Kate Hill: A French Kitchen Adventure

45 degrees below... winter words in summer

2008-08-14T23:45:00.008+01:00

Live from the 45th parallel.
Christchurch, New Zealand.

This busman's holiday in the southern hemisphere is as much about R&D as it is teaching and cooking. So the very first thing on my first morning with the Metcalfes was an chilly excursion to the Lyttleton Farmer's Market followed by a HOT flat white at the Lyttleton Coffee Company in front of the seriously roaring fire.

While the South Island was hit with unexpected snow flurries and some blustry winds which severly reduced the buyers, the serious and passionate vendors gathered in the somewhat sheltered lee in the grade school playground to sell their wares.

Anna of Gruff Junction farms with her goat's cheeses, organic farmer Chris with an extensive of vegetables from his Tuahiwi Market Gardens ,

and an extraordinary bacon sandwiches from local pork producers. Stay tuned for more Bacon news as we meat the Butcher Babe of Murchison (gold medal bacon!), find the french connection at the boucherie (unfortunately still closed on Sunday after Saturday's Rugby match!)

And even though I haven't been way long enough to get home sick, just the sight of these Frenchy signs in Arokua made me think of home ...

and those I've left behind...

Most of all as the Long Village stretches to meet the long white cloud (NZ to you), thanks to my good friends and hosts, Alison and Ian Metcalfe who are sharing their beloved home with me and extending the Gascon/Kiwi network.

For more information on cooking classes in New Zealand and
traveling with Ian and Ali to France
click on www.greatvillageholidays.com

Old France in New Zealand-coming soon

2008-08-03T20:04:00.004+01:00

" The old moon cradled in the arms of the new..." a friend's mum used to say.

When the littlest crescent moon is born, you can still see the echo of the full moon behind it. So what happens when you take a girl out of the country -Old France- and put her on the new moon side of the world -New Zealand-? You will still see the echo of Gascony in the food I will be teaching on a month long jaunt across the north and south islands.

My life on the Gascon Ranch is full of the comings and goings of wonderful guests, friends and clients... sometimes all rolled into one. Last year Ian, Alison and Anthony Metcalfe spent the jaunty month of June at Camont and fell in love with the food, the land and the people of my corner of Gascony. It was no surprise to me that after returning to New Zealand from their 'gap year' in Europe, that they found an excellent way to extend their souvenirs of France, Spain and Italy. They have taken the helm of Great Village Holidays into their capable hands.

Ian skyped me one day last winter and asked if I would be interested in traveling to NZ to teach some cooking classes, host some dinners and sign a few copies of my long running, evergreen cookbook. How long did it take to say "yes"?

So after a winter, spring and summer of dipping down into Spain to sample the wares for a Stylish Spanish book, I am heading for that long white cloud of a country to share my love of Southwest France with hungry folk in Christchurch, Hamilton, Wellington, Tasman and Auckland (not necessarily in that order!).

I am looking forward to meeting fellow bloggers, food lovers, cooks and writers, and especially artisan food producers who will help me make Good Gascon food with Great New Zealand products!

I fly out from Paris on Tuesday... next stop Dubai! Oh, Who's minding the Bacon at home? Why Monday Matt, of course, who promises a potager inventory for his next post... tonight's supper courtesy of his home grown CSA box of coeur de boeuf tomatoes, piments, courgettes, eggplants and well, more peppers, of course!

*merci for the moon

Spanish Hooky- a not so still life

2008-07-25T07:34:00.005+01:00

Whew. So many things to tell you as I slip under the spell of summer here at Camont with a glass of cold and bone dry rose' wine.

Ok, that's just the usual teaser used by people who live in France. We are snotty and protective about our perceived lifestyle and I, for one, try not to disallusion you, dear reader, too much. Actually, I am fighting the underdeadline-procrastination-book writing blues as my Spanish Hooky excuse of a book deadline looms overhead. The photographs are in the bag, the notes are being transcribed and 500 captions are not being written as we speak. But before I travel on to other parts of the world this summer spreading the Camp Cassoulet gosple as I go...(Old France to New Zealand anyone?) I want to leave you with these images of Espana... and a promise of more to come.

