Mrs Dalloway, Tampopo and me

Next to my bed there is a small bookshelf filled with my favorite books. The more I like them, the closer they are, and my absolute favorites are so close I hardly have to lift my head from the pillow to reach them. One of those favorites is Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway. I don’t read it very often, but once in a while I get the urge and it’s comforting to know it’s there for me, always. On Monday night, the 26th of May I felt restless and impatient, I was one day overdue (at least) in my pregnancy, I had expected the baby to come earlier, let’s just say I felt a little anxious. So I reached for Mrs Dalloway and she calmed me down. Tuesday was a beautiful sunny and warm summer day. Perhaps inspired by Clarissa Dalloway the first thing I did after I got dressed was to cut roses for the house. I cut some for every room (and we have many rooms) and filled every vase I could find. I wanted everything to be clean and shiny and beautiful. I wasn’t planning to throw a party but Mrs Dalloway had inspired me to act as if I was. Next on my list was the laundry, nothing beats the scent of freshly washed sheets drying in the sun, hanging just high enough so our little puppy, James Joyce, can’t get a hold of them, try as he might. In late afternoon when the kids came home from school I had already baked them a pear tart for goûter and was on my way to making a cherry clafoutis for dessert. Oddur kept encouraging me to take it easy, especially since I was having some contractions but it was as if I had acquired some mystical power and though I sat down from time to time I felt somehow invincible and strong.

One of my favorite films about food is a Japanese classic called Tampopo. It’s lighthearted and very funny but most of all it always makes me hungry for noodles. It has a main narrative which is broken up by several little sketches that all have to do with food. One of my favorite little stories is that of a woman who rises from her deathbed to cook her family one final meal. By evening I felt like that woman, not because I expected to die but while the sensible thing would have been to lie down and rest I still felt strong enough to cook one last meal. I chose a family favorite, what we call mafia chicken. An Italian style dish with lots of tomatoes, parmesan and rosemary, served with roast potatoes. I laid the table and went to bed. I gave Oddur instructions to carry out the meal at eight, by then we both knew something was stirring.
They served me some mafia chicken in bed and though he had to defend it with his life my dear husband managed to save me a small piece of cherry clafoutis. We discussed when to leave for the clinic. “I am not staying any longer in a stale room with plastic floors than I need” I said. Oddur sort of agreed, “It’s all up to you, we go when you are ready” he said. He doesn’t like plastic floors either. Just before ten I had a big contraction and said to Oddur “It’s time to go”. The contractions had been regular but not that regular and the experience I had from my previous four children told me we still had ample time. At this point I didn’t really feel that close but I decided to play it safe. Oddur got my suitcase in the car, locked up the dogs and gave instructions to the kids who were all washed and dressed in their pyjamas but couldn’t sleep (adorable looking I might add). While he was doing this something big happened, one more contraction but a serious one and I felt I couldn’t move after that. Oddur insisted, quite firmly, “I’ll carry you to the car”. “I’m not moving, and I mean it” I howled back like a wolf. He had a look on his face that implied that he was considering taking me into the car against my will. Then he thought better of it and called the emergency services who advised against moving me at this stage. Did I say the water broke?
While the doctors and firemen were hurriedly on their way the two of us just brought the baby into this world as naturally and effortlessly as people have been doing for thousands of years in their own homes. For a brief moment I got slightly worried but when he placed that little girl on my chest I knew everything would be fine. Those few precious minutes that followed were pure magic and a privilege to live through them. She was so precious, so perfect, a rosy colored baby that came into the world through a room full of roses. Then the show started. I don’t think my bedroom has ever drawn a bigger crowd, doctors, firemen with heatblankets and endless gadgets, my father-in-law on the road guiding them with a flashlight (one that he bought in case of emergency – he likes to think ahead, a trait I might add that has not been passed on to his son).

We called her Audrey May.

When the cat is away … the mice cook!

In France a father has to go to the local townhall and declare a baby’s birth. Our little commune has no hospital and therefore hardly any births, perhaps one a year. So the officials are a little rusty when it comes to issuing birth certificates. At the clinic Oddur entertained me with the story of his encounter with an official at the mairie (townhall). The thought of having to deal with a birth was already a big task for her but when she realized that the baby’s surname would, due to Icelandic traditions, be derived from the father’s first name and not his surname, she just threw up her hands and made a lot of oh lah lah’s and ce n’est pas normal!. Calls were made, papers were ruffled, but like our other daughters she finally ended up Oddsdóttir (the daughter of Oddur).
It gave me great joy to learn that while I was at the clinic my husband, with the help of the children, cooked almost exclusively from my new cookbook, “A kitchen in France”. We recently received a mock up/galley of the book and while it’s in black and white it feels great to have it on the shelf, next to all my favorite cookbook authors. They went for all the “manly” dishes in the book. Entrecôte à la Bordelaise, veal liver, à la Bordelaise, rustic potatoes with onion and duck breasts grilled over vine sarments. I am happy to report that they all worked out and to quote Louise (almost) as if mom had cooked them. Every recipe has been tried and tested, every text read and re-read but then, when it’s out of your hands, at the printers, you start to worry if there are any mistakes. According to this random selection, it’s all good.

The scent of strawberries and honey

My family picked me up at the clinic after a trip to the market on a glorious Saturday morning. Audrey and I had gotten up early and sat in our little outfits by the window at the hospital waiting to see the world. They brought us home in a car perfumed by basil and placed us in that familiar bed with freshly washed (again as you can imagine) sheets and more roses from the garden. I promised to take it easy, I did not. By evening I was cooking up a pepper steak and spinach, hospital food leaves a lot to be desired and all the wonderful dinners they had been having in my absence stirred my food envy.
Audrey is a good baby and, knock on wood, sleeps through the night (elle fait ses nuits as we say here in France). She’s already been to an important meeting regarding our new house and last Friday she had a big outing with her parents and her big sister Gaïa (I can’t believe that little girl, the so-called “our last child ever” is now a big sister). Our first stop was at a honey farm less than a mile from our house. We had often seen a simple sign at the turn of the road that simply read “MIEL” (honey). We had inquired in May about the miel but were told to return in June when the bees had done a bit more work. This honey farm is a little paradise, a handsome stone house, surrounded by forests and meadows with a beautiful manicured rose garden, an orchard and the loveliest cherry trees. Though officially retired the beekeeper, Bernard Seguin and his wife Liliane are every bit as busy as the bees, keeping a garden this pretty requires a lot of work and they say it keeps them young and fit. The honey tastes delicious, a mixture of all the various flowers found in the garden, a bit of acacia, blackthorn, a hint of cherry, a tiny bit of roses, a mix of everything local. It’s a small production and not their livelihood but Bernard says it allows him to meet people and chat and he is a man of many opinions judging from our brief encounter. A former chemist, with a passion for collecting ancient coins and fearless amongst the bees, his favorite band to this day are the Doors, probably he says, because those were his halcyon days. They are a wonderful, interesting couple, Bernard and Liliane, with the most beautiful, thick grey hair. It must be all that honey. We bought a kilo’s worth at the cost of 9 euros, not a penny more not a penny less.
One of my favorite memories of last summer are the moments I spent at the Arnould’s strawberry farm near St. Vivien de Médoc. Strawberries really taste better in the moments after they are picked, and no matter how fresh you get them at the market, a tiny bit of flavor will already be lost. I had breastfed Hudson as an infant at Strawberry Fields in Central Park, now I would take Audrey to a real strawberry field, with actual strawberries. When we arrived the clouds were winning their battle with the sun, it was still hot but the breeze was gathering force. Caroline was delighted to hold Audrey while Gaïa and I picked a handful of strawberries before it was time to pick up the big kids from school.
It may be a far-fetched thought, and Audrey is certainly still very little. But a part of me believes that one day she’ll be standing in a field of strawberries, the wind blowing in her hair and filling her nose with the sweet scent of fresh strawberries and she will think “I don’t know why, but this feels strangely familiar”. The seeds of her first déjà-vu are already in place.

You are never too young to pick strawberries.

ps: The Arnould family have 4 gîtes located in St Vivien de Médoc (basic fully-equipped rooms with kitchen/pool/max 6 people) and there are still availabilties  in July. The prices range between 390-490€ for the whole week! Click here for more information.

Recipes

Seared or sarment-smoked magrets de canard (duck breasts) are amongst our favorite family meals. I love to partner this versatile meat with something sweet, like peaches or pears, as well the the classic French side dish potatoes Sarladaises. I usually start cooking the duck at the same time as the potatoes Sarladaises, so I can use the rendered duck fat immediately. And when you add the peaches, pear and cherry tian, you end up with a lovely embellished dish fit for any occasion.

Duck breasts with honey & balsamic vinegar
Serves 4 (a generous 4)

3-4 magrets de canard/ duck breasts 350-450g/ 3/4 to 1 pound each
5 tablespoons honey
5 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
Fleur de sel & freshly ground black pepper

For the duck
Score the magret duck breasts on the fatty side using a sharp knife, cutting in a cross hatch pattern (making the cross-hatches about an inch across). Season the magret duck breasts with salt, and place them on a pan, fatty side down. Heat the pan to medium. Cook the breast until the skin is crispy and most of the fat has rendered, about 15 minutes, depending on thickness of breast. Pour off the fat from the pan frequently and reserve in a bowl. It’s best to have the meat on the rosé side. Turn magret breast over, and cook for 5 minutes. Leave to rest for a few minutes, and slice breast into slim slices. Set aside on an oven-proof plate and keep warm in the oven (90°C/200F) while you make the sauce.

Keep 2 tablespoons of duck fat in the pan, add the honey and balsamic vinegar and stir gently. Cook for 30 second on a medium heat (or the sauce will caramelize very quickly), add the juices from the duck and pour in a serving dish.

Serve with the potatoes Sarladaises.

Sarladaises potatoes

900 g/ 2 pounds new potatoes
3-4 cloves garlic, sliced finely
6-8 tablespoons duck fat (use the duck fat rendered from the duck magrets/fillets)
A small bunch of parsley, leaves picked
Fleur de sel & freshly ground black pepper

Slice the potatoes in rondelles, chop the parsley and slice the garlic cloves thinly.

In a large sauté pan, heat the duck fat (on a medium heat), add the potatoes and stir gently for 10 to 12 minutes. When the potatoes start to be golden, season with salt and pepper.
Lower the heat and continue to cook for 15 minutes, or until the potatoes are cooked and tender. Add the garlic and parsley towards the end. Serve immediately.

Cherry, peach & pear tian

Per person: 1 pear, 1 peach and 6 cherries. A few sprigs of rosemary & one tablespoon honey. You will need a small recipient (I use a round ramekin) for individual portions.

Preheat the oven to 180°C/350F

Peel and slice the pear and peach. Slice finely into small rondelles (round slices). Align the slices alternating with each fruit, and place cherries on each side (see picture). Place the sprigs of rosemary on top and drizzle with the honey. Cook in the oven for 20 to 25 minutes. Serve as a side dish with the duck and potatoes.

Summer strawberries are irresistible, and I can’t think of a better dessert than a lovely strawberry tart to serve your guests. The lemon flavored crème patissière is light yet creamy with a little twist and I love throwing a refreshing handful of mint leaves to decorate the tart. Enjoy!

Strawberry tart

1 pack strawberries/ 450 g approx.
2 tablespoons redcurrant jelly/gelée de groseille
A handful of mint leaves

For the shortcrust pastry
125 g/ 1 cup plain flour
75 g/ 1/3 cup butter (softened at room temperature)
15 g/ 2 tablespoons sugar
30 g icing/ 4 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar (sifted)
40 g/ 1/4 cup ground almonds
1/2 egg
1/2 pinch of salt

1) In a large bowl, mix all the ingredients together until the mixture forms a soft dough. Shape into a ball, wrap in cling film and place in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour.
2) On a floured parchment covered surface, roll out the dough to fit the tart pan. Line the tart pan & gently press the edges of the pastry against the interior of the tart pan and prick the base with a fork. Use a piece of leftover dough to press down the edges (this trick will prevent any over-stretching or finger marks).
3) Cover with cling film and place in the freezer for a least 30 minutes (the longer the better). This is a good trick to prevent shrinking.
4) Cut out a piece of parchment paper and line the bottom of the tart. Place beans/marbles/any oven proof weight and blind bake in a preheated oven 180°C/ 350°F for 15 minutes. Remove weight and parchment paper and bake for a further 5 to 8 minutes, or until slightly golden. Set aside and leave to cool for at least 20 minutes before unmoulding.

For the lemon crème patissière
240 ml/1 cup whole milk
120 g granulated sugar
3 egg yolks + 1 egg
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise, beans scraped or 2 tsp vanilla extract
The zest of 2 lemons
150 ml/2/3 cup heavy cream
Juice of 1 lemon
30 g/1/4 cup plain flour

In a large bowl, whisk the sugar, eggs and flour until light and fluffy, about 8 minutes. Add the lemon zest and lemon juice.
Place the milk, cream and vanilla seeds in a large saucepan and bring to a soft simmer. Gently pour the warm mixture into the egg bowl, whisking continuously and return the mixture to the saucepan. Continue to whisk on a low heat, until the mixture thickens to a custard. Pour into a bowl and cover with baking paper directly on top of mixture. Leave to cool completely and place into the refrigerator until ready to serve.

