Friends and Fromage

The "real" world is calling me, not softly, but in a loud, ever-so-impatient voice. I just spent two (more) days sitting in front of my computer with St. Karl working on my school moodle site. I wish I knew how to best describe what moodle is. Let's see, it will be a place where my students can get their assignments, add notes or thoughts from class and see the cool stuff that I hope I will be able to remember how to post there! So, I've worked on it for a total of six days this summer and I think I am ready to allow access to it to my students. Or at least I will be on August 24, the day before classes start.
The best part of the two days was not the computer, though, or the cool websites I found. It was being in a room with my amazing colleagues who also gave up two of their last days of summer vacation to moodle. But they are not just my colleagues. They are my friends. I am very, very lucky to work with such a funny, talented group of teachers. Yolanda, one of my Arles 6 gang, was there making me laugh and calling me back to look at a video of Arles she found at Discovery Learning. She and Mary were sitting together on the back row (hmmm... troublemakers in the back??) and I gave them a lavender sachet to sniff for relaxation purposes. Mary gave me a new book to read-- The Tenth Muse: My Life in Food by Judith Jones, the woman who was responsible for publishing Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. By the way-- Happy Birthday, Julia!! I have started the book and love it! Jamie and Claire, new teachers, were there, but quiet (it's hard to get a word in edgewise with some of us around). Virginia was behind me. She and I go way back. I taught her when she was in the middle school. I still have flashcards that she made. She still clips out "France in the News" articles and leaves them in my mailbox. I really need to give her extra credit! I am so proud of her. She taught my son, Grant, fifth grade history a few years back. Senor Glass sat next to me and we helped each other. He helped me the most... he has been moodling for a couple of years now. He brought me fresh figs from his tree and shared recipes from his Facebook page. Thanks for friending me, senor. (Sorry, I can't figure out how to actually put that tilde thing on top of the n. French accents are about all I can handle!) I ate most of the figs yesterday but used the leftover ones today to make a fig-honey-goat cheese spread. (Not as good as Dave's from Elodie Farms, but he was sold out by the time I got to him this morning.) Marian was in attendance. Yes, we "old dogs" can learn new tricks, Marian! Wanda and Michele were there (go, FL teachers!!), sitting in the corner but being very good and brave in the face of all this technology. Timmy was there-- his site is already amazing. He and I have taught together for 29 years and he is one of the funniest, most creative people I know. I am sure I am leaving some people out, but my brain is tired from two days' worth of work. Pauvre moi. Marianne and Sophie were hanging out but not in the lab. It was fun to see them. Sophie is Marianne's daughter and she will be a student at DA this year!! Very exciting! All in all, we worked, but we also caught up with each other. We talked about our kids, a shower we are hosting for two colleages who are having babies soon, our parents, our weeks at the beach, recipes, our gardens, etc.
Another colleague, Betsy, brought me tomatoes from her garden yesterday so I invited her over to sample my tomato tart. That's the recipe that I included in this week's article in the Durham Herald-Sun newspaper about my adventures in cooking for the Wine Authorites guys (http://heraldsun.southernheadlines.com/features/54-1191393.cfm?). On the very day it came out (August 12), I was sitting in the waiting room at Michael Jordan Nissan while my car was being worked on. A lady next to me was reading the paper and I kept glancing over to see if she was reading my article. (She probably thought I was either nuts or too cheap to buy my own paper.) But, sadly, she did not read it. She skipped right over it to the comics and crossword puzzle. She left it on the seat when she left and I took it so I'd have an extra copy to send my mama. Oh well. Anyway, someone had left a New York Times and I picked up the food section. Lo and behold, there was a short article called "Just Like Grandma Makes" featuring a recipe called Granny's Tomato Tart. It was about a café in Soho called Once Upon a Tart run by two chefs, Jerome Audureau and Frank Mentesana. Jerome is French and his recipe is one his grandma in Châteauneuf de Gadagne, a small town near Avignon, has been making for him forever. He is now 44 and grand-mère is 98 and still baking. I looked them up on-line (once again, what did I do before google??) and found a menu for their shop-- my mouth is still watering. They've also written a cookbook. I read some of the reviews on Amazon's website and know that I must add this one to my collection.
My final adventure of the past couple of days was to head to the Durham Farmers' Market this morning. Steve and I weren't looking for anything in particular. We just love to people watch and I love to just look at all the brightly colored vegetables and smell the wonderful odors that drift in the air-- fresh peaches, French-style bread in the form of miches and pain de campagne, goat cheese, coffee, warm tomatoes, just picked basil and flowers. We ran into some friends from school, parents and colleagues, including Kathy who was shopping for tomatoes to make my tart!! I have one fan, even if the lady at the car shop ignored me. One parent asked me if I'd read The Olive Farm books by Carol Drinkwater (I have- they are set in Provence) and promised to drop off a book that features pictures of the farm for me at school. I saw Dave Artigues from Elodie Farms and he gave me some of the Camembert cheese that I helped (in a very small way) make with the Teen Chefs back in late June. And best of all, I was able to greet Yolanda very loudly as she made her entrance into the market. I wonder why she puts up with me sometimes. I really do... Wine and whine soon, Lucy? I'll make the tomato tart, I promise.

