Creamy Butternut Squash Soup

I grew up in the Mississippi River Valley region of Wisconsin, where there is a rich culture of Norwegian and German heritage.  Like many regions in the United States, the people in the Midwest enjoy a meat-and-potatoes style diet.  Perhaps it is because of our rich farming history, and it gets so cold there, with the windchill dropping below zero in the winter months.

When I moved to Seattle in the spring of 2002 I delved into cooking, and I noticed vegetables that I had never experienced growing up in the Midwest.  One time I mentioned cooking kale to my grandma, and she said she had "only seen kale before as a decorative garnish on a vegetable platter."  Another time I excitedly went to my mom having discovered Brussels sprouts.  I couldn't believe we never had them growing up.  She said, "there was a reason for that..." My mom didn't like Brussels sprouts.

Another food I never saw growing up was butternut squash.  In the Pacific Northwest butternut squash in the store is a sure sign of fall.  Once we start eating butternut squash, we don't stop until spring.  The eating-local movement is strong in Seattle, and it feels good to be living in such a lush, temperate climate where we are able to grow an abundance of food year round.

When I was first introduced to butternut squash soup I was unsure of how I felt about it; it felt like an anomaly. Where was the meat and the substance?  I had grown up in the meat-heavy Midwest, and having a soup with vegetables as the main component is rare.  Most soups have one or more types of meat in them, and I never saw them puréed.

My palate has changed immensely since moving to Seattle.  I have grown to love the sweet, creamy texture of a butternut squash soup, and I often crave it.  I have a feeling this butternut squash soup will make you very happy; it is the perfect dish for a chilly evening.  It is loaded with fresh sage, and finished with cream.  Sometimes I even make it with chicken stock, but vegetable broth is just as good.

This recipe was inspired by one I found in the blog Smitten Kitchen, though I pared my version down quite a bit.  Start by dicing 1 large onion, and 4 garlic cloves.  Prepare the squash by slicing off the bottom, removing the skin with a vegetable peeler, and chopping it into four large pieces.  Chop the base of the squash in half again and remove the seeds with a spoon.  Next, dice the squash into 1 inch pieces.  Finally, chop 2 Tbsp fresh sage leaves.

In a soup pot, heat 2 Tbsp butter and 2 Tbsp cooking oil over medium heat and begin sautéing the onion and garlic.  When the onions are soft, add the sage, stirring it as you go, then add the squash.  Add 6 cups of vegetable or chicken stock (or 6 cups of water and 2 Tbsp of soup bouillon).  We like to have Better Than Bouillon always on hand at our house.

Simmer the ingredients for about thirty minutes, or until the squash is tender.  When tender, remove the soup from the heat and purée it using a immersion blender, or purée it in batches using a conventional blender. When the soup is puréed, stir in 1/4 cup heavy cream.

I like to drink my soup straight from a mug.  It's a good way to curl up with a hot, comforting soup and stay warm through the grey, chilly, Pacific Northwest winter.

Rustic Sandwich Rolls

Whenever we are about to have guests over for a meal, we go through a brainstorm process to decide what to make.  Even when we suggest something we both agree on, I wait for the ah-ha moment: the moment where I know that there could not possibly be a more perfect meal.  If it's summer the obvious choice is to grill something, and if it's winter we move toward soup or slow cooking.

After we got back from Paris we had a long list of people to see, and two of those people were Ariel's dads.  Ariel's dad, Jeff, is a chef.  Since the first day he and I met we have had long conversations about food and cooking.  I love cooking for Jeff because we have a similar style: rustic with delicious flavor pairings.  In fact, one of the last meals we ate before leaving for Euope was with Ariel's family, and Jeff made a shrimp and avocado salad that I daydreamed about the entire time we were away.

The meal we were going to make was for a 1pm Sunday lunch, a tricky time because it's past the time we wanted to serve eggs, but before the time we would cook Sunday dinner.  We continued to brainstorm, until I remembered these rolls...

I adapted them awhile back from one of my favorite bakers, Jim Lahey, who makes a long sandwich roll called a Stecca.  I loved the consistency of the dough: a wet glob with minimal structure, the perfect metaphor for baking in a tiny kitchen with an electric oven.

Our menu for the Sunday lunch would be grilled corn-on-the-cob, Ariel's potato salad, and beef burgers on the fresh rolls; topped with sweet pickle sauce, Romaine lettuce, and sliced Walla Walla onions.

Start these rolls the day before you want to serve them. The recipe will make six substantial rolls, or eight smaller. (We toasted our leftover rolls and filled them with a wonderful tuna salad.)



