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Taste of Food Fare by Christine BarbourFebruary 12, 2003 True confessions: I am a
sucker for those pastel-colored little heart candies with the snappy love
notes stamped on them. Come January I am scanning the shelves for those sugary
little harbingers of Valentine's Day. Dig me. Be Mine. Oh baby.
They R 4 me. It's not just the candy I
like, although candy is always good. It's the whole idea of Valentine's Day -
a day devoted to extravagant gestures toward the ones we love. That these
gestures more often than not revolve around food is telling. Music may be the
food of love, as Shakespeare suggested, but I think, really, food is the food
of love - it is so often present at its celebration, and sharing it can be
such an act of intimacy, warmth and connection. In our lives, my
husband's and mine, Valentine's Day is the holiday of choice, observed with a
well-loved food tradition that began in 1988, the year we decided to spend
Valentine's Day in That inaugural
Valentine's weekend in As it happens, all the
clichés are true. We walked miles and
miles, stopping to stare in patisserie windows at tiny tarts and dazzling
cream cakes, their glazed blueberries and raspberries outshining London's
crown jewels; eating crepes on the street, filled with sharp gruyere cheese;
sampling real French, french fries, learning for
the first time how good they can be when you fry them twice; and rewarding a
climb to the top of Montmartre with a cone of
sublime chocolate and hazelnut ice cream. Our few forays into
restaurants were scrumptious, belying the warnings of our British tour guide
who had whiled away the hours on the bus instructing us how to order our meat
"biencuit," or "well done." When we tasted the
steak frites (medium rare, merci beaucoup) with a
rich tarragony sauce Béarnaise, and the steamed
mussels in their garlicky winy broth, three quarters of us became Francophiles
on the spot. Even Daughter Number 1, returned from her solitary expedition in
a more conciliatory mood, allowed as
how We settled for that. We went back to A year or two after our
return, the airline we fly most often was running a two-for-one February Paris
special. Incredibly, it would cost us only $250 each to go. We went, just my
husband and I this time. It lacked the dramatic
edge of our first visit, and we missed the girls, but it was good. So good
that I started to seek out the February deals, snapping them up when they were
there, and rationalizing why we should go anyway when they weren't. The kids,
off living their own lives, didn't come with us again, but other friends did,
and siblings, nieces, and cousins. It turned out that
February was a great time to visit It was cheap, or
relatively so, the hoards of tourists who wanted to visit And the food, oh the
food! If the ripe summer crops of eggplant, tomatoes, melons and peaches were
not yet in the markets, there were early spring compensations. Scrambled eggs
with black truffles, warming beef daubes, pungent cheeses, and caramelized
apple
tarte Tatin with crème fraiche. No, we didn't
miss summer much, on our mid-winter breaks to Almost before we knew
what had happened, we'd spent nearly 10 Valentine's Days in Paris, going just
for a long weekend, braving jet lag for the pleasure of staying at the same
family-run hotel (where they sometimes greeted us with a "welcome home"),
strolling the heart-wrenchingly beautiful streets by the river, going to cozy
romantic restaurants, buying flowers, olives, bread, cheese and wine in the
markets on the rue de Buci, and having glorious
picnics in our room. Sometimes it snowed and
we would shiver and sit in snug cafes. Sometimes it felt like spring and we
would watch children sail boats in the pond at the Jardindu
Luxembourg. Always it was wonderful, a precious few days carved out of a life
that got busier and busier at home in Often as we walked and
savored the city (especially when we passed a McDonald's) we reminisced about
the first visit. Daughter Number 1 fighting her way into adulthood with so
much passion, Daughter Number 2, content to be a child for a few more years,
each finding a "We have to come back
with the kids," we'd say, but then we thought of the expense, and the kids'
hectic schedules, and it never quite happened. No doubt they would return some
day, but it was looking increasingly unlikely that it would be with us. By 1998 one daughter was
engaged, and the other was just about to be. My husband and I had wrapped up a
huge project, an 800-plus-page textbook on American politics that had consumed
six years of our lives. It was time to celebrate
all sorts of things, the finished book, yes, but also the milestones in the
girls' lives and the young men they were proposing to bring into the family. Reluctant to declare the
days of family vacations finally behind us, we rashly de ided
to do it. Their Christmas presents that year were guidebooks, airplane
tickets, and hotel reservations, with Valentine's dinner for six booked at a
restaurant on top of the It turns out you can go
