While a simple court-bouillon simmers to poach a pink supper trout, it’s time to count my blessings after a tumultuous year.  I made it – sometimes wondering how – but here we are at the tail end of 2011.  December’s days are slipping into a grey nothing.  January’s stage is curtained, though with some positive events lined up, it promises both continuity and new scenarios.  Certainly I will find (with apologies for recent silence in this space) more time to post these little tidbits on travel, wine and seasonal arrivals in local markets.  So, dear friends and family, the vagabond thanks you for patience, for support through a difficult year and wishes you great health, happiness and promising new horizons.

The Larkspur ferry heads for San Francisco's Ferry Plaza Market

Keep an eye on this space for new winter veg ideas, some savory as well as sweet!

Our mild “arrière saison” continues to allow more leaf-raking time and longer walks along the river.   But the chill, thick fog shrouding the Dordogne’s banks is a sure sign that winter lies just around the corner.  Clues to the shopper in the market stalls include curly savoy cabbage, a few boxes of just-dug parsnips, flats of blette/chard and mounds of pink, white or yellow onions.  On my rounds in a recent Thursday morning market, it was the tiny game bird in the poultry vendor’s cooler that caught my eye – too dark to be a coquelet/little rooster, too small to be a pintade/guinea hen.  So I asked Jacqueline as she popped six fresh eggs into my egg box,…” what is this single, dark little bird?” Her answer fueled my imagination : a palomb….a wild dove.  What luck:  game in the market!  So, with visions of a simple dinner of game with rosy onions and tart apples, I headed back to the kitchen for a cup of after-market coffee and planning session.  Not much effort was involved, in fact a basic braise is best when not sure whether it is tough or tender.

One bird, one of each:  a carrot, an apple, onion, garlic, bay leaf, herbs of choice, all lined up.  If it is to be “casseroled”, use an oven-proof pan.  My choice is the range (getting used to using the electric panels in my apartment), so a heavy-bottomed sa ucepan is the pot of choice.  Allowing about an hour from start to finish; this can be done early in the day and simply warmed through before dinner.  I started with a little duck fat (or use a combo of butter and olive oil) to cook the sliced vegetables until firm but almost transparent, then slid them off into a side dish.  Add more fat and increase heat to sear the bird (having emptied the liver and gizzard from the cavity and filled it with bay leaf and thyme), turning to brown it evenly.  Then lower heat, add a cup of red wine, stir and heap the onions and apples over the bird, cover and let simmer for 30 minutes.  The liver and heart lend more flavor, so add with the vegetables.  Test with a fork at the joints – if it is running red, the palomb would be done to please a diner in southewest France.  Scoop the veg onto the bird and let it simmer on low for another ten minutes if you prefer it done a little more.  A few of this season’s prunes tossed in at this point make it a sweeter  dish.  While it simmers (add wine so that it is never dry), cook a little brown rice and chop up a cupful of parsley mixed with crushed garlic and lemon zest to sprinkle over it all before serving….and Bon Appétit!

Stir as it braises...wonderful aromas when the lid is lifted!

Mums for Toussaint

Suddenly, as October’s days grow shorter, the village is an animated scene of Toussaint preparations.  Both grocery shops are hives of mum-choosing activities as chrysanthemums are selected to be placed on family graves during All Saints’, the annual observance of honoring the dead.  Children are on hand to help choose, and the grocery staff is pressed into hauling armloads of flowers to awaiting open trunks.  Huge pots of mums in golden and deep russet tones are banked in front of shops, but smaller plants of delicate heather in white, mauve and pink are also favorites.  Although All Saints’ Day is November first, two weeks of run-up animate the last days of October across provincial France.  And what about Hallowe’en?  The culture hasn’t embraced the spooks and witches, though some commercial efforts – and bakery specialties – may be spotted in towns here and there.  So, as the vagabond reads the Sunday paper on her blue porch, she muses on Hallowe’ens past, of little witches, princesses and big ghosts that were at my door years ago.  And of the persistence of tradition…in the last glowing days in autumn.

