Wednesday, August 23, 2017

France -- Good Eating in the Country

Paris-Couze at Au Fil d'Eau
Joan and I spent the first two weeks of August visiting friends in Périgord, followed by a stay in Provence bracketed by nights in Toulouse and Dijon. We had numerous really good meals, one that was great and one that was off the charts. This post will deal with some of the surprises we found, while the sublime, multi-star experiences will be covered in later posts.

Our best meal out in Périgord, apart from le Vieux Logis (to be covered in my next post), was at Au Fil d'Eau, in Couze-et-Saint-Front (population c. 800), which presents updated and artfully presented versions of regional and other classics, including the Paris-Couze (a play on Paris-Brest) pictured above and the  cooked foie gras with lemon ice cream, shrimp with fruits and cold foie gras with summer truffles.

Cooked foie gras with lemon ice cream at Au Fil d'Eau
Shrimp and fruit at Au Fil d'Eau
Foie gras with summer truffles at Au Fil d'Eau
While in Périgord, we made day trips to some local villages and towns, and ate well in addition to seeing the local sites.

In Saint-Léon-sur-Vézère, there's a fine Romanesque church and a lovely chateau, among other things.

Saint-Léon-sur-Vézère
There is also a restaurant in a garden where I had an extraordinary cassolette de gésiers de canard (duck gizzards): incredibly tender slow-cooked gizzards, a local specialty, baked beneath a very thin cheesebread topping. The best pot pie ever! Sorry, no picture.

From Périgord we traveled to Saint-Rémy-de-Provence by way of Toulouse, where we spent a night. Since it was August, the more illustrious restaurants were closed, but we ate at a stunning brasserie, le Bibent, on the magnificent Place du Capitole.

Place du Capitole, Toulouse
Owned by famed Parisian restaurateur Christian Constant, it is not surprising that tradition meets with modern cuisine at le Bibent. After our starter -- creative oyster, sea bass and salmon tartare with ginger and lime, and crispy sea prawns with basil --

Oyster, sea bass and salmon tartare at le Bibent
Cirspy prawns with basil at le Bibent
I had a wonderfully authentic cassoulet Montalbanaise and Joan a very nice sea bass à la plancha.

We next arrived at one of our favorite hotels, le Châteaux des Alpilles in Saint-Rémy de Provence.

Le Château des Alpilles
We had two perfectly lovely meals there, and enjoyed cocktails and breakfasts in the area in front of the château, but it is not notable for its gastronomy.

During our stay in Saint-Rémy, we went to the famed l"Oustau de Baumanière, which is just 15 minutes away, for a great meal that I will cover in detail in a later post. At the recommendation of the owner, we also went to a little bistro in the amazingly scenic Camargue, near the pink salt flats,

Camargue salt flats
for what proved to be an exciting meal. The tiny restaurant, La Telline, specializes in seafood, and we were served tellines, the tiniest ever clams, and picturesque and delicious sea snails, like bulots but more delicate, followed by fish main courses. This lunch was one of those unexpected experiences that make rural travel so much fun.

Trellines and sea snails at La Trelline
From Saint-Rémy, we went to Valence to spend a night at the famed Maison Pic -- which will get its own post -- and from there to Dijon. We were there on a Sunday, so the famous places were closed, but our concierge recommended le Sauvage, which cooks most everything over a wood grill, including previously slow-cooked lamb and marrow bones, and had a wonderful time. A perfect counterpoint to the extravaganza with Anne Sophie Pic.

Grilled noisettes of slow-cooked lamb at le Sauvage
Grilled marrow bones at le Sauvage
And finally back to Paris, somewhat travel weary but very very content. France is a spectacular place in which to travel: great scenery, wonderful cities and towns and, most of all, interesting and varied cuisine.

Bobby Jay

Thursday, July 27, 2017

Paris -- Avocado Non-Toast

Avocado toast is a huge fad in the US, and recipes and ideas abound on the Internet. I have always loved avocado and recently took advantage of being in Paris to make what turned out to be an amazingly simple but delicious sandwich using the surprisingly very available avocado. I decided to make a French-style sandwich, which features much smaller quantities of meat and other fillings, the better to feature the bread, ideally a fresh crusty baguette.

