Beignets of New Orleans
Cafe Du Monde @ Night
If you come to Cafe Du Monde in the morning, the place is like a zoo. You have to watch seated customers to catch for signs of a table about to be vacated – people taking their last beignet bite, wiping their mouths of the traces of the powdery white sugar. Then you rush to the still warm chairs and wait for your turn for the table to be cleared. The mostly Vietamese staff won’t pay any attention to your energetic gestures. Their coming and going will make little sense. Your turn will come when they are ready for you.
In the meantime, you can watch other customers. A mom taking a break from her hectic day with a plate of beignets, reading a magazine with one eye and watching her child sleep in the pram with other. A group of old friends or perhaps sisters, getting together for a chat, with what seems like several servings of beignet for each. And hoards of tourists.
Fritzel’s Jazz in New Orleans
Fritzel’s @ NOLA
I am watching David Simon’s Tremé now, so I am planning my next trip to New Orleans around Tremé. However, during my last trip, like other first time tourists in New Orleans, I was bound to Bourbon Street. Fritzel’s, the European Style Jazz Bar on Bourbon street, proved to be a nightly attractor. It was packed almost every night, jam packed on the weekends.
You can end the night with a trip to Cafe du Monde. And if you ate all your beignets, an amateur side walk astronomer with his telescope will show you the moon spots or rings of Saturn.
I am sad
I am sad. I tried to be happy, I did. I went to the local gathering of ‘gourmet’ roach coaches this evening. I went with a smile on my lips, hope in my heart, and appetite in my tummy. I went because chowhounds said good things about the gourmet truck movement sweeping this land of expanding midsections. I checked out the event on facebook. I checked out the reviews on yelp. I found that foodies on the web were gushing about LA’s korean taco trucks, NY’s creme brulee cart, and SF’s Indian street food. I decided that I wanted to be with the cool kids. And so I went.
The setting was appropriately foodie-hipsterish in the parking lot of a sketchy strip mall at the wrong end of Palo Alto. Folks had brought their own chairs and rugs to sit on, their own significant others (I think) to canoodle with, and their own kids (I hope) to lend a home-y feel to the proceedings.
What made the evening promising was the Curry Up Now truck at the far end of the parking lot. With a Korean taco truck next to it. And a Vietnamese truck next to that. There were others too, but a plan was already forming in my gut. Some chaat from Curry Up Now, a spicy Korean taco to follow, and Vietnamese banh mi with which to end the meal. Shared between me and my better two-thirds this would be about the right amount of food. But, alas, there was no chaat at the Curry Up Now truck. They were already out of a few things, but they did have samosas. Jackpot, baby.
A samosa is a fried pastry shell most often filled with potatoes and peas, or daal, or minced meat. But that is like saying a 25-year old Lagavulin is some good booze. Where is the poetry in that? A samosa is a delicate balance of textures (crisp shell, soft filling), spices (fresh and aromatic, never dull and muddy), and proportions (neither the shell nor the filling should overwhelm each other). Curry Up Now serve their ‘deconstructed’ samosas with “spicy chickpea curry (chana), tomatoes, red onions, tamarind sauce, and a secret green sauce”. Yes, yes, yes.
A few minutes of waiting sharpened up the appetite. And then I got this. It looked like a blob of minced beef hiding some mysteries underneath. We dug through the beef and found a soggy thick-crusted samosa cowering below. Maybe there were onions and chutney as promised, but the flavors were so muddy that I had difficulty identifying them. There was no sour component – either a chutney or a squeeze of lemon – to cut the fat. I was expecting poetry and got airport-lit prose. Now you know why I am sad.
Tucking in at L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon
We may have gone a bit overboard while ordering. Our favorite – langoustine ravioli with truffle sauce.
 Roasted bone marrow on toast, sitting atop a bone |
 Quail with truffled mashed potatoes |
 Tower of eggplant, cheese and sundried tomatoes |
 Egg foam with mushrooms |
 Softshell crab tempura with avocado puree |
 Langoustine ravioli in truffle sauce |
 Mashed potatoes that didnt kill Omar Sharif - 1/2 lb butter to every lb of la ratte? |
 Strawberry and basil gelato. May I recommend dessert at Eric Keyser a block away? |
Les Fines Gueules
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Located near Place Victoires, on rue Croix des Petits Champs, Les Fines Gueules is beautiful both inside and out. I will remember it for two things:
- One of the best Loire reds that I have had so far.
