautiful.

I didn't have plans to make this dish, even less to post about it. I mean look at it! It doesn't look like from where you are: beans, herbs and bits of roasted pepper here and there. But the truth is, it has all what I was looking for on that warm spring day. In fact, I wish I had a can of pinto beans in my pantry right now so I can make it again today (note to self: buy pinto beans asap).

The dish is called Tbikha. In North Africa, especially in Algeria and Tunisia, Tbikha refers to a dish made with a combination of fresh and dry vegetables. Herbs are often added to the dish, as well as some heat like harissa or hot peppers. Peppers, squashes, carrots, turnips, cardoons and spinach are most often used, along with chickpeas and dried beans. The herbs are what makes this tbikha fresh, moist and bright. The creaminess of pinto beans, along with the delicate, slightly sweetness of kale and smokiness of roasted red peppers make it the perfect pair to a crusty bread. And may be some harissa coated olives…and why not some extra ground cumin to sprinkle liberally. Really, have a mouthful of spring this weekend. You will love it!

Tbikha Kale with Pinto beans and Roasted Red peppers

Recipe: Serves 4
- Two bunches of Tuscan Kale (or curly kale)
- 3 tbsp olive oil
- 1 can pinto beans, drained
- 1 medium onion, finely chopped
- 5 green onions, chopped
- 1/2 jalapeno pepper, finely chopped (or whole depending on your taste)
- 1 cup parsley, finely chopped
- 1 cup cilantro, finely chopped
- 3 garlic cloves, minced
- 1 tsp cumin, freshly ground
- 1/2 tsp sweet paprika
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper
- 1 red pepper, roasted, peeled and finely diced
- The juice of 1/2 lemon

Wash the kale and remove the stems. Chop roughly and set aside.

Pour the olive oil in a pan over a medium heat. Add the onions, cover and cook until translucent but not browned, stirring frequently. Add garlic, jalapeno pepper, cumin, paprika and herbs and cook for a few minutes until fragrant. Add the chopped kale, cover and cook until wilted and the leaves turn bright green. Season with salt and pepper. Add the beans, drained, and the roasted red pepper. Stir, cover and let cook for another 10 minutes for the flavors to infuse.

Serve in a plate drizzled with some good olive oil, the lemon juice and sprinkle with chopped coriander and green onion.

B'ssahatkoum (To your health!)

Tbikha le chou frisé aux haricot blancs et poivron rouge

In Français please: Pour 4 personne
- 2 bouquets de chou frisé (ou épinard ou blettes)
- 3 c.s d'huile d'olive
- 1 oignon moyen, finement haché
- 5 oignons verts, hachés
- 3 gousses d'ail, finement émincées
- 1/2 piment vert, finement haché
- 1 boite de haricots blancs, égouttés
- 200ml de persil haché
- 200ml de coriandre hachée
- 1 c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- 1/2 c.c de paprika
- Sel, poivre noir fraichement moulu
- 1 poivron rouge, rôti, épluché et coupe en petits dés
- le jus d'un demis citron pour finir

Laver le chou frisé et n'en garder que les feuilles. Couper grossièrement et mettre de côté.

Chauffer l'huile d'olive dans une poêle sur feu moyen. Ajouter les oignons, couvrir et laisser cuire jusqu'à ce qu'il deviennent transparents mais ne pas laisser caraméliser, en remuant fréquemment. Ajouter ail, piment vert, cumin, paprika et les herbes et laisser cuire pendant quelques minutes. Ajouter les feuilles de chou frisé, couvrir et cuire jusqu'à ce que les feuilles fondent et qu'elle aient une belle couleur verte. Assaisonner de sel, poivre noir. Ajouter les haricots blancs, égouttés, et le poivron rôti en petits dés. Remuer, couvrir et laisser encore sur un feu doux pendant 10 minutes.

Servir dans un plat avec un filet d'huile d'olive dessus, le jus d'un demis citron et quelques feuilles de coriandre et un oignon vert haché dessus.

B'ssahatkoum (A votre santé)

The Kitchen / La Cuisine

My trip to Algeria was about spending time with my family and friends, soaking up the sun, the blue sky and the sea; introducing my daughter to her origins, to my country, to my continent, to the place where her dad and I first met, to her cousins, her big and diverse family. Our trip was about love, fun and food.

We were six under the same roof. Every morning, my daughter would run down the stairs and into the kitchen to jump into my father's arms before sitting on his lap and take a sip from his coffee. My mother would already be wrapped in her apron doing important things like sweating some onions or dicing some vegetables. Breakfasts were toasts, caak, croissants, pastries, for the brave souls, which I am not, and m'semmen for special days and weekends. Mornings were laid-back, evenings were lingering with tea and sweets at 6PM and chocolate and dates at 12AM. My husband then joined us, followed by my sister, her husband and her three kids. We were then twelve under the same roof. There was no need to turn on the heating and no room to feel lonely. Some of us enjoyed spending time in the family room, others, like myself, snuggled in my parents bed watching cartoons with the kids. But the kitchen was where we all came together. It was in the kitchen where we laughed, argued, ate delicious meals, relaxed, danced, teased one another, where my daughter had her first earrings, where twice a week I ironed my father's shirts, where my sister nursed her one month old son, where my father reads his newspapers, where my husband had his first roasted lamb's tail and where I covered my eyes to avoid seeing such things as people eating lamb's tail.

But let's not talk about animal parts today. I'll leave it for later, for the brave souls. Today I want it to be special. As you have always been so nice to me, I want to share with you a recipe I should have told you about a while ago, as it is my favorite of all. I believe if I had one last meal, this dish would be on my table no doubt about it. This is my mother's spicy greens with bulgur.

Originally, the recipe calls for a variety of greens called khoubiz or bakool , which is found growing wild in the fields of North Africa. It tastes like a cross between arugula (rocket leaves) and watercress, with a hint of acidity, and there is no real equivalent for it here in the US. After experimenting, with fair results, with spinach, arugula, Tuscan kale, dandelion, I've had the best luck with the combination of spinach and arugula. It may not be much to look at, but when you have cumin, turmeric and red pepper flakes mingling with bulgur and spinach and arugula, the fusion is irresistible. Even for those who pretend detesting spinach, or any greens for that matter. (I have a friend who wouldn't eat anything with a green color and he absolutely loves this dish)

The spices and the cloves of garlic are pounded using a mortar and pestle to extract as much aroma before adding the resulting paste to the "sweaty" onions. As you pour the stock over the lovely ochre colored onions, restrain yourself from dipping your bread, or your fingers, as the sauce gets ready for the bulgur. At the end, steamed spinach and arugula join the party; a party that took half an hour to put together and will take half the time to gulp down. It's exquisite, I assure you. It's even exquisite the following day straight from the fridge, sitting on the countertop with a piece of bread in one hand and orange soda in the other. Every bite brings with it a part of home and my mother's kitchen into my own kitchen.

Thank you, mama!

My mother's Spicy Greens with Bulgur (Tchicha bel Khoubiz)

Recipe: Serves 4
- 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- 1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped
- 3 garlic cloves, peeled
- 1 tsp cumin, freshly ground
- 1 tsp red chili pepper flakes
- 1/4 tsp turmeric
-1 tbsp tomato paste
- 2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
- 2 tbsp fine bulgur
- 1 spinach bunch
- 1 arugula bunch
- 1 tbsp cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
- 1 tbsp parsley leaves, roughly chopped
- Salt, Black Pepper

Wash the spinach and arugula. Drain off the excess water and put them in the basket section of a steamer. Cover and steam over simmering water until the greens just start to wilt, but still have their vibrant green color, about 5 - 7 minutes. When cold to handle, squeeze the water out of the greens and chop roughly. Set aside.

In a pan, heat the olive oil. Add the onions and cook on a medium heat until translucent but not brown, about 5 minutes. Meanwhile, pound the garlic with turmeric, cumin, and pepper flakes to a paste using a mortar and pestle. Add the garlic paste to the onions and stir to incorporate. Add The tomato paste and the stock and bring to a boil. Add the bulgur and stir again. Lower the heat to a gentle simmer and cook covered until the bulgur is tender, about 15 minutes, depending on the variety of your bulgur.

