Recipes inspired by musicals: An American in Paris

When I was in university, I fell in love with the Gershwins.

It was actually an Ella Fitzgerald recording of George and Ira Gershwin’s songs that I fell in love with.  I never knew whether it was George’s perfect music, Ira’s clever lyrics, or Ella’s elegant voice that drew me in.  Whichever it was, I listened to this record as much as anything in those days, including the Beatles and The Police, and that’s quite a lot.

Later, when Andrew and I chose a first song to dance to for our wedding, there was really only one option.  It had to be a Gershwin composition, and we went with “(Our) Love is Here to Stay”.  The version we chose was sung by Nat King Cole, and it was a perfect way to start our marriage.

When our first daughter was born, I remember being alone in the hospital room that first night with a crying baby.  I settled her by singing “Embraceable You” and “Someone To Watch Over Me”. 

So you can probably guess that I think the Gershwin brothers’ movie An American in Paris is absolutely delightful.

In addition to the music, the other element that makes this movie so watchable is Gene Kelly.  Kelly was a notorious perfectionist, and he makes every step look effortless.   I’ve never seen a musical number that’s more charming than when he teaches a group of French children how to speak English in  “I Got Rhythm”.  And with co-stars Oscar Levant in “Tra-La-La” and Georges Guétary in “S’Wonderful”, he took a film with a very simple plot and turned it into one that won an Oscar for best movie in 1951.

In short, An American in Paris – with superb music, unbeatable lyrics, and dancing that will take your breath away – is everything a musical should be.

There are a million wonderful recipes that An American in Paris might inspire, but I immediately thought of the food I ate as a young Canadian in Paris on an exchange trip.  On the second day of my trip, I ordered a sandwich in a tiny café. Back home it would have been called a grilled cheese with ham, and it would have made a nice lunch.  But there it was called a Croque Monsieur, and in that tiny café it felt like the most delicious meal I’d ever eaten.

(If you’re new to the blog, welcome to my semiannual feature of recipes inspired by musicals!  Previous months can be found here, here and here.)

Croque Monsieur
(from Ina Garten's Barefoot in Paris.  This recipe makes a large amount of cheese sauce and enough sandwiches for a big group.  You may wish to halve it.)

2 Tbsp unsalted butter
3 Tbsp all-purpose flour
2 cups hot milk
1 tsp kosher salt
12 ounces Gruyere cheese, grated (about 5 cups)
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
16 slices white sandwich bread, crusts removed
Dijon mustard
8 ounces baked ham, sliced thin

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Melt the butter over low heat in a small saucepan and add the flour all at once, stirring with a wooden spoon for two minutes.  Slowly pour the hot milk into the butter-flour mixture and cook, whisking constantly, until the sauce is thickened.  Off the heat, add the salt, 1/2 cup grated Gruyere and the Parmesan.  Set aside.

To toast the bread, place the slices on two baking sheets and bake for 5 minutes.  Turn each slice and bake for another 2 minutes, until toasted.

Lightly brush half the toasted breads with mustard, add a slice of ham to each, and sprinkle with half the remaining Gruyere.  Top with another piece of toasted bread.  Slather the tops with the cheese sauce, sprinkle with the remaining Gruyere, and bake the sandwiches for 5 minutes.  Turn on the broiler and broil for 3 to 5 minutes, or until the topping is bubbly and lightly browned.  Serve hot.

Thursday's Child: Vasa Museum, Stockholm

We’ve visited a lot of museums on our travels – perhaps more than the younger Pollocks might have wished – but I haven’t written much about them.  Often museums forbid photography, and even when it’s allowed, the pictures don’t always turn out well.  But this month I’ll try to rectify this omission by writing about a few museums we’ve seen. 

The Vasa Museum in Stockholm, Sweden was built specifically to house the Vasa, a ship that sank in 1628 and wasn’t retrieved until 1961. 

King Gustavus Adolphus commissioned this ship to head up the fleet that was involved in the Thirty Years’ War in the Baltic region.  Sweden had had success with smaller vessels, but the king wanted a monumental ship that would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.  And he wanted it immediately.

