Robin Ellis's Blog, page 8
May 24, 2018
Asparagus Frittata–a re-run…
Here is the recipe (re-published) for in-season asparagus as requested on Facebook.
The lovely green spears were in Realmont market today at reasonable prices.
I bought a kilo of straight ones for Friday dinner with our guests, arriving from the USA.
A second of less than perfect (less expensive too) specimens–asperges tordues (twisted)–to make this very simple frittata for lunch.
I have five eggs left in the pantry and a red onion. Add some cheese and seasoning–and there you have the ingredients!
Something different to do with this vegetable with a relatively short-lived season and a use for the cheaper spears with the less than perfect appearance.
250gms/8oz asparagus spears–prepared weight–ie tough ends removed and sliced on the diagonal into smallish pieces
1 red onion–peeled and halved and sliced
3 tbs olive oil
5 eggs–beaten
2oz grated parmesan cheese
salt and pepper
Serves 2 to 4 people
Soften the onion in the olive oil until it begins to caramelize a little–10 to 15 minutes
Add the asparagus pieces and mix in adding some salt and a twist or two of pepper.
Cook the mix over a gentle heat until the asparagus begins to soften. I like them to retain a little bite–about 10 minutes.
Let this cool.
Then ease into the beaten egg mix.
Fold in the cheese and check the seasoning.
Heat a tablespoon of oil in a 81/2 inch pan to hot–and fold in the egg mix and spread it evenly.
You can use a 10″ pan of course but the frittata will be thinner.
Immediately turn the heat down to the lowest and cook for 30 minutes.
There should be just a small pool of liquid left on top.
Finish it under a grill for 30 seconds.
Be careful taking the pan out of the oven–it is very hot, as I was reminded when the pan touched the side of my hand by accident–ouch!
Loosen the frittata round the edges of the pan with a fish slice or spatula and ease it out onto a favorite platter.
“High on the DING scale!” said Meredith.
May 13, 2018
Broadly beans
Our neighbor and friend, Joan, dropped by this week with a bag of broad beans (also known as fava beans)–a big bag.
The chore with broad beans is that they have to be shelled before you cook them.
And often de-podded too.
As they mature the outer skin becomes tough and the true delicate taste is missed.
Handy to have guests around in the broad bean season.
“Anything I can do?”
“Well funny you should mention it…”
If you are lucky and have a generous neighbor with green fingers, you could, like us, be gifted with beans so fresh and young that they only require shelling not de-podding too.
Joan is doubly generous; the beans she gave us were picked that day, fully-shelled and ready to cook.
Joan and Meredith went walking round the lake this morning and the beans came up–so to speak.
How was I proposing to cook them?
Joan is eating vegan at the moment, so a favorite way chez nous–broad beans with shallot and bacon–is not possible chez elle.
For lunch today I forgot about the bacon and gently softened a shallot in a tablespoon of olive oil.
Then added 8oz of the ready-to-cook beans*, two tablespoons of water, some fresh mint leaves and salt. I covered the pan and cooked the beans to just tender–about 10 minutes**. I added a little more water along the way, but not too much–as the delicate taste risks being dissipated.
You could–if you are not eating vegan–crumble some feta over the cooking beans, which melts nicely into the water to form a little sauce.
But watch out that the feta doesn’t make the bean too salty.
Thank you, Joan!
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Our doubly seasonal lunch included these asparagus roasted with flakes of pecorino and olive oil
*I cooked the beans from the freezer where I had stored them in 8oz baggies, immediately on receiving them. Straight into the pan on a gentle heat.
** Since the beans today were coming from the freezer, they took a bit longer to cook. If you’re working with fresh, it’s more like 7-8 minutes–but you need to watch over them and test.
May 12, 2018
Turtle doves…
I am sitting in the courtyard and two turtle doves are–well–courting–in morse code.
It is perfectly still with a suggestion of a spring breeze–quite sharp.
Ne’er cast a clout ’til May be out…
DOT DOT DOT (OVERHEAD)––Dot dot dot (is the answer a little futher off).
Now the dots are fading–a meeting perhaps, behind the church!
I’ve been waiting for the “cuckoo morse”–longer and softer as a call.
At last–yesterday afternoon–there it was–a brief, but unmistakeable COO-coooo.
A sign that things are moving on.
There are others.
