Long Overdue- "Comfort Me With Apples"

At last! It's been a while, I know, and I apologize. After the killer cold finally sauntered out of my system, it was time for finals. But now the quarter is over, and although I still have work, I now have a bit more free time to dedicate to Petit Chou.

Chronologically speaking, I should put my turkey pictures up. Right now, however, I am interested only in the comforting things in life. Why dig for turkey photos when I can take nice new ones of pretty orchard-fresh apples?



My landlord brought these to me a week or so ago, as his brother in law owns an apple orchard. It was a bag full of these amazingly juicy, tart-yet-sweet apples. They perfectly fit the California winter feel: cold gusts of wind and kisses of sun. It was difficult not to eat them all in my favourite fashion, held in one hand and chomping away. Visions of an apple pie or tart faded as I kept grabbing one on my way out the door to work, or as I studied. On one particular evening however, I wanted my apple to be hot, spicy, and sweet. I wanted to spoon it from the bowl, and let it melt in my mouth. Baked apples can be done a variety of ways, but I stuck to the basics.

Baked Apple

Quarter an apple, and remove the core. Arrange the quarters in a bakeproof dish, and top with butter and brown sugar. Bake in a 350 degree oven for twenty minutes, or until the apple is soft. Spoon brown sugar-butter liquid over the apple, and turn on the broiler for ten minutes to roast the tops. Top with ice cream, heavy cream, nuts, or eat as is!

Bread Pudding

A couple days ago I made a post referencing a loaf of French bread. It was odd having a deliciously new loaf of crusty bread lying around specifically waiting for it to go stale, but that's exactly what I was doing. In mind I had visions of a custardy bread pudding, replete with raisins, swirled with cinnamon and nutmeg. The day came when I finally had the time to make it, only to find out I was completely shot of raisins! I still had dried cranberries from the quiche I had made, but really didn't want cranberry taste in my bread pudding. Time was tight, the raisins would have to be missed.



I used a recipe found from Simply Recipes, changing a few things around. Instead of allspice I used simply cinnamon and nutmeg, and of course there were the absent raisins. I baked two versions: one in a mini bundt pan that came in a set of 4 that I ad just picked up, and 1 in a cake pan to share with my coworkers. The single loaf I used was more than enough, even with a few pieces taken from the end for the French Toast. I loved how the mini version turned out, and enjoyed it when it was barely cool!

French Bread Pudding

1 loaf French bread torn into pieces
4 1/2 cups milk
3 eggs, lightly beaten
2 cups sugar
2 Tbsp vanilla
1 cup raisins
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

3 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted

Preheat oven to 350°F.Soak the bread in milk in a large mixing bowl. Crush with hands until well mixed and all the milk is absorbed. In a separate bowl, beat eggs, sugar, vanilla, and spices together. Gently stir into the bread mixture. Gently stir the raisins into the mixture.

Pour butter into the bottom of a 9x13 inch baking pan. Coat the bottom and the sides of the pan well with the butter. Pour in the bread mix and bake at 350°F for 35-45 minutes, until set. The pudding is done when the edges start getting a bit brown and pull away from the edge of the pan.

I topped mine with a little homemade glaze: 1/4 cup sugar with just enough water to give it a thick consistency, then drizzled over the pudding.

A Burst of Colour

I have been spoiled entirely too much lately. The company that I work for has done some dinners recently, and fortunately for me the rest of the team loves sushi just as much as I do. I usually don't got out for sushi much, even though I adore it, simply because the price can be a bit high. When someone else is paying however...

My favourite without a doubt is the unagi. Unagi anything really, unagi donburi (Or uyadon), unagi nigiri (pictured below), unagi maki... it's broiled eel with a sweet shoyu (soy) sauce. If I knew how to attempt this at home, I would, but since I fear my seemingly general inability to cook any form of a successful Asian dish; well I'll just leave it to the pros.



Here in the Silicon Valley, many sushi restaurants are Korean-owned. This usually means an appetizer of glass noodles, or jabchae. This chilled dish has a strong sesame oil flavour, but is fantastic with the kimchi and other pickles served with the main course. Although not a taste I'd associate with the subtle colour of sushi, I've come to look forward to the small plain dish of unassuming noodles and carrots.

