A Little Easter Love...

 Easter began early, a bit too early for the side of me that craves a good lie-in on Sunday mornings. We had promised to join friend George before the weekend crowds filled the trails, on a hike up Mt. Tam. The sun eased the fatigue, and gave comfort no doubt to the large group doing the holiday run across the Golden Gate. We somehow managed to get a word (if only briefly) to our dear Suzanne in Charmé, wishing her a "Bon Paque", Katie excitedly trying to convey the description of the sun, the bay, Alcatraz...
 Snaked our way up trails left green from recent Spring rains, the stream beds echo of falling water staying with us until high up in the manzanita. Not lost were the few turkey buzzards which kept pace with our ascent, seemingly waiting for a waver in our resolve. We watered on top, the Bay giving way to the Pacific, the thicket of redwoods that was Muir woods tucked just the other side of Stinson,  a turn in the far coast marking Point Reyes, the City looking much too small. Our recent addition of little mop-head mix rescue puppy took seamlessly to the change from kennel to hillside. Once down, we made up for the lack of breakfast with margaritas, shrimp tacos, and crab enchiladas in Mill Valley.

 A nap was not far off, and a short, yet hard sleep very appreciated before the afternoon meal at Jon and Kayta's. Increasing clouds had them shift the tables in from under the massive oak out back, running instead through their Glenview District Craftsman. With an ease that we've come to expect from them, they offered platters of deep pink lamb chops, grilled young asparagus, and a lamb stock rissoto turned light green by a purée of mint, chive, and parsley. A trio of cheeses, tossed greens, and red wines in abundance left for little room, but I still managed to sneak in a few of Katie's citrus shortbread cookies with just a bit of cognac.
 As their little ones were put down for sleep, and even the energetic dogs showed a slowing in their play, it was time to head back to the City. So content at the long day's end, even the absence of a single chocolate egg couldn't shake the satisfaction.

http://www.chez-gautier.com

"Where do you guys like to eat out?"

 The one question put that comes up often: "Where do guys like to eat out?" It's generally followed by a soft exhale, a little toe scrape of the ground, maybe even the always welcome time-buyer, "Pardon?" It's an awkward question if only because he and I eat at home. ALOT! I almost feel bad except... that I don't. Being out, working in food several nights a week, leaves us craving the quiet and ease of our own kitchen table.

 Oh sure, when we throw off the fatigue, and get dolled up for a nibble out, maybe a bit of jazz, we invariably end up wondering why we don't do it more often. Fortunate to live in a wonderland of talented chefs, remarkable butchers, bountiful markets, a wealth of seafood... The list  is long, and could go longer. So when we do make it out, albeit rarely, it's for something we can't overlook: The steak tartar and icy martinis bar side at Bix, carnitas and hand made tortillas at LA Palma in the Mission, large steaming bowls of phô  at Loi's in the Inner Sunset or Turtle Tower in the Loin, the cleanest of clean Chinese from Irving Street's San Tung, or maybe just the best burger in town with a cold one from it's next door neighbor. (Sorry, keeping this one a secret. As much as a place can be secret that only serves burgers one day a week. Hint: Tuesday.)
 So, when free from commitment, it's off early to a local market, a stop by our favorite wine guy (Hey David!), a coin toss between seafood (Fish!.... Monterey Seafood) or meat (Avadano's or our local guy, Bobby), and then... simply share it all with friends.

http://www.chez-gautier.com

Repas CG: The Aftermath... February 19

 Despite the long holiday weekend, and the Bay Bridge closed for construction, we settled into a meal featuring some tried and true French "classics" last Sunday. Big doses of thanks to all who joined in, especially those that trekked over from the City on BART; the bridge be damned! Café 817 proved home for the day, the charming spot in Old Oakland owned by the talented duo of Scott and Emily Goldenberg; until recently fixtures at the Zuni Café. Once the storage room for Ratto's Market (Est. 1897) next door, 817 has maintained the old (chipped subway tiles, wood molding, and ample ceiling) without sacrificing the new (iron support beams, cast cement bar, and blown glass pendants).

