FROM PLATE TO PAGE

They may forget what you said, but they will never forget the way you made them feel.

- Carl Buechner

Passion is a curious thing. “Great enthusiasm, the object of this; strong emotion,” defines my Oxford American Dictionary. But simply “great enthusiasm” sounds rather bland and everyday, these words carefully chosen and written in black on white in my much thumbed, beloved book belie the exuberance, fail to capture the energy and enthusiasm bespoke in this one word. Passion inspires a rapturous, unadulterated exhilaration, pure pleasure bordering on madness, a willingness to forget all else when once the object of said passion is encountered, even an earnest readiness to bare one’s soul prompted by the hungry craving to indulge in one’s own passion. “Strong emotion” transforms into frenzy, an incredibly intense devotion, Pygmalion’s passionate love for his sculpture.

Photo courtesy of Jenn of Jenn Cuisine

One year carved out of our lives, Jeanne, Ilva, Meeta and I, chipping away at the hard surface of time and place, searching for the beauty that lies beneath in our own passionate attempt to create something that meant so much to us, giving birth to our own Galatea, wrapping her sensuous marble nakedness in silk and draping pearls and rubies around her elegant neck. As the days flew by and the planning moved from mellow, thoughtful movements to a frenzied dance, as the time approached and our pick and hammer began hacking desperately at the surface in our desire to reveal her perfect proportions, to run our fingers over the smooth, cool surface of the finished product, to embrace our creation in all of her glory, our passion was blended and tempered by the fear of imperfection, our wavering self-confidence breathing hesitation and doubt into our days. Yet there was no turning back, and we would never have even considered it! Our desire, growing larger and deeper each day, was overwhelming and we knew that From Plate to Page just had to be created. So with the final click of metal on marble, as the last swipes of the cloth burnished and polished the surface to perfection, we packed our bags, boarded planes and trains and were whisked off to that land unknown, ready – or not – to unveil our chef d’oeuvre to a waiting public.

Follow your heart, but be quiet for a while first. Ask questions, then feel the answer. Learn to trust your heart.

- Anonymous

Passion is a curious thing. What forms this connection to, this desperate urge for one object? For some it is sport, for others shoes, for yet others something more esoteric and ethereal. It can be selfish, the yearning to claim something for one’s own, sheltered from all prying eyes or grasping fingers. It can be overwhelming, pervasive, all-encompassing in its total exclusion of all else until exhaustion leads to total downfall. Or it can be intoxicating, stimulating creativity, inspiring a generosity to share, the hunger to learn, igniting a fire that is infectious causing giddy laughter, zealous chatter and the loosening of all timidity or fear of exposure and ridicule.


For a truly passionate lover of words such as I, there is no better word to describe our first From Plate to Page workshop than passion. Once the first (and second, not to mention third) round of hugs was given to each attendee as they arrived, amid the screeches and giggles as of a first day at camp, we felt the enthusiasm bubble up to the surface and spill over into every movement, every sentence uttered. The activities began immediately, sharing ideas and provoking thought and discussion, handing out exercises like candy to eager children. Yes, yes, there was a fair share of groans and rolled eyes as the first test of their power was handed to them on pink post-it notes. Scratched heads, the occasional burst of laughter, the mumblings of doubt and grumblings of not enough time, but in a matter of seconds the passion kicked in and the room was soon filled with the heady haze of creativity. And as the weekend rolled by, amid the clatter of forks and knives, the clicking of cameras, the scraping of pen on paper or the clickety-clack of fingers rushing along keyboard, the love of food, images and words, the overwhelming urge to learn and improve, the appetite to share rose like beauty from a clump of earth and our common passion brought us together in perfect rhythm and unison. The fragrance of roasting lamb and fresh, sweet strawberries, the tickle of bubbles of sparkling white wine and the intensity of cured meats and sharp cheeses, the groans of pleasure of 16 food bloggers while biting into warm, buttery kouignettes enjoyed late in the afternoon or the rambunctious sing-along to ABBA blasted from laptops, the cracking of crab shells and ticking of wine glasses lifted in toast after toast illuminated a truly enjoyable, animated, intense weekend.

Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.

-Angela Monet

Ilva and Meeta working on food styling with Mona and Jasmine

Jeanne, Ilva, Meeta and I were amazed at this passion bordering on obsession, thrilled with the flow of positive energy from each participant. Our every wish was granted when we experienced such harmony, the dynamics between the group whether working together as a group, in pairs or individually was like some perfect creation. We feared Frankenstein and we ended up with My Fair Lady.

I took so much home with me, my baggage filled to overflowing with not only inspiration and ideas but memories and friendships strong and lasting. That common bond, that shared passion brought us together and infused the entire weekend with laughter and song, great food and industry. It fed my own passion and my vision and it has convinced me of the power of community.

