Summer Pasta Salad

Big things are happening. Giant things, maybe. I don't know how to explain it, but I feel it. Everything in my life is shifting in a new direction... and I'm ready to just let go and see what happens.

A full-blown New Jersey summer is finally here, bringing with it humidity, bikinis, and farm markets. The majority of my time, however, is spent indoors - working my way toward France with every extra shift picked up at the restaurant. But life continues to move on around me, often in unexpected ways.

My youngest brother is potty training. My other four siblings spend their days at the pool (or in the case of my 16 year old sister, surfing Myspace). My father and his wonderful girlfriend are planning a wedding and thus, our cozy Princeton home is under major construction in order to fit all seven people, three cats, two rats, and a hyper little dog inside.

In short, it's noisy as hell and our kitchen is going to be all but inaccessible for the next month or so.

But still, it is sunny and hot and that is just fine by me. Bring on the ice cream.



I am the typical fun-loving, wild-haired, over-the-top enthusiastic Leo and naturally drawn to all things sunny, bright, and adventurous.

This was demonstrated during my childhood growing up in the country, when I would generally spend all day traipsing through the woods, returning home sun-bleached blonde and generously freckled (and most likely inches away from sun poisoned). And hungry.

Luckily, it's the time of year when fresh food is in great supply - soft delicate raspberries pair up with plump and juicy blueberries. It's the perfect time for Jersey sweet corn and tomatoes, as well as crisp spinach, deep red cherries, sensually fuzzy peaches, summer squashes, strawberries, and watermelon. And of course, my favorite - BROCCOLI.

Fresh, natural, and recently picked, this kind of food rarely ever needs any seasoning or added nonsense. It's perfect on its own.

And right now, that's exactly what I need.



Summer Pasta Salad
The amount of veggies in this recipe are just estimates, so please just add as much or as little as you like. Don't you dare use canned vegetables or I will come find you.

Ingredients:
1 lb Organic tri-colored pasta (make it all purdy-like with fun shapes)
20 cherry tomatoes (I used both red and orange varieties)
20 green beans
1-2 ears of corn
3 tbsp white wine vinegar
6 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Toasted pine nuts
Fresh basil
Dried oregano
Dash of red pepper flakes
Salt and pepper

Directions:
Cook the pasta until it is just al dente, drain and rinse with cold water. To make the vinaigrette, combine vinegar, oil, dried oregano and pepper flakes, and salt and pepper. Whisk very well with a fork. This makes a decent amount of dressing, so just pour your desired amount over the pasta and save the rest. Set the pasta aside and let marinate.

Wash all vegetables and try not to resist eating all the cherry tomatoes. Cut the corn kernels from the cob with a sharp knife. Cut the ends off the green beans and then cut into small pieces (approximately 1" or less in length). Roll up basil leaves and slice very thinly into strips.

Add vegetables, basil, and pine nuts to the pasta and toss. Season with more salt and pepper. Let marinate for at least an hour. Serve cold.




P.S. Last week, Transformers II began filming in Princeton and the lead actors were spotted eating in my restaurant. Squee!

Would you like to try the special?

It's a Monday night around 8pm - after the dinner rush and on a day when servers are usually sent home early, but the heavy, humid temperatures outside seem to drive all of Princeton inside, hair deflated and tongues parched. I've been working a double since 10 a.m. and my ankles are starting to swell. A bus of high school students with tickets to an opera unloads on the sidewalk out front. Suddenly we are out of pint glasses.

The hostess must not have noticed my increasingly harried scurrying, because all at once my entire section is sat. Back and forth from the bar, to the kitchen, and then back to the bar, then careening towards my section weighed down with balanced trays of glasses - I recite the names as I place them carefully on the table. 22oz Peroni, Ruby Red Cosmo, double Tanq and tonic, Shirley Temple.

It's a rhythm and a language you learn quickly in the service industry. The aching in your knees reminds you that you are not alone - and that you still have four hours and a list of sidework left before you can breathe. Other servers rush past me, in the same practiced pace. The manager, in her impractical silk blouse, pauses to ask if I'm alright before delivering desserts to the bar. I honestly don't know how to answer.

Table 21 needs four fajita setups, while the loud round-top of 10 keeps flagging me over for more celebratory rounds of Guinness and fancy cocktails. A family of five takes fifteen minutes to order and by the time I've finished scribbling down their overly-complicated substitutions, Table 30 is glaring at me. I've forgotten to bring them water and they're already halfway through their appetizers.


Then it hits me, a phrase that until that moment, I'd only read on one of my favorite cheeky blogs.

In the weeds.

I was in the weeds. For those unaware, to put it simply, I was overstretched. Couldn't keep up with the rush. Too many diners, too many orders. Too much, too soon.

