Unsalted Reprieve...

 So Katie took one look at the pitiful tone of the last post and decided to quiet my concerns of butter withdrawal. By noon there were brownies in the house! Brownies with big chunks of bitter sweet chocolate! Watching her go at the large dark block, working deftly with the 8" chef's knife, was a thing of beauty. And as with any good brownie, these were drippin', down right oozing in butter. So moist.

Sea Salt Caramels!!!

Just a few of the well dressed brownies.

 She was just getting started, for what followed was an avalanche of caramels studded in sea salt. Firm at first bite, giving way to more soft as the heat of mouth take's on the chewy mass. The sweet of sugar and the richness of the butter kept in check by the occasional find of sea salt. Ah, I'm good. Very content. Now, if I can only come up with something else that my palate has been lacking... Perhaps, my loving wife will make it. Any suggestions?                       (Recipes on Request.)

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

As Goes Rain So Goes Butter...

Buns of the Morning

 As the gray lid lifts to what has been a very wet Winter both in the San Francisco Bay Area as well as Southwestern France, it will sadly see an easing of my butter intake. Crazy talk I know, but as the season's change so does the "menu". Already the first of the slender young asparagus have surfaced, a true sign of the prime growing season to come. Tender local arugula and tiny young radish have also started to appear. Barbeques are being dusted off, and their smoke drifts over both boundary line and backyard fence.
 So, reluctantly, it may be time to tip the balance more towards the oils (olive, walnut, etc.) that are never far from reach anyway, but tend to give way to the creamy goodness of butter during time's of foul weather. It's not just the bubbling gratins, the hearty soups, or the odd soufflé that I lament. How about the seemingly endless jar of cookies, the morning buns, or croissant "just for the hell of it" that my wife has so generously produced at the first sign of a threatening sky?! Already Katie has begun the transition, the spicy air of ginger cookies in the oven hovering about.

Dried Cherry and Bitter Sweet Chocolate

  No, butter will not disappear from our table. That's just not possible, especially in the Poitou Charente, it's dairy products as good as any in France. Few evening meals begin without a plate of shaved radish, mound of salt, cube of butter, and some bread. Even in the warming months to come, the opportunity to enhance a dish with a knock of butter will exist in abundance. Tender young beets deserve a chunk stuffed into their foil pouch before roasting, fish en croute may just need a little butter as company before the sealing of parchment, and young, sweet corn... Yeah, absolutely! In fact with the promise of the Summer fruit to come, galletes are sure to follow.
 That easy and accessible bit of magic done with little more than flour and butter, gallete bridge the seasons, being as good in the Fall/Winter (with apples and pears) as they are in the Spring/Summer (apricots, peaches, berries, etc.). The one's pictured below are done with Fuji's with a bit of cognac, a couple of thyme sprigs, and a pinch of sea salt on top. Oh, and did I mention there's butter? Rest assured. As with any element of the kitchen/menu, butter is just one component. Get it fresh, purely produced, and use it thoughtfully. But... Definitely use it.
(Recipes on request.)

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

Of Eggs...

  It was on a quiet, still morning in Charmé, one spent following sweet neighbor Suzanne about her garden, aiding her with the daily chores, when she stepped away momentarily only to return reaching into the pocket of her apron handing me two small and perfect eggs. Still warm, she  encouraged me to go directly to Katie and have her prepare them. It was a scene played out many time's in our life in France, eggs of an electric yellow yoke and rich, deep flavor as reward.
 This came to mind recently when we were surprised by a generous gift from Douglas of Azalea Spring Farm near Calistoga. No better gift than one unexpected, the brown nuggets were said to be from his Heirloom Buckeye's. We went at them with little delay, Katie and I each offering the other a form of "special breakfast" (see Post: "Special Breakfast", 2.10.2011). Having had for day's a craving for dim-sum, my offering had a distinctly asian influence: Poaching and then setting them on coconut and ginger rice, with a few large shrimp, some dandelion greens sautéed quickly in chili's, garlic, and Meyer lemon. A bit of cilantro tossed about. Katie took a different route: Braising kale before folding in some Great Northern beans,

shallot, a few drops of aged balsamic, and roasted garlic. Adding ricotta cheese she'd made the day before, a crack of pepper, bit of olive oil, and some tartine finished it off nicely. We ate her dish in what has become a pattern this wet Winter, sitting warm and dry in our living room, looking out at a hard rain pounding the rooftops and Golden Gate Park beyond.
 It was several year's back when Katie, wrapped in a serious case of missing her family, talked me into an extended visit to her native Minnesota. A food writer caught wind of her cooking private dinner's, and asked if she had any thoughts on eggs. Reflective of the Charmé scene above, Katie said back then, "...my neighbor comes over with fresh, fresh eggs with the most yellow yolks you have ever seen." She went on to describe a love of  "shirring" (oeufs en cocotte) with créme fraîche and gruyére, a form of baking them rendering them luscious, creamy, and decadent. (http://www.midwesthomemag.com/media/Midwest-Home/April-2006/The-Good-Egg/)

 Funny little things are eggs. So simple, so welcome, so good.
(Recipes on request.)

