‘Still Life at Cabalus’ (edible!)

Off season in Burgundy, frosty nights and luminous days, are reasons alone to visit such medieval sites as Vézelay. But arriving “cold” on a recent winter Saturday, just before the tourist office closed, posed problems of lodging and a little nourishment. The few hotels open at this time of year were full or closed for the weekend. Luckily, after the cheery tourist office manager made two calls to chambres d’hôtes (B&Bs), a vacant room was found.

We continued an uphill walk along the steep main street of Vézelay to a twelfth century hostel-hospital for pilgrims, now renovated into four bedrooms and a very large, vaulted central room which serves as a café-gallery. Once inside the gate and small entry court of “Cabalus, une maison d’un autre temps “, we entered another time zone: ring a small bronze bell, as a pilgrim would in the thirteenth century, ascend worn stone steps and walk through a narrow passageway, to enter a large bedroom. Look out the single window over tiled rooftops to Burgundy’s Morvan hills, look down at old (but spotless) floor tiles and around at white-washed walls. Sink into the bed’s snowy white down coverlet and imagine who has spent time in this room - pilgrims or travelers - over the last nine hundred years. It gives one pause.

Dark wooden beams and white walls: simplicity prevails in the heated bedroom and bath. The shower and a sink with sleek faucets set above a wooden table are clearly not medieval, but contemporary and functional. After a walk through narrow streets and up to the Basilique de la Madeleine - do not miss the west façade’s tympanum at sunset - return for a supper of long-simmered soup and salad, the wise choice for a winter evening when most guide-book choices are closed. But, more important, be up for petit-déjeuner.

On Sunday morning we took our places at one of the marble tables set for breakfast. Each setting was a still life: a single apple, a tray of jam and ruffly shaved cheese, a basket of homemade bread - warm from the oven - and a tall taper in a brass candlestick to light the marble table. Perfection. And while sipping coffee or tea, we admired the twelfth century vaulted ceiling, the fire burning in a broad fireplace, herbs hung to dry, and books of all sorts tucked in between old objects. There are prints, drawings and calligraphy, jewelry displayed on branches, all against the natural tones of walls that have weathered time. If these old walls could speak, perhaps their best expression would be in the small polished stones subtly carved with labyrinth designs, pendants created by the artist who renovated this welcoming space. Whether for pilgrims or those of us just passing through, time at Cabalus nourishes the body as well as the soul.

Reserve with Mme Cabalus, tel: 03 86 33 2066, rue St.Pierre, F89450 Vézelay. Out of season, B&B rates run about 80 Euros for a double room. Book well in advance during Easter or Christmas seasons.

Deep in the hills of the Périgord lies a village famed for les truffes. And Monday morning is the time to be there, waiting in line for the doors of the truffle market room to open at ten o’clock. Once inside the St. Alvère Truffle Market, one inhales the earthy scent of truffes noire du Périgord.

Photo by Paul Charpentier

We move along with the crowd, admiring truffles of all sizes lined up on long tables. Behind each basket or tray of truffles, the person who found them stands, ready to answer questions or to sell a black lump of pungent fungus. Eighty vendors are packed into the room, some with a basket full, some with just two truffles, each with a digital scale to weigh each sale. All scales are checked by monitors before the doors open to shoppers. Several years ago, I recall a simpler scene in the truffle market with a single large scale set in the middle of the room, an impractical system with today’s crowds.

Choice truffles in the “Extra” quality are perfect and large, going for 1,800 Euros per kilo on this particular day. The next best is #1 category, whole and round but smaller, followed by #2 which can be irregular in shape bringing 1,000 Euros and 800 Euros per kilo respectively. For 33 Euros (about 45US$) I bought a medium-sized #1, while my step son popped for an “Extra” of the same size and paid 10 Euros more. Broken and trimmed truffles cost less (and are easily shaved into an omelette), but one must watch closely to avoid any soft spots or faded aromas.

What to do with truffles? You don’t need a lot to lend the distinctive flavor, and even the peelings can be tucked into a jar of rice or farm-fresh eggs to lend parfum. Other natural truffle companions include chèvre: just layer minced truffles in a log or pyramid of goat cheese and let it mature for a couple of days in a cool place. Delicate meats like veal scallops or chicken breasts pick up the earthy truffle aroma within a few hours before cooking. The same is true of delicate fish such as pike or perch. Of course the Italian custom of shaving truffles - the Umbrian Norcia black are densely aromatic - over steaming pasta elicits sighs around a winter dinner table.

