If I were in Barcelona today, I would make a bee-line to Casa Gispert for a treat:  Spain’s new crop almonds are in! Just six weeks ago, the oval nuts were being shaken off trees, then dried before delivery to processors. But in spite of weeks under the driers’ whirring fans, the crunchy texture still holds a hint of milky flavor that we tasted in summer’s green almonds.

Imagine the clatter and din of the almond harvest as tractors fitted with a gripper-shaker in an upside-down blue canvas catch all harvesting umbrella. The umbrella opens, a gripper grasps the almond trunk, umbrella closes and in a few seconds of vibration, all almonds have dropped into the umbrella.  After each third tree is shaken, the umbrella is unloaded and the blue canvas moves through the finca orchard in record time. Not days, but hours are now all it takes to harvest the almond crop – a far cry from the past when crews spent weeks tapping the highest branches with long sticks.  When all the marcona almonds are in, makers of sweet Spanish turron (a type of nougat made with honey) have first selection of the finest nuts for making tons of  the traditional Christmas confection.  Sweets lovers, take note:  December will be the time to do some turron gift-shopping, at Casa Gispert, Delinostrum or your favorite source of Spanish products.

To glimpse just a minute or two of the almond harvest in Spain,  turn to a very clearly photographed video posted October 14, 2009 on:

http://midwesttomidlands.blogspot.com

We called it a ground cherry, and grew it in the  sandy Minnesota soil of our vegetable garden when I was about ten.  Much more fun to pick than the green beans, the little paper husks could be pinched open to let the glow-in-the-dark orange fruit pop into my mouth.  Mom would make a light syrup and preserve them to perk up winter meals, as a simple sauce for dessert (sometimes over butter-pecan ice cream), or as a special Sunday jam. The ping of jar caps sealing was a sound of the season.  Now, every time the decorative physalis, as festive as a Chinese lantern, is plated on a restaurant dessert tray of chocolate cake or apricot mousse, I recall our harvests just before frost.  Recently I was tickled to find a tray of this globe-trotting native of Peru (Physalis peruviana in botanic terms) on a vendor’s stall in the Rouffignac Sunday market.  Our local Périgord markets seem to offer more interesting ingredients every year, and the physalis’ long season – one hundred days to maturity – is well suited to this temperate growing zone. The sprawling, handsome plant in the Solanaceae family is related to a tomatillo.  So, why not make a sweet physalis salsa to pair with a smooth panna cotta?  Or, why not stir them into an apple crumble for both color and a sweet-sharp edge? Maybe a few will find their way onto a cheese platter, but to be honest….they are so good just popped out of the husk, savored on the spot. Maybe it’s time to think about a physalis row in next year’s potager.

Planning a potager for 2010? See www.realseeds.co-uk/physalis.html for more on planting them at home – as local as your own back yard.

As golden and plump as a ripe quince, autumn is here at last.  Something about the fullness of this season, always a mixture of pleasure and melancholy, brings more to do than hours in a day allow. Beyond finishing up some desk work, beyond raking a fresh ton of maple and elm leaves, then pulling out dry tomato plants – it is a season that draws me into la petite cuisine. With a bowl of firm quince at the ready, what is stopping the vagabond from taking a new tack with a pork roast?  And stirring up a pot of duck stock for vegetable soup fits into the week end’s goal: a Sunday lunch with friends. The menu is lined up:  a pork roast has been rubbed with minced rosemary, garlic, sage and a little pepper, then wrapped in jambon de pays/cured country ham to mellow overnight. Quince and sweet onions are ready to sauté in duck fat to accompany the pork.  Sweet potatoes and carrots will roast slowly, drizzled with pan juices for an hour. A ripened bleu de Gex and lait cru/raw milk Camembert are cool, waiting their turn on the table. My master chef/MC has cooked the apple sauce and formed his special pastry dough into a ball to rest overnight – ready to roll in the morning for Tarte aux pommes à la Michel - before slicing firm apples for the garniture/topping. A few recipes will follow after the true test: tasting on Sunday.

