two countries. many kitchens. one table.
melon and honey-ricotta cannoli
(with raspberry coulis)
serves 4-5
what you need:
cannoli
1 sweet, ripe cantaloupe, cut/sliced as indicated
1 cuplow fat ricotta cheese
2 teaspoons quality honey, room temperature
sauce
5 ounces raspberries (fresh or frozen)
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
½ teaspoon fresh lemon juice
water (as needed)
garnish
fresh mint leaves (as needed)
toasted pine nuts (as needed)
granny smith apple, julienne (as needed) Read the rest of this entry »
peach and tarragon clafoutis
(clafouti aux pêches et estragon)
Clafouti is a custard fruit dessert made popular in Limousin, France (central southwest area of France). Clafouti aux cerises is made with cherries, which are plentiful in Limousin, and the dessert always signals the beginning of summer and the warm months to come. The pits are left in the cherries imparting an almond flavor to the cherry custard.
Here, we are cherishing the end of summer (but keeping the almond flavor). In this recipe we use end of the summer peaches with a little fresh tarragon and almond extract (which pairs well with the peaches and buttermilk). If you do not have almond extract (or do not care for almonds) use Kirsch (typically used in Clafouti) or vanilla extract instead. Also, you can swap the buttermilk out for whipping cream or fromage blanc if you prefer. However, there is little sugar in this recipe (less than typically used) so make sure to use flavorful, sweet peaches because if you use flavorless ingredients your clafouti will be flavorless as well (and who wants that?)
dischord on the farm; harmony on your plate:
melange of garden heirloom tomatoes with burrata and whipped tomato purée
Mean girls in the coop and a surprise male in the hutch. This is how we arrived to my home in Los Angeles. Despite the dischord amongst the animals, we also arrived to a hillside of sun-ripened tomatoes in all shapes, sizes and varieties. So while the animals were in a “time-out,” our harmonious plates inspired this week’s simple pleasure: melange of garden heirloom tomatoes with burrata and whipped tomato purée.
melange of heirloom tomatoes with burrata and whipped tomato purée
serves 4
what you need:
5-6 beautiful heirloom tomatoes, various colors
burrata cheese (as needed)
fresh sweet basil leaves (as needed)
quality olive oil (as needed)
gros sel de Guérande or kosher or sea salt (as needed)
freshly ground black pepper (as needed)
8 yellow or orange heirloom tomatoes, juiced (seeds and skins discarded) Read the rest of this entry »
accidental tourist discovering culinary treasures on the river Sorgue:
venez avec moi L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue
summer melon gazpacho
Petit dejeuner (breakfast) in Provence. The Provençal sun is streaming through the window and the local rooster is announcing the day with not-to-be-missed vigor. Our breakfast table looks Matisse-like with fresh fruit, cheeses, yogurt, jams, farm butter, bread and viennoiseries artfully served in porcelain dishes and baskets, all chosen with the same deliberation a poet would use to select words for the page. The smell of the cut melon filled the room. We hungrily ate everything in front of us with our eyes before our mouths even opened. We are in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. I was so taken with the people here (and the food) that I was compelled to return within weeks of my first (accidental) discovery and my visits inspired this week’s simple pleasure: summer melon gazpacho. However, before you go to the recipe, venez avec moi (come with me) to L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue; it is not just for antiques any more.
summer melon gazpacho
makes 3 cups plus garnish (serves 4-6)
what you need:
gazpacho
1 ½ cup (300 ml) watermelon juice from one red, ripe watermelon
15 ounces (430 g) chopped ripe cantaloupe
1 teaspoon fresh lime juice
cabillaud au thym en papillote (steamed cod with thyme)
serves 4
what you need:
4 beautiful, fresh cod fillets
kosher salt (as needed)
freshly ground black pepper (as needed)
olive oil (as needed)
4 handfuls of fresh thyme sprigs
4 rectangular sheets of parchment paper
kitchen twine (as needed) Read the rest of this entry »
venez avec moi à Banon:
a carefully wrapped chèvre, fennel confit,
and fleshy balsamic-drenched fig jam
You may have heard of a French cheese wrapped in chestnut leaves and that this cheese is typically served with fig jam. The rumors are true and the cheese is from an actual village in Provence: Banon.
Running in Provence, I was thinking about both the cheese and the jam (which I had enjoyed the night before); however, there was a problem which my grandfather would have referred as “skinny.” No, he did not use the word to describe a person but an undesirable thin consistency of a gravy or jam. Grandpa would have said that the fig jam is skinny and he would have been right. Figs are lush. It is a shame to reduce them to a seedy consistency, losing all of that fleshy texture. It is akin to a peck on the check when you could get a full kiss on the lips. I do not think anyone would choose the former if you could have the latter. My Millay fleshy fig/lip thought was only interrupted by the fennel growing wild on the side of the road and the thought of Apt’s candied fruit. It was the culmination of these thoughts — fleshy figs, creamy cheese, candied fruit, wild fennel, and that Millay sonnet — which inspired this week’s (regional) simple pleasure: Banon de Banon A.O.C. with fleshy fig jam and fennel confit. However, before you go there, venez avec moi à Banon (come with me to Banon). Read the rest of this entry »
Banon de Banon A.O.C. with fennel confit
and fleshy, balsamic-drenched fig jam
serves 4
what you need:
1 disc Banon de Banon
fleshly fig jam
6 fresh black mission figs, quartered (approx. 300g or 10.6 ounces)
6 ounces (170g) balsamic vinegar
7 tablespoons light brown sugar
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
fennel confit
1 fennel bulb, (approx. 100g or 3.5 ounces)
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon honey
8 ounces (30 ml) water
picking cherries in the valley of the Gods: venez avec moi à Gordes
It is 9:30 p.m. and the sun is setting, but not so quickly. The sun is taking its time; everyone is. It is difficult to put an end to a day filled with Provençal sun, the calming smell of lavender, and the song of the complacent cicadas. As I write, I see expansive green valleys filled with cherry trees below me. The sound of pea-gravel crunching under the waiter’s feet (as he brings me a Châteauneuf-du-Pape and something warm for my shoulders) is only a momentary distraction from the twenty birds swirling above my head trying to get in their last flight before heading to bed. I am in Luberon. I have eaten and explored my way through the day: jambon with truffles; cherries I picked off the trees; fougasse lush with salty olives and olive oil; wild boar sausage; fresh chèvre bathed in crushed lavender and honey, aïoli with perfectly steamed vegetables; rosés from nearby vineyards; hearty and robust reds from nearby Châteauneuf-du-Pape. I think I found the land of the Gods and perhaps that is why the Romans had once claimed it as their own centuries ago. It am in Gordes and it is Gordes which inspired this week’s simple pleasure, cherries poached in fresh lavender and thyme. However, before you go there, come with me to one of the Luberon’s most beautiful villages: venez avec moi à Gordes.
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