Thursday, 15 June 2017

Maintaining One's Cool

A hot spell has started in the southwest of France and will continue for at least a week. Shade-loving plants invite you to come out of the heat and spend some time in their haven of freshness. Several months ago, I lightly covered three fragrant, cascading tuberous begonia bulbs with potting mix. Each were given a separate pot of around 20 cm/8 inch diameter. They were kept warm and slightly moist until the weather became mild which is when they were put outside in the shade until their foliage appeared. They then could have been planted directly in the ground or as in my case kept in pots. In the latter instance, the frost-tender bulbs do not have to be dug up but just brought indoors during the winter. Blooming heavily from early summer through autumn, tuberous begonias beckon with their soothing perfume, gorgeous flowers, and stunning leaves. Not to mention they thrive in gloomy areas of the garden.

A potted begonia nestled in the deep recess of a small sous-sol window

Any horticultural specimen that can bush out in verdant lushness, whether in the sun or the shade, is a welcomed sight in the parched garden.

Beauty bush (it recently flowered) and lavender. 

Green is not the only garden coolant, so are blue and purple.

The fabulous heuchera Stormy Seas.  Purple stems carry delicate clusters of tiny, creamy flowers

Since Eli the Kitten is a feline, he has built-in cool which guides him into shady nooks.

A heuchera and candy tuft sandwich with Eli the Kitten filling

High temperatures can't make a dent in the exuberant green of the laurel hedge.

Peach and fig trees are in the background

Twenty-four cuttings were taken from the hedge about a week ago. Each one was dipped in rooting hormone, had their leaves clipped in half to prevent evaporation until roots are formed, and placed in incubators outside under the pergola to keep the humidity high and afford protection from the sun. In a few weeks, when new foliage shows, they will be planted in two nursery beds. Not this autumn, but next, they will increase the length of the existing hedge.

The vents are kept open at present because of the heat

Mostly unripe, but some blueberries are turning, well, blue.

Yes, I am depriving the house sparrows by using netting! But it's green and cool.

Even reds can appear cool if they are blue-reds.

Lacecap hydrangea keeping its cool in the shade

Under the boxelder and purple-leaved cherry plum trees, coolness abounds. The asters and Japanese anemones are leafing out well. In the fall, they will softly light up the shade with their blues and pinks. Until then, the asters are sporadically pinched back as to avoid staking.

Ivy growing up the tree trunks increases the green quotient 

David Austin's fragrant Falstaff climber thrives in the sun, but with its quartered, purple-red blooms, brings a touch of cool regardless. The best colours for roses in hot climes are the deeper tones as they tend not to fade as the lighter-coloured ones do.

Cool velvet!

À la prochaine!

Wednesday, 7 June 2017

Baby Beet Greens, Peas, Garlic, Parmesan Farfalle

The Calm One was out shopping for pasta he uses in his three pasta/three cheeses mac 'n cheese: penne, corkscrews, and pipes. Reaching for a box, he saw that it was already opened. So he reached for another, and that one also was unsealed. So he wriggled his long arms even higher, so high that when he grappled with a hopefully sealed package, he heard a crash on the other side of the aisle. Chastened, he hastily put it in the cart and after noting that the closure was intact, made a speedy getaway. And that is how we get to try new things. As the pasta was farfalle.

Rise, O steam!

Harvesting peas is a Goldilocks endeavour. The pod needs to be plump, but not so much that every molecule of air is replaced with pea. In other words, the pod should not be completely rigid but still a bit pliant.


Peas over a certain size will not be as sweet. The perfect pea placement is when they are just touching each other.


Beet seed naturally forms clusters so no matter how carefully it is sowed, there will be an opportunity to harvest baby beet greens by thinning, leaving about 10 cm (four inches) between beets so the rest can develop into ruby beauties.

I prefer young and even older beet greens to spinach in terms of taste and texture

Ingredients are in bold. For one serving, put a couple of fistfuls of farfalle in boiling water. Contrary to traditional advice, use just the amount of water to cover as giving the pasta the room to swim does not do anything necessary and takes more time to bring to a boil, plus a more flavoured water makes a better sauce. Cook for ten minutes. Toss in a handful of shelled fresh peas. Simmer for a few minutes or until the peas and pasta are mostly done as their cooking will continue in the sauce. Keep a few tablespoons of cooking water aside. Drain and reserve. In the same pot, saute a minced garlic clove over low heat in a tablespoon of olive oil for about a minute or until fragrant. No browning please! Toss in a handful of chopped baby beet greens. Stir until tender, just a few minutes. Add the pasta water or in my case a combo of pasta water and chicken stock. Stir in the pasta and peas, coating them with the sauce. Simmer until most of the liquid has evaporated. If the peas and pasta are getting overcooked, pour out any remaining liquid and give the dish a final stir over the heat. Salt to taste and serve with freshly grated Parmesan and freshly milled black pepper. I thoroughly enjoyed scoffing it down as it tasted FRESH! Thank goodness for the potager.