Spanish Hooky Bar

Summer Shoes

Catalan Table

Montserrat Morning

Basque Hooky- pintxos & tapas

2008-07-05T20:40:00.006+01:00

Sometimes it's hard to convince some people that I am working.
Really I am.
R&D Basque style means research and devour along the gorgeous coast of Biskaia.

Tapas.
Pintxos.
Raciones.
Jamon de Jabuga.
Pelletas.
Bellota.
Bacalao.
Guindilla.
Pimient de Padron.
Kokotxas.

Txacoli.

Get the picture?
This was a week of Basque Hooky with an eye to the products and markets of my favorite parts of the coastfrom San Sebastian/Donostia to Bilbao. Yes, we also squeezed in a visit to the Guggenheim, that looks amazingly in scale now as Nuevo Bilbao grows up around it.

But my favorite night this week was the 4th of July in the old port area of Getxo.
Young, old, dogs and just 2 English-speaking voyeurs indulging in sangria, sidra and pulpo, chorizo in cider, anchovies and olives and the lights of the Port of Bilbao replacing the fireworks.

Perfect.

Milesker

French Summer Food- in small batches

2008-06-26T07:59:00.005+01:00

It's too hot to cook.

Even in the outside tiki hut of a kitchen we sweat...
and not just onions and shallots.
With Summer heat comes summer fruit and in a frenzy of small batch conserving Jenny, Matt and I made:

Carmelized Confit Cherry (perfect over ice cream)
Pink Peach Vinegar*
Vinegar of Pruneaux d'Agen* (for deglazing the pan when making sauteed foie gras)
Compote de Rhubarbe
Sirop de Mirabelle (for a Kir Verger- perrier and syrup)

and that was not even trying...

*** to details on making fruit vinegars see the recipe in my book. Basically I poach VERY RIPE fruit (approx 1-2 pounds) in 2-3 cups of vinegar- white for the peach, red wine for the prunes. Cook until the fruit has released itself into the liquid and the liquid has reduced by half. Strain, filter and decant.

Monday with Mushroom Matt

2008-06-23T06:27:00.001+01:00

I think one of my favorite things is finding wild, edible foods. Better yet and more specific is finding wild mushrooms. When I score some 'poplar' mushrooms like these, it's just one more reason why I really like living in this area. I didn't even have to look hard, they were right outside my front door!

I also like to think that after a month of rain, we deserve some sort of treat. These mushrooms will do for now. As soon as they hit the pan, my mouth starts watering... Mushroom Matt

Songs and Summer Solstice

2008-06-21T18:14:00.003+01:00

This long day is hot. As if celebrating, at last, a summer that has been slow in coming.

Everywhere in France tonight from 9 pm until the wee hours, in city, town and village there are bands, soloists, and odd groups of musicians playing their little French hearts out. The summer solstice arrives with the fete de la musique.

I dither about where to go, into Agen for the city streets of rock, blues and pop bands; up to St. Hilaire for a classical concert in an ancient church, medieval and renaissance music in Henri the fourth's chateau at Nerac or a rock and blues train ride to Mezin on le petit train touristique.

The sun beams down the long mirror of canal at 7:30 this evening; it's 93 degrees in the shade.
I stop my solstice chores to listen to the sounds of Camont.
A thrush is nesting over the terrace table.
A big black bumble bee hums in and out of the pink umbrella.
A tourterelle coos incessantly.

But it isn't until I hear this that I know I will stay close to home tonight.
Open a bottle of cool clear dry rose, hear the village fete from across the Garonne, and remember the first time I heard a nightingale sing at Camont at midnight in 1992.
There are dozens of the songsters in the canalside trees--my private fete de la musique.
Wish you were here.

Click here to hear.

Thanks

Will the real Saucier’s Apprentice please stand up?

2008-06-19T16:26:00.006+01:00

Bob Spitz in The French Kitchen at Camont

Lots of people come and go here in the French Kitchen; some are best friends for a weekend, other remain in our thoughts for years with the occasional email, phone call and visit to keep the relationships glued together. So it was a real surprise last weekend while at a leisurely post-market lunch with friends to read in their current issue of Saveur Magazine a review for Bob Spitz’ book, “The Saucier’s Apprentice.”

