Plantain pizza

As you may have noticed, I really love fusion cuisine and the improbable but delicious flavor pairings that come into being when traditions from different parts of the world are combined. Today’s recipe is one such dish: part Italian, part American and part… Nigerian? Allow me to explain.

This summer, I had plantains on the brain because I’d recently gotten my hands on a really cool plantain cookbook – by Tomi Makanjuola, who runs the blog The Vegan Nigerian – which has over 40 recipes showcasing the underappreciated fruit in almost every kind of dish you can imagine. As I always try to make at least five recipes from every cookbook I acquire, in line with the philosophy behind my cookbook challenge, I set about making some of the dishes right away (my favorites are the beans & plantain pottage and the smoky plantain, mushroom & avocado on toast).

As I began to appreciate the humble plantain more and more, I thought it would be fun to create a plantain recipe of my own for this blog. As I set about reflecting upon savory and sweet combinations not already covered in that cookbook, Hawaiian pizza popped into my mind. Many are the opponents of pineapple on pizza, especially one Italian friend of mine, but I happen to love it. So I thought plantain might work on a pizza too as long as there was also something spicy to balance out the sweetness. After brainstorming a list of likely ingredients, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

To be honest, even I was not totally sure if plantain on pizza would work out. But I looooooved it! My mom and dad did, too (I was at their house when I made it). It has smoky, savory notes from the smoked vegan deli meat, crunchy oniony-ness from the red onion, freshness from the cilantro and of course the crispy sweet plantain goodness of the star ingredient. I also love how colorful it is (red, white, yellow, purple, black, green).

So as I was saying, this pizza is a fusion dish – pizza has its origins in Naples but was developed into the dish we know today in early 20th century New York City (listen to this interesting How to Be American podcast episode for more on that) and this particular one has a key ingredient that’s grown in Nigeria, but also other parts of Africa as well as Asia and Latin America. Plantain is therefore not a specifically Nigerian thing, but since a Nigerian cookbook author inspired me to create this dish, I’ve associated it that way in my mind.

If all this has intrigued you and you want to try making it too, read on!

A note about the crust: when I made this pizza, I used an overly complicated homemade pizza dough recipe that I wouldn’t recommend, so I’ll leave it to you to find one you like. It just needs to be thick or firm enough to support the rather hefty plantain slices.

Plantain pizza

Makes an approximately 12-inch (30-cm) pizza

  • one thickish (but not deep-dish) pizza crust, purchased or homemade
  • 5 to 6 tablespoons pizza sauce (or tomato sauce plus Italian herbs)
  • 3/4 cup (75 g) mozzarella-style vegan cheese (optional)
  • 2 to 3 vegan deli-style smoked “meat” slices
  • 1 to 2 medium-ripe plantains
  • 1/2 cup (60 g) red onion
  • 1/4 cup (30 g) sliced black olives
  • 1/3 cup sliced canned banana, peperoncino or other hot pepper
  • small bunch fresh cilantro (coriander)
  • 2 tablespoons cornmeal, for pan (or use baking paper)

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Preheat your oven to 475°F (250°C) and begin by preparing the plantains. Slice each one lengthwise and remove the peel. Slice into rounds of equal thickness, about 1/4th of an inch (5 cm) thick, and sauté on both sides over medium heat until golden brown. It’s important for the plantain to be fully precooked as undercooked plantain can lead to tummyache, and the time it spends in the oven might not be enough.

Sprinkle your baking sheet with the cornmeal to prevent sticking or, alternatively, line with baking paper. Place the dough upon it, rolling it flat if needed – mine was rectangular and measured 10.5 x 12.5 inches (27 x 32 cm) before baking. Spread the pizza sauce on it evenly, using more than the recommended amount if necessary or desired. Cover that with the vegan mozzarella, if using (I recommend Daiya in North America or Violife in Europe). But you can also opt not to use any cheese at all. If you don’t use cheese, a sprinkling of nutritional yeast before or after baking will add a somewhat cheesy flavor.

Cut the smoky vegan deli “meat” slices into squares. Use the quantity that you like.

Slice your red onion (and black olives, if not presliced) and place on top of the pizza.

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Finally, slice up the hot peppers and place on top of the pizza in the amount that you like, depending how partial you are. I started with two peppers but ended up adding some more after the pizza came out of the oven as I really loved the combination.

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Place in the oven (preheated to 475°F/250°C) and bake for about 10 minutes. Keep an eye on things because baking times can vary quite a bit depending on the thickness of your particular crust. If after 10 minutes it doesn’t seem done, give it some more time.

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Remove from the oven and garnish with fresh cilantro (coriander) leaves. Your one-of-a-kind plantain pizza is ready! Slice it up and serve it to your hungry guests (…or yourself!).

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Soooo yummy, if I do say so myself! I want to make it again. 🙂


Where to find ingredients…

Plantains can be found at most supermarkets, but if you don’t find any, look for a Latin-American, African or Asian grocery.

Mozzarella-style vegan cheese is increasingly available at mainstream grocery stores in North America, but organic shops are even more likely to have it. In France, you’ll find it at some organic shops, but for best results check at a vegan food shop first (in Paris: Naturalia Vegan, Mon Epicerie Paris and Aujourd’hui Demain).

Vegan deli “meat” slices will also most likely be found at organic and vegan food shops.

My best reads of 2019

In 2019, I was lucky enough to happen upon several really, really good books. And this month I decided to revisit an idea from January 2017 and tell you all about my favorite books from the past year.

I also started a new challenge in 2019. You know those “100 books to read before you die” lists that pop up from time to time, full of classics from world literature? This summer I stumbled upon yet another one and, as always, felt frustrated that I’d read relatively few of them. So I decided to correct this and made my own “bucket” list of 250 titles using the recommendations from this site, which offers a list generated from 128 best books lists. I went with 250 books rather than just 100 because I’d already read some in the 100-250 range and figured expanding the list couldn’t hurt. So far, counting the ones I’d already read, I have 55 of the 250 under my belt. Finishing the entire list will be the work of many years, but chipping away at this challenge makes me feel accomplished. And of course, I may just discover favorite new books and authors this way.

I also copied down The Guardian’s list of the 100 best novels written in English to be sure not to neglect any of those (I’ve read 25 so far), although there’s a lot of overlap between the two lists. And finally, I’m still working on my Read the World challenge with the goal of eventually reading at least one novel (any novel) from every country. So far, I’ve covered only 32 of the 196, but it’s a start.

So which of the books that I read in 2019 did I like the most? Read on to find out.

Heaven and Hell (2007) by Jón Kalman Stefánsson

Heaven and HellOf all the novels I’ve ever stumbled upon randomly, I think this one is my most valuable find. I was on my way home from a grocery store when I noticed a pile of abandoned books on a ledge and couldn’t resist stopping to check them out in spite of the surplus I already had at home. Seeing one by an Icelandic author (and being a big fan of Iceland), I decided to take it. It wasn’t long before I realized how lucky I was it had crossed my path. Heaven and Hell is about a young fisherman in a remote part of Iceland 100 years ago. As his real passion is not fish but words, he is sadly ill-suited to his job. Soon enough, tragedy strikes, prompting him to leave the crew to fulfill a special mission.

This story immerses you not just in another world and another time, but in a special realm of magic where you hear the thoughts of fish sighing in the depths of the fjords, peer into the labyrinth of the human soul and learn that you can hear the stars sing if you only climb high enough into the mountains. Narrative – and opinions – from a chorus of unidentified dead fisherman sometimes finds its way between the chapters. Although the novel is actually the first in a trilogy, it can also stand fairly well on its own. And if you become captivated by these characters, as I did, you’ll be glad there’s more to come. As I type these words, I’m halfway through the third volume, The Heart of Man, and am loving it.

The copy of Heaven and Hell that I happened upon is the French translation (Entre ciel et terre) by Éric Boury, whom I greatly respect as his version seems to have touched the hearts of this readership just as effectively as the original has with the author’s compatriots. And as the English version by Philip Roughton also has stellar reviews, I will not hesitate to recommend both here.

Madame Bovary (1856) by Gustave Flaubert

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If it hadn’t been for that “best books” challenge, I probably wouldn’t have picked this one up for a while. But it was more enjoyable than I expected, and I now regret waiting so long to read anything by Flaubert. Essentially a parable about the perils of ambition, Madame Bovary makes its points through the sad tale of the anti-heroine and also some minor characters.

Perpetually dissatisfied, Emma Bovary has made the mistake of marrying a boring country doctor and they live decidedly too far away from the excitements of cities and society life for her liking. Although this story was written in the 19th century, its moral is still highly relevant today and, human nature being what it is, will probably remain so.

I read this novel in the original French on Kindle (hooray for the public domain!) and as a side benefit, learned the French names of obsolete objects such as the buvard (ink blotting paper) Emma uses when penning her many letters to a certain rascally someone – you’ll have to read it yourself to find out who!

After finishing the book, I was excited to find a recent English-language film adaptation by Sophie Barthes, starring Mia Wasikowska, on Netflix. Sadly, it proved highly forgettable, and I couldn’t get past the fact that some actors spoke with British accents while others had American ones, and all the characters were of course all supposed to be from the same country (just pick one accent!).

Song of Solomon (1977) by Toni Morrison

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This novel was in the “best book” list too, but I would have read it anyway as I love Toni Morrison (who sadly left us this past year). During a visit home this summer, I found a copy of it in my mom’s bookshelf and dove in.

Song of Solomon follows the story of the oddly named Milkman Dead and his even odder family. As he comes of age and tries to make his way in the world, he discovers secrets about his mother and father that drive him on a quest to learn more.

