Fresh Figs Roasted in Lavender Butter with Macerated Raisins & Orange Ginger Coulis

This is a lovely, warming, and simple dessert with golden, jeweled colour and floral/fruit/spice notes coming together in a pleasing and satisfying way.

For two servings, you will need four ripe (and I mean RIPE* or otherwise the dish will taste like chalk!) figs, three teaspoons of sweet butter, one teaspoon of sugar, 12 lavender buds, 4 fluid ounces of raisins, a 1/2 teaspoon of chopped ginger (fresh or frozen), a single drop of Sherry vinegar (can be omitted but does brighten the other flavours), freshly squeezed juice of one large orange, 4 fluid ounces of heavy cream, and one teaspoon of vanilla extract.

(*Ripe figs will have some skin fissures, a drop of juice coming from the bottom, and when touched, feels like a little water balloon. They do not significantly ripen off the tree so you need to procure figs that are already ripe. If harvesting your own, a gentle downward pressure on the stem will be enough to release a ripe fig from the tree.)

In my haste to get to our figs before the Starlings do, I sometimes pick them too soon like the one on the bottom.

Macerating fruits significantly raises the taste experience. True maceration is not just sprinkling sugar over fruit and letting the juices seep out, it is soaking the fruits, fresh or dry, in a flavourful liquid. Also it is a way of preserving fresh fruit in the fridge for several days. The night before, mix together in a glass/ceramic/stainless steel (i.e., non-reactive material) bowl, orange juice, vinegar, vanilla extract, and ginger.

Halved orange, ginger, and vanilla extract

Stir the raisins into the maceration liquid. Cover and keep in fridge.

Dark raisins lighten, becoming a beautiful golden brown

That same night, using a fork, blend butter with the sugar. Divide into four equal sections and insert a few lavender buds in each portion. Refrigerate.

The next day, remove raisins from the fridge and bring to room temperature. When ready to prepare the dessert, preheat oven to 210 degrees F/410 degrees F. Wash, dry, and quarter figs, without slicing all the way to the bottom.

If there is a stem stub, slice so it is on just one quarter.

Place them in a baking dish and insert a portion of the lavender butter in each fig.

Bake for about fifteen minutes or until slightly carmelized, tender, and sizzling.

 Lavender buds can be fibrous so you may want to pluck them out after baking

While the figs are in the oven, drain the raisins by gently squeezing their juice into a small bowl. Strain the liquid and pick out the ginger pieces from the raisins. Reserve separately the raisins and maceration liquid.

The coulis is a veritable nectar--it's just so delicious I could drink a vat of it.

Place figs on serving plates and drizzle any juices from the pan onto the insides of the figs. If they have flopped open during baking, just gently close them up. Pool the coulis around the figs. Strew the raisins about the plate and dribble on some cream. I suspect they would also enhance a mound of vanilla ice cream (in that case, leave out the cream).

The weather has been warm and wet.  The garden is drinking up the moisture, fortifying itself for our short, cold winter.

Queen Elizabeth, mums, blueberry, Dianthus, Black-eyed  Susan vine, zinnias & Abelia

Close-up of Black-eyed Susan vine creating a fence screen

Close-up of mums, zinnias & Abelia

The asparagus bed which was planted this past spring is doing well. On windy days, its feathery foliage gracefully moves in tandem like delicate green fans freshening the air.

I finally transplanted the two-year-old laurels from their nursery bed (young hedge on the upper right)

A solitary red berry appeared and after researching, I discovered that it does contain seeds which can be used to propagate more asparagus plants. Pertinent information is found here.

The Abelia continues to provide its reliable all-year-around interest with not only a few late-season flowers but also bronzy pink sepals which will hang on all through winter.

Transplanted from a tiny cutting this spring, this husky culinary sage is thriving.

A Queen Elizabeth rose does not realise it is practically November.

The zinnias are slowing down a bit, but still giving a lot of colour to the garden.

A grasshopper tired of the grass?

When arriving here four years ago, I transplanted the Camellia from its container in which it had spent ten years on our Grenoble balcony. Since it kept me company for many a long hour as my office was just off its balcony, I consider it my friend.  I thought I was doing it a favour by giving it a new, spacious home but instead it went into 'culture shock' and was unable to set flower buds, though it did sprout new green growth.  I never gave up looking for flower buds starting in late summer, and sure enough, this is the year that it has recovered enough to exert energy into flower production.

Not as many buds as it set on our Grenoble balcony, but enough for its late winter comeback.