Stealing a stove side bight.

 A warm sun and nearly empty streets allowed for the doors to be open for a pleasant breeze to flow. Katie wasted little time in plating the onion soup, gruyère bubbling at the bowl mouth. With the beef broth rich and onions sweet, a hint of cognac drizzled just before crouton and cheese hit the broiler, a Vatan Sancerre was poured; walking the line between clean acidity and distinct minerality, just a hint of flint. For the goat cheese soufflé that followed, a mound of roasted golden beets tossed in champagne vinaigrette included to tease the mouth, a Picpoul de Pinet from Languedoc was needed. Known as the "lip stinger" for it's bright acidity, it rounded out nicely,  the citrus finish seemingly softened by the Mediterranean air. From this light perch, it was then time for the deep, dark flavors of the boeuf bourguignon, braised with pearl onions, wild mushrooms, and carrots, served over  pommes purée; cream and butter present, to be sure. Tempted by a few options from Burgundy, it was a Mourchon Grand Resérve from Séguret (southern Rhône Valley) that proved true. Fat and full of dark fruit, tannins subtly present, it was Grenache driven with enough Syrah to keep it interesting. With Kate's choice of an intense Reblochon to accompany the tossed arugula, a Morgan by Laurent Guillet was opened, the cooked cherry and brighter acidity offered ample balance to the cheese.
 In the failing light, with the strings of white holiday lights that wrap the trees of Washington Street having come into focus, the smell of sugar and butter announced the tarte tatins coming from the oven; a bit of whipped cream soon added. As coffee and cognac followed, a calm took easy hold of the room. Content to let the herb and apricot of the medium weight Park Borderies (Single Vineyard) play about my mouth, acting as if the room would clean itself (It never does!), we spoke of it's origins, the smallest of cognacs six growing segments. Ben Webster was blowing a soft sax accompanied by strings, when we reluctantly began our goodbyes.


http://www.chez-gautier.com

No Fair: Snowballs out of reach!

 Winter has been hard to Europe, very hard in some areas. For our little pocket in the Charente, however, it's been pure joy. Known to get a day or two of light snow every other year or so, they have been hit with the white, and quite a bit of it. Several inches blanketed our village recently, with cold temperatures to keep it around for several day's of play.
 Snow men mark property lines, and snow ball fights ("Les batailles de boule de neige.") gladly have broken the measured routine of the non-growing season. Only one problem as Katie and I see it: We're not there! Not meant to be back until Spring, we've listened with envy to the stories of silent nights of snowfall, fireplaces heaped with extra logs, and the sneak attacks of neighbor-on-neighbor snowball fights. Ah, how good the cognac must taste when brought to cold face...

http://www.chez-gautier.com

Repas CG: The Aftermath... January 29

 With a soft Winter sun lighting the normally gray Avenues of the Inner Sunset, we sat to enjoy a bit of duck weekend before last. Tucked into a side street just beside Golden Gate Park, the Everybody Bikes + Art Gallery was our home for the afternoon; an eclectic mix of art and bicycles created by Michael Penza, who also owns the bustling bike shop around the corner on Irving. With a rack of the two wheeled beauties running the length of one wall and the canvas of fashion photographer/film maker Daniel O'Neill set upon the other, tables stretched out before a wall of old windows rimmed in Christmas tree lights, the conversation bouncing from stained cement floors to the soaring ceiling above.
 Duck was the focus, but shared the stage. As guests assembled, Katie pulled hot gougieres from the oven in welcome, little puffs of pastry rich with gruyère. She then proceeded with a fennel soup prurée topped in crab meat, a tartine smeared with a blood orange butter for dipping. An Aligoté from Bruno Clavelier, cool and "minerally", was used to pair. Next began the duck, as a salad of endive, escarole, and radicchio was tossed in a warm wild honied vinaigrette, to which was added tender sautéed duck livers along with crispy, salty strips of lardon. With this was poured a Cabernet Franc from Phillipe and George Vatan of Chateau du Hureau. The "Tuffe", named for the local limestone of Saumur-Champigny in which the vines grow, was more rich and round than it's Loire Valley brethren of Chinon to better handle the livers, but finished with distinct tannins as not to overwhelm with fruit.

