Research & Recipes

It’s that time of year again. The sun goes to the other end of the world. A break in the thick, low-hanging clouds is a rarity; a whole half-day of sun happens maybe once a week. People scuttle from their jobs to their homes. Summer’s throng of tourists thins out, and the ones that remain walk faster and take fewer pictures. Windows are closed; radiators are turned on. The damp, taunting chill of impending winter is everywhere, walking the boulevards and taking the last metro home, where it becomes the ultimate monster under the bed.

Yes, my friends. Squash and soup season. When research and cooking are quite possibly at their best. While there remains a strong desire to venture outside to go shopping experience the life of the mind through Paris’ myriad cultural institutions, the city is now endlessly gray and wet, and sitting in an art library for long hours of research or delving into a juicy secondary source while soup simmers on the stove becomes infinitely easier.

Fall cooking has long been my favorite. In college, our brothel apartment (8 women! 1 stove!) was a rotating door of recipes and their accompanying aromas, and fall brought the most exciting: roasting root vegetables, squash and bean soups,* spice cookies, all sorts of savory casseroles; even a Thanksgiving turducken. Add a few recipes (and a new obsession with leeks!), take out the turducken, and I’m set for fall in any city.

Research, too, has transitioned into high gear. Despite my home away from home in Paris' spoken word scene, art history is what actually brought me here. And slowly, I’ve been reminded of the exhilarating academic chase (and catch, if we’re going to go with that metaphor): the careful working and reworking of a project, endless discoveries, questions that probe at the innermost parts of me, and the huge, warm and tingly, whole-body nerdgasms along the way. We're not going to talk about the utterly anticlimactic days. 

Lithograph of Fauveau's work (BnF)

Working with the art historical mafia several nineteenth-century French art historians, I've set out to understand more about the artist Félicie de Fauveau, who spent her life depicting women as heroic and holy, abhorred men and the principle of marriage, was exiled for political treason, and had a little somethin somethin corresponded passionately with several powerful female figures. She also supported her mother and brother on her earnings as a sculptor, and was able to carve out a very specific circle of patrons. Oh, and she cast a dagger inspired by Romeo & Juliet. Metaphallic?

 

The original badass, right!?!? Except she wasn’t. Far from the Belle Époque’s pétroleuses or writers of early feminist periodicals, she supported the Monarchy in a time of revolution, believing that the true ruler was legitimated by God. Kind of a proto-lesbian Emma Bovary meets Michelle Bockmann, but smart artistically motivated. That her deep nostalgia for the past (including an unfortunate affinity for Feudalism...) was communicated through the style troubadour and some über romantic works may not be surprising, but it does raise questions about women, French [proto-]feminism, power structure in the Monarchy, and the success of her sculpture as a form of social protest.

And that is where I am. Asking a lot of questions, reading even more in hopes of answers. In the kitchen, there is a new pot of soup on the stove. I’m off to go check it, now.

*From the Kitchen 

Simple Lentil Soup
Makes 6 or 7 servings and keeps up to a week. The flavors become more robust after 12-24 hours!

Spices: 2 bay leaves, 3 sprigs fresh sage, tied with twine; 2 tsp. each of: basil, cinnamon, cumin, thyme, oregano; salt & pepper to taste
2-3 Tsbp. Olive Oil
1 Onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
3 leeks, cleaned and slivered
3 carrots, sliced into edible-sized chunks
5-7 large mushrooms, slivered or diced
2 cups green lentils
1 cup red wine + more to drink while cooking
1 14 oz. can diced tomatoes, with juice
5 cups water OR vegetable/chicken broth (or a mixture of the two)
6 oz. spinach, sliced into ribbons

Sauté the spices, onions, garlic, leeks, and olive oil in a soup pot over medium-high heat until the onion is transparent and the leeks have wilted and come apart, about 3-5 minutes. Mix in the mushrooms and carrots; sauté for another 2 minutes or so. Add wine and tomatoes in their juice, stir; add water and lentils. Lower the heat until the soup is at an even simmer. Cover and leave simmering for 45-60 minutes, stirring occasionally.
When 5 minutes remain, add the spinach. Nom nom nom.
 

