“It’s too late in the year,” Pamela said. “The cows will already be back in the barn.”

“Really?” I replied, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Yes, sorry. You’ll have to wait until the spring if you want to see them outside.”

Pamela, one of the owners of Robinson’s Farm, was just as friendly as I had imagined her after we spoke in November. At the time, I wanted to visit the farm with Delphine, for the Envoyé Spécial la suite TV program she was working on with me.

I felt sad that Delphine, Cyril and I never made it to visit the farm in November–although our lobster trip was *really* good and made up for it–so I made a mental note of what Pamela had said. J’irai au printemps (I’ll go in the spring), I told myself, determined not to give up. Je veux vraiment voir cette ferme (I really want to see this farm).

Because at Robinson’s farm, they make raw milk. And are starting to make cheese too. Both of which really piqued my curiosity.

But spring came and I was away. Then summer followed naturally and I wasn’t sure it would still be a good idea to go to the farm. Maybe it was going to be too hot then and the cows would have traveled to an exotic place where they’d be cooling off…who knows what cows have on their mind?

“No, no,” Pamela said, when I emailed her back in early July to ask whether I could come. “It’s a great time. Come over to visit!”

“Can I bring Lulu?” I went on.

“Sure! we’d love to meet Lulu.”

That was how it started. And that was how, two weeks ago, I finally made it to visit Robinson’s farm.

I didn’t go alone–and I was glad. I wanted that my Lulu could run around on the farm, and that she saw cows and calves, trees and vegetables, chicken and eggs. So not only did my beautiful princess come along (did I already tell you that we’ve not yet spent one day away from each other?), but a dear friend of mine decided to accompany us with her son. We packed a tasty picnic made of quinoa salad, sandwiches, watermelon and financiers I’d baked the night before, and after a two hour drive, we arrived at Pamela and Ray’s doorstep.

We had an amazing lunch. And a memorable day.

The Robinsons live in rural Hardwick, a small town west of Boston, and they have been farming since 1892. “Four generations,” Ray had said proudly when I’d asked how old the farm was.

I had not yet visited this part of the state and wasn’t really sure what to expect. As soon as I arrived, though, and caught sight of the large red barn with balls of hay and cows grazing in the fields nearby, I felt relaxed. Taking a deep breath in and closing my eyes for a minute, I could almost imagine that I’d been transported back home.

Presque.

This rural setting is suggestive of a slow pace of life. Yet, people on the farm work hard. Long hours. Whether it’s dry, humid or raining, hot or cold–no matter what the weather decides to be.

Pamela and Ray own a forty-cow pasture based herd comprised of primarily registered and grade Holsteins, with cross breeding practices which include New Zealand Holsteins, Jersey & Normande breeds. They’ve been making raw milk for five years now and like it this way. They believe that clean, fresh milk from grass fed cows provides all of the nourishment nature intended without destroying the enzymes and probiotics that assist with digestion. They are fully certified organic, which means that the pastures, hay, chickens, eggs, perennials, and herd found on the farm are organic. Every summer, they grow vegetables and flowers they sell at local farmer’s markets or at their farm stand, along with grass fed beef, “rose” veal and yogurt from Sidehill Farm (which is made with their milk). And this coming fall, they hope to sell their cheese too.

They told me that they’ve been making cheese for a while now and are keen to continue. If you visit the farm, you’ll be able to taste their practice cheese. We did. We had just settled for our picnic lunch at the back of the farm when Pamela brought a large platter of cheese for us to enjoy. I quickly noticed that every time she’d walk by the wooden table where we sat to eat, she’d nonchalantly grab a slice of cheese.

“I saw you!” I exclaimed jokingly, seeing she was putting cheese in her mouth. “You’re snacking on cheese all day long, aren’t you?” I added. She laughed.

Why wouldn’t she?

We sampled a few types of hard cheese: Robinson Family Swiss, Tekenink Tomme, Hardwick Stone (brick) and a Barndance (abondance). We could not stop eating. Lulu, ma petite gourmande, neither. The cheese was tasty. It was the perfect food to accompany our lunch.

After lunch, we also had a tour of the farm. We walked through Pamela’s large vegetable garden that gave me real vegetable envy; we saw where they make raw milk and cheese; we met the calves and cows who were smartly gathered in the shade of tall trees; and we visited the chicken.

“Lulu isn’t scared at all! Pamela exclaimed when we stepped inside the hen house to collect a basket of fresh eggs. “That’s right!” my friend E., who was holding Lulu by the hand, went on.

“Can we have some milk?” I asked.

“Of course,” Pamela replied. “I also have some cheese for you.”

