Since the mass exodus of July 31st, Paris has been liberated of her cantankerous dwellers and pungent crowded métro. Parisians from every arrondissement have embarked upon the annual pilgrimage “dans le sud” for a month of country manors in Provence, drop tops and espadrilles in St Tropez and orangutan-ed bottoms roasting along the Côte d’Azur. For those of us left in the sun-soaked capital, there’s a wealth of summer activities to enjoy, from evening picnics at the open air cinema at the Parc de la Villette to an afternoon tipple on a terrasse.
One hot spot that is set to become a seasonal favourite is Wanderlust, perched on the south-east banks of the river next to the Cité de la Mode et du Design. This space opened in June and is home to a gallery, restaurant, club and bar which opens onto an immense decked terrace, strewn with sun loungers and an open-air DJ stage which sets the perfect LA beach bar tone.
Wanderlust isn’t just your average terrace bar; there are free outdoor yoga classes and afternoon workshops on kitsch concepts such as knitting or 1940’s hair & beauty. These are designed to charm you into spending your entire day and evening in the Wanderlust bubble, where sadly drinks are rather pricey (we’re talking €10 for a glass of red). That said, it’s still all too easy to succumb to the Wanderlust charms, as I discovered last Saturday.
A friend and fellow food/terrasse/workshop lover told me about the free Saturday workshop on raw food, led by former Top Chef finalist, food consultant and creator of Wanderlust’s restaurant menu, Benjamin Darnaud. The main theme behind this workshop was to embrace the flavours and textures of raw ingredients through simple yet creative recipes.
The first dish we made was a veal tartare using fresh young veal which, as Benjamin described, is a very tender meat with a delicate milky flavour. We diced the veal steak into small cubes then added a variety of natural flavour-enhancing ingredients: lime juice, chopped coriander stalks, savory, mint, grated parmesan and a decent glug of olive oil.
One of my favourite additions was a handful of rosemary leaves which had been fried in olive oil; the combination of crunch and deep fragrance added another dimension to the dish, which was simply delicious.
Next up was a fresh summer salad of thinly sliced raw courgette, to which Benjamin introduced chopped anchovies and a few drops of Tabasco as an inspired alternative to salt and pepper. A squeeze of lemon, zest of lime, olive oil and fresh herbs, and this salad was packed full of all the succulent flavours of a Mediterranean summer.
We ended with the classic South American dish, ceviche, made with fresh sea bream (daurade). The citrus juice of limes, lemons and even oranges are essential here as their acidity marinates and cooks the raw fish. Benjamin showed us how to spice things up with some finely diced apple (Granny Smith for maximum acidity), fresh coriander, olive oil and Tabasco. The flavours worked together magically, and along with the other two dishes, this is most definetly something I’ll be attempting in my own cucina this summer.
All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon at Wanderlust; outdoor cooking, background samba beats and a few new additions to my recipe book.
Where?
WANDERLUST – 32 quai d’Austerlitz 75013 PARIS * Métro: Quai de la gare, Gare d’Austerlitz
**This Saturday’s workshop is a T-shirt silkscreen printing class!**
I was going through my photo albums recently and stumbled upon a few snaps taken at a Thai cooking class I took in Bangkok last year. They brought back some sweet memories, and inspired this piece…
With its gold encrusted temples, exuberant night markets and notorious full moon parties, Thailand holds the key to all sorts of adventure for many wondering travellers. For me, the country’s greatest appeal undoubtedly radiates from its kitchen – อาหาร.
On route to Sydney with my dear friend Jane, we had decided to break up the horrendous 25-hour trip with a 3-day stop-over in Bangkok. I’d already heard several deborturous tales from friends who had visited the Thai capital on a clichéd “gap yah” backpacking trip, but I pictured my stay as more of a culinary pit stop seasoned with kaffir lime, lemongrass and sweet basil…
By day 2 we’d finally kicked the jetlag and awoke refreshed and hungry for the Thai cooking class we’d enrolled in. At just 1000 baht per class (about €30), we weren’t exactly expecting a gourmet Master Chef workshop, and yet what we discovered was so much more!
