Quand le chat n'est pas là...

(image courtesy of fanpop.com)

... les souris dansent.  Or as we say en anglais, When the cat's away, the mice will play.

The Ex-Ex is off with the other school administrators plotting out the school year.  They went to the coast for a couple of days.  Son #2 is here with me for the week, but even he disappeared to see Son #1 when I announced (24 hours notice) that I was having three friends over for dinner.  Two of the friends,  Iron Woman (the former Ms. Sunshine-- I can change names if I want... it's my blog) and Arles Lucy, are former teachers of his and the third, the BFF, is one of his best friend's mom.  He wouldn't have had to hang out downstairs with us, just put in an appearance to say hi, but he opted for hanging out with his brother.  Go figure.

The BFF had announced that she was in need of a Sabbatical Chef dinner-- (French) Southern Comfort Food and some girl time.  So, invites were sent out to the other two and the dinner party was on.  An emergency menu-planning meeting was called -- Foster's Market here in Durham was chosen and over a glass (or two) of lovely white Bordeaux

a shopping list was drawn up.  It has been a tough summer for the BFF, losing her brother to cancer, and for Arles Lucy, losing her house to a Texas-sized tree limb.  Iron Woman finished her little race in Kona, Hawaii with a medal, and I am still riding high on my teaching award.  So, a little party, some good food and wine, and plenty of laughter is just the thing, n'est-ce pas?  Just the girls, celebrating the good and the bad.  No ugly allowed.

I started the day with a shopping trip to Harris Teeter, where I ran into Iron Woman, mouth numb from a trip to the dentist.  She then ran into Arles Lucy at Wine Authorities.  They stocked up on Picpoul de Pinet and rosé, specifically Vénus de Pinchinat from (adorable) Alain de Welle of Domaine Pinchinat.

(I served as Alain's translator one Saturday at WA.  Quite a thrill for me!  I was paid in wine!!)

Iron Woman arrived early to help, bearing two loaves of still-warm-from-the-oven bread.  (See recipe below)

She also brought along Tigger, feeling that I had unjustly maligned him in one of my latest blog posts.

I let him stay.  I was afraid if I kicked him out she would leave, too.  Couldn't chance that.  She is an excellent sous-chef, peeler, chopper, and dishwasher.

The other girls arrived and we had a lovely, much needed evening.  We ate, we drank, we laughed, and just generally enjoyed each other's company.  That, my friends, is what makes a meal memorable.  Not necessarily the where or the what, but the who.

(If you click on the names of the recipes, it will take you to the blogpost where they are found.)

We ate tapenade à la Fanny (I think she would have been proud)--

(I made it in the KitchenAid mini food processor that Son #1 gave me for Christmas.  Worked like a charm!)

tarte aux tomates--

salade de chèvre chaud--

gratin dauphinois-- (I cannot find a photo of it!  Imagine thinly sliced potatoes cooked in cream and baked with gruyère cheese in a garlic-rubbed baking dish...)

haricots verts au persillade--

Iron Woman's bread with Irish salted butter--

I had Brie and St. André cheeses, but no one wanted to risk not having room for... dessert.

However, I had to provide just a bit of comic relief before the dessert course, of course.  I had stashed the potatoes and tomato tart leftovers in the oven since counter space was now non-existent.  But... I forgot about them and turned on the oven to preheat it to bake the tarte tatin.  Until I smelled a strange (awful) odor--

This is what happens to a spatula with a plastic handle if you leave it in a 350˚F oven...

I started to throw it out, but Arles Lucy convinced me to keep it as either an objet d'art or a reminder to always check the oven before you turn it on.

Comedy over, we proceeded to have our dessert.  The BFF is very proficient at this recipe and she also has a pan and glass dish exactly the proper size.  She fell in love with this when she visited me in Arles in 2007.

Tarte tatin--

It was a lovely evening.

Iron Woman brought her bread recipes.  She is thoughtful like that.  I am going to post the knotted one pictured above.

