The Dream House of the Moment

1. The Weather

We have spent time in France now during nearly every month of the calendar and often in very different parts.
This includes November in the Cote d’Azure and in the Loire.
Time spent by the Loire during January.
Countless Julys spent everywhere from Brittany, down through Poiteau, Charante, the Lot, The Gard, Languedoc, the Auvergne, Provence etc etc.
August in the Tarn and Roussillon, Burgundy and again the Loire.
An excellent Easter in Alsace, and on every occasion –bar one fairly miserable Easter in Normandy- we have always had better weather than we would have had in Ireland.

The evidence is clear:
The Weather is Better in France.

2. The Food

Yes I know we are getting better here and our markets are becoming much more impressive but we still have a long way to go before we reach the heady standards of the French village market.
The fact that more sun gets their fruits to optimum ripeness there is one factor, but, probably even more important, is the highly discriminatory, not to mention thrifty, French housewife who wouldn’t dream of buying any product if even the slightest bit sub standard, or overpriced.
Observe the queues outside those stalls selling the choicest fruit in the markets, then join them.
This ultimately insures the high quality and cheapness of food there.

3. The Wine

This is one of price pure and simple.
We can buy wine in France for at least half the cost of wine here, and with a little travelling and ferreting out we can spend about a quarter.
( we were buying excellent red from a local cave last summer for €1 a litre)
Add (subtract!) the consequences of that from your weekly shopping bill!

4. The People

This is not I know a popular notion in Ireland of the Welcomes but we have come across more genuine kindness and hospitality in France than we ever have else where.
I promise you that the lunettes rose are doffed, I too have come across the proverbial arrogance of Frenchmen and women but find that far outweighed by French kindness.

5. Politeness

A bit akin to the previous I know but subtly different.
The French are still trained in politeness.
In Campsites this year we noticed that children don’t pass one without a simple “Bon Jour” or “Bon Soir”or a “Bon Appetite” if one is eating.
As one enters every small shop one is greeted by choruses of “Bon Jour Monsieur/Madame”s
A small thing, but one my sister noticed in supermarkets.
The check out girls always greet you as they put your purchases through, never talk to other people in the queue when you are with them and always say “Au Revoir” as you go. Such old style manners seem to be long forgotten here.

6. The Buildings

This one is a lot to do with France’s comparative affluence during the last few centuries and also the French great respect and conservation of their history. So often we have, when ambling through side roads on moments of off motorway leisure, come across wonderful villages, unheralded by the guides, which have houses and churches untouched it seems since the 17th century.
Mind blowing stuff.

7. The Language

I just love it, from the poems I learned in my Inter cert to the songs of Françoise Hardy, the rippling “Rs” of Piaf to my current obsession Jacques Brel.
I could listen to French all day (and hope to.)

8. The Chic” ness

Men and women alike just tend to dress, and look better.
Yes I know there are exceptions to this, the women’s peculiar attachment to gold shoes and orange hair, and the mens’ even more peculiar idea that a waxed moustache is flattering not to mention their uniform when cycling, but, on the whole both sexes are a pleasure to look at.

9. The Brocantes
(for their second hand glasses)

I know my family will be amazed to see this, my well known penchant, coming in at a mere ninth but, since I no longer have a restaurant to decorate with glasses and now have about 20 boxes of glasses in storage I fell I can no longer buy with the enthusiasm I used.
I haven’t completely given up though!

10 The Culture

There are many things that make up the great charm of this country which I am now going to list under this vague heading.
In no particular order they are:

The enormous importance of food in their culture ( and the status of chefs) is music to my eyes, ears and taste buds.

The fact that old people are seen on the streets doing their own shopping (and that they trustingly hand their purses to the shopkeeper to pay)

That children are not only seen and heard but also welcomed into homes and even restaurants (and rise to the occasion when they are there)
(Obverse side of this coin is that the same applies to dogs but, what the hell, no body’s perfect!)

The great literature, and that I have yet to read most of it!

Bakeries (heavily and correctly subsidised) in nearly every village.

