The Perfect Pantry

Instant couscous (Recipe: sweet couscous with pistachios)

Some day, I want to make couscous.

The real way. The fluffing and steaming way. The takes-all-day way. The star of the show, Paula Wolfert, transcendent, main event way.

Some day, but not today.

For everyday, I stick with instant couscous, one of the most frequently replenished items in my pantry.

Couscous, which looks like a grain, actually is moistened semolina, shaped into tiny grain-like pellets approximately one millimeter in diameter. The semolina is sprinkled with water, rolled by hand, dusted with flour to keep the granules separate, and put through a sieve to remove excess flour and undersized pellets, which are then re-rolled into more couscous. Traditionally, in North African villages, the making of couscous is the job of the women, and it is a process that can take several days.

To cook a proper couscous, you steam and dry it two or three times to achieve a fluffy, decidedly not-clumpy texture. Often it's steamed over a tagine or stew in a couscoussier, which is really just a kind of tall double boiler. The top is perforated, to allow the steam from the stew (and the flavor) to penetrate the couscous above -- a pretty wonderful way to cook. I bought my couscoussier at our local Middle Eastern market, for less than $40, but you can indulge at a much higher price point if you want stainless steel or hammered copper.

Instant couscous is pre-steamed and dried, so all that's left to do is the final five-minute steaming. Boil water, add the seasonings of your choice, toss in the couscous, turn off the heat, slap a cover on the pot, and wait five minutes. Then, fluff with a fork.

In the time it takes you to read this wonderful description of couscous from Traditional Moroccan Cooking: Recipes from Fez, published in 1958 by Madame Guinaudeau, you could make a pot of instant couscous:

Couscous is the Moroccan national dish. It will be served to you at the end of a copious meal by your host anxious to saturate your already failing appetite and you will be incapable of tasting more than one or two mouthfuls. On the other hand, if invited informally by friends and sitting round the table you are given couscous, you can, with impunity, stuff yourself with this semolina, each grain separated from the other, so light, smooth and scented, and digested with incredible ease. You must take in your right hand a chick-pea or a raisin with a handful of semolina, press and shape it carefully to form a small ball and an expert twist of the thumb should carry it to your mouth.

If you do manage to master the one-handed couscous-balling thumb-twisting maneuver, you will be rewarded with a morsel of delicious semolina, with a sweet or savory tucked inside. Or, you will find half of it dribbling down the front of your shirt, from which you will scoop it up and into your mouth. Or, you'll eat it with a spoon, and marvel that anything so simple can taste so good.

SWEET COUSCOUS WITH PISTACHIOS
Often served as the final savory dish at a banquet, couscous with raisins, nuts and cinnamon is another variation that makes a lovely side dish with roasted meats. Serves 4-6.

2 5.8-oz boxes plain instant couscous
1 tsp unsalted butter
1 Tbsp sugar
1/2 cup pistachio nut meats, roughly chopped
1/4 cup dried cherries
Ground cinnamon
Ground cardamom

Prepare couscous according to package directions, adding butter and sugar to the water in the pot. When the couscous is steamed, transfer to a mixing bowl and fluff with a fork. Add nuts, cherries, and cinnamon and cardamom to taste, and stir to combine. Serve warm.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Couscous for a summer night
Quinoa pudding
Vegetarian couscous with dried fruit

A mysterious Bookworm

From her natural products shop in Keene, New Hampshire, Susan Ginsburg writes Views from VitaSource, a blog about "good health, natural living, and the hope for a great green world." VitaSource, her current business, focuses on supplements, herbs, body care and teas, and on her blog Susan shares the knowledge she's accumulated in 25 years of running stores and a restaurant. She also delves into philosophical and ecological issues of the day, so you'll always find something interesting when you visit. Susan loves culinary mysteries (as do I), and as this week's Bookworm in the Pantry she gives us five deliciously crafted series.

 UPDATE. Susan recommended:

• Killer Calories (Savannah Reid Mysteries)
• Killer Pancake
• The Body in the Bouillon: A Faith Fairchild Mystery
• The Nantucket Diet Murders (Eugenia Potter series)
• Vineyard Blues
  

Would you like to be a Bookworm in the Pantry and add to our collective library of good reads?

Start here.

 

Seasoned rice vinegar (Recipe: Asian slaw)

Take a good look at the last bottle of seasoned rice vinegar I'm ever going to have in The Perfect Pantry.

