Easter Brunch

It has been years since I have been to the Easter Sunday church services, years since I was a young Catholic jumping up and down in my most flowery Easter dress awaiting the most sacred and joyous of all Christain celebraitions. It was supposed to be a grand affair, but in truth, except for the overly crowded church service with people standing in the aisles in their best spring attire, Easter has become just another day, just another weekend. Even after church, most people just return home and lazy around just as if it were any other Sunday in the year. But just like any holiday, Easter is an excuse for eating.

This Easter, as I have the house to myself for the first time, I decided to try something new and delight myself with a homemade Easter brunch. After browsing a few websites with Easter brunch ideas, I came up with a fascinating menu filled with scrumcious chocolate concoctions. But of course, only chocolate for a bruch would probably not be the best idea. I thus picked up my bags and headed to the grocery store (which in the US remains open on Easter). I browsed the aisles for the perfect mix of ingredients. In my basket, I had a loaf of bread (still slightly warm), a bunch of asparagus (on sale this week), a jar of Bonne Maman preserves (because it’s the only reasonably priced jam made with real sugar and not high-fructose corn syrup), some feta cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, mushrooms and a bunch of cilantro. Strange mix, I know, but how can you go wrong with items that are completely fresh, natrural and thus non-processed. I was convinced, I would be able to create a delicious and satisfying bruch with the items in my shopping basket.

As I began unpacking my grocery bags, I started searching my brain for the long lost brunch recipes. Eggs (which I already had from a previous grocery adventure) are next to essential for any brunch whether you are making, scrambles, egg benedict or an omelette. I needed an egg dish. I tossed around the idea of a feta and asparagus omelette or an egg hash of sorts (made with potatos -also already in the pantry). I even thought a quiche would be nice. I also would need something somewhat sweet, something like pancakes, waffles or crepes. But the something sweet will definately have eggs in it and if I made an omelette or other such savoury egg-based dish, I would be doubling up on the eggs. I decided to forgo the savory egg dish. To try something new for my something sweet and doughy, I decided to make a German pancake, a super simple recipe that is great served with cream and strawberries or just maple syrup. Egg-based dish – check.

To go with my German pancake, I needed some vegies and maybe some starch. I decided to use a little of everything. I blanched my aparagus in boiling water and tossed it with a bit of olive oil, salt, peper and a tiny bit of feta (for color) and then, topped it with some sliced sun-dried tomatos. I sauteed some sliced mushrooms with onions and garlic, added a little cream and seasoned and garnished with chopped cilantro. For the starch, potatos seemed the logical choice. I cubed a potato and sauteed it in butter and olive oil, seasoned with salt, peper and paprika and then garnished (again) with chopped cilantro. It was beginning to look appetizing. The vegies were cooking, the German pancake was baking.

I needed just one more thing: meat. Now, as you will recall, I didn’t buy any meat at my recent trip to the grocery store. I rumaged through the fridge for what unfrozen meat could be salvaged for an Easter morning brunch. Ground beef? No. Chicken breast? Double no. It was beginning to look dire, but I decided to have one more look. In the cheese and meat compartment of the refridgerator, I saw it, a chunk of ham. Don’t worry – this is not a ham that has been sitting in the back of my fridge for who knows how long. It is a ham that we bought for the sole purpose of making sandwiches and as deli-sliced ham often goes bad quickly, we thought it would be a good investment to buy a hormel half ham for sandwich making purposes. I pulled out the ham and cut 2 thin slices and threw them on the griddle for a few minutes (to warm the ham through and give it slight charred flavor).

After an hour of slaving in the kitchen, I was ready to eat. My Easter brunch for one was as follows:

German Pancake:

3 wholes eggs

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup flour

a dash of salt

1 tablespoon melted butter

powered sugar for sprinkling

Mix eggs, milk, flour and salt until well blended. Put melted butter in a bottom of a baking dish. I used a square pyrex dish, but I am sure you can improvise and use whatever you have lying around as long as it is not flat and has sides (because the pancake dose poof). Bake in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes or until poofed. Serve with anything sweet you have lying around (syrup, jam, honey, fruits, etc.).