Savon d’Alep, that most natural soap, made from olive oil and bay leaves which never aggravates my eczema.

White peaches, freely available even in the hypermarkets.
The taste of heaven!

Last week being Halloween (the eve of All Hallows or All Saints) I set about making a Barmbrack for my radio piece on WLR.
I researched various recipes and started to base mine on one of Darina Allen’s many versions in Irish Traditional Cooking.
She explains that the origin of the words are from barm for yeast and brack from speckled.
As I am an amateur etymologist with a ridiculous amount of dictionaries I wondered where we got the Barm bit from.
Darina gives an impeccable derivation that it comes from the Old English word Beorma meaning yeasted fermented liquor, and indeed my Oxford Dictionary of English Etymology (edited by the delightfully named C.T.Onions) agreed entirely. (The very next entry, Barmy, deriving,he charmingly tells us, from the same root, he gives as; “frothy, empty-headed, daft”.)
However, hard as I tried I couldn’t find any evidence of the word “barm” being used in Irish for yeast. In fact the given Irish “translation “ for Barmbrack was Bairin Breac, bairin being the Irish for loaf.
Just last weekend I borrowed, from my sister in law, Florence Irwin’s book on early 20th century cooking in the north of Ireland; “The Cookin’ Woman”.(Now unfortunately out of print)
In this she is quite adamant in calling the loaf a Barn Brack rather than a Barmbrack and of course she is quite correct. The derivation comes from the Irish for loaf rather than from the English for yeast. The minute I heard Barn Brack I remembered that this was exactly what my mother had called it, so the borrowing of Barm from English, to explain the yeast rising, must have been a fairly recent one.

The etymology of food has been a fascination of mine for a long time.

When the Turkey was first introduced from America,the continent of Europe was most unwilling to acknowledge its Yankee roots.
The French opted to call it the “Poulet d’Inde” (nowadays Dinde) or Indian Chicken, as if they were clinging on to the myth that the discoverers of America had in fact found India.
The English decided on an even more exotic origin for the bird and decided it came from the mysterious depths of Ottoman Europe;Turkey.

Another derivation I enjoy is that of the Jerusalem Artichoke. The belief that it came from the Holy Land was so strong that Jane Austin refers to the soup made from the vegetable as “Palestine Soup”. The truth of the matter is that the plant when introduced from America, (again) in the early seventeenth century. It was recognised as a type of Sunflower (Italian Girasole) and the artichoke connection was just an assumed affinity of taste.
At the same time as it was introduced,(and for this thanks to Alan Davidson’s “Oxford Companion to Food”) some members of the Topinambous tribe from Brazil were brought back from Brazil to be paraded before the curious of Europe. Some cute French greengrocer decided to give the new vegetable some reflected glamour by adopting their name, and so the Jerusalem Artichoke, in France,even today, is known as the Topinambour

Sometimes this desire to know the derivation of the names of our food has led us into very murky waters.

A “fact” I have often come across in cookbooks is that the sirloin of beef was the loin knighted by Henry VIII for its excellence. The rather more prosaic truth is that it is named as the upper loin from the French “sur” meaning above.

I also remember an enthusiastic college lecturer telling us that the origin of Marmalade was that it was invented in Scotland (by an enterprising chef coming across a box of Seville Oranges floating ashore from a wrecked Spanish ship) and became a particular favourite of Mary Queen of Scots when she felt ill.
Thus:Marie Malade” !
In fact the word comes from the Portuguese for Quince, Marmello, and their penchant for making a jelly out of the same.

But back to true derivations, my undoubted favourite is the “Coccagee Apple”.
This one I came across all on my own while flicking , as is my wont, through Mr. Onions excellent dictionary.
This apple has long been a favourite in England for the making of Cider.
It apparently has a peculiar greenish-yellow colour.
At this stage it is impossible to tell who named it. I like to think that it would have been migrant Irish workers doing seasonal work in the orchards of Somerset.
Their name for the Apple was adopted by the cider makers, who certainly didn’t realise that the Irish (themselves obviously from farming backgrounds) had coarsely named the apple, from its colour,Caca Gheidh, or (not to put a tooth in it)
“Goose Shit”
.

