Posts Tagged ‘Brittany’

Exciting times. Part II.

16 October 2013

Roscoff, Brittany

The last time I moved across continents I had a three-week-new husband, a few metal trunks, and a couple of suitcases. This time was different. Moving with a full house and three children takes some of the fun out of moving. It dampens the feeling of freedom and endless possibility somewhat. There are schools to contend with, and lots and lots more stuff.

We gave ourselves two weeks to pack up in New York and two weeks in London to get everything sorted and those were four remarkably stressful weeks, but, I have to say, now that all is pretty much settled, in retrospect, it wasn’t all that bad.

Anyway, moving wasn’t going to encroach on our summer vacation, on the contrary, what a perfect opportunity to embark on a giant road trip through Europe. Because, why not?

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First the Eurostar to Brussels to visit family and friends and pick up the children

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Then a long drive to Munich to visit family and idle away the hours, from Biergarten, to park, to lake, to Biergarten

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And off to Italy and beautiful Umbria!

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We climbed up a mountain — Phew.
We lolled by the Adriatic.

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All the while spending time with friends. Old friends we hadn’t seen in much too long. New friends.

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People should get married much more often.

Then a violent drive to Paris, and Thomas eurostarred to London while the children and I continued on to Brittany for the last three weeks of this transitional summer.

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Before moving to London.

Travel | Summer memories at Crêperie Sucré Salé in Trégastel

6 September 2012

The story repeats itself, and it’s as it should be.

When the fog lifts and the clouds clear, we drive to the beach. My sister’s house in Brittany is rather inland, so we have a range of beaches to choose from, and yet nine times out of ten we end up in the same place, Trégastel. It’s an old-fashioned seaside resort on a stunning stretch of coast, punctuated by huge pink granite boulders; inviting, menacing at times, teetering. It’s breathtaking. But the draw of Trégastel is more than the boulders and the beach; as Northern Brittany goes it can even become somewhat crowded on August weekends. Trégastel has become a story.

We dip into the water; sometimes only halfway, if it’s bitterly cold and the sea endlessly shallow from the ebb of the tide. The receding water of those notoriously steep tides leaves crabs scurrying, pools among the rocks with shrimp and small fish trapped until the flow. There are seashells to be gathered, sand castles to be built, and kites to be flown.

Everyone is getting hungry. As evening draws, we pack our beach bags, cross one stretch of sand, and climb the coastal path to the old harbor, the seaside center of town. It’s nearly 8pm but the sun is still high in the sky as we take our seats on the waterfront terrace of the crêperie. They aren’t particularly friendly there and our large groups usually upwards of ten often leave the staff visibly irritated. It’s a touristy location, right by the water with a postcard worthy view of the sea, the granite, the boats. But that’s all part of it — this summer ritual.

The galettes are very good, of course, which is essential. But it’s equally about the grumpy waiters, the setting sun, another cup of cider, the children running off to the beach the instant they’ve devoured their last bite, the elusive green flash, the treacherous walk back to the car in the dark. It’s become a tradition, perfect in all its imperfections.

A summer memory.

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Crêperie Sucré Salé

Place du Coz Pors, Trégastel
33 (0)2 96 23 81 31

The galettes (savory buckwheat crêpes) are excellent here. I rarely stray from the classic ‘complète’ (with egg, ham, and cheese), though I’ve sometimes added tomatoes and onions, but all the garnishes are very good. For a bit of a change (not that I would), the mussel dishes are also delicious. I don’t find the sweet crêpes as exciting, so I always order my dessert crêpes on a buckwheat galette, and that combination is amazing.

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Related posts

Crepes!

Rhubarb raspberry crostata

Baked mackerel with mustard and thyme

Mussels with shallots and white wine

Rhubarb raspberry crostata

21 July 2012

I wasn’t going to make this, I admit. I saw the crostata on Lottie + Doof when it was published a few weeks ago and somehow dismissed it, as I might have snubbed a recipe that combines rhubarb and strawberries. In my mind rhubarb is not enhanced by berries of any sort. (Rosemary as a gentle herbal boost, on the other hand, is a different story.)