The Box Elder does know it is late autumn and in shedding all of its leaves has provided a soft, golden carpet with a rich fragrance of musk.

Maple still holding on to its deep-purple leaves, gold-mottled Aucuba & fallen Elder leaves.

À la prochaine!

A Clever & Easy Garnish for Potato Soup...and dividing irises

When recently making creamy, redolent-with-herbs Potato Onion Sausage Soup, I remembered an idea for garnishing potato soup from Tumblr which I had shared at my G+ stream. Instead of discarding the peelings, reserve some for a tasty, attractive, and nutritious topping: shoestring French fries. 

If you are so fortunate as to locate a variety that is good for both soups and fries, then use them, if not, all-purpose will be a decent substitute. Scrub potatoes very well, discarding any bitter, green skin.

Lovely Prospero potatoes with their slight rosy tint, dill, parsley & dill from the potager

Use a paring knife instead of a purpose peeler to get thicker than usual peels.

Super sharp ceramic knives are excellent for precision slicing

Reserve the peelings in a bowl of cold water--to prevent discolouration and loss of moisture--and continue making the soup.

About fifteen minutes before the soup is ready, drain the peelings and slice into thin strips. The more uniformly skinny they are, the greater chance of getting them to an equivalent level of crunch at the same time. Dry well with paper towels as oil and water as you well know don't mix!

Pour about a quarter inch of vegetable oil (other than olive) in a skillet. Heat for a couple of minutes over moderately high heat. To test if it is hot enough, carefully sprinkle a few drops of water onto the oil--they will instantly splutter and sizzle.

Mine took about seven minutes to get relatively crunchy. Test one to see if it is to your liking. Be careful not to scorch them and be prepared to fish them out quickly. Blot them well with a paper towel.

The versatile metal skimmer/strainer was bought at a brocante (second-hand market) for one Euro!

Shoestring fries brings a textural and delicious flourish to potato soup.

In the garden, the colours of autumn continue to deepen and delight.

Maple, Box Elder, Aucuba, & Laurel in background, Rose of Sharon, Japanese Anemones, and Lilacs in foreground

I would have been happy with just blueberries, but surprisingly blueberry plants turn mahogany and burgundy!

Mums being supported in an old cold frame; the silvered, weather-worn wood adds a pleasing accent

The major task at hand continues to be dividing many, many, many irises. When I was preparing the beds by pulling off dead foliage and clipping the remaining leaves to about six inches from the ground, I was surprised by a praying mantis. I am glad I noticed it before taking my shears to its resting spot. Invisibility may come in handy at certain times, but one time is not when a shears-yielding human is furiously hacking away!

It obligingly moved onto some already clipped leaves. Such a cutie!

The several iris beds are four years old and need a good thinning. In our climate where summer can easily go into November, I find mid-October prime time for dividing them. In climates with shorter summers, it's better to divide in late summer which will give enough time for roots to get established before frost arrives.

The terracotta tiles should be parallel to each other, but for those pushy irises!

Irises flourish in our garden because their rhizomes can bake in the sun for many a month. So far, there has not been a borer infestation.  Irises usually need no fertilisation, though they do appreciate an occasional watering.

Though laborious to divide, Irises will reward your efforts with a profusion of blooms

Unearthing such tightly packed rhizomes requires determined and decisive spading--I held the spade perpendicular to the soil and drove it into the woody mass, slicing right through. It helps for the soil to be somewhat moist, but not sodden.

The soil clinging to the clump was loosened with a hand fork and as much soil as possible was returned back to the bed. Once the first clump is removed, it becomes progressively easier to work a crowded bed.

If you can bring a potting table close to the transplantation area, your back will thank you for the consideration. Looking for fresh growth and a firm rhizome with one or several leaf fans, I made the necessary cuts with a sharp, sturdy knife, discarding the woody centres of the clumps which were put on the slow compost heap.  Any soil left on the table was collected in a crate and dumped back onto the bed.

Gently and firmly pull out the freed rhizome including any roots

The fan of leaves can be trimmed accordingly so the division will not be top heavy when replanted, and the roots can also be trimmed if they are longer than six inches.

Let the cut side scab over for about a day before replanting, but not much later as to  prevent drying out

The distance between irises when replanting is based on a couple of considerations.  There should be enough room so division will not be necessary for several years, but not so much room that it takes awhile for the bed to appear full. I find that a foot apart is doable and additionally, planting them in a triangle where the growing part (the bit containing the leaf fan) is aimed towards the centre of the triangle works well.

