Tarted-Up: A Leek/Apple/Thyme Appetiser!

The French are very fond of regaling their guests with a pre-dinner apéritif which consists of a beverage, usually alcoholic like kir or/and some savoury tidbits, either hot like gougeres or cold like a selection of nuts/crackers. Since the French like to spend time in the kitchen doing it right, the guests need to be able to stave off their hunger without spoiling their appetite so when the cook finally makes an appearance, somewhat stressed, though attractively so, with some flour on their person here and there and a few strands of hair out of place, they will not regard him as the main dish!  Just as importantly, pre-dinner drinks and snacks serve as a means to encourage conviviality.

Meanwhile the potager is brimming over with plump leeks and tons of thyme.

So as not to succumb--not yet anyway--to the lure of a cheesy leek and bacon quiche, I have decided to go the appetiser route and instead wrangle up a rustic leek tart.

Ingredients

• Onions, sliced thinly, 1 cup*
• Leeks, just the white & yellow parts, sliced thinly, 1 cup*
• crème fraîche, approximately 1 heaping T
• Butter, 1 T
• Olive oil, 1 T 
• Sugar, 1/4 tsp
• Apple, Granny Smith, peeled, diced, 1/8 cup*
• Lovage, diced, a few sprigs, or celery, diced 1/8 cup*
• Thyme, fresh, minced, 1/2 tsp and sprigs for garnishing--it's worth the bother of getting fresh, any extra can be dried or frozen for future use.
• Egg yolk, one mixed with a tsp of cold water for glaze
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
• Mustard, Dijon, approximately 1.5 teaspoons
• Short pastry, if buying, get the best you can, enough for a 9 inch round

*cup is 8 oz, that is, American measure.

Complete instructions on how to clean leeks thoroughly can be found in this past post.  Gather the ingredients and preheat oven to 425 degrees F.

Put the butter and olive oil in a skillet over high heat until foaming--the olive oil will raise the burning point a bit, but still be careful not to burn the fat.   Toss in the sliced leeks and onions, finely chopped apple, and the sugar.  Stir over moderately high heat for a few minutes or until some edges of the onions and leeks are browned.

Then lower the heat as much as is possible, add the lovage/celery and let carmelize for about 15-20 minutes, stirring from time to time.  The onions and leeks need not be fully carmelized as they are for French Onion Soup as they will spend some time in the oven also.

Put them in a mixing bowl.  Add the thyme and the crème fraîche bit by bit as the mixture needs to be moist without being soupy--more or less than the suggested amount can be added to get the right consistency.  Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.  Let cool.

Roll out the pastry on parchment paper to 1/8 thick and using a 9 inch pie plate as a template, cut around the edge of the plate with a knife.  Beat the mustard with a fork--to get it more fluid--and coat thinly the round with it, leaving an one-inch-wide brim around the perimeter.  Gather the scraps together into a small ball and put in the fridge.

Spread the filling as evenly as possible.

Fold the edge over, pleating it as necessary.  Apply the egg wash either with a pastry brush or with your fingers or with a piece of paper towel on the folded-over edges.  Using the edges of the parchment paper to carry it, put the tart on a shallow baking pan and place on the middle rack in the oven.

Take out the small ball of dough gathered from the scraps.  Roll out and cut out small rounds to make biscuits which can be dusted with powdered sugar after baking.  Another approach is to pair two rounds on top of each other, with some raspberry jam spread between them.  Cut off a small round opening on the top, letting the jewelled colour of the jam show--a rough-and-ready version of a Linzer cookie.  Put them in the oven.

Bake the tart for about 25 minutes until golden brown, rotating it if necessary halfway through the baking time to ensure even browning.  The small rounds should take less time, around 15 minutes.

I really liked how these turned out--fairly easy to slide off the serving plate onto individual napkins and truly tasty, a bit of tang, a bit of sweetness with a bright note of herb, luscious without being overwhelming.  They were best served warm or tepid, as when they become cold, their zesty appeal is somewhat subdued.  Any extra can be frozen, thawed, and re-heated gently, though the crust seems to get crumbly.

I dusted the biscuits well with confectioner's sugar; they reminded me of a baked version of Crusciki, a deep-fried Slavic pastry.

Damp and soggy conditions continue in the potager. My shipment from the plant nursery has been delayed by inclement weather. I am patiently trying to prune and prepare beds for planting between bouts of rain.  The daffodils are in full bloom though.

The buds on some bearded Irises are colouring.  There are already lots of sweet violets with their lush evergreen foliage in that part of the garden, and soon there will be bluebells and lilacs--blue on blue on blue on blue.  It's my favourite colour so I am not complaining!

Dayo is happy with how good this warm, wet winter has been for the grass.  Yum!

He also was very pleased with an art postcard sent from Tokyo by our favourite conceptual archivist, +Arthur Huang.  Apparently Dayo would have some competition from other felines as Tokyo has a huge cat population.  Arthur enjoys looking for such postcards among other things at craft markets, and one of his favourites is this one, which takes place monthly on the grounds of a shrine.

Conceptual Archivist?  You must mean Conceptual Artist, no?  He is a Conceptual Archivist because he has coupled his conceptual art with his love of collecting personal artefacts.   Among other projects, you can keep up-to-date with his work-in-progress, Houses for Light at his website.

Using several varieties of Japanese mushrooms, Arthur has adapted my recipe for mushroom soup à la forestière.  He is planning to make my minestrone soup soon.  If he can't get white beans or chick peas, he will substitute soy, fresh or dried.  In any case, I am sure it will be delicious!

