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Is it equivalent to you? It lacquered pork sandwich my mother-

She used to tell that on the way to school, she liked buying such a sandwich at a street vendor who was grilling the pieces of pork on a small brazier. It had to be careful of not to try the navy blue uniform class anyway because it was she who was employed in a laundry, which was done by hand in boiling water, soap and wooden board.
She also said that white bread, French baguette, food was a bit posh, like milk, which was reserved for children when they are sick. For her part, she liked the sweetened condensed milk and I have often seen, for snacks in France, spilling on white bread, exactly. She also said that
breakfast, she had a weakness for rice soup with dried fish, this soup she prepared rice when it was my turn to be sometimes a sick child and I loved the salmon with crumbs and soy sauce.
As my grandmother, whom I have always criticized (including the poor) to grill the meat too, as nobody knows how the rolls stuffed with glutinous rice (or banana soy / breast of pork, all cooked steamed in banana leaves), sesame fritters and coconut cakes-pumpkin, all that my mother left him. However, even if it prepares dishes Cambodian too good, she quickly developed a great interest in French cooking, which resulted in a viewing curious and amused cuisine of the musketeers and purchase as soon as was possible, in a casserole orange Le Creuset enamel.
While often made fun of the fact that I can find exciting to eat a portion of pie on his plate returned ( "This is something very French it mama you know!" ) and the rabbit with prunes is an impossible, she quickly sought ways to make meatballs, beef with carrots, ratatouille or Basque chicken. The leek vinaigrette and asparagus mimosa-it seemed almost cosmic, not talking about the shepherd's pie.
I speak ill of Cambodia (and I'm sometimes a little sad when I hear "How well you speak French!" ), but I vividly remember the words denoting any food. The sandwich my mom could decide Noum Paing saink palak . normally composed of barbecued pork with pickled shredded carrots, sliced cucumber, chives, chili and hoisin sauce, but that day at home, some things were missing. It was not bad (although I have obviously not found the taste of it from my mom)
It's pretty easy to do actually. We must prepare a marinade with a clove of crushed garlic , 1 Tbs salt , 2.5 CS Maggi sauce , 3CS sugar and pepper . Rubbed out a piece of roast pork loin in with this mixture and allowed to marinate for 24 hours, turning once.
The next day, we roasted a long time, until golden and caramelized, de-icer in regularly. The best part is it is still hot when preparing the sandwiches. For
the carrot salad must be heated in a small cassetole 6CS sugar, 1 Tbs salt and 10cl rice vinegar until dissolved. Let cool while you grind a bunch of carrots (I am large grater holes) and then assemble them in a bowl with the sauce. Let stand overnight in the refrigerator then taste and add salt or sugar to taste.
It only remains to put it all together (and be sure to take good baguette! In Rennes, I'm pretty adept William sourdough baguette from the bakery Hoche but otherwise near the hospital, there is this incredible street bakery in Paris where I stopped this morning to take a bread spelled quite warm, a soft and golden braided brioche and croissants, argh, G. said it was imperative to include them in our future test growing blind).
Now you know everything about the barbecued pork sandwich of my mom, the end of a myth then! It really is the sandwich of my childhood, who consoles all that my mother prepared in advance for me as a kit for Wednesday mornings spent alone at home (and I find it hard to wait until noon to eat , generally ten and a half, I was sitting cross-legged on my bed to make it a lot).

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Until the summer-vanilla-strawberry cheesecake as he likes-

