Whatever your destination this hot summer of 2010, packing light is the deal, being ready for a shift in the warm wind or sea breezes on a star-bright evening.  It’s up early for a stroll round the market, bien sûr:  to take it all in without feeling rumpled, chance to the rescue.  A refreshing line of fresh air, travel-inspired togs launches on July 23rd  in New York, a welcome resource for travelers going anywhere.  So, turn to the site, www.chanceco.com, for the answer to “what to pack” – for a week,  a month or….or just a day by the shore.

Choosing a basket from hundreds....

A festival of baskets – for shopping or storing, for fishermen and for cooks – fills a medieval Périgord village to the brim on a July Sunday every year.  Annual fairs, whatever the theme, can be fun or boring…. same old winemakers, same old tomato or melon vendors.  To go to a melon fair year after year, one must have a dedicated interest in the fragrant fruit.  To go to a basket fair every year (don’t count, says the vagabond after fifteen-plus fairs), my interest in woven willow verges on passion.  One Sunday in July, the weekly market in Issigeac – always colorful on its own – adds another attraction: baskets.  Stretching across the shady Place du Château between the town’s gray stone church and a medieval bishop’s palace, basket makers from many regions of France display their own wares for the shopper’s choice.  The entry fee of 2 Euros not only gives you a chance at a tombola - drawing for a prize, a basket – but helps fund the organizing of this ambitious event.

Children crowd around to watch a vanier (basket maker) coiling a wrapped rye straw basket, while at another stall, the technique involves steamed chestnut slats to construct a sturdy basket for gathering nuts.  An artisan from Brittany shows us how to make a fish trap basket and a woman chats with bystanders while deftly looping caning across the seat of an antique chair.

Chestnut strip baskets...strong, versatile, and écologique: I was heartened to see a wizened artisan from the Corrèze again this year with his elegantly finished, slatted chestnut baskets and trays.

The flexible and sturdy dark willow baskets of the southwest are in the majority at Issigeac’s fair, in an age old traditional oval form.  From the nearby village of Molières, I spotted the well known basket maker, René Carrier…over ninety and still shaping practical baskets.

Fill them with logs, grapes, plums or potatoes...

There are classes offered in the basket maker’s craft in the southwest, but my thoughts turned to the speed and finesse of these artisans’ work, wondering who will carry on the tradition.  To make hefty working baskets for wood, light, oval baskets to fill with fungi, shallow baskets for serving bread or cheese – each takes a trick or six to master the technique.

Shaping the sides of a large basket…

Of the sixty artisans at the Foire aux Paniers et à la Vannerie, many work steadily through the day to demonstrate techniques of their craft.  A simple panel banner by each stall announces the region, whether it is the Loire Valley, the Ariège or the Ardennes.  One year a basket maker from Sardinia make the journey to the foire, another visiting artisan was from Spain.  So, there are new faces every year, and hopefully the old masters will continue to bring their well woven baskets of all sizes and materials.

Baskets woven of honeysuckle roots - for tiny treasures

More basket fairs coming up! If your travels this month lead to the heart of France, the Auvergne, take a day for the Fête des Paniers in Montsalvy. This popular event in a Cantal town south of Aurillac opens with giant marionettes, and winds up with a Soirée Dansante on Saturday, July 31st 2010.  Willow growers and basket makers get together on October 2nd & 3rd in northern France in Reilly, east of Rouen for a Fête de l’Osier et de la Vannerie Française. – don’t miss the afternoon parade of the brotherhood of the noble willow, la Confrérie des Façonneurs du Noble Osier.

14th of July, a special breakfast

This is what the vagabond has been asking, taking a running survey of what  French culinary tradition calls for to fête Bastille Day.  What ?  Not anything special? One friend says, ….”nope, it’s turkey or capon for Noël, lamb for Easter and veal for Pentecost, but eat whatever you like for the 14th of July!” On this theme of menu independence, a French friend reflects that he remembers no particular foods associated with their national holiday. It seems that independence rules, as does the season’s ripe, fragrant melon and a good stack of steaks or chops for the grill.  Not satisfied to wait ’til dinner for something appropriately seasonal and French, we start the day with a handful of raspberries with yogurt and still-warm croissants.  Pour the coffee, I’m ready for a day in the garden – and much later, a glass of bubbly with apéros before watching fireworks over the Dordogne….after dark.