Cyclamen thriving on the blue porch

Next up:  Surprise from the market…Palomb in season

Crisp, juicy, and so good for you...

The fruity season continues, and with trees groaning with loads of peaches, figs and nashi, my friends are sharing the bounty. One morning, a sack of figs appears at my front door, the next I am surprised by a platter of golden fruit:  apples, non?   Non!  These hybrid wonders are sometimes called Asian pears or Asian apples, but more often known simply as nashi.   Their crisp wedges are the perfect foil for softer textures of figs or peaches in a fruit salad, and a small slice wrapped in a sliver of country ham makes a tasty morsel at apéro time before dinner.  Actually, I like them best chopped into my morning bowl of yogurt with a drizzling of chestnut honey.  Great way to start the day!  But beyond tasty – these little beauties are packed with vitamins C and K, antioxidants, potassium and natural fibre.  Nashi are used in treatment for colitis, arthritis, gout and gallbladder disorders.  So, roll with the season and enjoy them now, as this Asian pear is a fruit that doesn’t like to be cooked nor does it take well to freezing – a clear case of  “fresh is best”.

Basil bouquet

Tis the season to savor basil, in and on every lunch-time salad and adding punch to late suppers on the little blue balcony.  Basil, best of all fresh during this peak season, seems to adapt to every tomato/courgette/eggplant and onion combo one can stir up – not to forget the Ligurian crowd-pleasing pesto of ground basil and garlic – or simply to toss with linguini.  Using this herb fresh  seems obvious, but the vagabond always has to try to save herbs for chilly months ahead and has been disappointed with basil:  this is one herb that doesn’t take to drying.  It loses both color and identity, and even smells bad during the drying process.  So, grab a fresh bunch and chop it…not just over the classic sliced tomato and mozarella Salade Caprese, but topping any grilled red peppers, sautéed rabbit with courgettes and new onions, with lamb chops or pork cutlets à la provençal….and savor this late-summer moment!

Ah, but wait….an idea to save the essence of basil has just dawned on me.  Leave it to the age-old “soak it in liquor” method, which I am experimenting with at the moment.  Why not make a Basil vodka or liquour?  So, the method I am following runs something like this:  in a clean jar, cover clean basil leaves with high-proof, clear alcohol, such as vodka or 40 to 60% fruit alcohol (sold in French grocery stores for preserving fruit).  Cap tightly, then during the week that it rests, turn it daily – test for taste after the fifth day.  Strain off the liquid into a measuring cup and combine with a cooled simple syrup (of one part sugar boiled with one part water) in the ratio of one part syrup to one part basil ‘jus’.  Pour into a clean, narrow-necked jar, cap or cork tightly and let rest until you are ready for a jolt of essential summer. In fact you might want to put this “concoction” in the freezer.  Watch this space for a report later in September after the vagabond’s experiment has had time to settle….

Well, after much huffing and puffing, much sorting and tossing, and some serious decision-making, the vagabond has moved.  Downsized is the operative term here.  One of the hardest categories in that wrenching process of decision-making was dealing with kitchen tools, favorite dishes:   which glassware? which stew pots and casseroles to bring to the apartment?  Trying to keep the ….” less is more” motto in mind helped.  But what about the wonderful, shiny old meat grinder that clamped onto my grandmother’s counter, or the nesting set of fluted mousse/gâteaux molds in triplicate that won’t find a place on my new,  limited shelving?  Oh, all of those loose-based cake pans cannot come along either! Then there are odd “sets” of glasses, the 5 green-stemmed Riesling glasses I fell for in Alsace; the 3 huge-balloon numbers for Burgundy (when did I last buy a good Burgundy -not that it wasn’t a dream to try one?) or my large, eclectic collection of tiny aquavit/schnapps-sippers.  After I distributed the fish-smoker box, the cast-iron popover pans, and other heavies, there were more lightweight items to ponder.  Vases of all sizes and earthenware tea bowls…where would these fit into my re-adjusted life?  My heart said:  I want them all.  Space-available said:  Choose!