Spoon the crème patissière into the tart and smooth with a spatula.

Place the strawberries on the tart (see picture), starting from the edge in a circular pattern.

Heat the redcurrant jelly and 1 tablespoon water. Leave to cool and brush the strawberries with the mixture for a glossy and sweet glaze. Decorate the tart with the mint leaves.

Mother’s day comes twice a year

One of the privileges of having a melting pot of a family are the frequent occasions to celebrate. More meals to cook, feasts to have and, sometimes, more presents to enjoy. Like everyone else in France we celebrate the New Year but then we also have a little feast some weeks later to celebrate the Chinese New Year. My husband has introduced into our household an Icelandic tradition called “husband’s” day (very clever of him) and since Louise shares a name with a saint she has a special day to celebrate in addition to her birthday. Social media has further accentuated this tendency, how is it possible not to get caught up in other people’s festive moods, displayed on instagram or facebook. So I often find myself having pancakes and barbecues on the 4th of July, my husband speaks with an Irish accent (very bad one) on St Patrick’s day and has a Guinness. We go ghouly on Halloween, romantic on Valentine’s day and reflective and thankful for peace on Armistice day. It seems there is always something to celebrate, somewhere.
My point is, how is it possible not to get caught up in other people’s joyous celebrations, how can a food lover like myself wake up to photos of roast turkeys with cranberry sauce and pecan pies, and act as if it’s just another day? The answer is I can’t, if someone is celebrating mother’s day I will celebrate it too. Mother’s day in America is ahead of ours here in France by two weeks and two whole weeks is a long time to wait. Last year around mother’s day in France the black locust trees of Médoc were in full bloom but this year they went yankee on us and burst out in early May. So I had two great reasons to do something special, the ripeness of the black locust flowers and mother’s day in America.
In a few days we’ll have another mother’s day, the French one, it’s next Sunday, the 25th of May. That is also my official due date. I’ve never been a particularly punctual person but that would be the ultimate mother’s day celebration.

The best poule-au-pot I’ve ever had

So I woke up on Sunday the 11th of May determined to celebrate Mother’s day (the first). Black locust (Acacia faux-robinier in French) flowers would somehow be on the menu but something else, something bigger, was on my mind. Months ago our good friends Florence and Fabien Courrian were over for dinner and I served them chicken Marengo. They loved it and it sparked a conversation about chicken dishes. Florence kept raving on about her mother’s poule-au-pot, the best one she’d ever had. Let’s just say it planted a seed in my appetite and that seed soon grew into a full-blown craving. Weeks later we were at Flo’s and Fabien’s for dinner and after apéritifs and delicious starters, Florence put a huge cocotte on the middle of the table. Could it be, was I finally to have the famous poule-au-pot? She lifted the lid and out she scooped the most flavorful, spicy … langoustines. When you are being fed something delicious you couldn’t possibly be disappointed, but that moment of anticipation only served to feed my determination. What had been a lingering thought was now a full-blown obsession. At the end of the meal I praised the langoustines and then kindly asked for the recipe … of the poule-au-pot!

On Saturday we had bought the finest chicken (at the Vertessec farm of course), bought crates of vegetables at the market on the way home and when I awoke on Sunday all these goodies were waiting for me like parts on a mechanics table, waiting to be assembled into a masterpiece. Louise was very happy to put on a pretty dress and go look for flowers but Hudson wasn’t really buying the whole mother’s day thing. “I know that mother’s day is not today because we are making things for you at school and they are not ready” he said. After a crustacean lunch I quickly made a stuffing for the chicken and then took Louise with me for some flower hunting. The other girls were under the weather – another good reason to make a luxurious but ultimately comforting chicken dish. It all went according to plan, flowers were picked, a cake, filled with love and petals, was baked. Hudson who was already sceptical about the mother’s day thing was even more sceptical about putting all the flower petals into the dough. He asked “is there another dessert too?” Later that night the chicken came out of the pot and the look on Oddur’s face said it all, this was it, a triumph – after countless other versions of poule- au-pot, in bistros, brasseries and my own kitchen, some of them bland, some of them very good – Florence’s mother’s version is without a doubt the best one. It’s really a winter dish but I think I’ll have to have it every year on Mother’s day, the first one!

Should I stay or should I go

One thing you may not know about me is that I’m fairly indecisive, always weighing my options. When I’m planning a menu I change my mind right up to the moment the butcher or grocer takes my order. It’s the same in restaurants, I need to order last, I listen to everybody else’s order, I picture all the dishes and imagine how they will fit on my palate. Then in a split second I make up my mind. I’m having such a dilemma right now. I’m fairly sure that this will be my last pregnancy, and these are my last days with a bump. Meaning that next time I write a post I’ll be back to normal. I can’t wait to give birth to my little girl, I’m dying to meet her. But there is a part of me that won’t mind keeping her in the oven a few days more, so she’ll be well-baked and ready for life.
The good thing is that it’s not really up to me, she’s on some sort of timer, not one that I set, and if she wants to make a big entrance Sunday the 25th is there for the taking – to be a mother on mother’s day!
p.s. Had this baby been a boy his name would have been Marcel. Marcel Reynard, the second name upon my husband’s insistance as he is infatuated with all things fox. I think it’s a good name and it’s yours if you want it.

Poule-au-pot

This dish is such a national treasure of France that one of its kings, Henry IV, is reported to have said that even the simplest of peasants should be able to have it every Sunday. Of course this says a lot about France, a place where the quality of life is measured in food. Poule-au-pot has long been a staple in French homes and bistros, it exists in countless yet similar versions and can be, at its best, pure heaven. For me the most important thing is, as always, to start with a quality chicken and a delicious stuffing. This recipe comes from a mother of my good friend Florence who is more than an excellent cook. She slides the stuffing under the skin as well as in the cavity, giving the chicken an extra special flavor and texture. Traditionally, the broth was served as a starter with garlic croûtons, followed by the chicken, slices of stuffing and vegetables, as well as rice (boiled in the broth) and a mushroom sauce on the side. As a little bonus, I used the leftover chicken, broth and vegetables the next day to make a very comforting chicken noodle soup with angel hair pasta. The kids loved it!

(serves 6)

1 chicken, approx. 3.3 pounds/1.5 kilos

For the stuffing/farce
4 ounces/110 g stale bread
1/3 pound/ 150 g Bayonne ham
1/3 pound/ 150 g bacon
Gizzards & liver of chicken
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely sliced
2 eggs
1/3 cup/ 80 ml milk
Salt & pepper
A small bunch of parsley, leaves

Soak the bread in the milk. Squeeze out the excess milk. Chop all the ingredients finely, add the eggs and combine together in a bowl. You can also place these ingredients in a food processor and blitz for a few seconds. Season with salt and pepper.
Prepare the chicken. Gently lift the skin away from the breast meat on each side, gradually lifting as much skin as you canall over the chicken. Be extra careful not to tear the skin. Gently place stuffing, with the help of a small spoon or your fingers, under the skin. Place leftover inside the chicken’s cavity and tie the chicken legs together with kitchen twine. Set aside.

For the stock
2 leeks, white part only
2 carrots, peeled
1 celery stalk
1 onion and 8 sticks clove (prick the cloves in the peeled whole onion)
3 garlic cloves, peeled

Prepare the bouillon/broth. In a large dutch-oven pot, pour 3 to 4 litres of water (enough to cover the chicken) and place the leeks, carrots, onion with the clove sticks, the bouquet garni, the garlic cloves, coarse sea-salt and black pepper. Bring to a boil and place the chicken in the broth so it’s entirely covered. Cover with a lid. Depending on the size of the chicken, cook for 1h 15 minutes to 1h 30 minutes on a low heat.

For the rice
1 pound/ 450 g basmati rice
About 30 minutes before serving, pour some of the chicken broth on the rice (about 1 inch above the rice/ 2.5cm), cover with a lid and steam on a medium to low heat for about 15 to 20 minutes, or until the rice is al dente.

For the mushroom sauce
2/3 pounds/ 300 g mushrooms
1 onion, sliced finely
2 tablespoons of unsalted butter
Salt & freshly ground black pepper
For the roux sauce
6 tablespoons/ 90 g unsalted butter
¾ cup / 90 g plain flour

In a large sauté pan, sauté the mushrooms and onion on a medium to high heat with 2 tablespoons of butter for 4 to 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Set the pan aside.
On a medium heat, melt 90 g/ 6 tablespoons unsalted butter in a saucepan. Add 90 g/ ¾ cup plain flour off the heat in one go, mix well with a whisk, and return to the heat (medium to low heat) until the color turns golden. Add a ladle or twoof chicken stock to thicken the sauce and mix well.
Return the mushroom pan to the heat, add the roux sauce to the mushrooms adding a little chicken stock until desired thickness. Check seasoning.

Remove the chicken from the broth and set aside to cool for 3 minutes. Cut into serving portions, remove the stuffing from the cavity and slice into rounds. Arrange chicken pieces, stuffing slices and vegetable on a serving platter. Serve with the rice and mushroom sauce on the side, and generously drizzle the chicken broth.

Black locust flower cake

12-15 locust flowers clusters, pluck the petals only
3 eggs
¾ cup/ 150 g plain sugar
1 tablespoon honey
6 tablespoons/ 90 g unsalted butter, melted
1 tsp  baking powder
1 &1/4 cup /150 g plain flour, sifted
¼ cup/ 30 g corn starch (maïzana), sifted
¼ tsp salt
1 tablespoon orange flower water

Preheat oven to 180°C/ 350 F
In a large bowl, whisk the eggs and sugar together until light and fluffy. Mix the flour, corn starch, salt and baking powder together in another bowl and add into the eggs & sugar mixture. Add the butter, orange water and honey – mix well. Fold in the flower petals and gently mix.
Butter a cake mould and pour in the batter.
Bake in the preheated oven for 30 minutes.
Leave to cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes and unmould. Decorate with flowers all over.

It’s been quiet in the countryside of late. The little girl inside me (the actual little baby girl inside me) is starting to take her toll on my back so I find myself increasingly sitting down as I continue with the cooking. My father-in-law says I shouldn’t make such a fuss about every meal (although he enjoys them as much as anyone) but there is just nowhere I’d rather be, sitting in my chair shelling fava beans, like an old lady from Sicily. The weather has been fickle but charming, warm winds, rain and sun. My oven broke down, which for me is a disaster, I am still waiting to have it back, the repair got delayed because of the “Bridges of May” – in France one holiday on Thursday calls for Friday off too. In the meantime I have put my frying pans to good use and I can always count on my cocottes (dutch ovens), they never let me down. This calm won’t last though, the little girl has some exit plans and then we collectively have an exit plan of our own as I mentioned in my last post. It was overwhelming how many of you reached out, commented and sent me emails. I promise we’ll be up and running as soon as we possibly can and I can’t wait to meet you all. Thank you so much for your kind words of encouragement – they truly mean a lot to me. Merci, merci et merci!

In the midst of all this calm something strange but wonderful happened. I was lying in bed one morning trying to figure out a whether my back would prefer to stay in bed or do some gardening. There was a light, polite knock on my door. The kids were at school so I thought it must be Gaïa, or even a dog with manners (not that we have many of those). I was wrong. When I opened the door I was greeted by the curious trio of a Sorrel, a Squid and a stalk of Rhubarb. They seemed to have something important to say.

“Mimi, we need to talk”, said the Sorrel. “We feel we’ve been in the chorus long enough, now it’s time you give us some starring roles”.
“Yeah”, said the Squid.
The rhubarb just looked down. “Guys I’m not sure about this” he mumbled.
I spoke directly to the Sorrel “but I use you all the time, in sauces, with other vegetables, non?”
The Sorrel spoke confidently back to me, “Nobody notices me in those dishes, they rave on about the lobster, they praise the sauce but no one ever says – wow that Sorrel tastes amazing, they probably think I’m estragon.”
“But that’s your job” I said, “you’re a character actor, not a star, there aren’t that many starring roles for Sorrel” (this is when his cousin  the Rhubarb just quietly disappeared).
“That’s your problem, not mine” the Sorrel said, “I want a portrait, not a group shot with tons of other vegetables, I want top billing, I want to be the hero for once – A Sorrel monologue – just me!” “Otherwise I quit and you just have to find yourself some other herb to flavour your sauces.”
I thought about it for a while then said cautiously, “Well I have to pair you with something, potatoes maybe.”
He thought about it for a while, then nodded approvingly. “Potatoes are fine.”
“Yeah”, said the Squid.
The following day I presented them with my suggestions. A soup dominated by the slightly acidic and punchy taste of Sorrel, a warm Squid salad with colorful peppers and fennel. The Rhubarb was there but still looking down.
“I like it” said the Sorrel, “don’t forget the solo portrait – and we have a deal”.
“Yeah” said the Squid.
“What about you” I asked the Rhubarb.
“I’m not comfortable talking in front of the others” he said.
As the Sorrel and Squid were leaving the former suddenly turned and said “It’s Sorrel soup and Squid salad – no funny business like Sorrel AND potato soup, right?” Then they left.
The Rhubarb edged closer and said, half whispering “Look, I know I’m not star material, I’m no George Clooney. I’ll never be a peach or a cherry, and I know some people find me sour. But please find something for me to do, I’m dying here.”
“Why don’t I introduce you to some strawberries and we’ll make a nice compote for a panna cotta”. “I would love to roast you but I have no oven and the strawberries will give you a nice red color”, I said.
“I love panna cotta” the Rhubarb said and he was flushed with pride, even his green side turned red.
“So panna cotta it is, and don’t worry, we’ll have more photos of you than any of the others” I said encouragingly.