It's now heading into my third week working at this restaurant - back to a familiar scene after many applications to local newspapers and summer internships fell through. The first week was an intense seven days of training, during which I learned to follow a manual of service standards, memorizing ingredients and perfecting skills in order to pass a quiz at the end of each shift.

I can tell you all of the ingredients in the spinach dip and exactly how many ounces of pasta are in a full order (ten) and a half order (six). I can carry four plates on my arm without dropping them. I can show you how to make a cup of espresso with a thick crema and how to get the best foam on steamed milk. I can list the twelve kinds of salad dressing we carry, as well as what is in the butter on the strip steak. I recommend the salmon today. It's fresh.

Restaurant business has been in my soul for nearly six years - starting with my first after-school job in a charmless bakery at 14, then shifting two blocks over to a little sidewalk cafe bussing tables every Friday night.

This led to other brief endeavors like learning the fine art of espresso. Or gaining eight pounds dishing out gourmet chocolates at an independent candy shop. That humid August where I spent every morning making bagels, opening the tiny shop before dawn and returning home each day smelling of toast. Eventually I moved up the ranks at the sidewalk cafe, placed on large-scale catering jobs and waitressing full-time. For a brief stint last summer I delivered food to both the New Jersey state government and local airline pilots.

Finally, at 20-years-old and midway through college, I've found myself settling down at a corporate-owned (gasp!) restaurant and bar in the very center of Princeton, an upper-class version of Applebee's.

Hair pulled back, dressed in my freshly ironed uniform, apron stocked with extra pens and lighters, I tackle each day with an oddly familiar feeling of coming home. But with all the experience I've racked up over the years, nothing compares to that feeling of being utterly swallowed. Like you'll never catch up. There is nothing quite like having 40 hungry diners staring at you, demanding their martinis and well-done steaks NOW.

It's not that I'm ungrateful. Quite the opposite, actually. I really like it there. I've been putting in about 48 hours per week so far, scraping every penny into a savings fund to fuel my newest ambition - studying en France pour un semestre next Spring. In a way it's lucky that I ended up here, bringing home fat stacks of cash stuffed into my khaki chinos each night; I doubt that I'd have the same sort of satisfaction writing freelance.

An hour later, after the dust clears and my diners are all happily munching away or sated with alcohol, one of the older servers pulls me aside. Charles is my favorite - an architect with a fiercely intelligent mind and an appreciation for crossword puzzles. He reassures me that at one point or another everyone get slammed by the rush.

"If you let yourself get overwhelmed you're done for, but if you keep a calm head it's not so bad," he says.

It's something that comes with time, he says, and eventually I'll get used to it and pick up ways to avoid getting thrashed.

"And hey. After all, it's only dinner."

A story in pictures.

Happy 16th little sis!

Meyer Lemon Tart

Although the weather continues to surprise me with its warmth and I've been spending a decent amount of time in the sunshine, this has still been a very very very stressful week.

I was really looking forward to going to the Philly Foodbloggers Potluck dinner last Friday, but something stupid but important came up at the last minute and I needed to spend the night at home. It sucks we couldn't go, but it sounds like everyone had a lovely time ... and by the looks of it, these gatherings only getting larger and more frequent. I hope Rob and I can attend the next one! *fingers crossed*

Since we were homebound, we took the opportunity to de-stress and spend time as a couple as we crammed into my teeny kitchen, just talking, laughing and relaxing - a rare and appreciated treat indeed. Taking after miss Jenna Lee and her recipe for romantic bonding sessions, we made a Meyer lemon tart using a recipe from Suzanne Goin.

I'm usually not a fan of citrus desserts but this was really good, and the layer of bittersweet chocolate added just the right amount of sweetness. And as Mr. Roberto put it, "It's just so pretty! How can you say no to that presentation?!"




Meyer Lemon Tart with Bittersweet Chocolate
Recipe by Suzanne Goin, with notes from yours truly

It may look like a lot of directions, but this is really simple to make so don't worry! Take it one step at a time and it'll be worth it.

Ingredients:
For the sweet tart crust (pâte sucrée)
1/4 cup heavy cream
2 extra-large egg yolks
2 3/4 cups plus 2 tbsp all-purpose flour
1/4 cup plus 3 tbsp granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 pound unsalted butter
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate

For the lemon curd

4 extra-large eggs
3 extra-large egg yolks
1 cup plus 1 tbsp granulated sugar
1 cup Meyer lemon juice (From approximately 8-9 Meyer lemons, not the regular ones in the grocery store. Use a juicer if you can!)
10 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
pinch of kosher salt



Directions:

Whisk the cream and egg yolks together in a small bowl.

