Albondigas-Spanish Meatballs

Espana! Spain! The Basque country to be specific. Can you say CULINARY CAPITAL?! Si! What a total turn around, from the culinary abis of England with their boiled potatos to one of the worlds true food melting pots. So many inspirations, I don't even know where to begin. Suffice to say, I am here for a month, so will endeavor to report on as many meats, fish, bread and vegetables as one can possibly consume in that amount of time. The first? One of my all time favorites, Albondigas. Meat balls in tomato sauce.

Albondigas are an easy mix of ground beef and pan-very fine bread crumbs. For a lb. of beef add in a bowl half a diced onion, some garlic, (I add an egg for holding-together power), and about a 1/2 cup milk. Then mush it all together very well with some seasonings, I use black and red pepper, and a dash or two of salt. Add enough fine bread crumbs(almost a powder) to give the meat mixture a good consistancy to roll golf-ball sized balls.

In a hot skillet add a tablespoon of olive oil and let that heat well before you add 2 cups tomato sauce, 2 thinly diced carrots, and some spices-I use parsely and garlic and a dash of cayenne. It's traditional NOT to brown the meatballs first, instead you cook them thoroughly in the tomato sauce on a med-low heat well covered. Turn a few times during cooking, and let rest for a good hour on low to really meld all the flavors into the meat.

Tear up a good portion of bocadillo-baguette, spoon at least 4-5 onto a plate and with a fork in one hand and a scrap of bread in the other-enjoy!

Please note: don't skimp on the bread. You genuinely need this crusty loaf to be able to swipe up all that sauce on your plate when you have finished your Albondigas. Trust me. It's good for you.

When life gives you a cold breeze, eat lemon torte

While wandering around through Covent Garden, you may find yourself feeling the nip of the cold London breeze blowing through the buildings, and it is then that you will surely need one thing: a pastry. To be more specific, a French cafe so cute and cozy that the wafting air from the oven keeps all gusts of cold air from even coming through the door. And the coffee tastes like it came from a bean and not the Nescafe instant jar. Oh praise the pastry gods! Thank you France for being so close that your sweet hearted love of butter, caramelized sugar, flaky crusts and decadent fillings could cross the channel and make it to my little table in London.

And so I find myself at a tiny bakery, having climbed a little staircase up to a small room with tall narrow windows. Only a few tables and chairs scatter the floor, but the walls are completely filled(not an inch between) with paintings in intricate frames. It's a designer's nightmare and my dream come true. The waitress is kind and brings me coffee, black, without the usual "are you sure?" and eye brow raise I get for not ordering a cup of coffee, white(read: a cup of warm milk that is slightly coffee flavored).

Coming in the front door, I passed the downstairs window-like a jewel box it was filled with quiche, croissants, marzipan and truffles. So many tortes, I glimpsed a plum, apricot, raspberry and pear just as I walked by. Tiered cakes and little cups of mouse, wedges of sweet cakes and square slices of savory pizza. Cheese and berries and butter and herbs...just stunning to look at, let alone devour. Jay and I read a quote from revered Spanish Chef Ferran Adria, "Could you imagine people eating a painting-if they could introduce a painting into their bodies?" That is exactly what this window of food was. A culinary painting, a masterpiece that you could experience with every sense.

I ordered a slice of the lemon torte. It arrived on a little white cafe plate with a real silver fork, quite diminutive in size-just perfect for a delicate treat for a lady trying to regain feeling in her toes, back from the cold. Creamy buttercup yellow, with a tortoiseshell-caramelized top. The crust had that perfect crinkling, flaking crush that to the ear-is an opus, a movement using only the best notes. The smell was citrus infused with vanilla bean, the toasted sugar on top giving a sweet overtone, that mixed with the seductive smell of my coffee was a perfume. The delicate weight of the slight silver dessert fork, slightly tarnished, felt so special in my hand. You do not wield clunky spoons or dinner forks at something so demure as this lemon slice of bliss. With a slow gesture I took the first bite. Beautiful. How can I convey the way the buttery-ness of the crust laid across my palate? A sip of coffee introduced a bitterness that only heightened the bright citrus flavor and caramel quality of the burnt sugar.

Completely forgetting that I am cold, I enjoy the sun coming through the tall window panes, the clinking of tea spoons in porcelain cups, the shouts of bakers and waiters filtering up the stairs...it is a perfect little place. And it makes me so happy that I have this opportunity to visit London, and that soon I will be going home, to Paris.

Nachos? Not here.

