Friday, October 19, 2007

Pictures from the Other Life

Table Bay as the mist lifts in the morning...

These are old, but I was looking for pictures to show Vince, to brace him for the beauty that will assail him when he sees Cape Town (sure, there's a flipside, but not now, not here - he will drive through the flipside, though, on his way from the airport. Nothing like the Third World for contradiction). A couple of years ago I took these pictures on a trip out of Cape Town Harbour round to Clifton, on my brother Anton's boat, acting as support for my niece Gabriella's open sea ski race.


Mon frere: the bigger, male version of me...well, sort of.


The view of Lion's Head in the foreground, with Table Mountain nice and flat behind. Paragliders float like raptors in the air currents above Lion's Head...




Not Cape Town, but the stomping ground of my childhood. The view from Leisure Island, small island in the Knysna lagoon, on the south coast. My mother's parents lived there when my grandfather retired. He fished in this lagoon from his little boat - I must find and scan the pictures I have of my mom line fishing here in the very tidal water...


The Heads, as they are known, beyond which the Atlantic. When he was young my father swam across The Heads, nearly depriving me of any knowledge of him...The roads on Leisure Island are still very quiet, there are still old people who live gentle lives, and small children who paddle in the flopping waves that scared me silly at night as a child, lying on the second floor of the house we rented, and that we called Pinky, even though she was painted white. Uncle Reg, my cousin Andy's dad, used to play Sand Lions with me (involving a lot of crawling and digging and squealing and some roaring). I think we were offered Pinky, at a price that now resembles a song, but that then, in the 70's, seemed too dear, and my dad turned it down.

One now pays for the privilege of Leisure Island, and sometimes it seems worth it.

What price memory rendered intact?

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Bouillabaisse

So the little 'teaser' that Magnetic Media filmed for most of today for the Idea for the networks (Style, HGTV, Bravo?), is over. It's a ton of bricks off my mind. It was huge fun and so in thanks I am offering, instead of a prayer, a recipe for bouillabaisse. It's logical.

I have promised bouillabaisse with all the frills (i.e. crabclaws) to Molly as a reward for her time and considerable charm today, and I owe Marijke a recipe for the saffron she gave me in Cape Town in September. But first I will quote the oracle, Elizabeth David, because it's worth hearing what oracles have to say before charging off in the opposite direction.

Bleep. My memory let me down: Elizabeth David has four tightly spaced pages on the subject. Forget it - too much typing. I'll just bite the mullet and give you my recipe, which changes a bit every time I do it, along with mood, weather, and fishmarkets I frequent.

This is not an authentic bouillabaisse. There may not be one authentic bouillabaisse, but this is authentically mine. The biggest trick, or truc, if there is one, is many different kinds of fish, and not oily fishy like mackeral, sardines...snoek, if you're in the Cape: Use white-fleshed fish, rockfish. And if you can get them, and in New York we can, rouget, the little red Mediterranean fish, and if you are in....Tokyo, or Provence, get rascasse. They are considered the backbone and heart, soul, etc. of bouillabaisse. But enough blathering.

If you have a free day you can make this in one day, or half, since you must buy the fish the same day. If not, make the stock ahead and freeze or start again the next day. Be warned: This is not a short process, nor is it cheap, either (though another version can be). It is special. And the result is worth every minute of preparation.

There are two parts to this: Making the stock, and making the finished bouillabaisse

For about 6

Stock (or the soul of the soup)

1 each of three different kinds of fish, with heads, bones, etc, cleaned, scaled and roughly chopped. You can fillet these fish and save the fillets for adding to the soup later, but then you must make the whole thing on the same day.

e.g. snapper, John Dory, rouget, branzino (SA: elf, kabeljou, yellowtail...)

1 1/2 lbs of shrimp, with shells, and preferably heads. Shell and clean the shrimp, keep tails for soup and reserve shells and heads for stock. This is not optional. The shrimp shells give a rich flavour to the bouillabaisse.

