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.

Certosino

Time begins to shrink as St. Nicolas rolls around again, the sixth of December marks the season of treats for young and ….less young. Memories of the St.Nicolas Festival in Nancy and St.Nicolas-du-Port in Lorraine flash past – such a long and sparkling parade, many tots perched on their papas’ shoulders to see above the crowd as Saint Nicolas’ poly-bubble of a float rolled past, the red-robed man with whiskers waving to all. Then everyone squeezed into crowded cafés for hot chocolate: the festive season’s very social grand opener. This tradition was one of the pleasures discovered while researching La France Gourmande, my first book about food festivals and traditions. Now I hunt for holiday recipes using honey, inspired by the pain d’épice discovered in Nancy and in Marchées de Noël across northern France.

Honey and almonds go hand in hand, I find – from Greece to Galicia, from north to south in France, Spain and Italy. For this round I’m reviving an adaptation of a Christmas cake with honey and dried fruit from northern Italy, a moist cake so surprisingly delicious, without eggs and very little butter. For years, my standard fruitcakes were basically butter cakes, dense with all kinds of dried, rum-soaked fruit. But last Christmas I baked a Certosino, and a new “tradition” began. Preparations begin la veille, the evening before baking: the moon, as translucent as a turnip slice, rises in the winter sky as I set the raisins to plump in port for Sunday’s baking, and a pot of applesauce (or pears and quince?) bubbles on the back burner. Baked a few weeks before festivities, the Certosino needs a week or three to mature – like so many good things, it improves with time.

Recipe for Certosino: This is a standard Christmas cake in the region around Bolgona, where it is also called Pan Speziale. In some kitchens, Certosino is made with grated apples, and the proportion of honey ranges from 2 teaspoons to 2 cups. The chopped chocolate is sometimes replaced by cocoa, and a few versions add eggs, while others add cookie crumbs.

Begin by soaking 1/2 cup of white raisins in port or marsala to cover, left overnight or longer. Pare 4 apples, core and chop them to yield 2 cups, then cook in 1/4 cup of water with 2 1/2 T.sugar and 1 T.lemon juice. When cooked (about 15 minutes, depending on the variety of apple), mash or strain them and measure out 2/3 cup of applesauce; let cool (this can be done a day before making the cake).

Butter a 9 1/2inch/24 cm. springform cake pan. Preheat the oven to 325°f/160°C. Toast 6 oz/170 g. blanched almonds in the oven for a few minutes to heighten flavor (if you use Marcona almonds, they will begin to sweat beads of oil – a signal they are toasting), cool them and chop coarsely; also toast 2oz/50g pine nuts (check freshness, as they go rancid quickly) – leave them whole. In a double boiler, warm 12 oz honey (I used chestnut honey this year, which gives a deeper flavor), and add 2 oz. sweet butter and 1 tsp. cinnamon, grated nutmeg, 2 tsp anise seed (or fennel seed and ground cloves if you wish); stir all together and set aside to cool. Sift 13 oz. flour (not self-rising) into a large bowl, stir the honey-spice mixture into the flour, adding 2 1/2 oz shaved dark(70%) chocolate, mixing it with the chopped almonds, the pine nuts and 3 T candied orange and lemon peel to coat with the flour. Dissolve 1 1/2 tsp. of baking soda in 2 T port (of the raisin-soaking bowl). With a wooden spoon, fold all together gently and pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for an hour, check with a piece of spaghetti or a knitting needle – if it is done, this will be clean; the cake will pull slightly away from the pan. Do not overbake. Let it cool on a rack, slip onto a serving plate, and spread 3 T (or more) apricot jam over the top, garnish with glazed cherries and perfect nuts. The glaze serves to keep the cake moist. Keep in a cool place, wrapped in foil, for a week or two before serving – to 8 or 10.  Sip a ten year old Monbazillac or amber Amaretto with the Certosino.