You are looking for a glazing effect not a soupy one

Lavender out in the front garden fills the air with its fragrance.


A pollinator busy at work.


Though expansive garden vistas are lovely, I tend to gravitate towards a peekaboo perspective giving a layered view: Queen Elizabeth rose, a veggie bed, and lavender.


There are not many strawberries left to harvest, but luscious raspberries make up for the slack. Most days there are enough for a morning feast with cereal or for dessert or for a late night snack.


The first daylily opened a bud the other day. Each day there will be new flowers hence their name.

One of our five plants

À la prochaine!

Wednesday, 17 May 2017

In gardens, beauty is a by-product. The main business is sex and death. ~Sam Llewelyn

Llewelyn's astute observation was driven home recently after my frantically digging up 200 plants comprising of onions, shallots, leeks, and garlic. Their slimy, stinking remains were stuffed into bags as dusk settled around the potager so I could haul our bin out to the sidewalk for the next day's early morning garbage pickup. The tentative diagnoses:  maggots had their way with the onions; thrips, the leeks; mildew, the garlic and shallots. The mama house sparrows would have their way with the strawberries if that bed wasn't covered with netting. I have told them they are welcome to the bounty at the top of the fig tree because it's too high for harvesting. Since I don't know their language, my suggestion fell on deaf ears.

Torn egg cartons as mulch keep the berries away from the soil to prevent rotting

As a minuscule-scale food grower, I am inspired by the tenacity and resilience of farmers. After all, because of them, weThe Calm One has already got some onions and garliccan buy what we require until the next growing season. When I need a boost of courage, I hop on Twitter and read tweets under the hashtag of #Agripapa which is what I did following The Great Allium Demise. The next day I made it a point to note all the wonderful produce and decorative plants which are coming along well. The peaches are doing peachy.


All three beds of yellow-fleshed, red-skinned Desiree potatoes are flourishing.


One of the most beautiful by-products of our garden is this peony.


Calla lilies are thriving under the shade of the old pear tree.

The feathery foliage in the left background is what remains from the asparagus harvest

Yellow snails are always a delight to see. I suspect this is the white-lipped snail (Cepaea hortensis).


The sunny one was resting on the robust (take a few bites it won't matter!) foliage of what I can only conclude to be a double-flowered version of the beauty bush (Linnaea amabilis). I noticed it after a year following our arrival but thought it was a stubborn weed bush. Therefore I kept whacking it down through the years. But it got the better of me, and thank goodness it did!

It now towers over people, even tall ones like The Calm One

The purple plum (prunier d'ente) is festooned with developing fruit.


The English lavender bushes flanking the front garden path are putting out their tiny buds. Soon there will be a profusion of fragrant flowers.


Disappointing as it was to lose so many edibles, especially the leeks because they still were healthy last week for some to be harvested for Shakshuka, the garden goes on in that inimitable way it has.


À la prochaine!

Wednesday, 10 May 2017

Shakshuka

It has been several years now that I have wanted to poach eggs the North African way. Onions and hot peppers are sauteed, tomatoes are added, the sauce simmered for a while, then eggs are cracked into 'hell' as Batali refers to this method. Having a surplus of home-made enchilada sauce and an abundant leek harvest, I realised I could substitute those for tomatoes, hot peppers, and onions.

A meal in a skillet is so appealing

Leeks were sowed last June in pots, and in the following September when their thickness approached the size of a pencil they were transplanted into the ground. Developing roots, they overwintered without developing much green growth since the amount of daylight was significantly diminishing. By February, they showed signs of life.

When transplanted, the young leeks were buried in soil up to the first leaves to develop a blanched bulb.

Since leeks are biennial, meaning they flower and set seed the second year, some flower stalks already have made an appearance. All their energy will go now into producing the next generation. As our leeks will not get any larger, it's time to harvest.


Serves two. Ingredients are in bold. Canned enchilada sauce can be used, but it's simple to make your own. Stir one tablespoon of flour into one tablespoon of warmed oil in a pot on the stove. Add one tablespoon or less/more per preference of chili spice. Stir for a minute or two till toasty and fragrant. Pour in 237 ml (one American cup/8 fluid oz/16 T) of broth which can be either veggie or meat; I used a combo of chicken and beef. Stir in five tablespoons of tomato paste. Cover and simmer for ten minutes. Salt to taste. Thinly slice a large, trimmed, well-washed (split one side almost to the root end, place under running water while splaying out the leaves) leek. Chop and saute in a tablespoon or so of butter (which I used) or olive oil for about ten minutes until softened.


