Turkish flatbreads and a trip to Green Lanes

Much as marathoners carbo-load before the big race, I like to ensure that the meals before Passover contain enough bread products to see me through the next 8 days. Wednesday night there was homemade pizza, slathered with ricotta and wild garlic. Thursday, with a day off work, I made a much-anticipated trip to Green Lanes, a neighbourhood in Northeast London which is home to a large Turkish and Kurdish population, knowing that I’d find lots of things there that would soon be off-limits.

I began with a lahmacun, a thin, lamb-topped flatbread. One of the most popular restaurants on the strip, Antepliler, has expanded its operations to several other storefronts, one featuring casseroles and breads from an enormous open oven. Here, the young usta, or oven-master, rolled out a round of dough slightly thicker than a pita, then smeared it with a few tablespoons of a highly-seasoned minced lamb and garlic mixture. This was pushed into the oven on a long pole, from which it emerged several minutes later blistered but still pliable, to be topped with a salad of rocket, grated carrots and herbs and rolled up in a piece of paper. Not a bad (light) lunch for £1.50.

I ate it while inspecting the window display at a baklava shop, then headed several blocks north to Yasar Halim, a large, long-established bakery with well upwards of 100 varieties of cakes, cookies, breads and filled and topped sweet and savoury pastries. Amongst those I could recognise were tahinli, coils of sweet , yeasted dough layered with sesame paste, something I last had on a Golden Horn ferry ride and pide, canoe-shaped flatbreads topped with cheese and slices of beef sausage (sujuk). (The photo here is of a particularly good egg and lamb version which I had in Istanbul.) I came away with a spicy spinach pastry and a sweet one filled with pistachios and clotted cream—snacks for the late afternoon train ride up to Liverpool.

And to finish off, back to the Antepilier franchise for a bowl of spicy lamb and rice broth, served with a basket of warm, dimpled bread, crispy at the corners from a flash under the charcoal grill. I’ll be back soon for more breads, and photos, hopefully including the women who sit at the front of many of the restaurants making gözleme, almost like savoury crepes cooked on a concave griddle, with fillings of spinach, cheese, eggs and grated potatoes.

For now, though, it’s matzah time.

Antepliler

46 Green Lanes London N4

(020) 8802 5588

Tube: Manor House

Yasar Halim

495 Green Lanes

London N4 1AL

Tube: Manor House

Macarons fait Maison (Hand-made Macarons)

My baking efforts tend to be of the rustic, craggy variety: crumbles, muffins, quick breads and cakes unacquainted with icing. This reflects, no doubt, my own shortcomings in making food look pretty and dainty. To be fair, though, most frilly desserts don’t appeal even when someone else is doing the baking. I can do without the rich fillings and toppings, and I much prefer my fruit inelegantly chunky and my chocolate unadulterated by anything creamy.

The great exception, of course, is macarons, as delicate a pastry as can be found. I’ve long adored eating them (particularly if they come from my favourite shop). But a very unsuccessful attempt, and reports of the difficulties encountered by those far more skilled and experienced, eliminated any aspirations I had to master them at home.

A gloriously messy afternoon spent with an ex-colleague turned serious amateur patissiere didn’t altogether shake my convictions. If anything, the difficulties I encountered piping even circles of egg white-almond batter out of a pastry bag, and spreading ganache over the cooled cookies, reminded me of why I could never earn a living with my hands. My friend was disappointed that many of the macarons cracked in the oven. While not affecting the taste, this was a blow to her ego. And the effort: even with 2 people and an ample supply of baking sheets, it was nearly 4 hours from start to finish.

Yet what an outcome! On the day, they were merely extremely good. But my mid-week, the flavour had become more intense, and the exterior had softened to become gloriously moulleux. Barring the cracks, they were the equal of most available in Paris.

As for Paris, the macaron-baking session took place on one of my last days there. I’m now a Eurostar journey away from ubiquitous pastry shops and free, individual pastry lessons. Though I’ve heard Herme has come to London. And with my new kitchen scales and accurate oven, I suppose I could give the macarons a try. There’s an extra macaron-eater around now too, one who also values taste over appearance.

