Jeanne, "Mamie," about to celebrate her 100th birthday

Growing up in France meant spending time in the kitchen with Grandma…

I grew up in France’s Loire Valley in a little town called Blois. My parents owned a bar and worked all day and late into the evenings, and as a result I was often with my French grandmother, Jeanne (pronounced ZHAAN). On June 11th, 2009 she will be celebrating her 100th birthday. And while I will not be returning to France for her special day, she is on my mind. Growing up, I spent a lot of time in her kitchen, by her side, watching her cook. She no longer cooks today but the delicious scents that have permeated her kitchen over the years, I recall vividly. (more…)

Kwayteo, a rice noodle soup complete with pork, preserved cabbage, and more…

My comfort food may be different from yours, but the instant warm and fuzzy feeling we get when we eat what comforts us, must be mutual. It’s an all around good feeling that lingers at least until the last bite and perhaps a little beyond. My comfort food often takes me back to my childhood memories…

I’ve had a recurring dream since I was a little girl of my Chinese grandmother in Cambodia. It goes something like this…I’m about two years old, dressed in a lacy white top with black pants, my soft black hair in pig tails bouncing as I sway my head back and forth. Smiling and cute as a button with dimples in my cheeks, I kneel in front of a small chair, awaiting my grandmother. Huong is her name, and she appears to be walking from the kitchen toward me. In her hands, she carries a big bowl of freshly made rice noodles with ground pork and dried shrimp set afloat a steamy crystal clear broth. Fragrant with freshly torn saw leaf, scallions, preserved cabbage, and bean sprouts, and drizzled with garlic oil and a freshly squeezed wedge of lime, it’s called kwayteo, my favorite noodle soup. She sets the bowl on the seat of the chair which is just tall enough for me to reach comfortably while propped up on my knees. Bamboo chopsticks in hand with ceramic Chinese spoon in the other, I proceed to eat my noodles, slurping them while sipping the broth loudly. It’s a good dream. (more…)