Unexpectedly, despite the weather more Avenir, school holidays and the fact that the Inrocks have put the third disc in their hundred Vincent Delerm Albums of the 2000s, the coastal paths of Brittany were systematically deserts. The water was blue lagoon and the air laden with scents that we could summarize by "there are flowers in the same rocks."
on marked trails, later sitting on a fluffy vegetation, contemplating the curvature of the horizon, we talked about travel (I think it lands in Australia) and spaghetti alle vongole. And ukulele.
unconsciously, the route was silent for an attempt to find a small hotel on the water where we had previously failed, huge room on floor and hot tea behind the large windows. He was always laid on the edge of the estuary. But we finally slept elsewhere, fearing that only holds that the repetition is often associated with erosion of happiness when it occurs by chance. The only event
supra despairing was the appearance of physical symptoms that devastated me and led to a rapid return to our apartment where I was imposed a difficult regime based pizzas and rice pudding. The recovery was quick.
Strangely, this premature return has not weakened the pleasure of being on vacation. I deciphered
scraps for the return of the piano teacher, I develop my film Lomo (some photos have proved useless and ugly but others delighted me, they reinforce my s The idea I like the pictures just missed a little fearful that, like the aesthetics of girls-and boys-I like when there's something wrong. Perfection bores my eye), I read a lot (and reread at least five times the section entitled Alain Bergala games of choice and chance in the number of Cahiers spent Rohmer), j have listened Noah and the Whale me feeling a bit sad because I love The Squid and the Whale Noah Baumbach of but I felt a little betrayed when I tried to see before- yesterday Aquatic Life, which he co-writer. Gosh, what that makes it less about me, that I can recognize myself in anything? Yet there is this thing very andersonien to laugh at things very small and not necessarily laughable at first, and then also the leading character who runs things in a somewhat vain but that night I stayed tight (I 'll end up calling it whom a Christmas story ) (P. I hope will not mind). But the songs of Noah and the whale, they are good!
I still avoided service in the soundtrack to G. who does not like and whose birthday was celebrated with a little delay because of me and faults my health. In addition to an amazing dinner Tanpopo ( yet! is the fault of I., a reader-friendly. Croisée one morning in the bus 64, it really made me want to try dinner in seven dishes) where the menu titled Walk the arrival of spring (fond memories of the lovely bottle of sake while sweet and fresh and the sashimi bar colonnata bacon topped with a rhubarb condiment-anchovy-caper) I tried to respect his desire to birthday cake, vanilla cheesecake a cutter with a thick layer of well cookies (I feel that this application is very masculine, it has several variants including "You could make a crumble with a lot of dough?" ).
If you want to try:

vanilla and strawberry cheesecake
To pan 20cm diameter at top edge
crust
-150g-150g spiced
shortbreads
-100g
cooled melted butter (actually in the end I did not put any)

cream
-4 small-Swiss (240g) drained
-100g cream cheese
-150g double cream
50g sugar -2 eggs

-the seeds of a pod
-vanilla zest of half a small lemon

Strawberries
-500g strawberry sugar-


Crush cookies into crumbs irregular, mix melted butter.
The spread in the bottom of the mold by packing well with the back of a large spoon.
Refrigerate.
Preheat oven to 180 degrees.
Meanwhile prepare the cream. Relax the
froamge costs, add small-Swiss and cream. Mix.
Add sugar, vanilla, zest and eggs, one at a time, mixing each time.
Bake the crust for ten minutes then turn down the thermostat 130 °.
Pour cream over crust and réenfourner for about an hour: the edges are not brown, the cream is still shaky in the middle.
Cool to room temperature before refrigerating (24h, 48h is good but it is even better with a good taste of vanilla).
the day, wash, dry, remove stems, cut the strawberries, sprinkle with sugar and let stand to cool. Serve
together!
He loved.
Another recipe for vanilla-strawberry cheesecake that is very keen in Fanny.

Bonus!
Estérelle and pigs in blanket (not a new rock group)

The night I was looking for the dvd The Life Aquatic, I dragged the kitchen department of a bookstore that I do not like but has the advantage of staying open late enough. The umpteenth releases on the glasses and toasted me a bit depressed but there was also of the new book Estérelle (yes, this literate young woman who loves purple, lemon, rhubarb and shoes, that who knows how to do chest pig lunch or dinner, the one I dream of tasting the veal osso buco or) and I picked him up yesterday afternoon after the market after lunch. I could put on sandals so it was fine.
At home, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in the office, I devoured his series of crime and their associated revenues. In addition to whet your appetite, these pages reminded me of the old readings and as Iago was a hell of a villain (did you know that Othello is also the name of a cake?). The illustrations are good and I obviously felt a particular fondness for the perfect blackcurrant and writing of the recipe that accompanies the chapter on The disappearance of Perec. When I
got to the chapter on the Big Bad Wolf, I was seized by the urge immediate prepare pigs in blanket , as they call them across the Atlantic flaky sausage, perfect companions to the small glass top evening. Delicious chewable hot!
(Another advantage: using the last two survivors of small-Swiss cheesecake)

For a dozen mouthfuls (minor changes)
-120g flour 60g
-soft butter (salted here if not add salt 1/2cc) -2
grandchildren Swiss
(it's pastry magic! )
-1CS mustard honey
-1/2CS
-1/2CS heavy cream
-2 large frankfurters
-a little milk Sift flour

.
Add butter and small-Swiss.
Mix together to form a dough ball.
Spread the dough on a floured surface to a 4-5mm thick.
Combine mustard, honey and cream and then spread the mixture over dough rectangle.
Place a sausage, wrap the two rounds of dough and cut to get a roll.
Repeat with the second sausage.
Brush the rolls with a little milk.
Cut small patties cook twenty minutes on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper in an oven at 180 degrees. Super hot
good with ketchup!

