Paris, je t'adore

I'm back. I think.
Because even though I'm home, sitting at my desk, in front of my computer, writing these words, I might as well still be in Paris.
Mentally, that's where I still am.

I'm still marveling at the imposing Eiffel Tower,






admiring the grandeur of the Notre Dame,






eating an apple tart with the most flaky, buttery and delicious puff pastry ever made, from the boulangerie of all boulangeries, Poilâne.






I'm still shopping at Mora, getting lost among the rows and rows of shelves filled with pots and pans, wooden spoons of all shapes and sizes and innumerable pastry bag nozzles,






gazing at the Seine, daydreaming about what it would be like if I lived here, in Paris.






I'm still guiltily stuffing my face with 1.50 € macarons from Pierre Hermé while S is going on and on about how overrated they really are.

1.Pistachio, 2.Salted caramel, 3.Passion fruit with milk chocolate filling, 4.Rose, 5.Chocolate

I'm still amazed by the glorious works of art housed in Paris' museums.

I'm still celebrating my anniversary with S while having a glass of wine at a quaint restaurant in Montmartre.

I'm living in the moment.






I'm still frantically changing metros in the chaotic, bustling Parisian underground,






eating a sandwich à la Grecque with feta, cucumber and tomato and wondering how a taste of home, so far away from home, can be so damn good.






I'm still standing on Pont Alexandre III contemplating the beauty of Paris,






dining at an old Parisian restaurant and feeling like I'm transported back to the 1890s when it first opened its doors.






I'm still wandering the streets of Paris, holding hands with my love, not caring where we'll end up.






I'm back. I think.

Escape

The weather last Saturday was bleak. Dark skies, pouring rain, howling winds. In other words, a typical Dutch summer day. But I had other plans. I wasn't about to give up on my Saturday. I was not going to sit around the house complaining about the horrible weather. No.

View from my kitchen window

I got off my warm, cozy bed, I ate my rich in fiber breakfast and decided to brave the glorious, greener-than-green, Dutch countryside. But first, I had to wake up my sleeping boyfriend. A huge task, not to mention a perilous one, but someone had to do it. I abide by the belief that persistence leads to success so eventually, after a few tries, I managed to wake him up and come out of it unscathed.






This girl right here though, is a bona fide city girl who can't just venture into the wilderness without good reason. It's not easy being exposed to that much clean air and open fields. I need an incentive.
Cheese! Milk! Butter! Eggs! Fresh! Straight from the cow!
Were these enough to convince me?
Oh, yes!






We jumped in our car, delicious cookies in hand (sent to me by Ioanna from Greece), S sat comfortably on the passenger's seat playing dj on the car stereo while I was the designated driver for the day and we headed to a dairy farm just thirty minutes out of The Hague.






Thirty minutes out of The Hague. Thirty minutes out of the city. Thirty minutes away from all the hustle and bustle, you come face to face with this.






And this






And this






This dairy farm, located just 3 kilometres outside the city of Leiden, makes one of the best Leidse cheeses in The Netherlands. Boeren-Leidse met sleutels kaas (P.D.O.) is a farm-made cheese originating from the Leiden region in the province of South Holland that can be recognized by its red-brown coating and the official seal depicting the keys of the city of Leiden on top. It is a semi-firm, low-fat, raw cow's milk cheese made from skimmed milk and the addition of whole cumin seeds and has a creamy, sharp and spicy flavor that is quite unique.






The addition of spices to cheeses is very common in The Netherlands and dates back to the 1600s when the Dutch East India Company controlled the world's spice trade. The Dutch grew accustomed to the taste of spices and their new exciting flavor was quickly incorporated into their local cheeses.

Whenever I look at this photo, I start singing this song

The farm we visited, called "De Keizershof" (The Emperor's Garden), is run by the Van Leeuwen family since the late 1970's. Apart from their Leidse kaas, they are also famous for their Boeren-Roomboter (Farmhouse Dairy Butter), which is a very rich butter, made with the cream that's scooped from the surface of the milk which is used to make cheese. Both this butter and the Leidse cheese are in the Ark of Taste, which is an international catalog of food in danger of extinction that is maintained by the global Slow Food movement.






This is real farmhouse butter and it is delicious. We bought half a kilo (oh yes we did) and the first 250 grams were gone in a matter of a couple of days.
We smeared it on top of a pain rustique,






a whole-wheat bread,






and this Dutch corn bread.






We also wouldn't pass on the opportunity to buy a dozen of freshly laid eggs from the farm hens—who were running around freely and happily making the farm dog crazy (who by the way fell in love with S and followed him around everywhere)—and two liters of raw (unpasteurized) cow's milk.






S asked the farmer whether we should boil the milk before drinking it and another guy waiting to buy his own milk laughed at our ignorance. "This is good for you", he said with a heavy Dutch accent. "Drink it as is".






After we left the beautiful farm, we stopped by another dairy farm nearby that sold freshly churned ice cream. Naturally, I couldn't resist having a taste. It was one of the most flavorful ice creams I have ever had. Incredibly creamy with a subtle milky undertone.






We couldn't wait however to get home. We couldn't wait to try the butter and the eggs and the milk and the cheese we'd bought.






My instinct, as soon as I see eggs, is to fry them, sunny-side-up. It is the way S prefers them as well. And let me tell you, they were unbelievable.






