My madeleine of Proust!

I would like to find a clever introduction for this but there isn't one. I simply love bagels, it's as simple as that.

I ate my first bagel 10 years ago, almost to the day. I worked in America as an au pair, in the state of New Jersey and the family I lived with introduced me to this delicious type of pure doughy goodness.
A big bag of them would be purchased almost every week, my heart would fill with delight whenever I heard the brown paper bag making a delicious entrance. I never learnt the name of the bakery they came from and sadly never enjoyed a better bagel since. New York could not compete with the bagel master of New Jersey!

I would have one for breakfast, toasted with some Welch's jelly, one for lunch with some cream cheese or just one whenever the carbohydrate monster dictated me! I am partial to a plain bagel however and thus have no time for the sesame or poppy seeds, which leave your teeth looking a mess, or the onion bagel which, in my opinion, severely restricts your choice of toppings.

When I left America, I learnt to live without the delicious foods the country had to offer, devil dogs, giant pizzas, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches...Yet, the souvenir of the bagel lingered. I tried other bagels in the UK but they left me disappointed. The supermarket ones are so tough, they could be used in the construction industry as some sort of insulation device and the ones I made were lacking something as I am no baker and surely no bagel master.
All changed when I moved to London and discovered Brick Lane in East London, home of the best bagels London has to offer. I visit the bakery every weekend religiously, get half a dozen bagels and devour one of them on the spot as I walk back to the tube station.

I love them because they taste great but also because they remind me of a certain episode in my life. Indeed, a particular time when I was a 21 year old girl in a foreign country all by myself, a time when I was discovering a new culture, making new friends, getting to grips with looking after 2 teenage girls, a time when I spent all my weekends in New York City, me, a country girl who had never even been on a family holiday, a time when I met my future husband and finally a time when more of the people I loved walked this earth.
It's more than just a circular bread with a hole in the middle, it's a bite of my life. I think Marcel Proust would agree!

While I can't show you my New Jersey bagels, check out some of my London ones.

Food Heaven!

Goodbye Newcastle and bonjour London! We packed the car, the cat and off we went to the unknown, like a pair of settlers in search of the Eldorado. While the coveted prize - an interesting job making the most of my cherished linguistic skills - has not yet been won I have discovered belly bliss.

Indeed, London is a true gold mine as far as food is concerned and I had no idea. Silly mare!
Of course, I knew there would be real nice posh places, just like there are in Paris or New York but I am just generally impressed at the quality of the food served in delis, small restaurants and other non expensive eateries. The menus are inventive, fresh and seasonal but most importantly the non-meat eater is fabulously catered for. While I lived in New York I had my fair share of daily culinary disappointments, including greasy chinese, dry ass sandwiches, stale pastries and other traumas I care not to remember.
London is on a totally different level and for the past month my tummy has been smiling constantly, embracing exciting foods from all over the globe. This might sound silly but I feel lucky being part of it all, lucky to be given the opportunity to try new things and lucky to learn from all these experiences.
In addition, there are loads of bakeries everywhere. I can have flutes, brioches, croissants and other French necessities whenever I feel like it. Unfortunately, I can't cos this type of food 'sticks' to my thighs straight away!

Part of our newfound weekend routine is to visit a museum or a gallery every Saturday. We go wandering for hours and after filling our heads and memories with aesthetic and beauty we go looking for delicious foods to fill our bellies. I really enjoy Thai food at the moment, it's all very new for me who grew up only eating traditional French cuisine. I am actually really looking forward to making my family try some of my new favourites places cos I know they will never eat anything of the sort in their native Normandy.

I've been taking pictures of almost everything I eat when I'm out, it's like I am keeping a food diary. One week it's a Pad Thai in West Kensington, the next it's a Turkish wrap on Brick Lane. I guess, as I never go on holiday, I build a compilation of alternative photographic souvenirs.

Sweetcorn tempura from @siam.

Tuna carpaccio from Patara.

Steamed dumplings from Ping Pong.

Tofu and chickpea curry in an onion roti from Spitalfield market.

Champagne afternoon tea at the Saatchi Gallery.

Many more pics to follow and an ode to the bagel in the making...

Lost ideas and strawberries

Don't you just hate it when a great idea comes to you late at night as you lay in bed and by morning it's gone? No matter how hard you try to remember the stuff, by the time you open your eyes in the morning and take your mascara-stained sleeping mask off the genius idea is gone.