Our neighbor–farmer Pierre, passed earlier on his tractor.
He’s been busy.
Some of his fields are showing garlic, looking proud–about six weeks to harvest.
Others are pale green with wheat and barley–shifting in the breeze.
Into this patchwork of greens and looking out of place are empty fields of brown–finely tilled–waiting to show….
My guess is sunflowers.
Last week the markets were struggling to offer anything new–but today, it changed.
Small artichokes tightly packed and bunched in fours, peas and broad beans have joined the upstanding green and white asparagus.
It is a relief to see some action.
Dill, tarragon and chives joining the parsley this week and large spring onions.
I have been busy too; making Vignarole–a vegetarian spring speciality in Roman trattorias.
The same artichokes, peas, broad beans and spring onions with a shredded lettuce.
The preparation is labour intensive–but the cooking is the simplest imaginable.
The eating as I remember is sublime.
We’ll see if it gets the DING from Meredith ce soir.
April 27, 2018
First bow drawn–and the building speaks!
“What are you going to do with the church?”
Yesterday we received a strong hint from the building herself.
Our friend, Lowrie Blake (who runs cello workshops around here in summer) came over and drew the bow of her beautiful cello across its strings– and a magical sound resulted!
It was a thrilling and significant moment in the restoration de l’église.
It pointed the way forward as the notes of Bach’s Minuets 1 and 2 and the Sarabande from the Suite in G major filled the space–and sent shivers down our backs and brought a tear to the eye.
As Lowri played Bach excerpts, one could almost feel the church
E X P A N D with pride.
Lowri said she was impressed; playing was no effort–she floated on an acoustic cloud.
In some places, she says, it is an effort to play–not in this church.
Woodwind and strings, she suggests, are ideal combos–quintets and quartets.
“How long, oh Lord, how long have I had to wait to be appreciated!”
The battered, old building has offered its services to the small parish since it was constructed 150 years ago–built to accommodate the growing population of believers.
There were benches inside to seat well over 60 “adepts” (followers)–more like a hundred–many of them now at rest in the cemetery.
On All Saints/Toussaint (November First) there is still a trickle who come to pay respects to their ancestors and some who remember the church from their childhood–but this congregation has dwindled.
When we arrived in July 1990, the church was still functioning for funerals and two masses a year.
A few years later it was closed on the order of the Mairie of Lautrec (who owned the building).
“Trop dangereux! Too dangerous a state to remain in operation.”
There has been movement in some walls but clearly our church had no intention of yielding to the storms and the tempests, high winds and torrential rains or the dire predictions of a temporal power.
I’m still here, she cries, and the doubters can go hang!
April 23, 2018
Puy lentil salad with cucumber, avocado and red onion
When’s lunch?
Left-over lentils aka Puy–too good to waste! What to do? How to employ?
Salad! Served with broccoli frittata (with leftover broccoli) for lunch today.
These beautiful little grey-green lentils are already dressed with olive oil and red wine vinegar from dinner Saturday–and tasty as is–but might welcome additions.
Cucumber, red onion and avocado beckon.
The mint is showing–and I’ve some already chopped parsley.
SO…
Left-over Puy lentils with Cucumber, Avocado and Red Onion Salad
left-over (cooked!) lentils
1 small red onion–finely sliced
1 ripe avocado–diced
1 small cucumber–peeled, quartered lengthwise, seeds removed and diced
parsley and mint–chopped
salt (to taste)
Pick a pretty bowl and park the lentils.
Add the onion, cucumber and avocado and herbs. Carefully turn everything over.
Sprinkle over a little more red-wine vinegar lentils, olive oil and salt before turning it all over one more time.
It got a firm M.A.—Meredith Approved!
April 19, 2018
And So Ends Stage One: the Renovation of our Newly-Acquired Church
The tomb of St. Martin in Tours was rediscovered on December 14, 1860–which encouraged a revival of popular devotion to St. Martin.
Our church–named for St. Martin–was built at this time.
Jean-Luc and his son Gregor are here to complete the first tranche of work on “our” church—the cleaning out and making safe–after it had been abandoned for over 15 years.
Seems a good moment for a spring cleaning, with Spring bursting out everywhere.
The work on the overgrown trees and hedge surrounding the church is beginning to pay off.
The hawthorns or “May Trees”–carefully planted with ten meters gaps long ago–are breathing easier than they have for years.
