Meet the lineup!

We have a lot of tomatoes in the garden, and sadly for the season, many of them are still green.  Due to the summerless summer, our tomato count is extremely low; normally, I’ve given up counting at this point of the year.  Each year, we plant our usual stock of tomatoes and each year we try a few new varieties.  This year’s lineup consists of eleven different varieties, ranging in color from white to purple, most of them are heirloom.  This year, we planted 70 different plants.

The Usual Suspects

Gardener’s Delight:  (heirloom) Most people assume these are cherry tomatoes when they see them, but they are not.  They are not acidic and teeter on the edge of being candy they are so sweet.

Noir de Crimee: (heirloom) So far, this is my favorite tomato.  The purple color throws you at first since it will never turn red to signal ripeness.  Thin skin, lots of meat, and best raw.

Prince Noir: (heirloom) Yet another purple tomato, but smaller than the Noir de Crimee.  It is sweet, rich, and also has a thin skin.

Great White Beefsteak: (heirloom) A large tomato that ripens to a golden yellow color.  Mild and sweet and we ate one yesterday that had a melon-like flavor.

Caro red: (heirloom) Big, round, and orange.  I like this tomato because it is very versatile and makes a complex sauce.

Cornue des Andes:  (heirloom) Shaped like peppers, these tomatoes turn bright red and can be pretty heavy.  An excellent sauce and cooking tomato, but a little too mealy to eat raw.

Voyager: This is a gnarly tomato that is a bit too acidic for my tastes.  It was tried last year and again this year for good measure, but will not be rejoining the line up next year.

Beefsteak: Classic round, red, and meaty tomato that is very productive.  Not as tasty as many of our other tomatoes, so I use it as volume in sauces.

The Newbies 

Roma: Well-known Italian tomato use for sauces.  Curious plants that don’t grow very high and fruit that grows in clusters.  Better for cooking than eating raw.

Russian: (heirloom) Our friend brought us one a few years ago and we kicked ourselves for not saving some seeds.  This is a very large tomato, very tasty and juicy. Has earned a spot on the “Usual Suspects” list for years to come.

Beefmaster: These are supposed to get huge, but they are nowhere near ready yet.  I do like the smooth, pale green skin they currently have.

And that our lineup this year, but as you can see, we’re still holding out for some sun and high temps to get them to where they need to be.  If not, I fear we’ll be swimming in green tomato jam all winter.

Explaining the monster

Looking at Friday’s blog, I realized I probably didn’t explain very well the monster and why it makes it annual visits to our kitchen.  We do a lot of canning from our garden.  The first vegetables ready are the tomatillos in August, the small green Mexican tomatoes used to make salsa verde.  After that, we can tomatoes coulis, apple sauce, and sometimes dishes like ratatouille.  Basically, we stick anything in a jar that grows in such an abundant that we couldn’t eat it all at once.  The canning jars are washed, filled, and equipped with a rubber ring that doesn’t allow any air to pass.  Then they go into that giant pot (aka ‘the monster’) that sits on my stove; that’s the sterilizer.  A large soup pot could be used too, but the size of the sterilizer lets us do a lot at once and is made to hold the jars tightly so they don’t bounce around doing the vigorous sterilizing process.  To sterilize the jars, the water is boiled for two hours (getting to this temperature takes some time too) and then again for 90 minutes 24 hour later.  We can when the vegetables are fresh, which often means in August, the hottest month of the year.

Why do we do this?  For the same reason we garden: because we like to eat well.  There’s nothing like opening a jar of homemade tomato sauce in the middle of a dismal January evening.  At that point, sweating our butts off in a dripping wet kitchen is just a memory and it’s far better than anything store bought.  And, not that I always feel this way in August as the sweat rolls down my back and I still have hours of work in front of me, but I really like it too.   

There’s a monster in my kitchen

The monster takes over the entire stove.  Translation: sandwiches for dinner.

