One Square of Chocolate

One Square of Chocolate

During that first stay at Mido's farmhouse I learnt the secret of making delicious soup. It seemed so simple yet it tasted so good!

Lea's Favourite Leek, Potato and Carrot Soup

Trim and slice one or two leeks. Peel and cube two potatoes. Peel and slice two carrots. Place vegetables in a pan with a tablespoon of butter and stir on a low heat until the leek is wilted. Pour over 4 cups water or stock. Add 1 tablespoon chopped parsley, 1 bay leaf, a sprig of thyme, pinch of sea salt and a good grinding of pepper. Simmer, covered, for 15 minutes. Blend the cooked vegetables and stock into a puree and serve with an extra sprinkle of finely chopped parsley.

Cauliflower Soup

Cut half a cauliflower into small pieces. Slice one brown onion. Peel and slice two potatoes. Melt 25 gm butter in pan and add vegetables. Stir then add 4 cups water or stock, 1 bay leaf, a sprig of thyme , 1 tablespoon chopped parsley, pinch of sea salt, grind of pepper. simmer, covered, 20 minutes. Check seasoning. Blend to a puree and serve with a sprinkling of finely chopped parsley.

I asked Mido one night what she had eaten as a child. She told me that every day of the week except Sunday she ate bread, spread with butter and jam, dipped into warm milk for breakfast, then salad, bread, soup and cheese for lunch and salad, bread, soup and cheese for dinner. Dessert would be a piece of fruit. On Sundays her mother would cook a meat or chicken dish for lunch as well as the salad and there would be a tart or sweet pastry to finish the meal.

Mido remembered having to eat leftover cold French Onion Soup one day for breakfast. She could hardly swallow it but managed to finish her bowl before heading off to school.

Sitting in the large room at Soucieu that served as a dining and loungeroom, with one corner screened off for the kitchen and the tall wooden clock that reached to the ceiling standing close to one wall, we would watch the news on the television and share a block of chocolate. 

Mido only ever took one square with her tiny cup of strong black coffee. 

'Ca fait digerer les choses' she would say as she sipped appreciatively on the coffee.

Somehow Joel and I would manage to eat the rest of the block of chocolate. I always wondered what kind of strength did it take to only eat one square.

The Forbidden Cherry Tree

In the small field next to the farmhouse at  Soucieu were several very ancient cherry trees.

I was very surprised to discover that when Joel went to Soucieu for the summer holidays as a child with his brother, sisters and cousins, they were never allowed to climb the cherry trees and eat the cherries. Monsieur Rampon, who owned an enormous cherry orchard across the road from these trees was the caretaker for the field where the trees grew. And so, to take the cherries was akin to stealing.

What temptation for a small child!

One day in summer, I was walking in the lane beside the cherry trees with Claire, Nathalie and Lea. The cherry trees were laden with beautiful, crimson fruit. 

Feeling very guilty, but none-the-less determined, I took the girls into the field and said that they could climb the trees and eat as many cherries as they wanted.

There they were perched up in the trees, cherry juice running down their chins and cherry earrings dangling from each ear when I saw someone coming up the lane.

It was Monsieur Rampon!

Too late to do anything except say 'Bonjour Monsieur Rampon.' And then explain in my halting French that these were the great-grandchildren of Madame Mido Geoffray and I hoped that he didn't mind them eating a few of his cherries.

With a grand wave of his hands, Monsieur Rampon said that it would be his great pleasure if we would eat as many as we wanted. And would we please pick some to take home to enjoy as well.

 'As a matter of fact, he' added kindly, 'if there are not enough cherries in these trees you are welcome to come and pick cherries from the trees across the road in my orchard.' 

He then went on to explain that that year he had not been able to afford to pay insurance for the Portuguese pickers that came every year so most of the cherries would just fall to the ground and be wasted.

After he had walked back down the lane I drove back home and told Joel to come with us back to Mido's farmhouse. Which he did. And at the ripe old age of 39 years Joel finally got to sit in his grandmother's cherry tree and eat more than enough cherries to make up for all those missed cherries of his long ago childhood. 