“… Spitz nevertheless labors admirably to find characters who will bring deeper meaning to his odyssey like… ‘the kerchief-wearing cook in Agen, France, who lives on a river barge and prepares Gascon specialties for friends and students "like it's her last day on earth".

Guess Who?

It was a long four years ago in the blur at the end of a busy September of filming with Rick Stein for his BBC series French Odyssey that a New York Journalist showed up on my doorstep. After pleading with me by email and phone calls to teach him to make duck confit—the real way, and after changing plans and dates and partners, Bob Spitz arrived, the self-proclaimed Saucier’s Apprentice.

He wheedled, he begged, he came, he cooked, and then was on his way after a busy three days; this was his too fast Cooking School Odyssey to score as many culinary conquests as possible. I was exhausted but had done my best. Why does a vision of a T-shirt with a list of restaurants and cooking schools with little checked boxes come to mind. “Been there, done that.” Even Russ Parsons takes him to task for shortskirting passion, craftsmanship, motive?

Hmmm, I've thought a lot about why people come to my French Kitchen. Romance (of France I mean), the inventory of great food in Gascony, an escape from their reality. Sometimes learning to cook is the lowest on the list. It is often my task to distract someone from their homeside worries and let them drift into another time zone- 200 years ago. It’s taken me 20 years to get in this Gascon groove and while I don’t expect everyone to get it first time around, or in three days; I swoon at the speed with which we expect good things to come. (Remember, I live on a slow moving vessel- 5 miles an hour is the preferred speed limit.) Sometimes I sound like a kindergarten teacher-- this color is called bleu; this taste is pepper; do you know how to really use a whisk? Sometimes the most simple of skills have been overlooked.

Mr Spitz passed through these doors 4 years ago with notebook in hand and a broken heart. Gee, maybe I’m going to have to start administering mid-life crisis exams and charge extra before accepting clients and reporters who flunk Life 101. (Ouch! That hurts!) But don’t worry, friends can still come for free and breathe the restorative damp Garonne Valley air, fall asleep to nightingales, take the current dog for a towpath walk. And while I remember a barrage of non-stop questions, a rapidly filling note book, a too exuberant love of gossip (read the book!), he somehow managed to turn his three day duck confit fest into a 36-page chapter called “La Maison avec La Peniche.” Thanks Bob.

Ok, he gets lots of stuff wrong—can’t tell his chives from a caper, makes up people’s names- jeez…even when they are already in MY book (fact checking anyone???), and seems to have a knack for building up the, well… drama? of everyone else’s supposedly heartbroken lives. By the time I got over that he used my recipes without permission, never sent me a copy of the book OR a thank you note, let alone uses a picture I took of him in MY kitchen without crediting me or the kitchen (see above), he still manages to redeem himself in an awkward way and gets the essential thing right. If not the why of how I cook, he did get the how down like spades-- fast, focused and calm.

He writes that I am “...an American who cooks like a French Farmer” and says on international radio and American television that I was (blush) the best cook he worked with. Go figure! I thought you didn’t even like me, Bob! You never wrote, sent flowers, or an invitation to your wedding! I’d like to say publicly that I am flattered, but secretly I just hope that this will help my book agent sell my new book to your publisher! Come on Bobby… Mama’s barn needs a new roof!

So I write this to apologize for badmouthing Bob and dispel any erroneous quotes that I had dropped out or retired. Au contraire mes chères, I am living and working as hard as ever here in my beloved Gasconia in the French Kitchen at Camont. For an updated schedule of classes and programs jump to www.frenchkitchenadventures.com . FYI, I book my own programs and you can talk to me directly, just like Bob did. Camont is neither isolated or lonely, but a quick 15 minutes into Agen, 4 hours from Gai Par-ee and a magnet for many passers by, both French and foreign.