Monday’s report adds a few details to the pork roast recipe sketched above. A 3 pound/1.5 kg rolled pork roast for 7 or 8 begins with the seasoning and wrapping in four slices of jambon de pays/cured country ham. Let the seasoned roast rest overnight, then bring to room temperature in the morning. Allowing about 2 hours roasting, preheat oven to 350°f/175°c; a meat thermometer should show 185° f/90°c  when done. Heat a heavy skillet and sear the roast on all sides before putting it into the roasting pan, on top of a bed of sage leaves. Insert meat thermometer. After 40 minutes, add 2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and sliced into rounds (some may be tucked under the roast). Season with white pepper and nutmeg, drizzle with olive oil or melted butter, return roast to oven – but baste every 30 minutes. Remove from the oven 20 minutes before serving in a heated dish, surrounded with the rounds of sweet potatoes. Garnish with parsley & sage leaves. Serve with a side of brown rice or wild rice. Well balanced wines from our Bergerac region, the Pécharmant, compliment the rich flavors and sweet tones of this menu. Look for the Pécharmant reds of Château Tillerai, Château Terre Vieille – or splash out with a Graves from Château d’Ardennes….to toast the golden season.

Quince in focus: The fruit, the tree, the lore of cydonia oblonga are brought into focus on the site – scroll down to October 27 entry:

http://blog.metmuseum.org/cloistersgardens/2008

Next up: report on the almond harvest, making chèvre at home (at last), and a visit with vintners.

With Labor Day comes a “back to school” mood, and with that mood memories of many years spent preparing the art room for a new round of  classes.  Days short on time meant bag lunches of fruit, a sandwich and…Fig Newtons.  Is it any wonder that an association still remains?  This month, daily walks to a splendid white fig tree – the Adriatic variety, if my sources are correct – bring back a few hazy memories of figgy brown-bag treats.  The green, sheeny globes of figs are bulging now, inviting me to gather a few every evening as they slowly ripen.  Since the large tree grows next to a railroad overpass, we have access only to the tree tops.  I use an umbrella handle to loop over branches, pulling them closer to twist off a few ripe fruit. Figs don’t ripen after being picked, and can only be kept for a day or two in a cool pantry. So, with twenty-four perfect figs on hand, it’s time to preserve them for winter feasts.

Select firm, ripe fruit with no marks or splits, rinse gently and let them dry. Prepare a simple medium syrup in one soup pot, dissolving 3 cups of sugar in 6 cups of water and letting it simmer while preparing the 24 figs. If you like, add a stick of cinnamon or a few star anise to the syrup. Wash a lemon and cut into thin slices, to be added to each jar. In another pot half filled with boiling water, blanch the figs for 2 minutes. Scoop them out with a skimmer and immerse in the hot syrup, bring to a boil, turn down the heat and simmer for 5 to 8 minutes.  Sterilize 3 (or 4*) pint jars & lids in a boiling water bath. With tongs, remove the jars; carefully ladle figs into each jar, slip in a lemon slice and top up with the hot syrup, leaving 1/4 ” air space.  Wipe rims clean and place lids on, twist to seal. Place in a boiling water bath (use the one in which jars were sterilized), cover and process for 45 minutes. Depending on the size of the fruit, you may need another* jar. Any remaining syrup is ready for poaching pears or nectarines.  Let the jars cool away from drafts, let rest for a day, then label and store in a cool, dark place for a month. Then they’ll be ready to serve with a cheese platter, as a sweet garnish for duckling or pork – or as a gift for a fig-loving friend.

Scents-wise: Gathering the fruit or stirring up a jam, the fig’s sensual aromas are so intense – “this should be bottled”, I mused.  A California couple has done just that, with Mediterranean Fig scents and soaps in the Pacifica line.  Visit www.pacificaperfume.com and don’t miss the Mediterranean Fig body butter with almond oil!

Isolate the key flavors, the products of southern France, and the list looks something like this:  olives, olive oil, lemons, tomatoes, bell peppers and pimento, almonds and pistachios, anchovies, and of course, garlic.  Scan all countries ringing the Mediterranean Sea to find only slight variations on this lineup.  So, which kind of garlic do southern cooks choose and use most? Once dried, braided and strung up, the pink garlic of Lautrec keeps longer, while the white – almost sweet - allium sativum of Beaumont de Lomagne in Gascony is the juicy choice during summer and early autumn.  By the first of November, bitter, green sprouts appear inside this variety, indicating it is ready for planting in the next round, to be harvested early the following July.  In the same rhythm, for about a thousand years garlic has been cultivated in southern Europe – but jump back 6,000 years to trace cultivated garlic in Egypt and India. This powerful allium, noted in Sanskrit medical treatises from the second century B.C. to the second century A.D., was devoted to use as an antifungal, antiseptic and cleansing agent.  The upper classes never ate garlic, as was true of Brahmins, the clergy and upper classes around the Mediterranean for centuries:  it was a peasant ingredient relegated to cucina di povera.