The story, which draws in part upon African-American mythology,  seems at first to meander, introducing various eccentric characters that don’t seem to have much to connect them. But as you read on, you piece together the rich tapestry of their shared history and destinies that intertwine no matter how hard the people try to keep their distance. As always, Morrison’s beautiful prose shone and I had trouble putting the book down. The copy I read was from the 80s and its cover informed me it had been named the best book of 1977. It’s easy to see why!

Blond(e) Boy, Red Lipstick (2018) by Geoff Bunn

Blond(e) Boy, Red Lipstick

This one came to my attention through the recommendation of a translator friend with good taste in literature.

Set in London and Birmingham in the 1980s, Blond(e) Boy, Red Lipstick is a transgender romance, the first I’ve ever read. I was intrigued to find out how the main character, a young heterosexual man, ends up falling in love with a girl who turns out to be a boy. But the main thing that comes through in this story is the universality of human emotions. No matter who you are, and who you love, you’ll recognize the feelings the unnamed protagonist experiences.

And perhaps also those small points in time where, Sliding Doors style, a choice can change your whole future. The times, too, when life seems inexplicably to pave a way for you along a certain path. As the protagonist observes, “There are moments in life that are given to us.” On a side note, I can easily imagine this as a film, with an early 80s aesthetic and a great soundtrack!

Life after Life (2013) by Kate Atkinson

Life After Life

What if you could live again and again, until you got it right? Such is the premise of Life after Life, an exceptional story, which follows Ursula Todd through a myriad of attempts at life. Tragedies occur, mistakes are made, and she dies at various points in her existence. Each time, she is born again as the same person, to the same family, under (roughly) the same circumstances, and repeats the same life. When she reaches the moment that saw her die the last time, she instinctively avoids the situation or takes a different action that leads to her going on living.

Watching her do this, you come to realize the enormous impact one small choice, one resolute decision, one failure to act can have. It made me reflect upon many times in my past when I should have done something different. How would things be now if I had? It also reminds you that a chain of events lies behind anyone’s situation in life, bad or good.

Another thought that may strike the reader… what if this were how life actually works? Could it be the explanation for déjà vu? We can’t prove it either way, but what would you change if you were going to live your life over again?

Homegoing (2017) by Yaa Gyasi

Homegoing.jpgThis novel was another somewhat random find. I was at one of my favorite libraries, browsing through its fairly extensive foreign-books section (this is why it’s a favorite library), and it was propped up on a display stand. I’d never heard of the author, but the endorsement by Zadie Smith was enough for me. Homegoing was a fortuitous find, for this is a gem of a book.

The story begins in 18th century Ghana, with two half-sisters who are each unaware of the other’s existence. The choices they make – or that are made for them – take them down very different paths. Effia becomes an English slave trader’s bride and lives with him in a castle while Esi is enslaved and sent to work at a plantation in the American south.

The story follows the descendants of each sister, their fates inescapably linked to that original diverging point, up to the present day. Each chapter is one person’s story. We see what life was like over the centuries in Ghana and also how Esi’s children and grandchildren fared under slavery and then in a country marked by slavery’s heavy legacy.

Informative and beautifully written, this novel is all the more impressive for being the author’s debut novel. My only complaint was that I wanted it to be longer!

All the Light We Cannot See (2014) by Anthony Doerr

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I found this novel at the same library, but it had been recommended to me by a few people. All the Light We Cannot See is the touching story of a blind French girl and an orphaned German boy whose fates intersect during World War II. The girl flees with her father from Paris to the walled city of Saint-Malo, where they try to survive alongside an eccentric uncle and scheming neighbors. The boy, meanwhile, becomes a Nazi soldier through no particular decision of his own and takes some time to make up his own mind about what it is that he’s participating in.

With sight and the invisible as a theme, the novel focuses among other things on the various ways people react to crisis, making choices that protect their own interests but hurt others or, inversely, help others but cause their own downfall or even demise. The consequences, of course, are often invisible at the time of choosing.

Swing Time (2016) by Zadie Smith

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As the title suggests, dance and performance is a major theme of this story, which revolves around the complicated friendship of two girls growing up in a low-income neighborhood of northwest London. One has talent but faces obstacles, while the other has dreams without the corresponding skills and eventually finds herself taking another path.

The part of the novel set in Africa is what interested me most. A mega-rich, mega-popular American pop star decides to open a school for girls in an underprivileged rural area of an unnamed African country. But when the best of intentions, cultural ignorance and too much money coincide, things don’t always go as planned.

The various storylines in this novel can sometimes feel disconnected and disjointed, but isn’t that kind of how real life works too? I found this novel very entertaining in spite of it all.

Honorable mentions

Here are a few more that I read in 2019, but that I don’t recommend unreservedly.

Orlando (1928) by Virginia Woolf. Although I enjoy Woolf’s writing overall, her stream-of-consciousness style can make getting through her books somewhat of an arduous task. But Orlando is an important work in the history of literature, both for feminism and transgender topics (it is the first English-language trans novel). In this novel, which spans three centuries and relies on a good dose of magical realism, the titular protagonist has adventures in several countries and undergoes a spontaneous sex change midway through. Woolf’s friend and lover Vita Sackville-West was the direct inspiration for the character, so reading this novel is a good way to gain a better understanding of both authors and their writing. But reading Orlando is not a thankless task – it does demand work on the reader’s end but there are many rewards along the way, moments of pure comedy and biting insights into patriarchy’s various unfairnesses. Watching Sally Potter’s beautiful 1993 film adaptation (starring Tilda Swinton and a cross-dressing Quentin Crisp) could be a good way to get started on this book, which does however have a lot more content than what could be covered in the film.

At the Strangers’ Gate (2017) by Adam Gopnik. This memoir of the author’s early days in New York City was one of my Paris sidewalk finds, and since I knew his name already from his Paris book (which I haven’t read yet), I took a chance on it. Alas, there’s a certain tediousness in his style. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s wrong, since he’s clearly a skilled writer, but it may have something to do with his love of aphorism. Or maybe you have to be more interested in his life and the celebrity friends he talks about. Still, I enjoyed two chapters of At the Strangers’ Gate and recommend them to anyone who writes for a living (copywriters, editors, translators). The first one is chapter 6, “The Simple Logic of Summer Shirts,” in which Gopnik recounts his time working as a fashion copyeditor for the magazine GQ in the 80s: “The rhetoric of fashion – even men’s fashion – in those days, as probably in these days, too, depended on a simple, puzzlingly repeated tale of previous confusion from which we had now blessedly – just this month! – recovered.” I recognized this rhetoric, which is definitely still a thing, from my fairly limited experience translating for fashion brands. And in chapter 9, “Writing,” he talks about his work for a publisher, offering up more tidbits on publishing that could be useful or interesting to the categories of people I mentioned above. And who knows, maybe you’ll like the rest of the book more than I did.

Can’t and Won’t (2017) by Lydia Davis. The first work in the genre of flash fiction that I’ve ever read, Can’t and Won’t was full of fun little gems, pithy observations on everyday life that anyone can probably relate to. Some were very very short, consisting of just one sentence, like “Sitting with My Little Friend” (“Sitting with my little friend on the front/step:/I am reading a book by Blanchot/and she is licking her leg.”). Other longer ones offered a dry humor that I appreciated – like when the author and her neighbor both become paralyzed with indecision over a throw rug, or when the author receives a box of chocolates and cannot decide who should eat them and when. My favorite piece was a letter the author purportedly sent to a green pea manufacturer to complain about the package images and suggest improvements (it’s the kind of letter I often contemplate writing when I encounter bad translations on packaging or restaurant menus, but never do). Davis happens to also be a French to English translator, like myself, and has produced new translations of some of Flaubert’s work (after reading the original Madame Bovary this year, I now want to check out her version). And this collection of stories includes some rather experimental pieces drawn in part from Flaubert’s correspondence. But they aren’t straightforward translations – rather, she starts with one of his letters but sometimes embellishes upon it or combines it with something from another of his letters. The result is generally an amusing anecdote, although it is a bit frustrating to not know how much of it is Flaubert and how much Davis. In any case, although I enjoyed this book I didn’t include it in my main list of recommendations because flash fiction is a genre with many detractors (especially judging from the Goodreads comments), so this type of writing may not be for everyone.

How about you? What good books did you read this past year? What are your favorites of all time? Let us know in the comments.

In any case, I hope some of my favorite reads will inspire you too. And for more ideas, be sure to also check out my best reads list from 2016. Happy reading, fellow bookworms!

Norwegian Christmas rice porridge

A few years ago, I happened to spend Christmas in the company of a Norwegian friend and got to experience a traditional dish commonly served the morning of December 24th in homes across his northerly homeland. The memory of its subtle sweetness and warming heartiness has stayed with me and this year, I decided to make it here in Paris. And to share it with you! Get ready to experience risengrynsgrøt (rice porridge).

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The rising sun announces a cold new day in Stavanger.

This vegan version of the grøt (porridge) is very easy to make, composed of a just a few ingredients. And if you use rice milk, which is naturally sweet, there’s no need to add any sugar.

In preparing my own recipe, I drew inspiration from basic rice pudding recipes and also this Norwegian vegan risengrynsgrøt recipe. Some versions call for other milks, including full-fat canned coconut milk, but I found that rice milk thickened up nicely enough.

Risengrynsgrøt is traditionally served with husholdningssaft, a juice made from apples, grapes and cherries. Personally though, I dislike pairing sweet dishes with sweet beverages. And since I’m not Norwegian myself, I decided to flout tradition and have it with coffee.

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Some Julenisser (Nordic Christmas elves), disappointed in me for not drinking husholdningssaft.

husholdningssaftMy Norwegian friend later assured me that it was okay to have coffee too (emphasis his). I promised to have some berry juice later in the day to make up for it, but he only sighed and shook his head in dismay.

A word of caution about cinnamon:

There are two types, Cassia and Ceylon. Cassia, the most common kind due to its lower cost, can cause stomach pains and more serious problems if consumed in higher doses (1 teaspoon or more per person, per day) due to the coumarin it contains. So although cinnamon is yummy, be careful not to overdo it if you suspect yours is the Cassia variety.