Uncover the pan and add the steamed greens and the herbs to the sauce. Stir and cook for another 2 minutes and then remove from the heat. Season with salt and pepper and serve.

The dish keeps well in the fridge for up to 2 days, although I never recall keeping it longer than one day.

La recette épicée des épinards au bulghour de ma mère

In Français Please: Pour 4 personnes
- 2 c.s d'huile d'olive vierge
- 1 oignon moyen, finement haché
- 3 gousses d'ail
- 1 c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- 1 c.c de poivre rouge du chili
- 1/4 c.c de curcuma
- 1 c.s de tomate en conserve
- 2 c.s de boulghour
- 500ml de bouillon de volaille ou de légumes
- 1 bouquet d'épinard
- 1 bouquet de roquette
- 1 c.s de coriandre, grossièrement hachée
- 1 c.s de persil, grossièrement haché

Laver les épinards et la roquette. Essorer le plus de liquide possible et les faire cuire a la vapeur jusqu'à ce que les feuilles commencent a "fondre" mais tout en gardant leur belle couleur verte, environ 5-7 minutes. Essorer l''exces d'eau et hacher grossièrement les herbes. Mettre de cote.

Dans une poêle, chauffer l'huile d'olive. Ajouter l'oignon et laisser cuire jusqu'à ce qu'il devienne transparent, mais sans qu'il caramélise, environ 5 minutes. Entre temps, a l'aide d'un mortier réduire les gousses d'ail et les épices en une pate. L'ajouter aux oignons et tourner a l'aide d'une cuillère en bois. Ajouter la tomate en conserve et le bouillon. Porter a ébullition puis verser les graines de bourghoul en pluie sur le bouillon. Réduire le feu, couvrir la poêle et laisser les graines cuire, environ 15 minutes. Découvrir la poêle et ajouter les épinards, roquette, persil et coriandre. Remuer encore avec la cuillère en bois et donner un autre bouillon avant de retirer du feu, environ deux minutes. Gouter et assaisonner de sel et poivre noir si nécessaire. Servir.

Ce plat se garde bien au frais pendant deux jours, mais j'avoue ne l'avoir jamais garder plus d'un jour dans mon frigo car il est irrésistible.

Home!

I wake up every morning in my bedroom, where I have my orange painted closet, my teenage books, my grandparents’ old wireless radio and some dried roses still stapled over my desk; and I realize that I am home. It feels good. It feels really good.

Some furniture has been added around the house, old neighbors moved out and new ones moved in, more cats came to the nearby printing works and the lemon tree has finally started to bless us, but I still drink my milk in the same mug and still love taking naps in my parents’ bed; my mother still do her daily crosswords before falling asleep and we still have our mint tea with a big plate of M’ssemen and honey later during the day. It feels good. It feels really good to be back, to have some routines back, to see my daughter running in the house where I have so much found memories, and to hear her laughing out loud at the sight of our turtles.

I wake up every morning to a spring day and goes to bed to a fall night.

My parents live in the west side of the country. A coastal city called Oran, once known for its lions, hence the name given to the city to commemorate the last two lions that used to reign over the nearby forest. Old, sometimes crumbling, often neglected, buildings, statues and forts still stand proud and tall all over the city, reminiscent of the Spanish and French eras.
With a glass of strong coffee or mint tea sitting on the side of the table for over an hour, Moorish coffees are the place where men of all ages meet to talk politics, and life, play cards and dominos or just sit there gazing at the passers by. Today I saw a group of four old men gathered around a traditional tray, sitting on small bunches on the sidewalk and enjoying coffee and some good looking pastries while people continuously passing by. My mother told me that only in Algeria you could see people taking their coffee on a busy avenue. I thought it looked like a nice gaada (company).

My mother and I went to one of my favorite, and most entertaining and diverse, local market the other day. And though I don’t have any photos, yet, to share with you, let me tell you something about our markets: They are not your usual farmers markets. They are loud, they are crowded, and they have everything from fruits and vegetables to shoe-shine boys, coffees under a tent, live poultry and rabbits, plumbers waiting to offer their service, letter-writer, marabout describing out loud on a microphone how his “medicine” can help urinary infections, and so much more.

Though I could have spent the whole day listening to the marabout and his fascinating stories, our basket was empty and the sight of sticky dates, pomegranates, roman beans and shiny fennel was more tempting. As we filled our mouths with samples and our baskets with heavy cabbage, tomatoes, dates, tangerines, Jerusalem artichoke, cardoons, fennel, herbs and olives, lunch was quickly taking shape. It was going to be a cabbage salad with celery and tomatoes, my father’s favorite, braised fennel with grilled meat and oranges. We carried our heavy bounty together, we were content with what we had, and nothing was missing. As we turned back to go home, we saw fall. We saw fall in a small red, dirty sweet potato. They were hidden between other potatoes and cauliflowers. They were heavy, they were beautiful, and they were going to be our third course.

My mother has different ways of cooking sweet potatoes. She bake them, fry them like French fries and sprinkle them with cinnamon and sugar at the end, or cook them in a tagine with saffron, cinnamon and honey. The dish takes 30minutes from peeling the potatoes to having them on your plate, and they are absolutely delicious. They melt in your mouth; they absorb all the spices and aromas of the syrupy sauce and they are all what a home is all about: sweet, warm and comforting.

Sweet Potatoes Tagine

Recipe: Serves four
- 2lb sweet potatoes, peeled and diced
- ½ cinnamon stick
- A pinch of saffron
- ½ tsp ground turmeric
- 1tsp orange blossom water
- 1tbsp honey
- 1 cup water
- A pinch of salt
- 1tbsp sweet butter
- A handful of raisins to serve (optional)

In a saucepan, put all the ingredients and bring to a boil over a medium heat. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered with a lid, until the potatoes are just tender, but not too mushy, and the sauce reduces to a thick syrup, about 20 minutes.
Serve immediately sprinkled with raisins or roasted, flaked almonds.

Tagine de Patates Douces

In Français Please: pour 4 personnes
- 1Kg de patates douces, pelées et coupées en morceaux
- ½ bâtonnet de cannelle
- Une pincée de safran
- ½ c.c de safran de l’Inde
- 1c.c d’eau de fleur d’oranger
- 1c.s de miel
- 225ml d’eau
- Une pincée de sel
- 1c.s de beurre
- Une poignée de raisins secs pour servir (facultatif)

Dans une casserole, sur un feu moyen, mettre tous les ingrédients, couvrir et porter à ébullition. Réduire le feu et laisser mijoter jusqu’à ce que les patates soient tendres et que la sauce soit d’une consistance onctueuse, environ 20minutes.
Servir tout de suite saupoudré de raisins secs ou d’amandes effilées légèrement grillées.

Freshman / Première Année

My first year of college was spent 80 miles away from home, sharing a 170 sq ft room (16sq m) with my older sister, two metal beds, one noisy spring mattress and one tiny fridge.

Except for the old beds and the desk, everything was brought from home. Our mother helped us clean and redecorate the room, gave us her mini electrical oven, supplied us with home baked cakes nearly every weekend and gave us unconditional love and support.

Despite all this effort, the dormitory was far from homey. It was badly maintained, with noisy neighbors and hungry mosquitoes. Every other day, after school and already in our pajamas, my sister and I had to go down the three story building, stand in line to fill up our two five gallons jerrycans with water, because our sink was just ornamental, then go back to our room, catching our breath at each story. I have memories of girls washing their clothes outside by the water fountain and carrying them in big, wide plastic bowl while singing popular songs. Memories of dinners with my sister’s friends in our tiny room, where some of them would sit on the beds, some by the window and me on the desk. You had to go outside to cough.