I simply spread ripe avocado on a perfect baguette (from Maison Hilaire, near the Bastille), sprinkled some fleur de sel on top, added a little sliced jambon de Paris (from Maison Plisson, near the Place de la République), and a small quantity of buttery and slightly bitter mâche. The combination of flavors and textures resulted in a memorable sandwich, which I have immodestly named the "Bobby Jay Ham and Avocado Sandwich."

Avocado, ham and mâche on a baguette
There is nothing to this if you're in Paris, although you still may need to work a little to find exceptional ham and a great baguette.

If you aren't, however, you must work with what you have. Italian parmacotto is the best cooked ham I have found in New York; arugula will do instead of mâche, and I would lightly toast the baguette, because a great one is not to be found in New York (even the Baguette Monge at Eric Kayser, which is great in Paris, falls far short in New York for some reason).

You can improvise: if you want to add a little Cantal or Comté and/or a very thin slice of tomato, I won't tell anyone. If I were to make this in New York, I would likely add very thin slices of jalapeno pepper.

The Bobby Jay Ham and Avocado Sandwich is not a great culinary achievement, but it does help to answer Cole Porter's question "Why oh why do I love Paris"?

Bobby Jay

Paris -- Itinéraires: Still Great

I have written about Itinéraires before, but two recent experiences confirm that I just can't say enough about this excellent restaurant, which is less than fifteen minutes from our apartment on foot, the shorty journey encompassing a crossing of Île Saint-Louis that is itself a highlight of any stay in Paris.

We went with French friends on a weeknight, when the astounding 60 euro menu is on offer. It was their first experience at Itinéraires and they were blown away.

What makes this restaurant so great is the very precise cooking and presentation, giving each of the many elements on the plate its chance to star. The spectacular vegetables all come from a single farmer, Asafumi Yamashita, and they are integrated seamlessly into the dishes.

Highlights included "Cod with Fish Sauce Scented with Saffron, Baby Greens from M. Yamashita and Ham from Patrick Duler" and "Pigeon with 1001 Nights Spices and Carrot/Meat/Orange Jus."

Cod and pigeon at Itinéraires
Other dishes were just as pretty but I was reluctant to take too many photos.

We returned a couple of weeks later with Japanese friends and this time, since we were a party of seven, were required to take the ninety-euro menu dégustation, consisting of five courses after a complement of exciting and substantive amuses-bouche. Not only was the food just as spectacular as in our earlier meal, but the multiple course extravaganza was so well calibrated that one left the table pleasantly sated but without feeling stuffed. And we ate everything.

Two of the amuses were an unbelievably thin slices of M. Yamashita's cauliflower, with an ethereal, lightly spiced vinaigrette, and raw seafood and cooked vegetables on a cucumber bridge.

Thinly sliced cauliflower with vinaigrette
Raw seafood on cucumber
The meal proper started with a carpaccio of house-smoked duck breast with red fruits (cherries and currants) to provide an acid contrast to the fattiness of the duck. A spectacular plate!

Smoked duck capraccio with red fruits
There followed the night's preparation of slowly cooked cod, this time with peas, a peanut (even the 1-1/2 peanuts were a very noticeable element) and elderberry flowers.

Slow-cooked cod with peas
Next up was roast pigeon with a beet-raspberry-pigeon jus, which was as interesting and beautiful as it sounds.

Roast pigeon with beet-raspberry jus
The first dessert was a "capuccino" of mango, banana pannacotta and a light coconut mousse with Expelette pepper. Unfortunately it was photo shy.

Not so the "garden" of chocolate and fresh herbes, which looked too much like a garden for my taste, but which was a success for the palate if not the palette.

"Garden" of chocolate and herbs
What more can I say, except that I can't wait to get back next time we are in Paris.

Bobby Jay

Monday, May 22, 2017

Inspiring New Cookbook: My Kitchen in Rome

My Kitchen in Rome alongside artichoke a la Romana
I just finished reading Rachel Roddy's My Kitchen in Rome: Recipes and Notes on Italian Cooking, which was reviewed in the latest issue of Edward Behr's always-thoughtful The Art of Eating. Roddy is an Englishwoman who discovered Rome in the course of her travels in Italy, fell in love with the city and never left. This book is a love letter to Roman cooking, celebrating its humble simplicity, seasonality, focus on good local ingredients and tradition, as well as the people involved in the food business in her neighborhood, Testaccio, a working class quarter that seems to be gentrifying.

