Summer? Not Quite...and a quick pasta recipe

After months of wetness and mild temperatures, the weather is now hot and rainless, reaching up to 80 degrees F and should remain in this sunny, soil-drying (thank goodness!) state for about a week so I am out in the garden preparing beds and sowing.

Les petits pois are in and duly protected via horticulture fleece against hungry birds 

Once the seedlings are up the rain should be back per our weather forecast which would be a boon as they love nature's comprehensive dousing way more than my lopsided watering.

That's Vinca minor in the foreground, better known as periwinkle which is a great ground cover for shade

The rhubarb which poked its head above ground several weeks ago is flourishing because of all the recent rain.

My being so busy in the garden means quick, easy meals are still prominently on our menu. I managed to pluck a few green florets from the broccoli planted last autumn...

...as most of the plants are flowering. Since it is an annual, it has to finish its growth cycle soon, that is, to set seed for the next generation.

And one of the earliest herbs is fresh, fragrant, and feathery fennel.

So fresh I am tempted to smack it

Therefore, broccoli and fennel from the garden=quick and easy corkscrew pasta dressed in said veggies and Parmesan. While the pasta is cooking, saute chopped broccoli along with minced garlic in olive oil.  Add some chopped fennel and a tablespoon or so of the pasta cooking water and simmer, covered, until tender, about five minutes. Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste. Drain the pasta and toss with the veggies. Top with freshly grated Parmesan and few fennel sprigs.

I may be très chargée at the moment, but I spared some time to take instructions from Madame M on how to make a daisy ring.

The English daisies are fast taking over the sweet violets

Starting at the end of about a four-inch long stem of a daisy, she carefully split it all the way to the calyx.

She then tied it around my finger.

Quite pretty, not to mention fun!

Only one parsley seedling, and a sad one at that, managed to surface in a flat planted indoors most likely because the seeds were not fresh. Gratefully the rain took care of the volunteers outdoors, and there will be a nice supply anyway of this lovely herb.

After four years in its 'new' place, the fourteen-year-old Camellia which was transplanted from our Grenoble balcony is cautiously putting out its first blooms. To my worried implication that it is still not doing well as the flowering consists of just a few blossoms instead of the petal riot it once put out, The Calm One replied, it's still adjusting. I will continue to fuss over it, applying a fertiliser for acid-loving plants, mulching with peat moss, and watering deeply. But, its progress is encouraging!

Camellia japonica: formal double form and a perfect pink.

À la prochaine!

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A Sedge of Cranes...and pasta & beans

Spring is just beginning. When opening my office shutters in the morning, I see the daffodils' indomitable splash of sunshine, even on a cloudy, wet day which unfortunately are most days because of this never-ending bout of weather which should be more at home in Britain than France. Not that the poor sods across the channel need to be any more sodden then they already are what with the flooding and such happening over there. 

The rose bush in the foreground is leafing out along with irises on the right

They say, there's sunniness to spare, go ahead and bring some of us indoors, and I do, along with their fresh, flowery fragrance.

The daily deluge has engorged the sweet violets with such an abundance of water that they are naturalizing partout, another sign spring is having its fresh way with our garden.

But the most startling and delightful harbinger are the cranes migrating from North Africa for the last several days. Their pronounced honking gives ample warning for me to dash upstairs and get the telephoto lens. 

The group I had spotted before my indoor sprint still was far away so I was confused why they sounded like they were overhead. Monsieur M  popped out of his atelier at the back of his garden and said, can you hear them? Yes, I replied while pointing to the cranes off in the distance. Non, non, said Monsieur M. He pointed directly overhead to many cranes seemingly hovering in one place.

Then my guys flew in.

Keeping a tight formation, they joined the others.

Birds are an integral part of my gardening life, and I do my best to help them out. Leaving berries on bushes for them is one way. Ivy is a boon in that regard, because they form and hold their fruit way after most other plants have gone barren.

Ceci n'est pas a blueberry plant

Another supportive measure for avian life is keeping a wild area. Some starlings, probably close to a hundred, are wont to hide in the mountain of brambles in the back of our garden, twittering away unseen.

Some of the grape vines in the foreground are not covered with nets so the birds can have a tasty 'drink'

Being busy preparing for spring planting and sowing indoors--the tomatoes are now in the incubator--means I am still focused on easy, fast, hot meals and pasta and beans is such a dish. While some linguine is on the boil, saute a minced garlic clove or two or three in a tablespoon or so of olive oil for a minute or two. Add and simmer together for about ten minutes: a frozen cube of homemade chicken/veggie stock (store-bought can be subbed), a tablespoon or so of tomato paste, heaps of basil (there's still ample frozen basil from last summer's harvest), a tablespoon or so of reserved pasta water, and some rinsed, canned white beans. Drain the cooked pasta and mix with the sauce. Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste. Really. Good. Stuff.