Before leaving, we packed a gallon of raw milk, a large container of yogurt and three pieces of cheese each. We were happy. We’d spent a simple fulfilling day.

I was keen to taste the milk to find out whether it would taste like the one I’d grown up with. At my grandparents’ or my parents’ house, le lait cru (raw milk) was what we’d drink.

“Qu’est-ce que tu vas faire avec tout cela?” (What are you going to make with all of this?) E. asked when we were back in the car.

“Je ne sais pas encore,” (Don’t know yet) I said.

But it didn’t last for long. Back home, ideas started to come.

I was going to bake a herb-scented vegetable tart, a variant of this one that followed my inspiration. And small cute ones for Lulu too.

Prepare a melon and cucumber soup with yogurt and fresh herbs from the garden.

In the morning, drink milk with a batch of homemade granola.

And make a vanilla-flavored custard, and serve it in verrines with strawberries sauce and fresh strawberries–a dessert I frankly have a strong weakness for and could eat every day!

All of these foods tasted like summer, no exception.

Just like home.

It’s already Tuesday and I am a day late. Désolée ! I promised a winner for the Around Fog Linen catalog. And I am happy to announce that Dawn McBeth is the one with the lucky number. Thank you Dawn, I will be sending you the catalog tomorrow.

This week is also one amongst many that requires my full attention. So you’ll have to excuse the lack of chit chat. And recipes. I have my cookbook manuscript to finish, the pictures to organize and prepare for print–and I am feeling fairly rushed with life, to say the least. But I am *so* looking forward to finally see my cookbook take shape. To see my recipes on paper, with colors and a design. To have the book be given a life outside my home. It will be published and available next Spring.

This morning, while I was chatting with a friend and I told her that I felt quite exhausted, “I am not surprised,” she said. “Your book,” she went on, “it’s like you are giving birth again!”

Obviously, it’s not exactly the same kind–we know that. But it’s definitely a life event that took its course over numerous months, growing slowly and steadily, step by step, day after day. And today, I am really keen to feel the final product between my hands.

Merci! Thank you for being here. For coming back, no matter what. Next to the love and support I receive from P. (who is well fed, under all circumstances, as he likes to tell me when I ask that he goes grocery shopping at odd times of the day) and Lulu–who took her very first steps this weekend–you are making this book happen!

Here’s a snapshot of what’s going to be the feel you’ll find inside my book.

“You’ll do well! ” P. said in a soft voice that sounded reassuring. He was looking at me straight in the eyes. Intensely as if to convince me even more.

I knew that it would be fine. That I would fine. But I was still feeling rather nervous — thrilled and excited! In fact, I couldn’t fall easily asleep at night, tossing again and again, thinking about Thursday, Friday and then Saturday, and about the French TV journalist and cameraman who were flying from Paris to meet me.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday happened. It’s been magical — and I can sleep again! They walked into our home and for two full busy days, they filmed and interviewed me, in my small kitchen. I am sure you can imagine the scene of me, P. and Lulu behind the camera — oh how much she liked it — and the kind of adrenaline I’ve been on! I think I still don’t realize that it happened.

But I am lucky: they were extremely friendly and made me feel at ease — we had a lot of fun. I’ll tell you more about it, I promise: details about the program and when it airs; about what we saw, what I cooked and what we ate.

Meanwhile, an overwhelming chocolate craving took me over. A few days ago, we started the day with a pile of chocolate crêpes on the breakfast table — Lulu enjoyed her first one too — then I made chocolate mousse, and the next day, I had a chocolate snow eggs for dessert at lunch. One full serving* just* by myself! Juste pour moi!

It tasted rich and chocolaty, leaving wonderful aromas in my mouth.

It filled me with so much happy energy that after I licked my fingers and the spoon clean, Lulu and I went for a long walk in one of your favorite nature reserves close to the house.

It was still somewhat mild for the season so I decided to lay a blanket on the grass where she and I sat. She looked at me, surprised, and then smiled, clapping her hands and moving her legs and feet swiftly. She was a happy baby, with her hands full of the grass she grabbed.

And me a happy maman to be sitting there with her under the apple tree, with a stomach full of scrumptious chocolate custard.

June.

Juin

Is it real?

Tomorrow is my older brother B.’s birthday. He will be 43 — and he will probably spend his day in his wonderful garden. A gift.

So I can’t believe it’s June! I know, you’ve heard me say this before. But really, I mean it. This time, it’s just too quick to arrive.

My apologies for not being able to respond to your emails and notes, or being more present. I don’t like it — hopefully you won’t even have noticed — but I am simply not able to follow up right now. I have the cookbook to finish in a month.

