Sean Gillies (Posts about food and drink)

Quack, quack, quack

Sean Gillies — Sun, 14 Jan 2018 03:59:45 GMT

I ate duck often when living in France and have been missing it this winter. Farm-raised ducks are not easy to find in Colorado. I've never seen duck at King Soopers. Whole Foods has whole frozen ducks occasionally. Some local CSAs advertise duck eggs, but not meat. In Montpellier, fresh never-frozen duck was not cheap, but it was almost always available.

The green sausage is chicken, duck, and spinach. To the right: cuisses de canard (duck legs) and magret de canard (duck breast).

I never bought a whole duck, but bought a pair of duck legs or duck breasts, or some links of chicken, duck, and spinach sausage from a vendor at the Arceaux market almost every other Tuesday. She sold chicken, too, both raw and roasted in the rotisserie at the back of her stand. Her only non-poultry product was polenta, which is delicious fried in duck fat.

Magret de canard and foie gras

Duck breast is my favorite red meat and Florence Fabricant describes my favorite way to cook it in this recipe. Seared and then roasted gently in the oven until medium rare, if I had to choose a last meal, this would be it. The sweet and sour five-spice marinade and glaze is nice, but salt and pepper is really all a flavorful duck needs.

Magret de canard with homemade kimchi

Because I mostly worked from the house we rented in Montpellier, I could execute slow cooking recipes while pushing pixels on my computer. Duck legs confit, simmered for hours in their own fat and juices, are easy to do in parallel with other tasks and are extremely delicious.

Cuisses de canard that have spent a couple days wrapped up with spices

Confit is the past participle of the French verb confire, "to preserve." Before refrigeration, this was one of our options for preserving meat. Pork or duck, covered in steralized fat which keeps oxygen and microbes at bay, can keep stable and healthy for weeks. I never managed to keep any for longer than a day or two.

Lentilles vertes du Puy are my favorite side for cuisse de canard

I enjoy foie gras and have a picture of it above, but I don't know enough to write about it. Ruth and I developed a preference for foie gras mi-cuit (half-cooked), which is a gently cooked piece of a single whole liver, not reformed or "en bloc." I don't definitely know which are the best producers, but had a good experience buying vacuum packed mi-cuit foie gras from a couple of vendors at the Arceaux market.

I'm going to keep searching for local producers of duck and with a little luck might be able to return to these recipes in the fall.

I, Chaiwala

Sean Gillies — Thu, 04 Jan 2018 05:56:27 GMT

A cup of coffee or tea in the afternoon is one of the best things in life. I appreciate not only the warmth, the flavor, and the caffeine, but also the break from computering while I prepare my cup and the afternoon light in our kitchen, which is on the opposite side of the house from my office. I enjoy drinking chai and have been having a lot of fun making it at home this winter. Ruth enjoys it, too, and my kids love the smell of the spices. Now that I've got the routine down, it doesn't take much longer to brew a pot from scratch than it does to steep a couple bags of Celestial Seasonings.

I keep a constant supply of ginger root in the refrigerator now, as well as a stash of cinnamon sticks, green cardamom pods, cloves, and black peppercorns – all from the bulk spice corner of the Fort Collins Food Co-op – separate from our other kitchen spices. I don't bother to peel the ginger root anymore, and 2 ounces, thinly sliced, goes in a pot with 6 cups of water. While it comes to a boil, I pound 2 cinnamon sticks, about 8 cloves, 8 cardamom pods, and a tablespoon or more of peppercorns in a mortar. Not to a powder, but to pieces small enough to infuse quickly and large enough to strain easily. I simmer the spices for 10 minutes, turn off the heat and add loose tea in an infuser or tea bags if I've run out of loose tea. After 4-5 minutes, I remove the tea leaves or bags, and add 1/4 cup of sugar and 2 cups of milk.

I usually have a mug as soon as I've warmed it back to a simmer and will let the milky chai remain in the pot with the spices to intensify the flavor. This recipe uses less milk and more tea than others I've found on the web.

An early batch. I'm using more ginger and much more black pepper lately.

Every time I add another peppercorn to the brew, I like it more. There must be a limit, but I haven't hit it yet.

Links

Sean Gillies — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 07:00:00 GMT

I figure three of the first steps towards making saucisson are learning how to grind meat, stuff it neatly in a casing, and make tidy links. For exercise number one, I followed the directions in Bruce Aidells' Complete Sausage Book and modified the recipe for "Chicken and Turkey Merguez", using lamb instead of fowl, espelette pepper in place of cayenne (for the kids), and Banyuls vinegar instead of lemon juice for the full Sud de France effect. The results are, I think, not bad for a first try.

We fried up the leftovers for lunch. Less fatty, a little more herby (parsley and mint), and less paprika than the ones we were getting from the marché in Montpellier. The kids loved it.

