There is nothing for it but to have the girls for lunch, minus poor Susanna, who is stuck in Barcelona after escaping Marrakesh in the midst of the mayhem caused by the fallout from Iceland's ash. I'm afraid, at this time of year, it has to be something involving asparagus. I cannot get enough of it! All shapes, sizes, varieties qualify, but wild is the best, if you can get it. Astonishingly, it bursts forth from the earth and grows nine inches in a single day. How amazing is that?
A really good homemade vegetable or light chicken stock is essential for asparagus risotto. Don't dream of making it with anything from a cube or a tin, or be fobbed off by Marco Pierre White's sellout to a brand who shall remain nameless. How could he, I ask myself? Stock is easy to make - always use the freshest vegetables you have, peelings and stalks as well, a chicken carcass if you want, and lots of fresh herbs and seasonings [although the choices you make will greatly affect the outcome - not too strong for asparagus].
This recipe is from the lovely Ursula Ferrigno, although I also regularly use Valentina Harris's one from her 'Risotto, Risotto' book. Valentina taught me to make risotto many years ago in Lucca. The thing that I remember more than anything is the need to get the rice grains to 'crack' when you first add them to the pan - you have to listen carefully but you can definitely hear the little 'pop'. Only then will the grain absorb the liquid and swell up with flavour.
RISOTTO CON ASPARIGI SELVATICI for 4
[.....and doesn't it sound so much sexier in Italian!]
500g asparagus, trimmed and thoroughly washed
1 tbs olive oil
150g unsalted butter
6 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
350g vialone nano risotto rice [you can also use carniroli or arborio rice but this is the best and most authentic]
1 litre hot vegetable broth
7 tbs white wine
100 g freshly grated Parmesan
a handful of fresh basil leaves
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Cut the tips off the asparagus and set aside. Cut the spears into 3/4 pieces.
Heat the oil and butter together in a deep sided saute pan. Saute the shallots over a low heat for 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the chopped asparagus spears and cook over a low heat for about 4 minutes, then add the rice. Mix so that all the grains are coated.
Add 3 tbs of hot broth and stir until absorbed. Add the wine and continue stirring until you need more liquid. Add the hot broth a ladleful at a time, stirring well between each addition, and not adding more until the last ladleful has been absorbed. Continue until all the stock has been absorbed and the rice is creamy. This should take 18 - 20 minutes Add the asparagus tips about 5 minutes before the end of cooking.
Stir in the cheese, salt, pepper and basil, place the lid on the pan and leave to rest for 1 minute.
You could have a peppery rocket salad with this with, perhaps, a citrus dressing to contrast with the creaminess of the risotto.
Fantastico!
RHUBARB CRUMBLE for 6-8
My friend Simone gave me some stems of her delicious rhubarb, fresh from her 'potager'. I have to say that I love rhubarb stewed with a little grated fresh ginger and sugar, cooled and then put into a glass and chilled with some Greek yoghurt on top and coated with cinnamon sugar, crushed hazlenuts and a few little pieces of stem ginger. A crumble, though, along with a 'fool', is the definitive rhubarb pud.
700g new season rhubarb
50g organic caster sugar
2 tsp grated fresh ginger
Stew the fruit gently until almost 'al dente'. Taste for sweetness. You could add some chopped stem ginger and a little of the syrup at this stage if you fancy. Transfer to an ovenproof dish and allow to cool whilst you make the crumble. preheat the oven to 180C/ 350F/ gas 4.
50g butter
100g unbleached white flour
50g cinnamon sugar
50g ground whole almonds, skins left on [I find a coffee grinder does the trick]
Rub the butter into the flour, rubbing with your fingers up to the palms of your hands, until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Then add the sugar and ground almonds and lift through. Sprinkle this mixture on top of the rhubarb and bake for 30/ 40 minutes.
Whip some cream until just soft and fold in a dessertspoonful of 'Disarrono', which used to be called 'Amaretto', to serve.
A good cup of expresso is all you need to finish [and perhaps a teeny glass of 'Disarrono' too!].
Bon appetito!
Friday, 23 April 2010
Wild Food
Wild! I'm so cross I can't be at Bardies this week because of the ash fallout from Mount Unpronounceable. I was going to plant my French Sorrel [Rumex scutatus], my Salad Rocket [Eruca sativa], Chervil [Anthriscus cerefolium], as well as my 'Kelvedon Wonder' peas and regular green dwarf French beans interspersed with 'Borlotto Firetongue' red French beans. I was also going to do some serious cooking for my garden helpers, Sarah and Pasqual, and Tim and Tina. This is always such a busy time of year in the garden, and also the most exciting.