Beautiful, isn't it? Clear, and light. Well, lite, as it says on the label. And that's part of the problem.

Seasoned rice vinegar is rice vinegar (also known as rice wine vinegar) with salt and sugar (and sometimes sake) added. That's it -- no big mystery. Also known as sushi vinegar, seasoned rice vinegar makes a nice dressing for salads or vegetables, and it saves time when you're making sushi rice -- not that dissolving a bit of sugar and salt in plain rice vinegar is such a taxing task (it takes two minutes on the stove).

The folks at Marukan claim that this "lite" seasoned rice vinegar has 32% less sodium than the regular seasoned rice vinegar; it's also lower in acidity (4.1% acidity for regular rice vinegar, 2.7% for the "lite").

Both of those qualities, less sodium and low acidity, are appealing, but here's what convinced me that this product should no longer be on my pantry shelf: when I looked up the substitution ratio, I discovered, to my dismay, that 3/4 cup plain rice vinegar plus 1/4 cup sugar plus 2 teaspoons of salt was the suggested proportion.

That's an awful lot of sugar and salt, isn't it? And for the "lite" product, that would mean only 1 teaspoon of salt, but still too much sugar. From now on, I'll stick with plain rice vinegar, which I can adulterate with sugar and salt to my own taste.

As I poke around in my pantry, learning more about each of the items I keep in the fridge, freezer, cupboards and spice rack, occasionally I run across something I've always had on hand, but never knew enough about. And what I learn makes me reconsider the item's value to my cooking. Seasoned rice vinegar is one of those items, so this bottle will be my last.

ASIAN SLAW
A great side dish to anything slathered with a sweet-hot barbecue sauce. Serves 6-8.

1/2 head green cabbage, shredded
1/2 head red cabbage, shredded
1 carrot, shredded
1/2 cup shredded daikon radish
2 tsp mint or basil leaves, torn or julienned
4 tsp seasoned rice vinegar
1 tsp dry mustard
1 tsp ground ginger
2 Tbsp vegetable oil
1 Tbsp sesame oil
2 tsp reduced-sodium soy sauce
1 tsp black sesame seeds
To your taste: salt, black pepper, sugar, honey

In a large bowl, place cabbages, carrot, daikon and mint or basil leaves (do not mix, yet). In a smaller bowl, whisk together seasoned rice vinegar, mustard, ginger, vegetable oil, sesame oil, and soy sauce. Taste, and adjust to your taste with salt, black pepper, sugar or honey. Pour dressing over the vegetables, and toss well to combine. Place in a serving bowl, and refrigerate for 1 hour, to allow the flavors to combine. Sprinkle sesame seeds on top, and serve.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Refrigerator zucchini pickles
Tomato nectarine chutney
Carrot beet salad
Ken Hom's cold aubergine salad

Marinara sauce (Recipe: salt cod and potato cannelloni Alfredo)

Bye-bye, Bertolli.

Adieu, Ragu.

So long, Newman's Own. (Not that I'd ever say that to the real live be-still-my-heart Paul Newman.)

Thanks to a reader who lives nearby in northern Rhode Island, my pantry once again holds a couple of jars of my favorite storebought marinara sauce.

For a few months earlier this summer, the Mayor's Own Marinara Sauce -- a fixture in my pantry because it's versatile, delicious, and completely vegetarian -- could not be found on a supermarket shelf anywhere. Those of you who are from Rhode Island will know that Vincent "Buddy" Cianci, the former mayor of Providence, until recently could be found -- in a New Jersey prison. Now Buddy's back in town, the sauce is back on the shelves, and Providence schools are benefiting from the proceeds. (Thanks, Jane, for scouting all the local groceries and emailing to let me know which market had restocked!)

Marinara sauce is a meatless tomato-based sauce seasoned with, depending on how your grandmother made it, some or all of the following: onions, garlic, green bell pepper, carrots, oregano and basil. Because I didn't have an Italian grandmother, I turned to WiseGeek to learn more:

Marinara sauce originated with sailors in Naples in the 16th century, after the Spaniards introduced the tomato to their neighboring countries. The word marinara is derived from marinaro, which is Italian for “of the sea.” Because of this, many people mistakenly believe marinara sauce includes some type of fish or seafood. However, marinara sauce loosely translates as “the sauce of the sailors,” because it was a meatless sauce extensively used on sailing ships before modern refrigeration techniques were invented. The lack of meat and the sheer simplicity of making tasty marinara sauce were particularly appealing to the cooks on board sailing ships, because the high acid content of the tomatoes and the absence of any type of meat fat resulted in a sauce which would not easily spoil.