But did I mention the mess? As extraordinary as the macarons.

Le “Best of”

It has been, by any estimation, a difficult year. Thankfully, though, there have still been opportunities to take pleasure from shopping for, preparing and eating good food. A few of my favourites...

Pastry Assessing on a number of criteria, Le Figaro rated the tarte au citron at Jacques Genin’s Marais shop to be the second-best in Paris. Having not visited any of the close competitors, I can’t make an authoritative judgment. But I was delighted by the elegant, minimalist shop, the intense care shown in selection and packaging and the stripling of lime zest. Genin’s unctuous chocolate ganache tarte was its technical equal.

Restaurant I’d like to think I pipped the critics in discovering Cafe dei Cioppi, an improbably fantastic Italian kitchen-with-chairs serving simple, ingredient-driven dishes like burrata and grilled-vegetable salad, saffron risotto and pumpkin and sausage lasagne. The wines by the glass are unusual, the crowd stylish but not overbearingly trendy and the location, barely more than 100 metres from my front door, unbeatable.

Fruit and veg It will be more than six months before they’re again available at the market, but I’m already anticipating more experimentation with one of my favourite recent discoveries, courgette flowers.

Ingredients A small sachet of juniper berries has been enlivening homemade gravadlax, braised red cabbage and meaty ragus, while bouquets of chervil, pretty enough to put in a vase, have lifted countless everyday dishes like omelettes or leek and potato soup. Fresh Fallot mustard, aromatic and not too hot, has been a relevation, worthy of eating straight from the spoon.

Day out The best burgundies are well outside my budget, but 18 euros paid for a day’s bicycle rental and a map of the Route des Grands Crus. Heading south from Dijon, I passed through the villages and vineyards of Chambolle-Musigny, Vosne-Romanee and Gevrey-Chambertin before lunch, managing three courses and two glasses before a flat, 20 kilometer glide back into town.

Recipe I’m still not sure exactly what elevated my first-ever boeuf bourguignon from satisfying to sublime, but I’m happy to give full credit to the folks at (sadly departed) Gourmet for showing me the way.

Book How did MFK Fisher manage to write about food—and life—in such a spare yet evocative way? My anthology of her writings hasn’t been absent from the bedside table since I bought it last winter.

Wine Drinking Meursault, a fantastic white burgundy, is always a special treat. Having a particularly good glass of it sent over by a fellow patron in a Dijon wine bar was an occasion that I hope to remember for a long time.

Noël chez Pierre Hermé (Christmas at Pierre Hermé)

The windows of patisseries both humble and renowned are beginning to fill with bûches de noel, France’s most popular Christmas cake. Even Picard has dedicated an entire freezer case to its selection. Essentially a vamped-up jelly-roll, bûches de noel range from modest to extravagant and from traditional—bark-textured chocolate frosting, mocha butter cream filling and snowdrifts of icing sugar—to creative—Laduree’s bûche passion-framboise (passion-fruit and raspberry)—and sleek—Pierre Hermé’s lacquer-shiny numbers in single-origin chocolate.

Visiting the latter’s shop yesterday, it was impossible not to gasp at the couture-perfect bûches, or at their equally extraordinary price tags. I took ample comfort, though, in a small sampling of the season’s new macaroon flavours. This winter, Herme has chosen to focus on fruit (more exciting than chocolate variations, and more enjoyable than the truffle and foie-gras creations of last season). I managed to try rose-quince, which was perfectly balanced, and the chuao, half chocolate, half cassis, with the rich, bitter chocolate offset by tart cassis berries. I’ll be back soon for the headliners, strangely unavailable that day: fortunella (kumquat and star anise), green apple and angelica, agapé (citron and pain d’epices, a gingerbread-like cake) and envié (violet and cassis berries).

It won’t fill me up or keep me warm, but there is probably no more pleasure to be had for well under 10 euros.

