dumplings. broth. perfect.

spring, cookies and paolo conti

snow-day omelette, with chorizo and peas.

new. favourite. pasta.

I tend to not be particularly inspired to cook when I know that I will be eating alone (in my world there is nothing more depressing than having a delicious three-course meal alone), and consequently weekday dinners chez moi tend to consist of whatever there is in the fridge. And ever since I moved into my own flat in 2005 this has basically always been de cecco spaghetti with pesto. But no more. Last week I tried out this recipe for sugo alla Matriciana by Rachel Eats, and I instantly lost my heart.

After over five years of pesto, I guess that it was about time for a change.

Onion soup and monster cookies

Comfort food is sometimes simply necessary.

The flu, work and beautiful winter sun is not a winning combination.



I was sick, confined to my flat the entire weekend. But I finally had time to cook.




Onion Soup

750 g sliced onions
3 garlic cloves
50 g butter
25 g flour
200 ml white wine (if you have some, I didn't)
1,5 litres vegetable broth
1 bay leaf
2-3 thyme sprigs
1 bunch of chopped parsley
black pepper and grated cheese (gruyère or parmesan) to serve

First of all, I don't like croutons. Except for in salad, so when it comes to soup, I usually skip them. Heresy or not, the cheese goes directly into the bowl.

Stew the sliced onions in the butter over low heat for at least 30 mins, until they are caramelised and beautifully golden. Dust in the flour, throw in the garlic, the bay leaf and the thyme before finally pouring in the broth. Let simmer for another 30 minutes. Right before serving, throw in the chopped parsley, and then serve hot with lots of freshly ground black pepper and some grated cheese.

The monster chocolate chip cookies you can find here. Apple crumble is, well, apple crumble.

Boum! Standard time and garlic soup

...and there, we're back in standard time. Just like that. Boum!

Argh. Just like that we're back to November, back to pitch-black rainy mornings and grey afternoons before the snow makes life brighter again in the North. Depressing?

A bit, yes.

For a while.

But then I remember that November is also for lighting up a fire in the fireplace, and for reading cookbooks before the e-mail in the morning to find inspiration for yet another warming meal with friends in the evening. This is the time for gathering in the kitchen to chop, and to gossip, and to drink red wine while mixing together all those strong and exotic flavours that are too overwhelming for lighter evenings. Time for having soup with freshly baked bread, and to stock the fridge with game and to eat strong cheese in the candle light.

So what if hiding away in colour-filled silence on a sunny bridge is over for now? I'm hiding in my kitchen instead, making garlic soup and roquefort quiche with marsala-stewn mushrooms, herb-filled meatballs and tiramisù rich and delicious enough to chase off any storm or depression. I'm hiding away in my plush new sofa, stealing a glass of marsala from the ridiculously pompous crystal decanter someone brought home from God-knows where. And from here, the darkness outside seems pretty poetic.

This is a soup I've been meaning to try ever since Pitkä posted the recipe in August this year, when summer all of a sudden decided to have had enough of Finland... And on Friday I finally got around to making it. It was as over-the-top tasty and creamy as you could ever imagine, and it is absolutely perfect for a rainy evening with friends and candles.



Garlic soup

3 entire garlics
2 onions
2 table spoons olive oil
1/2 decilitre all-purpose flour
9 decilitres vegetable broth
2 decilitres single cream
freshly ground black pepper and chopped flat-leaf parsley to serve

Peel the garlic cloves and the onions, and chop the onions finely. Heat the olive oil in a heavy saucepan and fry the whole garlic cloves and the chopped onions lightly before mixing in the flour. Add the broth and let the soup simmer over low heat for about 30 or 40 minutes. Finally, purée the softened garlic cloves and mix in the cream. Sprinkle with freshly ground black pepper and chopped flat-leaf parsly and serve steaming hot with a slice of fresh bread.

Tarte au citron

To me, a rich tarte au citron covered with merengue is the ultimate treat for celebrating a sunny afternoon. Even though I guess it would serve this purpose regardless of the season, for some reason I have never really associated it with summer.

Perhaps this is because I originally discovered citrus pie at a Thanksgiving dinner with my cousin's family, quite a few years ago already. My cousin's mother is an excellent cook, and for dessert she presented us with  a gorgeous lime pie that was an instant success among us children. Although we weren't perhaps quite as convinced by the sweet and somewhat bitter flavour of the creamy filling as our parents, we spent the entire evening competing on who could pronounce "Key Lime Pie" most like Sgt. J.W.Pepper. We must have been terribly annoying.

