vegetable broth... simply put

I forgot to post my vegetable broth recipe for the Farro Soup I just posted... so here it is :
equal amounts (give or take a little)  in grams or ounces of leek (mainly white part) and carrot
½ the amount of celery (along with a couple leaves) and red onion (no more than quartered)
a garlic clove or two, if desired, peeled and left whole
a couple three few fresh parsley and thyme sprigs
1, 2 , 3  or 4 fresh bay leaves, some peppercorns and unrefined sea salt
and any other peels and parings sitting on your kitchen counter…

for about 2 liters :
200 gr carrots,
200 gr leeks (remove most of the tops, using only the tender inner green part)
100 gr celery (along with just a couple leaves)
100 gr red onion (cut into quarters)
1 large garlic clove, peeled and left whole
1 – 2 fresh bay leaves
3 full sprigs fresh parsley
2 full sprigs fresh thyme
1 tBsp coarse unrefined sea salt
1/4 tsp peppercorns
Add any peels, stems, outer leaves, squash seeds, etc... you think might enhance the broth, rather than throwing them away.
IN THIS CASE, ADD THE KABOCHA OR BUTTERNUT SEEDS.

Cut the leek, carrot and celery into nice thin crosswise slices and drop into a large pan along with the bay leaves, thyme, parsley, and peppercorns. Cover with water by a good 2 inches. Bring the covered pot to a boil. Add the sea salt and cook uncovered, just at a simmer, for 45 minutes - 1 hour. The vegetables should be quite soft.
Strain immediately, pressing the vegetables against the side of the strainer to recuperate all the liquid. Strain again through a fine-sieve strainer, if desired, to remove any floating particles.

Note : Cooking at a higher heat or for over 1 hour will give your broth a bitter taste.

On an un-wasteful note : You can pass the cooked stock vegetables through a foodmill, add a bit of water or leftover broth, unrefined sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste, and heat in a saucepan. Served with a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and maybe a few shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano — it makes for a great quick soup.

"comment tailler les vignes" in Couffy

Down below is a recipe for a hearty, nourishing soup made with farro grains and winter squash I recently came across. But first a little tale of swaying vines...

I climbed into a rented car and tootled happily down the autoroute - direction la Touraine in the Loire Valley - to visit an artisan winemaker and get a lesson in "comment tailler les vignes."
I drove across the Cher River at Saint Aignan, followed la fleuve aways then turned up a hill toward Couffy and into the driveway of La Lunotte and the artisan world of Christophe Foucher, a most kindly, if not profoundly passionate, wizard of natural wine — only the bare essentials: the grapes, the organic soil they grow in, the sun they flourish in, the wind they dance in, the water they draw up, the micro organisms they absorb... basta!
He took me to his Rossignoux vineyard with its 80-year-old Sauvignon blanc vines: from afar their venerable forms seemed to gyrate to the swaying groove of some inaudible blues: Charlie Parker, Mingus... No wonder it's such an eloquent wine!

Handing me a pair of secateurs, Christophe patiently drew me into the ritual of pruning vines. Gazing at the geometric maze of sarments, rameaux et pousses (canes, branches and shoots) before me, I was at once mesmerized and daunted. So much robust life was going to be snipped off, and if so it had to be done with skill and "feeling."

As he explained, tending to grapevines is a bit like the practice of bonsai... with a very different end in mind. Curtailing the exuberant tendency of the vine, removing the previous year's wood - on which all its plump grapes bulged - allows it to produce new strong shoots in spring and healthy grapes for next year's vintage.
By the end of two rows of hesitating, interrupting Christophe for advice, clipping, I started to understand and "almost" feel... though the skill is some time off down the road.
Inspiring it is to watch someone who has mastered his craft! And to think that he prunes his vines single handed... That's close to 10 acres!

archives : windosill pesto july '08

The end of the archives.............