Simone and me

And now as the words begin to flow again, I can’t but help think of more and more that are so fitting to the Plate to Page weekend and all that the participants exuded: dedication, devotion to their craft, honesty in their work and in their friendship, spirit with a touch of moxie thrown in for good measure, zeal tempered with humility, motivation and persistence to hone their skills and create something of quality, something to be proud of. Not to forget generosity and goodness as well as unbounded glee and wit bordering at times on buffoonery.

Simone and Ken

I don't know how but I suddenly lose control
There's a fire within my soul
Just one look and I can hear a bell ring
One more look and I forget everything, w-o-o-o-oh
- ABBA

Mona working with Julia

Just a quick word of thanks to our amazing sponsors: our main sponsor Bord Bia (The Irish Food Board), Wines of South Africa, Hotel Chocolat, Prokit UK, Maison Georges Larnicol, OXO, Ergo Chef Knives, Sweet Pete’s and the lovely Paula Walters. Their amazing generosity allowed us not only to offer superb gifts to our participants, but they helped make this fantastic weekend possible and much more tasty and fun!

Photo courtesy of Simone of Junglefrog

And a warm fuzzy thanks to my colleagues and sisters, Ilva, Meeta and Jeanne (my stunning co-wordsmith and writing instructor); where would I be without you three? xo

Take a bigger bite ...

CHOCOLATE TRUFFLE TART WITH MASCARPONE CREAM AND STRAWBERRIES

A JAUNT THROUGH PARIS


I rarely travel to Paris these years and I forget how beautiful a city it is. Living in Paris had become a hardship, that glorious city becoming a cage and I merely a rat on a treadmill. Rushing along crowded sidewalks through a jumble of tourists on my way to work or pushing my way along quays, weaving in and out among the motley crew lining the track’s edges down in the gloomy, damp bowels of the earth, each one of us with somewhere important to go, bothered by the unforgiving heat of the bodies pressing too close, the weight of impatience blocking the watery light above. Frustration always accompanied me wherever I went, blinding me to the loveliness of what surrounded me; aggravation and exhaustion painting the city in soot and noise, taking away any pleasure I could possibly have. Always in a rush, dashing from one appointment to the next, I quickly became disenchanted, the romance of the City of Lights turned sour and I wanted nothing more than to leave as quickly as I could.


Time away has healed the wounds and I was anxious to return if for nothing more than to spend a quiet, enjoyable day with a friend. Yet once out of the station, out of the flurry of travelers and the smell of trains and onto the street, I turn my face into the cool breeze and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and the joy of being back in Paris washes over me. My step is light and bouncy as I weave along my route and dance down the pavement towards where she is waiting. I admire the stunning old buildings all gussied up by Belle Epoque mosaics and balconies graced with delicate floral motifs. I find myself following a stone wall enclosing one of Paris’ quiet, beautiful cemeteries and all is calm and green. I nod my head at the majestic Lion de Belfort at Place Denfert-Rochereau as an old friend and I am glad to be back. I finally find my friend waiting in front of her hotel, sipping tea so cool and collected as if she has lived here forever. We hug as friends do and began chattering as if we met every single day, as if old, old friends since childhood.

I now see Paris through a tourist’s eyes. Glancing up at the buildings standing side by side in elegant disarray, each dressed in pearl gray grandeur adorned by stylish swirls of ironwork and I pause to admire them. Like true Parisiennes, these beautiful buildings are both graceful and stately, inviting and imposing, haughty women confident in their ability to impress. We slip through silent, empty squares, shadowed, cool respite, or scurry across the busy streets, dodging cars and bikes, skirting around tables of diners and coffee drinkers who spill out of cafés and bistros onto the too-narrow sidewalks, just whiling away the sunny afternoon as good Parisians are wont to do. Pausing to check our maps or search out street signs, we hurry along, backtrack or change direction, all the while giggling and jabbering like schoolgirls on their first jaunt through this mythic city.


