Pissaladière

           The enemy is fear. We think it is hate; but, it is fear.                                                                         -Gandhi

I don’t know about you but I saw a lot of irrational  ‘fear of the unknown’ out there this last week in Doritistan .    Who knew so many Doristas were going to be so afraid, so  squeemish about  something so tiny, so flavorful, as the tiny anchovy?    Where do you suppose this fear come from?

I saw some who admitted to never having tried an anchovy yet were so proud of their intent to keep it that way.  I suspect that quite a few are taught as kids that hating anchovies is the norm and they never needed to challenge themselves on it?

Their loss.    I had never had a Pissaladière but I couldn’t wait to try it.    I think I too had been afraid of it when I had seen it as a child on a trip to Paris but as an adult  I had been drawn to its unique aesthetic styling.    When I saw the photo in Dorie Greenspan's Around My French Table I knew I would make it, face my fears, and give it a go.

I’m not even that but a fan of olives but I knew that it wouldn’t  be a  Pissaladière if I substituted tomatoes and cheese for the olives and anchovies.   

The verdict? Very delicious!   I really felt rewarded for not succumbing to fear...or "hate".    It felt good to join those Doristas who, like me, didn't let a fear of the unknown get in the way of trying something new that might be new and delicious.

Being better late than never with this post I had to make due with the quick version which  used puff pastry.    While I was at it  I also made a version where I substituted figs and goat cheese for the anchovies and olives and let a drizzle of balsamic fall into the onions.   

I call it a figgaladierre. 

You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.
-Rogers and Hammerstein, South Pacific

For those who aren't afraid, find the recipe here.

Saffron Coconut Ice Cream

Don't you love a sure thing?

I'm not referring to "Sure Thing" as in the 1980's definition of the term implying someone who can be counted on to deliver sex on a date.  Don't get me wrong...if I recall correctly those kind of sure things could be nice too and they certainly have their place in our lives.  Or did.  Ahem.  Rather, I'm talking about those times in life when you just need a winning particular outcome and you know just the item in your arsenal guaranteed to deliver?

My college chum Stewart collects sure things.  He would be the first to admit that he doesn't have any well rounded, in-depth knowledge of any one thing but he has managed to find ways of accessing or mastering a sure thing in all sorts of various categories where a sure thing might someday be necessary.      

He has the sure thing shirt, the sure thing date itinerary, the sure thing book choice, and even the sure thing Dinner menu dish for entertaining (which he got from yours truly!). The rest of his wardrobe, library, and culinary repetoir was definitely not impressive or expansive and left little to be desired.  This is what can happen if you focus too much on developing sure things if you are not careful.

In college Stewart could always count on receiving all manner of attention with his impassioned and perfect vocal delivery of  Billy Joel's  "She's Always a Woman".   It was a masterful to be sure but he worked on it with his sister, a voice coach, for several years to get it just perfect and to get it perfect he never studied any other song.  He would win every Karaoke competition he entered with it and would easily turn any date  he happened to be singing it to into a Sure Thing as long as he was not called back to sing anything else because, well,  he couldn't sing anything else.  He could only sing that one song and it always worked.     He didn't want to be a singer.  Just have a song that would always 'work'.

I reconnected with Stewart when his sister recently got married and I was invited to her engagement party.     The party night was filled with great music and much dancing.  Given her profession you can imagine how talented her group of friends and associates were.  As the party wound down and Stewart's sister had sang a song to her fiance, some of  her friends and former favored students asked to get up one by one and serenade the happy couple with a song of their own in tribute.

Finally, Stewart took his turn amid some knowing laughter.   We knew what he would sing and he knew we would love it.  Everyone always did.  It would be as if when he decided to learn it those many years ago it he knew how entirely appropriate it would be for just this kind of moment between them.

This time however he surprised us all by taking a seat himself at the piano, winking to the audience, and then proceed to not only sing the song but playing his way through the entire piece as if he were The Piano Man himself.  

No one could believe it!   Stewart couldn't play piano!  His fiancee DID know how, however, and it turns out that she had coached him through the entire piece during the entire three years that they were together!  Nobody had heard it until that night.  And it was perfect.  A sure thing.  

Unknowing friends called out for an encore when he was done (the first such call of the night) but most in the audience knew it was a futile request.  He wouldn't be playing or singing  anything else.  He couldn't.  

***

  
If you don't have the culinary equivalent of Stewart's various sure things you really should start collecting some.    Even the most accomplished cook needs a few showstoppers to rely on.  My culinary sure things tend to be focused on a particular audience I might be called on to 'target'.

The sure thing you see here is frequently called on to cap off a meal prepared for the Persian side of my family.   Tossing saffron into anything intended for Persians is as much of a sure thing as there is in life.  Saffron is very delicious and very expensive so the act of using it itself shows your guests how much you value them.

Its flavor here is just sublime in this quick and easy ice cream recipe I picked up from David Lebovitz' blog a couple of years ago.    If you are not familiar with saffron don't be intimidated with it here.  This is a great reason to buy some and discover its mysterious pleasures.   Here it is simply delicious combined with tropical coconut flavor and palm sugar.   It yields an unexpectedly perfect end to the evening meal.  Much like my friend Stewart's song did.

Perfect this  for yourselves, but keep it in your recipe box for those times when you are called onto entertain your Persian friends.  Its a sure thing.  

What are your sure things?

Saffron Coconut Ice Cream Adapted from David Lebovitz

BLT Salads–”Deconstructed”

I’m stuck here all alone in the house today.   The clothes washer decided to break last night and the kindly repair man has given us a 5 hour window for him to show up today.    As of now I am in the tail in of the 4th hour.  Care to give me odds?

When my baby niece grows up I’m going to tell her all about the “olden days” – things like how we used to stay home and watch TV because you could not record shows or download them later,  about how we used to use Liquid Paper to correct the term papers we typed out on machines, and about the days when repair men used to give 3 hour windows.   

5 hours?!   By the time my niece is of age she will have to take the month off of work should any appliance in her house break. 

To make the best of it and because I was hungry ( and because I had some heirloom tomatoes) I whipped up this salad.   Also, I was feeling a bit left out this morning when I made the rounds of the French Friday’s with Dorie crew.

So here is my interpretation:

Of noted departure from the book version, I chopped up my sundried tomatoes and added them to they mayo along with a few pinches of dried tarragon. Instead of cherry tomatoes I used the thick slices of juicy heirlooms I had on hand from my picturesque stroll through the farmer's market this morning.  These wanted to be eaten plain but after some prodding were good enough to give their consent to allowed a salad to be constructed around them and serve as their stage.  

Yeah, I get the irony of having to construct a deconstructed salad.  (Did Dorie?)

Lastly, the egg was poached, it was runny, and it was deliciously rich!   I used these silicone poaching pods which were sent to me in some sort of prize giveaway several months ago;  I do like them.  

(Note to self: remember to tell my niece about how we never used to have silicone cooking tools and actually had to poach eggs by actually dropping them in simmering water.  She'll never believe that one.) 

The runny egg yolk seeped into the salad and its dressing  gooping up the dish  nicely.  Next time, for brunch, with Champagne.

“Deconstructed” BLT Salad with Egg.