The book has lots of good classic recipes, of which I have tried a couple (more on this later), but I already have so many good Italian cookbooks (from Marcella Hazan, Lidia Bastianich, Mario Batali and many others) that few were new to me. No, the great virtue of My Kitchen in Rome is rather that it makes you want, desperately, to be there. Roddy writes beautifully and lovingly about food, but also about the place where she lives and the people who inhabit it, and he book is an inspiration to eat, cook and feel Italian, either with her recipes or others that you might have been using for years. An example of Roddy's elegant prose:
     Whereas the food of Sicily had thrilled me, the food of Rome tripped me up and then pulled me to my feet, charming me with its simplicity, certainty and bold flavors -- notably the primi, or first courses. A deep bowl of pasta e ceci scented with rosemary, spaghetti coated with a seductive creamy sauce that's nothing more than eggs, cheese, and cured pork; more spaghetti, glistening with olive oil, flecked with parsley and clams, and tasting indignantly of the sea; a plate of stout potato gnocchi, no bigger than acorns, topped with bright red sauce and a blizzard of pecorino cheese. I quickly realized I didn't just want to eat these dishes, I wanted to understand them. I wanted to make them.
Don't you want to run out and get some indignant spaghetti with white clam sauce?

One of the most interesting and inviting sections is on pasta soups: pasta e patate, pasta e lenticchie, pasta e fagioli, pasta e ceci and, finally, minestrone. A long explanation of "the big soup" is on point and useful, but again it is Roddy's gorgeous writing that seduces and inspires:
     When you get to the simmering, the heat should be low and the simmer tremulous, the kind that has you checking that the flame hasn't gone out because the pan looks so still, then you lift the lid, look closely, see that the surface is quivering and suddenly -- plop! -- a burp of a bubble breaks the surface of the soup, and you are reassured that all is well.
How can you not rush to the kitchen and make minestrone?

Carciofi alla romana
Ragù con le spuntature (pork rib ragù)
This is a cookbook,so what of the recipes? In general, they are somewhat sketchier than those to which I am accustomed. the ingredients and quantities are there (translated from metric so lots of odd measurement, but that's fine), but the techniques presuppose that the reader can cook. I made a dinner for my friend Cochonette, which started well with a plate of fava beans and pecorino, with a Negroni cocktail, both suggested by the book, while we waited for the trippa alla romana (Roman-style tripe) to cook. The beans and Negroni were lovely, but the tripe was a disaster. I followed directions, washing the tripe in hot water, then plunging it into boiling water "for a few minutes." Well, my few minutes was probably an hour short, and I more or less gave up on this dish after adding a half hour to the actual cooking time; even reheated and braised for another half hour, it did not reach the desired tenderness.

But tripe is a specialty thing, and I am no expert on tripe, so I chalked that up to my lack of experience and moved on.

I then invited my friends M and V for dinner, and made Roddy's carciofi alla romana (Roman-style artichokes), which strongly resemble those I have been making for years but in any event were a big hit, followed by her ragù con le spuntature (pork rib ragù) served over (unfortunately pasty store-bought) gnocchi. This sauce, which consists of onion, pork ribs, canned tomatoes and salt and pepper -- no garlic, rosemary, red peppers -- was wonderfully clean and complex, the pork mingling with the tomatoes to produce an unexpected symphony of flavors.

The book contains many other recipes that I plan to make, in various categories, although I would generally compare hers to my many other versions to see whether Roddy's diligent approach results in the most authentic recipes or ones that add to the already extensive literature. Surely she has a feel for Rome, so I am optimistic.

This should not be your first Italian cookbook, or even your third, but it certainly deserves a place on my shelf. More important, having read it, I WANT TO GO TO ROME!

Bobby Jay

Sunday, May 21, 2017

Syrian Cooking Lesson

Phyllo spinach triangles
One of my great joys is learning about the different cuisines and related food cultures in this world. I do this reading lots of cookbooks and by taking lessons at good cooking schools in Paris and New York. I enjoy getting to know different cultures by studying (and eating and cooking) their amazingly varied cuisines.