And so it was that we, during our quiet days in the country, had three wonderful little dishes, where these auxiliary players of my food universe stepped up to stardom … and might I add, got rave reviews.
Apart from a short trip to Paris this week, having this quiet time has been wonderful and prepares us all for what lies ahead, it’s the calm before the storm. Although I am hoping that we’ll just breeze through it all, that there won’t really be a storm.

Let’s just call it a summer wind.

Sorrel soup
(serves 4-6)

110 g/ 4 ounces (a small bunch) sorrel leaves, stemmed and chopped
450 g/ 1 pound potatoes, peeled and diced coarsely
45 g/3 tablespoons butter
½ tsp ground nutmeg
Crème fraîche, approx 1 tablespoon per serving
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper
In a large pot, melt the butter on a medium heat and add the sorrel leaves. Stir for a few minutes, until the leaves have melted, then add the diced potatoes. Continue to cook for 2 minutes. Season with salt and pepper, add the nutmeg. Pour 1.2 liters/ 5 cups of water into the pot and bring to a soft boil. Turn the heat to low and leave to cook for 30 minutes. Blend soup with a stick blender, season if necessary and serve into individual bowl, with a spoon of crème fraîche if desired. Serve with grilled parmesan tartines, with a drizzle of olive oil.

Venus Clams sautéed en persillade
(serves4-6)

These clams are particularly fleshy, excellent in every ways. I love roasting them with a garlic & parsley butter stuffing (just like snails à la Bourguignonne), but I also enjoy cooking them simply, sautéed in a persillade, with a dash of wine.

1 kg/ 2-2.5 pounds Venus clams/ in French they are called praires
A bunch of fresh parsley, chopped
3-4 cloves of garlic, sliced finely
3 tbsp olive oil
1 glass of dry white wine
Sea-salt and black pepper
Zest of 1 lemon
A dash of piment d’espelette

Rinse clams in cold water several times and drain.
Heat 3 tbsp olive oil in a medium-sized pot or large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add garlic, stir for 1-2 minutes. Add clams and white wine, season with salt and pepper. Cover, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes, or until clams open. Add a handful of chopped parsley and sprinkle with piment d’espelette. Grate the zest of 1/2 lemon just before serving. Serve immediately.

Squid and fennel salad

1 kg fresh squid, cleaned (you can ask your fishmonger to prepare them)
1 large fennel (reserve the feathery leaves), thinly sliced
2/3 small red peppers
3 /4 garlic cloves
1 bunch of parsley, leaves picked and finely chopped
Zest of one lemon
Juice of ½ lemon
6 tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for frying
A dash of piment d’espelette or chili flakes
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

Rinse the squid under cold running water and pat dry. Halve the tentacles lengthwise and cut bodies crosswise. Cut 5 cm /2 inches slices. Season with salt & pepper.
Using a sharp knife, lightly score to mark parallel lines 1/2 cm wide on the cuttlefish flaps. Heat the olive oil in a large pan. When the pan is sizzling hot, cook the squid on both sides, just about 30 seconds or less on each side. Set aside.
Add a bit more olive oil to the pan and sauté the diced red peppers for 4 to 5 minutes. Return the squid to the pan, sprinkle a dash of chilli flakes, add the garlic and cook for 3 mores minutes. Turn off the heat, add the finely chopped parsley, the fennel and set the pan aside. Drizzle the lemon vinaigrette and toss everything together. Just before serving, grate the zest of one lemon all over, and sprinkle the feathery leaves of the fennel.
Serve immediately.

Rhubarb & strawberry panna cotta

This delightful dessert is so incredibly easy to make! I always keep pretty yogurt pots, either in terracotta or glass – they come in very handy for this treat. Make sure to prepare these well in advance, as they do need time to set, at least 1/2 day or overnight in the refrigerator. The gelatin I use comes by pack of 9 sheets weighing 17 g – so 5 sheets is approximately 10 g. The rhubarb & strawberries compote is a perfect match – I usually make a double dose of compote, as I love having some for breakfast or mixed in my porridge bowl. Enjoy!

For the panna cotta
(makes about 8 small jars)

750 ml full-cream/whole milk
250 ml heavy cream
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise
150 g/ 2/3 cup granulated sugar
5 gelatin sheets – (10 g)

Soak the gelatin sheets in cold water.
In a saucepan, heat the milk, cream, vanilla beans and sugar on a medium heat. Bring to a soft simmer, take off the heat and add the gelatin sheets (squeeze off excess water). Stir with a whisk until completely dissolved. Set aside.
Fill the ramekins 3/4 full. Leave to cool at room temperature, then refrigerate until set (at least half a day).

For the rhubarb and strawberries compote

250 g/ ½ pound rhubarb, chopped
150 g/ 1/3 pound strawberries, halved
65 g/ 1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons water
1/2 tablespoon lemon juice

Rinse rhubarb and strawberries. Cut the rough ends of the rhubarb and slice into small chunks. Halve the strawberries.
Place fruits in a saucepan, add the sugar, lemon juice and water. Turn the heat on medium and cook, stirring occasionally for about 10 to 12 minutes.
Leave to cool, store in a glass jar with a lid, and store in the refrigerator.
To serve: When the panna cottas are set, fill the panna cotta jars with the rhubarb & strawberries compote.

37 weeks and counting…

In this family we have a habit of finding things we weren’t looking for. Or at least things we didn’t know we were looking for. Years ago we went looking for a hound and ended up with a terrier (which has since multiplied), then we thought we might move to Normandie but ended up in Médoc, I studied finance but found myself in the kitchen. Let’s just say that with us, things happen rather than being planned. Last year we went searching for yellow flowers, which we found, but the flowers also led us to the the château of one of the nicest guys we’ve ever met, Fabien Courrian. Earlier this spring, through Fabien, we found something so special that it might change our lives forever. I am guessing I have your attention now?

What we found was the greenish-blue door of an old house in the center of a quiet village in the middle of the vineyards. As I walked through that door I had the most powerful serendipitous feeling I’ve ever had – this house was meant for me. As in a haze I glided like a ghost through the vast dark corridors, the shutters kept most of the sunshine out but what little pierced through led my way. Slowly the house unveiled itself and as we rushed to open more and more windows it was gradually exposed. This house was too good to be true. But wait, it gets better. The house was previously owned by a woman called Plantia, a formidable woman, famous for her black dresses and her wonderful cooking. Hmm, black dresses, cooking – it does ring a bell. There is far more to her story but that is for another post, in fact it is worthy of a book, my next one? She ran a restaurant and a hotel in the house, yes it’s that big and as I walked into her kitchen, adorned with a dreamy fireplace, I could almost smell the cooking of times gone by. It’s all so mythical that it makes me feel like I’m right in the middle of an Isabel Allende novel – it really is a house of spirits and my future lies in it.

To make a very long story short – we decided to buy it, and so we’re moving this summer from our beloved home in the forest to live amongst the vines. It is also the beginning of a new chapter for us in a different way. The house is so grand, so big, with two kitchens, and a terrace on the roof no less, that I can do what I’ve been dreaming about for a while, forever, which is opening a seasonal restaurant (table d’hôtes). It will be the bistrot of my dreams where I’ll serve all my favorite food and source the best products available. Let’s imagine it together. I can picture you walking through the big front gate (that needs to be painted) and I (or maybe Oddur) will greet you with a glass of rosé or perhaps Pineau if you prefer. There might be a little fox terrier puppy fooling around in the courtyard and some folks playing pétanque. You will nibble on the amazing baguette from Soulac and some charcuterie from Louis Ospital. I might give you a bit of tuna rillettes while you make up your mind on the menu and if it was your lucky day, some freshly picked cèpes mushrooms too.

The menu will be ever-changing but you can rely on always finding my parmentier de canard, my crème fraîche with herbs chicken and my chocolate swirl meringues. The wine-list will be fairly small and personal with a selection of the best wines that have ever graced my table. Of course you will find Fabien’s Tour Haut Caussan, Olivier Compagnet’s Elise, as well as one of my husband’s favorites the Clos du Marquis from St Julien. For rosé, I can’t think of a better choice than L’Ostal Cazes, so fresh and perfect for summer. Some Drappier champagne to celebrate anything you want… And I hope I’ll manage to offer the ’96 Château Lynch-Bages that I had last summer and am still dreaming about.
I am so excited as I write this that my chair has now lifted from the floor and I am floating in air (mythical meets Mary Poppins). And there is more news to tell. As you know I am very fond of people who love food with passion. Now I’ll have a chance to finally meet some of you as I am planning to host cooking ateliers (workshops). We might start as early as late this fall, hopefully the rooms will be ready and we’ll be roaring to go. Of course I will give more details later but I’d love to hear from interested parties. There will be fun and there will be food & wine (too much of both).

I might be walking on air but I certainly can’t live on it so despite all this excitement this Mary Poppins as been as busy as ever in the kitchen. I’m still under the spell of fava beans – in all honesty I have them every day and sometimes twice. They are the meatiest of vegetables, so versatile and just so good. Last Wednesday I bought all they had at the market but we still managed to finish it in one day. First I made a delicious steamed flan, with peas and asparagus on the side. La douceur ressort dans la vapeur. Then, because Easter is near, I wanted to try something with lamb and ended up including fava beans in that too. The campagnarde sauce is courtesy of my trusted butcher M. Manenti – a bread, garlic and parsley delight to accompany the lamb. For dessert, a fontainebleau so delicate that only the finest muslin can dress it. Who knows maybe you’ll find yourself sitting at my restaurant next summer and I’ll be serving you a fontainebleau with a smile on my face.

One more month to go till baby arrives!

Some people find what they are looking for (or not looking for) at the end of the rainbow but I found my house at the end of the alphabet, x marks the spot for me just before the YZ of Saint-Yzans de Médoc. I’ve had it in the back of my mind for a while now to branch out and open a little bistrot. I’ll put all I’ve got into it and give it my best shot. After we’ve restored the gem of a kitchen to its former glory, after some wallpapers have been updated and a few floorboards put into shape, I hope everything I’ve learned about food and cooking through the years will pay off and that my passions will land firmly on your plate. My enthusiasm and spirit for this project is boundless, blind luck and bottomless ambition have merged and it just feels the time is right – while we’re still young!

p.s. My husband has been listening non-stop to a song called ‘La mia seranata‘ by Jimmy Fontana while he’s been preparing the photos for this post. He says it goes perfectly with the mood of the house. It’s a nice, quaint little serenade, don’t get me wrong I like it, just not twelve times in a row. Nevertheless he recommends you try to find it and play it, in low quality (like directly from an iPod) from another room or even put it inside while dining outside – to imitate the sound coming from a far away old gramophone. So there you have it (yes his instructions are often this detailed).

Fabien Courrian & Louise. Fava bean flan (right).

Fava beans and peas flans

180 ml/ ¾ ml full cream/crème entière liquide
240 ml/ 1 cup whole milk
2 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced
4 eggs
¼ tsp nutmeg
100 g/3/4 cup + 150 g/ 1 cup for garnish fava beans, peeled
50 g/ 1/3 cup peas + 50 g/ 1/3 cup fresh peas
10 green asparagus
A small handful of fresh mint leaves
Lemon zest of 1 lemon
Olive oil
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

For about 4 to 6 ramekins depending in size

Heat milk and cream with garlic in a saucepan, add 100 g peeled fava beans and 50 g peas. Add nutmeg, salt and pepper. Bring to a soft boil and simmer on a low heat for a few minutes, until fava beans and peas start to be tender. Take off the heat. Blend mixture with a stick blender until smooth. Whisk the eggs in a bowl and pour in the cream mixture.
Prepare to boil the water in the steamer. Pour about half a teaspoon of olive oil in the ramekins and swirl them around so the oil covers the sides as well. Place 2 fava beans and a few peas in the bottom, and pour the mixture in (3/4 full). Place the flans in the steamer, cover and cook for about 15 to 18 minutes, or until the flans are set.
While the flans are cooking, sauté the asparagus, the rest of the fava beans and peas in a tablespoon of olive oil for 3 minutes on a medium heat in a pan. Add 2 tablespoons of water and continue to cook for 5 minutes, or until vegetables are al dente. Season with salt and pepper.
Prepare a serving plate, unmould the flans using a palette knife, and place the sautéed vegetables on top. Sprinkle with chopped mint leaves, a drizzle of olive oil and a few gratings of fresh lemon zest. Serve warm.

