Shopping fun for all ages

When it comes to markets, late summer in Helsinki is always a delight, a revelation.  Last week the vagabond relished revisiting favorite open markets and two of Helsinki’s three market halls.  Days were still warm, breezes kept the air fresh in the broad, central Kauppatori market, bursting with colors of the season.  Sunflowers by the bucketful, just-picked blueberries and chantarelle mushrooms tempted shoppers toting birch baskets and large canvas satchels. All this with a back drop of yachts, ferries and cruise ships moored in this sea-side city’s many marinas.  Look around, for if you have no basket or bag, there are plenty to choose from in vendor’s stalls.

Brooms, baskets and brushes....

The orange tents of the harbor market draw crowds of both local and visiting shoppers, but the vagabond’s favorite hall is Hakaniemihalli in the Kallio district. Hop on a tram #6 at the central train station or take the Metro, which brings you to the center of the open marketplace.

New potatoes, ripe tomatoes and heaps of dill

Every morning until about 13:00/1 o’clock, vendors tend their open or sheltered stalls loaded with everything from potatoes to pastries. In fact, a pulla (a round or cinnamon swirl bun) and coffee is a treat at one of the temporary coffee stalls on a sunny day. But a pause outside is just one option, as there are six places for coffee or lunch inside the brick hall.

A light lunch of shrimp sandwich loaf?

Since 1914, Hakaniemihalli has drawn shoppers from beyond this working class neighborhood to shops on two floors. Thirty-eight food vendors on the first floor range from fresh meats, cheeses, fish and spices to organic vegetables and specialty coffees and teas.  One little niche in this hall is a detour near the east door, harboring only bread and pastry stalls – the perfect place to orient oneself to Finnish breads, both traditional variations on rye and today’s trends to herb, oil and seed-flavored breads.

Round rye, oval wheat loaves - buy bread by the chunk

If you can only choose one pastry, early September is the time for anything dripping with delectable blueberries.

Too large? Small tarts are an option if you are in a rush

Upstairs, twenty-eight shops offer wooden tools, second hand books, table-top collectibles, fabrics and yarns.

Yarns for sox, knitwear to go

Merimekko’s space tempts shoppers with shirts, hats, pillows – both classic and current styles.

Classic Finnish design, fresh prints

What else can we add to our shopping bag…some fungus from the forest?  Finnish kantarelli/chantarelle mushrooms are not as abundant this year after an unusually hot summer, so some vendors bring in mushrooms from other countries such as Estonia.  To be assured of  “local” mushrooms, look for the tag:  Suomalainen to be sure.  For the simplest pleasures on a summer evening, fresh chantarelles sautéed in Finnish butter on a slab of salmon from the Finnish Gulf – well, from the vagabond’s point of view from a balcony overlooking a harbor – life on Nordic shores doesn’t get much better than this.

Kantarelli, a universal favorite

Chef’s Suggestions:  Note in the September 11/12 Weekend Financial Times, page 4, Hans Välimäki (chef at Chez Dominique, with 2 Michelin stars) agrees with the vagabond that the Hakaniemi Market is “Helsinki’s best food market”.

For more on markets and market halls in Helsinki, see: www.visithelsinki.fi

A vicarious tour of Majorca....

Whether you stretch out on a dock, a deck or a beach in a secluded cove, pull a good book about faraway places out of your beach bag.  The vagabond’s choice is a small tome packed with details about a Mediterranean cuisine that doesn’t get much attention:  Majorca. Life-long resident, Tomas Graves surveys this culture and its food traditions, introducing its prime ingredients and those who use them.  Pa am oli, the humble Catalan country bread rubbed with garlic and tomato ties his narrative together and links past and present.  In-depth descriptions of bread making and the island’s fine olive oil traditions vie with forays into Andalusian cured ham/jamon, relatively recent arrivals on Majorcan plates.  But don’t let me spoil the story, or get ahead of myself before thoroughly rereading:  Bread & Oil, Majorcan culture’s last stand, published by Grub Street UK in 1998 & 2006.

Where would we be without mayo, the saving sauce of this quick-fix and fresh season?  Not from a jar, but we’re whipping up a bowlful most mornings to be ready for lunch.  For cold chicken, strips of poached fish, and devilishly good with hard boiled eggs, a dollop of mayonnaise is the vagabond’s answer to enhancing almost anything savory.  Mash a clove or two of garlic for the aïoli version to acccompany Salade Niçoise while green beans  steam and are soon ready to plate.  Stir in a little horseradish for cold pork, a little moutarde de Dijon for sliced tomatoes, minced fresh basil to go with whatever is plucked straight from the garden:  mayonnaise’ versatile simplicity easily dresses up leftovers or a bowl of just-steamed new amandine potatoes.

Hold tight to the bowl and whisk, whisk.....

To keep up with the summer’s bounty, mayonnaise can deviate from the classic formula of 1 egg yolk, 1/2 cup oil + 1/2 cup best olive oil + 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard + a pinch of salt.  But to begin with, it is a simple emulsion of whisked egg, oil and additional seasonings, so put an egg yolk ( or 2 ) with the Dijon mustard (Not the sweetened or cheaper stuff – your taste buds will say  merci!) and whisk (by hand – this isn’t enough to use the blender) as it thickens, then add sea salt, and drip by drip whisk in the oil, finishing with the best of your olive oils.  Frankly, using All olive oil has its adherents – but you must use the freshest of Quality oils.  If the vagabond lived on the Ligurian coast of Italy where the lightest, grassy and loveliest oils (note a bias here) are produced, I would. The best balance on a regular basis comes from a blend of grape seed oil or other mild oils and good olive oil.  Our trials have come up very green and bitter with ordinary olive oils (resembling something like crank-case oil?).  A finishing touch of lemon juice – tasting for salt & lemon juice is critical here.  If you have fresh tarragon, mince it and blend in to accompany fresh fish or chicken, or add a scoop of horseradish to perk up cold pork or thinly sliced duck magret or roast beef.  Chop black olives into your mayo to bring the provençal touch to seared or grilled fish.  Sauce Andalouse adds chopped tomatoes and, well, you get the idea – stir it up as you please!