In a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook, combine the flour, sugar, salt, and butter on medium speed until you have a coarse meal. Gradually add the cream and yolks and mix until just combined. Do not overwork the dough.

Transfer the dough to a large work surface and bring it together with your hands to incorporate completely. Divide the dough in half, shape into 1-inch-thick discs, and wrap one of them to freeze and use later.

If the dough is too soft, put in the refrigerator for 5 to 10 minutes to firm up a little. If the dough is manageable, place it on a lightly floured work surface and roll it out into a 1-inch-thick circle, flouring as necessary. Drape the dough over a 10-inch tart pan. Gently fit the dough loosely into the pan, lifting the edges and pressing the dough into the corners with your fingers. Chill for 1 hour. Preheat the oven to 375°F

Prick the bottom with a fork and line it with a piece of parchment paper. Fill the lined tart shell with beans or pie weights and bake 15 minutes, until set. Take the tart out of the oven and carefully lift out the paper and beans. Return the tart to the oven and bake another 10 to 15 minutes, until the crust is an even golden brown. Set aside on a rack to cool completely.

Melt the chocolate in a double boiler over medium-low heat. Spread the chocolate evenly on the crust and chill in the refrigerator for at least 15 minutes, until the chocolate has solidified completely.

While the crust is chilling, make the curd. Whisk the eggs, yolks, sugar, and lemon juice together in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring continuously until the lemon curd has thickened to the consistency of pastry cream and coats the back of a spatula.

Remove the lemon curd from the heat. Add the butter a little at a time, stirring to incorporate completely. Season with the salt. Let the curd cool about 8 minutes, and then strain it into the prepared tart shell. Chill the tart in the refrigerator.

If you choose, top with thinly sliced strawberries and serve with homemade whipped cream. Or just let the dessert speak for itself, quietly singing sweet lemony songs and subtly grabbing for attention with its bright yellow color and understated tartness.

Week in Review

It has been gorgeous this week. Absolutely, positively gorgeous.
Blue skies and temperatures up to 83 degrees. Sun beating down and coaxing my freckles out of hiding. It's finally the right weather for my spring dresses, for showing off my legs, for flip flops.

The campus is ready to shake off the stiffness of the winter in a flurry of tank-tops and short-shorts; everywhere I look, students are outside laughing, enjoying the idea that there are only full two weeks left in the semester. Rob is graduating in early May, ready to go off to the world of journalism and big-kid stuff like apartment shopping and saving money. We've been playing softball and walking around the park, spending out nights driving around with the windows down.

And frankly, it's been too nice to spend the day inside in front of a computer. It was all I could do to drag myself to class. And sometimes it was too hot to cook, so we ate fruit or yogurt or went out for sushi.

More recipes will follow but for now, here is my brief pictorial week-in-review, before I head out to play some softball and buy some more weather-appropriate clothing.








Why all the yellow? Because it's for a good cause! Mark your calenders, A Taste of Yellow is only a few weeks away!

Reading Terminal Market

As soon as the doors open to the Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia, visitors are hit with a symphony of sights and smells and flurry of activity directs the eye this way and that. A mountain of fresh produce stands tall next to a glass case filled with buttery Philly Pretzels, hand-rolled seconds before by three Amish women in bonnets. Fresh bouquets of flowers mix with the mouth-watering aromas wafting about during the early morning hours, stirred up by the customers coming and going.

The Reading Terminal Market, a historic farmer’s market in the center of Philadelphia, is a gourmand’s dream and a mecca of diversity. The official Web site calls it a “gastronomic bazaar” and invites costumers to have a taste from “an exhilarating selection of baked goods, meats, poultry, seafood, produce, flowers, ethnic foods, cookware and eclectic restaurants.”

Over 80 merchants (including a small group of traditional PA Dutch families) offer a selection of fresh produce, meats, seafood, dairy products, baked goods and groceries, as well as restaurants and delectable prepared foods, hand-made jewelry, rare spices, kitchen wares, specialty and ethnic foods.



Several of the vendors have been in business for over 100 years and a few have achieved national fame – like soul-food vendor Deliah’s, whose macaroni and cheese recently received an on-air endorsement from Oprah Winfrey.

The cultural hub has been a fixture on 12th & Arch streets since 1893, when it first began as an open-air farm market. The market moved indoors, functioning for many years underneath the Reading Terminal now-defunct train station and weaving itself into the history of Philadelphia.

Many of the early vendors were nearly evicted in the early 80s, after the railroad went bankrupt. But after numerous efforts by the local townspeople and the Philadelphia City Council in the 90s, the market and several of its original venders are safe and continue to thrive– protected under historical society rules and revived through ambitious revitalization projects.