home again, at least when Reintroducing the kids to the city they
hadn't seen for ten years, watching them starry eyed in love with their guys,
feasting in a restaurant that overlooked the City of Lights, all a sparkle,
reliving and teasing and loving and laughing - it was the very best weekend of
a very good bunch. And just in time, as it turns out. Two
weddings came in rapid succession, and then one darling grandbaby, and another
one on the way. The girls are as happy as can be, and so are
we. A couple of decades from now, they'll start to know for themselves that
painful mixture of love and pride, regret and nostalgia that comes with an
emptying nest. And maybe, about then,
they'll finally be free for another trip to Share your thoughts on this week's column
with Christine Barbour via e-mail at
barbour@heraldt.com. She's also still looking for your nominations for the
best french fry in town. Next week, Food Fare teammate Jennifer Piurek
will report on the meal served by Food Works, which provides fresh, home
cooked meals for busy families. Tarte Tatin Despite the complicated sounding directions,
this tart, named for the Tatin sisters who made it
popular, is just a dish of caramelized apples covered with a layer of pastry,
baked, and then flipped over so that the apples are on top, crust on the
bottom. This homey, rustic tart is especially
delicious with a dollop of thick crème fraiche or
sour cream. Note: Many tartetatin
recipes call for arranging the apples in semicircles until they fill the pan,
and then caramelizing them without stirring them
about so they hold their ordered pattern. If you want this more formal effect,
you must cook the apples on the stove in the same pan in which they go into
the oven (a special tarteTatin pan, or in a
skillet that goes from stove top to oven). Melt the butter and sugar, arrange
the apples quarters over the caramel in circular patterns, wedging them in
tightly. Cook over medium high heat, watching carefully, without stirring. As
apples shrink in cooking, tuck new ones into empty spaces. When caramel is
dark brown and apples are cooked (35-45 minutes), cover with pastry and bake
for 30 minutes until crust is golden brown. Flip over as recipe instructs. 1 recipe Sweet Pastry
(see below) 1 cup sugar 1 stick butter 8 medium apples (about 4½
pounds) crème fraiche
(often available at Sahara Mart or Bloomingfoods),
sour cream or sweetened whipped
cream as you prefer Note: Apples will cook
down, so peel more than you think you need. Choose firm, tart apples -soft
watery fruit will disintegrate in cooking. Prepare sweet pastry and
chill for a least 1 hour, or overnight. Preheat oven to 425
degrees. Peel and core apples and
cut into quarters. Melt sugar and butter in
a deep 12-inch skillet or frying pan. Add apples and stir to coat. Cook over
medium heat about 45 minutes until apples are well caramelized. You want them
to turn a deep mahogany brown color, but not to burn. Keep a close eye on
them, since they can quickly go from brown to burned. When apples are brown and
caramelized, move them to a 10- inch oven proof tart pan (or keep them in the
same skillet or pan if it is oven proof). If you are moving them, work quickly
because the caramel hardens as it cools. Roll out the pastry to a
12-inch circle between two sheets of parchment paper. Peel top layer of paper
off, place pastry over tart, and peel off remaining paper. Tuck the dough in
along the edges so that the apples are nestled snuggly inside. If your baking dish is
very full, place a cookie sheet underneath to catch bubbling juices and
caramel. Bake in a 425 degree oven until crust is golden brown, approximately
25-30 minutes. When tart is cooked,
remove from oven. Unmold it immediately so apples
do not stick. Place a large heat-proof platter face down on top of the tart
and with oven mitts or heavy hot pads, hold baking dish and plate together. Quickly flip the entire
thing over, so tart is upside down on platter. Let it rest a few seconds, and
tart should settle onto platter on its own. Loosen crust with a knife if it
sticks, and replace any apples that have stuck to the pan. Serve warm or at room
temperature with a dollop of crème fraiche, sour
cream, or sweetened whipped cream if you prefer. Sweet Pastry 1½ c. all purpose flour 2 tablespoons. sugar ½ teaspoon salt ¾ cup (1 ½ sticks) sweet
(unsalted) butter, chilled and cut into small pieces 3 tablespoons ice water
(the amount you need will vary with the humidity of the air and the dryness
of the flour) In the bowl of a food
processor, whirl flour, sugar, and salt until blended. Add butter and process
briefly until butter is the size of pea-sized crumbs. Add ice water, one
tablespoon at a time, until dough starts to gather together. Stop processing,
turn dough out onto waxed paper or cooking parchment, and gather lightly
together into a disk. Wrap loosely with paper and refrigerate for at least one
hour or overnight. Note: Over-processing or
over-handling the pastry dough will make it tough. Serves
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