Then it was time to get serious as confit cuisse de canard were plated with a gratin of cauliflower, a bit of lightly tossed pepper cress littered about the plate to ease the richness of the dish. In an effort to finesse the succulent, fall-off-the-bone duck, a Mercury 1er Cru from Patrick Size was needed. New blood in an old growing family. The product: elegance in the glass. Tossed wild arugula came next, along with a trio of cow's milk cheeses: a firm Morbier,  a sharp and pungent Camembert, and a bright and salty Vendéen Bichoné. Opened some Santenay by Domaine Jessiaume for this, full yet floral with just a hint of annis; added depth to handle the varying flavors of the cheese. For desert, Katie went subtle on the sugar in the form of a goat cheese pot de crême, topped by a few strands of candied grapefruit. Having said that, she did slide onto the plates some layered cookies of caramel, chocolate, and shortbread, in honor of a good friend's beloved Brittany.
 With dusk settling, muting the warmth of the brick building that had filled our view across the way, candles and track lights filled the room. Coffees were served, cognac poured; a Gilles Gautret, old school in deep , rich caramel, a hint of smoke. Too soon it was time to head on, another afternoon well spent.

Duck Laden Afternoon... France (Fall Sessions 2011)

 Going over menu ideas for the January duck repas, Katie and I found ourselves reliving a lunch we'd had on a misty afternoon in a sleepy enclave just northeast of Barbezieux. Sliding through a series of low hills and subsequent hollows, we'd been tipped off by acquaintances who'd generously given up one of their favorite "neighborhood" gems. Quite a neighborhood it is with two bio (organic) farms, a spot that focuses on small pigs and geese, another that does foie gras, and lastly the Auberge des Grands Aulnais where duck is served in many a remarkable way.

 Despite very clear directions, it was not easy to find as the landscape kept nearly all of the concerns mentioned tucked subtly away from each other; around a bend, behind a knoll, down a lane. It was only when happening upon the farm producing foie gras that we took a shot at a driveway set opposite that led us to the auberge. Greeted by an old pooch roused from sleep, we slid into the nearly empty restaurant; a pleasant byproduct of a late, mid-week lunch. The simple decor of plastic tables covered in oil clothes seemed perfect as the rain increased it's pace, and us with nothing to do but eat the preferred meat of the house.

 Glasses of pineau arrived, the port-like blend of eau-de-vie and young red wine reminding us that we had no where to be. A terrine of zucchini soup soon followed, puréed smooth, helping to keep the damp from settling upon us. As a piché of simple Bordeaux was set on the table so were sautéed duck livers and gizzards served with lightly tossed lettuces, the former plump and tender, the latter with a subtle crisping about the edges. A few slices of smoked duck breast along with a chunk of rillette were slipped onto the plate for good measure. Decadent, with no argument from us. With drops leaving large circles on the pond beyond the windows of our table, Isabelle, the cook and owner, kindly allowed us stove side as she finished off Katie's confit cuisse de canard and my magret au poivre. Warm and calm, the kitchen a reflection of those that used it. 

 Again seated, Katie's duck leg slow cooked in it's own fat until falling off the bone, was tender and succulent. We traded bites, as my á point duck breast with green pepper corn sauce proved the equal to her dish. Both came with potatoes fried in duck fat, of course!!! Cheese followed, more red was poured, and the rain continued. Somehow we managed to share a slice of apple tart, not able to say no to the morning's efforts. Coffee yes, cognac no; hard to do, but necessary with a drive home still to come. 

