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Our wild, warm wind–le vent d’autan–is into its second day.

It can last days yet–a week even.

It’s particularly violent this time.

We drove back from an evening in Toulouse last night gingerly, dodging the big “kindling” strewn across the road.

Birds are flying low to the ground, not to be blown off course.

I find this wind troubling–but it’s shaking the walnuts off the trees–and they are ready.

Intrepidly (!) I braved the tempest this morning and returned with three bags full!

I may have enough for the year now.

Walnuts are good for you and feature regularly here on pasta, on aubergines and for breakfast.

When we arrived home last night, windblown but safe, a fairy had visited bearing gifts.

A round cheese with Fromage de Brebis Corse (corsican sheep’s cheese) written in white ink on the small brown bag and another brown bag  with Trompettes de la “Mort”[delicieux dans les pates”]–(wonderful on pasta)] written in the same white ink.

They’re back!

Thierry and Flo–our neighbours–returned from ten days holiday on the Beautiful Isle (Corsica) with things they knew we’d like.

What to do with the spookily named fungus?

(Coincidently our friend Simon, an “amateur” de champignons [mushroom lover], emailed me this morning who with four ways to cook ceps. I’ll try these in the next few days.)

For the little darkly-named trompettes, I settled on “deadly” omelettes–black on yellow.

This served as the starter for Saturday’s dinner on the workshop weekend.

It is adapted from a recipe in Ottolenghi’s eponymous first cookbook.

That night it tumbled over a small pile of salad leaves–radicio, rocket, lettuce–dressed with olive oil lemon juice and salt.

Here it is on a bed of Sam Talbot’s Quinoa–and was our supper.

1lb broccoli–broken into bite-size pieces

2 tablespoons olive oil

salt and pepper

4 garlic cloves–sliced as thin as you can

2 fresh red chilis, medium hot–de-seeded and sliced

4 tablespoons olive oil

1 lemon sliced very thin

  • Steam the broccoli–more than blanched less than tender–still crunchy in other words.
  • Remove to a bowl and pour over 2 tablespoons of olive oil and season with salt.
  • Heat a grill pad to hot.
  • Scatter the broccoli over it and colour lightly.

  • Return to the serving bowl.
  • Heat the second batch of oil.
  • When hot cook the garlic slices and the chili until the garlic takes on some color.

  • Pour this mixture over the broccoli.
  • Add the lemon slices and mix in carefully.
  • Serve on a bed of salad leaves of choice dressed with  olive oil, lemon juice and salt.

Bean feast!

I spotted this idea in Simon Hopkinson’s book Week In Week Outan impressive tome with wonderful photos.

Two small tins of Borlotti beans that came back with us from Italy after the last olive harvest have been on my mind recently.

I like these nutty brown beans which are more difficult to source here in France–this recipe jogged my memory and whetted my appetite.

The green bean season is coming to an end–but I had a couple of handfuls in a bag in the fridge–bought in the organic market last Thursday–needing to be eaten.

Eureka! lunch dish–to go with the omelettes.

1 medium tin of borlotti beans–(of course you can use white beans)

2 handfuls of green beans

olive oil

salt and pepper

a squeeze of lemon juice to finish

  • Gently heat the borlotti beans in the juice from the tin–(add more water if necessary).
  • Cook the green beans to just tender–in plenty of salted boiling water.
  • Drain and arrange both sets of beans on a wide plate and generously sprinkle over olive oil.
  • Season with salt and pepper.
  • Turn the beans in the oil.
  • Finish with a squeeze of lemon juice.

  • We ate the whole plateful!

Cooking Workshop 2

We’ve reserved la Terrasse in Lautrec for the first weekend in May 2013 (2nd–5th) for my spring Cooking with Robin workshop.

Click on the tab at the top of my blog (Cooking Workshop) for the details.

Read about the Bravehearts who came to the first last weekend.

Ben—the vet said yesterday—is 8 months old.

She can tell by his teeth.

He went in for his vaccination.

Little chap was not happy to leave in his cat carrier.

What are you doing?—I thought you loved me!

So our little kitten is more of a cat than we thought, albeit a small cat.

He still behaves like a kitten though.

His kitten-like size affords him vantage points from which to launch into fresh scrapes.

From under a chair or chest of drawers–too low for Beau now–two eyes, just visible, peek a look, waiting for the moment Beau turns his back and starts to walk away.

Bad move, Beau!

A small black streak hurls itself into the danger zone–reckless, apparently fearless and is grappled onto its back by a heavyweight, as Beau uses of his superior size to takes advantage.

Things sometimes go too far and it takes a sharp clap of the hands from the “referee” to part the wrestling bundle.

