Tuesday, 9 July 2013

Chilled Carrot/Red Currant/Orange Soup...and summer salads

The carrot patch is doing very well this season because of being covered with carrot-fly-deterring horticultural fleece, my planting a Chantenay variety, and unusually plentiful rains. This type of carrot is an underground bruiser; its nearly three-inch-wide shoulders sharply tapering into a sturdy cone acts like an intrepid drill without any fear of small stones. Hence, most of the harvest consists of juicy, non-forked carrots showing no sign of carrot fly damage.

Young, four-inch-long carrots. I will leave some to develop into six-inch-long adults

Though the flavour may not be as bright as a Nantes, it is more a satisfying, earthy one.  Realising that a cold soup is way more refreshing than a hot one during the summer, I made mVelouté de Carottes with the idea of using it as an experimental base for a chilled soup.

My white ceramic knife slices much more cleanly, faster & easier than a metal one.

As the red currant harvest is abundant, I grabbed a washed bunch of strigs and after saving some for garnishing, squeezed the rest in my fists over a sieve placed in a bowl. Using a wooden spoon, I worked the pulp through the sieve. For an amazingly delicious Vitamin C powerhouse drink, squeeze several handfuls, dilute with water for desired consistency and add sugar to taste--once imbibed it will make you feel like you could climb Mont Blanc. Alone. In the dead of winter.  Without much warm clothing.  It's eye-popping, potent stuff!

Since there were some oranges around, I peeled one and cut out a few segments for decoration. I squeezed the remaining peeled orange in my hands, keeping the two fruit juices separate. Then I beat some yogurt till very fluid, adding a touch of the red currant puree to make it pink and heighten its zing.

Into 125 ml of well chilled Velouté de Carottes, I stirred three tablespoons of red currant puree and two tablespoons of orange juice. Via a spoon, I dripped the topping from up high, moving the spoon quite fast in a circular pattern. Served with a red currant strig and some orange segments, this soup has a zesty flavour and a rich, smooth texture, making it a winner.


Back at the potager, I had planted not only heat-resistant head lettuce comme habitude, but for the first time, a looseleaf variety which the French call, à couper (to cut) which means I can harvest the desired number of leaves without picking the entire head.  New leaves will replace the removed ones.

When lettuce is a pale green, the French say it is blond

Garden-fresh scallions and carrots found their way into the salad bowl along with the lettuce.


A simple vinaigrette is one part Sherry vinegar (readers may remember I am smitten with the stuff!) and three parts extra virgin olive oil.  Put a dash of Dijon mustard, some salt and freshly ground black pepper, and the vinegar in a small mixing bowl.


Whisk the ingredients till smooth.


Then slowly add the oil while whisking.


A salad comprised of the freshest ingredients and lightly tossed with a piquant vinaigrette is a refreshing addition to a summer meal.


A serving of salad went well with one of my favourite supper dishes, squash-flower beignets.  The large, yellow flowers are first coated with beaten egg and dredged in a mixture of flour, salt, freshly ground black pepper, and grated Parmesan.  Then they are sauteed in ample olive oil and served piping hot.


Using the first harvest of the new potatoes I planted about eighty days ago, I boiled some along with some small carrots, peeled/sliced them, and added lettuce, scallions, tossing the lot with the vinaigrette and a generous amount of Parmesan shavings. It made a nice summer supper.


The June-bearing strawberries are finished, but there are a few ever-bearing strawberries each week. The latest batch went on the last of the red currant ice cream!


The black currants are in process of being harvested. Smelling their captivating fragrance results in my standing in a trance near a bush, unable to do anything at first except breathing in deeply their enticing, musky scent. Then the cook inside me wakes up, and says, pick them so you can make jelly or ice cream with them.  I do exactly that!


The weather forecast is for a week of sunny, dry weather.  I'll believe it when I see it!  The plentiful rains are keeping the garden looking lovely.