Next up: A basket-lover’s fair….and more on melon.

Basics for a quick chop of persillade

Maybe you could call persillade a condiment, for it heightens flavors of vegetables or meats – but it isn’t in the strain of sauces or relishes, much simpler in fact.  The vagabond has encountered this traditional southern seasoning pressed into lamb chops, sprinkled over magret/duck breast, and divinely stirred into fried potatoes Sarladais just before serving.  Great results with just two ingredients:  finely chopped fresh garlic (now is the hour) and parsley leaves (also tender in early summer).  Days when the canicule/heat wave calls for a “the simpler the better” approach, and persillade is just that.  Ingredients finely chopped or minced with a sharp blade are basic, and my  tool of choice is a two-handled hachoir.  This can be done with a whizz of the food processor’s blades, but it tends to chop in a blink to the point of mashed parsley. Not my favorite, but use it if you don’t mind washing up; a sharp knife is the ecological choice, non?

All chopped together, put it in a jar for later use

Whether you refer to them as haricots verts, French beans or simply string beans, market stalls this month are heaped with them, straight from the bush.  The vagabond heads out early to get haricots fins – the skinny little ones loaded with flavor – before these delicate beans wilt in the heat of the day.  What could be simpler than a handful of  beans for each serving, nipped and snipped, then  steamed for a few minutes?  Sea salt and freshly ground pepper, a drizzling of good olive oil (okay – or sweet butter if you please).  This is obvious, a classic everyone knows how to set before the queen or king with tonight’s grilled chicken, fish or ribs.  Not that I am into gilding the lily of the beans’, natural flavor, but observing traditions in the French southwest, I have picked up some other enhancers.  Slivered and seared meaty smoked bacon (called ventrèche fumé in the southwest) is great tossed with the beans in a bowl to serve….with lemon, bien sûr.  But for our small mountain of haricots verts tonight, I’ll mix up a savory persillade .

Simple, light, and delish...

To make persillade, I follow the basic proportions given by Kate Ratliffe in  A Culinary Journey in Gascony (10 Speed Books, 1995). Two thirds flat-leaved parsley leaves – reserve the stems to mince into a tomato sauce – to one third new garlic:  3 plump cloves chopped up with 1 cup leaves is about right. If you are garlic-shy, cut it back – otherwise, venture into the garlicsphere with a ratio of half and half.  Choose beans that are about the same length and thickness for uniform cooking.  Wash and trim green beans, allowing about 1 handful for each serving, with 1 or 2 white onions, quartered. Put them in the top pan of a vegetable steamer, to steam until you taste one that meets your own measure of crunch, cooked tender or….al dente. Turn them out into a serving bowl or plate them and sprinkle the persillade over the steaming beans; add a twist of sea salt & cracked pepper – a squirt of lemon if you like.  A fine side for a summer night… or a main plate for lunch.

The French word, persil, is the origin of persillade, but that doesn’t seem to deter chefs and cooks from adapting this classic to all sorts of variations with other herbs.  Chef Ivan Flowers at Fournos in Sedona, Arizona uses butter as a base, makes a persillade with basil (a basillade?), rolls it up to chill and slices up the seasoned butter to garnish meats.  A persillade in the hands of Ina Garten becomes a seasoning for a butterflied leg of  lamb by adding bread crumbs, lemon zest with two cups of chopped parsley to three cloves of garlic (chopped in a processor) – all to enhance the lamb.  Another cook does a mint persillade (a menthiade?) over pork, as other cooks scatter more classic persillades over a bowl of mussels or sautéed gambas shrimp. So, once you start chopping, allow enough for tonight’s haricots – but make a good batch so a jar is in the fridge to bring a touch of southern France to your daily fare.

Note: For more on Serious Chopping tools, see Dorie Greenspan’s recent post on mezzalunas – to answer any questions on how Italian cooks mince the fillings for ravioli and tortellini – not to mention persillade’s cousin gremollata – so efficiently.  See her post of 7 July on: www.doriegreenspan.com . Put her new, upcoming book on your autumn cooking (for release 8 October 2010) list:  Around my French Table.

