An Antler Cocktail Caddy

Yup, it's pretty awesome. Two deer antlers crossed together so that we may more elegantly serve rounds of drinks in highballs that bear boar, rabbits, foxes and hawks of some sort. Found at the Flea Market in downtown Zurich one Saturday. Even though the woman that sold it to us for 35 Swiss francs (about 30 bucks) didn't speak much English, nor we much German, she was at least able to convey that our antler cocktail caddy was "one of a kind."

No dispute here on that count. Live it. Love it. I imagine we'll soon have a cocktail party in honor of our fabulous find.

The Green Balloon - In Search Of Sea Urchin

I cried when I left Cassis, how I loved it so! I've never cried before when merely leaving a place; leaving people, family and friends, many times, yes, but I don't think ever leaving a place.

The hope that I might visit Cassis began some years ago when I read an article in The Saveur 100 about a journey to the little port town, where one may order a tray of sea urchin, the fantastic, prickly, plucky devils found at Le Bar de la Marine and have them delivered to the table, freshly plucked from the Mediterranean. The very idea of such a thing took hold of my soul and imagination and held on for close to ten years until I actually got to visit a few weeks ago, this May just past.

On a brilliantly sunny day, having finally ventured to Cassis, Baby and I made our way to Le Bar de la Marine, about a five minute walk from our hotel, and took our seats outside, overlooking the Sea and the great number of colorful sailboats resting in the harbor.

After our waiter delivered a round of Gin & Tonics, he informed us that sea urchin season had ended in April, as it does, legally imposed. We laughed first, of course. I had suspected they might already be out of season, but had never bothered to check (nor in fact did I know how I would go about it).

That my search for the sea's answer to peanut butter was thwarted hardly mattered, for the real treasure was Cassis itself: la brouille de la mer; La Goggia d'Olio that we found tucked away in a side street serving steamed artichokes and roasted zucchini blossoms, baked lasagna made with crispy crepes, lobster ravioli; the whistler making his daily crossings up and down the road in front of our hotel; from our balcony, the view of the Mediterranean and stretching out on our small section of beach there over a few gauzy mornings, revisiting its cool mastery at night; how cold the Sea was; how warm the afternoons in town.

Here is what we saw from our balcony at the Hotel Mahogany, the graceful blue, which we stared into much like the feeble or the young might, in the utter grip of it.

















And so, au revoir, my heart! I'll be back!

The Green Balloon - Better Than Bouillabaisse

One of the things I was looking forward to in Marseilles was the bouillabaisse. Unfortunately, Miramar, one of the finest places that had been recommended to us, wasn't open when Baby and I went. Marseilles sort of shuts down on Sunday and Monday, sometimes Tuesday.

Pressing forward: we discovered Chez Loury on the Rue Fortia in the Vieux Port. It was cozy as all get out, seated as we were, in the back with only a few tables--even though one of them was filled with a drawling horde of somewhat unsettling Texans with a penchant for cell phones.

But we were there for the bouillabaisse, and we had it in spades. Now I can't say that I particularly liked it, although it wasn't the fault of the restaurant, just a matter of personal taste. I ordered the traditional version which came out in three exhaustive (and repetitive) courses. First out was the Soupe de Poisson (fish broth), which I very much enjoyed, with a fine taste summoned from a foreign shore enlivened by a classic rouille (saffron mayo) on a floating crouton. Then the broth resurfaced with the fish in it (Saint Pierre, rascasse, baudroie); afterwards, more fish (vive, galinette, fielas) without the broth. Baby ordered the more conservative version, a single dish of Bouillabaisse du Ravi.

I had always thought bouillabaisse was close to paella, indeed is served similarly in the States. True bouillabaisse (well, don't throw that phrase around a Frenchman) isn't outfitted with salmon or shrimp as I saw on a New York menu just the other day. It really just features cheap fish. Julia Child's recipe for Bouillabaisse a la Marseilles (Meditteranean Fish Chowder from The Twenty-third show) does encourage shellfish such as lobster or crab for color, but otherwise leans toward lean fish, "of the best and freshest-smelling quality" such as cod, grouper, perch, or haddock.

The real treat we had in marveilleux Marseilles was up the rue apiece from Chez Loury at Toinou where we settled down to a wondrous tray of les huitres! Divine oysters!

