Easter brought not just Spring but also a week of vacation. The holiday began with me driving across Paris, something that I have only done once before! I think I had on every navigation aid known to mankind, and every device was on top volume to guide me as I eased out of the Embassy with the car packed full of hot cross buns, champagne, Spanish sauces and presents for the birthday girl. Safely across the city (thank goodness) I saw trees budding with green, their polished and pollarded stumps now bristling with blossoms and burgeoning foliage, I handed over the driving (with immense relief) and we began our journey to Prusly-sur-Ource in Burgandy. The birthday girl was my previously mentioned friend Harriet. Her paramour Dan is the owner of the Chateau de Crepan, a fabulous property and party venue. Crepan has a crumbling down chateau, the rather wonderful Orangerie where Dan lives, a lake, river and mill stream, a massive vegetable garden, a forest and park as well as two really lovely gites (holiday cottages) on the property, which you can find at @Crepan21.
Dan’s heavily pregnant dog Polly, a British springer spaniel, (since writing she has given birth to a swag of very cute puppies) greeted us enthusiastically. She is a truffle hound, a gifted sniffer of Burgundy truffles, which differ from the better known Perigord black truffles. The Burgundy truffle is known for its strong aroma and flavours that range from nutty to garlicky. Anyhow, Dan planted a truffle orchard some twenty years ago, I can’t wait to share more about this ever so French obsession in the truffle season, including how Dan trained Polly to search for these gorgeous brown nuggets of deliciousness. But for this weekend, we were going full Spanish following Dan’s week hiking in Mallorca from where he returned laden with all sorts of treats like jamon, sobressada (a specialty of the island), lovely plump anchovies and spicy chorizo. With twenty four for dinner, we decided to make a large pot of grilled chicken, white beans, sobressada and fennel stew. The chicken and fennel were grilled on the bbq, with the rest of the ingredients sautéed and spiced in a huge cantine pot. I made two large salads to balance out the hotpot of goodness,
one an orange, caper, herb, green olive and onion salad, the other a haricot vert, labneh and almond salad. We gathered flowers, well weeds - which are just flowers growing in the wrong spot - to decorate the long table then all piled off to the boule court or boulodrome by the mill stream for some delicious canapés accompanied by cremant de Bourgogne and a couple of rounds of pétanque - one of the only sports that can be played with a glass in one hand and a boule in the other. The first of the gifts was delivered, four fluffy chickens! Then it was time for dinner in the Orangerie.
There was cheese, lots of cheese - this is France after all - brought from Paris by close friends. Other friends brought dessert including what was an amazing poppy seed cake, made by a Polish friend of Dan’s (I need that recepie, Dan !) and two excellent apple desserts, one a streusel cake and the other an apple tart. But the birthday cake was a true Australian cliche - pavlova, how could we not.. replete with kiwi fruit and passionfruit. The night finished with ALOT of dancing with all of us showing - well, what we thought were our best moves but the jury is out on that. It was a stellar and really joyful party ! Morning brought a breakfast of bagels, farm fresh eggs and proper English bacon as well as the left over cakes and lots of coffee. There may have been a few sore heads but we all had such a great time that no one cared and after breakfast we all went out separate ways, leaving Harriet and Dan to a much needed quiet afternoon.
And then, for me it was time for Geneva and a long overdue visit with an old friend from Sydney. He is a lover of Easter and true to his style I opened the door to find elderflower branches weighed down with the loveliest and truly the most beautiful hand painted eggs. There is the Christmas tree and then there is the Easter tree. Rusty, my friend is a star at the Easter tree, and has a great talent making it look so chic and it speaks of a stylish and warm Easter. I maybe converted !
The next day found us wondering to the nearby town of Morges so that I could indulge my inner little Dutch clog wearing self to see the tulip festival. Held annually, over 180,000 bulbs are planted close to Lac Leman in, you guessed it, fields of perfectly manicured grass in true Swiss perfection. Both Rusty and I delighted at the endless beds of tulips that were bursting with vibrant colours, shapes and beauty. After an hour, we were hungry and found a restaurant onsite that was serving Malakoff, a traditional Swiss snack from the Vaud canton, where Morges is found. I was nervous about ordering it, having been assured that there were many bad examples to be found around Geneva. But I was also intrigued, having first read about it in a newsletter by the ever so well travelled and knowledgeable David Lebovitz. Its just as he described, a cheese beignet of sorts that sits on a round of toasted bread and is sculptured atop the bread to look like domes. It is then coated in breadcrumbs and deep-fried. One traditionally drinks it with a Chasselas - a Swiss white wine which perfectly cuts through all that cheesy deep fried richness with minerality and a hint of fruit. So I ordered it and was happy to be given three of the said shaped domes that were full of cheesy richness without any of the greasiness, I feared. Malakoff is traditionally made with gruyere, as were these. It was perfectly, decadently delicious.
The next day, after very briefly visiting the famed flower clock (it’s ok) we took a train to Matigny in order to forage for ‘ail des ours,’ the very on trend wild garlic that you find in France and Switzerland. In the USA , this is called ramps and in Scandinavia, ramson.
I will admit with all the travelling, the thought of jumping on yet another train in a short space of time was not wildly appealing. But once the Swiss Alps came into view, I was entranced. We jumped off the train and made our way to the nearby town of St Maurice, where the ail des ours was growing by the hills, in the shade of the mountains where they are happiest. In record time, two large shopping bags were filled with the luscious green and garlicky leaves. And I was soooo happy. Another dream realised! The next morning, I took a brisk hike to the ancient lookout in Matigny and the views were amazing. In terms of nature, Switzerland never disappoints - snow capped mountains, fields of green, I spied bee hives, terraced vines, nettles and of course, the odd Swiss chalet, built into the cliffs. I may have sighed with joy !
By Thursday, it was time to head back to Paris, carrying my prized foraging, gruyere made with raw milk, some Swiss wine and of course, toblerones ! I had an official lunch on Friday and I used the ail des ours in as many ways as I could, even in the bread that was served.
Fun things seen around Paris :
I live very near Bir Hakeim bridge, one of the most popular proposal places in the city. There is even an instagram account dedicated to it, @brides of Bir Hakeim. Some proposals I have seen are understated and quiet and others are like the one below. But who doesnt love love ?
Set the table :
It had to be the birthday party table, of course ! Simple Burgundian style !
Ail des Ours Oil :
Take 100g of ail des ours and blanch it in boiling water for 10 seconds. Plunge into a bowl filled with iced water. Let cool for two minutes, drain and squeeze out any remaining liquid. Place into a high speed blender with 150ml of grapeseed oil or any other neutral flavoured oil and blend for two to three minutes or until the oil turns a vibrant green. Pour into a jar and cool over ice in order to keep that green ! Strain and use. The oil will keep its flavour and colour for up to a week.
Have a great week,
Kathx