Today, market officials still boast that it is the largest farm market under one roof and one of the biggest farm markets overall.

Events are hosted throughout each month, including cooking classes for adults and children. Every Wednesday and Saturday, a 75-minute walking tour hosted by local food writer Carolyn Wyman leads visitors through the maze of merchants.

Wyman, an award-winning journalist and author of two food biographies, is energetic and knowledgeable about her subject, offering samples and telling the story behind notable vendors and legendary Philadelphia foods, including the origins of the cheesesteak, Snapper soup, soft pretzel, and Italian hoagies. For $14.95, I highly recommend this fun and informative tour, for history buffs, tourists, day-trippers, and even for Philly natives who think they know everything. Trust me, you don't - the building is jam-packed with history and hundreds of stories waiting to be told.

After the tour, I walked around in a daze, taking in every sight and smell and voice around me, sporadically having fits of ecstasy with each new discovery or ultra-cheap deal. Did I mention the prices are RIDICULOUSLY low? I'm talking long, slender vanilla beans for less than $3, seedless watermelons for $1.99, a pound of yellow peppers for 99 cents.




For dessert, check out the Flying Monkey Patisserie for creative and whimsical desserts like their Sante Fe brownies, with cocoa nibs and cayenne pepper. Their pretty pastel cupcakes, in flavors like lavender and pistachio, are adorable and creative looking but sadly do not deliver on taste - the cupcake was slightly dry and overshadowed by a sickly sweet buttercream. However, their bite-sized coconut macaroons were perfect and just the right portion for a mid-afternoon snack.




I would suggest stopping by Profi's Creperie for lunch. Plenty of vegetarian options and at least a dozen sinful dessert crepes that my thighs were scolding me not to even try. I wish I'd ignored them. Maybe next time...


The market is open from 8am-6pm Monday through Saturday and on Sunday from 9am to 4pm, although many vendors (including all Pennsylvania Dutch retailers) are closed on Sunday. Ample parking is available nearby and discount rates are offered at the 12th & Filbert garage with a $10 purchase in the market.

Français at midnight

As you may have noticed, my blog is peppered with little French phrases here and there. I assure you, it's not just to prod my own Francophilia. I am, in fact, studying.

The title of the blog itself originated one September evening at the newspaper where I work. We were trying to think of a name for my brand new weekly column about vegan and vegetarian food. Buddha Bellies was rejected on the basis that it may offend some of our readers and it was getting close to deadline. Luckily my textbook, the spine barely cracked at that point, provided some inspiration with le histoire de Les Trois Petits Cochons.

So Le Petit Cochon was born. It's a bit of an ironic, slightly self-deprecating joke - me being a fairly petite vegetarian/vegan who neither resembles or eats pigs.

I've been obsessed with the French for as long as I can remember - their culture, the food, the language. When my father began dating his French/British girlfriend, it was such a surprise to come home and hear him stumbling through conversations in a completely foreign language.

Finally this semester, I was able to take the language courses I so desired and I'm happy to say that it is beginning to sink in. Slowly, slowly I'm working up the courage to talk to the exchange students on my floor.



Lately I've found a more exciting way to add some extra studying into my day: food blogs! I've spent hours scanning the beautiful photography, studying the language used to describe strange foods and recipes. I sit up at night reading the captions aloud over and over again. It's breathtaking.

Pierre Hermé is an artistic genius when it comes to food and a poet when it comes to describing it. Take for example, his passage about la pâtisserie:

"Je considère la pâtisserie comme un Art avec un grand A, en ce sens qu’elle est un véritables mode d’expression de la sensibilité au même titre que la musique, la peinture, la sculpture. Ainsi, mes créations évoluent sans cesse au fil du temps, de mes rencontres, de mes découvertes et de mon inspiration."

My other favorite website is La Tartine Gourmande, written by Béatrice Peltre, a self-described "French expatriate" and lover of cooking, eating, and photographing food. Her exquisitely colorful photography sets the stage for beautifully crafted recipes, written in both French and English. I have bookmarked at least a dozen of her recipes, including one for a summery Orange and Yellow Tart.

After a trip to the Redding Terminal Market this weekend to pick up some fancy produce, I may have no other choice but to immediately shift into a baking and cooking frenzy.

If you're feeling a bit global today, check out:
La Tartine Gourmande
Pierre Hermé
Tartlette
Chocolat et Caetera

The best (vegan) chili you will ever eat

Over the past week and a half I've been trying to make some simple but important changes to my diet. Drink more water, cut back on caffeine (again), add more vegan meals, eat more home-cooked food rather than just snacks or cafeteria junk. Just easy changes, but I can already see the difference in how I feel and how my body looks.

