Visiting Sophie

Do bees interest you? Are you at ease around buzzing things? Curious about all those different flavors of honey? Maybe contemplating having a few hives yourself?

Whenever I visit Sophie this interest deepens. She is so calm, so able, and so welcoming. During our most recent visit (with three lovely clients from Houston) we donned the beekeeper's garb and accompanied her to the box hives (ruches). She calmly filled her smoker -- not to calm the bees as many of us believe, but to make them believe their hive is on fire, at which point they gorge themselves on honey to beat their wings furiously to cool the hive. Hence, they are quite occupied with protecting themselves and don't react to the invasion and disruption of the beekeeper.

Thus armed, with both the smoker and this new knowledge, we watched as Sophie pried open the hive (the top is stuck to the bottom with the most sticky propolis), and removed a frame covered in bees. They buzzed about, moved about their frame, and left us quite alone. I felt just a bit hesitant, but not a one of us was stung.

We then headed over to her mielerie to see her new stainless steel centrifuge for removing the honey from the racks/frames and her extremely simple system of a fine-mesh strainer to catch the bits of beeswax before jarring her honey. She does not heat it, nor sterilize it. She simply jars it pure, ready and ripe from the hives. A gift of the bees.

After learning a bit about the many stages of a bee's life, the nutritional castration of the bees, and all the roles they hold throughout their 35-45 day lives, we were encouraged to taste. Hmmmmm Acacia, Linden Tree, Lavender, Multi-Flower from the Garrigue/Provence, and Chestnut. In a normal year, Sophie harvests Rosemary as well, and a multi-flower from the marshlands of the Camargue.

This year however, after 10 days of rain followed by 4 days of the powerful Mistral winds the Rosemary harvest is not possible, and the Acacia production will also be adversely affected. Ah well, we'll have to wait a bit more for the multi-flowers...

Summer Pork Roast

Living in a house with meat eaters, well, it has to be on the menu every once in a while. So, I made one of my favorites this evening:

Braised pork roast with sun-ripened tomatoes

It's terribly simple, but also truly delicious.

Ingredients:

- one pork roast
- 3 small onions chopped (about a cup's worth)
- a good handfull of cocktail tomatoes (about twice the size of cherry tomatoes), or other sweet and ripe tomatoes quartered
- olive oil for browning
- a touch of garam marsala, or a sweet Indian mix, or simple some thyme tossed in
- a drizzle of flavorful honey (no more than a tablespoon and a half)
- 2 cups of white/rosé wine
- a sprinkle of sea salt

I used my heavy Creuset enameled cast iron post to make this. It is oval and just the right size for a roast (and for no-knead bread, but that's another story).

I brown the meat on high in the olive oil, then remove it. Then I toss in the onions with a bit more oil, and today, as I had some spare salted and sweated, rinsed and tapped-dry eggplant, I tossed that in as well. When the onions were just sweated, I added in the spices and tossed all these about for a moment, then added the tomatoes and stirred till a touch of liquid appeared. I then put back in the roast, nestling it into the middle of all these good veggies. I drizzled the honey on top, sprinkled in the salt, and poured on the wine. I then covered, lowering the heat to the minimal possible, and let it braise gently for an hour. We're actually going to eat it tomorrow for lunch. So when it cools, I'll pop it in the fridge, to be put back on the heat 10-15 minutes or so before we eat. I'll also remove the cover for the last 5 minutes to reduce the liquid, and perhaps continue reducing after removing the meat, to get just the right amount of juices...

Now, considering I've been attempting to do a variation of the grape mono-diet -- permitting crudités, salad, and my ratatouille (yum!!) at lunch but avoiding all meats, dairy, and starch--this is self-induced torture to make such a good roast and only taste it (I'm not a purist, have you noticed? tasting is permitted!).

Enjoy.