The following day, I started wondering what I could do with all that raw milk besides the obvious and then I saw Deb's (of Smitten Kitchen) recipe for homemade ricotta. I thought I had just hit the jackpot. I prepared it the same day, using just raw milk, no cream, and it came out perfect. I couldn't believe I had made my own cheese. S absolutely loved it.






Yesterday, as I opened the fridge and realized that there are no more fresh eggs, no more raw cow's milk, no more farmhouse butter, I decided that that thirty-minute drive to the country will be one that I'll be taking again and again.







Farm DE KEIZERSHOF
Van Leeuwen Family
Noord Aa 4
2381 LV
Zoeterwoude
The Netherlands


Slow Food Nederland

Inside the pod

What do you do when you want to post a recipe but you're not in the mood to write anything about it? Do you worry that your readers will take it personally and assume that you're too bored to address them? Will they think that you believe the recipe is boring even though you took the time to post it? Will it diminish the value of the recipe itself if a story is not attached to it? Will anyone care at all because, let's face it, who reads whatever the hell you're writing anyway?






These questions are on my mind lately whenever I sit down to write a post.






Perhaps because I'm not in the best of moods these past few weeks. I've been cranky, sad, gloomy, anxious, angry and many other negative things that I don't care to mention. I have been struggling to post anything, hell, it's been hard to do anything lately. Blogging is perhaps the last thing on my mind.






Ever since my dad passed away four months ago I've been going through the motions.
It seems like I'm doing whatever I have to do to stop myself from thinking too much about... everything.






Even though I have two degrees in Psychology I feel like I need to be reminded of the basics. I need to tell myself that "It will take time"
"I shouldn't force myself to feel a certain way"
"I need to go through this at my own pace"
"I mustn't be reluctant to rely on the people I love"






I have been trying to conquer my nearly constant bad mood in many ways and one of them is by keeping my mind busy with this blog of mine. Yet, it's futile. As soon as I hit "publish", it's me again. With my negative thoughts and feelings.






Food has always managed to put me in a good mood. It still works some days. Others not so much.

Feta drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with dried oregano

S told me the other day as we were eating a bowl of these fresh peas that cooking is the only form of art that has an immediate and tangible outcome and offers instant gratification. I believe he's right.






Cooking; that's the art form I practice every day in my kitchen although I doubt if my everyday culinary creations can be considered art. Yet, this dish can.
The mellow, sweet flavor of the fresh peas, the starchy sweetness of the potatoes, the vibrancy of the dill and green onions make this dish artful in all its simplicity.













Arakas me patates (Greek Fresh Peas with Potatoes, Green Onions and Dill)

This is a classic Greek dish that belongs to the category of "ladera". Ladera means "with oil" or "oily" (ladi is the Greek word for oil) and denotes dishes, specifically vegetable dishes, that are prepared with olive oil and without the addition of any other type of fat.
There are two varieties of ladera: a) vegetables that are braised or baked in an olive oil and tomato sauce and b) vegetables that are braised or baked in an olive oil-based sauce without tomato and with the addition of different fresh herbs.
This dish is of the second variety.

Ladera are a huge part of Greek cuisine and one of the reasons why it is considered among the healthiest in the world. They are peasant-style dishes that rely on the freshness of the ingredients used, they celebrate the importance of vegetables and olive oil in the Greek diet and are consumed all year round, though they are especially flavorful during spring and summer when fresh Greek produce is abundant. They are also the preferred type of dishes to be consumed during periods of fasting, like Lent.




Ladera are always accompanied by big chunks of cheese like feta, manouri or kefalotyri and lots and lots of crusty bread.

I make this dish of peas with potatoes all year round, almost twice a month, using frozen peas (usually petit pois) whenever I can't find fresh ones, that work beautifully in this dish. They require a bit more cooking time though, about 25 minutes more than fresh peas.
You may also add a couple of sliced small carrots to the dish to make it more hearty. Add them when you add the potatoes.

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients
1 kg fresh peas in their pods (after shelling them I ended up with 475 g) or 500 g frozen peas
150 ml virgin olive oil
4-5 potatoes, medium sized (about 600 g total), cut into approximately 3 x 3 cm cubes
8-10 small green onions, white and pale green parts only, thinly sliced
300 ml tap water
30 g (about 1 cup) fresh dill, divided into stems and leaves, finely chopped plus a little extra for sprinkling over the dishes
Salt
Black pepper, freshly ground


Preparation
Rinse the pea pods well under cold running water. Shell the peas and discard the pods, keeping the shelled peas in a bowl. Do not rinse them.

Pour the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pan and heat it over medium heat. Add the green onions and sauté them lightly for 1 minute. Add the chopped dill stems and sauté them for ½ minute. Add the cubed potatoes and sauté them for 2-3 minutes, stirring often. Add the shelled peas (or frozen peas) and stir them around the pan with a wooden spoon so that they get coated with the olive oil. Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste, add the water, turn heat up to high and let it come to the boil.
Cover the pan with the lid and turn heat down to low. Let peas and potatoes simmer for about 20 minutes (or if using frozen peas about 45 minutes), until they are tender.
Just before they're ready, about 5 minutes before, stir in the rest of the dill (the chopped leaves).
The peas should not be mushy. They should remain crisp and juicy.

Note: do not overcook the peas otherwise they'll lose all their flavor and freshness.

Serve immediately, sprinkling some extra chopped dill on top of each plate.
This dish can also be served at room temperature, as is common with all Greek ladera dishes.