Fried squash blossoms? Check.

I’ve always wanted to make fried squash blossoms and the moment was about an hour ago. I cut about seven from the garden and followed the recipe in Marcella Hazan’s “The Classic Italian Cookbook”, which is astoundingly easy to get my head around. The way she writes and her recipes, that is. There aren’t many illustrations, but the few there are, are strategically placed. And I love how she numbers the steps in her recipes.

So the process is super simple — the batter is a pastella, the same as you’d use for fried squash, eggplant, etc. Just whisk flour into a bowl containing a cup of water until it is the consistency of sour cream. Add the flour in very small amounts to keep it smooth. I added a little salt and freshly ground pepper.

Pour enough oil in a frying pan that it comes up 3/4 of an inch on the side. Heat the oil — get it very, very hot.

Lightly, barely rinse off the blossoms in cold water and pat dry. Really, the less you touch them, the better.

Make a slit in the base of the flower on one side and gently flatten it, like you were butterflying a chicken breast.

NB: Check inside the flowers before using the knife. A honeybee buzzed from one of them just as I was getting ready to cut. Disaster averted. But the bee population being what it is, accidentally frying one would have been a serious downer.

Then drag the blossoms by the stem through the batter and drop into the very hot oil. Flip over when they start looking crispy — mine took about a minute or so. The batter will lightly brown.

Drain on a towel for a couple of minutes and serve immediately. They should be crisp on the outside, with a soft, fragile texture inside. The taste is really subtle and they’re pretty to look at.

 

The first artichoke

I love artichokes–baked, steamed, pickled, whatever. It’s difficult not to wonder how anyone figured out that you could pull off all that prickly armor and find something so delicious inside. Hats off to the first artichoke eater! I applaud your work!

Anyway, I’ve become very interested in growing our own. I’ve read that all of the chokes sold in the U.S. are grown in Cali and they are perennials so they supposedly will keep producing for years. They grow to 4-5 feet wide, too, so if it works out, they’ll fill out that empty spot out front where the agaves used to be. I bought five at the nursery and have grown 8 from seed — these will go into the ground in a few weeks. If anyone out there has experience growing artichokes, I welcome your tips.

That’s how it stands.

Keeping fingers crossed.

Here is the sole artichoke we’ve had so far. The biggest plant from the nursery already had a bud, which quickly grew fat enough to eat. Just added a couple garlic cloves and a bay leaf to the water, and steamed until the bottom leaves pulled off easily. Sauteed chopped garlic in butter for dipping and voila. Mmmmm.

 

I know, I know

It’s really happening. We’ve got our first squashes. The chard is thriving and I’ve found that homegrown arugula will spoil you for store bought forever. After last year’s meager harvest, I had no idea how successful the crops would be from the raised beds. It’s something wholly other. Here is the current situation, at left:

 

I have some catching up to do…

I’ve been receiving messages that Brioche readers are as interested in photos as in my cuisine. Here are a few things I was up to during my long absence. Thank you, Kathy, by the way! I was, indeed, so sick. With the tail end of my cold still in effect during our Hawaii trip. But the rose hip tea was key to my turnaround, without a doubt.

So I have been cooking, but primarily working on the garden. The plants give me so much joy. I have always loved the scent of dirt and I love watching the bugs that take up residence in the garden. Mine is seriously loaded with ladybugs — they are awesome helpers. They make their ways over the plants (really seem to love the lemon verbena and lavender) like tiny red tanks and devour the aphids. Very, very cool to watch.

Mark built amazing raised beds that cover the entire side of the yard that gets sun. So far I’ve planted yellow squash, snap peas, an ENTIRE bed of strawberries, and about 8 tomato plants. I am barely dealing with heirlooms this year. Last year’s were a completely failed story. One here, one there. Who’s got the time? I have one heirloom this year, an italian plum shaped or such. The rest are celebrity, champion, better boys and early girls. Hurray for hybrid technology!

 

je suis revenue, encore

Hello, mes amis.

