halloumi and fall vegetable roast
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It’s that time of year again. And that only means one thing: time to start thinking about the holiday baking. In Paris, bakery windows fill up with Bûches de Noël (Yule log cakes) and bourriches (wooden crates) of oysters are piled up at the markets. The chocolate shops are crammed with people, buying multiple boxes as gifts, and people splurge on caviar and Champagne, one of the few things that go on sale in France during the holidays.
One thing you don’t see is the use of pumpkin in desserts. A tart or pie (or ice cream) made of squash might sound funny, especially to non-Americans, but helps to remember that pumpkins, and other squash, are technically fruit. One could also point out the classic Swiss Chard Tart from Provence (which is in a whole other category), and Melanzane al cioccolato, eggplant with chocolate sauce, which I like. (Which one could argue is good because it’s smothered in dark chocolate.) But I don’t think everything goes with chocolate: A friend tried the hot chocolate with oysters at a famed chocolate shop in Paris, and after her description, I wasn’t rushing over there to try a cup.
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To get that last image out of your mind, I present pumpkin cheesecake with a pecan praline sauce, that has nothing not to like about it. Cream cheese and sour cream, a buttery cookie crust, and a brown sugar and bourbon-tinged sauce loaded with crunchy pecans. I’m in.
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DIYers may raise an eyebrow at using canned pumpkin. I’ve got a few reasons for using it. (And as many of you perhaps know, it’s not made from pumpkin, but a variety of squash similar to butternut squash.) One, is that when writing a recipe, it’s easy to get consistent, similar results when we’re all using the same ingredient. And two, it’s a heckuva lot easier, which is appreciated around the holidays when all of us have enough on our plates, and in our ovens, and it’s fewer dishes to wash to boot.
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If you want to go the other route, you can also make your own cream cheese and Graham crackers, grow your own pecans, churn up your own butter, and make your own cake pan. If you do go that route, let me know when your cheesecake is done ; )
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In the meantime, I’m standing over my stove, stirring warm, just-toasted pecans into my praline sauce before lacing it with a dash of bourbon.
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The praline sauce is decidedly on the sweet side. But that didn’t stop me (like, at all…) from dipping my spoon into it over and over and over again. Be sure to toast the pecans before using them. My pet-peeve in restaurants is when they don’t toast nuts. Toasting any nut usually improves it by at least 99%, if not more, so if you’re not consistently toasting your nuts before using them on salads, sauces, and in ice creams, start doing it now. It’s not too late.
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But I can’t imagine this cheesecake being served without it. Although I could imagine eating the sauce without the cheesecake. And if you’re anything like me, you might find yourself spooning it over ice cream, ladling it over pumpkin pie (without the marshmallow topping), or even spooning it right into your mouth, like I do.
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Related Recipes and Links
Ingredients for American Baking in Paris
Homemade Graham Crackers (Smitten Kitchen)
Homemade bourbon (Bourbon of the Day)
Homemade salt (Ruhlman)
It’s easy to forget about Thanksgiving in Paris. There are no bags of stuffing mix clogging the aisles in the supermarkets. If you asked a clerk where is the canned pumpkin, they would look at you like you were fou (crazy). And if you open the newspaper, you won’t come across any sales on whole turkeys. In fact, it’s quite the opposite; a friend saw a 5 kilo turkey, an 11 pound bird, at the market the other day for €68kg, or €340 ($424).
(Although I think if you spent over four hundred dollars on a turkey, you wouldn’t forget it for a long, long time.)
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I suggested that the turkey vendor perhaps forgot a comma because whole turkeys are, indeed, available in Paris, and they actually excellent since most are fermier, not the plump whoppers you see in the states. The only thing you have to be careful about is that one turkey might not be enough if you’re feeding a large crowd, say, a group of over six people.
Savvy Americans know to order a whole turkey in advance from their butcher and – get this: You can ask them to cook it for you. Yes, since the butchers usually have spits with roasting chickens on them, it’s usually not a problem for them to slide a turkey on there. That’s especially nice because most people in Paris just have one oven and it’s hard to tie it up for the entire day with just a bird roasting in it when you’ve got so many other things to bake and cook off.
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The reason I am sharing this recipe today, rather than days ago when everyone was in a tizzy posting recipes, shopping and preparing their menus, is that I kind of forgot that it’s Thanksgiving. Actually, I didn’t quite forget, but wasn’t swept up in the frenzy because this week, and today, are just like any other week or day in Paris.
