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 !

archives : chestnut soup nov '08

As Isabel Allende puts it in her wonderful book Aphrodite: A Memoire of the Senses, “Handling food joins the sense of touch with the basic pleasure of satisfying the appetite.” Yes, cooking is a patient occupation! So I thought for this – late – Thanksgiving recipe I’d give this simple - yet demanding in patience - Chestnut Soup recipe.

If you’re still in search of a starter for your Thanksgiving dinner, you can run out and buy some fresh chestnuts (they’ ll probably be from Italy since Chestnut trees are, sadly, quite rare now in the States due to a blight at the beginning of the 20th century) and sit around the table with friends and/or family and get them ready to be transformed into this velvety, succulent liquid dish.

As for food news, here are a couple tidbits: The European Commission is scraping rules that have kept forked carrots, curved cucumbers and other strange fruit from inhabiting the produce sections of markets. Can you imagine government employees policing vegetable stands and measuring out punishment to those daring to sell a crooked courgette? Here’s a good BBC article on the subject And if you have the itch to get some hands-on experience growing organic food and, here’s a wonderful organization, a world wide network that allows volunteers to live and learn on organic properties around the globe: WWOOF.

And finally, the Urban Homesteader who, along with his family, has been transforming his ordinary city lot in Pasadena into an organic permaculture garden that supplies them with food year around. Check out the website and this interesting videoon their urban farm.

A blessed, succulent Thanksgiving to you all!

Fresh Chestnut Soup  -  serves 4

1 1/2 lbs fresh chestnuts (in shells)
1/2 cup each celery, carrot, onion, finely chopped
1/4 cup finely chopped turnip (optional)
3 fresh flat-leaf parsley sprigs, chopped
2 fresh bay leaves
1 rosemary sprig
3 tBsp extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 cup Madeira
Unrefined sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Orange-rosemary olive oil:
Zest of 1 orange
20 rosemary leaves
4 tBsp extra-virgin olive oil

- Carve an X on the flat side of each chestnut with a sharp paring knife. Put chestnuts in a large bowl, cover with water and let soak for 1/2 – 1 hour. Drain and spread chestnuts in a roasting pan and roast in oven preheated to 400 °F for 15-20 minutes, or until the shells are brittle and have curled back from the X. Remove from oven. When cool enough to handle, peel off outer shells and inner brown skins of chestnuts with a knife. Crumble them and set a side.

- Heat olive oil in large saucepan over low heat, stir in celery, carrot, turnip and onion. Cover surface of vegetables with a piece of wax paper and let vegetables sweat for 10 minutes. Remove wax paper, add 1 liter (4 1/2 cups) water, bay leaf, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer covered for 10 minutes. Add crumbled chestnuts and rosemary sprig and simmer covered for another 10 minutes. Add sherry and simmer uncovered for 3 minutes. Remove from heat, add parsley, and stir. Purée soup in a blender (be careful when blending hot liquids). Add salt and peeper to taste and more hot water if soup is too thick.

- For orange-rosemary olive oil:

Heat olive oil over low flame till nicely warm to the touch - but not boiling, pour over orange zest and rosemary leaves in a small

bowl or ramekin. Set aside to cool slightly.

Garnish soup with a drizzle or two of the seasoned oil and freshly ground black pepper.

archives : tarte tatin jan '09

One of winter’s greatest gustatory pleasures is the dizzying array of apples that fill the marketplaces in Paris. Surely the applepar excellence – in my estimation – is the Reinette Clochard, an ancient variety that grows in the west of France. It is harvested in October and available from November to March, but becoming more and more difficult to find. Alas, the Golden Delicious has pushed it to the side… To bite into one is to fill your mouth with a burst of earthy spiciness and a lingering taste of honey. It is not an apple that would catch your eye, on the order of the Pink Lady® (this apple has the distinction of being trademarked – difficult to understand how an apple can be patented and defined as intellectual property) with its pink-blush dress and crisp crunch.

The Reinette Clochard (clochard translates as bum or tramp in English) looks as if wind, rain, and sundry forces of nature had battered it. But when I bite into one, I am instantly transported to the rolling countryside back when family farms blotted the horizon. Maybe they will yet again… Anyway, enough about the Clochard - it’s going to start blushing. I thought I’d give my variation on the famous Tarte Tatin. Get yourself into the kitchen on inauguration day and cook yourself up one. Be sure to have a bit of good crème fraîche on hand; add a generous dollop to each slice, and dig in while watching the inauguration festivities. Maybe cork a nice chilled Vouvray. Quite festive for a more than festive day!

TARTE TATIN - serves 6 - 8

Dough:
200 gr | 7 oz unbleached white flour
100 gr | 3.5 oz chilled unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
Generous pinch unrefined sea salt
45 - 65 ml water

Filling:
850 gr | 30 oz  firm apples (Reinette Clochard - if you can find it, or Reine de Reinette. If not Golden Delicious or Gala will do just fine…)
125 gr | 4.4 oz blond cane sugar
5 large FRESH bay leaves
80 gr | 2.8 oz unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

||| Sift flour with salt into a large bowl. Make a well in the middle and add the butter cut into small pieces. With your hands rub the flour and butter together until the mixture turns crumbly. Add the water and stir gently with a fork to mix, until beginning to come together (add more water if needed). Gather up into a ball, wrap in waxed paper or in a glass container and set in the refrigerator for 1 hour. Remove at least ten minutes before rolling out.

||| While the dough is resting, pour the sugar into the bottom of a 26-cm | 10-inch cast-iron skillet or ceramic pie dish with high edges and spread evenly. Place in the oven—preheated to 200 ˚C | 400 ˚F—and cook until the sugar is melted and golden i color, approx. 15 - 20 minutes. Keep your eyes on it, as it can easily burn. Remove from the oven, place the fresh bay leaves, shiny side down, on top of the hot, melted sugar, and set aside to cool.

