The Petit Four

Ok, even though my summer vacation is technically over and I’m in the fall swing of things with my new students, I have made a mental commitment to not give up on summer.  Ok yes, I admit Brussels is already on the cold side of things and it’s necessary to wear a jacket after 7 o’clock.  But summer? You are still here. I need to make the most of you while I still can, before the city is forced to shutter itself inside cozy, smoky cafes for the winter.  Right now you’re still troopin’ on outside, mingling with reliable beers on terraces despite the necessary layers.  And because there are things that I have loved about this summer and don’t want them to go away just yet:

1. So many excellent and free music festivals throughout Belgium.  Guys, I was three feet away from Pavement. Pavement! Stephen Malkmus, you can speak broken French to me any day of the week.
2. Having as many petite terraces with friends and beers as possible.
3. Scenic drinking at this place.
4. Listening to this girl and to this lovely group.
5. Wearing sun dresses
6. Rediscovering the joy of napping.
7. The men of Mad Men. Need I say more? I think not.
8. Barbecuing as much as humanly and legally possible (turns out it’s illegal in Brussels?! A silly law I don’t think I’ll ever understand)
9. Lazy afternoons spent reading in parks.
10. And enjoying large glasses of this when it’s actually gotten above 80F in the city:

This tall glass of deliciousness, or homemade hibiscus juice (bissap), was my saving grace during my trip to Senegal.  Incredibly easy to make - all you need are dried hibiscus leaves, water, and some sugar - and it’s extremely refreshing.  And bonus! Thanks to the hibiscus leaves, it’s jam-packed with vitamin C.

I’m still using the leaves the I purchased in Dakar (two kilos for 50 cents!), but I have it on good authority that if you are in the States, you can find dried hibiscus leaves at any Mexican or healthfood grocery store.

I’ve tried a variety of combinations to create my bissap.  At first the recipes were too sweet, or the flavoring was slightly off.  I finally figured out the right amount of sugar to leaves to flavoring ratio and the result is exactly what I wanted - knock your socks off refreshing.  You can drink this as you would any juice, or you can add some tonic for a nice spritzer.  Also, it joins well with a nice splash of gin.  If you really wanted, you could be very West African and drink it out of a sandwich baggie…but I would just suggest a glass.

Homemade Bissap (Hibiscus Juice)

3 cups dried hibiscus leaves
3/4 cup sugar
8 cups water
Juice from 1/2 a lemon OR 1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Rinse the hibiscus leaves briefly under cold water. Set aside.  Bring the water to a boil.  As soon as it reaches boiling, add the hibiscus and immediately remove from the heat.  Let the leaves steep for ten minutes.

Pour the juice into a container using a strainer lined with a cheesecloth to separate the big and small bits of the hibiscus leaves from the juice.  Add the sugar and stir until it dissolves.  Add the lemon juice or the vanilla extract.  Add ice and chill completely.

Alright, so I’m not going to beat around the bush: If you know me at all, you know that I happen to like a drink or two.  So it’s very advantageous for me that I happen to live in the world’s beer capital.  Except every now and then, a girl needs a break from beer.

Did you hear that?  That was just the collective sigh of exasperation from 10 million Belgians.

Hard liquor, cocktails and liqueur are expensive here.  While you can easily find a bottle of Rochefort 10 for 3 euros at any cafe or brasserie trying to carry any semblance of respectability around here, you can only find a cocktail, even the simplest gin and tonic, for a minimum of six euros.  Um, what?

So it’s best for my wallet to get a break from beer at home.  And while I usually rotate around gin-based drinks with friends, the changing of seasons is calling me in a different direction.

I recently received an email from Serious Eats in my inbox with a recipe for homemade Milk Liqueur.  The thought of milk liqueur sufficiently piqued my interest, but then reading the description of a dessert liqueur less cloying than Baileys or Frangelico definitely made up my mind.  Plus, I’ve always been interested in infusing my own spirits but have never gotten around to it.  And with my crazy work schedule right now(hundred-plus hour work period starts…now), trying an experiment that only requires me to stir a jar once a day for ten days with the result of a (hopefully) delicious dessert drink seems like heaven.

And so I purchased the necessary materials: vodka, whole milk, lemon, sugar and chocolate.

Got over my aversion to lemons for the sake of science, experimentation, expanding my palate, blah blah blah.

Mixed everything together.

And now just have to keep this thing in a dark, cool place, stirring with a spoon once a day.