Last week I went with my friend Cochonette to an excellent cooking lesson on Syrian cooking at ICE Institute for Culinary Education, now located way downtown just across the street from the Freedom Tower. The teacher was Jennifer Abadi, who introduced me to Persian cooking at a lesson four years ago and kind of got me started on Middle Eastern Food. Jennifer is of Syrian Jewish heritage, and has written a wonderful book, A Fistful of Lentils: Syrian-Jewish Recipes from Grandma Fritzie's Kitchen, and maintains a very interesting blog on related culinary matters, Too Good to Passover. I have used many recipes from both, and correspond with Jennifer from time to time.

The title of the lesson was "A Fistful of Lentils," and all the dishes we made were from recipes in the book. All were delicious and none was technically difficult, although we had to rush to make the many dishes covered by the lesson.

Jennifer started with an interesting explanation of Syrian (particularly Jewish) food culture and history, placing it into geographical context, and including the migration of Syrian Jews to America in the early 20th century. Then we cooked seven dishes, which I will describe in the order of a meal. We started with a series of maaze (small plates) (this and all references will use the Syrian spelling, although there are many variations in the region). First up was baba ganush:

Baba ganush
Next was im'warah b'sbanech (phyllo spinach triangles), made with no cheese or meat, and smaller and more delicate than the Turkish and Greek varieties. See picture above.

And cheeyar b'bandoorah sa'lata (chopped cucumber and tomato salad with dried mint) (no photo) that was pretty much what you'd find in a Turkish restaurant.

There followed two main courses. The first, kibbeh fil seeniyah b'lah'meh (meat-filled pie), is the cake-shaped version of kibbeh, balls of meat stuffed into a thin meat crust, that are ubiquitous in Middle Eastern cuisine. It has the bonus of being much much easier to prepare than kibbeh balls, which are notoriously difficult. (For a wonderful digression on the mystique surrounding great kibbeh, see Claudia Roden's encyclopedic The New Book of Middle Eastern Food.)

Meat-filled bulgur pie
The other main dish was kibbeh m'geraz (meatballs and sour cherries), which showcased the Syrians' love for tart and sweet, very different from the Italians' agrodolce or the sweet and sour cabbage cooked by the Eastern European Jews . . .

Meatballs and cherries - my photo doesn't do it justice
. . .  accompanied by m'jedrah (rice with lentils) with yogurt-mint dressing: simple but delicious.

Rice with lentils
Finally, the pièce de résistance: knaffeh (shredded phyllo-ricotta pie), a  light, heavenly rose water-infused filling in a two-crust pie made with kataifi, shredded phyllo and covered with rose water syrup and chopped pistachios. I can't wait to have people to dinner to share this fabulous dessert, which has the subtle sweetness of an Italian cheesecake with a taste straight out of the Arabian Nights. In the word(s) of a late friend, FA-BU-LOUS!

Shredded phyllo-ricotta- pie
Get A Fistful of Lentils and try Syrian Jewish cuisine. Now.

Bobby Jay

Friday, April 21, 2017

How to Make Great Chicken Stock

One of the main reasons that my food tastes better than it used to is that I use homemade chicken stock rather than store-bought. The collagen-rich stock adds richness and body to pan sauces and soups and generally raises the level of the underlying dish perceptibly.

I use a pressure cooker and you should, too. But my recipe works without it. Either way, it takes just five minutes to get the ingredients in the pot and little maintenance thereafter (none if you use a pressure cooker).

Chicken stock ingredients in pressure cooker - before and after cooking

Bobby Jay's Chicken Stock

I have a million recipes for chicken stock, but here's what I do:

Ingredients (you don't have to be very precise about any of these):
  • 2 1/2 lbs of chicken backs, 1 1/4 lbs of chicken feet (it's REALLY better if you can get feet, but otherwise use wings - much more expensive and a lot less collagen)
  • 1 medium onion, quartered (I like to keep the peel on, which gives a darker stock, but you can peel)
  • parsley (most importantly the stems, but I use the leaves, too) - about 10-15 stems
  • 1/4-1/2 tsp of black peppercorns
  • 1 or 2 whole cloves
  • A couple of medium carrots, cut into medium pieces
  • A couple of stalks of celery cut into medium pieces
Directions:

Put everything into a pressure cooker, then cover with water. If you don't have a pressure cooker, use a big pot. Bring to a boil under pressure (or not, in which case you need to skim the impurities as the chicken comes to a boil), then cook at pressure for about 45 minutes or simmer slowly for a couple of hours -- three is even better -- making sure the chicken stays covered. You can also put it all into a slow cooker and leave it all day on low, but I prefer the pressure cooker.
NOTE: I don't use garlic or salt. which most recipes call for. I prefer to do that when making the dish in which the stock is used.