There might be 1001 uses for marinara sauce from a jar; this particular brand is the key ingredient in my sort-of famous Buddy Lasagna. Convenience is the best reason to keep storebought marinara in your pantry. I almost always have homemade sauce in my freezer (right next to the "emergency" pizza), but I almost always forget to defrost it ahead of time.

Do you keep a jar of marinara stashed in your pantry? (You do, don't you?) What's your favorite brand?

SALT COD AND POTATO CANNELLONI ALFREDO
Celeste Dorage, who used to own Anchovies in Boston, shared her grandmother's recipe with me years ago. You can use store-bought sheets of fresh or dried pasta (parcook it until the pasta is just flexible), but it’s easy to make your own. You'll need to soak the salt cod (also called baccala or baccalao) overnight, so plan ahead. Serves 8 as a pasta course, 4 as a main course.

1 lb salt cod
1 lb all-purpose unbleached flour + extra for kneading
4 egg yolks
1/2 tsp salt
3 Tbsp chives, finely minced
1 lb russet potatoes (red or white), peeled, diced, boiled, drained
1 whole egg
1 qt heavy cream
1 Tbsp fresh sage, rubbed and torn into small pieces
3/4 cup asiago cheese, grated
1/2 cup marinara sauce

Soak the salt cod in cold water in the refrigerator for 24 hours, changing the water 3 times. Drain well.

To make the pasta: In the work bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade, add flour, 1 egg yolk and 1 tsp salt. Process with just enough water to pull the dough together (1 or 2 Tbsp). Add chives, and pulse 3-4 times to incorporate in the dough. Finish the dough on the countertop, kneading in enough flour so the dough doesn’t stick to your hands. Roll through a pasta machine following the instructions that come with your machine, or roll as thin as possible with a rolling pin, into 2 pieces, each 2 feet long. Cut the pasta into 16 pieces, approximately 4 inches square, and set aside to dry while you make the filling. 

Preheat oven to 375°F. In a large bowl, mash together the salt cod, potatoes and 1 whole egg. Season with pepper. Place a heaping tablespoon of cod mixture on one end of each piece of pasta, and roll, pinching in the ends as you go, to make the cannelloni. Place cannelloni in a lightly oiled pan, seam side down, and bake 25 minutes.

In the meantime, make the sauce: In a sauce pan whisk together cream and 3 egg yolks. Reduce by one-third over high heat. Add salt and pepper to taste.  Stir in sage, and continue cooking until the sauce is reduced by half (should take 10-12 minutes in total). When the cannelloni comes out of the oven, toss asiago cheese and marinara sauce into the cream sauce, and stir to combine. Pour immediately over the cannelloni, and serve hot.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Buddy Lasagna
My own meat sauce

Tarragon (Recipe: cheesy omeletta)

Ted's aunt Trixie, who lived to be just a few months shy of 100, had in her garden a plant that everyone called "The Old Man."

I assumed it had something to do with its age -- not as old as Trixie, but it had been there for at least 25 years. Turns out that "Old Man" is one of the common nicknames for Southernwood, which is a variety of artemisia. Wormwood, dubbed "Old Woman", is another.

Tarragon is an artemisia, too. Native to Siberia and Western Asia, tarragon was brought to Europe by the Arabs who conquered parts of Spain in the 8th Century AD.

The best tarragon for culinary uses is French tarragon (or, as it's called in Germany, German tarragon). When you buy a plant for your garden, be sure the tag specifies which variety it is, or you'll end up with an impostor like I did -- most probably a Russian tarragon, which has a much taller growing habit and much, much less flavor and aroma. The flavor of my garden tarragon is so disappointing that I'm actually using dried tarragon until I replace my impostor with a real French tarragon next spring.

The leaves taste of anise or licorice, with a sweet undertone. It's quite aromatic -- a bit strong, even -- but after long cooking, the aroma mellows. When you buy fresh tarragon, keep the sprigs in a plastic bag in the refrigerator for up to 5 days. To dry, hang the stems upside down in a dark place (in the basement or barn), where air can circulate around them.

Fragrant French tarragon pairs best with fish, chicken, potatoes, tomatoes and eggs; it makes amazing infused vinegar and brightens up compound butters and mustards, too. Trés bon!