How things have changed since the 1940’s, when garlic was embraced as a flavorful element by popular opinion, gradually making inroads into haute cuisine.  Fast forward to the second half of the twentieth century, when gastronomic sights were set on southern Europe, the Middle East and Asia, and into the twenty-first as “fresh and healthful” became each cook’s mantra. Meanwhile, the “peasant cooking” of Europe that included garlic and other hefty ingredients has come into the spotlight. It is hard to imagine an Andalusian gazpacho, a Greek skordalia, or even Polish dill pickles without  garlic to enhance the punch of flavors….and don’t ignore this season’s vibrant blend of garlic, basil and nuts: pesto.  To crush or to cook is your choice.  When garlic is cooked, the hot sensation and odors of allicin disappear, and the edge of raw garlic mellows. With this in mind, Sicilian cooks rarely or never use garlic raw, but prefer the deeper flavors of the cooked buds.  But what about haleine (bad breath)?  Avoiding garlic breath doesn’t seem to be a concern when everyone else is eating garlic – as the vagabond has noted in Gascony and the Languedoc.  More refined tastes and sensitive noses may beg to differ, as the situation varies.  Planning to meet with your lawyer after lunch?  He has probably just had garlic-infused sausages and pasta tossed with pungent pesto on his plate.

All these comments aside, how can you best keep the savory garlic on hand for a quick tzadziki salad or to rub onto a lamb chop? Preserving buds in olive oil is good for a week – at most. After that, unwelcome bacterial growth is a distinct possibility. For longer term use, I like to pop garlic cloves into a small jar of sherry vinegar to keep in the fridge, and seldom buy more than two heads at a time.  In eastern Europe, young bulbs and shoots are pickled as a condiment. Baking whole heads of garlic with a roast chicken is reserved for a special event, and each person has a small spoon to scoop out the sweet soft – very mellow – garlic. Whether you crush or cook garlic, you’ll be doing yourself a favor – it boosts the immune system, acts as a stimulant to digestion, and enhances flavors of whatever it is mixed with, especially the other other sun-drenched icons of Mediterranean cuisine.

Note: There are over 300 varieties of garlic, so if you are interested in planting your own, refer to www.2sistersgarlic.com/varieties.htm for details.

Did the vagabond expect to munch on divine garlic bread in western France?  No, but why not – then again, the egg-rich Brioche Vendéen bread is so much better known.  The cuisine of the Poitou Charente and Vendée regions seldom is given more than passing mention in guidebooks.  Usually it is the stuffed vegetables of the Poitou, the slick and mellow Charente butter, or matelote (eels cooked in wine with herbs – don’t ask), mojette beans, and melon cubes dripping with Pineau des Charentes that make up a short list of  regional specialties.  References to préfou are rare, even on menus posted outside cafés; no recipes are found on the net or in old, reliable cookbooks.  But there they were, a few crisp strips of garlic-soaked toast on my Salade Maraîchier plate in the charming Charente village of Arçais.  So very good, so easy to replicate, it seemed.  Back in my kitchen on the hill, the urge to try making a batch of préfou was too hard to resist.

In days gone by, before baking many loaves in the four à pain, a lump of dough was pinched off, patted flat and popped into the oven to test the temperature.  Préfour (four is oven in French) then would be pre-baking, as my best guess at the etymology for préfou. In the lower Vendée, along the Charente border, the custom was to rub the warm bread with a clove of  garlic and spread it with freshly churned butter. A glass of the crisp, local white wine or a sip of eau de vie would go down nicely with this humble treat, as one could imagine.

A wedge of fresh butter, plump garlic, and bread ready for préfou!