Bienvenue  juillet…the vagabond welcomes July with open arms! This week, my market basket is laden with stone fruit for preserves, green almonds and bundles of herbs.  On the way to markets across southern France I note lavender in bud, ready to bloom and scent the air.  But nowhere is lavender as much a part of the July scene as in the Vaucluse and high country of Haute Provence.  My memories drift back to Saturday markets in Apt, a hub of trade and activity on the river Coulon.  Artisans, farmers, plantsmen and vendors selling all manner of household goods – some with olive and lemon prints to dance across your table, others with olive wood salad tossers – line the narrow streets of this Luberon town.  We always begin at the open market at the edge of the old town, where sausage, honey and cheese vendors mingle with flower stalls bursting with the region’s trademark colors:  golden sunflowers, brilliant zinnias and graceful wands of lavender.  This week may be a little too early for the surrounding lavender fields to be in full bloom, but wait a week to take in miles of the purple haze.

Gather lavender early, just as blossoms form

Lavender lore credits the Romans for bringing both their bathing rituals and the cleansing, antiseptic lavender plants to Apta Julia when this trading crossroads center was founded.  Originally a military camp, the town grew to assume importance as an administrative center on the Domitian Way from Rome to Narbonne. The climate was right for lavender, cultivated for its medicinal and antiseptic values, and the plant took hold.  Soldiers carried it to cleanse wounds and found the scent relieved stress.  I sometimes wonder what a citizen of ancient Apta Julia would say now when gazing across expanses of lavender fields between Apt, the high country of Sault, and east towards Forcalquier – before surveying the seemingly endless fields of the Valensole plâteau.  If the lavender fields now seem to stretch to the horizon, the reason today is in part commercial:  this region of Provence leads the world in lavender production.

Within this genus, Lavendula augustifolius, there are thirty-nine species. Spikes with flower tips wave above the round, bushy plant – and easily cross-pollinate, so many variations exist.  Blue, lilac, violet or white lavender all draw bees, and lavender honey is one of the region’s specialties.  To discover lavender country, the market at Sault - on Wednesdays since 1515 – is not only overflowing with Provençal vegetables, but vendors offer honeys and soaps, pastries and essential oils, all with a hint of lavender. Take a moment to ramble around Sault’s old streets and admire the vistas from its promontory overlooking the valley.  Be tempted by nougat, both black and white (both a part of the Christmas Eve Treize Desserts tradition) of local almonds and lavender honey.

A fleeting moment in the lavender fields

Pick lavender just before blossoms are completely open to maximize the natural oils.  Tuck a few into your pillow case, a bag of sweaters sealed away for winter, and in closets to repel moths and refresh the air. Using lavender in cooking takes restraint – one too many blossoms can impart a bitter taste:  remember, it is an antiseptic.  A little caution is due for the relaxing, de-stressing effect of lavender under your pillow:  it slows the nervous system to some extent, a natural for inducing sleep.  Its essential oils are effective in aromatherapy and in beauty products as well as the classic, refreshing lavender eau de toilette.  If you travel across Provence in late July and through August, you may see the lavender harvesters at work, machines rolling through fields gathering the blossoms destined for distilleries to extract lavender’s essential oils.  In Sault’s August Lavender Festival, watch a lavender-cutting competition, all a blur of scythes in action.  But for a few sprigs to infuse in a refreshing sorbet, a simple panna cotta or a custard with summer berries, now is the time to snip lavender.

For more on Provençal lavender, visit: www.avignon-et-provence.com tap Tourism, then scroll to Practical Information to tap:  Markets.  In www.saultenprovence.com/gb you will find details on lavender-related events, and at www.provencebeyond.com , a variety of travel information.

Juicy onions, valencia oranges, and plump, clean lemons are the basics for a tangy marmalade to accompany summer fare.  In this season of condiments to enjoy with sandwiches or chicken wraps, or to accent grilled fish or pork, a savory marmalade offers a new set of textures.  Add it to the regular line-up of relish, picalilli and salsas, even lime pickles, or mybe….garum?  This is not in the regular line-up, of course, but the fermented salty fish mash called garum was a staple condiment on ancient Roman tables.  The Latin source of condiment, condire, means to season, spice, preserve or pickle.  Old French and Middle English references to these savory sides have been traced back to the early fifteenth century:  clearly, condiments have complimented the food on our plates for some time.

