Apropos the Gems and Jewels

glittering coconut, chocolate, & pear tartelettes

11 is a magical number, you won't be 11 again until you are 22, and then not again until you are 33, and so on. Yes you read right, you won't be 11 again until...a 22 year old is quite the 11. I remember my 11th birthday, that is, i think i do. I beleive there was a bicycle involved, or perhaps that was my 12th birthday...either way, my 11th birthday was a time shrouded in misery and despair, for at the time of my 11th birthday, about twelve years ago, there did not yet exist in this world the best party guest possible, what tragedy is this that i speak! Yes the first twelve years of my life should be forgotten, for they precede the coming of the most precious gem in my immediate family--the last little baby of my five siblings, and today is her birthday. And, as per usual, i am unable to be with someone i love on their birthday, so, as per usual, no ordinary birthday cake will suffice. Ergo, for a precious gem one must make coconut mousse tartelettes layered with chocolate ganache and a cinnamon pear compote topped off with stain glass candy and chocolate jewels. on ya va.

Big G is the baby of the family. Why big G? Because I swear she is nearing the same height as me and i'm 5'9" (175 cm)! Well all that height comes in handy when you are an uncommonly gifted soccer star. Who said bragging was reserved for moms. Little girl your other sisters and i were (are) your mini-moms; we did your diapers, we helped shovel squashed carrots into your drooly beak, clapped our hands and cheered at your first step, we bounced you ad nausium through hours upon hours of episodes of the colorful teletubbies and their giggling sun. I remember vividly the seven of us crowded around you at the hospital deciding whether you would be G or J, and when you decided to come home with us, you finished our little big family. But what's a fifth really mean when you've four already? I will tell you--a fifth means the world. Think how truly wonderful it is to have a sibling, and then multiply it by five. That is how much luckier i am than the rest of the world.

The dessert for G's big one one did not come as easily to mind as i usually brag the ability for, instead it took a weeks worth of scribbling until it finally just came into its own. Tartelettes are baby tartes, G is a baby sister. As her name is Gem, there is a que for decor; candy jewels of some sort. There will be chocolate, for i would never do anyone the disservice by omitting the edible allegory of delight. Now something that's a bit me to go in the mix--coconut mousse. And a fruit compote, but why pear? Why not pear. Pear deserves.

I have not made tartelettes since August 2007, oh la la, i made that? Quelle horreur. Either way, we are due. This recipe for the tartelette shells and base for the mousse is borrowed from Helen of Tartelette--yes the other Helen of Troy. Though i have no scales, tartelette molds, nor pastry weights, we were yet somehow able to create quite the dainty little tarts from muffin pans and a bag of pinto beans. Le systeme D, i have mastered quite well. Being in want also of a candy thermometer, candy, as usual, was a trifle difficult. Third time is the charm. Bake blind, or as we (yes we) photographers say; shoot a hail Mary--hold the camera up above your head, pray to the virgin, and hope for a miracle focus.

Chocolate Sable Shells: 1 stick butter ~ 0.25 cups sugar ~ 0.25 cups cocoa powder ~ 2 egg yolks ~ 1.5 cups flour ~2 tbsps cream ~ pinch of salt

method: using paddle attachment 1) cream butter, sugar, cocoa powder 2) add egg yolks one at a time 3) gradually add flour followed by cream one tblsp at a time--should be a very thick dough. 4) plastic wrap and refrigerate one hour 5) roll out flat, and cut out circles to fill the bottom and side of you mold (or muffin tin) no need to greese anything, pat tightly into mold with fingers 6) place cross strips of parchment paper and fill with pastry weights or beans, bake at 350 until they are done. cool completely.

