We all need a little break sometimes, right? Well I need a long break. Seriously, a long extended vacation, preferably somewhere without people. Dogs are acceptable. And sheep. Unfortunately I live in the real world (most of the time), so I had to settle for five days at my parents’ lake house in upper Michigan- with my parents! Who, as far as people go, are pretty good company.

I did a lot of this.

Mostly that actually.

There was a little of this

And some of this

Which led to this

And Mom used these

to make this

They’re balsamic pearls. Not caviar. That would just be icky.

Anyway then this happened

And I hoped we would be stuck there forever, but then this guy showed up

And he plowed us out, the fiend.

So now I’m home and life is as it was before… not really worth talking about.

But I did get to see this

which, in case you can’t tell, is dogs pulling people on skis.

dogs. pulling people. on skis.

So worth it.

And I’m really rather grumpy to be home. Sorry, coworkers! See you tomorrow!

fin.

As usual I was overly ambitious with my Christmas dessert plan. This year, however, a higher power stepped in to keep me in check. The morning of Christmas Eve I got food poisoning, forcing me to abandon the cranberry nut rolls and chocolate turtles. Also the pan I made the candied walnuts on smelled of salmon and we ended up with fish flavored nuts. Didn’t bother remaking those either. Thanks, Santa.

I did get a fair amount of work done before the pukage though. Including some beautiful moscato poached seckel pears.

They went into my almond pear tart.

Aww, it’s pretty.

Every year I vow not to make a Buche de Noel and, every year I end up making one anyway. “Because they’re so good!” Well this is my absolute minimal effort Buche complete with ridiculous minimal effort piped chocolate decorations.

I roasted some chestnuts too. Martha Stewart taught me how. Thanks, Martha.

I also made a bunch of candy! Though I don’t think the gnarly sugar burn I sustained is in the recipe.

It’s okay, if you don’t end up with some sort of permanently scarring blister after candy making I’m pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.

I blame the sheep.

…I take that back. I love sheep.

After New Year’s Eve the restaurant I work at closed for three whole glorious days. A lot of restaurants do that at New Year’s actually. Unless you’re like my unfortunate friends who work in hotels. To whom I say, hey- you make way more money than I do, so quit your whining.

No matter. We all went out and got Korean BBQ anyway.

Now it’s back to work. And to these giant bowls of chocolate.

Those are chocolate malt balls. No, we did not make them. Yes, we ate them all.

Hope you all enjoyed your holidays and did far less puking than I did.

Till next time!

Oh- and don’t forget to follow me on Twitter where I often post strange and tantalizing work photos. It’ll be fun. Promise.

Ah, Polish food. Starchy, heavy, comforting goodness. I grew up with a strange combination of Polish and German food at home- because years ago my mom’s family were Germans living in Poland. Once in a while when it’s cold out or I’m feeling a bit nostalgic I make a beeline for the sausages and pierogi. Luckily for me there’s a shop right down the street that carries everything my little hungry heart desires.

Gene’s is the greatest. Walking in there for me is like stepping back into my European childhood. They make all their own sausages and they have the most amazing selection of foods from all over Europe. It’s my go-to when I’m jonesing for some pierogi.

The meat and the cheese are my favorite. Not potato and cheese. Just cheese please. And please don’t make me share. I’m a pierogi hoarder. I can’t help it. They’re just so good!

Their golumpki -also known as cabbage rolls- are really delicious. I actually wish I’d gotten two of those.

These are labeled as “Polish meat-filled pastries,” which, I suppose, is better than labeling them as “paszteciki.” Which is what they’re actually called. I’m pretty sure it’s Polish for, “flaky meaty goodness.”

Ahh, sausages. Gene’s is best known for their sausage, as well they should be. It’s all made in house and it’s fantastic. The larger one here is a smoked Alpine sausage, and the skinny one is a Polish snacking classic called Kabanosy. In my family we eat it cold or room temperature and it’s great with a nice honey mustard. Or with nothing at all. Whatever floats your boat.