||| Wash, peel, core, and quarter the apples (or cut into eighths if the apples are quite large). Place them in concentric circles on the bottom of the pie dish, fitting them as tight as possible. Dot with the 80 gr of butter.

||| Preheat the oven to 220 ˚C | 425 ˚F. On a lightly floured surface, slightly knead the dough with the heel of your hand. Shape it again into a ball, flatten and roll out into a circle a good 1 inch wider than your pie dish. Carefully place the dough over the top of the apples and tuck the edges down between the apples and the side of the pie dish so as to contain the fruit inside. Bake in the oven for 30-35 minutes. The sugar should be vigorously bubbling, the pie dough nice and golden. Remove from the oven and immediately place a large flat serving dish on top of the pie dish (it should well overlap the dish) and carefully but rapidly turn the skillet upside down. Arrange the bay leaves on top of the tart. Let cool for 15 minutes or so, then serve... with crème fraîche. Bon appetit!

the apple : CLOCHARD

archives : poached pear march '09

I am by no means a wine aficionado; nonetheless I’d like to say a word or two about the wonderful elixir. I was in theStates over the holidays and took the opportunity to look around for a couple local California wines I could serve at my niece’s wedding in May, to accompany the cuisine I’ll be cooking for the celebration. Plant-based cuisine - and therein is the catch. Having now lived in France for sometime, perhaps my palate has grown European: by that I mean grown used to - expectant of even - the overabundant array of lighter, well-balanced, lower-alcohol wines from bountiful varietals, terroirs, and regions, which accompany the typical cuisine of the land and unabashedly, might I say, the humble vegetable. I was, of course, in search of exactly that: lighter wines with mineral undertones and crisp acidity.

Wines that dance on the palate with the earthy character of fresh, seasonal vegetables… Wines made from varietals such as Arneis, Erbaluce, Cortese, Dolcetto from Italy’s Piedmont region; Corvina, Garganega from the Veneto region; Campania’s Falanghina and Fiano; Tuscany's Vernaccia and Trebbiano; Montepulciano from Abbruzzo; Cabernet Franc, Chenin Blanc, Romarantin from France’s Loire Valley; Savagnin and Poulsard from the Jura; Jurançon’s Gros Manseng; Provence’s Marsanne and Ugni Blanc; Carignan, Mourvedre and Grenache from the Côtes de Roussillon, and on and on… It proved not an easy task: wine culture in America seems to have developed more around a devotion for the "robust" varietals and less focused, in my opinion, on the intricacies of wine-food melodiousness; and America's young wine palate followed suit.

Combing the shelves of numerous wine stores, I was struck by the plethora of bottles full of the juice of the “noble” grapes - Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Pinot Noir, Syrah, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc (as well as Zinfandel) - and the lack of other more subtle yet amazingly generous European varietals. They are noble grapes, to be sure, which make noble wines… but wines perhaps a bit too noble for the modest origins of the vegetable kingdom. And given the “new world” methods of wine making, resulting in reds and whites of such high alcoholic content (reaching above 16 percent!?) - wines oh so bold, so brawny, so jammy - the subtle chant of a Risi e Bisi risotto, the sonorous percussion of a Pepperonata is literally drowned out. How nice it would be to have the option to hear, to taste those luscious operas!

The recent comment by Dr. Rajendra Pachauri, chair of the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change and a leading authority on global warning, urging people to eat less meat in order to help tackle climate change, coupled with the fact that American chefs are increasingly putting more emphasis on plant-based cooking, (listen to Mark Bittman's assessment), it would seem a propitious moment for winemakers throughout the country to begin researching, growing, vinifying more "less-noble" varietals. And I'd ask them to pay special attention to the interplay between fruit and acidity, giving more voice to the mineral qualities of terroir and, need I say again, tending toward lower alcohol content. With their enterprising spirits and creative ingenuity, it would seem both a marvelous challenge and a rewarding experience all the way around. It seems a few have already come to such a conclusion. Read what Ojai Vineyards’ Adam Tolmachat had to say on the subject in this LA Times article.

By the way, I did finally get my hands on a few California wines that quite nicely fit the bill. One afternoon, I meandered into Bi-Rite Market on 18th Street in San Francisco and wine buyer Josh Adler generously pointed me to a wonderful 2007 Arneis and 2007 Dolcetto from Palmina Wines in Lompoc, as well as a delicious 2007 Cabernet Franc from Lang and Reed Winery in Saint Helena. Well-crafted wines subtle enough to let that Pepperonata and Risi e Bisi's arias sound forth.

Now since my last newsletter, I‘ve collected a smattering of articles and such that you might find inspiring or of interest:
- An organic farm in Kenya’s largest slum : article, photos.
- A Washington Post article on a budding epidemic in Kenya's wheat fields.
- From Roots of Change, an article on the CA drought.
- A NY Times article about Obama’s new chef, Sam Kass. We might yet get an organic garden on the White House lawn!
- A TED video of Jose Antonio Abreu: Help me bring music to kids worldwide (TED Prize winner)
and a video his protégé Gustavo Dudamel conducting the Teresa Carreño Youth Orchestra from Venezuela. Truly inspiring!

- Nota bene: If you live in San Francisco, next time you’re looking for an exquisite "natural" European wine, drive over to Terroir Natural Wine Merchant and Bar on Folsom Street. You’ll find three enthusiastic guys passionate about their wines. And you won’t be disappointed. The wines notes on their website make the mouth water!

Now on to this month's recipe. In keeping with the subject of wine, I couldn't resist my Pears Poached in White Wine with Honey-Thyme Syrup. I know it's no longer pear season...You can put the recipe away until next autumn; it'll be here before we know it. (And i promise some wine pairing tips for plant-based dishes in subsequent newsletters.)