Garden Herb Bread

from Taste of Home  www.tasteofhome.com

makes one loaf

4 to 4-1/2 cups all-purpose flour

3 tablespoons sugar

2 packages (1/4 ounce each) active dry yeast

1-1/2 teaspoons salt

1-1/2 teaspoons dried marjoram

3/4 teaspoon dried thyme

3/4 teaspoon dried rosemary, crushed

3/4 cup milk

1/2 cup water

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon butter, divided

1 egg, beaten

Additional dried marjoram, thyme, and rosemary, optional

In a bowl, combine 1-1/2 cups flour, sugar, yeast, salt, marjoram, thyme, and rosemary.  In a saucepan over low heat, heat milk, water and 1/4 cup butter to 120˚-130˚.  Pour over the dry ingredients.  Add egg and blend well.  Beat on medium speed for 3 minutes.  Add enough remaining flour to form a soft dough.  Turn onto a floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, about 6-8 minutes.  Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease top.  Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 30 minutes.  Punch dough down.  Divide into three equal portions.  Shape each into a 28-inch rope.  Braid ropes; pinch ends to seal.  Tie braid into a knot.  Place on a greased baking sheet.  Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes.  Bake at 375˚F for 30-35 minutes or until golden brown; cover with foil during the last 15 minutes to prevent overbrowning.  Melt remaining butter; brush over bread.  Sprinkle with additional herbs if desired.  Remove from pan and cool on a wire rack.

Bon appétit, mes amies! Je vous aime.  Bisous!

Joe Moylan, A Good Man

This week, the world lost a genuinely good man.  This man had a huge impact on the world around me. We go way back, to my first years teaching at DA, when his children were students at Durham Academy.  Most recently, he and I spent many sunny afternoons watching high school baseball, cheering for the team, my son, and his grandson.  He lived close to our upper school and he and his wife, Ann Carole, were often in the stands, cheering on our teams even when kids and grandkids weren't out there.  And, fittingly it seems, that's where he spent his final afternoon.  He had a "heart episode" while watching our lacrosse team play in the state play-offs.  The Ex-Ex helped his wife get him in the golf cart and up to the training room so that a parent who happens to be a cardiologist could take a look at him until the ambulance arrived to take him to Duke Hospital.  Everyone seemed to think that he would be fine and be able to attend many more games.  However, it seems that God needed him more than we do.  And that is hard to believe.
Dr. Moylan and his wife raised six children.  He was a Duke professor of surgery, chief of trauma services, and instrumental in the development of Duke's Life Flight program.  He and his wife left Durham for three years, but returned and had an even greater impact on our community.  He founded the Durham Nativity School, a tuition-free middle school for 33 inner city boys, grades 6-8.  As a matter of fact, according to the Durham Herald-Sun newspaper, Dr. Moylan visited "his boys" on the day he died.  Several of them were in attendance at our middle school end-of-the-year dance last night.  We always invite them and they show up dressed to impress.  These young men must wear a shirt, tie, and khakis every day.
I have volunteered at the Nativity School a couple of times in the past.  One time, the BFF and I went there to cook with the boys.  We made crêpes and tarte tatin.   At the last minute, I decided to bring along some whipping cream.  At their age, I didn't know about anything except Cool Whip.  I had no idea you could take liquid and make yummy fluffy stuff out of it.  I thought they would get a kick of that.  And they did, much to my delight.

According to one of his sons, Dr. Moylan carried a handwritten note in his wallet.  The note is a quote from Edmund Beck, a 20th century German Roman Catholic theologian.

5 Theological Truths

• Life is hard.
• You will die.
• In the big picture, you are not important.
• You are not in control.
• Life is not about you, it's about everyone else. 

That's today's recipe, friends.   The world would be a better place if we all carried these wise words around in our wallets and read them everyday, attempting to live our lives and help others the way Dr. Moylan did, without any fanfare and because we genuinely care about everyone else. 

We will all miss you, Joe.  May you rest in peace.

Bon appétit to all.

The perfect tarte tatin?