Stir in the enchilada sauce. Let simmer for about five minutes.


Plop several teaspoons of crème fraîche (after topping our enchiladas, there was a bit left over) onto the shakshuka. Lace it through the sauce with the spoon. 


Crack four eggs into the skillet.


Cover and let simmer for ten minutes for medium doneness, less or more per preference. Gently touching the yolk with the flat of a wooden spoon will give some indication of its state: quivering, it's mostly liquid, if jiggly then more like jelly, if non-responsive, the yolks are cooked through and through.


Crusty Italian/French or pliable pitta bread would be wonderful for sopping up the sauce. Chiffonade of basil or parsley sprigs make an attractive garnish as green is a colour complement for red. My variation is probably somewhat richer than the usual what with the butter and crème fraîche, but my, was it good.


I love eggs. And I adore this preparation! Easy, delicious, and all in one pan.


À la prochaine!

RELATED LINKS

Serious Eats' approach to Shakshuka which suggests olives, artichoke hearts, and feta as possible additions among others while providing much culinary/historical information/vids. Article penned by the genial chef and food writer J. Kenji López-Alt.

Wednesday, 3 May 2017

French Cheeses: Bleu d'Auvergne

When The Calm One and I lived in Grenoble which at that time was part of the southeast French region of Rhone-Alpes, we often found ourselves visiting neighbouring Auvergne* which is known for cheese, lentils, forests, dormant volcanoes, mineral water, Charolais beef, aligot, and potée auvergnate. I remember walking down an aisle of a regional products shop while gawking at huge jars of this earthy pork and vegetable stew.  Apprehensive if I lugged one off the shelf that it would crash down on me and any unfortunate folks nearby, hence permeating us with essence of pork for all eternity, I refrained and bought a packet of Cantal cheese biscuits instead. They were rich, small, thick rounds which melted in my mouth. I ate the entire contents as if they were candy. Boasting these five beloved fromagesCantal, Saint NectaireForme d'ambert, Salers, and Bleu d'Auvergneit beats any other administrative area in France for the number of gorgeous A.O.C. cheeses it produces.  Bleu d'Auvergne is a bit sauvage like the eponymous countryside. One can never eat enough blue cheese, unless of course if you detest it.  I would like to say to such folks go back to the planet from which you came. Yet even better, remain on earth and give me your portion. Crumbling blue cheese over scrambled eggs, pasta, soup, and salad (much quicker than making a dressing of it), really over most things, you can't go wrong. Its pungent, salty creaminess enhances, well, life.


Though certain herbs** can be successfully paired with blue cheese,  I used the ones available from our potager as a visual accompaniment. However, I was delighted that their vibrant fragrance whetted my appetite even more for the cheese.

On the left, Fennel, the herb (not the bulb!), sage, rosemary

Bleu d'Auvergne is essentially a cow-milk version of Roquefort so though similar, it is buttery and creamier.

Parsley and thyme joined the green crowd

Its soft croûte (rind) is lovely in taste and texture so make sure that everybody gets some.

Best served at room temperature

Le Livre du Fromage published by Deux Cogs D'or suggests a Châteauneuf-du-Pape because it is nerveux like Bleu d'Auvergne. The French often use that word to describe wine. Since I doubt it needs to be sedated, it is my interpretation that such wine gives a delicious jolt to YOUR nervous system. Our cellier obliged with a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. High-quality whiskey is another choice as are sweet wines like port, sauternes, monbazillac, and ice which balance out the saltiness.


There were no figs, walnuts, honey, apples, or pears chez nous, all which often are served with blue cheese. We did have some cherries and strawberries on hand, and they went well enough taste-wise. However the creaminess of the cheese was even more pronounced because of the juiciness of the berries. So texture-wise, it was a hit. Lesser known possibilities are blackberries (oh, I can't wait when our bush starts producing!), mushrooms, pineapple, and dark chocolate.


Our strawberry patch is getting close to harvesting. Well, a few have already been picked, by birds, hence the netting.

I sneak a hand under a loosened edge of the netting to get at the berries

David Austin Falstaff climbing rose is putting out many a fragrant bloom.

The grey-green foliage below is that of perennial yellow snapdragons which will bloom soon

A garden wall covered with ivy is ready for another trim.


Calla lilies and bougainvillea charm with their white and pink blooms.

The true flowers on a bougainvillea are not the conspicuous, deep-pink sepals but a hard-to-see, tiny, white blossom

À la prochaine!


RELATED POSTS

French Cheeses: Maroilles

Baked Pasta with Puy Lentils, Basil & Gruyère


RELATED LINKS