People go to work and school, banks and stores are open, and no one is setting their alarms for le vendredi noir (Black Friday), although that’s starting to happen in France ever since the government loosened their restrictions on allowing sales more than the government mandated twice-yearly ones, as they did before the economy took a dip. (Tomorrow, I suspect at least one vendor selling an expensive turkey in Paris is going to have to offer a serious mark-down if he wants to sell that bird.)
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So we’re celebrating tomorrow night with some friends who are making dinner. I’m pitching in and doing some baking, as well as bringing a nice bottle of Sauternes. I also happened to have a few cans of cranberry sauce that I had brought back from the states, that I was planning to bring, just for fun.
I sent my hostess a photo and she wrote back right away, threatening to blackmail me by making my canned contraband photo public. I beat her to the punch, posting it on Instagram. But when I noticed that of the four ingredients in the can, two were industrial sweeteners, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
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Fortunately I had a stash of fresh cranberries in my freezer, since if a turkey was €68 a pound, I’d have to dig deeper into my pockets if I was going to have to buy fresh cranberries in Paris on Thanksgiving Day.
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I candied some organic orange slices (which were normally priced), simmered up a syrup with the sharpness of cider vinegar and a hit of dark rum, then added my precious canneberges, cooking them ’til they popped. I stirred in the candied oranges, then packed it up, ready to go – getting a recipe in just under the wire.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Related Recipes
Cranberry Sauce with Red Wine and Figs
Mom’s Roast Turkey (Simply Recipes)
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It’s that time of the year again. When bakers, cooks, and even bartenders, are baking, roasting, and shaking things up for the holidays. Here’s a round-up of recipes from my blog, my personal favorites, that are great for Thanksgiving and winter holiday fêtes. There are cakes, cocktails, spreads, dips, candied nuts, cheesecake, ice cream…and more!
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Pecan Pie with Bourbon and Ginger
What’s more traditional than pecan pie for the holidays? (That wasn’t really a question, because most of us already know the answer.) I love this zippy variation, with a triple dose of ginger and a belt of bourbon to boot. It’s especially good with a scoop of white chocolate-fresh ginger ice cream.
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Swoops of billowy marshmallows over a custard-like pumpkin filling. For those vexed by weeping meringues, this stable, silky topping is the answer to your pastry prayers!
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S’mores Pie with Salted Butter Chocolate Sauce
Speaking of marshmallows, if you’re looking for the ultimate do-ahead dessert, it’s hard to beat this marshmallow-topped beauty. Even if you’re not planning to make the pie, the Salted Butter Chocolate Sauce makes anything you put it on a thing of beauty.
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Manhattans are my go-to cocktail. The foundation is just two ingredients, so they’re hard to screw up, which is easy to do with so many other holiday distractions. Even better, they do the job, coming together in a great, no-nonsense, high-performance cocktail. To dial ’em up for the holidays, add a few dashes of cardamom bitters or pumpkin bitters to the mix.
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Cranberry Sauce with Candied Orange
Bits of homemade candied oranges provide a sweet/tart counterpoint to tangy cranberries. I stock up on cranberries for the holidays when I see them in Paris, but those stateside will want to get extra to make this sauce again and again. It’s good with ham, turkey, lamb, and a nice counterpoint to roasted root vegetables. You can also use it when building yourself a hefty turkey sandwich out of leftovers the next day.
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Cranberry Sauce with Figs and Red Wine
Use some of that leftover wine to ramp up this holiday sauce, marrying two fall favorites; cranberries and figs. No leftover wine? Pas de problème: open a bottle. (I’m sure you’ll find something else to do with the rest…)
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A buttery base holds up a toffee-like topping of cranberries. This cake is oh-so-good on its own, but a dollop of whipped cream (perhaps flavored with cinnamon or with lemon curd folded into it?) takes it to the next level. It’s also good with a scoop of cinnamon or vanilla ice cream, melting on top or alongside.
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Pumpkin Cheesecake with Pecan Praline Sauce
I’ve been making it for well over a decade and can’t resist the praline sauce that accompanies it. It’s spiked with – yup – a belt of bourbon, and loaded with toasted pecans. Cheers!
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One of my favorite people, Ina Garten, provided the inspiration for this flan, a layer of creamy pumpkin custard bathed in a slick layer of dark caramel.
