Repas CG: The Aftermath... September 23

 As we're committed to focusing the next repas around the remarkable wood fired oven in the backyard of friends, we slid one more meal into the cottage. A chance to enjoy the flowers and foliage before autumn, at least what we in northern California refer to as autumn, sets in. More than a little surprised that the heat of our "indian summer" has yet to arrive, the high clouds and hazy light had me prep logs in case a fire might be needed later in the afternoon. Mocking my preparation, the sun blinked out to stay as I made my way back from clipping young fennel fronds from a nearby park for some color on the table.
 Guests trickled in, each dealing graciously with the focused attention of Honey, who approached them like they were rock stars. Such indulgence probably should not be encouraged, but the wagging tale, soft pats of tiny paws, and shaking rumba-booty swayed most to give a caress or three. New faces and old introduced themselves, invariably gravitating to the kitchen to give Katie some love. With the smell of butter and pastry filling the room seats were taken. On an airy base of mille feuille, Katie set varied slices of Heirloom tomatoes in red, gold, purple, and green. Fromage fraise, France's answer to ricotta cheese which Katie had made earlier in the morning, was then added along with fresh herb. On the day after Summer, the light and fresh tart bore the essence of the season just past. A search for fruit to balance the acidity of the tomatoes, yet a brightness for the butter and cheese, led me down Bordeaux way to a Sauvignon Blanc/Semillon blend. The Romage family can rest easy as the they have passed operations to the able hands of daughter Estelle. (Chateau Lestille, Entre-Deux-Mer, 2011)

 Butter in the air gave way to roasting fish. In preparation, Katie had slow roasted halved Early Girls, pulling some of the moister but intensifying the earth and sweetness. She did the same for small whole shallot, caramelizing and softening the flavor. Just before setting filets of halibut  atop these for the oven she did what I've come to love: She changed her mind. So beautiful was the fish, she used only the tomatoes and a bit of salt, adding a fresh sprig of thyme and drizzle of olive oil once plated. The result was hard to argue. To keep it clean and simple, a white burgundy was chosen from Côte Châlonnaise (Montagny). (Buissonnair, Les Vignerons de Buxy, 2010)

 Cooked herbs spoke of the pork. Katie'd chosen her roasts small, then tied them up before rubbing on chopped parley, marjoram, chive, mint, lemon zest, garlic, and chili. About half way through the process she added whole garlic cloves and small purple Italian plums, both finishing tender but keeping their shape. It was here that she chose to include the shallots, tucking them in with the others beside the thinly sliced meat, along with a mound of dressed arugula. A dark and earthy Gamay from the foot of Mt. Brouilly got the call, the granite soil pleasingly apparent. (Domaine de Vissoux, Brouilly, Pierre-Marie Chermette, "Pierreux", 2009) Missing "home" Katie found a chabichou de Poitou, a goat cheese from our region of France that was aged to a firm texture, a deep flavor. She added to it something she made the mistake of tasting, rendering her unable to pass even though it was from Holland! The pumpkin orange gouda was also firm, yet tender due to the cows milk. Wanting spice and fruit, I poured a Syrah and Mourvèdre blend which offered many layers in the glass. On top of that, how can you not love a wine made by an old rugby player?! (Gérard Bertrand, Saint Chinian, Languedoc-Roussillon, 2009)
 Dessert came as a result of a craving that resulted in fleur de sel caramels and pain d'amande, the wafer thin crisp of almond cookie. Mission figs joined them on the plate as coffee and some Remi Landier cognac were passed around. Butter, sugar, and salt are a tough combo to pass up, so it was no wonder that hands found their way into the large glass cookie jar Katie presented when guests departed. Just in case...

 For some strange reason, she and I looped back to savory. The idea of a let's-postpone-the-dishes glass, turned into cold pork and tomatoes, washed down by icy Stella's. We let the failing tea-lights tell us when to move, which they did thankfully quite a long while later.

Chez Gautier Cooking School: http://www.chez-gautier.com

Bye Summer...

So simple... Sweet & dry vermouth with lemon.

 While we wait for that last blast of heat representing the Bay Area's true Summer, it's hard not to be aware of the coming Autumn: the sun dropping closer to the horizon, mornings more cool, leaves changing in various stages of color even though never a rival to New England's. It's been good, though, this transition from the City to the East Bay. Yes, I still miss the rumblings of the passing street cars, the evening moan of fog horns, not to mention dim-sum, pho, and our favorite coffee roasting guy all within a few blocks. But, we've done okay.
 As has been mentioned, having the sun pop out each day just after breakfast doesn't stink. To be within a short stroll of Monterey Seafood, The Cheese Board, The Local butcher shop, Monterey Market, etc. makes filling bellies and senses very easy. The fog leaches in, but does so after sundown allowing for lunches in the garden, evening cocktails in the last of the warm light. Ah, yes, and to be able to barbecue! What a concept!!! About this time last year, we had some old friends in from Hawaii who I took up to the roof, our normal grilling spot. It was a short visit. Neither the intense shock of green just beyond the roof line that was Golden Gate Park nor the tales of seeing the Faralon Islands on a clear day could keep them.

