Climbing a steep hill with goats

What a day! The French have a great saying "resourcer" meaning going back to your source, back to the source of your knowledge, learning, roots, family, nourishment, inspiration... And that's what it's like when I'm back here.

Today was a trip to meet with a handful of sheep and goat herders, some for meat, some for cheese, out in the Lubéron, up in the hills above Lauris. We were in the home and pasture lands of a young goat herder. His wife makes the cheese, he cares for the goats. There were but 40 or so, all with horns, raised biodynamically, and pastured on and over and in the rough and steep grounds of the Luberon park land, aka, Garrigue, rich in herbs such as rosemary and thyme, covered in short little oak trees, and speckled with prickly juniper, majenta rockroses, and more (depending the season).

As we presented ourselves to each other we sipped freshly infused thyme and rosemary (no coffee here). When the presentations got to me, after learning of the man who has 100 Rove goats and 20 years handling them, the young man who has 300 sheep all kept out of doors, the neighbor who has 50 sheep, and looks towards more, and my friend Catherine with her handful of black belly meat sheep, I shared my Franco-American background. François, with his 100 Rove goats looked at me and said, "hey, I've heard about you! From Laure, the "commercialle" at Maison Mons, and oh yes, I know Claudine Malbosc, I did my internship with her and Yves 20 years ago, and of course I know Jacky, and Hélène, annd Christian... " And so it goes. The world of goats is quite small. And tales of my project creation in Michigan have traveled far.

As we headed out to walk the goats, we first visited the bucks, calmly kept in a field (all the time, their only shelter the trees) with a donkey. The donkey acts as a social buffer, both protecting, but also quieting the bucks.

I couldn't help but gravitate towards a marvelous older man who was telling tales of dining upon his truffles. I listened closely as he regaled us with how to make the most amazingly flavored blood sausage (boudin noir) possible. Well, the week before you slaughter your pig, you give her a bucket of truffles (these are apparently low-cost when you can find them in your backyard, i.e. the Lubéron hills) daily. When at last you slit her throat, the blood that spills will be scented with truffles. Catch it in your frying pan, stir it up, and fill your casings.

I must say, that's a new one for me :-)


Truffles being his primary income source, he has his methods. Leaving the village with your dog early morning is simply too suspect. Someone's going to follow you. And, well, the truffle fly method is something you do between 12 & 2pm, again a very suspicious time to be out and about (normal humans lunch and nap at these hours). So, to out-wit any sneaky, some-time friends who might wish to suss out truffle hot-spots, you must adopt a different tactic. Jeannot goes out for his primary investigative walks in August and September. When he spots what are called white truffle mushrooms, spikes that come up, perhaps split and crackled on the cap, he marks the spot with a few barley grains (after harvesting these white mushrooms to take back home for his mid-day omelette). When he returns to the hills late fall/winter, the barley has grown, and the truffle beneath it will have burned it golden. He can spot these even by the light of the moon. And so, he collects his truffles, takes them home and sells them, no one the wiser.

Our goat-herder took us up into the hills along a portion of his daily three hour tour. Steeply we climbed, slipping in the shale, trying not to pull on the rough oak scrub brush to pull us up to the next level. Breathing hard, we huffed and puffed to where the goats were happily nibbling the oak leaves and the rosemary buds in a fresh stand of greenery.

Our herder/host explained that his goats do not have issues with parasites, and are in excellent health. There are, however, the occasional "mechanical" problem. I.e. we spotted a very happy and active 3 legged goat (he did not divulge how she became 3 legged.. so the mystery remains), goats get tears on their teats, and ear tags get lost in the branches. But, all in all, it's a small price to pay for healthy goats. He likes the quality of his milk as well. Back by the milking stand he has a manger full of hay, so they can eat to their hearts' delight before and after milking - should they need to.

