Embotits de Nadal/Baby Romaine Salad

Dear Devon,

Happy December 25th! I am picturing you standing next to a Douglass fir decorated with glistening ornaments and holding a warm mug of eggnog. Most likely, you are busy organizing your Christmas feast. Tell me what’s on the menu! Does it involve roasted goose baked in puff pastry, coquille St. Jacques, or tarte tatin? My Christmas preparations will be decidedly less involved and downright low-key. Though miles away from friends and family, I am not without holiday spirit. Barcelona greeted me this morning awash in warm golden light. The damp air of stormy days earlier this week has vanished. After a quick lunch of embotit de Nadal, a local Christmas treat, I plan to lace up my sneakers for a long stroll through the old city.

I have committed the butcher’s case of cured hams, fresh botifarras, cheeses, and pork loins to memory. When something new appears, I ask questions. I am gradually developing a relationship with the energetic ladies behind the counter. Patient, high spirited, and not the least bit squeamish, these ladies have schooled me in everything from chicharrones to the difference between chops and ribs (in Spanish, of course). So it was with equal enthusiasm that the secrets of embotits de Nadal were explained.

Embotit de Nadal is a Christmas terrine, similar in shape, texture, and appearance to a French jambon persillé, only without the parsley. A jellied meat made from ham hocks and shanks, embotit de Nadal is boiled in rectangular loaf pans and cut into quarter inch slices. Hardboiled eggs, pistachios, and black olives are embedded in the loaf, which is also liberally seasoned with salt and black pepper. I bought six slices at a whopping 10 Euros. Instead of Christmas goose, I will feast on Christmas cold cuts.

Though the lady behind the counter gave me some idea of how to enjoy embotits de Nadal, I was still a bit apprehensive. I relied on past lunches in France for guidance, where jambon persillé was often paired with a fresh green salad, pickled pearl onions, and gerkins. The meat has a wonderful texture, not at all rubbery, but soft and supple. The pistachios and olives add a nice combination of salt and fruit. I prepared this Christmas treat with a big fresh salad of baby Romaine lettuce and prunes. The salad was dressed with a light infusion of egg yolk, mustard, and olive oil, and flavored with raw onions and crushed garlic. The salad highlighted the sweet meat of the embotits de Nadal with its crisp and light blend of tender Romaine, rich dressing, and wine-like prunes.

Like most Catalan food, the embotit de Nadal probably has humble roots, originating in peasant celebrations of the Christmas feast with the enthusiastic slaughter of a communal pig. After the choicest parts were tended to, the less tender or desirable cuts of meat were incorporated into a multitude of dishes. Catalan cuisine uses every part of the animal: It is an amazingly economical cuisine. This simple boiled meat is made luxurious with the addition of highly perishable ingredients: eggs, pistachios, and olives. Unlike the silky cured jamon, the shelf-life probably hovers at around a week, if you can keep your hands off it.

In the United States, jellied meat conjures images of over-salted meat sliding from a can. It is a shame that we did not develop the broad range of offerings found in European charcuteries. I am eager to see if a new generation of butchers will change this tradition.

As of now, I am happy to buy embotit de Nadal at the market. Recipes exist but I am neither brave enough nor have a pot large enough to attempt such a gastronomic feat. I leave you with a simple recipe for my delicious baby Romaine lettuce salad. It doesn’t have to be paired with a grandiose entrée. It can be enjoyed from its serving bowl in front of the television.


Baby Romaine Lettuce Salad
(serves 4)

1 ½ heads of baby romaine lettuce
½ lemon, juiced
1 clove of garlic, crushed
1/3 cup finely diced red onion
2 tsp mustard
2 tsp honey
1 egg, hardboiled
¾ cup olive oil
3 prunes

Place diced onion and crushed garlic into salad bowl. Add lemon juice and allow to rest for about 10 minutes. Macerating the garlic and onion in acid will take some of the raw out. Mix in honey and mustard. Slice egg in half and remove the yolk. Using the back of a fork, crush the yolk into the onion-mustard mixture until you form a rough paste. Whisk in olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Test for acidity and add more oil as needed.

Slice baby romaine lettuce in half lengthwise. Remove the core and slice in half again. Cut into rough chunks. Roughly chop egg white and prunes. Add lettuce, egg white and prunes to the dressing and toss.

Pearl Onion and Haricot Vert Frittatina

Dear Devon,

I read a lot of cookbooks, food blogs, and food sections of various major newspapers. You could say I read a lot of recipes and even more opinions about food. But what happens when you abandon the written word for intuition and casual cooking? The answer is kitchen magic and a darned good meal.