The meals there were a matter of mood, luck and sometimes bravery. While my sister was in charge of doing the dishes and keeping the music going, I was in charge of feeding us and keeping us safe. To cook I had to bring out the folding table from under my sister’s bed (I had the oven and one folding chair under mine), put it in the middle of the room, place the electric stovetop on it, sit on my knees on the corner of the bed and keep the door shut at all time to avoid an accident. Dinners were simple, convenient and meant to keep us from starving. Rice, pasta, fruits and cheese were often on the table; the most sophisticated meals I’ve made being a ratatouille and chicken saffron rice.

Sometimes, when feeling fancy, we would go to the nearby butcher and by a rotisserie chicken, to which he would always add a loaf of bread for free. That night, we knew dinner was going to be savored blissfully; when other times, when feeling lazy, and brave, we would dine at the dinning hall. Standing in line, we would slide our steel trays along the kitchen windows to see our plates filled with, once more, what is supposed to be mashed potatoes, a suspicious fish soup, unseasoned cucumber and tomatoes salad, a slice of bread, cheese and plain yogurt. When extremely hungry, and extremely fearless, we would gulp down the soup, leave out the mashed potatoes and take the salad, bread, cheese and yogurt to our room. That night, we knew dinner was ruined and that our fridge was, yet again, going to add another cup of yogurt to its shelf. By the end of the week, and four cups of plain yogurt later, my sister and I sitting on the desk, our feet up on the window, we would feast on cereal and yogurt, yogurt cake and sometimes eggplant and yogurt dip.

We left the dormitory the next year, but took our beloved eggplant dip home with us.


Spicy Eggplant and Yogurt Dip

Recipe: Serves 4-6 people
- 2 medium eggplants
- ½ cup plain yogurt
- 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- 2 garlic cloves, finely minced
- 2 tbsp parsley, finely chopped
- 1 tbsp mint, finely chopped
- 1 tsp harissa
- 1 tsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
- ½ tsp cumin, freshly ground
- Salt
- Pita chips for serving

Preheat the broiler. Line a baking sheet with foil. Prick the eggplants in a few places with a pointed knife so that they will not burst. Put the eggplants under the broiler until the skin is black and blistered. Turn on the other side for a few more minutes. Roast the eggplants for 15-20 minutes, or until they feel very soft when you press them.

When cool enough to handle, peel the eggplants and remove as much seed as possible. Drop the flesh into a colander. Chop the flesh roughly with the point of a knife to let the juice escape.

Pour the eggplants into a bowl and beat in the olive oil, the harissa and the yogurt and mix until it is thoroughly blended. Mix in the rest of the ingredients. Taste and adjust the seasoning if needed.

Spoon into a serving bowl, cover with a plastic wrap and refrigerate until cold. Serve with pita chips (pita wedges baked in a bakeware at 350 for 5 minutes, or until crunchy) The dip is even better served the following day.

Dip épicé d’Aubergine et Yaourt

In Francais Please: Pour 4-6 personnes
- 2 aubergines moyennes
- 100ml de yaourt nature
- 2 c.s d’huile d’olive vierge
- 2 gousses d’ail, finement émincées
- 2 c.s de persil, finement haché
- 1 c.s de menthe fraiche, finement haché
- 1 c.c de harissa
- 1 c.c de jus de citron
- ½ c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- Sel
- Chips de pita pour servir

Préchauffer le grill de votre four. Couvrir un tole de patisserie de papier aluminium et mettre dessus les aubergines. Piquer les aubergines tout autour à l’aide d’un coteau pointu et mettre sous le grill jusqu’à ce que la peau noircisse et a se froisser. Retourner l’aubergine de l’autre côté. Eteindre le grill mais laisser le four allumé afin de continuer la cuisson des aubergines pour 15-20 minutes, ou jusqu’à ce qu’elles deviennent molles.

Refroidir les aubergines. Peler, épépiner le plus possible et mettre dans une passoire et couper grossierement avec le pointe du couteau pour se debarasser du jus.

Verser les aubergines dans un bol et y ajouter l’huile d’olive, la harissa et le yaourt et bien mélanger. Ajouter le reste des ingredients et mélanger encore une fois. Rectifier l’assaisonnement.

Mettre dans un bol pour servir. Couvrir de film plastique et mettre au frais jusqu’à ce qu’il refroidissent completement. Servir avec les chips de pita. (Des tranches de pita passées au four, 160C pendant 5 minutes ou jusqu’à ce qu’elles deviennent croustillantes)
Ce dip est encore meilleur le lendemain.

Preserving Summer / Conserver L'été

I didn’t mean to be away from my blog. I didn’t mean to leave you starring at this olive and chicken tagine, which started to go bad, for this long. August has been very busy around here. And the busiest month is yet to come, both for my kitchen and I.

I don’t know about you but since I can remember, our summer afternoons have always been filled with preserving the year’s bounty. It was a ritual, written in our book of life.
My father would bring us crates of green peppers, tomatoes, apricots and peas and my mother and I would spend our afternoons in the kitchen peeling, seeding, halving, blanching, roasting, cooking and freezing while talking about how this summer looks hotter than the others, why the cousin didn’t get married and how I need to work quickly instead of talking all the time. “El-hadra wel maghzel!” she always tells me, which means: “chitchat and distaff!”
The next day was the same: peel, seed, halve, blanch, roast, cook and freeze, chitchat chitchat, repeat! By the third day, afraid of not being able to reach the lower part of the crates and just growing tired of all these never ending crates laying around the kitchen, my mother would give the rest to neighbors and friends saying to herself that we have fairly enough for the winter. Until next summer comes along with crates, funnels, ladles, pots and wiser hands.

This year, although away from my mother’s kitchen, was no exception. Green peppers have been roasted and frozen, strawberries and blueberries were turned into jam, verbena was dried for our late nights herbal teas, basil was turned into pesto, pounds and pounds of ripe, delicious tomatoes were turned into the most exquisite tomato sauce and hot peppers were either roasted and frozen, or dried and turned into Mo’s, that would be my other half, signature hot sauce: Harissa.

Although being a North African condiment, I didn’t grow up eating Harissa that much. The rare occasions where I would have Harissa was at street vendors where they serve it along with Karentika, a chickpea based snack a bit similar to the Italian Farinata. Though it added a nice heat to the snack, I didn’t enjoy Harissa by itself. It was unnecessary hot and that was it. No flavor, no aromatic spices. Just hot!
And then came Mo, with dried chilies in one hand and tales of the best Harissa he’s ever had, while studying in Paris, in the other.
All I knew about Harissa was shattered into million pieces and blended with the dried chilies and the spices, and I loved it. I loved being wrong because my life will never be the same without Mo and his four jars of Harissa in our fridge. And while I wish I could give you the recipe of his Harissa, there is a tiny close in our marriage contract, next to the do-the-dishes-from-time-to-time-honey close, that says that I shall never give away his recipe to anyone. But you can always persuade him to send you a jar or two.

We usually eat Harissa as a condiment with soups, tagines, grilled kefta, couscous…in a word everything but desserts and salads, but this time I wanted to mix it to my usually boring squash fritters batter. Yellow squash can be very bland sometimes and the warmth of Harissa along with cumin, coriander seeds, garlic and mint add a much-needed burst of flavors to the fritters and conclude a happy ending to an intense day of preserving summer.

Yellow Squash Fritters with Mint and Harissa

Recipe: Serves 4
- 1 pound small yellow squash, grated (You can use green zucchini as well)
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 eggs, lightly beaten
- 2 tbsp all-purpose flour
- 1 small bunch parsley, chopped
- ½ tsp cumin, freshly ground
- ½ tsp coriander seeds, freshly ground
- 1 tsp Harissa paste
- 10 mint leaves, chopped
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper
- Olive oil

Squeeze the grated yellow squash dry by wring it out in a towel. (Using a towel is the best way I’ve found to get rid of the excess water, which you can use to water your plants)

In a large bowl, combine the yellow squash with the rest of the ingredients. Heat a film of olive oil in a nonstick sauté pan over medium heat. For each fritter, pour a generous tablespoon of the squash batter into the pan. Turn them over after the bottom turns golden. Cook on the other side until golden. Drain on paper towels. Serve right away.

