Berry parfait Lulu and I in the kitchen, it’s a scene. She likes to sit on the floor at one corner of the room with pots and pans and muffin molds to play with while I’m busy at the sink and stove. Cooking. We both make a mess in our own way. Occasionally, she looks up at me to make sure that I am still there, within reach, before she concentrates again on her imaginary cooking game. Then, when she is done, she walks to me, pulling on my dress so that I carry her. She wants to see what I’m doing. What I’m cooking. It’s funny because right now, my kitchen is not the most inviting room in the house with boxes piled everywhere, yet Lulu and I don’t seem to

Melon, avocado and chicken salad Melons. Les melons. Aren’t they glorious too? I don’t know about you but I simply cannot buy a melon when it’s out of the season. I remember when I was a child and my parents, my brother and I drove for our summer vacation across France, to another corner of the country. Sometimes it was to the west coast we’d travel–just as we will in a few weeks–and sometimes it was south that my parents had decided we’d spend les grandes vacances (summer vacation). To my brother and me, it didn’t matter where we were traveling, as long as that involved the seaside. On allait à la mer ! One year, we vacationed in the presqu’île

Along with cookie and wow, “A table” (The French expression a cook uses to call the family to the table for lunch or dinner) are right now two of Lulu’s favorite words. Too funny! She probably does not yet know exactly what the expression means, but she surely knows that it involves food–and no doubt that she likes this part very much. Mind you, I am pretty sure that in the midst of it all, she always has the hope that there will be cookies on the table too. Buy today–and yesterday too–at home, we had apricots instead. If you are anything like me, you must be enjoying apricots at the moment. They are beautiful and tasty. This year, I am also happy to report

Raspberry and Peach Popsicles We’ve been eating cold-to-refresh-your-entire-body popsicles. Tons of them. Some made with raspberries; others with strawberries and apple juice, with or without yogurt. And then there were these. Made with irresistible juicy raspberries and peaches that Lulu and I bought when we walked to the farmer’s market this past Wednesday. The fruit was spectacular. And so were the popsicles. Before last week, Lulu had never eaten a popsicle. And oh the immense pleasure for me to watch her discover the food. Her first popsicle, ever! I was really curious to see what she would do with it. Can you remember the last time you discovered a food for the first time?

Verrines of strawberry and vanilla-flavored custard “It’s too late in the year,” Pamela said. “The cows will already be back in the barn.” “Really?” I replied, trying to hide my disappointment. “Yes, sorry. You’ll have to wait until the spring if you want to see them outside.” Pamela, one of the owners of Robinson’s Farm, was just as friendly as I had imagined her after we spoke in November. At the time, I wanted to visit the farm with Delphine, for the Envoyé Spécial la suite TV program she was working on with me. I felt sad that Delphine, Cyril and I never made it to visit the farm in November–although our lobster

Les courgettes rondes I have a garden. Finally. It’s still full of weeds and plants I don’t know the name of, but I don’t mind. For now, I feel blessed that we own a large space where Lulu, and P., the three of us, can play. It’s a garden with a tall mulberry tree under which we will sit late at night, if we feel like it, to reflect on the days that pass, and life. It’s where I will assuredly plant vegetables, fruit and herbs too, when the time is right. Next fall, oh! Come soon! Since it’s too late in the season to plant vegetables, I’ve decided to arrange pots of fresh herbs until I find the perfect place for each one of them to grow strong and healthy. Within

Sour cherry soup and its strawberry sorbet It was easy to fall for them. They sparkled like ruby stones with their rich red color. Perhaps I am the only one noticing them, I thought. How could no one else seem to see them? Or want them? They suddenly brought memories of treasured moments spent in my mother’s small kitchen, when she and I made preserves and the house smelled sweet like a sugar mill. We were canning sour cherries. Des cerises aigres. Those small bright red cherries that many people don’t care about because of their more emphasized acidic taste. Nous? We would never get enough of them. We’d pet the sour cherry tree in the back garden with love. And great care.