Combine in a large, stainless steel bowl:
1 1/2 cups or 350 grams cool water
1/4 tsp or 1 gram active dry yeast
3 cups or 400 grams bread flour
1/2 tsp or 3 grams sea salt

Stir, moving your hand clockwise (moving in one direction avoids breaking up the gluten) until all of the ingredients are combined. Add drops of water as needed if there are areas of the dough that do not appear wet, with dry patches of flour on them.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap, and let it sit at room temperature for 12-18 hours.

When you take the cover off of the dough, notice the great boozy smell: that's the fermentation process at work.

Flour the work surface and use a bowl scraper to bring the dough out of the bowl onto the floured area.



Like this...

Working your way around the periphery of the dough, fold the dough up onto itself.  Flip the dough seamside down, and then then dust the top with flour.  Cover the dough with a clean floursack towel or a piece of plastic wrap, and let it sit for 2 hours. 

After 1 1/2 hours preheat the oven to 500 degrees F and cover a 13-by-18-by-1-inch baking sheet with parchment; brush with oil.  

Using a bench scraper (pictured below) divide the dough into six or eight pieces.  Gently move each piece to the oiled pan; brush each roll with oil, and sprinkle with salt.

Try not to worry about how they look on the pan; each one will look unique, it's part of their charm.

Check the rolls at 15 minutes, and leave them in the oven for another minute or two, if needed.

Let the rolls cool on a rack, and image the possibilities.

A Few of My Favorite Things, Parisian

On our one-year wedding anniversary, Ariel and I decided to take a pilgrimage to Montmartre, where the Basilica of the Sacré Cœur (Sacred Heart) stands as the highest point in Paris. On our way to the top, we stumbled upon St. Pierre of Montmartre; a welcome solace from the crowds. Inside, the light in the chapel drew us in, and I felt peace in that moment as I absorbed the ancient architecture, originally built in the twelfth century.

On the train to Paris we watched the film Midnight in Paris.  Below is a photograph of Lapin Agile, a famous Montmartre cabaret; it reminded me of the film.  On that day in Montmartre, as I stood beneath the old, pink cabaret I understood the main character in the film.  I felt a nostaligic tug in my heart; a longing for another time, a time I had never experieced.  It felt comforting and sad like perusing through a photo album with my grandmother, reminiscing about times before I was born.

Before we left for Montmartre we emailed our friends Mark and Tyler to ask them where we should eat.  They sent us to a wonderful spot called Le Consulat, which sits at the top of hill, greeting tourists as they arrive to the neighborhood.  I was glad I had waited to try French Onion soup in Paris; Le Consulat's version was wonderful and surprisingly light, since the broth was made with chicken stock and white wine.  It was delicious and perfect.

A couple days later we finally braved the crowds and made it to the Louvre.  This was my favorite sculpture, L'Amore et Psyche, by Antonio Canova, 1797.  The shot was taken from behind; it was the angle in which I discovered the sculpture, and as it turned out, it was the angle I liked best.  I felt there was something innocent about the way the woman draped her arm around her lover, or as I discovered, her love.
 

On our way home from the Louvre, we decided to ride the ferris wheel; the views turned out to to be some of the best views of the trip.  We saw Paris from every angle, and it was wonderful sharing it with Ariel.  I particularily enjoyed this image...it is a ride I will never be able to experience because of motion sickness...I guess it is going along with the nostalgia theme.

I love watching ducks, always.

We loved our Paris apartment.  It was light and cozy with lots of windows, and it stayed cool night and day.

One day we wanted to try a Bahn Mi for lunch.  I did a quick internet search, and we were fortunate there was a much-loved spot, simply called Bahn Mi within a few blocks of our apartment.  We both had the BBQ pork sandwich: stuffed-full with pickled carrots, cucumbers, and fresh cilantro.

One of the last places on our list was Luxembourg Garden, and I told Ariel it was one of my favorite parks of the entire trip.  There were expansive green lawns, people playing a popular European game called Petanque, an apiary, a playground, huge fountains, sculptures, and chairs dispersed througout the park for relaxing, picnicking, and visiting with friends.  It was a gorgeous wonderland.

It is a bittersweetness that we fly back to Seattle tomorrow.  It's been a long, unforgettable journey that has touched me in ways I would not have been able to predict when we embarked two months ago. 

I have become a better person, and a better partner; for these two things I am grateful.  

I plan to keep up with Tasting the Culture back in the States.  I hope you'll continue to join me on this wonderful exploration of community and food.  

Meeting Paris

For our first day in Paris, we decided to walk a loop through our neighborbood, Marais in the 3rd arrondissement, and loop back around via the Seine river. The Marais neighborhood had been described as the Greenwich Village of Paris, and that being a place we've loved to visit, it seemed fitting we would choose a similar stomping ground here.

