Cook the Book Fridays – Salted Butter Caramel-Chocolate Mousse

Salted Butter Caramel-Chocolate Mousse

It’s ironic that the phrase ‘piece of cake’ signifies something that’s dead easy, as our cultural image of a piece of cake is based on the layer cake, which requires multiple steps, a light touch, and at least a little bit of decorative talent. Chocolate mousse on the other hand, associated with restaurant meals and special occasions, is a piece of cake to make.

This mousse is complicated by the addition of caramel, but even that is easy, once you’ve learned the trick of it. In fact, making caramel is a lot like making brown butter. When you know how to make it, you want to add it to everything. And once you’ve added caramel to chocolate mousse, I suspect you’ll want it that way every time.

Salted Butter Caramel-Chocolate Mousse

The only thing that’s not easy about this recipe is having to wait eight hours for the mousse to set. I solved that issue by making it before bed last night. If I’d made it during the day, I wouldn’t have waited nearly that long. As it was, it took a lot of will-power not to eat it for breakfast. Which wouldn’t have been a bad idea, save for the fact that I wanted to wait for some brighter afternoon light for photographs.

Salted Butter Caramel-Chocolate Mousse

I’m so glad we’ve posted about this recipe – I’ll never have to wait for good light again. Now that I know how delicious it is, I don’t think I could have the forbearance. This mousse is wonderfully balanced in its elements – salt, sweet, bitter, and rich. It’s the sort of thing you could bring out in cocktail glasses at a dinner party, but I don’t recommend waiting for an occasion. Spoon it into little pots and enjoy it as a mid-week treat. It will look just as charming and it will be even more satisfying.

Salted Butter Caramel-Chocolate Mousse

Surprisingly, I’ve still got some in the refrigerator to enjoy tomorrow. This recipe could be halved, easily, but I recklessly made an entire batch. At least it gave me the opportunity to use the cute little lids for my Riviera Petit Pot jars. More importantly, I’ll have a decadent treat to distract me from another long day of elevating my sprained foot – an enforced rest is not as relaxing as you might think.

Luckily for you, this is one of the recipes from My Paris Kitchen that’s posted online. Head over to Epicurious and then run to the store for any of the ingredients you don’t have on hand. It takes eight hours to set, so the sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be enjoying it.

You can read through everyone’s posts here. And consider joining this community of wonderful cooks and lovely people, as we work our way through David LebovitzMy Paris Kitchen.

Cook the Book Fridays – Croque Monsieur

Croque Monsieur

Diner food and bistro food might originate on different continents, but at the root, they’re two sides of the same coin. They’re draped in cinematic mystique, with iconic dishes that can spur argument over the smallest variation, and they both represent comfort food to locals and visitors alike.

Where they differ, at least to the North American eye, is in sophistication. What’s a steak sandwich got on steak frites? Or chef’s salad against salade niçoise? Or a ham and cheese on rye in comparison to a croque monsieur?

In general I’d say the problem is that familiarity can breed contempt, but for the last entry on the list, the answer is béchamel. And prosciutto. And lots and lots of Emmental. I’ve had wonderful versions of the croque monsieur at restaurants, but this one might be one of my favourites and it happened in my own kitchen.

I’m not sure I needed to know how easy it is to make a croque monsieur at home, but it will come in handy the next time I want to make an impression at brunch. And David Lebovitz’ version of bechamel is worth knowing, even if it leads me to less healthful eating on a more frequent basis. It’s so easy and perfectly creamy, with just a hint of heat from cayenne in place of the usual nutmeg.

Even if I can make bistro food (or diner food for that matter) at home, there’s still a place for those restaurants in my heart. Both kinds of establishments have been put on the endangered list, but they seem to be reinventing themselves at home and abroad. That’s good news. As long as they make room for classics like the croque monsieur, reinvention is the key to longevity.

You can read through everyone’s posts here. And consider joining this community of wonderful cooks and lovely people, as we work our way through David LebovitzMy Paris Kitchen.

Cook the Book Fridays – Artichoke Tapenade with Rosemary Oil

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There’s a wonderful Lebanese restaurant called Jamjar on the other side of our neighbourhood. We joke that it’s a good thing it’s far enough away that we can’t run down there on the spur of the moment. If it were closer, we’d eat at home less often than is good for us.

