peaches « Tomato Kumato

July 27, 2010

I Come Bearing Pie

Filed under: Pie — Tags: paziols, peaches, Pie — emiglia @ 11:56 am

*Creeps out from around the corner.*

“Are you mad?”

Seriously… I’m sorry for disappearing like that. I wish I could warn you before the storm comes, but I never seem to know until suddenly, I look at my poor little blog and realize it’s been two weeks and you haven’t had a word from me. So I’m sorry… can you forgive me?

…

I brought pie…

And not only pie: it’s one of the very best pies I’ve ever tried. And that’s saying a lot coming from someone who, like me, loves pie. It was, perhaps, made even better thanks to the peaches from the marchande de pêches here in Paziols–peaches so life-changing that I’ve had to hide them under the counter to keep eager kids (and counselors) from devouring them instead of breakfast, lunch and dinner. Still, I feel confident in saying that this pie–with or without marchande de pêche peaches–is possibly in the top three pies I’ve ever had in my life. Do you forgive me now?

What if I told you that I haven’t even left the kitchen in what feels like days? The new running joke here in Paziols is how strange it is to see me without an apron tied around my waist. When I spend too much time in another room of the house or–God forbid–out of doors, people start to ask me if I’m feeling all right. It’s not exaggeration: when you’ve got as many kids (19) who eat as much as these ones do, it’s a wonder I leave the kitchen to go to bed.

Paziols in years past was marked by trips to different sites around the area: I’ve visited the Cathar chateaux of Aguilar and Queribus at least ten times apiece, the musée de la Préhistoire in Tautavel even more. When I first realized I would be missing these outings in favor of more time in front of the stove, I have to admit that I wasn’t all that fussed: you can only climb a crumbling castle a certain number of times before the allure wears off and your patience with small children wandering too close to the edge wears thin. Nevertheless, as I browse old photographs, I find myself missing some of the trips I used to take.

Luckily, there have been new trips, some of which even I have been a part of, like a recent outing to Rennes-le-Chateau, a small town about an hour away from Paziols named for the small chateau that gave the town its story and claim to fame.

Legend has it that a priest who came to work at the parish in this village, Bérenger Saunière, found a buried treasure somewhere inside the small church, permitting him to completely rebuild it. Whether the treasure was a gift from the devil or simply a myth remains to be determined, but as it is now, the legend leaves many questions unanswered, and especially after the publication of books like The DaVinci Code a few years back, the popularity of the small town has grown.

As is often my M.O., I raced through the museum to pop out on the other side, where I could wander the garden peacefully. Saunière constructed not only the small church, but also a series of buildings, including a house and a tower that offers an astounding view of the valley below.

I took advantage of everything–the flowers, the view. Everything was an excuse for a picture, and as I snapped away, I laughed to myself about the observation that the Country Boy had made a few days earlier: as he scrolled through the pictures on my digital camera, he commented that 90% of them were of food.

While the pie pictures leave something to be desired (for this I apologize: but I was otherwise occupied with salad collection after a particularly violent gust of Tramontagne wind, and by the time I got the chance to take a picture, the sun had set), the accusations are true: the majority of my pictures now are of different dishes I make, sometimes ten or twenty pictures of each dish so that I can select the best ones. If it weren’t for this blog, there’s a good chance that I would never have bought a new camera when the old one broke, but as it is, I have one, and when greeted with the opportunity, whether the subject in question be a particularly lovely peach pie or a particularly lovely garden, I’m happy to have the time and the opportunity to capture it on film so that, when I’m back to hovering over my stove or sweeping shards off the floor after yet another glass has slipped from over-eager hands (current count: six), I can remember days like this, when my biggest concern was the angle for a picture of a flower.

