Rural Life

Cooking and looking around

September continues it's mellow decent into Autumn and the vegetable plots keep giving, as do the fruit trees.  The quantity of fruit this year is truly breath taking and means a lot of sugar, a lot of peeling and a lot of finding new recipes.  One I was particularly pleased with was for slow poached quince, which could actually be done in the slow cooker, thus keeping surveillance to a minimum while it did its thing.  From solid and unpalatable to meltingly soft, spiced and delicious in 9 hours, while the house was filled with tantalising aromas.  There is a batch in the freezer, another third became the most luxurious crumble we have ever had, and a third we just scoffed as we could with ice cream.

Many more quince were chopped up into small pieces, boiled a long time and strained, to be made into 11 pots of ruby amber quince jelly - quite the prettiest of the jams and jellies I make!

Tomatoes are also having a good year, a very good year.  You can't really give them away at the moment, so have to do something with them.  I've made hot tomato gloop, I've made tomato sauce, now I am making tomato purée which takes up less space in the freezer.  I think there are about 2 kilos of chopped tomatoes of various varieties in this pot, being cooked down.

During the week I also cooked up a delicious cristophine gratin for supper - we have now had 5 individual fruits off the vine and there are another 10 that look like they will make it to edible size before the frosts, which is pretty amazing.

But it's not all cooking and preserving - every September there is a massive brocante or antiques fair at a local down called Durtal.  Obviously it stopped for Covid but before then it was the biggest such event of the year around us, and an absolute "must visit".  The roads and squares of the town would be stuffed with people and stalls with all sorts of tat; as well as the established restaurants and bars, there would be extra drinks and food stalls, including an oyster bar; and in my memory, every year it was hot and sunny.  

Covid has made a difference, as has Brexit.  For a couple of years there were camera crews from the BBC and Channel 4 doing shows, but no longer.  There were no British traders with stalls, and few British voices to be heard around the town.  There were fewer stalls and no oyster bar, and not all the restaurants were open.  The weather was good - sunny and not too hot, but on the other hand I got stung by a hornet, so wasn't too impressed.  There was still a fair amount of tat of course!

Durtal itself is a beautiful but forgotten little town on the River Loir (the small boy version, not la Loire), with a massive chateau in the centre of town, dominating the river crossing.  There are handsome old buildings wherever you look, and also the occasional heron...

Well I had better go and finish making that tomato purée now, but then I need to copy off all the photos from the trail camera, so next week there should be fox, deer, badger and perhaps boar action to entertain you.  Have a good week.

 

Preserving the crops

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness?  We've had a couple of early morning mists, so far, but they burnt off very quickly once the sun came up.  Mellow fruitfulness?  More like aggressive ripening and rotting to be honest!  We are currently in the middle of a burst of preserving such as I don't remember having to cope with before.

The peaches have been ripening and plopping off the tree for a while now - anything that hits the ground is immediately pounced on by ants and wasps and bees and their friends and relations.  What is still on the tree has a slight miasma of dark mould from the aphids that lived on the leaves during the summer, so eating from the tree is not entirely pleasant and the fruit still on the tree is only partially ripe.  That didn't stop me yesterday and I picked and peeled some two kilos giving me enough for 4 and a half pots of white peach and rum jam - very tasty!

So that's the jar on the right.  On the left is a slightly more sinister jar of spiced fig sauce, which is good with meat dishes.  That was the result of a raiding party on the fig tree at the bottom of the garden that has declared war on me.  We had a first crop of figs in June - they were tasty, particularly baked with sweet mincemeat and a bit of honey.  The second crop has gone slightly mad, with exploding figs everywhere.  The blackbirds that normally get half the fruit can't keep up.  The chickens are eating what they can and feeling the effects too I think.  The fig sauce was an attempt to cope and also to deal with some of the many, many chillies we are also getting from the Cayenne chilli plants (the jalapeños aren't ripe yet).

While the peach jam was gently simmering away, I picked a further kilo and a half of figs, chopped them up and made another four jars of fig jam (no surprising additives in that).  They are a nice ruby colour.  The major jamming session will be during the week when I attack the quince problem.  Normally our tree has about a dozen fruit - enough for a liqueur and perhaps 10 jars of jelly.  This year we stopped counting at 50.  They are turning quickly now, so I need to get moving and preserving.  I am also trying new recipies for other things to do with quince - watch this space.

But it's not all jams and jellies, because everything else is going nuts too!  During the week i froze a dozen sweetcorn, and once this blog is done, I have this lot to work through.

To be clear, that is a dozen tomatoes, three courgettes, 2 cristophines and 31 cayenne chillies, from a half hour foray of picking.  There is going to be a very big pot of hot tomato and courgette gunge on the go shortly.  The rest of the chillies will be frozen for later.

One of the cristophines was eaten last night as an accompaniment to fish kebabs.  I split it into quarters, boiled it, then peeled it (the skin isn't edible and has an annoying latex when raw), chopped it up and sautéed it with a home grown red onion, before adding cream to be glutton-ish.  Delicious!  I will do a similar thing with two more tomorrow, but adding in lardons to make a main meal.