I am mentioning this cos it happened to me last night you see. It was late, my husband was asleep and I started thinking about language, not sure what particular problem I was trying to solve. I think it had to do with a distinction made in French but not in English. I was sleepy but the mind was still going strong, no doubt a side effect of the 4 pints of coffee I enjoyed yesterday. All I can remember after that is finding the answer I was looking for, feeling relieved and telling myself it was the best idea I had had in a while. Note to brain: please don't let me forget I came up with this cos it's pure forward thinking. Next thing I know my little French brain decided to rain on my parade and reminded me that I don't get to choose what I get to remember. How rude!
I tried to think back about it in English, then in French- cos us foreigners might not be able to pronounce Fitzgerald right but our wiring up there is binary branching - but simply nothing, tabula rasa.
I tell myself that maybe it was never a great idea, just a few neurons firing louder and brighter than usual.

My brain might be failing me but there is one memory that is here to stay: the smell, colour and taste of a French strawberry tart, like my beloved grandma used to make. Spring is here, I haven't visited France since Christmas so I decided to invite the Norman countryside to Gateshead by making a sablé strawberry tart with creme patissiere.

And again I can't rotate the picture...

The tart is pretty straight forward but takes a while cos the pastry needs to go in the fridge for about an hour before being baked and the creme patissiere needs to be used cold. The time spent is well worth it though cos it is absolutely divine. Please note that this is not to be consumed if you're on Weight Watchers!

For the pastry:
250 g of plain flour
150 g of butter
pinch of salt
75 g of icing sugar
1 egg
vanilla extract 

For the creme patissiere:  
120 g of caster sugar
35 g of cornflour
3 yolks
250 ml of milk
almond extract

I brushed the strawberries with a bit of warm red currant jelly to give them a glossy finish and extra sweetness. It's got that rustic look that I am so familiar with and love to recreate when I long for home.

Pram Time

The past few days have been quite interesting in terms of potential career development. Indeed, just as I thought I was going to have to go back to being a full-time waitress, I got a call regarding a job in London I applied for three days ago. A Newcastle agency wanted to see me yesterday morning to discuss the position and make me take tests. Scary but also very exciting!

After a short night spent stressing out and worrying about everything that could go wrong I headed to town super early to make sure I was there on time.
It was that weird time of the morning when most people have made it to the office and the city seems to be undergoing a short time of transition where not much is happening.
I headed to an M&S café for a large americano (no milk, no sugar for maximum result) and was pleasantly surprised at how quiet it was in there. A few old ladies were sipping coffees with their friends and biting on fruit scones smothered in jam. Civilisation at its best!
Some 1970s tune was playing in the background, nice and inoffensive. I got my book out and started reading long Proustian descriptions of childhood memories. The coffee was quite good and, amazingly, I wasn't feeling too stressed.

Progressively, the peaceful sanctuary for coffee lovers I had just settled in was rudely invaded, the mothers had arrived! A steady flow of pushchairs started pouring through the doors of the café, some expensive, some cheap, but all noisy! The prams are coming! Make room for the mini-people, move the tables, move the chairs and, above all, cover your ears!
The place soon turned into a total creche and I lost all concentration (more than needed when you read Proust). It was like witnessing a club I didn't belong to, like turning up to a AA meeting and realising it's actually church choir practice.
I felt out of place, like a fraud cos I wasn't either retired or accompanied by a toddler and thus decided to down my americano faster than I had originally planned to.

I got to my meeting early, took the required tests and went home wondering when I would feel ready to let the pram into my life!

I had soup that evening, a lovely lentil one (purchased...shameful!) to which I added fresh spinach cos I could have spinach with anything! I made little peshwari naans to go with it and they were absolutely lovely. It was my first attempt at making this type of naan bread and I think they're gonna become regular guests at the table.

I grilled them for 2 minutes on each side just before serving and they went great with my dinner.

For the naans (makes about 5)
250g plain flour
125ml of semi-skimmed milk
2 tbsp of sunflower oil
2 heaped tsp caster sugar
pinch of salt
1/2 tsp baking powder

For the filling
50g ground almonds
a few sultanas
25g caster sugar
a few almonds to decorate

There will be blood

Today I broke the no-cake for a week pact I made with myself two days ago but for a good cause. Indeed, earlier today I was a good citizen for 10 minutes and gave blood! When you give blood in this country you HAVE to eat a couple of biscuits before you're released back into the world. I seem to remember that in France you get a sandwich and a pastry so maybe next time I'll couple my trip to the homeland with a blood donation.

It might sound a bit weird to some but I genuinely enjoy giving blood. The pain is sometimes a bit 'annoying', for lack of a more appropriate adjective (and lack of a thesaurus within handreach) but the whole experience leaves me feeling lighter (obviously, since I just shed 10% of my blood) and somehow cleansed.
What I seriously hate about it is the horribly cheap cordial they make you drink beforehand, which tastes like toilet bleach mixed with a dash of aspartame. The biscuits you get afterwards are not too glorious either, individually wrapped digestives which, judging by the packaging and taste, could have easily gone off in the era of Florence Nightingale. 
A raspberry millefeuille served with a cold glass of homemade lemonade (no alcohol for 2 hours after the donation so forget about the prosecco) would definitely make up for the blood loss and the little scratch on the arm. I think it would also attract more donors!