My last meal there wasn’t in the restaurant at all, but at a working meeting. The chairperson picked up an array of their dips, salads, small plates, and sauces for us to munch on as we sifted through our list of tasks. There’s nothing bland about any of their food – there’s almost a cacophony of flavours, which manage to complement rather than compete. Eating through a spread of their dishes excites the palate with each bite. It certainly kept us all lively and cheerful through what could have been a tedious evening.

The artichoke tapenade I enjoyed this evening wouldn’t have been out of place on that table. It’s French, rather than Lebanese, but its flavours have a Mediterranean bent. Artichokes, olives, and capers provide earthy notes, lemon and cayenne brighter ones, while homemade rosemary oil finishes the dip.

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Now that the weather is getting warmer, dips like this one are perfect for my favourite way to eat through the summer – from a table full of small bowls and plates filled with different textures and flavours, all working together to create a satisfying and harmonious meal.

You can read through everyone’s posts here. And consider joining this community of wonderful cooks and lovely people, as we work our way through David LebovitzMy Paris Kitchen.

Cook the Book Fridays – Pain d’épices

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I can appreciate the variations in flavour between buckwheat honey and lavender honey, fireweed honey and blueberry honey. But I’ll take city honey over any of them. City honey’s flavour depends on the gardeners in the neighbourhoods the hives inhabit. It changes across the seasons and reflects the trends in the planted environment.

Best of all, it comes from bees with the best of all possible lives. The nectar sources might have a riotous variety, but the hives are rooted and stable. Cities like the one I live in also have pesticide bans, which is much better for bees and for their honey. And the apiarists range from obsessively careful amateurs to professionals with an interest in helping create a healthy urban ecosystem.

These are the thoughts I turn to when I’m cooking or baking with honey. I have some favourite local honeys, including Mellifera Bees and Hives for Humanity, but there’s also UrbanSweet, Lulu Island Honey, and others.

All of this is to say that this week’s recipe is well-worth using your favourite honey. Pain d’épices looks like it might be a sweet quickbread, but it’s something more elusive than that. It’s full of assertive spices like anise and cloves and is at home with pâté as it is with jam. I like it very much with cultured, salted butter.

The method, too, is fascinating. It starts out as though you’re making a caramel, cooking the honey with brown sugar (and in my case, a bit of molasses, too). Then, that mixture is cooled before it’s added to the dry ingredients and egg.

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The result is a dense and tender loaf, that has a texture somewhere between a quick loaf and a true bread. I might have to indulge in some pâté this weekend to try it in a savoury fashion, or pair it with my mother’s plum jelly for a sweet treat. Or, I might just stick to butter. It’s awfully good that way.

Now, if you’re part of the Cook the Book Fridays group, you might be wondering what happened to this week’s primary recipe, Belgian Beef Stew with Beer. This wasn’t a good week for a side trip into cooking with meat in our household, so I’ve decided rack up my very first entry on my ‘catch up’ list for the group. I’ll be glad of the excuse to make this bread again. For now, I’m just glad I have an excuse to go honey shopping, as I used up the last of my current stash with this recipe.

David Lebovitz has one version of this bread on his website, but I’d buy the book if I were you.

You can read through everyone’s posts here. And consider joining this community of wonderful cooks and lovely people, as we work our way through David LebovitzMy Paris Kitchen.

Cook the Book Fridays – Dukkah-Roasted Cauliflower

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I love my stand mixer and my food processor, my slow cooker and my blender, but sometimes I think I get the most satisfaction from the little Braun coffee grinder I picked up at a garage sale back in my university days. Now, it’s only occasionally used to grind coffee – who needs coffee at home when you’re living at the corner of java and joe? But it has produced any number of freshly ground spices over the years, along with emergency icing sugar and top ups for scant cups of oat or chickpea flours. I paid almost nothing for it and it’s brought me a wealth of flavour.

It is rather…enthusiastic, though, so I thought I’d use our mini chopper to make the dukkah for this week’s Cook the Book Fridays dish. This spice mix is meant to have a coarse texture and my spice grinder is more of an instant powder maker. In the end, though, the grinder had to come to the rescue, as the peppercorns and coriander managed to elude the mini chopper’s blade completely. I had to dig them out, grind them, and whisk them back in.

That was the only glitch in a simple and delicious recipe. There are many versions of dukkah, but this one is particularly well-balanced. The recipe made much more than I needed for the roasted cauliflower, so I’m looking forward to trying it in dip form, on other sorts of roasted vegetables, or as a crust for tofu.