Lulu looked at me, then she opened her mouth, keen to take the spoonful of gazpacho I was holding in front of her. I was watching her carefully, curious to find out what would happen next. Her face stretched into a grin and a funny-sounding laughter escaped through her lips, one that seemed to tell me “Tu plaisantes maman?” (Are you joking mummy?) “Oh oh, de la gaspacho, ma Lulu!” I exclaimed. “Essaie !” (Try)! “Tu n’aimes pas?” (Don’t you like it?) She was eating the soup for the first time, so I didn’t worry if she didn’t seem to like it. I knew that one day, when feeling ready, she’d come back to it. And enjoy

Ratatouille That’s what I like: enjoy the aromas of a pot of ratatouille simmering slowly on the stove, leaving me excited for the dinner, or lunch, we’ll enjoy later. That’s so French. That’s so much what we used to eat during summer in my parents’ house. It has not changed. I am continuing the tradition. With my Lulu. And my hubby. Bringing a slice of my French countryside in my American home. And since the three of us also have a weakness for clafoutis, I’ve decided to make a savory variant of the traditional French dessert. It uses vegetables instead of fruit. It’s made with a savory flan. So here you are with a clafoutis de ratatouille for dinner,

It’s July. And it’s hot right now where I am. Where I live. Over July 4th, we moved into our new home; so far, we’ve spent four nights there. I kept wondering how it would feel. To be in a new environment. You never know before going through the change. But I am thrilled: I love the house’s open space and garden; Lulu loves to watch the squirrels gather in the garden under the tall we-cannot-figure-out-the-name-of tree; and soon, I’ll be finding my new marks in the newly renovated kitchen. I need patience until it’s done (three months as I am told) and in the meantime, with the bare cooking utensils I am cooking in the old one. Until we move out for the

I am sure you’re busy preparing for the long weekend, so I promise to be short. In fact, I am right in the middle of our house move, so I am also short of time (we just ate our first homemade meal in our new house–and let me add that I am *really* looking forward to a new kitchen in it!) This dessert recipe is a quick one you might like to keep handy. For the 4ht of July? Peut-être ? If you have guests? It’s bound to please a crowd. And is simple to prepare. Fresh. Beautiful. Summery and light. I hope you like it. There’s nothing else to add….so enjoy the well deserved holiday. That’s what summer is for. Lovely days, great company, and seductive foods.

The tart. Maybe you’ll wonder what happened to it. I had one second. Two, if I was lucky. Until the tart was gone. And I didn’t have time to photograph much of it. That was Lulu. Stealing the miniature apricot tart I had especially baked for her–while I baked larger ones for us. It was sweet, really, to see her hands covered in juice and sugar. To watch her delicate lips and tiny teeth nibble on the crust with care. My Lulu really likes tarts. The tiny ones, more particularly, because they are fun. And the crusts. Oh the crusts! “Elle a l’air gourmande,” (she looks like a gourmande) a French friend told me last Thursday when we met at the park and I

Pommes de terre en robe des champs with yogurt sauce One of the things that I clearly inherited from my father is his love and attachment à la terre, the soil. And Nature. It does not come as an accident. He was raised on a farm, and his summers were filled with afternoons spent to work in the fields during hay season. With them came potatoes which were frequently the main piece of dinner eaten at my grandparents’. Like des pommes de terre en robe des champs–which literally translates as “potatoes wearing a dress from the fields“–a rustic dish made of potatoes simply boiled with their skin that his family ate with fromage blanc seasoned with chives, shallot,

“Un pour Lulu, un pour maman, one for Lulu, one for mummy, ” I was humming with one hand fumbling through a colander filled with fresh peas while the other was cracking the pods open to toss one pea in a bowl, one inside my mouth and Lulu’s. Rhythmically. Lulu was making faint giggling noises, obviously enjoying our silly eating game–especially when she was trying to eat the pods too. Peas. When comes the season, I am fretting with excitement. Peas are loaded with summery memories. Our vegetable garden. Les grandes vacances. Afternoons in late June, early July, when it was so hot that we’d have the shutters close to keep the house cool and I’d sit on the back terrace

The church bells rang four o’clock. The afternoon felt warm, certainly less cool than some days we’d had in May. “Bing bang!” Lulu exclaimed with a smile. She was already used to the cyclical pattern of the church bells in the village. No matter the time of day. One o’clock. One thirty. Two o’clock….I pulled out a blanket and arrange it under the cherry tree where we sat. Lulu was busy collecting pebbles that she dropped, one after another, in one of the small metallic buckets my father likes to keep outside. The air was filled with a light breeze that was moving gently between the leaves, which caught her attention. I looked up at the patches of