One thing I love to make at this time of year is Nettle Soup. At Bardies, I can make or freeze masses and feel sanctimonious at the same time. Instead, I have been collecting them from my riverside walks in Laverstock with Charlie, our dog. At this time of year, they are prolific everywhere in the countryside. Sadly, they are ignored by almost everyone as a nutritious and tasty food source. My Irish ancestors would have understood the health benefits, as well as the expediency in famine raged lean times, swearing blind that eating nettles in May purified the blood. Talking of the Irish, I learnt this recipe on a foraging course with the divine Darina Allen at Ballymaloe, near Shanagarry, west of Cork.
NETTLE SOUP for 6
45g butter
285g potatoes
110g onions, chopped
110g leeks, chopped
rock salt and ground black pepper
1 litre good homemade chicken stock
140g young nettles, washed and chopped [pick them with gloves on!]
150ml full fat milk
Melt the butter in a heavy saucepan and, when it foams, add the potatoes, onions and leeks, tossing them until they are well coated. Season generously. Cover with a paper lid [to keep in the steam] and put the saucepan lid on. Sweat gently for 10 minutes until the vegetables are soft but not coloured.
Discard the paper lid and add the chicken stock. Boil gently until the vegetables are just cooked, then add the washed and chopped nettle leaves [watch out for volcanic ash!]. Simmer uncovered for just a few minutes. Do not overcook! Add the creamy milk, cool slightly and put in the blender. Taste and adjust seasoning if desired. Serve hot [preferably with Darina's cheesy muffins or brown soda bread!].
CHEESY MUFFINS - makes 12-14
225g plain white flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 [half] tsp salt
pinch cayenne pepper
2 organic eggs
225mls milk [or buttermilk, yoghurt or sour cream]
10g caster sugar
75mls sunflower oil
225mls grated cheese [ I like to crumble a little bit of Roquefort into a mix of varieties, depending on what's in the fridge]
Preheat the oven to 200C/ 400F/ gas 6
Mix the flour, baking powder, salt and cayenne in a bowl. In another bowl, whisk the eggs with the milk, yoghurt or sour cream. Pour the liquid into the dry ingredients and stir to barely combine. Do not overmix or you will have heavy, tough muffins. Gently fold in the grated cheese and spoon into muffin cases in a muffin tray. Bake for 20 minutes or until pale golden brown. Cool a little on a wire rack and serve with the Nettle Soup whilst still warm.
A divine and impressive lunch, followed by nothing more than fresh fruit.
One thing I love to make at this time of year is Nettle Soup. At Bardies, I can make or freeze masses and feel sanctimonious at the same time. Instead, I have been collecting them from my riverside walks in Laverstock with Charlie, our dog. At this time of year, they are prolific everywhere in the countryside. Sadly, they are ignored by almost everyone as a nutritious and tasty food source. My Irish ancestors would have understood the health benefits, as well as the expediency in famine raged lean times, swearing blind that eating nettles in May purified the blood. Talking of the Irish, I learnt this recipe on a foraging course with the divine Darina Allen at Ballymaloe, near Shanagarry, west of Cork.
NETTLE SOUP for 6
45g butter
285g potatoes
110g onions, chopped
110g leeks, chopped
rock salt and ground black pepper
1 litre good homemade chicken stock
140g young nettles, washed and chopped [pick them with gloves on!]
150ml full fat milk
Melt the butter in a heavy saucepan and, when it foams, add the potatoes, onions and leeks, tossing them until they are well coated. Season generously. Cover with a paper lid [to keep in the steam] and put the saucepan lid on. Sweat gently for 10 minutes until the vegetables are soft but not coloured.
Discard the paper lid and add the chicken stock. Boil gently until the vegetables are just cooked, then add the washed and chopped nettle leaves [watch out for volcanic ash!]. Simmer uncovered for just a few minutes. Do not overcook! Add the creamy milk, cool slightly and put in the blender. Taste and adjust seasoning if desired. Serve hot [preferably with Darina's cheesy muffins or brown soda bread!].
