The Last Supper

For as many times as I’ve had to leave home to cross the Atlantic, back to Europe for an extended period of time, one might think that it would get easier with each departure. While the packing of suitcases has certainly been elevated to a timely and almost artistically executed process, I still dread goodbyes and the first two minutes of take-off, which, after twenty-plus years of international travel is still anxiety-ridden. I’ve been known to make friends with many a stranger on international flights, usually the result of my seat partner noticing my white knuckles gripping the arm rests while I unconvincingly attempt to ‘close my eyes and breathe deeply’.

On a recent ascent from London’s Heathrow Airport on board a Delta (I’m still struggling to let go of that trusty Northwest logo) plane, we seemed to lose thrust for a moment, and I found myself grabbing the forearm of the kindly, patient man sitting next to me. He, his wife, and son were returning from a cruise, and I don’t know that his wife appreciated my panicked clutch for human contact, but it turned out he was a rather nervous traveler as well, so the whole thing ended far less awkward than it could have…at least far less awkward than the second year University of Reading student who started sucking her thumb half-way through the flight.

But I digress. For my last night in Minnesota the ceremonial question of ‘what would you like to eat on your last night?’ had to be answered, and I must say that it was one of the best meals I’ve had recently. We decided on:

Bruschetta with grilled ciabatta

Asparagus with sweet soy and garlic

Grilled Porter House steaks with Roquefort

Fresh peach pie

…all washed down with some Perrier Jouët

I love adding sundried tomatoes or roasted peppers to fresh tomatoes for bruschetta. I think the alternately sweet, earthy, smoky, and charred flavour of these tomatoes and peppers compliment the clean punch of balsamic, garlic and olive oil. This is especially a good trick when the fresh tomatoes in question aren’t at their best. Another variation I’ve taken to is pan roasting garlic cloves in a sauté pan in a couple tablespoons of olive oil until brown, soft, and nutty. Crush and mince the roasted garlic; add to the tomatoes; reserve the garlic oil to brush on the bread before it goes on the grill, adding whatever remains to the bruschetta topping itself.

For the asparagus, we added a couple of teaspoons of sugar to about 3 tablespoons of soy sauce and let it dissolve. The asparagus is simply stir-fried with toasted sesame oil, slivered garlic, and the soy.

The Roquefort topping for the Porter House steaks was a last-minute addition. I love the combination of any cheese in the blue/Stilton/Roquefort family atop grilled meat, but the addition of the cheese here was by no means necessary. The steak was perfection, and would have stood alone brilliantly. However, if, like me, you have a gluttonous side, just mix together a few tablespoons of Roquefort with a knob of butter and enough buttermilk to make a thick sauce and add pepper to taste.

Finally, this jaunt to the States was not going to be complete without a slice of fresh peach pie. This, and certain members of the family refused to let me get back on the plane without making a pie; ripped, sodden pie crusts have caused much frustration in our house, and I appear to be the chosen one in this instance. Armed with grandma’s pie crust recipe and a pile of peaches, I went to it, adding sugar, flour, cinnamon, orange zest, and a few drops of vanilla and almond extract to the peaches.

If you think I’m about to divulge grandma’s pie crust secrets you are sorely mistaken.

And so it was with a happy heart, full stomach, and many pounds gained that I was rolled to Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport and on to Blighty.

Home Sweet (Provencal) Home

In celebration of the next, post-dissertation chapter of life (insert giddy clapping here), I have given myself a three-week pause at home to soak up the dog days of summer in the land of Lynne Rossetto Kasper.

This morning heralded the true culinary rooster cry of home with the smell of American bacon sizzling and blueberry pancakes browning on the griddle (which has approximately 20 years of untampered seasoning to it, save for the odd venison incident of 1995 when I offered it up for use in our French class ‘banquet’).

I’ll take this moment to respond to ‘Anonymous’ and his caviling of my dealings with bacon in my last post. ‘Anonymous’, you do put forth a strong argument for reasons why Americans tend to have a less-than-ideal experience with British back bacon. I think in the pork battle of America v. Albion, however, this round comes down to the same factors that make or break any dining experience: one must start, no matter what, with quality ingredients and implement optimal technique and equipment. I am 100% with you on the ‘carbon caked grill pan’ for use with both varieties. As for the differences in fat distribution (which ultimately make for the variation of flavour and texture), I think this is going to have to be a case where we agree to disagree.

And, so, back to Minnesota…

My second night home I was craving some grilled fish, and so we decided to make a summer Niçoise with leftover vegetables and new potatoes. To me, a Niçoise represents all that is good when the mercury rises—gorgeous grilled fish that is light yet packed with ‘carbon caked’ goodness; the June tomatoes are just on the verge of coming into July perfection; lettuce studded with green onion and parsley is clean on the palette, and a creamy white wine in the glass brings it all together. And it’s not too sore on the eyes, either!

We started with a beautiful, sashimi-grade yellow fin tuna steak, which we cut into thick strips and marinated for 15-20 minutes in salt, pepper, and extra virgin olive oil infused with Meyer lemons.

We then skewered each strip with two thin bamboo skewers (which had been soaking in water so as not to combust on the grill) and grilled on the trusty Weber charcoal grill for 2 minutes on each side. So simple and so tasty.

There were some less traditional additions, such as carrot, asparagus and beetroot, but that's what was at hand.

The joy from splurging on good quality tuna cannot be underestimated. The wonderful thing about a Niçoise is that if one throws a teaspoon of tradition to the wind, it's entirely cost-effective as well as delicious and healthy; the cost of the tuna is more than offset by using whatever produce you happen to have around. Take a rummage through the crisper and throw any root or tough veggies in the steamer with your potatoes (carrots, beetroot, asparagus) and you've suddenly found use for those bits of green onion, celery, or tomato that would have otherwise met their demise in the bin.

Ca ne mange pas de pain!