Maple Scones

Sometimes there's nothing to do but bake. The baby is sick; I spent the morning making a list of adminstrative calls - accountants, and even more terrifying, a driving school. Roadsters of Provence, beware.

By three o'clock Augustin was back in bed, the essay I've been working on, for an anthology about the first year of marriage, remains a scattering of notes and unconnected thoughts, and I found myself browsing my cookbook shelves, hunting a recipe for scones.



Many people find baking soothing - not only the promise of a sweet reward, but the silent act of measuring, massaging, stirring, kneading, spooning. The repetitive glances into the mouth of a hot oven. It's the perfect something, when nothing else will do.

This recipe is adapted from the slim, thoroughly unpretentious Maple Syrup Cookbook by Ken Haedich, that I come back to again and again.

Maple Cream Scones

These don't have a particularly strong maple flavor, they simply use the syrup instead of sugar.

2 cups all purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons cold butter, diced
3/4 cup heavy cream (I use mostly creme fraiche topped up with a bit of milk)
1/4 cup maple syrup (I might add an extra tsp for sweetness)
Additional syrup and cream to finish
Crushed walnuts or sliced almonds to garnish (optional)

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with parchement paper.

Combine flour, baking soda, and salt. Add diced butter and rub together until the texture of coarse crumbs (I never quite get the crumb texture - I end up with some clumps and powder).

In a small bowl, combine cream and maple syrup. Make a well in the flour mixture, add the cream mixture, and stir with a fork until just combined. Like all biscuit dough - do not overmix! Turn the dough out onto the parchment paper, flatten to about 3/4 inch. Using a biscuit cutter or small glass, cut rounds 2-3 inches across - the little Chinese teacup I used was my father's.

Stir together a bit of maple syrup and cream, brush or spoon this mixture onto the top of the scones.

Bake for 12 minutes, until golden brown.

Serve warm from the oven with strawberry jam.

Makes 10 scones.

Poultry Zen

Home. Awake. That doesn't sound like much of an accomplishment, but these days, it is. I love going back to States, but I find I spend more and more time running in circles like a headless chicken. That's a lie - I had 4 uber relaxing days in San Francisco, if you put aside the issue of my dead laptop, which kept me from taking advantage of the very pleasant cafe-office culture. (San Francisco is a bit like Paris that way. No one looks like they actually work for a living...)

I'm back in Provnce, I slept through the night for the first time in a week, and as of right now, I aspire to be a chicken WITH a head. A chicken with its head screwed on straight, to be exact. I need to stay put for a while. Experience life here. It's almost gardening time, and I'll need to learn to plant my peas right side up, and which corner of the courtyard will be best for purple basil.

With this aura of poultry-zen in mind, I've found a woman at Apt market who raises and prepares her own birds. She leaves the heart and liver in, so they conserve better.

Yesterday was my second experience with a head-on chicken. (For those vegetarians who I continue to alienate with my beady-eyed dinners, I'm making a lovely veggie cous cous stew tonight, the recipe to be posted forthwith.) Gutting the remaining bits was quite visceral - queue that squishy sound that accompanies field medics in WWI films. More troubling still, it appears I've spent much of my life looking at a chicken upside down. We are so used to cooking and serving chickens breast-up, I just got it in my head that they walk around that way. (Yes, this is one of the many, many reasons no one has ever asked me to fly an airplane.) Similar to the first time I saw a whole leek, it's taken me more time than I'd like to admit to figure out which end is up.

The first chicken I purchased was a poule au pot - a older stewing chicken, meant to sit in a covered casserole with vegetables, water, salt and rice for several hours - producing a falling apart bird and a thick, well-greased peasant risotto. The vendeuse doling out her instructions at top speed, I failed to catch the rice bit, so I ended up with a passable, (if painting worthy) stewed chicken, and a lot of fatty broth. Doesn't she look peaceful, though?

This week, I bought a pintade - guinea fowl - a trickier, but more flavorful bird. It requires a slow roast in a moderate heat, to keep everything moist and supple. I decided to add some red potatoes, a few rehydrated shitake mushrooms and a splash of white wine to the bottom of the pan.

2 1/2 hours later, the result was less than thrilling. Something about his grumpy visage took me back to the day my father almost vomited during "The Dark Crystal". Not ideal for jetlag recovery. Apparently, cooking - as well as being- a chicken with a head requires some practice...

And the winner is...

And the Le Creuset/LinP winner is: DeAnn Okamura! Not only do I dig her daughter's shades, but DeAnn brought her own cherished mini Eiffel tower, bought in Paris many years ago. Her caption: "Ooh la la! The next best thing to having lunch in Paris... is reading it!" - I guess it's exactly what I hoped the book and the blog would be, a virtual vacation to France for everyone.

All the pictures were fabulous (Hello, Paris-themed dinner party!). I'm very new to this sort of thing, so I think I underestimated the huge effort I was asking people to make in the middle of a snowy and exhausting winter. That's me, ambitious and oblivious, all at the same time...