Life in Gasconia moves on, kids. Four years is a long time in the roll of these seasons as yet another garden is planted with beans and peppers, tomatoes and leeks. One dog replaces another; clients come and mostly go. Friends return often and if not in the neighborhood, stay in the heart. We 'cook as if it’s the last day on earth' here at Camont because-- well, it might be.

Last night Matt (the butcher’s apprentice) prepared a fine Roti de Porc with a Sauce au Moutarde of crème fraîche, pan juices and mustard, a simple and very proper thing to do with a good farm-raised loin roast. I pitched in with some over-the-shoulder supervision for a lemon verveine cream and raspberry tarte fresh from our garden. And as the candles flickered on the first warm and dry summer evening at the big round table, we toasted all those who have showed up over the years. (That’s a round table Bob, not long one, see below.)

And for those still seeking culinary gossip and tales, pensive silences and long wistful looks- even an american anomaly has to keep some secrets. It’ll take more than one bottle of Floc to pry my secret pirate life out of me… arr-be-darrr matey’s.

Kerchief Kate in Andalucía

Watercress tears and bacon sandwiches

2008-06-16T07:22:00.007+01:00

I prefer to think that this rain, this incessant gloomy French June weather, is just a sly way to turn my head from the slow-growing, water-logged potager to the imaginary cressoniere at the west end of the spring-fed wood.

Along the wet cobbled path and down the green encrusted bridge, B. and I splash to la fontaine this morning. Here, from behind the patch of leather leaf ferns, the source flows in a wide shallow meander to join Camont's three other rivulets that ultimately run together into the stream that dips under the Canal and pops up to make its way to Mother Garonne... and thus to the sea.

Here, at this elderberry, elm-stumped, willow-shaded patch at the edge of Camont's two-acres, Père Dupuy would tend a long narrow rivulet and string an elaborate scarecrow of plastic bottles and rags to frighten off hungry birds. I was never sure that the birds came near the watercress, but it was the sort of folk art that made me smile.

When Gloomy Gascony floods our hearts and drowns our summer hopes, then the old 'lemons to lemonade' adage must rule. Here at Camont, awash in yet another summer shower, Saint Nick arrived on the good ship Teal just in time to help. Nick is a great nautical guest and always adds his touch to our patch of watery paradise. I turn to my garden planning book to sketch out the fallen tree bridge that will lead to the watercress patch and willow-umbrella'ed elm bench. Since both real and faux cress cohabit in the spring runoff, I am planning a rock edged bank to divert the spring enough and allow us to reseed with organic cress seeds until we crowd out the false intruders.

Bacon loves this water park; he often arrives green muzzled from a romp through the lavoir. Once clean and potable, this part of the spring has sprouted les lentilles, small green algae, and has been tainted by a neighborhood eyesore and ecological disaster of a gravel pit further upstream. Feeling rather like Manon in Pagnol's epic, my battles with the town hall to reign in my neighbor's unbridled digging remains unresolved. Where are the Police des Eaux when you need them?

I turn a wet eye toward the house where Peter M. has knitted in the patchwork of an herbier outside the kitchen terrace with tarragon, basil and roquette;
even the wet hen isn't mad sitting in a healthy bed of marjoram.

Elizabeth has had to content herself to painting furniture and flowers;
the calla and hydrangea's have loved this cooler June and show it.

Roses bloom against wet skies but mold within days;
dead heading is a full time occupation this year.

The best solution to this 13 moon weather is what that other old adage recommends..."let sleeping dogs lie."
So along with The Bacon, I wish you a gentle day sandwiched between nappage and snores.

Charcuterie- learning French by the Market method

2008-06-09T18:19:00.006+01:00

When I arrived here at Camont, there was something about this place, something here that I wanted.
I was here on a vacation doing a two-week cooking class with my Mom in the French Kitchen.
I knew right away that two weeks was not enough time, so I asked Kate if I could stay longer. Lucky for me, she needed an intern for the summer. When my glorious vacation ended in February, I departed back to the

United States

, not fully aware of the seed I planted.

I returned here to Camont in late April, and immediately began working. I have done many things in the short time since I've settled in here this Spring. One of the many things is learning how to make charcuterie with the Chapolard family. I have been interested in charcuterie for awhile now, and I knew that I wanted to learn how to make it the correct way. After trying some of their jambon, saucisson and paté, I realized that this family who raises their own pigs knew exactly what they were doing.