Pears Poached in White Wine (serves 4)

4 Conference pears, just under ripe (or other long-necked cooking pears)
2 cups or so (1/2 liter) good dry white wine
1/2 cup or so (170 gr) light honey
2 sprigs fresh thyme
Juice and zest of 1/2 lemon (zest cut into thin strips)
Good-sized handful of hazelnuts, roasted, skinned and coarsely chopped
Crème fraîche (optional)

Peel pears (or cook them unpeeled as is often done in Italy's Piedmont region), leaving stems attached. Place them upright in a tall saucepan, just large enough to hold them. Add the white wine to almost cover them, add a bit more if necessary. Add the honey, lemon juice and zest. Cover and bring to a boil, lower heat and gently simmer until just tender 15-30 minutes (depending on the ripeness of the pears). Test with a toothpick. Let pears cool in the pan then remove. Strain the poaching liquid into a small saucepan, and boil to reduce to a syrupy consistency (5-10 minutes). You may add a bit more honey if the syrup doesn’t seem quite sweet enough). Immediately strain, and set aside to cool.
Serve pears with a plentiful drizzle of syrup. Garnish with hazelnuts and a few thyme flowers. Add a dollop of crème fraîche or mascarpone if you wish. And please feel free to forward my newsletter to family and friends.

archives : panpepato april '09

Here's April skipping along. Perhaps you're as hypnotized as I by the strident or lilting songs of birds on a wire or budding tree branches, sounding forth the fertile advent of spring. I've had a hankering for some time to put myself in front of bowls of almonds, hazelnuts, walnuts, candied lemon and orange zests, figs, raisins, open bottles of spices and ground cacao, acacia honey and throw handfuls and pinches of them all together, then get my hands dirty mixing them into some semblance of Panpepato, that celebrated, scrumptious dolce from Toscana.
I'm but a novice when it comes to its mysterious alchemical substance, but a great admirer of its dense texture and savor. Legend has it that in a convent during a siege of the city of Sienna back in medieval times, concerned about the health of the inhabitants of the city, one of the nuns, a Sister Berta, came up with a sort of dense high energy bread consisting of honey, candied fruits, almonds, spices and lots of pepper. Now there are as many versions of panpepato as there are legends. The more delicate tasting Panforte Margherita, with its milder mix of spices, was created in 1879 for the occasion of Queen Margherita's visit to Sienna.

Panpepato is normally enjoyed during Christmas, but I'm often one to side step tradition. So in the budding of spring I'm sending out my "rustic" variation on this age-old sweet. One of the reasons I so like Panpepato is that it has neither egg nor milk nor cream, and I easily switched rice flour for the small amount of flour my recipe calls for— so no gluten! Wine note: Pour yourself a glass of Vin Santo, Moscadello di Montalcino, or Brachetto d'Acqui to sip along with a thin slice of Panpepato. You won't be disappointed

As for links, I wanted to give you one to this wonderful website: Grain, an international non-governmental organization which promotes the sustainable management and use of agricultural biodiversity based on people's control over genetic resources and local knowledge, where you'll find wonderful in-depth articles and well-documented information. And this is their blog: Food Crisis and the Global Land Grab. And it seems Michelle Obama's organic garden is ruffling the feathers of the pesticide guys and gals. They sent her a letter to that effect. You can read it here.

Panpepato my variation on a recipe from the cookbook La Bonne Cuisine Italienne des Carluccio.

Panpepato

110 gr (2/3 cup) toasted whole almonds
110 gr (2/3 cup) toasted whole hazelnuts, rub off skins after toasting
85 gr ((3/4 cup) slightly toasted walnut halves
55 gr (1/3 cup) Muscat or Sultana raisins (softened in warm water then drained)
60 gr (1/2 cup + 1 tsp) cocoa powder
100 gr (3/4 cup) candied lemon and orange zest, coarsely chopped
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp freshly ground nutmeg
1 tsp freshly ground pepper
130 gr (1/3 cup + 2 tsp) acacia honey
Flour to bind, about 30 gr (or 1/8 cup). I use rice flour to avoid the gluten.

Preheat oven to 160-170 °C (325 F°)
Cover the bottom of a baking sheet or pan with buttered parchment paper.

Combine all the ingredients except the flour and honey. Bring honey along with a couple drops of water to a boil in a heavy saucepan. Cook until it registers 130 °C (250 °F) on a candy thermometer, about 3 minutes. The honey will be frothy.

Immediately pour over the fruit-nut mixture and, working quickly, combine. Add the flour and continue to quickly mix. At first it will seem dry, but as you continue to work it the mixture will soften. You might find it easier to work it with your hands, in which event you can pull on a pair of rubber gloves. Form into a rounded, compact loaf, and bake in the oven for 30 - 40 minutes. Keep an eye on it while baking; the top should’t burn. It should feel slightly soft and springy to the touch when done.

Remove from the oven and set on a rack to cool completely. Using a fine meshed sieve, dust the top with a tBsp or so of cocoa powder. Keep in an airtight container for up to 3 weeks…perhaps longer, if there’s any left. The flavors deepen overtime.
And please feel free to forward my newsletter to family and friends. 

archives : festive spread june '09

 I was asked by my niece to prepare the food for her wedding party in California. I took off from Paris my bags full of artisanal goat cheese from Elevage de Corbier (Philippe Gégroire is faithfully at his stand every Sunday morning at the Raspail organic open-air market); bags of Guerande coarse and fine sea salt; heaps of Aquerello organic carnaroli rice; a magnum of Bernard Baudry's 2003 Les Grézeaux Chinon... My bags were anything but light.

Just to mention: it is legal to return to the States from Europe with  up to 10 lbs of cheese (some say only pasteurized, but I've never had problems with raw-milk specimens). Best to declare it; the only formality is that sometimes they send you to the bag inspectors to make sure there isn't some undesirable product hidden with the cheese; then they send you merrily on your way.

