America's Test Kitchen "Dish It Your Way" Blogger Challenge!

Over the course of the summer, I’ll be participating in the America’s Test Kitchen “Dish It Your Way” Blogger Challenge.  The “Dish It Your Way” asks blogger to recreate an American classic dish throughout the summer, share the recipe, and tell a story.  This week: Fried Chicken.

For those who don’t know, I’m American, and my husband, Christophe, is French.  This has given us an immense playing field to explore new cuisines, share traditions, and celebrate new holidays (he loves Thanksgiving).  Last Christmas in Chicago, Christophe had his first taste of this “amazing dish” that was crunchy, spicy, and made with fried chicken.  That’s right, the man who has criticized the “culinary catastrophe” of chicken nuggets has found himself enamored with the adult version: fried buffalo chicken stripes.  Not the commentary one would expect from a Frenchman who likes to spend hours tinkering in the kitchen, but none the less, a new experience for him and one he wanted me to recreate.  I’ve tried a few recipes, but none of them lived up to our expectations.  We have learned, recipes don’t always translate well from one continent to another, so it’s all about adapting.  Therefore, I turned to another recipe for inspiration and decided to move the spicy part of the dish to the condiment. The batter in this recipe is adapted from the Cook’s Illustrated “Fish and Chips”, and the heat in the recipe is provided by a spicy mayonnaise dipping sauce.  As I’m discovering, being a good cook is not just able following a recipe, but learning how to use to as a guide.  I’ve also learned that when done right, chicken nuggets can be darn good, and yes, I am calling them nuggets just to get his goat.

Buffalo Chicken Nuggets with Homemade Spicy Mayonnaise

Fried Chicken Nuggets

·         2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1 inch cubes

Mix together in a rimmed baking pan and then set aside:

·         ½ cup unbleached all-purpose flour

·         ¼ cup cornstarch

·         ½ teaspoon cayenne

·         ½ teaspoon paprika

Whisk together in a large bowl:

·         ½ cup flour

·         ¼ cup cornstarch

·         ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

·         1 teaspoon baking powder

·         ½ teaspoon paprika

·         ½ teaspoon salt

·         ½ teaspoon pepper

Then add 1 ¼ cup cold beer and whisk until a lumpy batter forms.

Drench cut chicken into the flour mixture in baking pan, shake off excess flour, and then drench in batter.  Place chicken pieces on a cooling rack to let excess batter drip off, 2-3 minutes.  Then fry the chicken in an electric deep dryer for 6-7 minutes, or in 1 ½ quarts of vegetable oil heated to 375 degrees, also for 6-7 minutes.

Serve hot with spicy dipping mayonnaise.

Spicy Homemade Mayonnaise

The key to making sure the mayonnaise “takes” is to gather all the ingredients beforehand and allow them to reach room temperature.

Mix in a deep bowl:

·         1 large egg yolk

·         2 tablespoon mustard

·         1 tablespoon lemon juice

·         ½ teaspoon salt

·         ½ teaspoon pepper

·         1 garlic clove, crushed

·         1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

·         ¼ teaspoon paprika  

Also needed:

·         Olive oil

Place a kitchen towel under the bowl so it slants up slightly towards you and the liquid mixture runs together. Using an electric mixer on high speed in one hand, slowly drip olive oil into the mixture.  Do not move the mixer around like in a cake batter, instead focus on a single spot to drip the oil.  The mayonnaise will start to “take” when that area becomes fluffy and creamy – after a few minutes of mixing.  At that point, the mixers can slowly be moved around to incorporate the rest of the mixture.  A Kitchen Aid with the whisk attachment could be used in place of an electric mixer or a hand whisk for the brave.

Transfer to serving bowl and garnish with chopped chives.  

I have learned that adaptation is needed to be successful.  Recipes are guides, unless if it's in baking - and that is why we have pastry chefs. 