I went to visit with a woman I recently met in Paris. We sat and chatted mainly about food: the state of it growing on windowsills, in small gardens, on family farms, in large agro-industry fields. I told her about an article Whose Harvest? The Politices of Organic Seed Certification I had recently read concerning the future of organic produce (a good read ), the up- and downsides of it being "appropriated" by the agro-industry, now that it has become a profitable business. This surely offers people a greater awareness of what they eat, where their food comes from, how it is produced, and the possibility of now finding it in vegetable and fruit aisles at grocery stores everywhere. But the downside, less known, is also how the agro-industry is and has been pushing for a weakening in the labeling of what can be sold as organic. Nothing is perfect...

Another friend joined us and we carried on talking about Italian cuisine and the marvelously creative and central role - born out of necessity long ago - the noble array of roots, bulbs, leaves, fruits and flowers, which comprise the vegetable kingdom, play in the rich heritage of its manifold regional dishes ... And soon it was quite late.

We hadn’t originally planned on having dinner together, but hunger was calling. We went out into her kitchen to see what we could muster up. Seeing there wasn’t much in the refrigerator we came up with the idea of making a pesto pasta. Only the basil plant, sitting on the windowsill in the kitchen, had recently flowered and its leaves were few and far between. So I suggested we make a pesto with a mixture of the other herbs she had growing: mint, sage, thyme, and the few tiny basil leaves we managed to harvest. The other friend went to see what she had in her refrigerator and came back with a bag full of sweet cherry tomatoes. We swirled around in the kitchen and soon were sitting down to a big bowl of fettucini with herb pesto and tomatoes that was quite scrumptious.

Wine note: Wonderful with the 100% Carignan 2004 "Lo Vielh" from Clos du Gravillas.

I thought I’d pass on a variation of the recipe (below). I decided to call it Windowsill Pesto Fettucini:

WINDOSILL PESTO FETTUCINI  (serves 4)

1 lb linguini or fettucini

2 handfuls fresh mint

8-10 large sage leaves

1 small handful fresh thyme

1 small handful fresh basil

Pinch of rosemary leaves

1 handful pine nuts

5 tBsp grated pecorino

1 clove garlic

1/2 lb mixed cherry tomatoes

25-30 pitted green olives

Zest of 1 small lemon

6 tBsp extra-virgin olive oil

Salt and pepper

Using a sharp potato peeler, remove the zest from the lemon in long strips. Scrape off any pith. Slice the strips lengthwise into extremely thin slices. If you do this the night before, just place them in a bowl and leave it uncovered on the counter overnight. If you do it the same day, place them in the oven at the lowest temperature until they begin to curl (about 30 to 45 minutes). Be careful they don’t turn brown.

Put a big pot of salted water on to boil

In a mortar or blender mix together the herbs, garlic, pecorino and 3-4 tBsp olive oil. Add more olive oil if needed to create a nice paste. Season to taste with salt.

Cut the cherry tomatoes into halves or fourths. Do the same with the olives.Set aside.

Cook the linguini or fettucini, following the instructions on the bag. They should be al dente. Strain, reserving 2-4 tBsp of cooking water. Return pasta to the pot, add the pesto, tomatoes, olives and lemon. Mix well. If a bit dry add a tBsp or two of reserved cooking water and/or olive oil. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Serve in hot pasta bowls. Place a parmesan grater and a nice chunk of pecorino on the table.

Note: You can use any mixture and portion of herbs . For example, add or substitute a couple young celery leaves, a pinch of marjoram, some cilantro, arugula, even garden tea leaves...

You can substitute walnuts, cashews, blanched almonds or hazelnuts for the pine nuts, and parmesan for the pecorino.

Be creative... And bon appetit!

July 27, 2008

Blancmange is one of my favorite desserts, wonderfully light and refreshing on hot summer days. It's somewhat

like Italy's panna cotta (cooked milk), except that it is made with almond milk - and I thicken it with agar-agar. I'm always excited when I find scrumptious desserts that haven't the ubiquitous egg-milk combination. It makes for a nice change.