Thomas Keller’s recipe for creamed pearl onions has been swimming around in my head. In the past, I never bothered with pearl onions. The tedium of removing skins from onions smaller than gumballs was enough to make me shelve any thoughts of pearl onions. I must have been in a good mood, because today it didn’t seem like that big a deal.

Waiting for my turn at the grocer, I saw a rectangular box, neatly packed with short, matchstick-thin green beans. I always go to the market with a rough shopping list. There is always room for unusual or seasonal fruits that might catch my eye. In this case, I decided on the spur of the moment that these unimposing legumes would pair nicely with butter braised pearl onions.

My loose dinner plan centered on leftovers with a side dish of braised pearl onions and legumes. However, as the temperature in the apartment was on the chilly side, there was a request for something that required oven cooking. I abandoned my plan and converted my braised veggies into a quick frittata. The addition of four eggs and a splash of milk transformed this aromatic side into a rustic main course.


Measuring just short of an inch thick, I dubbed it a frittatina. Tucked into their egg blanket, the fat pearl onions charmed me. Hard crackers served as our carbohydrate for the meal. The wheat based crackers, crunchy and inflected with the earthy taste of unrefined grain, made a nice contrast to the succulent pearl onions and the creaminess of the eggs.

While I love following a battle-tested recipe, it is always reassuring to know that some of the most satisfying meals do not require the consultation of long texts, complicated techniques, or unusual ingredients.


Pearl Onion and Haricot Vert Frittatina
(serves 2 comfortably)

½ cup pearl onions, roughly 16 onions
about 30 thin haricots verts
4 eggs
¼ cup milk
½ tbsp butter
1 sprig rosemary
shaved parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Set the oven rack in the middle of the oven.

Bring a large pot of water to bowl. Prepare a large bowl of ice water. Using a sharp knife, remove the ends of the haricots verts. Add pearl onions to boiling water and cook for about two minutes. Add haricots verts to the boiling water and onions. Cook for one minute more. Remove onions and haricots verts and quickly dunk into icy water. Let sit for thirty seconds to one minute. Strain and remove haricots verts to an awaiting bowl. Carefully slip the brown skins off the onions to reveal the opaque white flesh. Set aside in a separate bowl.

In a medium-sized nonstick pan, melt butter. Strip leaves from rosemary and add to melting butter. The entire kitchen will start to smell of nutty butter and fragrant rosemary. When the butter begins to brown, add the skinned pearl onions. Braise over a low flame for approximately 10 minutes, until the onions are nicely browned and slightly golden. Add haricots verts, cooking for an additional two to three minutes, just to give the greens a touch of color.

In a separate bowl, beat eggs with milk and two large pinches of salt. Pour beaten eggs into the skillet of browned onions and haricots verts. Gently cook the eggs for three minutes over a low flame. Place in the oven to continue cooking. Bake for approximately 7 to 10 minutes or until the top is nicely browned and the eggs have just set. Be careful not to overcook, as this will produce a rubbery texture. With a vegetable peeler, shave large ribbons of parmesan cheese directly over the hot frittatina.

Aromatic Purple PlumSalad

Dear Devon,

Does fruit salad need a recipe? Certain combinations go extremely well together: Who would turn down strawberries and cantaloupe, or blackberries and peaches? Fresh and ripe, they are great combinations. But often, fruit salad collapses into browned and mushy fruit in a bowl. Peaches, strawberries, and bananas bruise easily, and on a sunny day, the fruit begins to macerate, great for jams but not ideal for fruit salad. For these reasons, I usually avoid making fruit salads.

Before leaving for Barcelona, I spent my last weekend wandering around Williamsburg. A friend brought me to Radish on Bedford Ave. The quaint shop is styled after an oldtime general store, decorated with eccentric hand-painted chalkboards and a beautiful antique lead-lined fridge. Radish pushes the phrase “take out” way beyond pizza, falafal pitas, or supermarket sushi. It’s real food, cooked using locally grown ingredients. Dishes are kept warm in stylish Staub cocottes and set beside gleaming white trays of savory side dishes. Everything looked absolutely delicious, but alas, we had just stuffed ourselves silly at Fada.



A fruit salad marked as “purple apricot, red onion, and mint” intrigued me. My experience with purple apricots is extremely limited, or rather, nonexistent. I have never seen a purple apricot, so I’m not even sure that’s what they really were. At first glance, they looked like plums. Either way, I was taken with the idea of adding spicy red onion to a sweet fruit salad. I went to the market that afternoon to try it for myself.