Acknowledgements: This recipe is adapted from New Country Kitchen, Henrietta Green’s classic and ever-inspiring collection of seasonal delights. It was published in 1992 by Conran Octopus Ltd, and I found it in a corner of Hagelstam’s Bookstore in Helsinki early in the new millenium. Not only do the recipes reflect the seasons – all across Europe – but illustrations are fresh, photos superb; it is my seasonal guide. Nordic travelers might enjoy a visit to www.Hagelstam.net for books, new and used, in a variety of languages.

Next up: Notes on almond butter, plus some fowl advice: whether mulard or barbarie, getting the ducks in a row.

Marmande

Late summer, these sun-washed afternoons of l’arrière saison in the Périgord, could otherwise be known as le temps des tomates: tomatoes are rolling in from all directions. The phone rings, a friend in the valley calls: …”lots of tomatoes -bring a box!”…. and every other day Madame L, my petite neighbor calls “ooh hoo” with another sack of tomatoes for our lunch. I’m not quite ready to shout: “enough/assez”, for there are more ideas to explore for baking, stewing and preserving these globes of summertime goodness.

Actually, it all begins in July with the Marmande, a mid-season French heirloom – probably the best known of our patrimoine des potagers – whose convoluted bulges only add more tangy flavor to salads and sauces.  Another favorite rather lumpy heirloom is the Costralee, followed by the popular Coeur de Boeuf (big, but not as large as a beef heart, about the size of a beefsteak tomato). For color variety, I look for the mid-season La Carotina, a small, juicy orange tomato and later, the pinkish red Grosse Cotelee. In every region, you’ll find other heirloom varieties alongside the dependable sauce tomatoes such as Roma and San Marzano. Heirloom seeds are dried, kept through generations for each summer’s open-air pollinated fruit, no genetic modification, nor hybrid-crosses, all dependent on bees and other buzzing pollinators.

But what can I do with a heap of tomatoes, besides hauling out the preserving kettle and stirring up a batch of chutney? Faced with a shortage of time in the kitchen, I recently roasted a batch and froze them to add some zing to a winter soup or ragout. This is the simplest drill: line a clean roasting pan with fresh herbs – bay and sage leaves, branch-tops of celery, thyme, whatever you have. Choose large and firm tomatoes, wash and dry each tomato, trim the stem-tops and core, sprinkle with olive oil and more thyme. Roast in a medium/ 350°f oven for about 2 hours. Remove from the oven, let cool, scoop out tomato pulp into freezer cartons, cool, cap, label and freeze. Add salt and pepper to taste when you thaw them; the roasted tomatoes taste richer than when cooked on top of the stove. Fast-forward to the winter soup: drizzle a little basil bud oil over all…

Basil bud oil’

Basil buds, those perfect center leaves so easy to pinch when you don’t want the basil stem to flower (which they will do anyway…another story), come into full-tilt production at the same time as the plethora of tomatoes hits. So, pack small clean jars with basil leaves, then pour in some light olive oil – greener and fruity, not yellow and heavy – before sealing the jar and storing it in a cool, dark cabinet. Imagine a rainy December night, long past these bright September days, when you can top a provençal tomato soup with a dash of fragrant oil that brings it (almost) all back: l’arrière-saison revisitée!

Notes on seeds and tomato festivities:

Sources for heirloom varieties include: www.chileseeds.co.uk/organic-heirloom-tomato and www.heirloomtomatoes.bizland.com

Tomato Festivities in France are many, but one noteworthy event occurs near Tours in mid-September, when an exceptional potager (vegetable garden) featuring over 550 varieties of tomatoes opens its doors to visitors. Prince Louis-Albert de Broglie has filled his Loire valley, 16th century château gardens with tomatoes (and stunning dahlias). The remarkable Château de Bourdaisière in Montlouis-sur-Loire lies west of Amboise. For directions, dates and (they host B&B in the château) details, see: www.chateaulabourdaisiere.com