Granny's Tomato Tart
(from "Once Upon a Tart) by Frank Mentesana and Jerome Audureau (Knopf, 2003)
http://www.onceuponatart.com/
http://www.amazon.com/Once-Upon-Tart-Salads-Muffins/dp/0375413162

Time: 1 hour plus 1 hour for chilling dough and 15 minutes for cooling shell

For the tart crust:
2 1/2 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
3 Tbsp semolina flour
1 tsp salt
12 Tbsp (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch pieces
3 Tbsp chilled solid vegetable shortening

For the topping:
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
8 oz. Gruyère cheese, coarsely grated
12-14 ripe plum tomatoes, ends trimmed, very thinly sliced into rounds
1 tsp herbes de Provence
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 tsp salt, or to taste

1. For tart crust: In a food processor, combine flours and salt. Pulse to combine. Add butter and shortening and pulse until mixture resembles moist crumbs; do not overwork dough. Transfer to a bowl and sprinkle with 4 tablespoons ice water. Shape into a ball, adding ice water 1 tablespoon at a time (as many as 6 more may be needed) until dough is just past crumbly and holds together.
2. For two tarts, divide dough in half and wrap each in plastic wrap, and press each with palm of your hand into disks. For one tart, wrap in plastic and shape into one large disk. Refrigerate at least 30 minutes before rolling out.
3. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Roll out dough into two 9-inch diskes or one 10-by-16-inch rectangle 1/8-inch thick. Transfer to a baking sheet and crimp edges 1/2-inch high. Refrigerate for 30 minutes. Prick all over with fork. Place parchment paper or foil on top and weigh down with pie weights or dried beans. Bake until lightly browned, 10 to 15 minutes. Remove from oven and set aside to cool; do not turn off oven.
4. For topping: Spread mustard thinly over bottom of cooled shell. Scatter evenly with cheese. Arrange tomatoes in even, slightly overlapping rows, and season to taste with pepper. Bake until tomatoes begin to shrivel and cheese melts, 10 to 12 minutes. Sprinkle with salt, and serve hot or at room temperature.

Bon appétit!!

The Prodigal Cat

Callie and Rusty

I am a cat person and have been for most, if not all, of my life. We did have a dog when I was growing up, Poochie Pie Bell. He was NTB (not too bright) and loved to chase cars on the road I lived on in Spruce Pine, even surviving being hit a couple of times. Luckily, a broken tail was the worst of his injuries. Poochie was a mutt, but generally a lovable, although smelly one. He loved me more than I loved him, to tell the truth. Everyone else in my family has one or more dogs. I just did not get that gene. For years, my grandparents babysat for my Aunt Sandi's dog while she was at work. No kidding. (They preferred that to babysitting for me and my three siblings.) My sister Marsha has 3 (or is it 4?) chihuahuas. I am not the least bit fond of those yapping dogs. I tolerate them when I go visit. I draw the line with them sleeping in the bed with me.
In Arles, I admit that I did love to walk the family dog, Filou. And he loves to be walked! There is no better way to look as if you belong in France than to have a dog on the end of a leash. I think there are about as many dogs as there are French citizens, somewhere around 60 million. They love their dogs and allow them to go most everywhere (except museums as I found out in Nice at the Matisse museum- another story, but let's just say that I volunteered to stay outside with Filou on a hot day, lost my wallet and was not too thrilled with the whole experience). But walking Filou around the wall in Arles and down by the Rhône River was relaxing. When we would go out and about with him in the van, though, he liked to ride shotgun, on my lap, with his head sticking out the window. Filou heaven.
I have had quite a few cats, favoring tabby and black ones. I had an orange tabby named Powder Puff when I was high school. I did love that cat and she loved me until I ran her through the clothes dryer. Not on purpose, I promise. I needed to dry something really quickly and threw it in the dryer and turned it on. There was a thumping noise coming from the dryer, but I ignored it, thinking it was probably my brother's Converse sneakers. Imagine my shock when I opened the dryer a little while later and Powder Puff shot out of it like a rocket. She ran right out the door and didn't come back for a couple of days. I figured her for dead and felt horrible. However, she came home, not too worse for the wear, just a little scorched around the ears. I was no longer her favorite human being and she steered clear of me for the rest of my time at home.
We now have Callie and Rusty, a sister and brother rescue duo. We've had them for a couple of years, finding them after our family cat TC died due to a sudden strange disease which paralyzed her. No dryers involved. Since the Powder Puff incident I've been very, very careful to always close the door tightly. Rusty and Callie have always been quite content to be indoor cats, never trying to dart outside when we come home. That is, until last month. Rusty escaped while we were in Pennsylvania for a couple of days. Evidently we did not close the back door very well before leaving. Steve had been out on the deck watering my herbs and tomatoes and didn't tightly close the door and lock it. That's the best we can do to explain why the door was open and nothing was missing except Rusty when we returned home.
We called him, set out food for him but pretty much gave up on finding him after a few days and no sightings. Then one night we were sitting out on the deck, looked out in the grass and there he was, staring back at us before running away. The next week was spent trying to entice him to come back, to no avail. Rusty discovered that our next door neighbors' crawl space was open and made it his new home. I can't say as I blame him. It is nice and cool under there, lined with plastic covering the ground, a little grate opening to the front so that he could watch everyone come and go. After discovering he was under there and not managing to get him to come to us, we called Critter Control. They came and set a trap with fragrant wet cat food (the kind he never gets at home) and we checked it every day to see if he was in it. Nope. It was now time for our week at the beach but still no Rusty. Steve and Jake crawled around on their hands and knees (and even tummies at times) trying to find him under the house (Grant stayed on the outside with me, claiming to suffer from arachnophobia and claustrophobia). No again. We left for Sunset and the Critter Control guy promised to come check every day. We returned a week later. Still no caged cat. We were really starting to worry because he hadn't eaten in at least a week. He had water, but no food except for what was in the trap. We decided to have our new best friend Chip come remove the traps. We placed food outside the door to the crawl space, hoping to get him out so we could close the door and at least get our neighbors out of the drama. One evening, he finally came to me as I was sitting at the door to the crawl space, under the neighbors' deck. I tried to grab him tightly, hold on and crawl out from under the deck. Yeah, right. He used his very sharp claws on me and I let go, hoping not to need stitches or to bleed to death. So much for that tactic. Lesson learned: a tank top is not appropriate cat-catching gear.
Next plan of action. I finally spotted him outside and quickly closed the door to the crawl space. Now was the time to place his food and water dishes on our front porch and try to lure him in the house. Rusty loves to eat and loves the rattle of his cat food as it is poured into his dish. Music to his little orange ears. So, Grant and I spent a few evenings on the porch rattling his dish and calling him. We discovered that he was hiding out in the drain near our townhouse. We could hear him meowing and actually see him, but he still wouldn't come to us.
It was time to put our final plan in place. Last night around 11:30, Grant and I opened the front door and placed his food dish in the doorway. Callie was safe and sound in my bedroom fast asleep (she adjusted very well to being the only cat!). Grant was the lookout and I sat in a chair, patiently working a crossword puzzle while keeping an eye on the door. I am not the most patient person I know, but I couldn't sleep and I figured it was as good a night as any for cat trapping. Finally, after the neighbor walked his yappy dog twice, the neighborhood got quiet and Rusty's hunger pangs and curiosity got the better of him. I saw his shadow on the threshold. He saw me, too, however and bolted. I pretended to ignore him, figuring he would return. And sure enough he did. He came in the house, took a right and headed into the kitchen where we keep the food and water dishes. I sat very still, knowing that a false move on my part and he would head right back out the door. Pretty soon I saw him walk back past the door and head either to where his litter box is kept in the downstairs half bath or up the stairs to Grant's and Jake's bedrooms. I gave him a few minutes and got up quietly, closed and locked the door. I went upstairs to find out if Grant had seen him. He was watching TV, having given up his sentry position and wasn't aware that Rusty was now inside. We found Rusty under Grant's bed, one of his former favorite hiding spots.
We released Callie from the bedroom to see if she could make his re-entry easier. She proceeded to puff out her tail and hiss at him. I imagine he didn't smell the same anymore and she didn't seem overjoyed to see her long lost brother. Rusty spent the night roaming through the house, meowing loudly and walking on me as I tried to sleep, begging to have his ears scratched. At one point, Grant and I decided to attempt to give him a dose of his flea medicine and finally managed to accomplish that. He seems none the worse for his adventure, just a few pounds lighter. He was getting chubby anyway. Grant thinks he may be slightly "retarded." The neighbor even suggested a cat specialist. I did not laugh out loud at that suggestion, showing amazing self-control on my part, I think. But hey, maybe I can rent myself out as a cat whisperer.