I spent a day in Paris last week with Abby Dodge. First, I want to clarify that I have no close girlfriends… okay, to be totally honest, I have no girlfriends at all nearby. No one to go shopping with, not a one to meet for lunch and a good gossip, no friend with whom to gaze longingly at the gorgeous and outrageous shoes poised like precious jewels or objets d’art in the Christian Louboutin boutique window. And certainly no friend, male or female, as passionate about baking as I with whom to spend hours upon hours giddily gliding between the towering shelves of baking supplies, one shop after the next, ogling each and every mold, utensil, pan, squealing with delight, screeching with amazement, each of us grabbing up objects and holding them aloft for the other to see, calling each other excitedly from another aisle like teenagers gawking at movie stars or finding the perfect dress or just the right shade of nail polish for the prom. “Oh, look, Abby! Isn’t this fabulous?” or “Jamie, oooh I have always wanted one of these!” or “Quick, come over here! Look at these colors!” or “You most definitely need a cake pan/cookie cutter/chocolate mold/fill in the blank… in the shape of the Eiffel Tower!” filled our hours together in joyous abandon. A luxurious pause for lunch with some more serious talk followed by more shopping after quite a number of minutes with our envious noses pressed against the glass panes of that luxury shoe store. Ah, what a day! At 5 p.m. I left her newly ensconced in that same armchair in front of her hotel and dashed off to catch my train home, wishing I could have stayed one more day. I definitely deserve to spend more girly days just like that one with a friend like Abby, adorable, delightful, smart and absolute fun… What a joy finally getting to meet and getting to know someone I have only known on-line. And I ended that day feeling as if I had known her forever.


And speaking of Twitter, a few of us decided that since we couldn’t enjoy a day of baking together in person, well, baking together virtually was the next best thing. Abby, chef patissière that she is, selected an incredible Chocolate Truffle Tart that she had created for Fine Cooking magazine and offered us the recipe. She took control of the situation and suggested we all bake the same luscious tart only giving it our own individual, personal twist. I replaced her graham cracker crust with my own Sweet Pastry Crust adding a handful of finely ground, emerald green pistachios, which I had bought with her in Paris. I added Amaretto to the chocolate truffle filling then simply circled my individual tartlets (though big enough for two to share) with fresh, ripe strawberries. Perfect. Sweet and fudgy filling on a wonderful, delicate pastry shell and topped with a luscious mascarpone cream, this dessert is worthy of the most elegant Parisian dinner party and the balance of creamy, fudgy and fruity is just perfect to split with a good friend.


Now go ahead, it’s your turn!


I am proud, nay thrilled, to share with you my feature in the May issue of CRUSH, South Africa’s stunning on-line food and wine magazine. Thanks to my gorgeous, super talented friend, chef extraordinaire and wine connoisseur Michael Olivier, I am featured (along with 5 of my recipes) in Which wine? Which food? which you can find on pages 10 and 11. You must subscribe to this beautiful and informative magazine (it’s free!) and don’t forget to follow them on Twitter at @Crush_online.


CHOCOLATE TRUFFLE TORTE WITH MASCARPONE CREAM AND BERRIES

Prepare the Sweet Pastry Crust, the Chocolate Truffle Filling and the Mascarpone Cream as follows.

Select fresh, ripe strawberries, raspberries or blackberries to top. I find that the rich chocolate fudge (because, yes, it becomes very fudge-like) and the luscious cream are gorgeously balanced by the light fruitiness of fresh, juicy berries!

Have extra finely ground pistachios and a bit of powdered sugar to decorate the top of the Tart or Tartlets.

Serves 12

1 Sweet Pastry Crust, prebaked:

1 1/4 cup (175 g) flour
1/4 (50 g) cup sugar
¼ cup (about 50 g) finely ground pistachio nuts
7 Tbs (100 grams) unsalted butter, cubed *
1 egg, lightly beaten

* Most pie crust recipes call for the butter to be chilled. I have found that butter at room temperature is easier and quicker to work into the flour and to dough seems to be fluffier. If the dough is too sticky to roll out right away, several minutes in the fridge should do the trick.

Combine flour, sugar and ground pistachio nuts in a mixing bowl or on a work surface and toss or whisk to combine. Using only your thumbs and fingertips, rub the butter into the flour until the consistency of damp sand and there are no more large chunks of butter. With a fork, vigorously stir in the lightly beaten egg until all the dry ingredients are moistened and a dough starts to form.

Gather the dough together into a ball and place on a lightly floured surface. Using the heel of one hand, smear the dough little by little away from you in quick, hard strokes in order to make sure that all of the butter is blended in well.

Scrape up the dough together, re-flour the surface lightly and work very briefly and quickly until you have a smooth, homogenous dough. Wrap the ball of dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 15 to 30 minutes or until it can be easily rolled out without sticking to your rolling pin.

Keeping your work surface as well as the surface of the dough lightly floured at all times, roll out the dough and line a buttered 9” fluted pie dish, springform pan or similar or six 4 ¼-inch individual tartlet pans. Refrigerate for 30 minutes or until ready to bake.


Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Line the tart shell or tartlet shells (it is easier to line up the individual tartlet pans on one baking sheet) with parchment paper and fill with pastry weights or dried beans. Bake in the preheated oven for 8 minutes then very carefully remove the pie plate or tins from the oven, lift out the parchment paper with the weights, lightly prick the shell(s) with a fork then return to the oven to bake for an additional 10 minutes or until completely baked: the shell should be set and dull and beginning to turn golden around the edges. If using a glass pie plate, carefully lift up the dish and check that the bottom of the pie crust is evenly golden brown.

Remove the baked Sweet Pastry Crust from the oven and allow to cool completely on a cooling rack. If using individual tartlet shells, gently and carefully lift the baked shells out of the tins (slide a small, sharp knife under the edge of the shell and lift out onto a plate or rack once cooled.

Chocolate Truffle Filling:

12 oz (340 g) bittersweet chocolate, chopped **
4 Tbs (60 g) unsalted butter, cut into 4 pieces
1 Tbs Amaretto
½ cup (125 ml) heavy cream
½ cup (125 ml) whole milk
½ tsp pure vanilla extract
Pinch table salt

** I used mostly Lindt 70% chocolat doux which is a milder tasting, less bitter bittersweet chocolate. About 20 grams was Lindt chilli chocolate and another 20 or 30 grams was Lindt chocolate with orange. I basically used up what I had in my pantry, but all of it was 70%.

In a heatproof medium bowl, melt the chocolate, heavy cream, milk and butter in a microwave or over simmering water. Remove from the heat and add Amaretto, vanilla and salt. Whisk the mixture until well blended. Set aside, whisking occasionally, until room temperature and slightly thickened, about 1 hour. (For faster cooling, refrigerate the filling until thickened to a pudding consistency, about 30 minutes, whisking and scraping the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula every 5 minutes.)


With a rubber spatula, scrape the mixture into the pre-baked crust and spread evenly. Let cool completely, cover, and refrigerate until the filling is set, about 4 hours and up to 1 day before proceeding with the recipe.


Mascarpone Cream Topping:

8 oz (I used one 250 g/ml package) mascarpone
¾ cup (about 190 ml) chilled heavy whipping cream
¼ cup (50 g) granulated sugar, or to taste
½ tsp pure vanilla extract

Have the beaters of an electric mixer and a glass bowl chilled. Simply beat the mascarpone and heavy cream on low speed until combined and smooth then increase mixer speed to medium and beat until thick and creamy and firm peaks hold. Using a small spatula or the back of a tablespoon, spread the Mascarpone Cream over the chilled Chocolate Truffle Filling leaving lots of swirls and peaks. Cover loosely and chill until ready to serve. Abby recommends chilling for several hours but I found the Tartlets ready immediately.


Serve the Tart or Tartlets dusted with finely ground pistachios and powdered sugar.



Take a bigger bite ...

SWEET & SOUR OSSOBUCO AND RICOTTA TART

GO ITALIAN!


Our very first From Plate to Page workshop is approaching like a speeding train coming at us head on and we are tied to the tracks (though no Damsels in Distress, we four!)! I have been neck deep in conversation and preparation with Ilva, Meeta and Jeanne, tying up loose ends, planning the menus, dealing (happily) with our fabulous sponsors and finalizing details for our own writing workshop sessions with Jeanne so I have had very little time to devote to my own blog and my own dear readers. Bear with me for just a little while longer then hopefully I will be back with you a little more often.

Today I want to share a tale of two girlfriends who met across oceans and cyberspace, meeting somewhere in the middle. At first we tiptoed around each other, curious but hesitant, nervous yet intrigued, feeling the tug of compassion and interest yet not sure how fast to move forward. But we had too much in common and found that friendship grew in spite of our timidity. We were just two nice Jewish girls who had married Europeans, lovely, creative, talented men each. We share a peculiar subtle, intellectual yet wickedly sly sense of humor. We are both somewhat innocently naïve about people and the world at large and I can only hope and pray that I am half as generous and kindhearted as she. We each harbor a passion for travel and culture, a love of great food and feeding others and a joy of family. We are both passionate writers, loving the magic of the word, the beauty of black on white and the potential power contained in each word, phrase, story. And we both love Italy. Yes, of course, these two women are Lael and myself.