We often made this 'Cherry Clafoutis' for dessert. Especially delicious when made with cherries from Mido's trees.

3/4 lb cherries

Place 1 cup milk, 2oz sugar, 3 eggs, 1 tablespoon vanilla extract, pinch salt, 2 1/2oz sifted plain flour into a bowl. Mix well. Lightly butter a round pie dish. Pour a spoonful of batter into the base of the dish and swirl around to cover base. Spread the cherries (de-seeded if possible otherwise be careful when serving to unsuspecting friends) over the base of the dish. Cover with the rest of the mixture and sprinkle with 2 tablespoons sugar. Place in a 350 degree oven and bake until slightly risen and golden, about 40 minutes.

Dinner with Jacques

Gilka has asked me to cook dinner on the boat for my father-in-law, Jacques. 

She is going to Scotland for a holiday. I think with one of her lovers.

Jacques loves food and is a true French gourmand. 

I am feeling very nervous.

This is what I prepared for our 'dinner a deux':

Une salade verte

Mushroom and Tomato Quiche

Prepare pastry with 1 cup plain flour, 1 teaspoon sugar, 100gm butter, 2 teaspoons milk, 1 egg yolk. Rub butter into flour and sugar mixture. Add milk and egg yolk. Knead and rest. Roll out and line a 10" quiche tin. Line pastry with baking paper and a handful of dried beans. Prick base and bake 190 degrees, 15-20 minutes. Cook a further 5 minutes with baking paper and beans removed.

Filling: Heat two tablespoons olive oil. Saute 250gm diced mushrooms, add 2 sliced shallots, 2 cloves crushed garlic and 500gm peeled, seeded and chopped tomatoes. Cook until liquid has evaporated and tomatoes are soft.

Remove from heat. Add 45 gm chopped anchovy fillets, 1 teaspoon fresh thyme, pinch of nutmeg and a good grind of pepper. Cool. Beat 3 large eggs with 3/4 cup cream and add to cooled mushroom mixture. Pour into cooked pastry shell and bake until barely set in the centre, about 25 minutes.

Assiette de fromages

Peaches in Citrus Syrup

Place 1/2 cup water and 1/3 cup castor sugar in saucepan. Add finely grated peel from one lemon and one orange. Cook gently for 10 minutes. Strain liquid and add juice of one orange and one lemon. Pour over 500gm of peeled and sliced peaches. Leave to cool. Refrigerate several hours. Before serving add a spoonful of cointreau or brandy.

Jacques and I sat at the tiny dining room table eating this delicious meal with slow enjoyment.

 Always a quiet man, he answered my questions about his life during the German occupation of Paris with reflective seriousness. 

'I remember being sent to stay with my aunt, Tantine, who worked for the police department, in a small village in the Loire Valley. My parents felt that it was safer for me to be there rather than stay in Paris. I remember one day hearing a lot of noise in the street below. I ran to the window and looking down saw a regiment of German soldiers, with tanks and jeeps driving through the narrow streets.'

I asked Jacques about his father, Pierre's, activities in the French resistance during the war. He said that his father would never talk about it.

A Farmhouse in Soucieu-en-Jarrest

Not long after moving from Australia to Paris we went to stay for a few days with Joel's grandmother, Mido, in her 200 year old farmhouse which was in a small village outside Lyon called Soucieu-en-Jarrest. 

Mido prepared for us a traditional Lyonnaise dish: 

Saucisson Chaud Lyonnais, hot Lyonnais pork sausage served with plain boiled potatoes, a generous dollop of mustard and a green salad. 

This was followed by a cheese plate: camembert, brie, tomme de savoie, bleu bresse and a bowl of downy golden orange peaches from Monsieur Rampon, a neighbouring farmer.

Mido had ordered the sausage from the local charcutier in the village as a very special treat for us. There she was in the tiny kitchen, 93 years old, peeling potatoes and pricking the sausage, then placing both ingredients in a large pot to gently simmer on top of the stove for 25 minutes.