Since I do not eat cats (do they really do that in Asia??), I decided that one of Chef Érick's tuna recipes would be appropriate!


Thon Aux Câpres - Tuna with Capers

Serves 4

Preparation time : 40 minutes
Cooking time: 2 hours for the sauce; 10 minutes for the tuna.

For the tuna :
2 good size tuna steaks (7-9 inches long, one inch thick)
6 Tbsp olive oil for frying
2 Tbsp flour for coating the tuna

For the tomato sauce :
6 large fresh tomatoes
one mid-sized yellow onion chopped fine
3 garlic cloves crushed and chopped fine
3 bay leaves
a small bird’s eye pepper
3 Tbsp olive oil
large pinch of sea salt or to taste
3 Tbsp capers
water as needed

1. Rinse the tuna well in running cold water for 5 minutes and then tap it dry.

2. Prepare the sauce : Peel the tomatoes. Peeling the tomatoes over a stove top flame one by one works well. Hold them on the end of a fork, and turn them slowly, until the skin simply pops off. This removes only the thinnest outer skin, and leaves all the rich and flavorful flesh from just under the skin intact. Once all the tomatoes are peeled, chop them into small cubes.

3. In a large sauce pan pour in the olive oil and add the onions. Simmer until translucent (sweated), approximately 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes and cook untill they start to release their juice (5 minutes or so). Add the garlic, the bay leaves, the tiny pepper and the salt and let simmer. As needed, add fresh water (especially if you’re working with a sauce pan without a lid). This has the added benefit of allowing you to cook the tomatoes longer and therefore have a sweeter richer sauce flavor when you serve it. Do not let the sauce reduce to a thickness that would encourage the bottom to burn. You want a relatively liquid sauce. Cooking time can be an hour or two if you have the time. The general rule with tomatoes is the more they simmer, the less acidic they’ll be. 15 minutes before you are ready to serve the tuna, add the capers to the sauce and let simmer gently.

4. Now take the tuna steaks and cut them in half lengthwise to have 4 good portions, remove the skin and the center bone. Flour them on one side only. In a large frying pan pour in olive oil for frying and heat it for a minute (depending on the thickness of the pan, if using a heavy cast iron, heat for at least 2-3 minutes). Just before it starts to smoke, place tuna steaks, flour side down and fry for 6 minutes on the flour side, turn them over and fry for 1 minute on the other side.

