Chef's Table: A Night for Everyone

Apologies for the photos. Low light. It should still give you a general feel.

Alfonse and Fares: two of whom many will fail to remember but a most pleasant experience did they provide at this month’s Chef’s Table, the third installment of the pop-up event now held every month at Cellardoor Bistro in the narrow streets of Maadi. Tending to our shallow desires and our relatively generous wallets, these men, our waiters for the night, worked tirelessly to be remarkably courteous, bringing the different courses, one after the other on time, after a few leisurely sips of an ordered drink.   

Our table was a reunion of sorts and a meeting of new kindred spirits: old high school friends, work colleagues and newspaper editors. Every dish presented to the table brought about conversations:  childhood memories of mom’s cooking, scouting out Egyptian food on business trips in places as far as Hong Kong and stories of Puerto Rican sofrito, a base seasoning sauce, dominating the bulk of Puerto Rico’s dishes and giving them an aromatic punch.

Pumpkin soup was ladled carefully into their small containers and arrived hot with notes of orange and a sweet musky lift from the nutty brown butter and toasted pumpernickel croutons. All that was needed, a fireplace. Immediately after came a salad, a faraway relative of the classic Waldorf with pleasing autumn colors and complementary elements - beautiful beetroot and a considerate helping of walnuts, bobbles of blanched and peeled cherry tomatoes, consistent slices of almost transparent rounds of radish, batons of tart green apples, piquant rocket leaves and blue cheese; a flashier version of an everyday salad that new attendees would feel at ease with. A cumin focaccia crostini was served alongside this crowd-pleaser and although full of flavor, it retained some moisture and did not deliver on the crunch.    

A trio of tacos came next, propped up against a dainty stand with individually hand drawn designs. Interestingly, most went first for the vegetarian moussaka taco. Layered lentils and cubed aubergine were served at room temperature and were governed by the crumbled feta; a little dry as was the sea bass ceviche taco, they both could have benefitted from a little less restraint and a heavier hand as per the respective regions of those dishes.

As a separate ceviche away from the tortilla, it was delicate and sweet. After completing the first two, the brave tried to comfort those whose fear of consuming an animal’s tongue was troubling them. The beef tongue taco stood ominously, piled high but was seasoned well, tender and layered with flavors of a familiar taco. The hero on the plate making it all meld was the guacamole, chunky but creamy and especially fresh.  

Fourth was the the “White, Pink and Gold” with several components: an Old Bay belly of salmon with a roasted pepper ratatouille that far surpassed the salmon served at the first Chef’s Table; a simple sea bass, soft and barely opaque, perched atop a small mound of fava beans adding much needed texture; and tempura crayfish tails with a brilliant bright green dill oil and a mild red pepper aioli. I would have preferred a lighter batter but would still snack on a plate of these again.  

Next arrived one of my favorites of the night - what Chefs Ayman Samir, Wesam Masoud and Moustafa El Refaey named “Banzai!”, a quick shot composed of both fresh and pickled ginger, balanced with citrus and a swirl of greek yogurt, this clever palate cleanser takes me back to my short years in Kuala Lumpur and the fusions in food that I experienced there.

The main was unexpected - an oxtail faggot with crushed peas that represented classic British fare, slow roasted leg of goat with a berry demi-glace flaunting its French and Moroccan accents, a potato terrine and a caramelized carrot purée dotted with pickled pearl onions - but despite the few glitches on my plate, a bit of unrendered fat and underseasoned potatoes, I admired the insistence of the chefs to introduce their audience to the nose to tail eating concept, starting with the beef tongue enjoyed earlier and ending with these bold flavors to nudge the timid palates at the bistro that night.   

Dessert was a chilled soup of sour cherry and amaretto, vanilla ice cream with a pinch of fleur de sel and chocolate covered dehydrated beef bacon that had people holding it up to the light, perplexed by a concept new to Cairo. Ending on a light note, the chefs wrapped up the night with complex flavors.

Favoring a quick chat with the chefs post-dégustation, I realize that Chef Ayman  Samir has not slept the night before, Chef Wesam Masoud is down with a flu but has managed to pull through and Chef Moustafa El Refaey with the inner excitement of the arrival of his recent newborn is hiding away from the diners’ eyes, working to finish off his night on a high note and go home. This is achievement: three men working with their teams to provide Cairo with a contemporary outlook on food while maintaining a sense of comfort. Ayman Samir cinched the night after all was done, “This was meant to be a night for everyone.”      