Peach and Crème Fraîche Pie (Recipe from Smitten Kitchen)

1/2 recipe All-Butter, Really Flaky Pie Dough, chilled for at least an hour in the fridge

Streusel
1/4 cup confectioners’ sugar
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of salt
3 to 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cold (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, cut into pieces

Filling
1 1/2 pounds ripe (4 to 5 medium) yellow peaches, pitted and quartered
2 to 4 tablespoons granulated sugar
Pinch of salt
5 tablespoons crème fraîche

Prepare pie dough: Roll out pie dough to about 1/8-inch thick and fit into a regular (not deep dish) pie plate, 9 1/2 to 10 inches in diameter. Trim edge to 1/2 inch; fold under and crimp as desired. Pierce bottom of dough all over with a fork. Transfer to freezer for 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 400°F right before you take it out.

Make streusel: Stir confectioners’ sugar, baking powder, salt and three tablespoons flour together in a small bowl. Add bits of cold butter, and either using a fork, pastry blender or your fingertips, work them into the flour mixture until it resembles coarse crumbs. Add additional flour as needed; I needed to almost double it to get the mixture crumbly, but my kitchen is excessively warm and the butter wanted to melt. Set aside.

Par-bake crust: Tightly press a piece of aluminum foil against frozen pie crust. From here, you ought to fill the shell with pie weights or dried beans, or you can wing it like certainly lazy people we know, hoping the foil will be enough to keep the crust shape in place. Bake for 10 minutes, then remove carefully remove foil and any weights you have used, press any bubbled-up spots in with the back of a spoon, and return the crust to the oven for another 5 to 8 minutes, or until it is lightly golden brown. Transfer to a wire rack to cool slightly. Reduce oven temperature to 375°F.

[P.S. If you're not overly-concerned about "soggy bottoms" (in the words of Julia Child) you can save time by skipping the par-baking step. Given the light nature of the filling, odds are good that it would not become excessively damp even without the parbake.]

Make the filling: Sprinkle quartered peaches with sugar and salt. Let sit for 10 minutes. Spread two tablespoons crème fraîche in bottom of par-baked pie shell, sprinkle with one-third of the streusel and fan the peach quarters decoratively on top. Dot the remaining three tablespoons of crème fraîche on the peaches and sprinkle with remaining streusel.

Bake the pie: Until the crème fraîche is bubble and the streusel is golden brown, about 50 minutes. Cover edge of crust with a strip of foil if it browns too quickly. Let cool on a wire rack at least 15 minutes before serving.

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May 27, 2009

Daring Bakers: Strudel

Filed under: Daring Bakers — Tags: blue cheese, caramelized onion, Daring Bakers, peaches, pears, raspberries, strudel — emiglia @ 7:31 pm

The May Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Linda of make life sweeter! and Courtney of Coco Cooks. They chose Apple Strudel from the recipe book Kaffeehaus: Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Cafés of Vienna, Budapest and Prague by Rick Rodgers.

I like to work myself up about things. I get really excited, counting down the days until a trip, the start of a new job, the arrival of a friend. And somehow, the things I look forward to are never as exciting as the things that just happen, the things that enter into my life without a plan, without announcing themselves. I like to have a plan, but the best things aren’t planned.

This Daring Bakers challenge was on my list of cooking tasks to accomplish for nearly a month before I rolled out the dough and did it. I planned for two: a pear, caramelized onion and blue cheese strudel and a pear and raspberry strudel for dessert.

The rolling of the dough went off without a hitch; the filling was easy. I baked them with no problem: no burning, no falling apart. Everything went according to plan.

And it just wasn’t that great.

caramelized onion filling

Don’t get me wrong: it was fine. But at the same time, I would have much rather had the ingredients by themselves with maybe a loaf of good French bread for dinner as opposed to stuffed in a strudel dough. I don’t think I’ve ever had apple strudel… if I have, it wasn’t memorable. I’m sure this recipe is great for people who love strudel, but it just wasn’t for me.

The past few months have been made up of waiting, of writing, of thinking. No real plans: a first for me, a first in a long time. But now, out of nowhere, plans are falling at my feet, and I’m scrambling to pick them all up: a month in the Congo, a month back in Paziols, a month in New York. After that, who knows? I have more plans in the back of my head, but for now, I’ll content myself with these three.