Coconut Mousse: 1 cup heavy cream ~ 1 cup whole milk ~ .25 cup sugar ~ 1 egg, + 1 egg yolk ~ 2 tbsps corn starch ~ .333 cups dessicated coconut ~ 1 packet vanilla sugar ~ 1.5 tsps gelatin ~ 1 tbsp cold water

method: 1) mix gelatin and water in a small dish, let sit 2) in a bowl, whisk eggs, corn starch, and sugar 3) in a saucepan bring milk to a boil, slowly add it to the eggs, then return to pan and cook over medium until very thick, and add coconut 4) immediate add gelatin and stir vigorously until dissolved 5) cover with plastic wrap and let sit until room temp 6) whip cream and vanilla sugar, and fold into creamy stuff.

assemble: 1) make a chocolate ganache from dark chocolate and hot cream to coat the tart shells 2) layer with a fruit compote (here is used pears, cinnamon, and corn syrup) 3) using a pastry bag, pipe in the mousse. Garnish as you please (i made chocolate coins and stain glass candy)

A birthday tartelette, what could be better. How about actually eating it. I promise to make this for you G the next time we are together. I left you when you were seven, and what has always been on my mind is: who remember anything from when they were seven? My sister won't have grown up with me like all the others (+ brother) so will she ever know who i am? Well, i should never have worried, for i remember those seven years, and the Christmases, and summer holidays sprinkled in here and there--the moral is that you don't have to be near someone to be close to them.

Happy Birthday G! And to the rest of you--you'll be seeing her come 2016 playing for team USA.

ps. congrats brother on making the soccer team as a freshman! (while i'm at it let's do the whole family ring shoutout) Kaitles you better be having fun with R at Holyoke for your holiday, don't break into any campus churches...not that i have...cough...and my one big sis M, come to Spokane for your spring holiday!

a bientot

Jazzy Blue (Coco) Nuts

coconut pinwheels in a rainy ballparkdisclaimer: This is Salty's 100th post. This means we talk, write, move, dream, and bake too much. Oh well.

Swiss cake rolls are not Swiss, ironically they are quite unpopular in Switzerland where they are called biscuitrolles or roulades. No the Yanks and Brits dubbed such a cake as Swiss for what appears to me as... well for no apparent reason whatsoever. English speakers around the world also refer to the sponge as jam roll or jelly roll, yet it does not belong to them. It does not belong to Little Debbie either. Then who does it belong to? No one. Though we the food historians may hypothesize. Yes we can. And here is the thesis: we all own it.

(painting above by Hall Groat II available at the artists Blog)

The Chinese egg roll (卷蛋糕) first appeared in daily pastry shop window in the early nineteenth century, undoubtedly snaking its way north out of the ovens of British Hong Kong. In Spain the gypsey's arm (brazo de gitano) is often rolled with a lemon curd, and its brother of the same name in Mexico is swirled with chocolate and rum filling. The Fins call it sweet roll, the Brazilians rocambole, and the Swedish Drömrulltårta (dream roll cake) made completely of potato flour. In Malaysia they are filled with coconut and pandan, in India with pineapple and regional fruits. The Japanese are known for dyeing the sponge green with powdered teas such a matcha, and in Indonesia the Bolu Gulung is most popular with locals in its many cheese sauce varieties. Here it has been stated and argued, the rolled spongecake with a layer of jam, cream, curd, or cheese is owned by the world. The world has named it, but the Salty Cod will rename it. For this silly simple little pinwheel, but what language could be used? What language represents and translates to everyone? Perhaps then the only thing to call it is a Salty Cod.

This cake is for my buddy E on his birthday today, big 22. Happy birthday to you as we sit in a rainy minor league baseball park, our mutual disinterest in the game will get us through.

Spokane, Spokane, Spokane. A day with a high of 41.7 degrees (107) followed by a night of window shattering wind illuminated by celestial scaring places the region in a meteorological state of drizzle and a high of 22 degrees(67). Welcome to Spokane. The Spokane Indians baseball team is playing Boise Idaho. Joy. For those readers outside of the country (and outside Japan) who understand little of the pull of interest for the slow stick-ball game, I hear your groans, this parrot has outlived her attraction to the game through phaseal obsession. What can be said other than perhaps the fact that it is, like most other sports, a sport. And In the history of sports and their need by humanity, is the need to escape, rally, and be part of something greater, something collective. Perhaps a Visa Go World commercial here. Salty Cod advertising. We do everything here. What do you need. We can do it.