Radish was right. Purple onion mixed with fruit is an inspired combination. The flavor is a bit unfamiliar, but definitely not disgusting or off-putting. I sliced fresh purple plums into big wedges and added halved figs. Next came the onion, in thin slivers, opaque, crisp, and fragrant. The salad was carefully tossed with a wooden spoon, gentle on the delicate fruit. The final touch was a bit of aromatic: Lemon zest, mint, or rosemary, on other occasions.


The final salad smells spicy and flowery. It looks amazing with tiny ribbons of red onion settling onto the juicy wedges of plum and plump figs. This salad is about contrasts: Spicy, crisp raw bit of red onion paired with sweet, tangy plums and the grittiness of fig.

Don’t judge this salad until you’ve tasted it. It does require a bit of faith. Pairing red onion with plums and figs is not typical, but I guarantee that it will change how you think about the fruit salad.


Aromatic Purple Plum Salad
(makes 2 servings)

1 large purple skinned plum, sliced
4 figs, halved
2 sprigs rosemary, chopped (about ½ tsp)
1 tbsp red onion, thinly sliced

Wash figs and plums. Dry thoroughly. Cut plums into wedges (a large plum can give you 12 wedges). Halve figs. Store in a large bowl and set aside. Using a very sharp knife, cut paper-thin slices from a medium-sized red onion. Remove leaves from rosemary sprigs and finely chop. Sprinkle fruit with red onion and rosemary. With a large wooden spoon, gently mix the salad. Set aside for 5-10 minutes to allow the flavors to set.

My Parisian Notebook

Dear Devon,

I have been unforgivably tight-lipped about my recent trip to Paris. The truth is, my recent adventure was an exercise in indulgence and I have spent the past few weeks recuperating. Cheese, museums, food, site-seeing, we did it all, or better yet, we overdid it all.


During my convalescence, I made a list of all the meals and snacks we enjoyed in Paris. There were many standouts, including two evenings at two separate restaurants by chef Christian Constant. His pig’s feet in potatoes, tartare of scallop, oyster, and salmon, and the most heavenly prune clafoutis continue to haunt me. And no visit would be complete without a quick lunch at any one of Eric Kayser’s bakeries. Amazing how a crunchy, properly salted piece of bread transforms an ordinary sandwich into an experience. It is conceivable that one could go to Paris without stopping in at Stroher’s Pâtissier Traiteur on Rue Montorgeuil, but it would be like visiting Paris and not seeing the Eiffel Tour! It’s not your ordinary pastry shop: I saw a French kid suffer an anxiety attack when asked to choose his after school treat. Honestly, I don’t blame him. I turn into last summer’s raspberry jelly every time I enter this shop. Other highlights included late night crepes at L’Avant Comptoir and a plate of simple butter braised wild mushrooms at Chez Paul.


A week in Paris will easily hurt your pocketbook. Once all the foie gras heavy meals and cream laden potatoes were added up, it didn’t leave much room for adventure. To balance our restaurant expenses, we made good use of our Parisian kitchen and the nearby market street of Rue Cler, an absolute gem of a street. Extending from Avenue La Motte Picquet, Rue Cler boasts a fantastic line up of epiceries, charcuteries, restaurants, and boulangeries. In all, we spent three nights roaming this lovely street in search of dinner. We found treasure in the form of wild chanterelles (or girolles in French), huge bulbs of fragrant fennel, and jewel-like red currants right out of a Flemish 16th century painting.

The best feature near Rue Cler is Marie-Anne Cantin’s cheese shop. We visited three times and came away with six ripe, decadent cheeses (many of them raw milk varieties). Her shop is a must for any cheese lover. Knowledgeable, patient, and friendly, Ms. Cantin bustles around her fragrant shop, assisting clients and chefs alike. Before selecting a cheese, she inquires when you plan to eat the cheese, at which point she will poke the cheese to insure that you enjoy your morsel at the height of maturity. Even with her shop tightly closed for the evening, the heady, yeasty smell of cheese emanates from the grates that lead to her on-site aging cave. Rumor has it that Ms. Cantin nurtures the personality of some of her hard cheeses with the assistance of nightly beer baths.



Now, fully rested, I’m eager to get into the kitchen and start experimenting. First on my list is that delectable prune clafoutis. I’ve already purchased a box of silky prunes and now am searching for the perfect vessel to hold my mouthwatering dessert! I definitely agree with Sarkozy, French cuisine belongs on UNESCO cultural heritage list. Vive La France!