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

Bottling Up Winter...

 Jarring up Winter would perhaps be more accurate. We have lived very well these past several months with many a taste of Summer coming at us by way of the extensive "canning" Katie did at the end of the growing season. As the sun softened and Autumn approached, she jarred some 65-70 pounds of heirloom tomatoes, both in whole and pureed form. Add to that the various jams, preserved whole fruits such as figs, along with more savory fair like chutneys, pickles, green beans, baby eggplants, and a variety of chili's, all making for a big dose of sunshine packed in our pantry these past gray months.


 Not one to play favorite's, Katie is doing the same in an effort to hold on to a bit of the good things that come our way during Winter. Meyer lemons, those small, bright smelling reminders of my childhood (Had a tree in our backyard when growing up.) are nearing the end of their peak, thus Katie recently put some of those away for later use with fish or roast chicken. Cara Cara oranges, juicy and sweet, were done in a marmalade with some of the Calabrian chili's that still hang in dried bunches about the kitchen. Lastly, she did grapefruit marmalade with Ruby Red's and shaved ginger. Didn't take long for us to tear open one of these, as Katie had spent the day making fresh ricotta cheese with the Dopo gang (The East Bay neighborhood mecca for hand crafted Italian food.). Toasted some baguette, spread the moist, lightly salted ricotta, added a healthy smear of the grapefruit marmalade... With a short black coffee, a damn fine breakfast.          

It's easy, especially here in California, to rely on the benefit of year round markets, not to mention World markets via ship and plane. The rub being, however, that the produce must be picked before their peak in order to travel long distance, muting the essence of fully ripened flavor. More do able than you might think this canning thing, and well worth the effort.
(Recipes on request.)

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

Cherry Blossoms... France (Spring 2011)

 Okay, maybe wishful thinking has me a bit ahead of things as Spring is still a few day's away, but when our very old Rainier cherry tree blooms the change of seasons is near. There is a clear understanding among our neighbors that if we are not present at any time during the peak of one of the several fruits that grow on the property they are to help themselves. What has happened is abundance of confitures and preserved fruit given to a us in return. Jams of apricot, blackberry, raspberry, and quince, not to mention preserved plum and cherry or chutney made with the cassis are among the bounty.
 As we make preparations for our return to France for the Spring Sessions, I look forward to those first signs of change: blossoms bursting on tree limbs, fields with the faint green fuzz of young shoots, the air  fresh and expectant in the morning. Always seemingly the first tree to mark the change is the cherry tree that sits snugly in the corner of our rose garden. Best guess has it being planted over some 40 years ago, and it still gives love in the form of it's red and yellow marbled fruit each year. Last year we missed the peak of these gifts, so our good friend and neighbor Suzanne was the beneficiary, making jam out of much of it, preserving the rest whole.
 It was this past Autumn, with a serious taste for magret de canard that the cherries found their way back to us. Having picked up some skate wing earlier in the day during a visit to the market in Cognac, we stopped by the charming artist village of Tusson on the way home at a small producer of all things duck. Remarkable is their foie gras, but with skate wing (and it's requisite butter) already planned, we kept our focus on the duck breasts. Relatively small and slender, they were butchered as we waited.
 With a fire coming to life in our large kitchen chimney, a dish of olives and nuts to ease our growing hunger, we sipped cocktails of young cognac, tonic and lemon (a regional necessity). Katie did the skate in a hot pan with some shallot and a citrus buerre blanc. By then we'd moved onto to a crisp and dry Bordeaux white (Chateau Carbonnieux '05 Blanc), eating the rich, delicate fish perhaps too quickly, using baguette to clean our plates.