When the new, sweet onions rolled into the market, I initially thought about just chopping them up to accent spicy merguez sausages.  Then it seemed better to cook some with a dash of lemon to keep for another meal.  One gesture leads to another:  the plot thickened as I poured more than a dash of local Bergerac sauvignon into the mix.  Each batch of marmalade has its own twist: to accent the lemon, add a little Greek Seasoning (from Penzey’s spices – more on this resource in July), to bring out the sweet onion notes, add nutmeg, and to make the orange element sing, grate a little ginger into the mix. Be sure to use new crop onions, not winter’s left-overs that are beginning to sprout.  Stir it up in the cool hours of the morning and if there is more than today’s meals call for, ladle it into hot, sterile jars for another season – and do save one for a friend who shares your fascination with condiments.  Step one, blanching the peel is quick and essential to avoid a bitter aftertaste.

Ingredients: 2 lemons, peel shaved off with a vegetable peeler.  Remove      white pith and slice lemons very thinly, slice peel into slivers;                 reserve  2 Tablespoons juice.

2 large navel oranges, shaved as above, pith removed, sliced thinly & peel sliced into thin sliver/strips.

2 white, sweet onions (500g/2 cups) trimmed and sliced lengthwise

4 to 5  fresh bay leaves

83  g./ 1/2 cup sugar

625 ml /2  1/2 cups white wine, such as Sauvignon blanc/Semillon

1T. fresh thyme, chopped fine

2 T. butter (unsalted), cut into pieces

sea salt & freshly ground white pepper

Stir it up: Boil 2 cups water in a large saucepan, add the lemon & orange peels and simmer for 3 minutes to blanch.  Lift out the peels, empty the pan and pour in the wine, sugar, sliced onion, bay, 2 tsp. sea salt, the sliced citrus and last, the peels.  Stir and simmer this to dissolve the sugar, then reduce heat and let cook over a low-moderate heat, uncovered for about an hour (it could even take a little longer on a low simmer), until all liquid is cooked away; the onions become transparent.  Add the thyme, the butter and cook another 15 minutes, stirring so the marmalade doesn’t scorch at the bottom of the pan; adjust seasonings and add the lemon juice. To taste for seasoning, let your spoonful cool to room temperature. Remove the limp bay leaves.  Yield:   3  1/2  cups.

Serve at room temperature with grilled meat or fish…and try it with a wedge of  Cantal or other mountain cheeses.  Credit for the basic proportions in this recipe go to Mathew Card on www.culinate.com, an inspiring and informative site.

A familiar, favorite ferry boat ride recently delivered the vagabond to the Saturday market at San Francisco’s Ferry Plaza.  As the Larkspur ferry from Marin hummed across the brilliant, fogless bay, I reviewed past trips on this boat.  Its course always heads straight toward the clock tower in the foreground of  ‘Frisco’s impressive city skyline.  Every week, 25,000 shoppers converge on this space on the port to buy dewy fresh seasonal vegetables and an increasing variety of artisanal products.  Saturday, from 8:00 to 2:00 the produce vendors by the port and on the Embarcadero Street side are on hand – whatever the weather. Tuesday and Thursday, from 10 to 2:00 they are set up in front of the Ferry building.  And inside?  Well, whether you are after mushrooms, looking for cheese, bread and wine (the triumvirate in good supply) or sniffing around for fine chocolate and Italian gelato, the indoor shops have it all.  Since  my visit to this gastronome’s wonderland a year ago, what changes might be found?

Changes begin with more emphasis on "Farm Fresh"

The long Ferry building, designed as an efficient transit terminal in 1898, stood empty for over fifty years before interest in both reviving the neighborhood and restoring the building brought it back to life early in the twenty-first century.  Fresh, quality foods are featured inside and out. Inside, the Hog Island Oyster Bar offers a tasting – at $1.50 per oyster – and the Cowgirl Creamery is still going strong with its dizzying selection of local and imported cheeses.  Their stall in the portside  marketplace is a satellite of the huge central position inside.

Chèvre from Sonoma, Gouda or Cheddar...?