Beignets de Courgettes jaunes a la Harissa et Menthe

In Francais Please: Pour 4 personnes
- 500g courgettes jaunes, râpées (Vous pouvez la remplacer par de la courgette verte)
- 2 gousses d’ail, émincées
- 2 oeufs entiers, légerement battus
- 2 c.s de farine
- 1 petit bouquet de persil, haché
- ½ c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- ½ c.c de graines de coriandre, fraichement moulues
- 1 c.c de harissa
- 10 feuilles de menthe, hachées
- Sel et poivre noir fraichement moulu
- Huile d’olive

Essorer les courgettes râpées dans une serviette pour enlever le plus d’eau possible. (Vous pouvez arroser vos plantes avec l’eau des courgettes)

Dans un bol, mélanger les courgettes essorées avec le reste des ingredients. Faites chauffer un filet d’huile d’huile dans une poêle ainti-adhesive sur feu moyen. Pour chaque beignet, verser une cuillere à soupe du mélange de courgettes dans la poêle. Retourner quand la surface des beignets prendra une belle couleur dorée. Faites cuires l’autre coté jusqu’à obtenir une belle coloration. Egoutter sur du papier absorbant et servir tout de suite.

Nibble And Spread / Grignoter Et Tartiner

Oh June! I didn’t know you had such a hot temper.

First you came with open arms and roses and candle lighted dinners on the deck. You were beautiful, pleasant, and funny. You were the answer to our prayers after harsh cold winter days. Mornings with you were cool and breezy. Mornings with you had a scent of the beach and shells and fishermen coming back from the sea. Mornings with you were lovely.
We opened our house, our windows and our kitchen to you. The curtains were pulled all the way to the ceiling. The winter clothes were buried in the basement. Hairdressers were busy. Children were free. We went to the park together and you delighted us with tender asparagus, crunchy radishes and sweet strawberries. You told us stories about friendship and riding bikes and festivals and scraped knees and picnics and how you liked being on the spotlight announcing the summer season. We laughed together. We raised our glass to you. You gave us more strawberries.

Sweet and Warm / Douce et Chaleureuse

Less than a year ago, when we moved into our new house, I made a wish. I walked my daughter to the hallway of our house and made a wish: I wished for this house to be warm, to be caring and to always see people lined around the kitchen table. I wanted this house to bring old and new friends together. I wanted this house to be filled with laughter, love, couscous and mint tea. I wanted this house to feed us. To feed people; and to feed our hearts.

Our wishes came true. Our wishes come true every single day. And for that, we are thankful to be looked after and to have a warm shelter above our heads.


Our kitchen brought old friends and new friends together around the table a couple of weeks ago, when celebrating Earth Day with some local bloggers. Blushing cheeks and awkward silence (especially me) quickly faded away with espresso beans stories and some crostinis. The picnic table was set. The sun was out. The couscoussier was steaming its last batch of couscous. Cameras were clicking (thanks again Christine for these lovely photos). Plastic wraps, banana leaves, and paper bags were unwrapped to reveal Uruguayan savory rolls, a refreshing mix of greens with fennel and orange segments, luscious mango and pastry cream tart, and an olive loaf.

The couscous was mixed with steamed raisins and served in my mothers’ wooden “gassaa”, to which I added a lamb and vegetable broth made with green peas, zucchinis, carrots, and a dollop of sweet and deep, spicy and delicious glazed pearl onions. The couscous was good, spicy and sweet, although I would have liked the broth to be thicker. But a mysterious sous-chef turned off the burner without my knowledge and without my permission.

These glazed pearl onions are just what you would expect from any caramelized onions and so much more. The bath of chicken broth, butter and warm spices, like cinnamon, ginger and turmeric, turned these babies into an exotic delicacy that I didn't see possible in an onion. I can olnly imagine how scrumptious they must be with roasted vegetables, winter squashes, stews, rice, pasta, grains, sandwiches, as a side dish to roast chicken, lamb, braised veal shanks, and how they will take mashed potatoes to another level of sophistication.

After lunch, we headed back to the kitchen to share a cup of mint tea, talk about life and family and feast on Christine’s Mango tart. We feasted indeed. Just before my last sip of mint tea, I raised, secretly, my cup and made another wish: I wished for this life to always be as sweet and warm as friends and home sweet home are.

Spicy Glazed Pearl Onions

Recipe: Adapted from here
- 10 ounces pearl onions, peeled
- 2 cups chicken broth
- ½ cup black raisins
- ½ tsp ground turmeric
- ½ tsp ground ginger
- ¼ cup granulated sugar
- 3 tbsp butter
- 1 tsp ground cinnamon
- A pinch of sea salt
- Freshly ground black pepper

Put all the ingredients in a saucepan, and cook over a medium-low heat, covered, 1 hour, then remove cover and continues cooking, stirring from time to time, until liquid thickens to a syrupy consistency and the onions have a glazed appearance, about 30 minutes. Serve hot.

Oignons Grelots Confits aux Epices

In Français Please: adaptée d'ici
- 280g de petits oignons grelots
- 500ml de bouillon de volaille
- 100g de raisins noirs
- ½ c.c de curcuma
- ½ c.c de gingembre en poudre
- 25g de sucre en poudre
- 25g de beurre
- 1 c.c de cannelle en poudre
- Une pincée de sel marin
- Du poivre noir fraichement moulu

Mettre tous les ingredients dans une casserole et faire cuire sur feu doux, couvert, pendant 1 heure, puis découvrir et laisser réduire jusqu’a ce que le jus ait la consistence d’un sirop, en remuant de temps en temps, et que les oignons aient une apparence caramélisé, pendant 30 minutes. Servir chaud.

My Favorite Pickled Beets Recipe/ Ma Recette Préférée de Betteraves au Vinaigre

I had my first pickled beets about a few months ago at the local fruit market, and I instantly fell in love with them. They were on a tray for people to sample along with pickled onions, cauliflower, cabbage and other bright veggies. As I stood there, my mouth started salivating at these vinegary pickles just like your mouth must be salivating right now as you are reading these pickled words.
The taste of the beets was different from fresh beets. They didn’t have this “earthy” flavor anymore. They were sour, sweet, spicy, although the vinegar was a bit overpowering the rest of the ingredients.

After a few attempts at recreating what I thought was the perfect combination of sweet, sour and spicy pickle, I find this recipe to be the perfect pickled beets I’ve had so far. I added spearmint to the marinade as I like the fresh note that it adds to the marinade, but you can use dill if it’s what you prefer.

Pickled Beets

Recipe: Gourmet, December 2000
- 1 cup cider vinegar
- 1/2 cup water
- 1/2 cup sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon mustard seeds
- 1/4 onion, halved
- 1 small bay leaf
- 3/4 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
- 1/4 bunch fresh spearmint
- 3 beets (1 lb without tops)

Betteraves Au Vinaigre

In Francais Please: Gourmet, Decembre 2000
- 250ml de vinaigre de cidre
- 125ml d’eau
- 125ml de sucre en poudre
- ¼ c.c de graines de moutarde
- ¼ oignon, coupé en deux
- 1 petite feuille de laurier
- ¾ c.c de graines de poivre noir
- ¼ bouquet de menthe
- 3 betterave (environ 500g sans leur tige)

- Bring all ingredients except beets to a boil in a 2- to 3-quart saucepan, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Cover and simmer 30 minutes.

- Mettre tous les ingredients à part les betterave dans une casserole de 2- à 3-Litres de capacité, porter à ébullition en remuant jusqu’à ce que le sucre se dilue. Couvrir et laisser frémir pendant 30 minutes.

- Meanwhile, Cook beets in a saucepan of boiling salted water until tender. Drain and cool. Slip off skins and cut into 1/2-inch pieces.