When done, strain, then reduce by 1/3. Let cool overnight, then take the fat off the top and discard (or use for schmaltz, if you're into it). 

Chilled stock with fat layer on, then removed, showing gelatinous stock
Next, put the stock into 1/3 cup muffin pans (I use silicone), and freeze. If you've done this right and uused chicken feet, this will have a gelatinous consistency.

Stock in 1/3 cup muffin pans
Store the 1/3 cup stock disks in a big (2-gallon if you can find them) ziploc bag for future use.
Frozen 1/3-cup chicken stock disks
To use, add enough water per disk to get to 1/2 cup, so 2 disks = 1 cup of very rich stock. You don't have to reduce, but my muffin tins are 1/3 cup so it fits if reduced by 1/3. If you have different units to freeze in, adjust accordingly. You probably will have about 18 disks, i.e. 6 cups of frozen stock, or 9 cups of stock once diluted. 

You can also freeze the cooled stock (reduced or not) in freezer grade ziploc bags. Put a cup or two into a quart bag, then gently squeeze out as much air as possible and lay on its side in the freezer.
Homemade stock is so precious that when I am making a recipe that calls for a huge amount of it, such as chicken soup or chicken in the pot, I use homemade stock for half and Swanson's for the remaining half. Totally fine.
Of course, you don't have to reduce or freeze the stock at all. You can use it right away or store it in the fridge for a few days. You're going to boil it anyway when you use it.

Dark stock option: if you want a dark stock, you can roast the bones, carrots, onions and celery in a hot over for an hour or so and then use all (adding the parsley, pepper and cloves) as above. It will be less gelatinous but have stronger taste. I generally don't do this for chicken, but do for turkey stock.

Try it. But seriously, get a pressure cooker; it makes your stock better and faster, and lots of other things, too. And today's pressure cookers are totally safe, despite what your grandmother may have said.

Bobby Jay

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Passover 2017 -- Still Mostly Sephardic


Once you have a successful formula for a traditional meal, be it Thanksgiving or the Passover Seder, you don't want to mess with it too much, because people expect and, hopefully, hope to find last year's favorites this year. So my seder this year was a lot like last years's with changes here and there.

Thus, the great bulk of the seder consisted of Sephardic/Mediterranean dishes from a large array of countries: Syria, Morocco, France, Italy, Iran,  Israel and Greece, As usual, the main exception was my sister-in-law's stupendous matzoh ball soup, returning to the table after an enforced absence due to illness in 2016.

We started with my go-to Burnt Eggplant with Tahini, from Yotam Ottolenghi's Plenty, always a crowd pleaser. This year I added the optional bits of fresh cucumber, which added texture but also mellowed out the bitterness of the tahini.

Burnt eggplant with tahini, pomegranate seeds and endive leaves
Another old favorite that had not been on recent year's rotation was Jacques Pépin's tapendade, made with a mixture of oil cured and Kalamata olives, presented with pain azyme (the fancy French name for matzoh).
Tapenade
There would have been a mutiny if I hand't served Mario Batali's Lemon-Scented Veal Meatballs, which I made with matzoh flour instead of white bread for the panade binder.
Lemon-scented veal meatballs

Another dish returning to the hors d'oeuvre portion of the evening was my very own creation: a spread made with smoked ricotta (you can use plain, with or without a little liquid smoke, if you can't find it), sun-dried tomatoes and lots of lemon zest, thinned with yogurt and olive oil to a smooth texture, with a little crushed red pepper thrown in.

Smoked ricotta, sun-dried tomato and lemon zest spread
As usual, the fifth appetizer was a concession to the Eastern European tradition: bites of gefilte fish procured from Citarella and served with homemade, head-exploding horseradish made by my mother-in-law. I just love this.
Gefilte fish bites with homemade horseradish
Also prepared for the cocktail hour: the iconic Bar Nuts from the Union Square Cafe Cookbook, mixed notes roasted and mixed with a spicy rosemary butter blend.