Um, milk + alcohol for ten days…outside of refrigeration? I’ll guess I’ll let you know how it goes…

Here are some true things:

As of Saturday, my summer is officially over.  My life will be taken over by a deluge of new students.  Of fresh young things eagerly anticipating a fantastic semester or year in Brussels. To cope with the onslaught, I’m listening to the new Robyn album and my entire Otis Redding collection nonstop.

Today I started to plan for Thanksgiving. No joke.  This year I am going to have to cook four or five turkeys. Yep, four or five. Oh.em.gee.

Tonight I’m going to sit in an open air cinema and watch Crazy Heart.  It only took me, um, seven months to finally see it. My apologies Jeff Bridges, but hey! I’m very excited about seeing you in the new Tron movie!

I’m trying to save up for plane tickets back to America for the winter holidays and to buy an iPhone.  Today I sort of set myself back a little bit by doing some sanity-saving shopping at a bookstore.  My apologies to you, debit card.

Also, here are some more true stories as told in a very brief, very hazy photo outline of what I have been up to this summer.

I have been doing a lot of hiking around Brussels and Belgium.  What this means is I’ve been getting up close and personal to some of my new best friends, like these fellas.

I got my hands on a Scrabble set…in Dutch.  Do you want to know what’s hard? Playing English Scrabble with a Dutch game. Maybe it’s because there are eighteen Es.  Dear Dutch - um, what?

I celebrated turning the ripe age of 25 by hopping across the channel to spend a weekend in London.  Dear afternoon tea, you are magical.  I think you definitely deserved a large spot as one of my courses in my life’s final meal.  Also, please note my very sophisticated drinky pinky. I did not plan that.  These things sometimes just happen when you do fancy-pants things.

While in London we went to one of its better renowned beer bars.  I was promptly admonished by a sassy waiter for my ‘poor’ taste in choosing a Blue Moon over a Rochefort 10.  But then I quickly redeemed myself by ordering a Brewdog Tactical Nuclear Penguin…or not.  Remember that iPhone dream?  But seriously? 60 pounds for a small glass ‘o beer? Oh me oh my.

I also spent almost two weeks traipsing about Finland, Estonia and Latvia with a friend.  Above is a shot of a 1930s coffee shop in Riga, Latvia.  It was a great place to spend the morning rifling through magazines, drinking coffee and generally resting a weary set of feet that had gone over a large amount of land in the preceding days.  Below is a shot of some of the Art Nouveau architecture in Riga as well.  I didn’t mean to plan a trip to two of the other main European centers of Art Nouveau (Helsinki has a lovely neighborhood full of Art Nouveau) but it was a welcome surprise.  I definitely got to geek out and took perhaps maybe too many pictures.  But it was so worth it.

For those of you still lolling about and enjoying the final hazy days of summer, I salute you. And perhaps am a bit jealous.  Please sit outside on your porch and drink many gin and tonics or dark and stormys for me.  And maybe also get in a game of croquet before this fall sets in.  Lawn sports always do the body good.

Dear Belgium,

Today is our one-year anniversary. There was our brief courtship before, way back when I was a giddy school girl and we were together for a short five months, but that was just puppy love. I foolishly left you to return to my Midwest and for a brief flirtation with Asia. I was cruel hearted to neglect you but needed to explore and to have my space. You understood that, right? Realizing the error of my ways, I returned and fell in love all over again with your frites, beers and smoky art nouveau cafes.  This thing called love quickly turned into a full-blown, scary in love, head over heels relationship. We have a very adult-like live-in relationship now – there’s the apartment, the phone and bank accounts, and all of the shopkeepers who know me as a regular. And I love every minute I spend with you.

Sometimes I am sort of scared with how comfortable I am here. Belgium really has become the realization of a dream for me – to find a place with a certain click to my personality. By my calculations, I should have grown bored of Brussels, or hell, at least my apartment, about three or four months ago. But now the mere idea of daydreaming about moving makes me unnaturally sad. I am totally and unabashedly yours Brussels.

One of the things I love about life in Brussels is how uncomplicated it is. And for those of you following the news or with any idea of Belgium’s current political crisis, that might seem like a bit of a joke. But below the political level, Brussels is such an easy city to live in. The Bruxellois are an anything goes, relaxed, cheerful bunch of people so I don’t mind the impossibly long grey winters, or the fact that one day I’m tromping through idyllic pastures and the next I’m wearing a hoodie and my wooly slippers as I write this.

The city itself is such a human-sized cosmopolitan city that I’m never overwhelmed. Chicago, I’ll never get to know you with your continuing clusters of neighborhoods and suburbs. You’re constantly surrounded so I’m forced to only love you from afar. You though, Brussels, you’re accessible. The neighborhoods might alter and shift, but you’ll always give me an actual opportunity to explore everything.