1 lobster if you are rich, two if you know a diver, or are richer. Reserve tail meat and keep the chopped body and head. No, the green stuff isn't icky, it's good. It's the tomale. Liver, OK? Keep it. Throw away the gritty sac. though (no, you can't be squeamish). Also discard the dead man's fingers (lungs, blegh...OK, a little squeamish).

4 Tbsp olive oil
3 large onions, chopped finely
1 head (not clove, head) of garlic chopped finely
2 bulbs fennel, chopped, yes, finely
6 tomatoes, skinned, chopped, not finely
2 Tbsp tomato paste
2 bottles of good white wine, not wooded, slightly fruity, but dry. It has got to be wine you would drink, and would be very nice if it is the wine you will drink...
3 bay leaves
3 sprigs thyme
1 bunch parsley
10 peppercorns
1 Tbsp sugar
Salt

- A very healthy splash of olive oil into a large stock pot. Add onions, then garlic, saute for about 5 minutes of medium to low heat, till translucent.
- Increase heat to at least medium and add fennel and cook another 5. Stir not to brown.
- Add chopped fish heads and bones, and prawn and lobster shells.
- Stir everyone nicely so they're all in contact with the heat.
- Add tomatoes and tomato paste, stir again.
- Add herbs and peppercorns and sugar.
- Toss in two bottles of wine or until everything is covered. Add water if necessary. It will probably be quite necessary.
- Bring to the boil and reduce so that it's simmering (lots of steam, surface barely shaking) and skim off any scum that rises.

Clean the kitchen.

The stock should cook for about an hour. Taste it at this time and add salt. Through a sieve, pour all the stock into a big bowl. You'll have to do this in batches, as the sieve fills up with Bits. Push all these Bits very hard against the mesh to get every little drop out. In my extreme moments I have put Bits into a blender. I also broke the blender - but the idea is to get every ounce of goodness out of the Bits.

OK - now you have a bowlful of stock. At this point I commit another heresy. I reduce it. Just by about a fifth. Which means you put it back into the big, now clean pot, back on high heat and bring it back to a boil, then reduce to a serious simmer and let it do that for about...35 minutes. Its level will drop. Er, that's why it's called reducing. It concentrates flavour. Taste.

There is an alternative and since I'm going to hell already, I can tell. It's...chicken stock. Real is best...but a c-c-c-cube does wonders. A good cube. Phew, I feel unburdened. I would say I have done it 33.3% of the time (once every three years, in other words) when, for some reason the stock just doesn't taste...right. Full, rounded...like chicken??? No! Just...full, rounded, very nice.

Where were we? Oh, OK. So the stock's done. Have a drink. At this point you can cool it and freeze for another time when you buy fish fillets, shrimp tails etc separately, or carry right on if it is going to be dinner.

For the Finished Bouillabaisse

- 1 Large pinch saffron
- 6 medium fillets from two or pref. three kinds of white fish, like or from the fish, above. They must be sliced into pieces, not too small. Bear in mind that the biggest pieces will take longest to cook and will be added a little earlier than the small pieces....personally, I like the skin off. Boiled fish skin. Brrrr.
- 1 1/2 lbs prawns or shrimp, either in the shell, cleaned; or the naked bodies; or entire, still cleaned but with head - this last will add an additional deliciousness to the soup, if you go for it. The quantity is worked out by figuring how many each person may like to eat. If you splurge and get langoustes, one each, tigerprawns, one or two, etc.
- if you are having lobster, the tail meat, and claw meat, if you live where lobsers have claws.
- for superdeluxe version, dungeoness crab claws, and VERY fresh lump crab meat. This is added last.
- cockles or very little clams, about 1 1/2 lbs, de-sanded by soaking in fresh water for ten minutes.
- mussels, same and debearded, and only if you have a super-reliable fish person or local tidal rock. Mussels have made me very very seeck more than once (but never from my own bouillabaisse!)

