It’s a dreary winter here in Düsseldorf, with plenty of rain and snow. Also, it’s very, very cold, which always puts me in a nasty mood. To the surprise of everyone I know, I intensely dislike being cold. Throughout my life, whenever I complained about the cold weather, someone was bound to say: But you’re from Poland, aren’t you used to it? The answer is: No, I’m not! Being from Poland does not equip you with a furry skin or any supernatural resistance to low temperatures. Just because we have unforgiving winters does not mean that people enjoy them. What they do enjoy, is warming themselves up with vodka and eating plenty of hearty soups. I like soups. They’re my secret weapon against below zero temperatures and overall misery they induce in me. Also, soups are very forgiving dishes, you can throw anything in and they’re almost always guaranteed to taste good. And they taste even better the next day when the flavors had some time to mix and marry. Yes… soups are the best thing about suffering through winters.
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I first encountered black olive tapenade some ten years ago when I studied in Paris. My friend Gośka and I used to frequent this insane Australian bar in Châtelet called Café Oz. It was known for hunky bartenders with cute Australian accents and… well, that was actually all it was known for. This is where we met and befriended Tom who went down in history as the first guy to ever cook for me (well, actually, he cooked for us, which would indicate that he was possibly trying to woo one of us, only I don’t know which one). In any case, it’s been a decade since that dinner and I don’t remember anything of what he made except for those darling little appetizer sandwiches with black olive tapenade and goat cheese. They were seriously good and seriously memorable since they looked and tasted unlike anything I’ve ever eaten up to that point. Black olive tapenade is one of those foods that look completely unappealing (think mud or worse) but taste very satisfying and almost sensual with its richness and saltiness.
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February 25, 2010 in
soups
I come from a country where beetroot soup is sacred. We call it “barszcz” but the name has been internationally butchered and bastardized and you may know it as “borscht”. We usually eat it for Christmas with little mushroom-filled dumplings, which we call “uszka” (meaning “little ears”). Barszcz is probably my favorite childhood soup and, understandably, messing around with other beet soup recipes feels like a sacrilege or a betrayal of sorts, not to mention, it could get you disowned by your grandma… but when I saw this recipe in yet another cookbook gifted to me by my awesome parents-in-law, I knew I had to try it, if only because there is almost a whole year till next Christmas.
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The first time I encountered hummus, I was eighteen years old and had no clue what it was. I knew it had to be something special, because my ex-boyfriend threw himself at it with a savage scream and, frankly, with more excitement and enthusiasm than when throwing himself at me. I could now grace you with a monologue on the superiority of my attributes over those of pulped chickpeas but there is no need to digress. You see, hummus really is special, it’s tasty and healthy and quite addictive, once you get a taste for it. So, all I would like to say to the ex-boyfriend is: I understand… and after a brief consideration, I forgive… however, after some more consideration, I will not forget.
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