I’m waiting for the pretty white blossoms of the hawthorn to show. Not a pleasant fragrance, as I recall from childhood, but a beautiful sight–and sure sign that the seasons have changed.
“Ne’er cast a clout ‘til May be out”–a trope oft-repeated in our household when I was growing up in the ‘fifties.
Never knew whether it meant–Don’t leave off warm winter clothes until June OR keep wrapped up until the May trees/hawthorns are blooming.
Jean-Luc and Gregor are an impressive team.
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Spot Jean-Luc and Gregor high up on the scaffolding!
They carry an air of competence and savoir-faire–they what they’re doing.
It’s reassuring.
Today they are removing the bulbous excretions of plastic filling that oozed from the large cracks inside and outside the walls of the eastern side chapel as they were treated.
I’m reminded of the cake fillings my mother used to bind her sponge layers.
She’d spread the gorgeous coffee-flavored cream on the bottom sponge–thick–and press down the second layer on top.
Then run the spreading knife ’round the circumference–collecting a good dollop of the crunchy, sugary mix for a patient “sous chef” beside her to relish.
The plastic is not so tempting.
Left to dry out thoroughly it’s judged ready to be prettied up.
The chapel in question was in a perilous state and looked as though it could collapse in a trice.
Here it is in the BEFORE state:
The confessional stall on the right was set into the wall–surely a factor in the weakening it.
The men gingerly removed it.
The ground was settling there–making sense as the leaning wall–but why is still unclear.
Jean-Luc went to work–tying in the three walls and filling in the gaps.
AFTER:
The sandstone used in the 1860s to construct the church was hacked from the cliffs nearby–an inexpensive option.
The church is built on rock (appropriate!)–but with scant foundations.
A miracule it has stayed standing!
Saint Martin himself may have had a hand in it–legend has him as a worker of miracles.
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Here is one of the best-preserved murals in the church. St. Martin is tied to a post in winter, giving his executioners pause by summoning Spring!
Another mural depicts him standing in the path of a tree being felled–and legend has it that the tree miraculously missed him.
Keeping his church from toppling seems small beer in comparison.
The remedial work involved removing the heavy plaster vaulted ceiling in the transept where it was pulling away from its wooden roof. Had it fallen it might have brought “all the king’s men” down with it.
A shame to lose the stunning blue ceiling in the side chapel, but an unavoidable step.
The roof is the next step–and for that we wait for more reliable weather.
Meanwhile our head cat, Beau, is supervising the works:
April 7, 2018
Green to red please!
Summer shot of Castres market
Our parking fairy is feeling generous this morning.
I am handed poll position–a hop and a skip from the fountain at the interesting end of Castres Market–to start my marketing.
The vent d’autan is strong–this is the warm wind from the east that can drive you mad when it lasts for days.
The stalls look strangely impermanent without their parasoles and the stallholders, embattled–showing a dogged determination to be of good cheer.
In fact the shoppers are compliant–keen not to robbed of the chance to celebrate a good week or put a less good one behind you with friends at one of the five cafés surrounding Place Jean Jaures.
It is 10:15am and the market has been up and running since 7am.
In the summer I’m here by 7:30 to grab the choicest tomatoes, peppers, aubergines and other summer delights brought in by local growers and picked just the night before.
I’m slower at the moment–finding it hard to get motivated when the changing season–winter to spring–is not showing on the vegetable stands.
A couple of sparsely stocked stalls selling asparagus–white and green–are the only sign that the year is on the move.
A weariness with winter vegetables is affecting me–same old cabbages, same old broccoli.
Much as I love them–love eating and cooking them, I’m ready for a change of color.
I wasn’t proud of myself yesterday buying eight tomatoes “on the vine” ho! ho!–but red, red, red.
(Halved, seasoned, dribbled with olive oil and a little balsamic vinegar, oven at 200c for 45 minutes and hey presto, it’s summer!)
Green to red please and get a move on.
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I rest my case!
April 2, 2018
So many birds…
Birds to the right and birds to the left; birds behind and birds at the front.
Birds in the attic–our hawks are back, preparing the nest for youngsters.
So many birds–hurrying, hurrying, this way and that, mostly in search of food.
Meredith keeps the bird table full and the window sills stocked with sunflower seeds and crushed madeleines.