Norwegian Christmas rice porridge

Makes about 3 cups (2 to 3 hearty servings)

  • 1 cup (200 g) short-grain rice
  • 3½ cups (830 ml) rice milk or rice milk blend
  • pinch salt
  • 1 cinnamon stick (optional, preferably the Ceylon variety)
  • 1 teaspoon margarine or vegan butter
  • ground cinnamon (preferably the Ceylon variety)

The rice you want for this recipe is the short-grain type, the kind used to make risotto. For the liquid, I recommend rice milk because it is naturally sweet (I used a rice and coconut milk blend). But you can substitute another plant-based milk and add a bit of sugar if needed.

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Combine the rice, milk, pinch of salt and cinnamon stick in a saucepan. Cover and bring to a boil over high heat. Once it is boiling, turn the heat down to low and simmer (still covered) for 15-20 minutes until the rice is soft. During this time, stay close, stirring occasionally and ensuring that the mixture doesn’t boil over.

When the rice is done, taste it to see if you want to add some sugar. Remove the cinnamon stick (tip: save it to make pot-pourri with later).

Serve the rice porridge in cereal bowls. Place a pat of margarine or vegan butter in the center of each bowl and sprinkle the top with a small amount of ground cinnamon (see my word of caution about cinnamon above). When the margarine has melted, stir it into the porridge to combine.

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Enjoy!

If reheating leftover rice porridge, mix in some extra milk while stirring to achieve a creamy texture again.

Variations: add diced raw apple, raisins or dried cranberries to the rice near the end of the cooking process. Dust some sugar and/or gomasio over the top if you like.

Sunrise and Julenisser photos courtesy of Jon Helge Hesby

Where to find ingredients…

Short-grain rice: most general grocery stores offer this type of rice, labeled variously as risotto rice, arborio rice or sushi rice. In France, riz rond is what you want.

Ceylon cinnamon (Cinnamomum verum or true cinnamon): check at high-end or specialty shops, or look online. Note that Saigon or Vietnamese cinnamon (Cinnamomum loureiroi) is closely related to the Cassia variety (Cinnamomum cassia) and therefore should probably also be consumed only in small quantities.

Vegan butter: make it yourself with this recipe, or, in North America, look for Miyoko’s amazing European-style cultured vegan butter.


Don’t miss my other Christmas posts!

Mini pavlovas

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner once again… This year, how about serving your sweetheart (or yourself) some light, crunchy vanilla clouds topped with rich coconut cream and colorful, juicy fruit? Meet the pavlova, a meringue-based cake named for Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova (rumored to have been created in 1926 in New Zealand), but in a mini version. It’s vegan too!

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Anna Pavlova in 1909

The actual origins of this fancy dessert are debated, but the Russian and potential New Zealand connections are reason enough to consider this an “Around the world” recipe.

It’s based on an airy meringue shell made from the brine from a can of chickpeas (or other legume – brine from navy, kidney or other beans works too). In yet another international connection, this culinary innovation, which opened up a world of new possibilities for vegan and egg-free cuisine, was discovered by French tenor and occasional food blogger Joël Roessel back in 2014. Aquafaba, as the brine came to be known, also makes it possible to create other items such as French macarons, chocolate mousse, the topping for lemon meringue pie, royal icing and even cheese and butter.

This is a fairly simple recipe, but it does require some time because the meringue-baking process is long and each batch of meringues must cool fully inside the oven once the baking time is up. For this reason, I recommend making the meringue shells the day before you plan to serve this dessert. Be sure to transfer them immediately to an airtight container once they’re finished cooling in the oven to ensure that they don’t absorb humidity and become sticky, losing their crunch. And when you’re ready to serve them, remove them from the airtight container and add the toppings only at the very last minute.

A side benefit to making this recipe is that you’ll have a freshly opened can of chickpeas on hand. And that means you can make hummus, chickpeas in spicy tomato sauce or my famous chickpea of the sea salad! But for now, roll up your sleeves so we can make these pavlovas!

Mini pavlovas

Makes around 10 pavlovas

For the meringue shells

  • 1/2 cup (118 ml) aquafaba (chickpea brine from the can or jar)
  • 1/2 cup (100 g) granulated white sugar (table sugar)
  • 1/4 teaspoon liquid vanilla extract (do not use any flavoring containing oil)
  • 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar (optional)

For the whipped coconut cream

  • 3/4 cup (200 ml) coconut cream, chilled
  • 1 or 2 tablespoons powdered sugar or maple syrup
  • 1/4 teaspoon liquid vanilla extract

For the topping

  • Seasonal or canned fruit. I used canned peaches and fresh pomegranate seeds, but consider kiwi, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, passionfruit or a combination of these.

Equipment needed: hand or stand mixer with “egg” beater attachments, metal or glass bowl (not plastic), baking sheet with baking paper, airtight container for storing the finished meringues (can be plastic).

If this is the first time you’ve whipped aquafaba, get ready to see a fun transformation. Turn your mixer to the highest setting and in a matter of about three minutes, the clear brine will magically turn into something fluffy and white that looks just like whipped egg whites.

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The aquafaba is ready for the next step once stiff peaks have formed and it stays in the bowl when you turn it upside down, as shown. Add the vanilla extract and cream of tartar, if using, and beat until incorporated.

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Now you’ll add the sugar. Continue beating, pouring the sugar in bit by bit. The mixture is done once it looks glossy. At this point, it will look and taste just like marshmallow fluff. In fact, you can even use some of it as marshmallow fluff if you like (but it will deflate after a while, so would need to be used right away).

At this point, you can begin preheating your oven to 210°F (100°C). Be careful not to get these two numbers mixed up, as I did the first time around…

On a clean sheet of baking paper, deposit some blobs of meringue mixture of a similar size. With the back of a spoon, spread each blob out into a flatter round shape and make a depression in the center. This is where you’ll place the coconut whipped cream and fruit once the shells have baked.

Place the sheet in your preheated oven and bake for 70 to 75 minutes. Any shorter, and you risk having a crunchy outside but a gooey, gummy inside. When the time is up, leave the meringues where they are for a further 45 minutes to fully cool without opening the oven door.

When they’re done baking, as shown in the third photo above, the meringues are no longer shiny and may also have spread out a bit.

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Up to an hour before serving the pavlovas, whip your coconut cream together with the powdered sugar or maple syrup and the vanilla extract until it holds a shape. Store the whipped cream, covered, in your refrigerator.

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Immediately before serving the pavlovas, top each meringue shell with a dollop of the coconut whipped cream, then add the fruit. Note that the meringue will begin to gradually break down as soon it comes into contact with the whipped cream, so prepare only the number of pavlovas that will be eaten right away.

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Crunch, crunch. Yum!

If you have enough pavlovas and there’s still some meringue mixture left, you can make meringue “kisses” such as the ones above by making blob shapes with a teaspoon or, if you want to get fancy, with a pastry bag. If you want to add jimmies, sprinkle them on top before putting the meringues in the oven. Bake as directed above.

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Brew yourself a pot of tea and enjoy your mini pavlovas this Valentine’s Day!

In search of other Valentine’s Day recipes? Check out my recipes for heart-shaped sugar cookies with rosewater-raspberry icing and French-inspired white chocolate mendiants.

Aquae Sulis and Mr. Darcy

My most recent travels saw me arriving in a beautiful little English town once known as Aquae Sulis. Doesn’t ring a bell? Today, it’s called Bath and is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site for its rich past. If you’re into history, either of the Roman era or the Georgian period (or both!), this is a destination for you. It’s an easy trip from London, just 97 miles (1.5 hour by train) west of London. You’ll love it even more if you happen to also be a fan of Jane Austen, who lived here at several points in her life.

As you may have guessed, all these things fascinate me. Well, it was much more the Georgian era that drew me to Bath, but I was pleasantly surprised, upon visiting the Roman Baths center, by how the site managed to captivate me. In the interest of sticking to chronological order, let’s talk about that first.

When the Romans arrived in Britain around AD 43, they found a settlement of Celtic Britons around a site with a large natural hot spring and a shrine dedicated to a goddess named Sul. The invaders duly named the town Aquae Sulis – Latin for “the waters of Sul” – and built a major bath complex and temple around it (as shown above; click to enlarge photos). They encouraged the natives to continue worshipping Sul, with whom they identified their goddess Minerva, a factor that helped the Britons to accept the invasion.

In the Roman days, the large bath shown above was covered with a vault roof. After the baths were rediscovered and restored in the 18th century, they were left without a roof and the sunlight stimulated the growth of algae, which is what’s responsible for this green color. There were other baths (hotter and colder ones), as well as various other rooms (saunas, massage rooms) similar to what you find in modern spas today. This center is really well done – in addition to seeing the baths themselves, visitors are taken through the site’s history with interactive museum exhibits and a high-quality audio guide available in some 15 languages.

In 1979, some archaeologists poking around in the Sacred Spring, the innermost pool of the bath complex (shown in the cover image of this post), found a number of “curse tablets” that had been thrown into it during the Roman days. Unhappy individuals would carve requests for vengeance upon those who had wronged them onto bits of flattened lead, roll them up and toss them into the waters for direct delivery to the goddess Sul/Minerva who, they hoped, would proceed to take action.

The most common complaint was of theft, and the punishments sought tended to be rather harsh, along lines such as “may whoever nabbed my cloak while I was bathing lose his eyesight and his mind and never recover either until such day as he has returned my belongings to me”. Sometimes the accuser would make things easier for the goddess by listing the names of suspects. Did the curses work? We’ll never know, but a simple locker room could have prevented a lot of trouble!

(Don’t miss this great tutorial for making your very own curse tablet! And see if you can figure out what the author’s curse was.)