- Entre temps, faire cuire les bettraves dans une casserle d’eau bouillante salée. Egoutter et laisser refroidir. Retirer la peau et couper en morceaux d’un centimeter d’épaisseur.

- Cool the marinade, and then pour through a fine sieve into a bowl.

- Laisser la marinade refroidir, puis passer à travers une fine passoire.

- Stir together beets and marinade, then marinate, covered and chilled, 1 day.

- Mélanger les betteraves et la marinade, puis laisser mariner, couvert et au frais, pendant au moins 24 heures avant de servir.

A Spicy Salad For Your Eyes / Une Salade épicée Pour Vos Yeux

When I was about four-year old, I used to wear glasses. I had a slight squint (my siblings used to all me cross-eyed).

I used to go to the eye doctor every week, and every time we would come back from his office my father would show me a building on the far left side of the street and ask me if I can see it clearly. Most of the time my answers were an exasperating no! He would console me with a kiss on my forehead and tells me that I would do better next time and that for now a plate of carrots salad would help my eyes get better.

I don’t know if it was my mothers’ spicy carrot salad that helped my eyes get back on the right track, but at least it was a good excuse for me to have the biggest part.

This salad is very popular in Algeria and Morocco. It is usually served in a small plate along with two or three colorful seasonal salads. My mother usually boils the carrots, slices them then tosses them with a cumin vinaigrette. I came across a cute bunch of tiny carrots the other day at the grocery store and decided to leave them whole and roast them. The salad can’t be easier: Just whisk the vinaigrette, pour it over the carrots and roast the colorful bounty for about 15-20 minutes, until the carrots are caramelized and your whole house smells like a Mediterranean spice shop.

You can serve this salad slightly warm, but I think it tastes better after a few hours, to give the warm spices and the carrots a little while to “ripen”.

Another Favorite Salad:
- Roasted beets Salad

Spicy Roasted Carrot Salad

Recipe: Serves 6
- 2 thin carrot bunches, peeled
- 1 fat garlic clove, finely diced
- Lemon juice
- 2 tbsp garlic oil
- ½ tsp honey
- 1 tsp cumin seeds
- ½ tsp paprika
- 1 pinch ground cinnamon
- 1 tbsp fresh cilantro, chopped
- ½ tsp Kosher salt
- Freshly ground pepper

Position a rack in the middle of the oven, and preheat to 400F.

In a small bowl, whisk together the garlic oil, garlic, honey, cumin seeds, paprika, cinnamon, salt and black pepper. Set the vinaigrette aside.
In a baking sheet, toss together the carrots with the vinaigrette, and bake until caramelized and tender, about 15-20 minutes.

Serve with a drizzle of lemon juice and chopped cilantro.

Salade épicée de Carottes Rôties

In Francais Please: Pour 6 personnes
- 2 bottes de carottes plus au moins fines
- 1 grosse gousse d’ail, finement hachée
- Jus de citron
- 2 c.s d’huile d’ail
- ½ c.c de miel
- 1 c.c de graines de cumin
- ½ c.c de paprika
- 1 pincée de cannelle en poudre
- 1 c.s de coriandre frais, hachée
- ½ c.c de sel (pas de sel de table)
- Poivre noir fraichement moulu

Mettre la grille du four au milieu, et préchauffer a 200C

Dans un petit bol, mélanger l’huile d’ail, l’ail, miel, graines de cumin, paprika, canelle, sel et poivre. Mettre cette vinaigrette de coté.
Mettre les carottes sur une grande tôle et les enduire de la vinaigrette. Cuire au four jusqu’a ce que les carottes deviennent tendres et caramélisées, environ 15-20 minutes.

Servir avec un filet de jus de citron et la coriandre hachée.

Savory Cheddar, Goat Cheese and Cilantro Cake / Cake Salé aux Cheddar, Fromage de Chèvre et Coriandre

I don’t remember which one came first: cooking, or the words that came with the recipes.

My mother had a small collection of pocket size French Cookbooks that I loved reading. The cookbooks had no pictures and no stories, just recipes, words and may be some drawing here and there. Yet, these books played a major role in the life of a teenage girl who wanted to learn the art of cooking.

Leafing through a cookbook that has no pictures, I was more drawn to a recipe that calls itself “Pain Bourguignon”, “Braised green lentils on a bed of Escarole”, “Anna potato cake” or even “Eggs en Cocotte” than to the ones with a less phonetic impact. Once I gave my poor siblings a taste of what was at the time my obsession with the word: Pilaf. Say it again, slowly: P-I-L-A-F! The way the tongue caresses the palate gently makes it sound more mystifying and delicious.

One sunny Friday, when my parents said they would be away for the afternoon, and that they might be late for supper, I nodded my head religiously to my mother’s leftover-reheating recommendations while the word Pilaf danced sensuously and discreetly in my mind. Once my parents had left, I had my rice, my onion, my chicken stock and my seasoning on the counter top. I was a girl on a mission.

The rice was beautiful, served in a royal blue glass dish, fluffed with a fork and decorated with some chopped parsley. I sat in my Mother’s place and served my siblings some of the rice and the other leftovers. I was proud of my self. Even more proud to explain my siblings how this wasn’t any kind of rice, this was P-I-L-A-F Rice! (With the tongue rolling, of course!)
The first bite was a little unexpected. But I decided to stay quiet and continued on with another spoonfuls, hoping that my siblings wouldn’t notice. Then my older sister put down her fork. “It’s undercooked, some grains are still raw,” my sister said, and went on to eat my mother’s leftovers.
“No, it’s not undercooked, it’s Al-dente” (Another word that I loved using at that time, too!)
Then my younger brothers followed and I couldn’t convince them anymore to eat it; even when I asked them to fish the raw grains out.

I almost finished my plate, but inside I was devastated with the knowledge that I have made a mistake somewhere in the recipe. I served my family a dish of partially raw rice and tried to make them believe that this was how the dish was to be served: Crunchy Pilaf!

Ever since this episode, I have learned how to make Pilaf Rice properly. But I still love using beautiful, exotic names for my dishes to impress the crowd. Even though the recipes are still the same. Somehow, I find it more alluring to introduce this Savory Cake as a Savory Cheddar, Goat Cheese and Cilantro cake than: Savory Quickbread, which is just what it is in reality. But much more.
I made this recipe from Dorie Greenspan’ Serious Eats chronicles: Baking with Dorie. The cake is simply marvelous and oh, so easy to make. You basically whisk all the dry ingredients together in a bowl, the wet in another, and then you gently combine the two. Pour, bake, let it cool, and you’ve got yourself a moist, delicious and cheesy cake that would make any novice baker proud. The only minor changes that I made to the original recipe was to use a mix of white whole-wheat flour and all-purpose flour, to use cilantro instead of chives (it was a manner of availability) and to use goat cheese for its fresh note. I love to serve this savory cake with salads, or as a toast for my sandwiches. After a few days, when it dries out, I like to slice it, toast it, and dice it into croutons to garnish my salads or soups.

Savory Cheddar, Goat Cheese and Cilantro Cake

Recipe: Adapted fom Here
- 1cup all-purpose flour
- ¾ cup white whole wheat flour
- 1 tablespoon baking powder
- 1/2 to 1 teaspoon salt (it depends on what cheese and add-ins you're using. I used 1 tsp)
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper (or more to taste; you could even add a pinch of hot pepper)
- 3 large eggs, at room temperature
- 1/3 cup whole milk, at room temperature
- 1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
- 3 ounces coarsely grated cheddar or other cheese
- 2 ounces fresh goat cheese or other cheese, cut into very small cubes
- 1/2 cup chopped cilantro or other herbs
- 1/3 cup toasted walnuts, chopped (optional)

Put the flour, baking powder, salt, and pepper in a large mixing bowl and whisk the ingredients together to combine. Put the eggs in another mixing bowl; whisk for about 1 minute, until they're foamy and blended. Whisk in the milk and olive oil.