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Jams, 1982

As far as I can remember, the greatest excitement of my children's taste buds back to the late summer of 82 - when I was eight years old. I spent my days working in a heat wave without water or hat in the Britain of the Interior that some evil tongues say yet so wet, her arms thrown up to the shoulders in the bushes with thorns sometimes three times as tall as my three apples and half the time, picking blackberries. That summer, baskets exploding under the weight of fruit wide as a two-franc piece. There were so sharp that hung on the vines wilt, on slopes, in the roads we traveled on a bicycle and who led us in a place called "The Vern" (POULLAOUEN, Finistère; see photographs of the house and hamlet in 1965 and 2008), we did not know where to start my brother and me. Between two sticks - our way of telling us as we love ... 'End, especially my big brother because I was dreaming rather see (away) to pass under a combine with the operator apparently asleep face down on the wheel and foot on the accelerator pedal, or be trampling by a herd of dairy cows infuriated by the bite of a horsefly, or better yet be asphyxiated by the gases of the stinking manure pit in which a poor child's soul, innocent essence, would have helped him to slip in touting the health baths button (s) e, good idea, do not care that history was finally at peace, the dirty kid! - Between two sticks, I said, we were raising hundreds of blackberries, we led a bitter harvest, none of these shrubs do we escaped. As this did not, we swallowed by dozens on the way, the tongue, teeth, lips, chin, neck, fingers, arms, t-shirts, shorts and tennis shoes or black purple sweet juice ripe fruit to perfection. We had spent so much time picking, perched on tiptoe or hanging from the branches of hazel, which groaned under our weight, large jigs, that we did not realize we had both lost our first watches Quartz offered two months earlier by our Grandpa. We will find one of the years later in the thicket where I was sure to get the feel of my wrist, grabbed by spines, rusty and obviously unusable. At home, we drive turbines also: my little sister sorted, washed and dried my father, my mother began to macerate in the sugar crystal, cooked and put in pot of kilograms of jam or jelly and blackberry I stamped in Until the jars cool, the jam takes and we can finally eat on buttered slices of fresh bread - salted butter, naturally. Let me tell you what a pleasure it was, what a feeling of pride of accomplishment we felt then. However, if I was getting into, I fear not having time to tell you that after the blackberries, the frenzy that had won the family had remained intact until after summer vacation, once our little house in the Paris region reinstated the trunk of the car just unloaded his luggage and pots of blackberry jam filled up again with a tremendous amount of plums from plums, apples, pears and quinces. Our parents trusted the task without complaint and we are eager to discover these wonders in pots perched at the top of the kitchen cabinet so that we can access it on the sly without running the risk of breaking our neck.

Since that time, I devote an inordinate and unconditional love to jam. If the blackberry wins all the votes clearly - albeit well after the chestnut cream, real cream, brown, I understand that I would never do because they are too lazy, that which requires hours and hours of patience picking fruit in the forest, to the sorting, washing, splitting them to the boil once, to peel them first time, to boil them a second time to peel them again to stop having finger at them reduce the syrup and turn those treasures finally the most fabulous jams, creamy if we say the cream, the only grandparents my beautiful Oiselle honor us each year for sixteen years (know- I never quite enough to express the happiness I feel whenever I delight?) - if the blackberry wins every vote certainly, I said, it's hard not to love a jam , especially if it is homemade - the regulars of this blog would be realized. In recent weeks, as I had never before expressed the need considering that I had enough knowledge to have often observed my mother, my father and my Grandma Phine do and repeat the same gestures and ordered patients, and enough imagination and knowledge of products outside the box and hackneyed by centuries of practice, I got myself a little book that I would strongly recommend to those carrying out the barn jam ...

Christine Ferber Jams My
ed. I read (price: 4.75 €)

Beyond ideas and (damn) tempting, the perfect method described by the "fairy jams" deserves you're interested. I do not speak for me indeed, because I feel while reading that I have never cooked jam otherwise. But if you're new, you're afraid to get started and you prefer to eat the jam that prepares you with love Great Grandma - nearly 90 years and still going strong, except that sometimes it confuses the salt and sugar - you should definitely get this book published today in pocket format. Enjoy, like me, the benevolent Christine Ferber is selected and harvested fruit with love. As she would her children, Christine Alsatian the pampers, pampers them, she cleans, wipe gently, with the necessary authority in the gesture, she carefully peeled, cut them so very regular, she withdraws the heart, it makes them marinate, macerated, forcing them to give the best of themselves, until cooked when they are immersed in this bath of molten sugar few brief minutes to pickling. Christine Ferber knows how to sublimate his subjects. Why not you?