Certain stands of prairie down by his barn are planted in alfalfa and a mix of prairie grasses. The latter a mix so delicious and varied that his goats barely reject any of the 1st cutting. OK, I'm speaking goat breeder talk here. But if you knew goats, you'd realize that this is important news. I'm going to learn about this mix! Rejection of a goodly portion of their hay, tossing it on the ground, etc., by goats is a classic woe of many a goat herder. And, in general, the saying goes, give your first cutting to the horses, the 2nd and 3rd cuttings to the goats. So delicious and much appreciated 1st cutting? I'm in!

As we head back down from the hill top, we discussed when you move your goats from one area to another (when a 1/3 has been eaten, no more), and which plants suffer more or less from the passage of the goats. My colleague with the Roves mentioned a recent class in pasturing where they'd discussed whether it is a good or bad thing when goats get up on their hind legs to nibble in the trees (a sign that there is no longer sufficient nourishment at their head level).
 
One participant had his copy of today's Liberation paper, upon which every known vulgar and rude curse word had been printed in yellow. With the title in bold red. This, stated the man holding the paper, is what Liberty means to us in France. Completely and total free expression, even if it is rude, vulgar or in poor taste. It is following the example of Charlie Hebdo, and the recent marches all over France. Journalistic freedom & individual freedom of expression are ferociously in the forefront of everyone's mind. France is adamantly a Republic, where the separation of Church and State have been forcibly chosen and enforced. 

Vive La France - for all its virtues, vices, joys & sorrows, traditions and contradictions.

 A view of the Luberon Hills.

Translating for a Cause

Through a friend I was contacted to interpret for the FAITES SANS OGM festival in Le Thor. I said yes, put aside the dates, and went about my life. Then I looked again and said oops, who is that? oh yes. That's why I'm busy this weekend.

I managed to re-ignite the contact and confirm times, payment (what they could afford) and place, etc.,

And off I went on Sunday -- they were set on Saturday apparently.

And what a delightful experience! I was there interpreting during the speeches of Percy Schmeiser (the Canadian farmer who had such a terrible experience being sued by Monsanto for theft of their patented canola plants, which had arrived by the wind from his neighbor's land! -- though in the end he won the battle) and Vandana Shiva, the mother of all seed preservers in India.

These two have worked for years to combat the ever creeping presence and power of Monsanto and the world of genetically modified seeds. They have worked to preserve the ancient varieties of seeds and the ancient ways of farmers. They have stressed and explained why organic and traditional methods get the best yields, nourish the land and feed families and communities. They have spoken at the International Monetary Fund, the UN and far and wide dispelling the myths propagated by Monsanto as to yields (far below what was predicted so confidently) use of toxic pesticides (far over what was predicted) and the reality of organic agriculture.

These two 'grosses pointures' as we say here (super VIP) were joined by their Mexican colleague (for whom I did not translate, but who was splendid and fascinating), Ana De Ita who has been defending the varieties and bio-diversity of the local corns of Mexico against the infiltration (illegal during a moratorium banning OGM corn!) of Monsanto's GMO corn into Mexico.

I had a grand time, learned oodles, and managed to convince the conference operators that they should hire skilled translators more often. It is a truism that many many people speak English in France. But, sadly, this does not always mean they can retain information in their heads for a few minutes, and repeat it in coherent sentences for the audience to follow. Nor is a basically good vocabulary always sufficient. And, well, just take a look at many a translated menu...

All this to say, I will be keeping in touch with this group and am likely to work with them again.

What's ironic is that I actually knew a handful of the actors in this festival -- from the attaché for the Green Party in the mayor's office of Le Thor (from Tango) to two of the volunteers and adherents to Folle'Avoine, the non-profit that helped put this festival together (also from Tango), to one of the civil representatives for the safety of humanity (from the Steiner School), to a number of faces from the Conféderation Paysanne (from my years as companion to an organic vintner).

And yet the job offer came via a friend in Avignon (thank you my dear!) not at all from these numerous individuals who've seen me regularly in the past few years. Apparently, I have not been particularly open or demonstrative as to my interpreting skills... or they're all simply so accustomed to communicating with me in French that they forget that I'm fully bi-lingual?

Ah yes, I've neglected to say that the day finished at a wonderful tango spot, and shoes in hand, I danced a lovely bit before heading home to my kids, my normal life, and an early morning the next day.

