Welcome to Brunette à Bicyclettea collection of thoughts, photos, and videos; my digital scrapbook of the people and places I’ve come to love, wherever I happen to be (currently, that’s Washington, DC).
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Tag Archives: cooking
I usually come back to Southern California, where I grew up, to visit my family during the holidays. While most people are at the mall frantically shopping for gifts for everyone on their list, you can find me at the various restaurants and grocery stores, eating my way through California Mexican and Vietnamese food and stocking up on everything I can’t get in Paris. Every time I come back, I’m reminded of all the things I will always love and miss about this area of the US.
Now, the Mexican and Vietnamese dining scene here has been meticuously documented, and there are tons of great sites to get you started if you’re hungry and in the area. I’m not going to try to compete with their exhaustive and impressive efforts. Instead, I’ve included some at the bottom of this post and I’d like to take you on one of my typical shopping/eating trips for necessities. Continue reading
When I think of Christmas with my family a few things come to mind: Unpacking my mother’s dishes with the little trees for their once-a-year appearance. Croissants and sausage and egg casserole on Christmas morning. Opening stockings before the rest of the family arrives. My grandmothers trying to save all the wrapping paper from their gifts (“But, it’s so pretty!”). And, the bûche de Noël. It’s a Christmas fixture at my family’s table, a tradition that my grandmother brought over from France and one that I’ve carried with me from sunny California to freezing Beijing. Continue reading
I have a confession. There’s one thing in Paris that I don’t go a week without eating in the fall and winter. No, it’s not petit salé aux lentilles or pot au feu (although, aren’t they incredible?). It’s a much humbler ingredient: an onion. Before you click away in shock and disappointment, let me tell you that this isn’t just any old onion. They’re oignons de Roscoff, and they’re some of the best cooking onions I’ve ever come across. I won’t tell you how many kilos I’ve gone through since I got back to Paris in September, but suffice it to say that it might be quickly approaching the limits of what one discusses in polite company. I keep them in the top of a stack of steamer baskets that double as my onion, shallot and garlic storage (when your apartment is Paris-tiny and you like to cook, improvisation is key). As the week goes on and my supply of these little, pink beauties dwindles, I count the days until the Sunday market when my can visit my “onion guys,” as I call them.