In the past, summer days for children were not organized by adults. They were idle days, which is to say, kids were free to figure out what the world offered. The world was the lake, woods, house, porch, or the distance you could cover on foot or bike.
Occasionally someone would get the idea to collect the kids to pick berries. Everyone was given a bucket and shepherded to wherever an adult thought they remembered finding good berries in previous summers. The berries always seemed plentiful. I don’t have a memory of it being difficult to fill a good sized, gallon container, including eating as many as you picked.
Continue reading Berry fool »
The first strawberries of the season showed up at the downtown farmers market yesterday. It’s a gorgeous little market and the produce has an incomparable vibrancy; you can feel things growing. I came across greens, leeks, lovely herbs including sorrel. I found white asparagus that proved to be amazingly sweet. Then I found strawberries and was .... suspicious. There weren’t that many and I asked the woman where they grew. She said she grew them in Sherwood, and tented the plants to encourage them. “Can I taste one,” I asked; I’ll buy them no matter.” “Please” she said, indicating I should help myself. Lovely perfume of strawberries that made me think of the strawberries at the markets in France.
Continue reading Strawberry risotto - the season begins »
CHEESECAKE IN THE STYLE OF NIORT
This cheesecake was the most discussed pastry in the small town where I take students to train in France. The dessert stood out for a number of reasons; it was light, it was flavorful and unique; and no one could figure out how the pastry chef did it. When I was first introduced to it at table, my host said: “You could eat the whole thing..” That was unusual coming from people who looked smart, ate well, dressed and lived with style. I had never heard that sort of remark about any other food. So the conclusion to be drawn is that this cake is light.
Continue reading Cheesecake made with goat cheese »
ROBERT REYNOLDS CHEF STUDIO
advanced culinary education in support of local agriculture
ROBERT REYNOLDS is revving up for another series of comprehensive, tailored cooking courses at the Chef Studio. The Eight-Week Diploma course is for the serious cook, regardless of professional ambition or avocational interest. It is a thorough course of study in French and Italian cooking that teacher, chef and author, Robert Reynolds has offered to students of all ages and backgrounds for over 20 years in France and in the U.S. Reynolds designed the 8-week course as an alternative to longer and more expensive programs of training. This Diploma course equips participants with the skills they need to stand out from mainstream culinary students.
Continue reading New Options for Chef Studio Diploma Course »
It takes an enormous focus to live in a foreign country; at the end of the day you can be exhausted. At the end of a week you really want to sleep in. We drifted through the day today. The fact that we went to the market at Nerac had nothing to do with ‘work.’ Nerac is the site of one of Henri IV’s chateaux. Henri, famous for his dictum of a chicken in every pot, has become our favorite king. He’s ours. Signs note that Henri once rode his horses on these roads we follow to market on the small streets of Nerac and in the shadow of what remains of his chateau and stables.
Continue reading Making French food speak flawless ‘Americaine’ »
JOSEPHINE AND GENOISE
I used to love to watch Josephine make genoise at the restaurant. She was certified at the Cordon Bleu as a Chef patissiere as well as Chef de Cuisine, a singular achievement in the 1920’s. She would beat the eggs and sugar for her cake in a large bowl over hot water to get them to swell. Then she would fold in the flour carefully. It would go into the oven and bake light and flavorful. When I asked her about beating the eggs in the Kitchenaid, she explained that the movement of the whip in the machine made a small uniform bubble. When she beat the eggs and sugar by hand she had long irregular bubbles. When each was then baked, the results were different. The hand beaten one, with larger bubble, rose differently, and had a different, lighter, less dense, texture. She described the experience of the hand beaten one as ‘plus agreable.’ It made me understand that the agreeability, the final effect, is something sought, something attainable, within the control f the cook. It was a good lesson - look, aim high, keep control, be disciplined, go for your best.
Continue reading Jelly roll with fig jam & oranges with mint »
FROM: AN EXCUSE TO BE TOGETHER, by Robert Reynolds
The frog is still in the swimming pool but he has stopped croaking. Six people are standing around the edge of the pool watching it drain, or not drain, depending on whose voice you hear. The frog is hiding. He has to be wondering what all the fuss is about, and why the water is disappearing. At lunch every eventuality that could go wrong when draining the pool was discussed. Since the possibilities were without end and some were anxiety provoking, everyone at the table seemed to find comfort in the risotto with asparagus I’d prepared.
Continue reading Asparagus risotto »
So there they were; local asparagus from Sherwood at the Saturday market. Six bundles of them; four were finger thick, two were pencil sized. I would have taken the pencil sized ones except there weren’t enough for the 12 people I was cooking for.
I lined up the four bundles, moving them like chess pieces closer to me. I reached into my pocket for money, and wouldn’t you know, someone came along, eyed my (as in mine) nicely arranged asparagus, and started to make a move on them. “No,” I began, “these are mine. Those over there are available to you.” We laughed and discussed the merits of thin versus not thin asparagus.
Continue reading The first asparagus (and their stalks) »
When I’m in Provence my friend’s mother prepares fat white asparagus and arranges a generous amount of them on a large platter. One time when she set them on the table, I put some on my plate and said, “Since I’m in Provence, I would like olive oil for my asparagus, please.” Her daughter, who is my good friend, reached to the center of the table where three bottles of local olive oil rested. But before she could ask which olive oil I wanted, I beat her to it, “I want the one from Nyons.” I knew it was her mother’s favorite. Her smile revealed how the intimacy of small gestures repeated over years of being together heightens emotions. “I’d also like the salt mill, please.”
Continue reading Celebrating Asparagus »
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