So I thought for this newsletter I'd share with you a few of the hors d'oeuvres I concocted for the occasion. And it was a real delight to create a bio-sustainable plant-based banquet. Roasted almonds and green olives with lemon zest and fresh thyme;poppy-seed crackers with fresh goat cheese and blueberry jam; chilled carrot-ancho pepper soup with fresh goat cheese-scallion croutons; English-pea blancmange; corn crepe rolls with gorgonzola, honey-balsamic arugula and rosemary; lime marinated tofu rolls... among others.
We drank a Drusian Prosecco from Conegliano-Valdobbiadene, a 2007 Uvaggio Vermentino from Lodi and a Terre Rouge Tête à Tête, a Syrah, Mourvedre, Grenache blend from the Sierra Foothills.
And I wanted to share with you a Commonwealth Club radio program podcast I heard last month: A New National Food Policy - But What About the Hungry? from May 6. Worth listening to. And here's a great NYTimes article "Neighbor, Can You Spare a Plum?" about sharing fruit from heavily boughed neighborhood fruit trees: the ones that hang lustily over backyard fences or patter away the days in lone corners of backyards. There are lots of wonderful links to small enthusiastic neighborhood organizations promoting the idea and savoring the ripe juices...

Roasted Green Olive-Almond Medley

500 gr | 16 oz Mediterranean green olive, pitted
500 gr | 16 oz  blanched almonds
Zest of 1 lemon
2 - 3 sprigs fresh thyme, leafed (flowering if in spring or early summer)
1 - 2 garlic cloves, peeled, cut in half, the sprout removed, and corasely chopped (if spring garlic, just chopped)—optional
Extra virgin olive oil

|||  Preheat the oven to 400°C.
|||  Lightly toss the olives and almonds separately with olive oil. Bake the almonds in the oven for approx 20 minutes, or until lightly golden. Bake the olives for approx 30 minutes, or until beginning to wrinkle and crisp. If using the garlic, add to the olives after 15 minutes  Stir both a few times during roasting. Combine in a bowl and toss with the lemon zest and thyme while still hot. Serve either warm or room temperature.

Poppy Seed Crackers

250 gr (1 1/2 cups) unbleached white flour
2 tBsp + 3 tBsp extra-virgin olive oil
150 ml (5 oz) cold water
10 gr (1-2 tBsp) poppy seeds
1/4 tsp freshly ground pepper
1/2 tsp unrefined sea salt plus extra for sprinkling

Combine the flour, olive oil, water, poppy seeds, ground pepper and a generous pinch of sea salt in a bowl, mixing with your hands.
Pour out onto a floured surface and knead until the dough is smooth and elastic, approx 10 minutes.  You can also knead it in your Kitchen Aid for about 3 minutes. Wrap in a kitchen towel and set aside to rest for 2-3 hours.

Preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F). Lightly oil a baking sheet.
Cut the dough into three pieces. While working with one keep the others wrapped in the towel. Roll out the dough until very thin (no more than 1/16 inch). Carefully lay it on the greased cookie sheet and cut into 1 3/4 inch squares using a pizza cutter. Brush the top with extra-virgin olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and prick each square twice with a fork. Bake in the oven for about 15 minutes, or until beginning to brown at the edges.

Place a thin square slice of fresh goat cheese in the center of each. Garnish with a dollop of organic blueberry jam or orange marmalade and a fresh rosemary leaf.

Smoky Carrot soup - serves 8

2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 chopped leeks chopped (white part only)
1 cup chopped red onion
4 garlic cloves, sperm removed and chopped
8 cups chopped carrots
1 cup Marsala wine
13 cups water
1 tsp unrefined sea salt

Sachet of:
1 dried Ancho chili
1 tBsp coriander
Pinch of crushed red pepper flakes
1 tBsp peppercorns
5 flat parsley sprigs
5 fresh thyme sprigs
2 fresh bay leaves

Sweat the leeks, onions and garlic over medium heat until translucent, approx 10 minutes. Add the carrots and Marsala wine, and cook until reduce by half. Add the sachet of herbs, spices and peppers along with the water. Simmer over medium heat until carrots are tender, approx 30 minutes. Remove the sachet and squeeze over the pan to catch the liquid. Blend the carrots and cooking water in a blender. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper to taste.
Recipe adapted from Sam Kass and the Hull-House Kitchen website.

For the croutons:
Cut 14 - 16 thin slices of sweet baguette. Toast under the broiler until golden on each side.
Combine 2 oz fresh goat cheese with 1/4 cup thinly sliced green onion tops. Season with a pinch of sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Place a small spoonful of the cheese spread on each baguette toast and float 2 on top of each bowl of soup.

Blancmange au Petit Pois - serves 8

1 liter (4 cups plus 4 tBsp) rice milk
1/4 cup pea cooking water
(you should end up with approx 800 ml (3 1/2 cups) liquid after all the cooking
1/2 + 1/8 tsp agar agar (do a test on your agar agar; each brand seems to have "special" gelling properties)
750 gr (1 1/2 lb) English peas in their pods
2 shallots, coarsely chopped
4 bay leaves
3/4 tsp unrefined sea salt
1 medium-sized red onion
A handful fresh mint leaves
Extra-virgin olive oil

Mix the agar agar with 60 ml (1/2 cup) cold or room temperature rice milk and set aside. Shuck the green peas. Wash and drain the pods. Bring the pea pods, shallots, and 3 bay leaves to a boil in the rest of the rice milk. Reduce the heat and simmer for 1 minutes. Strain.