As for toppings, given its mild nutty flavor, just about anything that stirs the imagination goes wonderfully with it. I sometimes top it with a dark chocolate syrup, a blackberry or strawberry coulis, even a basil coulis. Along with spice cake, Blancmange (white food in English) is considered to be one of the oldest desserts in France. Grimod de La Reynière (a literary epicure from the 18th century) said that it originated in Langeudoc in the early Middle Ages, though its true origin remains unclear. It is thought that the introduction of almonds in Europe by the Arabs is at its origin.

In the beginning it was a white meat jelly made from pounded chicken or veal, almond milk, rice, sugar, rosewater, and a thickener. Sometime in the 17th century, blancmange became the white pudding that we know it as today. It arrived in Italy during the 12th century and curiously became a typical dessert in two of its most distant regions: Sicily and Val d'Aosta. In Sicily, it is traditionally cooked with lemon zest and cinnamon and each mold is served on a lemon-tree leaf.

Recently, a few friends have sent me articles on buying and eating local fruits and vegetables. It's amazing how this movement has sprung up and taken root, from CSA (community sustained agriculture) in the States (it's equal in France is AMAP - association

pour le maintien d'agriculture paysanne) to actually having someone plant and tend a vegetable garden right in your own backyard.

I thought I'd pass on these articles: Cutting Out the Middlemen, Shoppers Buy Slices of Farms and A Locally Grown Diet With Fuss but No Muss. Earlier this year, I also read a wonderful article on Amy Franceschini and her Victory Gardens project in edible San Francisco. It was very inspiring. Wow, that's a lot of links! Well, enjoy any or all!

Wine note: You might try a Moscato Passito di Pantelleria, from Sicily, or a Moscato d'Asti with this blancmange.

PEACH BLANCMANGE (serves 8)

450 gr (1 lb) sweet almonds, or 1 litre (4 1/4 cups) unsweetened almond milk

20 bitter almonds or 8 drops of almond extract or essence

4 tsp agar-agar flakes

125 gr (1/2 cup) cane sugar

To make almond milk:

Blanche sweet almonds and bitter almonds in boiling water for 1 minute. (If using almond extract, simply add it to the almond milk). Drain and let cool just long enough to be able to handle. Remove skins by squeezing one end of almond between fingers.

Let them soak in a bowl of cold water for 15 minutes to render them whiter. Liquidize the blanched almonds with 1 liter (4 1/4 cups) hot water. When the liquid is milky and the almonds very fine, strain mixture through muslin or a fine strainer, squeezing or pressing down to retrieve all the liquid. The almond milk can be made the day before.

To make blancmange:

Add the agar-agar to the almond milk (let the almond milk if you have just made it) and let stand for 10 minutes. Bring to boil over medium heat with cane sugar, stirring frequently. When sugar and agar-agar are dissolved (5-10 minutes) remove from heat. (If the agar-agar doesn’t dissolve completely, strain mixture). Pour the almond blancmange into a large mould or small individual ramekins (they will set faster). Leave aside to cool then refrigerate until firmly set.

Note: You can also blend a mixture of blanched nuts to make the nut milk, for example: 225 gr (1/2 lb) each of almonds and hazel nuts, or 400 gr (14 oz) almonds and 60 gr (1/2 cup) raw pistachios

Peach topping:

8 medium-sized ripe peaches

1 cup cane sugar

2 tsp (or 2 large pinches) fresh thyme leaves

1 handful blanched almonds, roasted, cooled, and cut into slivers

Mix sugar and peaches together and set aside to marinate for 2 hours. Bring to a boil then cook over medium heat for 12 minutes. Ladle off the foam that has collected on the top. Remove from heat and stir in thyme. Let cool before garnishing the blancmange. Sprinkle blancmange with roasted almond slivers Note: The peach topping can be made 2-3 days in advance.

archives : apple butter dec '08

With the helter-skelter rhythms of the season,the putting of ribbons on packages, the packing of bags as I get ready to fly to the States, this newsletter will be short but sweet. I wanted to mention a wonderful article I - only - recently read by Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore's Dilemma, called Farmer in Chief. It appeared in the NY Times Magazine at the beginning of October. For those of you who haven't read it, it's worth taking the time. It's an open letter to President-elect Obama: a succinct yet comprehensive overview of the state of our food and our relationship to it, suggestions by which to improve the manner food is grown and eventually distributed; and the simple beauty of how the Earth generously sustains us.

