Sarasota Soundings

Chocolate & Zucchini
Daily Adventures in a Parisian Kitchen

Clotilde Dusoulier

Broadway (May 15, 2007); 272 pages; $18.95

Unlikely things can happen in the blogosphere, the peculiar and often self-indulgent world of blogs, those unbridled, online rantings, musings, and expressions of enthusiasm for anything from bonsai to Basset hounds. Since the first blogs appeared in the 1990’s, thousands have been born each day; some with no more readers than a blogger’s own family and friends, others attracting more attention, much more attention.

In September 2003, the online community began to notice a stylish food blog with engaging banter and excellent photos, both the work of a young Parisienne living in a small Montmartre apartment. On the surface, the whimsically titled Chocolate & Zucchini was little more than a twenty-something’s chronicle of daily life and sustenance with her boyfriend, but it touched a chord with millions of people.

For blogger Clotilde Dusoulier, and her partner, Maxence, day-to-day life on la rive droite was sweet indeed. Who could resist the chance to shop at the boulanger and charcouterie on the way home from work? Wouldn’t it be lovely to nibble some hazelnut snacks and sip an apéritif on the balcony with neighbors? How nice to plan one’s weekend entertaining around the offerings of the local open-air market and then enjoy preparing a five-course meal to share with a half-dozen close friends.

We’ve been treated to all of this and more since Mlle. Dusoulier posted her life online. Both Clotilde, as the darling of gastro-cyberspace is known, and her blog have come a long way since the culinary ingenue began her Parisian cooking adventures.

Her grocery lists, menus, and recipes became escapist reading each day for thousands of readers who couldn’t wait for the next post: an account of a dinner party or report about a new patisserie. With her cheerful and intelligent writing, Clotilde had become the defining spirit of Internet culinaria. The breezy exuberance of her fluent English and the sensuality of her food photography made even the most xenophobic Americans fall in love with things French. (Remember, this was at the same time as the unofficial jingoist campaign to rename the “French” fry.)

How had this happened? On graduating from college in France, Ms. Dusoulier and her boyfriend expatriated to Silicon Valley to work as software engineers. Marveling at supermarkets with “entire aisles devoted to breakfast cereals,” Clotilde had her culinary ephiphany in California, where she began teaching herself to cook.

She writes, “What better place than California to get interested in food?” Well, maybe Paris—but that would come later. In the meantime, in her non-working hours, she immersed herself in every facet of the local cuisines, seeking out ethnic restaurants and making an occasional pilgrimage to Berkeley to dine at Chez Panisse.

Living in California during the age of fusion food, Clotilde developed her own kitchen personality. But she cooked primarily for herself and Maxence, because dinners with friends were more likely to be at restaurants than at home. It was only after the couple had returned to France to take tech jobs in Paris that Clotilde started to cook for friends. Entertaining more often, she expanded her repertoire and realized that, for her, cooking was as self-expressive as writing.

Et voilà! Now we have a version of Chocolate & Zucchini that we need not view online, one we can take right into the kitchen: Chocolate & Zucchini has become a cookbook.

Because the technical underpinning of blogs can render aggregating large amounts of related information cumbersome, the cookbook makes C & Z more accessible, especially to those who don’t enjoy reading a culinary narrative on a computer screen. We’re treated to glimpses of Clotilde’s childhood and discourses on her philosophie of shopping, cooking, and entertaining. Over 75 recipes fill the main chapters: Simplicité, Simplicity; Invitation, Entertaining; and Gourmandise, Sweet Things. The author has an eye for food presentation; the enticing photography that captivated so many on her blog also graces her book.

Off the blog and into hard copy, Clotilde’s prose remains personal, nearly conversational—she’s your college roommate, the neighbor down the hall, your favorite barista, she’s your friend—and believe it or not, she’s not trying to teach you how to cook.

She assumes you will have the basic skills necessary to produce most of of her dishes, but knows that not everyone can do everything. Her mission statement is that good food is not about hype or proving oneself, but about sharing the pleasures of the table.

Clotilde is writing for her contemporaries—maybe not people just like her, but for people who WANT TO BE just like her…

The recipes are clear and approachable, and it’s immediately apparent that they’ve been carefully considered and tested. Clotilde confesses that she’s still a wine neophyte; the welcome suggestions for wine pairings are from New York wine enthusiast Lenn Thompson.

While some recipe ingredients may seem extravagant for young cooks (cocoa bean nibs, trout roe, pine nuts), Clotilde makes it plain that much of the food in this book is not her everyday fare, and that these luxury ingredients add sparkle to celebratory dishes, meant to be shared. In fact, sharing is a common thread throughout the book. Whether it be for the neighbors upstairs, a small group of foodie colleagues, or a full-blown party, the food is intended to bring people together.

With so much exclusionary food (Atkins, South Beach, and vegan diets, Jenny Craig, Lean Cuisine, and single-serving pouches of tuna salad) standing between us and the people with whom we like to break bread (even gluten-free bread), Clotilde’s approach is refreshing. She enjoins its readers to pool resources, skills, and time to create and enjoy the conviviality of meals among the people one cherishes.

Boeuf Bourguignon, Salade Tiède, and Ratatouille all find their way into the book, but this is not your mother’s bistro food. Clotilde has put her own fusionist stamp on nearly every recipe. For someone so relatively new to cooking, she demonstrates a discerning palate and superb sense of what goes with what. An autumnal soup of chestnuts and mushrooms gets a fillip of chili powder and a dash of balsamic vinegar—ingredients that keep this silky purée from being cloying. Traditional gougères, cheese puffs, take on a new (Mexican?) identity with their hint of cumin.

Chocolate & Zucchini’s goat cheese and creme fraîche-dependent creations revive fond memories of the go-go 80’s, when people who could afford imported cholesterol seldom worried about it, and when The Silver Palate Cookbook was on the New York Times best-seller list. As the Dow Jones again plays roulette with an all-time high, Chocolate & Zucchini evokes another decade, one equally profligate. Yet, there’s a big difference: attitude. This 2007 kitchen sprite thinks about supporting local merchants and farmers; she recommends serving small portions. She’s got a full generation between C & Z and the Silver Palate’s two blockbusters. (Clotilde was born in 1979 and, clearly, she’s a quick study.) Nonetheless, we think Clotilde has the right recipe of charisma, acumen, and techie skills to ensure her some rising—and holding—power in the years ahead.

Bon appétit, et joyeux anniversaire, Clotilde!

Disclosure: Broadway Books sent us this book for our review.