Hello everyone, France did not leave me empty handed. I found fields full of poppies, grass with beautiful shades of green and cherry trees carrying bright fruit. I found back the French countryside I love so much. We’ve just returned to the States. After an amazing trip, being able to see Irish and French family and friends. But we’ve also had to suddenly face and deal with a sad and painful event of life. Soon, I will be back. When my energy is back and my spirit cheered. A bientôt… Share and Enjoy:

I need to confess: it’s a bit difficult to cook these days. Many things are going on in our end, including an upcoming trip to France, a newly purchased house, a complete kitchen remodeling, the upcoming sale of our current house and a move. And that’s not even all of it. You’ll hear, though, that all of these things are exciting, and I very much look forward to them. So please, excuse my momentary absence from behind both the stove and computer. I have boxes piled everywhere in the house and most of my props and dishware, as a start, are already packed. But come close: I still have a favor to ask you. Do you happen to know anyone in the Boston area with a fabulous talent

You know how much I like chocolate, n’est-ce pas? Luckily, both P. and I do, so I am never alone to eat it–not that it would stop me at all, by the way. And now it turns out that we are even three to eat it at home, as Lulu has happily joined the family. Our chocolate group. I don’t think I’ve seen her practice sign language with more enthusiasm than when she asks for more chocolate. So there you are. I made these cakes before we left on our recent vacation, to celebrate Easter early. In our family, Easter rhymes with chocolate, and molten chocolate cakes, more particularly, are a weakness of mine. The truth is that I’ve stopped counting the number of recipes

Some dishes inspire me simply by their name. Potato salad. Salade de pommes de terre. I’ve always had a strong relationship with potato salads. Particularly my mother’s. She prepared hers at least once a week when I was growing up, using potatoes from her garden or my grandmother’s, which turned the salad into a dish that, my brother and I believed, couldn’t be equalled by any other. To this date, I still think that her salade de pommes de terre is the best I’ve ever eaten. Perhaps then being married to an Irish man is no accident, after all. Potato salad is a dish, amongst many, that brings P. and I together. When that’s what we eat, nothing is ever left

The transition into beautiful Spring, with its blooming trees, happened while we were away. As we were driving back the airport, I could not help but notice pretty tiny pink and white flowers cheering up the streets. The display is the same every year, but it’s invariably as pretty. And I am always feverishly waiting for it to happen. This week flew by and as came Saturday, I realized that I hadn’t done much beside trying to catch up. I didn’t spend much time taking pictures either, but the few I took, I wanted to share, especially because they had Lulu in middle. It was such a joy to see her run in the park. Last year, she had barely any idea that all this beauty was there.

“You wouldn’t be able to find the house in daytime,” Albert said after he greeted us at the airport. He was standing quietly next to the car that we had just finished to load with our luggage. “I”ll drive ahead,” he added in perfect English, but with a hint of what I assumed was the local accent. The plan was for him to drive ahead and take us to the house we had rented on the west side of Tortola, the largest island in the British Virgin Islands. I was glad he was here because it was already late in the afternoon. From experience, I remembered that the roads on islands could be fairly unpredictable. “It’s a good thing that you rented a four wheel

Je rentre de vacances émue après avoir vu le reportage Envoyé Spécial la suite en ligne ce matin. Un grand merci à tous ceux d’entre vous, nouveaux et anciens lecteurs, qui m’ont si généreusement laissé un commentaire, ou envoyé un message. Je suis sincèrement touchée par vos gentils mots. Le lien à suivre pour voir l’émission se trouve ici. J’étais si ravie d’y voir aussi mon amie Pascale, du blog C’est moi qui l’ai fait. Mon prochain sujet, cela sera de vous parler de l’île où nous sommes allés nous balader, et où je me suis amusée à nous cuisiner de petits plats. Avec, de la maison, une vue sans égal. A bientôt ! I’m

Needless to say that it’s really nice to wake up in a different place. With a difference view. And at a different pace. Ah…les vacances…. Share and Enjoy:

Lobster fishing — La pêche au homard L’histoire est un peu longue à raconter. Tout est arrivé vite; un courriel, puis un deuxième, et un troisième…une surprise totale. En quelques mots, j’ai eu la chance d’être contactée par Delphine, une journaliste formidable qui, en novembre dernier, préparait un reportage sur les nouvelles tendances culinaires pour l’émission Envoyé Spécial la suite. Comme expliquer. J’ai grandi à la maison avec Envoyé Spécial tous les jeudis. Je ne sais pas combien de fois déjà cette émission m’a fait rêver…et réfléchir. Le tournage a eu lieu ici à Boston en novembre dernier, et il sera diffusé

Spaghetti with roasted cherry tomatoes, lemon thyme and honey There are dishes, you know, that are all about comfort. Dishes that need to be nourishing, but have to happen quickly. They’ll always be fresh and colorful because that’s the kind of foods I crave. I don’t know about you but I find that the possibilities of this to happen with pasta are endless. Especially in a dish of spaghetti with flavors of spring and summer. Since our small family is about to take off on a vacation–I am literally counting the days until the day we leave, even if I have packed nada yet–I am in a clean-up-the-fridge-quickly kind of mood, improvising meals with what I have. And find.

