February 16, 2012

recipe: gluten-free madeleines

Studying food culture in France, it was impossible to avoid Proust.  In fact, I had already encountered his famous “madeleine de Combray” (link to story in english, french) in high school – and recall struggling with his run-on, pensive sentences.

But as I grew older, and more interested in the history of culinary criticism, I began to appreciate Proust’s summary of the essential relationship between food and memory:

“…when nothing subsists of an old past, after the death of people, after
the destruction of things, alone, frailer but more enduring, more immaterial,
more persistent, more faithful, smell and taste still remain for a long time,
like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, upon the ruins of all the rest,
bearing without giving way, on their almost impalpable droplet, the immense
edifice of memory”.

I also learned that pondering while dipping a madeleine in a tasse du thé (cup of tea) was an excellent habit to acquire.

I’ve since made quite a few batches of madeleines, and have yet to find a recipe I swear by.  So this time, I adapted a recipe myself – inspired by a Parisian amie who is boldly going gluten-free in the bread-centric capital.

 

See the original recipe posting at HonestCooking.com.

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February 10, 2012

eater’s digest: sorella

New York City isn’t lacking for good Italian cuisine.  Millions of Italians passed through Ellis Island, leaving behind a cultural and culinary trail of delights.  And while Little Italy may no longer be the tight community it once was, new champions of regional cuisines have taken up the mantle, pushing back against the Italian-American classics of spaghetti and meatballs, pizza, and fill-in-the-blank parmesan.

That said, there’s more to the experience of Italian food than what’s on the table.  There are plenty of restaurants that will fulfill your Italian Mafioso fantasies – white table-clothed joints with tile floors and plates overflowing with red sauce.  But an intimate, cozy Italian cucina – one that evokes Slow Food moreso than the Sopranos – that, is a rare find indeed.

It was, appropriately, my sister who introduced me to Sorella, just east of Little Italy’s traditional borders.  She couldn’t stop talking about broccoli – not broccoli rabe but plain ol’ broccoli – which didn’t sound particularly Italian to me, but off we went.

The instant delight of Sorella is that it is completely unassuming.  Low-key customers mingle around wine and cheese in the front hall, while those lucky enough to grab a reservation will be led back to the back dining room – a sort of living room-meets-greenhouse space that seats maybe 20 people.  It is a refreshingly elegant, but simple space, with a slanted glass ceiling and soft, dangling lights.

The menu hails from Piedmont, a region known for its red wine, white truffles and rich traditional cooking, yet home to one of the most innovative culinary scenes in Italy.  Sorella follows suit, utilizing traditional ingredients, but updating them with a creative twist.

The first sign that Sorella is not your average Italian restaurant is the quality of the cocktails.  In fact, some regulars will tell you to head straight for the caramel-rimmed “honey pot” and forego the red wine.  But for the traditionalists among us, I can attest that my Valpolicella was excellent.

At this point, my sister’s raving about the broccoli fritto had reached a frenzied pitch.  So we ordered two broccoli fritto for our party of four – the bare minimum really, because we scarfed those surreal, crunchy, morsels of delicious so fast that we probably could have each eaten our own serving.  I’m a big fan of anchovies, so we also ordered the acciughe al verde, a lovely mild and nutty take on the notoriously briny fish.

For dinner, it was pasta all around.  Beef short rib agnolotti – tiny fresh pasta pockets of robust, savory meat.  Porcini & pancetta pici – absolutely heavenly (salty umami) but I’d struggle to eat a whole plate alone.  The special, venison and chestnut stracci with hen of the woods mushroom & brussel sprout leaves – a hearty dish, ideal for anyone coming in from the bitter cold.  And the pièce de resistance, impossibly fluffy pearls of gnocchi tossed with bright, sweet pears in nutty brown butter.

