Buy Clotilde's latest book, The French Market Cookbook! I love pound cakes, or quatre-quarts* in French. As a child, I went through a phase of eating Breton pound cake for breakfast day in, day out. I’m talking about supermarket pound cake, baked in long yellow logs and wrapped in soft paper. I liked it on the stale side, so I sliced it in advance,...

Buy Clotilde's latest book, The French Market Cookbook! I want to preface this roasted cauliflower wedge recipe with one of the biggest lessons that having children has taught me, and it is: appreciation. Appreciation for them as budding humans and appreciation for their amazing father? Absolutely. Appreciation for my parents’ decades of parenting...

Buy Clotilde's latest book, The French Market Cookbook! For the past couple of months, my weekly vegetable allotment has included big bags of salad greens, oftentimes the scratchy and flavorful kind such as frilly mustard leaves or peppery mizuna or a mix of both. We love to eat those dressed in a classic vinaigrette or a cooked shallot vinaigrette....

Buy Clotilde's latest book, The French Market Cookbook! Not long after my second son was born, I received a message from Audrey, a reader I’d been conversing with via emails and comments, who wanted to recommend a recipe drawn from the French blog La Belle au blé dormant*. It was a recipe for a sesame chocolate bar garnished with squash seeds, sunflower...

Buy Clotilde's latest book, The French Market Cookbook! Do you know what Otium means? Otium is the Latin word for virtuous leisure, a time free of obligation that is spent in contemplation, and the cultivation of one’s spirit. This is a concept that resonates with me deeply, as I have become more and more interested in personal development and mind...

Buy Clotilde's latest book, The French Market Cookbook! Like most French children, the boulangerie played a big role in my earliest food memories. The corner bakery was the mythical place where snacks were purchased after school, where grownups could be observed closely while waiting in line with one’s mother for the Saturday lunch baguette, and...