But I must backpedal a bit first. Lael was far from the first of her family whose notice was brought to my attention. It was actually in Italy about 15 years ago that I first learned of the illustrious name of Hazan. Living in the center of Milan, there was never a doubt that such a reader as I would not rapidly discover the tiny, dark English bookstore barely off the beaten track, slightly askew from the main stretch of road that rambled and bustled through my part of the city. I would spend hours in that warm, homey space, heaven for the book passionate, my fingers skimming softly along rows of book spines, murmuring titles softly under my breath. Occasionally, one would call to me, luring me into the pages between an intriguing cover or arousing my curiosity with a catchy title. I would carefully pull it from amongst the others, slide my hand down the cover as against a lover’s bare skin, hold it up to my nose and, eyes closed, breathe in the luxurious bouquet like a fine wine, the new book aroma making me dizzy with thoughts of quiet childhood moments nestled in an armchair or in the branches of a favorite tree, hidden from the world, losing myself in an adventure. Or I, already fascinated by food and cooking and the magic of a great cookbook, would wander over to the cookbook shelves and scan the meager offerings. And there it was, Marcella Hazan, the name veritably jumped out into my waiting hands, book after beautiful book on, yes, Italian cuisine. But as new a cook as I was, it was all too overwhelming for me and, losing all confidence, I always came to the conclusion that I simply could not live up to her recipes, my novice to her master, and sadly I would walk away, back out into the harsh Italian sunlight and find my way back home with yet one more Charles Dickens carefully tucked under my arm.

Many, many years later, traveling through space and time and happily ensconced in my new life, somewhat more confident in my cooking abilities, albeit much more secure in my talent as a writer than ever a cook I could be, I published my first articles on The Huffington Post. And lo and behold, the appearance of the second illustrious Hazan in my life: Giuliano left a warm, exuberant comment on one of those pieces I had written. And contact was made, Facebook and Twitter, such a charming, friendly man. And this connection followed quickly by an introduction to his wife, Lael. Oh we found each other without his help but the excuse was there to meet. And meet we did and slowly but surely a friendship bloomed across the miles, flying over that wide expanse of ocean. And finally, finally I bought a cookbook by a Hazan, Giuliano.

Far from Italy now, much too far for my own good, flipping through Every Night Italian brought all the sights and sounds, odors and flavors of my fabulous years in that marvelous country, a country where I truly learned the value of good food, ingredients straight from the dirt, simple cooking that turned those basic ingredients into something delectable, homey yet luxurious all at once. Arrosto, spezzatino, carciofi, budino and crostata, words that jump out at me from the page, are words heavy with memories for me, the first language of food for my baby boys, words infused with our seven years in Italy. My courage now stronger after years of experimenting and learning, I decided that it was time to delve into this book and….cook. And cook I did.


I began with Ossobuco in Agrodolce, Sweet and Sour Braised Veal Shanks, a twist on the traditional Ossobuco that I love so well, a favorite family meal. Normally I would serve this with a traditional Risotto alla Milanese, yellow saffron risotto, but selected instead Giuliano’s Risotto ai Pepperoni e Pomodoro Fresco, Red and Yellow Pepper Risotto, just to try two of his recipes at once. The meal was such an incredible success that several days later I made Pollo alle Olive Verdi, Chicken with Green Olives which, he explains, was actually first published in Marcella’s Italian Kitchen!

Well, friend or no friend, I warned Lael that I would be brutally honest – as friends should be – in my review of this book and the recipes. Well, to be totally upfront, I have to say that the food was stunning, amazing and simply fabulous! Each of the recipes was so simple to put together, even for the frazzled and less-than-confident such as me! And JP and I couldn’t get enough! The Ossobuco with the exotic flavors of a sweet and sour dish was probably one of the best meals we have eaten, although I will admit a simpler risotto would highlight the complex flavors of the Ossobuco much better. The Chicken with Green Olives was fabulous and maybe JP preferred this one of the two, yet I knew that both of these dishes were so heavenly, so flavorful and, yes, delicious, that each would become a part of my repertoire of family meals. All I know is that I had fallen in love with a cookbook and I will be making many, many meals out of it.


And an exchange of birthday gifts between Lael and me, who happen to both have birthdays in January, and I became the thrilled owner of How to Cook Italian, Giuliano’s third cookbook. Well, the book quickly filled up with tiny yellow stick-its bookmarking so many must-make recipes that it was truly hard to choose. But I settled on one filled with memories, a family favorite from Italy, Torta di Ricotta, a simple but far-from-humble Ricotta Tart, a special treat ordered after so many meals in so many Italian restaurants during those heady Italian years in Milan. And how was it? I must admit here that I had trouble with his pie crust, possibly because I had no food processor and it didn’t quite come together by hand (I felt it needed more butter), so I fell back on my own Sweet Pastry Crust. But the filling was a snap to put together, baked up beautifully, and created a simple yet luxurious, light yet creamy and just perfectly, tenderly sweetened ricotta tart and one that I most definitely will be making over and over again. JP swooned in delight and satisfaction with each mouthful, a sure sign of a great recipe in my home!