They both draw back–to their “corners” as it were–to wait for the “bell” to start the next “round”–in a game where wiles match weight.

Ben, small in body–for now–is a sweet soul; a cuddler and a nudger.

Beau is more stand-offish–except when it’s time to eat! More of a teenager, reluctant to engage–except in wrestling bouts with his ever eager “brother”.

Broccoli Parmigiani

Comfort food for the new chill.

An autumn/winter replacement for the Italian classic–Parmigiana Melanzane.

It was last night’s supper, with a slice of sweet potato and some baba ganoush.

We are trying to eat more lightly in the evening and mainly vegetarian–New Directions, I’m calling it.

450gms/1lb broccoli–broken up into florets

4 tblsps tomato sauce*

parmesan cheese–freshly grated

salt and pepper

  • Steam the broccoli florets until they are beginning to soften–but retain a good crunchiness.
  • Put them in a bowl and pour over two tablespoons of olive oil and season.
  • Heat a grill pad to hot.

  • Char the the florets lightly and remove.

  • Oil a shallow oven proof dish and spread some tomato sauce over the base.
  • Cover this with a layer of broccoli florets and season with salt and pepper.
  • Sprinkle over some parmesan.
  • Repeat the process finishing with a layer of parmesan.

  • Dribble olive oil over the top.
  • Heat the oven to 200C/400F.
  • Pop in the dish and bake for 15 minutes.

  • It should come out sizzling!

*Tomato sauce

3 cloves of garlic – peeled and finely sliced

4 tbsp olive oil

2 x 800 g/28 oz tins tomatoes – drained of their juice

salt and pepper

  • Fry the garlic gently in 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large pan but do not let it brown.
  • Add the broken up tomatoes and the salt and pepper.
  • Cook on a high heat, stirring frequently to prevent burning, and watch out for splattering!
  • (Use the biggest wooden spoon you have!)
  • Cooking time is about 20 minutes.
  • When little red pock marks appear, making it look as though the surface of the moon has turned red, you know it is almost there.
  • The sauce will have reduced considerably and thickened, with very little liquid left.
  • Add the last two tablespoons of olive oil, taste and check the seasoning.

Bravehearts!

“Bravehearts”

Our workshop pioneers left here last night after a final celebratory supper of aubergines slices with walnut & garlic spread*, followed by penne and farfalle with rosemary and balsamic vinegar*.

Meredith’s surprise dessert (surprising in that it surprised her how good it was)–a crumble of peach, pear and apple.

“Bravehearts”  I called them in the dedication I wrote in each copy of Delicious Dishes for Diabetics they took away with them.

And Bravehearts they were–everyone.

Chopping and slicing for four days on the trot with a willingness, enthusiasm and good humour that amazed me.

At the work face…

Clare and Jean–sisters from Ireland.

Meg and Emilie--friends from Philadelphia.

Chris–an Englishman from Lyons.

Hedvika from Tallahassee, Florida.

Mary from Maryland.

This was our international team at the work-top!

I asked them which they preferred to be: hands-off observers or hands-on workers?

The response was immediate, loud and overwhelmingly CLEAR: WORKERS!

Our friend Simone was essential back-up, keeping the work-top free of clutter, recycling the cooking tools as soon as their function finished, soon making them ready to use again.

We were blessed by early autumn sunshine and a location of heart-stopping beauty.

Dominique–hostess and creator of the La Terrasse, the B&B/small hotel in the centre of Lautrec–made our lives easier with the warmth of her welcome and her care.

This lunchtime we found ourselves talking about a possible early May repeat!

Well–good heavens we only finished last night–maybe it’s a bit premature!

The enduring memory of this my first cooking workshop will be the joyful enthusiasm of the pioneers–

seven BRAVEHEARTS who took a risk and turned up….

Here’s to them!

(*recipes to be found in Delicious Dishes for Diabetics.)

 

Little Ben, our new arrival, just trotted into the kitchen.

What’s up?

We were anxious–hadn’t see him since mid-morning.

It’s a sunny autumn day in the Tarn and the doors have been open to welcome October.

Ben–little Ben?

I looked high and low–no sign.

I turned to come downstairs again and a small figure, stretching and yawning, sidled out of the bedroom. Must have been under our bed.

He arrived last week–word-of-mouth job.

Our friend Flo knew we were on the lookout for a companion for Beau.

A ginger female would be perfect–an echo of dear departed Butterscotch (little Mother).

Flo saw an advert in the organic shop she goes to regularly.

“Household overwhelmed with animals–has to let go delightful found kitten–about five weeks old”.

Meredith rang the number and picked up little Ben–already well named–the next day.

Jet black–and male!

“Stand-off!”

Beau’s nose was quickly out-of-joint.