If you are prone to food cravings, it's probably best NOT to live in the UK. Alright, I have TRIED to be optimistic. Drinking their white tea, sourcing food flavors from the Turkish delis and restaurants, accepting that on average, everything I eat will need salt and pepper(actually chili powder I carry around in my purse). BUT enough is enough! I have finally lost it thanks to a two day bout of homesickness and rainy day #17 irritation. I decided the only thing to cheer me up would be NACHOS.

Now, please understand that I realize my geographic location is approximately 30 latitude lines North of Mexico City and about a hundred latitude lines away(no really, I checked, MC is like 99deg. W and London is .o7 or some such). But I am NOT requiring an authentic mole sauce or enchiladas in green sauce with a side of roasted-corn-husky cradled tamales, I'm talking nachos-corn chips with cheese on them and hopefully some salsa too. Well, here's how that went last night at 8:45pm:

A bus ride up and down the street quickly confirmed that I was indeed correct that the closest thing to Mexican food in Hackney, Shore ditch and Wood Green was Turkish food(don't get me started on the latitude and longitude between these countries). Turkish food, if you don't read my blog-contains lemon, tahini, pistachios, cayenne or red pepper and lamb. Mexican food is primarily based on corn tortillas, chipotle or habanero or anaheim or poblano peppers, and lime. I am aware that they both make use of tomatoes, garlic, onion and that they both serve food with rice, but the flavor profiles are NOT close enough to quell a craving.

So I turned to the supermarket.

About 23min. into the hunt: (it's hard to say because I began to black out for whole minutes due to hunger/strange grocery store/can't find what I'm looking for RAGE. After looking through TWO AISLES of crisps(read Potato chips if you are American)-including shrimp flavored, Marmite (yeast) flavored, Welsh Rarebit, Scottish Haggis and Garlic Baguette-I stormed around the corner saying OUT LOUD "fuck this fucking country and its spiceless, seasonless weird food!" (because garlic baguette and Marmite are synthetic flavors NOT actual spices). Not to my surprise the proper British took no notice of one more American having a tantrum in their grocery stores that sells vegetables shrink wrapped in plastic, and have an endless supply of candy bars that EXCLUDES the most holy of holy: Snickers.

So, my search for tortilla chips only succeeded in turning up a giant bag of "Roast Chicken and Mash(potatoes) Doritos". Next on the list was salsa. NO salsa, so enchilada sauce, no canned tomatoes and jalapenos, not even any fresh peppers or packaged chili powders I could mix with fresh tomatoes to MAKE salsa.

Onto the meat. Pre-made, prepackaged meat products including Scotch Eggs, beef stew, beef wellington, or two small packages of the fattiest grayest ground beef I have ever seen. No. Thank. You.

No beans unless you count the endless aisle of baked beans the Brits like to put on their wretched toast.

Like I said no fresh peppers, scallions, chives, etc. Oh wait!!!! A bag of 3 tiny sad onions for 4 British pounds!($5.50).

No sour cream, but I do score a lovely block of English cheddar that I can shred and melt on top of the "Steak and Ale pie" flavored air I will be making my nachos out of.

No olives or pickled jar of jalapenos

So. The moral of today's story is, unless you live next to the one organic, ethnic, large scale grocery store in London- you better not get any food cravings. And next time you are in a bad mood, be endlessly grateful you can walk to your nearest gas station and buy a bag of Tostitos and a jar of salsa.

*this is a rant. Please do not respond with comments of "when in London eat cod and chips" or tell me when you lived here 18 years ago you could find such ingredients at the Holborn Street Sainsbury's. I don't care. The craving is over(not really), and I will in fine spirits eat an under seasoned portion of meat pie. Now, where did I put my secret stash of chili powder.....

** YES. That flavor of crisps DOES say "Cajun Squirrel"

By Victorian Standards

Wanderings on a cold, windy, London day will lead you to popping into the pub at a rather early hour-just to warm up and begin to feel your toes again. I started my day at the British Museum-in which I skirted the largest Egyptian exhibit in the world and passed straight through a large collection of Roman metal work, to get to my real destination: the room of clocks! A whole assemblage of old-OLD pocket watches, cuckoo clocks, pendulums and grinding gold gears a plenty! My favorite was a golden ship worked with the tiniest details of sail rigging and miniature men, along the bottom were scalloped waves and sea monsters astride fanciful foam- all this just to tell you that it's tea time! I couldn't tell you how old it is, or who made it, or really anything about the rest of the Museum exhibits because I am a famously bad gallery goer. When looking at paintings, I have a hard time not fixating on the choice of frame, a glass shrine of Aztec beads will only make me think that Versace was doing something very similar last year. I never look at the little title plates and dates and could care less. I wish I had never taken art history so when I saw a Picasso sketch I could think, "oh! I wonder what this man did to support himself while he tried to make a living selling beautiful charcoal drawings. Did he work at Jiffy Lube?" If you didn't know that the Mona Lisa was famous, wouldn't it just be nice to look at it and say, hmm. Wonder how long that less-than-average looking girl had to sit for that before he was finished".

