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

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

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

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

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

4 to 5  fresh bay leaves

83  g./ 1/2 cup sugar

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

1T. fresh thyme, chopped fine

2 T. butter (unsalted), cut into pieces

sea salt & freshly ground white pepper

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

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

Gariguettes & lemon posset for Sunday lunch

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

Lemon Posset with May’s first Gariguettes

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

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

After the spring feast, after preparations for feeding a crowd, what is left…les restes…become the vagabond’s favorite meals.  The duckling bones make a marvelously rich soup, the Crumble aux légumes is even tastier at room temperature, and the Gâteau aux amandes seems to improve every day.  As European habits go, having a second jour de  fête at Easter and Pentecost is a delightful bonus.  Stores and banks are closed, so all can relax.  For many, Easter Monday is a time to see friends after Sunday’s traditional family gathering – and if the weather cooperates, take a long walk together into the hills and along river trails.  A day off to celebrate spring is a respite in a hectic season.  And when we return, the leftovers make quick work of pulling a meal together.  A platter of cold duck, ham or lamb garnished with sun-dried tomatoes in caper oil is on the table in minutes.  If the first green “points” of asperagus are on hand, oop-la: into a hot skillet with sizzling (clarified) butter to sear for a few minutes before a squeeze of  lemon juice – to serve adorned with a simple sprinkling of sea salt.  Sunday’s steamed cauliflower, chilled and tossed with MC’s mustard vinaigrette, a tumbler full of bread sticks, then sliced almond cake served with a dollop of crème fraîche or ice cream and figs or pears in spiced syrup replenish the hikers.  I bake the cake on Saturday, so even the cook can relax outdoors.  This recipe makes a large bundt cake – or two smaller loaf cakes (one for my kind petite voisine/neighbor) – and is open to variations with spices.  My choice is freshly grated nutmeg, but try ground cardamom or golden Spanish saffron.

Delicate almond cake - adorn it with fruit or nibble with morning coffee

Finnish Almond Cake

A time-honored recipe adapted from my “Finnish cooking bible”, The Finnish Cookbook by Beatrice Ojakangas, published by Crown in 1964. The texture resembles a pound cake, but without heaps of butter. Set oven at moderate, 350°f/180° c and put rack in middle setting.

4 eggs, at room temperature

2 cups sugar

6 Tablespoons sweet butter, melted

6 Tablespoons full cream

3/4 cup ground almonds

2 cups white flour, sifted with 1  1/2 tsp baking powder + pinch salt

1 tsp pure almond extract (1 tsp. nutmeg or cardamom)

toasted shaved/sliced almonds  for garnish

Whisk the eggs ’til light & frothy, add the sugar gradually, beating until thick. In a small bowl mix together the cream, almonds and butter, blend with the eggs & sugar, then carefully fold in the dry ingredients to blend all.  At this point add almond extract and any spices.  Preheat the oven to 350°f/180°c, grease a bundt or tube cake pan (or *) and dust with flour – tapping out any excess flour. Pour the batter into the prepared pan, set in the middle of the oven and bake until golden – about 1 hour; sides will begin to pull away from the pan, test it. Let the cake rest on a rack for 10 minutes before turning out onto a serving plate.  * If baking this in 2 pans (such as 8″/20 cm. cake pans), only bake it 35 minutes & test it.  When cool, spread the bottom layer with jam or preserves (quince? apricot?) and set second layer on top.  Frost with a light icing or dust with powdered/icing sugar.  This cake takes on a chocolate icing, or mocha glaze easily….let your imagination take it from there. Top with freshly toasted shaved almonds.  Make it a day ahead – so you can enjoy the season, whether on foot or perched on a bench in the garden.

Pheasant's Eye narcissus, worth waiting for after most daffs are gone

Apples, always there....for something special

What’s best with Valentine’s Day ever-seductive chocolate dessert? This time, the vagabond stirs up a creamy semifreddo of spiced apples with densely chocolate brownies.  Not a brownie fan?  If you prefer… a chocolate clafoutis, or cocoa-chocolate chip cookies…

Devilish Almond Brownies, a one-pan prep couldn’t be easier:

90 g./3 oz. bittersweet dark chocolate, chopped up

75 g./6 T. sweet butter, chopped up

185 g./3/4 cup sugar

2 large fresh eggs

1 tsp. vanilla extract + twist of black pepper

30 g./1 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped up

50 g./ 1/2 cup flour + 1/2 tsp. salt

1/3 c. chopped candied ginger + 3 T. chopped almonds (plus some for top)

Butter an 8 inch baking pan, flour the bottom. Set oven at 177°F/350°f. and put rack in middle of the oven.