I already have so many recipes bookmarked that I will most definitely be making: the Torta della Nonna, Grandmother’s Custard Tart, Fettuccine or Risotto with Artichokes and of course Lael has heartily suggested that I make Giuliano’s Tiramisu and compare it to my son’s, all recipes from How to Cook Italian and his stunning Crostata all’Arancia, a Sicilian Orange Tart, and an incredible-sounding Semifreddo al Caffé from Every Night Italian. Do I have your attention yet?

Now, don’t think that I am going to give you every recipe from his wonderful books. No, no, you must go and find at least one of Giuliano’s Italian cookbooks very soon and make it your own to caress, ogle, stroke, read in the privacy of your own home. And cook. And cook. And cook. He offers us Italy in between the covers, simple, clean, flavorful dishes redolent of tradition and home.


Here is one recipe from each book, just enough for you to try and be tempted once you discover how easy and how fabulous they are. And if you are hungry for more delightful, delectable, thoroughly Italian recipes, visit Lael and Giuliano’s own blog The Educated Palate where you can also savor and enjoy Lael’s wonderful writing, her tales of family life and family cooking with some travel stories and fascinating facts and information thrown in. Thanks and a hug to Lael for being such a wonderful friend and to Giuliano for bringing me back to Italy in my own kitchen.

OSSOBUCO IN AGRODOLCE (Sweet and Sour Ossobuco)
From Every Night Italian by Giuliano Hazan

As Giuliano writes, this is a “different approach to the usual ossobuco… It is cooked with vinegar and raisins, whose sweet and sour flavors…complement the richness of veal shanks splendidly.” I say this is a stunning dish whose complex flavors and succulent, fall-off–the-bone-tender veal are my version of heaven.


¼ cup golden raisins
2 cups yellow onion, very thinly sliced crosswise
3 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil
Salt
2 to 3 Tbs vegetable oil
About ½ cup flour, or enough to coat the veal
Four 1 ½-inch-thick pieces veal shank or veal for ossobuco
Freshly ground black pepper
1 small beef bouillon cube (I use chicken)
1 Tbs shredded fresh basil leaves
½ tsp chopped fresh thyme leaves
1 tsp grated lemon zest

Place the raisins in a small bowl and cover with warm water.

Put the onion slices and the olive oil in a heavy braising pan large enough to hold all the veal in a single layer (I used my large Le Creuset Dutch oven). Place it over medium heat and sprinkle the onion lightly with salt. Cook until the onion turns a light caramel color. It may be necessary to raise the heat at the end to get the onion to color.

While the onion is cooking, put enough vegetable oil in a large skillet to come about ¼ inch up the sides and place it over high heat. Place the flour on a plate, roll the veal shanks in it and shake off the excess. When the oil is hot, carefully slip in the meat and brown it on both sides. Transfer to a platter and season with salt and pepper.

Once the onion is colored, raise the heat to medium-high. Add the vinegar and let it bubble for about 30 seconds. Put in the browned veal shanks. Add enough water to come halfway up the shanks and add the bouillon cube. Add the basil, thyme and lemon zest. Lift the raisins out of the water, squeeze out the excess water and add them to the pan. Cover and cook at a moderate but steady simmer until the meat is very tender, about 2 hours, turning the veal occasionally. Add more water if the water evaporates before the veal is done; you want to end up with a thick sauce. If the sauce is too watery at the end, remove the meat, raise the heat and reduce the sauce until thick enough to coat a spoon. Serve hot with Saffron Risotto.

This is one of those long-simmered dishes that gets better over time, improving as the flavors meld and the meat tenderizes in the sauce over a day or two. Simply reheat the veal in the sauce, adding a bit of water if necessary, over moderate heat.

TORTA DI RICOTTA (Ricotta Tart)
From How to Cook Italian by Giuliano Hazan

Lusciously creamy yet light and almost mousse-like, Giuliano adds chopped candied citron or lemon to the filling which I left out. Instead, inspired by my love of chopped chocolate bits in the rich ricotta filling of my Cannoli, I simply drizzled the top of the chilled tart with melted chocolate which solidifies as it hits the top of the cold ricotta filling and adds that fabulous crunch and a hint of slightly bitter chocolate flavor to the tart’s creaminess as you are eating it.


1 pre-baked Sweet Pastry Crust

1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup flour
3 Tbs confectioner’s or powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups whole milk
2 cups (1 lb/500 g) whole-milk ricotta
2 Tbs chopped candied citron, optional

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Lightly but thoroughly butter a deep dish 9-inch pie pan, pie dish or springform pan.