To serve : On each individual plate place a tuna steak, browned side up, spoon a few capers on the top of the steak and gently ladle a 1/2 ladle-full of sauce around the steak.

Small steamed new potatoes make a good side dish.

Context

left to right: Martha, Steve, Moi, Chef Ben
Just look at the steam coming off the bowls of Frogmore Stew!!

I've been working on my August column for the Durham Herald-Sun for the past couple of days. I am just about ready to send it to my editor-- after I head over to the Wine Authorities and ask a couple more questions. (Important to get my facts straight, I guess, since they are the subject of the story-- and I wouldn't dare get on their bad side since I expect to continue drinking there for a long time to come.) The research that I must do for this writing! Imagine.

Anyway, I spent last week lounging on the beach at Sunset. It is actually an island. Nothing but houses, one fishing pier, a couple of shops for necessities (like beer, ice cream and pink cowboy hats) and lots of sand. A new bridge is being built to replace the ancient one that, although it is a landmark, is very outdated and causes traffic to snarl. Evacuating during a hurricane would be scary. We discovered Sunset about 25 years ago and love going there with our boys. My mom went with us a couple of months after my dad died and I hope it was a healing place for her. Last week, I read three books, ate lots of shrimp, walked each morning with my BFF (who just happened to be there, too, with her family), walked each afternoon with Steve, found some sand dollars (ok, Steve found them, not me), got sunburned and relaxed with my boys.

The last night we were there, we ate dinner with BFF Martha's family. They go to Sunset each year (her late father loved it there) with her brother, Ben, his family and Helen, Martha and Ben's mom. Ben and his wife, Deirdre, made Frogmore Stew for all 14 of us. Martha and I went to the grocery store to buy small red potatoes, fresh corn on the cob, Old Bay seasoning, sausage, lemons and limes. We bought the shrimp at Captain Jack's on Beach Street. I knew the ingredients since I was helping pick them out, but I had no idea what a feast I was in for.

To say that it was delicious is an understatement. But I just can't come up with a better word. We served ourselves paper plates full and sat down around a huge table to eat. Forks optional. Peeling shrimp and popping them in my mouth, then licking the seasoning off my fingers, one by one, is the taste of the beach, in my humble opinion. Every single ingredient was cooked to perfection. No mushy potatoes. Corn still with that crunch when you bite into it. (Steve popped a lemon rind into his mouth before I could stop him-- he hadn't been shopping for the ingredients and thought it was squash. James King and I saw the whole thing, so he couldn't deny it.)

The conversation was great, the laughter was loud, teasing among family members and reminiscing about past beach trips was shared and enjoyed by all. There is much to celebrate in life. Marriages (and remarriages!), a year's worth of birthdays, memories of loved ones who have left us behind and and an unspoken, yet shared knowledge (at least by the adults present) that in a year's time the group around the table could change. Life has a way of doing that in a 12-month period. To quote Helen, once again... Sometimes you just have to live with life.

It's context that makes these meals enjoyable. It's who you are with and where you are that you remember when you think of a certain memorable meal or glass of wine. Isn't it wonderful that you can simply let your mind wander back and recall vivid images, tastes and smells?

Maybe I am just being nostalgic since my 51st birthday has now come and gone, but the past year has been an amazing one for me. I finally realized, as I wrote a thank you note yesterday to the generous benefactors who made my sabbatical experience possible, that my six months in France will never end as long as I have my memories. Life moves on at a fast pace and either you choose to live it, with the fun and not-so-fun parts or you get stuck and can't move on. I choose to live today and anticipate what's just around the bend.

Uncle Beano's Frogmore Stew

Shrimp
New Potatoes
Corn
Sausage (Chorizo, Andouille, hot Italian or some other spicy grind)
Limes
Lemons
Red Onion
Old Bay Seasoning
Hot Sauce
Minced Garlic
Allow 1/3 to ½ lbs of shrimp and one ear of corn per person. Cut corn in halves. Chop sausages to half inch or so. Cut potatoes in quarters.
Bring big pot of water to boil with slices of lime, lemon, and onion. Add minced garlic and a few jabbers of hot sauce (also some beer, if you like), and a few shakes of Old Bay. Add potatoes, corn and sausage. When potatoes are on verge of being done, add shrimp and cook for about 3-4 minutes until shrimps are done.
Spread on newspapers (the cooked food, that is), dust heavily with Old Bay, and serve with cocktail sauce, butter, or whatever moves you.

Merci, Ben!
Bon appétit, y'all!

Food quiz

I recently saw a food quiz in the Raleigh newspaper (NOT the newspaper that publishes my column...). It was written by James A. Fussell of McClatchy Newspapers. I give him full credit for it. Have fun!