French Toast Sunday

Today I was planning on going to the Mountain View Farmer's Market- all bundled up in a cute autumny sweater and camera in hand. Sadly, it didn't happen. I missed the lightrail, then the connection, and finally decided after waiting 30 minutes for the right lightrail that I would rather be home cooking. My tummy rumbled in agreement, so I swung on the next lightrail home. Mountain View will be there next Sunday, as shall I.

I already knew what I wanted as the rail bumped and squeaked and clattered its way towards my stop. I am very much a breakfast food girl- from runny scrambled eggs to pancakes and waffles. My last shopping trip had seen the purchase of a large French loaf however, and although the bulk of it was planned for another recipe I'll be making soon, I figured I could spare two or three slices from the end for my breakfast.



This recipe is very simple, and can be made in a flash. The ingredients here are for one person, but it's very easy to double, triple, quadruple, etc.

Sunday French Toast

3 slices of French bread
1 egg
1/4 cup half and half
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
dash salt

Whisk the egg and half and half together. Add the salt, cinnamon and nutmeg, and whisk until blended. Take each slice of bread and place it into the egg mixture, soaking up slightly. Turn and coat the other side. Pleace the bread into a large frying pan set on medium heat. Cook each side until golden brown.

You can top yours with anything from syrup to chocolate, but in this case I sprinkled some superfine sugar, a little extra cinnamon, and some thinned down cranberry jam.

Tomato is Good for the Soul

Chicken soup for the soul? Please.

The other day I was having a rough one. It's hard sometimes, moving someplace you've never been. Not knowing anyone is perhaps the most difficult part. In Wisconsin I had a set and comfortable social network, but here- although I love California, it's pretty much starting from the ground up.

Throwing myself into this blog is one way I've attempted to get past those days where life can feel pretty hopeless. I've loved puttering about in my kitchen, music dancing from my speakers, throwing together quiches and scones and more recently, soup. It's an act that not only gets my mind off my troubles, but also serves as a feeling of accomplishment when something turns out right. And this soup? It turned out very right.



Tomato soup has always been my favourite, and I am fortunate to rent from a traditional Italian couple with a (not so) traditional tomato garden that takes up half the back yard. I slipped on some shoes to poke around the fading garden. I was in no mood to wrestle over a big pot of soup, but a quick pick-me-up might be perfect. I started selecting tomatoes.



I have never made tomato soup, and this was pretty much by wing. Some steps I figured out half-way through; such as it might be a good idea to get the skins off the tomatoes, and that seeds don't constitute a creamy soup. I also had no masher, ricer, processor, blender, or any form of making a puree. So I went rustic, and I used my hands. Therapeutic? You bet.

Creamy Tomato Soup For One

1 dozen cherry tomatoes
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons heavy cream
salt and pepper to taste.

Quarter, peel, and de-seed tomatoes. With cherry tomatoes, this is easier than it looks. Simply use your thumb to scoop out the seeds along the sides, then again to remove the meat from the peel. By your third tomato you'll totally have it down. Once they're in a bowl (with a few renegade seeds, probably) you'll want to mash the suckers. Form your hand into a fist and press down slowly, so as to not cover yourself in tomato juice. It doesn't need to be a puree consistency, as long as they are smooshed pretty well.

Heat up the olive oil in a small saucepan, gently. You don't want to fry the tomatoes when you add them. Add the tomatoes and stir for a few moments, then top with 1 cup water. Cover, and let this simmer down and reduce, about ten to fifteen minutes. Once it's cooked down to a thick, bubbling consistency, stir, then add another cup of water. Up the heat slightly to quickly reduce, stirring often. You'll be smooshing the tomatoes slightly here, turning them into a bit of a tomato paste, and you'll want to be careful not to burn them over the high heat. Once the tomatoes have cooked down, remove them from the heat. Add the cream a very little bit at a time, stirring quickly, then add about 3/4 cup of water. Place this back over the heat once more for a few moments, stirring. Serve in one bowl, topped with crème fraîche and crushed red pepper.

This soup was creamy, thick with tomato, and vibrantly alive. It tasted so amazingly good, and heartwarming. Chicken noodle? Not on your life.