CHEESY MUFFINS - makes 12-14
225g plain white flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 [half] tsp salt
pinch cayenne pepper
2 organic eggs
225mls milk [or buttermilk, yoghurt or sour cream]
10g caster sugar
75mls sunflower oil
225mls grated cheese [ I like to crumble a little bit of Roquefort into a mix of varieties, depending on what's in the fridge]
Preheat the oven to 200C/ 400F/ gas 6
Mix the flour, baking powder, salt and cayenne in a bowl. In another bowl, whisk the eggs with the milk, yoghurt or sour cream. Pour the liquid into the dry ingredients and stir to barely combine. Do not overmix or you will have heavy, tough muffins. Gently fold in the grated cheese and spoon into muffin cases in a muffin tray. Bake for 20 minutes or until pale golden brown. Cool a little on a wire rack and serve with the Nettle Soup whilst still warm.
A divine and impressive lunch, followed by nothing more than fresh fruit.
Monday, 12 April 2010
Asparagus Tart
My favourite time of the year at Bardies starts with the arrival of the new season's asparagus. The French seem to prefer the delicate white varieties, with their complex, subtle flavours, but I like the good, wholesome, old fashioned green ones which always look so perfect on a plate when mixed with anything made with egg yolks. Gently steamed young asparagus spears, dunked into a silky, sunny, home-made Hollandaise sauce and eaten with one's fingers, is one of the wonders of the world, a veritable marriage made in heaven. A close second, tied with asparagus risotto, is our great lunchtime Spring staple, Asparagus Tart.
The French use 'pate brisee', their equivalent to our shortcrust pastry, which, like ours, has a high fat content to make the pastry 'short'. You can easily cheat by buying it in a packet [but do make sure that it is 100% 'pur beurre'] from the chill cabinet in 'Intermarche'. The sublime combination of asparagus, egg yolks and Parmesan will amply satiate the tastebuds and only the most sophisticated, and pedantic, lunch guests will ever notice. Sometimes, though, it's just so much more simple to bung the pastry ingredients into the food processor than to schlep down to St Girons for the pre-processed, and inevitably inferior, ready-made product.
ASPARAGUS TART
FOR THE PASTRY
120g organic plain white flour
60g cold butter
good pinch fine sea salt
2 tbs iced water
1 egg yolk
Sift the flour and salt into the food processor then quickly chop the butter into small pieces and place on top. Using the pulse button, process for 25 seconds. Add 1 tablespoon of cold water through the funnel on top and pulse. Add second tablespoonful and pulse again. Add a little of the egg yolk and continue to pulse one step at a time until the pastry begins to cohere into a solid lump. You may need to add a tiny bit more water, as so much of pastry making depends on the quality of the flour and the ambient temperature, but do not overwork. Remove immediately, wrap in clingfilm and put in fridge for 40 minutes.
FOR THE ASPARAGUS TART
beaten egg for brushing
1 bundle of asparagus
15 fl oz creme de Normande [or 10 fluid oz milk mixed with 5 fluid oz double cream]
5 egg yolks
50g freshly grated Parmesan
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 200C. Beware! The ovens at Bardies burn hot! You may need to reduce the heat - if in doubt, use an oven thermometer.
Grease a 22cm metal flan tin with butter. We also have ceramic ones in the cupboard, if you prefer. Remove the pastry from the fridge and roll out quickly on a floured work surface to fit. Put the pastry onto the rolling pin and gently lay it inside. Leave the edges rough for the moment, as they will allow for shrinkage and you can cut them off before serving. Cut a sheet of greaseproof paper big enough to cover the tart and lay it over it. Put the ceramic baking beans on top and shake them about to spread them evenly. Bake 'blind' in the oven for 10 - 12 minutes, then remove the beans and greaseproof paper and prick the pastry base with a fork. Return to the oven for 5 -6 minutes. Remove and brush with beaten egg.
Meanwhile, steam the asparagus in the asparagus steamer, stems downwards for about 5 minutes. I find that the best way to get rid of any woody stems is to hold each end of the spear in two hands and allow the stem to naturally snap in half when gently put under pressure, a really useful tip from my mother-in-law. Remove the spears from the steamer basket and allow to cool. Chop stems into 2 cm pieces but leave the heads whole.
Beat the cream and egg yolks together, fold in the grated Parmesan and season well. Place the asparagus evenly into the pastry case and pour the cream mixture on top. Bake for about 30 minutes until nicely puffed up and browned at the edges.