Salty Cod Coconut and White Chocolate Pinwheel Cake
ingredients: ~.5cups flour ~4 eggs separated ~1tsp baking powder ~ 1 packet vanilla sugar ~ pinch of ginger ~.5 + .3 cups sugar ~ powdered sugar ~ 2 sticks butter ~ coconut ~ coconut water ~ white chocolate

method: (sponge sheet cake) mix flour and baking powder. beat egg yolks with .3 cups sugar until custardy. beat egg whites until stiff and add .5 cups sugar. beat until stiff again. fold in the yellow, and fold in the flour. Line a cookie sheet (with sides) with parchment paper. spread batter out on the pan. cook at 375 for about 12 minutes. immediately when you remove from oven transfer cake to something like a towel. (well thats what i did, but i think it can be done better) peel off parchment paper, and roll cake WITHOUT the goop, roll it like rolling sushimaki, use the towel for the bamboo mat. when it cools, unroll it and slather a layer of the cream (jelly, custard, whathaveyou) on and then re-roll, using this time a piece of parchment as your sushi rolling mat. Eh voila!

A mizzling day, a lazy game, a worldy jelly roll cake... jelly roll.. jelly roll jazz; perhaps the recent depressing listenings here in the office of old school jazz and blues has somehow mystically pulled this entire day together in themed accompaniment. A jazzy blue cake, to make a rainy blue day, a little brighter, a little brighter for those birthday blues. The wind will dry the grass, and the wind will turn the pinwheels, so baby blow out those candles, cuz i wish you bluebirds in the spring, but spring where? Jupiter or Mars? So in other words you better save the last dance dance for me, and if you take my heart please don't break it, cuz cake was made for you and me!

100 down. A hundred more to go.

We Have Been We for One Year

Happy One Year Birthday Little Salty Cod
This will be dramatic and long. But even Tony had a weak-heart-to-heart once--did you not catch the end of the Sao Paulo episode? Reader be warned.

Already a year? A year? Have you really known us a year? No, most of you have not, perhaps the majority out there reading this today maybe have known us a day, a week, maybe a month, a few perhaps a demi-year, and even fewer since la naissance. The Salty Cod was born 15 June 2007 lying bottoms up with feet kicking the air on the floor of my parents sitting room with many jars of freshly canned cherry jam strewn around me. I want a blog, I pleaded myself, after months and months of faithfully following my two standout gastronomique blogs: Clotildes Chocolate & Zucchini and Beas La Tartine Gourmande, why could I not have one? If it flops it flops, who cares. If no one reads it pas grave--it can just be for me then. That is how Salty came about; it was for me, he still is for me. My selfish creation, my companion. But, we all do eventually learn to share ourselves.

The first posts were adrenaline rushes--not that they still sheepishly aren't--I didn't want to sleep, didn't want to eat, tea...milky tea kept me going, my eyes bloodshot and fixated on the computer screen (le pauvre Hamilton, RIP) photoshop, blogger, how do they get their photos so bright? so edible looking? Ryan, my sister, help me design a logo, a faux professional emblem to paste on the site and on the jars and bags I will never sell. My first readers--undoubtedly my parents and sisters--i would rush to their rooms or their computers and say read read agora! (well the Portuguese comes into the story later) What do you think of that picture? They would smile, convincingly in my mind and with no doubt wondering, what crazy little phase has mallory gotten into this time? Clearing off a desk in the game room to set up little halogen lights as a "photo shoot" prep poised around little ceramic plates gently loaded with this or that--a banana bread, a quinoa cookie; I am working do not come in! I would shout to the passers by as I straddled a rolling office chair with my other leg dangling from a bookshelf, aiming for that "aerial view". Did I think this would all be here a year later? In my mind yes, in my mind things that I want never end. But is it a shock to some? Perhaps yes, perhaps even to me.

This blog I refer to in third person, "he" "little salty" but really, the blog is me, I am it, you don't like it you don't like me, and vice versa. It is my birthday, and I am one years old. A baby? Why yes I am. But babies grow astronomically in their first year of life, and we, salty and I have as well. As a person and as a writer. Looking back we know we have grown as a writer--the writing from the first months is absolutely atrocious. And a conceited note on the photos--i will go ahead and say I've quite improved.