25 Fancy Food Words Used on 'Top Chef'

1. ganache
2. ceviche
3. risotto
4. carpaccio
5. hamachi
6. remoulade
7. chiffonade
8. panna cotta
9. hearts of palm
10. geoduck
11. aioli
12. pain perdu
13. frisée
14. tostones
15. roulade
16. pancetta
17. paella
18. pommes dauphine
19. halloumi
20. fleur de sel
21. cavolo nero
22. amuse-bouche
23. radicchio
24. sweetbreads
25. sashimi

a. an Italian dessert consisting of flavored cream set with gelatin
b. a mayonnaise flavored with garlic or other ingredients
c. short-grained arborio rice cooked in meat or seafood stock,
then seasoned
d. tender inner portion of a palm tree; eaten as a vegetable or
used as a garnish for salads
e. a large edible clam typically weighing 2-3 pounds
f. French toast
g. fried plantains, smashed and served with garlic sauce
h. deep-fried crispy potato puffs
i. unsmoked Italian bacon
j. thinly sliced raw meat or fish served with a sauce
k. traditional Greek cheese from Cyprus made with sheep's
milk or goat's milk
l. delicate and fluffy hand-harvested French sea salt
m. a sweet, creamy chocolate mixture, typically used as a filling
or a frosting
n. a saffron-flavored dish containing rice, meat seafood and
vegetables
o. a thin slice of meat rolled around a filling
p. yellowtail fish, often used for sushi
q. a strong flavored cabbage with dark green leaves
r. pungent sauce or dressing resembling mayonnaise
s. a small complimentary appetizer offered mostly at high-end
restaurants
t. a red variety of chicory with variegated leaves used as a
salad green
u. shredded or finely cut vegetables or herbs, sometimes used
as a garnish
v. the edible glands of an animal, often thymus glands of veal,
young beef, lamb or pork
w. very thinly sliced raw fish
x. raw fish marinated in lime or lemon juice, often with oil,
onion, peppers and seasonings and served as an appetizer
y. curly leaves of endive with finely dissected edges used in
salads

Answers:
1. m 2. x 3. c 4. j 5. p 6. r 7. u 8. a
9. d 10. e 11. b 12. f 13. y 14. g 15. o 16. i
17. n 18. h 19. k 20. l 21. q 22. s 23. t 24. v
25. w



So, how did you do?? I missed most of the fish ones, I confess. I've never watched Top Chef, to tell the truth. Speaking French and eating A LOT in France helped me tremendously, though. Quelle surprise.

I have been craving seafood risotto lately (I cannot get enough shrimp, it seems) and put out a call for a good recipe. I cannot find Chef Érick's, although he probably doesn't even have one written down. He just seems to effortlessly throw it all together. After cooking the shrimp heads, though- that's where all the flavor is- he would make the stock. We even fried shrimp heads several times and I must admit that they were vraiment délicieuses, ces petites têtes de crevettes! (How cool- that even rhymes!!) In Arles, we usually had some fresh mussels to throw in it, too. And I was known to eat it out of the pan pictured above, if it was just Monsieur le Chef et moi at the dinner table. With a nicely chilled dry white wine from Languedoc...
Anyway, Dorette came to the rescue and sent the following recipe. I plan to try it very soon. Since it comes from Do, I know it's good!

risotto with pesto and shrimp à la dorette

serves 4 as a first course or 3 as a main course

for stock:
shells from 1 pound shrimp
6 cups water
2 cups dry white wine
garlic
onion peels
1 lemon, sliced

for risotto:
6 tablespoons olive oil
3 shallots, finely chopped
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 cup finely chopped flat leaf parsley
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound medium-large shrimp, shelled and coarsely chopped
3 anchovies, smashed
1 1/4 cup arborio rice

5-8 cups of the above stock, kept warm in the pot next to the risotto pot

for finishing the risotto

1 tablespoon pesto
chiffonaded fresh basil
fresh grated parmesan cheese
1 tablespoon butter

first, peel the shrimp. place these in a medium saucepan along with the garlic and onion and lemon. cover the shells and such with the wine and cold water. place on medium high heat and bring to a boil. reduce to a simmer and simmer for 30 minutes. strain out shells and seasonings using a bamboo strainer or a colander. Place stock in pot again over low heat to keep warm.

to make the risotto pull out a heavy bottomed saucepan and add the olive oil. place over medium heat and heat till hot, about 5 minutes. add the shallots, onion, parsley, and garlic. saute together for about 2 minutes. now stir in the rice, coating with the oil and vegetables, and cook till partly translucent, about 1-2 minutes.
keep stirring, and add the shrimp stock, ladle by ladle, being sure that each one is fully absorbed before adding the next one. along with the last ladle of stock, add the partially cooked shrimp, and stir well. cook until the rice is al dente. stir in the finishing elements and transfer to serving bowls.

Bon appétit, mes amis!

2007 Tour de France

As the riders approach Paris to end the 2009 race, I decided to go back to my photos from the summer of 2007. I was so excited that the Tour de France was coming through Arles. I walked the short distance from the house on rue Pierre Euzeby down through Place Voltaire to Place Lamartine and found what I hoped would be a good place to watch as the riders circled the sparkling fountain. Unfortunately, there would be no Lance Armstrong because of his retirement. But I just couldn't pass up the chance to watch the riders zoom by. And that is exactly what they did. I am lucky that I got this photo on July 19 during the stage from Marseille to Montpellier. I did see the maillot jaune whiz by, just an arm's length away from where I was standing. A few days later, though, the holder of that yellow jersey, Michael Rasmussen, was disqualified.
I am not a rider nor am I very knowledgeable about the Tour. I mostly just watch the race to see all the beautiful views of the French countryside. I loved watching them climb Mont Ventoux yesterday in stage 20. Regrettably, I didn't climb to the top of that lovely mountain last year. I gazed at it in the distance many times, though, my last views of it covered with snow in December.
Now, back to the riders as they get nearer and nearer to the Champs-Élysées...
Go, Lance!!