I've also been looking into the world of locally grown and organic foods. A recent trip to my grocery store's dismal produce section took me by surprise when I discovered a small display of organic apples, pears, bananas, mangoes, lettuce, spinach, strawberries... let's just say I've been eating colorfully all week. I know it's a bit more expensive but I've been feeling much healthier so I don't care.

The food just...tastes better, fresher. I enjoy the idea of supporting local farmers or eating a vegetable that hasn't been treated with chemicals or artificial garbage. The following recipe was made with about 90% organic ingredients, but you can make it with whatever you have available.


Unfortunately I had to borrow photos for this recipe from another blog, because we ate it all before I could take some! It was that good! Photo credit goes to the lovely folks at Love and Olive Oil.

Vegan Refried Bean Chili
Recipe from Fatfree Vegan Kitchen

I started off with a really easy recipe for vegan bean soup and turned it into a spicy chili by letting it simmer until thick. Veggie burger crumbles to give it more texture and soak up some of the extra liquid. I enjoy my food extra spicy, so you can add more cayenne or chili powder as you like, or toss in some chopped hot peppers. Use organic ingredients where you can.


Ingredients:
1 large onion, chopped
3 - 4 cloves garlic, minced
1 green bell pepper, chopped
1 1/2 cups vegetable broth
1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes
15 ounces vegetarian refried beans
15 ounces black beans, cooked
1 cup frozen corn kernels
1 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon paprika
1/8 - 1 teaspoon chipotle chili powder (to taste)
1 teaspoon hot sauce (or to taste)
1/2 teaspoon oregano (optional)
1 vegan veggie burger, chopped up
salt and pepper, to taste

Directions:
Spray a large, non-stick pot with cooking spray, and sauté the onion until it begins to brown. Add the garlic and bell pepper and cook for one more minute. Add all the remaining ingredients and cook on a low simmer.

In a frying pan, sauté the veggie burger crumbles and season as you like. Add to the pot and cook until the flavors blend and the soup is condensed, 30-40 minutes.

Top with a sprinkle of vegan cheese. Serve with fresh bread or tortilla chips and a big salad.

Asparagus Gruyere-Feta Tart and Duffield's Farm Market

With dirt caked in his fingernails and between the wrinkles of well-worked hands, Mr. Duffield is busy fidgeting in his chair - tapping a heavy boot on the floor, ready to get back to work. He grasps my hand with a fatherly smile and stares at me, waiting. On a farm, where your livelihood depends on the hours of physical labor and the unpredictable moodswings of nature, there is no time to waste.

Duffield's Farm Market is a family affair; the 130-acre plot is owned by Mr. Dave Duffield ("Dad" to anyone who works there) and his wife Mary, and dutifully tended by their daughter Debbie, sons David and Dan and their wives, and a handful of grandchildren.

Their story began almost 80 years ago, when the land functioned as a private farm. Over the decades it grew with the need for fresh fruits and vegetables - incorporating new additions to the family and expansions for an indoor farm market, bakery, and deli.

Mr. Duffield is a man of business, matter-of-fact as we talk about pesticides, the cost of farm life, and the ever-growing demand for locally grown food.

"I like to think of this place as an oasis," he says, leaning back in his chair, dressed head to toe in worn denim work clothes. "We're a part of the community, even when there's all this stuff building up around us."

He says he's not afraid of the superstores springing up nearby or the pressure from developers looking to purchase the land. In fact, Duffield's has recently become preserved land, a move that ensures it will always be a working farm in New Jersey (sadly, one of a dying breed). Farming, he says, is their life and they plan to keep it going as long as they can.

Outside the little office where we spare a few moments to talk, his daughter and two daughter-in-laws are cutting up slices of bread to make croutons and talking about freak accidents.

"When it's your time to go, it's just your time to go," says the tall one with bushy brown hair. "I heard a story about this woman on her way to her daughter's soccer practice... this deer ran right smack into her windshield and killed her. It was just her time I guess."

An intensely faithful Christian family, the Duffields believe in community, integrity, and the power of prayer. As "Dad" quietly disclosed during our short interview, they pray and thank God after every planting and before every harvest, remembering to keep their values in check.

It's not hard to notice the effect it has upon their business - from the customer loyalty to the genuine passion with which they run the place.

Today, the little Mom-and-Pop shop operates out of a low cherry-red building, next to sprawling fields where families and children can come to pick their own strawberries, pumpkins or Christmas trees depending on the season. Inside the market, baskets of freshly picked produce sit next to jars of homemade preserves, salsa, and honey. Each year they raise over 35 different types of fruits and vegetables, including their most popular seller, Jersey Sweet Corn.