 Unfortunately, grateful as I was, the smell of this cooking sausage was making me feel extremely nauseous. Never being one for fatty meats, all I seemed to be able to smell was very fatty pork. I wondered if I would be able to take a mouthful as we sat down for lunch with a red-faced, triumphant Mido, taking the sausage and potatoes out of the pan and placing them on a serving dish in front of us. 

Fortunately Mido could not understand one word of English, so after raising a spoonful of pork and potatoes to my mouth and feeling a strong urge to run from the room I said to Joel, 'I can't eat this. Just the smell is making me feel sick. What do I do?'

 He answered 'Just smile and say that it looks delicious and you really appreciate the time and trouble that Mido has gone to but you really aren't used to this kind of sausage and feel that it could be a bit strong for you.'

At this stage I was not able to speak more than the basics of the French language, so I asked Joel to say that for me. 

Which he did.

He then proceeded to eat most of the sausage and potatoes much to his grandmother's delight. 

What she must have thought of his fussy Australian wife I never did find out.

In the Beginning

In the beginning there was a boat on the River Seine in Paris...........

I can see Gilka, standing in the tiny kitchen on the boat. She is making a vinaigrette, a dressing for the salad, in a large bowl. Into the bowl she puts a teaspoon of Maille moutarde de Dijon, a pinch of salt, a tablespoon of red wine vinegar, 4 tablespoons of sunflower oil, a finely chopped spring onion and a tablespoon of very finely chopped parsley.

 'Very important ma cherie' she says stirring the dressing briskly. 'Nothing worse than getting pieces of parsley stuck in your false teeth at the dinner table!' 

Washed and dried green mignonette salad leaves go into the bowl on top of the dressing. 

Gilka places an egg in a small pan of cold water and brings the water to the boil. Just as it boils she removes the egg and places in under cold water. The egg is then removed from the shell and spooned onto the top of the salad in the bowl.

 The bowl of salad will only be tossed, slowly, and dare I say, lovingly, when everyone is seated at the table. It will be served as a simple first course. Often with comments from the various family members about the taste of the vinaigrette, the crispness or otherwise of the salad leaves or the lack of salt......

Gilka follows her Lyonnaise family tradition of serving a green salad before the main meal and not after, as a Parisian family would do.

We sometimes eat at a small table on the deck of the boat. It is summer and very pleasant watching the different boats going past on the river or glancing across to the marble statues among the trees in the Parc de St Cloud opposite. 

Gilka often prepares a number of simple salads which we eat with pieces of white baguette and some cheese, a camembert, or a piece of brie or a slice of cantal.

To make carrots rapees finely grate 3-4 large carrots. Stir in several tablespoons of vinaigrette made with an extra half teaspoon of mustard and a generous sprinkling of finely chopped parsley.  Gilka sometimes used Jacques favourite mustard flavoured with chopped tarragon leaves. Scatter over a handful of black olives.

Celeri remoulade is one of my favourites. I had never tasted celeriac before moving to Paris.

Finely grate a large, fine celeriac into a bowl. Stir in several tablespoons of mayonnaise made with extra Dijon mustard to taste.  Add a handful of finely chopped parsley.

Mayonnaise can easily be made by whisking two egg yolks, a pinch of salt and a teaspoon of Maille Dijon  mustard into a bowl. Slowly whisk in, drop by drop, a quarter of  a cup of sunflower, canola or grapeseed oil or a mix of half olive oil with any of these. Then add the next quarter of a cup of oil in a thin stream, whisking well all the time to avoid curdling. 

Finally a squeeze of lemon juice or a little hot water can be added if the mayonnaise is too thick. This was my variation. The French family preferred their mayonnaise thick and flavoursome.

Every time we ate mayonnaise  in a meal with the family we would hear the story of Cesar, who had once drunk a litre of curdled mayonnaise so that his wife Mido would not be concerned that she had wasted half a litre of oil.