 Next it was time for the magret, hitting the well heated cast iron skillet with a hiss of fatty skin. The kitchen already held the rich air of a leek and potato gratin, bubbling in cream and butter. With the skins crisp and deeply caramel in color, Katie seared the other sides before finishing the duck breasts in the oven. A bit of time to rest once out, and they were sliced (perfectly pink), and plated with the gratin. All that was left was the touch of cherries, having been warmed in a sauce fashioned from reduced pigeon stock (Call it "squab" if it sounds better!), then scattered about the plate. Went with a Volnay '05 which did not disappoint. Enough fruit to ease the richness of the duck, but with a welcome dry finish to balance Suzanne's preserved cherries. A bit embarrassed to admit we managed to tear into some gâteau chocolat, a further offering of our caring and thoughtful neighbor. Then another log on the fire... a short coffee... a cognac...
(Recipes on request.)

A Fine Meal...

 Under a tangerine sky, the last of the day slipping into the Pacific below, Katie and I recently stepped into Chez Panisse, the venerable Berkeley restaurant. We left very happy.

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

"Rock Soup"...

 For those familiar with the culinary fable "Rock Soup", a story that speaks of how a weary, hungry traveler is able to convince the inhabitants of a small village to contribute what they can spare to his offering of water and a stone, the making of soup can be easy. Little more than an onion, a bit of butter (or olive oil), and some of whatever vegetable is in season are all that's needed to create a satisfying warm pot. You can dress it up in numerous ways, but the base itself need not be complicated.

 San Francisco and the rest of the West Coast have had it relative easy this Winter compared to those further east, even going so far as to inspire firing up the grills only a couple of weeks ago. This all changed severely this past week as extensive rain swept through the Bay Area, giving way at times to hail and even some snow. A perfect time for a hardy soup or two. I couldn't resist a simple favorite of pureed cauliflower topped with a little mound of roasted golden beets. Just softened an onion in a cube of butter over medium heat, added the head of cauliflower (broken into small segments), covered with some  parchment paper, and let it "sweat"; slowly extracting the moisture of the vegetable, densifying the flavor, and making all more tender. Once soft to a pairing knife, added cool water to cover (using a chicken or vegetable stock would also work well), and simmered until the liquid came to temperature, then pureed with a hand mixer. Roasted the beets in a little butter, olive oil, salt, and pepper, while saving the green tops which were then sauteed in garlic and olive oil. When chopped and combined, the two made a nice topping for the silky white soup. A drizzle of olive oil over all, and... done.
 Soup can be made with nearly ANYTHING. Zucchini, broccoli, mushrooms, cardoons, celery root... Think it, and you can make it. Once set, a recipe can be played with by endless variations... some white wine or dry vermouth; slowly roast the vegetables first to further reduce the natural liquid, and thus intensifying the flavor; or come up with a topping to beak up the routine, etc. As to this last thought, Katie's pureed fennel soup with a crostini topped in Dungenous crab meat tossed in olive oil, lemon juice, and diced chive. In the midst of a great crab season, we use it whenever possible. (Often time's just covering the coffee table in newspaper, and tearing into the beauties!)

 A couple of day's into the storm, with hail bouncing off the roof tops that form part of our city view, Katie went all in: A hardy split pea soup with ham hock.  The result was rich and thick, chopped carrot and onion hidden about the peas, chunks of the smokey pork a treat when found. Little else to do but crack open a bottle of stout, and slice up a dry white cheddar. Soup... It is a good thing. (Recipes on request.)

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

Of Protests and Lunch... France (Fall Sessions 2010)

 

Time for lunch! 

 Late one morning during the October trip, we made our way down to Angoulême to pick up our niece Kara, a warm addition to mark the close of another fine visit in the countryside. It was her first time in France, and we were anxious to show as much as her limited time would allow. Thus, we were taken a bit back when she called saying her train had been halted on the tracks, just outside a small town I knew to not be very far away. It soon became apparent that there were people laying on the rails, an off shoot of the labor strife that France had been dealing with across the country for several weeks. We'd been relatively untouched, only one day having had to search longer than usual for a functioning gas station. As we rolled into Angoulême's tiny regional gare that day we were more amused than shocked to find not only protesters, but also helmeted, shield carrying riot police, most of whom appeared much younger than they probably were, and not happy at all to be in the present situation.
 Always firmly on the side of any people's right to freely express themselves, we did, however, have a large interest in getting Kara safely in our presence. This seemed in doubt, as an older contingent of police in plain clothes (as much as "acid washed" jeans can be called plain clothes) had shuttered the station to prevent further bodies ending up on the rails. As the stand off stretched into the second hour, a bit of cultural magic took place: lunch! The manager of the café de la gare arrived with boxes of baguettes, cheese, saucisson, wine, and water, telling all who would listen that it was after noon, and as such clearly past time for lunch. On cue, all signs and placards were put down, hands quickly filled with food. The shutters rattled up, allowing for us to slide into the station where four TGV arrived in rapid succession, bodies flowing out as seldom seen in the small space. Somehow we spotted Kara, before bumping and winding our way through the crowd to the car park. It was not lost on us that each of the police seemed to also have lengths of baguettes stuffed full with meat and cheese, evidently an offering made evenly to both sides.
 That was enough to inspire us, as we took to the old, walled part of the medieval city for sandwiches of thick sliced ham and gooey Camembert, cold draft Kronenbourg's within reach. Warmed by a shaft of Autumn sun, we sat on the cobbled side walk before the grand market structure whose glass and iron work reflect the signature of the building's designer, Gustave Eiffel (He of the "Tower" fame.). We had a good laugh over the "drama", and decided on another beer before heading off, choosing to take the "long way" home. Once free of the city, the landscape had a quieting affect, a portrait of the season: Fields being turned by farmers appeared like ground coffee in various hues, broken at intervals by "islands" of woods vibrant in leaves of turning color, all washed in a  warm light. A good thing to share.