This week, asparagus season begins and Duffield's is busy preparing bundles of the thick green stalks for the eager community. Spring is a busy time for the farm - life begins anew, crops change with the warmer months and April rain. Hopeful buds peek out through the dirt, pushing through the lingering winter chill. As the women outside said during their idle chatting, there really is no time to waste.



Although the thought of using puff pastry originally struck me as too frou-frou for a simple Monday night dinner, but I was completely wrong. I'm so glad I made this flaky, savory tart; it's a great way to use fresh spring produce, and it looks far more difficult to make than it actually is. And it's from Martha Stewart! Wow!

The beautiful bright green of the asparagus, matched with a golden brown pastry crust and a tangy combination of cheeses...All I can say is Mmm. Make this when you want to look impressive with very little effort.

Asparagus Gruyère-Feta Tart
Recipe from Under the High Chair


Ingredients:
1 sheet of frozen puff pastry
1 cup shredded gruyere cheese (or a similar cheese of your choice)
1/4 cup fat free feta cheese
10-12 stalks asparagus (Use organic! Locally grown! Yay!)
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Salt, Pepper


Directions:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees and grease a sheet tray with cooking spray.

Defrost and roll out sheet of puff pastry into a large rectangle. Roll the edges in to make a small crust. With a fork, poke holes in the pastry (about 1 inch apart) to prevent the bottom from puffing up too much. Bake on the tray for about 15 minutes, until the pastry is puffy and golden.

Sprinkle the pastry with the gruyere and feta. Trim the ends of the asparagus to fit and place on top of the pastry shell, alternating tips and stems (It looks really pretty!). Brush with olive oil and season with salt and pepper.

Bake for another 20-25 minutes, until asparagus is tender, bright, and easily pierced with a fork.

The Bubble House

(Just in case you missed it, Le Petit Cochon now updates every Monday and Wednesday)

photo courtesy of thebubblehouse.com


Tucked away on a hip Philadelphia side-street in University City is The Bubble House, a trendy little restaurant specializing in pan-Asian cuisine and the infamously strange beverage that serves as a namesake.

A highly-tattooed staff wanders around the chic Asian-inspired décor, serving customers from any of the four distinct dining areas, including a fully-stocked bar. The semi-private seating areas and casual ambiance have all the right ingredients for a quiet and relaxing experience. However, this rarely happens. The restaurant and bar are an area hot-spot for local college students, and prompt, courteous service takes a serious hit once the night heats up (especially on weekends).

I've visited The Bubble House twice before, and each time the service and atmosphere have gotten progressively worse - inattentive or rude servers paired with blaring, shitty cali-hipster-techno music (meant to boost indie cred I'm sure) that makes it difficult to hold a quiet conversation. Complaints were minimal during an early dinner last Saturday, but perhaps because the thrill of actually leaving the house for once outweighed any impatience. We were seated promptly, given drinks, and appetizers arrived within ten minutes – but without silverware or napkins. Our server wasn't terrible, just kind of bored and uninterested.


photo courtesy of thebubblehouse.com


The prime reason to visit the bustling shop is for the bubble tea, a sweet, innovative drink originating in Taiwan in the early 80s according to The Bubble House Web site. The drink caught on with force in the 80s and found its way to America via the always up-to-the-minute west coast, eventually making a footing in east coast cities like New York.

Tapioca pearls, made from sweet potato, cassava root, and brown sugar, are cooked and added to black or jasmine green tea and flavored depending on the consumers preference. The recipe provides a kind of versatility that amounts for endless varieties, and the Bubble House offers a great selection of flavors and styles.

The tea menu is split into two categories – latte (with milk) and non-latte (plain tea). Customers can choose from over twenty flavors like Passion Fruit and Chocolate Covered Strawberry. For the uninitiated, the sensation of sucking the chewy tapioca pearls through a wide straw can be quite overwhelming, but once you get used to it, this fun drink becomes an addicting experience. Try the spiced chai bubble tea or substitute lychee jellie for an unexpected twist on the standard.

The dinner menu is varied, ranging from Thai Curry and Bibim Bap to grilled salmon with wasabi mashed potatoes. The menu also features many vegetarian-friendly meals as well as a few vegan options, including grilled sietan ($ 10.99) in a yellow curry sauce, served over rice and sautéed vegetables.

photo courtesy of thebubblehouse.com

Lemongrass dumplings ($5.99) were a light, flavorful appetizer filled with freshly chopped vegetables and served with a warm soy vinaigrette. A side of sweet potato fries ($3.99) proved to be the highlight of the meal; crisp, sweet, and perfectly paired with a tangy orange ginger sauce for dipping.

