Monday, August 24, 2009

petit bout de chou (introducing our little bit of cabbage)


We are tickled pink (tickled blue?) to welcome our petit Augustin, born Friday, August 14th, 8 lbs, 8 oz. He arrived a week early, which we can attribute to one of three things: a 4 hour trip to Ikea, a midnight urge to make dozens of jumbo meatballs, or what the French call (quite delicately, I think) la methode italienne.

We are enjoying G.’s French paternity leave (3 weeks!) and napping in shifts. A true Parisian, Augustin made his first outing to the CafĂ© Carillon around the corner at one week old. He is adapting nicely to Johnny Halliday, rap music and the whir of the coffee machine. For his mother, a single pressing question remains: when oh when will the good sushi place get back from vacation…

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Death, resurrection and raw cookie dough


A week of strange juxtapositions – Julia Child has been resurrected, and John Hughes passed away. One makes me think of Grand Marnier soufflĂ©, the other of raw cookie dough.

Julie and Julia doesn’t come out in France until September 16th, but my mother did a little reconnaissance on Sunday afternoon. Julie Powell and I share an editor (Judy Clain) and a publishing house (Little Brown), so naturally my mom wanted to see what else we had in common. She called me straight from the movie theatre. Her comment: “I didn’t know anyone but you could be so obsessed with a lemon zester.”

Amy Adam’s unfortunate haircut aside, I just love the idea of Meryl Streep as a 6ft hot toddy. As if we needed further proof – I think it’s been clear since she rescued Mama Mia – that she really can do ANYTHING.

John Hughes’ death started a flurry of gen-X mourning among my Facebook friends. Sad but true – our entire stock of adolescent fantasies has been provided by 6 or 8 hours of celluloid. Well into our teens, my friend Sarah and I had a ritual: The Breakfast Club, a mixing bowl of raw cookie dough and two spoons. Whatever else the women of my generation have become (and that’s a lot of wonderful things), in our heart of hearts, we are all Hughes’ girls – kissing a bad boy, designing our own prom dress, and waiting for some guy in a letterman’s jacket to make a pass over birthday candles while squatting on the dining room table.


Saturday, August 8, 2009

Homesick Maple Muffins and Sausage Toes


Sorry for the hiatus – it’s been a heavy week, literally. Here I was – all proud of myself for being “pregnant like a French woman” with a basketball under my shirt. Then I discover at my appointment yesterday that I’ve gained 11 pounds in 10 days – most of it, it seems, in my toes. With two weeks to go, I am filling up with water like a fish tank.

My family has very long skinny toes – but now, they look like little sausages. Pigs without their blankets. It’s depressing and uncomfortable. I shudder to think of the opinion of a certain foot fetishist I dated after college. He would flee in horror.

It’s been quite a “French week” – by which I mean a week where I find out something stupid and ridiculous about this country that I must learn to accept. It’s about my family name. I am an only child – the last one to carry the Bard name, and I feel strongly that I’d like to pass it on to my child.

Apparently, in France, it is illegal to use the mother’s maiden name as a middle name. Even more bizarre, there is a new law that if you want to hyphenate with your husband’s last name, you have to use a double hyphen (- -), which pretty much guarantees mistakes and administrative woe for the rest of the kid’s life. I’m trying to be philosophical. Some days I succeed, some days I don’t.



During these French weeks – I often get homesick for American style food. I start reading The Joy of Cooking in bed and thinking a lot about cream cheese frosting. I was flipping though my copy of Maple Syrup Recipes by Ken Haedrich, where I found these Maple Oat Muffins. They are made with oats and buttermilk, which seemed like a wholesome way to deal with mid-morning carb cravings.


I had a pint of raspberries from the lone vendor still left at our Sunday market. Perfect. And a dead banana in the fridge. In it went.



For the sake of freshness – and portion control – I tend to freeze my muffins and bake them individually when I’m in the mood. With a sprinkle of brown sugar on top, they made my “French” week a little sweeter.


Homesick Maple Banana Muffins with Fresh Raspberries


1 ¼ cup old-fashioned oats
1 cup whole wheat flour
½ cup unbleached or all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
½ cup maple syrup
¼ cup vegetable oil
1 dead (overripe) banana
1 cup fresh raspberries
Light brown sugar (or raw sugar) for the tops

Preheat the oven to 400°. Line a 12 cup muffin tray tin with paper (or foil) liners and set aside.

Measure out the oats; crush between your fingers until you have a mixture of oats and “oat flour”. Add the other dry ingredients. Toss to combine.

In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs. Then blend in the buttermilk, maple syrup and oil. Mush up the dead banana and whisk to combine.

Make a well in the dry ingredients, pour in the egg mixture and stir just to combine.

Fill your muffin cups halfway. Add one or two raspberries. Cover with additional batter and top with two or three raspberries. Add a sprinkle of brown sugar and bake for 20-25 minutes, until toothpick comes out clean. Serve hot from the oven.

I freeze my muffins and bake them direct from the freezer. If you decide to do the same, add the sugar just before you put them in the oven. Bake for 30-35 minutes.

Makes 12 muffins.