Return rice milk to the pan and add the agar agar-rice milk. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from the heat and strain. Meanwhile, cook the shucked peas in 3/4 cup water with a pinch of sugar, 1 bay leaf, and a pinch of sea salt for 5 minutes and drain

Transfer the peas to a blender along with the rice milk and cooking water, and blend until smooth. Pour the mixture into individual ramekins and place in the refrigerator for 2-3 hours (or over night - cover with plastic wrap or parchment paper in that case).

While the blancmange is setting, finely chop the mint leaves and just cover with olive oil (that has been slightly heated) and sea salt to taste. Thinly slice the red onions lengthwise. Toss with a bit of olive oil and bake in the oven at 190°C (375°F) until soft turning golden on the edges, approx 10 minutes, stirring from time to time. Remove from the oven and season with sea salt. salt. Unmold the blancmange on individual plates. Garnish with a few roasted onions and a small teaspoonful of mint olive oil.

Corn Crepe Rolls - makes approx 50

Crepe batter:
175 gr (1 cup) corn flour
45 gr (slight 1/3 cup) rice flour
30 gr (1/4 cup) fine cornmeal
3 beaten eggs
1/2 tsp unrefined sea salt
250 ml (1 cup) rice milk (or other)
250 ml (1 cup) water
1 1/2 tbsp olive oil or butter

Filling: 60 gr (2 oz) roasted walnuts
3 tBsp light liquid honey
2 tBsp balsamic vinegar
2 tBsp extra virgin olive oil
2 large handfuls arugula
125 gr (5 oz) gorgonzola (room temperature)
1 rosemary sprig

Sift the corn flour, rice flour, corn meal and sea salt together in a bowl. Add the unbroken eggs. Combine the milk and the water. Gradually whisk into the flour and eggs. Add the olive oil and mix well. Cover with plastic wrap and set in the refrigerator overnight. Just before using dilute with 3-3 tBsp of water.

Make the crepes. Stack them as they're made. When cool, cut off the left and right edges then cut the stack into 1 1/4 in strips.

Combine the honey, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar in a jar and shake to mix. Season with sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Toss the arugula in the vinaigrette; it should be very wet.

Place a knob of gorgonzola on each crepe strip. Place a small handful of dressed arugula on top, followed by a piece of walnut, then a rosemary leaf. Roll up and secure with a toothpick.

Lime Marinated Tofu Rolls - makes approx 36

1 lb firm tofu cut into 1-inch cubes
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tBSP sesame oil
1/3 cup tamari
Zest and juice of 1 1/2 limes
2 pepperoncini
36 1-inch strips toasted Nori seaweed
Unrefined sea salt and freshly ground pepper
1 - 2 carrot, for sticks
1 lime for zest strips
Rhubarb chutney

Cut the tofu into approx 1-inch cubes. Lay them out in a baking dish in a single layer.

Combine the olive oil, sesame oil, Tamari, pepperoncini, lime juice and zest, a generous pinch of sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Pour over the tofu. Cover with plastic wrap and set in the refrigerator for at least 4 hours, better over night. Turn the tofu cubes from time to time.

Bring the tofu back to room temperature. Preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F). Bake in the oven on the upper rack for approx 20 min. They should be nicely golden and turning crisp. Set aside to cool in the marinade.

To make the rolls: Toss the tofu cubes in the marinade juice. Wet the end of each Nori seaweed strip with a bit of the marinade. Place a tofu cube on each strip. Place a dollop of rhubarb chutney on top, then a thin carrot stick and a lime peel strip. Roll the tofu up in the seaweed so that the end sits underneath, sealing it.

archives : blancmange july '09

I heard that cherry season in the States has been prodigious and succulent. In lieu of that blessed news, here's a blancmange dessert with those crimson red miracles as the topping.

Blancmange w/ fresh cherries and basil coulis - serves 8

450 gr (1 lb) skinned sweet almonds
20 bitter almonds* or 2 drops bitter almond extract
1/2 tsp agar-agar powder (you might want to test the gelling capacity of your agar agar)
125 gr (1/2 cup) unrefined cane sugar
*The sale of bitter almonds seems to be prohibited in the States, as the kernels contain traces of prussic acid, which is lethal. Not to worry, the toxicity is destroyed during heating.

For the almond milk:
Blanch the sweet and bitter almonds (if using them) in boiling water for 30 seconds. Drain and let cool just long enough to be able to handle. Remove the skins by squeezing one end of each almond between your fingers. Soak them in a bowl of cold water for 30 minutes to render them whiter. Drain and transfer to a blender. Add 1 liter (4 1/4 cups) cold water. When the liquid is smooth and milky, strain
through a fine muslin or kitchen towel in two batches, slowly twisting the towel until you have removed all the liquid. The almond milk can be made the day before.

For the blancmange:
Combine the agar-agar and almond milk in a saucepan and let stand for 5 minutes. Add the sugar (and bitter almond extract if using) and bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring from time to time. Lower heat and cook for 30 seconds. Remove from the heat. Pour the blancmange into small individual ramekins. Set aside to cool then refrigerate until firmly set (1 - 2 hours).

For the basil coulis:
1 bunch fresh basil
2 -3 tBsp unrefined cane sugar
2 - 3 tBsp extra-virgin olive oil
1/8 tsp grated zest of an organic lemon
Few grinds of the pepper mill
2 generous handfuls ripe cherries Wash and dry the basil. Place in a blender along with 2 tBsp of both the sugar and olive oil, and blend until smooth. Add a bit more sugar and/or oil if not quite sweet enough or a bit dry. Transfer to a bowl and stir in the lemon zest. Wash and dry the cherries. Pit then dice them. Unmold each blancmange by running a knife around the inside edge of the ramekin, then pulling lightly inward to loosen. Turn each out onto individual dessert plates. Place a generous teaspoon of the basil coulis on top of each and garnish with the cherries. Finish with a generous twist of the pepper mill.