In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, melt the butter + chopped dark chocolate, stirring ’til smooth – watch that  it doesn’t scorch.  Take the pan off the heat, let cool and whisk in sugar, vanilla, and eggs one by one, whisking as it turns glossy and smooth, then add the 1 oz. of chopped chocolate.

Using a wooden spoon or rubber spatula, stir in the flour, candied ginger and chopped almonds (reserve 1 T. for topping). Pour into the prepared pan and spread evenly, then sprinkle chopped almonds on top. Bake for about 30 + minutes – until the top has puffed slightly and cracked; test with a BBQ skewer, no crumbs should be sticking to it. Let cool completely. Cut and serve with the creamy apples…

A dessert for Valentines, anniversary, or...?

The semifreddo begins a day in advance, making applesauce  in a heavy saucepan:

1 cup of water + 2/3 cup sugar to dissolve + 1/2 vanilla bean, split

4 – 5 apples, peeled & cored, sliced. Include some quince, if possible.

1/2 cup thick crème fraîche, a twist of nutmeg, 1 tsp. ginger

1/3 cup heavy cream, whipped to double volume

1 T. lemon juice

When the apples have cooked in the sugar-syrup until they are translucent, let cool and blend with a wand-blender, add the lemon juice and measure this to 2 cups applesauce. (It can be somewhat chunky if you like the texture). Fold in the crème fraîche and whipped cream, pour into a sorbet pan and freeze for 4 hours – then stir it up with a fork to break ice crystals. Freeze overnight. To serve, slice or scoop out onto plates with  squares or triangles of almond brownies.   The Brownies are adapted from a recipe in Gourmet, 1996. Having double-tested this, the vagabond’s village had an electricity cut just after the brownies were baked -  lucky timing.  But more important, even with only candle light, fragrant blossoms in the air…..

Jasmine in bloom - the ultimate mood enhancer...

Lemons ready.... for soup

There is a point in winter when my soup répertoire sags a little. What root can be added, what spice and snap can I stir in?  A perk-up for chicken or vegetable soup is in order. When one eats soup every day (in provincial France, still very common), before or as the evening meal, there must be something beyond tourain (a garlic-infused broth with slices of yesterday’s baguette) or soupe au pistou (many vegetables in a savory broth, somewhat like minestrone).  These are basics – along with velouté de potimarron (winter squash purée) and châtaigne (chestnut cream) -  filling soups for workers’ lunches in auberges and restaurants routiers (truck stops) across the southwest. There’s nothing wrong with those if you are chopping wood or building a barn.  Let’s simply say I’m looking to lighten up a first course soup. To do just that I look south to Greece…. and find lemons.

Whether this Mediterranean combination of eggs and lemons is a silky soup or a sauce, Avgolemono wakes up any bored diner’s tastebuds. Whisk eggs and lemon juice, stir into a chicken broth, heat through and serve – what could be easier?  I first tasted avgolemono (stress middle syllable…avgo Le mono) in a Greek Taverna in Chicago – on Halsted Street as I recall,  it seems eons ago – where my papilles (taste buds) were duly impressed.  And it was an introduction to pastina, tiny oval pastas that look like rice.  Most recipes begin with: cook a three pound chicken, etc. , but you could easily base this on last month’s basic soup stock (post of January 22), and add a cupful of chopped chicken or serve salted chicken on the side.  As with any use of fresh eggs, temperatures need to be watched carefully so curdling doesn’t spoil the soup.  Use white rice or pastina - i prefer “langue des oiseaux“, birds tongues pastina available in specialty shops selling Mediterranean products.

To serve 4, once you have  heated 4 cups of broth in a small soup pot, toss in 1/3 cup of pastina or long grain white rice to cook, covered for 20 minutes while you whisk the avgolemono in a bowl:

2 large, fresh eggs, whisked for 3 minutes

juice of 1 or 2 lemons (2 if you like it tart) & thin lemon slices for garnish; 1 lemon yields about 1/4 cup juice

Add the lemon juice to the eggs, beating constantly – then gradually blend in 1 cup of hot stock from the soup pot, continue beating without interruption, and pour this mixture into the soup, stirring (for 5 to 10 minutes) as it thickens slightly. It should be satiny smooth and the pastina or rice translucent at this point. This last-minute trick depends on the cook’s concentration, stirring as the soup warms. Garnish each bowl with a lemon slice or parsley sprig.