I’ve also learned I’ll never be a professional food photographer; taking a good photo is a lot harder than it looks.

Do you know what this is?

What is this?  No, this is not a “pull my finger game”; I really don’t know.  Clearly, it’s a lizard, but what kind?  We’ve asked our local nature expert, Madame Gousse, and she has no idea.  It moves very fast, and this is the best photo I’ve been able to take of it.  We find it on our terrace, and it has been spotted twice outside our bedroom window, but never have we seen it elsewhere it the village.  Is it a dominate predator decimating the endangered green lizards and salamanders indigenous to the area?  Is a link to a prehistoric past?  Is it a crazy mutant with super powers? What the heck is the creature?

For the love of slippers

For being the world’s fashion capital, France has one really strange thing going for it: slippers.  Never in my life have I see so many people outside with slippers on.  This is not the quick dash to get the morning paper from the driveway, but rather, a conscience effort to use them as daily footwear.  I’ve seen people in the bakery, walking down the street, and even gardening while wearing slippers.  Heck, I’ve even witnessed people drive to our house with their slippers on and then sit at the kitchen table with a cocktail in hand oblivious to the fashion faux pas right at our feet.  I have no idea as to why this is done.  Slippers are not outdoor footwear, but some reason, many people here think they are.  I’m all for comfortable shoes, but I think this goes past the limit of acceptability and into the realm of ridiculous. 

There you have it, the hidden, dirty truth: the French have great shoes, but refuse to wear them outdoors, maybe they're scared of getting them dirty.

It makes me wonder what they wear around the house.

It’s almost noon, quick, get out of the store! The French love affair with lunch.

If ever in France, particularly anywhere outside of Paris, never try going to a store at lunchtime because it will be closed.  Lunch is sacred here, so every store closes up between noon and 2 pm so all its employees can go home, eat lunch, and maybe squeeze in a nap.  This is a great idea, but is something that still gets under my skin when I want to go shopping and find that noontime is fast approaching.  So, I was thrilled to read the news that our local grocery store will stay open “non-stop” on Saturdays; that is, they will not close for the traditional two hour lunch.  (All of France closes down on Sunday, except for the bakeries, so the extra hours make up for the difference.)  I thought people would embrace this change because it meant not cutting the day in half.  Chores could get done and grocery unpacked by 12:30 or 1pm and everyone would happily get on with the day. I was wrong; customers rush out of the grocery store minutes before noon in a mad panic, as if Cinderella leaving the ball at the stroke midnight.  Perhaps it’s because everyone wants to get home for their lunch and nap, but this phenomenon of noon – 2pm is something I don’t get.  I like a good lunch, but it is liberating to get what I need to do without a forced pause in the middle of my day.  One the plus side, I’ve found the checkout lines shorter and the aisles much less crowded when I aim to do my shopping just after the mass exodus.  The few people who do remain also seem much calmer, and there is always a polite nod, as if in recognition of the cultural regulation broken.  I’ll take it; it’s our own little secret club: “the noontime shoppers”.  We shop at noon, and we’re proud of it.

From Paris, with love…. I think.

For a long time now, a friend of Christophe’s would call the house.  The phone conversation would go something like this:

Me: Hello?

Friend: Hi!  It’s Bob.  I’m calling from Paris.

Then, I would give the phone to Christophe telling him Bob is calling us from Paris.  The problem was, Bob was never in Paris, but enough time has passed that I could not nonchalantly ask, “What, where are you?  I don’t understand.”  So, I would simple ignore it and give Christophe the phone.

Christophe finally explained it to me.  This is what was said on the phone:

Me: Hello?

Friend: Hi!  It’s Bob.  I’m calling you from the apparatus.

You see, à l’appareil sounds a heck of a lot like Paris (do your best French accent here) on the phone.

The translation: Bob is calling me from that new-fangled do-hickey thing (the apparatus) that sits in his living room, and he’s letting me know it.