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Start the holidays off right with this tangy shrub, a vinegar-berry elixir that’s great mixed with sparkling water for a non-boozy libation, or as a base for a bourbon-fueled cocktail. I’ve given options for both, which should please everybody at your holiday fête.
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If the idea of pumpkin jam sounds funny to you, it helps to remember that pumpkins are actually fruits. And if that doesn’t do it, take a taste of this jam with just a hint of vanilla. It won over my Frenchman, who is my toughest critic. (And boy, do I have stories!)
If you’re the kind of person who sets out a plate of cheese (and those are the only kinds of people that I want to dine with), guests will love a swipe of this over a cracker smeared with chèvre (goat cheese) or cream cheese, or paired with slabs of nutty Jarlsberg, Comté or Gruyère as part of a cheese board. Don’t forget the nuts and dried fruit, too.
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This cake got its name because it launches chocolate-lovers into orbit. But it’s also an amazing do-ahead dessert, and keeps for quite a while in the refrigerator, which gives harried hosts and hostesses some time to enjoy an extra Manhattan, or two… ; )
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It’s that time of year when you may want to keep your ice cream maker handy at all times, so you can churn and scoop up your favorite flavors. (If you’re a fan of The Perfect Scoop, this year marks the ten-year anniversary of the book, and there’s an updated edition with all-new photos and a bunch of new ice cream recipes.)
To reimagine the classic profiteroles for the holidays, swap out the vanilla ice cream with pumpkin ice cream, and replacing the chocolate sauce with the pecan praline sauce I noted above (that goes with the pumpkin cheesecake), or another favorite creamy caramel. Top them off with the French almonds from The Perfect Scoop; Heat 2 tablespoons of water with 2 tablespoons of sugar in a skillet, stirring until dissolved. Remove from heat and mix in 2 cups (160g) sliced almonds. Spread the coated nuts on a nonstick baking sheet, or one covered with a silicone mat, sprinkle with flaky sea salt, and bake in a 350ºF/175ºC oven, stirring once or twice while baking, until golden brown and crisp, about 20 minutes.
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What to do with all those persimmons? This loaf cake is moist and packed with flavor, with a hint of spices. It’s a favorite from James Beard, considered the dean of American cooking, and I think it’s time to upgrade his status to include baking.
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This light cake comes from my friend Alice Medrich, and is low fat, but if you’d like, you can take it in another direction and top it with cream cheese frosting. Either way, this is a great cake.
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I’m always amazed when I turn out this tart. The glistening, ruby-colored pears are so pretty I almost hate to cut it. But moments later, I’m glad that I did. Along with a spoonful of nutty crème fraîche, this riff of the classic tarte Tatin will get no arguments from traditionalists. And if it does, find less judgmental dining companions.
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For the love of Dorie Greenspan comes this French apple cake, which relies on a mèlange of apples for its fruit-forward flavor.
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Our friends in Germany are mighty fine bakers as well and this cake from Luisa Weiss provides a generous wallop of apple flavor to any dessert buffet in each moist wedge. Almond paste is the secret to this cake and it’s worth stocking up on a tube or tin of it now – or several – so you’ll have them handy later.
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Circling back to pecan pie, this is another favorite recipe on mine, loaded with big chunks of bittersweet chocolate, who hold their own in a crowd of pecans.
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I reached deep into my past to find this pie, which was a favorite of the late Marion Cunningham. If you don’t have time to peel a bushel of apples, simply mix up a sack of cranberries and raisins, and voilà…you’ve got a fruit pie that will be just as memorable as Marion.
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Traditional mincemeat has a dubious reputation, but this one will change your mind. I promise. Bits of candied orange, dried fruits, and festive spices meld together into a tasty mixture that can be added to apple pie or pear crisp, making it go from ho-hum…to oh boy!
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Israeli Couscous with Butternut Squash and Preserved Lemons
Hitting the savory side, this side dish is one of the most popular in my repertoire. The squash is a no-brainer for the winter, but swap out dried cranberries for the raisins and you’ve got a holiday-friendly side dish that’s a break from the usual mash-up of carbs. Another bonus: This can be made in advance and rewarmed before serving.
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Proving it’s not too late to get on the ball, I tackled this cheese ball made with several kinds of cheeses, along with chives, dates, and a dash of hot sauce, rolled in buttered and salted pecans. If you’re too high up on your horse to consider a cheese ball, Fromage forte is the way the French use up all those scraps of cheese, whipped up with plenty of garlic. It’s great to spread on slices of baguette, or even crisp apples.
