Away for a Couple of Weeks

Just quickly wanted to let people know that I'll be away for about two weeks and probably won't be blogging, so if you comment and I don't reply, I promise I will when I get back!

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Viewing Pleasure

Open Cholatey!

Okay, enough fooling around. Let me in.



I have terrible follow-through. I'll plan on making something for dinner, but that something often ends up being an entirely different thing. Today I set out on an errand, and ended up going into Pierre Hermé's new shop near Omotesando Station and taking a lot of pictures instead.

I was walking, walking, walking. Walking to my destination. And then I was stopping. And gawking. I was gawking and exchanging exclamations of delight with another lady, both of us visually suctioned to the glass wall that was the only thing standing between us and this display case:

The famed Ispahan macarons - I couldn't get any closer than this without smudging the glass and ruining the pretty view, but here's a slightly closer look.

Very quickly, for anyone who--gasp--doesn't know about Hermé's popular creation, Ispahan is a city in Iran, but it's also the name of this rose, and I am assuming it was the latter that Hermé had in his mind when he came up with the Ispahan: Flamingo pink macarons sandwiching rose-infused cream, fresh lychees, and raspberries; a red rose petal set on top; and of course the crowning touch, a glistening glucose dew drop beading on the petal. (Take a look at this lovely picture--oh, god, it's so pretty I could cry--taken by chika of She Who Eats.) The sensual pairing of lychees and roses has met with such approval, it would seem, that Ispahan is trying out new shapes and forms, in a bid to tantalize the public anew. In the store today, I spotted:

Confiture Ispahan (translation: 2200-yen jam)

and...

Some Kinda Layered, Mousse-y Ispahan (sorry, I forgot to look at the name)

Old Pierre and his confectionaries have been pretty well documented, by both the adoring media and bloggers alike, so I won't blather on further about either. I've noticed though that although everyone's always taking close-up shots of the edibles (an urge I, too, was obviously unable to control), little is revealed of the Hermé shops themselves, the jewel boxes that nestle all those sugary baubles.

We-hell, I couldn't let that continue.


But first, another display. Closer. And closer. Having just looked at some other Japanese blogs and their photos, I realize the shop assistants are artfully rearranging the pattern of cakes to match the ever-reducing quanitities. I actually visited later in the afternoon, when stock was low, and I now realize how nice it was not to see the usual forlorn white spaces left behind by purchased pastries. It's smart, too, since the remaining goods don't have that "end-of-the-day" taint to them.

Um, yeah, back to the interior of the shop.


Would you look at that shameless gawker? Oh! Look at the display cases!

The store is newly opened and feels a touch bare, but I do like--whether it is intentional or not--the neat, minimalistic way they've laid out everything. I hate to see desserts crowded together. They always look sloppy and just plain de trop. In the Aoyama store I visited today, your eyes travel leisurely, from one case to the next, and the details of each item then receive your undivided attention.

What I didn't like was the avocado yellow used in the store--the lighting is understandably focused on the products, but this leaves the wall and door looking a little sickly--nor the rather old-fashioned white marble floor. Also, the staff uniform could have been a little more...something (I think it was white shirt and black pants).

So what about tastes? Honestly? I wasn't tempted to actually buy anything (maybe the tricolor Confiture Ispahan did catch my eye, up until my eye drifted down to the price tag). This is an aspect of my self that utterly bewilders my husband: the pleasure I derive from simply looking at food, including its packaging and display. Sometimes I just gaze and think happily, "Mmmm, yummy." But in the case of elaborate cakes painstakingly crafted by highly acclaimed pastry chefs, they always look a bit too sweet, with their lofty layers of mousse and sugary glazes.

And so I gawked, I hustled into the store, gawked some more, snapped a whole bunch of pictures. And left, empty handed. I'm getting so used to doing this "looking and not buying (or eating)" crap that I didn't feel the least bit sheepish as I strolled out the unfortunately avocado yellow door.

Okay, okay, although I didn't actually think about buying it, I am a big-time sucker for macarons, and I would not ever say no to a Macaron Thé Vert Matcha. These babies are not your regular, ping pong ball sized macarons either, which I suppose is why they cost 420 yen: for those few extended seconds of macaron pleasure.

Update: Apologies for missing out some important details. First of all, there is a second floor, a "bar," but one where you stagger after a rough day at work to slug back a Hermé chocolate or two--so much healthier. I approve.

Second, according to The Japan Times, in this short article, Hermé's intended concept for the first floor was a "luxury convenience store." Did he succeed? Well, aside from the cakes within the glass cases, the other products--pound cakes, jelly candies, cookies, and jams--felt were very accessible and touchable on their individual glass-bottomed tables. There was even a stack of little silver baskets at your disposal, and I spotted what looked to be a self-service cooler...soon to be stocked with ice cream, perhaps, for that 4000-yen midnight craving? Eh, honey, what time is Hermé opened till?

---

Hermé Links:

• Tempted to try making your own macarons? They are good stuff. There's a recipe at the bottom of the article that is (supposedly) for "Herme's Chocolate Macaroons with Chocolate Filling."


• Three recipes from the book Desserts by Pierre Hermé -- Autumn Meringue Cake, Chocolate Temptation, Lemon Loaf Cake.


• Another three recipes, this time from Hermé's book Chocolate Desserts -- Suzy's Cake, Simple Chocolate Mousse, Bittersweet Chocolate Sorbet.


• Descriptions of an assortment of Hermé cakes and pastries, accompanied by gorgeous photographs.


• An eGullet member reports on a trip to Hermé's Paris patisserie and the things that were eaten, photos included.


• Visit the blog of a Hermé insider! In addition to having a scarily incredible resume, this chef used to work at the Hermé patisserie in Paris.