From the beginning, his orders were to build the ship as big as possible, as ornate as possible, and as quickly as possible.  The Vasa was loaded with more ammunition than any other Swedish ship of the time.  Enormous sums of money were spent on decoration; for example, nearly 500 sculptures decorated the exterior of the ship, including renditions of lions, Roman emperors and Biblical symbols.

A stability test was ordered late in the ship’s construction.  The testing was cut off shortly after it began because they were afraid the ship would capsize.

You can see this one coming, right?

The Vasa’s maiden voyage was on August 10, 1628.  A huge crowd had gathered on the shore to watch it sail away including the king, many of the foreign dignitaries that he hoped to impress, and hundreds of commoners who wanted to be present for the launch.

Everything started well.  There was barely a breeze as the Vasa set sail.  Truly, this was a ship like no one had seen before.

It left the protection of the harbour, and that’s when the problems started.  A gust of wind knocked the ship off-balance.  The crew quickly reacted and righted it.  Danger averted.

But a minute later, another stronger gust assailed the Vasa.  The mighty ship began to list and a lower deck started to take on water.  This caused it to list even more and, in full view of the dazed spectators, the Vasa sank.

Unbelievably, the ship had travelled only 120 metres from shore.  Rescue ships were sent out immediately and some crew members were rescued, but at least thirty people died.

The Vasa stayed on the bottom of the ocean for 333 years.  In the mid-twentieth century, rescue technology was sophisticated enough to attempt a retrieval.  After years of preparation, the ship was pulled to the surface and stored in temporary quarters, until a new museum was designed and built in 1990.

We loved seeing the Vasa, still majestic all these years later.  In fact, we were so impressed that the rest of my family wrote a poetic homage to it (because that’s what our travels are all about: been there, took the photos, wrote the limerick).

“In Stockholm, the Vasa was grand

They cheered and they struck up the band.

But the Swedish King cussed

When an innocent gust

Made her sink twenty minutes from land.”

One last summer recipe

I know it’s way past the end of summer.  It’s late September – practically October – and I should be posting fall recipes.  Every other blog I’m reading has recipes for pumpkin bread, apple pie, or hearty stews.  

Maybe I wasn't ready to say goodbye to summer, or maybe I just got behind on my postings.  Whatever it was, I couldn’t let the end of September go by without posting my favourite Berry Pavlova.  And then I promise I will turn the page to fall.

The biggest surprise is how long it’s taken me to post this recipe, regardless of the season.  As you might guess from the name of this blog, I love meringues, and I’ve been making this dessert for years.  I’ve been hesitant to post it because meringues are unpredictable and I didn’t know how the photos would turn out.

I made this pavlova in August, with fresh berries.  I generally make it in the summer, although I’ve also made it for Christmas using frozen berries, with great results.  I often make it with a mix of blueberries, raspberries and strawberries, but opted for just raspberries this time because I thought it would look pretty against the checked tablecloth.  Because that's the kind of thing you think about when you're making a summer recipe.

Three-Layer Berry and Brown Sugar Pavlova

(recipe from epicurious)

For meringue:

1 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

1 1/2 Tbsp cornstarch

1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

2 tsp distilled white vinegar

3/4 cup egg whites (about 6 large eggs), at room temperature 30 minutes

For berries:

4 pints raspberries

2 Tbsp granulated sugar

For cream:

1 cup chilled heavy cream

1/3 cup chilled sour cream

To make meringues:

Preheat oven to 275 degrees with rack in middle.  Lightly butter 3 - 8” or 9” round cake pans, and line bottoms with a round of parchment paper.

Combine sugar, brown sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl and set aside.

In another small bowl, stir together vanilla and vinegar.

Beat egg whites with a pinch of salt using an electric mixer at medium speed until they hold soft peaks.  Increase speed to medium-high and add sugar mixture 1 Tbsp at a time.  After all sugar has been added, beat one minute more.  Add vinegar mixture, then beat at high speed until meringue is glossy and holds stiff peaks, about 5 minutes.  Spoon meringue into pans and smooth tops.