From the French coast resting on the Atlantic ocean between Nantes and Bordeaux, our pousses en claires were hefty beauties that were a perfect storm of everything an oyster should be, at once briny, creamy, and utterly delicious.

Consider the oyster, indeed, as we did!

Praise The Pearl - Penzey's Shallot-Pepper

It does seem a little strange to me that there was a time when I didn't know about shallots, because I use them all the time now, when in need of a more rarefied onion, or when I make Michael Lomonaco's Shallot-Champagne Vinaigrette, which I often do. But back when I was in high school, the word shallot first jumped out at me somewhere around my sophmore year I think, as an ingredient listed on a tin of escargots, to be minced, and then prepared with butter and parsley in a bubbling broth. I vividly remember the night my father first brought home the striated caramel and ivory colored shells (which we still use), to be filled with the plump escargots and how my mother subsequently rushed out to the supermarket to find something called shallots.

My father got a Purple Heart in WWII and has otherwise always had an air of adventure around him, with a touch of curiosity that he has handed down to me. Like a boy who brings home a stray cat, he used to come home with such preposterousness as pomegranates or stalks of sugar cane (remember, this was the '70's in New Hampshire, we didn't know from the currently ubiquitous Pom brands or Mojitos) so we could try them and tell him what we thought. He was always encouraging me to want to know things, to try things, unlike children today who are enabled to eat only chicken fingers while texting their BFF's.

The Old Man introduced me to oysters and escargots in Canada, Duck a l'Orange in New York, and bought my first suit and pair of wingtips before I went to school abroad in London just in case I might need to appear presentable. And you know what? I did need to appear presentable; one carefree college day my friends and I skipped class to have an afternoon tea at The Ritz. We were all only about 20 years old!

At 82 years old, my father still calls himself a farmer, indeed he was brought up on a farm, but frankly he is the finest, mannered gentleman I've ever known, with the soul of an artist, his stock and trade, while at it.

Having taken the long way around, although I do think it is important to cite one's references, let's get back to the idea of the shallot and the Shallot-Pepper blend with dried tarragon that can turn a Hollandaise into a Bearnaise or add new life to Easy Mac. It's just waiting at Penzey's, purveyor of the best spices, and can be collected easily enough from the stand in Grand Central Station or by catalog, and online.

So what do I do, now that Shallot-Pepper has got me reminiscing like Proust's madeleines?

Collect my thoughts, cluttered memories and go to bed, I suppose.

At the end of an ordinary day, it's somewhat of a mix between truth and imagination that persists.

Marvelous Mole

The granddaughter of Texan Margarita Sames (who is rumored to have invented the Margarita) first taught me how to make a basic version of this recipe with chicken, peanuts and chocolate. I’ve dispensed with the jar of Mexican mole she uses as well as the fistfuls of peanuts. Reese’s peanut butter cups are solely my own idea, based on the 50's tradition of cooking with commercial products such as Coca-Cola for baked beans and Velveeta cheese for just about anything. Smoky chipotles add a delicious fuel to the fire.

Marvelous Mole

Serves 4/entrée

Ingredients
1 rotisserie chicken, shredded to a rag and a bone
1 tablespoon-ish olive oil

1 large onion, sliced thin; a Vidalia or yellow onion is nice
2 cloves minced garlic

1 28-ounce can whole tomatoes, coarsely chopped (save juice for another use)

1 cup low-sodium chicken broth

2 tablespoons finely chopped chipotle peppers in adobo sauce with 1 tablespoon adobo sauce from the can

2 oz. semi-sweet chocolate
1 stick cinnamon
Several Reese’s peanut butter cups
Some Jif crunchy peanut butter

Heat oil in large pot over medium-high heat. Sautee onion and garlic until yellowish. Add all the ingredients (except chicken, Reese’s cups and peanut butter) and simmer about 7 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer about 10-15 minutes more, blending in Reese’s cups and peanut butter. Throw in shredded chicken until heated through, about 10 minutes more. Add salt and pepper to taste, remove the cinnamon stick; serve on top of corn chips in an appropriate vessel.

An Afternoon with A & P

Baby's father (A) was coming to town with his wife (P), to meet up with her daughter, her daughter's husband and their two children. It was all very last minute and as we had just thrown our Derby party, we wanted to serve something easy but elegant for family, 'natch. I think we quite succeeded, and simply so as well.