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The French do have their version of cheese “balls.” These puffs are lighter-than-air and baked to a crisp. No one can resist nibbling on these, especially if you serve them warm.
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I cast a skeptical eye over recipe titles that promise something to be “the best,” but in this case, I’m going there. This is The Best Cocktail Snack Ever. A crunchy mix of salty pretzels and lots of nuts, baked in a maple syrup, brown sugar, and butter mixture until crisp. You’ll want to print this recipe out and put it at the top of your appetizer recipe roster.
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In a hurry? Don’t worry, who isn’t? I don’t mind opening a can of artichoke hearts and putting my food processor into service, for this Provençal-inspired spread. Do-ahead types will appreciate that it holds well in the refrigerator (ditto with the next tapenade recipe), and guests will appreciate how good it tastes spread on croutons or crackers, along with a glass of sparkling wine or Chablis.
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This olive-based tapenade isn’t the pits. In fact, it’s even better than the usual tapenade because there’s less pitting involved, getting an extra boost from dried figs, whose natural sweetness compliments the salty olives and capers. I was inspired by this one from Carrie Brown of the famous Jimtown Store in Northern California.
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Looking for the perfect hostess gift? Instead of tying a bow around a bottle, make a batch of these candied peanuts and give them instead. I keep a stack of cellophane bags and raffia ready, to tie ’em up and give them out. Someone once told me that anyone can buy a gift; it’s the homemade ones that really show that you care. If that’s the case, feel free to make a batch for yourself as well. Sharing may be caring, but being selfish has its rewards, too.

It’s interesting how many views of Paris there are, which you notice if you follow the variety of voices that write about life in the City of Lights. (A mistake some writers make is to call it the City of Light, and ‘lights’ in actually plural.) I tend to find all the quirks and report on the sardonic side of things, which for some reason, always find their way into my life. But the main reason is that I live in Paris full time and don’t just get to sampe my way through the lovely pastry shops and meet chocolatiers, but like most Parisians, I also spend a fair amount of time wrestling with perplexing bureaucracy and other idioms of life in the City of Fight Light.
For example, last week I went to the largest fabric store in Paris where I always buy étamine (cotton gauze), which I couldn’t locate so I asked a salesperson to direct me there. He was having a nice chat with his co-workers but was kind enough to take a moment to tell me “Non”, they didn’t carry it…and went back to his conversation. After I raised an eyebrow and asked a few more times, just be sure, he and all the others in the group shook their heads, confirming with absolute certainty that they definitely did not have that in stock.

Because I was absolutely certain that they did, I went down one level and, of course, found a huge bolt of it right on top of the pile of other rolls of fabric. C’est comme ça…
Having a French partner helps, and he also helps me in the kitchen, like when Romain arrived with a bag of apples from a friend’s farm in Burgundy. Some were dinged up a bit, as they weren’t from the supermarché, but French apples are delicious for baking, where bumps and bruises magically disappear.

So to keep things in perspective (as best I can…) I like to read other voices from Paris, such as Dorie Greenspan, whose book, Around My French Table, is a hefty collection of her favorite recipes and stories about Paris. She lives on the opposite side of the city, in a different neighborhood. And where I am sometimes defeated by city life, as a “part-time Parisian,” as she often calls herself, she manages to see the good in everything.
This is a very typique French recipe for home cooks, made with not a lot of ingredients, relying on no special techniques or hard-to-find equipment, and loved by all. The cake is easily mixed up in a bowl, scraped into a cake pan, and in less than the time it takes to run to the pâtisserie for a store-bought cake—or a seemingly simple length of fabric—you can have an authentic French cake…right from your own oven.

When a journalist interviewed me for an article about her, she ended the interview with; “So David, what is it like to sit around Dorie’s French table?”
I sat there for a few moments scratching my head to remember, then not sure of what to say, I finally replied, “I’ve not sat around Dorie’s French table.” Which was true. When she comes to Paris, we generally go out exploring. The idea of sitting indoors while Paris awaits just isn’t as interesting to me as sharing pastries on a park bench or hitting an outdoor market with her.
If you want to sit at Dorie’s table, the line starts here. However while you wait, you can feast on her recipes, just as I’m doing.

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