Lunch in Paris Read Free Page A

straight from the supermarket. This is essentially an arts and crafts project—all assembly—but
     it does need to be done the night before you want to serve it, so the ladyfingers have time to soak up the juices. Ideal for
     breakfast, brunch, or a casual dinner with friends.
    25–35 crisp Italian ladyfingers (depending on size)
    3 cups fromage blanc or Greek yogurt
    One 32-ounce can apricots or pears in heavy syrup
    Line the sides of a small saucepan or soufflé dish, approximately 6 inches in diameter, with plastic wrap.
    Line the sides of your mold with ladyfingers. They should stand shoulder to shoulder like toy soldiers. You can use a dab
     of yogurt to keep them in place if you like.
    Arrange a layer of ladyfingers on the bottom of the pan (cut them to fit). Try to make them symmetrical, as this layer will
     become the top when you serve.
    Add a layer of
fromage blanc
(about ¾ cup) and a layer of sliced apricots. Top with a layer of ladyfingers, press gently, then pour over ¼ cup apricot
     syrup.
    Continue with 2 or 3 more layers, ending with a layer of ladyfingers topped with ¼ cup syrup. Pour an extra ¼ cup syrup around
     the edge to make sure the outer ladyfingers are moist.
    Cover with plastic wrap and press the top lightly with a plate or saucer to condense the mixture. Chill for at least 12 hours,
     preferably overnight. To unmold, place the serving plate on top of thesaucepan and flip, giving the pan a gentle shake. Carefully peel away the plastic lining if it sticks.
    Yield: Serves 4–6, or 2 sex-crazed individuals eating breakfast at six p.m.
    Tip: Depending on the absorbency of your ladyfingers, there may be a bit of extra juice at the bottom of the dish when you
     unmold the charlotte. Just blot it with a paper towel.
    PASTA À LA GWENDAL
    I feel a bit ridiculous writing this down, since more often than not it’s made with whatever Gwendal finds in the back of
     the fridge. If you have the bacon and an onion, you’re well on your way. This simple dinner embodies so much of what I love
     about French cooking—being inspired by the ingredients at hand, turning humble bits into a hearty meal. I always have a package
     of
lardons
in the fridge; an alternative is to keep a hunk of slab bacon or Italian pancetta in the freezer for a rainy day. This recipe
     is ideal for the winter months. In the summer, I often substitute cherry tomatoes for the carrots and add a splash of white
     wine.
    3 tablespoons olive oil
    8 ounces lardons fumés, slab bacon, or pancetta, cut into ¼-inch cubes
    2 onions, diced
    2 cloves of garlic, sliced
    4 carrots, thinly sliced
    1 bulb fennel, coarsely chopped
    2 zucchini, sliced into ¼-inch rounds
    3 sun-dried tomatoes, diced
    1 pound De Cecco or whole wheat spaghetti
    Chopped parsley, freshly ground black pepper, to serve
    Heat the oil in a large frying pan. Add the
lardons
, onions, and garlic. Sauté 2 to 3 minutes, until the
lardons
have rendered their fatand the onions are translucent. Add the remaining veggies, stirring to coat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and
     sweet.
    Cook the pasta in a large pot of salted water. Drain, reserving a small cup of cooking liquid. Add the pasta to the sauce,
     with a bit of liquid if you feel it looks dry. Stir in the chopped parsley and a good grinding of pepper. By all means, take
     the pot back to bed. Nothing like a first date you have to carb up for.
    Yield: Serves 4, or 2 who’ve worked up an appetite

CHAPTER 2
An Affair to Remember
    I am leading a double life. By day I read about Victorian insane asylums in the British Library; by night I decipher X-rated
     e-mails with a French-English dictionary. Every few weeks I bring my overnight bag to work on Friday, hop on the Eurostar,
     and by dinnertime I am in Paris.
    It is only a fifteen-minute walk from the Gare du Nord back to Gwendal’s flat, but that’s all the time it takes to shed my
     London life. I feel lighter; I empty my pockets of business cards and