Also discovered in the baths were beautiful engraved semi-precious stones and colored glass that probably fell out of bathers’ jewelry, loosened from their settings by the heat.

The site does an excellent job of helping you travel back in time to the Roman days. Alongside some of the ruins, reproduction walls have been set up, but with a space between them and the floor to remind you which parts are real. In the various dark spaces of the labyrinthine baths, hologram-like projections of Roman bathers, complete with the sounds of their murmurs and dripping water, spookily recreate the mood of the distant past. These translucent beings were rather like ghosts… I wondered with a kind of delicious frisson whether one of them might turn and look at me.

Today, it isn’t possible to actually bathe in these baths, which are still lined with lead, but you can head to the Thermae Bath Spa for a steamy rooftop swim. Imagine how nice that would be in winter!

Fast-forward about 1,800 years and you’ll have arrived in Georgian Bath, the age of an author so loved by the people of England that they put her on the 10-pound note. I agree with this honor as she’s one of my favorites too. In Bath, you can visit the Jane Austen Centre, located on one of the same streets she lived on. Although it isn’t her former house, the center offers information about her life as well as artifacts from Georgian households and a short film hosted by the guy who played evil Mr. Wickham in the 1995 Pride and Prejudice. At this point I should confess that Mr. Darcy himself doesn’t really have any connection with Bath; I’ve just shamelessly used him as shorthand for all things Jane Austen, and also because I liked the idea of contrasting him (in the Colin Firth incarnation) with Emperor Claudius above. The city features prominently in some of her other books though, in particular Northanger Abbey and Persuasion.

If you’re already very well versed on Jane Austen’s life, touring the Jane Austen Centre probably won’t teach you anything new, but there are nicely done wax statues of her and Mr. Darcy, and you can dress up in Georgian clothing and have your photo taken. You may also like to browse in the gift shop (Darcy and Lizzie Christmas tree ornaments!) or (unlike me) have tea and fancy cakes in their upstairs Regency Tea Room. A brochure for the tea room even mentions vegan options, though I suspect you would want to call well ahead and check on that.

Every year in September, the city also hosts a Jane Austen festival.

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The Jane Austen points of interest continue at the Pump Room, located right next to the Roman Baths, where people used to go to drink medicinal waters in the hope of curing their various ailments. It was also just a fashionable place to be, to see and be seen. It is here that Catherine, the heroine of Northanger Abbey, first meets a special someone. The Pump Room is now a restaurant but still serves water from the spring that supplies the Roman Baths. The illustration above, by Thomas Rowlandson, shows how the Pump Room appeared in 1798. At left in the foreground, we see someone in a Bath chair, an early wheelchair invented in the city for the many invalids who flocked there.

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Another highlight of my visit was a tour through the beautiful Georgian home at No. 1 Royal Crescent, decorated as it might have looked between 1776 and 1796. Those of you who enjoyed my last post can imagine it as George Warleggan’s house (keep that in mind in a moment when you see what’s kept right next to his bed!).

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A cheerful table laid for breakfast. While you ate your toast and sipped your morning beverage (hot chocolate? coffee?), you could catch up on the latest gossip in the local newspaper. Who has lately arrived to take the waters in Bath? Who has just promised their innocent daughter to that gouty old man living on Cheap Street?

A gentleman doing well enough to live in this home would also have had the latest scientific gadgets, including an updated globe (this one appears to be Italian), and a device you can use to cure your own ailments at home using electric sparks (I didn’t get a photo of that).

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All ready for tea in the sitting room. Notice the cups have no handles, in the style of the cups used in China. For this reason, this type of cup is often called “tea bowl”.

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The elegant dining room set for dessert. The curators of this house did an excellent job of recreating the intricate molded blancmanges and other fancy desserts of the day out of silicone. The plates used here each illustrate a different scene from Aesop’s Fables. There’s more I could say about this room, but I should leave some things for you to discover on your own when you visit (don’t forget to ask about the pineapple and what used to happen behind that folding screen in the corner!).

Below stairs, in the kitchen, chunks of sugar were cut off of loafs and then ground up in a mortar. For any food historians reading this: the cookbook on the table is Food and Cooking in 18th-Century Britain by Jennifer Stead. Meat was sometimes cooked on a turning spit powered by a dog in a sort of dismal hamster wheel. The breed normally used for this purpose has since become extinct. Thankfully, this practice was already on its way out by the advent of the Georgian era.

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The gentleman’s bedroom, across the hall from his wife’s. Its furnishings include a washstand chest with a… chamber pot (?!) in its bottom drawer. Or perhaps it’s designed for footbaths. But if it IS a chamber pot, it’s hard to imagine how they could have kept that from smelling terrible even when closed.

But then perhaps no one would have noticed, as personal hygiene was shockingly basic in this period. Ironically, given the name of the city and what should have been easy access to healthful spring waters, people bathed and washed their hair just once a year. Women wore wigs day and night and kept their faces spackled with various substances including lead, followed by an egg-white wash and beauty patches to cover their smallpox scars. They also made liberal use of lavender, orange-blossom and rose essences, but one wonders how much difference that can that have made. The people of Bath were of course no different from the rest of the Western world in this regard, but the Romans, who not only washed but also exfoliated on a regular basis, would understandably have been appalled if they could have glimpsed into the future.

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Apart from its museums (and there were many more I didn’t have time to visit), Bath is also just a very pretty town. Here, the Avon River is spanned by Pulteney Bridge, famous for being one of the world’s last bridges to still have shops along its full length on both sides. It was used in the 2012 film Les Misérables to recreate the look of Revolutionary-era Paris – Russell Crowe as Javert jumps off it to his (Javert’s!) death.

You can always stroll through Bath on your own, but a nice way to get a broader view of the city is to go on a walking tour. I went on this one with the charismatic and knowledgeable Mr. Elliott and definitely recommend it.

“What about food?” you may be wondering. “Are vegan options hard to find?” you may or may not be about to ask. The answer is no, they’re blissfully easy to find, as they generally are in the UK.

As much as Bath is steeped in ancient and less-ancient history, it also has one foot resolutely in the 21st century, so plant-based food is a thing there. I went to and recommend Chapel Arts Café (all vegan), where I had garlicky mushroom flatbreads with cashew crème fraîche, followed by carrot cake, The Green Rocket (mostly vegan), which offers a seitan and leek dish with puff pastry, a salad platter with hummus and tatziki sauce and onion rings, and Zizzi (a UK-wide omni chain with lots of vegan options – ask for their separate vegan menu), where I had “beetballs” and pizza with housemade vegan mozzarella. All really good! There were more veg restaurants than this, but sadly not enough time to try them all.

So there you have the lovely city of Bath, in a very brief and non-exhaustive nutshell. Definitely worth the detour for a weekend if you’re going to be in London. In the meantime, for a closer look at the city, check out the many mini-documentaries on YouTube (like this one about the Roman Baths, or this one about houses in Jane Austen’s day).

Cornish seitan pie

R&D.jpgIf you’ve been watching the hit BBC television series Poldark, a new adaptation of Winston Graham’s book series set in breathtakingly beautiful Cornwall, you may have noticed many meals consisting of savory pies. You’ll have seen them at Ross Poldark’s home Nampara at least, where the fare is simpler and more homespun than at Trenwith House and other wealthier residences. Demelza and Prudie can often be seen pounding dough on the countertop for this very purpose.

Cornish savory pies are traditionally filled with potato, turnip and beef (we’ll use seitan), and are basically a larger version of the well known Cornish pasty, which is a single-serving savory turnover filled with the same ingredients. Miners found them handy to take down into the mine with them for their lunch break. Some say that the edge served as a handle of sorts, so people could eat it with dirty mining hands and throw the edge away at the end.

A savory pie even played a role in the budding romance between Demelza and Ross in season 1 episode 3, as her newly acquired baking skills impress him and she begins to find her way to his heart through his stomach. Or at least in part – he likes other things about her too.

Now you can make a similar pie yourself and impress the dashing redcoat in your own life. But wait, this is the 21st century! So maybe he can make his own pie, but if he needs help getting started, you can share this recipe. 😀

Cornish seitan pie

Makes one 9 in. (23 cm) pie.

2 cups (250 g) seitan, finely sliced
1½ cup (150 g) yellow onion, diced
1½ cup (175 g) firm-fleshed potato, diced
1¼ cup (125 g) turnip, diced
1 tablespoon soy sauce, or more to taste
1 teaspoon herbes de Provence or Italian herb blend
1/2 teaspoon ground sage
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1/3 teaspoon white pepper
1/3 cup (40 g) flour
2 cups (500 ml) vegetable broth
2/3 cup (160 ml) unsweetened non-dairy milk (not rice milk)
2 pie crusts (non-flaky)

Begin by assembling your ingredients. Peel and dice the potato and onion, and dice the turnip (no peeling needed). Set aside.

Slice the seitan into thin, bite-sized pieces, about 2 in. (5 cm) long and 1/4 in. (0.5 cm) thick.

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Heat a bit of olive oil in a frying pan and sauté the seitan a few minutes until the sides are a bit browned. Add the soy sauce, taking care to distribute it evenly, and stir well to coat all the pieces. Set aside to cool.

In a large stockpot, heat a bit of olive oil over medium. Add the onion and sauté for a few minutes, stirring frequently, until the onion is slightly browned and translucent. Add the potato and turnip and cook for five minutes, stirring frequently. Now add the flour and stir to distribute evenly. Allow the flour to “toast” several minutes, again stirring often, and then add soy sauce, herbs and other seasonings as well as the vegetable broth and non-dairy milk. Simmer, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes and turnips are tender (about 15 minutes). Watch over the progress and add a bit more water or milk if the mixture seems to become too dry.