It’s been such an amazingly sunny and mild weekend that on Saturday, despite the zillions of things we had planned to do, we decided to take Lulu to the beach for a picnic improvised at the last minute. We wanted to catch the moment. Be in the moment. Right after breakfast, we packed sun lotion, a few blankets, hats and sunglasses–and food and drinks. In our picnic basket, there were mandarins, yogurts, muffins and coconut and lime macaroons. The day was glorious. This time of year is special at the beach. It’s really one of my favorites. Because it’s lightly populated, with only the occasional families and couples, joggers, dogs and horses. And because the sun is

You would not think that it’s been pouring rain outside. All night and day. Unceasingly. All weekend actually. So I bought bunches of colorful Ranunculus flowers, to cheer up the house and make it sunny. And we took long breakfasts and played games with Lulu, teaching her new hand tricks and how to toss a ball–Oh the joy to see her so proud that she can do it. And when the games were over and she was back to take a nap, I baked muffins and made a pot of red lentil soup for lunch. So after all, it’s been a lovely weekend. Despite the fact that we didn’t go out. Except for P. heading out to buy milk. I also felt a sudden urge to bake a loaf of Irish soda bread. A large

It’s already Tuesday and I am a day late. Désolée ! I promised a winner for the Around Fog Linen catalog. And I am happy to announce that Dawn McBeth is the one with the lucky number. Thank you Dawn, I will be sending you the catalog tomorrow. This week is also one amongst many that requires my full attention. So you’ll have to excuse the lack of chit chat. And recipes. I have my cookbook manuscript to finish, the pictures to organize and prepare for print–and I am feeling fairly rushed with life, to say the least. But I am *so* looking forward to finally see my cookbook take shape. To see my recipes on paper, with colors and a design. To have the book be given a life outside

It’s the feel of a soft fabric touching my hands that becomes addictive. Its color and pattern. And its thickness and shape. My imagination flows and my head bubbles with ideas as I look at the pile of kitchen towels loosely arranged on the old wooden corner table in the living room. It’s high enough so that Lulu cannot reach for them. Not yet. I look at them again. They make me dream of pictures. With food in the middle. I think that it’s about a year ago that I discovered Yumiko’s textiles. It was love at first sight. Yumiko is simply the talented Japanese woman behind Fog Linen Work. She is a lovely, friendly woman. I forget how it really started, that connection

“Betty ?” I heard a deep male voice over the phone. It sounded like my father. Who else, outside my family and people from my home village in France, would call me Betty? I remained quiet for a few seconds until realizing that in fact, it was indeed my father. “Vous êtes déjà arrivés ?” (Did you already arrive?) I asked, surprised. I looked at my watch, and then at Lulu who was staring at my hand holding the phone. Then she looked at me, waiting for a push to get the swing moving. We had walked to the park, thinking we’d have time before my parents arrived. “P. est en route pour l’aéroport,” (P. is on his way to the airport) I went on.

Pea risotto with basil and lemon Risotto. With green peas, basil and lemon. It’s what Lulu and I will be having for lunch today. I am waiting for her to wake up from her nap to sit down at the table and eat. “Lulu, réveille-toi, maman a vraiment faim !” (Lulu, wake up, mummy is really hungry!) One day, she’ll understand that risotto cannot wait–although P. argues that he *loves* when I reheat risotto. So she’d better hurry and wake up soon! Bon weekend à tous ! Share and Enjoy:

White lentils I woke up craving a bowl of lentil soup. ”White lentils! How unusual!” I thought after grabbing a bag from the shelf, so that I could look more closely. The label on the package read Ivory white lentils, and that name piqued my curiosity right away. With their pale fair color, the lentils looked delicate. Will they cook like green lentils? I wondered. Or like red? I didn’t think twice. I knew that I had to try them and dropped one bag into my cart. And as I walked through the aisles of the store to finish my grocery shopping, I started to brainstorm ideas on how I would use the légumes. Perhaps a salad, or add them to a vegetable stew. Until I thought about