But I believe I was discussing pubs.

I was blown in, by a strong gust of wind, to the Princess Louise. A FANTASTIC spot! Cheap pints and the best part is it is divided into all these little brightly mirrored and adorned nooks with fire places, gorgeous tile work, amazing rich wood and a ceiling to die for. A very well kept Victorian era masterpiece that is better(some would say) than some Victorian works you could see in a gallery. And good luck getting a pint in one of those.

Treason-served with pilav and yogurt.

I feel like I need to make a confession. I have been in London now a week, and have committed treason to the Queen's England the likes of which have not been seen since we opted for lattes and threw a bunch of tea into the harbor.

What pray tell is my treacherous act: kebabs. And kofte slathered in yogurt with dill and cucumber. And gozlem. And kisir. And strong, strong, turkish coffee!

Sorry gentle Brits, there is just no going wrong with garlic, onion, lemon, red pepper, lamb, mint, tahini, pistachios, tomatoes and flat bread to wrap it all up in! Why my obsession? Well, it's a far drive to get any good Turkish food in Seattle, but in London- it's everywhere!!!! The little Italian place on the corner? It's actually Turkish! The "Mexican" food stand-yep, Turks there too. The little groceries on all the corners in Hackney? Turkish ingredients abound!

Here is a little Turkish dish you can make at home easy with ingredients you can find anywhere, in case the grocery store on the corner doesn't have red pepper paste from Adana.

Menemen- Turkish scrambled eggs

ingredients:

4 eggs

1 tsp. very cold shaved butter

dash of salt and cayenne pepper

4 small ripe tomatoes(yes, this is a tomato heavy dish)

1/2 small yellow onion

1/2 a green pepper

olive oil

2 oz. feta cheese

half a lemon

toast! (how ever many slices with whatever kind of bread you have on hand)

Dice the onion and tomatoes and set aside. In a skillet on medium heat, add about a tablespoon of olive oil. Throw in the tomatoes, green pepper and onion and let the tomatoes start cooking. In a bowl, scramble eggs well with a fork. Add very cold shaved butter to eggs(this may not be too authentic but I promise you the fluffiest, creamiest eggs you will EVER have). Pour into the frying pan and season with salt and cayenne pepper. Stir with wooden spatula. Add feta and turn heat off. Let finish cooking on burner. The menemen should not be dried out-in fact the moisture from all the tomatoes will make this egg dish a little "watery" and is a little less "done" than you are used to in a diner-but don't fret, those eggs are finishing cooking-and when you spoon it onto your toast you will see how it all works out juuuuust fine. Serve on oven-warmed plates(please always warm your plates when serving eggs since eggs cool FAR too fast), and garnish with a squeeze of lemon. Whether you fork it in bites onto your toast or munch it down separately, it's just a little Turkish flavor blast.

Do it right with a Turkish coffee or make a compromise and have tea-white, like the Brits do. For my part, I promise to enjoy a steak and ale pie before I leave the UK, most likely to find it just as satisfying as a plate of peyirli borek.

for other Turkish recipes, here is one of my favorite sites: turkce.turkishcookbook.com

Pain grillé avec la Tartinoise

It's a Saturday morning, and a day at the National Gallery, fabric buying and metro bustling awaits me. Before we set out, my sister Jone and I, we will need a proper brunch, and if we can't go round the corner for a beautiful French brioche (I am in London 2 more weeks), I will just have to make something a little delightful for the two of us. What could be more indulgent then nutella? Jone's favorite thing, I decided to whip up a little nutella stuffed french toast with bananas. That's about it. Not entirely creative or exotic, just a sweet little brunch for two ladies about to go look at some expensive picture frames.

the Cure, born in the UK

A drizzly damp, cold, gray London day. The perfect place for when all you really want to do it take a searingly hot bath with an silly book(read:the Extra Man by Jonathan Ames)and drink tons of tea-there are actually billboards here touting- TEA! YOU NEED IT!