Roast rack of lamb and campagnarde sauce

Serves 4

1 rack of lamb, about 900g -1 kg/about 2 pounds
650 g/ 1 1 1/22 pounds ratte potatoes
8 garlic cloves, unpeeled
250 g fava beans, peeled
Olive oil
A few fresh rosemary sprigs
A dash of piment d’espelette
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

For the lamb rack

Parboil the potatoes for 10 minutes in a large pot of salted boiling water. Halve them horizontally.
Season the lamb with salt and pepper and sprinkle piment d’espelette. Brown the meat until golden in a large sauté pan with olive oil on all sides and place lamb in a roasting pan, along with all the juices and 6-8 unpeeled garlic cloves (we call them ail en chemise). Scatter fresh rosemary sprigs on top, place the halved potatoes and fava beans around the meat. Drizzle with olive oil and season with salt & pepper.
Place in a preheated oven 180°C/ 350 F. Cook for 20-30 minutes, or until desired cuisson.

For the campagnarde gravy sauce

Sauce from the pan
120 g/2 cups bread crumbs from stale bread (like baguette), crust removed
60 ml/ ¼ cup white wine
180 ml/3/4 cup veal stock
Sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons butter
A small bunch of parsley, leaves picked and finely chopped
2-3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

Process the stale bread (crust removed) until loosely crumbled. Pour the juices from the lamb rack pan into a saucepan, add the stock and cook on a medium heat. Bring to a soft boil, add the wine, salt and pepper, and continue to cook for 10 minutes. Add the butter and take off the heat. Add the breadcrumbs (adjust more or less if you want a thicker or thinner sauce), finely chopped parsley and garlic – stir gently. Pour into a serving gravy dish. Serve immediately with the lamb.

Fontainebleau

Serves 4-6

Faisselle is made from fresh curds, hand-ladled into colander molds, so the liquid is drained to your liking. If you can’t find faisselle, then I would suggest to use full-fat/whole fromage blanc as an alternative. Let the faisselle drain for at least 4 hours (or even overnight), either in its own container or place it in a colander and over a bowl in a refrigerator. Fontainebleau is sold in French cheese store, wrapped in muslin cloths and placed in a small cup. My favourite ones in Paris are sold at the fromagère Marie-Anne Cantin, 12, rue du Champs de Mars, 75007 Paris.

350 g/ 12 ounces faisselle (alternatively fromage blanc if you can’t find faisselle)
160 ml/2/3/ cup heavy cream/ crème entière liquide (for whipping)
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise and seeds scraped (optional)
Whip the heavy cream, add the vanilla seeds (optional). Discard the drained liquid and whip the faisselle (or fromage blanc). Fold in the whipped cream to the faisselle (or fromage blanc).
Place the mixture, about the size of a tennis ball) on a square of muslin cloth, join the four ends and twist on top (just like in the photos).
Make a fresh coulis by blending 250 g strawberries and 120 g fine/caster sugar in the mixer. As simple as that.
Serve the wrapped fontainebleau desserts on individual serving plates. Let your guests unwrap the little parcels and serve with strawberry coulis.

As a young girl spending summers with my grandmother near Toulouse I fell in love with a Frenchman. It was so long ago that I’ve forgotten his name but he was a charming fellow, a bit stocky with rosy cheeks and a smile on his face. Sometimes he was perfectly dressed, in a double-breasted blazer with shiny loafers and a pretentious little foulard around his neck, other times he just wore a simple shirt and trousers. He was always in a good mood … and he was almost always eating. On our way home from the market we would drive past him in my aunt’s car, as we turned down the little country road that led to her house. He would sit there, bathing in sunshine, a half-finished bottle of red wine on a table next to him. He would be slicing a sausage or a piece of bread with his pocket knife. He would waive to us. Sometimes he was invited to my aunt’s house for dinner which, as you can imagine, was very exciting for me. He would bring foie gras, armagnac and camembert. His rosy cheeks would turn red, as would mine (remember I was in love with him), he would tell charming stories and, on at least one occasion, he would start dancing when dinner was over. Except with him dinner was never really over. In between  songs he would nibble on a strawberry tart or a slice of brie. On Sundays we would see him, heading straight from the church to a local bistro where he would join his buddies in epic celebrations. What were they celebrating? Who knows, being French, having a day off? I think they mostly celebrated life and good food.

Now I remember his name, he is called Bon Vivant. He lives in every French village and town. In the Pyrénées he loves a bit of black cherry jam with his Ossau Iraty but in Jura he swears by a little yellow wine with his Comté cheese and walnuts. Funnily enough he is as present as ever, after all those years. Even with the rise of supermarkets and take-away coffees he’s found a way to keep his integrity … and I still love him.

Sunday was my birthday and that called for a trip to town. Impatiently I wanted to go on Saturday instead – to have a pre-birthday lunch, get some flowers (my husband saw to that – the prettiest renoncules) and goodies for my big day. Unexpectedly we ended up in the loveliest belle époque brasserie called Le Noailles (the oldest one in Bordeaux), the type of establishment I adore, with black clad waiters, white tablecloths, a pastry tray and red banquets. The food and the atmosphere were so excellent, the room was filled with such joy – it was the comfort of Saturdays at its best. I had a sole meuniere (as I often do in such places), Oddur had the foie de veau, my mother-in-law the salmon and the kids a bit of everything. The food was all excellent but the desserts were to die for, perhaps because the birthday girl in me was in a pastry state of mind. What pleased me most is that my childhood sweetheart, the bon vivant, was sitting at practically every table, enjoying his meal as much as we were. Sometimes he was with his twin, the other bon vivant, but their younger brother, the gourmet, was all over the place too. They were the cutest elderly couple who had a three-course meal with cheese, a younger man and his elegantly dressed daughter with the impeccable table manners and a woman whose two teenage children seemed to be savoring every bite. I could hear them discuss the food, the wine, the desserts. It felt like I could have been here a hundred years ago and met the same people, it was a great way to start a birthday weekend.

We left this world of yesteryear, fulfilled and happy, expecting to walk right back into modernity but in the square opposite the restaurant we spotted a vintage car exhibition. I know next to nothing about cars, don’t even drive myself (thus the bicycle), but I do appreciate a nice belted Jaguar when I see one, in racing green. From the bon vivants of the restaurant to the connoisseurs of automobiles – everybody has their thing, especially on a Saturday. Our automotive adventures were followed by a stroll through the place Quinconces and the Jardin public where we caught a matinée exhibition of Guignol’s adventures at the puppet theatre. Children were shouting and screaming, warning Guignol on stage. The story is always the same with Guignol landing himself in peril but persevering in the end. This little outdoor venue echoed with the laughter of countless other children from a different time, when there were no ipads or iphones, not even TV.

Ludovic Le Goardet, chef at Le Noailles.

The chef at Le Noailles is a friend from the time he worked at Café Lavinal, one of our favorite places in Médoc. He treated us with little extras and after lunch took the time to sit with us and share recipes and ideas. Talking about the bon vivant and the gourmet. They have a cousin called the glutton. Le Glouton is also the name of a bistrot that Ludovic and his wife Elisabeth are planning to open in Bordeaux this August. A glutton is, of course, less mannered and greedier than the other two but I am sure Ludovic will put some manners into him – it is a bistrot opening that I am eagerly awaiting.

Talking about time passing and remembrances of things past, when it is your birthday you reflect and you look forward. But mainly I just want to have a blissful day with family and friends and food. Inspired by Le Noailles and the atmosphere there, the bon vivants, gourmets and gluttons I have been revisiting classic dishes such as the pork chops with prunes and the marvelous ‘merveilleux’, an old-fashioned meringue dessert covered in cream and chocolate flakes. Simply wonderful!

My day was made even lovelier by all your countless birthday wishes and kindness. So I had to steal Ludovic’s meringue tart recipe and make it as a special treat for all of you, even if I already had another dessert planned.

On your birthday you are allowed to have two desserts.

p.s. On Monday I got the sweetest email from a girl, a reader of the blog. She’s American but is currently an au pair in Bordeaux. She said she saw me entering le Noailles, wanted to say hi but felt it was too intrusive. She should have – I would have offered her a lemon meringue tart!

Potato galettes with sautéed asparagus with fresh peas

(makes about 8 galettes)

4 large potatoes (about 700 g/ 1&1/2 pounds)
3 small shallots, finely chopped
¼ tsp ground nutmeg
1 egg + 1 egg yolk
4 tbsp plain flour
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper
A bunch of asparagus (3-4 per person) (I used the sables des Landes white/violettes asparagus)
1 cup fresh peas, shelled
A small piece of Comté cheese (or cheddar)
A dash of piment d’espelette
A few sprigs of fresh chives
A dash of freshly grated lemon zest
A tablespoon of crème fraîche per serving
Butter & olive oil for frying

Peel the potatoes and grate them into a large bowl. Add the chopped shallots, nutmeg, egg and egg yolk, flour. Season with salt and pepper. Mix well with a wooden spoon.
Heat the 2 tbsp olive oil and 1 tbsp butter in a sauté pan until sizzling hot, scoop about a tablespoon or one and a half tablespoon (depending on how large you want the galettes), flatten them with a spatula. Cook them on both sides until golden. Grate a teaspoon of Comté cheese on top. Place them on kitchen paper to absorb excess oil.
Peel the asparagus and cut off the stiff ends. Slice the asparagus in half. Sauté the asparagus in a pan with 1 tablespoon olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter, stiring gently. After 5 minutes add the peas. Season with salt & pepper. Add a few tablespoons of water and continue to cook until absorbed and asparagus and peas are tender yet al dente.
To serve:
Place the potato galette on a serving plate, place the asparagus and peas on top, add a tablespoon of crème fraîche, season with salt & pepper and a dash of piment d’espelette. Sprinkle with lemon zest and finely chopped chives.

Pork chops with prunes & red wine sauce

For the pork chops
4 pork chops/ côtes de porc
230 g/ ½ pound dried prunes, soaked in warm water for 15 minutes
4 tbsp/ 60 g unsalted butter
1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
A few sprigs of parsley, leaves picked and finely chopped
A few cloves of unpeeled garlic
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the sauce
1 carrot, diced
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 bay leaf
3 sprigs of thyme, leaves picked
180 ml/ ¾ cup red wine
30 ml/ 2 tbsp red wine vinegar
60 ml/ 4 tbsp chicken or vegetable stock
2 ½ tbsp unsalted butter
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the sauce
Chop the carrot and shallots. Heat 1 tbsp butter in a sauté pan and cook until slightly golden. Add the bay leaf, thyme, season with salt and pepper, then add the vinegar, wine and reduce for a few minutes. Add the stock and bring to a soft boil, lower heat and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the remaining butter. Drain the prunes and add them to the sauce. Continue to simmer for 5 minutes and set aside.
In a large sauté pan, heat the butter and olive oil on a medium to high heat. Sauté the pork chops and unpeeled garlic cloves on both sides until golden and cooked through. Season with salt & pepper. Spoon excess fat from the pan, then pour the prunes and wine sauce on top of the pork chops. Sprinkle with chopped parsley. Serve immediately with steamed potatoes.

Merveilleux

This old-fashioned marvellous dessert is a little gem. A French meringue, covered in whipped cream and chocolate flakes, how simple and delicious! Especially with a name like ‘Le Merveilleux’ – simply irresistible.

Tip: Place the chocolate in a warm environment for a few minutes to facilitate the grating. You’ll get nicer & richer flakes.

For the meringues
3 egg whites
100 g/ ½ cup fine sugar
100 g/ 1 cup confectioner’s sugar
½ tsp corn starch (maïzana) or cream of tartar

To garnish
350 ml/ Heavy cream, for whipping
150 g dark chocolate, grated (I use a vegetable peeler)

In a large glass bowl, whisk the egg whites on a high-speed until frothy. Add the cornstarch and sugar/ confectioner’s sugar (1-2 tbsp at a time) gradually and continue whisking until stiff and glossy. Transfer mixture to a piping bag and pipe small meringues (about the size of a round plum).
Bake in a preheated oven 140°C/280 F for 25 minutes, then lower heat 95°C/200 F and continue to bake for 2 hours. Switch the heat off and open the oven door. Leave the meringues to cool in the oven.
When the meringues are completely cooled, grate the chocolate into flakes (I use a vegetable peeler) and whisk the cream in a large bowl until stiff.
Cover the meringues evenly with a thick layer of cream and sprinkle with the chocolate flakes. Serve immediately.

Lemon meringue tarts

(makes about 8 small tarts)

Last Saturday, the first thing that caught my eye as I entered the brasserie Le Noailles was the cabinet à desserts (the dessert cabinet), especially this lovely lemon meringue tart. The base is a Breton sablé biscuit, so rich and buttery and slightly flavoured with rum. Ludovic, the chef, is from Brittany, so this sablé is extra delicious.It’s then covered with lemon custard and an Italian meringue on top. Pure pleasure. Merci pour cette recette Ludovic!

For the sablés

250 g/ 2 cups plain flour
130 g/ 2/3 cup fine sugar
240 g/ 1 cup unsalted butter
1 pinch of fleur de sel/ salt
2 egg yolks
1 tsp dark rum
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise
1 egg yolk, for the eggwash
A bunch of redcurrants/groseille – to garnish

On a clan surface, mix all the ingredients together until you get a smooth dough. Shape into a ball, wrap in cling film/ plastic wrap and refrigerate for a least 2 hours. On a floured surface, roll out the dough and cut out 8-10 cm circles (my circle molds have a little round trim/cannelé). Brush the sablés with eggwash. Bake on a parchment lined baking tray in a preheated oven 180°C/ 350 F for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Leave to cool on a pastry rack.

