I love rhubarb, how it has its own distinctive flavor and the fact that it looks like celery but  can be transformed into all sorts of delectable desserts. It’s tangy and tart, juicy with a bit of crunch, and it’s one of the first edible plants available in the springtime.

Sometimes I think we forget that rhubarb is capable of holding its own in a dish – that it doesn’t always need to be paired with strawberries (which aren’t in season here yet anyway) to create something sublime. And that’s the beauty of this Farmhouse Rhubarb Pie: the rhubarb speaks for iteself and retains a bit of  its tang even as it’s baked and set into a pillow of not-too-sweet creamy custard.

And everything is coming up rhubarb here right now. It’s bursting out of gardens and is piled high on tables at farmers markets. Often it draws blank stares from passersby, some might disregard it thinking of recipes in their collections that call for mighty doses of sugar to make this “vegetable” into a tasty, sweet dish. But this one’s different:  it’s a recipe that requires only one cup of sugar for the three cups of rhubarb that go into the filling.

This old fashioned pie recipe is not only just-right in the flavor department, but it’s versatile, too: capable of finding a home on many different tables. On the one hand, it seems like the kind of sweet treat that would be prepared in a farmhouse kitchen by a traditional grandmother, apron tied about her waist, hands dipping into the flower jar, experienced fingers dicing the rhubarb all while family members gather around the counter to listen to her kitchen wisdom and watch the art of pie making. But it also looks and tastes very contemporary, velvety and subtle, sophisticated, worthy of serving on an elegant china plate at a grown up spring gathering. Which is just what I did at a friend’s house last night. And there was none left to bring home.

Farmhouse Rhubarb Pie

A version of this special recipe was shared with me by a friend who grew up in the midwest. I like to imagine German and Norwegian settlers from there creating it, patiently stirring bowls of rhubarb with farm fresh sour cream and pressing the crust into heirloom tins. This is really very simple to assemble – no tricks or slights of hand required to roll out pastry, just the molding into a dish of a batch of a crumbly dough. If you have all of the ingredients laid out and ready to go, it can be easily prepped in under half an hour.

For the Crust:

1/2 cup butter, at room temperature (1 stick)

1/4 cup sugar

1 egg, lightly beaten

1 1/2 cup flour

For the Filling:

3 cups of rhubarb, minced (about 6 medium/large stalks)

3 eggs, beaten

1 cup of sugar

1/3 cup of sour cream

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1 tablespoon flour

a pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease a 9-inch pie dish.

For the Crust: Cut the butter into eight pieces and place in a food processor along with the sugar, egg and 1/2 cup flour. Pulse 2-3 times to mix. Add the remaining 1 cup of flour and pulse until the mixture is crumby and staring to stick together.

Scrape the  crumby dough mixture into your prepared pie dish and, with your fingers, gently press it into place so that that it evenly covers the whole dish and forms the crust. Put the pie dish into the refrigerate and chill while you prepare the filling.

For the Pie Filling: In a large bowl, combine all of the filling ingredients and stir. Pour them into the prepared crust.

Bake at 375 degrees for 10 minutes and then turn down the oven to 350 degrees and bake for an additional 50 minutes (turning down the oven after 10 minutes prevents the edges of your crust from burning).

Let the pie cool for between 30 minutes and an hour before serving as this will make it easier to cut. This is best eaten the day it is baked  and accompanied by a dollop of vanilla ice cream. But it can also be refrigerated and served the next day.

Springtime in Vermont is the inspiration for this verdant, unintentionally vegan dish. Its colors and flavors mimic the experience of what it’s like to step out the back door right now. Yards and fields are alive with buds, blooms, and blades of grass – all exuberant and exploding in what seems like fifty shades of green – while the final bits of last year’s spent, yellowed stalks are making way for the summer palette and warm days ahead. It all has me thinking how we see in the natural world has a way of informing our internal cravings. This must explain why I’m thinking a lot about spinach and chick peas these days.