To have lived through two such gorgeous, surprising, and savory courses should be enough to make any diner content – but I couldn’t leave without trying the dessert.  Sorella makes gelato in-house, and the coppa di gelati does the restaurant proud.  My favorite scoop contained chocolate covered pretzels, a non-traditional but irresistible take on the creamy treat.  We also chose to share the ‘bicerin’, a light chocolate pudding topped with rich espresso fudge (and accompanied by homemade whipped cream).  As an adult who still fantasizes about the Jello chocolate pudding of my youth, this was a revelation – an elevation of simple childhood indulgence.

To say I am fond of Sorella is an understatement.  (In fact, I selfishly toyed with the idea of not writing about the restaurant, in hopes that there will always be an open table left for me.)  But as with all good things, Sorella should be shared – eagerly and often.  Except for the grissini (hand rolled breadsticks) that is.  You can get your own cornetto.

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January 30, 2012

catch of the day: cinemagraphs

Graphic designer by day, photographer by freelance – it goes without saying that my sister knows a thing or two about aesthetics.  But she’s really outdone herself with this new find.

Cinemagraphs, the creation of graphic artist Kevin Berg and artist Jamie Beck, crank up the quirk and the romance of a photo’s “moment in time”.  Still images come to life with a surreal quality that echoes the magical realism of cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel (Amélie).  The art thus becomes two-fold: not only framing a gorgeous initial photograph, but also selecting the details that are highlighted in motion.

The results are truly awe-inspiring – as breathtaking as they are innovative.  So don’t be surprised if flatscreen cinemagraphs become the picture frames of the future.

To see more cinemagraphs, click here.

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January 24, 2012

seen and heard: tedXmanhattan

Over the weekend, I had the pleasure of attending the TEDxManhattan conference, Changing the Way We Eat, at the Times Center in New York City.

The day started off with “Issues”, primarily focusing on the health and ecological risks of industrial meat production (the quick and dirty : even if you don’t feel any compassion for farm animals, the conditions in which they are raised – and the lack of suitable regulation of these conditions – are heading us in the direction of both antibiotic-resistant epidemics and food insecurity on a global scale).  My favorite talk of the morning,  however, was Urvashi Rangan’s “Labeling and the Controversy Around it”.

Rangan humorously guided us through the debacle that is food labeling in America.  Natural is boundless; it can be defined by companies at will and most certainly does not equate with Organic.  Free range means that animals were provided the “opportunity” to spend time outdoors, but it in no way ensures that these animals spent time outside of a barn or pen.  And then there are the labels that should exist and don’t.  For example, No Carbon Monoxide.  Supermarket meat is often treated with CO to preserve its red color.  In fact, tests have proven that CO can even preserve the red color of meat after it has spoiled.  The list of crazy, illogical examples goes on and on. (To learn more about Rangan and her work, click here.)

Picking wine grapes by hand, Burgundy

In the second session, “Impact”, we heard about a range of topics, from the importance of preserving our soil, to new programs for training and supporting immigrant farmers, to the impact of gardens on the rehabilitation of veterans, to the fruits of Green Bronx Machine’s edible labors.  But, unsurprisingly, the talk which most sparked my interest was food journalist Mitchell Davis’ evocation of the importance of taste.  Davis highlighted that we are in a unique period in history, one in which our ideals and our perception of taste have aligned.  Some of us buy tomatoes from farmers markets because of their unequaled flavor and texture.   Others shop at the market to support small farmers and ecological interests.  While these two groups’ motivations do not overlap (though there are certainly individuals who belong to both categories), the results of their actions are the same.   Davis argues that we not only can, but also should, use the edible enticement of “good taste” as a central argument in the sustainable food revolution.