Now before you start the final stage, some helpful hints:

Make sure you have invited people you really like to dinner. Then make sure they may and will and can eat shellfish (most unkosher this dish and lethal, too, to those allergic). If you have things with shells that need to be cracked, buy claw crackers. If you don't have claw crackers don't have things with shells. Have very big napkins, preferably of the pretty dishcloth variety. They will get stained. Farewell my lovely damask. Have very good bread. Make it into toasts, or serve hot and crusty. Have aioli, or better, rouille. No, I'm not giving the recipe here, this is already ridiculously long.

So, you have stock. You have beautiful fish. Your fish is already cut up on plates in the fridge. Your stock is simmering. Everything else is ready. Your wine is chilling, there's a green salad for later, or before if you must, and poached pears or roasted peaches depending on your season, for dessert.

To your simmering stock, in the now famous pot, add your large pinch of saffron. Then add the pieces of fish that look the biggest. Then the small guys. Add the cockles and mussels last* (as you're doing this increase the heat because the cold fish will take heat out of the pot and slow everything down). When these shellfish have opened, it's ready. Throw out any you see that stay closed.

* If you have small prawns or lobster tail cut into pieces, or crab meat add these last - sinful to overcook them.

Serve in wide bowls, giving everyone a bit of everything. Dunk bread. Slather rouille or aoili (sometimes I stir some in - yet more heresy, before serving) on the bread. Drink icy white wine. Be very happy to be eating this with people you like.

That is, give or take a carrot, a stick of celery (not necessary but I've done it, see below), one more or fewer fish, It.

This is a picture of a recent one I made, perhaps very rashly, for a Provençal native...

On wine.

I prefer a New Zealand Sauvignon blanc for this, but also South African Chenin blanc (I find the S/blancs too acidic, with rare exceptions), or a Rose from the south or France. Actually, whatever you like to drink is fine. But nothing wooded.

Variations: I sometimes add a healthy slosh of Pernod to the fennel and vegetables while they are cooking. If you do this, choose a fruiter wine.

The End.

Friday, October 12, 2007

The End of Summer

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Wet leaves on Congress Street, as I was walking home yesterday, in wet white flipflops, my red- painted toes looking exceptionally clean under the rolled-up cuffs of my corduroys. I was so happy to see these "helicopters" - you know: they go round and round and round as they fall -from a maple, lying with fallen leaves in a tree pit. The heat had been broken bigtime with massive rain, and fall arrived within hours.


Will I wear the summer dresses again?

To celebrate I made a small martini, wishing Vince were there to share it with me...The Grey Goose was viscous from the freezer, the little Sicilian olives quite hot (chiles in the curing brine). I think what I really like about martinis is the vodka-slippery olives...Maybe the next time I'm out I'll order it, as usual: Grey Goose, up, bone dry, fifteen olives, please. The martini is in a Woodstock glass. I have a thing for glasses...

Being too drenched to shop for supplies I played with what was at hand. I stuffed tomatoes with couscous and falafel dust, after first sauteing finely chopped onion and garlic, adding the former...I then put some pomegranate juice, quel shock, in the bottom of the pan that then went into a 400' oven for an hour. YUM!

...and watched The Avengers, circa 1967. Not as good as '66 - I prefer the black 'n whites to this VERY Technicolor, but still just so odd and unapologetic that I love them.

The best storylines....

And skipped through today, taking delivery of a deposit cheque which signals Go!Go!Go! on the big SoHo project. Which means me and my big mouth must design what we casually suggested was possible. But that kicks off on Monday, and before that I must design Molly's rooftop garden so that we have pretty pictures to show the camera on Tuesday. Tonight I feast on chicken a la moutarde, because I did not have a lapin...I don't know what it's like, it's still cooking.

And I cracked the bottle of Pernod...

And now I must write to TomCat, who wants to know about Estorbo. Hm. Where does one begin?

(...ad the begeeneen', you stupeed Wooman...)

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Domestic Fugue

I made a little list today. I have Things on my Mind. And sometimes I can't attend to the Things until the things have been taken care of. It may be an internal agreement which allows Things (things Things) to Sliiiiiiiiiiiiide. So having, in principle, started some of the Things (involving, beerk, back-taxes on money not in fact earned, but red tape is red tape - thank you Christopher, accountant extraordinaire) in motion the things took precedence today so that we can finish the vicious little cycle.

things:

1. purchase and application of Biospot, spot-on flea control for cats, on cat. To deal with his very unwelcome new pets.