For the lemon custard

Juice of 3 lemons
80 g/ 1/3 cup unsalted butter
130 g/ 2/3 cup granulated sugar
3 eggs
Squeeze the lemon juice. Pour into a saucepan, add the sugar and whisked eggs. Whisk gradually, adding the butter, until mixture becomes thick like a custard on a medium to low heat. Take off the heat and leave to cool completely. Then refrigerate for at least 1 hour.

For the Italian meringue

4 egg whites
250 g/ 1 & 1 ¼ cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
80 ml/ 1/3 cup lukewarm water
1 pinch of salt

Heat the water and sugar in a saucepan on a medium to high – bring to a boil. Stir until all the sugar has dissolved and has thickened to a syrupy consistence and has reached a temperature of 120°C. Now you can start beating the egg whites until soft peaks. Increase the speed and pour the syrup in a slow stream. Lower the speed and continue to whisk until the mixture has cooled, about 10 to 12 minutes. The mixture should be thick and glossy.
Transfer lemon custard into piping bag and pipe a small ball (size of a ping-pong ball) in the center of the sablé.
Transfer meringue mixture to another large piping bag and pipe small meringue shapes on top of sablé and lemon custard, starting from the bottom sides. Brown with a blow torch.

Red is so hot right now

When I was in New York earlier this month I missed most all those little hands that hug me and hold me, the elbows that sometimes knock me out at night and, of course, the little faces that come with the hands, the ones with mischievous little smiles. These little hands were put to good use this weekend, shelling peas and beans but more about that later. A pair of hands comes with a pair of feet and little feet need little shoes. Gaïa, my youngest (for now), has always had a shoe obsession and changes shoes every hour of the day. Interestingly she hardly ever wears a matching pair, that would be a waste of time (so many shoes, so little time). When we were away she insisted on wearing the same princess dress every day, over her sweater, and a selection of shoes to go with it. My father-in-law was stupefied and asked “Is it normal that the kid dresses like that?” But since we’ve been back in our little corner of the world Gaïa has changed her tune and her outfit. All she wants to wear are red ballerinas. Every morning she wakes up, runs in her red ballerinas to her sister’s room and insists she wears the same. So just in case you had any doubts – Red is THE color right now, even the pears are wearing it!

Shades of Green

I have to admit that we’re still a long way from the colorful symphonies of summer but nature has taken out its paintbrush and given us a few strokes of green. And what lovely shades they are. The fava beans soup tastes like I’ve never had it before, the asparagus is even better than I remembered. I can’t wait for nature to start dipping into other colors but for now, green does it for me every day (we’re having broccoli pasta for lunch today, just let me finish writing this first). My husband and father-in-law went to the market on Saturday and came back home with crates of the greenest greens. We plunged them on our table and without so much as a human touch they arranged themselves to perfection. “Let the vegetables fall as they may” is our approach to food. All the kids joined in, there were a lot of jobs to be done. Shelling peas and beans, peeling asparagus. Those little hands did most of the vegetable work while I prepared the lamb shanks. I meant to cook them with olives and lemons but in the end I felt the olives weren’t needed so they were introduced to some charcuterie later in the day. Saturdays are market days and family food days, it seems we never stop eating. In the morning we had a huge fry-up, with Irish potato bread, eggs and bacon, then it seems that lunch just lingers on forever and finally changes its name to dinner.

Passe-Crassane pears

Blue is the warmest color

If you are a regular reader you will be familiar with a certain blue table that more often than not holds the food I cook. It’s a very ordinary looking table, whose former life was amongst the market stalls. It came with the house when we moved here, stood inconspicuously in a corner. My husband took a liking to it and made it his makeshift desk. It’s by no means in perfect condition, with scratches and splatters of light-blue and yellow paint. It even sways down in the middle, like an old horse, from all the weight it’s carried in all its previous lives.
I would describe the color as a greenish blue but when the light hits the table in a certain way it’s almost indigo (there is a movie quote in here for you clever people). Simply put, it’s a good table and, I must admit, makes my food look good. Why am I talking, at length, about a table? You see, for me, a table is a symbol, an anchor for any family. A table has never been more important. We may not be able to live without our smartphones but we are not able to live decently without our tables. A family that sets a table every night and shares it, is at least doing something right. Food satisfies our hunger, but having it together connects us. People should not forget that. I have lived in France for a long time now and always had roots here, but I never cease to be amazed by the role food plays in our country. We take time to eat, we talk about the food, bien sûr, but the conversation goes further and before we know it stories are flying. A table is also a good place for education, especially for large families. Our kids break the rules all the time but at least they know that there are rules.
Like my mother always says “les bonnes manières commençent à table” (good manners start at the table).

And by the way, the table doesn’t have to be blue.

Here are three recipes to celebrate early spring.

Asparagus with fresh peas, fava beans and herbs.

This dish is a celebration of spring. It’s all about improvisation, you can add any seasonal greens you like. Here, the portions are light, perfect as a starter dish. The key is to cook the vegetables on a medium to high heat, so the vegetables are just cooked through, everything must be al dente. I love cooking with sorrel leaves, especially with seafood dishes. The lemony sharpness makes any dish stand out. Note: Do not overcook the sorrel leaves, or they will be all soft. Just throw them in, stir for a second or two, and serve immediately.

A bunch of fresh green asparagus, count 3 per person
A bunch of sorrel/oseille leaves
A few sprigs of fresh chives
70 g/ ½ cup chopped ramp/ aillet
2/ 3 sprigs mint, leaves picked
150 g/1 cup fresh peas, shelled
120 g/ 1 cup fresh fava beans, shelled and peeled
1 or 2 tbsp salted butter
2/3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
60 ml/ ¼ cup lukewarm water
Coarse sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper
Freshly grated lemon zest, to serve
Shell the peas and fava beans. Peel the rough skin from the fava beans. Set aside. Thinly slice the ramps. Rinse all the herbs so they are ready for usage (you’ll be using kitchen scissors to cut them directly over the sauté pan).
Rinse asparagus under cold water. Peel the rough skin from the bottom half of the spears with a vegetable peeler. Cut off the rough ends. Slice the asparagus into 4 to 5 pieces. Slice the asparagus tips in half and set aside.
Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large sauté pan on a medium to high heat, add the asparagus, peas, ramps and fava beans, saving the asparagus tips for the end as they are the most tender and cook faster. Stir for one minute then add 60 ml/1/4 cup water in the pan. Continue to gently stir for 2 to 3 minutes, until water has reduced, then add a tablespoon of salted butter. Add the asparagus tips, stir gently. With kitchen scissors, cut a few mint leaves and chives. Add the sorrel leaves. Stir everything gently. Season with salt and pepper, place on a plate and grate some fresh lemon zest on top. Serve immediately. Everything should be al dente.

Lamb confit with spices and lemon

This comforting dish is my idea for a perfect Saturday family lunch. There’s nothing more pleasurable than a cocotte slow-cooking in your oven, filling up the kitchen with the most inviting aromas. The lamb shanks are juicy and layered in flavors, the sauce is filled with lemon goodness, perfect to drizzle on a side serving of couscous. If you wish, add golden raisins and toasted almonds to the couscous to add a little extra sweetness. Make sure to pre-order the lamb shanks at your butcher’s (in France we call it ‘souris d’agneau’) as they are not always available.

6 small lamb shanks/ souris d’agneau
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon fennel seed
300 ml/ 1 & ¼ cup chicken or vegetable stock
6 cloves garlic for the paste + 8 garlic cloves for the lamb
A chunk of ginger (about 3 inches long)
4-5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
4 lemons, thickly sliced
Coarse sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper
For the meat paste
A small bunch of thyme
A few sprigs of rosemary
4 tablespoons liquid honey
½ tsp cinnamon
½ tsp ground nutmeg
Mix the peeled garlic cloves and ginger in a food processor until you get a smooth paste. Set aside.
In a small bowl, mix the thyme leaves, chopped rosemary leaves, nutmeg and cinnamon with the honey. Set aside.
Season the lamb shanks with salt and pepper, and rub them all over with the herb and honey mixture.
In a large cocotte/ cast-iron dutch oven, heat the olive oil and brown the meat on all sides on a medium to high heat. Transfer meat to a plate. Add the fennel seeds and ground coriander in the olive oil, add the ginger and garlic paste and continue to cook until fragrant, about 1 to 2 minutes. Return the meat to the pot, stir for a few minutes to mix all the ingredients together, then add the chicken/ or vegetable stock. Bring to a soft boil, lower the heat and cover with a lid. Transfer pot to a preheated oven 160°C/ 320 F and cook lamb for 3 hours. Halfway through, add the unpeeled garlic cloves and sliced lemon and continue to cook covered. Serve with semolina (couscous) or steamed potatoes and drizzle sauce all over.

Cinnamon pancakes with Chantilly cream and pear

This recipe was kindly lent to me by my lovely Icelandic mother-in-law, Jóhanna, famous for her cinnamon pancakes. All our family members and friends rave on about her delicious pancakes, a staple dish in her household. They are extra special, not only because of the cinnamon flavor, but also for their light texture. A tip I found very useful was to cover them with a plate, then wrapping the plates in a kitchen cloth followed by a plastic bag – they keep their softness and retain all the great flavors. Here I served them with whipped cream and diced pears. Pears are subtle, so sweet and delicious, but I can’t wait for strawberry season, they will be perfect for these pancakes!

Makes about 20-25 pancakes

35 g/ 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
65 g/1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
500 ml/ 2 ½ cups full-cream milk
180 g/ 1 &1/2 cup plain flour
¼ tsp fine salt
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp baking powder
1 ½ tsp ground cinnamon
To serve
1 to 2 pears, depending on size
250ml/ 1 cup heavy cream, for whipping
In a pancake pan, melt the butter, take off the heat and leave to cool. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, combine sugar and eggs. Whisk briskly for a minute, then gradually add the milk and flour, salt and vanilla extract, until you get a smooth, yet fluid batter. Add the cinnamon, mix well, then finally add the all butter that was in the pancake pan.
Heat the pancake pan on a medium to high heat. When the pan is very hot, spoon ¾ of a ladle of batter and pour on pan, swirling the pan to evenly cover the surface. Cook for a minute or so, until the edges start browning. Lift the edges slightly with a palette knife and turn the pancake to cook on the other side. For 30 seconds. The pancakes are best golden brown. Place on a plate and continue with the rest of the batter. When finished, cover with a plate, wrap with a clean tea-towel and cover with cling film (or a ziplock/ plastic bag) to keep the pancakes moist and soft. Leave to cool 10 minutes while you prepare the whipped cream and peel/ dice the pears.
To serve
Place 1 tablespoon of whipped cream in the centre of the pancake, add 2 teaspoons of diced pears. Fold in half and fold again to form a triangle. Serve immediately.

Have you ever seen the look on a bunch of really surprised dogs? It’s difficult to describe, very subtle of course – dogs don’t really have so many facial expressions (except when in attack mode – the expression “to show your teeth” doesn’t come from nowhere). They gave us that befuddled look last Thursday when we turned our morning routine on its head. Dogs are creatures of habit, and so I guess is my husband. Every night he’s the last one to leave the kitchen and before he exits he puts on comforting cello suites by Bach to make the dogs understand that night has fallen. Then he rids our room of all the children that have not made it to their own beds. If we’re lucky we’ll have a little moment and then at 6 o’clock sharp (and I mean sharp) one of the dogs starts howling. That’s when my husband fumbles for whatever he was wearing the night before and ghosts out of our room (which mysteriously is full of children again). By the time he enters the kitchen the dogs are in full symphony. The rest plays out like a military operation. Team A out, then in, team B out then in etc. Well, last Thursday we had our own covert operation and sneaked up on them around 5 o’clock in the morning.

We had a train to catch, to Paris no less and when you go to Paris you want to arrive early. Especially when your favorite illustrator in the world, the one who did your logo, is co-hosting a little luncheon to celebrate her collaboration with Garance Doré. I am of course talking of Anna Bond of Rifle Paper Co. – can’t get enough of that girl. She’s as lovely as her drawings – and so is her husband. His name: James Bond – for real, although he goes by the name of Nathan (his middle name), probably to avoid confusion. It was a fleeting visit and no sooner had we arrived when it was time to think about departure. So we left the luncheon though I would have gladly spent time with Anna for a week, ran through the galerie of Véro-Dodat where they not only have the original Louboutin store but also a fine repair shop, the official one for those red-soled shoes. Fittingly I was wearing my own Louboutins (yes I swapped them for the wellies for a day, when in Paris) sometimes a girl just has to go glamorous. We had just enough time to run a few errands, have a quick ramen and pick up a few books and magazines. Then we missed the train home. (Un)fortunately there was one later train. I lived in Paris for over fifteen years but I can never get enough – and although I absolutely adore my country life I am quite fond of the fact that the people here in Médoc refer to me as “the woman from Paris”. My husband always thought this made him “the man from Paris” but once he was talking to a merchant in Lesparre and trying to explain who he was. The merchant couldn’t place him but suddenly remembered and said with an enlightened look “mais oui, you are the husband of the woman from Paris”. Oddur likes to tell this story – in nordic or anglo-saxon self-deprecating fashion.