The first harvest of rhubarb was happily done. The title of this post was supposed to be Rhubarb Souffle, but the silly thing decided suddenly to inflate with a vengeance and then almost just as abruptly deflate with a determined malfeasance. No rhubarb souffle for us! At least, not this week as I will try again.

À la prochaine!

Spinach Parmesan Burek

Certain food items are hard to come by outside Paris and prepared sheets of filo pastry are one of them. Though it can be made at home, I have neither a dowel rolling pin or a pasta maker to get the dough rolled out thin enough. However, I found out that in the Balkans the dough is stretched by hand instead of rolling it out. In order to accomplish this feat, it needs to be soaked in oil and a large enough surface is required for its expansion, not to mention the necessity of well clipped fingernails.

Spinach burek and hot, sweet mint tea

My focusing on sowing indoors and getting the early potatoes and peas into the ground--though the weather has different ideas like turning our potager into a mud flat--is balanced with my identifying what remains in our freezer from last season's harvest. A solitary bag of spinach skulking way in the back behind homemade soups and pizzas said hello, use me please! So I did as it became the filling for my first burek.

Thrilled as I was with not having to roll out super-thin pastry sheets, I was not at all excited about using oceans of oil. Instead, I subbed clarified butter which worked out very well. Cut two-hundred-fifty grams/nine dry ounces of unsalted butter into small cubes and melt over a low flame. After about five minutes, the butter will splutter and white foam will form. After another five minutes, it will go quiet and the foam will stop rising to the surface.

Remove pot from heat and skim off as much of the foam as you can.

Pour the clear, buttery-yellow liquid into a jar, being careful to let any sediment remain on the bottom of the pot.

INGREDIENTS
Makes a 12 inch/30 cm diameter burek, that is, 4 large or 6 smaller servings

Flour, white, plain, 250 grams/16 fluid ounces
Salt, 1/2 tsp
Water, 150 ml/5 fluid ounces
Clarified butter (see above for recipe)
Spinach, sauteed in olive oil with a bit of garlic, well drained, 200 grams/10 fluid ounces
Egg, 1 (I used medium, but large would be OK also)
Cream cheese, 4 T
Parmesan, freshly grated, 2 T
Nutmeg, freshly grated, 1/8 rounded tsp
Paprika for dusting

Mix salt and flour together in a large bowl. Add the water, while stirring.

Tip contents of the mixing bowl onto a floured work surface. Knead for about ten minutes or until very smooth and elastic. Test by pulling on one end--it should stretch out easily for several inches.

Weigh out two equal balls of dough. Flatten them out to about an inch/two and a half centimeters thick. Spoon a little of the clarified butter into the bottom of a bowl. It will now look cloudy and thicker than when first made. Put one ball in the bowl, spoon some more clarified butter on it, top with the second ball, and pour enough liquid butter until the balls are nearly covered. Cover the bowl with another bowl and set aside while the filling is made.

To drain the spinach, I grabbed a bunch that fit in my hand and squeezed the liquid into a small bow. I repeated with the rest and then did yet another round of squeezing.

Excess liquid from the spinach is in smaller bowl.

Stir together the spinach, cream cheese, Parmesan, beaten egg, and nutmeg. Salt to taste. Set the mixture aside while stretching out the dough.

Preheat oven to 200 degrees C/390 degrees F. Remove any rings and make sure your nails are clipped. Place one of the balls on a marbled or laminated surface. Most likely there will be enough lubrication coming from the soaked-in-clarified-butter dough that no additional greasing will be needed. Press from the center towards the edge with your finger tips--the dough circle will easily and quickly spread out as on ball bearings. Be careful not to thin out the center too much. The circle will be about thirty centimeters/twelve inches in diameter.

Working with the dough is like gently flapping out billowing silk sheets. A few punctures here and there won't matter, but you don't want it to be a tattered mess either.

When the dough is about two feet/sixty centimeters in diameter, bring the edges towards the center in about five separate folds. 

It will resemble roughly a pentagon.

Gently shift it away from the main work surface.  Put the second ball on the work surface and stretch/flap it out to about two feet/sixty centimeters in diameter. Place the folded dough onto the pastry sheet.

Spread the filling onto the folded dough. The thicker, outer edges of the second dough sheet could be trimmed. I didn't trim, and the result was fine.

Wrap the spinach-laden pentagon with the underlying sheet of dough via five separate folds. Lifting the dough packet with your fingers (ease/slide them underneath it), transfer it onto a baking sheet. I used a round pizza pan.

Bake around a half hour, until it is a medium golden brown. Dust with paprika.

Burek which is served traditionally with cold buttermilk is an amazing melange of flaky, delicate filo, wafer-thin crackers, spring-roll wrapper, and strudel all wrapped in one! It tasted good hot, tepid, or cold. It also froze well.