For the dinner, I made he best-looking hard-boiled eggs I have ever made, served over a dollop of spinach cooked for hours with red onions. Inspired by a recipe originally from Corfu in Greece that is in Joan Nathan's new book King Solomon's Table, which I haven't read (although a different one of her books is a source of the Bordeaux Style Haroset described below).

Hard-boiled eggs on spinach
Next came Heidi's matzoh ball soup that warms the heart and screams PASSOVER!

Heidi's great matzoh ball so
There followed Dja'jeh Zetoon b'Limoneh (Syrian Chicken with Lemon and Olives) and a Moroccan Lamb Tagine, made by Cousin Vicki from a recipe that I got at a cooking class in Paris: sweet and beautifully spiced. These dishes, which reprised our 2015 Seder, were supplemented by Iranian caramelized fennel from Sirocco, by Sabrina Ghayour (the fennel looked great but was horribly undercooked, not to make again).
wise from front: Persian rice, caramelized fennel, lamb tagine, Syrian chicken







My absolute favorite Seder dish, and the reason I started cooking Sephardic food for Passover, is Persian Rice, which is famous for its tahdig crust, which I learned to make at an Iranian cooking lesson. It is impressive but not really difficult if you know how.

Persian rice with crunchy tahdig, with fava bean and dill salad
One of the highlights any Seder, for me at least, is haroset, a fruit and nut spread that is symbolic of the mortar used by the Jews in Egypt to make bricks for Pharaoh, eaten as the famous "Hillel Sandwich" with bitter horseradish on matzoh and thereafter just eaten on matzoh because it tastes so good. This year I made two varieties, as I did last year: first, Joan Nathan's Bordeaux Style Haroset from Quiches, Kugels and Couscous: My Search for Jewish Cuisine in France, which I have used for several years. Second, Syrian Haroset from an on-line recipe by Jennifer Abadi, a wonderful confection of tart Turkish dried apricots, lemon juice, orange flower water and chopped pistachios.

Bordeaux Style haroset
Syrian haroseet with pistachios
For dessert, as with last year, my go-to Blueberry (and Raspberry) Tart from Food52 Genius Recipes, with alterations. I used Clotilde Dusoulier's pâte sablée made with gluten-free (and hence wheat-free) flour (Bob's Red Mill Gluten-Free 1:1 Baking Flour) and I used potato starch in lieu of cornstarch (not Kosher for Passover) for the filling. A success, although the crust was not quite as crispy as the conventional wheat-based variety. Still, you can make a pretty good gluten-free tart for your friends who can't or just don't eat wheat.

Blueberry and raspberry tart 
Finally, for my ginger-loving mother, Fresh Ginger Cake from David Lebovitz' Ready for Dessert, adopted for Passover by using matzoh flour, served with crème fra îche. Another repeat from 2016.
Ginger molasses cake 
Well, not quite finally. At the last moment, I decided to make coconut macaroons, and used the interesting recipe found in Food52 Genius Recipes, which uses coconut chips in lieu of shredded coconut, resulting in an interesting craggy appearance and texture.
Macaroons, some with chocolate, and closeup
And that was it! At least until next year.

Happy Passover!

Bobby Jay

For convenience, here is a list of the sources for the dishes that made up the meal.

  • Burnt eggplant with tahini and pomegranate seeds: Yotam Ottolenghi, Plenty.
  • Tapenade: Jacques Pépin, Essential Pépin.
  • Lemon scented veal meatballs: Mario Batali, Food Network. Caution: the recipe calls for 4 lemons; 2 are more than enough.
  • Bar Nuts: Michael Romano, The Union Square Cafe Cookbook.
  • Bordeaux style haroset: Joan Nathan, Quiches, Kugels and Couscous: My Search for Jewish Cooking in France.
  • Syrian style haroset: Jennifer Abadi, blog Too Good to Passover.
  • Dja'je zetoon b'limoneh (chicken with lemon and olives): Jennifer Abadi, A Fistful of Lentils. 
  • Persian rice, Cooking lesson by Jennifer Abadi, favas from Louisa Shafia, The New Persian Kitchen
  • Caramelized Fennel: Sabrina Ghayour, Sirocco.
  • Fresh ginger cake, David Lebovitz, Ready for Dessert.
  •  Blueberry tart: Kristen Miglore, ed., Food52 Genius Recipes.
  •  Coconut Macaroons: Kristen Migliore, ed., Food52 Genius Recipes