Rare roast beef salad with roast peppers and slow roast peppered tomatoes, with which Clive and Sue fed us on Saturday last, tastes even better than it looks.

We were with my brother and sister in law in Glasnevin in Dublin last night where the local young people had erected an enormous bonfire.

The fire is lit

The fire watchers

The fire takes off

Sparks

Fire reflections

Inferno

Last week I did a cookery demonstration in the Ardkeen Quality Food Store.

I was cooking cultivated “Wild ” Mushrooms which are produce with great care by my friends Nick and Catherine George in Wexford under the name Fancy Fungi.

Kevin Jephson was busy photographing the results

In case anyone is interested these are the two recipes I cooked:

Risotto of Wild Mushrooms, Rocket and Parmesan
(for 4 as a starter,2 as a main course)

1 med Onion
3 oz. Butter
10 oz. Arborio Rice
8 oz. Mushrooms (wild if you can get them)
1 bunch Rocket
2 oz. Piece Fresh Parmesan
2 pts. Good Chicken Stock.

Put the stock on to boil and have it simmering gently on the hob as you cook the risotto.

Chop the onion finely and cook in a large pan in 2 oz. of the butter on a gentle heat until it is soft. (about 10 mts)
Chop the mushrooms into coarse chunks and add them to the pan.
Cook these for 3 mts.
Add the rice to the pan and cook with the vegetables for 3 mts.
Add in a ladle full of the hot stock and cook stirring from time to time until the rice has absorbed the stock . Continue to add the stock a ladle at a time, until the rice is tender and most of the stock has been absorbed.(You may have some stock remaining). The texture should be creamy and flowing, not dry like we are used to eating rice.
Break up the rocket and shave the parmesan with a potato peeler.
Stir these and the remaining ounce of butter into the risotto and serve immediately in flat soup bowls.
This makes a very filling first course so go lightly with the mains.

Wild Mushrooms with Roast Garlic Dressing

450g (1 lb.) Mushrooms
60g (2oz.) Butter
Salt and Pepper

Dressing:
1 Head Garlic
1 Tablespoon Olive Oil
1 tablespoon White Wine Vinegar
4 Tablespoons Cream.

First make the dressing
Don’t be intimidated by the amount of garlic, The roasting softens the taste completely.
Peel the cloves and put onto a oven proof plate with a tablespoon of Olive Oil.
Cover tightly with tinfoil.
Put into a moderate oven Gas4, 175C, 350F, for 30 to 40 mts until they are quite soft.
Put these into a liquidizer and whizz, with their oil and the vinegar, until smooth. Tip out of the liquidizer and when cool beat in the cream.
Slice the mushrooms and fry in the butter until tender.
Arrange them on individual plates as they are or on some toast.
Serve immediately with the dressing dribbled over.

It was 29 years ago on this day when this baby was born

……………………………..Happy Birthday Caitriona………………………………….

………………………………..June to October…………………………………..

The charity “Make-A-Wish Foundation“, a sort of Jim’ll Fix It de nous jours are holding a special day today to raise money for children who have life threatening illnesses to help make their dreams a reality. The English Independent have written an article in which they asked various celebrities to name their wishes.
As a profoundly anal list person how could I resist?

I have been very lucky in my life and have managed to achieve most of my dreams and life ambitions so the list is of necessity a little trivial.

I am leaving out all the obvious ones like health, wealth, longevity, grand-children, that everyone knows about already.

My Wishes:

1. To be able to maintain a harmony line
against some one singing a melody,
if my voice sounded sweet that would be OK too.

2. To be able to chatter fluently and carelessly in French.

3.To have a book published, I can never make up
my mind whether this should be a cook-book or a novel
but either would do.

4. To own a house like this in France

The swimming pool is just out of shot.

5. To take a long holiday on a barge along the Canal de Midi.

6. To be allowed to read my own obituary.

Me in Dublin 1966

7. To lose 2 ½ stone (preferably without dieting)

The Family in Germany 1987

8. To be able to grant 10 wishes to Sile,
Caitriona, Eileen and Deirdre,
Oh and Aonghus too,
and my family,
and the in-laws,
and the friends…….