But now I can hear the rumbling of yet another thunderstorm, so I need to go and round up a couple of quince for tonight's pork and quince tagine - I'll let you know how that goes.

 

September is social

September is the Rentrée - the return to work, to school, to sports groups and to the serious job of earning enough money to pay for Christmas and two months off in July and August next year. 

People are more into good resolutions at this time of year, and it is no coincidence that it is the month when every area has its Forum des Associations or the period when they drum up membership for their club or group.  If you go to these sessions, it is a fairly testosterone fuelled and aggressive event. 

The Yummy Mummies need to get young Florence signed up for gymnastics, baton twirling, extra reading and creative arts, while the boy Paul needs to be kept occupied with football, judo, table tennis and perhaps a bit of music.  Then the clubs themselves want to sign up young Florence for football, basketball, judo and (if she looks lithe enough) baton twirling, and are eyeing up Paul in case he looks like trouble.  The four different yoga groups are vying for numbers, while the sewing group that supports the Chateau and the Opera need people with nimble fingers and an ability to make clothes with dodgy pieces of discarded bed linen and curtains.

It is also a time to reconnect with people after focussing on family and travel for two months.  A group I belong to holds a quiz and wine tasting each September so that people can restock their dwindling wine supplies while catching up, and trying to prove who has the best general knowledge.  This was our first time taking part, and we can confirm we have the best general knowledge, with only 7 wrong answers out of 60.  I was let down by an imperfect knowledge of the 10 Commandments and the jewels attached to specific wedding anniversaries.

Friday night was the dishing out of Comice tombola prizes and the donation of a large cheque to a breast cancer charity.  I was there to collect a prize on someone's behalf.

Saturday was our favourite event of the year - the Societé de la Paix's annual mechoui or pig roast.  About a hundred of us get together for a lot of sangria, a lot of food and wine, a lot of laughs and a fabulous atmosphere.  This year we were a little concerned as the forecast was 35ºC in the shade, and it certainly hit that, but interspersing the wine with a lot of cold water meant we were OK.

Then yesterday, friends were passing through the area on their way south, so we had to meet for lunch in Saumur and catch up after not seeing each other for years.  As well as being CEO of a large company, one of our friends is also a very accomplished potter, so we were delighted to receive a couple of his works.  They are both functional and beautiful.

The new trail camera is up and running.  I'm still getting used to it and the question of batteries is a big aspect of that.  Currently it is up in the orchard, waiting for the walnut and boar season, but is catching a few images of a fox that has appeared in the zone.  It also got attacked by a greattit - I know that word shouldn't run together but the profanity checkers on many systems are stupid and stupidly sensitive too.

Well that's it for today - I'm now going to recover from all that sociable activity and deal with the current glut of figs and quince.

 

Let's talk cristophine

Or chayote if you prefer.

We first came across them when we were in Guadeloupe in 2019 and were over on Grande Terre visiting a sugar factory.  As it was the major festival for the islands (Mardi Gras - why did we not spot that?), we were evicted from the factory museum so went for a meal at a restaurant by the sea, as you do.  The starter, the proprietor was very proud to tell us, was cristophine gratin, and it was delicious.  So we looked around for cristophines to buy to try cooking ourselves, which we found.  Then how to deal with them?  A Florida cooking and gardening website was our friend and talked us through the process - easy and tasty, what more could you ask for?

Once home of course, you forget, but then a few months later, I spotted them on a local market stall in January, and asked the chap about them.  He had a few and had planted them in one of their polytunnels to use the space during the summer and was now selling off the crop.  So each winter, we have profited and bought from him.  Last year, we spotted a strange plant along a chum's fence and asked about it, and he said he had been growing a cristophine as someone gave him a sprouted one - that set us thinking!

We let a couple we bought at la Flèche sprout, and while one had the growing tip knocked off in one of those gravity related accidents, the other kept going.  it was in a pot on a south facing window sill for two and a half months, getting stupidly large, until mid-May and all danger of frosts were gone - then we planted it out at The Shack.

We also planted a couple of runt tomatoes next to it, because, well, you never know do you?  During the summer, it reflected on things then decided to grow.  So we had to start to provide supports.

The plant kept growing and so the support structure had to get bigger and bigger.

In early August, we spotted the first flowers, which got a lot of interest from the local insect population.

That was very exciting, but what we didn't realise was that there are two types of flower - male and female.  The males appear first and while not impressive, are pretty, yellow and numerous.  The female flowers appear singly and, as with courgettes and squashes, with a tiny potential fruit attached.

We only spotted the female flowers last weekend, along with a couple of fruit.  We now think there are at least a dozen fertilised fruit on there, and perhaps more to come.  Some are also getting towards an interesting size!

The main plant is huge and still growing in all directions.

And what about those two runt tomato plants?  Well it would appear that planting tomatoes and cristophine together is a match made in heaven and they too have turned into triffids.

"Feed me, Seymour!"

Until next week, assuming we survive!!