Taste and adjust seasonings to your taste. If it needs more salt, add more soy sauce in small amounts, tasting as you go along. Keep in mind that the seitan will be salty due to the soy sauce it was sautéed in, so you won’t want the vegetable mixture to be overly salty. Remove from heat and allow to cool a few minutes before going on to the next step.

Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line your pie plate with one of the pie crusts, making sure to press the dough into the bottom edge. Place the seitan into the crust, distributing it evenly across the bottom. Cover with the vegetable mixture. If the bottom crust hangs over the edges of your pie plate, as mine does (see above), measure the diameter and cut a circle of dough to form a top crust that will just cover the filling and then fold the overhanging dough of the bottom crust over the top and crimp the edges with your thumbs. With the remaining dough, you can cut leaf shapes (or whatever other shape that strikes your fancy). To make sure my leaves were all the same size, I cut a template from a piece of scrap paper.

Arrange the leaves symmetrically on the top crust and poke a hole in the center of the crust for hot air to escape. To give the crust a bit of shine, brush unsweetened soy milk over it evenly. Bake the pie on a center rack for about 35 minutes until it’s golden brown and smells scrumptious. 🙂

Remove from oven and allow to cool at least 30 minutes before cutting into it. If it’s still too hot, the filling will spill out from the sides onto the plate and you won’t have a nice solid slice. For this reason, it can be useful to make this dish ahead of time and then just heat it up briefly in the oven before serving.

Ideally, or perhaps depending how much of a Poldark fan you are, you’ll present this pie on a table spread with an old-timey delicate tablecloth like this one that I happened to find at a rummage sale just the other day, and you’ll use vintagey plates and cut it with a rustic-looking knife. A flagon of ale or glass of red wine will be the perfect accompaniment.

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At the end of dinner, bring out a dish filled with fruit native to Europe (I often notice grapes on the characters’ tables on the show). By the way, check out the monogram on my rummage-sale tablecloth! There’s an R for Ross, and an A for…? Hmm, that part doesn’t fit as well.

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After your meal, take a stroll to the nearest clifftop and gaze out at the sea dreamily as the wind blows through your hair.

Variations: Use the same filling to make individual pasties, cutting each pie dough in half and folding each half over once to make a turnover shape. Use other firm vegetables such as carrot or broccoli instead of potato and turnip. Just make sure they’re fairly tender before they go into the pie.

Bricks, doughnuts and sunshine

A few weeks ago I had the extremely good fortune to get invited to stay a week in London completely for free (well, after train fare). That’s an offer you just can’t refuse. So I packed up my laptop, arranged cat-sitters for Sésame and was off!

I love London and try to visit once a year. As a native English speaker living in France, it’s always somewhat refreshing to step on a train and in a couple of hours arrive at a place where I can just open my mouth and start talking with zero thinking-ahead time. Or rather, knowing that whatever I say will be completely normal. Or as normal as American talk can sound to English ears, I guess. 🙂

But more than that, when I arrive in London I always feel a general sense of comfort that I don’t get at “home” in Paris. It’s less densely populated, for one thing, and sidewalks are wider. People are much friendlier, something that even my introverted self values highly, as loyal readers will recall from this episode. And it’s also one of the vegan capitals of the world. So even though I like many aspects of living in France, a trip to London always feels like a visit almost-home.

Since I visit fairly often, I have the luxury of exploring the city at a leisurely pace and visiting just a few sites in each trip. This time, I mainly hung out with the friend who invited me, worked (as I couldn’t take the time completely off without longer advance notice) and enjoyed the city’s street art.

Allow me to take you on a little guided tour of my week.

First, the bricks! One of the first things I always notice when I get to London are the many brick buildings – bricks being rather few and far between in Paris. There’s something very grand and majestic about them, and something warm and inviting too, don’t you think? The university I went to in Milwaukee had several old brick buildings with ornate decorations (a bit like the one with the green door above), so bricks often bring me comforting memories of strolling about the campus, my mind filled with some fascinating thing I’d just learned, and of breathing in the vanilla scent of an old book I’d just cracked open at the campus library. I miss those days.

And the doughnuts! Somehow I’d never noticed before that doughnuts are largely absent from the pastry landscape of Paris. Logical enough, right? Since they’re not a traditional French thing. But neither are cupcakes or chocolate-chip cookies, and those are all over the place. So I think some room could be made for doughnuts. When I was still living in the States I wasn’t particularly a doughnut-eater, past childhood at least, but I was fascinated by the doughnuts London seems to suddenly have in abundance, and with very original flavors/themes. The nice thing is that most mainstream doughnut purveyors now offer not zero but several vegan options! The same is true for cupcakes (see photos). This was not the case just a few years ago, so things are really starting to move.

From this excited description you’ll probably assume I spent my time in London eating doughnuts. But I was actually more interested in their existence, and in taking photos of them. I ate just one during this visit: a massive caramel buttercream and speculoos-encrusted affair with coffee glaze called Houston, We Have Biscoff from Doughnut Time.

It also happened to be unseasonably warm and sunny the week I was there, especially for a city known for being overcast and foggy. The first day was as chilly as can be expected for mid-April, justifying tights and a light jacket, but after that it was positively summery. The sun shone brightly the whole rest of the week, and fruit trees were in full blossom. At the end of my stay, a local joked that I’d just experienced all the sunny days London would have in 2018. That could very well be true! In any case, I felt lucky to be able to soak up the sunshine and synthesize some vitamin D after the long, gray and depressing winter we had.

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I really appreciated the nice weather as I walked around the city in search of street art! The piece above is by Steve Powers. Incidentally, when making this piece he commented, “I love working in public and I love painting brick walls. London has some of the finest brick walls in the world.” You see what I mean about those bricks!

Two works by the world’s most famous street artist, Banksy. The one on the left appeared last year on a wall of the Barbican when a retrospective show dedicated to Haitian-American artist Jean-Michel Basquiat opened there. In it, we see how Banksy imagined the late artist (depicted in Basquiat’s signature style) being received by the British police when arriving for his own exhibition. Surprisingly enough, the Barbican did not repaint the wall and even put up some Plexiglas to protect the street art.

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A piece on Old Street by Ben Eine.

Left: Queen Elizabeth II as the guy from A Street Cat Named Bob, down on her luck and trying to sell copies of The Big Issue (Loretto). Right: giant stick people look down benevolently upon Shoreditch (Stik).

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I also did some hunting for mosaics by French street artist Invader to up my Flashinvaders score. At the time of my visit, London had 84, so this became a rather big undertaking. With the help of a local space invader hunter, I was able to find 77 of them by the week’s end. Below is a selection of my favorites.

My space invader hunt took me to a place I somehow hadn’t been aware of but that’s now my new favorite London museum! So I’d like to take a moment to share some glimpses of it with you…

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If, like me, you love the city of London and also enjoy seeing how people of the past lived, this museum is for you. It takes you through the city’s history from Roman times to the present, giving you a sense of how things once were in the form of artifacts and models. Included are souvenir mugs commemorating Charles II’s coronation, amulets for warding off the plague, very old false teeth, the actual wooden walls from a 1750s prison cells complete with graffiti by prisoners, a series of streets and shops from the Victorian days, fashions of the 20th century, models of row houses, Elizabeth II’s coronation memorabilia and finally books printed in other languages for immigrants to England (including a book designed to teach children of Polish immigrants to read and write their parents’ language – Polish now being the second-most spoken language in the UK).

By now you may well be wondering what there is to eat in London besides doughnuts! We did of course visit some of the city’s many fine veg*n eateries, such as Mildreds, By Chloé and Temple of Seitan.

My very favorite this time was a new 100% vegan pub called The Spread Eagle near Hackney. It opened in January and right from the start, a waitress explained to us, the owners made sure that everything used there was vegan, from the alcohols and other beverages (free from animal-derived filtering agents) down to the cleaning supplies and hand soap in the restrooms (from brands that don’t test on animals) and the upholstery on the bar seats (something other than leather/wool).

From Wednesday through Sunday every week, they serve super-delicious vegan Latin dishes by Club Mexicana. We had the chick’n “wings” with hot sauce and salsa verde, beer-battered tofish tacos, jackfruit and garlic tacos, a giant salad with popcorn chick’n and finally deep-fried ice cream with Mexican chili-chocolate sauce and cinnamon. It was so good that before we even finished eating, I started feeling sad that I couldn’t have it more often. If you’re in London but can’t make it as far as this pub, or the days don’t work out, you can find Club Mexicana fare at Camden Market seven days a week.

Another pleasant surprise in the good-vegan-options-at-mainstream-places category was Leon, a chain with locations all over the city. One evening when I was tired from walking too much (see “street art” above), not wanting to go anywhere far from the place I was staying, I wandered in to see what they might have.

I tried their meatless meatballs – made with eggplant/aubergine, black olives and rosemary and served over rice with some kind of magical tomato sauce and garlic aioli – and was blown away! I’m hoping and praying they come to Paris! Incidentally, I found their recipe for the meatballs, but they don’t say how to make the sauce… I think it’s too top secret to share. 😉 Another time I stopped in, I found that they also offer several vegan dessert/pastry items, like this baked pistachio & rosewater doughnut. So I guess I did have more than one doughnut on this trip after all! But this one was normal-sized.

So there you have a few ideas for things to do and places to eat next time you’re in beautiful London.

My best breakfasts of 2017

Last January, I wrote a post about the best books I’d read in 2016. But this past year, I didn’t read quite as many books and none of them were really exciting enough to devote a whole post to. So this January, for something a bit different, I’ve decided to talk about the 15 best breakfasts I had this past year. Some are my own original recipes, others are from cookbooks and a few were at restaurants or food stands. If you follow me on Instagram, you might recognize some of them!

As with my post about the books, my goal is to inspire you to try some new things. You might find a new favorite flavor combination or get ideas for further experimentation.  Many of these are simple enough that you can reproduce them just from the photo and description, but in other cases I’ve tracked down recipes for similar dishes or provided a link when the dish is from the archives of this very blog.