TARRAGON OMELETTA
Lately I've been making these egg concoctions that are quasi-omelet, quasi-frittata. It's just eggs, cheese, and random herbs from the garden, perfect for dinner with our "house" salad: greens, tomato, nectarine, cucumber, and black olives, drizzled with balsamic vinegar. Serves 4.

10 large eggs, well beaten
3/4 cup shredded cheese (gruyere, cheddar, fontina, or your favorite mix)
3 Tbsp minced fresh herbs (tarragon, parsley, thyme, basil, or a mix) OR 4 tsp dried herbs
Large pinch of sea salt
Large pinch of fresh ground black pepper
2 Tbsp olive oil

In a large bowl, combine eggs, cheese, herbs, salt and pepper, and beat lightly with a whisk to combine. Heat a large frying pan over lowest heat; add the oil, then pour in the egg mixture. Cover, and cook for 5 minutes. Lift the lid, and with a spatula lift the edges of the omeletta and let some of the uncooked egg from the top run underneath. Replace the lid and continue cooking over low heat for another 3 minutes. Again, lift the edges and let the uncooked egg on top run underneath. Cover, and continue cooking until the egg is set, another 5 minutes or more. If you prefer to have the top browned, either flip the omeletta and cook for 1 minute, or place under the broiler until the top is lightly browned. Serve hot or at room temperature.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Matzoh brei
Frittata with broccoli and garden herbs
Frittata ring

The Bookworm chronicles

Nicole Spiridakis, a San Francisco-based journalist, is the passionate cook behind the stove at Cucina Nicolina, and this week's Bookworm in the Pantry. A copy editor at a private financial news wire service, Nicole contributes frequently to the San Francisco Chronicle's Home and Garden section. As a freelance writer in Washington, DC, before returning to California, she wrote features for the Reuters wire (notably, on cold-water swimmer Lynn Cox of "Swimming to Antarctica" fame, and Aron Ralston, the Colorado climber who survived a harrowing experience trapped in a Utah canyon). You never know where Cucina Nicolina will take you -- to Greece, to the farmers' market, on a hike or a barbeque -- but you'll always end up with food, and a good book to read. What's better than that?

UPDATE. Nicole recommended:

• Aphrodite: A Memoir of the Senses
• Alice Waters and Chez Panisse: The Romantic, Impractical, Often Eccentric, Ultimately Brilliant Making of a Food Revolution
• The Whole World Over
• Crescent: A Novel
• Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life
  

Would you like to be a Bookworm in the Pantry and add to our collective library of good reads?

Start here.

Kaffir lime leaves (Recipe: hot and sour shrimp soup)

If I lived in Thailand, or Malaysia, Sri Lanka or Australia, California or Florida or anywhere warmer than Rhode Island, I'd plant a leprous lime tree at the entrance to my house.

I know what you're thinking.

A leprous lime? Lepers??? Gosh, that sounds awful.

You're right. I'm not much of a gardener, and the Citrus hystrix isn't called "leprous" for nothing; the fruits are strangely lumpy-bumpy and, well, not very pretty. But when a plant is reputed to ward off evil spirits and the juice of that fruit makes a dynamite shampoo, I'd definitely take a chance. And when that plant also produces kaffir lime leaves, an essential ingredient in my favorite hot Thai soup, I'd oh-boy-yes want one in my garden.

Kaffir lime leaves -- also called makrut -- have a distinctive two-lobed shape, a glossy appearance, a leathery texture, and an unusual lemon-lime flavor. Leaves can be used fresh or dried. Fresh leaves will keep in a plastic bag in the refrigerator for a few weeks, and in the freezer for up to a year, and either way are much preferred to the dried leaves.

(The kaffir lime rind can be used like lime zest, but the juice is more bitter and assertive than our common Persian limes, so it's seldom used in cooking. You can substitute Persian lime for kaffir lime, but not the other way around.)

To prepare the leaves, break apart the two lobes. If your recipe calls for the whole leaf, you're good to go. Otherwise, fold each leaf in half lengthwise, and cut out the central rib. Then julienne the leaves into a fine shred for curry beef, or mince to use in salad dressing.

TOM YOM KOONG (Hot and sour shrimp soup)
An easy version of my absolutely favorite Thai soup, the name of which is transliterated a dozen different ways (tom yum gung, dom yam kung, etc.). Authentic spices and condiments make all the difference between this and a lime-flavored chicken soup. Serves 4 as a starter.

