Brussel’s and bacon quiche

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Quiche! It’s so easy, obviously infinitely customizable, and very tasty… Ever since I learned to whip up a quick and perfectly flaky pie crust, I’ve been making quiches as often as I can. The best thing about a quiche is that there really aren’t any rules: add whatever veggies you have lying around, some cheese, maybe some meat… This particular quiche had some finely sliced Brussel’s sprouts, some salty lardons, and of course a healthy dose of Comté cheese. It was one of my favorite combinations, so I thought I’d share it with you here! Continue reading

Creamy carbonara

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One of the first things that I learned to cook upon arriving in France was something not whatsoever French: carbonara. I also learned how to make the Italian dish from a Colombian girl, so you can imagine that it was not necessarily the most traditional interpretation. Nonetheless, carbonara is great for so many reasons: I almost always have everything I need to make it on hand, it’s delicious, and it doesn’t cost much to make. Continue reading

Creamy potato, leek and lardon soup with fried almonds

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I didn’t eat much potato soup growing up. I don’t remember doing it, anyhow. I do have memories of the soup that originate from one of my best friend’s Mom’s houses. This was a real neighborhood house. The mother of three girls, Cindy had a sort of open-door policy concerning all of the random friends that liked to hang around with her daughters. I knew that I could stop by whenever I wanted, that the front door and snack drawer would always be open and that I’d always be welcome. Sometime’s hanging out carried on into pizza night, or chili on Friday, or even donuts the next morning. And if we were really lucky, potato soup. Continue reading

Soupe crémeuse aux pommes de terre, poireaux et lardons avec des amandes frites

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Je n’ai jamais mangé beaucoup de soupe aux pommes de terres quand j’étais petite. En tout cas, je ne m’en souviens pas. Par contre, j’ai de très forts souvenirs d’adolescence qui prennent origine chez la mère d’une de mes meilleures copines. C’était une vraie maison de quartier. Cindy était mère de trois filles adolescentes et elle avait une sorte de philosophie de “portes ouvertes” en ce qui concernait les nombreuses copines qui traînaient avec ses filles. Je savais que je pourrais passer quand je voulais et que la porte d’entrée serait toujours ouverte, le tiroir du goûter également, et que j’étais la bienvenue. Parfois quand mes visites se prolongeaient, avec un peu de chance je tombais sur la soirée pizza, ou le pot de “chili” le vendredi soir, ou même le réveil doux au donuts et au lait chocolaté. Et si j’étais vraiment chanceuse, sa soupe aux patates. Continue reading