2. purchase, insertion (oh hush!) and activation of microbag in Hoover to suck up things

3. handwashing of collection of flimsy summer dresses. Seven of them.

4. calling my Mastercard company to dispute the $600 charge that the Alliance Francaise REFUSES to refund to me. The classes are due to start at the end of October, till early November. It's not like I'm ditching them in the middle...I decided: i) they are too expensive (for me) ii) I don't have 6 evening hours each week to devote to them, plus the hours traveling. Work has taken over, and iii) I know a personal tutor whose rewards (and punishment??)will far exceed anything the Alliance could either dream or OR be capable of. Bunch of limp willies. They have a separate phone line for these queries. No more cute Frenchy on the phone. Oh no, it's Longhue Island. And Longhue Island reads you The Policy. Doesn't listen to you, just reads it. Which says no refunds, only credit AT the Alliance. There was no mention of The Policy at sign up...no, just a purring lady Frenchie who lulled you into dreams of sunlit mornings with croissants and happy Canadian Frenchies.

This is America damnit!!! EVERYTHNG is refundable. Fuck off, Alliance Frenchies, it's WAR! I will eat ALL your cheese and hold your saucissons hostage. And you know what I can do to a saucisson far from its mother.

I'm not optimistic about the first round. I think those Frenchies have dealt with this before. When I called again, to another number, in an attempt to circumvent Longhue Island, the sexy-voiced lady Frenchie, when she heard what I wanted, said in clipped tones, Let me put you through to someone who will read you....The Po-li-cy.

We will NAIL your asses at the rugby. Oh, oops, we can't, because you're OUT! [see comments for my come-uppance]

5. Two loads of laundry, accomplished.

6. Purchased along with groceries my favourite Spanish Zoe tuna as a reward for all this activity. A Nicoise (it's OK, it's Southern, far from Paris) salad must be assembled. No. The pomegranates are not going into the salad. The beetroot is, though. Quelle horreur!

7. E-mailed the landlord and wrote words like Sliding Doors and Leaks. Ugh.

Other than that? Started the day well (if late...sorry Chris and Vivian) at Balthazar with a glass of champagne, a bowl of coffee and a croissant. Breakfast of champions.

And I wore my new boots. I have two pairs of new boots. I am very happy. Undertook to make a tart (lemon, I think, Dan) for Prune to say thank you for letting us film there next Tuesday. Somewhere in there I did some work and ate a Vietnamese sandwich at my desk. They've gone up from $3.95 to $4.50. So no longer dirt cheap. Just cheap. And still fantastic.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

From the Kitchen to the Terrace


Fall is here, which means pomegranates, which I love. I cheated today and bought the ready-shelled seeds - they were so sweet. In a salad with butter lettuce, terrace parsley and terace chives with a dressing of pomegranate molasses, red wine vinegar, olive oil etc, in order to match in character/geography...

... pounded chicken breasts (thanks Chris, you inspired me to beat the hell out of two innocent breasts...uh. Well, nevermind). Which, in a fit of inspiration, after soaking in some lime juice, I coated in falafel dust, as I like to refer to Sahadi's premade falafel mixture: very spicy and crunchy and completely delicious. Almost as nice as KFC...wow. When last did I eat Kentucky Fried Thing? 19...77?


My mini moss garden lives around the roots of my fig. This is what is referred to as moss green.


And Iceberg white. I picked all the Icebergs this afternoon in a fragrant bunch so as to speed on the next and probably last flush. I cannot believe it is nearly the end of the year. Started damn low. Poised to end somewhere else entirely...And how would we behave with foresight?

And what is low for some is high for others, and my high is the time of utter low - half way round the world a lifelong family friend has passed away and while I write his family is without him in their first hours of the thing we all must know, dread, fight, deny. We have invented a lot of things, but not the antidote to this.

