Know Your Vegetables!

Patisson

Species: Cucurbita pepo (meanings gourds and squashes)

Seen listings also calling it Pattypan squash, the Spanish artichoke, and bonnet-de-prêtre.

Size: 3-5  inches in diameter

Patidou

Species: Cucurbita pepo

Much sweeter than the patisson and has a slight nutty taste, also called the sweet dumpling.

Size: 2-3 inches in diameter and 3-4 inches tall

Tomatillo

Species: Physalis philadelphica

The fruit is encased in the outer husk that needs to be removed.  Also called the green tomato  and is essential in the Mexican cuisine.

Size: 1-2 inces in diameter

Lemon Cucumber

Species: Cucumis sativus

Heirloom Russian variety; very crisp and sweet, not bitter.

Size: 2-3 inches in diameter

And the bonus:

Round Zucchini

Species: Cucurbita pepo

Similar to the everyday zucchini, but much easier to stuff.

Size: 3-10 inches in diameter depending on when it is harvested

There’s gold in them there hills!

There’s a little secret our village has been hiding: it has a gold mine.  You’ll never find it on a map because it’s marked as an abandoned iron mine.  It was discovered in 1903, temporarily closed in 1922 and was intermediately mined until 1963 (or 1968 and 1970, depending on the resource) when it was permanently closed.   I’ve been there once, and the looming fog gave it a real creepy feeling.  There was a large rock plateau, a pile of mined stones, and a small entrance leading into the mountain.  It wasn’t the spectacle that I hoped for and there weren’t nuggets of gold just sitting around waiting to be pocketed, which would have been great considering the current price of gold.  There is also something particular about the gold, something that has probably kept most prospectors out: it’s sandwiched in between layers of arsenic, and the odor can be detected just by rubbing a rock.  When I went there with an old friend, she neglected to tell me that until I asked about the odor and I walked with my hands in the air until I could find a puddle to wash them off.

Luckily, there’s not enough gold to justify reopening the mine, but enough to develop some fantasies, for example, I would like a heated indoor swimming pool, a well-equipped work-out room, and a shiny new car.  Speaking of fantasies, maybe there is enough gold after all; I’m gonna get out my prospectoring hat, pick and shovel, gold pan, and anti-arsentic protective gloves.  I got long list, so I better get moving.

Pickles!

I just discovered something magical: I can make homemade pickles.  This might not seem like something noteworthy given the vast selection in any US supermarket, but it is a huge revelation for us because we cannot find pickles in France, and I love them.  Yes, yes, there are pickle counterparts, like the cornichons, but they aren’t the same.  They’re sweet and lack the garlicy crunch that makes a burger perfect.  I like cornichons, but I’m disappointed every time I want a real kosher dill; they just doesn’t stack up.  We’ve been bringing pickles back with us from the United States, and with a 23 pound baggage weight limit, we’ve had to make to some difficult decisions about what goes in the suitcase.  Each year, we ration our pickle consumption so they’ll last until our next trip stateside.  It’s not easy and some polite fighting has occurred over the last, remaining pickle.  So, when I stumbled across a recipe for “ice box pickles” I was curious, and happily discovered that I have most of the ingredients right in the garden.  Everything goes right in the jar, the jar goes in the fridge, and one week later, voila!  The pickles are ready.  And, HOLY COW, they’re great!  Not just “great” as in “they’ll do”, but great as in better than the last store bought jar we tasted them against.  They’re AWESOME!  Still very crunchy, the pickles had all the garlicy goodness I was craving and a bite from the cayenne pepper put them over the top.  I ate three right away.  No more hoarding, no more rationing, I can have all the pickles I want, whenever I want.  I even dreamt about them last night. The cherry on the cake to this is now we have more room in our suitcases for Frank’s Red Hot Sauce, which not so strangely enough, goes great with our homemade pickles.

Here’s the recipe if you’re interested.  I discovered it thanks to fellow blogger The Magic Apron.

Dill Refrigerator Pickles

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 lbs Kirby cucumbers (sometimes labeled pickling cukes), cut in half lengthwise.  (I don’t know what type of cucumbers we have in the garden, but I’m guessing most anything would work.)
• 2 cups white distilled vinegar
• 2 cups cold water
• 4 cloves garlic, sliced
• 3 tablespoons kosher salt
• 1 good handful of fresh dill seed
• 1 tsp mustard seeds  (I searched all around for this, but couldn’t find it.  Strange for a country that loves its mustard so.)
• 1/2 tsp chili flakes or a dried red hot pepper (optional)
• 1 tsp black peppercorns

Directions:

1. Place all the seasonings in the bottom of a 2 or 3 quart jar. Add the cucumber halves, stacking them so they don’t float around too much.
2. Measure out the vinegar, water and salt in a separate container and stir until the salt dissolves.
3. Pour the liquid into the jar containing the cucumbers. Make sure the liquid covers all of the cucumbers.
4. Seal the lid tightly and shake for about a minute. Put in the fridge and wait… patiently.
5. Wait for 6 or 7 days, giving the jar a good shake each day.

Pleasures of the Season: Toulouges Sweet Onions

“Pleasures of the Season” is a series of posts which appear from time to time.  They focus on something special that occurs only seasonally, often fleeting, and something we anticipate.  The posts are sometimes food related, sometimes not, but highlight moments of what I’ve learned about living with the seasons since moving to Southern France.