Our guide, Sanusi, picked us up from our hotel and escorted us to the local market where we met our fellow students – a small group of backpackers, newlywed honeymooners and retired holiday-makers all hoping for an authentic Thai experience. We were each given a small bamboo basket and a bottle of water to help keep hydrated amid the 30°C humidity.
Sanusi is a quirky Thai native and former restaurant chef, who has been teaching classes at the Silom Thai Cooking School for years. As we wandered around the covered market, he explained the purpose and significance of each ingredient, such as the size-to-heat ratio of each chilli at the heart of every curry paste.
As we passed through an array of stalls, Sanusi would casually toss a few ingredients into our baskets and before haggling down the price. After an colourful 30 minutes we left the market with bountiful baskets and walked to the cooking school just 5 minutes around the corner.
Housed in a 4-storey apartment block, the school has 2 traditional open kitchens and an outdoor veranda installed with gas stove cookers. The walls are decorated with photos of past students from all over the world – a thoughtful touch that instantly created an intimate and welcoming atmosphere.
After donning some vibrant aprons, we split into 2 groups: one responsible for washing and preparing the vegetables and the other in charge of deveining prawns and slicing chicken. After this we all met in the main room to begin lesson 1 – how to make coconut milk from scratch. With our hands we gently massaged shredded coconut (fresh from the shell) in a bowl of warm water. Then we used an authentic wicker strainer to squeeze out the liquid, before starting the process all over again. After 3 rounds, it was hugely satisfying to see the result of our combined efforts in an enormous bowl of creamy coconut milk. Sanusi joked that although we were learning the traditional methods, the reality is that most Thai people would sooner pop to the local store for a tin of coconut milk than spend the afternoon massaging their own.
Next came a lesson in flavour, namely chilli, lemongrass, galangal ginger and kaffir lime. These key ingredients are like the founding fathers of Thai cuisine. Sanusi explained that once you have these flavours at the root of your dish, “everything else is like an extra decoration!” You can choose to add whatever you like by way of meat and vegetables because although they add texture and colour, it’s the essentials that really bring the fragranceand flavour.
We walked into the main room at the centre of which our market-trip treasure had been magnificently arranged in an explosion of colour. From pea-sized green aubergines to purple shallots, it was quite literally the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
Equipped with our wooden block chopping boards, we sat around the ornate centre piece and listened on as Sanusi added key ingredients to a giant stone mortar. This circulated around the room as we chopped, diced and took it in turns to pound the paste.
The first dish we made was Tom Yum Koong – hot and sour prawn soup. We took to our stoves, fired the cylinders and began to stir green onions, roasted chilli paste and prawns. Sanusi then came and splashed each of our pans with a cup of our freshly pressed coconut milk. With a splash of fish sauce and lime juice, we reduced the flame and let the soup simmer as our bellies rumbled. Five minutes later, our starter was ready, adorned with fresh coriander and birds eye chillies.
Tom Yum Koong
Next came a Pad Thai Sai Kai fried noodle dish, complete with tamarind paste, palm sugar, beansprouts, a sprinkling of roasted peanuts and a wedge of lime. The secret is to turn off the heat as soon as the noodles become softened and translucent. It was by far the best Pad Thai I’ve tasted, and I don’t care how hard my horn’s tooting!
Sanusi then showed us how to make one of my favourite dishes of the day, Laab Gai. It’s a light chicken salad made with ground chicken (or minced tofu), fresh mint, coriander, toasted rice, shallots and ground chillies. He heaped the salad onto a deep soup spoon and served it with a ball of sticky rice. I’m still in love with the beauty and simplicity of this dish…a sure-fire show stopper for any dinner party!
Unbeknown to us, the main course was still to follow. To a spoonful of our lovingly pulverised green curry paste, we added chicken, aubergine, torn kaffir lime leaves, shredded ginger, palm sugar and fish sauce. Another splash of coconut milk and we’d made ourselves a first-class green curry, Kang Khiao Wan Gai.