While we were in Paris my father-in-law who had arrived the night before was holding the fort. I’ve been trying my best to cook for him and so far I think he’s been very happy. He’s been extremely helpful but perhaps slightly bemused by the household. “Monkey and snake theatre” he calls it and he’s probably right. It’s all snakes and ladders in our world and certainly no shortage of monkeys. Yesterday he got reinforcements. My mother-in-law returned to give us a hand and having cooked a few things for him I wanted to make something delicious for her that I knew she’d want. With Johanna you can never go wrong with potatoes, any kind of potatoes. So I got a big sack of local potatoes, stuffed them with a lovely meat and herb filling and tied them into pretty little parcels. I thought she might enjoy a celeriac soup that I have been making lately so that went on the menu too.  Her arrival inspired me to make something with chocolate and orange mixed together. That’s her favorite, she’s a dessert person. I chose blood oranges because they are somehow just so exciting and beautiful and all over the markets these days.

I would have loved to stay longer in town but it’s very nice to be back home, not least because of all the mimosa trees that are now approaching full bloom and can be found in almost every garden. We don’t have one ourselves and I’ve been obsessing about getting my hands on a few branches. A particularly majestic mimosa tree stands not far from where we live, at the edge of a vineyard. I’ve had my eye on it and on Saturday I just had to get out of the car and knock on the door. The owner was very impressed by my “politesse” and complained about some others who had simply cut a few branches “sans” permission. He said I could have as much as I wanted and come again whenever I wanted. You see, politeness pays off every time. Mimosas are a symbol of protection, glory and love, and who doesn’t want that! Then of course there is the unforgettable scent, it fills the house with magic. I adore this time of year, we’re coming out of the darkness and cold and one by one the trees are exploding in color – now the mimosas, then the magnolias, cherry blossom, apple, peach and plum trees.
Not everyone, of course, has the luxury of mimosas just yet. Some parts of the world are still dealing with sub-zero temperatures and snow. I’m thinking of New York. It’s all very beautiful judging from my friends on Instagram and tomorrow I’ll be right in the middle of it all. I´m off to NY for a few days to meet the editor of my book, Rica, and as a bonus she and her husband are going to cook for me (he’s a French chef, the real thing). I’m a little bit proud these days – my book, “A Kitchen in France” is now available fro pre-order online
Seeing it there makes it all feel so real and wonderful, now I just want a copy in my hands. I love books, and bookstores and one thing I keep buying are books, illustrated ones, with stories, with poems, with recipes. To have my own is a dream.
We haven’t met for a while, New York and I, there are so many places I need to visit – most of them have to do with food. On my list: The Mast brothers chocolate factory, such beautiful packaging, such lovely beards – now let’s try the chocolate. And what to wear for an excursion to the NY arctic? I’ve been trying to figure it out and then, as a total surprise I got an Icelandic wool sweater from my friends. Sometimes things just work out. I’d love to do a post about New York and let’s just say I promise you one in about 10 days time. Until next time!

Celeriac velouté
serves 4

1 celeriac (approx 500-600 g/ 1 ¼ pounds-1 1/3 pounds)
30 g/ 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 liter/ 1 quart milk, preferably full-cream milk
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 tablespoon mustard (I use moutarde de Dijon)
A sprig of thyme, leaves picked
Coarse sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper
A pinch of piment d’espelette
A few sprigs of fresh flat parsley, leaves picked and finely chopped

Peel and dice the celeriac. In a large pot, melt the butter and olive oil. Sauté the celeriac for 4 minutes, add the thyme, nutmeg salt and pepper. Add the milk and bring to a soft simmer. Cover with a lid and leave to cook on a low to medium heat for 30 minutes, or until celeriac is tender. Blend soup with a stick blender, and add the mustard. Mix well. Serve soup with a pinch of piment d’espelette (optional), a drizzle of olive oil and sprinkle with parsley.

Potato parcels with veal and herbs with a white wine sauce
Serves 4-6

This is a beautiful way to cook potatoes, simple and so comforting. I would advise serving this dish with a big loaf of country rustic bread and old-fashioned whole grain mustard, to soak up all the delicious sauce infused with wine and all the meaty flavours. Un vrai délice!

900 g/ 2 pounds medium-sized potatoes
300 g/ 2/3 pound minced veal
150 g/ 1/3 pound Bayonne ham, finely chopped
65 g/ 2 ounces bacon (I used Noir de Bigorre black pig bacon), finely chopped
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 egg
3 small slices stale white bread/ pain de mie (without crust), soaked in enough milk to cover)
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
120 ml/ ½ cup veal or chicken stock
80 ml/ 1/3 cup dry white wine
1 bay leaf
A handful of finely chopped fresh parsley (save some for garnishing)
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh chives
Piment d’espelette, to garnish (optional)
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

Soak the bread slices in the milk. Finely chop the Bayonne ham, bacon, garlic, shallots, chives and parsley. Mix together with the minced veal in a large bowl. Add the egg, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Squeeze excess milk from bread and add to the mixture. Mix all the ingredients together with a large wooden spoon. Set aside.
Rinse potatoes and pat dry. Halve them horizontally and scoop out the flesh on both sides (see photos), enough to create a nice cavity to fill with meat. Repeat with all the potatoes.
Fill one half of potato with 1 to 2 tablespoons of the meat mixture (depending on potato size) and cover with the other half. Secure with kitchen twine.

In a large dutch oven pot, melt the butter ad olive oil on a medium heat. Cook the potatoes on both sides, until golden and browned, approximately 5 to 6 minutes. Pour the wine and leave to reduce for 2 minutes, then add the veal or chicken stock. Bring to a boil, then lower heat. Add the bay leaf, season with salt and pepper, and cover with a lid. Leave to cook for 30 minutes, until the potatoes are cooked through. Serve on a plate, cut off strings and pour the wine sauce on top. Sprinkle freshly chopped parsley and a pinch of piment d’espelette (optional).

Blood orange chocolate tartlets

Makes about 5 tartlets – 10 cm/4 inches width (leaving you with extra dough which you can store in the freezer or use to make little chocolate sablé biscuits – very popular with my kids!). The chocolate crust is rich and fills each bite with extra pleasure. Seriously.

For the crust 

210 g/ 1 & ¾ cup plain flour
100 g/ 1 cup confectioner’s sugar
25 g/ ¼ cup cocoa powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
120 g/ ½ cup cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
3 egg yolks
A pinch of fine salt

In a large bowl, combine flour, cocoa powder, salt and butter. Mix well with your hands, until you get a crumbly mixture. Add the vanilla extract, sugar and egg yolks. Mix well and shape into a flat ball. Sprinkle a little flour on a large piece of parchment paper, and roll dough to a ¼ inch thick. Line the tartlets moulds and prick the base gently with a fork. Place the lined moulds in the freezer for 30 minutes.

For the filling
180 ml/ ¾ cup blood orange juice
3-4 teaspoons blood orange zest
3 tablespoons lemon juice
150 g/ ¾ cup granulated sugar
3 eggs + 1 egg yolk
80 g/ 1/3 cup unsalted butter, cut into cubes

In a large saucepan, heat all the ingredients together except the butter on a medium-heat. Mix with a wooden spoon constantly, until the mixture thickens to a curd, about 8 minutes, or until mixture coats the back of a spoon. Take off the heat, add the butter and mix well until melted. Set aside to cool.

For the meringue topping

4 large egg whites
200 g/ 1 cup caster/ fine sugar
½ teaspoon cream of tartar
A pinch of fine salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 180°C/ 350°C

Take the prepared lined tartlets out the freezer. Pour the blood orange curd into the shells. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes and leave to cool completely in a cool environment.
When the tartlets are completely cool, prepare the meringue topping.
Heat the grill/ broiler in the oven.
In a large glass bowl, whisk the egg whites until frothy. Add cream of tartar, salt and vanilla extract. Continue to whisk and gradually add sugar until egg whites become glossy with stiff peaks. Using a spatula, garnish the pies with the meringue topping in a circular movement. Place pies in the top part of the oven for 1-2 minutes or until meringue browns slightly on top. Check constantly as the browning can happen very fast.

Last Friday at lunchtime I was seated at a little bistro in Bordeaux. We had reserved a table for three but so far it was only me and Gaïa (that is if you’re not counting Humfri our smooth fox terrier). Half an hour later the situation hadn’t changed, the waiters and some of the other diners were starting to cast sympathetic glances towards my table, encouraging little smiles. I knew I was in trouble when the owner came over and offered me a glass of champagne – that’s how long we had been waiting. With a heavy heart I politely refused the “coupe de champagne”, and pointed to my bump (I’m gently easing into my sixth month now) – what does a woman waiting in a restaurant on Valentine’s day need if not a glass of champagne. Gaïa was very happy with her bread and grenadine water combo, Humfri had the treat of his life – the owner prepared him a few snacks. My husband, as usual, was not answering his phone – this was not how you do Valentine’s day. Then of course he came, with the loveliest pink roses and the whole room nodded approvingly. The elderly gentlemen at the next table even applauded and when he pulled out a bottle of perfume, there was a whole chorus of “well played monsieur” and bravos. He was forgiven – just about.

Sitting idly in a restaurant for almost an hour has its advantages. You get a real feeling of the room, how the waiters operate, how attentive they are, what the other clients are like. Le Petit Commerce is a Bordeaux institution, a good time place with an air of “joie de vivre”. My eyes were drawn to a very interesting table near the window, a curious mix of five men and a lady. Boy were they having a good time, apéritifs outside, a nice bottle of wine inside, that table never stopped laughing. They were on very friendly terms with the “patron”, the one who offered me the champagne. Writing these posts I find myself saying frequently “one of the things I love most about France”. I guess I must say it often because there is a lot to love. Well, one of my favorite things are these long lunches in restaurants, particularly on Fridays, when people have put the most serious business behind them and the weekend is just around the corner. What better than to meet friends for lunch over a bottle of wine and nice food, share stories and laughter and then put in a “light” shift at the office before heading home to the family. It turned out to be a memorable lunch, the owner, a real character and the kind of man every restaurant needs, refused to be photographed unless we put on the restaurant uniform – blue working jackets, and then we posed with him behind the bar (unfortunately these pictures were not in focus at all). We did, however, get to keep the jackets – they’ll be very chic on the 1st of May. In the end, when the staff had started having a meal of their own in one corner of the restaurant it was just us and the five men + woman left in the restaurant. They had a final drink, then left one by one – such a fun group. We didn’t find out much about them, one of them looks like Bill Murray, another one is a psychiatrist (he arrived on bicycle) – one can only hope he had no serious consulting to do after a lunch like that. Fabien Touraille, the charming owner, gave us a bottle of the house white wine and soon we found ourselves in the car hoping to beat the clock as we had a bunch of kids waiting at school.

It was a fabulous lunch and funnily we almost didn’t have it. In fact had it not been for another much worse one, we probably wouldn’t. Three days earlier we had been in Bordeaux, this time with all the kids, to attend to administrative affairs. It was raining but we had high hopes for a place we had never tried. It wasn’t very satisfying (so I won’t name any names) and it never stopped raining, not even for 10 minutes. After lunch I left Oddur with the kids and told them I would be back in an hour. I was wrong – I was back in three, French bureaucracy at its best. I accidentally took Oddur’s wallet so he, three children and a couple of dogs were left walking the street of Bordeaux in the rain. He tried to be inventive, they spent an hour at Mollat, a large and lovely bookstore, they found a playground that was partially covered. Mostly they just walked. I am told little Gaïa was a trooper, never complained once until the very end when she said “I want maman” (she speaks a strange mix of French and English). That’s when Oddur could resist no longer and took them all to a toystore. The toystore, alas, does not accept dogs so he was forced to wait outside with Humfri and Jeanie, and watched in horror through the glass as the kids ran riot in the store. Luckily I arrived just in time with the funds, they all got a little present and even a ride on the carrousel to round off the day. On the way home Oddur said “we’re definitely going back on Friday for a proper lunch”. If at first you fail, then try again.

So what has all this got do to with the menu I prepared on Sunday? A lot actually, I was inspired. I wanted fish and I wanted fun. I woke up in a fantastic mood and the first thing I saw was that blue jacket on the chair in my bedroom. Then I admired my roses – I put them in a vase I found at Anne’s brocante last year, very 20’s and goes so well with pink roses. Selfishly I kept them all in the bedroom – they are MY roses. Then it was the perfume on my bedside table, it’s called “Portrait of a Lady” by Frederic Malle, a blend of Turkish roses and cinnamon – I’ve been wanting it for a while. In the kitchen the bottle of wine greeted me, It has a drawing of fish on it. Le Petit Commerce is all about freshly-caught fish and I wanted more of it. This pregnancy all I want is seafood, citrusy things, almond milk. It’s the same as when I had Hudson, our boy, so we thought we’d be having another. It isn’t, it’s another girI, we are thrilled to bits – you can never have enough of those. We’ll be doing our own version of little women.

