I speak slowly and carefully, even when I’m doing a million things at once. “Met les pâtes dans la casserole,” I say to one of the girls. She looks at the giant pile of noodles–four bags that amount to two kilos.
“Tout ?” she asks, unsure.
“Tout.” I reply, turning back to chopping tomatoes. From behind me, I hear the tell-tale sound of dehydrated pasta hitting the tiled floor I’ve just swept for the third time this week.
“C’est pas grave,” I say, without even turning around. I reach for a broom as I catch the eye of the girl who’s dropped the pasta, her face still playing host to a worried expression. The Sous-Chef laughs.
“It’s only grave if she does it,” she says, referring to my habit of letting things slide–egg dropping, adding of too much salt, incorrect tomato slicing, overwhipping of egg whites… as long as it’s not me who does it, “C’est pas grave.” If I’m the one setting torchons on fire or overcooking rice or dropping bread on the floor, however, watch out… it’s a calamity.
Somehow, though, on a recent occasion, I gave myself a free ride. I bought a ridiculous amount of peaches last Monday when the marchande de pêches came to our little square: something about hearing that familiar “Allô, allô,” over the loudspeaker again made me overzealous, and somehow, it suddently made sense to buy an entire cajet of peaches, even though somewhere in my Excel spreadsheet head I was certain there was no way we would get through all of them in a week, even if I did make jam. And sure enough, even though I gobbled them like candy and made two batches of confiture, I ended up nearing the end of the week with a basket full of peaches who looked as though they were on their last legs.
“C’est pas grave,” I said, to the astonishment of the Sous-Chef who, I’m sure, was expecting a major meltdown. (She knows me too well).
Instead, I whipped out this recipe for clafoutis I’ve been meaning to try, replacing the apricots with peaches. It was an amazing success; the texture was perfect, the taste of the creamy custard the perfect foil for the peaches I’ve come to look forward too all year long. I would have eaten it breakfast, lunch and dinner, but it’s all gone now. C’est pas grave… I’m sure there will be other opportunities for clafoutis.
Peach Clafoutis (adapted from Chez LouLou’s recipe for apricot clafoutis)
12 ounces fresh peaches, pitted and cut in four
1 cup minus 2 tablespoons sifted flour
¼ teaspoon salt
2 cups whole milk
3 large eggs
½ cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 tablespoons butter, cut into 6 pieces
Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees F.
Butter and lightly flour a 9½ inch round tart pan or baking dish with deep sides.
Place the peaches in the tart pan.
Combine the flour and the salt in a large bowl and whisk together.
Add 1 cup of the milk and whisk until completely smooth, then add the eggs, one by one, whisking briefly after each addition.
Whisk in the vanilla sugar, the vanilla extract and the remaining 1 cup of milk.
Pour the batter over the apricots and dot with the butter pieces.
Place in the center of the oven and bake for about 25 minutes, until puffed and golden brown.
Let cool completely before serving,