Avgolemono as a sauce can be made in a similar way, using a double boiler or dish over (never touching the water) a pan of boiling water.  Myrsini Lambraki* suggests sauce proportions of 1 egg to the juice of 1 lemon, a pinch of salt and 1/2 cup or more of the vegetable stock whisked in to the desired thickness.  Separate the whites and yolks for a frothier sauce, and serve on fish, asparagus, courgettes, broccoli or cauliflower (this is superb).  A Greek friend warns – never serve avgolemono with tomatoes or garlic, but suggests topping each serving with cracked black pepper or minced Greek oregano.  That, or a sprinkling of chopped fresh mint on top will transport you to a taverna table overlooking the Agean.

*Myrsini Lambraki’s useful Cretan Cuisine for Everyone, published by Myrsini Edition in 2005, emphasizes vegetables and explains the principles of the Mediterranean diet pyramid.

Roots, herbs...all go into the stock pot

Making Soup,  a few words on step 1:  Stock

Turnips with lilac shoulders, a stalk of crisp celery or two, a duck or guinea fowl carcass, maybe a ham bone, and don’t forget the carrots to give a winter soup color…with  sage, thyme and bay leaves. All of these flavor-giving basics are at hand when I reach for the soup stock kettle. Market day will provide more ingredients: leeks, a handful of parsley that the maraîcher always tucks into my sack, and yellow onions whose inner skins will be added for color.  I’ll use the inner, trimmed green leek tops minced up – save the most of the whites for the final soup, onions  will be quartered and stuck with cloves and carrots scrubbed but not peeled. Following Patricia Wells’ sound advice that vegetables cut in small pieces give the stock more of their flavor, I’ll chop them up, run cold water into the soup pot to cover all ingredients, turn on the heat to medium and begin the day’s simmering. The herbs tucked inside the carcass won’t float to the top with eventual foam, making skimming easier. Actually, any fresh veg you have on hand, from cores of cauliflower to broccoli stems will add flavor and nutrients, so use it all up. Lift the lid after ten minutes, begin to skim off any foam rising, then add 1 tablespoon sea salt and 1 tablespoon white wine or cider vinegar (to draw calcium from the bones into the stock) and turn heat to low.  After about four hours – or longer if you wish – strain the soup into glass jars and let the stock cool. Pull pieces of duck or pork off the bones for a spaghetti sauce or soup later. With a good layer of duck fat on top, the stock will keep about a week – if you don’t use it in a risotto first!  More about soup next week: pastinas, tiny noodles…and almond dumplings.

Abate pears, a little cocoa added to the batter in honor of the Salon du Chocolate this weekend in Paris, and almonds to insure crunch accent a variation on my favorite batter cake recipe.  This version of James Villas’ recipe is cut in two, but actually makes enough for four small servings. One abate pear, peeled and trimmed, sliced lengthwise into slivers is enough. Preheat oven to 375°f,  butter an open dish or 7″ casserole. Sift together:

1/3 cup flour (or ground almonds) with a pinch of salt + 1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 cup sugar mixed with 2 T. cocoa (Dutch processed) + 1 tsp. ginger

Whisk 1 large egg, and add:

1/4 cup whole milk, 2 T. vegetable oil or melted butter + 1/2 tsp almond extract

Add the egg mixture to the dry ingredients gradually and stir well. Pour into the buttered dish, arrange the trimmed pear slices evenly on top of the batter. Top with:  1 T. butter chopped into bits, then 2 T. slivered or shaved almonds and sprinkle with 1 generous T. brown sugar. Bake for 30 mintes, test with a toothpick – if it is a little gooey, bake another 8 minutes, test again. The addition of cocoa to the recipe results in a texture somewhat resembling brownies.  Serve warm or at room temperature with a drizzle of custard sauce/crème anglaise – or even a silky chocolate fudge sauce.  It’s Sunday, after all.… C’est dimanche !

James Villas’ French Country Kitchen has long been my standby for clear, authentic French recipes – and a good soupçon of regional background is dished out with each; published in 1992 by Bantam books, U.S.   The above recipe is adapted from his Tarte Picarde.

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.

Even as the temperature mounts, 33° celsius and rising, prepare for the convivial crowd around your July 4th grill with a batch of crackers. Not fireworks, no firecrackers yet, just a tray of zippy biscuits – as munchable with cold beer as with a glass of fruity sangria.  As I made these, variations on the theme were reeling round my culinary imagination.  For openers, make the Almond Sesame version, then try your own riff using other flours, seeds and spices.  Made in the cool hours of a summer morning, this type of cracker/biscuit can be sealed away in a tight tin for a week – if there are any left.