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

"Special Breakfast"... France (Fall Sessions 2010)

 Not sure about that old "most important meal of the day" thing, but I do enjoy a good breakfast. In France, much like in the States, we keep it fairly simple: rich dark roast coffee with a bit of warm milk, whatever fresh fruits are in season, grains like a muesli or steel cut oats, and some yogurt (preferably "live culture"). Oh, there's always room for exceptions if confronted by a warm, buttery pain au chocolate, flaky chausson au pomme, or some other equally difficult to pass up boulangerie offering. Depending on where we are in the world, a steaming basket of dim-sum, a hot bowl of noodles, or maybe (considering what went on the night before) it's a large batch of menudo that's needed.

 One cold morning at the end of October, Katie surprised me with a "special breakfast", so named for a tradition by our sister-in-law Sarah signifying a change from the norm for her brood of three little one's. In this case it was to mark another year of my life, and thus I was treated to veal sausage with morrel mushrooms we'd bought the day before from a very good charcutier in Cognac set upon a bed of braised escarole, the last of our dear neighbor Suzanne's grape tomatoes which Kate had roasted, all topped with a poached egg (kindly contributed from Suzanne's chickens). Some tartine to soak up the bright golden, runny yolk, and I was set. Sitting by a popping fire, there was little else needed to make me happier.

 By mid-morning the sun had well warmed the yard, and it was time to get busy pruning the roses,  cleaning flower beds, and cropping down the lavender. The sound of a tractor making it's way up from the village gave me reason to pause, as it's customary to give a wave to any friend/neighbor who passes. The sight of Monsieur Ives, a remorque brimming in log cut oak, was a welcome sight. With unseasonably cold weather expected for the coming week along with guest arrivals, we'd made a request of the village's go to guy for firewood. Charming and vibrant at 70-something, he'd suggested a "step" (about a cord) of old wood for the Fall, and a couple more of younger to cure for next Spring. He and I made short work of it, stacking the lengths at a fevered pace, me determined to not to be outdone by Ives who worked comme vingt ans (as if still twenty!); a country phrase that never fails to make me smile. The only regret was that it was no where near the noon church bells, and thus difficult to justify a pre-lunch Ricard. He announced one more delivery promised before the mid-day break, and straddled the purring '64 tractor, offering me an approving nod to it's American make. With that he was gone, and I reached for the shears. (Recipes on request.)

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

Rainy Sunday...

 Few things are better than waking to the smell of bread baking. There was a heavy rain hammering the old industrial sky light atop our place in San Francisco when I pushed out of the sheets Sunday to find Katie in full baking mode. The kitchen table was covered in chewy Ginger Squares, and she was just pulling out three loaves of baggette rustique. Not normally one to follow recipes (a must in baking), she doesn't bake often. But, with rain meant to last the day, out came the ideas along with the flour. The bread still hot, confiture d'abricot (made from our little apricot tree in Charmé), butter, and a steaming bowl of coffee with milk... Ah. Happy Sunday!
 A close second to oven fresh bread: tartine. A long length of bread dotted in butter, broiled golden, then put together with... Well, with whatever you like. In my case this Monday a.m., it was a creamy St André and some of Kate's preserved fig which she'd "put up" at the end of August for just this reason. A taste of Summer on a cold, foggy Winter's morning.

 P.S
  Those wax paper packages under glass are some of the Ginger Squares, tied up for "delivery" to friends. (Recipes on request.)

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