Pour the wet ingredients over the dry ingredients and, using a sturdy rubber spatula or a wooden spoon, gently mix until the dough comes together. There's not need to be energetic—beating the dough toughens it—nor do you need to be very thoroughly. Just stir until all the dry ingredients are moistened. Now, stir in the cheese, grated and cubed, the herbs and the toasted walnuts, if you're using them. You'll have a thick dough. Turn the dough into a buttered loaf pan and even the top with the back of the spatula or spoon.

Slide the loaf pan into a 350F-preheated oven and bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until the bread is golden and a slender knife inserted into the center of the loaf comes out clean. Transfer the pan to a cooling rack, wait about 3 minutes, then run a knife around the sides of the pan and turn the loaf over onto the rack; invert and cool to room temperature right-side up.

The cake can be served when it is still slightly warm, but like Dorie herself, I prefer it when it has cooled completely.
Well wrapped, the cake will keep for about 2 days at room temperature or for up to 2 months in the freezer (thaw in the wrapper). It is normal that the cake may seem a little dry after a couple of days. At that point, it's good to toast the slices. I like to use them as little croutons in my salad and soups, too.

Cake Salé aux Cheddar, Fromage de Chèvre et Coriandre

In Francais Please: Adapté d'ici
- 110g de farine
- 100g de farine blanche complete
- 1 petite c.s de levure chimique
- ½ a 1c.c de sel (tout depends du fromage que vous utilisez et de ce que vous voulez ajouter. J’ai mis 1 c.c)
- ¼ c.c de poivre noir faichement moulu
- 3 gros oeufs, a temperature ambiante
- 100ml lait entier, a temperature ambiante
- 100ml d’huile d’olive extra vierge
- 85g de cheddar, grossierement rapé
- 50g de fromage de chevre, coupé en en dés
- 125ml coriandre, haché
- 100ml noix, grossierement hachées (facultatives)

Dans Une grande jatte, mélanger les farines, la levure, le sel et le poivre. Dans un autre bol, battre les oeufs pendant un minute jusqu’à ce qu’ils deviennent mousseux et bien incorporés. Ajouter le lait et l’huile d’olive.

Verser tous les ingredients liquides sur les ingredients secs, et mélanger doucement à l’aide d’une spatule ou une cuillere en bois. Ne pas trop mélanger ou le cake sera dur et sec. Ajouter le fromage rapé et le fromage de chèvre en cubes, les noix et Mélanger encore. Votres pate sera épaisse. Verser la pate sur un moule à cake beurré et lisser la surface du cake à l’aide d’une maryse ou le dos d’une cuillere a soupe.

Glisser le cake au four, et faire cuire à 180C pendant 35-45 minutes ou jusqu’à ce que le cake soit doré et qu’un couteau inséré à l’interieur du cake en ressort propre. Laisser le cake dans sans moule pendant 3 minutes, puis démouler sur une grille à patisserie et laisser refroidir à temperature ambiante à l’endroit. Vous pouvez le servir tiede, mais je le préfere tout comme Dorie, completement refroidi.

Bien envelopé dans un film plastique, le cake peut se garder pendant 2 jours à temperature ambiante ou pendant 2 mois au congélateur (décongeler-le en le laissant dans le film plastique). Il est normal que le cake durcisse après quelques jours. A ce stage, il est préférable de griller les tranche en toast (J’aime les griller et les couper en dés pour décorer salades et soupes.

A Soup To The Rescue / Une Soupe à La Rescousse

This soup is what helped us, my husband and I, from starving this past weekend after we had a stomach bug. You don’t know how important it is what you put into your body until you find your face distorted with pain.

I had big plans for this past weekend. Plans that involve a Thai lunch with my friend and her family, a Sunday breakfast perfumed with freshly baked cinnamon rolls and an afternoon walk to the park with my daughter and my husband.
Instead, all I can remember from this past weekend is the bathroom, blankets in the family room and questions like: “Are you feeling better? Did you take your medicine? Do you want something to eat?” To which all of the answers was an echoing: No!

It sucks to be sick!
It sucks to be sick on a weekend.
It sucks even more to be sick on a weekend and having to eat a bland, boring soup.
But this soup isn’t boring! No! Although it doesn’t have all the warm spices that I usually put in my soups, it is nonetheless very good, with a hint of sweetness from the leeks and a woody taste from the thyme and bay leaf. Because nobody likes dull soups, especially when you are sick.

Hope you all had a healthier weekend!

Feel Good Leek and Thyme Soup

Recipe: Serves 4
- 3 medium leeks, cleaned and roughly sliced
- 1 small onion, peeled and roughly chopped
- 2 fat garlic cloves, peeled.
- 2 small potatoes, peeled and roughly diced
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 1 tbsp dried thyme (or fresh if available)
- 1 big bay leaf
- 4 cups water (or vegetable stock)
- Salt, freshly ground black pepper

Heat the olive oil in a large pot. Add the onions, garlic and leeks, and stir to coat them with the oil. Let them cook on a medium heat until lightly browned. Add the potatoes, thyme and bay leaves and stir again. Cover with the water. Add bay leaf, salt and pepper, and cover with a lid. Let simmer until the potatoes are fork tender, about 20 minutes.
Discard the bay leaf and blend the soup using a hand blender. Season if needed, and serve right away.

Soupe aux Poireaux et thym

In Francais Please: Pour 4 personnes
- 3 poireaux moyens, nettoyés et grossierement hachés
- 1 petit oignon, épluché et grossierement haché
- 2 grosses gousses d’ail, épluchées
- 1 petite c.s d’huile d’olive
- 1 c.s de thym séché (ou frais si disponible)
- 1 large feuille de laurier
- 1L d’eau (ou bouillon de legumes)
- Sel et poivre noir fraichement moulu

Faites chauffer l’huile d’olive dans une cocotte. Ajouter l’oignon, les gousses d’ail et les poireaux, puis mélanger pour bien couvrir les legumes d’huile. Laisser dorer pendant quelques minutes. Ajouter les pommes de terre, le thym et la feuille de laurier et mélanger encore. Couvrir d’eau. Assaisonner de sel, poivre et couvrir. Laisser mijoter jusqu’à ce que les pommes de terre deviennent tendres, environ 20 minutes. Retirer la feuille de laurier et mixer la soupe. Réctifier l’assaisonnement si nécessaire et servir tout de suite.

Beets: The Only Way / Betteraves: La seule Manière

Twenty-four years, nine months and ten days. This is how much it took me to find out that beets can be roasted and are better than boiled ones. Much better.

Growing up, when my mother and I would go to the downtown market “looking for our lunch”, as she always says, we knew that buying beets meant one thing and one thing only: boiled beets salad with cumin. It is the only beet recipe I have in my recipe notebook. The only way I ate beets for the last twenty-four years, nine months and ten days. The only way I thought beets could be eaten.

Needless to say how confused and lost I felt when hearing about this cooking method on the radio. This was a lot worse than the day I discovered that the tooth fairy was in fact my parents sneaking into our bedroom, and hiding our teeth in my father’s diplomatic pouch- my sister and brothers didn’t want to believe me when I told them the truth and decided not to talk to me for two whole days.

I couldn’t wait to buy some beets last week and do the unthinkable: revisit my mother beets salad. The traditional way, or at least the way my mother would serve it, was to boil beets for nearly an hour, peel them, and serve them with ground cumin, parsley, sometimes boiled eggs, and an orange vinaigrette. My version is a little bit similar in the basis, as I love the combination of beets, cumin and orange, but so much better than the original in taste. Sorry Maman!

Roasting the beets really brings out their natural sweetness, preserve their vitamins and gives a meaty, caramelized texture to the beets- compared to watery boiled beets. Cumin seeds are roasted along with the beets to allow their smokiness to penetrate the flesh deeply, while the orange and honey vinaigrette freshens up the whole dish and sort of highlights each ingredient. It is really an explosion of smokiness, sweetness and warmth in one salad. It became our favorite root vegetable salad and the only way we will be eating beet salad from now on and for the second time in two weeks.