Bake about 1 hour.  Turn oven off and prop door open slightly with a wooden spoon.  Cool meringues in oven one hour.  Meringues may sink slightly and crack while cooking.

Run knife along sides of cake pans and carefully turn meringues out of pans.  Carefully peel off parchment, and turn right side up.

To macerate fruit:

Toss berries with sugar and let stand at room temperature until ready to use, up to one hour.

Assemble dessert:

Beat heavy cream using an electric mixer until it just holds soft peaks.  Add sour cream and mix until just combined.  Put one meringue on a serving plate and spread one third of whipped cream over it.  Spoon one third of fruit over top.  Repeat with remaining meringues, cream and fruit.

Best served immediately.

Thursday's Child: El Badi Palace, Marrakech

You might wonder why I’m featuring El Badi Palace as the final post in my tribute to amazing architecture that we’ve seen on our travels.  There isn’t much left of this palace in Marrakech, but when it was intact, it was an architectural marvel. 

El Badi translates as “The Incomparable”, and when it was built it was breathtaking in its opulence.  Commissioned by Sa’did Sharif Ahmad al-Mansur in the sixteenth century, no expense was spared.  Only the finest materials were used, including Italian marble, ivory, exquisitely-carved woodwork, gold and onyx.  Paths were paved in terracotta tiles, as were roofs of the surrounding pavilions.  The main hall in one of the pavilions was flanked by fifty enormous columns.  In the courtyard, a cluster of swimming pools was framed by four sunken orange gardens.

This was a building that should have stood forever.

But that’s not what happened.  A mere century later El Badi was torn apart, plundered for its precious materials so another ruler could build his own palace.

This is what remains: a courtyard with foundations of the pavilions, and four gardens which still blossom with the scent of orange.  A few denuded walls still stand, where storks have built their nests in the gaps.

This poem wasn’t inspired by El Badi, but I couldn’t help but think of it as I witnessed the ruins of this once-majestic palace:

Ozymandius

I met a traveller from an antique land 


Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone 


Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, 


Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, 


And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, 


Tell that its sculptor well those passions read 


Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, 


The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; 


And on the pedestal these words appear: 


“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: 


Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” 


Nothing beside remains. Round the decay 


Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare 


The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

- Percy Bysshe Shelley

Cookbooks

I have a shelf full of cookbooks, but the reality is that I only use about 10% of them on a regular basis.

Now that I’m blogging, many of the new recipes I try are the ones I find on other people’s blogs.  And if I’m looking through my cookbook cupboard, most of the time I pull out one of my favourites (Barefoot Contessa, Bonnie Stern) to look for a recipe.

So why do I have so many other cookbooks that I can't bear to part with?  I couldn't get rid of the first cookbook I ever bought for myself.  I bought a copy of Mollie Katzen's The Enchanted Broccoli Forest after I'd been at a friend's house who cooked from it.  And The Penny Whistle Birthday Party Book will stay on my shelf as long as I'm cooking.  The girls and I used to leaf though it together in advance of every birthday party, looking for a theme and food to go with it.  It's probably the most loved of all my cookbooks, with a torn cover and dog-eared pages to prove it.

Despite my affection for the cookbooks I own, I still like it when I find a new cookbook that I fall in love with.  And that’s why it was great to come across The Fresh & Green Table.  I’ve tried three recipes so far and loved them all, and I have many more marked to try.  Last week’s frittata was from this book too.  All of her recipes are full of vegetables, and full of flavour.  Is there anything better than finding a recipe that’s delicious, and healthy too?