- Eating la ratte potatoes with le boeuf tartare, the later being a specialty of this restaurant.
Black rice pudding
Black rice pudding with coconut milk and garnished with tapioca pearls, Green Goddess, New Orleans
Yesterday, an energetic re-organization of my pantry reminded me that I have been aging Burmese black rice for at least an year. The rice itself was bought from a local branch of Whole Foods. I had also snagged myself Steen’s Cane Syrup during a recent trip to New Orleans. The two came together in a quick lactose free pudding last evening.
Pressure cook on low 1/4 cup of black rice, a pinch of salt with 2 cups of milk (2% lactose free or almond milk) for 1 hour. Add more milk to achieve desired consistency, add cane syrup to taste, perhaps a few spoonfuls of raisins and nuts and serve at room temperature.
Samosa sandwich
Samosa sandwich – hot crisp samosa sandwiched between sliced white bread with some mint or coriander chutney. Conceptually, this is not far from chip butty.
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In a pinch, ketchup can be substituted for chutney. Or Sriracha. In a pinch, wheat bread can be substituted for white. And by the time, you have substituted Trader Joe’s frozen samosa for the real ones, the purists will cringe. But it will satisfy the Punjabi-ness of your being.
Open faced toasted sardine sandwich aka sardine tartine
Sardine tartine
This sandwich is an inspiration from our trip to Paris. Our neighborhood boasted of a wonderful restaurant that served various tartines for lunch. Buttered and toasted open faced Poilâne bread with sardine paste hasn’t been forgotten yet.
Space invader in Edith Piaf’s Paris
Edith Piaf is exciting. A guided tour in the neighborhood where Edith Piaf was born, not so. However, it was our only trip to the edges of Paris. An added bonus was Père Lachaise Cemetery. What stood out on the trip, besides graffiti on Oscar Wilde’s tomb, was this odd art work above a specialty food store overlooking one of the oldest churches in the city. Didn’t quite realize what we were looking at until we saw Banksy’s movie “Exit Through the Gift Shop”. If I am not mistaken, this is work of Space Invader. I forgot to take down the name of the church but it is one of the two churches in main Paris with an attached cemetery and only one with everyday public access to the cemetery.
 Distant view of the church |
 Church and the epicerie |
 Space invader art above Epicerie |
 Behind the church |
Le timbre, French tranditional cuisine by an English Chef
 Mackerel with beet puree |
 Blood sausage with mashed potatoes |
 Fatty pork on a bed of lentils |
 Outside Le Timbre |
Located near Jardin du Luxembourg, Le Timbre is another small and delightful bistro serving traditional cuisine. Yet another place where I had to restrain myself from eating a big block of foie gras with a bottle of wine and loaf of white bread.
A traditional Parisian lunch at Le Comptoir
 Le Comptoir Bar |
 Outside seating at Le Comptoir |
Californians eat lunch early, what with getting up early in the morning for the 5 mile jog or an hour of hot yoga or both. A Californian tourist in Paris arrives early at restaurants during the lunchtime and gets a seat. An hour later would typically mean an hour long wait. Except for one or two of the trendiest restaurants, a reservation thankfully is not needed. Most places in Paris, one gets by with a few words in English, a few in French and lots of energetic hand gestures and facial expressions. Try doing that on the phone. So yes, I am grateful for the no reservation needed situation.
Chocolatiers and pâtisseries of Paris
Macaroons from Pierre Hermé
Living a block away from Pierre Hermé and being restrained was perhaps the hardest thing I had to do in Paris. The first thing we tried was a small box of macaroons – jasmine, vanilla, cassis, rose, various chocolates, balsamic vinegar, pistachio, orange – if I had to recommend one, it would be cassis. Each was a bit sized piece but even in that single bite sized piece, there were three distinct textures and flavors, one that of the soft cookie on the outside, the second that of the tart jelly on the foot of the macaroon and third that of the rich, sweet and soft cream filling.