It’s that time of year again- canning.  As usual, our first run in the sterilizer is salsa verde, made from tomatillos.  The sterilizer holds up to 15 half-pint jars and boils for 2 hours on the first day and 90 minutes on the following to make sure any lingering bacteria is killed.  Just what I want on a hot August day…

Salsa verde

America's Test Kitchen "Dish It Your Way" Challenge: Mac n' Cheese

I recently watched a show where French chef Christian Constant demonstrated his version of a pasta dish.  He stuffed cooked macaroni with paper thin truffles, cut the macaroni’s into rounds, placed them on the inside of a hollowed out eggshell, and then filled that with a scallop mousse.  Once cooked, he removed the shell and had something that looked like a Fabergé egg.  It was amazing, and like Michael Jordan doing a layup, he made it look easy.

While pondering what to do for the next round of America’s Test Kitchen “Dish It Your Way” challenge, Christophe turned to me said, “Do something like that!”

My response, “You’re nuts!”  I’ve never been good at basketball and have never been able to a layup to save my life.  There was no way I was going to try what a starred chef pulled out of his hat.  Not to mention, it was missing one key element: cheese.  Yes, that is how I got out of that one: cheese.

Scaling back a bit, I decided to something more family style, and I looked in the fridge for inspiration.  I found Roquefort cheese and smoked salmon, hence I decided upon:

Rigatoni with Roquefort Cream Sauce and Smoked Salmon

(I immediately nixed Christophe’s idea to stuff the Rigatoni with the salmon and cook them in a hallowed out egg.) 

I ran with this idea because I’m tired of being disappointed with a mac n’ cheese that is overcooked, swimming in a bland sauce, and lacking character.  More than anything, I was interested in taking a risk with flavor and ready to go a little off the deep end.

Ingredients:

1 pound Rigatoni pasta

4 Tablespoons butter

2 Tablespoons flour

2 cups whole milk

10 oz. Roquefort cheese, cut roughly into 10 cubes, plus additional for garnishing

8 oz. smoked salmon, cut into 1/8 inch matchsticks

½ cup bread crumbs

Salt and pepper

Bring 2 quarts of salted water to a boil over medium high heat.  Stir in one pound of Rigatoni pasta.  Cook for 8 minutes (or slightly under ‘al dente’; the pasta will continue to cook in the oven so an ‘undercooked pasta’ is desired at this state to avoid a mushy end product), and drain well.

While pasta is cooking, melt 4 tablespoons of butter in a medium size pot over medium high heat.  Allow the melted butter to foam; sprinkle flour over the top and allow it to rise and brown slightly.  Knock down the mixture by whisking briskly and continue until a smooth consistency is reached.  This will avoid unwanted flour clumps in the sauce.  Add milk, lower heat to medium –low and continue to whisk until a homogenous liquid is formed.   Stir in 9 cubes of the Roquefort cheese and continue stirring into melted.  Season with salt and pepper to taste, being cautious not to over salt since the cheese has a high salt content. Mix in pasta until well coated.

In four large ramekins or one 9x13 baking dish, layer sauce coated pasta and salmon, followed by a top layer of pasta again.  Sprinkle with breadcrumbs and crumble the remaining cube of Roquefort cheese on top.  Place in preheated 350F oven for 15 minutes.  Garnish with additional cheese and chives if desired.

I know Roquefort cheese and smoked salmon aren’t a typical combination, but risks are worth taking when something is to be gained.  In this case, the risk paid off.  I got a well cooked, not over cooked pasta, in a sauce “with character” with smoking, salty hints that brighten the dish.  Now, I think I’m ready to work on my free throws – I’ll get to that layup later.

Monday’s Leftovers: August 21st

Monday’s Leftovers is a series that recaps the moments of a Sunday lunch along with the memories that mark the day.

Summer came without warning.  The mild days that filled June and July were quickly replaced with cloudless skies, still air, and temperatures soaring into the 90s.  I enjoy summers, but the drastic change took me by surprise.  Tired from a sleepless night, I woke up late and found Christophe in the kitchen waiting for me with coffee in hand.

“How about something simple for lunch today?”  He asks once I shook the grogginess off.

“What do you have in mind?”  I ask.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it all taken care of,” he replies with a smile.

With morning chores completed, I meet Christophe in the garden.  We sit down with a beer in hand under the shade of the hazelnut and pear tree.  Getting up, he finds a rock and some ripe hazelnuts. 