I was looking at my baby girl and started to feel tears in my eyes. She was playing with her music box, unaware that I was observing her. I felt thankful. And so lucky. To have her. To be sitting in the comfort of our home. To have food and everything we need. Us. Our family together. I had just watched pictures of Haïti. Pages of them, the ones more painful to look than the others. It was hard to imagine that this natural catastrophe had happened. That it is real. And that it’s leaving a country already destituted in an even more precarious state . I don’t think that it’s possible to even start to imagine what it must be like. Awful. Once again, it shows how fragile life

“Everyone is in for a hot chocolate?” I asked our friends M. and A. as we all sat around the table. It was early afternoon and despite the bright sun shining outside, it felt bitterly cold. We didn’t mention it but we felt glad to be sitting inside. Home to drink hot chocolate. And eat muffins. “You don’t mind if my muffins have cocoa in them too, do you? I added, suddenly unsure that we should actually drink hot chocolate to go along with the muffins I’d baked. A. was the first to look at me. His face lit up with a wide smile that made him look like a child excited to be standing in front of a piece of beautiful candy. “Are you kidding?” He

I know. The title does neither sound nor look like a yummy chocolate dessert or a delicious vegetable soup. But it’s fun! And it might surprise you as much as it did surprise moi. The truth is that the engineers at Google have been pretty nice with me. Consistently. It’s the third time that they are asking whether they can use La Tartine Gourmande inside one of their projects. This time, we are talking about Nexus One, the new phone that they’ve just launched. So if you are curious about it, simply check their link here and click on the Browser icon to get the demo. You’ll see that my blog is featured in it. More particularly my post about Martha’s Vineyard.

Vanilla-flavored almond and quinoa rose teacakes The day started in the kitchen with aromas of finely sliced apples sautéed in butter and brown sugar; warm oatmeal and toasted almonds; and quinoa waffles dusted with a cloud of confectioner’s sugar. There were pots of green and Roibos teas on the table, and Taken by Trees was playing on our stereo. Lulu was sitting in her high chair at the head of the table with one of us on either side, looking happy–who wouldn’t, really, after sleeping for a solid twelve hours? Breakfast to start the new year. It looked promising. I am not sure whether I’ve yet realized the good things that 2009 gave us. The most overwhelming one

I’ve been meaning to tell you about my weakness for anything involving potatoes. Growing up, my mother prepared râpés de pommes de terre (grated potatoes cooked like small galettes, close to latkes) perhaps once a week, which invariably made my brother and me extremely happy. Because it was food that involved potatoes, and because hers were deliciously crispy, always cooked to perfection. She liked to serve them with a dollop of silky fromage blanc, a sprinkle of sea salt and freshly chopped chives, and a side lettuce tossed in a vinaigrette with piquant. That was dinner during a wintry week day: simple and gorgeous in every way. I’ve been a lover of that type of comforting food

And testing recipe ideas for our Christmas appetizer. Are you too? I still have to decide what we’ll eat. So I better get my act together I am curious to know what you’ll be doing. Share and Enjoy:

Boeuf aux carottes — Beef stew with carrots When I was a young girl growing up in France, Sundays were often the days when my mother cooked a boeuf aux carottes (beef stew with carrots) during the winter. She’d start cooking hers early in the morning, leaving it to simmer on the stove for a few hours. The aromas of onion, sauteed meat, wine and spices made the house smell like lazy mornings and Sundays and hachis parmentier. Oh yes! She’d always make sure to prepare a large pot of stew so that she could use what was left the next day, to prepare stuffed squashes or hachis parmentier. Winter squashes stuffed with brown rice and beef That thought inspired these two recipes

Dark chocolate and coconut milk creams I know. I am not writing a lot in this space these days, but I promise that there’s a lot of food prepared in my kitchen. I sometimes wonder how comes it disappears so quickly! Anyway, while I am trying to find time to write something that will sound cohesive — yes, well, let’s just add that I sent my book manuscript to my editor last week, so I am feeling deflated for words — at least I can show you what we enjoyed today for dessert. Our Sunday treat. It’s the sweetest thing: I woke up thinking chocolate! I wanted a chocolate dessert. Chocolate and coconut milk creams The dessert was going to have a dark chocolate with