As I was preparing my next story, and therefore tonight’s dinner, I decided to have a bit of fun with Parmigiano Reggiano rosettes; or whatever they are called… First, you need some parmesan, the gold of Italy, but any two years old cheese should do, mature gouda being one of them, or, Coolea from Cork…
Parmigiano Reggiano Chunk
Grate the cheese and place good pinches of it on a dry tray, leaving reasonable intervals to allow “freedom of melting”; you don’t want them to overlap. Bake on a hot oven at 200c for 5 minutes or so.
Breton Far was a big part of our table culture; my mother would make one at least once every fortnight. To describe it, would be a slow cook custard cake, with rum soaked prunes here and there… Yum. Anyway, here are a few pointers for a smaller version… It is quite rich, but a brilliant lift in the winter. First, soak a few prunes with dark tea and rum…
A Breton Far Story It was the winter of 1985, like every morning, my Donkey Kong – now vintage and completely obsolete – pocket game rang 6 am… It was a normal December morning, crisp, frosty and bright; my eye lids were still stuck together, shimmering glitters of somewhat pleasant dreams. I washed my face and quickly headed downstairs for my cup of cocoa; a fat slab of bread and butter and the other with apricot jam; waiting for me. All seemed to be fine, but there was a more than usual sense of anxiety in the air. We were radio heads; always on, and our national weather forecaster, René Chaboud’s voice was disturbingly grave. To be honest, it went way over my head. I had other things on my mind, as Noël/ Christmas was closing in, meaning no more 6 O’clock in the morning “ding-dong”, no more 10 miles bus journey, and at the end… “Pressies” under the tree… Before I rushed outside to catch the communal bus, my dad grabbed me by the elbow; he handed me two pieces of “Far”, a healthy Breton Flan-like cake, made of eggs, flour, sugar, rum and butter; I loved the prunes that made the bottom layer. He just said: “Share that with your sister, will you?”… “Sure.” As if I could eat more than a 5 cm2 of my mother’s “Far”… Seriously.
If you ever drive on the back roads of Brittany, it is only a matter of time before you’ll find yourself stuck behind an old Renault 4, you are on holidays so you don’t mind. Your mind will start to drift as there are so many cauliflowers and artichokes fields one can admire before focusing on silly things. In this case it will be a sticker, displayed proudly on the boot of the car strolling in front of you. It will probably remind you of the Isle of Man’s flag, with smoother forms, mesmerizing like a painting of M. C. Escher. This symbol is called a Triskel, it means a lot to us and, since I live near a Neolithic cairn site, it must mean a lot to the locals too!
After a walk in the local forest a couple of weeks ago, hunger came knocking with a vengeance. I had to get off the woods, all those mushrooms and colours of October inspired me. I made my way back to the kitchen and just got an idea… A cheesy Autumnal treat.
I grew up in abandoned salt marshes, my playground. Running for hours amongst the Statice Sea Lavender, on mud levees and embankments, pole vaulting old sea channels to the sounds of Blue Throats and Avocets; what else would a boy want? I spent hours by a Fort-like salt loft, stone ruins and last landmark of a once prosperous time. I’ve often wondered what it must have been like, 1750 to 1950, when the last “Paludier”( from Latin Paludis meaning Marsh, hence the word Paludism), the last salt harvester finally retired. Decades later, this land once reclaimed was being called back by nature, leaving echoes to the imagination, patrolled by marsh harriers as lonesome shepherds.
This is my take on Fish ‘n’ Chips, less messy, fast, easy, tasty, healthy. Monkfish, oven roasted wedges, crispy pancetta and cream of garden peas… Let’s go:
September, especially this September 2014, has been great for Damson plums… Well for foraging fruits and berries in general. I like the wildlife to enjoy them too, so I just got enough to make a flan tart with them, quite easy, super tasty.
September 1991 After two months spent on the side of a mountain in Glenveagh National Park, I decided to enjoy a couple of weeks off, around Donegal town before heading back to Brittany; many long walks around Lough Eske , its abandoned castle, native oaks and mountain ashes. We didn’t drive. One of my friends suggested to hitchhike to Killybegs, Fishing Harbour few miles west of the town. I like fishing harbours, for some strange reason, the smell of marine gasoil mixed with the smell of rotting fish has a certain appeal. Or is it the screaming swarms of cheeky Herring Gulls? Lorient, St-Guénolé, Galway or Howth, no matter how big or small they might be, the atmosphere surrounding them is always the same; dressed with rich colours, fumes, sadness and excitement, noise… Life, purring Diesel engines… Superstition… What’s not to like really?
This is to me the best way to cook carrots.” Papillotte” which is often used to cook fish, works brilliantly with our favourite orange root. It will keep its colour, natural sweetness and if you forget about it, they won’t turn into a tasteless purée. So remember to follow this few easy steps for your next Sunday roast!
Hungry Breton 