Allô Allô – Recipe: Stuffed Vegetables with a Quinoa Filling

In one of my previous posts, I described the difficulty I was facing learning French. Since arriving in Paris, I’ve felt like I’ve been navigating through a very thick and persistent fog. Well, at least a fog of nasally French. The first week, I completely clammed up. To my dismay, everything I had learned at Alliance Francaise seemed to have gone down the toilet, and I felt utterly confused, lost and/or misunderstood. Let me try to illustrate what was going through my head:

Waiter: Bonjour, mademoiselle. ...(and then he goes on)...
In my mind: @!$%^&!!*&^%$@#@!!!@#%^*(@)!@!%%$#@. HELP!

Le Restaurant at Musee d'Orsay, great dining experience if only they understood what I was saying

It is true that Paris has gotten more cosmopolitan and a little friendlier in recent times, but from what I have observed so far, the French take great pride in their language, and are rather reluctant to reveal that they do in fact understand English. For example, last week I caught the salesman at the mobile shop in the act when he responded to something I was asking my friend next to me in English, even though he vehemently insisted he couldn’t speak Anglais. What this means is that it’s really up to me to learn the language, and learn it fast, or give up and spend this year never really immersing myself in the culture and lifestyle of Paris. I’m bent on the former – I do not want to be the perpetual tourist. So each day, I’ve been reciting phrases from my trusty French language pocket book, just before bed and while eating breakfast. The French are much more receptive, I’ve figured out, if you at least try to fumble through with a spattering of French. It doesn’t always work, but I think they feel rather sorry for me, and are more likely to reciprocate by offering me a few words in English. In any case, I have committed to memory what is surely going to be THE  phrase I will be using while I’m here: “je désolé, je ne parle pas Francais. Parlez vous Anglais?”

Ah, but last week I hit a spot of light – I don’t quite know what changed, but suddenly I began to understand what people were saying to me, or more accurately, a couple of sentences here and there. It’s still mighty foggy, but I sort of feel like I’ve had a glimpse of the lighthouse now and I’m no longer afraid I’m going to sail into the abyss.

Man on the street: Bonjour mademoiselle...(and then he goes on)...
In my mind: @!$%^&!!*&^%$@#@!!!@#%^*(@)!@!%%$#@ Petite chien (your small dog) @!$%^&!! Jolee (pretty) *&^%$@#@!!!@#%^*(@)!@!%%$#@ Tu s’appelle (What’s his name?) *&^%$@#@!!!@#%^*(@)!@!%%$#@ Quel age (what’s his age?).

And I verbalise something like this: Bonjour, err, Hi......err, Cooper......errr.....dix (10)....errr...months, err what is months in French?

I’m by no means proud of myself, of course, and far from a model student of the French language. I continue to disgrace myself on a regular basis as I go about my business in the neighbourhood. Just the other day, I mistakenly thought the grocer was talking to me, to which I responded, when he was in fact, doing something quite different.

Grocer: Allô, Allô
Me (excitedly): Hello!
Grocer (with indignation): Pah! Not you, I’m asking my worker to answer ze telephone. Allô, Allô not hello!
Me: Oh, sorry... How much for these strawberries?

Alamak! :) 


I’ve always liked stuffed vegetables – they look lovely, and are a shoo-in for dinner parties. Many types of vegetables can be made to be natural “receptacles” for fillings – whether eggplants, mushrooms, capsicums or zucchini – as long as they have a relatively sturdy skin and rather supple flesh, they should work. I was stoked to discover quinoa and soy cheese at a health food store this weekend. Being quinoa-based, this recipe, partly Middle Eastern, partly Mediterranean -inspired, is a healthy and delicious way to meet your essential fibre and protein needs. Essentially quinoa can be treated like rice both in terms of pre-cooking preparation and the cooking process itself. Wash it in a couple of changes of water and remove grit, and use about 1 cup quinoa to 1 ½ cups of water. Here I used eggplant and green capsicum to stuff and added a bit of ground coriander for a subtle touch of spice. Baking the vegetables first covered with aluminium foil achieves two things – it helps to keep the stuffing moist and soften the vegetables without the need for additional breadcrumbs or sauce.  Serve this dish with lightly sautéed greens of your choice.

Pack the stuffing into the vegetable shells using the back of a metal spoon

Ingredients:

• 3/4 cup uncooked quinoa
• 1/2 head garlic
• 2 small eggplants or 1 medium plus 1 medium green capsicum for stuffing
• 2 to 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped
• 1 red bell capsicum, cored, seeded, and cut into 1/4-inch dice
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1 teaspoon coriander powder
• Lemon zest from 1 lemon, finely grated
• 1/4 cup low-fat ricotta cheese or vegan substitute
• 1/4 cup roughly chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, plus more for garnish
• 125 g cherry tomatoes, chopped roughly
• Extra virgin olive oil to drizzle

Heat oven to 200 degrees Celsius. Place garlic in a piece of aluminium foil, drizzle a bit of extra virgin olive oil over, and wrap to make a parcel. Bake in the oven until cloves are soft, 20 to 30 minutes. Let cool, and squeeze the soft garlic from the cloves, mash into a pulp and set aside.