So, on the one hand there’s good old Mother Nature – and a bunch of nearby farms –  making me very hungry. But on the other, there’s a talented chef named Seamus Mullen whose cookbook Hero Food has found its way to my kitchen counter. Its recipes are luscious and the pictures appetizing. Mullen’s roots are here in Vermont but his primary culinary inspiration is the Catalan region of Spain – another place near and dear to my heart. He now runs the very successful, hopping Tertulia restaurant in New York and it’ll be the first place I visit next time I’m lucky enough to get to the City.

In the meantime, I feel like I’m getting a little taste of his cooking from the recipe below which is adapted from one in “Hero Food”. Mullen uses pea tendrils in his version but, as they say, “When nature gives you spinach, make a “Spring Baby Spinach Saute” (with a squeeze of lemon to finish it off).” That is what they say, isn’t it?

Spring Baby Spinach Saute with Chick Peas and Toasted Pine Nuts

Serves 4

I know pine nuts are expensive, but this recipe only calls for 1/4 cup of them, and their flavor makes such a difference in each bite of this dish. Don’t be tempted to substitute walnuts here because the results won’t be the same: the delicacy delivered from pine nuts is unique; each bite is full of a crunchy, buttery burst  from their addition. The golden raisins add a sweet and surprising balance to the dish and the fresh lemon juice squeezed over everything at the end make it taste just so fresh. The original recipe calls for pea tendrils, but since we’re bursting at the seams here in Vermont with spinach right now, it only seems right to use what is so plentiful.

1/4 cup pine nuts

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

1 1/2 cups of cooked chick peas (garbanzo beans), preferably organic

1/2 pound baby spinach

1/4 cup golden raisins

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Juice of 1/4  to 1/2 lemon

Place a large skillet over medium heat and add the pine nuts to the pan (do not add olive oil yet). Let the pine nuts slowly begin to brown, shaking the pan frequently to prevent burning. After about 2-3 minutes, once they’ve  lightly browned and smell nutty-buttery, add the olive oil, garlic and chick peas. Saute until the garlic begins to color. Toss in the spinach and raisins and cook, stirring, until the spinach just begins to wilt. Season generously with salt and pepper (remember: salt brings out the flavor in a dish!), drizzle with lemon juice and serve. This dish is lovely warm, at room temperature, and also served cold, as a snack. Though I enjoyed it with a salad on the side, this saute would make a perfect accompaniment to a simple roast chick with crusty baguette.

As a crepe maker by profession, I am frequently asked by people traveling to Paris if I have a favorite crêperie. My current answer would have to be “Yes, yes, yes, and yes. And they are all four quite delicious.”

You see, it all depends on your craving, what arrondissement you’re staying in or exploring, and on what you, the eater, are searching for in your perfect crêperie. There is no “best” place but there are four quite excellent ones. While visiting there last week, I did a little more culinary “research”. Below are the results.

And let it be noted that while many will tell you that it isn’t in Paris that you should be searching for crêpes – but instead in Brittany, the region where they actually originated many centuries ago, the equivalent in the United States might be hunting for Rhode Island Johnny Cakes in New York City –  you can still find an outrageously yummy “galette” (traditional buckwheat batter) or a “froment” (sweet white batter) in the City of Light.

I have chosen four wonderful crêperies in Paris to tell you about and divided them by “category” and location so that you know which one is right for your palate, for your sensibility, and for your location.

Hip, Cool, Haute Cuisine, “Tres Le Fooding” in the 3rd Arrondissemnt:

1)Breizh Cafe (109 Rue Vielle du Temple, 75003 Paris, Metro: St. Sebastien Froissard). This is the most sophisticated of good Paris crêperies: the fillings and flavors here are fresh, beautiful, artistically presented, and are truly haute cuisine. But perhaps best of all, their actual crêpes are technically perfect. Perhaps you would like to try “La Cancalaise” the galette I had (and loved) on my most recent visit there that was filled with smoked herring fillet, crème fraîche (from the artisinal “Bordier” Farm), and garnished with herring eggs in “le façon caviar” (11.80 Euros). Or maybe you would be tempted by “Le Maraichere” as I was, a galette filled with vegetables fresh from market, a perfectly fried egg (un oeuf mirroir) and Emmental cheese. You can’t go wrong with anything you chose here, as everything practically floats off the plate. The sweet crepes are transluscent and enticing topped with a salty caramel drizzle or browned bananas and vanilla ice cream, among many others.   The name “Breizh”- not seemingly very French-  actually means “Brittany” in the ancient language of that region. There are both well groomed regulars and tourists here, the staff works together like clockwork, although they can be un peu “snooty” if pressed.

Reservations are highly recommended or you will have to wait at both lunchtime and dinnertime. Believe me.

Traditional, Bustling, Down Home Style, Old French Feeling in the 14th Arrondissement:

2)Le Crêperie de Josselin (67 Rue due Montparnasse, 75014 Paris, Metro: Edgar Quintet). With lace draped over its light fixtures and dark wood paneling adding to its old Breton-style atmosphere (and I speak from experience having studied my trade in Brittany and also once having spent a very fun overnight there with my children at a crêperie dating back to the 15th century), the crêpes here are authentic, hearty and delicious. You won’t find fancy, modern, interpretive fillings here but what you will find is delectable crêpes done in a very traditonal way. The crêpes are served in “couples” which means that the batter is poured and topped with fillings and then another already made crêpe is layered on top before folding it into a neat package and  delivering it hot to your table. When I asked the waitress why this is done, she answered simply “C’est mieux.”  I later learned that this is traditonal in one certain area of Brittany. But back to the crêpes: my lovely lunchtime comibination was filled with an eggplant puree and topped with a fried egg and strips of bacon. Dessert was a white crêpe “couple” filled with syrupy housemade strawberry preserves. Incroyable – and affordable. If you’re wondering why this creperie is so far out (in the 14th) it’s because it is close to Montparnasse train station, which is where the trains from Brittany arrive and decades ago brought waves of immigrants from that region who then started crêperies upon their arrival in Paris.

Tres Lowkey Vibe, Interesting Building, Groovy Tunes, Perfectly Crisp Galettes in the 11th Arrondissement:

West Country Girl (6 Passage Saint Ambroise Paris 75011, Metro: Oberkampf). Look for the red neon arrow as you round the corner onto Passage Saint Ambroise in search of this little gem of a crêperie. You might think you are mistaken in your search because this is such an unassuming, residential neighborhood but keep calm and carry on. This eatery sports a simple but chic decor with hip light fixtures, white walls, and cement floors that all come together to create a very pleasing, artsy atmosphere. But once again, it is the crêpes that make this a destination. Mine was sublime, a crispy galette that held within its expert folds a delicious combination of fresh goat cheese (origin St. Maure), nutmeg and cream-infused spinach, with a just-so scattering of golden raisins. I truly could have eaten ten of these. There are many other enticing combinations on the menu such as mushrooms, goat cheese and chives or brie, bacon and nuts. Desserts were simple and thin with offerings of caramel, butter, and vanilla. It doesn’t get better than this.  These are some of the thinnest, most artisinal galettes in Paris and they harken from the region known as Finistère which marks the very western point of France. If you are in this somewhat eastern part of Paris, make a trip here. Just look for the red arrow.

For a Marine Motif, A Casual Atmosphere, and a Lovely Neighborhood Environment in the 5th Arrondissement:

Le Pot o Lait (41 Rue Censier, Paris 75005, Metro: Censier-Daubenton).This crêperie, more than any of the others, gives off a seashore vibe with it’s blue-themed decor that encourages diners to think of the northern French shores where crêpes were born. So it is this little piece of the beach with a view of a medieval church in the midst of a bustling 5eme that sets the stage for your crêpe. “La Fermiere”, my choice, is served with roasted red peppers and cheese folded inside the crêpe and then topped with a mixed green salad and herbs. For those who have never enjoyed lettuce on top of a crêpe, try this. A thin,warm buckwheat pancake truly compliments and cradles crisp, fresh greens. This is clearly another favorite local eatery that’s humming with children early in the evening. If pressed, I would say that their crêpes are  maybe not technically perfect (perhaps not enough salt in the batter or a tad too much oil brushed on the griddle?) but that is more than made up for by the restaurant’s lovely spot, fun menu, jovial atmosphere and excellent service.