Blanched aparagus with feta and sun dried tomatos (no recipe needed)

Sauteed mushroom with onions and cream (again no recipe needed)

Ham (throw on skillet/griddle and warm. Now, did I really have to explain that?)

Skillet potatos (sautee in butter/olive oil until soft)

Final evaluation – best Easter brunch ever. Serve with freshly pressed orange juice and you’ve got yourself a meal that would have cost you at least 12.50 at your local restaurant. Cooking yourself make eating a lot more satisfying. And with that, I am off to do the dishes.

When in Basel…

Most bigger European cities have thier architectural sore thumbs sticking out in the traditional city landscape. These are usually works of modern architecture towering over old city centers and while not necessarily ugly, they definately seem somewhat out-of-place. In Paris, for example, the modern, asbestos-ladden Tour Montparnasse pokes out of a typically uniform city where building rarely depasse the 8 story mark. At 59 stories, it rises way above the Parisian skyline and man, is it an eye-sore in a rather beautiful city. In Lyon, the city skyline is broken by a big red crayon, otherwise known as the Tour du Credit Lyonnais.

That brings us to the Swiss city of Basel (or Bale as it is known in French) where the tallest building of Switzerland, the Messeturm, stands a towering (drum-roll, please) 105 m (344 ft) tall with 32 floors (quite puney really when compared to the Tour Montparnasse, or many an American skyscraper for that matter). In Basel, a relatively small big city (as are many Swiss cities), the blue tower does stand out. Now, this building, which is home to a Ramada hotel and some office buildings would hardly be worth mentioning if it wasn’t for the bar located on the 31st floor, the famous Bar Rouge.

When you first walk into the Messeturm, it is the typical building, nothing too impressive. There is a hotel bar/dining area and arrows pointing you to the elevators. A special elevator takes you up to the 31st floor where a glowing red light greets you; it is called the bar rouge, after all. The entire bar is surrounded by floor to cieling windows which offer an impressive view of the city. The atmosphere is nice, the drinks expensive and the view of Basel breath-taking (but then again, it is just another view from a skyscraper in an otherwise skyscraper-less city). One half of the Bar Rouge is a bar and the other half is a restaurant/lounge. And as the name would suggest, mostly everything is red: the walls, the floors, the furnishing, etc. It is actually quite kitsch, but it is a nice place to enjoy a drink and a view of Basel.

This is just the typical bar. Right. But then, after a few drinks, you feel your bladder beginning to give and you begin looking for the restroom. The arrow points down. You walk down a few steps and contrasting the red from above, you are greeted with an strange green light. Ok… You push open the door to the bathroom and chose your stall. As you sit down on the toilet, you find yourself saying, “Well, this is a nice view.” You do your business facing the window, admiring the view of Basel. “What a strange set-up,” you think as you are washing your hands but you really don’t think too much of it. You head back to the bar.

It was overall a nice spot. You enjoyed yourself and you got a great panoramic view of Basel by night. You head towards the elevator and make your way back down to the ground level of the building. As you exit the building, you are reminded of the toilets. What if… Nah, it couldn’t be. They have to be the windows where you can see out but they can’t see in. But as you step out into the Messe Platz, you are tempted to make sure. You look up at the Basel Messeturm. The red light from the bar catches your eye, but it is the green light one floor below that stops you in your tracks. There, on the 30th floor, you make out little figures moving around. In disbelief, you blink you eyes a few times, you take another look. Sure enough, people are sitting on toilets, peeing into urinals, washing their hands and doing what not, completely oblivious to the fact that the whole city can see them.

You are reminded of the green light in the restroom, the goregeous view and then it hits you.  The city of Basel down below and a green light from a distant tower.  In a Gatsby-esque moment, the people of the city, drawn to the green aura, turn towards the blue Massetrum.  And there up above, shadow in the green light, you are peeing completely unawares that below, a city is watching you just as you are watching it.

L’As du falafel

And now for your tummy-growling, mouth-watering enjoyment, the long anticipated review of L’As du falefel (or the best falafel in Paris).