Meanwhile, cook quinoa according to package ingredients. (It should take between 10-20 minutes). Stand for 10 minutes, fluff with a fork and leave to cool for a bit.

Cut the eggplants in half lengthwise, and place the halves cut sides up on a cutting board. Using a paring knife, cut around the perimetre, leaving a 1/3-inch-wide border and being careful not to cut through skin. Cutting down through flesh, cut lengthwise into 1/4-inch-wide strips. Using a teaspoon, scoop out the strips, keeping skin intact. Cut strips into 1/4-inch dice. Set both the diced eggplant and shells aside. Halve the capsicums, scoop out white membranes and discard seeds.

In a large skillet set over medium heat, warm 2 tablespoons olive oil. Add onion, and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and slightly browned, 4 to 6 minutes. Add eggplant, bell pepper, coriander, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper. Cover; cook, stirring occasionally, until browned, 6 to 8 minutes. If mixture starts to become dry, add the additional tablespoon olive oil. Lower heat and add quinoa. Mix well.

Add lemon zest, cheese, parsley, remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, and remaining 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Stir to combine.

Fill each reserved vegetable shell with quinoa mixture. Cover with aluminium foil, give the dish an ever so light drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. Bake until warm throughout and shell has softened, 20 to 25 minutes. Remove foil, and continue cooking until tops are lovely and toasted,  a further 20 minutes or so. Remove from oven. Sprinkle with parsley, and serve.

Downsizing– Recipe: Pasta Primavera

I’ve decided that it’s no fun cooking for one. Not only are you boxed in terms of choices of what you can buy at the grocery store, since there is only so much one person can eat, it’s also awfully boring. My dinner table is at the heart of much of my social life. Around it, I gather the people I cherish and share with them the “fruits of my labour” –new homes are blessed, sick ones nurtured, Christmas toasted to, birthdays celebrated.  It makes for such a vastly different dining experience.  After cooking for company for so many years, and for one famished, gym-going brother, in particular, I’ve become so accustomed to buying enough for family sized meals that it’s almost automatic. Tonight, for instance, I inadvertently made enough pasta for 4 “me’s”, which means I’m stuck eating the same thing for dinner (and cold at that, since I don’t have a microwave) for the rest of the week! 

Although I’ve only been here for a week or so, I can feel the seasons changing. It’s starting to get quite chilly in the evenings, and my thin cotton shorts are no longer sufficient to keep me warm at night. Sigh. I miss my hot water bottle. Cooper, too, is learning to adjust to the weather, for example, by curling up in a tight little ball (but not before coming to my side of the bed to try to get me to pick him up and cuddle with him) and tucking his paws under his sweater in his doggy bed. 

Can you really say no to this face?

Pasta Primavera is a great way to capitalise on fresh seasonal vegetables.  Often made with a tomato base , especially in the US, it can also be absolutely delightful with a light broth and some flavoured olive oil during the Spring. What you want to ensure is that you have a nice contrast of colours – red, green, orange, purple – and that you cook the vegetables so that they are just done, and not soggy. Start with the vegetables that take longer, for example, eggplant and capsicum, before adding those that need to be cooked ala minute such as broccoli, French beans or zucchini.  Note however that the estimated cooking times below are for my new continental stove, which looks sleek and sexy, but I’ve discovered, takes forever to cook anything (no char kuey teow from this kitchen, that’s for sure).  For a spicy kick, add a teaspoon or so of some red pepper flakes and fresh basil for unbeatable flavour.

Serves 3-4 (or 1 lone ranger with ample leftovers)

Ingredients:

250 g spaghetti or linguine

2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

1 medium brown onion, chopped

4 cloves garlic, chopped

Pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)

About 4 cups of vegetables in season, for example:

1/2 small eggplant, cubed

150 g button mushrooms, sliced

½ red, yellow or green capsicum, core removed and cut into long strips

1 small head of broccoli, cut into florets

1 small carrot, cut into desired shapes

A handful of cherry tomatoes

1 bay leaf

1 tsp dried oregano

1 large handful of fresh basil leaves, chopped (substitute 1-2 tsp dried basil)

½ cup dry white wine

1 x 400g pasta sauce of your choice (for example: Marinara or Napolitana) 

Freshly cracked black pepper and sea salt to taste

Red pepper flakes and Parmesan cheese to serve (optional)

Fill large stock pot with water, salt generously and bring to the boil.