Le Rostand (et autres addresses sur le 6th)

Situated in a privileged position across from the Jardin du Luxembourg, Le Rostand oozes money, though in a respectful, understated way. The café’s interior is grand yet slightly faded, its clientele genteel, but rarely ostentatious. On a visit this past winter, I saw women of a certain age wearing their fur coats indoors, Bonpoint-attired children sharing cake with their equally well-dressed parents, a few professorial types holding court and some students (the Sorbonne is not far away) buying 3 euro espressos, thus earning a table for the afternoon.

The cafe takes its name from Edmond de Rostand, author of Cyrano de Bergerac. While this was likely not an intentional homage (rather governed by the fact that the cafe sits on a square dedicated to the writer), the association is nonetheless a fortuitous one, as both the café and the neighbourhood like to trade on their intellectual heritage. All but the most successful writers and artists have long since decamped to the city’s cheaper northeastern arrondissements. Yet the lure—for visitors and, to some degree, the French themselves—of St Germain’s mythical past remains, even as the quartier is becoming better known for luxury clothing boutiques than for philosophical debates.

Le Rostand’s food is serviceable but expensive, the coffee better than average, the gentlemen’s loos (I’ve been told) still Turkish-style and the maître d’ one of the grumpiest I’ve encountered. The terrace is a sun-trap, though given over to smokers, and the people-watching is arguably better inside. If you were planning to go to de Flore, come here instead.

Le Rostand
6 place Edmond Rostand 75006
Daily, 8 am-2 am
Metro: RER Luxembourg or Odéon

Other local stand-outs:

Gerard Mulot

Their macarons, while credible, are not a match to those of Pierre Herme, located just a few minutes’ walk away. But a slice or two of their wobbly, delicate quiche—favourites include wild mushroom and smoked duck breast—and a bruleé-topped tarte orange will make an ideal alfresco lunch. Pack some wine, and bring your beautifully-wrapped packages to the nearby Jardin du Luxembourg. Just don’t sit on the grass.

76 rue de Seine
Closed Wednesdays
Metro: Mabillon

Mariage Frères

Hidden on a tiny street near the Seine, this branch of the famed tea shop and salon is nearly as charming as the Marais original and far less crowded. Spend a few minutes looking at the tea memorabilia in the basement.

13 rue des Grands-Augustins
Daily, 10:30am-7:30pm
Metro: Odéon or St Michel

Grom

I’ve written about this gelato shop before, but I should note that the special for this past month was an extraordinarily creamy granita made with wild strawberries. The rest of summer promises other limited-edition fruit sorbettos.

81 rue de Seine
Daily, late morning-midnight
Metro: Odéon or Mabillon

Du Pain et des Ideés

A number of Paris’ 20 arrondissements are defined by a single core neighbourhood, architectural style and/or population. The 4^th, for instance, is known for its beautiful 16^th and 17^th century hotel particuliers, and for its upmarket array of shops, galleries and bars. Though it has grown too expensive in recent years for any but the most successful artists or writers, the 6^th remains identified with its grand cafes, De Flore and Deux Magots, and their onetime habitués, Sartre, Gertrude Stein and Hemingway. Further south, the 15^th is solidly residential and respectably bourgeois.

Others are more difficult to characterise. Though physically compact, the 2^nd arrondissement incorporates the Bourse (stock exchange), a red light district, hundreds of clothing wholesalers, an enclave of Japanese noodle shops and groceries and the city’s premier art auction house. The 10^th is similarly eclectic. It contains the western reaches of Belleville—a polyglot immigrant neighbourhood of North African Jews and Muslims, Chinese and Vietnamese—and the eastern and southern boundaries of the Goutte d’Or, historic home of the city’s substantial sub-Saharan African populations. Two major train stations, the Gare du Nord and Gare d’Est, connect the city not only to French cities such as Lille and Strasbourg, but to Belgium, the Netherlands, Switzerland , Germany and the UK. And past another cut-rate clothing district lies the Canal St Martin, an increasingly popular destination for young, artsy types (known somewhat derisively as bobos, bourgeois bohemians), the better-off of whom are buying canal-side apartments and studios, while the rest make do with cafe-side tables for bio (organic) Sunday brunches.

