Yerp: Part 4 - Les Sentiers Gourmands.

 May 15, 2011

This morning I awoke, as I had every morning thus far, at the crack of dawn, way earlier than the others in the Little House. I was excited. The Group had to meet at 10am at Abbaye des Monges on the edge of the Massif de la Clape to begin our day experiencing that which is Les Sentiers Gourmands. 

The Jump-Off. (Photo courtesy of Emma)

This was the eighth year for the 5 kilometer wine walk and, from what I heard, the most physically demanding. Upon congregating at the starting point we were all given a pouch to hold our wine glass, which hung around our neck and rested in our, um, cleavage, wooden cutlery, a book of the tastings and finally a straw hat.

Me & Dad rocking our wine walking kits. Note wine glass in pouch. (Photo courtesy of Emma)

And we were on our way. On our way to eat and drink our way through beautiful, scenic vineyards, and up a big, steep, rocky mountain. The hike was punctuated with six stops of food (menu proposed by Marc Schwall Cooks Cellars in Narbonne), and over 40 AOC Languedoc-La Clape wines presented by the winemakers or wine cooperatives.

I believe at our first stop where we were given the Artichoke gazpacho with fennel and olive oil, and about 4 or 5 different wines to taste, Emma turned to me and exclaimed, “I don’t know how anyone could actually get drunk doing this.” I giggled silently to myself, and thought, “Oh, Emma…”

The gazpacho was divine, cool in temperature, yet warm in body and texture. I wanted more. But we were given our 6 tickets, one for each taste, and I certainly didn’t want to miss out on any of the others. I will be trying to make an artichoke gazpacho on my own very soon.

The stretch between the first and second stop was downright grueling. Straight. Up. Hill. With lotsa rocks everywhere. So upon reaching the summit (first one there!), the little man selling his little jars of rosemary honey was a welcome sight indeed. So I bought a jar of honey to bring home to Maggie.

The next taste was the eggplant marmalade and Collioure anchovies, pepper coulis and Espelette. And a lot of different rosés. All of the different wineries served their tastes atop wooden wine barrels, which was pretty cool.

(Photo courtesy of Dale)

And on we walked, the lot of us. We walked, at times, in various groups, with a partner or a trio, or alone. There was a lot of time and a lot of wine and a lot of walking. It was, quite possibly the most beautiful, inspiring, and romantic thing I have ever experienced.

(Photo courtesy of Dale)

The next stand offered us St. Jacques scallops in hot cold crayfish cake (that's the best translation I could come up with).

The stretch from scallop stop to our next stop was right about the time when Emma and I were laughing about her comment upon embarking on this adventure. Hell, we were all laughing about everything at this point. I guess we were getting a little tipsy. Not just because of the wine. It was just all so potent. Everything about it.

(Photo courtesy of Dale)

This brings us to probably my dad's favorite, the parmentier of duck confit, eggplant and mushrooms, dried, juice and tomato stew (again, best translation I could muster). This dish was both a delicacy for the eyes and mouth. Beautiful, big reds were paired at this stop.

(Photo courtesy of Dale)

I can honestly say that, after this stop, which was the most filling in both food and wine, I was in the clouds a bit. I walked the next stretch alone for the most part. Happily.

And then I met up with everyone again at the next stand; a selection of goat cheeses by Mas Combebelle. 

The cheeses were ripe, supple, briny and lovely. They were the perfect thing to slice through the big, palate lingering flavors and textures from the duck confit stop.

And then, as if it all lasted but a moment, we found ourselves at what appeared to be a little outdoor festival. There was a band, children dancing, dozens and dozens of people that had already finished the walk, more flooding in at each moment. This was our final stop. This was where we were served the “Success” with caramelized apples and raisins, caramel rosemary and coffee (or more wine). I sorta wished I had doubled up my tickets way back at the artichoke gazpacho stop as this dish was very much not my cup of tea (cooked fruit issues).

But it mattered not. I was absolutely sated.

So, I sat with the members of The Group that had arrived, sipped another glass of wine, stepped on - and ruined - my favorite sunglasses, and waited for the remaining members of The Group.