Our KitchenAid made grinding and stuffing a breeze, at least for this quantity. Natural sausage casing is remarkably puncture resistant and easy to handle. A little more practice and we should be able to run it faster and really crank out the links.

Does listing the ingredients make this open source sausage?

2.25 pounds 90% lean lamb (85% might be better)
1/2 medium onion + 2 large cloves garlic, chopped very fine
1/4 cup parsley + 1/8 cup mint, fresh, minced
1.5 tbsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp granulated sugar
1 tsp ground black pepper
1/2 tsp espelette pepper (I'd do a tbsp if I had it)
1.5 tbsp paprika
1.5 tsp ground coriander seeds
1.5 tsp ground fennel seeds
1.5 tsp ground ground cumin seeds
1/2 tsp powdered turmeric
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1.5 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp Banyuls vinegar
4 feet natural (intestinal submucosa) pork sausage casing

Comments

Re: Links

Author: René-Luc D'HONT

Congratulations! The Banyuls vinegar is a good choice!

Cheers

Re: Links

Author: Sean

It's the Vermeil from La Guinelle. I had the pleasure of meeting Mme. Herre at La Cave des Arceaux near the end of our séjour. We're going to run out of it soon and apparently they have (yet?) no point of sale in Colorado.

At the market

Sean Gillies — Sat, 11 Sep 2010 06:00:00 GMT

While the year-round market on the Boulevard des Arceaux in Montpellier is the best I've ever frequented, the Larimer County Farmers' Market is a pretty good, if short, substitute. Here are some sights you don't see at a market in the Languedoc:

French people who've tasted sweet corn love it, but it's just not grown in the south of France like it is in the USA's Midwest. This man here had corn, only corn. At Arceaux it was common to see a vendor of oysters only or exclusively honey, but vegetable sellers almost always had some range. An exception was aspargus: in season, you could bring nothing but boxes of asparagus to market and rake in the euros.

One of the sounds of the Fort Collins market in September is the roar of propane jets:

The smell of freshly roasted green Anaheims, Poblanos, and Big Jims pervades the market atmosphere. I grab a couple bags every Saturday, peel them immediately, and toss them in the deep freeze for winter stews.

We like our melons big in the USA. Like the chiles, these are typical of Southeastern Colorado.

Colorado watermelon tops French pasteque, but I prefer the smaller orange Lunel melons to the bloated Rocky Ford cantaloupes. These ripen later around here, which meant we left France at the end of melon season and arrived in Colorado at the beginning of melon season. It's been the same situation for peaches:

Peaches from Colorado's Western Slope are unrivaled.

Comments

Re: At the market

Author: Tyler

An interesting website for farmers markets is

RealTimeFarms

which allows venders to post lists and pictures of what they are selling. It also show connections between restaurants serving local foods and the farms that produce it. It was started in Ann Arbor and most of the current content is for the greater Detroit area, but the founder has told me that Colorado may be one of the next regions to expand to.

The cure for homesickness

Sean Gillies — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 06:00:00 GMT

Chouette!

La volaille

Sean Gillies — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 07:00:00 GMT

Adam Gopnik, at the end of the second essay ("The Strike") in his collection Paris to the Moon, writes:

The turkey, not quite incidentally, was so much better than any other turkey I have ever eaten that it might have been an entirely different kind of bird.

We (by which I mean my family and I) are having similar experiences with la volaille. On the morning of Christmas Eve, I went down to Les Arceaux to pick up the dinde de Noël my wife had ordered the week before from a local producer. A flock of birds, 30 or so, was waiting behind the plexiglass counter of trailer, each marked with a weight, price, and name (one mine). I didn't see a bird over 5 kilos. Mine, at 3 kg, would be considered a smallish, but not tiny bird. The producer asked me if I wanted him to finish the turkey; I could have brought it home with feet, head, and lungs attached if I'd desired. I did not. He whacked off the extremities, removed the organs, replaced the ones normally considered edible, I paid him and brought home a fowl that if not overcooked (it was, slightly) could have been the best we'd ever eaten.

We've been getting chicken from the same producer: whole birds and wings, plump meaty wings from well-exercised birds, driven up into the trees several times each day, perhaps, by a well-trained French farm dog. My wife is permanently astounded at the smell of the chicken, or rather the lack of smell. Sushi-grade poulet, this is. Even supermarket chicken seems years fresher than its American counterpart. We don't completely understand the factors. Is there a shorter supply chain? We can buy directly from a producer, but I get the sense that mass market birds also spend less time in carcass state around here. A very good thing. Unconsolidated industry? Geography? We'll look into it.