Lunchbox Pasta: Pesto Pasta Salad

As featured in The Egypt Monocle

My lunch box was not a friend. I didn’t bond with it, would not look forward to hearing it snap open and found no pleasure in its content. Considering it a waste of my arm’s energy, I slugged it over to school reluctantly, with a new trick I had learned — the eye roll. The only thing I liked about it was that I’d choose a new one each year, reflecting my ever-morphing personality through brightly colored images glued onto boxed plastic.

In the first grade, I was dubbed a “cookie monster”, protesting against sandwiches until I was allowed to carry only cookies. That bit of excitement didn’t last long. The lunch box tradition died out as I got taller but a persistent packed lunch was shoved into my backpack pocket by mom; and when I’d return home, intact sandwich and bagged apple would be stuffed in secrecy into a deep corner of my desk, left to darken and rot.

Lunch boxes came back to haunt me in 2010. My two stepchildren, wanting to fit into their new school — a melting pot of nationalities, were heavily depending on me to do their lunch boxes justice, to compete with moms preparing tiffins packed neatly with fresh parathas, curried vegetables and a side of mango pickle. Sandwiches just weren’t going to do the trick when the kids are coming back with stories of snacking on seaweed with a Korean friend during recess.

So I pushed back with pasta salads, homemade burgers and juice boxes that doubled as ice packs on hot days; and on rainy days, a bowl of packed rice, slow-cooked beef and root vegetables then for later, a mini dessert muffin. On occasion, the leftover molokheyya would make an appearance, which apparently had been fed to many mouths hailing from different countries with the same plastic spoon.

It could be said that I am no one to encourage many Egyptian moms to put a little more thought into their kids’ lunchboxes because it may seem that I try hard only to compensate for the fact that I am not, in reality, my stepkids’ “real” mom. Yes, there is truth in that I am over-delivering, overreaching to try to please the hearts of two young ones that found themselves in my home, but what I have learned is that most children, when given the opportunity and the right circumstances, will enjoy a variety of different foods that we as adults might not think to feed them.

It’s tiring to see the same things on kids’ menus everywhere and now in their lunch boxes to replace the regular white bread Nutella sandwich — chicken nuggets, french fries and pizza. If Chinese children are gobbling up slices of baked tofu and wolfing down plates of kai-lan, and Indian children are scooping up mounds of coconut rice and fleshy bits from a fish head curry, what are we doing? If we’re a culture that enjoys eating so much, where is the depth? Why is there fear in training our children’s palate — an automatic “no, he/she won’t like this”?

What so many of us are sending to school is afterthought food, with little consideration of the boredom that ensues when eating the same things for a few long years. Here’s a different idea below and if you don’t like it, there are many other recipes and ideas on blogs and popular food websites about lunch boxes. Visit Lunchbox Blues, a blog where J.M. Hirsch chronicles 180 days of school meals as well as how his son grows to accept certain foods. You can go through Shirmiya’s blog, Happy Little Bento, where she outdoes us all with her delicate hand and creative presentation. If those don’t work for you, there’s always Googling “best lunch box ideas for kids”. Whatever it is, just do something different this school year.

Pesto Pasta Salad

You’ll need:
2 cups of dry pasta (around 200 grams)
½ cup of basil pesto
½ cup of peas, cooked (around 75 grams)
1 medium-sized colored pepper, thinly sliced
½ a cup of seeded black kalamata olives (around 90 grams)
3 tablespoons of almonds, roughly chopped (around 30 grams)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
The juice of half a lemon

Basil Pesto:
(Recipe adapted from Elise Bauer)
2 cups of basil leaves, fresh
⅓ cup of pine nuts
½ a cup of Roumy cheese, grated
½ a cup of olive oil
3 large garlic cloves, minced
Salt and pepper

To make the pesto:
Combine the garlic, basil leaves and pine nuts in a food processor and pulse several times. Drizzle the olive oil into the food processor while continuing to blend. Pour in a thin stream until finished. Pulse until smooth then add the salt, pepper and cheese. Pulse 2 more times before pouring out.