This salad from The Splendid Table is a lot like Brussels actually. It might not be the most attractive thing immediately, but it’s sturdy and satisfying without being blah. The red pepper flakes give it a kick to liven up the palate and the vinegar combination lends a tangy contrast to the cool subtlety of the salad. Plus the dressing is a cinch to whip up and makes a bunch so it’s perfect for storing. Which I’m a big fan of since I’m a busy lady (Um, you remember my giant stretches of silence, right? Yeah…my bad.) And with a hunk of bread and some cheese, it really is a no-nonsense, uncomplicated meal that doesn’t try to overwhelm. And it makes me want more of it. So Brussels, I would like to dedicate this salad to you. Here’s to us, and many happy returns.

Warm Balsamic Bean Salad
The Splendid Table
Serves 2 - 4, but super easy to double.
*yes, that is bagged lettuce in the photo.  Don’t judge, it’s insanely cheap and available at 10 pm when you’re hungry…*

1/3 cup good tasting extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium to large onion, thinly sliced
4-inch branch fresh rosemary, or a generous teaspoon dried rosemary
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup water
4 large cloves garlic, diced
Pinch hot pepper flakes
1/4 cup wine or cider vinegar
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 14-ounce cans of cannellini or pinto beans, rinsed and drained (I substituted with chick peas, clearly.)
6 large handfuls of washed and dried mixed salad greens
1 stalk celery with leaves, thinly sliced
4 ounces of Asiago, Fontinella, or Manchego cheese, shredded (optional)

Heat oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium heat. Stir in the onion, rosemary, salt and a generous amount of pepper. Sauté 2 minutes, or until the onion is soft. Add the water, garlic, and hot pepper. Bring to a very gentle bubble, cover the pan and cook 3 minutes, or until garlic is soft. Don’t let it brown and be careful not to get spattered by the water. Stir in the vinegars and the beans, and set aside.

When you’re ready to eat, spread the salad greens over a large platter. Scatter the celery, and cheese, if using, over them. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper. Heat the beans, uncovered, in the skillet just until they are warm. Spoon beans and the dressing over the salad. Serve immediately.

Whoa. Whoa.  It’s the end of May and I’m not really sure how that happened.  Well, no. That’s a big fat lie.   I spent practically all of April in Senegal thanks to everyone’s favorite volcano (Iceland, I’m lookin’ at you).  Originally, I was only supposed to visit friends and travel around for the first two weeks, but then geology struck.  Eventually the Belgian Air Force became involved and flew me, along with hundreds of other stranded Belgians, back to Brussels.  Insane as I am, I promptly hopped on a train to meet my students and boss in Strasbourg, a mere three hours after landing and operating on little sleep.  Instead of a weekend full of vineyard hopping, pretzel eating, and roman ruin touring with everyone, I found myself on a broken train at midnight, stranded in Luxembourg and with no way back to Brussels or to Strasbourg.  I quickly came to the realization that I had hit my travel quota and extinguished all of my good travel juju.

And on top of all of this, it’s been a solid two months since I’ve really stepped foot inside of my kitchen.  So, instead of going into the overwhelming amount of crazy life details and my Senegalese experience, I’ll woo you with pictures from all of my recent travels!

1.) Inside Entre Deux, a church-turned-bookstore in Maastricht, the Netherlands 2.) Reading in Entre Deux 3.) Maastricht  4.) Vintage shopping in Maastricht  5.) Fruit from a baobab tree in Dakar, Senegal  6.) Spices in a fresh market in Dakar, Senegal  7. ) Cracking freshly roasted cashews open

I consider myself to be an adventurous eater. There are very few things in the world I will snub and discard before trying them at least once. I was the girl whose mantra for an entire year of her life in small-town China was “If it’s delicious, I’m not going to ask what type of meat it is.” It served my stomach and my conscience well. I liked my dog too much for me to ever really want to know.

But of course there are a few exceptions. I don’t dig blueberries or most things lemon-related. And I also don’t do traditional spaghetti noodles or watery soups. If I’m ever handed a bowl of steaming soup, I’m tearing apart the nearest chunk of bread, or crumbling up a bag of individual oyster crackers so I can sop up some of that liquid. Ladies and gentlemen, I am a soup-texture phobe.

Which explains why I’m in love with European-style soups and potages. They are the happy marriage between American stews and soups – creamy and vegetable based, but thick enough to offer up a textural body so you feel like you’re consuming substance, not just flavored water. What a happy discovery to make during one of the coldest, snowiest winters Europe’s ever had.