Yes, you read well.

A short month.

With our Lulu to take care of, growing by the second, by my side. She’s all about stuffing her feet into her mouth at the moment. It’s her new thing. I had forgotten how fascinating a pair of feet can be. Oh, and blowing bubbles with her lips pursed too. That’s actually quite funny! I must say, I’ve spent a fair amount observing and discovering things through her fresh eyes. And giving her kisses — at least ten at a time — every two minutes.

It’s addictive.

Needless to say that I am b.u.s.y! Too busy!

It will change over time.

Now, of course, I am not complaining. It’s all fulfilling. But frankly, I’ll be happy to get to the depth of the summer when P., Lulu and I travel to Ireland and France — oh I love it already — and we can take long walks through the fields in the countryside, à la campagne, and smell the flowers again.

I cannot wait.

So I thought I would stop by quickly today, to share a recipe I’ve enjoyed preparing for my lunches these past weeks.

It’s a dish full of vitamins, taste and color — that’s, if like me, you like the color green and spring vegetables and a vanilla-flavored vinaigrette to go with it. But it’s also all about the egg too, you know, the kind you cook on the runny side. We call them oeufs mollets in French.

I just like the name.

And it’s just the type of foods that I need at the moment to keep me to go forward.

Well, you can try and tell me what you think.

Ok. I am a few days behind. It seems to be happening a lot lately. But better late than not at all. I still have an email to send to all of you who kindly offered to help with the testing of my recipes. I have not forgotten.

In the meantime, since it is fairly quick, I meant to let you know about a fun recipe that I wrote for the Boston Globe Seasons Column last week. Now, I am perhaps not an expert of Spanish cuisine, but I surely enjoy cooking it. Then, who can really resist potatoes, olive oil, eggs — and my addition of spinach and cumin. A Spanish tortilla anyone?

That makes a perfect breakfast, light dinner or lunch idea, and a great picnic for the summer. Oh, I cannot wait to get the picnic basket and blanket out!

The recipe can be found here.

There are privileges that I wish I could have kept from my happy upbringing in rural France. Take for example eggs. Would you have dreamed of anything better but collect eggs still warm, with feathers — and dirt — stuck to them, from the poulailler (chicken house)?

“Tu les laisses pour moi hein, dis mémé !” (leave them for me grand-ma!) I used to tell my grand-mother before my parents drove us to their farm, a few kilometers away. My brother B. was older and clearly less interested in those farm-like games. So mémé invariably did leave the eggs for me to collect. She and I would then walk to the large garden she kept impeccable at the back of their big house; we would feed the rabbits together and on the way back, we would dig out a salad and some vegetables for dinner. I would carry the basket full of our treasures; staying over for a meal was nearly always happening. A good thing since it meant tasting my grandmother’s saucisson, the best I’ve ever eaten to this day. I loved to be at the farm. And I loved to collect the eggs.

So perhaps like many people, I could worry about my consumption of eggs. Clearly they are a staple ingredient in my cooking. I use them in flans, clafoutis, cakes, omelets, custard, oeufs en cocotte: the possibilities are endless. But in truth, I have never worried about eating too many eggs. And I do not think that I ever will.

When I am working at home — or when P. and I go hiking or decide to picnic somewhere green and sunny — one of my favorite daily snacks is a hard-boiled egg sprinkled with a dash of fleur de sel, and a touch of preserved horseradish if I have any in the fridge. Aren’t they wonderful food?

My dad often tells me that he used to eat hard-boiled eggs as a snack on the farm when he was young. I suspect that he’s passed me the gene: in our family, while my mum and brother do not care much for them, my dad and I can make a meal on them.

A few weeks ago, with the Easter egg frenzy visible in every magazine I picked to read, I thought about eggs a lot, and feeling easily carried away, I ended up cooking many egg recipes. Amongst them, I came up with the idea of these Dressed up marbled eggs.

Pille — who shares the same love for beets as me — is the one who inspired me to dye hard boiled eggs again. I had not done so in quite a while, so practicing a little again was fun.

The technique is easy: hard-boil your eggs the way you normally do, crack the shells by tapping them gently on a cutting board, for example — which is what gives the pattern to the eggs — and then, place the eggs in dyed water for about 1 hour 30 minutes (the longer you leave them in the infused water, the more colored they become). I dyed mine with beet root juice diluted in water.

Then, create according to your fancy and taste to dress up your hard boiled eggs. I imagined a topping made of fresh anchovies, horseradish, fleur de sel, and a dash of pepper.

With a twig of chive tied around, the eggs looked like small packages of love and goodness easily dropped into the mouth; a recipe easy to prepare, wonderful enjoyed as a light finger food appetizer, or a nutritious snack to fulfill a sudden craving during the day.