I’m trying not to plan too much, trying not to have expectations. I have a handful of blog posts waiting to be posted, just in case, but they may all get scrapped in favor of bigger and better things I find on my adventures over the next few months, in the Congo, where I’ll be living in a hotel and have no idea if my meals will be vegetables out of a can or room service or typical African cuisine. I’ve just found out that I’ll be completely in charge of the Paziols menu this year, and I hope that after full days, I’ll have enough time to tell you all about it.

For now, I’m just taking advantage of my last few days in Paris, a few more bites of cheese, one last bottle of Bordeaux, before we say goodbye for a few months–maybe longer. I hope you all stay along for the ride.

Apple Strudel
Total: 2 hours 15 minutes – 3 hours 30 minutes

15-20 min to make dough
30-90 min to let dough rest/to prepare the filling
20-30 min to roll out and stretch dough
10 min to fill and roll dough
30 min to bake
30 min to cool

Apple strudel
from “Kaffeehaus – Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Cafés of Vienna, Budapest and Prague” by Rick Rodgers

This is the original recipe for the original apple filling. You can also just make the dough portion and add whatever filling you like.

2 tablespoons (30 ml) golden rum
3 tablespoons (45 ml) raisins
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon (80 g) sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick / 115 g) unsalted butter, melted, divided
1 1/2 cups (350 ml) fresh bread crumbs
strudel dough (recipe below)
1/2 cup (120 ml, about 60 g) coarsely chopped walnuts
2 pounds (900 g) tart cooking apples, peeled, cored and cut into ¼ inch-thick slices (use apples that hold their shape during baking)

1. Mix the rum and raisins in a bowl. Mix the cinnamon and sugar in another bowl.

2. Heat 3 tablespoons of the butter in a large skillet over medium-high. Add the breadcrumbs and cook whilst stirring until golden and toasted. This will take about 3 minutes. Let it cool completely.

3. Put the rack in the upper third of the oven and preheat the oven to 400°F (200°C). Line a large baking sheet with baking paper (parchment paper). Make the strudel dough as described below. Spread about 3 tablespoons of the remaining melted butter over the dough using your hands (a bristle brush could tear the dough, you could use a special feather pastry brush instead of your hands). Sprinkle the buttered dough with the bread crumbs. Spread the walnuts about 3 inches (8 cm) from the short edge of the dough in a 6-inch-(15cm)-wide strip. Mix the apples with the raisins (including the rum), and the cinnamon sugar. Spread the mixture over the walnuts.

4. Fold the short end of the dough onto the filling. Lift the tablecloth at the short end of the dough so that the strudel rolls onto itself. Transfer the strudel to the prepared baking sheet by lifting it. Curve it into a horseshoe to fit. Tuck the ends under the strudel. Brush the top with the remaining melted butter.

5. Bake the strudel for about 30 minutes or until it is deep golden brown. Cool for at least 30 minutes before slicing. Use a serrated knife and serve either warm or at room temperature. It is best on the day it is baked.

Strudel dough
from “Kaffeehaus – Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Cafés of Vienna, Budapest and Prague” by Rick Rodgers

1 1/3 cups (200 g) unbleached flour
1/8 teaspoon salt
7 tablespoons (105 ml) water, plus more if needed
2 tablespoons (30 ml) vegetable oil, plus additional for coating the dough
1/2 teaspoon cider vinegar

1. Combine the flour and salt in a stand-mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Mix the water, oil and vinegar in a measuring cup. Add the water/oil mixture to the flour with the mixer on low speed. You will get a soft dough. Make sure it is not too dry, add a little more water if necessary.
Take the dough out of the mixer. Change to the dough hook. Put the dough ball back in the mixer. Let the dough knead on medium until you get a soft dough ball with a somewhat rough surface.

2. Take the dough out of the mixer and continue kneading by hand on an unfloured work surface. Knead for about 2 minutes. Pick up the dough and throw it down hard onto your working surface occasionally.
Shape the dough into a ball and transfer it to a plate. Oil the top of the dough ball lightly. Cover the ball tightly with plastic wrap. Allow to stand for 30-90 minutes (longer is better).