I'm rather in awe at how many aspects of my life came together on this day: Steiner school, tango, nutrition/organic agriculture/life-style, translating skills (including simultaneous), and my accumulation of knowledge on this topic (thank you Michael Pollan!, OCA newsletters and more!).

Left-overs, presto, changeo = veggie burgers....

Okay, more getting nourishing things into un-suspecting children. I really did a doozy on them last night. My first veggie burgers. Oh, I've made Erick's cereal gallettes many times (5 flakes, grated cheese, chopped onion, herbes de Provence, eggs, salt, fried in olive oil and served with soy sauce). But this time I worked with what was in the house:

Camargue red wild rice (about 2 cups cooked went in)
my last evening's lentils (lentils, onion, garlic, carrots, a touch of cloves and curry) - about one cup
my other last evening's walnut sauce (walnuts, almonds, garlic, olive oil, water, salt) - 1/4 cup, that's all that was left.
grated gruyère cheese, - a good handful with a bit more by special request from Leo
eggs (three)
more minced garlic (onions would be picked out by Jonas)
salt

I tried frying it in oil and it all fell apart, so, I added some whole wheat flour as a binder and tried again.

Perfect! They even looked like burgers. And yes, in this at least half-way American household (living in Avignon, mostly French, but...) ketchup was on the table. What can I say? I've raised ketchup (organic when possible) eaters, not mustard folk. I know, I'm abérrante. I've already shocked the new beau with such glaring lack of class (hey, I do well on other fronts, but well, isn't ketchup a vegetable? Lysine any one?).

Result -- they loved them! Even Jonas! I kept the recipe a secret though. No allowing for potential dissention in the ranks.

Visiting Farmers

A convergence of my worlds and values. It is the rare visitor who truly connects with my artisans on the level of equal. But I had a couple the other day who were in this rank. They've an organic farm on the border of New York and Vermont. They raise pigs and chickens for meat, vegetables, fruit and bees. They are creative and concerned, devoted to their space and to working organically. They are hard-working and focused, curious and open. They came to learn and to share. They came bearing gifts -- home-made maple syrup.

And so we did a leisurely and extremely informative tour together. Sunday morning through lunch saw us with my friends at Long Mai, an organic farming cooperative and home to anywhere from 25 to 50 people from numerous European countries. Hannes, one of the founders in 1990 of this farm and deeply concerned and active in environmental politics since the 1970s, welcomed us warmly and patiently.


Over a very powerful cup of coffee and blown about by the even more powerful Mistral winds we took the time to share history, tales, ideas, and truly get a sense of each other. Passion was shared and conveyed. Respect was offered and received.

We toured the property, inspected the fields, met the animals, observed the projects coming up, passed by the chickens and the geese, strolled through the vegetable patches, admired the handmade bread oven, and were duly impressed by the conservatory of rare seeds.


Longo Mai is a place where any might go and see if it works for him/her. It is a way of life, and a life-choice. It is a community brought together to care for each other, work alongside each other, with the common goal of not polluting the world, and of maybe finding a better way to be. You come with what you have, and contribute what you are able. There are many jobs to be shared around and for each who is committed, a place can be found. All ages are welcome. The community feeds itself and strives to create a source of income from their activities to go further, build, create and plan for the future. The wool from their sheep, spun and knitted into finished sweaters is one such source, but also many delicious recipes for sauces and dips prepared and canned on-site. And, they orchestrate the preparing and delivering of farm crates with a rich array of products from neighboring organic farms.


In keeping with his never-ending projects Hannes just sent me a short translation concerning uranium mines in Mali. You never know what will come back after a visit!

From Longo Mai I took my visiting farmers to see Aurelie at the goat farm, then Sophie in her beehives.

It's very special for me to meet the people who are transforming the world back in the US along these lines. People who understand my own intensity and desire to nourish my children as well as possible. People who are committed to organic, who are going back to the earth, who are choosing to produce a maximum of their own food, and to collaborate with neighbors. Apparently the movement is as much a mother's/women's movement as a family affair. I suppose we are all readers of Michael Pollan, concerned and curious, over-educated, making choices about quality of life that jeopardize finances, but enrich differently.

