desserts

julia’s cherry clafouti and a side of ham

~ jama ~ 25 Comments

“It’s fun to get together and have something good to eat at least once a day. That’s what human life is all about — enjoying things.” ~ Julia Child

Something magical happens whenever I make a Julia Child recipe that doesn’t happen with Martha, Mario, Giada or anyone else.

I hear Joooolia’s voice — cheery, chirpy, hooting and emphatic, reading aloud all the ingredients, explaining what I should do every step of the way, reminding me, “Above all, have a good time!”

“You don’t have to cook fancy or complicated masterpieces – just good food from fresh ingredients.”

Making french bread on “The French Chef,” Episode 222, 1971, photo by Paul Child (Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University)

Phew! I’m glad she said that, because I wasn’t planning to tackle her 15-page French Bread recipe any time soon. It’s summer, the living is easy, and Julia has just the thing for those of us clamoring for an easy sweet fix. Oui oui, clafoutis!

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JC 100th Birthday Week: the queen of cuisine and her favorite chocolate cake

~ jama ~ 29 Comments

“The best way to execute French cooking is to get good and loaded and whack the hell out of a chicken. Bon appétit. ” ~ Julia Child

photo by Jim Scherer

The more I learn about Julia Child, the more I love her.

I’ve been having a ball rereading her memoir, My Life in France (Knopf, 2005), dipping into her letters with literary mentor Avis DeVoto, fanning myself at the juicy details of her courtship with Paul Child in Noël Riley Fitch’s biography, Appetite for Life (Doubleday, 1997), and marveling anew at both volumes of Mastering the Art of French Cooking (Knopf, 1961, 1970).

Dear Eater, I can honestly say that although I’d been aware of  MTAOFC for years and years — knew it was a classic, groundbreaking masterwork and veritable Bible for American cooks interested in French cuisine — it wasn’t until I made my first recipe from Volume One, La Reine de Saba (Queen of Sheba Chocolate and Almond Cake), that I truly realized what a culinary masterpiece it truly is. That the words, “master” and “art” are part of the title says it all. More on the magical cake in a bit.

Julia with co-authors Simone Beck and Louisette Bertholle by Paul Child (courtesy of Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University).

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friday feast: riffing on brown

~ jama ~ 59 Comments

*This post is dedicated to Frances Park and Ginger Park, passionate purveyors of the ultimate edible browns.

***

My name is Jama and I am a serial brownogamist.

I just can’t help myself. Something about those little brown shorts and matching socks. The rum hum of that engine, the pounding of running shoes on the front walk, the telltale whump as a parcel is tossed onto the porch.

Thing is, he has no idea what I look like. I just hope it’s as good for him as it always is for me.

WHY I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU, UPS MAN
by Alice N. Persons

you bring me all the things I order
are never in a bad mood
always have a jaunty wave as you drive away
look good in your brown shorts
we have an ideal uncomplicated relationship
you’re like a cute boyfriend with great legs
who always brings the perfect present
(why, it’s just what I’ve always wanted!)
and then is considerate enough to go away
oh, UPS Man, let’s hop in your clean brown truck and elope !
ditch your job, I’ll ditch mine
let’s hit the road for Brownsville
and tempt each other
with all the luscious brown foods —
roast beef, dark chocolate,
brownies, Guinness, homemade pumpernickel, molasses cookies
I’ll make you my mama’s bourbon pecan pie
we’ll give all the packages to kind looking strangers
live in a cozy wood cabin
with a brown dog or two
and a black and brown tabby
I’m serious, UPS Man. Let’s do it.
Where do I sign?

~ from Don’t Be a Stranger (Sheltering Pines Press, 2007)

***

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a sweet dash of aloha

~ jama ~ 34 Comments

In a perfect world, we could all have our cake and eat it too. We could savor chocolate cupcakes and lick every bit of ganache off our fingertips without an ounce of guilt.

In the real world, even before we take that first bite, we often hear the tsk tsks of those ever present sugar police, lecturing us about fat, calories, cholesterol, and glycemic indexes.

A Sweet Dash of Aloha: Guilt-Free Hawai’i Desserts and Snacks (Watermark Publishing, 2011) is a wonderful guide for those of us who’d like to find healthier ways to satisfy our sweet cravings without feeling deprived or compromising taste.

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robyn hood black, leader of the pack

~ jama ~ 65 Comments

#8 in the Poetry Potluck Series, celebrating National Poetry Month 2012.

Robyn with her office cat, May, who’s helping her celebrate the arrival of her contributor copies of THE ARROW FINDS ITS MARK (Roaring Brook, 2012).

Awrrrroooooo!

Children’s poet and author Robyn Hood Black is here! She’s one of several newish online friends I’ve met through Poetry Friday, and I have so enjoyed visiting her blog Read, Write, Howl every week to see just what this multi-talented, animal-loving gal is up to.

Will she post an original haiku or a piece of her beautiful artwork? Will she share pictures of the wolves she cavorts with as a volunteer for a nearby wildlife preserve, or maybe poetry and drawings created by some of the many children she’s met through school visits and community presentations?  No matter what she does,  Robyn’s passion always shines through.

Like the best of potluck guests, Robyn’s brought along both grog and grub — a previously unpublished, bewitchingly amusing, finely tuned recipe poem, and a batch of her newly renamed Oatmeal Bars (I am understandably highly partial to these).  She also created a gorgeous relief print to go with her poem. Lots to savor here, so don your black bibs and enjoy every delectable word and crumb!

Robin: My brother Mike and I used to transform our circa-1970 ranch house into a haunted house each Halloween — we charged admission and everything. We had a spooky secret passage in a tunnel under his built-in bed, bowls of peeled grape eyeballs on the bathroom counter, headless people sitting at the dining room table — the whole nine yards. I was usually a black cat or something, but Mike, who grew up to be an engineer, was a haunted house himself one year. Very impressive.

The idea for this poem came to me one day earlier this year when I was out walking the dog — a crow was cawing above us, and I just started thinking of tangible and intangible things — in black and white — that might go into a “spooky brew.”

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