The following is an email that I sent to my family after arriving in Paris on Tuesday. I’m here for a few days while in transit – I had some metro tickets in my wallet that I had to use up – on the way south to check up on our house in the Languedoc. 

Hi Guys. I’m in Paris. (I just love writing that sentence. Could I ever actually ever type it enough?).

So last time I emailed, I was off to find some lunch. I’m happy to report that I had a very successful outing. I found a little place (practically unmarked) called “Bob’s Kitchen” at 74 Rue des Gravilliers (3eme arrondissement), an easy walk from this teeny tiny garret. It really IS called “Bob’s Kitchen” – I’m not sure who Bob is…but he’s probably American- and whatever the case, he’s super good with vegetables. I had “Mexican Stew”: a big bowl full of spicy rice, roasted and then stewed veggies – potatoes, zukes, peppers, tomatoes, corn, eggplant, and cabbage – all topped with guacamole, chunks of fresh pineapple and sesame seeds. Sounds bizarre but it tasted great, especially since I was craving healthy after a day of travel. And I can testify that guac tastes fantastic on baguette. Tables were communal and languagues were many. Very cool people with motorcycle helmets coming in and out of the door. I didn’t even try any of the fresh juices they were noisily blending up….Darn. Next time.

After lunch I walked until my feet hurt. My route was all around the Marais, autour Le Pompidou, down Rue Rambouteau (“my” old street which has so many interesting food shops and bakeries! Did I realize how good these markets were?) and included a stop at the Archives Nationales. Quiet, lovely gardens, a place to reflect and gather back my jet-lagging energy. Can you believe I don’t think I ever visited there when my friends and I were living here twenty five years ago?

So now it’s dinner time. I can’t even count how many neighbor’s dinner aromas have wafted through my open window. First there was a garlic chicken concoction, then an Indian masala, and now someone is making a mean piece of toast. I can also hear someone sauteeing veggies while speaking on the phone in a language that is not French or English. As for me, I’m having a baguette and cheese and a simple salad: mixed greens, cherry tomatoes and olives, with a warm, perfectly cooked fried egg on top. Oh, and I almost forgot, carrots rapees (my favorite)!

As I type, a moped is scooting by out on the street. There is also a very happy little baby somewhere in the building. And earlier, I secretly watched a boy practicing reciting the lines of a play in a window across the courtyard. I ducked so he wouldn’t see me.

Gotta go so I can finish planning out tomorrow’s food tour of Paris. I think I’ll visit three markets and then head over to Montparnasse to sample another one of Paris’ best creperies.

LOVE YOU ALL and wish we were experiencing this together (even though we’d be fighting and our feet would hurt soooo much)!!!!!

xo

These delectable potato “crush cakes” capture the first fresh tastes of spring produce. The flavor of new chive shoots stirred into a buttermilk cream drizzle combined with the sweetness of new potatoes lets your mouth know that gardens everywhere are waking up.

Why, you may be asking, are they called “crush cakes?” Because after boiling the potatoes until they are fork tender, you then spread them out on a cookie sheet and lightly “crush” them with a potato masher. This fashions them into cute little cakes that once brushed with oil, herbs, and coarse salt are ready for a quick bake in a 425 degree oven. A creamy buttermilk chive sauce spooned over the top of each cake before serving adds perfection this simple side dish.