 

RealtimeFarms.com

The final session of the day, “Innovation”, addressed programs and products that have begun to address issues in our food systems in a creative and sustainable way.  RealTimeFarms.com helps consumers decode the “local” label touted by do-gooder restaurants, mapping the farms from which chefs are purchasing their featured ingredients.  Recirculating farms are creating the opportunity to grow veggies and raise fish in any climate, with minimal waste and water usage (If I ever get a bigger apartment, I am totally buying one of these for my own home). Fresh Paper, an organic, biodegradable, oil-infused paper inspired by Indian medicinal spices, promises to prolong the life of your produce.  And Bright Farms is building greenhouses on top of your local supermarket/food distribution center – providing more local produce, for less money than ever before.

NYC GreenCarts in action

It’s hard to choose which of the “Innovations” was my favorite, but the one that really hit home was the New York City GreenCarts program.  While those who live near Union Square may revel in their greenmarket, there are neighborhoods in New York that are veritable food deserts, served solely by bodegas, where no fresh produce is available.  GreenCarts is overturning that status quo, encouraging community members to start their own businesses and serve their community – one orange or banana at a time.

If you missed TEDxManhattan and would like to learn more about the interesting and inspiring work that was presented, the event organizers will be posting videos of the day’s talks online within the month.  The talks from 2011’s TEDxManhattan are already available here.

Or for those who prefer the “famous” foodies, here are a few of my favorite TED Talks by gastro-celebrities:

  • Mark Bittman, “What’s Wrong With What We Eat?”
  • Jaime Oliver, “Teach Every Child About Food”

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January 20, 2012

ordinary pleasures : café culture

Almond Horn, Hungarian Pastry Shop, NYC

As an undergraduate, I often spent my time in between classes at coffee shops on campus.  On occasion, I made genuine attempts at academic progress, but in truth, anyone trying to work was better off in the dorms or the library.  The coffee shop, in essence, was a not-so-subtle locale to see and be seen.  There I’d sit – staring at the same page, rereading the same line – hoping that my crush-of-the-moment would happen upon me nonchalantly reading Rilke.  (As if the average undergraduate male actually cared what the heck I was reading).

But a true café – that European or Europhilic wonder of the world – resembles neither the collegiate coffee shop (a slightly less commercial variant of your local Starbucks) nor a silent study hall.  It has a character all its own – charmingly unchanging despite generations of regulars, who ultimately leave it high-and-dry after an intense stint of unflinching fidelity.  It’s a quiet, yet buzzing corner of the world, best suited to the grad student, youthful researcher or urban creative – thinkers entrenched in their own ideals and interests, both incensed and mellowed by the fog of sleepless nights.

Which brings me to the subject of sustenance.  Some café creatures seem to live on black coffee alone.  Others drift towards cigarettes or café crèmes.  But my favorite cafés are those who provide a little something more to chew on (as endless hours of reading seem to have a way of cultivating oral fixations).

Moroccan Mint Tea, Café Maure, Paris

In Paris, my café of choice was the Café Maure at the Grand Mosquée de Paris.  Built in the years following World War I, La Grande Mosquée remains the only official mosque in Paris, despite the significant growth of the capital’s Muslim population.  The mosque itself is typically closed to all but the faithful, but on the corner of Rue Daubeton and Rue Geoffroy-Saint-Hilaire, a Moorish archway invites the curious in – to sip sweet mint tea, smoke hookah or nibble on honey-laden pastries under the shade of fig trees. There I would spend many an afternoon, induling in Kaab el Ghazal (half-moon pastries perfumed with orange flower water) and reading French philosophy).

Back in New York, there’s no shortage of cafés worth frequenting in the city, but unlike Paris, those worth lingering in are a bit harder to come by.  Morningside Heights’ Hungarian Pastry Shop is one of these rare gems, located just outside the thumping heart of Columbia’s main campus.

Baklava, Hungarian Pastry Shop, NYC

The leaner (and thriftier) among us will rave about Hungarian’s free refills, but my indulgence of choice is their baklava – honey soaked and nutty as the day is long, somehow simultaneously flaky and densely chewy. (When I worked at Columbia, the walk home past Hungarian was treacherous.  The only thing that saved me from poverty-by-pastry was the fact that the desserts are not quite viewable from the window).  And with an ambiance fitting of an old Woody Allen film (or Love Story, if the protagonists had attended Columbia), there’s enough 1970s flair to sustain the whole neighborhood’s charm.