2 cups low-sodium or homemade chicken stock, or vegetable stock
1/2 lb medium shrimp, shells removed and reserved
2 Thai bird chiles, seeds removed, sliced (use more, or less, to taste; for fiery hot soup, leave the seeds in)
1-inch piece of lemongrass
2 fresh kaffir lime leaves, or 1/2 tsp grated lime zest
1 cup canned straw mushrooms, sliced in half lengthwise
3 Tbsp fresh lime juice (from 2 limes)
3 Tbsp fish sauce

In a sauce pan, simmer the stock and reserved shrimp shells for 20 minutes. Strain, and return the stock to the pan. Add chiles, lemongrass and lime leaves, reduce heat to simmer, and cook for 5 minutes. Remove lemongrass and lime leaves, and add the shrimp and mushrooms. Cook for 2-3 minutes, until shrimp are done but not overcooked. Stir in the lime juice and fish sauce, cook for 1 minute until flavors combine, and serve hot.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Salt and pepper prawns

Anchovy paste (Recipe: Sicilian-style spaghetti)

When a recipe calls for anchovies, do you wrinkle your nose, give a little shudder, and quickly skip to the next page in the cookbook?

Or, do you love anchovies, but always end up with half a can hiding in the back of the fridge, turning into another life form altogether by the time you remember it's there?

Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to anchovy paste in a tube.

Anchovies are small silver fish, 5-8 inches long, native to the Mediterranean and popular in the cuisines of that region. A member of the herring family, anchovies are sold whole, packed in salt, or filleted and canned in olive oil. After the tin is opened, anchovy fillets, even when stored in an airtight container, won't last more than a couple of weeks in the refrigerator.

Anchovy paste is anchovy fillets that have been ground to a tomato-paste consistency, and blended with salt and a small bit of sugar. One half teaspoon of anchovy paste equals two anchovy fillets from a tin. The paste is slightly saltier, so be sure to adjust the salt called for in your recipe. Once opened, the tube should be stored in the refrigerator, where it will happily sit for up to a year.

Anchovies' main contribution to cuisine is a robust saltiness. Anchovy paste gives you all of that taste, but without the little bits of skin and bone, all edible and yet so fish-like, that come with anchovy fillets.

Especially for sauces, vegetables and Caesar salad dressing, anchovy paste is a wonderful convenience food -- with none of the eeewwwwww of those little fishes.

SICILIAN-STYLE SPAGHETTI
Adapted from Tyler's Ultimate, by Tyler Florence, the original recipe calls for roasted cauliflower, which is my very least favorite vegetable, and anchovy fillets. I think turkey meatballs might be a nice addition. Serves 4.

Kosher salt
1 large bunch of broccoli, stems trimmed, cut into bite-size pieces
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 tsp anchovy paste
1/4 cup raisins
1/4 cup pine nuts, toasted in a dry frying pan for 2-3 minutes
1/2 cup panko
Fresh black pepper
1 lb spaghetti
2-3 tsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, for serving

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil for the spaghetti.

Put the broccoli into a sauté pan with half of the olive oil, and the anchovy paste. Heat over medium heat until the oil is hot. Add 1/4 cup water and season with salt. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, cover, and steam the broccoli for about 5 minutes until just tender; uncover and cook for an additional 5-7 minutes, until the water has evaporated and the broccoli browns in the oil. Add the raisins and pine nuts and toss just to warm them through. Take the pan off the heat and cover with a lid to keep warm.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350°F. On a baking sheet, drizzle the panko with 2-3 Tbsp of olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Toss to coat the crumbs with the oil and spread out in an even layer; bake until lightly browned and crunchy, about 10 minutes. Set aside.

When the water comes to a boil, get your spaghetti cooking; stir to separate the strands and cook for 8-9 minutes, until al dente.

You're almost finished now. Drain the spaghetti and dump it into a bowl. Add a teaspoon or two of olive oil, and toss. Dump the broccoli mixture over the spaghetti, add the parsley and lemon juice, and fold it all together. Divide among 4 plates. Dust with the toasted panko and the cheese, and serve.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Caesar dip
Spicy peanut sauce

Star anise (Recipe: Thai iced tea)

To celebrate Ted's sixtieth birthday, I sent quart-size mason jars to friends and family, and asked each person to fill his or her jar with sixty somethings for Ted. A few weeks later, the jars (more than thirty of them) started arriving in the mail, no two filled with the same thing.