In the last post, I enthused about my trusty cast iron skilled (which I still maintain no kitchen can do without). This time around, my attentions are focused on the almost equally important, humble potato masher. I didn’t grow up with one in suburban Massachusetts so the first time my husband-to-be pulled one out to make – none other than! – mashed potatoes, I was skeptical and my initial thought was “Oh, how cute. That is so country.” That was twenty years ago. Since then I have used mine to assist in the hashing of chunky soups, to whip up a batch of buttery guacamole, in the pressing of many bowlfuls of homemade mashed yams and white potatoes, and now in the shaping of our new family favorite, potato “crush cakes.” Very cute. Very country. Very cultured. But best of all, delicious.

Spring Potato “Crush Cakes” with Buttermilk Chive Drizzle

These mini potato cakes would be just the right addition to an Easter or Spring Buffet. The object is to ever so slightly mush the boiled spuds – don’t worry about perfection! The finished product has a delightful, rustic presentation. Make sure to use new potatoes because they have a thinner skin since they are harvested young. This makes the potato cake sweeter and more tender. One more thing: you should  know that kids gobble these up. Making extra might be a good idea.

For the Potatoes:

14 + whole new potatoes

a few glugs of olive oil

a few pinches of kosher salt

10-15 new chive shoots (mature chives will work fine as well – just use a few less or your potatoes and sauce will be very “chive-y”), minced

For the Buttermilk Chive Drizzle:

1/4 cup sour cream

1/4 cup buttermilk

1/4 teaspoon salt

10-15 new chive shoots (as described above), minced

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Farenheit. Place the potatoes in a pot of salted water and bring to a boil. Cook until they are fork tender. Remove them from the heat and pour into a colander. Once they have cooled a bit, arrange them on a baking sheet (preferably lined with parchment paper to ease clean up), leaving at least an inch or two of room in between each potato.

With a potato masher (sigh, I guess a big fork might work in a pinch), press down gently on each potato until it mashes. Then rotate your utensil -to make a criss cross pattern, about 90m degrees- and press down again. If they seem to fall apart, just pinch them together with your fingers. Once all of the potatoes have been mashed, brush some olive oil over the top of each one, sprinkle with salt and a few fresh chives. Place the tray in the oven and bake for about 20-25 minutes, or until the cakes are just golden brown.

Meanwhile, stir together the ingredients for the Buttermilk Chive Sauce in a small bowl. When the potato cakes are ready, spoon a little dollop of sauce over each one and serve immediately. They are yummy at room temperature as well.

I’ve been meaning to share this recipe for a long time but I just couldn’t get it right. Now that I have and I can hardly wait to publish this post. The inspiration for these skillet chocolate chip bars came by way of Heidi Swanson’s blog, 101 Cookbooks (one of my absolute favorites) in which she interpreted a recipe from the cookbook Good to the Grain by Kim Boyce. For my version, I’ve added in some oats and reduced the amount of sugar by about a quarter. The result is a scrumptious bar with toothsome texture that delivers just the right amount of sweetness.   Prep time takes just about five minutes and once you’ve placed your dough in a cast iron skillet – please tell me you have one, they are essential in any kitchen! – your efforts will be rewarded in a moist bar that is ready to take out of the oven in just forty-five minutes.

Oatmeal Whole Wheat Chocolate Chip Skillet Bars

Truly one of the fastest, easiest, and satistying bar recipes around. And they’re cooked in a skillet to boot! Perfect sliced into wedges and topped with a dollop of ice cream or cut into squares and packed in a lunchbox. They’re also nifty wrapped up and tucked away a pocket to take on a snowshoe.  Dress ‘em up or dress ‘em down. They’re delicious both ways, moist and whole grain. What’s not to love? Ok, they’re probably not low calorie.

2 1/2 cups whole wheat flour

1/2 cup quick oats

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 1/4 teaspoon sea salt

8 ounces/ 2 sticks unsalted butter, cut into 1/2 inch pieces

3/4 cup light brown sugar

3/4 cup white sugar

2 large eggs, room temperature

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups bittersweet chocolate chips  (about 8 ounces)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and place a rack in the middle. Lightly butter a 10 or 11-inch OVENPROOF skillet that is at least 2 inches deep (mine is a little over 3 inches deep). This will prevent your bars from overflowing the sides.

Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl. Place the  butter and sugars into the bowl of a stand mixer and, using the paddle attachment, mix until they are just blended. Add in the eggs, one at a time, mixing until each is combined . Add the vanilla. Now pour the flour mixture into the bowl and blend on low speed until the mixture is just combined. Do not overwork the dough. Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Slowly add in 1 1/4 cups of the chocolate chips (making sure to reserve about 1/4 of a cup) until they are incorporated into the mixture. Turn the batter out of the bowl into the prepared skillet, pressing it into place. Now sprinkle the 1/4 cup reserved chocolate chips evenly over the top of the dough and lightly press them into the dough. The purpose it to make the top of your bars look yummy and chocolate-y!

Bake the bars for 35-45 minutes (mine are usually ready after 35 minutes but I have a convection oven) until they are golden brown on top and the center has set. Let the bars cool for at least 20 to 30 minutes before slicing – otherwise they will be too gooey in the middle. These bars are even better the second day.

Tea, a cookie and a delicious book

This is the time of year in Vermont when the going gets tough, so the tough get reading.

Yes, cooking is wonderful with the heat and aromas from the stove warming the kitchen. But it is also warm and wonderful to curl up with a cup of steaming tea, a sugar cookie and a good book, especially if it centers around food. So “Fork on the Road” readers meet my other passion “The Book Jam“, a blog I write with fellow book lover and good friend Lisa Christie. The post that follows was published on The Book Jam on January 17, 2012  and reviews two of my favorite recent foodie novels. I just couldn’t resist “reserving” them to you here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reprinted from The Book Jam, January 17, 2012

Brrrr. Baby, it’s cold outside. No matter. These frigid temperatures make it all the better to cozy up with a book. In bed. Under a pile of blankets. Wearing very thick socks. Mittens, however, are no good, as they would get in the way of turning the pages.

So if these below zero temperatures make you hungry as you struggle to keep your body temperature at 98.6, then we have a couple of titles to fill you up. The best news of all is that they are both calorie free.
White  Truffles in Winter by N. M. Kelby (2011). Luscious. If you could never read the words truffle, champagne, lavender honeyand fois gras enough, then add this novel to your list.

In this appetizing story, author Kelby imagines the last days of the famous French chef Auguste Escoffier (1846-1935). It’s clear that she’s thoroughly researched and included many details from his illustrious career (Escoffier was the designer of the Titanic’s menus, one of  Sarah Bernhardt’s lovers, a business partner of the hotelier Cesar Ritz, the creator of the modern restaurant kitchen layout, and the designer of such immortal recipes as “Peach Melba” and “Cherries Jubilee”). But this talented writer pushes further and imagines that which “is left unsaid,” believing it to be the most interesting part of  any life.

The first pages unfold with Escoffier’s ailing wife, Delphine, wishing for him to create a dish of her very own. Though they have been married for decades, he has never named one after her. They are both dying and it is in their family kitchen that a lifetime of love is explored, remembered, savored, and interpreted for the first time.

This is more than just a book for food lovers. It’s a sensuous, poetic story that brings details from this era of history to life so that readers can truly taste it.

The Hundred Foot Journey (2010) by Richard C. Morais. How did I miss this toothsome treasure when it was first published? Some reviewers have described it as Bollywood meets “Ratatouille.” That’s fitting as this fictional story chronicles the development of a talented chef from his boyhood in India through a brief adolescence in England to a full-fledged culinary career in France. But there is more to it than that.

The main character, Hassan, rises above cultural prejudices, crippling accidents, and jealous competitors to shine in his art despite a cut-throat working environment. Culinary enthusiasts will savor the descriptions of oysters (who knew they could be so tricky?!), French kitchens and country markets. Francophiles will love reading about the Alps and villages of the Jura. But the story really shines once Hassan reaches Paris, the pinnacle of all things epicurean. As a former senior editor at Forbes magazine, author Morais keeps the story moving while seamlessly explaining the fiscal realities, risks, and politics involved in running a multi-million dollar restaurant. This book is an education in flavor, talent, and another tantalizing take on the history of fine dining. Read it and eat!