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

archives : baci di dama sept '09

Last week I threw a cacophony of old pants and worn T-shirts into a bag, along with a pair of high-topped galoshes – rain had been forecast – and hopped on a train, direction the Loire Valley, more specifically the Touraine and Pouillé, a small town along the Cher River, to faire la vendange (pick grapes) in Noëlla Morantin's vineyards

Noëlla is one of an ever expanding gang of small natural wine vintners in the Loire Valley I discovered while vacationing there in August. As Jean-Marie Puzelat, of Clos du Tue Boeuf, explained it to me… it’s one thing to talk about organic wine, which denotes that the grapes used in a wine were grown organically but speaks nothing of the methods used in vinification in which chemical and technological interventions — chaptalization (where sugar is added), the introduction of foreign yeasts, the addition of ample doses of sulfur dioxide, as well as clarification, fining, and filtering of the wine — are so often the norm; and quite another to talk about natural wine, which starts with biodynamically grown grapes and then skillfully vinfied with as little intervention as possible on the part of the winemaker: — The fields are low-yielding, the grapes hand picked. Chaptalization is strictly out, as is the addition of foreign yeasts. No fining or filtration is undertaken, and little or no sulfur dioxide is added – for the purists, sulfur dioxide is off the table. The grapes are left to their own natural process, somewhat of a miracle like the turning of water into wine at the wedding at Canaan. Passionate wine makers, all alchemists of a sort, crafting beautiful wines that sing on the palate and sensually wrap their earthy mineral tones and fresh acidity around the most subtle of dishes.

Early Monday morning, Sept. 14, I showed up at Noëlla’s farmhouse, where she and her partner Laurent Saillard were busy with final preparations — she of course was beaming, as this is the first harvest of grapes from her own estate — and joined the congregation of other vendangeurs et vendangeuses. Each supplied with a pair of secateurs and a pail, we started down the long rows of sturdy grape vines, filling our buckets with plump clusters of Chardonnay then Sauvignon grapes. Kneeling down amidst the thistles and grasses harmoniously growing alongside the grapes, the hours shimmied by; the calisthenics bore into my body a heavy yet luxurious fatigue; the sky, earth, and stillness stretched out and around me.

The sky Tuesday morning was heavy with the promise of rain — good thing I’d brought my galoshes! We got to work plying our pruning shears on the heavy hanging bunches of Cot then Gamay grapes while heavy mist came and went. And though I had planned on picking grapes for the duration of the vendange (10 or so days), by the end of the 2nd day my back was obstinately dissenting. Disheartened, I threw my farrago of old pants and worn T-shirts back into my bag and made my way home to Paris, but not before having sampled Noëlla’s 2008 Cot (from purchased grapes) : smooth, round, with spicy earthiness, it reminded me of a wonderful Dolcetto "little sweet one" from Italy’s regione Piemonte.

I had promised Noëlla to make up a batch of Baci di Dama cookies (a délice created back in 1893 at the Zanotti Bakery in Tortona, a small town in Italy's provincia di Alessandria) for one of the vendange-afternoon coffee breaks. Alas, I’ll be sending them to her through the mail, wrapped with care.  Which brings me to this newsletter’s recipe… Seems only fitting that it should Baci di Dama…
 Of course there's a plethora of variations on the recipe; the one below is my preferred.

A note: I’ve decided to longer convert the grams, millilitres and litres in my recipes into cups and ounces… The reason being simply that most measuring cups now show multiple measuring units, and measuring grams with a scale is just so much more accurate, and enjoyable — exactly for that reason. I’m all for everyone having a scale in their kitchen! They range from $15 - 100 ... can easily be ordered on Amazon, Sur la Table, Williams Sonoma... A few brands I recommend: Tefal, Salter, Oxo.

— Here is a list of natural wine makers (some whom I visited) in the Loire Valley (many have no website, but Bertrand Celce's wine blog Wine Terroirs is a great source of information) :

Béatrice et Michel Augé : Domaine des Maisons Brulées
Benoit Courault : Benoit Courault
Brendan Tracey : les vins de Sainte Anne
Catherine et Pierre Breton : Domaine Breton
Catherine Roussel et Didier Dagueneau : Clos Roche Blanche
Christophe Foucher : la Lunotte
Claude Courtois : les Cailloux du paradis
Eric Nicolas : Domaine de Bellivière
François Blanchard : le Grand Cléré
Jean Pierre Robinot :  les vins d'Ange vin
Joël Courtault : domaine de Bel Air
Mard Pesnot : domaine de la Sénéchalière
Mikael Bouges : Mikael Bouges
Noëlla Morantin : Noëlla Morantin
Olivier Cousin : domaine Cousin Leduc
Olivier Lemasson : les vins Contés
Pascale Potaire : Les Capriades
Pascal Simonutti : Pascal Simonutti
Philippe Tessier : Domaine Philippe Tessier
Renaud Guettier : la Grapperie

As for addresses importing and selling French natural wines —
in NY, but not exclusively :
jenny and francois
clean skin wine
louis dressner
bottle juice
holy terroir
chartrand imports - Maine
the ten bells, bar à vins, NY
chambers street wines - wine shop, NY
discovery wines - wine shop, NY
savio suares

— Northwest
triage wines
sec wines

— Bay Area
farm wine imports
beaune imports
terroir sf
arlequin wine merchant
périphérique wines

A few good natural wine blogs:
alice ferring
wine terroirs
more than organic
that crazy french woman

Baci di Dama- makes 20

Ingredients :
70 unbleached white flour (I substitute brown rice flour, for its gluten free-ness)
70 gr hazelnuts or filberts (you can substitute lightly toasted blanched almonds)
50 gr cold unsweetned butter, cut into small pieces
50 gr cane sugar
30 gr pure 72 - 85% dark chocolate (depending on the sweetness you want)
Pinch of salt