Hungry for our first Parisian crepe, we decided to get lunch in a spot we heard about in the Jewish Quarter.  La Droguerie greets pedestrians with it's bright blue storefront at the mouth of a miniature strip named Rue des Rosiers.  In addition to the creperie, we visited a tea shop where we sampled a wonderful iced tea blend.  There were also some clothing boutiques, a patisserie/boulangerie, and a handful of falafel joints, all which looked like great options for a return trip.

Our crepes were excellent.  Especially considering the shop owner prepared them in a matter of minutes as we watched from the street, and they only cost 5,50 each.  Although the sweet crepes looked good too, it was our first meal of the day and we share a preference for savory breakfasts; we want to go back and try a Nutella crepe for 3,00.
 

Walking through Marais, we stumbled upon Place des Vosges, a green square with four fountains, and a relaxing place to rest and observe the city.  It was a nice place for people watching.  A couple of teenagers even jumped into one of the fountains.  Paris has many squares like this one for some respite from the city.

As we continued our walk through Marais, we came to the Bastille: a towering monument which represents the tide turning event of the French Revolution, and France's enduring struggle to establish and maintain democracy.  At the top of the monument stood winged Mercury carrying a torch representing freedom.  Like many of the historical places we have visited on our travels, I was reminded what freedom means in my heart, and I left feeling humbled and grateful for those who have come before us, and fought for human rights.  

After the Bastille, we headed toward the path along the Seine river, and were mesmerized when we stumbled upon a wash of cool mist!  It was wonderful, and lovely to experience something so refreshing, created to help people cool off and tolerate hot summer days (see Ariel below).
Another bonus: it was free!  Another example of Parisian humanism.

Here I was reminded of my favorite Parisian-at-heart: Mark Leuning.  This next shot was taken for you-

We didn't go in the Norte-Dame yesterday, but we did rest in the courtyard after the somber experience of visiting the Deportaion Memorial, an underground monument built for the people taken from their homes during World War II, most of whom did not return.  Being in Italy and France we have seen so many reminders of that terrible time in our world's history, and I know it will never cease to affect me so deeply.

As we sat in the courtyard of the Nortre-Dame a dance troup began dancing in a style that seemed to integrate both modern and ancient styles of dance.  It was a beautiful surprise, and an unexpected entertainment for us as we rested our weary feet.

Love in Lyon

We rolled in on a high speed train from Marsailles and walked across town under the bluest skies, and the weight of our packs.  We decided Lyon felt much more French than the Riviera, where the menus and the way of life still felt like Italy.  As we walked through town, I noticed the Presse signs, which instantly served as a memento from home.  One of my favorite restaurants in Seattle is Cafe Presse, and as I discovered in Lyon they borrowed the signage from the French newsstands for their restaurant.  As Ariel pointed out, Cafe Presse has an assortment of magazines, which they source from Small Changes, the wholesale magazine distribution company his mother started in 1977; It seems they were able to expand on the French idea of Presse as something even more inviting than words in print.  

Lyon is a pretty city with old buildings, glorious fountains, and lots of wide open spaces to roam, a quality that can be rare for a larger city.  (In 2012 Lyon had a population of 720,890).  

There are intriguing pieces of art placed throughout the city, like this flower-petal-tree:  

Also there is a giant park in the Northeast corner of the city called Tête d'Or.  We walked through this giant gate and suddenly there were so many wonderful activites!  We did a paddleboat cruise around the lake with our American coffees au lait.  We saw ducks, geese and turtles playing and doing somersaults in the water; It almost seemed as though they were working for tips the way they worked the crowd.  They were adorable.  

After the paddleboats we walked through the park on a meandering trail, took a mini trainride with a sweet French conductor who ran the family business with his wife.  She sold tickets and ice cream, and we watched her play with their English bulldog: a cute, tired guy who drank water from an Evian bottle. 

Finally, we took a stroll through the free (yes, free!) zoo.  

I wish I could say our meal at the Bouchon that night was our favorite, but it wasn't.  It was heavy and fatty and we realized that as much as we love French cooking techniques, and the passion the French consistently put into their food, the traditional French dishes are not our favorite.  The highlight of the Bouchon meal was Ariel's dish: a quenelle in lobster sauce.  I had never had a quenelle before, and it was definitely something to write home about.  

Another thing to write home about was our meal at Les Petits Siamois.  After reading wonderful reviews, we walked over to the restaurant on our first night in Lyon.  We were turned away because they had had a very busy night and they ran out of food.  We agreed: we're going back, and we did, the very next night.  

Above you see our first course: a delicious chicken filling combined peanuts, ginger, coconut and fresh cilantro, which we wrapped into bundles with bright, Thai leaves.  