Mille-feuille (napoleon) was the one we just had to go back for the second time. It is a layered pastry with rich layers of soft chocolate and flaky layers of puff pastry – if you a need a reason to believe in Pierre Hermé’s genius, then this is it. They also had a bread advertised as chocolate bread but really was a chocolate croissant – a perfect take out lunch accompaniment.
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Lady in the Lake, hardboiled crime in Paris
 Hot chocolate slurry |
 Tea House at Passage Christine |
Of course in all great cities you walk and walk and walk. In Paris, you like me, perhaps choose to walk in good looking shoes. So, by the time evening rolls around, you are left sitting somewhere with very tired feet.
Le Reminet, a perfect Californian meal in Paris
 Le Reminet and neighboring wine bar |
 Le Reminet, Cozy interiors |
Food in Paris can be overwhelming. Particularly after a week of breakfasting on croissants, lunching on baguette and pâtés, and dining on delicious cuts of game birds, and pigs cooked in clarified butter and fortified with bacon jus. And crème fraiche topped pastries in between meals. How can you not eat well in Paris? But you can be also be overwhelmed by the craft – thousand layers in Pierre Hermes’ mille-feuille, minced pig’s feet stuffed in small potatoes at Christian Constants’ Les Cocottes, Joël Robuchon’s langoustini ravioli with truffle sauce to name a few. Le Reminet by Seine, near Notre Dame, is a tiny restaurant where we ate one of the most delicious meals this Paris trip. And we could have been eating in San Francisco.
Les Cocottes, eating near Eiffel Tower
Neighbor with a morning cup of coffee and cigarette
One nice thing about traveling from San Francisco to Paris is the hour you wake up on the very first day – it was three in the morning for us. Paris is beautifully lit and quiet at that time. We waited eagerly for our first taste of croissant and coffee at the neighborhood cafe. Early signs of dawn breaking are the activities around these breakfast cafes. Morning load of pastries and bread arrives, the chairs are placed out, the waiters share a few moments over their morning cigarettes. I notice a neighbor popping her head out of, what I assume to be, her bathroom window for a smoke.
Dressed in our freshly bought European style attire, we headed out. After a week, my beautiful shoes and the cobblestone paths of Paris parted ways but not on the first day. We decided to combine the two most quintessential symbols of Paris, Siene and Eiffel tower in one shot, walk along Siene to Eiffel tower. From Place Michel Debre to Blvd Saint-Germain to Rue De Bac to river Seine. Even with our hundred stops for photographs, we were near the tower in a couple of hours. Does a slow saunter work up an appetite? No. But sight of delicious pastries from the storefront definitely does.
 While waiting for Les Cocottes to open |
 Canelés, baked flour cakes soaked in syrup |
Breasts, patchouli oil, mint tisane and a Bangla conversation at the Parisian hammam
Sleeping at Jardin de Plantes
I like a good deep tissue massage to undo the damages caused by hours of sitting hunched over on the computer. My local massage spa in San Francisco Bay Area is less of a spa and more of a therapeutic center. Housed in an ugly building in a strip mall, the masseuse pummels the life out of you, kneading and elbowing and kneeing your muscles into submission. All knots begone. I thank the American immigration system that brings me the expertise of traditional Chinese massage techniques at my doorstep. When traveling, I try to get one in a strange city or airport with the purpose of undoing the tortures of the airlines seat. The tale of Korean massage where they turn you into a minor contortionist is for another occasion. This time, the story starts at a hammam in Paris – this is a story of oiled breasts, steamy dark rooms, minty potions and odd snatches of conversations.
Orzo pudding – three decades apart
Orzo pudding
A memory from the first decade of my life – a winter afternoon in a small town in India, sitting in the verandah underneath a warm sun, mother patiently creating rice shaped little grains of dough. For a child, perhaps tiny objects are fascinating. I may have helped her make 50 of those grains. She made 500 more or perhaps a 1000 more. She sun dried the grains for a day or two and then made a pudding, like rice pudding. My mother is a master pudding maker, she usually cooks a handful of rice in a large pot of milk and adds crushed cardamoms and jaggery. Although the grains cook in milk for hours, they are always perfectly melted, never pasty. The jaggery enriched condensed milk tastes like melted butterscotch icecream. There was extra excitement over the grains of dough pudding but the memory of the taste is lost among hundred other perfect puddings.