Before we left I picked up an apron for Doug and we all bought a selection of the favorite wines we had tasted throughout the day.

That evening we all went across the street from our houses to Joelle and his wife Maria's house for a beautiful meal and more wine. It was, perhaps, one of the most decadent and splendorous of days I have spent in memory, and one that would be near impossible to recreate.

Well and so, Emma and I capped off this evening with a bottle or two more bottles of wine while laying in our beds, sighing, giggling, and taking stock of the last thirty-six seventy-two (who's even counting, now?) week, the whirlwind, of our adventure. 

Chris, pouring one out for our homie, France. (Photo courtesy of Emma)

This concludes the France part of Yerp. Up next, Barcelona!

Sentiers Gourmands:

Price per person € 48, price group over 12 persons € 45, € 10 child less than 10 years.

Narbonne Tourist Office, 31 rue Jean Jaures, 11100 Narbonne.

Tel 04 68 65 15 60 Tel 04 68 65 15 60

Yerp: Part 3 – Cooking Dinner for More Than a Dozen People.

May 14, 2011

Alright. Second morning waking up in Yerp. At the crack of dawn. Before everyone else. Again.

My head hurt, though. No idea why.

This is the night on which I have committed to prepare dinner for The Group. Part my thank you and part me being a show off. I hate me.

So we were off to the Les Halles Market in Narbonne to select my booty. I adore this market. It’s also France’s oldest indoor food market opening its doors in 1901. #funfact

Fun things from the market.

I hadn’t really thoroughly conceived of what I wanted to prepare. Or how. So I was a little frantic at the market. Oh, and I don’t speak a lick of French - except vas-y mollo, which is not tremendously helpful while figuring out how to buy enough fava beans to create a puree that feeds twelve plus, folks. Or really helpful at all, for that matter. 

Emma helped some until she spotted The Group having wine and tapas at one of the stands. Then Dad jumped in to help me figure out my meat purchase. Which involved math. In French. I was STRESSING. But we ended up finding a gorgeous pork loin roast.

Stressing at the market (photo courtesy of Dale).

And then I joined The Group for a bite and a glass of wine before heading back to Armissan to prep.

The menu that I settled on went like this:

Champagne, olives and charcuterie

Salad of Greens from the Garden (with Jean-Jacques awesome dressing and which Dale assembled)
Roast Pork Loin Stuffed with Spinach, Fresh Herbs and Garlic with Pan Sauce Reduction and Fava Bean Puree
Potato and Artichoke Hash
Sauteed Chanterelles in Olive Oil and Sea Salt

Cheese Plate

Thumb Wrestling

Dad, sassing back about "the fava bean situation".

I put Dad and Emma on fava bean duty: a chore I doubt either of them will ever embark on again voluntarily. I don’t think Dad was wild about dealing with the artichokes either. But I gotta give the guy props - he actually helped me in every arena of this meal, including the keeping-me-calm arena. You see, I had never cooked a formal meal for this many people before. This past Thanksgiving, yes. Hell, I made enough food for greater Los Angeles that day. But I was cooking for days and it all came out staggered. Food just continued to pour out of the kitchen all day and night. It was buffet style.

Cocktail hour (top photo courtesy of Dale)

Salad (photo courtesy of Emma)

Pork

Cheese

With the exception of the artichokes still having a few of the sinewy leaves here and there in the hash, I think the meal was a hit. I was proud of it.

I hope The Group liked it.

Thumb Wrestling (top photo courtesy of Emma)

I believe Emma and I capped off this evening with a bottle or two more bottles of wine while laying in our beds, sighing, giggling, and taking stock of the last twenty-four thirty-six hours, the whirlwind, of our adventure.

Notice a pattern?

The artichoke-potato hash that I prepared was inspired by Suzanne Goin’s (imagine that). I have the recipe for you here:

Artichoke-Potato Hash

Serves a mere 6...

12 baby artichokes
1 1/2 pounds red potatoes
extra-virgin olive oil
4 cloves of garlic, unpeeled
1 bay leaf
4 sprigs of thyme
2/3 cup sliced shallots
2 tablespoons flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Juice of 1/2 of a lemon
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

To make the hash, preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.  Toss the potatoes with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, the garlic cloves, thyme sprigs, bay leaf, and 1 teaspoon of salt.