Greenery Overflowing - Guinea Hen with Honey and a Fresh Cheese

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



It is one of those moments of lush greenery, over-abundant grass, buds on all the rose bushes. The ground has taken in the recent rains (which were plentiful and intense, I'm still cleaning up the leaks around the house), and fed the plants, pushing them high into the bursting sunshine. Except for the fact that I'm more than a bit daunted to get out my light-weight and slightly rusted lawn mower (will it work? will it konk out from the effort? and do I really want to behead those lovely daisies?), I feel a bit like Eve lost in a Garden of Eden. I'm wavering between living with a field out back, or choosing to trim it down to a yard.



All my plants are growing by leaps and bounds, as hackneyed as the phrase may be. Along the back fence behind the pool are two climbing rose bushes liberally splattered in yellow flowers. On the Eastern facade, the jasmin is weaving into the red rose bush, densely covering the wall beside my door. The butterfly trees, small bushes just last year put in along the little fence keeping wee ones out of the pool, are towering above me. All is at its most abundant, excepting my fig tree. It is not looking happy, which has me worried. I'll keep my fingers crossed that it didn't die this winter. However, as I took a walk out my door -- once the repeated thunderstorms had finally ceased -- I saw that many another fig tree is fully in leaf now. Oh it will be sad if I can't have my twice yearly yield of wonderful figs for tarts, jams, sorbets and more!

A happy Fig Tree

It took rather awhile for my day to unfold -- my jet lag still has me a bit woozy. I managed the morning routine, even getting up just a bit earlier to shower and get things on the table for my brood. I got them all off to school, under the dark clouds of the night's storm and the day's rains to come. Then off for a bit of shopping. My kids are ok switching to unsweetened Dutch cocoa with my organic sugar rather than their traditional highly processed Banania brand, so one less item on the list. But, with 6 of us, the need for shampoo drove me to buy the cheap large family size brand (and me, so proud of my glorious mane!) Ah well, there's no hiding away chic shampoo from my kids, ditto for my favorite black currant and blackberry jams. Once they get ahold of them, poof! they disappear. At least no one is borrowing my clothes or jewelry, though my hair brush has gone missing more than once.




I sprang for a guinea hen to test out another recipe from Sophie the beekeeper. The recipe actually calls for duck, but I'm in the mood to test a trick on the dryer guinea hen. This recipe uses Isabelle's (the goat cheese lady) trick of putting a fresh cheese in the cavity of the bird before roasting it. She promises me that this is a great way to keep it moist as it roasts. We shall see hm? Two birds with one stone eh?

I confess to crashing for a serious early afternoon nap. Awakening to blue skies (what could be nicer?) I went for a walk with Filou to drive the dust from my brain, clear some passages (after sticking the bread in the oven... it wasn't a long walk). In every direction: green. It is rather overwhelming. Yesterday I was inspired to weed my garden (yes, a weekly event), and to liberally fill my salad bowl with my collection. Even though so many texts say that dandelion greens are better young when they're just in their crown stage, I happily clipped and rinsed them and added them to our salad with some red leaf, toasted sunflower seeds, freshly sprouted grains, olive oil from the winery, a touch of soy sauce and a squirt of lemon. Delicious!




I also served my first asparagus of the season. I'd waited till the price was under 6E/kilo, and picked the slender green stalks rather than the more work-intensive fat white ones. I chopped and snipped them into 2 inch lengths, and then tossed them with olive oil, a touch of water to let them cook till tender, then minced garlic and a squirt of lemon juice. All but Jonas just dug right in. I'm amazed and relieved that Leo's little boy snookiness about food has now evolved to an age of trying everything. The evolution of a child's palate. One has to have hope and a certain blasé attitude. N'est-ce pas?

Here's Sophie's recipe as I noted it. However, the proportions are approximations of her memory of what she did. She never writes anything down, and she never does a recipe twice. It is only when I'm in her house and at her table that I can ask her about the meal she has just cooked, and thus hope to get at least the full list of ingredients from her. Quantities must then be worked out till they work just right.

Enjoy, and if you try it, please do give me your feed back and/or suggestions!