One thing for certain is that the French still, in the 21st century, expect their ingredients to be fresh and their meals to be well made. Yesterday I rode in the Font-Romeu télécabine with a pair of 20-something French dudes, and evesdropped on their conversation about food. One of them wearing one of those ridiculous rainbow poly fleece dreadlock ski hats, not something I'd expect to see on the head of a gourmet. "What's for dinner?" "Cuisse de canard (duck leg, roasted)." "With what?" "Potatoes." "Boiled? I'd prefer a gratin." "That's a little heavy to go with duck, in my opinion ..." They then veered into a reminscence of favorite meals past. This wasn't the first time I'd experienced this; it's a bit like living in the Food Channel here.

Comments

Re: La volaille

Author: Jerome

Hey, talking about food while eating sure is french.

Chickens you can buy right next farm tastes a lot better than the one you can buy in the supermarket (even though there are many quality grades : poulet portion, poulet jaune, poulet de bresse ... yours may be "poulet de basse cour").

The breed, the food they eat and their growth speed are the main parameters. On one side you have the industrialized-über-selected breed, fed with low cost efficient food to get the standard chicken "portion" as fast as possible. On the other hand are the old kinds, fed with grains and killed "when they look fat enough".

As for almost everything, "the slower the better" :/

Last market before Christmas

Sean Gillies — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 07:00:00 GMT

Never before have I had the chance to buy a fresh truffle at my local farmer's market, and I seized that opportunity this morning.

I'm told that the season for Tuber melanosporum is just getting started. This one was sold to me by folks that specialize in beautiful dry-cured hams and is from the nearby oak woods. I actually smelled them before I saw them, and the scent is everywhere around us: the car, the kitchen, the pantry. We wasted no time in shaving off a good quantity to use in omelettes made of farm-fresh organic eggs.

The rest of that nugget is destined to be tossed with roasted roots and bulbs: sweet potato, céleri-rave (celeriac), rutabaga, and fenouil (fennel) for a Christmas dinner side dish.

It was frosty this morning at the market, but just as busy as ever. Freezing together in open air shopping solidarity and the shared mission of acquiring fresh ingredients for holiday dinners seemed to draw people together. I had more interaction with other market-goers than on any other trip.

Comments

Re: Last market before Christmas

Author: Pierre GIRAUD

May I suggest you to put the rest in an hermetic jar with some fresh eggs. Omelettes with those eggs will taste the truffe as they were cooked with it.

Re: Last market before Christmas

Author: Sean

Yes, I've read about that practice, and am curious to see how well it works.

Re: Last market before Christmas

Author: atanas entchev

Buying a fresh truffle at a farmer's market is on my bucket list. You are fortunate to have done it.

Re: Last market before Christmas

Author: Jason E. Rist

You have no idea how jealous I am.

Geography of dégustation: Saint-Christol

Sean Gillies — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 06:00:00 GMT

We're finally settled enough to resume our wine tourism. Pierre Boursot took me to visit Domaine de La Coste, an AOC Coteaux du Languedoc property near Saint-Christol on a Saturday evening. I've published a KML doc with a view that shows the domaine's larger North-facing slope. The wise say that Mourvèdre, in the Languedoc, should face the sea, and so it's planted on the opposite slope. To the West is planted Grenache. From the top of Luc and Elisabeth Moynier's Villafranchian limestone hill one has great views in all directions.

They make a number of great red wines from Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvèdre. I brought home some Cuvée Prestige (Mourvèdre, Grenache) and Cuvée Merlette ("forte dominance de Mourvèdre") for some midwinter roasts. Not shown on their website is a delicious vin blanc named Lou Camp de la Qualitat, a blend of Roussane and Viognier. Pierre tells me that such nice white wines are a rarity in a region that favors reds.

I'm a sucker for dessert wines, and so I knew I would be taking away some of the Muscat before I'd even tasted it. They also bottle an interesting aperitif from Mourvèdre juice called La Carthagène. It's like a vin santo, but pink-brown, more tannin and less caramel. I hear that there's a long tradition of idiosyncratic sweet wines in the Languedoc, definitely something I'm keen to explore.

The most curious part of the visit was when Luc Moynier offered us some wine fresh from the fermenter. The grapes had been picked 3 days before and subjected to carbonic maceration, a process in which whole grapes spontaneously ferment in an oxygen-free tank. It's more frothy fruit punch than wine at this early stage. Some of this character will remain in the finished wine, which winemakers used to enjoy right after the harvest (see Beaujolais nouveau). If I understood correctly, the Moyniers are experimenting with blending this into a new cuvée.

Eric Asimov recently wrote about wines of the Languedoc in The Languedoc Raises Its Game. It overlooks the Saint-Christol area in favor of more well-known and widely distributed wines from Minervois, Saint-Chinian, Faugères, and Pic St-Loup, but is well worth reading. Of the wines he reviews, I've tried the Domaine de l'Hortus, and it is indeed excellent. The vineyards and winery itself are also spectacularly well situated between rocky cliffs on the other side of the Pic Saint-Loup. That might have to be our next dégustation daytrip.

