A little while ago I participated in a gift exchange on a cooking board I frequent. The lovely Jill from jbeancuisine got my name and sent me a lovely package from France. It included fleur de sel (and fleur de sel caramels), some lovely chocolates, a bag of herbes de provence and a can of rillettes au foie gras. Part of the package was wrapped in a lovely cookie tin (with pictures of macarons on there). I was extremely lucky to receive such a very very awesome package (as you can see above).
(pici with breadcrumbs)
The reason I love Italian cuisine so much might just be the simplicity. The ease in which few but wonderful ingredients are changed into beautiful, flavourful dishes. No need for crazy expensive ingredients, just make sure your veggies are fresh, ripe and delicious and a tomato can become a feast.
I went searching for inspiration last week. I love to make my own fresh pasta. Heck, I love to make good quality dried pasta with nice sauces. But I’d fallen into the trap of the “few favorites”. My simple ragu, or even simpler meatless tomato sauce, pesto, my favourite creamy gorgonzola sauce, pasta in brodo.
Morlang isn’t what it used to be. I’ve been coming there irregularly for many years. Either for a drink outside on the terrace, or dinner. I didn’t go there very often, but once in a while, when we wanted to eat near the Leidseplein, but didn’t feel like going into a tourist trap. It was a little more upscale, and it being (much) more expensive than the tourist traps on korte and lange Leidsedwarsstraat was definitely worth it.
Notice how I write all of this in the past tense?
Recipe exchange
I participate in a recipe exchange once in a while. It’s good. I get to try completely new recipes. Things I’d never thought of making before. The theme for the exchange this time was Mexican food. I love Mexican food. Loved it since I first ate at Rose’s Cantina and loved it even more since the first time I had Mexican food in Colorado. Now Rose’s Cantina still exchanged, but they’ve changed their menu and turned terrible, so while in Amsterdam I have to resort to making my own. A new recipe, therefor, is always welcome!
For as long as I can remember I’ve helped my mother bake. I must’ve been 4 or 5 when I first recall standing on a kitchen stool and mixing butter, sugar eggs and flour to make a cake. The best part of “helping” my mom make cakes, was licking the spoon, and the bowl, after the batter was poured into the pan.
I never had the patience to wait for a cake to be completely cooled. And honestly, I liked her cakes better when they were still slightly warm. Even though my mom told me not to cut the cake before it had cooled, I could hardly ever hold myself back.
Networks