Here's a nice treat for a Sunday morning. Enjoy it with a cup of café au lait as the sun shines in Durham, NC and Paris, France.

Banana Bread

3-4 ripe bananas, smashed
1/3 c. melted butter
1 c. sugar
1 egg, beaten
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. baking soda
pinch of salt
1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour

Preheat oven to 350 F.
Mix melted butter and smashed bananas together with a wooden spoon. Mix in sugar, egg and vanilla. Sprinkle baking soda and salt over mixture and mix in. Add flour last and mix. Pour into buttered loaf pan. Bake 50-60 minutes.

Bon appétit!

Lost in books

For as long as I can remember, I've loved books. My maternal grandmother worked at Harris Elementary School, at the time the only elementary school in my hometown. She would bring home discarded books for us. I used one of those books to teach my sister Cindy to read. My mom always read stories to us kids in the evenings. She is seldom without a book. The first brand new book I remember receiving was one in the Bobbsey Twins series, a Christmas gift from my cousin, Jeff. I don't know how old I was, maybe eight or nine. I do know that I loved that book. Since then, I've spent more money than I care to think about on books, new and used. I have shelves full of my favorites. I have given away many to the Durham Academy annual book fair. I've lent ones I love to friends and students, sometimes returned, sometimes not. And to be honest, I have probably borrowed a few that I have not returned to their rightful owners. I've read assigned books- middle school, high school, college, faculty summer reading books. I remember a few of those assigned books that had an impact on my life and way of thinking-- Les Misérables by Hugo in high school for an independent English class (Jean Valjean is my hero), Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther by Roland Bainton for my freshman history course in college, All Quiet On The Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque for the same history class, Lust for Life by Irving Stone (the beginning of my love affair with Vincent Van Gogh which lead to my desire to visit Arles). Students always seem to dread assigned books, my own children and my advisees at school telling me that they do not want to read books that they have to read, books that are chosen for them. I always read or reread the 7th grade summer reading book so that I can talk to my advisees intelligently about it (The Little Prince is this year's choice- I own a 1946 edition of Le Petit Prince autographed by Saint Exupéry's sister). I try to convince them to give the books that are chosen a chance... they will probably be more interesting than they think.

We have had very interesting authors come talk to our students about their books. I've met Gloria Huston, a writer from Western North Carolina and author of the Little Jim series, in particular The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree set in Spruce Pine and Ji-li Jiang, author of Red Scarf Girl about her life in China during the Cultural Revolution at Durham Academy. I've been to readings given by Doug Marlette (I proudly own autographed copies of both of his novels), Lee Smith, Clyde Edgerton and Jill Connor Browne. I recently missed one by David Sedaris at a bookstore in Raleigh and am still whining about that.
Books have long been a very important part of my life. I even convinced the BFF to haul a duffle bag full of them to me across the ocean last September because I didn't have anything interesting to read in English. (She has since informed me that she will never do that again!) Having friends who can personally select a book for me and take great pleasure in presenting it to me is one of the joys of my life. Martha truly excels at that. So did Gail Walker, my late friend and colleague. Until her funeral, I thought I was the only one she bestowed paper grocery store bags full of used books upon! Silly me. She just had a knack for selecting exactly what I liked to read, even if I didn't even know the author yet. When my dad died of cancer, she brought over carefully selected books to get me through the sadness by helping me escape it.
And for the most part, that is what reading has always been for me- my greatest form of escape. The drawback to this, other than many nights of lost sleep reading in bed until the wee hours of the morning, is that I tend to get wrapped up in the lives of the characters whose life I am following. Case in point is the book I almost finished last night/this morning. (I finally shut the light off at 2:00 am, willing myself to go to sleep and leave the last chapter until today.) On the surface, I have nothing in common with Kim Sunée, the author of Trail of Crumbs. She was an orphan in Korea, abandoned at the age of three and adopted by a couple from New Orleans. She never felt as if she belonged there, however, and escaped as soon as she could, leaving the U.S. for Europe, landing in France and becoming the mistress to the founder of L'Occitane en Provence, the company based in Manosque.
I suppose this is where our lives intersect, mine and Kim's. She moves to Provence. In an early chapter of the book, she writes about stopping in Cassis, the village pictured above, for lunch and a glass of Cassis blanc. I had the incredible luck to do the same on a beautiful day late last fall. Kim is quite an accomplished chef, having learned from her New Orleans grandfather. I, too, spent hours in my grandfather's kitchen as a child. I can still summon the smell of his beef stew. Kim is searching for her own identity. She only truly feels at home in the kitchen. I feel her pain and want her to find herself and her own sense of self-worth, apart from the men she meets and depends upon to take care of her. At the end of the book, she is on her own. I now feel the need to google her to see what she is doing.
Characters in good books do that to you. They become friends. They "tame" you, to quote the fox in Le Petit Prince. Therefore, you are responsible for them forever. "Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé."

While at the beach, I saw a huge fig tree, with the figs just beginning to ripen. It made me think of this wonderful dish we made several times in Arles.
Bon appétit!

Muget en Papillottes de Feuilles de Figuier
Grey Mullet in a Packet of Fig Leaves
(from Chef Érick Vedel)

For 6 people

Preparation time : 20 minutes ; cooking time : 25 minutes

This dish can be made as one large fish, or, you can chop the fish into individual serving sized slices/steaks and make individual papillotes. – adapt the cooking time as necessary.