I want to thank everyone who took the time to participate (take a quick scroll down the LinP Facebook page for the photos!), and everyone who spread the word. And of course, Le Creuset, for their generosity. If you are looking for inspiration, here's a special Valentine's Day recipe - guaranteed (in my one-woman statistical sample) to get someone groping you over a hot stove.

Wishing you an extra cup of love and laughter today!

Love is in the air, and it smells like...bacon

I can't help it. I'm a sucker for Valentine's Day. I love the guys on the subway gripping single roses in cellophane - talking to themselves (are they rehearsing?). I love chewy cinnamon hearts and the chalky message ones (SWEET TART). I love paper cutout cupids and the idea of a daring, unlikely paring over sushi. This is one Hallmark holiday I've always swallowed hook, line and sinker.

Since I can remember, I've loved sweet and savory tastes together - the dried apricots in my mother's stuffed cabbage, the cooked-to-oblivion prunes in my grandmother's Tzimmes. A sour patch kid. My French kitchen is full of these sweet/tart pairings - goat cheese and fig jam, lamb and pears tagine.

I recently found a new sweet/tart combo – and it’s a winner. Getting over jetlag from my last trip to the US, I needed to use up a red cabbage that had been wilting since before my trip. Wide awake at 4am, I consulted my Joy of Cooking. Their version of braised red cabbage is more like sauerkraut, with lots of salt. What I wanted was a quick sauté with a sweet finish. So I tweaked and dabbled, and this is the result.

This recipe is what I call almost-elegant food. I would make this for an informal dinner party; it's so homey, yet something about the royal purple cabbage gives it a bit of gravitas – and dare I say it, flair. Sausage and cabbage may not have the ring of a romantic Valentine's Day meal, but the first time I made this, G. kept coming into the kitchen and sticking his nose straight in the pot. To get to the pot, he had to put his arms around me. See where I'm going with this?

If you were trying to stuff your Valentine like a Thanksgiving turkey, I suppose you could add mashed potatoes, but I prefer my dining companion devote less energy to digestion, more energy to other things.

For dessert, why not try these spicy chocolate pots, served in espresso cups – again, less is more. Enjoy!

Pork Sausage with Honeyed Red Cabbage

2 best quality lean pork sausages - try to find a butcher who makes his own - after all it's is Valentine's Day, so why not go a little out of your way...
1 small head of red cabbage (approximately 1 pound), thinly sliced
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
1 teaspoon mustard seeds
4 whole cloves
10 whole Sichuan or black peppercorns
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
3 tablespoons honey

Slice the cabbage thinly, and soak in a bowl of cold water for 15 minutes. You’ll get this gorgeous royal purple water (which will stain your hands and your clothes – so please, wear an apron!

Meanwhile, in a large non-reactive heavy skillet (stainless steel) or a Dutch oven (I use my enameled Le Crueset), brown the sausages with the olive oil. Add onion and spices, sauté until just starting to color. Deglaze with honey and vinegar. Then quickly throw in the cabbage, drained of purple water.

Lower the heat a bit and sauté for 15-20 minutes. I like my cabbage al dente – but if you like yours fondant, keep cooking, adding a little water along the way.

Serve the sausages on a bed of cabbage with Dijon mustard, and a sturdy Cote de Rhone.

Serves 2.

BE MY VALENTINE (aka Take the Lunch in Paris/Le Creuset Valentine's Day Challenge)

In honor of the paperback launch of Lunch in Paris (that's today!!) and my favorite Hallmark holiday (oh, those chalky candy message hearts), I'm issuing a special Lunch in Paris Valentine's Day Challenge.

The prize: One cherry red Le Creuset 5.5 quart French Oven (courtesy of Le Creuset - Merci!), just dying to snuggle up on your stove.

Your mission (should you chose to accept it): Walk into your favorite bookstore, pick up a brand new paperback copy of Lunch in Paris and press it into the hands of first friendly browser (or cutest guy, or most stylin gal, or most hapless tourist) you see. You might even point out your favorite recipe. Then snap a photo together with this person and the book, and voila, upload it with a witty caption to the Lunch in Paris Facebook Page. Complete your entry by filling out this short entry form. Any coffee dates come out of this, I want to know. Any weddings come out of this, the cheese is on me!

Shy of strangers? Why not go with your best friends, dog, sister, husband or sock puppet and take a silly cancan photo with a copy of Lunch in Paris (costumes and/or berets get extra credit). You have until midnight on February 13th (anywhere in the world) to post. I'll chose the best photo and caption to win the Le Creuset 5.5 qt. Round French Oven in cherry (which, by the by, retails for $235). I"ll announce the winner on Valentine's Day. Now even cynical people who wear black on Feb. 14th (you know who you are), have something to look forward to...

If you need a bit of help uploading your photo to Facebook, click here!

Bonne chance!