True, it can be hard to find a seat here – but in warmer months the sculpture garden at St. John the Divine (just across the street) is an enviable extension of HP’s café culture.  At worst, if it’s too cold or crowded to stay, they’ll wrap you up a snack in an old-timey paper box with striped pastry string.  An adorable consolation prize for your efforts.

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January 13, 2012

eater’s digest: owen’s fish camp

Relaxation (see: “beach vacation”) is not something I do well.  So when my parents requested – for the second year in a row – that we spend our Christmas break on the warmer shores of Florida, I begrudgingly acquiesced, mumbling something under my breath about strip-malls and the “dearth of culture”.

But this year, my mother was out to prove me wrong, selecting Sarasota – home to the Ringling estate and museum, as well as the “Best Beach in America”.  It may have taken a few days (and some sifting through local food/travel publications) for me to settle in and truly enjoy myself, but eventually I came round – most notably, due to the literally and figuratively fresh dining scene we discovered in this beach community just south of Tampa.  (And yes, my mother is reading this, all too happy with my public declaration that she “told me so”).

Owen’s Fish Camp sits in an eclectic corner of downtown Sarasota, under the bows of an imposing banyan tree.  Across from a remarkable antiques shop and next door to an art gallery, the vibe is decidedly “trendy bayou”, with patrons in shorts and stilettos alike.

Waiting outside Owen’s is one of the most pleasant aspects of the restaurant.  The quaintly campy outdoor patio features a number of well-curated tchotchkes, including a life-sized, under-shirted “local” in a lawn chair.  The aforementioned antiques shop and art gallery also (wisely) leave their doors open late, reinforcing the laid-back block-party vibe.

Those who choose to grab a drink will find a light-hearted wine list (selections designated as “Good”, “Decent”, or “Cheap”), a solid beer selection and respectable cocktails.  That was where I also first spotted the absolutely delectable-looking pecan pie (more on that later).

I was seated with my family in the restaurant’s back room, oars hanging overhead.  Old-fashioned condiments dressed the table, and the menu was appropriately, a paper placemat.  The offerings were inspired by classic southern seafood, from cornmeal battered catfish to a softshell crab BLT.  We ordered both as entrees, as well as a shrimp basket, with a fried green tomato salad and clam chowder to start.

The starters were remarkable, almost the best part of the meal.  The cornmeal-crusted FGTs (fried green tomatoes) were served over arugula and romaine with chevre chaud, crisped country ham, cucumber, red onion, and an herb-buttermilk dressing.  Light, refreshing and impossible to resist – this was hands-down the best savory item we ate.  The creamy chowder was also noteworthy, with an almost lobster bisque-y flavor (enhanced by applewood bacon) and chock-full-of-clams.

Even compared with that rousing first round, our entrees proved to be excellent.  The shrimp basket arrived light and piping hot, with thin fries begging to be dressed with malt vinegar.  Crunching through the cornmeal crust, the catfish was flaky and fresh, almost shockingly moist.  And the sandwiched softshell poked out from its bun, spicy, tangy, “crabby” and undeniably indulgent.  But let’s not forget the savory sides, most especially the vinegar-y collards and robust, smoky succotash.

After all this soul-warming southern cooking, I could have easily bypassed dessert – but then again, I had already spotted the pecan pie.  We ordered this and the deep-fried blackberry pies, flaky half-moon dessert “pierogies” that sounded promising but lacked a true pie’s high fruit-to-crust ratio.  The pecan pie, however, was the very best item of the evening, a seemingly simple tart of pecans and honey, topped with homemade whipped cream.  The crust wasn’t overcooked, nor the nuts over-sweetened.  In fact, even my dessert-disdaining sister dove back in for seconds.