Ingredients:

1 grey mullet or another firm-fleshed whole fish of approx. 1.5 Kilo, (3 lbs) from the sea (I’ve also done this with already cleaned, fileted fish from the market- no worry about bones that way!)
3 large onions
8 fig leaves
8 leaves of fresh sage
1 tsp of anise grains
olive oil
sea salt

Clean and scale the fish, wash it under running water, tap it dry and remove the filets, if necessary. Depending upon the size of your fish, you can do this as one long filet, placing half the ingredients on the bottom and the other half on top following the directions below. Otherwise, make two layers, using the following method.
Cut the onions in rounds. Wash the fig leaves under cold water and pat dry.
Take a large pan (a cookie sheet works) that can hold the filets. Cover the pan with a sheet of aluminum foil double its width. Lay 4 of the fig leaves in the middle of the foil, place half the onion rounds neatly spread out on the leaves, place 4 of the sage leaves evenly spread out, sprinkle a few of the anise seeds on the savory bed and then lay the fish filets, skin side down, on it. Lightly salt the filet, drizzle olive oil on it, sprinkle a few more anise seeds on its flesh, and lay 3 of your sage leaves there. Then place the second filet, flesh side down, on top of the first. Sprinkle the rest of the anise seeds, the last of the sage leaves, the rest of the onions on top, cover with the fig leaves, and wrap well in the aluminum foil to seal.

If working with the whole fish, place in the oven and bake at 375F/180C for 45 minutes, till the flesh is just done, still tender and moist. If working with individual sized portions, then reduce the time by half to a third, to 15-20 minutes.

Serve immediately.

My Article for the DA Record

(This is the article I wrote for the Durham Academy Record, our bi-annual magazine that was just mailed home to our families, faculty, alumni friends. My photo of lavender was used on the cover! This is quite an honor for me. I dedicate this blog to Dr. and Mrs. Keith Brodie, our generous benefactors who make the sabbatical program a reality for the DA faculty. I am forever changed because of this experience.)

