Pigs (and a bonus puppy) on the farm

Butchering with the Chapolards

French skies can be so dramatic, n’est-ce pas?

Tags: france bigsky

I threw a tea party. It involved eleven sticks of butter.

France, it turns out, is much more than Paris.

Eating Cake

Many of us have experienced such a transportive experience: that moment of biting into an ice-cream sandwich and tasting childhood, or the scent of waffles and burnt coffee redolent of home. This past Sunday, Ross and I were invited back to our wedding with cake. 

This is admittedly not too much of a logical jump, as the cake was made by the same baker who created the three-tiered version one year ago. The moist, just-dense-enough crumb, the hazelnut praline buttercream sandwiched alongside raspberry conserve and chocolate ganache managed to rewind all the changes of the past year. I ate the cake and felt the excitement of the day, remembered being surrounded by those we loved, celebrating our love. 

Tags: cake wedding

In the pastry motherland

Going to the Mediterranean

Imagine: a weekend escape from the gloomy Atlantic to France’s Mediterranean coast. You speed past verdant fields, some erumpent with the brightest red poppies. You wind along the longest motorway, wind down down down until you find yourself at the ocean. But it’s a soft, somnolent ocean tempered by a clustering of bays. The sun embraces your skin, it plays against building walls. Brightly colored sailboats dot the harbor. 

Here, you count eight ducklings with their mother under the piers. Here, countless artists have found inspiration in the townscape that seems to melt into the Mediterranean. Here, Catalan pride seeps deeply into the earth, finds its way through labyrinthine streets.

After a day of laying out on the warm pebbles of the beach and an evening whiled away at dinner over the water, you wake to a bustling farmer’s market. The narrow aisles are chock full of temptations: tomato and sardine flatbreads, delicate North African pastries, local wines. But you are drawn to a stand presided by a small man and a gigantic cast iron pan. He lifts the lid, revealing golden brown duck thighs simmering in a sweet broth of Banyuls wine and melted onions. You are poured a cup of Banyuls, straight, as you consider. The man stumbles between French and English. He learns where you’re from and sings you Hotel California. 

Yes, you will take some of his duck stew. You will bring it to the beach and eat it, slowly, looking out at the ocean, before starting your drive back to Gascony.  

Cuisse du Canard aux Banyuls
(as inspired by our trip to Collioure)

Ingredients:

  • 4 large duck legs, 8—10 oz. each
  • 1T thyme leaves, plus 4 whole sprigs thyme
  • Zest of 1 orange
  • 1T black pepper
  • Kosher salt
  • 2T extra-virgin olive oil
  • 21/2C onion, diced
  • 1/2C carrot, diced
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 2T balsamic vinegar
  • 2C  banyuls
  • 3C chicken stock
  • 1/4C parsley        

Method:

  1. Trim excess fat from duck legs
  2. Season with thyme, orange zest, and black pepper
  3. Cover and refrigerate for a few hours and as long as overnight
  4. Take the duck out of the refrigerator 45 minutes before cooking. After 15 minutes, season the legs with salt
  5. Heat a large sauté pan over high heat for 2 minutes
  6. Add olive oil and wait 1 minute
  7. Place the duck legs in the pan, skin side down, and cook for 8—10 minutes, until the skin is deep golden brown and crisp
  8. Turn duck legs over, reduce heat to medium, and cook for 2 minutes on the other side
  9. Transfer duck, skin side up, to a braising pan; try to use a pan that just fits the duck legs
  10. Preheat oven to 325°
  11. Discard half the fat from pan and return to stove over medium heat. Add onion, carrot, thyme sprigs, bay leaf, and a pinch of pepper
  12. Cook until vegetables are caramelized, about 10 minutes, stirring often with a wooden spoon to scrape up crusty bits.
  13.  Add balsamic vinegar and banyuls.
  14. Bring liquid to a boil, and cook until it has reduced by half, about 6—8 minutes
  15. Add 3 cups stock and bring to a boil. Turn heat down to low and simmer for 5 minutes.
  16. Pour broth and vegetables over duck legs, scraping vegetables fallen on top of duck back into the broth. The liquid should not quite cover the duck.
  17. Cover pan very tightly with plastic wrap (yes, it can go in the oven) and then aluminum foil. Braise in oven for about 2 1/2 hours, until duck is very tender. To check for doneness, remove plastic and foil and pierce a piece of the duck with a knife. If the meat is done, it will yield easily and be tender but not quite falling off the bone
  18. Bonus step: to brown the duck legs, turn oven up to 400°. Transfer duck to a baking sheet and return to oven for 10-15 minutes. Meanwhile, transfer broth into saucepan and reduce over medium-high heat to thicken
  19. Transfer duck legs into bowls and ladle broth over. Garnish with parsley

Working at the Camont kitchen

In Which Public Shaming Leads to a Recipe

Jon’s Matar Paneer

In his own words

Caveats:

  • All ingredient amounts are more or less approximated - adjust to your own taste or for size/pungency of your produce and spices
  • Cooking times are also approximated - you’ll need to make some judgment calls and I’ve tried to outline what you’re looking for at each step
  • This is not meant to represent “authentic” Indian food - it’s just how I make it. My reference point for matar paneer, like most non-Indian people, is restaurant curry, which may differ from “authentic” homestyle curry. 