I wanted to make a sauce with cider in it and what better to pair with a creamy apple cider sauce than a beautiful sole. A tasty touch were the little “crevettes grises”, that add extra flavor. We started with some cod roe on toast with olive oil and lemon, some couteaux with garlic, herbs and lemon zest. Since artichokes are making an appearance in the markets these days I had to find a way to include them too and I made an artichoke à la barigoule, a Provençal dish. Because of my almond cravings I made an almond milk flan the other day but it wasn’t very popular in the house, although it was just what I wanted and reminded me of Chinese desserts. So I made it up to the kids with a “proper” milk and cream flan with pomegranate syrup.

It all came off wonderfully and was so tasty, and more importantly we had such a good time – once again the lunch lasted for hours. A rowdy lunch at a fun restaurant, a “quiet” lunch at home – I am as ever in awe of the powers of good food – it’s at the table where the very best things happen.

Le Petit Commerce, 22 Rue Parlement Saint-Pierre, 33000 Bordeaux Tel: 33/05 56 79 76 58

For the prettiest flowers in Bordeaux: Sadia Fleurs, 26 Allée de Tourny, 33000 Bordeaux

Couteaux (razor clams) baked with herbs and lemon zest

300 g/ 2/3 pounds razor clams, about 15 razor clams/ couteaux
2 garlic cloves, finely sliced
1 spring onion, finely sliced
Lemon zest of ½ lemon
A tablespoon of freshly squeezed lemon juice
A handful of coarsely chopped hazelnuts
1 bay leaf
A few sprigs of thyme
A few sprigs of parsley
Olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Clean the razor clams under cold water. Then dip then very briefly in a bowl of very hot water so they can open, then dip them again in cold water. Remove/cut off the dark sand vein (usually filled with sand) as well as the dark tip of the ‘neck’.
Place the razor clams in a baking dish, sprinkle the lemon zest, a dash of lemon juice, thyme, chopped parsley, bay leaf, garlic and spring onion. Scatter the chopped hazelnuts, drizzle olive oil and season with salt and pepper.

Place in a preheated oven 240°C/ and cook for approx 8 minutes. Serve immediately.

Artichokes à la barigoule

8 to 10 small baby artichokes
2 small carrots, diced
1 white onion, diced
4 garlic cloves, finely sliced
80 g/ 3 ounces lardons/ bacon, chopped finely (matchstick size)
1 branch of thyme
1 branch of rosemary
1 small glass of white wine
30 ml/ 1/8 cup chicken or vegetable stock
1 lemon

Trim all the dark leaves from the artichokes and remove fuzzy choke. Slice the lemon in 2 and rub the trimmed artichokes to prevent them from darkening. Place the artichokes in a bowl of cold water and squeeze in 2 tablespoons of lemon juice. Dice the onion, carrots, lardons, garlic and set aside.
In a deep sauté pan, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil and sauté the artichokes (pat them dry first). Add the diced onion, carrots, lardons, thyme, rosemary and garlic. Continue to stir for 3 minutes, then add the wine. Reduce for 2 minutes and add the stock. Season with salt and pepper. Place a piece of parchment paper on top of the artichokes, lower the heat to medium-low and leave to simmer for 15-20 minutes (depending on size of artichokes), or until artichokes are tender.

Sole with cider cream sauce & shrimps
Serves 4

This old-fashioned Normandy-style dish is so rich in flavors, from the delicate apple cider sweetness to the deep nutty taste of the brownshrimps. I used small crevettes grises (brown shrimps). A lovely way to prepare sole, served with steamed ratte variety buttered potatoes. You can also prepare this dish with sole fillets (or any of your favorite white fish), you can ask your fishmonger to prepare them for you  if you prefer.

4 filets of sole, skinned
230 g/ 8 ounces brown shrimps/ crevettes grises (uncooked if possible)
4 shallots, finely chopped
430 ml/ 1 & ¾ cup heavy cream
5 tablespoons salted butter
1 bay leaf
A small bunch of parsley
350 ml/1 & ½ cup apple cider (brut)
A dash of piment d’espelette
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

Peel and slice shallots finely. Heat 30 g salted butter and sauté the shallots for 4 minutes, until softened. Add the bay leaf, 2 sprigs of parsley, salt and pepper and the cider. Bring to a soft boil, lower heat and reduce to half. Strain the sauce through a sieve, return to pot, then add cream and stir for a few seconds on a low heat. Take off the heat and set aside.
Dust sole with flour on both sides and season with salt and pepper. In a large sauté pan, heat the rest of the butter with a dash of olive oil. Cook sole about 3 minutes on each side, or until cooked through. Set aside on a plate and sauté the shrimps on a high heat until cooked through, about 2/3 minutes. Place the fish on a serving plate, add the shrimps on top, and pour the cider cream sauce on top. Sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve immediately. Season to your taste. Serve with steamed potatoes.

Flans with pomegranate syrup
Serves 4

These little flans are so light, lightly flavoured with maple syrup (I like these flans semi-sweet, as the grenadine syrup is very sweet). They are so easy to prepare, all under 5 minutes. I served these with a lovely pomegranate syrup, inspired from my pomegranate meringues recipe.

240 ml/ 1 cup milk
240 ml/ 1 cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons maple syrup (more or less to your taste)
2 g agar-agar
For the pomegranate syrup
Juice of 2 pomegranates
4 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 tablespoon orange blossom (optional)

In a medium saucepan, heat milk and cream on a medium heat. Add the maple syrup and whisk in the agar-agar. Bring to a soft boil, lower heat and simmer for 4 minutes. Take off the heat and leave to cool for a few minutes. Pour the mixture into individual ramekins, leave to cool and refrigerate for a least 2 hours.
In a small saucepan, heat the pomegranate juice, orange blossom (optional) and sugar for 5 to 8 minutes on a medium to low heat, or until the mixture becomes glossy and thick, like a syrup. Take off the heat and set aside to cool.
Unmold the flans, sprinkle a few pomegranate seeds on top and drizzle the syrup.

1800
It is the 14th of June. We are in Marengo, Italy. A man named Dunand, a chef, is having a tough day. He’s been trusted with the task of cooking something good for his boss but on this day all the supplies are far away and he has to improvise. A Frenchman, used to cooking everything with butter, Dunand turns to olive oil on this fateful day. He knows his foundation will be the readily available chicken, but cooked how? His scouts turn up with various ingredients, some tomatoes, eggs, crayfish. What a mess. He finds the best possible way to cook with those ingredients, puts them on a plate and voilà, presents the dish to his master. His boss is Napoléon Bonaparte who, luckily for Dunand, happens to be in a good mood that particular evening. He has just defeated the Austrians in the battle of Marengo. Napoléon absolutely loves the chicken, he’s not a big gourmand but this he likes. The chicken Marengo is born. In fact Napoléon likes it so much (or is so superstitious) that he insists on having this dish after every battle thereafter, crayfish, eggs and all. Dunand later tries to swap the crayfish for mushrooms, and adds a slug of wine. Bonaparte won’t hear of it. All he wants is the original version – for good luck and (hopefully) also for the taste.

1820
A young and ambitious man, Jean Véfour, who had been the personal chef to Louis-Philippe the future king of France, buys a tavern in the Palais Royal, names it after himself (as ambitious men tend to do) and turns what really was a mere pub into the finest restaurant in Paris (centuries later, when I have my wedding lunch there it’s still one of the finest places around). For the next hundred years his guests are the cream of Parisian society, politicians & artists including Colette and Victor Hugo. What do they eat? But of course, chicken Marengo, this time with truffles. It’s the chicest dish in Paris, and everybody who is anybody has to have it all the time. “What did you have last night?, roast chicken, how banal – we had the Chicken Marengo” – sounds so fancy, tastes so divine. The Grand Véfour achieves legendary status and chicken Marengo gradually appears on menus of practically every restaurant in France. There are different versions, some with olives, others without crayfish but with mushrooms instead (as Dunand intended). The Grand Véfour gives birth to countless other restaurants, the chicken Marengo breeds endless imitations. It is yet another triumph for local and seasonal cooking, take what you have and make the best of it.

2014
I wake up one Friday morning in a Bonaparte state of mind. I guess I am feeling victorious and confident or simply hoping for a bit of good luck. All I know is that I want chicken Marengo on my table. I send my scouts (Hudson, Oddur & Mia) to source the best possible produce and they don’t let me down. For the chicken they take the long journey to the Vertessec farm where chicken tastes like heaven, how can I describe it – it’s chicken but better . Going there is such pleasure, the quality, the service, the lovely little store filled with every poultry product imaginable. It’s one of those things that’s hard to describe in writing without it sounding like an ad filled with overblown adjectives. Let’s just put it this way, every time we have their chicken I look at my husband and say “We can never have any other chicken, ever!” Then of course we sometimes do, but the Vertessec chicken haunts our palates and every other chicken compares unfavorably. French food is good because of the produce and the produce is what it is because of artisans like the Petit’s of Vertessec who have made it their life’s mission to simply breed the finest poultry.

After the visit to Vertessec my scouts visit the Saturday market. They get the tomatoes I requested, the mushrooms, there are no crayfish but as we had discussed they get “langoustines” instead. The surprise of the day is that Pierre Aubert, an organic farmer par excellence who grows the most beautiful vegetables in all of Médoc, happens to have some fresh artichokes from the mini-harvest in this “early spring” (yes I know it’s still winter). What can a modern day Dunand do with fresh, green, tight artichokes? Well, I think of the Grand Véfour and am reminded of another master, Guy Martin, who makes an artichoke crème brûlée. His has sugar on it, but mine needs to be savory as I already have plans for dessert. Inspired by Italy and Marengo I stay with the theme and subsitute the sugar for parmesan cheese, equally crunchy but with a totally different effect. I am pleasantly surprised, it turns out so smooth and tasty. For dessert I make use of some very large pears that have been challenging me for a few days on my kitchen table. Their days are numbered, they are sentenced to be included in an almond and pear clafoutis. At the last-minute two of them are pardoned, my husband needs them for a photo. (It is a short-lived escape, both of them end up in Mia’s mouth. It’s a Chinese superstition never to share a pear, Mia makes the most of it and uses it as an excuse to have them all by herself – technically this only applies to sharing one pear but it seems that the laws of superstition are flexible).

What else do you need to have a grand meal in Médoc, we have Pierre’s artichokes, the Vertessec chicken and somewhere in our cupboards are the Napoléonic knifes that need polishing after every use and a beautiful carafe from the same period. These are little gems I’ve found at Anne’s brocante in Saint Christoly and they bring a sense of history to the meal. In the absence of my mother in law who is the real historian in the family, and knows the truth about every fountain in Paris, my husband enlightens the kids about Napoléon & Joséphine, his conquests and exile. Hudson’s favorite part is when his father stands on a chair and say “Soldiers of the 5th regiment don’t you recognize your emperor, kill me if you like”. My French education tells me that some of the stories are made up and they’re all the better for it.

On Sunday morning I find out that my scouts have gone behind my back and  kept a secret from me. In addition to the chicken at Vertessec they bought some very tasty chicken sausages and hid them in the fridge where we keep the dog meat (I never go there). With some fanfare I am presented with a surprising and beautiful breakfast, farm eggs, the fried sausages, white bread (my guilty pleasure), a few fried spicy confit tomatoes and my favorite tea, the French breakfast tea from Mariage Frères with a hint of malt and chocolate. A breakfast fit for an emperor.

Artichoke Crème Brûlée
serves 4

The artichoke crème brûlée is a dessert served at le Grand Véfour, mastered by chef Guy Martin. I made my own savoury version, and sprinkled grated parmesan. Simply delicous, and so easy to make! If you can’t find fresh artichokes, you can buy frozen artichoke hearts.

Preheat the oven to 130°C/ 265 F

4 egg yolks
200 ml/ ¾ cup +1 tablespoon heavy cream
2 artichoke hearts
60 g/ 2/3 cup parmesan cheese
½ teaspoon nutmeg
Salt & black pepper

Cook the artichokes in salted boiling water for 25-30 minutes. Pluck the leaves and discard the fuzzy choke. Slice the artichoke hearts and purée them in a food processor.
In a large bowl, whisk the egg yolks with the cream and gradually add the artichoke purée, nutmeg, salt and ground black pepper.
Pour mixture into 4 ramekins and bake in a preheated oven 140°C/ 280 F and cook for 25 minutes, or until the cream has set (yet slightly trembling). Sprinkle with parmesan cheese and place the crème brûlées under the grill for a couple of minutes, or until golden brown. Alternatively, you can also use a torch to grill the cheese. Serve immediately.

Chicken Marengo with langoustines
serves 4 to 6

Traditionally this dish is cooked with crayfish, but I used langoustines instead. I love the deep flavours created by the combination of tomatoes, chicken, wine, the langoustines and cognac. If you do not wish to use crayfish or langoustines, you can simply cook this dish with mushrooms – just double the amount of mushrooms.

