Another 10th year milestone

Who knows where the time goes? Et où sont les canicules d'antan ? Today marks the tenth anniversary of the first night we ever spent in this house outside Saint-Aignan-sur-Cher. It was June 12, 2003. We had slept for the first five nights in a gîte rural over in the village of Thésée, and we'd been busy for five days cleaning our new house so that we could move in.

At this point, we've lived here longer than we had ever lived in any other house or apartment before. Dix ans ! Qui l'eût cru ?

Looks like there will be a lot of fruit in 2013.

We didn't have any furniture. We went out and bought two air mattresses to sleep on. We also bought a vinyl table and chairs that we could use use inside the house until we got other furniture — then we would put that set out on the terrace. Most importantly, we went to the Darty électroménager store up near Blois and sprang for a refrigerator, a kitchen stove, a washing machine, a dryer, a coffee maker, a telephone, a television, a VCR, and a vacuum cleaner. We had brought a laptop computer with us from the U.S.

By that Thursday night, 6/12/03, we were ready to start living here, even though we still had a couple of nights left on our rental place — and no refrigerator or stove yet. A friend had loaned us some sheets and towels, and a little counter-top oven. We had electricity and hot water. Our appliances soon were delivered. We camped in the house for nearly a month, when our container-load of furniture, clothes, and other belongings arrived from California. The weather was hot and sunny. Those are good memories.

Asperges vertes

We found something unusual the other day in the Grand Frais supermarket outside Blois: green asparagus. All the locally grown asparagus on the markets and in the supermarkets around Saint-Aignan is white.

I guess those of you who live in the U.S. or the U.K. are used to getting green asparagus in your markets, but it's a special treat here. Actually, it's the same plant as the white variety; it's just grown differently. Friends who live down the road tell me they drive to Blois to get green asparagus, because they prefer it to the white spears.

Green asparagus from Italy

One major difference between green and white asparagus spears is that the white ones need to be peeled — a vegetable peeler or économe does the job — before they are cooked. Their skin is tough and fibrous. Green asparagus spears don't need peeling.

We cooked some green asparagus with shrimp...

There is a brand of green asparagus called Chambord, after the château near Blois. According to the producers' web site, they started growing green asparagus in the late 1980s and formed a cooperative. Green asparagus was barely known in France back then. They are calling it "the new asparagus."

...and served it with Japanese udon noodles.

Never mind that the green asparagus we bought was grown in Italy. Grand Frais specializes in importing produce from abroad. I assume the Italian spears are less expensive than the local ones — these were less than six euros per kilogram. We've been paying slightly more than that for the white asparagus grown around Saint-Aignan.

Warning: food post — Brunswick Stew

I had never made Brunswick Stew before last week. At least I can't remember making it, and Walt too says he doesn't think I ever had made it before. I ate some while I was in North Carolina in April and even though I didn't think it was very good, it was still on my mind. I knew I could do better. The N.C. restaurant version was just too sweet — they put in too much ketchup, I think.

Brunswick Stew, a specialty of Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia

The Brunswick in the name of the stew apparently refers to Brunswick County in Virginia. Or to Brunswick County in North Carolina. Or maybe to the town of Brunswick in Georgia. Virginia seems the most likely birthplace for the stew, which was traditionally made with rabbit or squirrel, back in the 18th or 19th century. It's a tomato-based concoction containing a lot of fresh vegetables.

Shredded, chopped chicken, turkey, or rabbit. This is rabbit. I've spared you the pictures of the whole bunny.

In the 20th and 21st centuries, chicken has replaced game animals in Brunswick Stew. Here in France, where it's easy to buy rabbit on the markets or in the supermarkets, I decided chicken would be just too humdrum. As for the vegetables that go into the pot, the only one I couldn't find was lima beans. I used some Portuguese haricots beurre, which resemble pinto beans when they are cooked, in their place. Another good option in France (or elsewhere) would be flageolet beans.

It wouldn't be Southern — or French — without some smoked or salt-cured pork bacon. Or ham.

Here's a list of ingredients. The main ones are the rabbit (or chicken), and one big tin of whole cooked tomatoes, with their juice. The rest are optional, and the amounts of each aren't crucial.