Pasta with Broccoli, Sun-dried tomatoes and Goat Cheese

(from The Fresh and Green Table, by Susie Middleton)

Ingredients

Kosher salt

1/2 lb (225 g) cavatappi, straccetti or rotini (I couldn’t find cavatappi, but any spiral or corkscrew pasta should do)

3 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil (first amount)

2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil (second amount)

1 Tbsp minced garlic

1/4 tsp crushed red pepper flakes

1 pound small broccoli florets (approximately 4 crowns), each cut into pieces about 1” long and 3/4” wide

1/2 cup thinly sliced oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes, drained

2 oz (55 grams) goat cheese, crumbled while still cold

1/3 cup coarsely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  Put a colander in the sink and place a glass liquid measure next to it.  Add the pasta to the boiling water and cook until al dente.  Take the pot off the heat and, before draining the pasta, pour about 2/3 cup of the pasta water into the glass measure.  Drain the pasta in the colander and let it sit, loosely covered with foil or a pot lid.

Have ready a small heatproof bowl near the stove.  In a large nonstick stir-fry pan, heat 3 Tbsp of the olive oil over medium-low heat.  When the oil is hot, add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring, until the garlic begins to simmer in the oil.  Cook for just about 30 seconds more to infuse the oil.  (Do not let the garlic brown.)  Pour and scrape the seasoned oil into the heatproof bowl and reserve.  Wipe the pan out with a paper towel.

Return the pan to the heat, add the remaining 2 Tbsp olive oil, and raise the heat to medium high.  When the oil is hot, add the broccoli and 1 tsp salt and stir well.  The pan will seem crowded and the broccoli may look dry, but the broccoli will shrink and give off moisture as it cooks.  Cook, stirring occasionally, until the broccoli has shrunk (it will mostly fit in a single layer in the pan) and the florets have turned bright green, about 10 minutes.

Measure out 1/3 cup of the pasta water and pour it into the stir-fry pan.  Quickly add the sun-dried tomatoes.  Then cover the pan briefly and continue cooking until the water has simmered down to almost nothing (about 15 to 20 seconds).  Uncover and remove the pan from the heat.

Add the drained pasta to the pan, season it with 1/4 tsp salt, and drizzle it with all the reserved garlic-red pepper oil.  Stir briefly.  Add the goat cheese and most of the Parmigiano and stir until everything is well distributed.  Add another 1 to 2 Tbsp pasta water and stir again until the goat cheese loosens up a bit and gets creamier.  Add another 1 to 2 Tbsp pasta water, if necessary.

Serve right away, garnished with the remaining Parmigiano.

(By the way, this cookbook recommendation is a completely independent opinion.  I picked up the cookbook on my own and haven’t been reimbursed or gifted by the author or publisher, nor do I know them.  I just like telling people about things that I love.)

Thursday's Child: The Segovia Aqueduct

Last week I posted about the Roman Colosseum.  Today I’m writing about another Roman structure, built at the westernmost side of their empire – the Segovia Aqueduct in Spain.

The actual date the aqueduct was built isn’t known, but it’s estimated to have been started in the late first century. Although it has been repaired several times through the centuries, it’s still a testament to the brilliance of the Romans.  After all, it has been in use nearly 2000 years, carrying water to Segovia from a river in the mountains over 15 kilometres away. 

When we travel, we often seek out sites that have been protected by UNESCO.  All of the properties on their World Heritage list have been deemed to be of cultural or natural significance.  The Segovia Aqueduct is one such site.  When we visited, I thought about everything that has changed around the aqueduct while it has remained constant.  It was built to deliver drinkable water to a city, and for many centuries, it did exactly that. 

I started thinking about all the ways that water has featured in our travels.  We’ve been to a rain forest, and to a place where it hasn't rained in one hundred years. We’ve seen a lake where a famous monster lives and we’ve seen what happens if you disregard parking lot warnings about high tides. We’ve used water for recreation, transportation, and inspiration.

But at the end of the day, everything comes down to having enough clean water to drink.  Those brilliant Romans examined how other cultures provided water to their cities, and took it up a notch or two.  The fact that their aqueduct in Segovia is still standing is an engineering marvel and a tribute to their inventiveness.