For the pasta:
Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil then add your dried pasta. Cook until tender but firm. When done, drain and set the pasta aside. In a separate bowl, combine the peas, olives, colored pepper and almonds then add the pasta. Toss and store in an airtight container. Put the pesto and lemon juice into a separate covered container. Refrigerate both. Remove from the refrigerator when it is time to pack. Whisk the pesto and lemon juice together before pouring it over the pasta and accompanying vegetables. Toss gently and separate servings for packing.

Rave Reviews & a 3-Bean Salad

As featured in The Egypt Monocle

It is a rare occasion to find me visiting a Cairo restaurant based on a local review; but how much of this is my fault, this fear that I should not trust what is seemingly penned down without an afterthought? Do I skip over errors in technique descriptors and succumb to a world of uninteresting words that gives me nothing but cues that the reviewer cannot move past terms like “mouth-watering,” “amazing” and, I say this with a sigh, “perfect”?

Today, many Egyptians who have not stepped foot in a kitchen have decidedly taken on the online job of restaurant critic, with a virtuoso opinion that is customarily courteous and inclusive of the word “yummy,” that disregards the gray and congealed sauce that has been served atop a dry and under-seasoned steak.

It is known that the internet has opened doors to many who would in the 1980s have had no place to sound their voices. Food blogs and restaurant review aggregators have come to Egypt. We are now able to click through a multitude of links that invite us to eat at neighborhood restaurants through our screens and other people’s palates but most of the verbiage dedicated to restaurants ends up similar in style: dazzled amateurs happy with their cozy new positions, preferring not to write anything if they didn’t like the food.

It takes thick skin to tell the truth and most reviews have been ultimately forgiving about the food and service. On some days, the glorification and praise know no bounds and we are left to wonder how many of those favorable reviews are concealing a simple monthly fee.

There are ways to fix this doomed scenario we’re living in. It just takes some effort in between eating and kowtowing to the popular.

If you’re planning on becoming a published restaurant critic, begin to draw on your experiences as both an eater and a cook. If you have never cooked, get yourself into the kitchen and begin following tested recipes from reputable sources, both traditional and others with international flavors that may be fresh and unusual when paired. Learn what the world considers good.

Work on your writing skills; poorly constructed reviews will often be taken less seriously. Prove yourself through detailed pieces over a lengthy period of time. Visit the restaurant at least three times before liberally handing out your review, cover as many menu items as possible and check for consistency. If you’re going to be reviewing, no free meals should be accepted.

Do not hide behind your reviews claiming that you are only an amateur. If you’re regularly providing the market with reviews, you’ll need to get better. Recognize how hard the process can be: eating, having a critical opinion, maintaining anonymity at the restaurant, taking notes, revisiting and writing as honestly and intricately as possible to convey the atmosphere of said place.

Finally and for the love of our country, find a better word for “delicious.”

Three Bean Salad
You’ll need
70 grams edamame, shelled and cooked
90 grams black eyed peas, cooked
70 grams chickpeas, cooked
2 tablespoons of scallions, chopped
1 small onion, diced
1 clove of garlic, minced
1 medium red pepper, diced
1 tablespoon of sugar
2 tablespoons of apple cider vinegar
1½ tablespoon of vegetable oil
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

In a pot, boil some salted water and add the edamame in small handfuls. Cook for 4-5 minutes and drain in a colander. Set aside to cool. Once cool, remove from their shells and place in your salad bowl.

Prepare another pot of salted water. Place the black eyed peas in the water then bring it to the boil. Allow to boil for 3 minutes then lower the heat. Simmer for another 30 minutes then drain. When the black eyed peas have cooled, place them with the shelled edamame in the salad bowl.

If you’re using canned chickpeas, drain and rinse before using. If you’re using fresh, allow to soak overnight before cooking the next day. To cook, place them in a pot of cold water and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat immediately and simmer until tender and plump. Drain and cool. When they’ve lost some heat, add them to your salad bowl. Toss the beans together.

In a small bowl, mix together the sugar, vinegar, oil, salt, pepper, onions, scallions and garlic and pour over your salad. Mix and chill before serving.

Orzo Chicken Salad & Letters to Friends

As featured in the Foodbuzz Top 9 (May 8th, 2012)

In early January 2011, Heba El Kayal, Lifestyle Editor of what recently was The Daily News Egypt, reached out to me, spinning my head with her subdued charm. Setting a date on email to Skype, I wondered what it was that she would ask me and why she had chosen me to interview, an unemployed Egyptian food blogger living in Kuala Lumpur.  All I had ever done was milk out every bit of silliness I had in me for my blog, that coupled with a recipe to go along with said dose of triviality.