The bread for the simple garlic and butter-soaked wonder begins with a basic  fougasse dough (for this batch, I used 500 ml/2 cups potato water seasoned with a bay leaf, 450 g./4 cups bread flour (spoon flour into cup, tap and level), a pinch of salt and 1/2 tsp. dry yeast, and oiled hands to shape the dough – use directions in the (12 June 2009) fougasse post – and let it rise overnight).  Instead of an oval or leaf, shape it in a rectangle on a baking sheet and slit at 2 inch intervals, making the préfou fingers easier to separate after baking. The above proportions make enough dough for 1 préfou and 1 small loaf of bread. You may need more flour, depending on the humidity of the day and type of flour used. Sprinkle fine cornmeal under the  préfou and a little over the top. Heat the oven to 220°c./425°f., place the pans in the oven and spray with spritzes of water, then turn the heat down to 200°c/400°f. and bake for 12 minutes.  The following day, slice the préfou horizontally, separate the fingers of bread, spread each piece with a mixture of crushed, juicy new garlic mixed with soft butter, and put the fingers back together. Wrap in foil, and at this point, let it rest for a couple of hours or overnight, then heat it in a warm oven (or over the coals of a grill) to melt the butter. Clearly, this is best made ahead of time. Tradition says:  serve with apéritifs. But préfou goes well with a green salad or cold soup on blisteringly hot summer days.  After my  first encounter with préfou, I anticipate serving it as a garlicky side with a dish of mojettes jambon …..as the season turns – and September, the moment for shelling mojettes, is just around the corner.

Click on the chick above for more images

Whenever I return to Finland, whatever the season, something new is waiting to be discovered.  Okay, the staple treat, herring in any form is always fun to taste whether pickled, smoked or sautéed. But on a recent trip, I was whisked along the “King’s Highway” east of Helsinki to a manor-farm near Porvoo.  I was told a little about the farm’s organic products as we wound along the curving drive to Malmgaard, parked next to 19th century brick stables, and rang the bell at the farm shop.  Wheat, oats and rye grown at Malmgaard using organic/biologique methods are ground in small quantities here, so you know the flour is fresh.  In spite of the weight I knew would be mine to carry home in a suitcase, I was like a kid in a candy store, imagining savory oat-flour biscuits with fresh chèvre and sweet rye bread for an Easter Monday magret de canard salad lunch. Surprised to find spelt, the ancient Mediterranean grain known as épautre, another kilo sack was added to my load. Then I spotted the jams: oh, my….red and black berries of all sorts, Finnish flavors of summer – captured in a jar.  As we drove away, I dreamed of returning on a summer day for a walk around the farm, where the grounds are open – though the manor house/kartano is closed to the public. This summer they are planning to open a brewery in one of the brick outbuildings, and will sell their own brewmaster’s best. Malmgaard is but one of many large farms across southern Finland now opening shops or their gardens to visitors during long summer days. The Porvoo region is dotted with such farms, each a day’s excursion from this historic town on the “King’s Highway”.  And if you go, do stop at the Porvoo marketplace  for pulla and coffee.

For more details, see: www.finland.com/southern_finland  or http://maitkalu.porvoo.fi

Recently, I dug into my bag of flavor memories, well entrenched during the five years of my life in Helsinki.  Anticipating a week in the Finnish capital, my mental list of where to stop for lunch and which bakeries and cafés would merit a re-visit was growing as we circled to land on a snowy night.  The strength of certain spices ruled my recall, with cinnamon and cardamom controlling the olfactory zone – dill would wait until some sliced salmon appeared on the table.  But it was the dense, sweet sharpness of cardamom that hovered in the air outside cafés, even before I opened the door.  The finely ground black, spicy specks of cardamom appeared in every pulla that I pulled apart.

When we stopped for coffee in the Saturday market at Porvoo, huddled against a canvas windbreak with our faces turned to the sun, I marveled at the perfect, sugar-studded pulla before biting into its buttery center. Pulla provided consolation for the not-so-sunny, rather slushy days that followed.  And in the quest for the best of these traditional Finnish buns, I was led to a tiny café, Hopia, at 9  Pohjoinen Hesperiankatu.  The baker must have taken a fresh tray from his oven the moment we stepped inside, for the aromas triggered that strong coffee ja pulla memory connection.  Wooden tables with shiny plank benches were crowded with Hopia regulars, lingering over their afternoon coffee and nibbling the dense cardamom buns. I chose little round pullas, larger ones with a “butter eye”, a few twists of cinnamon-rich Korvapuusti ears, and gingerly carried the bakery bag along the broad boulevard.  Big grin, simple pleasures.  The small sack of Hopia treasures was almost empty by the time we left Helsinki, but this morning, I dipped the last pulla into my morning coffee back at home:  Helsinki revisited in a single bite.