Mushrooms in a late afternoon light

Some thoughts from Monday night:

I have a favorite pot. It’s green enamelled cast iron and chimes like a dinner bell when I clang it on the side with a spoon. I just love this sound because it means soup or stew is simmering away and that it’s almost time to get out a bowl. It also brings back memories and reminds me to be grateful.

This pot has cooked soft food for little babies, made batches of chili for sleepover parties, and whipped up daubes for more grown-up dinner guests. It brings lots of flavor and comfort into our lives. Plus, it’s the perfect size. It always makes just enough.

If I had to leave my house in a hurry – say the river below us flooded, or a wildfire was sweeping though the woods up on the hill – I’d take it with me, like a trusty pioneer woman. I’d carry it under one arm, my kids, cats and dog under the other. Then I’d holler for my husband and leave everything else behind. Well, maybe I’d call for a ladle, too.

One afternoon my pot fell out of the back of the car because I’d unknowingly left the hatch open (oops!). It bounced out onto the asphalt and rolled off into the tall grass on the side of the road, all without me realizing it. I came back later that night with a flashlight and walked up and down the sides of that town highway, searching for it, calling for it like a lost pet. When I finally found it, overturned and emptied of its contents, there was just one little nick out of its shiny green enamel. I picked it up and kissed it. Do other people have items in their kitchen that elicit such strong feelings of attachment? I really wonder.

Favorite pot, favorite mushroom soup

Right now, it’s all in one piece and bubbling with a delicious mushroom soup. The aroma of fresh thyme and the earthy scent of the mushrooms are permeating the kitchen, filling it with the smells of a forest. At the end of this especially cold Vermont winter’s day, I’m grateful to have my family, the animals, and a pot full of one of my very favorite winter vegetable soups on the stove. I think this is the true meaning of delicious: we’re all in one piece, in one place and enough dinner is heating in a trusty pot.

A trail of herbs on the cutting board

“Winter Thyme” Mushroom Soup with Dilly Yogurt

This is an immensely flavorful soup full of fresh mushrooms and thyme. It’s simple to prepare on a weekenight and is quickly dressed up with a silky dollop of dilly yogurt. There are only a handful of ingredients and the technique is basic. Nothing fancy, just the grounding smell of mushrooms wafting about as you stir and simmer them in broth. It’s also relatively low fat with a mere three tablespoons of olive oil and a cup of low-fat milk. We make many batches in our kitchen every January. It just tastes right at this time of year. Serves 6

For the soup:

3 tablespoons olive oil

3 medium shallots, diced

1 small onion, diced

1 1/2 lbs mushrooms, wiped and sliced, keep on those stems! (you can use all white button mushrooms or mix in a half of a pound of a more exotic variety if you like. Sometimes I use “Italian Brown”)

1 tablespoon fresh thyme (you may 1 teaspoon of dried thyme if you’re in a pinch – I’ve done it before)

5 tablespoons all-purpose flour

3 tablespoons sherry

5 cups of chicken or vegetable stock (I use Better Than Bouillon brand)

1 cup lowfat milk

salt and pepper to taste

For the Dilly Yogurt Garnish:

1/2 cup non-fat Greek yogurt

1 tablespoon fresh dill, chopped

a pinch of salt

Place your (favorite!) soup pot over medium heat and warm the olive oil.

Add the shallots and onions and cook, stirring often until they are soft (but not browning), about 3 minutes. Stir in the mushrooms and increase the heat a little so that the mushrooms start to release their liquid. Cook the mixture for about five more minutes, being mindful that the ingredients don’t stick to the pot. A little browning is OK but burning isn’t.

When the mushrooms have softened and started to release their juices, add the flour and blend it in, stirring for about 1 minute. Then pour in the sherry and sprinkle in the thyme. Reduce the heat to low and cook, stirring, constantly and scraping the bottom of the pan, for about 3 more minutes.