The diversity of shops is still boggling, though I found some empty, papered spaces where merchants had closed their doors.  At Boulette’s Larder, we had hoped to have breakfast, but found that was only possible from 8:00 to 10:30, Monday through Friday.  Next round, I will plan to come early to sample their Canelé de Bordeaux – only a dozen are made each day.  But a taste of Anna’s Daughter’s Rye Bread would draw me back as well after a sample and conversation with a Danish woman as she cheerfully passed around a plate of crisped rye.  This, too, is on the Boulette’s Larder menu.  At the other end of the building is the Asian restaurant, The Slanted Door, where people begin their wait for a table before noon.  In between these two very different eateries, all sorts of libations – from tea to fruity wines – tempt Saturday shoppers.

Wine? Tuscan olive oil? More temptations...

My shoulder bag was heavier after this foray, so we hopped on a bus up Market Street toward Union Square.  The brilliant light of a June day flooded the cafés lining the square, where relaxation was the theme song  (no steel drums, no guitars this time around). But the vagabond was thinking of coffee, real coffee in an uncharted, non-hyped neighborhood café.  Voilà:  Caffè Amici, off the beaten path, with Italian pastries and dense, fragrant espresso from Seattle’s Caffè Umbria roasters was a short walk from the busy square.

Market Street's mix of styles

We strolled along Market Street toward the landmark clock tower, to wait for the afternoon ferry.  After a cooling pause at Ciao Bella Gelato, there was time for a last stop at the Book Passage. Not one but three books leaped off the shelf into my bag…. if I were a San Francisco resident this would be a weekly ritual.  And IF we had another week, on Thursday June 17th at 10:00, the vagabond would be there for a book signing of his vividly honest Medium Raw, by Anthony Bourdain.  But the ferry was at port and we boarded with the afternoon crowd.  Lingering at the back of the boat, I watched the clock tower slipping away and projected the next trip to Ferry Market, wondering if  Happy Girl Kitchens will still be there with their pickles and jams, marvels in a bottle. I hope that the Hodo Soy Beanery with healthful soy products will continue to find a good clientele at the Ferry Market.  And the sprout-seller, and the young, enthusiastic almonds vendor – will you all be there next year?  I do hope so!

A skyline worth a thousand words

Details to be found at:  www.ferrybuildingmarketplace.com and www.cuesa.org, as well as www.bouletteslarder.com. For coffee in the Financial District, tiny Caffè Amici is at the corner of Montgomery and Bush.

Busy plant market in Bergerac's old town

Along with a few peppers and tomato plants, I had an uncommon herb on my list for this season’s plant markets and fairs.  Surely, browsing all the vegetable and flower stalls, I could dig up a source for lovage.  So I inquired: Livèche ou ache de montagne? Rare, madame, très rare – I was told by one plantsman; “go to a specialist nursery” said another.  It was Deborah Madison’s www.culinate.com article on this large culinary and medicinal plant that spurred my search.   She described the herb so enticingly that one corner of my potager has been cleared for a potentially gigantic lovage plant.  The idea of stirring up a cream soup of lovage, topped with frizzle/seared strips of prosciutto made my mouth water.  This seems a perfect starter for a cool spring evening’s dinner.  Having struck out at the Bergerac plant market, my search is not over…perhaps I will find one in the US in a round of Marin markets with my sister in California later in May – or in upstate New York with my daughter.  Going west or east, the quest continues.  Stranger ingredients have been known to find their way into my luggage on return from past trips.  Meanwhile, enjoy your herb-shopping, with the promise of summer meals enhanced with aromatiques straight from your own balcony or herb patch.

Jazz on the corner, a toe tapping interlude for plant shoppers

Flipping through the luscious pages of Rick Stein’s Food Heroes, I paused at a seductive page of grilled figs with a lemon posset.  Posset?  Tell me more.  But when I looked into the description, did it help knowing it was like a syllabub?  It seems that today’s chilled creamy dessert posset descended directly from a warm milk drink dating back to the 15th century. In fact, for centuries this was a cure or comforting relief for colds:  milk warmed, curdled with acidic wine or ale and sometimes spiced with cinnamon, mace or nutmeg.  The old French word, posce, is a probable root for possot, poschet and posset, which in its comforting sense has evolved into the idiomatic meaning of posset – to pamper or make someone comfortable. That is the good side of posset.  On the dark side, consider that Lady MacBeth poisoned possets for the guards outside Duncan’s rooms in Act II, scene ii of MacBeth.  I wonder what spices Shakespeare fancied in his possets.