And just the other day I had another client who's spent a life as a photographer, and is now training to be a veterinary technician at the age of 50! He too had a very personal and powerful moment at the goat cheese farm. This world is the one he is aiming towards.

Come my friends. I and my artisans will share with you what we may.

Meadowlark Farm - Cedar Michigan

One of the things I adore about this part of the world (Northern Michigan) is the growing consciousness and support for environmentally intelligent activities: houses off the grid, solar panels, individual windmills, organic farms supported by a whole array of clients willing to pledge a seasons' commitment to a crate a week, and so much more.

One of the magical places that I've been introduced to by my dear friend Nancy Allen -- a fantastic cook and cooking teacher of many years -- is the Meadowlark Farm outside of Cedar. It is a small family-run farm firmly anchored by Jenny and her husband. Their children, Ella and Elijah, help out and welcome visitors as graciously as their parents. Nancy has an arrangement with them to cook every Friday for the entire crew of helpers and workers and family and visitors (in this occasion myself, my mother and my two boys) with their array of organic vegetables and herbs freshly picked that morning.

She has also taught cooking to the kids (who are both home-schooled) and written quite a bit about her experiences on her own blog. It seems a fruitful exchange for all participants.

When I called Nancy the other day to see her during my very short vacation up here, she suggested I come over to the farm and join her in the kitchen -- something I always adore doing! When I arrived she put me immediately to work on rolling out the dough for the special Mediterranean pastries, Za'atar, that she was making from Paula Wolfert's superb book, The Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean. I rolled them out quite thin, and spread a marvelous mixture of herbs and sesame seeds and olive oil atop them. She assures me that as this is a Moroccan specialty, I should be able to find some mixtures in my local stores in France to recreate this wonderful flat bread.

Then I helped her with the beet falafals (sweet, delicately spiced, and crispy fried!) - also from Paula Wolfert- while her friend Maureen and my mother worked on a Greek zucchini and celery dish with raisins, cinnamon, vinegar and onions.

I brought along some of my fresh bread (a bit heavy as the starter has yet to truly bubble away like mine back in Provence. However, it was received as a good, nourishing, whole grain loaf with a nice acidic bite. Little in resemblance to my bread back home, but nonetheless a crowd pleaser.

My boys happily went off to play with Elijah and the farm dogs. I cooked away, and then we all sat down to a delectable and somewhat exotic feast. Yum! After a lovely chat with Jenny, a tour of the barn and the flowers she adds to her vegetable crates (a creative outlet for her), I suggested we bring Elijah back to the lake with us where he spent a fun afternoon with my boys playing Monopoly, swimming out to the raft and exploring our little corner of the woods.

Building a wall

Sometimes, you just need to get your hands into a large tub of mud. It can be quite a nourishing and calming experience. Such a shame I never got into any mudbaths at the spas surrounding San Francisco the brief year I lived there.

I spent this week with Martine. She's doing the finishing work on her 'green' house. Working up in Brittany this year (and hopefully coming back down at the end of the year), she's only here for school vacations. Thus, perfect timing. I'd rented my house for the week, was not going to the winery for obvious reasons, and needed to be housed by someone who could put up with me in my current state (intermittent depression and babbling). That this person could also put me to work was just the icing on the cake.


Thus, after departing the home of my dear Scottish friends (where I'd over-stayed my welcome just a bit... but that's another story), I headed over to the small development in Jonquières in the Gard to Martine. When I arrived, she was putting up wooden boards on the walls just under the roof -- thus complicated and precise angles to cut. I was useful as a counter weight while she sawed away. A bit in a daze, and eager to speak with her, but hesitant as it was working time and a friend was there too whose ears I didn't feel like filling with my woes, I just helped as I could and bided my time.