Pink/red roses, alyssum, lavender on the left, sage, fennel, and carrot bed on the right

The entrance to a commercial property flanking one side of the potager has two enormous spruce trees which are home to countless blackbirds whose whistling and chirping is an integral part of my garden experience.

View seen from sitting under the pergola

Front garden: lilies, yellow/pink roses, lavender, Shasta daisies, plum tree

The first peek of the garden when I open the shutters in the morning and the last hurried glance as I close them at night are the same:  a splash of lavender blue, a sprinkling of rose pink, and a mass of fleecy white.

Horticultural fleece protecting the carrot bed from carrot flies

Dayo's paw is greatly improved and he is doing well, but he still needs to spend most of his time indoors until there are no tender spots on his paw.

A cat and his bookcase

Taking a nap in the rocking chair next to my computer

Continued licking the area trying to scab over is the reason why complete healing is taking so long, but eventually it will.


À la prochaine!

RELATED POSTS

Growing carrots
Making red currant ice cream

Tuesday, 2 July 2013

Red Currant Ice Cream

Fresh red currants are gorgeous in appearance and taste--luscious strigs strung with glowing, red globes bursting with wake-up-right-now flavour.  This season's harvest from our three bushes yielded enough to make jelly and something else.  What would be better than an ice cream blushed with pink and accentuated with equal parts tartness and sweetness?


This frozen dessert can be made conveniently without an ice cream maker. It's texture is between that of ice cream and sherbet--a silky lightness with a lingering richness.

Ingredients
(serves six)

  • Red currants, fresh, stemmed, 500 grams
  • Sugar, granulated, 200 grams
  • Cream, heavy, 300 ml
  • Cookies/biscuits for serving (I used digestive biscuits)

The night before, pre-chill an one-liter, lidded, plastic container. The next day, wash and pluck the berries off their stems, reserving a few whole strigs for garnishing. Dry them.


Place the red currants in a suitably sized saucepan and heat gently for several minutes, mashing them from time to time.


Strain through a sieve or a Foley Mill. Stir in the sugar till dissolved. Reserve the red currant puree in the fridge.


Whip the cream until stiff using a balloon whisk (check the boutique tag for the ones I recommend)/rotary egg beater/electric mixer.


Plop half the cream onto the red currant puree.


Start to fold in by putting a wooden spoon under an outer edge of the creamy wodge, bringing the spoon up and over the cream while turning the bowl a quarter turn.  Repeat a few times.


Add the rest of the cream and resume folding in.


Continue carefully to fold in until there are less and less pink and white swirls.


Keep at it until it becomes a solid pink colour, usually in five minutes.


Pour into the pre-chilled container.


Freeze until solid usually two hours (depending on your freezer).


Garnish with fresh red currants and serve with a digestive biscuit.  The wholemeal, crumbly texture of a digestive was a nice foil, but others probably would go just as well.  I suspect layers of crumbled up cookies and this ice cream would make an easy and delicious parfait.


In the potager, the blueberries planted in May are carrying a small load of green berries with a hint of the blue to come.


The onions got their fertiliser application required halfway through their growth.

 Scratch in a complete NPK fertiliser with a hand cultivator, and then water well

Starting on the left, in the front are rhubarb and onions, in the back, red/black currants, grapes, and raspberries

In the flower garden, the hydrangeas are beginning to bloom.


Though the French lavender is just starting to bud, the shorter English lavender is fully flowering


Because of a sore paw, Dayo is still spending more time indoors than out. We are now so used to him rooting about we usually pay no attention as he settles down fairly soon only to find when grabbing a knapsack or as The Calm One quipped, a catnapsack, the feline resident chez nous is eager to tag along during our grocery shopping.


Dayo was cheered when receiving the latest postcard from our friend, +Arthur Huang, a conceptual archivist living in Tokyo:

That's one brave tail hanging out in frigid, desolate space! 

À la prochaine!