I’m a big fan of breakfasts—I find that having a substantial meal in the morning (with coffee or tea, of course) is a great way to start the day with enough energy to get a lot of work done before a mid-afternoon break. I often have just a large-ish breakfast and then dinner without any lunch. Of course, it helps that I work from home and can take the time—when there are no urgent deadlines—to make something interesting. But if you have an office job and are short on time in the mornings, these may still give you some ideas for things to prepare ahead of time, or to make for weekend brunches.

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Fresh seasonal fruit (here, apple and persimmon) over plain soy yogurt can make for a simple but tasty and vitamin-rich breakfast. Here, it’s drizzled with Bee-Free apple honey (substitute maple, rice or agave syrup) and topped with chopped toasted almonds.

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Homemade turnovers are really easy to make when you buy premade flaky pie dough and have an apple (or other fruit—pear, banana, berries, etc.) on hand. Check out my recipe for apple turnovers with a sweet, lemony miso paste.

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On Saturday mornings, all year round, there’s an organic outdoor farmers’ market in my neighborhood (on boulevard des Batignolles in the 17th between metro stations Rome and Place de Clichy). If you live in Paris or will be passing through, you can stop by for some vegetables and also pick up one of these delightful savory chickpea galettes with a soy-basil sauce. They’re completely vegan and super filling and yummy. Look for the stand in the easternmost section of the market, the part closer to Place de Clichy. Or if you’re a Sunday shopper, you’ll find the same people operating a stand at the boulevard Raspail organic farmers’ market in the 6th near metro station Rennes. Alternatively, stay home and make this one yourself!

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I recently acquired a great French cookbook devoted to breakfast recipes, L’Heure du petit-déjeuner végane a sonné by Melle Pigut. I love her recipe for scones and make it often. They’re very easy to throw together, as long as you can wait 20 minutes for them to bake! Here, I have spread them with a vegan chocolate-hazelnut spread. If you don’t read French or can’t find this book, you can try this recipe.

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This pudding-like dish made with sorghum is a common breakfast dish in Tunisia that I recently learned how to make. I’ve garnished it here with toasted almond slices and Bee-Free apple honey, but you could top it with fruit, grated coconut or whatever else strikes your fancy. Check out the recipe here!

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As an American, I have an undying affection for peanut butter and love incorporating it into breakfast dishes. I find it makes any dish more substantial and provides long-lasting energy. Here, I have spread some on toasted English muffins (newly possible to find in France!) and topped them with fresh nectarine slices and toasted pumpkin seeds.

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This amazing bowl of overnight oats, which I enjoyed at Vegabond during my stay in Amsterdam this October, is one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever had, ever. It was made with rolled oats and chia seeds and topped with green apple, pecans, plenty of cinnamon and a fresh physalis berry. You can try making your own overnight oats with this recipe.

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Another recipe from Melle Pigut’s breakfast cookbook that I loved is these potato flatbreads. They’re also quite easy to make if you plan a bit ahead and have some cooked potato ready. Here, I served them spread with hummus, grated carrot, some fennel seeds and black pepper. If you don’t read French, you can try this recipe.

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One of my favorite new finds in 2017 is a gluten-free rice porridge from Marks & Spencer, which has recently opened some stores in Paris. I’m not gluten-intolerant, but I happened to try this porridge and LOVE the texture… I find it to be softer and creamier than traditional oat porridge. Here, I made it using soy milk and topped it with fresh fig and peach slices and a sprinkle of toasted blond sesame seeds.

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If you want to prepare an extra-special breakfast or brunch item (best to start the night before), try this French fruit cheesecake. This one is made with apricots, but you could use just about any fruit.

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One memorable breakfast was this homemade buckwheat muesli with sunflower seeds and almonds that I made following a recipe in the French cookbook Délices déshydratés. Served here with soy milk and fresh apricot. A similar recipe in English can be found here.

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When it’s really hot out, banana ice cream makes a fantastic breakfast. The “ice cream” part makes it sound more like a dessert, but since it’s much more filling than traditional ice cream and is also just fruit, it’s ideal for the morning. To make it, simply follow these directions. Personally, I always add lemon juice too—I find that the banana/lemon combination strangely results in a cheesecake-like taste (don’t ask me why!). You can also opt to add other frozen fruit or cocoa powder, chocolate chips, etc.

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Another English muffin and peanut butter breakfast! This time the topping is sautéed mushrooms and red onion with a sprinkling of smoked paprika. I know this combination might sound weird to a lot of you, but I love it!

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This was a super yummy chia pudding with mango coulis and fresh berries that I had at a place called Superfoods & Organic Liquids (Mitte district) in Berlin. More about that trip coming soon! You can make your own chia pudding with this recipe. Chia seeds are amazingly good for you, by the way (read more about it in the recipe link).

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Last but not least, if you’re in a French mood, try my recipe for basic sweet crêpes that you can fill with just about anything (even savory items, if you leave out the sugar). In the photo above, I served them with bergamot lemon juice and sugar.

What are your own favorite breakfasts? Are you more of a savory or sweet person? Let us know in the comments. 🙂 Until then, bon appétit!

Scandinavian juleboller with spiced blackcurrant sauce

Christmas is just around the corner, and if you’re as busy as me you may still be wondering what in the world to make for Christmas dinner. Today’s decidedly festive Nordic recipe, created by French chef Ôna Maiocco, may be the answer!

This savory dish offers a range of lovely textures and flavors. Smoked tofu comes together with onion, toasted nuts and mashed potato to form balls with a nice firm consistency and a bit of crunch. These are paired with fluffy mashed potatoes (everyone’s favorite!) and a rich, creamy brown sauce based on a buckwheat roux with fruity notes provided by blackcurrant juice. Finally, an armada of spices (cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, turmeric and black pepper) makes this a perfect Christmas dish—juleboller in fact means “Christmas balls” in Swedish and Norwegian.

I discovered this recipe a few years ago in Ôna’s 2013 cookbook Boulettes et galettes végétales (in French only). I’ve made it for several Christmas dinners since then and it’s always a delight. And while I usually present only original recipes on this blog, this one is so good that I felt it deserved a wider audience and asked Ôna if I could translate it for you.

Before we go on, a few words about Ôna. From an early age, she had been familiar with healthy organic cuisine thanks to her parents, who were firm believers in the merits of this type of food. Several years ago, after a first career in biology, she returned to her roots, deciding to forge a path for herself in the culinary arts, her true passion. Ôna earned a degree in pastry-making and supplemented her knowledge through self-study. Building upon her family’s tradition and her own values, she opted to make local, organic, sustainable vegan cuisine her focus. In 2011, she won the top prize in the professional category of the French sustainable food culinary competition Saveurs durables.

Today, she offers cooking classes in her beautiful sunlit and spacious atelier in the 18th arrondissement of Paris. The classes are in French, but with enough advance notice and a minimum number of participants, a class in English can be arranged. In addition to the cookbook from which this recipe is adapted, she has also published Je mange veggie : Bien manger végétarien c’est facile ! (January 2016), a guide to plant-based eating, and Ma cuisine super naturelle : manger bio, végétal et local (October 2017), a larger and more comprehensive cookbook.

And now, back to our recipe. The version presented here includes a few tiny changes and adaptations from the original. I’ve doubled the original amount to serve more people, added the cranberries as an optional garnish and suggested pomegranate juice as an optional alternative to the blackcurrant juice. The mashed potatoes recipe is my own.

If you know you’ll be pressed for time on the day of your dinner, you can make all three parts (mashed potatoes, tofu balls and sauce) ahead of time and reheat them, but I recommend making at least the sauce the day of.

Let’s get started!

Mashed potatoes

Serves 4 after removing 2 cups for the tofu balls. Can be made a day ahead and reheated on the stovetop.

  • 8-10 medium potatoes of a variety that’s good for mashing (Yukon Gold or others)
  • 2-3 tablespoons vegan butter, margarine or olive oil
  • 1/3 cup (78 ml) unsweetened soy or other plant-based cream, or more as needed
  • 1 teaspoon salt, or to taste
  • a few grinds of white or black pepper, or to taste

Peel the potatoes and cut them into large chunks. Place them in a large stockpot, add enough water to cover them and bring to a boil, covered, over high heat. After the water starts to boil, reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, covered but leaving a little space for the steam to escape, until the potatoes are tender, about 25-30 minutes. Drain the water and mash the potato chunks using a potato masher or immersion blender (if using a blender, try not to overmix).

Reserve 2 cups of the mashed potatoes (before anything else is added to them) for your tofu balls and set aside.

Add the vegan butter, plant-based cream, salt and pepper to the remaining potatoes and mash further to combine. Taste and adjust the seasonings as needed. Put the cover back on the stockpot and set aside.

Juleboller (Christmas tofu balls)

Makes around 30 tofu balls, enough for 4 people if served with mashed potatoes; otherwise enough for 2-3 people. Can be made a day ahead and reheated in the oven.

  • 3/4 cup (80 g) nuts (almonds, walnuts, hazelnuts etc.) or seeds (pumpkin, sunflower)
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1 medium onion
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 2 cups, loosely packed (300 g) mashed potatoes reserved from the above recipe
  • 7 ounces (200 g) smoked tofu (or use plain tofu plus a bit of liquid smoke)
  • 1/2 cube vegetable bouillon (enough to make 1 cup/236 ml bouillon)
  • 1/2 cup (50 g) rolled oats
  • 1/3 cup (60 g) dried cranberries, for garnish (optional)
  • Small bunch parsley, for garnish
  • 1 recipe spiced blackcurrant sauce (scroll down for recipe)

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Begin by chopping the nuts, tofu and onion.