My Roasted Beets Salad

Recipe: Serves 4
- 4 to 5 medium beets, rinsed and quartered
- 5 shallots, peeled and quartered
- 1 tbsp cumin seeds
- Olive oil
- For the Vinaigrette:
- 1 tbsp Meyer lemon juice (or a mix of orange juice and lemon juice)
- 1 tsp honey
- ½ cup extra virgin olive oil
- 1 tsp orange zest
- ¼ tsp salt
- A pinch of freshly grated black pepper
- Silvered Almonds, lightly toasted
- 1 tbsp chopped Parsley


Preheat the oven to 400F. Line a large sheet pan with foil. Put the beets, shallots, and cumin seeds in the middle of the foil. Season the mixture lightly with salt and pepper and drizzle with some olive oil. Toss to coat. Fold the sheet of foil over the vegetables as you would fold a letter, and bake until fork tender, about 45 minutes.
Meanwhile, whisk the honey with the Meyer lemon juice, half the chopped parsley, salt, pepper and the orange zest. Add the olive oil while whisking until the vinaigrette comes together but is still a little light.
Toss the hot roasted beets with the vinaigrette. Sprinkle the toasted silvered almonds on top, the remaining parsley, and a little bit of orange zest.

Serve warm. You can scatter some goat cheese too. It’s lovely with beets.

Ma Salade de Betteraves Rôties

In Francais Please: Pour 4 personnes
- 4 a 5 betteraves, lavées et coupées en quartiers
- 5 échalotes, épluchées et coupées en quartiers
- 1 c.c de graines de cumin
- Huile d’olive
- Pour la Vinaigrette:
- 1 c.s de jus de Meyer Citron (ou mélange jus de citron et orange)
- 1 c.c de miel
- 75 ml d’huile d’olive
- 1 c.c de zeste d’orange
- ¼ c.c de sel
- Une pincée de poivre noir fraichement moulu
- Amandes effilées, légerement grilles
- 1 c.s de persil haché

Préchauffer le four a 200C. Garnir une grande tôle de papier aluminium que vous laisser un peu déborder des bords. Mettre au milieu du papier les betteraves, les échalotes et les graines de cumin. Assaisonner de sel, poiver et huile d’olive pour bien couvrir les legumes. Mélanger pour bien répartir l’assaisonnement et faites cuire jusqu’à ce que les betteraves soient bien tendres, environ 45 minutes.
Entre temps, préparer votre vinaigrette. Battre à l’aide d’un fouet le jus de citron, le miel, la moitié de persil, sel, poivre et zeste d’orange. Verser dessus l’huile d’olive en filet.
Mélanger les betteraves encore chaudes a la vinaigrette. Décorer d’amandes effilées, le reste de persil et un peu de zeste d’orange.

Servir tiède. Vous pouvez aussi disperser un peu de fromage de chèvre au dessus. C’est superbement bon avec les betteraves.

Yesterday / Hier

As I am typing this, the sun is playing hide and seek with the clouds, and me. Some snow flurries were chased away by the wind this morning and the rain didn’t stop chasing my dreams away last night. February is on its way.

Still, yesterday was a better day. Yesterdays seem to always be better than today.
We had a warmer breeze and a heavy, cloudy sky. We were able to go out, leaving behind our hats, our furry boots and winter gloves. We went for a stroll to the downtown bakery, said Hi to the old lady and went exploring the bookstore for a new nighttime story.

Yesterday was a glorious day.

Lunch was made of wiggly linguine and coriander roasted butternut squash, my daughter’s favorite. While dinner was a dive into the fridge, rescuing what was supposed to be a Savoy cabbage. It was tucked away, forgotten between the crunchy bunch of spinach and the red lettuce. Here was my green cabbage, waiting for its time to come, for my hands to pull it away from the cold crisper and for my newly sharpened knife to…Oh! I’ll spare you the details. Although this time I didn’t have to use my knife, as I nearly cut my index off the other day chopping some onions. I should go back to the butter knife days. Those were safer days!

My cabbage waiting for me on the countertop, I started taking care of my ground beef filling by adding to it some cumin, a dash of cinnamon, herbs, garlic and other seasonings. The cabbage leaves were gently peeled, cleaned, filled and carefully nestled under the chickpeas, in a yellow, soothing river. How I wish I could swim in it.


Stuffed Cabbage Tagine is the way my mother had us eating cabbage when we were kids. And trust me, it was very hard not to love it in this dish. We would lick the plate and ask for more.
It’s so easy to make, I had my hubby making a good part of it while I was getting my daughter ready for bed. Don’t get me wrong; he can be a fine cook. When he wants to. You don’t have to own a Tagine to make this dish; just a good pan will do the trick. The beautiful yellow color of the broth is due the use of Turmeric, also known as the saffron of the poor man. I used overnight-soaked chickpeas that I added at the beginning of the cooking, but if you have ready, canned chickpeas, let them cook in the pan during the last ten minutes before serving.

To enjoy this Tagine plentifully, you will need a good portion of crusty bread to mop up the broth, and a bar of soap to clean your turmeric colored nails.

Yesterday was indeed a colorful day.

Stuffed Cabbage Tagine

Recipe: Serves 4
- 1 Savoy Cabbage
- 1 tsp turmeric powder
- ½ cup chickpeas (soaked overnight or canned)
- 1 medium sweet onion, finely chopped
- For the filling:
- ½ lb ground beef
- 2 tbsp chopped parsley
- 2 small garlic, finely chopped
- 1 egg yolk
- 1 square of bread, soaked in a little bit of milk, then drained.
- ¾ tsp cumin powder
- ½ tsp Ras El Hanout (optional)
- Cinnamon
- Canola oil
- Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
- 1 cup water

Carefully peel the leaves of the cabbage. Wipe them with a clean towel, remove the hard stem and set aside. In a pan, heat the oil, add half the onion and cook over a medium heat until transparent but not caramelized. Add the garlic finely chopped, ¼ tsp of ground cinnamon, the turmeric and the chickpeas. Cover with water and bring to a gentle boil. Season lightly with salt and pepper. Prepare the filling: Mix the ground beef with the remaining chopped onion, the remaining chopped garlic, parsley, egg, bread, cumin, Ras El Hanout, a dash of ground cinnamon, salt, ground black pepper, and mix without “kneading” the meat.
Fill each center of the cabbage leaf with the filling and fold as you would fold a letter. Seal with a toothpick. You can turn some filling left into meatballs (like in the picture) and let them cook in the broth.
Nestle the cabbage packages tightly under the chickpeas, add the meatballs, if any, cover and simmer on a medium low heat for 30-45 min, or until the chickpeas are fork tender and the meat is cooked all the way through. Uncover, and let the broth thickens until it becomes slightly syrupy. Season to taste then carefully remove the toothpicks. Serve generously sprinkled with parsley.

Tagine de Choux Farcis

In Francais Please: Pour 4 personnes
- 1 chou vert
- 1 oignon moyen
- 1 c.c de curcuma en poudre
- 250ml d’eau
- 50g de pois-chiches, trempées la veille ou en conserve.
- Pour la farce;
- 250g de viande de boeuf hachée
- 2 c,s de persil, finment haché
- 2 gousses d’ail, finement haché
- 1 jaune d’oeuf
- 1 petit carré de pain, trempé dans le lait et essoré
- ¾ c.c de cumin en poudre
- ½ c.c de Ras El Hanout
- Cannelle en poudre
- Huile
- Sel, poivre

Eplucher délicatement le chou. Netoyer ses feuilles avec un torchon propre, enlever la tige épaisse du milieu et mettre de coté. Faites chauffer un peu d’huile dans une poele. Ajouter la moitié des oigons et faites suer sur feu doux sans les caraméliser. Ajouter une gousse d’ail hachée, les pois chiche, curcuma, et couvrir d’eau. Assaisonner legerement de sel, poivre et porter a ébullition. D’autre part, mélanger la viande avec le reste de l’oignon, ail, persil, le jaune, le pain, cumin, une pincée de canelle, sel, poivre. Mélanger mais sand “pétrir” le tout.
Remplir chaque feuille de chou de la farce et fermer comme si vous fermez une envelope. Fermer avec des cure-dents. Vous pouvez untiliser le reste de viande comme des boulettes (voir photo). Ajouter les envelopes de choux a la sauce et le boulettes de viands, si vous souhaiter en mettre. Fermer et laisser cuire a feu doux pendant 30-45 minutes, jusqu’a ce que les pois-chiches soient cuites et la viande aussi. Decouvrir et laisser la sauce réduire en une sauce épaisse.
Retirer les cure-dents et servir avec du persil haché, généreusement parsemé sur le dessus.