Prepare the Sweet Pastry Pie Crust following my directions found here then line the prepared pie dish. Place a piece of parchment paper on top of the dough fitted and crimped into the dish and weigh down with pastry weights or dried beans. Bake in the preheated oven for 8 minutes. Very carefully pull the pie plate out of the oven and lift out the parchment and beans then return the pie crust to the oven and bake for an additional 10 minutes or until very lightly browned and completely set. If using a glass pie plate, you’ll be able to see that the underside of the crust is uniformly golden brown. Remove from the oven to a cooling rack or hotplate.

After the crust is done, raise the oven temperature to 375°F (190°C).

Prepare the ricotta filling while the Sweet Pastry Pie Crust is baking:

Whip the egg, the yolk and the granulated sugar in a large mixing bowl with an electric mixer on high speed until the mixture is smooth, thick and creamy and pale yellow. Add the flour, confectioner’s/powdered sugar and the vanilla and mix just until homogenous. Slowly pour in the milk while whisking on medium-low speed. Add the ricotta and blend thoroughly. If adding candied citron, stir it in now.

Pour the ricotta filling into the pie crust and bake until the filling is firm and begins to brown on top, 1 to 1 ¼ hours. Test by jiggling the pan gently. Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack. Refrigerate for at least 3 hours or overnight before serving. Serve chilled, drizzled with a bit of melted chocolate, if desired.


The pie will keep for a few days in the refrigerator.

Take a bigger bite ...

MATCHA CHOCOLATE MARBLE CAKE

INDULGENCE


My father’s marble cakes stand out in my memory, nestled between images of him, dressed in white t-shirt and Bermuda shorts, his body immersed under the hood of a car, tinkering with an engine, or scratching at the sandy Florida dirt with a rusty rake at the side of the house, coaxing up his precious plants which would eventually bear an abundant crop of splotchy tomatoes.

Watching him measure, stir, pour, marble with a passion and artistry rarely seen in any of his other activities which he always approached with a clean, calculating engineer’s precision and emotional distance, baking brought out a creative side of him that I adored. His every movement mesmerized me. The cake, beautifully marbled, moist, delicate, bursting with chocolaty flavor mellowed by the touch of vanilla was the epitome of perfecion for me and required no adornment or fancy trimmings, needed nothing more than a fork to reach utter ecstasy. My dad’s cakes may have come from boxed mixes but oh how he could perform magic from such mundane, humble origins, confections infused with love and homemade goodness that wiped away all traces of the common. He served up each carefully sliced square with pride and from a very early age I understood what utter pleasure could be derived from baking for those one loves.


And since that time, I have been baking. I prepare ethereal choux puffs from his recipe, puddings thick and luxurious, just as he loved them, and cakes galore, sponge and Bundt and dense layers sandwiching sweet, chocolaty frosting. Yet the perfect marbling, his special pride and joy, eluded me. Time and time again I tried, oh yes I did, measuring, stirring, pouring as he did, albeit with from-scratch batter, splotching chocolate atop vanilla, yet the movement of my knife cutting through the creamy thickness of dark and light created nothing better than idle banter and frustration, goopy trails of ill-defined black masses trapped in white. I attempted over and over again, I tried different methods, changed knives for finer, ever sharper points, carefully controlled my movements, worked gently, slowly, concentrated and precise. Even conjuring up memories of dad, invoking his spirit, begging the baking gods to inspire me did nothing towards answering my prayers for producing spectacular, well-defined, graceful swirls of color.

Until now. A gift of Chah Matcha Green Tea Powder from my friend Arthi filled me once again with the desire to follow in dear old dad’s footsteps. My imagination swam with images of gorgeous swirls of dark chocolate and pale green, my tastebuds tingled with the thought of chocolate mingling with the delicate sweetness of vanilla and matcha, and the memory of moist, tender mouthfuls of my father’s marble cake urged me back into the kitchen with yet another recipe to try just one more time.

Matcha and Chocolate Marble Loaf Cake, a stunning work of art both visually and for the palate, I worked from a recipe by Chef Marcy Goldman published on the Food & Wine website and, with the patience and intense concentration of an engineer and surely my father’s ghost hovering just beside me, peering over my shoulder and guiding me gently yet persistently as he always did, I finally achieved the joy, the magic that I experienced all those long years ago as I kept him company in the kitchen as he himself baked.

I inherited my sweet tooth from my parents. A passion for chocolate is in our blood. Good old fashioned Hershey’s Kisses or perfect discs of Nonperiels studded with tiny white pearl candies, Tootsie Rolls and candy bars of every ilk hidden away from tiny hands in the back of the freezer fed my childhood along with dad’s Tunnel of Fudge Bundts, Chocolate Cakes and bowls of chocolate pudding topped with mounds of whipped cream. Thick slabs of icy chocolate cream pie added the perfect finishing touch to family outings at one of a handful of favorite restaurants. And each and every one of these chocolaty treats, these childhood memories feed my passion for creating and recreating chocolate confections of every sort in my own kitchen for my own family. And I keep myself surrounded by chocolates, from the store-bought treats from my youth that I collect like precious coins and rare stamps on each trip home, hidden from my own children, as my mother before me, in a secret drawer. Or handcrafted, artisan chocolates from one or two master chocolatiers here in Nantes.