Photo by Paul Charpentier

White truffles found in northern Italy are at their peak in October and November, preceding the “black gold” by a month or two. In the Périgord, mid-January is peak season for the best, most mature truffles, although the season begins in early December and can run until late February - depending on the weather conditions. On this crisp, sunny January morning I was bubbling with ideas for the truffle: perhaps it could add a complex tone to a simple, creamy cauliflower soup.

As we got into the car, I gingerly tucked the small brown truffle sack in my basket and mused: destination shopping doesn’t get any better than this - even my jacket picked up les parfums de la truffe!

Please click here or on the image to see the last Vagabond Gourmand photo gallery of the year.

Inside or outside, a shopper’s options expand with the Christmas season’s very special markets across northern France. Alsace and eastern France hold the most festive marchés, where pine cabins strung with brightly lit garlands shelter vendors for the month of December. Marchés de Noël offer gift-shoppers goods and goodies from all corners of the globe.

On a recent windy, wet morning in Paris, I found (and tasted) my way around a few of these seasonal markets. I was looking for regional French products, good gifts, and a little Christmas cheer. All of the above can be found - along with Russian amber, warm Canadian caps and Peruvian ponchos - especially in the aisles spread across the historic Place St. Sulplice in the 6th arrondissement. Mingling aromas of hot chocolate, roasted coffee beans and cheese-enriched specialties of the Savoy region, this market offers a delightful variety. Watch a knitter deftly creating gloves of French mohair, stop to marvel at a mountain of Corsican air-dried country hams, talk with honey vendors or wine makers. Take the metro to the Saint Sulpice stop, from December 5th to 24th, stalls are open daily from 10:30 to 7 p.m.

A few blocks away, the smaller Saint-Germain des Près (Metro line 4 to Saint-Germain) stretches along the boulevard. Here, a more global collection of vendors sell jewelry, saws and cutlery, shawls and objects for interiors as well as sweets of the season. Hot crèpes, deep-fried Chi-Chi, mulled wine and pain d’épice tempt lovers of street food.

After sundown, the market at La Défense is a magical sight, a vast temporary town of 250 white, pointy-topped tents from November 28th until December 29th. Take the Metro to Esplanade de La Défense for shopping daily, and from 11:00 until 8 p.m. on Saturday. At the Maison de l’Alsace, 39 avenue des Champs-Elysées in the 8th arrondissement, the spirited Alsatian mood expands from demonstrations of making sweet specialties every afternoon to fairy tales told on Christmas Eve. From the Metro line 1 stop at Franklin Roosevelt, stroll along the famous, sparkling avenue to this animated Marché de Noël …..in the City of Light.

The world has caught on, as thousands of thirsty visitors are drawn to a Rhône village: Beaujeu. For more than thirty years, this traditional new wine celebration has spilled over into towns and bar terraces across two continents (at least!). I recall being among enthusiastic wine-lovers who gathered annually at the New French Café in Minneapolis to toast the beaujolais nouveau. And now, the Sarmentelles or Fête du beaujolais nouveau is underway in Beaujeu, lighting the village with fireworks at dusk on the eve of November’s third Thursday.

But it isn’t just wine that would draw me all the way to this town in the Rhône hills. It is Beaujeu’s liquid gold in addition to liquid rouge:  autumn is time to press nuts for rich, aromatic oils.   Jean-Marc Montegottero uses a century-old stone press to extract a dozen types of oils at his Huilerie beaujolaise. Pressing is done to such high standards that he is counted in many a chef’s little black book of suppliers. For a whiff of heaven, walk into the shop at 29, rue Echarmeaux on the day he is roasting hazelnuts and pressing the oil. Browse for awhile and choose from their range, a delicate pistachio oil, the hefty walnut oil (superb sprinkled on pumpkin soup or purée with just-shelled and toasted nuts), or refined argan oil. If Beaujeu is not on your itinerary, contact them to ship an order. Their website is “under construction” but the telephone is: 33 (0)4 7469 2800. When in Beaujeu, stop in for a tasting and take a scheduled tour of the mill (2.50 Euros). ‘Tis the season - for new wine and fresh nut oil!

p.s.  This line of nut oils is also available in Paris at La Grande Epicerie de Paris.