Duck with Orange and Chestnut (or wildflower) Honey

Ingredients:

For the duck:

A farm raised duck if possible
2 mild 20% fat fromage blanc (plain yogurt will work for this, about 1/2 a cup)
a large pinch or two of Herbes de Provence
the juice of 1/2 an orange
One orange peeled and cut into eighths
Olive oil for drizzling

For the Sauce

The juice of 3 oranges
A large pinch of Herbes de Provence
1/4-1/3 teaspoon cumin grains
4 Tablespoons honey vinegar (or cider vinegar)
4 Tablespoons chestnut or a richly flavored wildflower honey

A sauce for the giblets and liver

3 large shallots sliced to form a 3/4 cup
olive oil for sautéing
The giblets and liver minced
1 tablespoon honey vinegar (or cider vinegar)
1 glass white wine (about a half cup)
1 cup of chicken bouillon/stock

Preheat oven to 400F/200C

Take your duck and remove the giblets and liver, put aside. Pour the yogurt and the herbes inside and spread them around the inside of the duck.* Pour in the juice of 1/2 an orange and fill with the orange slices. Pour olive oil on the bottom of a baking dish, place the duck in it, sprinkle with salt and pepper and place in the oven. Baste with the first sauce above after it begins to brown (20 minutes). Continue basting till the sauce has been all used.

* This is a trick that our goat cheese lady Isabelle uses as well – for duck and guinea hen, she always puts a fresh cheese or yogurt in the cavity when roasting. This helps keep the otherwise tough bird moist.

Make the first sauce by simply mixing together the ingredients in a small bowl. After the duck has browned a bit, start using this sauce to baste the duck – the presence of the honey will develop a caramel crust on the skin of the duck. Depending on the size of your duck, it will be cooked in an hour and a half or simply in an hour.

Rain, Honey, Calm - a recipe

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

Some days follow a pattern, a pre-arranged rhythm, and there are days that seem to arrive, a bit hastily, and thrust you onto a treadmill of sorts. There are days when the weather is in sync with your plans, be they to take a walk, drive to work, bake bread, weed the garden or write an article. And there are days when the weather feels quite at odds and threatens to dictate your progression or lack there-of through the ever present to-do list.

The drizzle of rain began in the evening yesterday, and has continued on and off since. The tin light-cover over the front door tangs steadily, or only once a minute, adapting its musicality to the elements. As is common on rain days in this world, the nose to nose traffic is backed up far beyond the kids' school's exit deciding my first move post drop-off: to the grocery store. Thrilling I know, but the necessities were in short supply, so gomasio (Leo won't eat rice or pasta without it), toothpaste, yogurt and some veggies later, I as out the door. Next, the post office; next, the bank; next, the pharmacy; next... why not try on some cute spring fashions? Ugh... pasty white thighs, soft tubby back, and why are all the fashions for nearly flat chested girls? It is indecent for me to be seen in public with so much in view. Oh well, good way to save non-existent cash.

On the way home, one last errand to pick up plane tickets to be handled. I drive the loop up to the bridge, park by the ramparts, tightly behind already parked cars as there are no more real spaces. The trick is to be sure the cars to the other side can pass you. The cars you park behind will simply exit by going down off the curb. Curb parking, either fully, on an angle, just two wheels up on it, etc., is a specialty here. Filou waits patiently, as I trot off umbrellaless to get the tickets. Each year at this time, I'm here at this office, with its personnel whom I've gotten to know, witnessed pregnant, sorting through the complicated task of getting my boys and myself to Michigan (or NY) separately and together. The internet cannot handle unaccompanied minors, but happily, Air France can. I pass in front of many boutiques with expensive and lovely clothes (ouch!) but for some reason, I find the designs in the expecting mommy store the nicest. What does this mean? I'm not planning on a third! Or is it just the lovely way they drape large breasts and a bulging tummy in elegant materials?