I’ve been away more than a month, it seems. Bad, bad cold for three weeks, then on vacation for a week and a half. The cold demanded that I lay off the milk, butter and cheese, so…There you go.

And now it’s summer so I’m looking forward to trying out some lighter side french recipes, incorporating stuff from my vegetable garden, which is jamming.

Dug up my heirloom garlics today and some maui onions. The garlic is purple, as you can see. The cloves originally bought from the happiest man on earth. This guy has a farm in Aguanca, sells his veggies and fruit at the Palisades farmers market on Sundays.

Super clear-eyed, huge, gleaming smile. Talks about his vegetables with such love and respect. Anyway, that’s why we call him the happiest man on earth. He just might be.

Anyway, end of last summer I stuck a few cloves in the ground and the result you see pictured. Next time I’m raising the beds so the bulbs won’t be so constricted in the soil. This purple garlic is not too strong and is so pretty.

 

Rose hip tea for your cold, dear

I’m sorry I’ve been MIA, readers. Under the weather would be an understatement. Last Monday, I came down with a little sore throat that turned into a full-blown head and chest cold Of the Ages. I’m still coughing — and thus, have been steering clear of my normal haunts: butter, cheese and cream.

All I have to blog about today,mes amis, is rose hip tea.

Last night we went to Tex’s to meet up before going out for Hugh’s birthday. Tex’s rose bushes, which were full last spring, were in need of some pruning and loaded with rose hips. I gathered them in a Trader Joe’s bag and brought home to conjure a curative tea. Tea that would make me well. Tea that would take me past this nightmare of grossness and coughing all day. Tea that would stop the embarrassment of being physically weak.

The thing is that rose hips have been used for many ages for their medicinal qualities. I’ve even heard that there are beauty potions you can make with them too. But the only thing I’ve ever done with them is to make tea (they’ve got significantly more vitamin C than oranges and other “phytonutrients” I guess.)

Anyway, here is how you do it. It’s really delicious sweetened but I like it straight.

Take about 15 rose hips. Rose hips, by the way, are the seed pods that form on your bushes if you don’t dead head the roses. Harvest them when they are deep orange or red. Now, with a sharp knife, cut the stems and the flower ends off of the rose hips and wash them well. Chop finely or, as I do, throw them in a food processor. I add 7-8 leaves of lemon verbena from the garden, but it’s not necessary. I always think that lemon zest or tangerine would be great with rose hips…let me know if you’ve done this and if it works.

Now, chop it all up and add to a pot (not aluminum. can’t say I know why. someone told me that it chemically messes with the tea) filled with 7 cups of distilled water. Bring almost to a boil, covered. It will be steaming.

Pour through a fine mesh sieve to strain the hips and seeds.

Drink sweetened with sugar or molassas or plain.

Can’t hurt.

 

Taking the cure

If you listen to your mind and body, it will tell you when to cool it on the butter, cheese and heady sauces.

Oh, how I love them so.

But it is balance — balance, I tell you — that allows you to go a lifetime enjoying even the most diabolical of foods and not have to suffer the biliousness that goes with overindulgence.

I’ve been wanting to use the word “biliousness,” which I’m pretty sure used to mean “indigestion.” Such a cool word. I have a book by Dio Lewis from 1880 titled “Our Digestion or My Jolly Friend’s Secret” that dedicates an entire chapter to the treatment of biliousness.

“Eat for breakfast, until the bilious attack passes, a little stale bread, say one slice, and a piece half as large as your hand of boiled lean beef or mutton. If the weather is warm, take instead a little cracked wheat or oat-meal porridge.” (p. 227)

So strangely comforting.

I can’t even say I have been feeling bilious, just ready to give it a rest. So, I had a humble salad from the garden last night. If anyone out there thinks they can’t grow salad or food in general, let me tell you…you can. I hadn’t raised a vegetable in my life and have since last summer (when I took an inspiring class on organic gardening at Silverlake Farms) grown fabulous eggplants, butternut squash, tomatoes, zucchini, various herbs and really good romaine lettuce.