Still, it's nice to do something good that might benefit someone! I shouldn't even be giving blood as I'm under 8 stone so whenever the nurse asks I feed her a little lie but again it's all for a noble cause. I don't really understand the weight restriction anyway especially when I saw today two rather big lads having to lie down afterwards cos they felt 'a bit dizzy for some reason'. I suppose I have a good diet (when I don't pig out) which might help in those situations...that or I am just so wired on coffee most days that it's actually the caffeine doing the driving!
Before the donation I had my usual lunchtime salad but today I made it a big one.

The nurse told me to take it easy for the rest of the day so what a good excuse to not do any aerobics! I feel a bit drained anyway so I might just follow her advice.

Mutiny

I am having a calorically challenged day so far and something tells me there is more scale misery to come. Just to name a few of my bad moves so far: pancake breakfast, Sunday lunch, a slice of cake the size of my head, and, of course, no exercise.
It's not even 6pm and I bet one of my stomachs will be requesting dinner soon enough. I have to act quick and get on that bike of mine but I'm finding loads of silly excuses to delay the pain like 'Superman 2 is on Channel 5 maybe I should watch it!' or 'exercise will only make me hungrier!' or (my personal favourite) 'I'm too cold to put my shorts on!'. Lame, lame, lame!

While I make up my mind about the whole exercise situation, let me drool again over the gateau de Savoie I made a couple of days ago. My favourite creation in months I think!

I had never tasted a sponge so light. It was almost like a meringue but I expect it is because the gateau de Savoie does not require any butter.  Surely then it must be healthy! So to make it a proper treat that's gonna stick to my thighs for the rest of my days, I enjoyed my cake with a dollop of my old friend, the redcurrant jelly.

The sight of it makes my eyes water! I am so greedy!

I think this cake would make a great base for a fraisier, where you sandwich creme patissiere and fresh strawberries between two layers of sponge. Nice summer picnic dessert that would put a lot of puds to shame I think!

For the sponge
4 eggs
125g caster sugar
60g plain flour
30g cornflour
pinch of salt
a small lemon

Screw the bike! I shall settle for weights instead...and a big green salad. I'm not laughing!

Yeast Affection!

Yesterday, I managed to find some fresh yeast in town and it's got me all excited about all the possible delicacies I could get out of it.

Who gets excited about yeast you might wonder? I do, but only with the fresh type cos I love its texture, its smell and basically I feel a bit like a professional baker when I have some in the house.
As it happens, my great grandfather was a baker so maybe the desire to bake runs in the family! Let's hope I don't inherit other (less savoury) family traits because, in terms of weirdos, alcoholics and other delightful types of people, my family can be thought of as rather 'gifted'. The axe story does spring to mind but now is not the time for this fine tale of French countryside!

So, I went home with my pot of yeast and started looking for potential recipes. I thought bread at first and then of course my gluttony dictated something sweet instead. I looked into making a brioche but again I wasn't completely satisfied with what I found online. Then, I came across a recipe for a tarte de ménage comtois (bit of a mouthful for the non-bilingual type I agree). Basically, it's a bit like a flat brioche with a soft custard centre. It's an old regional recipe from France, which I had never come across during the 21 years I lived there. I decided to give it a try as I love brioche and my husband loves custard. Marriage is all about compromise after all!

The dough was pretty easy to make but needed proving twice so it's not exactly a treat you bake at the last minute.
After the yeast has worked its magic, the dough goes in a flat dish and the centre gets flattened a bit in order to accommodate the custard.

 I brushed the outer ring of the tart with some egg yolk and baked it for about 20 minutes.

The smell coming from the kitchen was absolutely amazing and I was really pleased with the result. The centre was dead soft and the brioche itself was sweet and light.

The fresh yeast has defo delivered! I ate almost half the tart by myself whilst watching Hang'em High last night.
It's still soft today but I am trying to stay clear of it...for now.

 For the dough
250g plain flour
40g caster sugar
1 egg
30g butter
1 tbsp oil
10cl milk
12g fresh yeast
a pinch of salt


For the custard
1 egg
125ml creme fraiche (single cream works too)
50g caster sugar
a bit of vanilla extract

I think I might save the rest of the yeast for the weekend and maybe make some pains au chocolat. Those little bad boys take ages though so I'm not sure yet whether I'll have time or not.
For now I'm gonna enjoy the winter sun that's gracing Gateshead and let Proust take me to Combray!