Inspired by his article, I thought I'd voice my suggestion for a News Year's resolution: plant one vegetable or herb pot on you windowsill, balcony, front porch, or in your backyard. Get just a bit of dirt under your fingernails. One sustaining potted plant that you can rejoice in eating from and that can, perhaps more than anything, connect us to the Earth. Seems an easy enough resolution, and one that will keep on giving. A courageous rosemary plant growing on the windowsill in the middle of winter has a nice ring to it.

I'm starting up the newsletter again after a wonderful vacation spent in the Loire Valley countryside with its resplendent royal chateaux, its unique minerally wines - such wonderful table companions to plant-based dishes, sumptuous, artisan goat cheese, and marvelous fresh, local vegetables, not to mention the skies and fields flowing toward the horizon in a display of infinite blues and greens as well as a litany of lilting rivers watched over by flocks of weeping willows.

I came back to Paris with a basketful of apples I picked off myriad enticing apple trees - their varieties a mystery to me - in the backyards of friends country houses and what was left of numerous loaves of bread and baguettes I couldn't resist buying at an amazing "more than off the beaten path" bakery Fournil de la Licorne, in Vallières-les-Grandes.

Laying my treasure out on the kitchen counter back home, I realized that I'd never be able to eat everything while still fresh, and not wanting to end up throwing any of it away - the amount of food we all, myself included, throw into the trash is a sad, almost criminal, reality - I decided to dedicate my Saturday to turning the leftover bread into croutons and the apples into apple butter. I canned the apple butter; it'll keep for months and I can open a jar now and then for a special breakfast treat (the French are not familiar with apple butter). As for the croutons, I put them into glass jars that now sit on a shelf within hand's reach. Added to a simple salad of lettuce, arugula, chunks of tomato, a smattering of black or green olives, and a few shavings of parmesan and I've got myself a more than satisfying lunch or light dinner.

And they'll keep nicely on the shelf for a month or so. And in the end, nothing but the apple peels ended up in the trash!

Now speaking of all that we end up throwing away... A few days after I got back to Paris, a friend gave me an article she'd saved from Le Monde newspaper, which to my surprise was exactly on that subject. Japanese author Jinnosuke Uotsuka has recently published two books (unfortunately not yet translated into English) "Japanese Who Let Their Food Spoil in the Fridge" and "Japanese Who Don't Let Their Food Spoil in the Fridge," a best-seller in Japan. (articles in English, French, Italian).

And here are a few addresses I never fail to visit when I'm in the Loire Valley:

Bernard Baudry Winery in Chinon - I come home every year with a few cases of his marvelous Chinon wines - Le Clos Guillot and La Croix Boisée - to put in my cellar, and never fail to drive down among his vineyard to pick basketful after basketful of succulent blackberries.

Champalou Vineyards in Vouvray - Catherine and Didier, vignerons independants, make some of the freshest, cleanest, embracing Vouvrays - their 'sec-tendre' goes marvelously with asparagus, one of those finicky vegetables when it comes to pairing it with wine.

Ferme-Auberge de La Lionnère - Frédéric and Francoise Bouland's truly exquisite goat cheese. You can find Françoise every Friday at the Montrichard open-air market or take a drive out to their farm and enjoy wonderful country-style lunch or dinner cooked by Françoise with products exclusively grown on their farm, and say hello to their goats, even watch as they are lovingly milked.

 Croutons

1/2 lb ( 250 gr) old bread (I made 2 batches, one with old baguettes and one with a dense flaxseed bread)
2 tsp fresh thyme leaves
1 tsp chopped rosemary leaves
1 large or 2 small cloves garlic, finely chopped
Zest of 1 lemon
2-3 tBsp extra virgin olive oil

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F.