In the meanwhile, heat non-stick skillet or a large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add olive oil and swirl to coat. Saute’ onion and garlic until fragrant, about 3-4 minutes. Add hardy vegetables such as eggplant and mushrooms, season lightly while adding to the pan the red pepper flakes, if using. After about 5 minutes, add the broccoli and carrot followed by about ½ cup of white wine. Bring to a boil, and then add bay leaf, oregano and half of the basil leaves. When mixture has been slightly reduced, pour in pasta sauce, adjust seasoning and simmer of low heat for another 5-10 minutes until vegetables are fork-tender and the sauce has thickened slightly. 

At this stage, cook pasta according to package ingredients. Drain and return to the pot.

Just before serving, add cherry tomatoes to the pasta sauce and stir well. Toss pasta with the sauce and garnish with extra red pepper flakes, Parmesan and chopped basil leaves, if desired.

Bonjour, Paris - Recipe: Soupe Poireaux Pommes de Terre

The River Seine, forever immortalised

Hello, everyone! After a 13 hour flight and two hours spent sandwiched between grumpy and disgruntled travellers at immigration at Charles de Gaulle airport, Cooper and I arrived in Paris earlier this week and are now settled in to our little flat in a small corner of the city. While I've now lived in Boston, Guangzhou, London, Singapore and Kuala Lumpur and have always considered myself quite the global citizen, I found myself right about yesterday hit suddenly by a sharp bout of homesickness and an intense craving for a hot, fluffy bowl of jasmine rice and tofu. Paris is gorgeous and romantic, but like all global cities, it has the scale, density and diversity that can be as overwhelming as it can be exciting. Worse, I seem to be suffering from a weird case of immobolitis, where I can’t seem to open my mouth to speak any French. But perhaps I'm feeling this way also because I've discovered, that there are only two things that I can eat at a typical French brasserie - frits (french fries) and salade verte (green salad), and that can get old pretty quickly.

So, though I never imagined I would be one of those "typical" Asians, I found myself hopping onto the Metro yesterday headed straight for Chinatown to stock up on rice, tofu, chillies (god, I miss spicy food) and...*gasp* instant noodles. I will admit that it was heart-warming to see the brands of food on the supermarket shelves that I've come to associate with home for some years.

The streets of Paris, teeming with life  (and dogs!)

Despite missing Singapore, I am completely in love with the city’s architecture, and the many outdoor cafes and markets that are scattered throughout my neighbourhood. A gal (and her dog) can get used to this, let me tell you. I picked up a couple of seasonal vegetables yesterday at the local grocer. For my maiden post from Paris, I present below, a classic soup called Soupe Poireaux Pommes de Terre or Leek and Potato Soup, which is rich and full of flavour. Serve this soup with crusty bread and a salad and you’ve got a lovely supper.

Serves 4

About 1 kg slender leeks
2 bay leaves
20 black peppercorns
4 sprigs fresh thyme
2 tablespoons butter
2 large garlic cloves, minced
1 medium brown onion, chopped
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 1/2 cups vegetable stock
450 g new potatoes (Yukon gold or red-skinned, for example) about 4 medium
1/2 to 1 teaspoon fine sea salt
Freshly ground pepper
1 cup soy milk
Crème fraîche, for serving (optional)
Chives, chopped for garnishing (optional)

First, prepare a bouquet garni by tying together the bay leaves, peppercorns, and thyme in a package using cheesecloth and kitchen twine. Alternatively, you can use about 1-2 tsps dried Herbs de Provence.
Next, trim the leeks, keeping about two thirds of the green part. If your leeks are on the thick side, remove and discard the fibrous outer layer. Carve a deep slit all along the length of the leeks, driving your knife almost to the other side, but not quite, to expose all the layers. Run each leek in turn under a stream of cold water, green part down, to wash away the sand and grit. Squeeze off the excess water.

Separate the white from the green parts. Discard the toughest green leaves, and set aside the most tender. Slice the leek whites thinly. Peel and dice the potatoes into small cubes.

In a large stock pot over medium heat, melt the butter and add the garlic and onion. Cook for 5 to 6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the garlic and onion are soft. Add the sliced leeks and cook until wilted, a further 5 minutes or so. Add the wine, and boil until reduced by half. Add the bouquet garni, vegetable stock, potatoes, and bring to a boil. Season to taste. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, for about 20 minutes. Add soy milk and simmer soup for another 10-15 minutes, or until the potatoes are falling apart and the flavours have developed.

Purée the soup, in batches, if necessary, using a blender. (I did not have one on hand, so I used a fork and mashed the potatoes, in batches, in a small bowl). Taste, adjust the seasoning, and return over low heat.
Shred the reserved green leaves of the leek into fine ribbons. When the soup returns to a simmer, add the leek ribbons, stir, and remove from the heat. Cover and let rest for 5 minutes. Serve hot, with a spoonful of crème fraîche and some snipped chives, if desired, and a hefty dose of pepper! Viola!