Some of my earliest encounters with biscotti were closely associated with work. The art of skiving, to be exact. It was not as blatant as leaving the office to hang out just about anywhere, anytime. My job at that time was to sell advertising space on the internet and, depending on the client's business, to push for an e-commerce store to be set up by the company I represented. 

The dotcom boom in Singapore at the start of a new century meant exploring new possibilities among small and medium enterprises for greater opportunities out there, despite not knowing much about the internet. It was my job to cold-call potential clients, get myself in their office to educate and close the deal. I use the word "educate" because most of my colleagues were hardcore salespeople. Hard-selling was their strategy, something I could not bring myself to embrace.

My sales director was a "cili padi" - a feisty, ambitious, aggressive leader with an insatiable appetite for sales revenue, attractively packaged in but five feet two inches. She was so sharp one had better not try to be funny, especially when one's sales figure had not been up to her expectations. Imagine your name on the whiteboard, with a daily, weekly, monthly and to-date (ie. since your very first day in the job) sales achieved. You'd also receive the printout every Monday morning at the sales team meeting. There were as many as forty salespeople, experienced and otherwise. Staff turnover was regular.

So what does that have to do with biscotti? 

I don't trade shares. In fact I did very badly in Financial Mathematics back in uni when my classmates were already dabbling in the stock market, which was why they took up that module. That said, I think I have some very desirable qualities to be a good trader: intuition, discipline, patience, and decisiveness. 

Some of you would have seen photos of the cherry tree at JL's parents' house. When it is in full harvesting season, paying for cherries becomes a joke. I would anytime prefer pulling out a long chair under the tree and just keep popping those cherries like crazy. As if to satisfy a year's worth of craving. 

So the first time I came across a one-kilo tray of cherries going for RM 120, I had to ask the husband to witness the price-tag. And the first thing I will do when we go back to France again is to hug that tree in the garden. Yet at the same time, I think about cherry clafoutis constantly here in Kuala Lumpur. No amount of blueberry, mango or even pineapple clafoutis could sooth that yearning. 

I don't normally blog during the weekend but it is so hazy in Kuala Lumpur we are grounded. Self-imposed. Not that anyone is complaining since there are places worse than ours, and I feel sorry for the people who have to remain outdoors just to earn their keep. Like the drivers of trucks containing exhibition booth structures that wait all day at the holding area along Jalan Stonor - which is really a plot of open land that doubles as a carpark whenever possible - to enter the loading bay at the convention center. 

And I wonder if the family that sets up their weekday breakfast stall by the roadside near Exxon-Mobil building would be there tomorrow. Will they be wearing masks during those three hours or so? I really hope it would rain even for half an hour just so everyone could take a breather from this hazy atmosphere. 

One of our favourite pastimes is to (don't judge please!) go to Times bookstore at Pavilion or Bangsar Shopping Center, pick a few magazines or books, head to the in-house café, order coffee and spend an hour there reading. The café has seen a change of hands and it is now run by Espressolab. Don't ask us how they rate, though, because we always ask for two piccolos and a complimentary bottle of water. But based on those and their warm hospitality, an afternoon there can be very pleasant when it is quiet. And that we go there regularly says enough.

A recent weekday afternoon there, I sat through Leon Family & Friends cover to cover. It was tempting to bring the book home with me but I am already having a hard time keeping up with those on my shelves. The book is beautifully decorated with old photos, styled shots of appealing ideas for the home kitchen, and hand-drawn illustrations. Nearly every recipe from the eclectic collection has a story behind it. I also love that it is designed in a typically retro colour scheme. However, one needs to exercise restrain now and then so the book may have to wait.

This is one of our all-time favourites at home. If you haven't been cooking for a while, you may want to get yourself warmed up with this because it is a very forgiving dish. It cannot go wrong and easily feeds four starving adults as a single-dish meal. All you need is bow-tie pasta, a thick slice of ham, one or two zucchinis depending on the size, a small tub of cream and some mozzarella.

As with most of my French (home-)cooking repertoire, I learned it from JL's mother. The only difference is the choice of pasta. She uses mini ravioli stuffed with cheese that would be so cute for kids, but unfortunately, I have yet to see it here in Kuala Lumpur. Thus the next best thing: bow-tie pasta, or farfalle (butterflies in Italian) as it is also called. 

Made chicken pot pie two Sundays ago. In our last two or three visits to Ben's, I noticed JL had been ordering chicken pot pie. When asked if it was really that good, he simply said that he wanted some pastry crust. 

I think I understand what he meant. It's nice to have warm pastry crust covering a bowl of savoury, creamy chicken with chunky vegetables. As long as the vegetables are not cooked to death, I can see myself enjoying it too, despite feeling barely lukewarm for chicken pot pie.

My assignment: read up chicken pot pie recipes by the usual suspects, then see if I could come up with my own version. Not too fatty and more importantly not time-consuming. Flipping back and forth between cookbooks and websites, I compared, in particular, the roux, combination of ingredients, sequence, choice of pastry and the oven settings. 

My mother-in-law sent me a cookbook by postal mail when we were living in the States. All because her son expressed his love for savoury cakes that he could only have back in his parents' home. The book, small and slim, has no less than seventy recipes for cakes both savoury and sweet. Not that I am supposed to make every single one of them but rather, for me to look through and compare variations of savoury cakes, so that I could come up with one I could claim ownership of.

In general, to compare making a savoury cake to that of a sweet one, there is only one phrase to sum it all up: same-same but different. Obviously there is no sugar in the former, while butter makes way for olive oil, sunflower oil or even white wine. Instead of chocolate chips, nuts, dried fruits, ingredients such as ham, sausage, shrimp, cheese, olives, capsicum, zucchini are used. There is even one recipe in the book with chicken gizzard. 

But thank God my husband prefers simple combinations of ham, cheese, olives for the cakes, just so he could pair it with something else on the side. Just a few suggestions here: lightly tossed greens, chopped salad like tabbouleh, coleslaw, warm tender carrots for a light dinner, or rock melon with prosciutto on a super-hot day. 

I will be lying if I tell you it is easy to make these. (I will share with you my mistakes at the end of this post.) But they are nonetheless edible as long as you pop a nice homogenous batter into the oven. It can be done with a balloon whisk or wooden spoon - you just need to work your arm muscles crazily for some ten seconds when incorporating the oil. Remember to hug the mixing bowl with your left arm to keep the bowl still while stirring with your right hand, and then repeat the process changing arms. Crazy, I know, but it costs nothing.

First things first: kla-foo-tee. That's how the word is pronounced. 

Clafoutis is one of the classic French desserts which you will never find in most cafés or dessert shops. Probably because it is so easily homemade that one is embarrassed to charge money for it. Okay, I was only half joking. Unless it is served in pretty single-portion baking dishes, charged at the same price point as crème brûlée, I really doubt it'd be feasible to put clafoutis on one's menu. And that's my half-assed amateurish deduction as to why it is rarely found when eating out. 

Clafoutis is essentially a baked, firm batter with some fruit in it, the classic choice being fresh whole cherries. Talk to the French about cherry clafoutis and you will see the opposing sides of pitting or not pitting the cherries. The latter, some say, will add a subtle nutty flavour to the dessert. Ask my mother-in-law and she will shrug her shoulders and say that's how she does it because she doesn't have time to remove the stones, and besides, why spoil something that's not broken?