While the potatoes are roasting, prepare the artichokes.  Cut off the top third of the artichokes and remove the tough outer leaves.  Using a vegetable peeler, trim the bottom of the stem and the stalks.  Cut each artichoke in half and using a small spoon, remove the fuzzy choke if there one.  As you work, immerse the artichokes in a large bowl of cold water and the juice of 1 or 2 lemons, so they do not discolor.  Be sure to drain and dry them well before cooking.

Heat a large saute pan (we used two), over high heat for 2 minutes.  Add 1/4 cup of oil to the pan and then wait for 1 minute.  Add the artichokes and season with 1 teaspoon of thyme, 1 teaspoon of salt, and a grinding of pepper.  Turn the heat to medium and saute for about 10 minutes tossing often, until the artichokes are golden brown. 

Remove the artichokes from the heat and after they've cooled a little, cut them into large chunks.  Once the potatoes have cooled, cut them into large chunks and squeeze the roasted garlic from their skins and set aside.

Wipe out the pan the artichokes were sauteed in and return it to the stove and heat it over high heat for 2 minutes.  Swirl in 1/4 cup of oil and wait a minute.  Add the potatoes to the pan and season with 1 teaspoon of salt and freshly ground pepper.  To get the potatoes nicely browned and crisp on the outside, do not overcrowd them in the pan.  We used two pans.  Don't be temped to stir the potatoes too much, that will prevent them from getting the good brown crust.  It should take 6 to 8 minutes to get a good crust on one side.  Stir the potatoes and continue to cook until they are browned all over.

Once the potatoes are golden brown on all sides, turn the heat down to medium and add the shallots, artichokes, and roasted garlic.  Toss well and sautée the hash together for 5 to 6 minutes until the artichokes are hot and the shallots are translucent. 

Toss in the chopped parsley and squeeze a bit of lemon just before serving. 

Eduardo Facebook Saverin Shaffbar

For about a year or so, quite a few of my close friends have told me I should write a dating blog, or something along those lines. I find this to be borderline hysterical, as I have not even been in a relationship since season four of The Wire began. I suppose I have had some interesting adventures in the love and/or dating sphere since then, but absolutely nothing has stuck. Well, except Besito Ysidro, of course. And food.

For the past two or three winters I have been having a lot of fun playing with sunchokes. Prior to that they were relatively unknown to me. They are really very interesting, however, and their unusual texture and flavor make for fun and experimental dishes – but for me, mostly soups, purees, mashes and hashes.

Sunchokes

This winter I have been all about celery root, or celeriac. I have had all sorts of celery root things before, but I don’t think I ever stopped to consider that celery root was any different than celery. Who knows why that would be. And, in case you didn't know, celery and celery root are not the same thing. It is a kind of celery, grown as a root vegetable for its large and bulbous hypocotyl rather than for its stem and leaves.

 

At the end of January I had a lovely celery root soup at The Mercantile. This inspired me.

The sunchoke and celery root appeal to me in similar ways, ways not unlike the artichoke. I mean, who ever looked at any of these items and thought, “I wonder if I should try to eat this gross, and imposing vegetation?" These are ugly and unwelcoming looking shapes. But I'm glad someone did. Because they turned out to be so interesting – so complex, multi-layered, delicious, and fun to cook with. Actually, kind of like the men I am often attracted to. And dogs, for that matter. 

Mise en Place - Celery Root is on bottom right.

This brings me to Eduardo. The latest man in my life. I met Eduardo about a week and a half ago. He was being fostered by an incredibly sweet, and humanitarian, couple in West Hollywood. Regardless of the fact that they own four cats, some feral and with health problems (and none that care for dogs), they still managed to save Eduardo from a certain death at a shelter on the very day he was to be put down. They asked me to take care of him for a few days while they went out of town and it was love at first snuggle. I adopted him. Well, to be clear, Maggie and I adopted him.

Eduardo Facebook Saverin Shaffbar and his Twin.

