Showing posts with label Cèpes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cèpes. Show all posts

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

Not At All Mini: Minestrone!

Though I enjoyed my mother's Czech dishes like holubky, spaetzle, palačinky filled with prune lektvar, and chrusciki, it was the 'exotic' foods I experienced when in Italo-American friends' homes in New York City that thrilled me.  My goodness, I would muse, where did they get such a big pot in which to simmer that red sauce all day long so the entire house knows of its fragrant existence?  How can they pile up so many small pastry puffs into a gooey, dripping-with-honey tower without it toppling over?  Why are those delectable, golden-brown, oh-so-tender slices of veal stuffed with aromatic sublimity called Veal Birds?

Baby broccoli leaves, white beans, peas, garlic, basil, and bay leaves happily all came from the potager.

Decades ago, I made my first minestrone; a boyfriend of Italian ancestry test-tasted it.  Being of a sweet disposition, he pretended it came out OK.  It was all right, if you were expecting a firm-textured casserole that happened to have minestrone flavours.  There was too much cabbage which acted like a crazed sponge, sopping up all available liquid.  Happily at present, I do make an excellent minestrone.


Minestrone Soup
(makes about 8-10 servings)

  • Tomato paste, 6 T
  • Carrot, one large
  • Potatoes, two large, all purpose
  • greens, sliced thinly, either kale, spinach, escarole, or young broccoli leaves, 1/2 cup*
  • beans, white, or chick peas, or a combo of the two, dried and cooked or canned, 1.5 cup* plus extra for additional mashing if you want a thicker, more heartily flavoured soup.
  • Peas or green beans, or a combo of the two, fresh or frozen, 1 cup*
  • macaroni, small, or vermicelli broken into pieces, 1/2 cup*
  • Parmesan, grated, for serving
  • Parmesan rinds, small, one or two
  • Bay leaves, two
  • Basil, fresh, chopped, 2 T, if dried, 1 T
  • Garlic, several fat cloves
  • cèpes, 2 small handfuls
  • 2.5 quarts of liquid, beef/veggie broth, water, and cèpes liquor
  • Olive oil, 2 T
  • Salt (I use about 2 T) and freshly ground black pepper to taste 
  • Optional:  cubed, cooked beef from making stock, about 2 cups*, if not you can increase the amount of beans and macaroni to make up the difference
* American measure, that is, 8 oz

Keep in mind making a good minestrone depends on all the chosen ingredients working well together not only in taste, colour, and texture, but they also need to be present in pleasing proportions to each other. Minestrone is a lovely medley of vegetables not a mere hodgepodge made with what you may have on hand.  Veggies past their prime are better used when they are all pureed to a creamy, highly seasoned consistency and honestly presented as doctored-up, left-over-veggie soup.  Certainly minestrone can be vegetarian, but I usually save some beef when making Borscht with Beef/Onion Dumplings along with some broth for our minestrone, though using cèpes and their liquor gives a 'meaty' flavour.

Of course my recipe is not the only mixture of ingredients that works. Have your hand, and fun, with making up your own using your preferences.  The only caution is that the cruciferous family--yes, cabbage along with cauliflower, broccoli, turnips, Brussels sprouts--all give off an unpleasant taste and smell when boiled for more than five to ten minutes making reheating thawed portions problematic. Additionally, potatoes do not freeze well.

If using dried beans, cover with water and soak overnight.  Next day boil until tender, about a hour.  Rinse either cooked, dried beans or canned beans under running water well as to lessen the amount of raffinose.


Gather the ingredients.  Pour some boiling water over the cèpes to let soften.


Peel, trim, and chop carrots.  Peel potatoes and chop.  Slice thinly the broccoli leaves/kale/escarole/spinach.  Press the garlic cloves or chop finely.


Using a hand-held blender, fork, or potato masher, cream 1/2 cup of the beans, keeping the rest whole.


Rinse the cèpes several times, reserving the liquid.  To begin the soup base, saute the crushed garlic in the olive oil.


Pour in the beef/vegetable broth and cèpes liquid.  Add the tomato paste and the cèpes.


Stir in the tomato paste until it is well blended. Toss in the Parmesan rinds, bay leaves, and basil.  Now that the basic soup is in place, the thing to remember is to add the various ingredients in stages--the ones needing the longest cooking go in first.  So start with the carrots as they are the hardest veggies.


When carrots are almost tender, about 10 minutes, add the cubed potatoes and sliced greens.


Add the mashed beans and stir to blend until the soup has some body.  Extra beans can be mashed to thicken even more the minestrone.



When the potatoes are nearly tender, add the peas and the macaroni.


As the macaroni is cooking, and if you are adding beef, coarsely chop the chunks.


Check to see that all the veggies and the macaroni are indeed ready and then stir in the reserved whole beans and the beef to gently reheat for a minute or two.  Fish out rinds and bay leaves.  Season to taste with salt and freshly ground pepper.  Serve with grated cheese.  It's pretty to look at, lovely to smell, and deliciously healthy to eat!


In the potager, the mornings come usually with a light frost covering the garden, but by late morning, the sun is shining, the sky is blue and clear, and I am out and about, only needing a long-sleeved shirt to keep warm while pruning.  Yes, it is that daunting task at hand as the sap in the trees and bushes have not risen yet, therefore it is permissible to remove the plant equivalent of fingers, arms, and legs from our green friends.  

Roses are the first to get their surgery--some of them still have their leaves from last summer because this winter was so mild.  Soon, the nine trees, mostly fruit-bearing along with numerous small-fruit and ornamental bushes/shrubs will get their turn.