Fear

I’m pretty comfortable in the kitchen.  I’ve been baking and cooking since I was about six, and most of the time I don’t think twice about trying a new recipe.  Generally, I like using new ingredients or new techniques – sometimes that’s half the fun of being an amateur cook.

This is one of those rare recipes that I really had to talk myself into.  Yes, the frittata looked amazing, with many of my favourite ingredients.  But to make it, I had to get past my fear of cooking by putting a skillet in the oven.

You see, I’m one of those people who have a bad news story about cooking with a skillet.  A few years ago, I pulled a skillet out of the oven with an oven mitt, which I set down while I turned the heat off.  Then, as you might guess, I instinctively tried to pick up the skillet with my bare hand to move it elsewhere.

I managed to avoid a really bad burn by immediately dunking my hand in ice water, and keeping it there off and on for the next hour.  But it was still painful and blistered for longer than I’d like to recall.  As a result, I’ve been very reluctant to use my skillet in the oven again.

I never did get around that fear, but this frittata sounded so amazing that I decided to put the mixture in a glass baking dish right before cooking it.  It tasted delicious – one of those rare meals that everyone in my family enjoyed – and I’ve made it several times since then.  So whether you have the courage to use the original instructions, or opt for the peace of mind you get from baking it in a separate dish, please don’t be afraid of this recipe.

Broccoli and Cheddar Frittata with Red Potatoes and Scallions

(adapted from Fresh & Green Table, by Susie Middleton)

1 medium unpeeled red potato, cut into small (1/2”) dice

kosher salt

freshly ground pepper

1 Tbsp unsalted butter (first amount)

1 Tbsp unsalted butter (second amount)

1/2 Tbsp unsalted butter (third amount)

1/2 cup thinly sliced green onions (white part, and as much green as needed to make 1/2 cup)

1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil (first amount)

1 tsp extra virgin olive oil (second amount)

1 broccoli crown, cut into small (1”) florets, about 3 cups

7 large eggs

1/3 cup skim milk

1/3 cup heavy (whipping) cream

1/8 tsp (about 6 shakes) Worcestershire sauce

1 1/2 cups extra sharp aged cheddar, coarsely grated

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Put the potatoes and 1 tsp salt in a medium saucepan, add enough water to cover by 1”, and bring to a boil over high heat.  Reduce the heat and simmer until tender, about 10 minutes.  Drain well and let cool for several minutes.  Transfer to a large bowl and season with a pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper.

In a 10” ovenproof skillet, melt 1 Tbsp of the butter over medium heat.  Add the green onion slices and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and starting to brown, 4 to 5 minutes.  Transfer to the bowl of potatoes.  Return the pan to the heat and add 1 Tbsp of the butter and 1 Tbsp olive oil.  Raise the heat to medium high.  When the butter has melted, add the broccoli and 1/4 tsp salt.  Cover and cook for 2 minutes.  Uncover and cook, stirring, until the florets are mostly brown on all sides and have lost much of their stiffness, 3 to 4 more minutes.  Remove from the heat, let cool for a few minutes, and transfer the broccoli to the bowl of potatoes and scallions.  Let cool for 5 to 10 minutes.  Wipe out the skillet.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, cream, 1/2 tsp salt, Worcestershire sauce and several grinds of pepper.  Stir in the cheese.  Add the broccoli mixture and stir well.

Return the skillet to medium-high heat and add the remaining 1/2 Tbsp butter and 1 tsp olive oil.  When the butter has melted and begun to sizzle, pour and scrape all the vegetable custard mixture into the skillet.  Gently stir once or twice to move the contents of the pan around so everything is evenly distributed.  Let the pan sit on the heat until the custard is just beginning to set, 1 to 2 minutes.  Pour the custard mixture into a 10” round baking dish, and bake until the frittata is puffed, golden and set, about 25 minutes.  (Or take a chance and put the skillet directly in the oven.)

Let the frittata cool in the pan for 15 to 20 minutes.  The flavour gets better as it sits, so eat it warm or at room temperature, or even the next day.  Cut into wedges and serve.