Remove from the oven and leave to rest for 10 minutes [a too-hot tart doesn't taste of anything!]. Using a small sharp knife cut off the rough edges. Slip the tart out of the tin by placing it on an upside down mug and sliding the tin downwards away from the round base. Serve with a tangy, crunchy salad - perhaps a tomato and red onion salad, the sliced onions marinated in freshly squeezed lemon juice for 20 minutes or so beforehand, or a green salad with a citrus dressing. I really like to serve this on blue china for even more colour - a feast for the eyes as well.
Bon appetit, mes amis!
POSTCRIPT
Whilst rummaging around a charity shop in Salisbury yesterday, I found the lovely Allegra McEvedy's 'Economy Gastronomy', co-written with Paul Merrett, for £2.50. I wouldn't have paid £20 for it but like Allegra's great G2 column in 'The Guardian', it's full of really useful, no-nonsense, spicy and hearty dishes to die for. I can vouchsafe her never fail Hollandaise recipe, which we had with lightly smoked salmon fillets and new season's Hertfordshire asparagus.
ALLEGRA McEVEDY'S NEVER FAIL HOLLANDAISE SAUCE
150 g salted butter
2 egg yolks
1/2 tbs [a half tablespoon] Dijon mustard
juice 1/2 [half] a lemon
salt and white pepper
METHOD
Melt the butter for the Hollandaise. Whizz the egg yolks, mustard and lemon juice in the food processor for a couple of minutes until light and fluffy. Once the butter has melted, bring it to a rapid boil, then immediately drip feed it into the whirring food processor. As soon as it's all incorporated, tip the sauce into a bowl and season to taste. Voila!
The French use 'pate brisee', their equivalent to our shortcrust pastry, which, like ours, has a high fat content to make the pastry 'short'. You can easily cheat by buying it in a packet [but do make sure that it is 100% 'pur beurre'] from the chill cabinet in 'Intermarche'. The sublime combination of asparagus, egg yolks and Parmesan will amply satiate the tastebuds and only the most sophisticated, and pedantic, lunch guests will ever notice. Sometimes, though, it's just so much more simple to bung the pastry ingredients into the food processor than to schlep down to St Girons for the pre-processed, and inevitably inferior, ready-made product.
ASPARAGUS TART
FOR THE PASTRY
120g organic plain white flour
60g cold butter
good pinch fine sea salt
2 tbs iced water
1 egg yolk
Sift the flour and salt into the food processor then quickly chop the butter into small pieces and place on top. Using the pulse button, process for 25 seconds. Add 1 tablespoon of cold water through the funnel on top and pulse. Add second tablespoonful and pulse again. Add a little of the egg yolk and continue to pulse one step at a time until the pastry begins to cohere into a solid lump. You may need to add a tiny bit more water, as so much of pastry making depends on the quality of the flour and the ambient temperature, but do not overwork. Remove immediately, wrap in clingfilm and put in fridge for 40 minutes.
FOR THE ASPARAGUS TART
beaten egg for brushing
1 bundle of asparagus
15 fl oz creme de Normande [or 10 fluid oz milk mixed with 5 fluid oz double cream]
5 egg yolks
50g freshly grated Parmesan
salt and freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 200C. Beware! The ovens at Bardies burn hot! You may need to reduce the heat - if in doubt, use an oven thermometer.
Grease a 22cm metal flan tin with butter. We also have ceramic ones in the cupboard, if you prefer. Remove the pastry from the fridge and roll out quickly on a floured work surface to fit. Put the pastry onto the rolling pin and gently lay it inside. Leave the edges rough for the moment, as they will allow for shrinkage and you can cut them off before serving. Cut a sheet of greaseproof paper big enough to cover the tart and lay it over it. Put the ceramic baking beans on top and shake them about to spread them evenly. Bake 'blind' in the oven for 10 - 12 minutes, then remove the beans and greaseproof paper and prick the pastry base with a fork. Return to the oven for 5 -6 minutes. Remove and brush with beaten egg.
Meanwhile, steam the asparagus in the asparagus steamer, stems downwards for about 5 minutes. I find that the best way to get rid of any woody stems is to hold each end of the spear in two hands and allow the stem to naturally snap in half when gently put under pressure, a really useful tip from my mother-in-law. Remove the spears from the steamer basket and allow to cool. Chop stems into 2 cm pieces but leave the heads whole.
Beat the cream and egg yolks together, fold in the grated Parmesan and season well. Place the asparagus evenly into the pastry case and pour the cream mixture on top. Bake for about 30 minutes until nicely puffed up and browned at the edges.