Not unlike the celery root or the sunchoke, or the men I often find myself attracted to, Eduardo is not without his unattractive qualities. He can be quite the surly little man at times. But ultimately, when he's not growling at you for trying to pick him up, or put him down, he is beautiful, complicated, multi-dimensional, snuggly, goofy and well, pretty damned sweet. He sort-of dares you to love him. And he has the funniest little teeth. They are more like tiny human teeth than doggie teeth. Like tiny, little pieces of rice.

That being said, ironically, I have a date tonight. Not with a root vegetable or a dog. Or Maggie. But with a boy. Oof. Wish me luck. I will now leave you all with that recipe I know you've been waiting for - the soup I promised in the last post.

Celeraic Soup with Sunchoke "Croutons"

Serves 6

2 medium celery roots (celeriac; 1 3/4 pounds total), trimmed, peeled, cut into 1-inch cubes (about 8 cups)
1 pound russet potatoes, peeled, cut into 3/4-inch cubes (about 3 cups)
3 cups chicken stock
2 cups whole milk
3 garlic cloves, peeled
3 fresh thyme sprigs
1 fresh bay leaf
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, divided
3/4 cup heavy cream
8 ounces sunchokes, scrubbed
1/2 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil 
chopped fresh fennel fronds (for garnish)

Combine first 7 ingredients in heavy large pot. Add enough water to cover. Sprinkle with salt. Bring to boil, reduce heat to medium, and simmer with lid slightly ajar until vegetables are tender, 15 to 20 minutes. Drain; return to pot. Discard thyme sprigs and bay leaf. Stir over medium heat to dry vegetables. Using immersion blender, blend vegetables until coarsely pureed. Add cream. Stir in 3 1/2 tablespoons butter. Season with salt and pepper. DO AHEAD: Can be made 1 day ahead. 

Preheat oven to 425°F. Cut sunchokes into 1/2-inch cubes. Place in medium bowl; add oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and toss to coat. Dot with remaining 1/2 tablespoon butter. 

Transfer to rimmed baking sheet; roast until tender and golden brown, turning occasionally, about 25 minutes.

Place celery root and potato puree in serving bowl. Sprinkle sunhokes and chopped fennel over and serve.

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Gleaming the Cube

For a couple of years now I have been, shall we say, sauntering through what we will call my love life. I have not settled into anyone nor have I necessarily been very concerned about it. Yes, of course I’d like to find my person – if it actually works that way, but I also understand that it’s not up to me (apparently some self help books would disagree, but don’t get me started on that). I will say I have met a lot of interesting people and made some great friends during this stretch of time. But for the most part, bated breath, butterflies, nothing.

Every so often, this laissez-faire attitude towards romance in my life, or the people that flit in and out defining it gets shattered. My patina vanishes. I get geeky, girly, giddy, nervous, excited and frightened. My palms get sweaty. I say frightened because this means someone, to whom my stupid rules don’t apply, has made me wonder what’s happening and, moreover, what’s next. I crave definition. I’m no longer rolling with the punches, I no longer could take it or leave it. This means my Achilles heel is showing. And, oh my gawd, is that a pimple on my nose?!

My friend, Doug, with whom I was sharing all this on the phone earlier, tells me that he has always thought, in this realm of my life, that I exhibit Negative Capability which I think is sort of like philosophical pragmatism. He thinks that I am able to let things be in whatever may be their mystery, that I am capable of being in uncertainty. He must think I’m cool. Which is funny because, while I try pretty hard to wear that outfit and project that impression onto the world, inside I often feel quite the opposite.

It’s interesting to occasionally be provided with an idea of how you are perceived. It reminds me of a line from a Hal Hartley movie that was something like, I want the image of myself and my true self to become one. So, in this case, the image I am projecting is apparently effective but entirely different from either how I really am or how I perceive myself. I guess that lays out the question, is my true self how I perceive myself or is it how I project myself and appear to others?

Oh, right. Negative Capability.

The thing is, right now, I’m not exactly brimming with it. Of course, being the philosophical pragmatist I realize, logically, that I simply cannot control any of this anyway. We shall see and whatnot. I mean, what can I really do to control it? But, honestly, inside I’m in a state of agitation. And it seems to dominate conversations with a few of my friends. That can’t be much fun for them. Especially since I’m just repeating myself a bunch and acting like a dorky chick.