As we strolled out of the fish camp into the chilly (for Florida) night air, I knew this was hands-down the best meal I’d ever eaten in the popular coastal state.  Jumping on the moment of opportunity, my mother turned and asked, “Would you visit if we lived here a few months a year?”  In my satisfied stupor, I couldn’t help but murmur “yes, but make it Sarasota.”

Owen’s Fish Camp
516 Burns Court, Sarasota, FL
941.951.6936 (no reservations accepted)

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January 11, 2012

eater’s digest: edi & the wolf

Whenever someone mentions Austrian food, it conjures up memories of a particularly greasy, over-priced piece of fried meat I once ate in Vienna.  So when I heard (repeated) raves about Edi & the Wolf, the off-the-beaten-path outpost of the new Austrian movement, my curiosity was matched with skepticism, to say the least.

Edi & the Wolf's cozy communal table

Many Manhattanites never make it east of Tompkin’s Square Park, but Edi & the Wolf embraces its unconventional locale.  There’s no neon lighting or signage to speak of – only a ramshackle wheelchair-ramp-meets-outhouse entryway – but the curious will be generously rewarded for wandering beyond this mysterious, woodsy facade.

Inside, a candle-lit tavern awaits you, the sudden materialization of a romantic, rural fantasy you never even knew you had. Despite the predominant communal table at the center of the room, the set-up is so intimate, so lush with idyllic tchotchkes, that the couple kissing in the corner booth seems almost planted there for effect. Once you get past the sensual scenery and finally focus on filling your plate, you’ll notice that the menu does not rest on the ambiance’s laurels. This is “elevated Austrian”, though not over-complicated (there will be no kimchi or caviar or other exotic, unnecessary ingredients). The food is clean, refined – every flavor and texture serves a specific purpose.

Our server suggested a bottle of Riesling (Riesling Alsegg 2009, Mayer am Pfarrplatz, Wien), a wonderful example of the crisp, dryer side of the oft-dismissed-as-too-sweet varietal.  With robust stone fruit flavors, a slight tang of pineapple and an overall mineral quality, I found it refreshing but not overly summery – a wine that could certainly stand up to food.

Edi & the Wolf's tender pork ribs

For a starter, we ordered the Baby-Back Ribs.  Served with smooth, spicy pretzel honey and a tomato/horseradish sauce, these pork ribs in no way resembled the sauce-laden, sinewy cuts of childhood summer picnics. Tender like stew meat, but without the imposed juice of a full braise, they fell off the bone with a full-bodied flavor that needed no sauce (though dip we did – that mustard was addictive!).

We then opted to share a main course of spätzle, daurade & wiener schnitzel, swapping plates and shifting tea lights, a manual lazy-susan of Austrian fare. The spätzle was topped with crisp arugula and fried onion shavings (so thin that I mistook them for cheese crisps). The dish included brussel sprouts, asparagus and wild mushrooms, which added a pleasant earthy flavor to this perfectly creamy (but not overly rich) pasta dish.

The daurade was a master class in fish cookery – pan-fried, moist, flaky fish in an almost crust-like encasing. Served over a mellow celery root puree and bitter broccoli rabe, the dish was dotted with – what I considered the star of the plate – a quintessential cluster of caramelized carrots (not too sweet and still al dente).

Edi & the Wolf's inimitable schnitzel

As for the wiener schnitzel, I know when to say I was wrong. Far from the dregs of the oil-sweating veal and breadcrumbs I encountered on that first fateful trip to Vienna, this veal was crisp and relatively light – so bereft of grease in fact, that (if it weren’t for the fat-infused flavor) one might guess it was baked. Furthermore, Edi’s schnitzel was the most balanced plate I can recall eating for some time. Cool cucumber and dill, tangy lingonberry jam married sweet, creamy and savory with the crunch of fried meat – accompanied by a smooth, slightly acidic potato salad, an unexpected, refreshing touch.