Take old leftover bread, not too dry, cut off the crusts if you wish (I prefer to remove only the thicker crust) and cut into 3/4 inch cubes. In a large skillet sauté garlic, herbs and lemon zest for 1 minute. Add bread cubes and toss to coat. Place in a large enough baking dish to spread them out evenly in one layer. Bake for 15 - 30 minutes depending on original dryness of bread. Cool and store in a tight-lidded glass jar.

note: You can also add 1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper, a pinch of cinnamon or any other spice, herb, or mixture of them that strikes your fancy.

******************

Apple Butter

3 lbs (1500 gr) cooking apples (Granny Smith or Gravensteins, for example)

1 1/2 generous cups (500 ml) apple cider

1 cup (200gr) cane sugar + 1/2 cup (100 ml) honey

1/2tsp ground cinnamon

1/2tsp allspice

1/2 tsp cloves

Zest of 1/2 lemon

Dash of unrefined salt

4 canning jars

Foodmill or chinoise sieve

note: Since I had no allspice or cloves in the cupboard - and it was Sunday in Paris - I replaced them with 1/2 tsp grated fresh ginger) 

Cut apples, unpeeled and uncored, into quarters (a good amount of pectin is stored in the cores, the peels add flavor), remove any damaged parts. Place in large pot with the apple cider, cover, bring to a boil, reduce heat to simmer, and cook until they are soft, about 20 minutes. Remove from heat.

Transfer cooked apples to a foodmill (or chinois sieve) and work the pulp through over a large bowl. Mix the sugar and honey with the apple purée, bring to a boil in a wide, thick-bottomed pot (the wider the better as there is more surface evaporation) and cook uncovered over low heat, stirring often to prevent burning. Scrape the bottom of the pot when you stir so that no crust forms.

Cook until thick and smooth, about 7 hours. (You can cook the purée over medium-low heat for about 2 hours - if you are willing to stir constantly - as the stirring encourages evaporation) Canning:

Place the canning jars and lids in a large pot of boiling water (with enough space for the water enough to cover them) and process for 10 minutes. Remove them and pour the apple butter into the sterilized jars, leaving 1/4 inch head space. Wipe rims of jars and seal with lids. Return to boiling water and process for 5 minutes.

note: If you want to make a smaller amount and just refrigerate, pour apple butter into sterilized jars, seal with lids, and let cool. It will keep in the refrigerator for about a month.

archives : turnip pinzimonio june '08

I know the season of baby turnips is all but over - here in Paris they flourish at the open-air markets from March to June. Since Istumbled upon a nice bunch of them the other day, I thought I'd share with you this extremely simple and refreshing hors d'oeuvre.

Actually, raw baby turnips are quite sweet with a mellow spiciness.

Of course, their tender leaves (extremely high in Viamins K, A and C) are also a delight sautéed lightly in extra-virgin olive oil, a bit of garlic and lemon, perhaps along with some spring dandelion and/or young chicory leaves. Great as a bruschetta topping with shavings of Sardo Percorino or Parmigiano Reggiano. Turnips in general, seem to have originated in Western Asia and/or parts of Europe. They were cultivated as far back as Hellenistic and Roman times, and were a staple food, espcially for the poor, in Europe during the Middle ages - until the potato made its entrance from South America some time later.

They're one of the cruciferous - meaning edible - vegetables from the Brassica genus of the Brassicaceae, or mustard, family , (that's a mouthful...) which also brings us broccoli, brussel sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, kolrabi, collards, kale, mustard greens, watercress, arugula, radishes, and on and on... All these noble vegetables are relatively good sources of phytonutrients including Vitamin C, Folate, Selenium, Carotenoids, and dietary fiber, as well as being rich in Glucosinolates: sulfur-containng compounds that give crucifers their spicy (mustardy) bite and strong aroma. These compounds, formed when the vegetables are chewed or chopped, are thought to have protective effects against cancer. The ancient Roman Pliny the elder considered the turnip one of the noblest vegetables of his time - "directly after cereals or at all events after the bean, since its utility surpasses that of any other plant."