3. It would be best if you have a work area that you can walk around on all sides like a 36 inch (90 cm) round table or a work surface of 23 x 38 inches (60 x 100 cm). Cover your working area with table cloth, dust it with flour and rub it into the fabric. Put your dough ball in the middle and roll it out as much as you can.
Pick the dough up by holding it by an edge. This way the weight of the dough and gravity can help stretching it as it hangs. Using the back of your hands to gently stretch and pull the dough. You can use your forearms to support it.

4. The dough will become too large to hold. Put it on your work surface. Leave the thicker edge of the dough to hang over the edge of the table. Place your hands underneath the dough and stretch and pull the dough thinner using the backs of your hands. Stretch and pull the dough until it’s about 2 feet (60 cm) wide and 3 feet (90 cm) long, it will be tissue-thin by this time. Cut away the thick dough around the edges with scissors. The dough is now ready to be filled.

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May 26, 2009

Rosé and Fruit Salad

Filed under: Side Dishes, Uncategorized — Tags: fruit salad, peaches, rosé, strawberries — emiglia @ 10:55 am

I used to hate picnics.

I also used to hate lunch in general, but that’s neither here nor there.

My opposition to picnics didn’t have anything to do with the outdoor setting, the paper plates or the gooey marshmallow roasting, all of which would have usually been problematic for me. I was one of those super-neat kids (my mother–bless her heart–managed to have a family of four kids who actually liked being clean and were uncomfortable when other kids misbehaved in our general vicinity). However, when it came to picnics, I made an exception, and I was perfectly happy to eat in the grass with the rest of the kids. What bothered me was what was served: hot dogs (still won’t go near them), mayonnaisey potato salad, and the worst: that ubiquitous bowl of fruit salad.

I didn’t have a problem with fruit salad as a concept, not really. My mother made fruit plates all the time, and I devoured them without a problem. What bothered me, now that I think about it, was the mix of unseasonal foods in one big bowl: berries, grapes, citrus, apples, bananas… all those things had no business being put together, especially not with some sort of sauce that came from a canned intruder, and I wouldn’t eat it.

As I got older, I got less picky, and often fruit salad was the only healthy option available at this or that picnic or barbecue, and so I started to eat it. Not happily, but I’d eat it. Soon enough, I started to realize that there were certain combinations I liked: blueberries, raspberries and strawberries or grapefruit, oranges and tangerines. Things that went together made sense on my palate: it was the mix of unfriendly bedfellows that made my nose wrinkle.

So when I set about creating my own fruit salad, I knew that I would be mixing seasonal fruits together, fruits that naturally complemented each other, instead of grabbing a little bit of everything and putting it in a bowl. I mixed strawberries and peaches together: not too many varieties, but just enough. Since it’s a little bit early in the season, I added a bit of sugar, but you could just as easily leave that out. I also through in some rosé from the bottle we didn’t quite finish last night: Alex and I open a bottle of wine on most nights, but we usually have a few inches left at the bottom. Sometimes we finish it the following night, but more often than not, I cooked with it. This rosé, with its strawberry undertones, made the perfect acidic complement to the salad. If you don’t have any, feel free to use a bit of lemon or lime juice and an extra teaspoon of sugar.

This salad, with maybe a few blackberries or raspberries, will be my fallback fruit salad this summer… and next to one of those typical “everybody in the pool” salads, I think it will come out as the winner.

Rosé and Fruit Salad

400 g. (14 oz.) strawberries, hulled and quartered
3 small peaches, sliced in eighths
1 Tbsp. sugar
3 Tbsp. rosé wine
2-5 basil leaves, chiffonade, or 1 tsp. dried basil

Combine all the ingredients in a bowl, except for the basil, if using fresh. (If using dried, feel free to add it at the beginning.)

Allow the salad to sit for five minutes to let the flavors blend. Add the fresh basil just before serving.

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August 6, 2008

The Peach Lady is Back…

Filed under: Jam — Tags: Jam, peaches — emiglia @ 11:44 am

Every Monday, “Mme Allô-Allô,” who makes all of the village announcements over the loudspeaker announces that the marchande de pêches is back. Just like last year, the peach lady pulls up to the square in her white van, chock full of delicious peaches to sell to the village, and just like last year, I always look forward to paying her a visit.