Everyone who owns a Paris tour guide has read about the famous restaurant in the Marais apparently recommended by Lenny Kravitz. I don’t know anything about Lenny Kravitz but I do know about the restaurant that so proudly displays pictures of this so-called Mr. Kravitz. The restaurant is L’as du falafel.

On the rue des Rosiers in the Marais, there is no lack of falafel restaurants, every single one claiming to have the best falafel in Paris.  Because of the typical long line outside L’As du falafel, I have been known to give into hunger and try the falafel sandwich from the place across the street, down the street, around the corner and a few blocks down.  Hell, I have also been known to give into my falafel craving in the touristy Saint-Andre-des-Arts neighborhood known for an over-abondance of mediocre restaurants (both take-out and eat-in) and camera-touting tourists.  It seems that the further you wander from the Marais, the worse the falafel.   But despite all my falafel adventures in Paris (both good and bad), I always end up at the same falafel joint.  Believe me, there is no falafel like the falafel from L’as du falafel.

So what sets L’as du falafel apart from the rest?  It is all in the layering, my friend.  A good falafel sandwich usually consists of some combination of the following: falafel balls, marinated cabbage, other assorted vegetables in salad form, hummus and if you are lucky, a variety of sauces and the to-die-for fried eggplant.  The layering technique at L’as is apparent as soon as you walk up to the take out window.  The falafel artist (I will call him) slices open a warm piece of pita bread and begins layering the ingredients with a precision and technique unmatched by his competitors.  First, he slops on a good serving of hummus onto the pita, then adds some cabbage, some salad, and 3 or 4 warm, well-seasoned falafel balls.  Lather, rince, repeat.  No, just repeat.  After the 2nd layer, he adds the fried eggplant and spoons a white sauce over the top layer of falafel balls.  Then he asks the essential question to which the answer is always a resolute oui.  “Sauce piquante?”  “OUI!”  The sauce piquante is the perfect blend of spices and spiciness and is the perfect finishing touch to the falafel special.  The sauces seep into the falafel balls and the pita.  There is rarely a part of the pita sandwich that is too dry or bland and I attribute this balance to the layering of ingredients.  And like I said, no falafel stand layers the falafel quite like L’as.

Another reason L’as stands out in the falafel district of Paris is quality of the ingredients and the blend of spices used in the falafel balls.  Each falafel restaurant has its own chick pea goo recipe that it sqeezes into balls and plunges in frying oil.  The chickpea fritters come out crisp and delicious.  The falafel balls at l’As are particularly garlicky (and in my book, the more garlic, the better).  The hummus is als very smooth and tasty.  The vegetables are always crisp and fresh and of course, the ’sauce piquante’ adds the certain je ne sais quoi to an already well layered falafel sandwich.

I never go to Paris without getting my falafel fix.  Unfortunately, since my first trip to Paris, the price of falafel has gone up quite remarkably.  In 2003, I chomped dwn my first falafel special at a mere 3.50 euros for a falafel to-go (and this was back in the day when we were bemoaning the 1.20 dollar to 1 euro exchange rate).   In 2006, the price had already climbed to 4 euros and by the summer of 2007, the price was  a whopping 4.50 euros.  And in January 2008, the prices rose to jaw-dropping 5 euros (with a tamper-tandrum-throwing exchange rate of 1.47 dollar to 1 euro).  L’as du falafel did do a renovation of the restaurant interior (for those of you who prefer not to have falafel juices running down your jaw as you walk through the Marais) which now is far less cramped than before.  The prices, however, have remained fairly stable for in-house dining  (6.50 for a falafel special.)  It almost seems worth it to pay that extra 1.50 euros to eat in the restaurant, out of the rain,  with a carafe of water and as much sauce piquante as your heart desires.   But then again there is just something about the falafel to go experience: the sauce running down your cheek, the napkin balancing act (try throwing an umbrella into the mix), the cool Parisian drizzle and the stories of falafel-eating in old Jewish quarter of Paris.

*Suggestion:  If you aren’t full after a falafel (as is often the case with me and my bottomless stomach), a nice crepe nutella always makes for a good post-falafel snack.