So I don’t continue to drive them crazy and to help my own dithery ditherness, I’m forcing this upon you. But the payoff for you, as always, is a wonderful recipe. 

A couple of years ago, while in Southern France with Chris, I would visit the farmers' market each morning and buy wonderful, fresh produce to play with. One day I grabbed up a bunch of baby, purple artichokes. My house host showed me the most beautiful and simple way to prepare them. Artichokes seem apropos here as their exterior belies what is inside, but they seem most comfortable in their mystery.

Sautéed Baby Artichokes with Olive Oil, Garlic & Lemon

Serves 4
 
1 pound baby artichokes

Juice from one lemon

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 large garlic cloves, minced

Salt and pepper to taste 

Italian Parsley, chopped

Peel off outer leaves, trim stems and cut artichokes into quarters.

Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the oil and garlic. When the oil is good and hot, add artichokes. Season with salt and pepper; toss well. Add juice of 1/2 lemon. Lower heat to medium and cook until artichokes are tender, about 20 minutes. Add remainder of lemon juice. Garnish with Italian Parsley and serve immediately. (These are also good at room temperature.)

The Duchess and The Pea

Spring is springing all over the city of angels and I am really excited about it. I can smell the wisteria and night blooming jasmine, birds are chirping like crazy, everything is green and bloomy, all of my windows are open and I can wear much cuter tops. The clear, bright and warm days morph into clean, cool evenings with a hint of mystery. This is the absolute perfect time of year to be in Los Angeles.

Oh, and did I mention the produce?

Asparagus, artichokes, peas, heirloom tomatoes, arugula, beans, strawberries and rhubarb are all in season right now and the farmers markets are filled to the brim with them. It’s just wonderful.

I lived in Atlanta for about 6 years prior to moving here in late March of 2002. We didn’t have farmers markets like the ones here. There were no outdoor, open-air markets with individual growers. At least, not that I knew of. I’m sure they have them now, of course. There was an interesting place in Decatur called the Dekalb Farmers Market. It was huge and amazing. It was also reminiscent of a Costco, but just for food – a huge warehouse and great prices. The employees had to wear hair nets and no photography was allowed. Looking back, that was actually a really strange place.

One of my closest friends in Atlanta, Michael Fancini, coined me “The Duchess”. I don’t think it was entirely a compliment or an insult and, while I’m not completely sure why he called me that, I get it. If you knew me, you’d probably get it. In fact, everyone in Atlanta got it. So much so, that I became The Duchess. Occasionally, if I was acting particularly persnickety or gooby, Fancini would lengthen the moniker to “The Duchess of Dork”. Cute.

I miss that guy. He had a beautiful Boxer that he named Chesty B. Wiggles. He also worked wonders with polenta.

So, now here I live in this city of sunshine and shadows, limos and lights, diamonds and guns. And this is the place I call home. As far as I know, I currently have no nickname to speak of. But when I’m at the Sunday market, picking over the healthiest, fluffiest chards, nuttiest avocados, brightest dandelion greens, or delicately sifting through the squash blossoms and perfect heirloom tomatoes, I feel like The Duchess.

At last Sunday’s market while delicately examining and selecting my peas, the metaphor was not lost on me: The Duchess and the pea.

And on a beautiful, sunshiney day, remembering my life in Atlanta, Michael Fancini, Chesty B. Wiggles, and the Dekalb Farmers Market, home to make soup I went.

Fresh Mint Pea Soup

*I have a bounty of various mints growing in my garden. I used a mixture of candy mint, lime mint and chocolate mint. If you can find some different mints, they add a wonderful complexity and zing to the soup.

Serves 4-6

1 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp butter

2 cloves garlic, smashed

1 large shallot, chopped

3 ½ cups fresh peas

3 cups chicken stock

¼ cup fresh mint, chopped

1 cup sour cream

Sea salt & white pepper

Heat oil and butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add shallot and garlic and sauté until tender, about 5-7 minutes. Add peas and stir for a couple of minutes, until well coated. Add stock and bring to simmer. Cook until peas are tender, about 10 minutes. Be careful not to cook too long or on too high heat, to maintain the integrity of the green in the peas.