Naturally, we take advantage of both the quality and the prices, and our sporadic one or two kilo order from last year has jumped up to several flats each and every Monday. Some peaches are eaten out of hand as snacks, but many make their way into jam: after the apricot season ended, the little yellow fruits were quickly replaced by this pink and orange cousin.

The recipe for peach jam changed from that for apricot for two reasons. One is the fact that with the younger kids, there was a need for a lot more hands-on time away from the stove. The new recipe allows for almost all of the work to be done away from the stove top, with just the last five minutes actually being over the flame. The new recipe completely dissolves all of the sugar before the jam even hits the stove, which allows for a lot of fun with wooden spoons, and a lot less worrying about whether boiling jam is going to burn someone’s little hand.

The second reason was the discovery of Confisuc, a special sugar made for making jam, which required most of the work to be done away from the stove. Confisuc is used in equal quantity (by weight) to fruit. One bag of Confisuc is one kilo, and four of the marchande de pêche’s large July peaches is exactly enough for four sous-chefs to wash, dénoyauter and slice his or her own peach and bring home a nicely sized jar of delicious jam.

We still have jars upon jars of apricot jam. I think I’ll be eating it for breakfast every day to the end of the summer. But the peach jam is just as delicious and turns a lovely shade of pink when fully cooked: we joke to the girls that it’s a girly jam, but we all know better… no one can resist this summer peach jam.

Peach Jam

1 kilo peaches
1 kilo Confisuc

Wash the peaches. Remove the pits and cut into eight equal parts. Add the peaches to a large mixing bowl and combine with all of the sugar using a wooden spoon. The sugar should be completely dissolved in the juice of the peaches, and there should be several chunks of fruit remaining.

Transfer mixture to a saucepan, and heat over medium-high heat, stirring all the while, until boiling. Boil for five minutes, continuing to stir.

Remove saucepan from heat and skim the foam from the top of the jam. Ladle into clean jars and seal.

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May 13, 2008

Peaches and Cream Polenta

Filed under: polenta — Tags: peaches, polenta, yogurt — emiglia @ 9:36 am

Sometimes, I get really wacky ideas. I’m not even all that sure where this one came from. One minute, I’m nosing around my pantry trying to find something I can call dinner, and the next I’m at the grocery store buying peaches: a girl with a plan.

For some reason, I decided that peaches and polenta would go really well together. I don’t eat polenta too, too often. As my brother says, “We’re not mangioni di polenta.” (Mangioni di polenta just means polenta eaters, but as far as my bro, and most Southern Italians are concerned, it’s an insult directed towards Northerners.)

However, I almost always have a bag of cornmeal in my pantry for cornbread and the like, and as I’m cleaning out my kitchen to head off on my summer adventures (Cannes, Mallorca, and Paziols), I decided to pull a few dishes together with polenta. Last week, I was eating it plain with sugar on top, like my mother used to make Cream of Wheat and Cream of Rice in the morning, but yesterday, I decided to have some for dinner.

This isn’t a sweet dish by any means: you could certainly sweeten the polenta itself to make it an adequate dessert, but for me it was dinner, so the only sugar was the natural sweetness of the fresh peaches (by the way, am I the only one who prefers yellow peaches substantially to white ones? I bought some white peaches by accident this morning, and while I ate them, I was horribly disappointed.)

I can’t wait to start eating all this fresh produce that’s out in stores now. Try this for a breakfast treat (or if you’re strange, like me, for your dinner.)

Peaches and Cream Polenta

1 cup 2% milk
1/4 cup yellow cornmeal
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, grated
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 4 oz. container plain, lowfat yogurt
1 peach, cut into sections

Heat the milk over low heat and add the cinnamon, nutmeg and salt. Slowly add the cornmeal, stirring all the time. If you find that the cornmeal soaks up the milk too quickly, you can add a little bit of water. When the polenta is cooked all the way through, turn off the stove and spoon about 3/4 of the yogurt container into the pot and stir. Place in a bowl and top with peach segments and the remaining yogurt. Serve hot with extra cinnamon if desired.