Next up, a wall of raw bricks to be put together with clay and straw mortar. There were mason's tools available, but after attempting to use them, hands just seemed better, easier. Martine began the wall with me. Her friend pointed out where to put the nails in the wood at either end to hold the wall solidly, and how to (hopefully) build it straight. We didn't have a small level, so, it was a task that required eyeing things carefully and slipping into the flow of clay, balance, equilibrium and the sense of straight. I remembered my class in the 12 senses of Rudolf Steiner, and amongst them, is the sense of equilibrium/horizon. Interesting. You could also say, I was doing this à l'africaine, using just my hands and my eyes, scorning all Western tools.


Quickly, this became my task. Martine was much more at ease with the wooden planks, and for some odd reason, building this wall was just the thing I needed to do: repetitive, but requiring attention to detail. Soothing textures in my hands, the clay grounded me, the repetition centered me, level by level. All my wiggy, sad, stressed feelings seemed to ooze away as I handled that clay in my hands. It was truly a marvelous act of creation.


There I was helping my friend in an unexpectedly useful way, and healing my hurts all the while. Plus, I've discovered a hidden talent in myself. Who would've thought that I could build a clay wall?

Blog Action Day

The environment. In keeping with the personal nature of my blog, I will address this in a personal vein. I can do little more but vote where I might, and express myself a bit loudly when it comes to industrial polution and the carbon tax. However, personally, I can do what I can, and influence those in my immediate world. It comes down to so many small acts, hoping they will cumulate and spread to others:

- Turn out the light(s) when you leave a room (and make sure the kids do too).
- Insulate the house better (at least put rolled up rugs at the bottom of my doors to limit drafts).
- wear sweaters and slippers rather than jacking up the heat. - Into bed early in the winter.
- Bake everything I've to bake at the same time, or at least one right after another. For example, the no-salt bread for Isabelle, two loaves of bread for my family and a batch on corn muffins for the kids' afternoon snack.
- Keep driving to a minimum -- group all errands in the same trip, carpool, encourage bicycling or walking where possible and safe.
- Limit hot showers and baths to what is good hygiene but no more (harder said than done with my crew of pre-teens), but I do repeat myself frequently, in hopes that this message will eventually get through.
- One big sink of hot water to wash all my dishes throughout the morning.
- Buy locally from the farm nearby, or friends. And even better, get to the farm on foot or by bike.
- Buy in bulk from my organic wholesaler -- as locally as I'm able, but also, fewer runs to the store by using my pantry-space.
- Grow my own vegetables as I'm able (the dimensions of my vegetable garden are increasing yearly, as I -- ever so slowly -- gain more knowledge and skill in this area).
- Put in a chicken pen and get a couple of chickens from Gaetan's parents -- a project in the offing, we'll see... How would this help the environment? Well, it would help the house budget, and they'd eat up all the stale bread and such that I am also putting into the compost. At the very least, I wouldn't be using more than one egg carton or so by week, and thus would reduce my own personal consumption of cardboard/gas/plastic.
- As soon as winter sets in and I start firing up the wood stove, it will replace (as much as possible) the gas and electric burners as my cook-top.
- Heat off every night, heavy and warm covers for all.
- Efficient "green" bulbs in all the house lamps.
- Mix by hand whenever possible -- ok, I used the Kitchen Aid for meringues and the cereal bars, but all muffins, bread, cookies are mixed with good old-fashioned elbow grease and a wooden spoon.
- Furnish the house (should I still need anything, which I don't) and my wardrobe (ditto) from the flea markets/Goodwill. I've found some gorgeous items over the years that would do a princess no dishonour. No exotic hardwoods from the forests of Indonesia.
- Read, play board games and talk rather than watch TV -- and just don't own one if you can get away from it.
- Hang my laundry out to dry, either outdoors or in my bathroom, over all my house-hold doors (which I've wiped clean before-hand). Yes, this is doable even for those who have 6 month winters! The dryer habit can be broken.
- In keeping with the washing theme: wash only what needs washing: socks, underwear, and much worn jeans and stained or smelly t-shirts, etc., Don't just use the laundry basket as a catch-all for cleaning the room.
- Recycle, compost, re-use as possible, and have a stash of grocery bags and crates for shopping: as necessary, I give classes in this to the kids (yes, little girl, I'm serious, take a look at this bag, what do you see? Ah, so cold lentils don't really go with clean cardboard, plastic bottles, and printer paper, no? Ok, remove them please, you can use this cloth. And next time, please note the three recepticles and use them correctly).