The deep drawers of table linens also have been pulled into the spotlight during these days of judgement.  Not only do I suffer from a great affection for vintage tabletop – from ’40′s family heirlooms to ’50′s and ’60′s Merimekko, but the napkins that are vital to setting an interesting table literally weigh in as well. With a little close inspection, some have slight tears to be mended or spots to be dipped…how much time and attention do these old table-top dearies deserve?

I’d be interested in reading about your experiences, and any advice!

More musings to follow soon…after the box is packed for the collectibles-brocante dealer!

Lily of the Valley, Muguet for May Day!

In the village square this morning – and in front of the busy bakery – stalls selling muguet were doing a steady business.  An endearing custom, one buys a nosegay of this fragile, very short-season flower to present to someone dear to you.  This year there was a panic among the muguet growers – mostly based around Nantes in Brittany – to preserve the buds during an unusually warm and early  growing season.  Many were in blossom two weeks before May Day.  Somehow, there are enough to go around, whether local or brought in from the north.

Spring is about lightening up – for the waistline as well as for the mood of the season.  But a little something sweet after the asparagus and trout or chicken and fennel somehow feels deliciously indulgent.  Simple puddings have become my (pre-berry season sorbet) standby desserts.  Small glasses, verrines as many refer to them, are up dates of classics come-around again…. and why not?  To top off a Sunday dinner on this chilly spring evening, I whipped up a satin-smooth sabayon and layered it with prunes (or call them dried plums?) soaked in nut wine and topped with toasted walnuts.

The old standard, sabayon, does take a little practice  – attention to the details will reward you.  Set a pan over (not ON the boiling water) a saucepan of hot water as you did for Mousseline sauce – in fact the two are so similar.

Ingredients:    2 large egg yolks

4 Tablespoons of sugar

6 Tablespoons of sweet wine, such as Monbazillac or a sweet Bordeaux

nutmeg to grate before serving

8 semi-dried prunes, pitted and soaked in 1/2 cup of nut wine

oven-toasted walnuts, halves and pieces

Begin by soaking the prunes early in the day.  Make the sabayon ahead of time or – if you want it warm, 20 minutes before serving – and pour into individual glasses putting the prunes in first. Whisk the egg yolks with the sugar over the heat, and as it begins to thicken, add the sweet wine a spoonful or two at a time (not all at once) and continue whisking as it thickens and small bubbles form. Grate in a little nutmeg and immediately pour it over the prunes and top with toasted walnut halves.  Don’t let it wait (it will set up and be about as supple as fresh concrete if done an hour ahead of time), but pour it while warm.  As an Italian friend counseled:  sabayon should be rich, but should never taste of cooked eggs.

This was adapted from  Alice B. Toklas’ Hot Sabayon Sauce, page 176 in my old battered copy of The Alice B. Toklas Cook Book, Anchor books 1960.  What was I saying about “old standards”…?

May Day delights - from dawn to sundown

Sauce mousseline..an elegant touch for everyday veg or fish

The weekly fish vendor has got my number….always asking where this or that sea creature is from, which doesn’t seem to be a common line of questioning. The first time I queried the provenance of a glossy little trout, he looked puzzled and said :  “…farmed, Madame”.   So on Thursday, before I could ask as I again selected fresh trout he piped up:  “…truite Périgordine!”  as his usual stern  glare broke out into a grin.   Next week, I expect he will ask how I like to prepare it, a natural question often part of the banter of market day interchange.  And this is my current (before the grilling season begins) favorite:

Poached Trout Mousseline is about as flexible a quick meal as one can produce.  Why mousseline, which is also the French word for flannel?  So smooth, so comforting, and so easily whipped up.

For each diner, one small trout can be cooked with spring onions, garlic and fennel…or with carrots and new potatoes…or…whatever catches your eye in the spring market stalls.  This option goes together in a blink – well, on the table in about 30 minutes:

Ingredients:   1 small trout

1 to 2 T. oil or butter (or half and half)

2 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced

1 spring onion, trimmed and sliced in rings

1/3 cup Noilly Prat white vermouth

bay leaf, sprigs of tarragon, minced chives, etc.