Working with the Chapolard's has been such a great experience thus far. I've been able to see the whole process from the abattoir, to the butcher workshop, and finally to the Saturday market. In the workshop, I'm finally able to understand how the pig comes together. However, the Saturday market is when I have the most fun.

When the Chapolard's first asked me if I wanted to help them at the market selling their product, I thought, “are you serious?” “I don't even speak French!” Now, I look forward to every Saturday. From learning French, to working alongside two of the nicest people I've ever met.

This is what you see.....

This is what I see....

I’ll be writing on Mondays from here, at the French Kitchen at Camont, so stay tuned.

Matt Chambas

Mondays with Matt in Hog Heaven

2008-06-04T08:30:00.006+01:00

Keeping the French Kitchen in full-on Adventure mode takes more than writing blogs, cookbooks and recipes. It takes hours of real work around 'the Gascon Ranch'-- to weed, seed and tend the 3600 sq.feet potager; plot, plant and primp the Kitchen Herbier and salad bar; sow, mow and manicure 2-plus acres of grassy park. Now, add helping with cooking classes, doing dishes and babysitting Bacon...and you are beginning to get the picture. This is not a one-woman show.

When Matt Chambas and his Pastry Chef Mom, Kris, came for 2 weeks last February, he got a winter taste of what's to come: cooking cassoulet in the fireplace, a pig slaughter at the neighbor's farm, armagnac making... All of a sudden, the restaurant kitchen in Madison seemed too small. So, when I started advertising for a Spring/Fall second-in-command to help run Camont and begin the new Artisan Food School program with Wil Edwards, Matt was first in line.

First duties were to get the Potager jump started after Portland newlyweds Nate and Christina did the dirty work of April weeding preparing the winter overgrown plot. Now, Tarbais beans for next fall's cassoulet climb the netting alongside a dream list of other roots, shoots and leaves for summer cooking classes and fall AFS sessions.

So here's Matt's story. Rather then put my words in his mouth, Matt will begin a new weekly feature here at the French Kitchen Adventures blog. He'll tell his own story along the Artisan Food School path from gardening to learning French charcuterie with the Chapolard family; from picking up buckets of blood from the abattoir to make 100 kilos of boudin noir; from learning to speak French to working alongside Dominique and Christiane at the Saturday Market at Nerac.

"Bon Jour Madame! Saucisse ou saucisson?"

When not working, gardening or cooking, Matt holds court in the Tiki Hut communication center, canalside and accessible by Skype. Gotta love that WiFi...

Matt Chambas, Welcome to a life long French Kitchen Adventure!

Spanish Roadkill- a baker's dozen

2008-05-29T18:04:00.008+01:00

When my French Kitchen gets side tracked, as it often does, it’s usually because I live too close to Spain—close to the Atlantic, close to the Mediterranean and close to… a completely different palate. From the latest Spanish Road Trip with Signor Clinch, a dozen pictures of markets and bars in Gallicia.

Gallicia of pulpo, Ribeiro, chorizo, morcillo, and corporal and spiritual pilgrims.

Bar kitchen 0'46

chorizo cooked in wine

little bowls of wine

granite market

pilgrim's dilemma

Gallego Greens

Special spunds ...and they are.

For Judy- salted pork fat- rancio

Market go cart

so Fsh this fsh

for Steve Sando at rancho gordo

Souvenirs to take home to Camont's potager- piment de Padron

the end@
Santiago de Compostello

Berry nice...

2008-05-12T07:51:00.000+01:00

I wasn't kidding about seeing red. The flavor of the moment is Strawberry, here in the flat fertile Garonne River Valley. And while our own potager at Camont is growing greener by the minute, (tarbais beans are 6 inches high, leeks, kale and courgettes sprouted, tomatoes, aubergine and peppers in...) it's the fruit of someone else's labor that takes my fancy.