Bob is a bit older than me, so that “apparatus” that sits in his living room is still something new.  This is nothing you would hear from someone who grew up with phones and computers.  It would be as if I wrote:

Hi Jane!  It’s Lynn.  I’m emailing you on the internet.

I half want to try this phrase out just to see what reaction I’d get.  Regardless, I’m glad to finally understand it and to realize that not all our friends have high tailed it to Paris and have decided to call us to let us know that.

Late Spring Planting in the Garden



View of staked tomato plants from an upper terrace in the garden



In April, we planted potatoes and onions in our vegetable garden.  They go into the ground early because of their longer growing season and because they need the cool spring nights to get started.  They should be ready to harvest in just a few short weeks.  Last week, we finished the second stage of planation.  We have the usual suspects – tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, zucchini, and squash, alongside some herbs and berries, which are about to finish their production.

Our neighbor, Madame Gousse, starts all her plants from seed and years ago, would give Christophe the extra seedling that did not fit into her garden.  As the years went by, she simple began seeding more and more and now provides us with all our annual vegetables.  Depending how the seeds took, the amount of vegetables we have each year can vary, but it usually is in the neighborhood of 150 seedlings to plant.  In past years, we tackled this planation all in a single day.  At first, it was fun, but like many big projects there comes a time when the end seems too far away and the amusement of it has been zapped away.  We would drag ourselves back to the house in twilight wanting only a shower and a place to sit down.

Happily, this year is different.  We finally wised up and spread out the job over a few days.  We planted 10 different varieties of tomatoes, 70 in all, and got them staked up to new reeds Christophe cut down from the river bank.  Then, the next day, we finished with the rest of the plants.  And you know what?  The fun came back.  We found the pleasure of planting a garden again.  I know the garden is work; days will come when I am tired and I’ll come back to the house coated in sweat and dirt.  But I’m happy to re-find the anticipation of planting something with hopes of how it will turn out instead of just wanting the job to be done.

Pleasures of the Season: Line Dried Sheets

“Pleasures of the Season” is a series of posts which appear from time to time.  They focus on something special that occurs only seasonally, often fleeting, and something we anticipate.  In some cases, the season is quite short, other are longer, like the post below.  The posts are sometimes food related, sometimes not, but highlight moments of what I’ve learned about living with the seasons since moving to Southern France.

Up until last year, we did not have a clothes dryer.  This is nothing special for the region; in fact, most people in Southern France don’t have clothes dryers.  Those who do are English.  Most of the year, we can dry our clothes outside, but we were getting fed up having our living room filled with drying laundry on rainy spring days.  So, we finally broke down and decided to buy a dryer, and we quickly discovered our living room is much bigger than we thought.  We were thrilled.  In the course of a single day, we could wash and dry our clothes just like much of the civilized world.  This was great until we tried one thing: sheets.  Sure, they tumbled softly in the drier and no longer cluttered the laundry basket just like everything else, but something was missing and it took me several turns in the dryer to figure it out.  They no longer had that outdoor smell -  it’s not even a smell, it’s more of a perfume.  I can never really say what it comes from, but I’m guessing it’s from all the blooming flowers and trees and it is clearly more pronounced in the spring and fall.  I don’t get that when I put the sheets in the dryer, and ‘Mountain Breeze’ scented fabric softeners don’t even come close to it.  It sounds crazy, but I really, really love that smell.  I love the day I change the sheets and get excited about going to bed early.  I even plot out my day so I can.  I take this small thing as a luxury, even though I’m sure many people would see it otherwise.  It is a lot easier to simply put things in the dryer, but I’m willing to work a little more for line dried sheets.  Don’t get me wrong, I am still thrilled with the dryer, the clutter free living room, and the almost empty laundry basket.  I didn’t think I would revert back to line drying anything, but the sheets convinced me; line dried sheets really are a pleasure of the season even if it means stepping back out of the civilized world momentarily.