Warm Spinach and Chevre Salad
Serves 2

Tip: this would be infinitely better if the zucchini and potatoes were roasted with basil (and also, if there were roasted asparagus), but I’ve been afraid of blowing my kitchen up with the little oven I found on top of the refrigerator.

6 oz. spinach or baby spinach
1 12 to 14 oz. can canellini beans (or beans soaked overnight)
1/2 to 3/4 cup chevre, sliced however you please
1 pear, cut into bite sized pieces

1 medium sized potato, slivered
1 large zucchini, sliced lengthwise
2 Tbsp. olive oil
optional: 2 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar

 

Toss the first 4 ingredients in a large salad bowl. Set aside.
Fill a medium sized saucepan with 1 1/2 cups of water. Bring to a boil; throw in the potato slices and cook until soft, about 6 minutes. Add zucchini; boil for 1-2 minutes, or until it is just tender. Drain water and, removing the pan from the heat, add olive oil, stirring it in quickly. 

Dump the warm veggies over the salad ingredients; toss until the spinach has wilted slightly. Add the vinegar if you like a balsamic-y twist.

Cuisiner sans four? Mais Ouais!

There is something very calming about making food. In this city - and really, in any city - it becomes so easy to lose track of one's center. I lurch forward with the mass of humanity on the métro, walk faster, smile far less, pull out defensive mechanisms far more, and worry so much about where I'm going that I sometimes forget to take in the scenery. While the last may not have been a problem when commuting to my former job, in Houston (see: terrible urban planning), it is here, where the winding Haussmanian boulevards and nineteenth-century buildings share space with with more recent cafés, sweet newspaper stands, and extremely beautiful people.

Having not yet found a yoga studio to reconnect myself with the universe, I turned to the next best thing: the kitchen. Grace à my big Jewish family, where food is inextricably connected with love, cooking has long been ritual; I move from cutting board to stovetop with surprising grace, understand improvisation in a new light, and generally end the night feeling very grounded. Moving here, however, demanded something new: I have never been without an oven. I'm used to roasting vegetables, toasting granola, and whipping up breads and baked goods. But after three days of cheese and jam sandwiches and greek yogurt, I figured I should get to work, oven or no oven.


If the darling space wasn't tempting enough, the previous tenant also left a gorgeous knife set. What better way to try it out, than on a new recipe?

Eggs in a Tomato-Spinach Sauce

Serves 2

1 tbsp. olive oil
2 small to medium sized tomatoes, finely chopped
4 oz/125 g spinach (about a bag; use more if desired)
10-12 oz (about 1 can) of whatever pasta sauce you like (I prefer sweet and mushroomy)
2-3 eggs
2 cloves garlic, minced or chopped into thin slivers
1 onion, diced
4 hearty slices baguette or grainy toast.

Optional:
1/2 cup finely chopped mushrooms
teaspoon: basil, oregano, sea salt, black pepper, dash of cinnamon
Glug of wine
Cheese! Whatever kind you like, and as much as you want.

Prep work: Because this recipe cooks rather quickly and needs supervision, prepare the bread/toast and cheese beforehand. Just place 2 slices of bread on each plate and set the cheese aside. I've only made the recipe with sliced chevre and camembert, but I imagine it would be delicious with crumbled feta, grated parmesan, manchego, mozzarella or even a shredded sharp cheddar.

In a medium sized saucepan, sauté the onion, garlic, and herbs at medium heat until the garlic is just slightly browned. Add spinach in two stages, allowing to cook down (about 1 minute). Stir in tomatoes, tomato sauce, wine and cinnamon. Reduce the heat, bringing the liquid mixture to a slow boil. Crack the eggs one at a time into the sauce, delicately enough so that they remain afloat (if they sink, they will scramble a bit but still be delicious). Using a teaspoon or spatula, gently baste the egg whites in the tomatoey liquid until they are firm, about three minutes. Cook 30 seconds to a minute more for runny yolks; longer for firmer yolks.

When the eggs are finished to your personal liking, ladle the egg-tomato-spinach mixture onto bread, topping it with cheese. Serve immediately. Bon Appétit!