Wouldn’t you too, like my dad and I, enjoy the bounty mother nature keeps for us in simple food like hard-boiled eggs?

Pourquoi chercher compliqué quand le simple peut être si bon ?
(why look for something complex when something easy can be so delicious?)

You can trust many of the food magazines everywhere to remind you of the foods popular at Easter. Amongst them, you will invariably find recipes using lamb, eggs and of course, chocolate. I am lucky: I am fond of the three.

So my dilemma is that I really had many egg and chocolate recipes ready for you but you see, I really don’t know where time went this week. It clearly vanished in my hands and here we are, Easter is in two days and puis rien. Nada !

But I trust that you will have already planned scrumptious meals, whether elaborate or simple, with people you love, your friends or family. Really, whoever is special to you.

Us?

Well, we cannot always plan everything, can we ? My second half P. is sick, so we will really have to play it by ear. In fact, I might simply make springlike green asparagus scrambled eggs like these ones. Filled with fresh herbs and a touch of spice on top. They would make anyone feel better, wouldn’t they?

In any case, I wish you all a Happy Easter, if you celebrate that holiday. Joyeuses fêtes de Pâques à tout le monde.

Some people hate runny eggs. I don’t. I love them, especially when they are prepared simply as “oeufs à la coque“. Perhaps because this takes me back to the time when, as a kid, my mum used to prepare soft boiled eggs. Like many children, my brother and I particularly loved the part when we could dip our mouillettes* into the eggs. Succulent!

“Oeufs à la coque ? We call them egg and soldiers in my family in Ireland,” P. told me when, many years ago, I asked him whether he had eaten them before.

“In your family only or in Ireland everywhere?”

He looked back at me. P. is often confused between remembering the foods he learned to eat living in Ireland or the States.

“Je ne sais pas. Ask my mum.”

“What about oeufs en cocotte?” I went on. “Do you have these in Ireland too?”

The look on his face showed that he was then puzzled by something. “Cocotte ? What is a cocotte?”

“An egg en cocotte is the cousin of the oeuf à la coque,” I replied. At least in my own interpretation.

You probably know that in French, a cocotte is an oval or round casserole with a lid and two hand grips on each side used for stewing or boiling. The reason why we call this egg dish an “oeuf en cocotte” is because the eggs — gently broken in the cup — are cooked in a small cocotte; nowadays a glass or ceramic ramekin is more often used. But I still prefer to use glass because I like the idea to see the food.

You can pretty much put anything that you like in un oeuf en cocotte; the different ingredients added are then called l’appareil. Crème fraîche or crème liquide (heavy cream) is often used, as well as fresh herbs.

In my first oeufs en cocotte batch, I decided to add tarragon — because anything tarragon is always welcomed in my kitchen, remember? — chives, leek and smoked salmon. The second one included sautéed chanterelles, because it is the season, n’est-ce pas ?

Served as an appetizer, this dish is easy and quick to prepare, fifteen minutes total, not more. This will even give you plenty of time to take a walk to the park before your meal, just as I did when I tested the recipe one evening, last week.

This time of year has to be one of my favorites in New England, when I am able to observe the change of colors in nature and trees. I have never seen anything like this anywhere else before. Antoine de Saint Exupéry wrote “Dessine-moi un mouton” in his marvelous famous novel, Le Petit Prince. I could change his words to “Dessine moi un arbre“, to illustrate my fascination with trees. Aren’t they quite something?

And oh, did I mention this before?

Renewing with my many years spent as a teacher of French as a second language, I was pleased to teach my first atelier cuisine/français (cooking/French workshop) at the French Library Alliance Française in Boston this past Friday. The theme? La cuisine réconfortante (Comfort food). This eggs en cocotte recipe was part of the menu.

While my students — and I — exclusively spoke French (and they were good!), they also prepared a three course menu:

And now that I am looking at it more closely, perhaps I should have entitled the class “La cuisine sur le thème du jaune” (Cooking in Yellow).

The next class is happening on November 13, with a theme around Verrines & Mignardises. Take a look if you are interested.

In the meantime, enjoy the eggs, and the beauty of fall, as long as it lasts! Yesterday, it was 75 F in Boston (23 C). Today, we will reach 80 F (27 C). C’est incroyable ce temps ! A bit scary actually!

The recipe of the apple flognarde will follow soon.

Technorati Tags: La Tartine Gourmande, Food Photography, Food Styling, eggs en cocotte, French dish, appetizer, oeufs en cocotte

Only a five and half hour drive separates Boston from Acadia National Park located in the northern part of Maine. We love it up there. We have reached a point where the Atlantic ocean meets gorgeous mountains. The pleasure of enjoying both at the same time.