Home. Breakfast dishes and the last of yesterday evening's dinner dishes to clean up. But absolutely no energy--or rather desire--to do more. With the rain and mud the kids will no doubt tramp in later this afternoon, it would be pointless to clean. Already the myth of Sysiphus dominates my life: The never ending tasks, always to be repeated once done, a rock to be pushed up a mountain, or house-keeping, take your pick.) The sense of accomplishment is so ever ephemeral, rather like the flowering of the cherry trees. Be fully in the present... as this too shall pass.

And so, I serve myself some lunch, yummy left-overs from Tuesday night's beekeeper inspired chicken. Having known Sophie for so long now, and having a slight sweet tooth, I've borrowed quite a bit of her kitchen style. I kept this chicken recipe relatively simple so that all the kids would eat it, but, one could definitely up the quantities of spices, add some curry, or switch to white wine rather than apple juice, as you please, when serving only grown-ups. It is a short hour prep to table, and the prep is no more than 15 minutes. With the rice cooker steaming beside it, I still had time to get the kids to set the table, pull out a load of laundry, and even read an article in the NYTimes.

Honey Spiced Chicken -- version April, 2009

One free-range chicken



(basically the nicest one you can find -- I am very spoiled by the quality of the grocery store chickens in France. See the label. We are assured of its age -- at least 81 days; its nutrition -- 100% vitamins, vegetable, mineral with 80% of that being grains/seeds; its preparation date; the date by which it should be consumed; the temperature at which it should be kept; and given tracing information in the form of either a numeric code or an address to contact should anything be off. Accountability, traceability, no growth hormones. And I have a choice of over 8 different fowls in any given grocery store, including duck, 5-6 chicken options, guinea hens, turkey legs. And, you can open it on a counter. The fowl do not get automatically water-bathed in France. But, you don't get any giblets, those have all gone to the pâté producers.)

an onion or two quartered
a few cloves of garlic -- in their paper
a couple of apples (can be tired), cleaned, and quartered.
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons field flower honey (or buckwheat, or garrigue, one with some flavor)
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon garam masala
1 teaspoon tumeric
3 tablespoons tamari
2-3 cups apple juice

I used a large pot with a lid (see photos), a "fait-tout" or dutch oven if you will. Truly the easiest way to cook a chunk of meat, and generally easy to clean afterwards.



Pour the olive oil in the pot, put the flame on high and put in the chicken. Brown on all sides. Add the quartered onions, the garlic cloves whole and in their sleeves, and let sweat. Sprinkle on the spices, spoon on the honey over the chicken, drizzle on the tamari, pour in the apple juice. Cover and let cook over a low flame for 45 minutes (depending on the size of your chicken). Check occasionally to be sure the liquid doesn't boil dry, and top off with some water as needed. It will smell wonderful, and when done, you can literally dismantle the chicken into its parts with tremendous ease.




Erick taught me to carve my chicken into four parts (the breast meat and wings, and the thigs and legs), and then to divide these again to get eight good sized serving portions. It is infinitely easier than carving the white meat in slices.

Serve with a large pot of rice (basmati, or brown as you prefer), and some steamed vegetables.

Then, enjoy the left-overs for as long as there are any.

Feel free to add prunes or oranges, to toss in some leeks, carrots, mushrooms, herbes de Provence... the variations are infinite. As my kids well know.

A Cooking Class with our Beekeeper

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

We left our home in Avignon mid-afternoon and set out to drive down the West side of the Rhône, over the bridge at Boulbon, through Tarascon, to the small village of St. Etiènne du Grès. Taking a road to the right of the old bakery, we climbed into the Alpilles. Soon the pavement petered out and we switched to a dirt road beneath the tall pines and green oak. Up and up, over bumps, and crevasses deepened by the recent rains, around a few switch backs, till we reached the crest. At this point Leo sat on the window sill for the last 100 meters, till we reached Sophie’s home, right across from the 10th century prieuré that lies in ruins. Rough and bumpy as it was, her road is actually one of the oldest roads in the region; the prieuré is testament to the passage of people by this route for at least the last millennium.