Where do I find it difficult? Where do I continue to consume?

- I do have a dish washer (for 6 kids remember). But I'm trying to teach them to use one glass/cup per day and re-use it, rather than going through 5 per child (breakfast/lunch/snack/snack/dinner/snack) -- not there yet.
- Wean myself off my computer (ouch!), and let the battery fully run down before plugging it back in to recharge it (I can do this at least).
- In my food habits, it is very difficult to deprive myself of the classic triumverate of imported foods: coffee, chocolate and tea, add to this soy sauce, sesame oil, fish sauce, and?. Otherwise, I'm doing pretty well eating locally and seasonally and making most everything from scratch.
- I like shoes -- little boots (perhaps made in China?), tango shoes (designed for my feet in Buenos Aires), sandals (Spain). And my boys live in sneakers (made in China) -- though but one pair per year or till they are worn to bits. And, I do re-heel and re-sole my shoes till they become such an eyesore JP is embarrassed to be seen in public with me.

How more can I or any of us help? Public transportation is great -- for certain routes. Keeping lights off as much as possible requires larger windows than I have in this heavy stone house, and better eyes than I was bequeathed by my myopically challenged parents. As such, I'm sitting here with the kitchen lights on (though no others). I use the I-tunes in my computer as a source of music rather than play the radio/hifi across the room.

I'm teaching as I might. Yesterday evening's discussion with Leo included why I resist purchasing yet more plastic toys for he and his brother and emphasize those that last and those that have a thousand possibilties. And, considering the quantity they already have, Christmas may bring more books than toys this year. I don't like the throw-away culture. Yes, I do go through the house and bring whatever is no longer needed/used/ etc., to Goodwill or the Red Cross every June. But, I cringe as I throw away broken plastic toys. I hate it. What was the point of a noisy, fragile, highly colored object that lasted perhaps two weeks at most as a toy of choice for my children? Why? It's so much more fun to climb a tree, draw, build with bits of wood outdoors.

I teach, I encourage, I berate, sometimes lightly, more often no doubt heavy handedly. Am I wacko? Or just reflecting my own education at my mother's knee and my horror of trash, landfills, the green-house effect (which I'd already read about back in 1980 before graduating from high school), large cars, pavement everywhere, yet more large factories and malls going up where farm land once was, and food that tastes like plastic, ripened by a gas and flown across the world? Yes, I react oddly when served asparagus in the winter (in Provence, if I were in South Africa, this would be normal).

I'm just a bit off-center I suppose. Or not. Think Global, act Local. My mantra.

Shopping for the fall, or at least a few months.

I did my first trip to the organic wholesaler's yesterday. It was a time to invest for the year. Some things: grated cheese, quator oil (sesame, olive, pumpkin and rape seed), are truly for the year, but others will be refreshed as needed, month by month. Here's the list of what I considered necessary for my household to function. With these ingredients I've the basics for nourishing my charges daily. Considering I never buy anything packaged and prepared, it means a lot of cooking. But, when you've a house full of pasta, grains, flour, sugar, chocolate, etc., you've not the necessary ingredients to prepare a meal as needed.

Dry goods:

a case (12 packets) semi-whole wheat spaghetti - 12.60E
10 bars (200g) dark pastry chocolate - 21.70E
5kg non-bleached sugar - 9.70E
5 cases plain brown rice crackers - 22.50E
5 cases brown rice and quinoa crackers - 22.50E
3 kg pumpkin seeds - 15.36E
3 kg sunflower seeds - 10.29E
5 kg 9 grain flour - 10.15E
5 kg whole wheat flour - 6.95E
5 kg white flour - 7.25E
5 kg semi whole wheat flour - 7.00E
3 kg 5 grain flakes (oats, rice, wheat, spelt, barley) - 5.70E
a case (12 packets) lasagna noodles - 5.70E
6 litres quator oil - 45.00E
a case (6 boxes 400g) hot chocolate powder - 22.80E
2.5 kilos almonds 21.25
3 kilos chocolate chips (a splurge) 27.15E

Cleaning supplies: (I still have toilet bowl cleaner from last year, and it works very well on limestone deposits too).