Perfection is not something I strive for in my life.  When I am feeling stressed and need to just get through a project or meet a deadline, my motto tends to be "Done is better than perfect."  I do like to do things well, though, and usually try to do my best.
"An Evening with the Sabbatical Chef" made its debut last night.  It might not have been perfect, but it was as close as it comes.  Back in the fall, I was asked to offer a Provençale dinner as part of our faculty/staff on-line auction at Durham Academy.  I was nervous, but said yes to a couple of very persuasive volunteers.  The parents of a former student of mine offered their kitchen and I agreed.  The woman who is our associate director of development was the high bidder.  We set a date and I just didn't think much about it for a couple of months.  Too many other things to check off my list... midterm exams, the holidays, the 7th grade class trip to Washington, DC, my 8th grade trip to France, the spring meeting for the NC chapter of the American Association of Teachers of French... and then the date was upon me.
While in Arles, I bought a tin of my favorite olive oil from Mas des Barres near Les Baux de Provence and some lavender honey from Sophie, one of the artisans we took clients to visit when I worked with Chef Érick.  I thought they might come in handy.  I started putting together a menu, seeking advice from friends, some who are trained chefs, some who just love to cook as much as I do.  (Are the French just born knowing what goes well together- se marier bien - or is it just early training??   Goat cheese with just a teardrop of lavender honey on top for the salade de chèvre chaud, to quote one French friend's recipe.)  I decided to keep it simple, a wise decision on my part, since I am not a chef.  The BFF (pictured above) volunteered to be my assistant.  We shopped, tied on our aprons, and set to chopping lots of garlic.

We had planned to make an amuse-bouche of shrimp and aoïli but decided not to at the last minute.  Our hostess had already bought olives and French cornichons, little pickles. 

 

We served the salade de chèvre chaud first.  It was accompanied by Provence rosé and white wines from Wine Authorities.

We then decided to serve the tomates à la provençale separately, as the second course, although we had originally planned to serve them with the main dish.  The lamb was still roasting and we needed to buy a little time.

The lamb, stuffed with anchovies and slivers of garlic, came out perfectly pink.  We served Gratin Dauphinois and Haricots verts au persillade with the lamb.  We had a Provence red to accompany this, as well as two Bordeaux reds donated by another parent.

Our hostess picked out lovely cheeses- a camembert, roquefort and gruyère. 

The BFF has the perfect pan to make Tarte Tatin.  She is also very, very fond of this dessert!  She ate the last piece...

She visited me both summers I was working in Arles and we made it with clients while she was there.  We have made it several times since my return, but I think that last night was the best.  She does look proud, doesn't she?  We served it with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream and a dessert wine named Loupiac, also from WA.  I enjoyed a little glass of it with our guests.

At the end of the evening, our hostess' husband washed up and we packed up and went home.  It was such fun!

Tarte Tatin

5-6 apples, peeled, cored, quartered and uniformly sliced (Pink Lady apples are the best to use)
1/4 c. mild olive oil
1/2 cup sugar (or enough to cover the oil)
Pie dough of choice- home-made, a pâte brisée or flaky pastry)

Preheat the oven to 350F.
Pour the olive oil into the bottom of a non-stick skillet that can go into the oven.  Spread it around, completely covering the bottom.  (You may need more depending on the size of your pan.)  Sprinkle the sugar evenly over the oil.  Arrange the apple slices attractively in the skillet, in a rounded pattern with the flat side down.  Cover the oil and sugar completely, overlapping the slices a bit.  Place on medium flame and let simmer until the sugar begins to caramelize (about 20 minutes).  Do not stir.
Remove from heat and lay the pastry on top of the apples.
Bake until the pastry dough has browned nicely, about 30 minutes.  Remove from the oven and cover with a cake plate the size of or a bit larger than your skillet.  Carefully invert the tart onto the plate.  If necessary, use a heat-proof spatula to help get all the good caramel in the skillet on the fruit or to scrape out any apples that may have stuck to the pan.
Let cool a few minutes before cutting.  Serve plain, with vanilla ice cream or with whipped cream.

Bon appétit to all my helpers! I could not have done this without you...