White Goats, Raw Milk, and Cheese... France (Spring Sessions... 2011)

 When you're used to a market each morning, Monday's without any to visit can leave you a bit empty. Rather than lament "what's a girl to do", this one made cheese! In the nearby village of Juillé resides the generous and welcoming Madame Flaud along with her some 200 fluffy white goats. Introduced by our  dear friend/neighbor Alice (Ah-leese), who had told of my fledgling cheese making with cow's milk,  the response was simple and matter of fact: I would need to come early the next day to experience her goats!

One of my friends.

 The milking is done at day break on a farm so unassuming it would be easy to pass right by if not for the tiny little wooden sign tucked on the side proclaiming farm fresh cheese for sale. When the air is cool the goats will venture to adjoining fields for a nibble of grass, but the present dry conditions in the Charente had them that morning under cover. The barn housing the flock is quite large and made of wood, surprising for a region dominated by stone structures. Anyone who has stated, "It's a dog's life.", has clearly not met a goat. Eating and milking are wedged between a steady flow of naps, lounging, and the occasional licking of one's coat. Only the most curious stir when a visitor arrives, but even they are eventually drawn back to the straw bed. After a good deep scratch behind the ears, that is. The air was rich in hay and animal, but absent of the dank musk expected.
 Common to most farm cheese production, the "raw" milk is not warmed (pasteurized), but instead taken directly into the "lab". There it is transfered to freshly scrubbed vats, a présure (rennet) is added to coagulate, a bit of a wait and stir, and then a whole lot of delicate scooping goes on by way of a very large ladle; the separation of curd and whey. Many small straining baskets are set upon an expanse of stainless, a slight angle feeding the excess liquid into a drain set in the tables center. Consistent with the beautiful notion that nothing be wasted, even the drained liquid is the used to make another grade of cheese.

Get me some tartine! Quick!

 The result is a fromage frais, similar to a lightly shaped ricotta, eaten young, creamy, and spreadable. Delicious! There are also two more aged versions: One being given a couple of weeks to develop a thin rind allowing for a bit more of the goat to come through on the palate, the oldest of a month or more has a further thick and firm rind that will insure it to last a good long while; deep barnyard in the aftertaste. This latter one, which will hold up quite well to grating over fresh pasta, thinly sliced roasted pork loin, or the occasional tuna melt craving, is also perfect for travel, should a round "accidently" end up in a bag slated to return Stateside.

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

This Little Piggy...

 A quick shout out to those that helped make for another fine Pig Fest. The 4th once again found us high up in the Oakland hills on butcher/charcutier Chad Arnold's eucalyptus shaded half acre. Jon Smulewitz and many of his Dopo crew, some of whom camped over night on the ground's of River Dog Farm to get an early start at pig selection, showed their pork love in the form of the chicken-wire corseted beauty in the photo. Tables were heavy with  the "sides" that kept arriving with each guest, ranging from roasted beet salad with arugula and goat cheese, rice salad tossed with freshly mortared pesto, and zucchini paired with toasted pine nuts and currants, along with remarkable takes on the usual suspects: baked beans, cole slaw, potato salad, and deviled eggs. Angelo gets a Gold Star for waking much too early after a night spent stove side, getting some 300 soft and flaky rolls to oven so that the juicy meat would have a spot to land. Katie and Donna Collins knocked out a slew of pickles done liberally with garlic, herb, and chili. Crunchy roll stuffer's to keep the shreds of little piggy company.

 There were too many baked good's to do justice reciting here, and the wheel barrow of ice kept mystically reloading with whites, rosés, and "sparklers". Chad and his dear Francis deserve special love, as their day began long before sunrise, firing up the oak bed that brought the pig to table, continuing the hospitality well past midnight. Kids and dogs alike scurried about the property, the wood smoke a constant reminder of what was to come. Endearing were the images of the many talented Bay Area cooks assembled, glasses in hand, able to sit this one out, merely enjoying the sun, the stories, the food. Perhaps the most remarkable thing of all was that the fog abated, a true rarity for Summer here, and left the skies clear for the whistling arc of missiles, the resulting bangs, and the umbrellaed descent of color and fire. (Recipes on request.)

More Cherries... France (Spring Sessions... 2011)

 Cherries, cherries, cherries!  As Graham spoke of in the last post, when it's cherry time, it's cherry time, and I happily complied, eating my body weight in the red beauties. My attention soon turned, however, on how to save some of those juicy suckers well into the year. After thinking long and hard, and having a few chats with the ladies about Charmé, I decided to brandy them. Although coming across a couple of liters of eau de vie in our wine cave made by our dear Henri Jarjeval (now since passed nearly 6 years), signaled a slight change in plan. A remnant from making vin de noix from our walnuts, I would marry up the perfectly ripe fruit (stems on preferably) with the eau de vie, sugar, and water. I was off and running.

 First, it must be confirmed though that this was in fact eau de vie, as it was stored in old Coke bottles. (Everything is utilized in the countryside!) With the strong fumes, there was an outside chance it might have been lamp fuel or some such thing. So off I went across the way to Suzanne's, who upon being presented a bottle promptly uncorked, buried a finger, and sucked. Wiping away the tears, the fire running down her throat, she nodded conformation. Yes, eau de vie it was! Settling back in our kitchen, I went to work: mixed up the "liqueur" (sugar, water, etc.), sterilized lids and jars, placed in the cherries, and finally covered them with liquid.  Once done, it was into the cave for all, it being essential to keep the drunken lovelies out of direct sunlight for a good three weeks if not more.

 With very few ingredients, we were set for cherries long after those still on the branch would be memories. The Bing cherries could be used for both sweet (over vanilla ice cream or warm, freshly baked short bread) as well as savory (with seared off foie gras, some toasted brioche, and a pile of fluer de sel). Perhaps my favorite is with magret de canard. Score the breasts, sear skin side down, finish in the oven while warming the fruit and some of the liquid with butter. Slice them thin, napped in the sauce, a few of the cherries about the plate... Ah, just perfect! (Recipes on request.)

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