Moored on an innocuous corner halfway in-between the cheap shoe-sellers and the Canal, the ornate, old-fashioned frontage of Du Pain et des Ideés seems a bit out of place. Inside, the bakery retains its original mirrors and display cases. This, along with its unusually small selection (just a few kinds of bread, rolls with unusual sweet and savoury toppings and a handful of fruit tarts) give it an atmosphere which is almost—though not quite—mannered. Add in slightly above-average prices, organic credentials and the collection of antique bread-baking kit in the window, and it could easily be dismissed as a stylised sop to the neighborhood’s new monied class.

But the bread is both delicious and distinctive, particularly the Pain des Amis. Sliced in flat slabs from a huge, foccaccia-like loaf, the crust yields up an aroma of toasted nuts, and the moist crumb is perfect for breakfast (I had it with greengage jam and very fresh goats cheese) and with all kinds of cheese. The bread rolls are, for once, not an afterthought, stuffed with combinations like blue cheese and apricot, green olive and herbs and chocolate and raspberry. And I’ve been told that the chausson aux pommes is even better than the one at Au Levain du Marais.

NB: Lest you think I discovered it, the bakery has received its fair share of acccolades. Gault Millau named it the city’s best bakery in 2008, Gourmet mentioned in its most recent Paris issue and David Lebovitz thinks it worth a detour.

Du Pain et des Ideés
34 rue Yves Toudic 75010
M-F 6:45am-8pm
Metros: Republique or Jacques Bonsergent

Other notable stops in the 10th:

Sarl Velan Stores

Turn off the Boulevard de Strasbourg, full of nail salons, beauty supply shops and fast-food restaurants, into the Passage Brady, lined with a certain globally-recognisable type of Indian restaurant: gaudy decor, laminated menus and desperate waiters. Passing perhaps half a dozen of these, you’ll come to a shop displaying crates of aubergines, curry leaves and, in season, Alfonse mangoes. Inside, you’ll find sacks of rice, every conceivable type of legume and spice, and, in a nod to India’s colonial past, jars of marmalade and boxes containing several years’ supply of PG Tips.

87 passage Brady
M-S 10am-8:30pm
Metro: Chateau d’Eau

Chez Jeannette

This eccentric bar-cafe boasts elegant high ceilings, mural-covered walls and leatherette booths and is the kind of place where it seems right to have a glass of wine at 11 in the morning. The clientele, most of whom don't seem to have office jobs, may stay long enough to require food, though for that I'd recommend stomach-lining at the tiny Turkish soup place, on the same side of the road heading back towards the arch.

47 Rue du Faubourg St. Denis
M-S early morning until late at night
Metro: Chateau d’Eau

Les Bon Addresses

Parisian women are said to have a closely-guarded list of bon addresses, the trusted suppliers of everything from the smoothest blowdry to the tastiest profiterole. With just two years in Paris, I haven't developed a full complement of resources. But I can boast of a few noteworthy finds which, unlike the natives, I'm happy to share.

Breakfast
Parisians may be willing to travel across town for a box of macarons. But come breakfast, excellence must be found in a smaller catchment zone. For those within a 15-minute walk of Bastille or the Place du Vosges, the best pastries can be found at Au Levain du Marais. The croissant is textbook-perfect, the chausson aux pommes (a triangle of puff-pastry encasing a not-too-sweet apple compote) a messy delight.

Booze
Finishing a meal with a sip of Armagnac always makes me feel terribly sophisticated. And buying it from Ryst Dupeyron, where the shelves are lined with wax-sealed bottles dating back to World War I and the monetary transaction is conducted ever-so-discreetly, just adds to the feeling of glamour. Prices are not nearly as ruinous as the setting might suggest, with a 70 cl bottle of the Napoleon blend (aged for a minimum of 6 years) costing just 36EU.

