Dearest George - In Memory of George Whitman

Dearest George,

Tonight I run my hands against the soft mylar plastic that guards a beloved possession of mine; my first edition, first printing of E.B. White's Trumpet of the Swan. I always meant to ask you when I saw you at the shop; when you whispered in my ear that you would turn your head if I wanted to steal that book I wanted but was in the library, so it wasn't for sale; and when you'd pass through the main room of your flat when one of your friends would host a Sunday afternoon tea - did you remember me? I came in with a man you called a giant. You teased him about being too tall while I jumped on one of the beds, which you told me had real bed bugs in them. You handed me the book and told me I should read it. I didn't understand you. I didn't speak English yet. That giant of a man was my father Henri, and he translated what you said to me while I was merely disappointed it wasn't a book I could go home and read.

A few years later I left on a plane for America. I had a rather strict British English tutor. She's the reason why I spell some words with the British spelling, though honestly the way the Irish speak English is sort of my favourite. Once I had a basic understanding of the language and some vocabulary I started to read the book my father bought for me in your shop.

Over my lifetime of thirty off odd (you would have appreciated that typo) years I've been given a lot of recommendations about which books I should and shouldn't read. Now I don't think you peered down at the younger me and saw into my soul or anything. I know you just thought it was a good book for any child. And it was.

I fell in love with Louis right away. Every time I see a swan I see Louis with his trumpet and his chalkboard tied around his graceful downy neck and a stick of chalk stuck in his bill. I'm old enough now to know most swans are bastards. Classic not judging books by their covers, no matter how beautiful those covers may be. I live along the canal and when two swans were in trouble, I paid a hefty sum of money to have them transported to a cleaner, safer place. I went to the store and bought them lettuce and watercress - it wasn't the Ritz, but I did it out of love.

I did it out of love for a bird in a work of fiction.

When I moved back to France and settled in Paris it was natural that I should return there. Upstairs amongst the bookshelves I fell in love. Not just with the books that would never be for sale, but really in love with a man who will always be the love of my life. Sometimes Colette would run through frantically looking for you. I used to put treats in my pockets for her, explaining to my dog they were for Colette. I always gave her love because she was an extension of you to me. I know you loved her, though for a long time you called her Kitty, and like you she was always going from person to person excitedly. Sometimes just to poke you with a cold nose; sometimes for a belly scratch. It depended on her mood. You were like that too.

I will miss you George. I will miss all that you stood for. I will miss all that your bookstore meant to this city and to all us writers and readers and lovers of characters. It was a sort of home to me. It was the place where my dreams started coming true.

You and your spirit lives on in all of us who have been to your little spot at kilometer zero and had the priviledge of taking away with us some small smudge of dust or volume that like you will always remain with us.

Good-bye George and hello.
Ama

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Homemade ricotta - Champagne vinegar

Ricotta is really expensive in French grocery stores. I'm not sure why this is exactly, but I do think that it has something to do with the fact that the French opt for bechamel sauce for lasagnas over ricotta. I can't stand bechamel saue. I have never tasted a bechamel sauce that had cooked the flour off properly, but even after some practice in my own kitchen, I simply just don't like it. If there are virtues to bechamel sauce of which I am unaware, please enlighten me.

Sure I could pop into one or two of my favourite Italian epiceries here in Paris for freshly made ricotta, but why bother when you can make it very easily in your own kitchen?

The key ingredient to my homemade ricotta is champagne vinegar.

Like tightrope walking, cooking high quality food is all about balance. I recently learned that one of the biggest mistakes home cooks make is not having the right balance of acid in a dish. In ricotta the acid comes from lemon and white vinegar. Using champagne vinegar makes a much better tasting ricotta, but you an also use it in dressing, marinades, and adding a splash to homemade marinara elevates the flavours.

Champagne vinegar is not made from champagne, but from the same grapes used in making champagne. Cost-wise you should expect to shell out about 10 euros a bottle, but stored properly a bottle can last quite a long time since you don't use a lot of it. For those abroad you can buy this lovely brand for about $10 here

All the Beaufor wine based vinegars are worth a look. I also love their red wine raspberry vinegar.

The recipe I use for homemade ricotta is courtesy of Gourmet magazine.  I have tried recipes from other sources, but this one is truly lovely. It calls for 3 T of freshly squeezed lemon juice, but I use 2 T of fresh lemon juice, then 1 T of the champagne vinegar.

You will need:

A heavy sauce pan (and this is an instance where if you have a copper sauce pan you need to bust it out copper + anything with lemon = better)

A large sieve & cheesecloth

2 quarts (1,89L) of whole milk
1 cup (237 ml) of heavy cream
1/2 tsp salt
2 T fresh lemon juice (and a little zest)
1 T champagne vinegar

Line a large sieve with a layer of heavy-duty (fine-mesh) cheesecloth and place it over a large bowl.

Slowly bring milk, cream, and salt to a rolling boil in a 6-quart heavy pot over moderate heat, stirring occasionally to prevent scorching. Add lemon juice and champagne vinegar, then reduce heat to low and simmer, stirring constantly, until the mixture curdles, about 2 minutes. 

Pour the mixture into the lined sieve and let it drain 1 hour. After discarding the liquid, chill the ricotta, covered; it will keep in the refrigerator 2 days.

Here is the tasty finished product, perfect for any recipe that calls for ricotta but also delicious with fruit, honey, and slivered almonds.

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