Rob ordered the Vietnamese Hoagie ($5.99) a spicy combination of jalapeno peppers, carrots, daikon radish slices, sweet chili mayonnaise and mixed greens, served with either grilled pork or chicken. The sandwich was stuffed with such a large piece of grilled, marinated chicken breast that it proved too much for the slender baguette bread.

Loaded with carrot slivers, water chestnuts, and fresh plum tomatoes, the Tofu Pesto Salad ($7.99) with fresh baby greens came smothered in an airy basil-peanut pesto dressing with a bit of kick. The small chunks of cold tofu mixed throughout were bland and could have benefited from a quick sauté.

No meal is ever truly over without dessert and The Bubble House’s tried-and-true dessert menu has something for everyone, complete with a sinful dark chocolate layer cake, white chocolate cheesecake and the classic Reese’s peanut-butter pie (each $5.99).

The Xando, a warm cheesecake wrap surrounded by flaky, cinnamon-sugar coated pastry was a gooey, inviting treat that brings back childhood memories of sugar-laden churros.


A sliver-thin slice of carrot cake was hardly enough for my ravenous sweet-tooth, but I was impressed by the quality. Topped with traditional cream cheese icing, the cake itself remained refreshingly moist inside – a common shortcoming for this dessert.

In short, The Bubble House is a fun place for college students to go chill or grab a cocktail at night - but just don't bother going for dinner if you're uppity, impatient, in a hurry, or on a budget. I'd definitely visit again, but mostly just for the bubble tea and yummy appetizers.


The Bubble House
3404 Sansom Street
Philadelphia PA
215 243 0804

Hours & Directions
Online Menu
Pros: Good food, Fantastic bubble tea, Vegetarian friendly, Casual atmosphere
Cons: Slow and sometimes rude service, Substitutions or special requests typically go unnoticed (if you are a vegan or have food allergies, make sure you STRESS the importance of your individual needs)

I wasn't kidding when I said we had a lot of cookbooks at home.

My father's lovely girlfriend Liz, the beautiful French chef and cheeky mama, has just launched the new version of her cooking website Aubergines etc. Congratulations!

Our families combined early this January - my father, sister, two cats and a hyper jack russel terrier moved into her cozy Princeton home, joining three gorgeous children and two persnickety kitties. I visit as often as I can, always thrilled at the opportunity to cook with my newly acquired siblings or sink deeply into plush couches in front of the fireplace (covered in cat hair of course).

It's a beautiful life indeed.







Enjoy this incredible biography - a story of travels, French cooking, endless potential, and fondue pots.

When I was at Bristol, Language Development Skills (LSD) was new and obligatory in the French Department, Jason Isaacs played Macbeth, and Lembit Öpik was President of the Student Union. It was the 80s, I'd opted for self-catering, and had brought my fondue set along with my typewriter. Crank's Cookbook was Don Quixote's neighbor on my bookshelf, and I dipped into the great Delia as often as I consulted the Petit Robert.

After graduating with a degree in French and Spanish, (special mention in dinner parties,) I naturally headed cross-Channel for liberté, égalité et pâté.
I moved to America as a "trailing spouse" in 1999 – it wasn't my idea, you understand. I was planning to enjoy a lifetime of cooking, eating and drinking in my beloved France. Favorite pastimes included choosing seasonal produce in the bustling Maisons-Laffitte market, discussing how best to prepare magret de canard with the butcher, sampling artisanal cheeses in the fromagerie, and then grabbing the pinard chez Nicholas. Alas, I took it all for granted.

It was clear, when I arrived in Princeton, (you know, home of "House" and another famous university) that you can take the girl out of France, but you cannot take France out of the girl. Eventually, I stopped marveling at the longevity of lettuce or expecting my coffee to be served in a small white cup that stayed put. I would disdain beer and brownies and take Côtes du Rhône and crème brûlée to the block party on Labor Day.

Soon, I was handing out menus to my neighbors, encouraging them to order Coq au Vin. It worked. I designed French cooking classes, and demonstrated how to make profiteroles and quenelles. Before long, even strangers were paying for my instruction – I branched out to Italian, and that apparent oxymoron, British Cuisine.

My reputation as a gourmet home cook spread, and one day I was introduced to a producer at Princeton Community TV, a local cable channel. She assessed the curls and the accent, and proclaimed me photogenic. "You cook, I'll film" she said, and left me to rehearse my real calling: cooking while talking to a camera.

"Simply Scrumptious" first aired in 2003, and I showed the community how to make a Princeton Hotpot and a Tarte Tatin. In subsequent shows, I dared to call vegetables by their real names (courgettes, swedes, tom-ah-toes), extolled the virtues of saving butter wrappers, and gave the viewers a step-by-step guide to preparing Scotch Eggs while wearing surgical gloves left over from Hallowe'en candy corn hands.