These oversized (and admittedly too juicy) monsters caught my eye at the Nerac Saturday Market. This was a serious flat of big berries fit for a bowl of crème fraiche, to eat like a peach or offer as a 'tip' to the cafe server. Of course, it came home to the French Kitchen.

As large as an egg and at the very peak-and-then-some of ripeness, we couldn't eat them fast enough. This morning I breakfasted on fresh goat's cheese, HALF a berry and black pepper. Then I measured enough sugar over the rest of the berries, added a swish of blood orange juice and put them on the heat as the first cafe au lait brewed.

Bring to a quick rolling boil, and then cool in the syrup and refrigerate. I'll make a fraise sherbet with creme fraiche and fresh cream, pain perdu et sirop des fraises, and add lemon verbena tea and sparkling water for an afternoon cold drink- a T-Garden soda.

Happy Spring!!!

Spring makes me see RED!!!

2008-05-04T07:57:00.004+01:00

Home sweet Home to a French Spring that is as RED as it is green.

From the Lot-et-Garonne market gardens to our near daily markets, French artisan food producers keep us in the pink and healthy with several varietals of sweet, perfumed fraises.

Charlotte, gariguette, mara des bois, ciflorette... all in the height of the season. Last week's summer warm weather (75-80') made for some super sweet juice available from one enterprising producer.

After filling a basket full to make a strawberry shortcake, French style... I saw nothing but red,

red,

and more RED!

Welcome home!

At home wherever I live...

2008-04-05T00:43:00.003+01:00

Northern California freelance journalist came to visit me at Camont in October. This is what she wrote. I have read the comments to the article with great interest. After these 20 years living in France, traveling to many other European countries, a year roughing it in Africa, moving all up and down the west coast, a childhood in Hawaii--I just can't imagine people carrying so many misconceptions about one country, one people.

I've written it a thousand times as I traveled across Europe by barge; I call this my Long Village. Now, the Long Village extends across oceans and continents and includes people who speak many languages, eat many kinds of food, have ups and downs and laugh a lot. My Long Village neighbors come in all sizes, shapes and humors. God bless the differences!

For those who have never traveled this Long Village road, let me introduce you to some of my smiling French neighbors. To be continued...

Artisan Food School- Gascony at Camont

2008-03-30T16:47:00.002+01:00

Spring thoughts... how things are connected like peas on a necklace...

I was shopping in Cheese Plus on Polk & Pacific in San Francisco a little over a year ago while buying Christmas cheese for dinner with friends. I wanted only French cheese, artisan and farm cheeses, raw milk cheeses. What I found while selecting the creamy Carles Roquefort, a tangy Brebis de Pyrenees and some succulent chevre de Rocamadour was a real, honest, dyed in the goat's wool Cheese Guru- Wil Edwards.

When Wil introduced himself and learned that I lived in France, he disclosed that he was coming to Normandy to work on a camembert dairy farm then train on to Italy to make pecorino. I mentioned that the French Kitchen at Camont was along the way (by how the French crow flies!) and why not stop in, stay a few days and I'd introduce him to some local goat's cheese producers.

What began on the streets of San Francisco continues today on the farms of Southwest France as Wil Edwards brings his Artisan Food School program to Gascony in the Fall 2008. So, in addition to the week long and weekend cooking I offer year round as French Kitchen Adventures (including special Camp Cassoulet weekends) I am pleased to announce the first Artisan Food School programs in Gascony at the French Kitchen beginning in September 28 2008.

For further information, click for more details here! and check out
Vicki Haddock's sweet article about us at SF.Gate.com

Too Busy Cooking to Blog!

2008-02-29T08:02:00.004+01:00

When students come for a week or two of intensive Gascon cooking, it's intensive for me, too!

This week I went from having tapas in San Sebastian to the famous Truffle Market in Lalbenque to perfecting a delicious Gateaux Basque recipe.

This Morning My Neighbors are Killing a Pig.

I promise this weekend there will be blogs to post, pictures to file
and stories of the good food in Gascony...all year round!

This is what we have cooked so far:

Pintade a la crapaudine truffée
Gratin Dauphinoise aux truffes
Gateaux Basque supreme!
Saucisse d'Agen et Lentilles du Puy
Clafoutis aux Pruneaux d'Agen
Cœur de Canard flambe
Cote de Bœuf Bordelais
Crème brulée aux Diamant Noir

And that's just the first four days!