Meeting her for the first time through a screen allowed me a glimpse of cold Cairo on a winter morning. Having had to suffer through many a female more concerned with proving through her dress sense that she had what it required to pull off her job, Heba caught me off-guard. A connection was formed at once. 

Bundled up on her bed in a robe and glasses, she greeted me as an old friend as I was quickly taken through the history of The Daily News Egypt. She was interviewing me because she was always on the look out for new talent. She was interviewing me because she thought I deserve some recognition. I did not see myself as talent; just effort and a little luck. 

Today, I have been the weekly food columnist for a year and a good quarter. The Daily News Egypt interview about my blog resulted in an opportunity to write regularly, to sharpen my skills, and most rewarding of all, to find sisterhood in a passerby. 

Heba, I cannot express my appreciation enough - for the days you pushed me to get out of my funk and fly, for the days you embraced my weaknesses and often, sadness. Thank you for being my editor, my keeper, my friend.  

Orzo Chicken Salad
You'll need:
1/2 cup of orzo
1.5 cups of chicken stock
1.5 cups of water
150 grams of grilled chicken, shredded
1 large red bell pepper, diced (I used 1 small red & 1 small yellow)
7 large kalamata olives, seeded and chopped
1 clove of garlic, minced
1 big handful of chives, snipped
3 tablespoons of olive oil 
Juice of 1 lime
1 teaspoon of whole grain mustard
1/4 teaspoon of chili powder
Salt and pepper to taste

Bring the water and chicken stock to a boil. Add the orzo to the pot and stir for a moment to ensure that it doesn't stick to the bottom. Cook uncovered until the orzo is al dente. While the pasta is cooking, combine the chicken, bell peppers and olives in a large bowl. Mix half of the chives into the salad. When the orzo is ready, strain and toss through the other ingredients. In a small bowl, mix together the olive oil, lime juice, mustard, chili powder, garlic, salt and pepper to make a light dressing and pour over the orzo salad mixing gently as you go along to ensure it coats the salad ingredients. Garnish with the second half of snipped chives and serve chilled.  

Food Myths and a Roasted Aubergine Salad

As featured in The Daily News Egypt.

We sit in the sticky tropical heat, a lone cat observing us from afar, wondering with a tilt of its head, why we have occupied her bench with our derrieres. In reality, it is not the cat's fault. We rarely sit on my friend's bench in her garden except for when she forces me to smoke outdoors (which is good for my manners). Staring at the cat as I enjoy my guilty pleasure, she asks me if I wash my chicken before cooking. Should I lie?

I knew that many Egyptians scrub their chicken to oblivion before cooking — some with salt, some with flour, some with both and some even choose to douse it in vinegar — not to improve its texture but for cleanliness.

“No, maybe a quick tap rinse if it's been leaking,” I answered, secretly afraid that my level of hygiene would fall victim to judgment.

“Mmm. That's what I learned in class. The French chefs are saying it's pointless. You kill the bacteria when it cooks. My mom still washes hers the old way,” she says, exasperated.

The reality of it is that many of your older relatives will do this. What's sad is that they will try to pass this habit on to you, which will only lead to tough, chewy chicken. A year later, when I took the same class, I was taught the same — do not wash unless necessary. Yet still, the Elders refuse to listen to their youth, despite my certificate and official entry into adulthood through the golden gates of marriage.

In countless modern cookbooks today, you'll find recipes that do not include rinsing chicken. It is not because it is a given, it is due to research that confirms washing your chicken leaves room for cross-contamination in your kitchen by scattering its juices unnecessarily thus leaving you more at risk of contracting salmonella.

The next time you are unsure of a tedious kitchen habit that you have been dictated, do your research or learn from a professional. You'll understand that many food myths have been debunked throughout the years. Let's run through a few.

Fat-free is not calorie-free. Adding salt to your water will not make it boil faster. Microwaves do not zap away all the nutrients; neither does boiling your ingredients. Best of all, you have no excuse for the extra calories you consume because your body does not crave something when it is deficient in one of its nutrients. You are not a deer despite how svelte you are and you are not prone to salt licks. My apologies for breaking it to you so bluntly, but chocolate cravings are indeed emotional.