Kang Khiao Wan Gai
At this point, I was sure that I’d reached O-V-E-R-L-O-A-D. That was until the aroma of nutty bananas came wafting through the back kitchen. Sanusi had been preparing a traditional Thai desert by the name of Mun Ted Gang Buad. Baby bananas or sweet potato can be used in this recipe, which is a simple blend of coconut milk, water, salt and palm sugar. Sanusi added a touch of colour and crunch by sprinkling over some daffodil-yellow roasted mung beans. The dish was pretty as a picture, and I somehow managed to find it within myself to polish off the entire bowl.
Mun Ted Gang Buad
And so, while I can imagine that witnessing a live ping-pong popping show might provide good fodder for recounting wild travel tales, if you’re looking to discover something with a little more substance then I can’t recommend a cookery class like this enough. And let’s not forget that just €30 covered a market tour, refreshments, a 4-hour class, all the ingredients for a 5-course meal and a little bound recipe book, which we each received as a token momento.
This was a genuine slice of Thai lifestyle with a fun, sociable and hands-on approach to cooking. It’s an experience that I’ll cherish, and after revisiting all of these photos and flavours, my hunger and I are wishing that we could touch down in Bangkok tout de suite!
Yes it’s the middle of July, and I’m cooking up one of France’s most esteemed winter hot pots, bœuf bourguignon. I haven’t quite lost my mind, but if this year’s summer sun is going to insist on playing hide and seek, then I shall fill my belly with wintry soul food accordingly. Succulent beef slowly braised for 3 hours in red wine was the perfect accompaniment to a drizzly, chilly mid-summer Sunday.
The dish has enjoyed a welcome comeback in recent years, making a cameo alongside Meryl Streep and Amy Adams in their blockbuster tribute to Julia Child’s culinary story, Julie & Julia.
To begin with, I turned up the wireless and seasoned 2 table spoons of flour with salt and pepper. Next I lightly dusted chunks of braising beef (500g) in the flour before browning it in batches with some olive oil in a deep pan. Next I added lardons (sliced bacon) and a knob of butter to the same pan with all the beef juices. After 2 minutes I threw in a chopped onion and 2 big garlic cloves, later followed by sliced celery and carrot. I let this cook for around 5 minutes before returning the beef, along with 2 bay leaves and 2 sprigs of fresh thyme. I then added about a table spoon of flour to soak up the juices and thicken the soon-to-follow broth. Next came about half a bottle of Pinot Noir, followed by 200 ml of beef stock. At this point I simply covered my bourguignon, transferred it to my preheated oven and left it to work it’s magic for the rest of the afternoon at 140°C.
I took a few pointers from Britain’s very own Julia, Delia Smith, and added the shallots and mushrooms a couple of hours later. First I sautéed them whole in a butter for 2 minutes then added them to the bourguignon for the last hour, which meant that instead of overcooked they were full of flavour.
My bourguignon came out of the oven and filled the apartment with a belly-rumbling aroma just in time for my housemate to walk through the door after spending the day at work. I served it with steamed new potatoes tossed in a little butter mixed with a dollop of mustard (because there’s never too much butter!).
I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that we tucked into our supper so swiftly that there was hardly time to snap a photo before the contents of our plates had been devoured. This must be the sign of a nourishing, comforting – albeit not so seasonal – meal.
What’s playing today?
A special someone sent this to me recently and dared me not to laugh or smile… I failed.
Oh la la…I failed to mention yesterday what I’d made for dessert at my Cucina Caribbean! In keeping with the fresh flavours of mango, ginger and lime, I decided to run with the tutti-fruity theme and bake a rhubarb crumble.
I get quite excited when I see those elegant crimson red stalks at the market. When it’s stewed down with a little cinnamon and sugar, rhubarb is, in my opinion, the queen of crumble fillings. I love the plush, tart taste and when I make a little extra, I like to add a dollop to a bowl of yogurt and granola for breakfast – delicious
I managed to score a kilo of rhubarb for just €3 at the Marché d’Aligre, and also picked up a couple of Braeburn apples and blood oranges. When I got back to my kitchen, I turned up Radio Nova, washed the rhubarb and trimmed the ends and any rough strands on the peel (I don’t like to peel the whole thing because it loses all the colour and goodness!). I then chopped it into 1-inch-sized pieces and popped it into a pan with 2 peeled and quartered apples. The fruit naturally releases water, so I just squeezed in the pink juice of 1 orange for an even deeper flavour. Next I added 100g sugar, a teaspoon of vanilla syrup and a teaspoon of cinnamon. I left it to simmer on a very low heat for around 5 minutes until the fruit had just slightly softened (any longer and it will lose shape and turn into mush).