“I don’t know how many tons of these I’ve eaten since I was a kid,” he says.  Taking the rock, he strikes the nut quickly on the table and the shell falls to the side.  A mat, pale brown nut is left in the wake.

“Here”, he says smiling.

We shift around as the sun passes through the sky trying to keep in the shade.  Christophe lights the barbeque and I feel the still air get even hotter.

“The sole won’t take long to cook,’ he says.  “I also made taboulet.”

“Awesome,” I think to myself.  “I don’t have to turn the stove on.”

We sit down for lunch, once again shifting to keep in the shade.

“Do you want to go to the river to cool off?”  Christophe asks.  “I know a gorge we can swim in that has a waterfall.”

“Sounds interesting,” I say.

Pointing across the valley, Christophe shows me where it’s located.  “It’s kind of a long walk, but I promise it’s worth it.”

I agree enthusiastically and dishes are put aside until later so we can start out right away. We pass under gigantic ferns taller than us, across rocky outcrops, and pass the white birches and the ancient chestnut trees that dot the view from our terrace.  We stop a few times for water and to admire the view of the village from across the valley.  I dripping in sweat and every once in a while Christophe promises “It’s not much farther now.”

I’m exhausted, soaked to the bone, and am starting to doubt the existence of the gorge. Finally, ninety minutes later, we arrive.  Surrounded by towering trees, a cascade jets down a fall into a pool followed by another and then another.  All my doubt and frustration vanish as we stripe down to our swimsuits and jump in.  The water is glacial, but refreshing and all memories of my hot, sleepless night melt away.

View of the village half way to the gorge.



Lavender

It’s about time to trim back the lavender, which had a good summer run.  We planted it a few years back next to an old stone wall.  It revels in the heat and has quickly overtaken the other neighboring plants.    Attracting bees and other insects, its flowers bloom most of the summer, and what I really like about it that I don’t have to water it.  In fact, since the summer it was planted, I don’t think I’ve ever watered it.

When one thinks of France, the flowing lavender fields of Provence come to mind, and why not, they’re gorgeous.  Lavender is produced for it flowers which are used in just about everything, and honey made from it is the best I’ve ever tasted;  hands down the best, and is nothing like the product bought in the bear shaped squeeze bottle.  The last time we had a jar of it, it lasted less than a week.

Christophe has memories of going to lavender farms with his grandparents with flasks in hands to buy lavender essence to be used in the wash, around the house, and for medicinal purposes.  We put our cuttings in sachets and place them in the armoires and dressers.  Not only does it make everything smell nice, but it also keeps any moth problem at bay.

I’m glad we planted it- its low maintenance, high effect and since it is an editable flower, I’m starting to learn how to cook with it too.

Monsieur Potiron

For the last few years in our garden, we’ve had some form of a potiron, or pumpkin.  This year, we have a potiron galeux, which refers to the bumps it forms on its outer shell. We use it in all forms: soups, pastas, mashed, and even in nutty breads.  A single potiron from our garden can weigh 20-30 pounds, so even one from the garden is enough to keep us going for most of the winter.  Our neighbors, Monsieur and Madame Gousse had one so big a few years back that they had to use a wheel barrel to get it out of the garden.

When planted, we tend to the seedling very closely, giving it lots of water.  Each day, we tour the garden and are amazed with its rapid growth.  This year, it has done remarkable well.  In fact, it has crawled over the six foot tall tomato stakes, climbed the wall, and trotted along the terrace and is about to reach the other side.  Needless to say, it is enormous. 


Monsieur Potiron along the terrace



climbing the wall

Its presence is so commanding that we’ve gone from calling ‘it’ a potiron to giving it a title and calling it ‘Monsieur’.  It seems to fit him, and I think he’s flourished even more with his new status because we don’t have one potiron on the vine, we have six – with new fruit still forming.  It has attracted attention from every passing person, and by the path it’s making to the fence, I think it’s making an effort to reach out and touch them.  He seems friendly enough, but I was tripped in the garden the other day after hungrily admiring one of the fruits.

Perhaps it’s best not to tell him about Halloween or Thanksgiving.