They didn’t have the spaetzle I normally get, which are tiny short little noodles like they’re supposed to be. This was weird, long spaetzle. It was okay. I boiled it and then fried it in the pan with the pierogi for a bit. But to be honest, as someone who was raised on homemade spaetzel, I’m pretty damn picky. There’s just no comparison to the lovely, fat little dumpling-esque noodles my mom makes. Sorry, Black Forest Girl.

Of all the photos I’ve posted on Instagram I think this one got the most “likes.” Apparently I’m not the only one who appreciates a good pierogi.

Do yourself a favor and warm up with some tasty Polish goodness this winter. Or just head over to Gene’s and check them out. Who knows, maybe they’ve got something that will remind you of your European childhood.

Now that’s my idea of a birthday cake. Thick cut brioche with melted fontina cheese and perfectly poached egg yolks, surrounded by a sprinkle of asparagus. When I saw the people at the next table eating it I asked my server what it was and immediately said, “I want that!” So he brought it to me as a birthday present. Thank you, sir. Thank you.

Chicagoans, do not miss Davanti Enoteca on Taylor. Absolutely incredible Italian. Our standout dish of the night was by far the linguine with sea urchin and crab. The linguine is homemade (obviously), the crab is tender and beautiful, and the sea urchin created this glorious rich yellow sauce. It was probably the best pasta I’ve ever had. For serious. And that’s why I don’t have a photo of it. I was mesmerized.

Burrata cheese with cherry tomatoes, pesto and olive oil. Burrata is truly a unique and delicious thing. Mozzarella on the outside and creamy and runny on the inside. Sort of like a lovely poached egg. But cheesy.

Perfect homemade pizza with scallions, egg, pork belly, asiago, beschamel and potato. Yup, potato pizza. Don’t be scared. Potatoes on pizza are perfect. Perfect potato pizza. Promise.

You should always balance your wine intake with water so you don’t get hungover the next day. Well, I tried anyway.

Oh, and just in case I forgot how old I was…

They were nice enough to remind me.

You have to have some kind of sweets on your birthday, right? Yeah, I think so too. And I’m old now, so I treated myself to a very untraditional birthday cake.

Cookie pizza. It’s from Cookie Bar in Lakeview. They were nice enough to make it for me on pretty short notice, and nice enough to indulge my crazy topping requests: heath bar, brownie, m&m, butterfinger, peanut butter cups and caramel. And the best part is that it’s not just on top, it’s baked into the cookie. Ah-mazing. Great snickerdoodles too. Definitely check those guys out as well.

The day after my birthday my parents took me out for another wonderful dinner at restaurant in the suburbs called Vie. Don’t be fooled by the suburban thing- this is a Michelin starred restaurant owned and operated by Paul Virant, who is one of Chicago’s best chefs. I don’t think you’ll blame me for not wanting to photograph every dish I had, but rest assured they were gorgeous and fantastic.

I did take a photo of my dessert. I mean, come on. I plate desserts all night. It’s hard not to record the work of your peers.

Gingerbread cake with candied pears and bourbon pecan ice cream. The little chocolate chip looking things were molasses marshmallows. Very interesting. Overall, really tasty. Though I don’t know how you can go wrong with gingerbread, caramel and bourbon, let’s be realistic here.

So now I’m onto a new decade and I’m determined to use all I learned in the stupidity of my 20s to make it my best yet.

30 is the new 21 anyway, right?

Right.

Aix en Provence is one of the bigger towns in Provence, and a few of us decided to head over that way and explore. It’s about an hour from where we were staying and it was a pretty stark contrast from all the tiny little towns we’d been to so far.

We had a nice lunch, a nice drink, and did a little shopping- which for me means stopping in every single pastry shop we passed. Luckily I was able to restrain myself from buying out every shop. Though this is probably only because I never learned the phrase “One of each please” in French.

