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.

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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.

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RepasCG: The Aftermath... August 28

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 As with remarkable travels, great meals must end in order to begin preparations for the next one. Very large thanks to those who took part, embracing the communal table with shared stories, laughter, and good spirit. The deep fog of Mill Valley's morning gave way to warm, sun filled blue skies for the afternoon meal, a suitable way to show off the effort and love put into the garden location by our host, friend George. Add to this that the food was pretty decent, allowed for smiles to come easy as Katie and I sat sipping a last glass of a soft red Burgundy from Pierre Morey's Monthelie holdings, which we'd used to pair with the pot au feu.
 Now, we set our sites towards a return to France with guests set soon to arrive for the Fall Sessions there. We'll try before leaving to get the word out on the next repas, wavering between rabbit or "little" birds. Good meals, may they always just keep coming.

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)

Birds, Cherries, and a Radio... France (Spring Sessions 2011)

 About the time that Suzanne's cherry tree was going off with deep red fruit, ours being still a few weeks away, a rhythm set in. As my morning's in Charmé tend to begin at daybreak, unable to stay in the sheets with birdsong and the distant echo of roosters signaling the possibilities, I'd find myself outside with a bowl of café au lait trying to gauge the day. At 6:00 straight up I'd hear the muffled clap of shutters opening from over at Suzanne's property, go to greet her, at which point she'd hand me the secret ally in her defense against hungry birds: a transistor radio.

Suzanne and the prized branch.

 This I would place in a high saddle of limbs, set preferably with some music that included an accordion, then stand there gorging on cherries. With the directive clear, "If you don't eat them the birds will!", I would eat more than I thought I could. Probably, more than I should have. Inevitably another neighbor would happen by to join in, my favorite for style points was Antoine who'd climb from his tractor cab using the large tires to get the high branch's. Then it was time to continue on with the morning, and accept that the birds would have their turn. Whether it be a mole or rabbit in the kitchen garden, or birds in the fruit trees, the animals will always have their share. Plantings are made a bit larger with this in mind.
 Radios, old cd's dangling by fishing line, and the odd netting here and there are meant to merely slow them down a bit. Only seldom does an extreme technique enter into the fray, as when Suzanne had Katie climb up to remove one especially laden branch that she would save for her brother Jean Claude, not expected to arrive for a visit from Normandy for a few more days. He got his cherries, and we were to treated to clafoutis.

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

Fog Free...

Sitting in our San Francisco place, the deep milk of fog having come back with a vengeance over night, we are smiling at having snuck over to Stinson Beach the last two hot and perfectly clear days. In a city prone to gray during Summer months, must grab them when able! Upon returning, Katie grilled up some rib eye's, set them on beet and turnip greens sautéed in garlic and lemon, roasted some small turnips in balsamic, and threw a minted chimichurri on top. With the heat still present, cheated with a rosé of pinot noir with enough dirt in it to work with the beef. (Recipes on request.)

http://www.chez-gautier.com