Julia Child's Quiche Lorraine (The Eighty-seventh Show) with crumbled fried bacon, eggs and heavy cream was an excellent starter, inverted on tea cup plates, which we chose to serve cold and without a crust. We also used less cream and dispensed with the chilled butter chips as the recipe encourages, we merely rubbed the ramekins with softened butter. All told, it was easy as pie and delicious as quiche.

I'm a huge fan of clever leftovers; the hearty remains of the Southern Shrimp from the Derby with a fresh batch of instant grits made their way onto comfortable spoons again to the delight of a new audience.

We sat with sumptuous crab cakes poised on a shallow pool of horseradish sauce before getting down to business. The medium rare grilled Filet Mignon entree was served with a side of scrumptious lobster mashed potatoes and asparagus, roasted with lemon zest, and lemon- and oregano-infused oils.

Homemade thyme-infused peach sorbet quite finished us off.

Ah oui, mesdames et monsieurs, a perfectly affable afternoon in which to serve Quiche Lorraine!

Soundtrack: Stephane Grappelli, Shades of Django; Henry Mancini, Combo!; Frank Sinatra, Sinatra Sings Cole Porter; Blues in the Night, The Johnny Mercer Songbook; Falling in Love with Glenn Miller.

Kentucky Derby Bon Voyage Party

For the first time in the 15 years that I've been throwing Kentucky Derby parties, I actually had to make more simple syrup for the Mint Juleps! Probably because I made Trudy's Mint Juleps for the first time too, which our guests found irresistable. This Derby party was also special since Baby and I are going overseas for a few weeks and we wanted to be with some of our nearest and dearest before we take off. Hence, a Kentucky Derby Bon Voyage Party!

When folks arrive, Benedictine sandwiches are always on the table, the recipe pulled from an issue of my beloved Saveur magazine collection. To whit, cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, with a touch of Tabasco, lightly spread on Pepperidge Farm Very Thin White Bread. We also juiced a parsley bunch and whisked it in for some color and flavor, instead of the curious use of green food coloring.

Martha Stewart's Menus for Entertaining has always been epic in my mind, instrumental in planning my Derby parties--stuck in between its pages, my sentimental copy has grocery receipts, shopping lists and pressed lilacs from years past. From the "Fried Green Tomatoes" Brunch, the simple to make Buttermilk Biscuits with Red Tomatoes are always a crowd pleaser. I don't actually make the biscuits, as Ms. Stewart suggests, I just buy Pillsbury Grands; I don't think biscuits get much better than that. We purchased Homestyle, Southern Style and Buttermilk for a decent variety, sliced the tomatoes somewhat thinly, with a widge of salt and pepper and served in a colander lined with a cunning cloth napkin.

We introduced a vat of the legendary Chasen's Chili to the Derby party, which I think is probably the best chili I've ever had! We ordered Gebhardt's chili powder online (for cheap!), but also threw in some of Penzey's Chili 9000 powder, which features cocoa powder in its list of ingredients. We served with grated cheddar cheese, sour cream, scallions and Frito's, like a Frito Pie. Mama yo quiero! How do you say delectable, divine?

Now to the race itself, the most exciting two minutes in sports, nobody at our party had bet on the winner, Mine That Bird, but since my pal and I had both bet on Pioneer of the Nile, who came in second, we split the pot. Another first! I had never won a dime ever at any Derby party!

Apres le competition, we served Ms. Stewart's Southern Shrimp with Grits, this time incorporating tender, flavorful rock shrimp as opposed to regular shrimp which is a pain in the neck to devein. We broke out and served it on individual spoons, with a dollop of grits, covered over by a fine dice of red, orange and yellow peppers with the shrimp and a topping of bacon and parsley. Just between us, anything presented on an individual spoon is sure to elicit innumerable 'oohs' and 'ahs.'

I think we all had a wonderful time and thankfully, the weather was with us once again for the Derby as we sipped our minty juleps with the breath of spring in the air, having pushed the windows wide open, even as we lingered into the evening.

Soundtrack: Sippie Wallace, Sippie; Atlantic Blues, Vocalists; The Sergio Mendes and Brasil '66 Foursider; Antonio Carlos Jobim, The Man From Ipanema, Disc 2; XTC, Skylarking; and later, The B-52's Anthology, Nude on the Moon.