Leeks and gruyère Soufflé, Step-By-Step / Le Soufflé de poireaux et Gruyère, étape par étape

When I was thirteen, I started writing recipes in an agenda that my father had given me. The agenda wasn’t my favorite. When I think about it, I should have chosen a prettier one, a real recipe notebook; yet I’ve decided to go with this one. A small blue agenda with aluminum covered corners and on the cover you can read: “M Roads and Buildings Industry”. I know this M. He’s my father’s friend, a really nice guy. I just didn’t expect his agenda to be the one that would carry my cherished recipes for such a long time, but it did.

My mother’s recipes notebook is also an agenda. A big, black agenda, that goes back to the late seventies, early eighties. I don’t really remember the exact date. What I do remember however is that on the cover you can read: "National’s Oil Company”. I guess it runs in the family!

But when you come to think about it, isn’t cooking making something out of natural resources? That might explain why my mother and I use such agendas as recipes repertoire. Smart thinking, right?

One thing I made yesterday in my kitchen was this Gruyère and Leeks soufflé. It was heavenly delicious: Creamy, light and very comforting. I know a lot of people get scared of soufflés; they have this reputation of being hard to make and don’t like to wait for anybody. But like most reputations, what you hear is not always true.

If you’ve ever whipped up some egg whites or made a mousse, then there is no reason in not making soufflé. This time, I decided to give you a step-by-step recipe in making leeks and Gruyère soufflé. I hope you will enjoy it.

If you have any ideas for step-by-step recipes, let me know. All suggestions are always welcome.

Leeks and Gruyère Soufflé

Recipe: Basic Soufflé recipe from here. Serves 6.
- 4 ½ tbsp sweet butter, plus 1 tsp to coat the
- ¾ cup grated Gruyère cheese
- 3 leeks, cleaned, washed and roughly sliced
- 1 ¼ tsp sea salt
- 4 ½ tbsp flour
- 1 ¼ cup milk
- ¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper
- ½ tsp old style Dijon mustard
- A pinch of freshly ground nutmeg
- 3 egg yolks
- 7 egg whites

Soufflé de Poireaux et Gruyère

In Francais Please: La base du soufflé d'ici. Pour 6 personnes.
- 75 g de farine
- 75 g de Gruyère râpé
- 3 poireaux, néttoyés, laves et grossierement hachés
- 1 ½ c.c de sel marin
- 40g de farine
- 275 ml lait
- ¼ c.c de poivre noir, fraichement moulu
- ½ c.c de moutarde a l’ancienne
- Une petite pincée de noix de muscade, fraichement moulu
- 3 jaunes d’oeufs
- 7 blancs d’oeufs

- Make Ahead: Take the eggs out of the fridge, and let them come at room temperature.
Melt 1 tbsp of butter in a pan and sauté the sliced leeks season with ¼ tsp salt. Cover and cook for 5 min on medium-low heat until the leeks are tender. Uncover and continue cooking for a few minutes on high heat until all the liquid has been evaporated. Set aside to cool.
- Avant Toute Chose: Sortir les oeufs du frigo pour qu’ils reviennent à temperature ambiante. Faire fondre 1 c.c de beurre dans une poele et faites sauter les poireaux. Ajouter du sel et laisser cuire sur feu dou, couvert jusqu'à ce qu’ils deviennent tendres. Découvrir le poele et laisser cuire encore plus, sur grand feu, jusqu’à ce que tout liquide soit evaporé. Mettre de coté.

1- Butter a 1½- quart soufflé mold with 1 tsp soft butter. Be sure it is well coated all around.
Add the Gruyère cheese and turn the mold around so that the cheese sticks to the butter. Let the extra cheese fall into a bowl. Refrigerate the coated mold. A very cold mold helps the soufflé rise straight. Never smear the coating or you mat disturb the rising of the mixture.

1- Beurrer généreusement un moule à soufflé d’1 ½ L avec 1 c.c de beurre mou. Ajouter le Gruyère râpé et faites tourner le moule tout autour afin que le fromage adhere aux parois du moule. Enlever l’exces de fromage mais sans jamais toucher l’interieur du moule ou vous risquerez de deranger la montée du soufflé. Mettre le moule au frais. Un moule bien froid aide le soufflé a monter bien droit.

2- Melt the remaining butter in a saucepan and add the flour. Stir quickly, and cook for 1 minute on low heat.
3- Add the milk, 1 tsp salt, black pepper, the Dijon mustard and bring to a boil, stirring with a whisk. As soon as it reaches the boiling point, the sauce will thicken. Boil on low heat for 1 min, still stirring to avoid scorching.

2- Faites fondre le beurre restant dans une casserole et ajouter la farine d’un seul coup. Mélanger rapidement, et faites cuire sur feu doux pendant 1 minute.
3- Ajouter le lait, sel, poivre, la moutarde de Dijon et porter a ébullition, en remuant constament avec un fouet. Des les premiers bouillonements, la sauce commencera a épaissir. Laisser mijoter sur feu doux pendant une minute, tout en continuant de mélanger.

4- Away from the heat, add the yolks and mix well.

4- Hors du feu, ajouter les jaunes d’oeufs et mélanger.

5- Add the leeks, ground nutmeg and the grated Gruyère cheese. Stir with a wooden spoon.

5- Ajouter les poireaux, la noix de muscade rape et le Gruyère rape. Mélanger a l’aide d’une cuillere en bois.

6- Whip the egg whites until they hold a peak, but are still “wet”. Place about one-third in the leek mixture and mix with a whisk. Work as fast as you can, because as soon as you stop beating the whites, they start to break down and become grainy.

6- Battre les blancs d’oeufs en neige jusqu’a ce qu’ils gagnent de volume mais reste un peu mousseux. Ajouter le tiers a la sauce de poireaux et mélanger avec un fouet. Travailler aussi rapidement que possible car après avoir cesser de battre les blancs, ils ont tendance a se séparer.

7- Using a spatula, gently fold the remaining whites and leeks mixture together.

7- A l’aide d’une maryse, incorporer délicatement les blancs au mélange de poireaux.

8- Fill the soufflé mold to the edges. At this point, the soufflé can be refrigerated, and will keep for at least a couple of hours. At baking time, sprinkle some Gruyere cheese on top and place on a cookie sheet in a 375F-preheated oven. Reduce the heat to 350F and bake for 30-35 minutes (about 25 minutes for individual ramekins). Never open the oven when it’s still baking. Serve immediately.

8- Remplir le moule à soufflé jusqu’aux bords. A ce stade, le soufflé peut etre mis au frais pour quelques heures. Au moment de le cuire, parsemer un peu de gruyère râpé au dessus et faites cuire dans un four préchauffé a 190C. Baisser la temperature a 177C et laisser cuire pendant 30-35 minutes (Environ 25 minutes pour des ramequins). Ne jamais ouvrir le four pendant la cuisson du soufflé. Servir tout de suite.

9- You can also serve your soufflé, especially if it is collapsed, unmolded. Run a knife a round the edges and invert on a plate. Serve in wedges.

9- Vous pouvez aussi choisir de servir le soufflé démoulé (surtout si ce dernier est tombé). Faites passer un couteau autour des bords et démouler. Servir en tranches.