Almond Thumbprints

One of the things that I miss after we moved from California are the coffee shops - and the pastries that go with them. Me, I'm a Peet's girl; I like the pitch black coffee they brew (unless I loose a whole cupful of it on the grey carpet at home, to leave a stain that will last until the carpet dies...) and the fact that they play the classical radio station; nothing against Jazz and Blues, but nice for a change. Close by where we used to live there is a Peet's next to a Whole Foods with a view of the hills: a win-win combination, coffee, pastry and a nice view (there's also a 6 lane Highway right next to it, but it sits lower than the hills, so you can't see it - you can't win every time).

Cantuccini

It's Christmastime, right in the thick of it, and these are almond biscotti that taste of sunshine and warm Tuscan summer evenings and not of (potentially) snowy days and icy cold winter weather that takes me ten minutes to dress the kids for in the morning before going to school - I'm aware of that. But they're still cookies and it is Christmas and I don't mind at all to have a little bit of sunshine to dunk in my espresso - or my vin santo, for that matter.

Pumpkin Cranberry Gugelhupf

The first time I met up close and personal with pumpkin pie was unfortunately when I got served a big, quivering, orange slice of store bought (and not the right store, let me tell you) goodness...I was told it was an acquired taste and right away I had no idea why anybody would like to acquire a taste for what was sitting on my plate. A pity, really, since it took a long time for my taste buds to get over that memory - think of all the excellent pumpkin pies I was missing in the meantime...until then, I swear I have never been eating around a food item, but that pumpkin pie did it for me. Shame on me, then, that I didn't try to figure out what pumpkin could really do for you in a pie - or in other applications. When - or probably more like where - I grew up, pumpkin was pretty much the stepchild of the veggie family; it came pickled, sweet and sour. Period. Now I suspect that nobody really knew what to eat it with or on, unlike cucumber pickles, where everyones' knee-jerk answer seems to be "burgers", I haven't been able to find out what all these glasses of preserved pumpkin slices and dices that sit on german store shelves are designed to go with....the Danes, on the other hand eat anything pickled to everything, it seems, cold cuts or warm meat, makes no difference - to me it made a lot more sense, if those pickled pumpkins were to be found in danish supermarkets instead...

Queso Fresco

Here is the train of thought that led to this post: Martin came home from Boston with fresh corn tortillas and Peet's Coffee for me. I opened one bag of coffee and hid the rest, but corn tortillas are perishable, so....eat it was. That's where that train of thought almost derailed then and there - too many opinions on what to wrap them around. I settled the matter and decreed: carnitas for dinner, with corn tortillas, tomatillo salsa and queso fresco. Sound good? Agreed. Good corn tortillas are a little bit like gold dust around here: hard to find. So the question what to do with a whole pack of them is to be taken seriously. Everyone here loves carnitas, so we could agree on that, but I have to be particular and need some queso fresco on top of my tacos to make them a perfect bite. Queso fresco (and all its cousins, brothers, sisters, uncles and aunties) unfortunately belong in the gold dust category as well, so there's only one way out: make your own.

Peas & Pancetta

There's good stuff to eat in Italy - that's a fact. It's also a fact that I have a hard time controlling myself when I'm faced with a nice Farmer's Market (or the well stocked produce department inside a supermarket for that matter) and the immediate means of cooking the ingredients; in this particular case a beautiful Tuscan vacation home in the hills of the Garfagnana with ample access to everything good: wine, cheese, cured (and not so cured) meats, fish, veggies and fruits and veggies and fruits and veggies and fruits....and did I mention the fantastic wine yet? Having access to a kitchen and a BBQ on your vacation lowers the level of frustration (as in: how many peaches can I possibly consume right here, right now??) considerably. I love shopping in foreign grocery stores, it's a tourist attraction for me and my family knows to tolerate me, because they know there will be light at the end of the tunnel, figuratively speaking. It's a pity, really, that a person can only eat so much watermelon in one sitting and even though we practically plowed our way through giant tubs of green and black olives and caper berries, we had to give up and take the rest home - they had to share precious real estate in the trunk of our car with the wine, gigantic hunks of parmigiano, pecorino, pancetta, the pool toys, the Smokey Joe (we're so equipped) and the suitcases that actually contained clothes, not food...

Corn Soup

Here's the thing with corn: it's really, really good when it's really, really fresh. When it's sweet and crisp and the corn kernels pop in your mouth when you bite into freshly grilled corn on the cob, slathered with avocado butter and drizzled with some flaky salt. Heaven. There's just one problem with heaven; it apparently doesn't always have a place in danish grocery stores - and that's a real pity and a shame, since corn grows well in Denmark. Should I really have to go into a supermarket to pick up some fresh corn and find some (granted, all right looking) corn imported from Morocco? Understandable maybe in May when nothing much is seasonal here yet, but in August? During corn season? Corn might look like a sturdy plant and corn cobs aren't fragile in the "don't drop the shopping basket, there's eggs in there" way, but once they're picked, the clock starts ticking and the beautifully sweet milk inside each corn kernel starts converting into starch - the longer it takes to get the corn from field to market, the starchier the corn gets and a starchy ear of corn is not a good thing to sink your teeth into, no matter how much butter you put on top of it.

Roasted Tomatillo Salsa

In our little greenhouse the harvest season has begun: the first round of chiles has been picked, roasted and skinned, waiting to be turned into chile stew, the heirloom tomatoes are producing fruit faithfully, it's amazing the size some of them have - the other day Martin and me shared a tomato for lunch...- but there are four plants quietly growing in there that I can say of, with conviction, won't be found in many greenhouses in Denmark: tomatillos. They're native to Mexico and though they're almost as commonplace in many US grocery stores as their distant cousin, the tomato, they're a rarity here and cannot be bought in any shop for any price, but this year they're growing in my greenhouse, and they're ripe.

Watermelon Soup

Everyone in this house loves melons, any and all, Cantaloupe, Galia, Honeydew, Canary, Piel de Sapo (which Felix calls the "american football melon, just green" - I don't know, better or worse than its real name - "Skin of the Toad", anyone?) Charentais, all are good. We eat them for desert, they go in lunchboxes (messy...but so yummy!), I wrap them with prosciutto or prepare them as a salad with arugula and lots of cracked black pepper - my friend Anne-Sophie introduced me to a grown-up only version of eating the small charentais melons for desert: halved around the equator, deseeded and the resulting hollow filled with port wine - thanks, Anne-Sophie and it goes without saying, it's a french thing and the melons need to be super ripe and soft, else it's a bloodbath....

Strawberry IcePops

Strawberries do well here, if only given half a chance = some sunshine, and June has been kind to us. This year seems to be a good year for deep red, juicy strawberries. There are big strawberry fields all around our place and no escaping the strawberry tents that have set up shop everywhere, no matter which way you point your car on your way out of town. The other day I came home with one kilo of sweet, nice and ripe, red strawberries and I can honestly say that I have no idea how that happened,

Elderflower Syrup

Elderflowers are magical things; they sit in big clusters of tiny cream-colored blossoms that light up an otherwise unassuming bush. When you walk by on a warm day or after a rain, their fragrance can make your head swim - it's addictive. Like a bee you want to stick your nose in and have more. The flowers manage to smell both sweet and earthy and light and fresh at the same time - maybe that's their secret.