The great thing about lettuce is that you can grow it in a box on your porch as long as it gets sun, and if you just cut the leaves for your salad and don’t pull it up by the roots, it keeps giving.

I forgot to mention that I planted a few strawberry plants few months ago. Chandlers. They are so good.

 

Clafouti aux Poires (Pear clafoutis)

 

By popular demand, my friends — the recipe for the delicious pear dessert I made Monday night. This recipe is adapted from Julia Child’s in “Mastering the Art of French Cooking.”

Pear Clafoutis:

Peel, core and slice three bosc pears (or another firm variety). In a pyrex baking dish, pour 1/4 cup cognac and 1/3 cup granulated sugar over the pear slices and let sit for a couple of hours.

Preheat over to 350

Into a blender, put the following:

1 1/4 cup milk

1/3 cup granulated sugar

3 eggs

1 tb vanilla extract

1/8 tsp salt

2/3 cup sifted flour

Blend until the consistency of thin pancake batter

Pour a 1/4 inch layer of batter into a lightly buttered, fireproof baking dish or tart mold, that is about 1 1/4 inch deep. Set over moderate heat for a minute until a film of batter has set in the bottom of the dish. Remove from heat.

Lay the pear slices in a pattern like the spokes of a wheel on top of the layer of batter.

Pour some of the batter on top of this layer and then add a few more pear slices.

Pour in the rest of the batter until it is just below the rim of the baking dish.

Set carefully into the pre-heated oven and bake for about an hour.

The clafoutis is done when it is puffed and browned and when a needle plunged into the center comes out clean.

Sprinkle with a little powdered sugar and serve warm with a dollop of creme fraiche.

 

Madame E. Saint-Ange: Full-On

I’m really excited about tonight’s dinner, pulled from famed French cookbook authoress Madame E. Saint-Ange’s suggested winter dinner menus. On the agenda: Jerusalem artichoke potage, pork filet with pepper sauce, braised endives and pear clafoutis.

It’s coming out really, really well. So well, my heart murmur is acting up! One thing, in making the potage, which is a puree of stewed jerusalem artichokes (pictured), onion and hazelnuts, thickened with boiled milk and corn starch, it would have been really handy to have one of those stick mixers that you just put into the soup pot and blend away. It’s scary to batch stuff into the blender — especially when it’s hot.

But this soup is really interesting. Delicate flavor of the jerusalem artichoke and onion with the super complimentary hazelnuts. Who knew? It tastes very old-fashioned–will be interesting to hear what the guests think…

(Two days, and a head cold later)

The soup was amazing and honestly, didn’t taste like anything I’d had before. I served with croutes sauteed in butter to which I added a crushed shallot. A little chervil on top. The guests really seemed to enjoy it. I would definitely make it again and want to explore more of Mme’s soups.

The pork was a really good recipe — but next time I’ll cook it in a tighter casserole. The sauce didn’t completely cover the pork loin during cooking (in a 10 inch round casserole) and the part of it that stuck from beneath the sauce ended up a bit dry (even having basted from time to time with bacon fat).

But the sauce (served in my grandma’s gravy boat) was very delicious. Strenuous to make, yes, per all of Mme Saint-Ange’s instructions (which sometimes are a bit contradictory, at one point she says the sauce takes 25 minutes to make, and later, to simmer the sauce for 45 minutes.) but roundly flavored with tart vinegar, herbs, vegetables and vermouth.

But my favorite thing was the pear clafoutis. Actually, Mme Saint-Ange suggested apple tarte tatin for dessert but we’d just served that recently so I used Julia Child’s recipe for my favorite dessert from France. And not only is it delicous, but the easiest dish ever. I used bosc pears, cored and sliced and soaked them in sugar and cognac for a couple of hours. Basically, clafoutis is just seasonal fruit held together with sweet batter and baked in a tart pan. Served warm with creme fraiche. It is my new beloved dish — easy, delicious, fun to pronounce and good cold from the fridge for breakfast.

 

Nutella ice cream

I don’t have much else to say, really. Just check out this post on Clotilde’s chocolateandzucchini.com. I’m getting woozy.