In one year this blog has made this writer a different person, it has made her herself. But, with help of course. She knows she won't stop writing, a slight step closer to the answer of that diabolical question; what am I going to do with my life when I grow up? At the beginning it was just us, Salty and me, but now we cannot be so selfish. Now, we must at our birthday party, in hobbit fashion--allusions to Tolkien which I attribute to the moral wisdoms given to me by my dear old dad--give gifts to you, our guests. So we thank you--because you are part of Salty, whether you think you are or not. We think we can do it all alone, but the truth is, no one can.

The entree presents go the the fellow bloggers out there who either follow me or are followed by me--the inspirations for our commencement, and the fuel and encouragement to keep us going throughout all our posts, even our dullest moments. I have no reserve in calling many of these people friends. Nuria from Spanish Recipes-gracias, Isabel from Cinqo Quartos de Laranja-obrigada, Ryan from And the Bell Rang (though not a foodie)-thank you, Moira from Tertulia de Sabores-obrigada, Bea from La Tartine Gourmande-merci, Clotilde from Chocolate & Zucchini-merci.

The main course presents, the "plat" go to my family--the first readers, the always readers. My parents, sisters, uncle, aunts, cousin, and grandparents. My Kingston family as well. Oh yeah, and the old man in Suquamish. Presque famille.

The final group--the dessert; the prize course for salty and I-- are my friends and acquaintances who have literally been a physical part of Saltys existence, for we cannot exist without your stories. The American girls, the poker playing waiters, the mexican chef possy, coworkers, chefs, vendors, servers and diners in restaurants from Seattle to San Fransisco, Dublin to Munich, and Prague to Porto. A few, who have been vital in recipe thoughts, tasting, and encouragement--Tara and Diogo from school you are irreplaceable guinea pigs. And then there is poulet, who--though still in blog name guise--you have been a more vital contributor to the direction of us; both the blog me, and the me me, more than I can say. But you already know that. Well, perhaps 10% of the profits should be cut for you. Wait, we don't make money. Guess I'll just have to get that cake to you.

A birthday cupcake for you all, and for all of you who have ever spent a quiet, hopefully entertaining eye-rolling read with us. Agradecemos a voce preferência, thank you for choosing us.

You're baking cakes for a blogs birthday? Yes. Yes I am.

How exactly does one celebrate a blog's birthday party? Well there must be a grand dinner of course, and a cake. Always a cake. The Salty Cod loves cake above all other sweeties. For the dinner party--at Le Laurier of course. A few Americans, a couple Brasilians, Mexicans, the Martinique-ian, and of course, a few frenchies. The cake: the cake bah bien sur is a cherry, as the first post was, after all, a cherry jam. Coconut is the preferred flavor of this baker, and as the baker does not eat gluten, neither does Salty, therefore tapioca flour, the superior flour, is at hand. Salty's Cake, Coconut Cherry Cups. Happy Birthday buddy, happy birthday us.

Alright the recette, that's why your here afterall eh?
Salty's Cake: Coconut Cherry Tapioca Cupcakes

ingredients: 250g tapioca flour ~ 100g coarse ground coconut ~ 2 eggs ~ 115g butter ~ 120ml (.5 cup) oil ~ 250g sugar ~ .5tsp baking powder ~ 1/4 can coconut milk ~ .25tsp salt ~ chopped cherries
method: beat the sugar, butter, oil, and eggs. mix the flour, powder, coconut, and salt. alternately add to butter sugar mixture and combine well. add cherries if making cupcakes--cook for about 20 minutes, you oven, as always, is a different creature than mine.

Frosting: butter, coconut milk, coconut, and a truck load of powdered sugar. beat the hell out of it.

This recipe, as its maiden voyage, should be, no needs to be tweaked. Dorm, foyer, backyard baking--as a very strong user of system D in in my baking career (which general is not an asset to a baker as the craft is much more precise than cooking) I do not have measuring cups, my oven is a pill box, i jimmy-rig almost everything i can, including a wine opener and a string to open an aluminum can, the cake is not perfect. It is slightly chewy and almost "undercooked" on the base, perhaps it is the oven, perhaps it is the tapioca, perhaps it is that I am a 22 year old (well in less than a month), never been to cooking school, experimental, imperfect girl and--I made it up. We'll work on this one together eh. Though it tastes obnoxiously delicious despite its lack of airy fluffiness. The frosting though--back off it is flawless.

