Free Learning Curves 1 - French Cooking 101 by Olivia Rigal Page B

taste

    This mixture can be prepared in advance and kept refrigerated.
    The herbs and/or the garlic should be thrown in just before serving.

    It works well with chives, scallions, cilantro, and paper-thin slivers of garlic.

    Olive oil can be substituted by one tablespoon of hazelnut oil.

    Sweeter variation:

    - One tablespoon of seeded Meaux mustard
    - One tablespoon of granulated sugar
    - One tablespoon of cider vinegar
    - Two tablespoons of flaxseed oil
    - Salt and pepper to taste.

Chapter I of Learning Curves 2

    STAYING IN BED LATE ON Saturday morning was such a treat, thought Ariane as she stretched lazily in her large bed. A fabulous top-of-the-line king-size bed had been her present to herself for her twenty-fifth birthday. Every single morning when she rolled onto the fresh side of the bed to sleep another half hour before getting up, she thanked herself for it.  
    Daylight streamed through the heavy curtains of her bedroom overlooking the cobblestone courtyard of the building. The rays reflected off the mirrored sliding doors of the wall-to-wall closet she had built next to her bed. It made the room look larger. A bird chirped. Hers was an incredibly quiet place to live in Paris.  
    On the other side of the main building one could hear the hustle of the rue Saint Dominique, the sounds of families going about their weekend shopping, the hum of the engines of the delivery trucks blocking the street, and the yells of the drivers of the other vehicles frustrated by the slow pace forced upon them. The noise was at a peak around eleven thirty a.m., when the traffic was slowed down further by kids coming out of their Saturday morning classes. They scattered on the streets screaming with delight, celebrating the arrival of the weekend.
    That side was the one Madame Caroline, the owner of the building, had picked to live on. “There’ll be enough quiet for me when I’m at the cemetery,” she always said.
    The woman, who would be a century old in a few months, sat by her windows most of the day and enjoyed her view of the street. “This is what life is all about,” she would explain to whomever would listen, and lately Ariane felt she was the last one still listening. “I’ve buried a few husbands, all of my childhood friends, and most of my contemporaries. I have no one left to reminisce with, so instead of crying, I decided to live in the present and imagine the future. I watch the kids going in and out from school, I watch them play in the courtyard, and I know what type of adults they will turn into. You can always tell because no one ever changes. We just get more set in our ways when we change playgrounds.”
    Ariane adored the old lady. She was as sharp as a tack and funny. Everybody had warned her that she was very moody and could be quite nasty, but so far, she had never lashed out at Ariane. On the contrary, she had been wonderful to her from day one.  
    They had met when Ariane was hunting for a place to open her own cooking school. Ariane had fallen in love with the building. From the street it was the usual, white stone, early-19th-century construction with a porte-cochère —the typical Parisian high entrance large enough for a horse and carriage to go through. Opening that door was like travelling back in time. In the cobblestone courtyard stood a smaller two-story structure. The ground floor had been the stable and carriage house, the second floor the servants’ quarters.  
    The architectural firm that had initially rented the place from Madame Caroline had kept the original sliding wooden doors. Carving out the central parts of the doors to replace them with glass panels, they had created a quaint open working space, large enough for the kitchen workshop Ariane had imagined. There was even enough space to put in a wall and create a small dining room. The second floor was an unfinished work in progress. Dividing walls had been torn out and a new tiled floor put in, but that was it.  
    To bid