I guess I'll also have to mention Colza oil, since I use it in this recipe. It was only in doing some research on information about

turnips that I realized that colza oil is obtained from the seeds of a variety of Brassica Rapa, to which, unsurprisingly, turnips

belong. Now I understand why the two - raw baby turnips and extra-virgin colza oil - go so well together.

Note: use only exra-virgin colza oil and use it exclusively as a seasoning oil.

Raw Baby Turnips with Extra-Virgin Colza Oil

1 bunch fresh baby turnips (with leaves)

1/3 cup extra-virgin Colza oil

1/4 - 1/3 tsp unrefined sea salt

1/4 tsp freshly ground white pepper

Pour the extra-virgin colza oil in a small bowl, add the salt and pepper and stir. Set aside for 30 minutes. Cut the leaves off each

turnip bulb (put them aside to make a light mixed greens sauté). Cut off the long thin roots. Slice the turnips into halves

or quarters depending on their size ( the smaller the sweeter). Arrange them on a plate, with a handful of toothpicks nearby.

Garnish with a light sprinkling of sea salt and fresh ground white pepper. Place the bowl of colza oil in the midst of them.

Skewer a turnip, dip it into the oil, stirring it to bring up the settled salt and pepper. Then plop it in your mouth and crunch down.

It's quite an excursion! You can add more or less salt and pepper according to your taste.

Wine note: This hors d'oeuvre actually goes quite nicely with a light, dry champagne or even proseco.

June 15,  2008

I was eagerly awaiting the sleek small heads of spring fennel at the open-air markets in Paris and they finally arrived

a couple of weeks ago. Showing up also in glorious heaps was wild fennel - the stuff that grows along roadsides, all feathery leaves, no bulb, and ever so succulent. Fennel is said to be indigenous to the Mediterranean - the Romans seemed especially fond of it, and still are. It's fruit is actually a dried seed. Chocked full of good things: Vitamin C and Calcium, Iron, Magnesium, Phosphorous, Copper, Manganese, it's also a good source of dietary fiber.

English folklore in days of yore had it that fennel possessed secret powers. It was believed that hanging a bunch of fennel over a cottage door on Midsummer’s Eve would prevent the effects of witchcraft. In centuries past, Roman women nibbled on the seeds to stave off their appetite. Fennel is considered to be one of the oldest culinary herbs and medicinal plants. In ancient Egyptian medical writings it was referred to as a remedy for flatulence; and elsewhere described as an aid to digestion. Today, it is appreciated for the the health benefits of the antioxidant flavinoids - including Quercetin - it contains.

While leafing through the interent on Italian regional cuisine, I came across a recipe for Wild Fennel Patties. Who but the Italians could come up with such a splendid idea - this is from Southern Italy . Quite a simple feat to make, but biting into one of the herbaceous patties is like filling your mouth with a burst of fragrant wild earthiness. Wine note: Wonderful with a crisp Côtes de Roussillon Rosé, like the Zoé Rosé from La Préceptorie de Centernach.

This is my adaptation to Aneglo Garro's recipe.

Wild Fennel Patties - makes about 12 palm-sized patties

1 lb wild fennel fronds

2 eggs slightly beaten

2 handfuls of day-old bread

2-3 tBsp of the water the fennel was cooked in

1/3 cup grated Pecorino Sardo or Parmigiano Reggiano

Salt and pepper

After washing the fennel fronds, parboil or steam them for about 15 minutes. Strain and pat dry in a kitchen towel.

When cool, finely chop the fronds and set aside.

In a medium-sized bowl, tear the bread into tiny bits and moisten with the fennel water - not too much. Let stand

for a few minutes. Then add the beaten egg, grated pecorino or parmesan, chopped fennel, salt and pepper,

and mix well. Form into palm-sized patties, place them in a baking dish and bake in a 400 degree oven for

about 20 minutes or until the outside is crisp and golden brown.

I like to eat them just slightly warm with a little salad of diced ripe tomatoes and black olives drizzled

with a wonderful extra-virgin olive oil.

Bon appetit !