À la prochaine!

RELATED POSTS

Leek and Potato Soup
Twice-baked Potatoes With Leek Stuffing

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

Moroccan Cuisine Rocks!

There is a large minority of folks with North African ancestry whose cuisine figures significantly in daily life here.  Couscous is one such dish and is an aesthetically presented main course, commanding all eyes to dwell on its major star attraction.  It has the distinction of being the third most favourite food in France.   Though having some common elements, couscous is prepared differently from family to family.

Our friends graciously catered a complete couscous dinner for us recently.  As the husband was unwrapping all the warm dishes his wife prepared, amidst my excited volley of ça sent bon, tout est tellement beau, c'est magnifique, I would ask more sedately from time to time, oh, what is that?  Moroccan bread.  And that?  Moroccan dessert.  And this here?  Moroccan sauce.

A meal emitting such tantalising smells like this one was not going to wait until my mania for knowing culinary facts were fulfilled.  But then again, the important keyword was Moroccan, so I figured I had a fighting chance of being able to identify some of the ingredients via web research as our friend needed to return home, and we needed to do justice to this splendid repast.  Hopefully my research is correct and if not, a kind reader will let me know!

The couscous had well browned, tender chicken legs, zucchini, carrots, chick peas, and cabbage quarters on a bed of couscous, everything being redolent of tumeric and cinnamon among other spices.  Veggies certainly have their appeal when crunchy, but they are also excellent if they are succulent and full of absorbed flavours.  The accompanying, golden sauce was made from the spicy water in which the veggies were cooked.  Its heat level was moderate, giving a wonderfully warming sensation on a dreary, rainy day.

That's the sauce in the upper left corner.

The warm bread was a flattish but yeast-raised, round loaf with a hint of whole grain goodness and a pleasing, anise-flavoured, rather open crumb.  It is traditionally used as a means of eating the food.  Its shape allows for a high proportion of tasty crust which was delightful.

Not all bread lends itself to be broken, but this one begged for such treatment.

The dessert was astounding:  scrumptious and gorgeously presented.  An elegant, paper-thin pastry enveloped a saturated-with-honey, pleasantly grainy filling of almond paste flavoured with rosewater and cinnamon.

This elegant pastry wrapper is called Warqa and was a revelation:  tender but crisp and formed to resemble petals caressing the delectable almond paste.

At first glance, I thought the wrapper was made from fondant as it is creamy, moist, and smooth to sight and touch, though upon tasting and closer observation, it was clearly baked with delicately browned bottoms and edges.

The pastries were decorated with sugar shot and edible glitter.

Two had the shape reminiscent of Cornes de Gazelle, but with way more elaboration as they were wrapped in a patterned Warqa pastry with their open ends dipped in roasted sesame seeds.

As much as I adore cooking, it was wonderful to be able just to sit down and dive right in.

Couscous of course also makes a delicious accompaniment for many dishes and here are basic instructions for making it.  I like encircling tuna-stuffed, garden-fresh tomatoes with couscous.

Several weeks of almost constant rain has made it impossible not only to be able to prepare the potager for the big plant nursery order soon to arrive, but also even to walk that much around the garden as there is no structure more fragile than sopping-wet earth.  Everything is dripping with cool rain, and Dayo tries to keep his paws off the drenched soil by staying on concrete paths/terracotta tile edgings.

There are still quite a few plump leeks to harvest!

I am thankful for some evergreen 'bones' like this flourishing patch of thyme.  When passing by, I often bend down and crush a handful which releases its bracing fragrance.  Then when returning to the kitchen, I toss them in boiling water, shut off the heat, and then steep covered for about five minutes.  I comfortably sit down at the dining table and put a towel over both my head and the pot while carefully breathing the soothing vapours which aid in keeping my respiratory tract from getting too dry in our centrally heated home.  Does The Calm One do this?  No way!  But he should...

Some pale-chartreuse daffodil buds are getting ready to flower fairly soon.

One broccoli plant remains which insists still on putting out edible side shoots as the main stalk has long since been harvested.

When I first join Dayo in the garden, he stays close by me, trying to help as much as he can.  Here he is investigating some hidden broccoli side shoots.

He also likes to keep me company in the potting room where I write up plans for the spring garden and sow indoors for eventual planting out.

Since receiving The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady as a gift from my super-sweet G+ friend, +Feisal Kamil, I periodically read the corresponding month from Edith Holden's charmingly illustrated book replete with her own calligraphy.  Her February entry focuses on the beginning signs of the major hustle and bustle soon to be found in gardens:  

I saw a little Robin gathering materials for its nest, at one place on the bank and further on, a Thrush with a beakful of long straw.  Everywhere the branches of the Willow bushes were tipped with downy white balls and the Alder-catkins were shewing very red.  In the garden of Packwood Hall adjoining the churchyard the borders were full of large clumps of single snowdrops.  I brought away a great bunch.  The farmer living there brought out a little lamb to show me, one of a family three born that morning.  I held it in my arms and it seemed quite fearless--poking its little black head up into my face.  Rode home seven miles, in a storm of sleet and snow.

Wild Arum is the middle plant illustrated by Holden.

Although there are no Willow trees nearby, there is a clump of wild Arum in the unkempt patch kept for small wildlife.  Though it is too mucky to go there to take photos right now, it is nice to know that there is some overlapping between Holden's Edwardian world and ours here presently in France.

She ends her monthly account with these lines by George Meredith.

Now the North wind ceases;

The warm South-west awakes,

The heavens are out in fleeces

And earth's green banner shakes.

À bientôt!