Gariguettes & lemon posset for Sunday lunch

In 18th century England, (I was looking for something savory in all this…) a posset was stirred into a meat sauce as thickening, much as one might use a béchamel sauce today. Eggs were added for nourishment and a richer blend, as this was a noble drink not often made by commoners. But primarily, this is a sweet story:  a posset of cream and whiskey, a Bridal Cog survives as a traditional bridal toast on the Orkney Islands.  Now, to whip up my own version of this English classic, and since figs are not yet in season, I turn to sweet strawberries.  What better foil for a tangy rich posset?  To be ready in a jiffy – then chilled for a few hours – try…

Lemon Posset with May’s first Gariguettes

For 2, heat  200 ml/ 3/4 cup thick cream and 70 g/ 1/4 cup sugar in a small saucepan, let simmer for 3 minutes. When it comes to a rolling boil remove pan from the heat and stir in the juice of 1/2 lemon, whisk for a few minutes as it begins to thicken. Pour into small cups or glasses, top with curly lemon zest (from the same lemon) and chill for 4 hours or overnight. Serve with the season’s berries, red blue or black.  A crunchy cardamom-flecked almond shortbread is good with this.  So easy, so reviving after a long winter!

Next up this month: more on spices, planting nasturtiums for salad, and flower fairs.  In June: a note on syllabubs, a winery visit and open season for flea markets.

When Alphonse de Poitiers granted the land to build a new bastide town in the 13th century, he chose the site well.  Like most bastides, Castillonès sprawls along a ridge of high ground, in this case straddling two historic regions.  It lies on the southern hem of the Périgord, while being woven into the heart of the ancient Agenais.  For many of us, Agen equals fruit (proclaimed as the prune capital of Europe), while the Périgord is famed for walnuts and poultry.  So on a market visit, be ready for produce and poultry in abundance.  The vagabond is drawn to this hilly region by the expansive panoramas around nearly every turn, a case of the journey being as stunning as the market goodies are delicious.

Click on distant chapel to view photo gallery of  Castillonès market.

This département, the Lot-et-Garonne, rests between Gascony to the south and the Périgord to the north, quietly going about its business which is largely agricultural. As a region slightly off the beaten path, the Agenais is worth a detour:  for Romanesque chapels rising above slopes sponged with white plum blossoms in April and nodding sunflowers through July,  it is a revelation.  And off season, the markets are among the region’s most authentic, least gentrified or tourist-trammeled in the entire Aquitaine.  From mid-May to late September expect crowds, which could be said of any part of the French southwest – unless, like the locals, you grab your basket and shop very early when everything is dew-fresh.

Like Monflanquin and Villefranche-du-Périgord, the town’s focus is on an arcaded market square, where weekly markets and monthly fairs have come and gone for centuries. What was the vagabond looking for on an April morning in Castillonès Tuesday market?  Asparagus, bien sûr, and bedding plants for potagers (vegetable gardens), to be choosen from flats of lettuce, tomato, peppers and squash (lots of vigorous courgettes). We always hunt for honey, and here I not only did we score with local tilleul/linden flower honey, but with a light-on- acidity honey vinegar.  I was delighted to find white cherry tomato plants and other unusual varieties sold by a young couple specializing in biologique/organic plants.  In fact on this visit, I noticed more biologique products lining Castillonès Grande Rue, the lively market street leading off the central square.  Cheese vendors offer a gamut of specialties from firm to crumbly Auvergne Salers and Cantal tommes to local chèvre as well as excellent fromages Corse. Two vendors tempted me with samples of Italian cheese, as well as olives, tortellini and pastries.  With such enticing products, and a lazy day ambiance of having coffee (and a flaky, rum-cream filled pastry) in the shade of  Castillonès arcades, I vowed to return…when stalls groan under loads of melons, tomatoes and freshly picked plums.

Note:  Watch for more on bastide markets in June, for a supper stop in a night market or two…quite a different interpretation of “market”. We will sample the ambiance of  just a few of the 300 bastides scattered across southern and southwestern France.