I stopped in a gourmet biscuit shop where they had towers of cookies

and walls of chocolate.

Luckily, in these situations I become so overwhelmed with my choices that I get confused and just have to leave. That, however, was not the case in this shop.

I really threw that whole self control thing out the window here. I only bought eight of the things in this particular photo… there was a whole other side to the case though. Oooh well.

I got myself one of these.

I mean who can resist the green mystery bag? It was marzipan filled with vanilla cream and a little vanilla cake soaked in liquor. It was like doing a shot. But it lasted longer and was way more delicious.

Our diets -when we were not eating pastry- consisted mostly of bread. But one night I made paella. Paella is very popular in France and they make it in those big pans outside at all the markets. Mine was probably very inauthentic, but hey it was yummy.

Our favorite meal by far, though, was this

Bread, cheeses, meats, pate, cornichons, a little cold chicken- perfect. I don’t know what could be a better. When we got home I ate this sort of thing for days. Probably in an attempt to deny that I was back in Chicago.

Well that’s it, kids. I hope you’ve enjoyed these little peeks into my France fun.

Now it’s back to work and back to reality.

Wah wah.

To be honest, I was pretty impressed with myself for getting all the measurements (almost) right. I assume if they’d been way off the tart would’ve been total shite, but it wasn’t half bad. So bully for me.

Remember, you don’t need a food processor to make tart dough. It just makes it way faster and easier. I have a new appreciation for you, food processor. Oh did I mention how lucky I was that there was a tart pan at our rented vacation house? Whew.

I can’t tell if the figs were huge or the pears were just small. Either way, they were about the same size.

Pretty.

Since I didn’t have any almond paste to do a frangipane I decided to do a red wine caramel. They had cardamom pods in their spice cabinet and I’ll pretty much use cardamom whenever available, so I threw some of those in as well.

Yay! Future tart!

See? I finished it with a simple custard filling & some toasted almonds. It wasn’t half bad for basically guessing at all the measurements. But I think next time I’d do a white wine caramel instead.

Who cares, I made a tart in France.

I hope you’re all healthy out there. I’ve been really sick with a viral infection that’s brought me a high fever and a trip to the ER this week. Get your flu shots everyone!

This is one of the first stalls we ran into. Obviously the first thing I bought was a nice hunk of that gingerbread. Mmm, gingerbreeeaaad. And I didn’t think I was a big fan of nougat, but then I realized that I’m just not a big fan of American nougat. This stuff was incredible. It had hazelnuts and honey- so I got some of that too.

The most important pastry for you to try in France -yes, seriously the number one most delicious and important pastry!- is the cannelé. If I ever get a pastry item tattooed on my body it will be one of these. The cannelé is far and away, hands down my favorite pastry item in the entire universe.

When you make them you brush the inside of the mold with beeswax and it gives them this beautiful caramelized, chewy outside and a center that’s soft and wet like bread pudding. Swoon. These happened to be soaked in brandy. More swoon!

I could’ve wandered that market for days. Everything just looked incredible.

That’s a lotta garlic!

Herbs de Provence anyone?

Puffy macaron.

Olives, olives everywhere!

That’s a pricey pigeon.

Lapin = bunnies.

And remember, if you’re going to drive your VW to the market, always park it behind a lamp post where it will be safe.

My plan was to buy some fruit from the market and make a dessert. And I did! I got some beautiful figs.

And next week I’ll tell you what I did with them.

Bon soir!

Well I’m home from France -again- and I have an absolute food hangover. And plenty of (food!) photos to share. First up is a town called Tourtour. It’s in the Cote d’Azur region of Provence, which is where we stayed. It was our first adventure in France and it’s on the list of the most beautiful villages in the region, which I can only assume is like the most beautiful people list in the US.

The town isn’t large, but there are tons of little alleys and passageways to get lost in. And lots of good eating.