As usual, the light of Armistice Day or Veteran’s Day is pale, grey.  A little mist in the air is typical, as I recall previous Veteran’s Days at other latitudes.  The trumpets and drums of Mouleydier’s musical fanfare play the brisk, concluding bars of the national anthem, the Marseilles.   Ceremonies at the village memorial for the fallen in twentieth century wars have come to a close.  Allons enfants, time for Sunday lunch. The November chill stirs appetites, and in homes throughout France relatives will gather round the table, together, having again paid respects to those absent.  The village remembers well, and the ceremonies always bring a lump to my throat, thinking about the sinistre, the day the village was burned in June 1944.   When I return home to scan the valley from my kitchen door, the fields called the champs des martyrs for those who died there, are quiet in the day’s dim light.  One does not forget.

But it is also a day to honor St.Martin, the patron saint of France, who shared his cloak with a freezing beggar in the fourth century. And this day is marked in many corners of Europe with more festive traditions. In northern Europe, a plump goose is roasted for dinner after a parade and bonfire.  Children in Flanders, western Belgium go ’round to neighbor’s doors with paper lanterns, singing special songs. The reward is something sweet and they return home with enough bonbons to last until St. Nicolas (December sixth). This seems to be a tradition in parts of Holland and Austria as well, with processions and songs. For Sao Martinho in Portugal, the day is marked with magustos - gatherings at the fireside to roast chestnuts and drink new wine.  An earlier custom in parts of Europe, in the days when the eleventh of November marked the end of the agricultural and financial year, involved the preparation of a roast goose feast before the six weeks of fasting prior to Noël. Fowl and any cattle that would not be taken through the winter were ready for slaughter, to be salted or preserved.  As times change and traditions evolve further beyond the rural calendar, such observances have been forgotten in most regions. But if you are with friends in Bruges on St. Maarten and hear the doorbell ring at twilight, be sure to have the candy dish filled to overflowing.

My first encounter with a Jésuite left me with a sugar-dusted nose. A tray of the long, triangular pastries in the window of an Île de France bakery-café lured me inside, and a few minutes later I emerged with a floral-printed pack of pastries. Michel and I took a table on the sidewalk, ordered coffee and peered into the box: “How do we eat these?” was my husband’s first query.  The Jésuites cantilevered over the rim of a plate; the server brought spoons, but I was wondering if a steak knife and long-tined fork would be better weapons for approaching this iced, sugar-topped puff-pastry.  The American way, go ahead - use your fingers, would avoid having pastry corners shooting across the table, so that was my last resort:  pick it up, bite off one of the corners.  Flakes of puff pastry drifted across the table, the buttery-crisp corner melted in my mouth and traces of sugar stuck to the nose above my triumphant smile.  I took a good look at the pastry for future reference, wondering who first decided that eighteenth century Jesuit hats would provide a template for an almond-cream filled pastry.

Having conquered question number one - eating it - I moved on to question number two: how can I reproduce the frangipane filling and triangular pastry?  For the Jésuite is a classic pastry-baker’s item, rarely made at home.  You can begin with puff pastry, pâte feuilletée, which can be bought ready to roll.  Or chill a slab of marble, mix flour and chilled butter, (layer dough with butter chips) and fold the sticky pastry several times to ensure flakiness.  My first effort at this type of puff pastry was on a hot August morning, not the ideal timing and overall, a discouraging experience.  But I recently bought a pre-rolled pastry that was a decent substitute, enough for making four Jésuites.

To form the Jésuites, cut the circle (about enough to make a 10″ pie crust) of pastry down the center, then across the center making four equal quarters. Slice each quarter in half and separate. Prepare the frangipane: Cream 50 grams/1/4 cup of soft unsalted butter, add 50 grams/1/4 cup of sugar and 50 grams of ground/powdered almonds, whisking this into a frothy mixture. Beat in 1 egg, 1 teaspoon of almond essence, (add 2 more yolks at this point if you want a richer filling), and 2 tablespoons of rum or brandy. This can be made in advance and chilled. With a small pastry brush (I use a Hungarian feather brush from Williams Sonoma), moisten the edges of 2 triangles, spread with the frangipane, place one triangle on top of the other and seal the edges by pressing gently. Repeat this with the remaining triangles. The fingerprints will disappear as the puff pastry expands in the oven. Heat the oven to 205°c/400°f. Very lightly oil a baking sheet (use almond oil if you have it) and place the 4 pastries with 2″ spacing.  At this point, you can brush with milk and sprinkle flaked almonds on them, or go a step farther with a light meringue of: 1 egg white mixed with 25 grams icing sugar then topped with the flaked almonds (or crushed praline!).  Bake the Jésuites for about 8 minutes, then lower the heat to 160°c/324°f for another 8 to 10 minutes.  Take the golden Jésuites out of the oven and dust with icing sugar.  Some French bakers even add a fine top layer of white frosting - gilding the lily, perhaps.
Next question: Frangipane who?