Ingredients:

  • 2 onions, minced
  • 2 tomatoes, concasse and chopped (a little less than 1 12 oz can of tomatoes works in a pinch, but good fresh tomatoes are better)
  • 2 jalapeños (or serranos), minced (seeds & membrane removed if you don’t want it too hot)
  • 2-3 inch tube of ginger, peeled and grated (or finely minced)
  • 3-4 cloves of garlic, peeled and grated (or finely minced)
  • Ghee (clarified butter) or some other kind of cooking fat
  • ~2 cups of peas - fresh is best, but frozen works just fine
  • ~1.5 cups Paneer, cubed (about a 4-5 inch square if you made your own)
  • 1 teaspoon coriander (ground)
  • 1 teaspoon cumin (ground)
  • 1 teaspoon turmeric
  • 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon paprika (optional)
  • 1/2 teaspoon garam masala (ground bay leaf, cinnamon, cardamom)
  • 10-12 cashews, ground
  • 1 cup yogurt
  • Salt
  • Cilantro for garnish (optional)

A note on spices:

  • I generally find that whole spices ground fresh are best - they’re much more flavorful than that shit you buy in the little red container with the red top. Of course, this is a pain in the ass; if you’re a masochist, use a mortar and pestle, otherwise an extra coffee grinder works well (don’t use a coffee grinder that you use for coffee - it’s hard to get the flavor of cumin out once you’ve used it for that purpose). Also, grinding whole spices like cumin and coriander rarely removes the husks of the spices; pass the ground spices through a fine mesh sieve and sift to remove big chunks of husk.

A note on method:

  • For me, making curry like this is all about caramelization, using heat to open up flavors in spices, and long, slow cooking time (like any good stew). Lots of recipes out there suggest you can finish this all up in 30 minutes - I think this is a load of crap. Good sauces and stews take time (especially in this case if you’re making your own paneer) and they always taste better with more time (like the next day).
  • Google concasse for the tomatoes if it’s unfamiliar. Basically it’s a method to quickly and easily remove the skin; tomato skin doesn’t really dissolve in cooking and it’s not great to have the chewy/stringy skin in your finished curry.
  • This should serve at least 4 people, possibly more.


Method:

  1. Sear the paneer: Put some ghee or oil in a pan over medium heat and heat it up. Toast a half teaspoon of the turmeric for 30-60 seconds once the oil is hot. Sear the paneer, about 30-45 seconds and then flip and let it go another 30-45 seconds. It should take on the vibrant yellow/orange color of the turmeric and be lightly caramelized on each side. If you’ve made your paneer well, it should hold its shape relatively well and not melt. Remove from the pan with tongs, chopsticks or a slotted spoon and let drain on a doubled over paper towel and plate.
  2. Toast some spices: Add more oil to the pan and let it heat up. Add the coriander and cumin, toasting over medium heat for at least 1 minute. You should be able to smell the spices; this process opens up the flavor of the spices (and is a process I don’t find often in western cooking).
  3. Caramelize the onions: Once you have the cumin and coriander toasted, add the finely minced onions, salt and cook over medium heat. Once the onions are sweated (translucent), lower the heat to low and caramelize. This part is key - you’re going to cook the hell out of the onions. You want to get them nice and caramelized, which helps get that deep, rich and slightly sweet flavor in the curry. You don’t need to get it to the point of being a deep brown paste, but you definitely want it to look more brown than white. Expect this process to take at least 20 minutes. Like I said, this takes time.
  4. Heat the ginger and garlic: When the onions are browned, push them to the side of the pan and add some more oil to the pan and turn to medium-low heat. Add the grated ginger and garlic and cook for 1-2 minutes, stirring as needed to prevent burning. This brings out the flavor in the ginger and garlic. Bring the onions that were at the side back in the mix and stir to combine. 
  5. Add tomatoes, chilis, and the rest of the spices: Add the chills and spices (EXCEPT for the garam masala) first, sauteeing at medium heat for 2-3 minutes (you can use the “push to the onion mix to the side” method again here if you desire). Mix it all up and add the chopped tomatoes. You want to be careful with the amount of tomatoes you add, especially if canned - too much and it can taste like tomato sauce (which is a big reason why I prefer fresh). The tomatoes are there to add some acidity, both liquid and body and some flavor, but it’s obviously not supposed to be the dominant flavor. Stir to combine and simmer the curry for at least 20 minutes, ideally 30-60 minutes. Ideally the curry will not have any obviously recognizable pieces of vegetable in it when you’re finished with this step, though some small chunks are okay. Salt to taste during this process.
  6. Finish the curry. Add the ground cashews and peas and cook for an additional 5 minutes or so. Stir in the yogurt, 1/4 cup at a time until you get your desired creaminess. To me, the curry doesn’t really taste like it should until you add the yogurt, which gives it some brightness/tang, creaminess and generally smoothes it out and helps all the flavors come together. Finish with garam masala and stir to combine. Put it into whatever serving vessel you desire and garnish with cilantro. Serve with rice and/or some kind of Indian bread (naan, roti, chapati). 
Tags: france peas curry