So I was pleased to discover a recipe featuring some of my new obsessions – my new found love for leeks and a potage recipe that puts them in the starring role.

This potage recipe has been my saving grace for the past month. It’s so simple that I kind of forget I’m making it. The end result is so flavorful and comforting I find myself craving it at the most bizarre hours. And it uses up a lot of the staples I have in my kitchen, so it’s perfect for when it’s 10 pm, I’ve realized I haven’t eaten anything but applesauce all day and I’m suddenly ravenously hungry.

Leek and Potato Potage
From The Complete Robuchon

2 tablespoons butter
3 medium leeks, carefully washed and sliced into rounds
Salt
4 cups water
¾ pound potatoes, quartered lengthwise
1/3 cup heavy cream or crème fraîche
1 teaspoon chervil leaves

Melt 1 ½ tablespoons butter in a saucepan over very low heat. Add the leeks and cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. They should begin to turn translucent but should not brown. Add the water and 2 teaspoons salt and bring to a simmer. Let the leeks simmer gently for 10 minutes.

Carefully lower the potoates into the hot water-leek mixture. Bring the pot back to a simmer and cover partially to keep it from boiling over. Simmer gently for 30 minutes.

Remove the pot from the heat and blend with a handheld mixer, blender or food processor. Bring the puréed potage back to a simmer and then turn off the heat and whisk in the cream. Taste for salt. Just before serving, stir in the rest of the butter and sprinkle with chervil.

Well, thank goodness that’s over.

I could explain my prolonged absence, but I’ll save you the trouble. I think it’s quite obvious by now that I’m not the best planner when it comes to organization and making time for things when I have a gazillion responsibilities on my plate.

But now it’s February. And my schedule is looking blissfully less insane. You could even say open. I will have time for things like traveling (Barcelona, here I come!), hosting dinner parties, and getting back into my kitchen. I haven’t used my kitchen at all since Thanksgiving, save for the necessary coffee-making and reheating of the occasional pizza. I’ve mainly been subsisting on applesauce, yogurt and All-Bran for the past month. How I haven’t gotten scurvy yet, I don’t know. So February (yeah, I’m talking to YOU), let’s make a deal. Can you make nice with me this year and just…not suck? That would be a great change of pace for you. One that I’d totally dig. K, thanks.

But since it is February and for most everyone, the skies are gray and winter is still going on, here are a couple of things that I have been really into lately that make me happy.

Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros - Home
This song puts a smile on my face every time I listen to it.  It’s so happy and catchy, exactly what I’ve been needing to get me through these dark, wet Belgian days.

The xx - VCR
Everything about this is perfect - the song, the music video.  All around gorgeousness.

Also, today is Bill Murray day!  Or, in other more conventional circles, Groundhog Day.  Except here in Belgium, it’s La Chandeleur, a day to commemorate when Jesus was officially presented to the temple in Jerusalem.  But hey, since most people here are incredibly secular, they don’t really celebrate that so much.  Instead, February 2 is Pancake Day.  What.a.great.holiday.

The heart of Pancake Day is similar to Groundhog Day.  Because pancakes, or crêpes, are large and circular like the sun, you eat pancakes all day to try and coax the warm sun back into the hemisphere.  Pancakes and the potential of warmth? Sign me up!

Because everyone has their favorite go-to pancake (my personal fave would be my dad’s rendition) and I personally am still trying to recover from a particularly sweetened holiday season, I decided to go down the savory route.  And ooh boy. These things are delicious.

I nabbed this recipe off Bon Appetit and not only are they cheap and a cinch to make, but they are reminiscent of all my favorite types of street food.  Slightly salty, slightly cheesy, slightly buttery.  They’re also easy to fold so turning them into an edible shelf for toppings is easy-peasy.  I recommend topping them with a bit of harissa, a few leaves of spinach, and a dollop of hummus.  And they go well with beer, so really, what more could you want?

Sour Cream and Onion Pancakes*
Adapted from Bon Appetit

1/3 cup chopped onion
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Worcestershire sauce, to taste
7 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 1/2 cups sour cream (or cottage cheese)
3 large eggs
6 tablespoons all-purpose flour

Cook onion, 1/8 teaspoon salt, and 1/8 teaspoon pepper in 2 tablespoons butter and Worcestershire sauce in a small heavy skillet over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, about 12 minutes. Transfer to a bowl, then add sour cream, eggs, flour, 1/4 cup butter, remaining 1/8 teaspoon salt, and remaining 1/8 teaspoon pepper and whisk until combined.