For the chicken
1 chicken, cut into 6 to 8 pieces (I cooked ‘La dorée’ chicken from Vertessec farm)
2 tablespoons plain flour
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 carrot, sliced
1 bouquet garni
6 garlic cloves, finely chopped (save one for the langoustines)
2 x (8 ounces) cans tinned tomatoes, chopped and drained
2 tablespoons tomato concentrate
60 ml/ ¼ cup chicken stock
200 ml/ ¾ cup +1 tablespoon dry white wine
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, for frying
Salt & freshly ground black pepper

For the langoustines
10 fresh langoustines, uncooked
80 ml/ 1/3 cup cognac
200 g/ ½ pound mushrooms (champignons de Paris), sliced
A bunch of fresh parsley, leaves picked and chopped, to garnish
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, for frying
Salt & freshly ground black pepper

Season the chicken pieces with salt and pepper and gently coat with flour. Heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a sauté pan and brown the chicken in a large cocotte/ dutch oven with olive oil on all sides until golden. Discard excess oil and add the shallots, garlic and carrots – cook for 4 minutes on a medium heat. Add the bouquet garni, season with salt and pepper, and add the white wine. Reduce for 2 minutes. Add the chicken stock and continue to cook for 3 minutes. Add the tomatoes and tomato concentrate, continue to cook for 3 minutes, then lower heat and cover with a lid. Season with salt & pepper. Leave to simmer for 35 minutes to 45 minutes, depending on size of chicken (larger pieces take more time to cook).

Meanwhile, in a large sauté pan, heat 2 tablespoon of olive oil and sauté the langoustines with 1 clove of finely chopped garlic. Season with salt and pepper and add the cognac. Reduce for a minutes and continue to cook until langoustines are opaque and cooked through. Take off the heat and set aside on a plate with all its juices. Keep warm. In the same pan, sauté the mushrooms with 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Season with salt & pepper. Set aside.

Add the langoustines and mushrooms and all its juices into the pot and mix the ingredients gently. Continue to cook on a low heat for 15 to 20 minutes. Sprinkle with chopped parsley just before serving.
Serve with roast potatoes with red pepper or wild rice.

Roast potatoes with garlic and red pepper

serves 4-6

1 kg/ 2 ¼ pounds potatoes/ peeled
2 red peppers, deseeded & sliced
2 garlic cloves, unpeeled
Olive oil
Coarse sea-salt
Parboil the peeled potatoes in boiling salted water for 15 minutes. Slice them into rondelles and place on a roasting dish. Add the sliced red pepper and the garlic cloves (unpeeled). Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with coarse sea-salt.
Transfer dish to a preheated oven 210°C/410F and cook for 30 minutes or until potatoes are golden.

Almond and Pear Clafoutis

I am a little obssessed with almonds. I have them for breakfast everyday, drink a glass of warm almond milk every night and these days, I just add almonds to everything! This clafoutis is light and heavenly, my family loves this dessert, especially with some Chantilly cream on the side. If you do not wish to use almond milk, simply use regular milk.

2 small pears, sliced
75 g/ 6 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon honey
2 eggs
60 g/ 1/2 cup plain flour
40 g/ ¼ cup slivered almonds + a 1 tablespoon of slivered almonds (to garnish the clafoutis)
200 ml/ ¾ cup + 1 tablespoon almond milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 180°C/ 350 F

Mix the sugar and eggs. Add the flour, and gradually pour the almond milk. Mix gently, then add the honey and vanilla extract.
Butter a cake mould 23 cm/ 9 inches and sprinkle with flour.
Pour half of the batter, place the pears, and sprinkle with 40 g/ ¼ cup slivered almonds. Pour the rest of the batter on top, dot with the butter, sprinkle with 1 tablespoon of slivered almonds and 1 tablespoon of brown sugar.
Place in the preheated oven and bake for 40 to 45 minutes, until risen and golden brown. Leave to cool for 20 minutes and serve lukewarm (or cold) with a dollop of whipped cream.

A few weeks ago it started raining … and it never stopped. In fact it’s raining right now. At first it was quite refreshing, good for all things green and growing. But now even the plants have had enough. “Please stop, we can’t take it anymore” they’re saying. Like a drunk man at an English wedding, the free bar seemed wonderful at first, but now the night isn’t young anymore and it’s time to go home. Except the barman doesn’t know that and he keeps pouring (I’ve been to a wedding like that by the way). For us this eternal deluge means wet dogs, dirty floors, restless kids and daily fires. We, true to form, didn’t plan ahead so all the wood got soaked and every fire is a small challenge. How have we survived these wet, chilly and dark days? Well, like always food has been our saviour. First in the form of savory dishes like blanquette de veau and garbure, then the team from Canal+ arrived and we made six fabulous desserts a day for my new show “Les desserts de Mimi” (we shot 10 whole episodes) – believe me the kids did not mind all that sweetness, if there ever was a cure for rain. The crew found the rain slightly challenging. At first it was a bit exciting, filming the soaked lawns, the raindrops, me walking in the forest in my wellies. But then it got a bit repetitive. Me walking with the kids … in the rain. Me climbing the stairs of a lighthouse … in the rain. They needed a diversion, and found it in the most unlikely place. In the form of my husband singing on French television of all places. This is a man who is so poor at singing that he mimes the words when it’s time to sing happy birthday for the kids. Not a singer but a good sport. Oh what the rain does to us.

Les Blondes d’Aquitaines, our local cows

Cantal de Salers

When they left the sun came out for a few hours and I thought, how typical, now you shine on us “old devil sun” but that wasn’t to be either. Defiantly the skies closed above me and it started to pour again. On Saturday we took a messy drive with all the kids. Yes you guessed right, it was raining. We had a lovely time though, although our clothes (and my hair) paid a price. The silver lining to all this rain is that it’s really quite beautiful to look at the land soaked in water. Where there were green pastures we now have spectacular grey-blue mirrors of water, endless reflections of trees looking down on themselves. Walking over a meadow covered in water is quite lovely. Sometimes.

There was a moment when my adventurous husband, my eager son and keen daughter had wandered off and I was left with my two little girls and a dog called Squiffy. I looked down at my feet (or what I could see of them) and for some reason that I can’t explain I just needed to make cassoulet. On the way home I wondered how weird it is that almost two years ago I started Manger and in all this time I haven’t done a cassoulet. I think I’ve made every other great French classic, either for the blog or my book. But cassoulet got left behind and now was the time to put it right. My family is from the Toulouse region, the home of cassoulet, and it’s followed me all my days, it was there for me when I was a child in my grandmother’s kitchen and later when I studied in Paris, a good comforting cassoulet was only a restaurant away. My husband and my father love it and though it’s not my favorite dish of all, sometimes I just have to have it. It’s a once or twice a year thing. Last Saturday was such a night, except I had to wait until Sunday, when our butcher, Mr Manenti, was open, it’s a dish that takes time to make.

When your star performer is a robust cassoulet, filled with meats and vegetables and really so over the top that nobody can ever finish their portion, how do you open the meal? My answer, with more opulence, just throw the diet book out the window and have a cheese soufflé, made with the most decadent Cantal cheese. For dessert I was thinking “pain perdu with plums” a big favorite, slightly acidic and so very tasty. But it was the Chandeleur (Candlemas) and it means you have to have crêpes or something traditional. Since we had those for breakfast we opted for the navettes instead. It’s what they have instead of crêpes in Marseille.

Which makes me think of Bouillabaisse and … oh dear, here we go again.

Cantal Cheese soufflé

This soufflé is light, airy and a lovely starter for any meal. It’s also an ideal lunch served with a salad with vinaigrette on the side.

4 eggs, separated
150 g/ 1 & 2/3 Cantal or Gruyère cheese, grated
60 g/ ¼ cup unsalted butter
60 g/ ½ cup plain flour
400 ml/ 1 &2/3 cup milk
½ teaspoon ground nutmeg
½ teaspoon mustard
A pinch of fine salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Serves 4

Preheat oven to 190°C/ 375 F

In a medium-sized saucepan, melt the butter and gradually whisk in flour. Add milk, nutmeg, ½ teaspoon mustard and a dash of freshly ground pepper. Continue to stir and bring to a soft simmer, stirring for a few minutes, or until slightly thickened. Remove from heat and leave to cool.
When the mixture has cooled down, add the egg yolks, one by one, stirring constantly. Add half of the cheese
In a large bowl, whisk the egg whites till stiff, adding a pinch of salt. Fold in gently to mixture, and sprinkle the rest of the grated cheese.
Pour the soufflé mixture into a large buttered ramekin (or individual ones) and bake for approximately 35 minutes, or until well risen and golden brown. Serve immediately.

Cassoulet is a rustic bean and meat stew, originating from Toulouse, as well as the neighbouring Castelnaudary and Carcassonne, all of which claim to have the best version. It is usually cooked in a cassole, a deep earthenware dish. This recipe is inspired from my aunt’s and her best friends (who are all from Toulouse), and I love the tomato flavours mixed with the beans – I don’t like a cassoulet to be bland. A cassoulet should be moist but not too liquid, and I like the beans to be on the firmer side, so they won’t get squashed easily. It’s a simpler version than the 3 hours oven-baked one, which is perfect for me. For this recipe I used a large cocotte (dutch oven) instead of a cassole. It’s a beautiful dish!

Cassoulet

Serves 8

700 g/ 1&1/2 pounds approx. white beans (dried, I used haricots Tarbais)
450 g/ 1 pound deboned lamb shoulder, cut into pieces
4 tablespoons goose fat
6 Toulouse-style sausages (or good-quality herbed pork sausages)
2 onions, peeled and sliced
5 garlic cloves, finely sliced
A few sprigs of parsley
450 g/ 1 pound canned chopped tomatoes, drained
1 peeled onion pricked with 8 clove sticks (see photo)
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
1 bouquet garni
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground piment d’espelette
200 g/ 7 ounces pork bacon/ poitrine demi-sel
250 g pork shoulder steak
3 large duck confit legs
2 tablespoons tomato concentrate
300 g/ 2/3 pounds saucisson à l’ail (cooked garlic sausage)
160 g/ 1&1 ¾ cups breadcrumbs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Soak the dried beans overnight in a large bowl of water (in 3 times their volume). Rinse and drain the beans the next day.

Place the beans in a large pot and cover with water. Add the chopped carrots, a teaspoon of salt, 1 tablespoon tomato concentrate, the bouquet garni, the onion pricked with cloves, the garlic sausage and the pork rind. Bring to a boil and lower heat, leaving to simmer for 1 hour to 1 1/2 hour, until beans are cooked but not too soft.

Meanwhile, prepare the meat sauté. Heat 1 tablespoon goose fat in a deep-frying pan, add the lamb and brown the meat on all sides on a medium heat. Sprinkle with a few thyme leaves and add the piment d’espelette. add enough water just to barely cover the meat, bring to a boil on then lower heat. Season with salt and pepper and leave to simmer for 30 minutes. Set aside.

In another frying pan, brown the Toulouse sausages with 1 tablespoon goose fat on all sides and cook for 10 minutes. Set aside. In the same pan, pan-fry the pork shoulder steak until cooked and golden on both sides.
In a large cocotte or dutch oven, heat 2 tablespoons of goose fat and sauté the onions and garlic. Retrieve the pork rind from the beans and chop it up into thick sticks, and add to the cocotte/dutch oven. Continue to cook for a few minutes, then add the drained beans, discarding the bouquet garni and the cloved onion. Reserve bean stock. Place the garlic sausage aside. Add the chopped tomatoes, nutmeg, 1 tablespoon of tomato concentrate and mix all the ingredients gently to avoid breaking the beans. Add enough lamb and beans stock, enough to just about cover the beans. Bring the cassoulet to a boil, then lower heat and continue to cook for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, sauté the duck legs in a pan until golden and reserve the duck fat rendered. Set aside.

Set the oven on the grill setting, place lamb, sausages, pork and duck legs on the beans. Slice some of the sausages and pork if desired. Sprinkle the breadcrumbs all over. Drizzle 2 tablespoons of duck fat over the breadcrumbs, some chopped parsley and grill in the oven until crust is golden, between 5 to 8 minutes (depending on oven strength). Serve immediately.

Navettes de Saint Victor

Navettes are little biscuits that ressemble small boats, slightly crunchy and generally flavored with orange blossom water. They are originally from Marseille and are a traditionally eaten during la chandeleur (Candlemas). I love to dip them in my coffee for dessert.

500 g/ 4 cups + 3 tablespoons plain flour
250 g/ 1 & 1/4 cup granulated sugar
65 g/ ¼ cup unsalted butter, softened at room temperature
3 eggs
1/2 tablespoon lemon zest
60 ml/ ¼ cup orange blossom water

Makes about 20 navettes.

In a large bowl, mix the flour, sugar, butter, lemon zest and add the eggs, one by one. Gradually add the orange blossom water, and mix well until you get a soft dough. Cover dough with a cloth and leave to rest for 1 hour at room temperature.
On a floured surface, roll out the dough to 1.5 cm/ ½ inch thickness, sprinkling flour on dough if necessary.
Cut out 7-8 cm/ 3 inches length, 3-4 cm/ 1.5 inches width rectangles and press both ends (to make the shape of little boats). You can also roll them into little 1.5 inches thick tubes and press on both ends (as long as you shape them like little boats!). Place them on a baking tray covered with parchment paper, leaving a little space between them. With the help of a knife, slit them in the center. Leave to rest for an hour.

Bake in a preheated oven 180°C/350 F for 15 to 20 minutes, until slightly golden and risen. If you prefer a deeper golden colour, brush each navettes with eggwash (egg yolk mixed with a tablespoon of milk).