But I arrived in Brittany in the midst of what everyone claimed to be the worst summer (summer?) in recent memory. I’d already enjoyed a generous dose of sun and heat in New York, so I didn’t mind much, and the terrible weather had brought with it a few perks: still plenty of rhubarb at the market and lots of raspberries in the garden, bravely defying the odds on overgrown bushes left to fend for themselves all year long. (Also elders still in bloom! But more on that later.)

I bought rhubarb, as I always do; eyed the raspberries calling out for prompt picking; and remembered that a friend had recently raved about this crostata. The decision seemed to make itself.

As it turned out, I loved everything about the recipe. The crust is great. The technique of bending it back over the pie so simple and clever. And, well, the combination of rhubarb and raspberry really is well inspired, after all. (I did add a sprig of rosemary to infuse the filling as it was cooking, it was irresistible. Otherwise everything remains pretty much the same.)

The great thing here is that the crust and rolling technique can be used with all kinds of fruit. I imagine peach slices tossed with a little sugar and a few sprigs of thyme simply placed on the crust (uncooked) before baking would be excellent, too.

Recipe by Karen DeMasco in Bon Appétit via Lottie + Doof

For the  crust

1 cup (125 g) white flour

1/2 cup (75 g) whole wheat flour

1 Tbsp sugar

1/2 tsp sea salt

3/4 (170g) cup butter

1 large egg

1 Tbsp whole milk

Keep the butter well chilled.

In a large bowl, combine the flours, sugar, and salt.

Cut the cold butter into cubes, add to the flour mixture, and combine until the dough has the texture of coarse oatmeal.

In a small bowl, whisk the egg and milk to combine well. Add the egg/milk to the flour/butter mixture, and work the dough just enough so that it can be gathered into a ball. If you need a little more moisture (I did), add some water, a few drops at a time, until the dough can be shaped.

Flatten the ball and place in the refrigerator, covered snugly with parchment paper, to rest for at least 1 1/2 hours and up to 2 days.

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For the filling

1/4 cup (30 g) cornstarch

4 cups (about 500 g) rhubarb

1 pint raspberries

2/3 cup (135 g) sugar

1 sprig rosemary

In a small bowl, dissolve the cornstarch in 3 Tbsps water and set aside.

Wash, peel as necessary, and cut the rhubarb into 1/2 inch (1 cm) pieces. Never wash raspberries but check through them to remove leaves or any damaged berries.

Combine the rhubarb, raspberries, rosemary, and sugar in a large heavy saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring regularly, until the sugar dissolves and the juices are released, about 4 to 5 minutes. Stir in the diluted cornstarch and bring to a boil, then transfer to a bowl and chill until cool, about 30 minutes. **The rhubarb will not be soft, the slices still intact; it will cook through later as the crostata bakes in the oven.**

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The crostata

Flour for rolling the dough

1 egg and 1 tsp milk for the egg wash

A little brown sugar for sprinkling on the edges of the crostata

Remove dough from refrigerator and allow about 15 minutes for it to soften with the ambient heat and become easy to handle (but not too much or the dough becomes sticky and difficult to roll).

Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C).

Roll out the dough onto a large piece of floured parchment paper to about 12″ (30 cm), taking good care that it doesn’t stick and adding flour if necessary.

Beat one egg with a tsp milk and brush the crust with the egg wash (this helps seal the crust so the juices from the fruit don’t make it soggy).

Remove the sprig rosemary from the cooled filling and scoop the filling carefully onto the crust, spreading it evenly from the center outward leaving a 2″ (5 cm) border. Gently fold the edges of the dough back over the filling.

Brush the borders with the egg wash and sprinkle with sugar. Slide the parchment paper with the crostata onto a baking sheet, then into the oven and bake until the crust is golden and the filling bubbly, about 45 minutes.

Let the crostata cool. Serve with crème fraîche or whipped cream.

PS: Photos are of the uncooked crostata and here I added a few fresh raspberries just before baking. This is not reflected in the recipe.

