The battle of the mustards

Have I ever told you how tiny my fridge is? It is tiny. It goes well in my tiny kitchen but it doesn't go well with our huge appetites. This fridge is not my friend.

Every time I buy a (small) watermelon from the market, there is always a battle for space. A battle between the watermelon and everything else that is in my fridge. Eggs, cheese, nuts, butter, vegetables, condiments, milk, the occasional bottle of wine or beer and of course these jars of mustard.





I believe I have more than enough for S and me. I actually think I have more than enough for a small army.


When I was little, I used to open the fridge and eat the mustard straight from the jar with a spoon. Everyone thought I was a child with peculiar tastes. Now those same people think I'm an adult with peculiar tastes.
The only difference is that now, I'm not content with one jar. Now I feel like I need at least ten different kinds of the yellow stuff.

At this moment, in my fridge, there are eleven different jars/bottles of mustard. Jars that are occupying precious refrigerator space.


So let me introduce you to,

the French.
Among the best.





The Dutch.
They do mustard really well here.





The English.
Very strong vinegar flavor. Too potent for me.






The American.
Yellow mustard is a classic but this particular one is not.






And then we have... Winnie the Pooh.
Don't ask.






Oh, and let's not forget these. Because who can live without mustard powder or mustard seeds??






And how about you? Do you have a favorite kind of mustard? C'mon, don't leave me hanging. Please tell me I'm not alone in this mustard-crazed world of mine.






P.S. I'll be back at the end of the week with a recipe including... well, you guessed it, mustard.

Paris, je t'adore

I'm back. I think.
Because even though I'm home, sitting at my desk, in front of my computer, writing these words, I might as well still be in Paris.
Mentally, that's where I still am.

I'm still marveling at the imposing Eiffel Tower,






admiring the grandeur of the Notre Dame,






eating an apple tart with the most flaky, buttery and delicious puff pastry ever made, from the boulangerie of all boulangeries, Poilâne.






I'm still shopping at Mora, getting lost among the rows and rows of shelves filled with pots and pans, wooden spoons of all shapes and sizes and innumerable pastry bag nozzles,






gazing at the Seine, daydreaming about what it would be like if I lived here, in Paris.






I'm still guiltily stuffing my face with 1.50 € macarons from Pierre Hermé while S is going on and on about how overrated they really are.

1.Pistachio, 2.Salted caramel, 3.Passion fruit with milk chocolate filling, 4.Rose, 5.Chocolate

I'm still amazed by the glorious works of art housed in Paris' museums.

I'm still celebrating my anniversary with S while having a glass of wine at a quaint restaurant in Montmartre.

I'm living in the moment.






I'm still frantically changing metros in the chaotic, bustling Parisian underground,






eating a sandwich à la Grecque with feta, cucumber and tomato and wondering how a taste of home, so far away from home, can be so damn good.






I'm still standing on Pont Alexandre III contemplating the beauty of Paris,






dining at an old Parisian restaurant and feeling like I'm transported back to the 1890s when it first opened its doors.






I'm still wandering the streets of Paris, holding hands with my love, not caring where we'll end up.






I'm back. I think.

Escape

The weather last Saturday was bleak. Dark skies, pouring rain, howling winds. In other words, a typical Dutch summer day. But I had other plans. I wasn't about to give up on my Saturday. I was not going to sit around the house complaining about the horrible weather. No.

View from my kitchen window

I got off my warm, cozy bed, I ate my rich in fiber breakfast and decided to brave the glorious, greener-than-green, Dutch countryside. But first, I had to wake up my sleeping boyfriend. A huge task, not to mention a perilous one, but someone had to do it. I abide by the belief that persistence leads to success so eventually, after a few tries, I managed to wake him up and come out of it unscathed.






This girl right here though, is a bona fide city girl who can't just venture into the wilderness without good reason. It's not easy being exposed to that much clean air and open fields. I need an incentive.
Cheese! Milk! Butter! Eggs! Fresh! Straight from the cow!
Were these enough to convince me?
Oh, yes!






We jumped in our car, delicious cookies in hand (sent to me by Ioanna from Greece), S sat comfortably on the passenger's seat playing dj on the car stereo while I was the designated driver for the day and we headed to a dairy farm just thirty minutes out of The Hague.






Thirty minutes out of The Hague. Thirty minutes out of the city. Thirty minutes away from all the hustle and bustle, you come face to face with this.






And this






And this






This dairy farm, located just 3 kilometres outside the city of Leiden, makes one of the best Leidse cheeses in The Netherlands. Boeren-Leidse met sleutels kaas (P.D.O.) is a farm-made cheese originating from the Leiden region in the province of South Holland that can be recognized by its red-brown coating and the official seal depicting the keys of the city of Leiden on top. It is a semi-firm, low-fat, raw cow's milk cheese made from skimmed milk and the addition of whole cumin seeds and has a creamy, sharp and spicy flavor that is quite unique.






The addition of spices to cheeses is very common in The Netherlands and dates back to the 1600s when the Dutch East India Company controlled the world's spice trade. The Dutch grew accustomed to the taste of spices and their new exciting flavor was quickly incorporated into their local cheeses.

Whenever I look at this photo, I start singing this song

The farm we visited, called "De Keizershof" (The Emperor's Garden), is run by the Van Leeuwen family since the late 1970's. Apart from their Leidse kaas, they are also famous for their Boeren-Roomboter (Farmhouse Dairy Butter), which is a very rich butter, made with the cream that's scooped from the surface of the milk which is used to make cheese. Both this butter and the Leidse cheese are in the Ark of Taste, which is an international catalog of food in danger of extinction that is maintained by the global Slow Food movement.






This is real farmhouse butter and it is delicious. We bought half a kilo (oh yes we did) and the first 250 grams were gone in a matter of a couple of days.
We smeared it on top of a pain rustique,






a whole-wheat bread,






and this Dutch corn bread.






We also wouldn't pass on the opportunity to buy a dozen of freshly laid eggs from the farm hens—who were running around freely and happily making the farm dog crazy (who by the way fell in love with S and followed him around everywhere)—and two liters of raw (unpasteurized) cow's milk.






S asked the farmer whether we should boil the milk before drinking it and another guy waiting to buy his own milk laughed at our ignorance. "This is good for you", he said with a heavy Dutch accent. "Drink it as is".






After we left the beautiful farm, we stopped by another dairy farm nearby that sold freshly churned ice cream. Naturally, I couldn't resist having a taste. It was one of the most flavorful ice creams I have ever had. Incredibly creamy with a subtle milky undertone.






We couldn't wait however to get home. We couldn't wait to try the butter and the eggs and the milk and the cheese we'd bought.






My instinct, as soon as I see eggs, is to fry them, sunny-side-up. It is the way S prefers them as well. And let me tell you, they were unbelievable.






The following day, I started wondering what I could do with all that raw milk besides the obvious and then I saw Deb's (of Smitten Kitchen) recipe for homemade ricotta. I thought I had just hit the jackpot. I prepared it the same day, using just raw milk, no cream, and it came out perfect. I couldn't believe I had made my own cheese. S absolutely loved it.






Yesterday, as I opened the fridge and realized that there are no more fresh eggs, no more raw cow's milk, no more farmhouse butter, I decided that that thirty-minute drive to the country will be one that I'll be taking again and again.







Farm DE KEIZERSHOF
Van Leeuwen Family
Noord Aa 4
2381 LV
Zoeterwoude
The Netherlands


Slow Food Nederland