For the crumble, I added 100g diced cold butter to 100g plain flour and rubbed it gently between my fingertips to make rough crumbs. I tried out a couple of tips I’d read on different crumble recipes – Smitten Kitchen suggested adding baking powder and lemon zest, and Delia Smith recommends a sprinkling of ground cinnamon in the mix. To this I added a pinch of nutmeg, 100g sugar and 100g rolled oats for extra crunch.
With the oven preheated at 180°C, I spooned the rhubarb and apple into a deep dish and covered with an avalanche of crumble. It baked for around 40 minutes until the top was golden brown.
Served with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream, this crumble was the perfect treat to follow our calypso banquet.
What’s playing today?
Hot nights in Paris by Sandy McLelland & The Backline
There are only so many grey drizzly days a girl can handle in the summer season. June should conjure up fragrant strawberries, elderflowers and warm evenings sipping rose on a terrasse opposite the Canal Saint Martin. Instead, this year the weather seems hell bent on using heavy menacing clouds to bully us into carting around an umbrella all day.
With a flicker of insipration, I decided to create my own summer magic right here in my kitchen, by cooking a calypso inspired supper. I got my hands on a bullet-proof Jamaican rice & peas recipe, which was the perfect accompaniment to succulent slow roasted Jerk chicken.
I may have a lot of wonderful family in the West Indies but I’ve never actually attempted these recipes before; so my Cucina Caribbean was as much a tentative experience as it was enjoyable.
For for the marinade, I mixed fresh chilli, chopped spring onions and garlic with a good glug of olive oil, honey and fresh lime. To this I then added 2 heaped tablespoons of Jerk seasoning, which I’d picked up at Brixton market when I was last in London. The seasoning is a dry blend of ground cinnamon, thyme, coriander, black pepper, ginger and pimento which is the dried berry of the West Indian allspice tree that gives a nutmeg, clove flavour. I imagine it can be used as a dry rub on chicken before sizzling on the barbecue but I wanted to mix it with the oil, honey and lime to give a paste consistency that would really infuse into the chicken overnight and then turn into a dark glaze as it roasted in the oven. And this is exactly what I got!
My Jerk chick *photo by mademoiselle J.Zeng
I used cuisses de poulet (chicken thighs) fresh from the butcher because it’s my favourite cut as it retains flavour and juiciness and is also very affordable.
The chicken went in the oven about 1 hour before my guests arrived and in the mean time I prepared the Rice & Peas. I’ll hold my hands up and admit that I didn’t follow the recipe I was given down to a T, but I hope that I still managed to keep the essence of the dish even with a few deviations. I finely chopped 1 onion and 2 garlic cloves and fried these in butter for around 5 minutes. Next I added the liquid from 2 cans of kidney beans, before adding salt, black pepper and fresh thyme. As this bubbled away I added a can of coconut milk, stirred for a few minutes then added the kidney beans and around 400g of basmati rice that I’d already washed under cold water. With one final stir I added 1 whole scotch bonnet chilli (be sure to keep it whole!) and a few sprigs of thyme. I covered the pot with a tight lid, turned the head down low and waited for the rice to absorb the liquid. I checked on it every 5-10 minutes topping up with water when it looked like the rice was in danger of drying out.
While both dishes bubbled away, I also made a hot mango salad with fresh mint and coriander, avocado, spring onions, chillies, tomatoes and thin slices of courgette. I mixed this together and squeezed over the juice of 1 lime. Finally, when the chicken and rice had cooked through, I fried up slices of plantain and assembled my guests “à table” to tuck into our tropical feast.
Fried plantain and Rice & Peas *photo by J.Zeng
Fiery chilli mango salad & a fresh green leaf salad *photo by J.Zeng
After 2 years as a die-hard Bastille dweller, the time has come for me to move on and discover a new quartier. This weekend I packed up my apartment, hauled boxes of cherished belongings (a.k.a accumulated junk) down 5 flights of stairs and bid farewell to rue de la Roquette.