Chefs Eduard Frauneder and Wolfgang Ban have imbued even the heartiest Viennese recipes with a weightless elegance that will surprise both the schnitzel-savant and the new-Austrian-newbie.  The quality of the food is so good, in fact, that the exceptional romance and whimsy of Edi & the Wolf’s interior almost seems unnecessary, and thus, all the more delightful.

Edi & the Wolf
102 Avenue C, New York, NY
(212) 598-1040

View the original article at HonestCooking.com.

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January 4, 2012

eater’s digest : ippudo

Ippudo Akamaru Modern Ramen

I never imagined that  – of all the amazing restaurants in New York – the table I would wait for the longest would be at a “noodle shop”.  Yet here I was, on an unseasonably warm Friday evening, waiting for 3+ hours (among college students, stylistas and even parents with toddlers in tow) for a legendary bowl from Ippudo.

A trip to Whole Foods, a long walk around the East Village, and a few rounds at Angel Share later, it was finally our turn to be seated.  In attendance were my noodle-obsessed sister and her ravenous (“you said it would only be two hours”) best friend.  But we all easily forgot the unfathomable wait upon being presented (our host literally announced us, screaming in Japanese) into the boisterous, fast-paced experience that is Ippudo.

Ippudo Pork Buns

Getting your bearings (and concentrating on the menu) is initially a struggle in this over-stimulating dining environment.  But I’ll give you a hint : start with the pork buns, which are an absolute must for anyone but the strictest of vegetarians.

When it comes to the main event – ramen – there are two standout winners in the pack: the shiromaru hakata classic and akamaru modern.  Both bowls feature a remarkably nutty and robust broth, more flavorful than any noodle soup I’ve ever tasted.  On top of this already mouth-watering base, the akamaru adds Ippudo’s “Umami Dama” miso paste, which – even for those unenthused by fermented flavors – provides an unusual and absolutely intoxicating savory punch.  I prefer to add karashi takana (mustard greens) to the shiromaru, and fans of pork belly will find the kakuni pairs nicely with either bowl – but both soups have enough zing to stand alone.

Ippudo's Open Kitchen

Of course, one cannot talk ramen without discussing noodles.  The noodles at Ippudo are certainly excellent, but not the best I’ve ever had.  In fact, I would bet that the restaurant’s regulars would support me in stating this is a broth-based love story, not a tale of noodle heaven.  That said, the broth is literally so good that even the worst ramen noodles could not keep me from returning.

But don’t let that pseudo-noodle downer (I still said they are “excellent”!) deter you from passing through Ippudo’s “pearly gates”.  The lengthy wait is worth it – for both the food and the overall dining experience.  Best of all, those lucky enough to grab a table by the open kitchen can survey the ramen masters while enjoying the fruits of their labor.

Ippudo
65 Fourth Avenue (Between 9th and 10th Street)
New York, NY 10003
Phone: 212-388-0088

See the original post at HonestCooking.com

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December 21, 2011

recipe: friselle (italian pepper biscuits)

Growing up, friselle were the edibles of family lore and legend.  My father once came to pick up my mother for a date and discovered my uncle in a trance at the table, gnawing on these crunchy biscuits, as a pile of “sawdust” grew beneath his chin.  My mother, herself, would keep a secret stash of these friselle “bracelets” in the cupboard, and as my sister grew older, she too developed an addiction for these savory treats.  Yet despite the growing friselle fanbase, no one in my family ever attempted to make these seemingly simple biscuits – that is, except my great aunt.

My great aunt – who worked for one of the most renown Italian pastry shops in the Northeast – is famous for her inability to accurately relay a recipe.  From struffoli to pignoli, her hand-me-down, anecdotal instructions have never ceased to thwart my mother’s most dedicated attempts at recreating traditional family dishes.  I thus decided that the only way to save these favorite recipes would be to observe my great aunt in action – noting what she did, rather than what she said.

