Of Eggs...

  It was on a quiet, still morning in Charmé, one spent following sweet neighbor Suzanne about her garden, aiding her with the daily chores, when she stepped away momentarily only to return reaching into the pocket of her apron handing me two small and perfect eggs. Still warm, she  encouraged me to go directly to Katie and have her prepare them. It was a scene played out many time's in our life in France, eggs of an electric yellow yoke and rich, deep flavor as reward.
 This came to mind recently when we were surprised by a generous gift from Douglas of Azalea Spring Farm near Calistoga. No better gift than one unexpected, the brown nuggets were said to be from his Heirloom Buckeye's. We went at them with little delay, Katie and I each offering the other a form of "special breakfast" (see Post: "Special Breakfast", 2.10.2011). Having had for day's a craving for dim-sum, my offering had a distinctly asian influence: Poaching and then setting them on coconut and ginger rice, with a few large shrimp, some dandelion greens sautéed quickly in chili's, garlic, and Meyer lemon. A bit of cilantro tossed about. Katie took a different route: Braising kale before folding in some Great Northern beans,

shallot, a few drops of aged balsamic, and roasted garlic. Adding ricotta cheese she'd made the day before, a crack of pepper, bit of olive oil, and some tartine finished it off nicely. We ate her dish in what has become a pattern this wet Winter, sitting warm and dry in our living room, looking out at a hard rain pounding the rooftops and Golden Gate Park beyond.
 It was several year's back when Katie, wrapped in a serious case of missing her family, talked me into an extended visit to her native Minnesota. A food writer caught wind of her cooking private dinner's, and asked if she had any thoughts on eggs. Reflective of the Charmé scene above, Katie said back then, "...my neighbor comes over with fresh, fresh eggs with the most yellow yolks you have ever seen." She went on to describe a love of  "shirring" (oeufs en cocotte) with créme fraîche and gruyére, a form of baking them rendering them luscious, creamy, and decadent. (http://www.midwesthomemag.com/media/Midwest-Home/April-2006/The-Good-Egg/)

 Funny little things are eggs. So simple, so welcome, so good.
(Recipes on request.)

(http://www.chez-gautier.com)

Bottling Up Winter...

 Jarring up Winter would perhaps be more accurate. We have lived very well these past several months with many a taste of Summer coming at us by way of the extensive "canning" Katie did at the end of the growing season. As the sun softened and Autumn approached, she jarred some 65-70 pounds of heirloom tomatoes, both in whole and pureed form. Add to that the various jams, preserved whole fruits such as figs, along with more savory fair like chutneys, pickles, green beans, baby eggplants, and a variety of chili's, all making for a big dose of sunshine packed in our pantry these past gray months.


 Not one to play favorite's, Katie is doing the same in an effort to hold on to a bit of the good things that come our way during Winter. Meyer lemons, those small, bright smelling reminders of my childhood (Had a tree in our backyard when growing up.) are nearing the end of their peak, thus Katie recently put some of those away for later use with fish or roast chicken. Cara Cara oranges, juicy and sweet, were done in a marmalade with some of the Calabrian chili's that still hang in dried bunches about the kitchen. Lastly, she did grapefruit marmalade with Ruby Red's and shaved ginger. Didn't take long for us to tear open one of these, as Katie had spent the day making fresh ricotta cheese with the Dopo gang (The East Bay neighborhood mecca for hand crafted Italian food.). Toasted some baguette, spread the moist, lightly salted ricotta, added a healthy smear of the grapefruit marmalade... With a short black coffee, a damn fine breakfast.          

It's easy, especially here in California, to rely on the benefit of year round markets, not to mention World markets via ship and plane. The rub being, however, that the produce must be picked before their peak in order to travel long distance, muting the essence of fully ripened flavor. More do able than you might think this canning thing, and well worth the effort.
(Recipes on request.)

(http://www.chez-gautier.com)

Cherry Blossoms... France (Spring 2011)

 Okay, maybe wishful thinking has me a bit ahead of things as Spring is still a few day's away, but when our very old Rainier cherry tree blooms the change of seasons is near. There is a clear understanding among our neighbors that if we are not present at any time during the peak of one of the several fruits that grow on the property they are to help themselves. What has happened is abundance of confitures and preserved fruit given to a us in return. Jams of apricot, blackberry, raspberry, and quince, not to mention preserved plum and cherry or chutney made with the cassis are among the bounty.
 As we make preparations for our return to France for the Spring Sessions, I look forward to those first signs of change: blossoms bursting on tree limbs, fields with the faint green fuzz of young shoots, the air  fresh and expectant in the morning. Always seemingly the first tree to mark the change is the cherry tree that sits snugly in the corner of our rose garden. Best guess has it being planted over some 40 years ago, and it still gives love in the form of it's red and yellow marbled fruit each year. Last year we missed the peak of these gifts, so our good friend and neighbor Suzanne was the beneficiary, making jam out of much of it, preserving the rest whole.
 It was this past Autumn, with a serious taste for magret de canard that the cherries found their way back to us. Having picked up some skate wing earlier in the day during a visit to the market in Cognac, we stopped by the charming artist village of Tusson on the way home at a small producer of all things duck. Remarkable is their foie gras, but with skate wing (and it's requisite butter) already planned, we kept our focus on the duck breasts. Relatively small and slender, they were butchered as we waited.
 With a fire coming to life in our large kitchen chimney, a dish of olives and nuts to ease our growing hunger, we sipped cocktails of young cognac, tonic and lemon (a regional necessity). Katie did the skate in a hot pan with some shallot and a citrus buerre blanc. By then we'd moved onto to a crisp and dry Bordeaux white (Chateau Carbonnieux '05 Blanc), eating the rich, delicate fish perhaps too quickly, using baguette to clean our plates.

 Next it was time for the magret, hitting the well heated cast iron skillet with a hiss of fatty skin. The kitchen already held the rich air of a leek and potato gratin, bubbling in cream and butter. With the skins crisp and deeply caramel in color, Katie seared the other sides before finishing the duck breasts in the oven. A bit of time to rest once out, and they were sliced (perfectly pink), and plated with the gratin. All that was left was the touch of cherries, having been warmed in a sauce fashioned from reduced pigeon stock (Call it "squab" if it sounds better!), then scattered about the plate. Went with a Volnay '05 which did not disappoint. Enough fruit to ease the richness of the duck, but with a welcome dry finish to balance Suzanne's preserved cherries. A bit embarrassed to admit we managed to tear into some gâteau chocolat, a further offering of our caring and thoughtful neighbor. Then another log on the fire... a short coffee... a cognac...
(Recipes on request.)