More–he even seemed afraid of Ben–backing off when the youngster came towards him.

We’d been used to the Little Prince always confronting perceived danger; challenging–cat and dog alike.

Now our boy seemed cowed.

Our plans appeared to be in ruins.

A couple of days later and I’m about to go to bed when two figures streak across the bedroom.

One–Ben–hides behind the hanging bed cover and the other–Beau–crouches, head well forward, ready to pounce.

BREAKTHROUGH!

I watch, enchanted, as the chase continues.

At one point Ben shocks Beau into a four pawed take-off into mid-air, by shooting out from under a chair.

We have lift-off– it seems!

Ben’s size shows us how much Beau has grown.

He’s doing the things Beau used to do but is doing less–like fighting a mat to the death.

He’s keen to see more of the world.

Fascinated by life on the outside!

Too busy checking things out to pose for a portrait.

Beau has a younger “brother” and our time marveling at kitten spectaculars is extended.

He’s bigger, longer, heavier.

I noticed it one day last week–the change from kitten to cat.

Found myself feeling sad–never gave much thought to him growing up.

His kittenish-ness was who he was–day to day.

What I noticed last week was a physical change.

His behaviour, though, is still kittenish.

I just saw him doing his whirling dervish routine; lying at ease full length on the kitchen floor, he suddenly launches into a wild circular dance chasing of his tail.

Then just as suddenly he straightens up–head turned in the direction of a noise, another distraction–and is perfectly still.

He’s now a “teenager” I suppose.

But he still does childlike tricks, like flashing passed you and re-appearing on an overhanging branch of a tree–showing off.

Look at me!

Or lurking behind the rubbish bin, preparing to jump out and scare the living daylights–he hopes–out of another cat minding its business.

BOO!!

We should have called him Tyler–he loves the floor tiles in the house and immediately drops into a languid pose when he comes into a room, like a fop in a restoration play–“la-di-da’!

A habit he may have adopted in the canicule [very hot days] this summer–the coolness of the tiles giving his little fur-covered body some relief.

Rather less like a teenager, he keeps regular hours and is a homebody.

Walk into our bedroom about 11pm and he’s already nonchalantly stretched out fast asleep—his snowy white undercarriage in full view; his busy day–lounging about, patrolling the boundaries and teasing the chickens and anyone else–over.

He’s said to himself, like Pepys: …and so to bed!

He came to us through the cat-flap in the garage a year ago on the 7th of December–about five weeks old–a domestic kitten, not feral.

We have no idea who left him–clearly someone who knew we are a cat-friendly family.

He has a touch of Beauty’s natural hauteur. His sense of entitlement seems inborn in him.

He manages a look of surprise–indignation even, when one of our outdoor cats puts in an appearance–usually at mealtimes.

Who are you? This is my patch–these are my people!

Lily*, brave mother of the late and beloved Beauty, gives Beau an old fashioned look and carries on eating.

Pah!–who are you?

(*Proud Lily brought four litters of kittens to shelter here–the first in the heatwave of 2003.
Beauty  and Blackie–white and black, brother and sister–came in one of the later batches.
She still comes to eat at our back door, sometimes even creeping into the kitchen–as does survivor Blackie.)

 

Spicy aubergine boats

We had these for lunch yesterday.

Chermoula the north African spice mix is spread lightly over aubergine/eggplant halves which are then baked in a moderately high oven until tender.

There are as many chermoulas as there are camels in the desert!

(Which means if you are short of one of the ingredients go ahead anyway–just means there’ll be another camel in the desert!)

This version is from Ottolenghi’s new book Jerusalem.

The thinner variety of aubergine/eggplant works well for this–two halves each with salad and a small bowl baba ganoush on the side made a agreeable light lunch.

for 4

4 thin aubergines/eggplants–halved carefully top to toe

For the chermoula:

2 tsps cumin powder

2 tsps coriander powder

1 tsp smoked sweet paprika

1 tsp cayenne powder

2 garlic cloves–pulped in a tsp of salt

rind of a preserved lemon–chopped fine

80ml/4 tblsps olive oil

set the oven at 200C/400F

  • Put all the chermoula ingredients in a bowl and mix thoroughly.
  • Make a couple of diagonal slits each way in the flesh of the aubergines.

  • Sprinkle with a little salt and leave to drain for an hour or so.

Works better with something under the colander to catch the drips!

  • Dry the aubergine halves.
  • Spread a thinnish layer of the chermoula mix on each half (yesterday Meredith thought I had laid it on too thick).

  • Bake in the oven for about 40 minutes–depending on the thickness of the aubergines.
  • Leave to cool a little.
  • This yogurt sauce would balance the spiciness.