Tart plums, like oversize pop-it pearls unstrung

Tangy-tart, small green plums appeared in local markets this week, the first of this large and versatile family to hit the crates.  And I mean local plums.  As stone fruit goes, the French southwest is a wonderland.  Apricots have already come in from hillsides of the Tarn.  A pallet of firm nectarines sighted last week set the vagabond to thinking about fruity upside-down cakes.  And peaches, well….temptation get thee behind me, but I’ve even dreamed about stirring up white peach Bellinis for friends this weekend. But plums come first, I was reminded when the vendor beamed at me and said…”these are our first plums this season, picked from my trees last night”!

Our terroir is as much about fruit trees as grape vines, the sloping lands ripple with fruit orchards south of Bergerac.  Approaching Agen, long known as as the “Prune capital of Europe”, the region’s intensive fruit production becomes evident and prune warehouses, even prune museums are scattered across the hilly area. The prune variety (just to confuse things, plum is prune in French), prune d’Ente will be harvested later this month, dried and sold in markets and packed to send around the world. This morning I am more interested in plums for a tart, today.

Fresh green plums turn golden when baked

Plum Frangipane Tarte - with a soupçon of whiskey

Make the crust first:   1/2 cup + 2 T. butter (140 g)

1/4 cup sugar (50 g) + 1/4 tsp. cardamom

1 farm-fresh egg (about 60g.)

1  2/3 cups plain flour (200 g.)

Cream the butter & sugar, blend in the egg, then stir in the flour gradually to blend it all well. Form into a ball, wrap in cling film or foil & chill for 30 min. Heat the oven to  400°f/200°c. and place baking rack in middle of the oven, with a cookie sheet to heat – while cutting plums and mixing filling:

3 cups green plums, halved, pitted

2 medium eggs

1/3 cup + 1 Tablespoon sugar (85 g)

1/2 cup + 1 Tablespoon ground almonds (50 g)

2/3 cup (scant) thick cream ( 142 ml)

2 Tablespoons melted butter

1/3 cup flaked almonds + 1/4 tsp. ginger

The plums may begin to color when exposed to air, so sprinkle with juice of 1/2 lemon. Whisk the eggs, sugar, almonds and blend in the cream, stirring well.  Roll out the pastry (use a pastry cloth or flour the work surface) and folding it over the rolling pin, transfer to a 10″ pie tin or baking dish, prick the pastry with a fork.  Put the plums onto the pastry base, pour the almond-cream mixture over all, and sprinkle with flaked almonds. Bake for 20 to 30 minutes, testing with a stainless knife blade at 25 minutes; the cookie sheet under the tarte should conduct heat to avoid a gummy bottom crust.  If the crust edges brown too fast, place a ring of aluminum foil over all to avoid a scorched crust.  Remove the tarte to a rack to cool & sprinkle with:  2 Tablespoons whiskey or Eau de vie de prune/plum brandy.

The finishing soupçon

Serve cool or chilled – with a sip or two of plum brandy.  This serves 8. Whatever remains is so good with coffee on Sunday morning. Later in the season, soften and stone 200 grams of prunes in place of the fresh plums to make a lovely autumn tarte.

A pinch of lime juice plays up melon's flavor

A slice of this morning’s melon, wrapped in paper-thin slices of country ham -  or as we often do in the southwest, sliced duck ham, with a squeeze from a juicy lime – what could be simpler as a starter or as lunch on a sweltering, hot day?  In fact, you can hold the ham and give me just the lime juice to enhance this sweet curcurbit. Some will wrap their sliced Charentais in prosciutto, others give it a twist of black pepper, sea salt or nutmeg to accent the melon’s flavor.  Right now, when market vendors heap the round, netted spheres of Charente melon or smoother, ridged local cantaloupe in pyramids, it is easy to get used to a slice or three for lunch every day.

Chilled, this fruit of the vine is a cool antidote to the heat waves that can sap our energy.  Desert people knew that….the Egyptians have been eating melon since 2400 B.C.  Moors hybridized wild melons that couldn’t be eaten raw to produce a sweet melon.  During their centuries of rule in  Sicily and Spain, melons became a part of the extensive Arabian agricultural legacy.  Popes in both Rome and Avignon dined on melons, and encouraged local production.  The curious gardener, Thomas Jefferson, planted and savored melon from his garden in Monticello.  So, this curcurbit, in the same family as cucumbers and squash, has taken hold in warm climates around the world.  Across the south of France, from the Atlantic coast’s Charente Maritîme through the Lot and Quercy, to Carpentras and the melon fields of Provence, the melon season is ON.  Which is best? You might want to do a tasting tour to judge for yourself, for local melon appears on menus as a starter as well as dessert.  To finish a summer dinner on a light note, just drizzle a little Pineau de Charente or sweet Monbazillac wine into a small, fruit-filled melon half for a little bit of heaven.

So cool, local, and in season

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.

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