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I used a combination of hazelnuts, walnuts and almonds, but you can use any nuts or large seeds. Chop roughly; the pieces should be around the size of a pumpkin seed. Be careful not to chop too finely as you want recognizable pieces of nuts in the final product.

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Break the tofu into chunks with your fingers and then crush the chunks between your fingers and thumb to form coarse crumbs as shown.

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Peel and roughly dice a medium onion.

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Heat a dash of olive oil in a sauté pan and begin browning the onion over low-medium heat, stirring frequently.

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After a couple of minutes, add the nuts. Stir to combine.

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Add the cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and black pepper and stir to incorporate. Take a moment to enjoy the wonderful Christmasy scents that are now filling your kitchen. 🙂

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Continue browning the mixture, stirring often, until the onion is soft.

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While waiting for the mixture to cook, dilute half of a bouillon cube in 1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (88 ml) hot water. Keep the remaining half-cube out as you’ll need it for the sauce recipe.

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Transfer the reserved 2 cups of mashed potato to a medium or large mixing bowl. Mash any remaining lumps, as the potatoes need to be as smooth as possible to hold the tofu, oats, nuts and onion together.

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Add the tofu, rolled oats and onion/nut mixture.

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Pour the bouillon uniformly over the top of the mixture and stir thoroughly to combine. Preheat your oven at this point to 350°F (180°C).

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Roll up your sleeves and, with scrupulously clean hands, shape the mixture into balls of around 1.5 inch (4 cm) in diameter. But they don’t have to be exactly this size—just try to make all the balls the same size as each other for a uniform result. Place them on a baking sheet covered with baking paper.

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When the tray is full, put it in the preheated oven and bake for 20 minutes. In the meantime, you’ll prepare the sauce and reheat the mashed potatoes (if serving).

Spiced blackcurrant sauce

Makes enough sauce to go with the tofu balls in the above recipe.

  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons buckwheat flour (do not substitute another flour because the buckwheat plays an important role in the flavor)
  • 1/2 cube vegetable bouillon (enough to make 1 cup/236 ml bouillon)
  • 1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon (100 ml) unsweetened soy cream
  • 1/4 cup plus 2 teaspoons (70 ml) blackcurrant juice (not syrup!) or pomegranate juice
  • 2 teaspoons soy sauce
  • 2 teaspoons granulated sugar (or more to taste), UNLESS you use a sweetened juice
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground ginger
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground turmeric
  • 1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper

 

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Heat the 2 tablespoons of olive oil over low-medium heat. While waiting for it to heat, dilute the remaining half cube of bouillon in 1 and 1/4 cup (300 ml) hot water and set aside.

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When the oil is hot, add the buckwheat flour and whisk to incorporate. Stir frequently.

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After a few minutes, it will have formed a thickish roux base and be simmering lightly.

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Add the bouillon (not shown), blackcurrant (or pomegranate) juice, soy sauce and spices. Whisk to combine.

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Add the soy cream and whisk to incorporate. Simmer, stirring frequently, for another two or three minutes. Taste the sauce to see if it needs any sugar (if it’s too acidic) or more salt (add more soy sauce) or more of the spices. Turn off burner and cover the saucepan to keep the sauce warm. At this point, if the tofu balls are almost ready, you can reheat the mashed potatoes if they need it.

Plating

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Once the tofu balls are done baking, begin plating the mashed potatoes (leave the tofu balls in the oven for the time being so they don’t lose heat). If you want to get fancy, a circle mold like this one will give you a nicely defined cylindrical shape. But you can achieve a similar effect using a measuring cup or small ramekin or bowl.

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Just after baking, the tofu balls can be a bit fragile (they firm up more after they cool a bit), so remove them from the paper carefully, using a twisting motion to gently release the part that’s stuck to the paper.

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Arrange the tofu balls around the mashed potatoes. You can use more tofu balls than this if your plate is larger, and also depending how many people you will be serving (just make sure you have enough for everyone). 😉

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Spoon the sauce over the tofu balls, add some cranberries and garnish the potatoes with the parsley sprigs.

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You can also opt to serve the tofu balls alone without mashed potatoes.

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Finally, here’s a more casual presentation with a mound of mashed potatoes (not molded) in the center and the sauce poured over the top.

Whichever way you choose, waste no time in getting everyone around the table and tucking in, as this dish is seriously yummy and you’ve been sweating in the kitchen long enough!

For a festive Scandinavian ambiance, put some nice Swedish Christmas songs or choir music on.

Enjoy and God Jul (Merry Christmas) to you!

If you liked this dish and can read French, I highly recommend picking up a copy of Boulettes et galettes végétales, the book it comes from. I’ve been impressed by every one of the recipes (both savory and sweet) that I’ve made from it. It’s actually now out of print, but (as of December 2017 at least—act fast!), you can still get it on Amazon.fr. Also check out Ôna’s new book, Ma cuisine super naturelle : manger bio, végétal et local.

Variations: Instead of mashed potatoes, serve with rice or couscous (note however that you will still need mashed potatoes in the balls to hold them together). Use roughly chopped or whole pumpkin seeds as an additional or single garnish.

Canals, bikes and tiny cars

How could I let so many years go by without ever visiting Amsterdam? This is the question I began asking myself almost as soon as I arrived. It’s so close to me (just an easy three-hour TGV from Paris) and has so much to offer.

I soon fell in love with this charming city teeming with bicycles and crisscrossed by canals. I adore the stately narrow houses standing guard alongside them, topped with ornate gables of various kinds. My favorite is the stepped gable but the other kinds—with a vaguely Haussmannian sloping slate roof or a piping of white frosting trim—are beautiful too.

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In the second photo above, you can see a hook hanging down from the top of the building. These were installed on most houses for the purpose of moving furniture in through the windows rather than up the stairs (the stairs in many buildings are steep with shallow steps—I would have appreciated a hook option to get my suitcase up to my hotel room!). These houses were also built to lean slightly forward so the items being hoisted up and down wouldn’t scrape across the façade. For houses without a hook, people use the same kind of exterior elevator you can sometimes see in Paris.

This trip was also the chance to increase my number of countries visited and get a bit closer to beating my brother in our friendly “who’s traveled the most” competition. He is frustratingly one country ahead of me at the moment, although I still think he shouldn’t be allowed to count business trips! (sore loser, yes). 😉

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Another thing I enjoyed in Amsterdam were the chances to try figuring out the exact meaning of signs and writing (and overheard talk) using the bits of Dutch that I know thanks to the Belgian delegation of my United Nations of friends.

Of course, their purpose is obvious right away… the first one means that if you’re not careful, a giant angry dog could burst out of nowhere and dispatch you to the hereafter, but how do they say it exactly? In English, we get right to the point with “Beware of dog” while in French it’s “Chien méchant” (mean/dangerous dog), which gives only an implicit warning. In Dutch the sign reads “Hier waak ik” or “I’m watching (over)/guarding here”—again requiring the would-be trespasser to draw conclusions. The different approaches to conveying a single message are interesting.

In the second photo, a sticker alerts mail carriers to the types of junk mail the occupant does or doesn’t accept. And in the third one, a friendly-looking sign with a rhyming poem tells people that they can park their bikes there if they’re going into the nearby café. As a translator, my natural impulse is to try coming up with an English equivalent that also rhymes… something like “Coming in for a beer? Then you can park here.” But then the idea of tea is lost, and the syllable count isn’t quite right. But this gives you an idea.

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The first thing you notice upon arriving in Amsterdam is probably how very many bikes there are. In the city center they far outnumber cars, and as you explore the streets you see them chained to any and all conceivable fixtures, even (or especially?) when there’s a sign warning people not to). It seems an extremely practical way to get around, and very eco-friendly of course. For those times when biking isn’t possible, there are buses, trams and even a subway with a couple of lines. As a pedestrian, however, you have to be very careful when crossing streets as the chance of stepping in front of a silent but rapidly approaching bicyclist is always high. Especially at night, when bikes are not only silent but practically invisible. I suppose when you live there you have the reflex of looking carefully both ways even in the absence of engine noise.

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The second thing that stands out is the number of canals. I’d already known there were canals there, but hadn’t realized how extensive they are. This city of 219 sq. km has over 100 km of canals (spanned by some 1,500 bridges, each with its own name)—far more than in Venice. In fact, Amsterdam is often referred to as the Venice of the north. The canal ring area, dug in the 17th century during the Dutch Golden Age, was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2010.

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As you can see in this 1671 map by Joannem de Ram, the city is a veritable spiderweb of waterways. A number of maps like this are on display at Het Grachtenhuis (the Canal House), a very cool little museum that I discovered by chance.

Its multi-media exhibits tell the story of Amsterdam in a unique and entertaining way, incorporating video, holograms, claymation, physical models and projected images that create a sort of augmented reality to take you back in time. You learn why the canals needed to be dug, how their layout was chosen, why the city’s houses sometimes lean to one side and what lies beneath them. One of the highlights is a model of the Grachtenhuis itself with its rooms furnished in the styles of different periods from its history. It seems that a popular hobby among rich Amsterdam ladies back in the day was to have a dollhouse version of their own home made. I wonder, was it strictly for show or did they also play with their mini-house when no one was around?

Amsterdam is also a place where you can see a few species of very, very small cars. I remember the first time I saw a Smart Car, on one of my early trips to France—they’re so small compared to typical American cars that we took photos of ourselves next to them, even in the days of film cameras when doing so was arguably wasteful. But those are luxury sedans next to these little guys (the official term for vehicles this size is microcars). The first red car and the white car above are Cantas, developed in the Netherlands specifically as a mobility aid for disabled drivers. They run on gasoline, and when I encountered one going down the road its engine sounded like a lawn mower. They’re allowed to drive on sidewalks and you don’t need a driver’s license to operate them. And as you can see, they need to be secured to something with a chain, since just about anyone could pick one up and tuck it under their arm. The black cars are examples of the Birò, the world’s smallest electric car. See it in action here. So cute! You also won’t want to miss the Canta ballet.