The road to the village is a narrow, winding, steep sort of thing, so when we all stopped feeling nauseous we decided to have lunch. When you sit down they give you a little dish of olives -this was pretty much the standard at all the restaurants we visited in Provence- probably because 90% of the trees there are olive trees.

I am not an olive fan. Seriously, I kind of hate them. But I figured, hey, I’m in Provence, these probably fell off a tree out back, I’m going to try them.

I’m still not an olive fan.

My sister and I split the escargot because you know me- gotta have my snails.

They were, of course, delicious. We even convinced my brother to eat one. For those of you who have never tried them he compared the texture to that of a mussel (which I don’t eat. I’m allergic. Wah wah.).

For my entree I had the assiette (plate) of local specialties. I don’t get why more places don’t do this. Offering an assortment of local foods is such a great idea- and it was awesome.

It looks light but it was surprisingly filling. After lunch we walked around the town and saw things like this

And this

And this

We even saw some fig trees.

And naturally occurring fig jam.

And when we’d covered the length of the town -and digested enough to brave the road again- we said goodbye to Tourtour and headed back down the mountain.

You should just know from the start that I cheated. I bought a kit. I’m sorry. Hey, I was on vacation. I really needed that convenience factor in order for this whole thing to happen in the first place. Pretend I took the time to go on the internet and order the rennet tablet and citric acid. Good, now we can continue.

Milk. One gallon. Pour into pot.

Voila. Heat to 85F. It’s so not as warm as you think it is. It’s almost room temperature, depending on what time of year it is and whether or not your windows are open.

Once you add your citric acid and your rennet tablet you get this! Curds and whey. Yeah, I know, it looks gross. Strain the whey. Go awhey! Hah!

That was bad. I apologize.

And you get this. Squeaky little curds. Do a bunch of pressing to make sure you get out as much whey as possible and you can begin your stretching process. Now is also the time to add your salt and any tasty add ins like herbs.

Heat to 135F -ish. (That’s what the kit said anyway.) Once you’ve stretched it a couple times (I hear the limit for soft mozz is like, three. I think I overdid it on mine because it came out way too firm for my taste). It looks like this! Yay!

If you want it to keep its shape you just pop it in some ice water and wrap it in plastic. Then enjoy! This is what we made.

Tomatoes and basil from my parents’ garden and fresh, homemade mozzarella.

It was pretty delish. But like I said, mozz too firm for me, so we’ll have to do this again soon.

Oh, by the way, I’m going back to France next week. Soooo, lots of great travel food photos coming soon!

Can’t wait.

Last week I was here. I miss last week.

On my summer vacation I decided to do a little baking. Because what’s a better project when you’re on vacation from your job as a pastry cook than baking? Eh? Eh? Yeah.

I’ve wanted to make pretzel buns for a long time. I’d planned on making a big batch and freezing them, but then I realized I have no time, no ingredients in my apartment and no motivation. Then we went to my parents’ lake house where I had time, lots of ingredients and burger night motivation. What’s better than a burger stuffed with cheddar and topped with a fried egg on a piping hot fresh pretzel bun?

No, really, I’m asking you, because I don’t know.

The nice thing about pretzels is that they don’t have to proof overnight or anything. They’re sort of easy, really. But don’t tell anyone. Just let them be impressed by your incredible baking prowess.

Boil. It’s the secret to the brown, chewy crust that really makes them pretzels. Thirty seconds, please. No need to overdo it. And no need for  lye, people. Baking soda will do just fine, thank you.

Sprinkle. Large sea salt. Then score. Score!

Also, bake.

You’ll want to let them cool a bit if you can wait. It’s hard for me to wait for things. Especially delicious things. Like pretzel rolls.

I’d fully planned on presenting you with a gorgeous photo of my towering burger in all its cheddary, yolky, pretzely glory. But then I ate it.

So you just use your imagination.

Mmm. Imaginaaation.

Kbyenow.