Stir in the stock and bring to a boil. Then reduce the heat and simmer until it is slightly thickened, about 15 minutes. While the soup is cooking, combine the ingredients for the dilly yogurt in a small bowl. Set aside.

When the soup has thickened slightly, using a hand blender or a food processor, puree until it is the desired consistency (I like to make sure to leave bits and pieces of mushrooms visible in the broth). Now stir in the milk and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Ladle into bowls and top with a dollop of dilly yogurt.

My daughter and I just spent a delectable Saturday “eating up” the Met – the art, the culture and four thousand years plus one day’s worth of world food. We started out with a freshly baked snack at the American Wing Cafe – and returned there many times throughout our visit using it as a sort of “home base” – before exploring several millenniums worth of culinary related objects throughout the museum.

So what was on the menu?  Below, in twelve photos, is a quick but comprehensive tour of food at the Met from 2000 BC – December 16, 2011.

A locally inspired muffin from the American Wing Cafe makes a nice treat before setting out.

And wouldn't they look lovely served on this Portuguese platter gilded and embossed in silver circa 1500?

Would you like some 400-year-old salt with that? A salt-cellar from the 17th century.

Or perhaps just another snack before heading off to see the French masters? What the heck is a "blistered pepper"anyway? Ouch!

But wait! Can I tempt you with a picnic in the Egyptian wing replete with 4,000 year old raisins, dates and bread...

...Followed by a 19th century tea party at the Richmond House in Virginia?

Museum-going is such hard work. I think we need a cranberry pumpkin yogurt parfait back at the cafe.

Before leaving let's take a moment to celebrate the grape harvest and the ecstasy of performance with this lyrical nude sculpted by Harriet Frishmuth in 1924 (grape-vine stretches from finger tip to finger tip). Cafe seating is in the background.

And you'll need some goblets to help with that bacchanal celebration! How about these from the Byzantine Empire fashioned around 700AD?

Don't forget to exit through the gift shop for some Charles Comfort Tiffany inspired mugs or water bottles.

And wouldn't this inspired arrangement from the Met's lobby look lovely on your holiday dinner table? Simply forage for hydrangeas, magnolia and winterberry (with some help from Martha Stewart).

The perfect way to end a visit to the Met is with a Double Chocolate Mocha Cupcake-to-go from Cake & Shake, the mobile food vendor right outside of the museum.

It snowed here last week. The kids were hoping for a day off from school but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Happily, though, the tone is set for a white holiday. Just outside my window the branches are now dressed in white!

I thought I’d share some of the books, films, and bibelots that are on my mind right now, some year-end favorites, if you will. And that’s one of them, actually, the word “bibelot.” It means “a small, decorative ornament or trinket.” Isn’t is lovely little term?

Here are a few more:

• Yoga Cookie Cutters. Don’t get any, Wendy, they’re on the way! Oh, and ohm.

• Lemon Lavender White Chocolate Bark with Tamari Roasted Almonds from The Daily Chocolate in Vergennes, Vermont. I tasted this tantalizing blend on a visit earlier this month. And I’m not even a white chocolate lover. But one bite of this converted me.

• The French Cat. A coffee table book that will make your kitty lover purr…in French.

• A Book about 813 Dishes. A gorgeous history of the table.

• These Cookie Scoops at King Arthur Flour. “Scoop, flick and bake.” You’ll bake more cookies if you have one. Believe me, I know…

• Cairo Time. A 2009 inde film that had me weeping. Unexpected. Gorgeous. Romantic. Not a lot of food scenes, but they do drink a lot of lovely looking raspberry colored tea.

• Wallace and Sewell Scarves. Just to ogle the colors is enough. Almost good enough to eat – these women weavers are magicians with colors.

• This Woman’s Food Job. Is she hiring… somewhere on the coast of Maine?

• This Woman’s Idea. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a Compost Girl near you?

• The Awesome Foundation. Seriously. That’s what it’s called. And they have “awesome food” grants, too.

Hope these bibelots inspire and nourish you during this busy time.