Little did I know in 1987, when I took my first group of Durham Academy students to Arles, France that I would return twenty-one years later to spend six months living as an Arlésienne. That March, we spent two weeks in the south of France and Arles was one of our stops. Libby Lang was with me on that trip as a student and recently provided details that I had long forgotten (she may never forgive me for using it in this article). I do remember visiting Roman ruins and imagining that I was standing in the same exact spot as Julius Caesar himself. I have quite an imagination sometimes, but history came alive before my very eyes. Quite an adventure for a girl from the Appalachian Mountains.
In 2005, I returned to Arles courtesy of a DA summer grant. I spent two weeks wandering around town, visiting museums, following in Van Gogh’s footsteps (he lived there for 15 months), picnicking in various parks where he painted and taking a cooking course. Érick Vedel has offered Provençal cooking courses in his home since 1995. He is a native of Arles and a self-taught chef. The other amateur chefs and I spent our days visiting local artisans and our evenings in the kitchen preparing dinner. I began the new school year invigorated and full of stories about Roman ruins and the sights, smells and tastes of Provence.
In the summer of 2006, I returned to Arles, this time with a group of adults. I offered a trip to Paris and Provence through DA’s Academy Nights. For the first time, I celebrated Bastille Day in Paris, watching the military parade on the Champs-Élysées before heading to Arles on the TGV. Chef Érick took us to visit wineries, lavender fields, a goat cheese maker, a chocolatier in St. Rémy de Provence, and a potter in the village of Séguret. We named ourselves the Arles 6. Once again, renewed by a visit to France and an extended opportunity to speak French, I returned to the classroom even more enthusiastic and ready to share my experiences with my students.
In the fall of 2006, I was offered the chance to spend the following summer working as Érick’s assistant, translating for guests who did not speak French and working in his five-room bed and breakfast in exchange for room and board. I had not spent longer than two weeks in France since 1979 when I was in still a student at Appalachian State University. I accepted the offer and left for Provence as soon as school was out in June.
Those two months went by in a blur of cooking classes, outings with guests, cleaning rooms, and handling reservations. August came quickly and I said good-bye to my new friends and returned to Durham in time for opening meetings and the beginning of the 2007-08 school year. I felt as if I had taken an intense two-month course in the language and culture of southern France. If master’s degrees were given in cooking, eating and learning kitchen vocabulary under fire, I had certainly earned one. I felt like a student all over again when Chef Érick asked me to fetch une louche during one of the first classes in June. I had never heard the word. I considered faking it and handing him anything, hoping that he would think I just misunderstood. After a few seconds hesitation, though, I decided to come clean and confess that I had no idea what he wanted. He demonstrated its use and I realized he needed a ladle.
I returned to DA for the 2007-08 school year a much more confidant French teacher. For our annual 8th grade trip to France, I decided to take my students to Paris and Arles. My students cooked with Chef Érick, went horseback riding in the Camargue, home to pink flamingoes and black bulls, and roamed around Arles with much more freedom than is possible in Paris. Very little English is spoken in this town of 50,000 residents; therefore they had to practice their French. It was a joy to share “my” Arles with my students.
Feeling that I was now ready for my doctorate in Provençal life, I applied for and received the Durham Academy faculty sabbatical. Chef Érick needed an assistant and I felt I needed to spend more time in France. Coleman Birgel Whittier, a DA grad, was hired to take my place during the first semester of the 2008-09 school year. As soon as I turned in my grades and comments, I bid my family and friends a tearful good-bye and departed for six months this time.
My sabbatical began with a reunion of the Arles 6 in the Dordogne region, in southwest France. We visited prehistoric caves where I gazed in amazement at the drawings of bison and horses. We shopped at a different local outdoor market each morning and prepared meals together. After ten days, I left my friends and headed to Arles to begin work.
My days began at 6:00 am in the kitchen preparing breakfast for guests in the B&B. Homemade preserves, seasonal fruit, my own orange brioche, crêpes, baguettes and croissants were on the table, waiting to be enjoyed with freshly squeezed orange juice and coffee or tea. If a cooking course was going on, a picnic needed to be put together for our daily outings. Salads, quiche, locally made sausages, fresh goat cheese and wine from a nearby organic vineyard were added to the basket. We would return in time for the clients to rest for a couple of hours or take a stroll through town. The clients, under the supervision of Chef Érick, prepared the evening meal. He has developed approximately 1,000 recipes using only ingredients found in the area around Arles, some of them researched from texts dating back to Roman times. During the weeks when no cooking courses were scheduled, I cleaned rooms after guests checked out and attended to the never-ending pile of laundry.
There is no clothes dryer within the 10th century walls of the house I was living in. I hung sheets, towels, pillowcases and dishtowels on lines strung outside a second story window on the family side of the house. Luckily, it rarely rains from June to October in Provence. There is also no dishwasher, at least not an electric one! I did dream of manicures and hand massages at the end of a five course meal, each with a different plate, attended by as many as 18 guests. A large kitchen that was at one time a stable for lambs joins Chef Érick’s home and the B&B. It is a very welcoming, comfortable room, decorated with maps of the region, copper pots and cupboards full of beautifully decorated serving platters and handmade dishes.
I spent part of each day answering e-mail requests for rooms and information about cooking courses. The majority of the clients do not speak French. I worked with Chef Érick, putting together recipes for the cooking weeks, arranging outings based on the clients’ interests, and creating brochures about the cooking school for the Arles tourist office and local hotels.
Not all of my time was spent working, however. I took long walks along the Rhône River. I would sit in a café located at the foot of the Roman Arena (a two minute walk from the house) and write long letters home while watching tourists catch their first glimpse of this amazing monument and locals breeze past it on their way to or from work. I quickly learned never to leave the house without my camera after missing a parade of Roman soldiers marching through the center of town during one of the many summer festivals.
In mid-August, I came to terms with the fact that the 2008-09 school year would begin without me. I wrote an article for the Durham Herald-Sun about missing my first opening day of school since 1964 and they took me on as an occasional columnist. Although I had already been in France for two months, I felt as if my sabbatical was now truly beginning. The new friends I had made now felt comfortable correcting my French. I was greeted as the assistante américaine at the open-air market. A chef friend from Carrboro stayed with us for a month while working on her novel. Friends from home met me in Italy for a week. I spent two weeks in northern France with my friend, Ghislaine Mauduit, visiting her school, Collège Anne-Marie Javouhey, in Senlis. She and I went to Reims for a glorious fall weekend, visiting champagne cellars. In November, I traveled to Paris to spend a week visiting museums, finally surrounding myself with Monet paintings at the Musée Marmottan. In early December, I went truffle hunting in the Vaucluse with René, a seasoned hunter, and his dog, Sony. I visited the walled city of Carcassonne and the Pyrénées Mountains. I came home in mid- December with thousands of photographs of vineyards, festivals, friends and food. I am still not a chef, just an excellent assistante, with much improved cooking skills and a bit of a Provençal accent!
Although I was not enrolled in a formal degree program during my sabbatical, I learned several valuable lessons. These are lessons I hope that I pass on to my students. Be adventurous. Take chances. Leave your comfort zone. You are truly never too old to learn. Experience is the best teacher. Never turn down a road trip (but always take along a toothbrush and contact lens solution in case it turns into an overnight trip). Never refuse anything edible (even if it is boudin or blood sausage). Do not worry about sounding like a native; just speak French. I could never pass for a French woman and have finally come to terms with that. This was truly the experience of a lifetime.

This recipe is from Chef Érick's file. I have almost used all of my lavender honey, sad to say. If anyone out there knows where I can find more around the Triangle, I'd love to know! I plan to experiment with the recipe soon to see if I can infuse it with lavender grains, as in the lavender ice cream recipe I posted earlier here on the blog.

Fresh Ricotta/Brousse Cheesecake
w/ Lavender Honey and Orange zest

Fresh Ricotta, or Brousse as it is known in French, is a delight. If you’re unable to obtain a fresh ricotta or brousse (cow or goat milk works), find a good ricotta at the grocery store, and most definitely avoid a “skim milk” ricotta.

For 6-8:

500grams – 17oz Fresh Ricotta/Brousse
1/2 cup lavender honey
1/2 cup sugar
3 eggs
the zest of one orange
the zest of one lemon
3 tablespoons lemon juice (or a bit more to taste).

In a mixer, or with a wooden spoon, blend the honey into the ricotta, then the sugar, the eggs one at a time, and then the lemon juice and zest.

Pour into a lightly greased spring-form pan, and bake at 175C/350F for 45 minutes or until just about set, with the center still a bit wobbly. A bit of light browning along the edges is fine.

Remove from the oven, place in the refrigerator to cool and set. Serve the next day if possible. Fresh berries along side are wonderful. Just choose whatever is in season.