What do one year olds do? Don't know. We haven't done it yet. We will continue to cook, travel, review, find, dissect, taste, moralize, humanize, romanticize, theorize, dramatize, and report on and in the gastronomic world. Other than that we are just a naive, vulnerable, determined girl and her fish ready to take chances. What we do know--is that on the profile page we must change that dorky photo with the fork, that the four purposes of Salty surprisingly have not changed, that though my age has changed, and though i have in fact had many more experiences in life, I still know barely anything of it at all. We still preach to study and do what you love despite the financial outcome and public opinion, to always make your own jam, to give credit and thanks where it is due, to always remember the cod, and how the smallest thing can push you in the farthest direction, and to write, write, and write. We've learned now that though we are continually discovering new things, we yet manage to run into ourselves at the end of the day. And finally, we know that though pink marshmallows are better than white, the green ones are even better.

Besides, what does a Cod Fish have to do with anything anyways...other than absolutely everything.

Happy Birthday Us! Joyeux Anniversaire a Nous! One year of charades! And hopefully many more. We invite you to stay with us. Where will we be next year in this world? Only the morue knows.

à bientôt

Le Canal Saint Martin

and a cake of a courgette
Now, if we recall Anthony's visit to Sicily we will remember a piece where he haphazardly was convinced by a young shirtless Sicilian to climb a jagged cliff and leap off into the sea in sport of "cliff jumping." No I did not cliff jump into the canal. Focus--as he is about to scale the cliff he turns to the camera and between grinding teeth interjects, "now some of you might ask, but Tony, how is this food related?" his response of course: "the fuck if I know." exactly. Lets go to the canals.

I had been there once before, briefly in September on my whirl wind "get to know your new city" tour, so it was time to return, but first, lets find the story. Designed during the reign of Louis XIV, the actual construction of the Canal Saint Martin began under Napoleon (the) in 1802 and reached completion in 1825. There are nine locks across the canal which flows south into the Seine (but ends just before the Bastille), and north into the Bassin de la Villette--très proche to the Parc de la Villette which houses the Cité des Sciences et de l'Industrie, the largest science museum in Europe. The canal is lined by nearly 5km of paved pedestrian banks ideal for morning, midday, or evening strolls broken only by the myriad locks and accompanying bridges which traverse the teal aisle.

The canal is still used today, though now more so for posterity--the majority of vessels passing through are those of private boaters and tourist yachts. After its near destruction in the 1970's by a proposal to fill and cover the canal with a four lane highway, the canal was claimed a historic scene to the city, and its preservation has brought much attention to the north eastern corner of Paris crossing the 4th, 10th, 11th, and 14th arrondissements with its quiet cafes, small boutiques, and stretches of seating for sunbathers, readers, and picnickers from every corner of Paris. (it's also the location in the film Amelie where she is seen skipping stones over a lock, you know, everyones favorite cinematographic shot)

Hot and sunny in Paris (25 degrees. thats hot to me. for now that's hot to me) and I go to the canals. Two days parallel. Sunday, and then White Monday, a Parisian bank holiday that took place this year on the 12th. The French are known for myriad obscure holidays, that is why I am in classes until July. Anyways. Strolling, people watching, reading. It is White Monday, I will wear a white dress. A cigarette carton ripped by the wind from the hands of the man sitting on the bank next to me, his buddy holds his chest under his arms as he dangles his feet in the water to retrieve them. waterlogged. A picnic complete with dining room table--look how she is dancing and having fun. It is nearly 18h00 and the sun is still très haut, but alors I am hungry. I am jealous of these picnics, but it is time to go to a picnic myself. There now we can talk about food after all. You knew I would.

A--I insist on the telephone--where the bloody hell is this picnic going to be, les Champs de Mars still? No, too crowded. Sur la pelouse on Ave de Breuteuil, it's behind l'Ecole Militaire. Ave de Breteuil, alright. walk walk walk. Here we are, not behind L'Ecole Militaire, but directly behind Les Invalides. Les Invalides! What do the French eat at a picnic? Why I will tell you--a wonderful rice and shrimp salad (made by chef at my favorite Paris resto), charcutrie, pain, chips, wines, punches, and beers. What do i bring to a French picnic? Well a very simple little dark chocolate, coconut, and zucchini cake which was quite surprisingly the little star of the night. Courgette? Courgette? What? the thick crust of pure chocolate coated in shaved coconut seemed to push the offensive and non-French idea of vegetables in a baked good from their minds.