In a large bowl, mix together the dry ingredients, then cut in tiny chunks of cold butter with a pastry blender as for a pastry crust; stir in the yogurt and form a soft dough. Let the dough chill for 15 minutes, then take a quarter from the fridge to shape each batch. For crisper crackers, roll thinner (a bit trickier to manage) or cut back the baking powder by 1 tsp. Tasty gâteaux savoreux, rolled 1/4 inch thick and cut into diamonds, are perfect partners for dips.  This recipe makes about 60 to 70 crackers.

1/2 cup/85 g. ground almonds+ 2 tsp. Hungarian paprika (hot)

1 c./120 g. wheat flour (organic if possible) + 1/2 c/60 g. fine cornmeal

2 tsp. brown sugar + 1/2 tsp. fine salt

1/2 tsp. baking soda mixed with 2 tsp. baking powder

2 T. white sesame seeds, dry toasted + 1 T. black sesame seeds, dry toasted

1/2 cup/1 stick/115 g. cold butter chopped into bits

2/3 c/150 ml whole milk Greek style yogurt

extra sprinkling of flour for rolling out the crackers

Coat your fingers with flour, then work the dough into a ball in the bowl. When it pulls together, turn it out onto the flour-dusted work  surface (a cold slab of marble for shaping pastry works very well in warm weather). Work the dough gently, kneading as for bread dough for just a few minutes. Put it into a smaller, clean bowl, cut the ball of dough into 4 and cover. Chill for 15 minutes. Preheat oven to 350°f/177°c. Remove one quarter of the dough at a time to shape each into a rectangle 10″ long and 3 to 4 ” wide, less than 1/4 ” thick. Cut into three parts lengthwise. With a long spatula, slide a strip at a time onto the baking sheet, prick with tines of a fork, brush with a beaten egg, and cut diagonally to form diamonds – or rectangles. Sprinkle with sea salt mixed with ground black pepper. Use a finger’s width spacing between them.  Bake on the top and lowest racks of the oven for 20 minutes if rolled thin; baking time is closer to 25 minutes for 1/4″ – until golden brown. Let cool for a few minutes, then shift to a rack.  Store in metal tins lined with baking paper.  These festive bites were inspired by Ruth Cousineau’s recipe in June 2009 Gourmet magazine, using cornmeal and green peppercorns.

Morels?  Cèpes? Too early for Girolles – but let’s be on the lookout anyway: May is mushroom time.  Maybe your “woods” are in Michigan, in Minnesota, or just over the line in northern Iowa.  Or perhaps your sturdy mushroom-walking stick is poking through a ferny forest floor in the Périgord – where  every hunter needs a good “mushrooming stick”.  The Périgord’s brief morel season has slipped past, usually a fleeting moment late in March. One year I spotted three fine morels under our pear tree about that time, but no such luck this time around.  So, when friends brought us a fern-lined basket of cèpes this week, the mushroom-loving vagabond was delighted.

Get out the black cast-iron skillet, the mushroom season is underway! Whether you call them cèpes,  porcini or boletus edulis, a healthy dose of garlic, parsley, and duck fat are the traditional partners for enhancing their earthy flavor.  To keep them fresh for a few hours before cooking, wrap them in ferns and avoid contact with plastic.  The first step in preparing cèpes is simply to wipe off the cap and stem, then chop the stem and mix it with minced garlic and chopped (flat-leaf) parsley in a bowl to add later. Peel and slice rounds of firm, red-skinned potatoes (ratio of at least 1 cup  sliced spuds for each mushroom). Heat 2 tablespoons of duck fat (or olive oil) in your good old skillet, and add the sliced potatoes, stir to turn them over and as some crisp and become transparent, add the cèpes – left whole if small, in slices if large. Then, don’t be surprised if the mushrooms seem to dissolve, melting with the heat, infusing the pototoes with flavor. Add the chopped stems with garlic and stir the mixture, lower the heat and cover, to cook for 20 to 30 minutes. Check at least 3 times, turning so nothing sticks and burns, a little more oil or duck fat is usually needed.  Sprinkle with more chopped parsley and serve with a green salad tossed with a lemon vinaigrette dressing. Other than a cold beer or a glass of white wine, you’ll need only good company to complete a perfect spring lunch.