After that, if the achievement of jams always scares you, then you're nothing unless large timid or fearful lazy. For now, here are some recipes for jams and jellies made with the seasons, beautiful and well advised by the Head of pastry Nordemirerschwihr of Nihrmidorviwish ... ... Damn, that's not what most nan! The pastry Niedermorschwihr. Ah! That's better. (Pffiou, no piece of cake, eh!)

Warning! I repeat myself a little for some, but I always decreases by at least 50 or 150 g of sugar for making jams. Per 500 g fruit net (without core and skinless), routinely add 400 g of sugar and juice of 1 lemon. I decreases from 50 to 100 g of sugar, when I want to make jams alleviated. Note that these will keep well as long and complete rest in refrigerator after cooling and before being eaten.

Hereinafter, a first recipe ...

candied apricot jam

This culinary sunshine is freely inspired by Christine Ferber ( My Jams, "Apricots shepherd", p.65). The ziozios and wholesale Pater 'of fans are chubby dodo: a yoghurt or a slice of cake is a treat! To glue, however it will wait a few months back as the season ...

Ingredients

600 gd'abricots ripe but firm enough, 400 of brown sugar, 100 ml water juice of 1 lemon

Procedure

Day 1 - Wash and dry fruits. Cut them into quarters and remove the stones. In a large glass bowl, combine the apricot quarters sprinkle with lemon juice and sugar. Marinate in the refrigerator overnight.

Day 2 - In a high-sided pan, pour the preparation and take it to the boil slightly. Remove from heat. Book. Once cooled, remove skin neighborhoods apricot. Bring again to a simmer for 2 minutes. Renew broth 2, 4 and 6 hours later for a maximum confit apricots. Book another night in the fridge.

Day 3 - Drain the preparation, reserve fruit juice and bring to a boil collected. With a candy thermometer, check the concentration of the syrup to 105 ° C. Skim. Once the temperature reached, gently add the candied apricot quarters. Keep cooking at low heat for 2 minutes. Pour into jars clean as well you will return once closed to sterilize "English".

's all for now ... For more recipes jam (jam melon, vanilla and lime, plum jam, vanilla and Gewürztraminer, plum jam and vanilla, fig jam, honey and lavender jelly muscadine grape, kiwi and green tomato jam), come back later ! :-)

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A stock like that

Blow, blow, my little zioziozillongazouilleurs!

Drink, drink this good broth that warms you aileronprèducoeur!

beginning of this year is frozen. That does not displease me. It was announced more snow tomorrow ... So to fight against the frost ...

Broth "like that" anti-frost

Ingredients 1 large chicken, 4 lemongrass, 1 inch fresh ginger, 4 cloves, 4 peppercorns, 4 juniper berries 4 bay cilantro, a pinch of spice, 4 carrots, 1 onion, 1 / 2 package of soba pasta, 2 large handfuls of spinach (frozen) 4 large handfuls of peas (frozen) 1 small handful of dried mushrooms; 1 tablespoon oyster sauce, 1 bunch coriander, 1 bouquet garni, 1 teaspoon coarse salt;

Procedure

Cut the chicken into 6 pieces: the wings, thighs, and then the carcass in half lengthwise. Dip chicken pieces in 3 to 4 liters of cold water, depending on your container. Bring slowly to boil. Skim regularly. When the broth does not produce foam, add the lemongrass, the piece of peeled fresh ginger, cloves, pepper, juniper berries and lightly crushed coriander, spices, bouquet garni, carrots peeled, cleaned and sliced into 4 sections each. Add salt, cover and hold short stock for nearly two hours. The meat will detach herself from the carcass.

Once the chicken ready, remove the vegetables, spices and meat. Discard spices. Debone and remove skin from meat. Strain the broth and reserve it possible to cool until fat rises to the surface and solidifies. Remove with slotted spoon. Bring to a new stock to boil, add the dried mushrooms and oyster sauce. When mushrooms appear properly inflated, add the vegetables (carrots, spinach, peas) and soba pasta. Cooking: 6-7 minutes over low heat. Add just before serving, coriander leaves. Serve and eat hot.

And since I lost all my homework ...

m E i the the E R u s o V e U x 2O1O to t O u S !

soon!