After my very first game of pétanque, known to English speakers as bocce ball (silver metal balls, you know) we ate, drank, and were merry. mmm. After being accused of being a "voleuse" for stealing my cake from a patisserie (cleanly wrapped in parchment paper, the Salty Cod Bakery sticker logo was affixed to add that little professional touch. Thanks sister R for the labels) The cake was a hit. Chouette! I am very popular now, though i'm not sure if being called a desperate housewife...say what! Well, I say this to the frenchies: you should read Clotilde more often, she IS chocolate & zucchini, and she's one of your own!!

Recette: Coco Courgette Cake

2 medium sized courgettes (zucchini) chopped, shredded, scalped--whatever it is you like to do to your zucchini ~ 110 grams de butter (mine are in 10g sizes. yes many wrappers) ~240 grams of flour ~ 1 teaspoon baking soda ~ 0.5 teaspoon baking powder ~ 0.5 teaspoon salt ~ 180 grams sugar ~ 3 eggs ~ dried coconut pieces, shredded is alright i suppose ~ cinnamon, cloves, ~ two bars of dark NOIR chocolat ~

and I would highly recommend coconut extract, I don't have any, but I would have used it. Images of my spice box stuck in the box labeled "mallory junk" in my parents garage are beginning to swim in my head...

prepare your courgettes ~ mix flour, salt, spice, baking soda, and baking powder in a bowl ~ in another bowl, pretend to beat with you arm the butter and sugar (or just use a kitchenaide) ~ in a small saucepan melt one bar of chocolate ~ add eggs to butter/sugar ~ add melted chocolate ~ incorporate flour mix ~ dump in a couples fist fulls of crunched coconut pieces ~ butter and flower loaf pan and bake at 180 C until it looks done and is cooked in the middle ~ let cool completely on rack, or stolen refrigerator shelf make-shift rack ~ melt second bar of chocolate, and spread half thickly on top of cake ~ cover with coconut. ~ makes two.

Canals, cakes, and metal ball games. I love Parisian holidays. White Monday. White dress on a White Monday. Vive la France.

Tapioca à la Coconut -ensuite- Eggs & a Zucchini

Salty Cod Catering: Easter Sunday Brunch
Oh that blessed Easter Bunny. The rodent equivalent of Santa Claus, was the tale ever meant to be literal--a giant rabbit? Many figurative stories have found themselves literally transformed around times of holiday. It's the sugar and wine. History has shown us that one should not read under such conditions. Regardless, any bunny, whether a large rodent, a mother, neighbor, brother, or friend desiring to bestow upon me the gift of chocolate and painted eggs is welcome on my secular celebration of the Christian Easter holiday. Easter, like Christmas, is a celebration in honor of family and friends, for what else is there to honor. Easter brunch is in its third year tradition--static only is the mimosa, the menu changes on the tide. This annee for the dual-hosting of Sunday brunch chez Tartar (upon request to be elevated from simply "T"), I proffer coconut tapioca with a fruit rouge compote, and zucchinis stuffed with a honey mustard salad of egg, eggplant, and petite pois.

Saturday morning--Tartar and I rendez-vous chez Starbucks with myriad spring issues of culinary magazines such as Elle à Table, Saveurs, and Regal to plan the menu in our fictitious catering state of mind. I still drink Americanos. We discuss limits, that being the microwave size oven--rack of lamb is out. The guests will number 6~7, the food will be light (no fois gras), Tartar will provide the Parisian basics: cheeses, tapenades, crustiants as well as a small poulet roti. Me--no basics. The culinary buzz this season is wrapped around coconut and green. Elle featured an article on a coconut flavored tapioca pudding. Idea one set--tapioca and coconut. Make it work. Vert vert vert: spinach purees, spring peas, and lentils are partout. While perusing through Saveurs, my eyes caught sight of small round zucchinis stuffed with an herbed fromage frais. Idea two--stuffed round zucchinis. We'll make it work.