Now I own a cooking business, "Aubergines, etc" and continue to produce and present "Simply Scrumptious", which airs weekly, and will soon be broadcast online!

It's twenty-odd years since I traversed the Channel to become a gourmand: these days, across the Atlantic, I fulfill the American dream as an entrepreneur. "Delia" is the stained and tattered matriarch of an extended family of cookbooks, heaped atop sagging kitchen shelves. The newest born is the Aubergines Etc. Complete Cookery Course. My fondue pot still lurks dustily behind trendy juicer, Microplane and wok, and perhaps without that LSD, I'd have never dreamed of taking those first steps towards my culinary future.

-Liz Yvon

If you live in the Princeton area, check out Aubergines etc. for more writing, photos, and details about catering and cooking classes.

Reality, Part Two

Surrounded by chatting, eloquent, witty young women - doctors, in fact - I felt myself letting go, releasing all the tension from the previous week as I settled deeper into the atmosphere. Last minute, my cousin Casey invited me to a dinner party at her good friend Ish's house and within an hour I was speeding across the Ben Franklin baring a still-warm tray of chocolate chip blondies.

We sat around the dinner table, digging into containers of Aloo Papri Chat and Chana Masala from my favorite new culinary obsession, Tiffin. It's always thrilling to push yourself and your taste buds, going bolder, spicier, more exotic. Sometimes, you just need a little kick to get you out of a rut.

That's what this night was for me.

Ish, whose kitchen and apartment are enviably chic, told us about her favorite brunch spot while dishing out vegetable samosas and pouring glasses of chianti for the others. Casey told me about her recent efforts to eat all healthy, organic food and presented me with several Boba's Oat Bars, yummy vegan gifts from her recent trip to Baltimore (I can't believe we were in the same city on the same days and missed each other!).

The most awe-inspiring group of women. Casey is all the way on the right.

At this point, I had just completed the two busiest weeks of my entire college career and hadn't updated my blog or written anything in general for just as long. After a bit of gentle scolding from the ladies and their hungry spouses(Post more recipes!! We need dessert!!), I realized that I'd let stress strip me of something I was once so passionate about. Cooking and writing are my raison d'être, my calling, my great love - something consistent, comforting in the sense that it's always been there and it always will.

I wrote before about how I needed to find the balance and how I couldn't do it all. I just can't - I know this should be an easy conclusion to reach, but I'm the type of person who wants to literally do everything at once. I've pared down my responsibilities in life to just my education and my job as an RA...but I can never give up writing.

In order to create some order around here, I'm now updating every Monday and Wednesday. Structure without going overboard, and something to work for each week. I think we can do this, don't you? If Natalie from Bake and Destroy can handle being a kickass punk rock momma, a college student, a writer and a regular food blogger well so can I!

And now, since it's been far too long...




Perfect Chocolate Chip Blondies
(or: The only blondie recipe you'll ever need, ever.)
Recipe from The Smitten Kitchen

This is my new favorite dessert because it fills my three requirements for party baking - easy, quick, and versatile. And totally delicious (okay, four requirements). And chocolatey (okay, five). Either way, it's my new default for whenever I need to bring a dish to a social gathering.

Ingredients
1 stick (8 tbsp) butter, melted
1 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup melted peanut butter (optional)
Pinch salt
1 cup all-purpose or whole wheat flour

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease up an 8×8 pan and set aside.
Mix melted butter with brown sugar - beat until smooth. Beat in egg and then vanilla. Add peanut butter (if you're using it). Mix in dry ingredients and add chocolate chips (and whatever other additions you want).

Pour into your pan and bake at 350°F for 20-25 minutes or until set in the middle and golden brown. It's okay if you take them out while still gooey but just don't overbake them please - nothing is worse than gross, dry, crumbly brownies. Let cool, cut into squares, and serve with fresh fruit or a big scoop of fresh vanilla ice cream.

Smitten Kitchen suggestion:

Further additions, use one or a combination of:

* 1/2 to 1 cup chopped nuts, toasting them first for even better flavor
* 1/2 to 1 cup chocolate chips
* 1/2 teaspoon mint extract in addition to or in place of the vanilla
* 1/2 cup mashed bananas
* 1/4 cup bourbon, scotch or other whiskey; increase the flour by one tablespoon
* 2 tablespoons of espresso powder with the vanilla
* Stir 1/2 cup dried fruit, especially dried cherries, into the prepared batter
* Top with a vanilla butter cream or chocolate peanut butter cream frosting