I know well that you are perhaps all waiting for the DMBLGIT results. But if you permit, I am asking for just a little more patience! And my excuses are good, trust me. Beside, it was planned.

As I am currently still enjoying the beauties of a short vacation week in Acadia National Park in Maine, I have less time to spend on line or in the kitchen, and oh yes, that feels good too! Our days are spent hiking long hours in this magnificent park, eating simply, from packed picnics to homemade cooked meals at night, while pretty much enjoying an almost entire disconnection (well, I am on line, so this means that I still need progress to get to a hundred percent, don’t I?). And this time, we were able to enjoy a vacation destination that we drove to instead of the long flights we usually take. Benefit? Pack the car to the roof!

Well, almost.

Let me take you on a tour of one of our usual hiking trips, if you will.

Just the necessary — and more — to be comfortable cooking great food on hikes, you know!

My newest cooking/eating hiking purchase: foldable cups and plates ($6 each). It only takes 30 seconds to put them up together (well P. made a point of timing me because remember, I am not known as being so good at assembling things!)

Incidentally, the people working at this UK-based company would be in need of some help with the French translation. Argggghhh, grammar mistakes drive me nuts!

Of course, on ne perd pas le Nord non plus ! Always enough time to spend relaxing by the pool in the last place we stayed in, to be pampered.

And, as odd as it seems, I don’t seem to have taken many food shots at all. I thought about it, many times, but for some odd reason, it did not happen. Did we eat out? Once, but nothing to remember or write about, really. At least I had some Lobster. And Blueberries.

It proved that we went to Maine indeed.

A bientôt !

Technorati Tags: Food Styling, La Tartine Gourmande, Food Photography, Spanish Tortilla, Acadia National Park, Maine, Hiking Food

Brunch Culture

“Brunch? At what time do you say? 11 am?”

“How am I going to manage to be hungry at 11 am”, I wondered. I was still very content with the breakfast I had had that very morning.

I never skip breakfast. And better not for the sake of the folks around me, especially P. if he is around. He then calls me grincheuse. Let me add how much I regret to have taught him this word in French! Grumpy? Not at all. It is just that I like breakfast so much that I often wake up with la faim au ventre. I am not only hungry, I am starving! I can admit that I get up because I am just too happy to eat le p’tit-déj (short for petit déjeuner, ie breakfast).

“Mais le brunch c’est comme cela”, P. added the next time we were planning to have brunch. “You just have to eat less at breakfast, then you will be hungry.”

All right, I could do this I guess. And I proved it the next time we went out for brunch.

Over the years, I have developed a real love for this odd-time meal. I used to find brunches peculiar because I could never eat at 11 am if I had had my usual breakfast. But of course, there is no real set rule today. If going out for brunch, it can be eaten much later, which is really better suited for my internal time clock. I realized that I rarely host brunches. It is not in my culture I suppose, but at the same time, I cannot say that it is a reason that justifies my lack of involvement in this food culture. Because in fact, I really like brunch food: finger food of all types, French toast, fruits, mixed salads, quiches, savory cakes, sweet breads, and certainly not forgetting one food used as the basis of so many other wonderful tasty dishes, eggs.

Poached Eggs — Les oeufs pochés

I love eggs under all its forms. Poached eggs are high on the list. We all have preferences which condition how cooked we like our eggs. But in my world, the more yellow shows in the egg, the better ; the runnier, the better. I know well that many people might not agree with me, but I will nevertheless need to add that for me, eggs are amongst the simplest foods, remaining one of the most nutritious. A real world of goodness imprisoned inside.

When I thought about this brunch food, I wanted to create a dish that would combine different food groups — with vegetables, grain and protein — and varied contrasted textures — crunchy, soft. With it, I loved the idea to serve a fresh green salad, because rare are the meals that go without a salad in our household. I imagined a stack of layers mingling together! I used the idea of a fausse tart and precooked pie crusts. And then the layering idea came into place: goat cheese spread on the crust, cooked diced vegetables resembling a ratatouille, a prosciutto slice, and the top of the top, a poached egg with tarragon.

The great thing about this dish is that many steps can be prepared ahead of time, such as the pie crusts and vegetables. Once these steps are done, you only need to spend a few minutes to poach the eggs, reheat the vegetables and assemble your dish. Not a bad thing for a lazy Sunday morning. I do not know about you, but I love simple meals like this, giving you plenty of good energy to start a day. 11 am, noon, 1 pm, who cares after all when brunch starts?