RELATED POSTS

How to make red currant jelly
Making lavender water/drying lavender
How to transplant blueberries

RELATED LINKS

Arthur's website
The lowdown on wire whisks

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Strawberry Shortcake

There is strawberry shortcake, and then there is strawberry shortcake. The former is the kind I ate with gusto as a child growing up in America--a store-bought, round yellow cake with a depression for filling with strawberries and whipped cream generously squirted from a can.  The latter is the one I recently made using the recipe from my kitchen's holy book, Fannie Farmer's Cookbook.  Oh my!  Quelle difference!


Farmer's version calls for a dough very similar to the one used for American biscuits/British scones.  However, her shortcake recipe results in a fluffier inside and a crustier outside.  It is a classic when buttered warm from the oven, filled with sugared strawberries, and drenched with heavy cream. The Calm One and I both adored these deceptively down-home bundles of sublime elegance with their bowl-you-over scrumptiousness.

INGREDIENTS
Makes about 8 cakes

  • Flour, white, 2 cups*/280 grams
  • Baking powder, 4 teaspoons
  • Salt, 1 tsp
  • Sugar, 1.5 tablespoons plus additional for sugaring to taste the strawberries
  • Butter, 5 tablespoons, cut small plus additional for putting on the finished cakes
  • Milk, 2/3 cup*/1.5 dL (full amount may not be needed)
  • Strawberries, fresh, sliced, sugared, about 1/2 cup* for each serving
  • Cream, heavy, about 1/4 to 1/3 cup* for each serving
*American measure, that is, 8 oz

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F/220 degrees C. In a large mixing bowl, stir together the sugar, salt, baking powder, and flour.


Once blended, add the butter pieces.


Using your fingertips, work (usually for a few minutes) until the mixture resembles coarse sand/meal.


Add the milk slowly as you may not need it all.  The dough should just come together when cupped/pressed with your hands. Turn out on a floured surface.


Knead the dough for a minute or two until smooth. It will feel very soft.


Pat and press into an one-inch-thick circle.


Using a two-inch cookie cutter/drinking glass, cut out rounds.  Press the cutter straight down, without twisting to get that nice layered look once baked.


Place them on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper.


Bake for 10-12 minutes.

Split by gently inserting the tips of two forks, one on either side of the cake--it will easily halve.

Our strawberry harvest maintains its impressive pace as I have picked about twenty quarts in the last several weeks.


While the shortcakes are baking, wash, hull, and slice the berries. Mix with sugar to taste.


While warm, the shortcakes need to be split using two forks which ensures a rough surface which will readily absorb the butter you will now slather on both halves (same reason why English muffins should be split this way). Spoon the sugared strawberries on the bottom half, letting the berries spill onto the plate, place on the top half, and liberally pour on the heavy cream. A spoon is the perfect eating instrument as one can gently crack the thin crust and splice right through the tender shortcake while scooping up some delectable cream. They taste fine tepid and fairly good cold, but served warm, well, what can I say?  They are tremendously appealing. OK, they are to die for!


In the potager, the red currant harvest has begun.


And also the carrot and beet harvest.


The garlic has been completely harvested.


The pea harvest is also finished.  When freezing the last batch, I reserved some fresh to add to one of our staple meals, Shepherd's Pie.


In the flower garden, the honeysuckle is sporting the most fragrant blooms at the moment.


Dayo's paw is mostly mended.  However, if he is allowed to go out it is only for a few hours until there is no evidence of fragility as his paw is still tender. He prefers to take it easy, staying in our garden for the most part.


The English weather continues in La Belle France, sunshine for a minute, a sprinkle of rain the next, followed by a gust of wind, rinse and repeat.  When the sun gets swallowed up by rain clouds, Dayo jumps up on an old cupboard under the pergola. His beauty brightens up the day!


À la prochaine!

RELATED LINKS

How to harvest garlic
How to make strawberry cobbler
How to make red currant jelly & stuffed jumbo strawberries