— Toast the hazelnuts in the oven at 180 °C (350 °F) for 10 - 15 minutes, or until skins darken and begin to blister and the aroma of roasted nuts begins to seep from the oven. Wrap them in a kitchen towel and let steam for a couple of minutes. Vigorously rub the towel against the nuts to remove the skins. Don't worry about the skins that don't come off. When cool, finely chop to the consistency of coarse flour, or grind them into meal a coffee grinder or the chopper of a hand blender, just don't overdo it or the meal will turn to butter.
—Combine all the ingredients, except for the chocolate, in a bowl; I use my hands to make sure the butter is incorporated You can also use a flat beater in your mixer. Flatten the dough into a slab about 1/2-inch thick and set in the refrigerator, covered, for 1 hour.
— Preheat the oven to 160 °C (315 °F). Remove the dough from the refrigerator and cut into 3 small squares, each weighing approx 5 gr. Squeeze each piece into a ball with your hand, then gently roll it between the palms of your hands onto a nice round ball. (If it breaks apart during the process, tightly squeeze it together again then gently roll between your hands). Place  on a baking sheet, either lightly buttered or lined with parchment paper, spacing them a slight 1-inch apart. Bake on the middle rack of the oven for 12 - 18 minutes. The cookies will flatten out a bit, the tops should begin to crack slightly, and the bottoms should be gently golden. Let them cool on the baking sheet before removing.
— Break the chocolate into pieces and melt in a bain-marie. Drop the tip-of-a-teaspoonful of chocolate onto the center of the flat side of one cookie and cover with a second. Carefully lay each Baci di Dama down on its side until the chocolate has hardened.
— You can keep them in an air-tight container for up to 1 week.

Wine note: A bottle of Moscato d´Asti from the provincia di Alessandria would make great company with a plate of Baci di Dama.

archives : kabocha squash nov 09

Chestnuts, pears, pomegranates, quince, persimmons, grapes, apples - varieties unending, clementines, early navel oranges, brussel sprouts, broccoli - its autumnal sweetness, parsnips, rutabega, winter squash - of every shape and color, texture and sweetness, savoy cabbage, topinambur, a plethora of chicories: escarole, catalogna, selvatica, castelfranco, radicchio di chioggia, radicchio di treviso - precoce and tardivo, unshelled walnuts, almonds, hazelnuts from this year's harvest...
Just as the earth would curl up for its long winter slumber it offers up a cornucopia of fruits and vegetables that, much as a colorful garland, festoon the marketplace stands throughout Paris and humbly enhance our daily repasts with their seasonal fragrance. In amidst all these flavors and forms, I recently disovered Kabocha squash, a Japanese variety of winter squash (considered in some cultures to have aphrodisiac properties). Its sweet, nutty flavor and moist, creamy texture are a true delight. Rich in beta-carotene, iron, vitamin C, and potassium, it serves our bodies well during the wintery season.

Now something that was only recently brought to my attention, and which initially quite surprised me, is that the skin of many winter squashes is more than edible, as it softens during cooking, and actually enhances the flavor, texture, and color of each bite. In the salad recipe below, I roast slices of Kabocha squash with its skin, a gentle green-patina, entact. And I can't imagine eating this squash any other way. So give it a try, even with Butternut squash. You'll be surprised at what you've been missing by peeling and throwing away that protective skin.

Now on another note, but always in the sphere of cuisine and nourishment, I thought I'd pass on a podcast I heard on the Commonwealth Club radio program lat month. Daphne Miller, MD and Associate Professor at UCSF, talks of her travels to learn of the foods and healthy diets of indigenous people around the world, and the collection of recipes in her recent book The Jungle Effect. Seems we're always being brought back to the understated fact that eating simple, seasonal, local, and traditional or 'insticntive' diet is the best prescription for a healthy body, spirit, and planet.

Roasted Kabocha Squash Salad - serves 4

500 gr (1 lb) Kabocha squash
4 handfuls escarole
2 sprigs fresh dill leaves
2 sprigs fresh chervil (optional)
1 handful arugula or lambs salad
4 generous tablespoons fresh pomegranate seeds
4 generous tablespoons roasted pumpkin seeds
1 clove garlic, peeled
2generous tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra to brush squash
1 generous teaspoon lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
Unrefined sea salt and freshly ground pepper
Pecorino Sardo (or Parmigiano Reggiano) shavings for garnish

Turn on the broiler. Wash the skin of the Kabocha squash with a vegetable brush and dry.
Wash and dry the greens and herbs.
Tear the escarole into uniform pieces.
Pinch the leaves off the dill and chervil sprigs.
Remove any extra long arugula stems.

Cut the squash in half and scoop out the seeds and stringy membranes. I roast the squash without removing the skin as it gives a savory depth and texture to the squash, scrapping off any knotty areas. But feel free to remove it if you prefer. (And don't throw away the seeds... drop them into a pot of water along with a bit of carrot, onion, any discarded escarole leaves, fresh thyme, a bay leaf and simmer until everything is soft (30 minutes or so). Strain and you'll have a tasty vegetable stock.) Place the halves face down on a cutting board, cut off the rounded ends then cut crosswise into 1/2–inch slices. Rub each side of the slices with the garlic, then lightly brush with olive oil. Place in a baking dish, without overlapping the pieces. Set on a rack in the oven positioned 5 inches from the broiler. Roast for approx. 4 minutes on each side, or until just browning. Remove from the oven and sprinkle with sea salt to taste.

Rub the garlic clove around the inside of a salad bowl. Combine the olive oil, lemon juice, and balsamic vinegar in the salad bowl. Add the different greens and herbs and lightly toss. Season to taste with sea salt and freshly ground pepper, adding a drop or two more lemone juice if needed. Divide the salad up between four salad plates.