Saturday, October 6, 2007

Violets in October

I noticed this violet this afternoon, growing in the pot with the lime green liriope and the small patch of variegated English ivy that I have allowed to live (I hate ivy). I knew the plant was there - it arrived by seed somehow more than a year ago and the tiny thing actually survived the winter. But a flower? In October???

(It's the Miracle Gro...Call. The poh-liiiiiiice...)

OK, here, this explains it:




I can't stop with the blue stuff. And must, because it is, technically, Fall. Technically, because as we speak the AC is blasting me with coolth and the air outside is worthy of July. But plants MUST not be fed with this steroid-like stuff going into winter because new growth is tender and will be hurt by the first frost, compromising the health of the plant. Because it's not good for the soil! End of lecture. To self.

But a violet...It's messed up.


The mint is ecstatic.



The tiny Euphorbia has taken over even though I cut it three weeks ago...



And the baby boxwood has pushed out new growth post its haircut. This is all bad. Very, very bad.


But I can't stop!

Friday, October 5, 2007

ADD

I feel the need to document Every Interesting Thing that has been happening and I just can't. It's bad enough as it is...getting to bed at ridiculous hours, working till it's dark, working through weekends, having wonderful conversations in the wee hours with my gorgeous Canadian courtesy of Skype.

...and then I want to write about all the little meals I make most evenings (I have an entire massive folder called Meals for Me, with pictures - I mean, who photographs all the meals they cook FOR THEMSELVES???) - but that would have to be its own blog and I can't keep up. Above: moussaka, parsley and butter lettuce salad, and my favourite Oyster Bay.

Truth is, as my mother reminds me from time to time, busy is good and the more on my plate the better. I am reinvigorated by this probable, though not signed-and-sealed multi-terrace project in SoHo, and remember at times like this how lucky I am. It doesn't feel like it's a job. I love it. I love playing with empty space and making up gardens to go there. That's not work. That's me seven years old in my mother's garden inventing rivers and forests and animals to go in the strange lands that were the flowerbeds, all on miniature scale. Of course then I used twigs and a garden hose and a lot of imagination; or I'd find tiny weeds and bits of glass to make lakes and jungles in seedtrays filled with earth.

[Ed. 10/11/07: email from brother Francois to clarify things:

"By the way it was your brother who taught you how to use twigs (dried willow twigs to be sure) to create all the little walkways and interesting "Thailandish Island Resortish" structures under the mauve and white primulas below your bedroom window. That should be a good clue as to what time of the year it was ?? Dry willow twigs, Primulas. Brings back memories."
 
Duly noted. Thank you, brother.]

Now it's tens of thousands of dollars for the serious materials needed to realize what is schemed and dreamed for these floating gardens at the very top of the food chain. A long way from sticks, and yet not so different. I'm still playing.

But lunch with Molly also reminded me of how rewarding this designing/inventing gardens is on a personal level. She actually loves plants. Her ex-lush roofgarden was reduced to nada because of leaks and is now a bare deck, more or less. After tossing some ideas back and forth over our tiny table at Prune, we started to sketch on the brown paper table top, and suddenly ideas started becoming real: a line of white birch trunks, a bed of ferns, old English roses facing each other across the top deck, a fence of espaliered apples. I can see it, smell it, taste the dinners up there, hear the leaves in breeze.

It looks like this may in fact be the basis for the pilot (more talks about talks tomorrow with Lala and David, the producers) - and that, too, is actually becoming more exciting. More me, less fake.


Then, before she left the office today, Natalie wheeled in my, her, our...my...OK fine HER bike and I was overcome with nostalgia. How I miss our trips over the bridge. My own flowers in the basket. Swearing at everybody. Smiling at everybody. Feeling French. But I had made a promise and it is now hers, and I really, really need another one. Old, sweet, no gears and brakes via the pedal.

Please ancestors...You found the Canadian. Could you send me a bike now?


Goodbye and thanks for all the fish.

I have fed Natalie some fish over the years. She is a vegetarian and only eats vegetables. Like fish.

And she looks damn good on the bike. Sigh.