I learned to make friselle during the first of these heirloom cooking lessons, and they have since become my signature housewarming gift.  Deemed “addictive” by their enthusiastic recipients, a few friends have gone so far as to throw parties just so I will re-stock their stash.

Old-Fashioned Italian Friselle

Ingredients:

  • 4 cups flour (unbleached all-purpose is best, but you can use 50% wholegrain flour as well)
  • 1.5 tbsp black pepper
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 4 tsp baking powder
  • 1 cup olive oil
  • 1 cup cold water

Instructions:

  1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
  2. Combine dry ingredients.
  3. Whisk together oil and water and add to dry ingredients. (Tip: Measure 1 cup of oil in a liquid measuring cup, then add cold water until it reaches the 2 cup line.  You can whisk them together in the measuring cup itself).
  4. Use a spatula to gently fold the liquid into the dry ingredients.  (When everything is properly mixed, you should have fluffy dough that is still moist but does not stick to your hands.)
  5. Roll a handful of dough into an inch-thick log (don’t overwork the dough, be gentle!).  Then, cut into half-inch slices.
  6. Line-up cut biscuits on a greased baking sheet (I use olive oil to grease mine.  They can be lined up very close together as they do not expand much).
  7. Bake for about an hour, rotating trays after 30 minutes.  (When complete, the biscuits will be hard but still light in color – though they may be toasty brown on the tray-side).

Note : Friselle can be made in all shapes and sizes, but I prefer this bite-sized version for gift giving.

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December 16, 2011

recipe revisited: French Toast

There are a number of “French” foods that don’t come from France.  French fries, for example, actually hail from Belgium.  But in the case of French toast, France will gladly take the credit, though they call it pain perdu (literally, “lost bread”).

Growing up in America, a leftover bread never seemed to be an issue.  To be honest, we mostly ate sliced whole-grain toast, or ciabatta rolls on special occasions.  So it wasn’t until I moved to the land of the boulangerie and started hosting weekly Sunday dinners that I found myself with an abundance of stale bread.

Now I like American “French” toast – butter, sugar, cinnamon, syrup – but I’m more of a savory than a sweet person.  So when my French foodie friends told me they serve up their pain perdu with cheese, herbs, tomatoes and other dinner-time leftovers, I started experimenting with different ingredients and cooking styles.

Though I’ve been known to throw bread in a casserole and bake it slow with all sorts of different toppings, the easiest (and perhaps most delicious) pain perdu recipe I’ve developed involves crusty, hearty (ideally sourdough) bread, leftover herbs and tangy cheese (like chevre or feta).

I recently revisited this classic when I found myself with some leftover sourdough boule from the Silver Moon Bakery in NYC.

Ingredients:

-stale bread, ideally sourdough or a hearty (with more inside than crust)

-2 eggs (for 1-2 people, add more depending on the number of diners)

-a splash of milk

-herbs (I prefer sage or thyme)

-1/4 cup tangy, soft cheese per person (sheep or goat’s cheese is best)

-salt/pepper

-butter

Instructions:

1.   Cut stale bread into ½ – 1 inch slices.

2.   Crack eggs into a bowl, add a splash of milk, cheese, salt & pepper to taste.

3.   Heat butter in a skillet until it turns nutty-brown.

4.   While butter is heating, beat egg/cheese mixture until relatively smooth.

5.   Dip bread slices into egg wash, let soak for a few seconds on each side.

6.   Once pan is hot and butter nutty-brown, start adding egg-washed slices of bread to the pan. (If you have extra egg-wash, you can just pour it into the pan with the bread.  As you move the bread around/flip it, it will absorb more of the egg).

7.   Rip or sprinkle herbs over the bread.

8.   Flip toast and press down with spatula, ensuring that it browns on both sides. (If your bread is sliced thick, you can cover your pan, to ensure the egg cooks through properly).

9.  Once the bread is golden-brown on each side, serve to your eager guests (or yourself!).

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