Rabbit, chicken, or turkey • Smoked pork belly • Broth • Celery • Onions • Garlic • Tomatoes and juice • Tomato paste

Carrot • Lima, flageolet, or other beans • Green beans • Corn • Okra • Potato • Green pepper 

Vinegar (very little) • Ketchup (very little) • Hot pepper flakes or chopped jalapeño peppers

Thyme • Rosemary • Oregano • Bay leaf • Salt and pepper

Some meat and a lot of vegetables

The first step in making Brunswick Stew is cooking the meat and making the broth that serves as its base. It's easy — you just brown the chicken or rabbit lightly in vegetable oil and then pour on enough water to cover the meat. Cut the chicken up or not, as you wish. Season the water with salt and pepper, and add in a couple of bay leaves. I nearly always put in a few allspice berries (poivre de la Jamaïque) or a clove (clou de girofle) too whenever I simmer or braise poultry.

Let the rabbit or chicken cook at a low simmer until it is completely cooked. Take it out of the broth and then boil the broth down to reduce and concentrate it as you like.  When the chicken has cooled enough that you can handle it easily, pull the meat off the bones, which you can discard. Tear the meat into shreds or chop it roughly with a knife and put it aside.

Okra helps thicken the stew, but it's optional.

Strain any peppercorns or allspice berries and the bay leaves out of the broth. Open the can of tomatoes and chop them roughly. Add the tomatoes and, if you use it, the carrot, chopped (it needs time to cook completely), along with the herbs and hot pepper. Let the liquid simmer for 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, sauté chopped onion, garlic, and celery in a frying pan with smoked pork (bacon or diced ham). When the pork is browned and cooked and the aromatic vegetables are tender, add them (but not all the fat) to the pot of simmering liquid. Also add a tablespoon or two of ketchup and/or tomato paste, and a dash of vinegar.

Then add the other vegetables. Use fresh or frozen okra (optional), green pepper, and green beans, but make sure you use either fresh, frozen, canned, or pre-cooked lima or other beans, because dried beans won't have enough time to get done in the stew. Corn can be fresh, canned, or frozen. Let the pot simmer for another 20 to 30 minutes, and then add a cup or so of diced potato. After another 20 to 30 minutes, all the vegetables will be cooked.

Add the cooked poultry or rabbit to the stew at the last minute, just to heat through.

That's when you add in the shredded, chopped chicken or rabbit. It's already cooked, so it just needs to heat through in the liquid. The stew should be thick — it's not soup. Okra will help thicken it (and give it authentic flavor), as will some of the liquid from cooked dried beans along with a small amount of tomato ketchup.

That's it. It's just a matter of getting all the vegetables done as you like them at the same time. If there's too much liquid, pour some off, or use a slotted spoon to serve the meat and vegetables so that they aren't swimming in liquid. Walt and I ate leftovers with cooked rice and that was good too.

Core, from Fr. cœur

Did you know that the English word "core" comes from the French word « cœur », meaning heart? The word cœur isn't used systematically in French to mean "core" — the core of an apple is called le trognon — but some vegetables, including celery (stalks) and lettuce, do have a "heart", which is the finest, tenderest, and most delicious part to eat. Another "vegetable" used in salads in France is hearts of palm, or cœurs de palmier.

This photo of a celery root or celeriac, with a melon next to it for scale, has nothing much to do with the rest of this post.
However, a céleri-rave does have a kind of core or cœur, which can be pithy or just hollow.

I haven't meant to be mysterious about my recent doctor appointments in Blois. They have to do with my heart, and the doctor is a cardiologue, but we don't think there's anything serious going on. I went to see him for a routine exam, because of my age. He told me that I have a slightly irregular heartbeat, but I believe I have had it for many years — maybe since childhood, when I had scarlet fever.

In French, what I have, he said, is beaucoup d'extrasystoles, une extrasystolie, or une prématurité. In English, it's called a "premature ventricular contraction" (PVC). The cardio asked me to wear a heart monitor called a "holter" (after the name of the doctor who invented it) for 24 hours so that he could see if the PVC is constant or is more frequent at certain times of the day or related to physical activity. I'll get results this week.