Let cool for about 15-30 minutes. Puree soup and mint in batches in a blender or food processor until smooth. Return to pot. Can be made 1 day ahead. Cool, cover and chill.

Rewarm soup over medium-low heat and salt & pepper to taste. Garnish with a little sprig of mint and serve.

This soup can be served hot or cold and would pair beautifully with a sparkling vouvray.

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Muted Complexity

I find artichokes to be fascinating. When prepared at their most basic, steamed with drawn butter, they are little to no work for the cook but fairly laborious for the diner. No one can figure out the ideal wine pairing for artichokes. In fact, even the origin of artichokes is unknown, though they are said to have come from North Africa. Pablo Neruda equates the appearance of the artichoke to a helmet and MFK Fisher saw the artichoke as the chosen vegetable of status seekers. 

And did you know that this vegetable is of much nutritional value because of its exhibiting aid to digestion, strengthening of the liver and gall bladder function and reduces cholesterol levels?

The most wonderful part of the artichoke, the heart, is buried deep under 87 fully formed, seemingly impenetrable and intimidating leaves that are, for the most part, inedible. Because, remember, the artichoke is a member of the thistle family. But that little heart, when you finally free it from its outwardly unlovable facade, is, well, so lovable – so sensuous, decadent, nutty, acidic, rich, subtle and an intoxicating nugget of gold to grace your palate. People practically arm wrestle with each other for one of those precious bites to dip in the warm, lemony butter.

My dad, upon his first artichoke experience, exclaimed: “It’s like a science project.” Heather noted that she almost always prefers the steamed artichokes prepared at home to those in restaurants. People put the hearts in salads, on top of pizzas, fry them, braise them, or place poached eggs over the bottoms. Suzanne Goin makes a wonderful artichoke-potato hash served along side a perfectly grilled skirt steak. 

And me – wonder of wonders:  I made a soup.

I researched quite a few recipes. One required that I steam 4 artichokes, let them cool and then scrape each leaf for its meat in addition to utilizing the hearts. Unfortunately, even I was not up to that task. I decided to use hearts only. Another recipe called for some lemon. We all know a steamed artichoke is perfect with butter and lemon. I thought I would add a squeeze of Meyer lemon at the end but the soup seemed to have enough acidity on its own. In fact, upon tasting it, my mom immediately thought she identified lemon in the soup. Another recipe suggested making a roux to thicken it up. I decided instead to use a potato. Also, at a random moment near the end, I added a dash of sherry. At one serving I garnished it with a drizzle of walnut oil, a few toasted pine nuts, and some fresh chives. Last night, however, I served it as an amuse bouche, in small, white tea cups, with a single rustic crouton, toasted in fine olive oil and sea salt.

The muted complexities of this soup intrigue and delight me. It’s smooth, rounded, bold, and pithy while also being delicate, peaceful, serene and just a touch reserved: a Zen warrior. The taste lingers on your tongue like an anticipatory pause and perfectly prepares you for your next course that could range from a simple salad to a nicely grilled steak.

This soup surprised and impressed all eight of the people who were fortunate enough to sample it.

You can read Neruda’s beautiful Ode to the Artichoke here.

Creamy Artichoke Soup

2 tbsp olive oil

2 tbsp butter

1 clove garlic, smashed

1 medium onion, chopped

3 cups artichoke hearts

1 medium potato, peeled and chopped

2 ½ cups chicken stock

1 tsp sherry

Salt & pepper to taste

Heat olive oil and butter in a heavy, large pot over medium heat. Add the onion and the garlic and stir. Add the potatoes and cook for 10 minutes, stirring often. Add the artichokes, stock, salt, and pepper and cook until the vegetables are tender, about 20 minutes.

Using a handheld immersion blender, or in a blender in batches, puree the soup. Stir in the sherry.

Ladle the soup into serving bowls. Top each of the soups with a drizzle of walnut oil, toasted pine nuts and fresh chives, or simply, a rustic, torn crouton.

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