5 litres concentrated dish liquid - 10.66E
5 litres concentrated liquid detergent - 15.21E

Perishables (extra to be put in the freezer):

16 packets of 200g sweet butter - 35.88E
10 kilos grated gruyère cheese - 103.50
30 eggs - 7.50

Between various storage pantries and my freezer, this will keep us for a good long while. I go through flour faster than anything else, and chocolate (brownies, muffins, etc.,). I already have stashes of basmati rice, brown rice, spelt, barley, green lentils, bulgur, nutritional yeast, linseed, olive oil, my home-made chunky tomato sauce, 6 litres of plain tomato sauce, a jar of my refreshed sourdough starter, baking soda, sea salt ... and my personal stash of black Tazo chai. Hence, a pantry now filled with what I need to make bread, soda bread, pancakes, lasagna, quiches, tarts, cookies, brownies, risottos, couscous, and much much more.

Weekly I'll purchase eggs, milk, vegetables and fruit. Occasionally a bit of ham, bacon, a chicken, and chunks of cheese. I try not to go over 20E/week, and am normally successful as long as I stick to in season.

Now, if only gas were cheaper...

My version of Mac-n-Cheese

Unless otherwise noted, all materials on this blog are (c) 2009 by Madeleine Vedel


Here's an odd recipe, which is getting raves in my house from my somewhat American boys. It is my, no doubt, overly healthful variation on macaroni and cheese. My kids have tasted that boxed stuff in homes in the US, and liked it. So, my challenge was to mimic the color (bright orange) and to a certain degree the flavor. I'm also working with as much a happy memory as true sensory sensitivity. I wouldn't put this dish beside the original, but with a bit of distance and nostalgia, it goes over surprisingly well.

I start with a béchamel, add puréed cooked squash, tomato paste, lots of grated gruyère cheese, a touch of salt, and I pour it over the pasta. The art comes in blending just the right amount of squash and tomato paste -- these add both color and sweetness.

Ingredients:

a tablespoon butter
2 tablespoons flour
3 cups whole milk
1 1/2 cups grated swiss cheese
1/3 cup fluid tomato sauce/paste (somewhat between the two, or more of the former and less of the latter)
1/2 cup dense pureed squash or 1 cup less dense (depends on the variety and the intensity of its flavor. Add in batches and taste.
a pinch of salt as necessary

a batch of cooked macaroni.

To make the béchamel base, melt the butter in a sauce pan over a medium flame, add the flour and whisk to make a paste, slowly add the milk, just a 1/2 cup to start with, whisking to even out the lumps. When it begins to thicken, add more milk. Add in the cheese and whisk gently. Let come to a simmer. Add the tomato sauce and the squash, blend together with the whisk, seeking a unified texture. Occasionally, if it doesn't come together, I sprinkle on a bit more flour to bind. Taste and salt as necessary. Add in the cooked pasta, stir, and then transfer to a baking dish, sprinkle a bit more grated cheese on top, place in the oven briefly to grill the top, and serve -- a large green salad on the side helps cut the very rich dish that this is.

I use organic but full-fat versions of all my ingredients. At this time my boys are very active, very slender, and eating so few packaged products both at school and at home that their fat/sodium/sugar intake is pretty low. Thus, the periodic rich dish such as this or my lasagna are to my mind, good nourishment for them, though this one in particular can stimulate a bit of sniffles in those who are sensitive to milk products. Currently the case for myself. As such, the dairy intake could be limited above by using olive oil in the place of the butter, soy milk in the place of the milk.. but I hesitate in replacing the cheese with a fake product, that just doesn't feel right. It would be easy for non-glutens to switch to rice flour to thicken and rice/corn pasta instead of wheat.

Enjoy