Today, this is what I make when I feel that the sunshine calls for some extra celebration. This particular recipe I found in Elle à Table last February, and it was an instant success on a freakishly icy Sunday afternoon.

Tarte au citron meringuée

For the crust:
200 g flour
25 g ground almonds
120 g soft butter
1 egg
80 g confectioner's sugar
1 vanilla pod

Whisk the butter into cream in a large bowl. Cut the vanilla pod open, scrape out the tiny black seeds, and mix them into the butter together with the sugar, the egg, the ground almonds and a pinch of salt. Mix together with a spatula, and then add the  flour. All at once. It will be easier, trust me.

Work everything together, first with the spatula and then with your hands, and finally let the dough rest in the refridgerator for at least 15 minutes while you make the lemon curd.

For the lemon curd:
the juice and zest of 2 lemons
2 eggs and 3 egg yolks
80 g caster sugar
70 g butter, cut into small cubes

Mix the sugar, the eggs and egg yolks with the lemon peel and juice in a saucepan. Bring the mixture to the boil over a low heat, while stirring continuously. When the first bubbles appear, throw in the butter, and mix vigorously until absorbed. Let the mixture cool.

Heat the oven to 170'C. Spread out the dough for the crust in a pie dish, and cover the borders with aluminum foil. If you don't, the crust will for some mysterious reason contract, and turn into what could best be described as a sweet pizza att the bottom of the dish... Also, don't forget to pierce the crust on several places, or the crust might turn into a balloon and burst.

Bake the crust in the oven for about 10-15 minutes before removing the aluminum foil, and then bake for another 10-15 minutes, or until the crust is nicely golden. Then remove the crust from the oven and let it cool. The cooler the crust is when you assemble the pie, the better.

While the crust (and curd) cool, increase the heat in the oven to 220'C and prepare the merengue.

For the merengue:
5 egg whites
6 cl water
170 g caster sugar
1 lime
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon confectioner's sugar


Heat 140 grams of sugar with the water in a thick-bottomed sauepan. When the mixture is about 110°C, start whisking the egg whites into a hard froth in a large bowl with the remaining 30 grams of sugar. Using a sugar thermometer and an electric whisker really helps.

Again, trust me. I have tried the alternatives.

When the syrup reaches 117-118°, remove it from the heat and pour it slowly into the egg whites without ceasing to whisk. Whisk for about another 5 minutes, until the egg whites are hard and silky. Fold in the lime zest.

Finally, fill the crust with the lemon curd, cover with merengue, and dust with brown sugar and confectioner's sugar before baking the entire pie for 3-4 minutes to cook the merengue. The merengue should be sligthly golden, crisp on the surface and not very hard on the inside.

The Focaccia (again)

After this, I'll stop. I promise. At least for a while.

Yesterday, as I had my dad over for dinner to discuss Russian politics and solve the world's problems over a glass of red wine (it is fall, after all) I couldn't resist to make the focaccia from the housewarming party again, and it was delicious. This time I skipped the red onions, but added mozzarella instead... Oh, and more salt in the dough. That worked miracles, definitely. I'm still full, and as I haven't heard from my dad, I assume he is content too. I realized this morning that we ate a focaccia meant for at least six persons.

Those must be tiny little persons.

Anyways, I've promised to post the recipe, so here it finally is.

Focaccia bread

400 g flour
100 g superfine (durum) flour
25 g fresh yeast
½ table spoon brownsugar
300 ml tepid water
salt
olive oil

I like to top my focaccia with chopped cherry tomatoes mixed with shredded basil and a few crushed garlic cloves, all in a vinaigrette of white wine vinegar, salt and a good olive oil, and covered with thick slices of mozzarella, or alternatively with chunks of goat's cheese, chopped rosemary and grated parmesan. However, I think this could pretty much work with anything. Pretty much like pizza. You know.

Mix the flour with a little salt in a bowl, and dissolve the yeast and the sugar in the water in another. Wait for a moment to let the yeast react with the sugar, and then mix the liquid into the flour with a fork. Knead the dough for about 5 minutes, or until it stops sticking to your fingers. Sprinkle a little olive oil in a bowl and put the dough in the bowl, covering first the dough with a thin layer of flour and then the bowl with a kitchen towel. Let the dough rise for 30 minutes while you heat the oven to 220'C and prepare the toppings.

Spread the dough over an oiled baking tin, cover with the toppings half and half, and let the focaccia rest for 20 minutes. Spread some coarse sea salt over the focaccia and bake it in the oven for about 20 minutes.

Feast. The feasting is important.