Remove from the oven and leave to rest for 10 minutes [a too-hot tart doesn't taste of anything!]. Using a small sharp knife cut off the rough edges. Slip the tart out of the tin by placing it on an upside down mug and sliding the tin downwards away from the round base. Serve with a tangy, crunchy salad - perhaps a tomato and red onion salad, the sliced onions marinated in freshly squeezed lemon juice for 20 minutes or so beforehand, or a green salad with a citrus dressing. I really like to serve this on blue china for even more colour - a feast for the eyes as well.
Bon appetit, mes amis!
POSTCRIPT
Whilst rummaging around a charity shop in Salisbury yesterday, I found the lovely Allegra McEvedy's 'Economy Gastronomy', co-written with Paul Merrett, for £2.50. I wouldn't have paid £20 for it but like Allegra's great G2 column in 'The Guardian', it's full of really useful, no-nonsense, spicy and hearty dishes to die for. I can vouchsafe her never fail Hollandaise recipe, which we had with lightly smoked salmon fillets and new season's Hertfordshire asparagus.
ALLEGRA McEVEDY'S NEVER FAIL HOLLANDAISE SAUCE
150 g salted butter
2 egg yolks
1/2 tbs [a half tablespoon] Dijon mustard
juice 1/2 [half] a lemon
salt and white pepper
METHOD
Melt the butter for the Hollandaise. Whizz the egg yolks, mustard and lemon juice in the food processor for a couple of minutes until light and fluffy. Once the butter has melted, bring it to a rapid boil, then immediately drip feed it into the whirring food processor. As soon as it's all incorporated, tip the sauce into a bowl and season to taste. Voila!
Saturday, 10 April 2010
Lola 'Two Blogs' Vardigans?
Well, this is a turn up for the books! Not satisfied with just one blog, 'Blog at Bardies', I've now decided in a mad moment of excess, to do a John Prescott. Sorry for the pretension [or possibly vanity?] and general greed, but my darling husband's comment about my last 'Blog at Bardies' posting was, "Yes, Darling. Very good. If someone wants to read about hot cross buns and chocolate cake!" It was a blog about Easter chez nous after all, and 'Paques' is about food, is it not? I have to confess to being a little taken aback but it got me thinking about creating a separate blog just about food. The upside of living part of the year in a remote part of the French countryside is that there is not much else to do, before a long, lazy swim and a glass of chilled Tariquet, but search out local produce and fill one's time and one's kitchen with the joys of one's culinary efforts.
Over the fifteen years that we have now been in the Ariege, ten of them at our beloved Chateau de Bardies, I have cooked thousands of meals, from casual garden lunches under our two enormous lime trees, to grand 'Nouvelle Annee' dinners with our inherited family crested china dinner service and silver ware. The house is often full to bursting, with upwards of twenty souls in situ and, when we run our bi-annual blues, festival heaving at every seam. We love to have campers in the field, especially youngsters who bring a new lease of life to this creaky old edifice [the house, not me!]. Without fail, they all have voracious appetites after a day or two in our Pyrenean air. Being at five hundred meters above sea level, and in the foothills of such majestic mountains, we are spoilt with grass reared cattle, sheep and goats and heavenly local cheeses, charcuterie, conserves and croustardes [our local pastry topped savoury and sweet 'pies'].
We are a working farm so the needs of nature dominate. I love the changes of the seasons although it has to be said that really, we have only two. The long, hard winters have evolved a cuisine of hearty, warming fare to lift even the darkest of days. In total contrast, the heat and brilliance of late spring and summer, when often the snow on the mountain tops remains to remind us of what we have left behind well into early summer, awakens the tastebuds to the endless possibilities for abundant fresh produce, fish from the local rivers and the fruits of field and forest. This is foraging country and there is nothing in this world more enjoyable than making a delicious lunch from a basketful of hand collected finds. Only in France will a pharmacist help you to sort through your wild mushrooms!
We already have a cookbook of tried and tested recipes at Bardies, a very basic tome at present consisting of my typed up scribbles of personally adapted recipes from long forgotten cookery writers. I am quite proud of it despite its lack of photographs. This is partly due to always forgetting to bring my camera, even if I could work out how to upload. It is also because my great photographer friend, Mark Bottomley, and I really need to eat and photograph our way through a mountain of food and I am currently desperately trying to shed, not gain, pounds. There is no short cut, I'm afraid. You have to cook it to photograph it!