Marbles ("to replace the ones you're losing"). Miniature soccer balls.  Beach shells. A list of the Oscar-winning movies for each year of his life. Sixty photos of Ted through the years. Caramels (didn't last long). Bolts and screws ("replacement parts"). Toy soldiers. Mosaic tiles. Palindromes.

My own jar held sixty unbroken, unblemished, perfect star anise. For the man who keeps the spice in my life.

Star anise, one of the fundamental components of Chinese five-spice powder, is the fruit of an evergreen magnolia tree, native to China; it's also cultivated in India, Japan and the Philippines. The tree fruits in its sixth year, and can continue to bear fruit for up to a century. Fruit is picked unripe, and dried in the sun. The Chinese names for star anise -- ba jiao in Mandarin, bat gok in Cantonese -- both mean "eight corners", a reference to the eight canoe-shaped carpels on each fruit. (Sometimes you find a pod with six carpels, or twelve. I think of them as lucky, like a four-leaf clover.)

Star anise has a sweet and pungent and fennel-like flavor; when you taste it, your tongue might tingle a bit. It's a powerful spice, so use little bits at a time. If a recipe calls for ground star anise, do it yourself, grinding just as much as you need. As with most spices, once you grind it, the potency begins to degrade immediately.

In my Asian market, star anise is sold in bags ($4 per pound, more or less), so you can see exactly what you're getting. The pod itself is more flavorful and aromatic than the seeds, so don't worry too much if you open the bag and find many seeds that have been set free from their pods. It's the pods you're after.

Star anise is fundamental to the style of Chinese cuisine known as "red cooking", where meat (often chicken, duck or pork) or vegetables are turned a deep red-brown color by being braised in a soy-sauce flavored broth. You'll often find a star anise in pho, the famous Vietnamese soup, and in some Indian dishes as well. In Western cooking, you'll use star anise in recipes for cake and in the poaching liquid for fruit.

By the way, if you do a search online for star anise, you'll get as many results for healing, spirituality, and wicca as you do for culinary uses, though I did find a recipe for unicorn milk. Seems that, in addition to adding authenticity to your cooking, star anise also enhances your psychic powers, and brings good luck.

THAI ICED TEA WITH STAR ANISE
Who could resist this refreshing drink? The recipe is adapted from Aliza Green's Field Guide to Herbs & Spices. Serves 6.

1 star anise
1 tsp orange blossom water
1 vanilla bean
Pinch each of ground clove and ground cinnamon
1/2 cup Chinese black tea leaves
1 cup sugar
Few drops red food coloring (optional)
Half-and-half or sweetened condensed milk

Bring 1/2 gallon of cold water to a boil in a saucepan. Add star anise, orange blossom water, vanilla bean, clove, cinnamon, and black tea. Boil for 3-5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and stir in sugar and food coloring (optional, but traditional). Cover, and steep until the tea is tepid. Fill tall glasses at least halfway with crushed ice. Strain the tea and pour over the ice. Top each glass with half-and-half or sweetened condensed milk.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Vegetable medley with five-spice dip
Green chicken curry with eggplant

A Bookworm who loves ... grapefruit?

Zoomie Station, a three-month-old blog, springs from the kitchen of Zoomie, the nom de plume of a San Francisco-based career counselor who writes about lots of things: cooking, restaurants, tableware, weddings, books, her Beloved, and her great-grandmother's china, to name a few. Clearly her taste is eclectic -- the same probably can be said, thank goodness, about all of the Bookworms in the Pantry -- and her list of recommended food-related non-cookbooks  is unique: five books from a series of fifteen that's completely new to me (and how did I miss it?). Zoomie adds, "All are amusingly written by Michael Bond [the creator of Paddington Bear] and all feature the bumbling ex-Sureté-officer-turned-food-critic for a major French restaurant guide, Monsieur Pamplemousse, and his bloodhound, Pommes Frites. It's a funny and well written series and, as you might expect, features lots of descriptions of food and restaurants he's reviewing." Doesn't that sound like fun?

UPDATE. Zoomie recommended:

• Monsieur Pamplemousse
• Monsieur Pamplemousse and the French Solution
• Monsieur Pamplemousse and the Militant Housewives
• Monsieur Pamplemousse on Vacation
• Monsieur Pamplemousse Hits the Headlines
  

Would you like to be a Bookworm in the Pantry and add to our collective library of good reads?

Start here.