Not cultivated to be stored long, these sweet onions look like Spanish red onions but without the bite.  They are often served raw and, so mild always prepared with tear-free eyes.  Named for the city of their origins in Southern France, Toulouge onions add a complexity to dishes that ordinary yellow onions don’t.  The one hundred plus planted in the garden are quickly disappearing; we pick and cook as needed.  Now their growing season is over, the remaining are left to dry so they might make it to November, but I’m having my doubts. They are crucial to a successful ratatouille, a Mediterranean dish consisting of four ingredients in equal parts - sweet onions, tomatoes, eggplant, and zucchini.  Christophe proudly whips it up by the pot full, but it disappears as quickly as it is made.

America’s Test Kitchen “Dish It Your Way” Challenge: Cupcakes!

Or, to explain why I don’t make them….

Reason #1….

Reason #2….

Reason #3….

Reasons #4, 5, and 6….

And finally, reasons #7, 8, 9, and 10.

I live with my husband in rural France, and think that perhaps anyway but in Paris, cupcakes are an oddity.  When I explained what a cupcake was to Christophe, he gave me the same baffled look as when I explained that a brunch is a meal that is part breakfast-part lunch, to which he responded, “Why would anyone want to skip a meal?” He didn’t understand why I would want to make a “small cake”.  Not to be discouraged, I plotted on.

I have a silicon pan, but it was the only one found after much searching, and it does a terrible job.  It had no lift on the cupcakes and they would not release right.  Trying to get around that, I looked all around for paper cupcakes holders, and couldn’t find them.  I tried ‘enhancing’ the cupcake batter with red currant jam and chocolate, which only sank to the bottom.  I tried ceramic yogurt containers, hence error # 7 - 10.  That was a messy cleanup.

Cupcakes are just not a French thing.  No matter how hard I tried, I was not able to adapt this classic to my new location.  I know, I know… it’s America’s Test Kitchen take on classic American food, so I shouldn’t be saying that, but I’ve been about adapting ever since I met Christophe and this new culture, so I’m all about trying.

I’m not giving up; the fun of experiments also comes from the failures, but I think a step back and a new plan might be needed as well as more local twist.  Speaking of local, the apple trees are producing well this year, so I’m pondering a tarte tartin right about now, which if the story is true, shows good things come from failures.

Summer has come to an end, and so has America’s Test Kitchen “Dish It Your Way” Challenge.  I’ve had a blast trying new recipes – some worked, some didn’t, and Christophe had a great time eating the results, most of the time.  I found a few great new recipes along the way – ice box pickles, salmon with watermelon salsa, how to make a potato salad your own, and that mac n’ cheese can be, and is even better fried. 

The fall winds here are starting to blow, so winter preparations need to be made.  I’m looking forward to evenings in front of the fire while bread bakes in the oven, and dinner simmers quietly on the stove.  I’ll be turning my attention to more autumnal foods, canning from the garden, and writing about rural life in Southern France.  Hope you’ll pull up a chair, grab a glass, and join me.

Monday’s Leftover: Under Construction

Living in a 600 year old house presents some challenges.  We’re always plugging up a draft, resealing a window, or putting a new coat of paint on the shutters.  This weekend, we attacked the bathroom.  We don’t know exactly when it was done, but it is a “modern” addition to the home.  It has been in dire need of our attention and Christophe has been working non-stop on it all weekend.  The bathroom has some considerable faults, such as thin walls and a low ceiling, and it’s due to these faults that we’ve found it challenging.  Saturday’s work included patching and painting and Sunday’s occupation included new flooring, insulation, and fixtures.  Between measures and cuts, I was able to belt out a Sunday lunch; nothing as elaborate nor as relaxing as Christophe’s mornings in the kitchen, but something did that give us a good moment to pause and step back to observe our work.

Menu:

Cream of Potato Soup

Pork Medallions in a Cider and Vinegar Reduction, Apple and Onion Confit served with a Potato Galette

The work is not yet done, but as Christophe notes, “There’s always a surprise in this house, and sometimes it makes the work longer, but I learn something new about the house each time I touch it, and I like that.”

The Potimarron

This is my new favorite vegetable: the potimarron.  It was planted for the first time in our garden last year and I find it amazing.  Its name is part pumpkin (potiron) and part chestnut (marron) and tastes like a supped- up pumpkin and with hints of chestnut.  I asked Christophe if he knew that’s how it got its name and he just laughed at me, “You love both pumpkin and chestnuts so I thought would have been obvious.”

Regardless of my vernacular oversight, it still intrigued me.  Many resources say it has Japanese origins, but I found one French resource that states it from South America and was probably first named Hokkaido squash by the Japanese.  Whatever its origins, it seems to be lacking a clear history.  What I do know is that it is coming back into fashion in the haut-cuisines of France.  Last year, we had dinner at Le Jardin des Sens in Montpellier, and not only did the potimarron grace their menu, it was used as autumnal table decorations.  I’m guessing it fell out of fashion since it’s smaller than other pumpkins, but is becoming popular again for its rich and delicate flavor.

We told Madame Gousse we ate our first potimarron last Sunday and she gasped, thinking we should save it for the middle of winter.  Little does she know we have a dozen growing, so happily we don’t have to horde them.  With our first poitmarron, Christophe made a creamy soup, tossed in sautéed vegetables and topped with a grilled sole fillet with fresh fennel sprouts.  I couldn’t think of a better way to meld the flavors of summer and the beginning of fall.

Soupe de potimarron aux légumes croquants de saison, filet de sole tropicale aux pousses de fenouil