Dark and edgy, chocolat noir has a grip on me. Maybe my crush on bitter chocolate started with Marabou, the superb Swedish chocolate that I savored on ferries going from Finland to Sweden years ago. (A Finnish friend just sent the bad news that Marabou dark is no longer available - what a loss for chocolate lovers!) But to cook with bitter chocolate, a balance must be struck between bitter and sweet. This rendition of a dark mousse does just that, with an added crunch of praline. Having tried adding spirits for depth, I found that rum was too strong, so I dash a little cognac or armagnac into the equation. Gently fold in whipping cream, which adds richness but not the volume of whisked whites that lifted mousse I to a lighter texture. And whether almonds or toasted hazelnuts are used for the praline, in the spirit of autumn, don’t forget the nuts.

The praline: In a non-stick frying pan, toast 1/2 cup coarsely slivered (not finely flaked) blanched almonds. Add a scant 1/2 cup powdered/icing sugar, stirring in from the edges as it caramelizes over low heat. Line a pie tin with aluminum foil, and when the almonds are coated with caramel (10 to 15 minutes or less), quickly transfer them into the tin. Cool, cover with foil and break into pieces by hitting it with a mallet. Set aside 1/3 cup of crushed praline for the mousse, which should serve 4 or 5.

The mousse: Melt in a pan set over simmering water (not ON - or it will scorch and spoil the flavor), 100 grams dark chocolate, such as Lindt Excellence, 70% cacao (1 bar/ package) which has been broken/beaten into pieces (to melt faster). Add 2 tablespoons butter, cut into chunks and stir, then add 50 grams of praline-filled milk chocolate, such as Côte d’Or (1/2 package) or Gianduja, broken up, and 1 to 2 spoons of Cognac or strong coffee. Lift the pan off the heat. Separate 3 eggs, and stir the yolks into the chocolate one by one; then stir in the powdered praline, add a twist or two of grated nutmeg. Whip 1/2 cup of thick cream, 1 tablespoon confectioner’s/icing sugar and fold this carefully into the cooled chocolate mixture. The amount of cream can be doubled, and a bit more sugar (sweeten to taste) added. When blended, pour the mousse into a glass bowl or individual cups, sprinkling all with crushed praline.

What to do with the extra egg whites? If you are not in a mood to make meringue, whip up a simple prune mousse. Cook 2 cups of semi-dried prunes in water to cover (with a tea bag to soften the skins); cool them, remove pits, then purée in a blender, add 1/4 cup sugar and a twist of nutmeg (and minced orange zest, or a splash of Cointreau if you have time) to the prunes. Whisk the (3) egg whites (add a pinch of fine salt and a tablespoon of sugar) to form stiff peaks, fold them into the prunes in three stages to hold the volume, pour into an attractive bowl and top with crunchy praline. Ready for dinner: Mousse aux pruneaux - a bonus autumnal treat - can be made a day in advance, to serve six.  Hold the remaining crushed praline in reserve - maybe to sprinkle on Jésuites…..

Journeys of a Lifetime, 500 of the World’s Greatest Trips is National Geographic’s recently published lush and colorful temptation to travelers. Even sitting in a cozy armchair, one can almost smell the aromas of ripe melons emanating from a market photo which introduces the ‘In Gourmet Heaven’ section. True to their high standards, the National Geographic books team has orchestrated words and images evoking places, people, flavors and discoveries. Organized in sections, such as Across Water, By Road, In Search of Culture, this round-the-world whirl takes the reader to distant mountains and market places with the flip of a page. It was a pleasure write five of the destinations for this comprehensive travel book, and the VagabondGourmand is busily preparing more chapters for another in the series, to be published in 2008. Add Journeys of a Lifetime to your Christmas list - for giving, or drop a hint to Santa.

The New York Times listed Journeys of a Lifetime  on it “best sellers” list for three weeks in January 2008.

In between one mousse and another, a quick word on current and upcoming chocolate events: In Perugia, Italy,  Eurochocolate is this week, 13th to 21st October.  In addition to tastings and demonstrations, sit in on a round table discussing “The Sustainable Economy of Cocoa Producing Countries”. If not 2007, put Perugia on the Tasty Travels plan for October 2008.  Check www.eurochocolate.com/en/perugia for details.

Over 100 chocolatiers and 400 exhibits fill the Salon du Chocolat, the 19th & 20th of October  in Paris - events on the menu include chocolate-hued fashion shows.  In New York, Chocolate Week is the 4th to 11th of November, 2007.