a cool and wet winter

Every month, I receive a welcome missive from my good friend Madeleine Vedel. Together she and her husband Erick run a cooking school in Provence, France. It is there I stayed for several months after college, and the memories from that time run deep and vivid in my mind.

The most recent missive in my mailbox talked about mushrooms and reminded me of when we went mushroom hunting during a stay in the gorgeous lush hills of the Cévennes mountains in Southern France. I was very homesick at the time, and the green, rolling forests reminded me very much of my home in Vermont.

At the end of an adventurous treasure hunt, I had found a total of 3 large cèpes (also known as porcinis). A proud moment! We brought them by the local pharmacy (to check for poisonous varieties) and then whisked them home to cook up a fabulous supper.

And here is Madeleine's letter...



When it rains... mushrooms come popping up! And Provence, a land of agriculture and outdoor beauty, soaks up the gentle bounty of the skies. The beekeeper is pleased for her bees, and the future rosemary honey; the farm next door is pleased as he'll not need to irrigate this winter (and nor should he! this is "normal" winter weather for us... but the past few years weren't too normal). Already the dark fields are sprouting tender green shoots of winter wheat.

Next week brings us our special week of winter decadence: truffles, foie gras, duck confit, chocolates, Chateauneuf-du-Pape wines... mmm I can't wait! We get our barbary ducks, well fattened from a farmer in the Southwest who raises them in a small, hands-on operation. Though for many, foie gras is not "politically-correct" I must admit to truly loving it -- in moderation. In my defense, I could mention that the Egyptians already enjoyed it thousands of years' ago, after noticing that both geese and ducks store extra energy in their livers in preparation for the long flight over the Mediterranean to their nesting grounds in France...

Of course, we'll also be liberally sprinkling our food with truffles -- those rough and funky lumps that our friend Rene's dog will find for us. We'll imbibe the potent aromas of this rare species in the cafe beside the market -- now smoke free!!! Yes, France has turned smoke-free in public spaces. Amazing, hm? T'will be interesting to see to what degree they abide by the new laws.

As we begin the year 2008, I treasure the memories of 2007, and all the wonderful visits of friends of friends, past clients and so many more. We were the happy beneficiaries of oodles of word of mouth contacts. Thank you! and please, feel free to share this email missive and your stories of your time with us with any and all. Provence is our home, and we love sharing it with you.

—Madeleine Vedel, Association Cuisine et Tradition, www.cuisineprovencale.com








Photos: Penelope, Madeleine and friends mushroom hunting in the Cévennes in Southern France, 2002.

cuisine & tradition

This time of year always reminds me of Arles, an ancient town in Southern France, where I was an au pair girl for several months after college. I lived with a culinary family—an Arlesien father and an American mother named Madeleine—who runs a cooking school there specializing in the ancient foods of the region. I was there in the fall and early winter. I was there for mushroom hunting and truffle season. I was there for foie gras and fig nougat, olive harvest and Chateauneuf du Pâpe. Erick made a wonderful pâte de coing (quince patty) that's like a glorified fruit roll-up, only thick and chewy and we would cut it into ruby red squares and serve with a lovely sheep's tome from the nearby farm.

There were the luxurious chocolate truffles from Joel Durand, showcasing exotic regional flavors like lavender, chestnut, honey, and basil. And there was so much more. When there were students there were six-course meals. When there were none we ate up the leftovers of magret de canard, smoked salmon, and milles feuilles. We'd spread foie gras on our toast for breakfast. It was beyond nourishment at times and bordered on excess. But that was the nature of the business. And I was lucky enough to plunge into this crash course of French cuisine and Provencale culture.

Madeleine and I still stay in touch. And at the beginning of each new season, I enjoy receiving her e-mail missives describing all of the lovely goodies they're finding at market right now (Arles has one of the largest outdoor markets in France that wraps around the main boulevard right outside the city walls), what their friends and farmers and artisans are up to, and of course what's cooking in the kitchen. Below is an excerpt from one of my favorites called "Early Winter in Provence."

I'm baking more bread with my lively starter that's been bubbling since last March. Sometimes I pour in some muesli, sometimes some leftover spelt berries, a bit of chopped dried apricots. As the whim takes me. Hot cocoa and hot honey laced tea for breakfast, a rich red wine for dinner. Warm soups of every possible winter root vegetable are a weekly event (that is, I make enough to savor each one for a week!) Rutabaga, parsnips (ooh I love these!), turnips, squash, leeks, potatoes... often these are enriched with a bit of broth I've culled from a duck carcass, or rabbit bones.

The French see this time of year as chocolate weather. As we begin our preparations for the season many Christmas fairs are sprouting up, and chocolate stands with dark rich truffles, fruit puree laced ganaches and more are always a prime feature. The weather is ideal -- though a bit less humidity would be better. And with the lessening daylight hours, a bit of extra magnesium just feels good. Time to sample that black currant ganache recipe we learned from the chocolate maker... perhaps as a filling in my buche de Noel? (I've put this recipe below. Enjoy!)

We're also feeling the need for a bit more nourishment -- a bit of foie gras perhaps? Rich for some, forbidden fruit for others, the French see it as a seasonal delight. Now through the New Year's is a time for a bit of indulgence. Mistakenly (if happily so) I enjoyed a bit of foie gras during my two pregnancies, thinking "ah, extra iron." Ah well, whatever excuse is necessary. And yes, I too have adopted this winter "habit."

Cassis/Black Currant Ganache

This recipe is straight from the chocolate maker with only minor adjustments on my part. All the measurements are in grams, so rather than cups or other utensils, you'll only need a gram scale, a sauce pan, a sturdy knife for chopping the chocolate, and a large bowl with a whisk for mixing. To use this recipe in a cake, let sit for a half hour or so at room temperature (or table to cool quickly) and then spread on your cake. Let set before putting on your second layer, or, before rolling in the case of a log cake.

Ingredients:
240 grams black currant purée
40 grams sugar
4 grams pectin
100 grams sugar
125 grams UHT heavy cream

To make:
Boil all the above ingredients together then pour over in batches:

500 grams dark chocolate (55% or more) couverture - chopped finely
125 grams milk chocolate couverture - chopped finely

After the mixture is fully incorporated, and reduced in temperature, add the 125 grams creme de cassis liquor.

You can table this mixture to cool it, and then pour it into a square mold to set over night, or for 36 hours. Till ready to cut and dip in dark chocolate.

Take care, and our best to you.

—Madeleine Vedel, Association Cuisine et Tradition, www.cuisineprovencale.com