1 cup fish bouillon (or a court bouillon cube dissolved)

3 new carrots, stemmed and peeled, sliced diagonally

4 new potatoes, peeled and quartered

for the sauce:  2 egg yolks + 1 tsp  cold water

Juice of 1/2 a lemon, salt & white pepper

2 T. cold butter, cut into bits

Set the carrots and potatoes on to cook in hot water to cover, cook at a simmer for about 15 minutes or ’til tender.  In a large enamel fry pan (I have a favorite one, used only for fish), heat the oil or butter (or a bit of both) and sauté the garlic and onion slices, add sea salt & white pepper & herbs, then splash in the vermouth to let cook for about 5 minutes.  Push this to the side of the pan and add/heat the bouillon, place the fish in this, poach on one side for 5 minutes, turn and cover to poach for another 5 minutes.

For the sauce:   heat water in a medium-sized saucepan and set a pyrex or similar dish over – not touching (or you will wind up with scrambled eggs) – to whisk the egg yolks, adding the lemon juice; as you whisk in the bits of butter, it will thicken quickly.  Double the recipe if you wish, and save some sauce to nap some cold potatoes for the next day’s lunch.  The Mousseline’s zippy flavor resembles a savory lemon curd, a great touch for this season’s asparagus spears or steamed new turnips. Try it with salmon or chicken suprèmes poached with herbs in white wine.  Divine.

Salmon steaks take to Mousseline, too

I welcome spring in all its glory..and wish you all a very happy Easter wherever in the world you roam.  The vagabond returns this week, with lots to chew on – from fennel with saucy fresh trout to a simple, silky pudding….to toss in a few ideas for the upcoming May Day week end.

A drift of sweet scent wafts through the window as I lift a pot of deep blue and punchy pink hyacinths from the window sill and close the shutters every night. Fragrance, color, what healing powers the senses convey.  I turn to spices as the soup, sauce or chops are cooking, digging in the spice drawer for brilliant turmeric, tiny cumin seeds, ginger and crushed cardamom.  Cumin seeds send a smoky hint of the east  as they toast in the old Griswold skillet before I add sliced onions and then sear the turkey or sausages for supper. Just a dash of Nouilly Prat white vermouth deglazes the pan, a knife-tip of ginger and a pinch of sea salt are sprinkled in before the lid goes on and flame is turned down.  Using cardamom in savory dishes has become a habit as I stretch from accenting apple cakes or poached pears with this member of the ginger family.  Beyond its presence in Scandinavian sweets and pastries, where I first encountered it, cardamom is a great team player.  Indian and eastern Mediterranean cooks have known this for eons!

What is cardamom, anyway?  Happy growing in rain forests and tropical climates, the seeds of the pod of Ellettaria cardamonum are prized from India to Sri Lanka, and east to Malaysia.  It is a member of the ginger family (as noted), with long flat and pointed leaves.  The cardamom tree grows to ten feet/three meters high, and bears white flowers with a blue or lilac stripe in the center.  Cardamom appeared in Europe about 1200 A.D. – possibly another import brought with the courageous crusaders on their return from the middle east.  Its attributes are not only fragrance and flavor, but as a digestive aid and as a breath freshener.  Many cooks prefer to buy the green pods and to seed them as needed, certainly keeping flavor longer -  do avoid the finely ground caradamom found in supermarkets, which loses flavor once uncapped.  The pods mixed in with coffee grounds add an eastern Mediterranean tone to a French press or drip coffee.  This cardamom fan uses it so often,  I find the long glass tubes of crushed Guatemalan cardamom sold in Scandinavia keep the parfum longer when tightly re-corked and kept in a cool place.

It is a spice with character; a pinch is enough.  What was I saying about this team player:   skillet-toasting cardamom with cumin seeds before adding onions perks up a weeknight meal.  It adds an intriguing note to carrots cooked with garlic and sliced fennel.  Include cardamom in a “rub” for pork or duck, or even in a marinade for fish to add a new dimension to supper for a valentine….