Duck hearts and Clafoutis

2008-02-25T22:34:00.000+01:00

I just returned with First Peas and Fava beans from
the Market at San Sebastian.

Spring Stall with Mimosa and Plum Blossoms

This is what Kris, Matt and I are cooking for dinner tonight in the French Kitchen...

aperitif

Saucisse de Canard
Floc de Gascogne
morcillo with hot peppers

fresh pea puree and sauteed gesiers
(the first peas of the season from Basque Country)

grilled duck hearts on a bed of
fondante de poireaux
(slow-cooked leeks)

Wild Roquette Salad
with walnuts and roquefort

Clafoutis aux Pruneaux d'Agen
(this recipe is for my buddy DL)

Clafoutis aux Pruneaux

1 tablespoon sweet butter
1/2 lb pruneaux
1/4 cup armagnac
5 tablespoons flour
5 tablespoons sugar
5 eggs
3 cups milk

Heat oven to 350'.
soak the prunes in armagnac for 30 minutes or until most of the liquid is absorbed. This can be done well in advance.
Butter a shallow 1 1/2 qt baking dish then powder with sugar or flour.

Beat the eggs in large bowl with a balloon whisk.
Mix the flour and sugar, add to the beaten eggs and whisk.
Add the milk, little by little, until mixed well.

Drain the prunes reserving the liquid,
arrange in the buttered pan in an even layer,
pour any of the leftover armagnac into batter.

Pour the batter carefully around and over the prunes.
Bake for 45 minutes or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.
Serve warm. Yum.

Madonna and child...

Stay tuned for more good food this week... with Matt and his mom.
Live from the truffle market tomorrow in Lalbenque...

Spanish Hooky*- rooms with a view

2008-02-22T07:49:00.006+01:00

I love hotels.
The bed is always Maid.
The bath has too many towels.
A genius put a Toblerone in the petit frigo for my midnight craving.
But best of all, I love the view...

from here,

and here,

and here.

Pais Vasco is more than gastronomy children, but if you are going to pilgrimage to San Sebastian for Arzak & Pintxos, then think of all the great places you can stay-all these 'rooms with a view.'

*Playing Spanish Hooky at the Hotel Londres, Iturregi- a Basque paradise, and the Sheraton Bilbao.

Spanish Hooky*- the making of...Caviar de La Rioja

2008-02-20T08:13:00.011+01:00

Peeking.

Seems like everyone is doing it... Even my friend David Lebovitz is writing eloquently about luxury in this time of... fiscal hijinks. So when I found myself in the arms of Frank O. Gehry's smiling Hotel Marques de Riscal in La Rioja Alavese, I succumbed to the temptation.

Caviar.

Perfect, dark bubbles of burst-in-your-mouth flavor. Don't worry sturgeon lovers. This caviar is perfectly sustainable and might even be called... vegetarian if it wasn't sitting on a cloud of foie gras mousse. This is the restaurant Gastronomico's Caviar de Vin. A creation of Chef Francis Paniego and his smiling crew headed by executive chef Jose Ramon Piniero.

Caviar pearls floating on a cloud of foie gras curd with red pepper.

Maria explaining the syringe technique to make the wine gelatin caviar pearls.

Spinning constellations of caviar in cold sunflower oil.

Wine Caviar drained and ready to serve.

Shooting the F.O.Gehry egg.

Francis Paniego explaining his 5 generation-long traditions.

Chefs
Francis Paniego & Jose Ramon Pineiro

Happy Tim Clinch eating the fruits of their labors.

The room with a view?
From the City of Wine- the Hotel Marques de Riscal in Elciego in La Rioja Alavese
in the Pais Vasco.

Muchas Gracias .

*Spanish Hooky- what I call working on a new book of Spanish design.

Spanish Hooky- room with a view...

2008-02-19T10:02:00.003+01:00

Winter sky
Vino tinto
f.o.g.
pink, gold, inox ribbon
P.V.

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