Django goes with grilled chicken

Sean Gillies — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 06:00:00 GMT

Who says I won't try Django?

I actually liked this winemaker's "Gispy", a rosé blend of Syrah and Grenache, much better. Cinsault ("Django" is 100%) isn't winning me over, yet.

Comments

Re: Django goes with grilled chicken

Author: James Fee

I'm scared to think what the Plone blend must taste like.

Re: Django goes with grilled chicken

Author: Sean

"The 2009 Plone is staggeringly complex."

Re: Django goes with grilled chicken

Author: Howard Butler

James,

I think the Plone blend requires that you pay a consultant to open the bottle.

How to make better brown gravy for turkey

Sean Gillies — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 07:00:00 GMT

Do you want better gravy than you had last year? It's not too late to begin tonight.

The first step is to make dark turkey stock from scratch instead of using canned chicken broth. Yes, from scratch. You expected otherwise from this blog? Go to your favorite market or butcher and acquire turkey necks and backs, preferably from natural, free-ranging birds. One of each, minimum, for every 3 cups of the final stock. Then get a big bottle of interesting beer – something like Dogfish Head Theobroma or The Reverend from Left Hand Brewing. It's for you, not the stock. Let's presume you have carrots, celery, onion, white wine, sea salt, whole fresh peppercorns, bay leaves, thyme, parsley.

Open the beer and pour it into a large clean glass. Toss the turkey parts and chopped vegetables with a bit of canola oil and roast, in a pan in the oven, or in a skillet on the stove-top, turning several times, until everything is nicely browned and sticking to the metal. This sticky goo is called the "fond" and you want it like Gollum wants his precious. Go slow if you're new to this, you have a beer for refreshment. Don't burn the precious!

Transfer the browned chunks into a pot. Pour off oil and fat rendered from the bird parts. Don't lose the priceless fond, you want to deglaze it from the pan or skillet using half a cup of white wine, heat, and a wooden spoon or spatula. Transfer the wine and fond to the stock pot, add water to cover, and bring to a simmer. Do not boil the stock. Over the next 30 minutes, skim the scum that rises to the top as you savor your beer. Afterwards, add ground pepper, a bit of salt (mainly to assist the chemistry, you'll salt to taste on T-Day), thyme and parsely sprigs, and leave it simmering (not boiling) alone for an hour and a half while you tidy up the kitchen. Hopefully, you've paced yourself or had the foresight to get 2 beers.

Since you didn't do this on the weekend and are, like me, short of time in the evenings, do a quick wrap-up tonight and finish in the morning. Strain the stock into another pot or ceramic bowl, something you can cover, and set it to chill it overnight. Tomorrow morning, disturbing the settled solids as little as possible, spoon congealed fat off the top (at least 90% of it), and ladle it into a container suitable for freezing. Don't sweat a little cloudiness, you won't notice when it's made into gravy.

To seal the deal on T-Day itself, it's important to have a degreasing cup because the only thing worse than vendor lock-in is greasy gravy. Go get one over the next few days. The larger the better. It's like a measuring cup with a spout coming off the bottom. Pour in a greasy liquid mix, the fat rises to the top, and you carefully pour fat-free liquid from the bottom. Better gravy requires just the right amount of fat and no more. Your grandmother knew this. (Note: if your grandmother is making the gravy this year, disregard this post and just give her a hug and make sure that her beer glass stays full.)

After roasting your turkey, you'll have in the pan several cups of fatty juices and another marvellous layer of precious, precious fond. Spoon off a tablespoon of clear fat for each cup of dark turkey stock. Then add white wine to the pan, heat, and scrape up the fond. It is these resulting juices that you will carefully degrease using your new cup. Bring the turkey stock to a simmer in a saucepan and refill your beer glass.

While the juices are separating in the degreasing cup, make a roux with 4 tablespoons of flour to each 3 tablespoons of clear turkey fat. Stir together over medium heat in a pan. This frying step, without any water, lets the flour absorb fat and will help prevent lumps in the final product. It should bubble, and turn a nice light brown color. Roux is an interesting form of matter; the Cajuns are supposed to have as many kinds of roux as the Inuit do kinds of snow. Let it cool a bit so that it doesn't splatter when you add the stock and whisk the stock in, briskly, a bit at a time. Now added the degreased juices and bring it to a simmer, adjusting the salt and pepper. What ever you do, don't add more flour: thicken it via evaporation if you must. I've seen people try to thicken thin gravy by addition of "Freedom Roux" (flour and water), but you can avoid that by getting the roux right from the start, French style.

Bring it to the table hot, in a classy gravy boat, and indulge.