Time shift a few decades later. Now I make this quick orzo pudding, a few times a year. Sometimes to honor that lazy afternoon and sometimes to satisfy an immediate craving for a dessert.
One river to bind them all
In cities like Calcutta or Paris, the river is the precious that brings together the livelihoods and lifestyles of the people of the city. There is no denying the differences of course. In Calcutta, Ganges river is wide. Wide enough that on a regular traffic clogging business day, crossing one of the two bridges can take an hour or more. For many in Calcutta, the river is everything. They live in small precariously placed shacks along the riverside, cooking on crude stoves, bathing, urinating, defecating in the river, making a living off odd jobs by the riverside. Every once in a while the city police comes by and tears down the shacks and the cycle starts up all over again. For other Calcuttans, the riverside is a sanctuary from the hot and muggy interiors of the city. Often in the evening, when the rays of setting sun make the silt laden water look like gold, the Bengali babus can seen heatedly debating politics and cricket accompanied with roasted peanuts and hot chai. The local train line is just by the banks so every once in a while the toot of the train pierces the surrounding noise and the din. Is it just the mugginess that makes everything feel slow even in that throng of moving bodies? Large ferry and cargo boats crawl past without attracting attention. Tiny little picturesque boats offer rides to young lovers who can perhaps steal a kiss away from the throng of hawkers and gawkers. Nothing spectacular but nevertheless stunning.
 Goddess idol being prepared for immersion |
 Traveling priest or a homeless person |
 Live music between Ile de la Cite and Ile Saint-Louis |
 Notre Dame and cruise boat |
I tat I taw a puddy tat, I did taw a puddy tat … in Paris
Zlebia from Tunisia
One watches travel channels and food TV and begins to think that one knows it all. Nothing should come as a surprise and often, nothing does. And then one finds Zlebia from Tunisia in the Latin Quarter of Paris!
What is this strange looking shiny pretzel like thing?
Crepes and cider in Le Marais, Paris
Inside Briezh Cafe
September in Paris is not supposed to be rainy, is it? It rained a good bit during the first half of September this year. On a rainy day, I prefer to do nothing but curl up with a good book and snack on samosa-chai. I did have Simenon with me, I like detective fiction and police detective Maigret brings that in a Parisian setting. It felt a little lame doing that during a prized vacation. So, on one such rainy day this September, after wandering around Marais district of Paris in drizzling rain, I found myself warming up with some cider at a popular creperie, Breizh, that served Brittany style crepes.
 Egg and jambon crepe |
 Valrhona chocolate crepe |
Place des Vosges on a damp afternoon
Place des Vosges in Marais, built in early 1600s, in one of the oldest squares in Paris. And one of the most loved ones in the city. The following is perhaps my favorite picture of the arcades surrounding the square.
Achari Chicken Pizza
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 Achari chicken pizza |
 Achari chicken pizza with Mizuna leaves |
I am trying out a week of dining on pizza alone. Interesting ideas are popping out of the oven e.g.,harissa sauce and marinated eggplant or roasted garlic and pan fried padrone peppers. One of the most remarkable ones at the dinner table this week has been a curried chicken pizza that uses my favorite chicken recipe, achari chicken.
Achari means pickled. Chicken is not pickled here, this name is derived from the spice mix common to Indian pickles. This is one of the simplest chicken recipes and yet the result is highly consistent and extremely flavorful.
One thousand and one nights: Lentil soup recipe
Chana daal
Why 1001 nights? I reckon there are at least that many lentil soup recipes. I am adding mine to the mix.
Why is this special? Aside from the fact that I am not an impartial judge, this one has a variety of textures and flavors that are noticeably distinct but combine to form a wonderfully aromatic and light soup.
Key ingredients? Fresh pickled ginger, finely chopped pickled lime, slow roasted garlic, …
Coco & co, cutest little bistro serving ‘am and eggs
What can one do in a 200 sq ft of space? One can start a little bistro that serves eggs in all sorts of ways.
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Locomotoring 