 As we stepped out into the fresh of the rain soaked afternoon, we were treated to a few bands of warm sunshine. They stayed with us for a stroll about the frontage of the small lake, and for most of the drive back to Charmé. Coming over a rise just the other side of Montigné, a bit of roadway still to cover before home, the horizon was inked in black; streaks of lightening implying little good. We somehow slid below it's menacing presence, the first ping of hail hitting the car's rooftop as we hustled inside the house. The iron wood burner caught on the first match, and the cognac passed over at lunch seemed right to lift  the chill present before the fire warmed the room. Images by Robert Hass kept my attention while Katie turned to a collection of the Times crosswords. The field turned white with the falling ice, and we were home.

http://www.chez-gautier.com

Repas CG: The Aftermath... November 20

 To distract from the turkey hangover many are suffering, I'll offer a tale of three rabbits. (Or, at least, rabbit served three ways.) For the last repas before the New Year, on a day of soft and steady rain, we turned to an old friend for a warm, dry space. Dopo, home to artisanal Italian magic, opened their "home" to us and our merry band of rabbit eaters. The wet weather actually enhanced the intimacy, the way it can when the weather is cold and damp and you've escaped to a room with candles lit, the table full, and aromas pouring from the kitchen.

  Eggs en coucotte, done with chantrelles, rabbit livers, cognac, and tarragon,  was paired with a Rhône blend of Grenache Blanc,  Rousanne, and Bourboulenc. The wine proved bright and clean to handle the egg, but with fruit round enough to keep up with the livers and mushrooms. For Katie's rabbit rillette, salad of Bosc pear and radicchio, and walnut tartine, it was a Chinon (Cabernet Franc); a wine bearing depth to match the richness of the shredded meat without a lingering fruit to overwhelm the pear. Turned to Sebastian Gay's Chorey-Les-Beaune for the rabbit braised in mustard, sweet onions, and prunes; a true pleasure with it's initial bright fruit and subsequent clean finish. Lastly, for dressed arugula as well as a runny Camembert and bold Blue, went with a luscious Côtes De Nuits-Village from another very talented young wine maker, Veronique Drouhin. As the walnut cake with persimmon crême anglais settled, and the press pots were readied of our neighborhood roaster's coffee, the cognac arrived: a light and floral Maison Park, the fine marriage of the Tessendier family's old vine eau-de-vie and Dominic Park's contemporary approach (organic, no caramelized additives, etc.).

 Time now to settle in to what we hope for all will be a satisfying Holiday season. May you be safe and contented. We'll resurface in January focused on duck to begin the New Year. Until then...

http://www.chez-gautier.com

Market Day in Rouillac... France (Fall Sessions... 2011)

Open air markets dot the French countryside, but few are able to shut down a whole town. The Foire de Rouillac, held each month on the 27th day, is just such a market. A mixture of community, commerce, and just a hint of chaos, the vendors and their stalls line streets and alleys, parks and parking lots. Nearly every element of life in France is represented or on sale. Not only are there butchers, fish mongers, and sellers of produce seasonal to the time, but also available are an array of live animals to stock or restock a property: dozens of types of fowl, several varieties of rabbit, more chicken breeds than thought existed, dogs, goats, even donkeys. That is just the beginning. Tables of local artisans are loaded with cheeses, breads, wine, olives, numerous types of saucisson, and jambon cru. Snaking through the narrow streets there are hawkers of knives, kitchenwares, aprons, housecoats, socks, underwear, leather goods, music, and oil clothes for the table. If you need some chairs caned? Done. Looking to buy any type of garden/farming tool, right down to a tractor? Done. It is a true celebration of country life in it's most simple and humble form.

 Arriving in the early morning with guests who had trained down from Paris the previous afternoon (A few days well spent acclimating to the jet lag.), we dove right in. A light meal of roasted quail, and a good night's rest, and they were more than game. After initially making the rounds together, some then broke off to adventure on their own. For a few hours we wandered and explored,  stopping to collect things that would be used the next day spent playing in the kitchen. We eventually reconvened at a designated café, driven by the smells of food in the air: a wall of rotisserie chickens roasting above a fire of hard wood, grills covered in different types of sausage, fresh water eel tossed in an enormous pan with garlic, olive oil, herbs, and lemon. It was time to eat!