Learn that you are not a sheep. There are habits worth following and others that you can dismiss to make room for better ones. Instead of scrubbing your chicken dry, blow dry it (yes, with a blow dryer) until the skin loses its moisture. This will result in beautifully crispy golden skin. New habits, new start.

Today, I'd like to share one of my favorite salads with you. One that is regularly found in my mom's fridge and now with a few updates, in mine, making this one of the good habits I'm willing to carry the torch for. Taking more time to prepare than a regular salad, it rewards you by sticking around longer than a fresh salad and can be eaten at just about any time of the day. It's also worth the garlic breath.

Roasted Aubergine Salad

You'll need:

4 small yellow bell peppers
4 medium-sized aubergines
2 cups of button mushrooms, sliced
1 teaspoon of whole grain mustard
10 raw almonds, peeled and finely chopped
2 handfuls of flat leaf parsley, chopped
5-7 cloves of garlic, minced, depending on the strength
Juice of 1½ lemon
1 large chili pepper, finely diced
1 teaspoon of chili powder
40 ml + 1 tablespoon of olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 190 degrees Celsius. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or aluminum foil. Place the bell peppers on the sheet. Pop them in the oven. Every 20 minutes, turn the peppers using their stems so that they aren't lying on the same side throughout the roasting process. Their skin will start to puff up and char all around. Rotate the peppers evenly throughout the process. After an hour, they should be evenly browned. Take the peppers out and let them cool in a covered bowl. When the peppers have cooled, peel them. The peel should slip off and the peppers themselves will be slippery. Slice them and set aside.

At the same time, place the aubergines in a hot pan on high heat. Every few minutes, rotate them until they become black and blistered all around. Continue to do this for half an hour and remove when they become very soft. Cool and peel. Mash in a bowl, add the peppers and set aside. On medium heat, heat 1 tablespoon of oil. Add the mushrooms, mustard and a dash of salt and sauté for 5-7 minutes. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, combine the aubergine, peppers, mushrooms, garlic, chili pepper and chili powder, salt, pepper and almonds. Mix then and then add the chopped parsley at the end. Add the lemon juice and olive oil. Serve cold or at room temperature.

Warm Potato Salad (minus the mayonnaise)

Below is my column featuring this recipe in The Daily News Egypt dated Saturday, July 16th, 2011.

A dish that puzzles me to no end is potato salad. I've spent many moments questioning why people insist on calling it just that, “potato salad” despite their variations of it being so far apart. In my mind, a few things were certain. Potato salad is generally eaten in the summer. You'll never know what kind of potato salad you're getting until it's plopped in front of you. The inclusion of carbohydrates into a salad doesn't always make it good.

My mother's potato salad is one I enjoy. With her incorporation of fragrant herbs, potatoes that crack under the slight pressure of my fork, and the light drizzle of a zesty vinaigrette, it never fails to startle my taste buds into summery freshness. It has also traveled with us to any city we moved and has been a stable constant in a constantly changing household.

As you grow older, you begin visiting friends' homes and you begin to find out that their mothers, too, have potato salad on offering. Initially, I thought it was just that one friend's mom that adds a gloppy mess of store-bought mayonnaise to a bunch of other ingredients that I could never decipher. It turns out I was wrong and even at the age of 11, I could begin to tell that gloppy mayonnaise was a trend by the sheer abundance of it.

This made me realize then and there that while my mother's approach to cooking was still heavily influenced by the French kitchen, other mothers were well on their way to becoming well-versed in the ways of the Nineties' American kitchen – frying, substituting sauces with melting cheese, and using mayonnaise as a key ingredient in as many salads as possible.

This mayonnaise-laden salad began to make an appearance at barbecues, potlucks and picnics. It was easy to pack and the ladies proudly putting them together could ensure that there would be no wilting greens staring sadly up at them when it came time to serve. While those ladies rejoiced, the people who did not participate in the cooking were served double helpings of a potato salad that fell to pieces at the gentle prodding of their fork - potato salad that would rather be called Mayo-mash.

Usually, the equation of store-bought mayonnaise plus potatoes and not much else leaves me recalling childhood memories from my registry of regret but as I approach my 27th birthday, I realize that this registry cannot take much more salad sadness so I've decided to put a list together of some basic potato salad suggestions.

