Pissaladière

People don’t change.

Or at least… that’s always been my theory.

Sure, you can change your mind, change your hair, change your job or even change your life, but I’m fairly certain that the majority of people, if not all, don’t actually fundamentally change from the time they first establish themselves as who they are.

I think that the difference between what most people perceive as change and what I’m describing is simple, if a little bit hard to chew: I don’t think that we really know ourselves for most of our lives. I was famous in high school for being “lobotomy girl,” constantly jumping from one thing, one look, one personality, even, to the next: the root of my 18-month itch that I now know so well. To other people, it seems as though I’ve changed a lot, and on the outside, I have: I don’t have that army-print jacket or the orange hair that so many people associated with who I was. But the person that I was, as much as my dreams and aspirations and goals have changed, is still the same person.

This has always been my theory, and I’ve stuck through it. But recently, I’ve started questioning it. Is it possible for a person to truly change? To really become someone different and distinct from who they used to be? I’ve always thought that I must be essentially the same person I was when I was 13 or 14, after all, this is me and that was me. But I’ve recently gotten back in touch with some people who knew me way back when, and well… it’s strange what talking to someone who knew a younger version of yourself will force you to remember about who you used to be and what used to be important to you. It’s a very weird idea for me, but I’ve been rolling it around in my head, trying to see if I like the way it tastes.

I still don’t know… I’m not sure I’ll ever make up my mind: even if I do end up liking this new idea, I’m too stubborn to reject my old ways. Until then, I leave you with something else that you may have to learn to like, but that’s worth it in the end. Pissaladière is often referred to as Nicois pizza, a dish of dough with caramelized onions, anchovies and olives. It’s got all sorts of tastes that kids find hard to swallow, but when you learn to love it, it’s divine.

Pissaladière

1 pâte feuilletée or puff pastry dough
2 Tbsp. butter
1 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
2 onions, thinly sliced
1/2 cup white wine
1/2 tsp. herbes de Provence
1 tin anchovies
several black olives (6-12 depending on the size of your pissaladière)
salt and pepper

Heat a skillet over low heat and add the oil and butter. When the butter has melted, add the onions with a pinch of salt. Allow to cook without stirring for fifteen minutes or so, until the onions begin to color. Add about half of the wine and continue to cook. Stir every 2-3 minutes until the onions have caramelized, adding wine when they look dry. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

When the onions are cooked, stir in the herbes de Provence and some fresh black pepper.

Unfold the dough and lay it on a baking sheet or in a tarte pan. Fork it all over. Spread the onions in an even layer over the dough. Lay the anchovies over the onions to form a diamond pattern, with an olive between each diamond (see photo). Bake at 450 degrees 5-10 minutes, until the dough is browned. Serve hot or cold.