Brush a 12-inch nonstick skillet with some of remaining butter and heat over moderate heat until hot but not smoking. Working in batches of 5, scoop 1/8-cup measures of batter into skillet and cook until undersides are golden brown, 1 to 2 minutes. Flip and cook until undersides are golden brown and pancakes are cooked through, 1 to 2 minutes more. Transfer to a baking sheet and keep warm in oven. Brush skillet with butter between batches if necessary.

*Original recipe calls for cottage cheese.  My grocery store didn’t have any so I grabbed what I thought was cottage cheese, but was, in fact, sour cream.  Turns out it didn’t matter because I followed the recipe to a T after that and it worked beautifully.

All right, I know this space has been a bit lackluster lately. But that’s about to change. Right now.

In honor of Thanksgiving next week and that I have to cook not one, not two, but three turkeys for 40+ ravenous, homesick American students and a few strange Europeans; in honor that I just found out that not only do I have my entire rent paid for by my job but now also all of my utilities (holy crap holy crap!); in honor that I know enough people in Brussels to push my baked goods on – I am going to bake a pie every day this week until Thanksgiving. Starting tonight when I get home from work.

1. A Dutch Cheese Shop. So good. So dangerous. 2. This adorable puppy was waiting outside of the Dutch Cheese shop and was a big fan of being petted and loved.  I almost took him home with me. 3. Belgians are not the only Low Country with indigenous waffles.  This is a Stroop Wafel.  Or Syrup waffle.  It’s a thin layer of syrup sandwiched between two hot waffle wafers.  They are deliciously addictive.  The second best thing about a stroop wafel is where you buy them - a Stroop Wafel Winkel.  Try saying that without smiling. 4. A shoe store in Amsterdam. 5. An old blind dog lying in a window along an Amsterdam canal.

I’ve been doing a lot of traveling lately, mainly through The Netherlands.  The above is a small collection of photos from recent trips to Amsterdam and Den Haag/Delft - home to Queen Wilhemina (what a fantastic name!) and Mauritshuis, my all-time favorite museum and home to Girl with a Pearl Earring.

Today I’m leaving for a week in Edinburgh to visit a friend.  I’ve never been to Scotland, or that far north, so I’m excited.  I’ll be there for Guy Fawkes Day and have already been warned that it’ll be a week full of whiskey-drinking and burning effigies.  Oh God.

Pumpkins are everywhere apparently. Just not in Brussels. I have been on a pumpkin, squash, and gourd hunt for the past month and only now have I found one. And after having to get this nice, big pumpkin back to my apartment, I’m convinced that the reason why there is barely a gourd to be had in this city is because carrying pumpkins on public transportation sucks.

Lugging this heavy, bulbous thing around made me appreciate a couple of things – all the exercising I’ve been doing recently and anyone who carries a baby on public transportation. Seriously all you urban moms and dads – hats off to you and your ability to carry your genetically related pumpkin around and making it look like it ain’t no thing.

Now that I’ve discovered where the pumpkins live in this city, I am going to hoard and stockpile like it’s nobody’s business. I want to have enough to last so I can make delicious and anti-oxidant powered soups, muffins, and breads for the entire year.  Which means making a whole lotta pumpkin purée.

If you’ve never made pumpkin purée, you need to.  One large pumpkin yields a couple of quarts of puree so you have loads of great thickener and base for soups and other dishes for very cheap.  It makes your house smell fantastic as it softens in the oven and it’s really fun to hold and squish the warm insides as you slip them into the food processor.  Basically, I used it as an excuse to play with my food as an adult.  And once you roast and puree the pumpkin, you can store it in ziploc bags in your freezer without taking up too much space.

And if you’re still not sure about making pumpkin purée let me just say this - 100% homemade pumpkin pie.

Fresh Pumpkin Purée

Preheat oven to 400F.

Scrub and wash your pumpkin very well.  Slice your pumpkin so it will fit on a deep baking sheet or casserole dish and remove all the seeds.  Brush the exposed pumpkin flesh with butter.  Arrange on a baking sheet with the buttered-flesh side down.  Cover with aluminum foil.  Bake in oven until pumpkin is very tender and can easily be pierced by a fork or a knife.  Check after an hour to make sure the pumpkin isn’t browning or burning.  Remove from oven and let pumpkin cool so it can be handled.  As soon as it is cooled, scoop out the insides and puree in a food processor until blended.  Store in an airtight container.  If the puree isn’t used within a few days, store in the freezer.  It can be frozen for several months.