A talented and passionate chef we know has long stated that he eats lamb only once a year. It is done in the spring, when lamb is young and tender, and eaten in abundance; the memory there to remain for the full calendar cycle. So beautiful a thought, it has been one easily adopted. This past Sunday's
repas was our occasion to embrace spring lamb, in this case in the form of delicate little chops. Tending to the fire we'd use for grilling later, allowed for catching guests as they entered the gate. Clustering in the garden has become a sort of welcoming ritual, greetings to the old and introductions to the new, Honey sliding in and out between legs seeking a hand to lick. There was some back in forth about what we'd managed to get in the ground before our upcoming return to France, as the early plantings(raddish, spinach, chard, etc.) give way to tomatoes: Black Krims, Striped Williams, Early Girls, and
Jaune Flammes.
Settling in, we had the benefit of extra hands in the form of talented young cook Laine(Italian trained in Piedmonte), along with our nephew Jordan, whose 12 hour surgical rotations probably looked pretty good after we had him in the role of serving and clearing. True to the season, Katie had radish, butter, salt, and bread waiting on the table, soon followed by plates of slender young asparagus, her fresh
fromage fraiche, and Meyer lemon oil. Simple as it gets, and primed for a cold, bright white found in a Minervois blend of Grenche Blanc, Viogner, Muscat, and Marsanne. Pork soon hit the air, as the "cakes" of pig trotters that had been poached earlier in herbs, bay leaves, coriander seeds, and black peppercorns hit hot skillets. Even with a little cubed potato added, the richness of the dish made welcome the dressed water cress and fava beans. Old vine Grenache from Vaqueyras was poured, as is the habit accompanied by a bit of Syrah and Mourvedre for depth.
In a flurry of smoke and tongs, lamb chops had their brief time atop the grill, care taken to ensure deep pink centers. Potatoes roasted in sea salt and cracked black pepper joined the plate, and fresh mint, thyme, parsley, and lemon zest set in olive oil was liberally spooned about. Unable to pass up delicate pea tendrils found at the morning's market, they too were grilled quickly, then tossed in a vinaigrette before joining the plate; smokey and warm, but still holding a nice crunchy bite. A Saint Joseph, 100% Syrah, provided the firm hand to handle the meat. So much so that I was reluctant to move on to a cru Beaujolais chosen for the cheese, yet...
Turns out the wine most asked about was in fact the last. Never doubt the power of a good beaujolais. Great vintage('09), fine region(Morgon), and a talented producer made for wine with a lot going on. Some triple cream here, a wedge of goat there, both oozing from being brought to room temp... Had to be reminded to put the coffee on. While up, opened a bottle of Park
Borderies, a "single vineyard" cognac I've really come to enjoy. That said, our upcoming time in France will allow for me to replenish, as the long winter has found my cupboard wanting. Time to visit some cherished neighbors. But, not before strawberry and rhubarb compote was to be eaten,
crème anglais pooling about the top, sugar topped butter cookies at the ready for dredging. As we fell into chairs out in the cool of afternoon shade, thought I heard Katie say something about wanting to do rabbit for the next go round. Somehow sounded good, full belly and all.
Chez Gautier Cooking School: http://www.chez-gautier.com
In a flurry of smoke and tongs, lamb chops had their brief time atop the grill, care taken to ensure deep pink centers. Potatoes roasted in sea salt and cracked black pepper joined the plate, and fresh mint, thyme, parsley, and lemon zest set in olive oil was liberally spooned about. Unable to pass up delicate pea tendrils found at the morning's market, they too were grilled quickly, then tossed in a vinaigrette before joining the plate; smokey and warm, but still holding a nice crunchy bite. A Saint Joseph, 100% Syrah, provided the firm hand to handle the meat. So much so that I was reluctant to move on to a cru Beaujolais chosen for the cheese, yet...