Our wanderings through the city were sometimes random and sometimes purposeful, as we had come in part to find some of the space invaders installed back in 1999 by the eponymous French street artist. Those of you who follow my Instagram already know that we succeeded! Out of the original 26, we found 18, although many if not most of those had been “reactivated” (replaced) by fans due to destruction of the originals. Some of them have a small row of tiles installed underneath them, and we were thinking this might be to indicate that they’re reactivations.

After a morning of Invader-hunting, it was time to refuel at Vegan Junk Food Bar. I won’t say much here as I mainly wanted to share these photos and pass on the name before moving on to Van Gogh. Suffice it to say that these burgers were pretty much life-changing, and that those are sweet potato fries with scallions and a truffle mayonnaise. Yes!

So, of all Amsterdam’s museums, the most “must-visit” of them all is undoubtedly the one devoted to Vincent Van Gogh. It’s the largest collection of his works, and he was very prolific for a time before unfortunately slipping into madness. Among other works, you can see these very famous pieces. And also take the artist home with you in crocheted form. In an interesting coincidence, the temporary exhibition of the moment was The Dutch in Paris.

Something funny happened one morning when we were in search of food and realized that the coffee shop across from the hotel offered a vegan breakfast. Okay, we already knew what “coffee” shops in Amsterdam were really about, but were sort of thinking that if they also served food, maybe it was more of a restaurant during the day. And perhaps this one was, but that didn’t stop people from also coming in to smoke. It was a bit surreal to be sipping at your coffee and eating baked beans on toast while at the same time inhaling fumes of a most herbaceous kind from the next table (and baked beans on toast are already strange enough for me). Furthermore, as smoking in buildings has been banned for some ten years already in most of Europe—including in the Netherlands, for regular cigarettes—it was odd to have ashtrays on the tables. Not that I’m even opposed to this kind of thing… it’s more that it hasn’t come into my reality for a long time. Anyway, we saw the humor in it though and weren’t deterred from enjoying our breakfast. Well, as far as possible, since it was a somewhat underwhelming breakfast, especially since they had no plant-based milk and a coffee with milk in it is one of the cornerstones of breakfast for me. But it was filling enough and did the job. Looking more closely at the menu after eating, we noticed the “Happy English” option—an English breakfast “with Popeye’s spinach :)” and wondered just how this “spinach :)” was incorporated (space breakfast?) or if the dish came with a rolled combustible as a dessert course.

That evening, my friend bought a vegan space cake (actually a space cupcake) from the same place to have at the hotel. I was almost going to have part of it but then decided not to, as I’d heard something about unpredictable results and wasn’t in the mood for unpredictable things. The effects of this cupcake, however, were reportedly just as underwhelming as the breakfast, but we both enjoyed the drawing of the enthusiastic chef, so there was that.

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Speaking of weed, another culinary highlight of this trip was The Dutch Weed Burger, a fast-food restaurant fully in line with the spirit of its home city. But no, it’s not that kind of weed, not this time. Behind the provocative name is a culinary philosophy devoted to highlighting the virtues of another kind of plant—seaweed! From burgers and hot dogs to drinks and desserts, everything is made with a bit of added seaweed of one variety or another. We had a burger with kim chee plus the “wish ‘n’ chips”, a drink made with chlorella and a brownie (normal kind). It was all divine. I also loved their cute logo (a sort of partial Jolly Roger with a spatula and a trident) and the many clins d’œil to what people usually think of when you put the words “Dutch” and “weed” together—they refer to the restaurant as a burger “joint” for example, and their quarter-pounder is called the “extra high”. While waiting for our order, we paged through a book of plant-based, seaweed-added recipes called Groente uit zee that was written by one of the restaurant’s founders. It’s also available in English as Ocean Greens. I of course now want to get it, but luckily for my overcrowded bookshelves, it’s not so easy to obtain in France.

After the coffee shop imbroglio, we realized there was a better place to eat in the morning only a few blocks away. Vegabond is a little café that serves breakfast and lunch items, in addition to a range of hot drinks (with plant milks), and it also houses a vegan grocery store with a wide range of products including a locally made almond-based brie. I loved sitting there early in the morning before anyone else arrived, enjoying the ambiance of the sleepy street with a canal flowing lazily in front of it.

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On our second-to-last day, I decided to make a side trip on my own to Delft (one hour from Amsterdam by train) to visit the Royal Delft factory and museum. I’d been wanting to see this town ever since reading Tracy Chevalier’s Girl with a Pearl Earring and seeing the film adaptation of it (although it was actually filmed somewhere in Luxembourg). And of course I also love all things porcelain, pottery and tile, and blue and white designs.

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The town of Delft has (disappointingly) not remained frozen in time in the days of Vermeer, but it was still fun to amble around and look at the old buildings and narrow canals, which run right alongside the houses in some places. I was rewarded in my explorations with some “Delftware” street art!

The factory and museum showcased old plates commemorating Dutch royals as well as large murals made entirely of Delftware tiles and a 17th-century Dutch dining room set up for dinner with period tableware. You can enter a part of the factory to see where the pieces are fired, as well as a workshop where artisans painstakingly paint designs on prefired porcelain—interestingly, the glaze is black when applied and turns blue with the heat.

Your path out of the museum naturally takes you through the gift shop, which I personally found quite enjoyable although most everything was far out of my price range and too delicate for an apartment lacking a china hutch. The tea services, vases and so on are arranged in descending price brackets as you make your way through the shop, so in theory there is something for everyone. Among the more unique items was a €4,150 hand-painted Delftware version of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, which in their defense is not actually that bad when you think about it. The work of painting it by hand to match the original must require a certain effort, and then you have a one-of-a-kind conversation piece bringing together two iconic Dutch things: Delftware and Van Gogh. Or maybe you could just sit at a Delft sidewalk café to draw the thing yourself in a sketchpad and tell people later how you did it on site. 😉 But anyway, those who don’t have the means for such a purchase can console themselves with a Delftware Christmas tree ornament (as I did) or rubber ducky (quite cute actually). A “Delftware” car was parked outside the gift shop, but didn’t seem to be for sale.

This little trip made for a fun afternoon, but it might not be worth the two-hour round trip if your time in Amsterdam is limited, since you can already find Delftware (or similar) and much more beautiful canals and houses in the capital.

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That evening, back in Amsterdam, dinner was at the exclusive, by-reservation-only Japanese restaurant Men Impossible. It was my favorite dining experience of the trip. Guests are seated around a single communal table, a set-up that creates a truly intimate ambiance, and given a warm welcome by the gracious and friendly Atsushi, the proprietor and chef. After directing you to a seat, he hands you a laminated manga (click on the photo of it above to expand) that explains how to order and eat his ramen dishes which, after a starter, are the stars of the show. Atsushi makes all the ramen he serves by hand the same day—you can see why guests must reserve in advance! You choose between warm and cold noodles plus a soup that doubles as a sauce (I picked mushroom) and a flavoring that gets added toward the end (I had black garlic). The process for eating the dish was very precise, so the manga really came in handy—for example, you’re supposed to eat the soup and ramen separately at first (only dipping the noodles into the soup/sauce), and then pour the soup over the noodles later on. I don’t know if I managed to follow all the directions correctly or not, but this dish was one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten. The mushroom soup offered rich flavors bursting with umami and the noodles were very fresh with an amazing texture. And despite manning the kitchen and dining room all by himself, Atsushi was very attentive to his guests. I cannot recommend Men Impossible highly enough. If you’re ever in Amsterdam, find a way to go there (you can make a reservation online). And if you’re into space invaders, you’ll find one on the same street!

The last thing we visited before returning home was the Anne Frank House, a place I’d been curious about for years, ever since reading The Diary of a Young Girl as a teenager. We were actually very lucky to get in, as we hadn’t thought to reserve tickets before the trip started and on the day I checked for openings, absolutely every time slot during our stay was full except one (a group must have just canceled). I reserved spots for us as fast as I could! Plan far ahead if you want to visit this house during your stay.

The tour through the building and its achterhuis (“house behind”), as Anne called it, where her family hid, was a solemn and somber experience. I should point out that the hiding place actually no longer has any of its furnishings—Otto Frank, Anne’s father, requested that it not be furnished again and the photos above are of a recreation in another place. But you can stand in the same rooms where they lived and try to imagine their experiences. To recreate the conditions of the time, the windows are covered with blackout curtains and the interior kept fairly dark. Photos of the family and their helpers hang on the walls, but the audioguide that visitors are given as they enter the site has no recordings to go along with the spaces in which the family had lived, as if to promote reflection. We silently shuffled forward through the small, crowded spaces in step with the other visitors, each of us lost in our thoughts, imagining perhaps the day when the police came to bang on the door of the hiding place and take everyone away. There was a palpable sense of unease in the air and one woman began to cry.

A few vestiges from the days of their hiding remain. Some of the film stars from Anne’s collection are still pasted to her bedroom wall, and the pencil marks where Otto marked his daughters’ heights as they grew can be seen on the wallpaper behind a plastic panel.

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As we exited the building at the end of our visit, it had just been raining and an enormous rainbow stretched across the sky over the rooftops. As if Anne were saying hello.

My friends are used to hearing me say I want to move to whatever European city I’ve just been to, and to avoid testing their patience I won’t do that this time. But between you and me, this is a city I could probably get used to.

If you’re interested in learning more about Amsterdam but can’t visit just yet, you may want to check out Russell Shorto’s Amsterdam: A History of the World’s Most Liberal City (I’m about one-fourth through it and so far it’s been an entertaining read) or The Coffee Trader, a historical novel by David Liss set in 17th-century Amsterdam. I read it years ago and loved it.

Where will my travels take me to next? Stay tuned!