Do I really need to once again vaunt the pleasures of chocolate? Bold and bitter or smooth and sweet, crunchy, crispy, light or dark, rich and luxurious, chocolate has the power to seduce, to inspire, to pull us into a dark, almost spiritual realm. Chocolate, that most mysterious of foods, both soothing and exciting, sinful yet heavenly, comforting and decadent. Chocolate, an object worshipped by many, chocolate in a hundred dazzling ways, able to bring the strongest to their knees, seduce a lover, a source of intense craving that no substitute can appease. Chocolate, food of the gods or food of the devil? Surrounded as I am by French chocolatiers, why need I look any further than my own backyard when the craving hits, one might ask? Well, if you have ever tasted Hotel Chocolat chocolates you will answer your own question. The very kind people of Hotel Chocolat have spoiled me with chocolate delights of every kind and by some miraculous glitch of a computer (who ever said that every technological glitch is bad?) I received not only a giant Milk Chocolate Ostrich Egg for Easter but the stunning Chocolatier’s Table as well, an utterly impressive spread designed to give you a taste of every type of their high-quality, artisan chocolate! From dreamy ganaches to nutty pralines and zingy fruity confections, milk, white and dark, Hotel Chocolat creates an amazing array of spectacular chocolates for every mood, every desire, every taste and for even the most discriminating palate. They also create the absolute best, most indulgent treats for each and every holiday, the perfect gift for anyone on your list. Just take a stroll through their on-line boutique and you, too, will know where to turn to satisfy your chocolate sweet tooth.


And I am proud and thrilled to announce that Hotel Chocolat is one of the generous sponsors of From Plate to Page which I am hosting with Ilva, Jeanne and Meeta this month in Weimar, Germany. Hotel Chocolat will be offering a special decadent, indulgent, surprising gift to each participant, helping make our workshop a truly delicious experience!


MATCHA AND CHOCOLATE MARBLE LOAF CAKE
Based on a recipe by Chef Marcy Goldman on Food & Wine. The marble cake can be made without the addition of Matcha tea powder if you like, but boy is this a fabulous way to use Matcha! And the results are both beautiful and delicious!

2 cups (280 g) flour
2 tsps baking powder
¼ tsp salt
12 Tbs (3/4 cup/175 g) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature +
3 Tbs (45 g) unsalted butter, melted
2 Tbs unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/3 cups (270 g) sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla
½ cup (125 ml) whole milk
1 ½ tsp Matcha tea powder

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Butter an 8 x 4 inch (about 20 ½ x 10 cm) loaf pan. Cut a long strip of parchment paper the width of the pan and long enough to line the bottom of the pan as well as up the two narrow sides and press neatly into the pan.

Stir or whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt.

Whisk the melted butter into the cocoa powder in a small bowl until completely blended and smooth.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the softened butter and the sugar until blended and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, just until blended. Beat in the vanilla.

Beat the dry ingredients into the butter/sugar in 3 additions alternating with the milk added in two, beating in each addition just until blended and smooth and scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.

Scoop out 1 cup of the batter and put into a small bowl. Stir the cocoa paste into the batter until well blended and smooth. Stir the Matcha tea powder into the remaining vanilla batter.

Spoon half of the Matcha batter into the bottom of the prepared loaf pan, smoothing it evenly in the pan all the way to the edges and into the corners. Plop tablespoons of the chocolate batter down the center of the pan on top of the Matcha batter then spoon the rest of the Match batter on top, gently smoothing the surface of the batter to mostly cover the chocolate but trying not to blend the two batters too much.

Using a clean, sharp knife with a narrow blade, make about 5 deep and cleaning swirls through the batter to create the marble effect.

Bake the Loaf Cake in the preheated oven at 350°F (180°C) for 25 minutes then reduce the oven temperature to 325°F (160°C) and bake for an additional 25 minutes. Loosely cover the top of the cake with aluminum foil and bake for an additional 10 to 15 minutes or until just set in the center and a tester stuck deeply into the cake comes out clean.

Remove the cake from the oven (remove the foil) and allow to cool for 10 or 15 minutes until the pan is cool enough to handle. Loosen the edges of the cake from the sides of the pan with a sharp knife then lift or turn the cake out of the pan. Gently peel off the parchment paper, flip upright and allow the cake to cool completely before serving.

Take a bigger bite ...