Child, Ecaterina Paraschiv fled the dictatorship of Ceauşcescu with his parents. In France, after a tax advocate career, she opened her Parisian restaurant, ibrik, to transmit a modernized European cuisine.
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“Eating is an essential and primitive act. It’s, for me, the most universal and inclusive way to discover a culture, and that’s why I dropped my career as a lawyer to devote me a few years ago, at the kitchen of my country of origin. I was born in Romania, I grew up in Bucharest until the age of 7, and I still have a lot of memories and d ‘Fasteners, even if it was rough years. We were under the communist dictatorship of Nicolae Ceauşescu [1918-1989], there were a lot of frustrations, not enough food, very few fruits and vegetables in town. Fortunately, we Planes of the family in the country that sent us good vegetables when she could …
What we ate was very basic, but my mother always managed to put a lot of flavors in his cuisine. Romania remained a rural, very agricultural country, the campaigns are woven small farms, where everyone cultivates his plot to feed, and there are farmers in all families. Agriculture and breeding are still rustic, as Monsanto’s chemicals are too expensive. Somewhere is poverty that saves peasants from the grip of massive agro-industrialization.
In Romania, especially when I was going in my family north of the country, I learned to feel, cooking, to make canned to throw anything … we ate many starchy starchy, like the potato or corn, root vegetables and products from picking, very little meat. We had a single meal a day, in the evening. Regularly, especially in autumn, it was Ciulama, a dish in sauce with mushrooms (harvested by us) and polenta, one of the cheapest and most consistent dishes. This simple dish marked my childhood.
When I was 6 years old, my father, visual artist, won a price at the FIAC [International Fair of Contemporary Art] which allowed him to come to France. On his arrival, he was impressed by the abundance and diversity of the products: he was particularly fascinated by the public bins full of multicolored packaging, while they were all gray in Romania … My mother and I were still at Bucharest, in a ghetto, and it took us a year before being able to join my father in Paris.
I have done higher education and the idea of devoting me to the kitchen did not touched me until my pregnancy, six years ago. The birth of my first child made me understand that I wanted to transmit my culture, my story, and I started in the IBRIK project in Paris. First a coffee, then, a year and a half later, Ibik Kitchen, the restaurant. I learned everything on the heap, being committed then partneck in my own establishment.
I worked a lot to get to what I wanted to: discover the authentic Kitchen of the Balkans by modernizing it. This is the story of this ciulama: I removed the flour, which weaves the sauce, added a little cream and herbs, grilled the polenta … there is nothing that rejoices more than when my parents come Eating at the restaurant and say “find the taste, but in better” “.