I applied a light dose of a balanced NPK fertilizer as I suspect the soil could be depleted after hosting so many thriving irises. Select moderately sized segments with several roots at least four inches long. Smaller ones could be placed in a nursery bed if you are focused on increasing your iris bounty as much as possible. Using a hand trowel, make a moat several inches deep around a central mound.

Place a rhizome on the mound, spreading its roots downward into the moat and cover lightly with soil. Firm down the planting and water well. The light covering will eventually be washed away and the rhizome exposed. Continue to water if there is no rain until new growth can be seen then water less frequently.

À la prochaine!

RELATED LINKS

Pastry Joe extolling the virtues of fried foods
Pastry Joe explaining why some used frying oil should be added to fresh to ensure excellent browning 
American Iris Society Guidelines (Includes a photo of planting Bearded Irises in triangle formation)

Gratin Dauphinois...and various cool weather recipes

A vivid childhood memory from my growing up in New York City is my mother proudly presenting her potatoes au gratin--small cubes smothered with Velveeta cheese.  It was gooey, bright orange, and quite tasty. While living in Grenoble, the capital of the Dauphiné, I found out that this dish like so many others varies per the chef. The pristine version of Gratin Dauphinois contains no cheese, supposedly because the poor could not afford such adornment. Some insist on using milk and not cream. However, I will never forget our host at a dinner party saying as she gave her shoulders a little shrug in that perfect French manner, Some make this with just milk, but it is so much better with cream. Is she ever right!

Some additional tips were garnered from a visiting chef on a TV program hosted by Joël Robuchon:  infusing the cream first with a bit of bouquet garni and garlic and then simmering the potato slices in this cream before baking.

For four servings, you will need two large potatoes, 16 fluid ounces/473 ml of heavy cream, a peeled and halved clove of garlic, a tiny sprig of thyme, a few bits of a bay leaf, and a sprig of parsley.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F/177 degrees C. Put the herbs and garlic in a medium saucepan along with the cream.  Bring to a simmer and cook gently for a few minutes. Meanwhile peel and slice the potatoes 1/4 inch thick.  Add the potatoes to the cream and simmer until they are just about tender, but not yet fully cooked (usually takes about five minutes, but test with a tip of a sharp knife). Remove the herb sprigs.

Pour the whole lot into a baking dish.

Bake for about forty minutes until the taters are engorged with cream, and the whole thing is golden brown and crusty. This dish is so rich and scrumptious, I could entertain having it for dessert. Alas, we decided to serve a pot roast of lamb with it.

There was a quite a lot of green peppers remaining even after making Bell Peppers Stuffed with Toulouse Sausage/Brown Rice/Parmesan. Since there were still a few tomatoes from the potager, I made Piperade.

The very last of the tomatoes were used as top dressing for macaroni and cheese.  The Calm One makes an excellent stove-top version which includes three different cheeses, three kinds of pasta, cream, and Saucisses de Strasbourg. I spread it evenly in a broiler-proof pan. The macaroni was covered with sliced tomatoes, topped with grated cheese, and then broiled for several minutes until the tomatoes were soft and their juices running a bit while the cheese was merrily bubbling.

There is a nice amount of onions harvested from our potager stored in our root cellar so Soupe à l'Oignon Gratinée is a no-brainer.

The surplus spinach harvest from this past spring which was frozen is now coming in handy. Defrosted, chopped spinach (made originally with garlic and olive oil) is heated in the pot in which some tagliatelle was boiled. The pasta is added back along with a couple tablespoons of reserved, cooking water. Simmer for a minute or until most of the water is gone. When serving, top with freshly grated Parmesan and add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

I finally got around to growing dill this spring, but because it was a dwarf variety I did not realise that it needed vigorous pinching. Therefore they never developed into bushy, ferny plants. Instead they went to seed rather quickly. The greener the seed is, more the taste is similar to fresh dill leaf. Completely dried, brown dill seed tastes more like caraway seed which substitutes well for dill leaf in Potato/Onion Soup with Herbs, Crème Fraîche, and Saucisses de Strasbourg.

The greener seeds is a nice substitute for parsley in Linguine with Garlic/Capers/Parmesan.

In the garden, I am focused on dividing four-year-old clumps of Irises. If Irises become too crowded, their flowering is sharply reduced. Preparation includes pulling up dead leaves and clipping the remaining to about six inches above the ground.

Dead leaves needing to be removed can be seen in the upper right.

The main source of colour in the flower garden is being provided by Japanese anemones.

A yellow, single-petaled dahlia imparts a soft glow.

The orange red fruits of Lily of the Valley adds a lovely autumnal accent.

À la prochaine!