I have to give a little mention to our man Lucas and his removals company Man With A Van Paris. If you ever have to go through the grueling task of moving house, I couldn’t recommend him enough! Lucas had us packed up, shipped and unloaded in record time, without so much as a scuff on our hefty cargo.
After unpacking for what seemed like the best part of a decade, I woke up sore and ravenous and head back to Bastille for a final market brunch in my old apartment. As always, the Richard Lenoir market was ripe with seasonal summer fruit – plump, velvety apricots and sweet yellow cherries. Of course our Sundays wouldn’t be complete without a compulsory trip to one of the city’s best kept boulangerie gems for a warm baguette paysanne and a bag of crisp buttery pain au chocolat.
Roquette by day by Theodore
Roquette by night by Theodore
What’s playing today?
The race is on by Black& – I had this track on repeat for most of the weekend, and it helped ease the aches and pains!
A few weeks ago I hosted a birthday party for my sweet friend, Erika. She brought a suitcase (yes, suitcase!) full of champagne and I laid on a 1950′s inspired spread.
We kicked off with a few tomato tapenade pastry bites and goats cheese & poppy seed tartlets. They sound fancy, look classy and taste delightful but these canapés are the very essence of simplicity. Just roll out puff pastry to a thickness of around ½ cm and cut bite size squares of about 5-6cm. Pop these onto a baking tray and then just dollop your desired topping onto the middle – use anything you like, pesto, tapenade, wedge of goats cheese, salmon pâté, grated cheddar, parmesan… Bake for 10-15 minutes at 180°C until the golden pastry has puffed up around your filling, then simply tuck in!
The champagne was flowing like water, and with each new exploding cork came a fresh tray of treats from my kitchen. There were homemade meringues with fresh summer strawberries and cream, Shuku-Shuku coconut balls (recipe to follow for this Nigerian delight!) and one of my personal favourites of the evening were these baby lemon cheesecakes.
I stumbled upon this recipe during an afternoon of food porn and blog surfing. The TastyThumb has tons of easy-to-follow recipes, and I particularly liked the versatility of these original cheesecake bites. I opted for raspberry and citrus flavours over chocolate, and they turned out mighty fine.
In the absence of a mini muffin tin, I used my trusty silicon cupcake cases and filled each one with a heaped tablespoon of speculoos biscuit base (100g speculoos biscuits + 50g melted butter). These went into the fridge while I whipped up 225g cream cheese, 50g sugar, 1 egg, lemon zest and a drop of vanilla extract. I scooped the filling into the cases and added a cute little raspberry on top before baking for 25 minutes. Once they had cooled, I put them back in the fridge to set overnight. Before serving, I carefully disrobed their cases and dusted over a little icing sugar.
And last but not least… we all know that a party ain’t a party without a slab of birthday cake, so to honour lady Erika’s charming demeanour, I decided to bake an army of glitzy cupcakes. I used this David Lebovitz recipe for chocolate yogurt snack cakes that I’d read a while ago on Smitten Kitchen. I may already be a yogurt cake devotee, but the bittersweet chocolate and sea salt here takes it to another dimension
I later tarted them up with some pink and blue buttercream frosting. I’ll admit that I was slightly worried about the food colouring turning my cakes into a garish technicolour catastrophe, but thanks to my faithful piping bag and my housemate’s mad mixing skills, they turned out just as dazzling as the birthday girl herself!
One of my favourite additions was a handful of rosemary leaves which had been fried in olive oil; the combination of crunch and deep fragrance added another dimension to the dish, which was simply delicious.
Next up was a fresh summer salad of thinly sliced raw courgette, to which Benjamin introduced chopped anchovies and a few drops of Tabasco as an inspired alternative to salt and pepper. A squeeze of lemon, zest of lime, olive oil and fresh herbs, and this salad was packed full of all the succulent flavours of a Mediterranean summer.
All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon at Wanderlust; outdoor cooking, background samba beats and a few new additions to my recipe book.