Sooooooooo, I have now decided to cook and photograph as I go. I've managed all by myself to get the blog up, so now all I need to do is to badger darling daughter, or son, or 'hubbie', to show me how to upload photos from my trusty little Lumix. Sorry, Mark, in the meantime. We will await your fabulous professional input, which will undoudtedly transform my humble offerings into the culinary equivalent of Annie Liebovitz. It is to be an ongoing blog where I hope to talk about Ariege food sources, local market producers, wine growers, recipes and my infant 'potager'. The plan is to put up recipes on an ongoing basis, starting the week after next. I am sorry to be a bit late for my hot cross bun recipe [cribbed from master Bath baker, Richard Bertinet], our family celebration chocolate almond torte recipe [made 'toute seule' by my daughter under my supervision] and my asparagus risotto [made for Easter Monday with the new season's asparagus].
As asparagus will be with us for a good while yet, I think we shall start with that. Somehow, the arrival of the new asparagus really heralds the arrival of the new season for me. We gorge ourselves on it until there is not a spear to be found anywhere [except those tasteless, imported varieties which should be desisted at all costs!] and then, sated, we move on to indulge in the other great luxuries of summer. I greatly look forward to sharing my humble offerings with anyone at all who is interested in 'Food at Bardies'. It will be a great adventure and who knows where it will take us? On y va!
Over the fifteen years that we have now been in the Ariege, ten of them at our beloved Chateau de Bardies, I have cooked thousands of meals, from casual garden lunches under our two enormous lime trees, to grand 'Nouvelle Annee' dinners with our inherited family crested china dinner service and silver ware. The house is often full to bursting, with upwards of twenty souls in situ and, when we run our bi-annual blues, festival heaving at every seam. We love to have campers in the field, especially youngsters who bring a new lease of life to this creaky old edifice [the house, not me!]. Without fail, they all have voracious appetites after a day or two in our Pyrenean air. Being at five hundred meters above sea level, and in the foothills of such majestic mountains, we are spoilt with grass reared cattle, sheep and goats and heavenly local cheeses, charcuterie, conserves and croustardes [our local pastry topped savoury and sweet 'pies'].
We are a working farm so the needs of nature dominate. I love the changes of the seasons although it has to be said that really, we have only two. The long, hard winters have evolved a cuisine of hearty, warming fare to lift even the darkest of days. In total contrast, the heat and brilliance of late spring and summer, when often the snow on the mountain tops remains to remind us of what we have left behind well into early summer, awakens the tastebuds to the endless possibilities for abundant fresh produce, fish from the local rivers and the fruits of field and forest. This is foraging country and there is nothing in this world more enjoyable than making a delicious lunch from a basketful of hand collected finds. Only in France will a pharmacist help you to sort through your wild mushrooms!
We already have a cookbook of tried and tested recipes at Bardies, a very basic tome at present consisting of my typed up scribbles of personally adapted recipes from long forgotten cookery writers. I am quite proud of it despite its lack of photographs. This is partly due to always forgetting to bring my camera, even if I could work out how to upload. It is also because my great photographer friend, Mark Bottomley, and I really need to eat and photograph our way through a mountain of food and I am currently desperately trying to shed, not gain, pounds. There is no short cut, I'm afraid. You have to cook it to photograph it!
Sooooooooo, I have now decided to cook and photograph as I go. I've managed all by myself to get the blog up, so now all I need to do is to badger darling daughter, or son, or 'hubbie', to show me how to upload photos from my trusty little Lumix. Sorry, Mark, in the meantime. We will await your fabulous professional input, which will undoudtedly transform my humble offerings into the culinary equivalent of Annie Liebovitz. It is to be an ongoing blog where I hope to talk about Ariege food sources, local market producers, wine growers, recipes and my infant 'potager'. The plan is to put up recipes on an ongoing basis, starting the week after next. I am sorry to be a bit late for my hot cross bun recipe [cribbed from master Bath baker, Richard Bertinet], our family celebration chocolate almond torte recipe [made 'toute seule' by my daughter under my supervision] and my asparagus risotto [made for Easter Monday with the new season's asparagus].
As asparagus will be with us for a good while yet, I think we shall start with that. Somehow, the arrival of the new asparagus really heralds the arrival of the new season for me. We gorge ourselves on it until there is not a spear to be found anywhere [except those tasteless, imported varieties which should be desisted at all costs!] and then, sated, we move on to indulge in the other great luxuries of summer. I greatly look forward to sharing my humble offerings with anyone at all who is interested in 'Food at Bardies'. It will be a great adventure and who knows where it will take us? On y va!
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