And that’s it really.
I can’t even get to ten,
pathetic I know but
as soon as I think of a few more I’ll add them in.

Green, double decker, CIE bus complete with conductors platform

Long ago when their parent company was known as Coras Iompar Eireann, or CIE for short, Cork’s busmen, particularly the conductors, were required to pass a rigorous exam on the usage of benevolent irony before they were allowed to stand on their little open platform at the back of the double decker bus a hand nonchalantly resting on the bar.

Constant readers will already be familiar with Milo’s “Smoke Away” story.

Here are two more.

A cyclist was going down Patrick’s Street, close behind a bus when the driver slammed on his brakes to avoid a jay walker. The cyclist crashed into the conductors platform. The conductor looked down with benign pity at the cyclist and said “How d’ye stop normally?”

The second story took place during the petrol shortages in the late seventies.
At this time we were all so frantic for petrol that if a garage looked even vaguely likely to offer a mere ten shillings worth there was an instant mile long queue.
My father-in-law, Con Ronayne, was driving through Blackpool in Cork when he came upon what he assumed was just such a queue totally blocking up the left hand side of the road. Nothing daunted, and not needing petrol, Con proceeded on his way on the right hand side of the road only to discover that it was not a petrol queue, in fact it was a normal traffic jam, and he was now directly blocking the foreward progress of a large, double decker, CIE bus.
The driver, who had passed summa com laude his exam in benign irony, rolled down his window, smiled down on my father-in-law and, indicating the line of traffic on the left hand lane, said;
“I suppose you tink dey’re dare for de good o’ dare helt?”

Last Sunday we went on our annual Euro-Toque mushroom hunt.
This time our place of search was in county Galway, in a wood, the location of which we have all sworn we will never divulge.
Mushroom hunters are, correctly, extremely protective of their good harvesting spot.
We do have edible wild mushrooms in this country, probably not as many as they have on the continent (maybe because we have fewer forests?) but what is scarce here are the people who can differentiate the good (delicious) from the bad (tasteless) and the ugly(poisonous).

We in Euro-Toques are blessed with a special relationship
with Louis Smith, a lecturer in Galways RTC who guides us
through the pitfalls on our annual search for edible Fungi.

This time Louis explained that we were going to search for edible mushrooms, and good edible ones at that-in other words he didn’t want us cluttering our baskets up with the bad and the ugly (as we did in previous years)

To that end Louis had gone and made a preliminary gather the day before so he was able to show us the good, he had a large sample basket of them.

Principally we were to look for
Hedgehog Mushrooms (the white ones)
Saffron Milk Cap (the yellow ones)
Winter Chanterelles ( the little brown ones)

So off we headed into the woods.
It was definitely the most abundantly mushroomed wood we had ever been on. They were every where.

A lot of the bad and the ugly

And quite a few occasions when the slugs had beaten us to the good.

However at the end of an hour and a half, in glorious Autumn sunshine
We arrived back at our starting point for the reckoning (or should I say the cull)
Of course we had all done what we shouldn’t.
We had gathered far too many duds.

Our marvellous harvest

With a few quick twists of the baskets was reduced to this

Still more than I had ever managed to gather before.
We had gathered a nice few Chanterelles which we plan to eat at the weekend.

Exhausted after our hunt we headed back to St. Clerans for lunch.

St Clerans did us proud with a marvellous Japanese meal from
Euro-Toque Chef Hisashi Kumagai

The house is also a little classical bow sided gem.
It was owned for many years by John Huston the film director and is now owned by American Chat-Show host, Merve Griffin.

Sile and the mushrooms outside St. Clerans.
(I hasten to add that ours was the smallest basket on the left)

The worst part of the day was the long drive home through driving rain to Waterford, but at least the weather had held off this year during the hunt.

The best part was a couple of days later when we enjoyed the little Chanterelles
just gently and lightly fried in butter, they were delicious.