À la prochaine!

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Basic ingredients in pastry depending on technique gives different results

Pains de navet au cacao

This savoury turnip flan, enlivened with green peppercorns, brightened with diced carrot, held together with a rich custard, and dusted with unsweetened cocoa (an unexpectedly fantastic addition) is one of the many gorgeous entries found in Mousses et Terrines de Legumes, a scrumptious vegetarian cookbook that I bought shortly after our arriving in France. Book details can be found here.

Though each and every vegetable-based recipe is truly vegetarian, being a French cookbook, suggestions sometimes are made for these creative and delicious concoctions to accompany a meat dish, specifically with game in this recette. Well, I decided to have this as a side with itself, that is, a double helping, because these mounds of goodness bust the wow meter.

INGREDIENTS
makes four 4-inch diameter, 2-inch high individual flans

Turnips, 400 gms, (about four medium turnips)
Carrot, 1 medium
Butter, sweet, 40 gms/just under 3 T (extra for buttering the ramekins)
Peppercorns, green, 1 tsp
Eggs, 3 (recipe did not specify size, I used 3 medium ones)
Cream, heavy, 25 cl/8.3 fluid ounces
Cocoa, unsweetened, 1 T
Salt and sugar if needed

Wash, trim, and peel the turnips and carrot. Cut the carrot lengthwise into several slices. Cut each strip into thinner strips and dice these. Cut the turnips if large into half and slice thinly.

Simmer together the butter, turnips, carrots, and peppercorns till turnips are tender and beautifully translucent, about twenty minutes. Preheat oven to 150 degrees C/302 degrees F.

Let the turnip mixture cool down enough so you can handle the turnip slices. If the turnips are a bit bitter, you can add a little sugar. It was not necessary with mine. Salt to taste.

First butter well the insides of the molds, especially paying attention to their bottoms. Then line them with turnip slices. I used molds 10 cm (4 inches) in diameter by 6.5 cm (2.6 inches) tall. Leave about 2.5 cm (an inch) from the top free. A spiral pattern on the bottom which will become the top of the flan is a nice decorative touch but just make sure that the inside surface is mostly covered.

Crack the eggs into a mixing bowl and whisk till blended. Then beat in the cream.

Add the turnip mixture into the cream and eggs. Put the kettle on the boil.

With a small ladle or serving spoon, fill the ramekins about three-quarters to the top rim which will allow the flans to expand in the oven. First spoon an equivalent amount of solid bits and then evenly distribute the liquid. Lightly tap them on the work surface to eliminate air bubbles. Place in a shallow oven dish and pour an inch of boiling water around the molds.

Either cover with a lid or with foil.

After twenty minutes, remove the covering (contrary to the book's direction because I wanted the top edges to brown a bit) and bake for another twenty, testing by noting that an inserted knife comes out dry.

To serve warm, let them stand for about five to eight minutes. Loosen the flan with a knife or a thin spatula all around its sides. Tip them carefully onto paper towels; if the bottom sticks, remove those turnip slices and replace on the top of the unmolded flan. Let sit for a few minutes for excess moisture to be absorbed.

Though the author presents these in the chaud (hot) sector, I am convinced that not only they taste and look best (the cocoa 'bleeds' unattractively on a hot surface) when served tepid or cold, they are easier to unmold and lend to much more convenient serving as they can be made in advance and brought to room temperature as needed. In any case, dust with the cocoa just before serving. To get a really fine veil of cocoa, put a tiny amount (I used about a 1/2 tsp at a time) in a very fine sieve to prevent exuberant clumping.

Along with a pleasing piquant accent, the flan boasts of an incomparable richness in both flavour and texture.

Elmo the cat has kept away for a couple of weeks because of incessant rain, but I suspect it is because his maitresse wants to keep his pristine, white, long-haired belly and huge paws mud-free. Though he allows me to pet him outside, he will only let me take photos at a certain distance!

This is as close as he lets me get when taking photos of him outdoors before prancing away

Indoors is a different story. If he gets a little spooked by the proximity of the camera, I speak French softly and caress him with one hand until he relaxes so I can begin clicking away.

His small yellow eyes, long snout, and extreme floof has garnered him the nick of Wolfie.

His tail when he is cavorting about in the garden resembles a waving black flag. Despite his substantial bulk, his meow is a mere squeak. He gives out a series of these 'meows' when he needs assistance in climbing the wire fence separating our garden from Monsieur and Madame Ms. My job is to tap the safe spot which lacks spikes while calling to him. After a few minutes he makes a clean jump and whooshes into our sous sol.

If I am lucky enough, when he plays with me, he repeatedly bats my hands with his over-sized, padded paws inadvertently giving me a luxurious massage. He's a lovely fellow indeed!

À la prochaine!