A good potato salad needs texture so it's best to use a low to medium-starch potato. These are generally known as waxy potatoes and are the sort that hold their shape well so they don't take a beating as easily.

Try to use fresh herbs and spices to bring up the flavor or you'll end up with a bland, avoidable dish. Always add the spices to the potatoes when they are hot as they tend to absorb more flavor that way. If you're feeling more adventurous, you can add almonds for a bit of crunch or green beans to the mix.

If you insist on using mayonnaise, experiment by flavoring it with a dollop of whole-grain or Dijon mustard and a bit of garlic. Know that if you decide to eliminate the mayonnaise or creamy dressing, your potato salad will hold up better for a longer period of time, especially if you're making it for an outdoorsy summer event. That and the fact that it'll be lighter on the stomach.

Using mayonnaise or creamy dressings also means that your potato salad should remain chilled at all times to avoid the dressing spoiling because of the heat.

Look at your potato salad as a dish that should take some attention off the mains instead of being an unnoticeable accompaniment made up of creamy, starchy stuff. You could skip the mayonnaise all together and make a vinaigrette of lemon juice, mustard and olive oil. You could even replace the waxy potatoes with roasted sweet potatoes. The ideas are endless, the way it should be and only after writing this do I understand why people call it Potato Salad. There's not much else you can call it without sounding esoteric. Here's my version that can be served without chilling but works equally as well straight out of the fridge.

Indian-inspired Warm Potato Salad
You'll need:
4 potatoes
2 teaspoons of whole cumin seeds
1 teaspoon of mustard seeds
1 teaspoon cumin powder
1-teaspoon coriander powder
½ teaspoon chili powder
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 fresh whole chili, sliced
2 tablespoons of sunflower oil
The juice of 1 lime
¼ cup of hot water
1 handful of chopped coriander, to garnish
Salt to taste

Par-boil the potatoes for around 15 minutes until slightly tender. Remove from the heat and leave to cool. Peel the potatoes then cut into large cubes. Heat a large frying pan over a high flame then add the oil. Add the cumin and mustard seeds along with the sliced fresh chili.

Leave for about 30 seconds then add the cumin, coriander and chili powders as well as the turmeric. Lower your heat to medium and stir to combine all the spices. Once fragrant, add the potatoes and mix until they are well coated in your spice mixture then add the salt and water.

Allow the water to be absorbed by the potatoes but stir every minute or so for around 5 minutes so that the potatoes don't stick to the bottom of the pan. When the potatoes are almost dry, squeeze the limejuice on top, stir to combine then turn off the heat and allow to cool. Before serving, add a handful of fresh coriander.

Honey Roasted Pear Salad for The Daily News Egypt

Warning: Bad Poetry
Hello, hello, whoever you are, whoever you are today. 
I'm in quite the silly mood but don't have much to say.
There's a new column out if you'd like to know.
I've been quite busy but even so
there's always time to think of food
when silliness is the mood.  

Honey Roasted Pear with an Apple Thyme Vinaigrette (Serves 8)


Vinaigrette
5 tablespoons of unsweetened apple juice
4 tablespoons of white wine vinegar or cider vinegar
1 small shallot, finely diced
2 teaspoons of fresh thyme, chopped
⅓ cup of vegetable oil
A splash of balsamic vinegar


Pears
2 bunches of fresh thyme
4 grainy but firm pears, halved and cored
⅓ cup of honey
Coarse salt and black pepper to taste
Salad
1 small head of butter head lettuce, torn
115 grams of rocket
120 grams of blue cheese, crumbled
½ cup of hazelnuts, coarsely chopped


Vinaigrette ● Whisk all ingredients in a small bowl.

Pears and salad ● Preheat oven to 175 degrees Celsius.
● Place thyme sprigs on a baking sheet or parchment paper.
● Place your pear halves, cut side down, on a chopping board. Starting 1.5 centimeters from each stem, cut lengthwise into 1 centimeter slices. Apply pressure gently to fan out the slices.
● Place pears directly on the thyme. Drizzle the pears with honey then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake until pears are tender, about 15 minutes. Turn your oven off and allow them to rest in place for half an hour before serving.
● Combine lettuce, rocket in a large bowl. Add prepared vinaigrette and toss to coat. You could also opt to serve the vinaigrette separately. Divide salad into separate portions. Place the pear halves alongside your salad. Garnish your salad with blue cheese and top with hazelnuts.