We arrived, letting Filou out to run wild, and headed into her home where we were greeted by her fluffy little dog (kind of a cross between a yorkie and a guinea pig) Chataigne (chestnut). Filou quickly found a gray kitten who hissed terribly at the intrusion.

While Sophie got things ready for us the kids ran outside to play hide and seek, cache cache, amidst the trees, huge laurel bushes and piles of bee hives (not currently in use). From her doorstep, it's a short jump into the woods and the wild asparagus, thyme, rosemary, bay leaves and fennel. A couple minutes’ walk leads to olive orchards, and across the path of the occasional cross country biker. Pines tower above.

Then, back to Sophie’s home and into her kitchen. Her kitchen is a tiny affair neatly filled by a large gas oven and a professional stainless steel sink. We set ourselves up on a table in her front room, a wonderful glass enclosed space encircled by the outside greenery.

Sophie had chosen three recipes for today’s class:

A salad of cucumbers in fromage blanc (or yogurt) with spices
A honey spiced roast pork, and
A honey and spice chocolate cake.

She loves working with fresh herbs and spices in her cuisine and shared this with the kids. She has nearly every herb growing haphazardly outside her house. Her spices are stored in an overflowing wheeled cart of warm-toned jars.



Hands washed, we got to work.

Sophie’s Cucumber Salad

Preparation time: 15 minutes

Ingredients:

One cucumber 8-10 inches in length, or two smaller cucumbers
2 tablespoons Olive oil
1 tablespoon old style seed mustard
2 tablespoons honey vinegar (may be replaced by raspberry or cider vinegar)
2 plus 2 tablespoons Acacia honey (mild Clover honey is an ok replacement)
250 grams or 2 cups fromage blanc (This can be replaced by plain yogurt)
1 tablespoon crème fraîche – can be replaced with heavy
Fresh picked oregano sprigs
Or freshly chopped chives
Or freshly picked tarragon
Salt and pepper

Utensils:

a chopping surface
a vegetable peeler (called an “econome” in French)
a chopping knife
measuring spoons
a large mixing bowl
a wooden spoon
kitchen scissors

To split the work Sophie chopped the cucumber in two width wise. Then she showed us how to use the peeler. She prefers peeling towards herself (but my mother has always told me to peel away from myself to avoid accidents…). After we’d peeled the cucumber, we split it in half lengthwise and scooped out the seeds in the middle with the pointed end of the peeler. Sophie also showed us how we could use a small spoon to do this. The cucumber has lots of water, so, either, we scoop out the seeds and then proceed with the recipe, or we slice our cucumber, sprinkle it with salt and let the salt draw out some of its water – this would take about an hour.



Since we want to do the recipe right away, we’re using the seeding method today. Once the cucumber pieces are seeded, we slice them into thin rounds and put them aside.

Then, in the mixing bowl, Sophie puts in the olive oil, the mustard, the honey vinegar and 2 teaspoons of honey. She carefully showed us that when using really runny honey, it helps to turn the spoon back and forth till the drips stop, and then to bring it over quickly to your bowl. Otherwise you can get it everywhere. She mixes these together with her wooden spoon till they make a paste. Then she adds the fromage blanc (or yogurt) and a spoonful of crème fraîche to give the dish a more “unctuous” texture, aka smooth and rich, but unctuous is such a great word!



Then out to the garden to pick some fresh oregano. We brought it back in and she let us snip it in two ways, both with her kitchen scissors and on the chopping surface with a knife.



We sprinkled this into the creamy mixture, and then added the cucumber slices. But before we stirred them in, Sophie sprinkled salt on top and a couple turns of the pepper mill, as well as the other 2 teaspoons of honey. Then we mixed it all together and tasted. We thought a bit more salt would make it better. And then, when we were all satisfied, we put the bowl into the fridge to take out and serve nicely chilled when we were ready for dinner.

Since our day together, we’ve tried this recipes for other dishes. For instance, as a sauce for spicy grilled chicken, or lamb it is really superb.