In Brittany | Kouign Amann from Au Four St Melaine bakery in Morlaix

15 September 2011

It looks fairly harmless; it’s hiding it’s game. After a few summers in Brittany we’ve discovered what has to be the best Kouign Amann. Period.

Kouign Amann is a traditional Breton… cake? bread? voluptuous addiction? The most common version is a bread batter folded many times over with butter and sugar to create a dense, caramelized, buttery puff pastry of sorts. According to renowned Breton chef Jacques Thorel, original Kouign Amann was made with leftover bread dough simply mixed with butter and sugar. The technique of folding the dough repeatedly came later, invented by a baker who knew about puff pastry.

I haven’t attempted to make Kouign Amann – yet. Currently our summers in Brittany are occupied more by heavy construction work than creative cooking. But we look for every excuse to drive the 25-odd minutes to Morlaix, to a small boulangerie hidden on a steep side street, framed by the towering viaduct that contributes to the town’s unique character.

The Kouign Amann from Au Four St Melaine doesn’t look as good as it tastes. It’s no shining, copper disk oozing with butter and sugar. It looks somewhat staid. But, once heated (for about 10 minutes, in a medium oven), it caramelizes on the surface while loosening up inside and becomes a seriously dangerous temptation.

You’ll see. If ever you are in Morlaix.

UPDATE SUMMER 2012: Au Four St Melaine has closed. Tragic. We have not yet found an adequate replacement.

Au Four St Melaine

1 Venelle Four Saint Melaine
29600 Morlaix
France

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Mussels with shallots and white wine

At the market in Brittany | Artichokes

At the market in Brittany | Artichokes

21 August 2011

I don’t know how better to describe a field of artichokes than as a shimmering sea of silver green plants growing dinosaur eggs – they are at once beautiful and funny.

Because somehow it’s hard to take an artichoke entirely seriously. The legendary French comedian Coluche famously derided artichokes as “the only dish that, when you finish eating it, there’s more on your plate than when you started.”

When we eat an artichoke, we eat the bud of a domesticated thistle, cynara scolymus, which comes from the Mediterranean and dislikes frost. It is therefore ideally suited to the mild maritime climate of Brittany, where it is never terribly cold and – have I mentioned this before? – rarely particularly hot.

While the artichoke bud is still very small, the whole head is edible. Later, as pictured above and described below, it is still a bud but only the fleshy part of the leaves and the heart can be eaten.

To eat a globe artichoke you pluck a leaf, scrape the flesh gently but firmly with the bottom front teeth, discard the leaf, and repeat, working your way toward the tender heart. The very soft central leaves can practically be eaten whole, then onto the choke – the inedible part called “hay” in French, to describe its prickly quality. The choke must be removed carefully to reveal the heart, which most consider the prized part of the artichoke, though most children find eating the leaves much more fun.

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Steamed globe artichokes with butter lemon sauce

Traditionally artichoke leaves are often dipped in a simple vinaigrette or a hollandaise sauce, but in my opinion this simple butter lemon sauce far surpasses both.

1 artichoke per person

2 Tbsps butter per artichoke

1/2 lemon per artichoke

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

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In a pot large enough to hold all the artichokes, bring 1 to 2 inches (3 to 5 cm) of water to boil.

Just before using, cut the stems flush off the artichoke. **If this is done in advance, rub some lemon on the bottom so the artichoke doesn’t oxidize.**

Place the artichokes in the pot. **It is also possible to use a steamer, but not necessary. The bottom artichokes will touch the water slightly but the result is the same.**

Steam the artichokes for about 40-45 minutes. The artichokes are cooked when an outer leaf peels off easily and a knife slides into the heart (bottom part) of the artichoke.

For the sauce, melt the butter in a small saucepan, squeeze in the lemon juice, season with salt and pepper, and stir well. Taste and adjust with more lemon juice if desired.

To serve, place one artichoke on each plate with the sauce in a little pot on the side, and a large bowl on the table for the discarded leaves.

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Related posts

Mussels with shallots and white wine

In Brittany | Kouign Amann from Au Four St Melaine bakery in Morlaix

At the market | Rhubarb [Compote recipe]

At the market | Quinces

 


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