When a cat starts paying attention at the back of the house, the flock of finches, tits, robins, wagtails, nuthatches and sparrows switch to the front and continue teasing our well-fed four-leggers.
I spied a cheeky red squirrel who’d got wind there were “pickin’s for all”, braving the courtyard and rummaging under window in the growing pile of sunflower seed husks.
There are occasional casualties. Not surprisingly–we have five cats.
“Gifts” are left in a regular spot in the courtyard.
This morning’s offering–a pitch black mole.
We have never seen so many finches–all sorts.
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A charm of goldfinches
A new variety this year–the HAWFINCH–is not so charming.
A large beaked bruiser twice the size of the goldfinch and three times the delicate little green finch–my favorite.
These giants of the finch family see off smaller cousins and fight among themselves, creating a flutter of finches just above the table or windowsill as approaching birds are forced to hover and engage before finding space to land.
It has been a difficult winter for birds–for us too.
Dank, damp and cold.
“We haven’t eaten outside as much this winter,” Meredith said yesterday, as the guests arrived for Easter lunch.
The first of April and too cold even to have a drink in the courtyard; but the leafing out is happening and there’s a buzzing of bees in the box elder…
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There’s always one! Box elder’s fine but who could resist a freshly opened Tulip.
Spring never fails to bring a thrill of anticipation–the metaphor begins.
First of all, renewal…
March 21, 2018
All hail, Jane Brody! A Hallelujah moment for me!
Jane Brody is one of the foremost writers on food and health in the USA. (She has been writing for The New York Times for 52 years!)
Recently she wrote about her own food journey–how she tackled her own problems with excess weight.
When I read this piece–whose conclusions exactly echo my own–what I have written about in my cookbooks ands blog
over the past eight years it was a
Hallelujah!
moment for me!
From The New York Times:
Jane Brody’s Personal Secrets to Lasting Weight Loss
By JANE E. BRODY MARCH 5, 201
When The New York Times hired me to write about science and health 52 years ago, I was 40 pounds overweight. I’d spent the previous three years watching my weight rise as I hopped from one diet to the next in a futile attempt to shed the pounds most recently gained.
No amount of exercise, and I did plenty of it, could compensate for how much I ate when I abandoned the latest weight loss scheme. I had become a living example of the adage: A diet is something one goes on to go off.
Even daylong fasting failed me. When I finally ate supper, I couldn’t stop eating until I fell asleep, and sometimes awoke the next morning with partly chewed food in my mouth. I had dieted myself into a binge-eating disorder, and that really scared me. Clearly, something had to change.
I finally regained control when I stopped dieting..……I made a plan to eat three nutritious, satisfying meals every day with one small snack, which helped me overcome the temptation to binge in response to deprivation.
Much to my surprise, a month later I had lost 10 pounds — eating! Eating good food, that is, and plenty of it. I continued the regimen without difficulty because it was not a diet. It was a way to live and a healthy one at that. And I continued to lose, about two pounds a month….
March 12, 2018
Spring?
Ben has a “spring” in his step this morning–he can’t contain it!
He’s been out in the sun and has caught the mood. There is change in the air.
A stillness that is palpable; a blue sky and birdsong.
I’d say his enthusiasm is a little premature, if he’s thinking Spring is sprung.
Not quite, Ben–though the bird is on the wing.
The deciduous trees in the meadow behind the house are still leafless–but their branch patterns make an agreeable filigree to contemplate from the warm comfort of my snug at breakfast time.
But he’s right that it’s good to be alive, which is what he seems to be saying with his frolicking .
And there are signs….
The bitter almond tree at the end of the garden is full of blossom, as are its fellows all the way to Lautrec.
One moment they are bare; and the next, it seems, there is blossom.
Such is the miracle.
The clutch of daffodils at the entrance to the garden are in no doubt.
We spotted three heifers in the pasture yesterday, where we haven’t seen a cow for months–sent by mum, perhaps, to check the length of the grass for grazing.
No cows today–grass ain’t riz yet, Ma.
For those a bit puzzled…
Spring has sprung,
The grass has riz,
I wonder where the birdie is?
They say the bird is on the wing,
But that’s absurd.
The wing is on the bird!
Dad used to show off by speaking this with a Brooklyn accent.
…they say the “boyd” is on the wing,
But that’s “absoyd”.
The wing is on the “boyd”!
