The temperatures in Paris ain’t balmy, but it’s spring! Spring! And I’ve seen the vegetables in the market to prove it.
There are lovely violet artichokes whose tender little hearts I dream of eating raw with a bright burst of lemon juice.
There are fat, juicy, grassy stalks of white asparagus, which I peeled, steamed, and drizzled with my lighter version of hollandaise.
There are fragrant strawberries — I’ve even found the Gariguette variety, from Brittany — which make a lovely breakfast when combined with Greek yogurt and a drizzle of honey. Or, there’s my new favorite lunch — half a ball of fresh mozzarella and a simple salad of quartered cherry tomatoes, quartered strawberries, torn basil leaves, olive oil, balsamic, and pepper.
There is plump young garlic, so much juicier and crunchier than its dried counterpart. If I were a preserving kind of gal, I bet these fat cloves would make delicious, crisp pickles.
And there was my birthday cake, specifically the Montebello from Pierre Hermé: Dacquoise biscuit, pistachio cream, and strawberries (note how they only used the larger center slices of the berry). If one must celebrate another year, I couldn’t think of a better way.