 We slid into the waiting arms of Auberge de Fin Bois, where we had reserved spots in the dinning room striped in long communal tables. Never known to before, they did not disappoint. A soup of roasted pumpkin and chestnuts got us started, and was followed by filets of salmon in tomato, capers, and white wine. Next came a succulent pork cheek braised in red Bordeaux until it fell apart to the fork, set upon lentils to add an earthy richness. Salad and cheese of course followed, a runny cow's milk version from a farm a few villages away proved to be my favorite of the five or so offered. Nervous laughter passed across the table, and perhaps a belt notch or two was loosened, when the pear tartes started to arrive. We wisely passed on cognac with coffee, the heat of the afternoon along with full bellies calling out for the cool water of the pool waiting for us back home.

http://www.chez-gautier.com

Autumn Turns Up The Heat... France(Fall Sessions 2011)

 Couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy for leaving a remarkable indian summer in San Francisco. The fog had eased, the sun emerged, and temperatures began to climb. Still, there was something comforting about September in France, the soft light, temperate days, and evenings that would allow for a log or two on the fire. Then... somebody turned up the dial.

Neuvicq-le Château

 The Monday morning of our last group began oddly warm, and wouldn't stop there. By mid-morning it was in the 70's, and would consistently hover about 90 degrees for the entire week. So, you get lemons... With a full group, we'd chosen well the large Maison de Maître in a hamlet a short walk from Neuvicq-le-Château. Bearing all the necessary amenities (i.e. a private pétanque court), the most appreciated aspect was the VERY LARGE SWIMMING POOL!!! An afternoon dip, a cold beer or a sip of rosé, followed by a nap proved refreshing, and set us up for the evening aperitifs and dinner that would follow.
 Gone were the deep braises of the first week, and the rich reds that went with them. The reds chosen were more light, there was of course an array of whites, and the subtlety of really well made rosé was introduced. (It helped to have laid in some crisp and dry offerings from Bordeaux and the Loire, along with a slightly more round version by local vintner Roland Vilneau made from merlot grapes.) The group was a blast, and easily took to the warm weather, with two guests even committing to daily afternoon "blood matches" on the badminton court.
 Having thought that we'd left indian summer in the Bay Area, we were pleased to have found that it had followed us to the Charente.

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

                                                                                

Repas CG: The Aftermath... October 23

 A warm dry day found us at the top of the Oakland Hills (technically Berkeley via the Postal Code) at Lynn and Dave's stunning nugget nestled just below Grizzly Peak. Draped in the green of pines and native growth, the quiet canyon spilled down to the Bay peaking out from a lingering marine layer. The large table was well sat with some new faces and others familiar.

Small Hens and Chestnuts

 "Little birds" were well represented, and the wines seemed to work as well. A Vouvray offered enough fruit to match the foie gras, but allowed also for a bright side that didn't hold down the butternut squash soup. Went with a Burgundy from Volnay for the quail with fig compote , round and even to match both. Did a Vaqueyras for the hens, chestnuts and pannade without regret; spicey, rich, with a good weight. Even slid in a Corbiéres (a generous addition from friend Sean) with the greens and the three cheeses selected, the syrah and mourvédre blend continuing with a light spice what the Vaqueyras had begun. We were very happy to have brought some of the countryside back for the meal: the foie gras from a farm in a nearby village, fig compote which Katie had done when the indian summer made for heavy branches, and even the chestnuts found during a day of foraging with Suzanne.
 With the last of the dishes put away, the breeze spilling in from the open balcony doors still holding a hint of the day's heat, we sipped a last cognac (Jules Gautret, Jarnac) with our hosts. The quiet of the newly emptied space offered a contrast to the hum of conversation and laughter that had carried us through the afternoon. Tempted to speak of the rabbits which will be our focus for November, I deferred to my wife's well earned fatigue. It was a good time to just sit with smiles and thanks to all those who joined us.

http://www.chez-gautier.com