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Because of Edward

I've decided to have a few ongoing posts, which I'll keep adding to. Here's my first one, a tribute to that stumpy, hairy, demanding guy in my life.

Because of Edward:

1. I have a live-in welcoming committee, whose sole member makes me feel well loved but sometimes takes his dedication to the extreme, pulling out the "HELLO RACHEL!" banners and violently wagging tail every time I come home, regardless of whether I was gone for five minutes or five hours, and each morning, as if we hadn't been in the same room all night.



2. I'm now qualified to join the circus. Ladies and gentlemen, try to suspend your disbelief as Rachel balances in a typhoon, holding an umbrella aloft in the crook of her neck, deftly picking up dog poop with one hand, and with the other hand rescuing a dog (who is lunging madly into the street trying to get at the dog on the other side and is completely unaware that it is standing in the way of an oncoming vehicle), all the while giving directions to the nearest library in a foreign language!



3. My neighbors think I'm an unbalanced nut. Here's what they saw when I first moved in: a crazy-haired woman in a t-shirt standing alone on her balcony at odd hours of the morning and night, muttering/yelling things like, "toilet," "poo poo," "whoa, NO!" and "good boy!" I live in an apartment, without the luxury of a yard, and I was trying to toilet train a creature that literally had to go the bathroom every hour. The solution: puppy training sheets on the balcony. Unfortunately, when your dog only comes up to your shins, no one can see the piddling pooch, just you looking strung out from no sleep, terrifying all the mothers and children walking by.



4. I've touched poo with my bare hands - hey! This one is practically a rite of passage when you've got a dog, or perhaps a small baby. It's never intentional, for god's sake. You think you've got a nice whole plastic bag that you're going to deftly slip your hand into, pick up the goods, invert bag, and voila, poo in the bag. Well, sometimes plastic bags have holes. I've learned to always check first.



5. I have extended conversations and even non-relationships with strangers I meet on a daily basis, whose only connection to me is that they too own a dog or they think Edward really likes them (when actually Edward acts like that with everybody).



6. I laugh a lot more.



7. Stay tuned. I know, you can hardly wait.

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Quick! Use the Ricotta Cheese!

What do you do when you discover the ricotta cheese you just bought but only partially used the previous day is on the quivering brink of expiry, and all the resources emphasize that ricotta cheese is not something that should be frozen? You make bread rolls with the cheese incorporated into the dough, and then you freeze the rolls, because surely in its transformed state from cheese to bread, the ricotta should develop more freeze-resistant properties, right?

Well, yes, my assumption was correct. The rolls froze fine (sorry, this isn't one of those posts where something goes very wacky and you get to laugh at my baking foibles). However, I just wanted to let you all know that ricotta cheese bread is not worth the extra expense. The rolls tasted good, sure, but they were just regular rolls, no discernible ricotta oomph to them (i.e., nothing miraculous happened to the taste or texture, much to my disappointment). So unless you find yourself in a similar dilemma of expiring cheese, I say: skip the ricotta bread.

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A Mad World

My "recent comments" list seems to have gone mad on me. Or am I the only one seeing "NNAN?" What is that about (if anyone can tell me, I'd be awfully grateful)?

I hate to put down Blogger.com but does anyone else find that things suddenly go loony for no reason? Sure, what I'm using to show recent comments is a hack. But I don't notice that anyone else using it is seeing NNAN.

My sidebar once went missing for an entire day. And that quick edit pencil icon seems to flit in and out of visibility at whim. Other strange things have happened that mysteriously rectify themselves after a period of time. I'm hoping this is just one more temporary "episode." Anyone posting comments, sorry for any weirdness that occurs.

Update: I went searching for help at the wonderful Blogger Hacks and it seems the problem was caused by Blogger recently fiddling with its comment capabilities. Anyone having similar problems, read this.

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Doom, Gloom, and the Yaki Imo Man

Trees right side up

Yesterday was officially the bleakest day of this winter yet. Just look at the sky below. Is it not blinding and oppressive?



I am officially back in the land of the healthy, after a ridiculously long bout of the flu and an almost two-week stay in delirium country, entirely due to my not getting any sleep as my lungs were too busy trying to expel themselves right out of my body (i.e., lots of pretty hacking) on a nightly basis, bless them.

Oh, hey, the gyoza man is driving by. You know how in the United States there's the ice cream man in the white truck that plays a rather creepy, tinkly tune (at least the ice cream trucks in Manhattan did)? Well, it's very common in Tokyo to hear the pre-recorded cry of someone selling something from their van. The most traditional wares are yaki imo, which are freshly roasted sweet potatoes (there's a wood-burning stove in the back of the truck), and laundry lines. And now gyoza.

The funny thing is that the vendors all sing the exact same song, regardless of what they're selling--they just change the words to fit the croon. And your day is not complete unless you hear it for yourself. I just found this excellent clip--very exciting--so, you must go here and see the yaki imo truck and hear the yaki imo song. You really must.

Hmm, curry gyoza? That's what I just heard out my window. It could be good. I believe in keeping an open mind when it comes to food.

Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes, it was glooooomy yesterday.


Edward and I boldly ventured out and soon found ourselves very much alone in what is usually our very popular neighborhood park--it has swan paddle boats, for god sake, and people rent them out, frequently. Poor Edward, he lives to be petted, sniffed, and licked by strangers, and yesterday's outing proved less than gratifying. Indeed, even the ducks seemed more desperate than usual, trailing forlornly after us, expecting their day's ration of bread crusts, but not getting it from me because I don't really get the whole feeding-the-ducks thing.

I took a few pictures of the bare trees reflected in the rain-soaked boardwalk, like the one at the top of this post. Here's another one:

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