One of 20 rose bushes, before pruning

After pruning

Some daffodils are beginning to open, no matter how cautiously--their cheery yellow is like a splash of sunshine brightening their corner.


However, I am still spending a lot of time in the sous-sol's potting room preparing for indoor sowing.  Dayo jumps on the window sill suddenly when he has something important to discuss.


He of course realises I can't hear what he is saying very well through the closed window so he waited attentively for me to open it.


He obviously wanted to check if the potted bougainvillea is overwintering OK which it is.  Whew!


À la prochaine!

RELATED POSTS

Basic Pruning Information
How to prepare cèpes

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Foraging for Cèpes

Three years ago when I first met our neighbours, Monsieur and Madame M, I had found out that each autumn they head down to some woods south of us to search for cèpes.   The first autumn, I felt it would be too forward to ask if I could tag along, the second was too dry, and the third saw such fierce competition among the foragers that some cars shoved others off the country road.

Since being a mycophagist from an early age, finding cèpes places high on my bucket listSo when I recently got a phone call from an excited Madame M that her godson has spotted the first cèpes fruiting near his farm, I was very happy.  I was instructed to bring a cap to protect my hair from the spider webs strung along the trees, a walking stick, and galoshes.  They warned me we may not find any.  I now know they didn't have the heart to tell me I would be the one not to find any.

A recipe of Madame Ms:  sauteed cèpes 

The next afternoon saw us packing their car with our stuff and persons, and off we drove to the Dordogne border.  We went to the godson's farm to let him know we would be going through their woods.  Though the French highly regard politeness and being bien élevé, I suspect the real reason of notifying Phillippe is that the time for cèpes foraging overlaps with the hunting season. It's being responsible to know who is wandering about your property.

Monsieur M and Phillippe roam the farm each morning looking for game

We stood talking all together in the farm's courtyard listening to Phillippe, a beau gosse if I have ever saw one--tall with a ready, infectious smile and thick black hair.  He was clad in knee-high boots the colour of which matched his wavy locks.  Caspar, a young Golden Retriever, pranced about.

Some of the farm buildings, the courtyard is off to the left.

Though quite physically imposing, Phillippe kept his gaze down while softly telling us that spotting cèpes is in the eyes.  With a quick, upward glance, he said, and I have the eyesWe then bundled back into the car and went to the wooded area.


I love forests with their dappled shade, sheltering canopy, and sweetish smell of damp decay.  This one contained many chestnut trees, and their hairy, broken capsules were strewn all over the forest floor like bizarre, little wigs.  Monsieur M said that there is always food to be had here: mushrooms, game, and nuts.  We started out all together, but gradually we lost track of each other for long periods of time. 


Every once in a while, one of my companions would surface and show me their finds.

After harvesting by twisting and pulling, the bottoms can be shaved clean with a knife

They would always yell across the forest, Rien?  And I would always have to reply, Rien.   You see, apparently I don't have the eyes. Then they would wander off again, leaving me alone.  I didn't mind being alone, but I craved to be told a specific technique how to spot brown-capped mushrooms which are mostly buried under brown leaves.  So I would ask each time one of my group popped into sight, so how are you finding all of these cèpesThe reply was always it is in the eyes.


I asked if mice were taking bites out of the mushrooms, but the answer was slugs.  Then off they would go again, leaving me to ruffle the leaves with my walking stick, looking for cèpes in vain.


A bit discouraged, I went back to the car and found no one there so I returned to the forest.  This time I found boletes, but not cèpes; these had yellow tubes/pores instead of white.  I also found extremely hard and woody shelf mushrooms.



A colander for mice?

More time passed than I must have realised.  I heard someone shouting my name and one of my companions appeared.  They thought I had gotten lost.  A shouting volley then began, alerting the rest of them that I was found and the search was off.  We returned to Phillippe's farm, and I got to see the rabbits, goats, and ducks.




Caspar really warmed to me.  He followed me around as I took photos and sporadically would stand up, facing me with his paws resting on my shoulders.  He was such a darling and tried to enter the back seat of the car with me just before we left.  I wondered what Dayo would think of his smell on me.


Monsieur and Madame M let me off in front of my home, and as we unpacked the trunk, I was given a generous amount of mushrooms from their large basket. Still miffed that I was unable to find any cèpes, I suggested perhaps one needs to spot a gently rounded mound of leaves, shaped so because a big mushroom is in the process of raising them.  No, said Monsieur M, it could just as well be a log.  There it is then, I am none the wiser.

Madame M put up some conserves the next day.


She gave me a simple recipe for my fresh cèpes and instructed me to wipe them clean with a moist cloth which is the preferred way to wash mushrooms in general or else they get waterlogged.

Dirty cèpes

Clean cèpes

Gather together butter or olive oil, fleur de sel, black pepper grinder, and minced, flat-leaf parsley/garlic. Slice the mushrooms.


Saute them in the butter or olive oil for about ten minutes.  A few minutes before finishing cooking, toss in the garlic, and just before taking them off the heat, add the parsley and freshly ground pepper,  giving it all a stir. Sprinkle on the fleur de sel.  Their meaty taste with a nutty undertone and silky texture was certainly pleasing, but it's their freshness that bowled me over.  Dried cèpes, however, have their uses with their intense flavour,  and they feature often in many of my recipes. 


Back at the potager, Dayo was doing his own foraging in the wild area of our garden--a mountain of brambles covering a big cherry tree stump--which I keep for small wildlife.


He was so intent on exploring, he paid me no mind.  Perhaps he caught a whiff of Caspar?  He then disappeared out of sight.


À la prochaine!