Stuffed Zucchinis. We must have an egg salad. Egg salad stuffed zucchinis. Why not--egg, egg, egg plant, touché. I did not buy mayonnaise. I give thee the Salty Cod mayonnaise-less Easter Egg salad:

Ingredients: 6 round zucchinis. 1 large eggplant. Dozen hardboiled eggs. 1.5 cup frozen peas. 50g(+) spicy honey mustard. Salt. Pepper. table spoon green anise seeds. Laurier (bay leaves, crushed). Oil to sautée vegetables.
Method: Hard boil eggs. Slice the tops off of the zucchinis and gut with a spoon, save the caps. In a skillet, lightly sautee the gutted zucchini (sliced) and eggplant with salt, pepper, anise seeds, and bay leaves. Let cool. Mix together frozen peas with the zucchini, eggplant, and remaining oil in skillet. Chop eggs. Add eggs, mustard, and additional salt if needed. Stuff spoonfuls of salad into gutted zucchini, replace caps and arrange in empty egg cartons to just make it look oh so precious.

The one "must" at the brunch was and always will be mimosas, a relatively unknown cocktail in France. The four present Americans knew the concoction quite well, while to the Martiniquean and Brazilian it proved to be a first. Excellent. Mango-orange juice was a nice twist on the classic orange juice-champaign combination I must say though. (Mimosa means Something About a Cow in Portuguese. chouette! the other new word today: o queijo---fromage.)

Food yes yes, food is fine, but there are desserts. Tartar and I split the desert menu: she the lemon tarte, and I the tapioca. Coconut milk tapioca--are there two better things in the culinary world (ok marzipan, and mangos, and of course bacalhau, but anyways) tapioca is a grain gift from the gods--it is sans gluten. A miracle pearl that provides delicate pleasure to pudding and pies, and a soft sweat taste to pastries, cakes, and breads in place of wheat flour. Long live the tapioca pearl. This pudding: purely coconut--no vanilas or almond extracts or what have you, just the coconut. To accompany the pudding--which i decided to do egg-less to avoid the curse of cooked egg clumps--is a fruit rouge compote sauce. Id est strawberries and raspberries. Very easter. The presentation: over and hour at BHV (Bazarre Hotel de Ville, big department store) to find the perfect container. Terrine glasses are out of the question for a traveling foodie to aqcuire. Round bowls are undesirable to photograph, and glass infringes on the 50lbs checked luggage weight limit. Plastic. Square--and a lid. Chouette.

Note on my ego to brag about: when D, with a surprised look of "you know tapioca!?" (Brazilians don't think Americans eat tapioca. I knew this already from my Brasilian) asked where it was gasped when i pointed to the box on the table: "we eat that? I thought it was the centerpiece decoration!" Ah yes more more! I eat it up as my head inflates. hehe.

Tapioca au lait de la noix de coco: (I doubled to feed 6)
ingredients: 2.5 cups milk. 1.5 cups coconut milk (and the cream in the can). 3 tbsp tapioca pearls. 4 tbsp sugar.
Method: Bring milk to boil, add tapioca. Stir for 15~20 minutes. Add sugar, and coconut milk. Return to boil, reduce heat and stir at a simmer for 10 minutes. Cool.
Fruit sauce: In a skillet over low heat simmer 2 cups chopped strawberries and raspberries. Add .5 cups sugar, and simmer until reduced. Cool, poor in clear cube (bowl or individual pudding dishes or verine glasses) layer cooled tapioca on top, and refrigerate 2 hours. To serve pile on rasperries, and serve with light cigarette cookies or twists.

The brunch went well. Bordeaux graciously accompanied the mimosas. Touché. C brought a fruit salad of kiwi banana, apple, and golden raisin--only missing the mango. Martinique brought flowers. S brought her pretty face. D the chocolate--and some little chocolate eggs his mammie sent him from Brazil. Mmmmm--and his ipod. Chouette. Bresilien musique at an easter brunch in Paris with mango-orange mimosas--c'est la vie. C'est ma vie. Glad to have you a part of it.

Páscoa muito Feliz!

A bientôt