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The cauliflower itself couldn’t have been simpler – slices are roasted in olive oil, the dukkah is added, and the cauliflower continues roasting until it’s tender and caramelized. In the headnote to the recipe, David tells us that this dish has been known to elicit exclamations of pleasure and that certainly happened here – the moment I opened the oven to pull it out, just as he’d promised.

That’s the second cauliflower recipe to do so in our house in less than six months. The first was Meera Sodha’s roasted cauliflower. There are other cauliflower dishes I enjoy, but I could be perfectly happy with alternating between these two indefinitely.

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There’s a version of David Lebovitz’ dukkah on his website.

You can read through everyone’s posts here. And consider joining this community of wonderful cooks and lovely people, as we work our way through David LebovitzMy Paris Kitchen.

Cook the Book Fridays – Steak with Mustard Butter and French Fries

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Is anyone else excited to check out Michael Pollan’s new Netflix series, Cooked? I’m looking forward to it.

I think a lot of us follow Pollan’s advice, “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.” Certainly, in our home that’s true. Even when I indulge in my love for things like steak, I try to limit the portion – the truth is, humans don’t need that much protein in a single meal. Mostly, I don’t regret that. Tonight was one of those occasions when I absolutely did.

I used a very small steak for my meal tonight, reasoning that it was more than enough. Really, though, I should have been following someone else’s advice. “Everything in moderation, including moderation,” said Oscar Wilde, and right now, I’m inclined to agree.

This week’s recipe from My Paris Kitchen had us slather a chipotle and smoked salt rub on our steaks, prepare compound butter pats with two forms of mustard, and oven bake hand-cut French fries tossed with olive oil and herbs. What was I thinking trying to practice moderation with that on the menu?

It may have been small, but the steak was perfectly medium rare. I savoured it as slowly as I could and made sure I swept up all the juices and mustard butter with the French fries. Next time, I won’t be skimping on portions.

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You can read through everyone’s posts here. And consider joining this community of wonderful cooks and lovely people, as we work our way through David LebovitzMy Paris Kitchen.

Cook the Book Fridays – Winter Salad

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It’s been a while now, since French Fridays with Dorie wrapped up. I’ve missed our weekly check ins, but have found myself woefully inept at keeping up with everyone’s blog posts. Some of our group joined the Cottage Cooking Club and others are working through Baking Chez Moi with Tuesdays with Dorie, both of which have provided some prompts to check in.

But, the Cottage Cooking Club meets only once a month and I don’t keep up with Tuesdays with Dorie as often as I’d like, since so many of my family and friends are avoiding sweets. So, I’m happy to say that there is a new way for us all to keep in touch.

Katie, from the Prof Who Cooks, backed up by our fabulous French Fridays admins, Betsy and Mary, has set up a website called Cook the Book Fridays, so that our group of cooking friends can work our way through David LebovitzMy Paris Kitchen together – and who knows, after that? The project is similar to the one that brought us together in the first place, cooking through a Paris-inspired cookbook, full of recipes for every course.

I’m happy that there will be another excuse to visit, virtually, and I’m hoping that these adventures will be shared by cooking friends old and new.

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Today marks the beginning of the project and we’ve started with a seasonal dish that’s simple to assemble, but full of Parisian panache. This Winter Salad, with its matchsticks of Belgian endive and roquefort and Greek yogurt dressing, is delicious. It’s also a perfect example of how salads can be much more interesting when they’re viewed through the lens of seasonal eating. There’s nothing worse than a salad of limp, out-of-season greens. But, when you realize a salad can be made from whatever looks freshest and interesting at the greenmarket, things start to look up.

My take on this included gorgonzola and red pear, as I didn’t make it to the cheese store in time for roquefort. I ran over to an Italian deli instead, and picked up a mild Canadian gorgonzola. I measured the ingredients in tablespoons, instead of cups, as I was the only one eating this salad tonight. I still ended up with enough dressing to make it again tomorrow. I have a spear of endive and half a pear waiting in the refrigerator. I’m looking forward to a repeat of this dish for lunch.

I think we’ve started off on a promising note. I’ve had the book since it came out, but haven’t cooked out of it nearly as much as I’d have liked. Now, I’ll be working through the whole thing with some of my favourite bloggers.

Join us?

You can read through everyone’s posts here. And consider joining this community of wonderful cooks and lovely people, as we work our way through David Lebovitz’ My Paris Kitchen.