Oysters, truffles, chili peppers, tomatoes, garlic, ginger, chocolate, oh – cinnamon, mint and almonds – the list of notorious aphrodisiacs is long. Is it the zinc in oysters (and pine nuts as well) that lends credence to their legendary powers? How much of the allure rests in nutrition, for garlic’s medicinal heat as one case, has stirred research into the pungent bulb’s properties.  Certainly each ingredient’s sensual qualities, the color and aromas come into play when preparing a menu with a hint of seduction. Fragrance is on almond’s side, as Samson knew when he courted Delilah with sweet almonds. Did cinnamon do the trick when the Queen of Sheba set her cap (or crown?) for King Solomon?  Spices are legendary, as Romans knew when they munched on anise seeds to stimulate their libido. There appear to be several winning combinations on the list, depending on the setting and mood, the season and personalities involved in the plot…..and seduction is a plot, non?

The plot… er the menu: in truffle season, pull out a paring knife, trim a small truffle and dice it, slice a log or a round of fresh chèvre cheese horizontally. Sprinkle truffle dice between the layers and wrap this appetizer in baking paper or a small brown paper bag (NOT in plastic) and tuck it in a cool place for a day or three before your dinner.  Garnish it with arugula/roquette (also on the list…). Stir up a hearty soup based on garlic, ginger, tomatoes, with basil and even a little fresh mint (to add at the end of cooking). Use chopped chicken or lamb for texture and protein, and toss in a touch of chili pepper, let it rest to mellow overnight. A fresh baguette or crusty roll is perfect on the side.  All of this can be ready well before dinner time, to allow maximum time for “conversation”.  The wine, a fresh white Vouvray with the chèvre truffé, and later a subtle and complex Bordeaux Supérieur or the dark fruit of a Gigondas would be my choice – but possibilities abound. Now, what’s for dessert? A gooey chocolate-almond-nutmeg fondant cake would be superb (with or without a dusting of chili).  Stay tuned, the Valentine recipe is being tested…and tasted.

Fondant Chocolate, a cake that is almost done retains a molten middle if not baked too long – but is not bad as a cake….if you get distracted before dessert.  Stir it  up ahead of time, it can be popped into the oven and bakes at 350°f for 8 to 10 minutes in individual ramekins (1/2 cup+1 tablespoon/150 ml) or baking cups. Melt 3 packages of 70% chocolate (each package 100g, broken into little pieces – half milk chocolate is milder) in a bowl set over a pan of simmering water; let cool while mixing 1/3 cup light brown sugar with 6 tablespoons butter cut into bits and 5 medium-sized eggs.  When blended, add 1/2 cup ground almonds (or 1/2 cup flour, sifted), 1 teaspoon grated nutmeg. Orange zest or cinnamon could also be added at this point if you wish. Blend in the chocolate – it will be grainy at first, but blend steadily – and then add 2 tablespoons dark rum. Pour batter into 5 or 6 buttered ramekins, each 2/3 full, place them on a baking sheet, dust with a little sugar, and bake until edges firm up, begin to rise but middle remains soft, about 9 minutes. Serve warm in the cup or turn out (carefully, to retain the soft center) onto a dessert plate and garnish with sour cream or whipping cream sprinkled with crimson pomegranate seeds.  If desired, dust with cocoa mixed with chili powder for an extra zing. To cut the recipe in half, use 2 large eggs to make 3 servings.

The Friday morning market in St-Germain-en-Laye is a treasure trove during the holidays – or anytime, in fact. Wander through the old town’s narrow streets to the market after a short ride on the RER train northwest of Paris (from La Defence or Gare de Lyon). Find fresh mushrooms, parsnips or even the little corkscrew shaped roots called crosne. Delight in the rich range of winter fruits, heaps of clementines and mandarines, then select a ripe mango or a sack of plump dates. And leave room in your basket for cheese….. oh, my.