As we savored our meal the owner/waiter spent time with us at our table as he made his rounds back and fourth from the patio to the kitchen; he was such a lovely man that we felt fortunate to be on his flight path.  He shared our enthusiasm for the food, and had a wonderful time exchanging stories about food, and the places we've called home.  He told us how each day, the food was prepped fresh for that evening, and he spoke about the care he put into the ingredients for each dish.  

Today we did a rigorous hike up to a neighborhood in the north where we heard Lyon hosts a weekly farmer's market.  As we browsed the produce and meats I began feeling very inspired to cook in Paris where we will have a kitchen in our one-bedroom apartment.  

On our way down the hill we were ready for lunch, when suddenly I took in a delicious waft of something fantastique.  We turned the corner and I read the sign: YAAFA "you are a falafel addict."  

We knew exactly where we were having lunch, and YAAFA did not disappoint. The falafel balls were perfectly crisp, and well seasoned.  The whole way through we raved about the food, and even hours later we were still complimeting it...a sign of a good lunch.  Ariel said, "If we let our noses decide our restaurants every time, we'll never go wrong."  I think he's onto something.  

A Week in the French Riviera

Each night Frank and Joelle set up the trays for the next morning's breakfast at Hotel Patricia, and so this is how we begin each day.  The baguettes are chunchy on the outside, and the perfect amount of chewy and airy on the inside; the butter and jam, ideal companions. The pain au chocolat: a tasty conclusion that pairs perfectly with our last sips of coffee.

Hotel Patricia sits on the top a penisula called Cap Ferrat.  During our stay, we were fortunate to make friends with a lovely Brazillian couple living in Piedmont, Italy.  One evening they drove us out to the peninsula for a stroll; the views were spectacular as we gazed out at the northernmost point of the Mediterranean Sea and across the bay to beautiful Nice.

Our hotel is situated between the towns of Beaulieu and Villefranche, both with their own flavor. Beaulieu has been good for practical purposes: a wonderful boulangerie where we found sandwiches for lunch, and grocery markets where we found supplies for our picnics.  Villefranche-Sur-Mer: more tourists, and slightly more charming than it's neighbor, with colorful alleys filled with quaint restuarants - mostly overpriced, and shops selling various soaps, handbags, and other travel whimsy.  

                                                                                 

And of course, what first week in
France would be complete without a meal of steak frites?  This is topped avec une sauce aux champignons blanche.  It was delicious.

The picture below was taken on the bridge that links Beaulieu to Villefranche.  On the bottom of the image you can see the beach where we swim.  All of the beaches are wonderful, but that one is our favorite. The water is much warmer here than in Italy; it feels like a theraupeutic bath. Ariel and I like to wear our goggles so we can submerge our faces in the water and see the fish swimming all around us.  

Kayaking, Ferrying, Eating, & Hiking the 5 Terre

Today is a travel day, and we are getting ready to leave the Cinque Terre region, heading north and west to Villefranche-Sur-Mer which is a town in the French Riviera seven kilometers east of Nice. Last night Ariel and I reflected that we really did the Cinque Terre.  There are many ways to approach the region, and since we had an adequate amount of days we were able to partake in several modes.

First the ferry, which has access to four of the five islands; Corniglia doesn't have a port.  For 15,00 we move between the four towns by ferry for the whole day. The sights are beautiful as the ferry cruises along the 5 Terre region with bright green folliage, sailboats, and seabirds swooping down for their next meal.

Ready for lunch in Riomaggiore, we found a fun little spot called Te La Do Io La Merenda. We were drawn in by their colorful foccaccia toppings, but we quickly changed our tune when we realized they offered paper cones filled with delicous fried things. I chose the spicy chicken and Ariel had the mussels with fried pepper rings, which we loved. Both cones were finished with course sea salt that was reminiscint of eating a soft pretzel at the fair.

Until recently, it was possible to do the full hike from Monterosso to Riomaggiaori, a 12 hour undertaking, but in 2011 the Cinque Terre experienced a terrible storm resulting in debilitating mudslides.  Now, it is only possible to hike from Monterosso to Corniglia.  

As we hiked into Vernazza off the rigorous trail, we found ourselves on the main road, and were greeted by this pizza; I knew by its beauty we had to have it for lunch, but first we went for a refreshing swim in the Mediterranean.  We were so happy we ate at Pizzeria Fatelli Basso, as I rated it my second favorite pizza we've had in Italy to date.  You might recall Forno la Renella in Rome.

And so, it is time to leave the beloved 5 Terre; we are sure to return someday.  Until then I hope to remember: deep water swimming in Manarola, the creamy pesto, and the gorgeous colors which dress up each town, giving them the unequivical charms the Cinque Terre is known for.