Tea in the UK is a religion not unlike coffee in Seattle. For most Londoners I have found they take it sweet and white(sugar and cream) and with any chance a biscuit. (Biscuits are animal cookies except larger and flat). I finally folded, and bought a french press for making coffee since it is also quite common to have freeze-dried instant on hand in the house I am staying at. Thank you, really thank you, but NO. Biscuits on the other hand? Yes! They come in about a thousand different types and flavors and it is perfectly acceptable for a grown woman to eat a biscuit(or 3) with her tea or coffee, where as in Seattle eating 3 cookies with your coffee would seem a tad, well, indulgent?

I digress. On this cold rainy day, I made a bit of coffee, went out and rode the bus-sitting in the upper deck in front-I rode around dry and caffeinated and saw some rather pretty buildings and just got a little lay of the land. In Paris I take the metro for efficiency and miss all the sites, may have to seriously rethink my priorities...

So now, I am back at Jone's flat and have made some lentil soup, and will take that scorching bath while I practice my French vocabulary. After that, it may be round two for coffee and biscuits. :)

English reminder of Spanish Peas and Potatoes

Back when I was 17 and staying in Spain with my wonderful Basque sister, Jone, we would make this dish due to lack of spare change for food(I believe all of it was spent on train tickets and surfboard rentals at the beach and, well yes, red wine and Coke-a-Cola cocktails). Really though this is a healthy and comforting dish. Simple:peas, potatoes, bit of olive oil and onion. I have reinvented this back home for Jay as a comfort food by adding thinly sliced leaks and rosemary. The dish shown here is the English version! I'm in the ol' Queens England for a few weeks and the first thing I had was this adorable cozy dish. Served here as a side, and with boiled potatoes and peas with butter instead of the Spanish recipe, its still a warming bowl of real food.

Spanish Peas and Potatoes:(English style-substitute butter for oil and boil everything-not recommended):

2 cups fresh shelled or frozen peas

2 small yukon gold or waxy potatoes

half a small onion

2 tablespoons olive oil

generous salt and pepper to taste-sea and fresh cracked much preferred.

*some add Spanish ham, jamon, prosciutto or bacon-render the fat in a pan and then add onion and continue with the rest of the recipe if you like a little pig with your peas.

On med. heat in a frying pan-preferably non-stick, add diced onion to one tablespoon of oil. Clarify and add potatoes and 1/2 cup water. Cover. Once the potatoes have softened add the peas and stir to heat through-don't boil them or they will go gray on you-the water should be mostly evaporated and soaked up by the potatoes. Once fully cooked but still bright green, transfer to serving dish and drizzle with table spoon of oil and salt and pepper. Ahhhh....cozy!

-For other varieties:

Leaks: add 1- 1 1/2 cups thinly sliced leaks and 2 sprigs fresh chopped rosemary.

Dill: throw some in-what more can I say? Exchange the onion for red onion.

Turkish style: make same as above, add a dash of cayenne pepper and drizzle with the juice of half a lemon. Let cool in the fridge and serve cold.

Croque Madame-all about the Egg.

The egg. Simple? Yes. But also intoxicatingly complicated. So nourishing, rich, decadent, while also simply satisfying. The beautiful yolk in contrast to the snowy white, cooked so many ways but never better prepared than over easy on a bed of gruyere and ementhal, farm bread-rustic chewy with a soft brown crust-sandwiching salty cured jamon and tart mustard. Yes, the croque madame. Those that know me know I am a sandwich connoisseur. The reuben? A favorite. Heirloom tomatoes with buffalo mozarella and ground pepper? A summer devotion. The ever so consoling grilled cheese and tomato soup? What good that does the soul! But the croque monsieur is a sandwich that perfectly balances the gourmet palate and the simple pleasure of the grilled cheese. Add to that my most cherished of ingredients-the egg and viola! The croque madame in all her perfection! I bring to light the egg because the first thing I noticed apon ordering this sandwich in a unsuspecting cafe in the 11th Arrondissment in Paris-that and a blond beer-was that the yolk was a deep golden orange. Not the anemic yellow with wobbly clear white that we are so often served in the states. A yolk so deep and gold it sat pert and held its form in a perfect little sea of swan white. Oh how I sighed in great anticipation of dragging my knife through the yolk, that first break, watching as it spilled slowly over the white onto the melted cheese on the crusty bread. Perfection. That brings me to my other note on why this sandwich is one of my all time most cherished: you NEED a knife and fork to eat it. Detesting the act of touching my food (AFTER it has been prepared, I am a firm believer in preparing food with ones hands but not eating it that way), a simple place setting of folded linen napkin, tarnished silverware, and a small pot of pepper will do just lovely by me. If you ever find yourself harried and over run by work or worries, find time to enjoy a sandwich, especially one topped with a truly beautiful egg.