Rockfish over kale and fennel.

 So, while our unwavering love for the City takes us often over the Bay Bridge, it is with gratitude that we have enjoyed these past few months across the bay. If it's time for Fall, fair enough. We'll eat the last round of tomatoes from the garden, steal a trip or two over for rays at Stinson, and set the weathered table in the courtyard for as many meals as will allow. Then...
 Already Katie's lamenting the lack of a good hard rain. (How quickly they forget!) But, the last of the neighbor's figs are dropping over the fence, the persimmons on the tree are approaching color, and a cord of oak and almond wood stands ready for the fire. No, not the same as waiting for the pop and chug of Jean Ive's tractor to climb up out of the village to our place in Charmé, but Alfredo made fine work in placing the truck load of hard wood perfectly at our gate. (A little too perfectly for Katie's liking, as she was less than keen for the stacking process, having just finished an hour work out with the ladies.)

The offending pile!

 With guests having to defer to the Spring from what had been a scheduled Fall Session in France, we had looked forward to just playing about the house there, no tug of responsibility. We didn't count on, however, the crush of work (If you can call meals, markets, and wine work.) filling in here the void left from our change in schedule there. Not possible to convey the emptiness of missing friends, neighbors, and the land, we will instead savor our return to the Charente early next year, while warming our cottage with a crackling fireplace, and filling our table with food and good people to share it with.

Repas CG: The Aftermath... August 26

If it feels good... Last Sunday's repas found us back at our cottage in North Berkeley. Felt so good the first time, it was an easy choice. That thing called the sun was out again, a revelation from our vitamin D deprived previous lives spent in the Inner Sunset across the Bay. Guests gathered, exchanged greeting and intros, lingering a bit longer in conversation than usual perhaps to keep me company as I got the fire going early. Had to be ready for the "big fish".

 Eventually we settled in, letting the seared scallops get us started, sealed with a slight golden crust, moist and medium rare inside. Katie's concern over using a pea purée somewhat late in the season faded away, the sweetness still very much there, a fine balance to the acid of her lemon oil. A silky Vouvray from Domaine des Aubuisières, Cuvée de Silex(Bernard Fouquet) fit in well, the 100% Chenin Blanc full, yet balanced in fruit to minerality. While I snuck out to bank the coals and scrape the grill, Katie continued, setting the mussels in white wine to "pop" then adding shaved fennel. Before we sat to share in the steaming bowls, we set the whole salmon on a bed of sliced onion and lemon, a buffer between the whitened wood fire and king salmon. Ambition, no doubt, had us with a fish reminiscent of the Scheider line in Jaws, "I think we need a bigger boat." A bit of tail and snout peeking over the lip of the b-b-q proved of no concern, well tied and stuffed with thyme, dill, mint, lemon, and onion, it was cooking evenly when we turned the beauty. Back table side, the mussels were small and sweet, the fennel still with a slight crunch. The round of crusty sourdough tartine Katie had hidden in the bottom of the bowls proved a nice surprise, soaking up all the juices and wine. Wanting something brighter and a slightly more dry, a Macon-Villages(Domaine Fichet, Maçon-Villages, Terroir de Birgy) was chosen, clean on the palate, crisp with soft citrus, not distracting from the shellfish.

 With a flip and a prayer, we moved the salmon from grill to platter, letting it "rest" while clearing. The salmon falling from bone made for a plating uncomplicated: fish with a drizzle of olive oil, summer squash gratin, a couple of lemon slices. The herbs... the smoke... the lemon, had to go to Burgundy for this, an Alain Burgeut offering (Les Pince Vin, Gevrey Chambertin): Soft in tannins, good structure, fruit not overwhelming the fish. Three cheese of very different textures/flavors (Poitou de Chabichou, a classic young crottin from our home region; a firm Gouda-style cheese; a crazy triple cream something-or-other that had me licking my plate!) led me to a wine from Fitou, a rather obscure southern spot in the Languedoc-Roussillon. Juicy, but not too heavy coming off the Pinot Noir, it offered smoke, fig, and anise in a bridge to the three cheeses.
 As the meal was light all around, Katie wanted to do the same for the "sweeties": an ice cream of peaches roasted in cognac, served with ginger cookies. Playing off the deeply caramelized fruit, pulled out a bottle of Jules Gautret (Jonzac, Petite Champagne), floral, honied, some soft caramel.  Coffee made a couple of rounds, the conversations showing no signs of slowing. When eventually we all made our way out to the drive way, the sun was still clear and warm. Not surprisingly, we found it easy to splash a bit more into our glasses, savoring the afternoon for a bit before tackling the dishes.

Chez Gautier Cooking School: http://www.chez-gautier.com