Browsing
There's no better way to understand the city's relationship with food than to visit one of its 75 markets. And few better combine quality, variety and atmosphere than my local, the Marche d'Aligre. At the entrance is a raucous strip of fruit and vegetable stands, where the vendors try to outshout one another in a mix of French and Arabic. The square holds a more serene (and expensive) market, in which dowagers line up to buy well-aged cheese or meat for a pot au feu. Surrounding it all are pavement cafes, including a particularly popular wine (and in season) oyster bar, Le Baron Bouge.

Bonbons
For years, the artisanal truffles and sweets made by Jacques Genin were only available to restaurants and hotels. But now, the likes of passion fruit caramels and chocolates flavoured with pu er tea are on offer to anyone able to find his elegant, minimalist shop, located in a nondescript strip of clothing wholesalers in the northern Marais. The adjoining cafe serves an unctuous hot chocolate and provides mignardaise with every hot drink.


Au Levain du Marais
28, blvd. Beaumarchais 75011
M; Th-Su

Ryst Dupeyron
79, rue du Bac 75007
M-S

Marche d'Aligre
place du Aligre 75012
T-Su
(Both parts of the market are open from breakfast until lunch; the covered market reopens around 4 pm.)

La Chocolaterie
133, rue du Turenne 75003
M-Su

Jour du Macaron

Some marked today's calendar as the first day of spring. It was also the launch of another new season, that of Pierre Herme's macarons, available to any member of the public warmly dressed enough to withstand a 30 minute wait on the sidewalk. I've written before here about the pomp and circumstance surrounding the launch of the Herme's collections. On the basis of the 3 macaron tasting I was allowed, the plaudits are again deserved.

In making my selection I was forced to bypass four new chocolate creations--one with ultra-bitter ganache and cocoa nibs, another with milk chocolate and earl grey, a third with yuzu and the last with the classic duo of caramel and fleur de sel--as well as the trademarked "Celeste", boasting a passion fruit exterior with rhubarb and strawberry compote. (The "Inca", with a filling of avocado and banana, was easier to skip.)

My first choice, mandarin and pink pepper, was faultless, if not extraordinary. I then moved on to the "Eden", filled with a sublime combination of saffron-infused, dried apricot-studded peach cream. I finished with a bracingly bitter "Americano Pamplemousse," the cleverest spin on Campari I've ever encountered.

I'm never going to be sharing any hot-off-the-runway fashion relevations, I fear. But today, at least, I've got the scoop on Paris' chicest, and perhaps most delicious, desserts.

Le Macarons du Pierre Herme

Paris is beginning to gear up for fashion week, where, impervious to the falling leaves outside, summer dresses and sky-high sandals will be shown in Tuileries' tents. With its stratospheric prices, unrealistic silhouettes--what grown woman can wear hot pants?--and counter-seasonal calendar, it's easy to dismiss haute couture as irrelevant, or, at best, a self-indulgent exercise aimed at the cognoscente.

For at least a few years, macarons have been the patisserie of choice for the high-fashion crowd. (Their cameo in Sophia Coppola's frivolous but glamorous Marie Antoinette certainly didn't hurt.) It's an obvious selection: these little fripperies are bite-size, (largely) dairy and wheat free and easily adaptable to the changing whims of colour and flavour. For the high-status producers, Laduree and Pierre Herme, the hype surrounding their collections has become a talking piece for the chattering classes, much like the new Marc Jacobs line. Herme even presents a biannual runway show, where waiters parade the catwalk holding trays of his inventions.

Pretentious? Undoubtedly. As Herme himself proclaims on the cover of his brochure, "Tout le monde les adore macarons par Pierre Herme." Vogue has called him the Picasso of pastry. But Herme has earned his star turn. His macarons can make a grown man cry. Well, at least mine.

We started with a classic: caramel with fleur de sel, then moved onto the macaron pictured above, the Mogador, which pairs passion fruit with milk chocolate. It was very nearly perfect, but couldn't compare with the "Huile d'Olive a Vanille," a subtle stunner complete with tiny bits of olive suspended in a vanilla paste.

Suffice to say that while we never made it to the Musee Picasso, we were back in line at Pierre Herme later that week.