Cut the roasted squash slices in half and arrange them on top of the salad in a flower pattern. Garnish with the pumpkin and pomegranate seeds, a few Pecorino shavings, and a twist of freshly ground pepper.

Wine note : This salad pairs wonderfully with any number of white wines from the Loire Valley with their generous play of acidity and mineral tones. Uncork a bottle of La Pente de Chevigny (100% Sauvignon) from Mikael Bouges, a natural wine vintner in Faverolles sur Cher, or a Calligramme (100% old-vine Chenin Blanc) from Domaine de Bellivière in Jasnières.

archives : green tomato tart nov '09

Seems I've been changing hats at the speed of a whirling dervish, and feeling quite dizzy, I must confess. Add to that the euphoric atmosphere of the last week... What a week, what a new day, as the very recent song by Will.i.am declares. Watch the video...

Well, it's now finally time to touch down and send out a new newsletter. One thing I've been so busy doing is revamping my website. I hope you'll take moment and walk through the new layout and pages. By the end of the year I'm hoping to add a series of group classes that will start around springtime in Paris, the Loire Valley and perhaps even in Torino, Italy.

Now on to food... I realize the season's all but over and most green tomatoes have been plucked off the vine. I ran out last week to grab up the last of the harvest from Gilles Flahaut's vegetable stand at the Marché d'Aligre in Paris's 12th arrondissement so I could cook up this savory tart recipe I came up with last year, photograph it, and send it all your way. If you can find no more green tomatoes at your marketplace (I apologize for not getting this to you sooner), I guess you'll have to put the recipe away 'til next year.

There's something so intriguing about the tart, citrus flavor of green tomatoes roasted in a crumbly, buttery pie dough and served garnished with a fresh-mint-infused extra-virgin olive oil and a sprinkle of chopped roasted hazelnuts. That burst of fresh mint with the zingy flavor of the green tomatoes makes for a surprisingly scrumptious savory voyage. I keep the tomatoes undressed - no cheese, no eggs, no milk - just wearing a thin veil of extra-virgin olive oil. Since green tomatoes cook quite rapidly, to achieve the crunchy brown aspect, I cook the tart at a pretty high temperature on the upper oven grate. I hope you'll try out my invention out and let me know what you think. Quite nice to dig into with a 2006 Chinon Clos Guillot from Bernard Baudry, a fresh, pure expression of the Cabernet Franc grape.

An important note: Tomatoes should never be put in the refrigerator, as that almost instantly destroys the flavor. As Russ Parsons stresses in his wonderfully informative book How to Pick a Peach : "Cold temperatures wreak havoc with tomato flavor. Temperatures below 60 degrees reduce the aroma-creating volatiles in the fruit." Now we know why they're a summer fruit! Just keep them in a cool place out of direct sun. Being a climacteric fruit, they continue to ripen after being picked - and are more than often picked "mature" green: at the moment the gel around the seeds begins to soften. If you want them to ripen more rapidly, place them in a closed brown bag, away from direct light; the ethylene gas produced by tomatoes to promote ripening will become more concentrated and speed up the process.

And I'll leave you with this inspiring video and NY Times article about the urban farmer Will Allen from Milwaukee and his Growing Power project.

SAVORY GREEN TOMATO TART - serves 6 - 8

Dough:

200 gr unbleached white flour

100 gr cold butter

Generous pinch unrefined sea salt

Filling:

800 gr (generous 1 ¾ lbs) green tomatoes

3-4 tBsp extra-virgin olive oil

Unrefined sea salt and freshly ground pepper

Mint olive oil:

7-8 tBsp extra-virgin olive oil

4 tBsp coarsely chopped fresh mint leaves

A couple handfuls of hazel nuts, roasted, skinned and coarsely chopped

Unrefined sea salt and freshly ground pepper

— Wash mint leaves, dry well, the coarsely chop. Add to 7-8 tBsp olive oil, along with a generous pinch of sea salt. Set in a very warm place for 3 - 4 hours (on an oven pilot or near a low flame, for example) or slightly warm the oil over low heat and pour over the mint. Let stand for 1 - 2 hours to infuse.

You can also make the mint oil the night before and set in a warm place to infuse.

— Roast hazelnuts in oven preheated to 300 ˚F 0 - 15 minutes, until skins are blistering and that heavenly scent of roasted hazelnuts begins to seep into the kitchen. Roll up in a towel and let steam for 5 minutes then rub the nuts in the towel to remove the loose skins. (Don't fret over the skin that doesn't come off).

— Sift flour into a large bowl. Make a hole in the middle, add butter cut into pieces and salt. Mix together, rubbing the flour and butter between your hands until the mixture becomes granular. Add 2 - 4 tBsp cold water (depending on the freshness of the flour and the humidity outside) and mix lightly with a fork from the outer edge of the bowl inward until mixture begins to come together. Add a bit more water if necessary until you can easily gather the mixture into a ball. Place in a covered bowl and set in the refrigerator for 1 hour.

(I prefer to let the dough sit for an hour on the counter if it’s not too hot outside).

— If you’ve put the dough in the refrigerator remove it. Preheat the oven to 425 ˚ F

— Knead the dough for ½ minute then roll it out on a floured surface to fit a 9-inch pie dish. Line the pie dish and crimp the edges.

— Cut the green tomatoes into ¼-inch rounds. Toss in a bowl with the olive oil, a generous pinch of unrefined sea salt, and freshly ground pepper. (Best to do this just before arranging them in the pie dish so the juices remain in the tomatoes and not at the bottom of the bowl). Arrange the tomatoes in a circular pattern, two layers thick. Cook in oven for approx 20 minutes. Let cool slightly and serve garnished with a tablespoon of the mint olive oil and a sprinkling of roasted hazelnuts.

Previous CONSCIOUS PALATE newsletters can be found on my website.