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September 19, 2007

Peabody’s Peach Pecan Muffins

Filed under: Muffins and Cupcakes — Tags: muffins, peaches, pecans — emiglia @ 11:30 am

After the success of the Blueberry Hill Cupcakes this weekend (pictures coming soon to a blog near you), I decided this morning that I wanted to bake something else. Something with strawberries in it, to use up the pint in my kitchen. A strawberry cupcake, of sorts.

But as I looked through my list of recipes to try, (10 pages, people… singles spaced. Dear Lord, it’s an illness.) I realized that I had no such cupcake or even a similar muffin on my list! Disgruntled, I sauntered over to Peabody’s place and found a recipe for red, white, and blue muffins. Except that I knew that raspberries and blueberries were getting to be outrageously expensive (in France we don’t have California to keep us in fruit all year.) I growled audibly, muttered something nasty under my breath that had something to do with the Common Market, and kept going. And I found this: yeah, it wasn’t strawberries, but it was a muffin, and it was even on my list of things to try! Check and check. Off I went to the market to pick up the ingredients.

I have a little secret for you, reader: in France, they don’t use brown sugar. Or molasses. Or if they do, it must be only sold at some specialty shop far, far away from where I live. But I was going to make these muffins. So I grabbed a box of cassonade, which is really more like Sugar in the Raw than brown sugar, and marched home. Upon opening the box, I was greeted with that familiar brown-sugary smell, so it couldn’t be all bad. I mixed together the ingredients and noticed the severe peach to batter ratio. I double checked the recipe, but I had done everything right, and I trust Peabody, so I filled my little ramekins (muffin tins are another thing that are hard to find here. I line up aluminum ramekins on a baking sheet. Makes them easier to force out of their little hole when they’re being a little bit bitchy, though.)

20 minutes later, I had this. I think I underdid them a little bit (my ramekins are bigger than standard), but I don’t care if they kind of fall apart on you. They’re moist and chock full of peaches, and they do taste like brown sugar (yay cassonade!) Looks like the blueberry cupcakes have a contender for this evening, when I’ve invited people over to partake in the baking goodness…

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August 14, 2007

Peaches

Filed under: Uncategorized — Tags: paziols, peaches — emiglia @ 9:53 pm

So now that I’m back in the swing of things, and I’m partway through the reformatting of the site (so exciting!), and even though next month is going to bring in the two new themes (a new novel filled with recipes and a seasonal food), I’ve decided to devote the rest of this month to last month, the month I spent in Paziols, in the south of France.

Paziols is about an hour from Perpignan, very close to the Spanish border. The town itself is tiny, barely warranting the small épicerie and café that serve as the town’s only establishments. However, what the town lacks in variety, it brings with its fresh produce, which brings me to the peaches.

Every Monday, the woman from the town hall who announced all events over the loudspeakers posted at the corner of the square would call out the arrival of the peach lady… but if you were still at home when you heard the announcement, good luck to you at getting any of the produce. This woman would arrive each week with her truck stuffed full of flats of peaches and apricots, as well as homemade jam… and while the goods were more expensive than their cousins sold at the épicerie, nearly the entire town lined up each week bright and early to purchase. When we finally got the hang of it and beat the crowds, lining up with the housewives at 7:30 am, we understood.

I may never look at a peach the same way again. These ones were perfectly soft and downy on the outside, with a goldenrod color throughout the sweet, soft flesh, and a perfect juiciness that sent us running to the porch to finish eating as we leaned over the street. The flavor was concentrated, pure, peachy goodness. We would buy dozens of them, and I would eat nothing but peaches on Monday and Tuesday, slicing them and covering them in fromage frais, the full-fat cousin of Greek yogurt with a slightly sour hint that is so popular eaten with brown sugar or honey.

Now, back in Long Island, my favorite summer fruit is leaving something to be desired, but if I close my eyes, I can almost taste it… I learned the way that peaches are supposed to taste this summer, and I don’t think I will ever think of them the same way.

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