In July we transposed our life to Brittany for a few weeks, as we’ve been lucky to do these past years, to spend time with our family who congregates at my sister’s every summer. Last year were four surreal weeks of uninterrupted sunshine — a magical stretch, unheard of in Northern Brittany, and it certainly hadn’t happened in eighteen years. This summer was the yin to that yang — barely a day without some rain. ‘In Brittany it is sunny multiple times a day!’ as they say. Although the dour weather featured in every conversation, I paid little heed. The coast is beautiful in every light. It doesn’t inhibit time spent together and with friends, and much good eating. And, it really was — sunny multiple times a day!
My sister waits for me to arrive before picking the gooseberries. She knows how much I love them, and neither of us mind the scratches too much. There are just a few bushes and it’s tough to decide how to use the harvest. Jam usually seems to be the way that will let us enjoy them the longest.
This time I added thin pieces of lemon as always but also an accent of rosemary. It underlines the savouriness, I like the combination.
There is a motif of summer eating. Indispensable, recurring dishes — ratatouille, tarte à la tomate, tomates à la provençale, apricot tarte with verbena, … sardines grilled on the fire, blackberry s'mores — interlace with new things. It is time for ritual, it’s also a propitious moment to experiment.
Tempted by an enormous dorade at the market, we baked it in a salt crust. It had been years since I did this. I stuffed the fish with herbs found around the garden — oregano, thyme, summer savory, fennel fronds — and slices of lemon, and buried it in salt. It was a big two kilo animal so it was in the oven for a generous 30 minutes. The result is the most tender flesh, it was pretty extraordinary.
Two things to remember for next time: do not scale the fish (the fishmonger did it spontaneously and we didn’t know then how we would be cooking it) and dampen the salt with a little water (no need for eggwhites as is sometimes recommended) so the heavy crystals don’t crumble into the flesh while serving.
Still at the market, we snagged the last two squid, coyly negotiated with the lady ahead of us who meant to buy all but the very last one. The fishmonger argued in our favour — he couldn’t be left with a lone specimen. We cooked them for apéro. A very simple method with garlic, thyme, white wine, and a touch of chili (piment d’espelette would be ideal). A neighbour who happened to drop by propitiously with a large box of tomatoes and giant courgettes just as we were preparing the animals shared her trick of briefly boiling the squid (2 to 3 minutes) in vinegar-ed water to ward off any chewiness. It works perfectly.
RECIPE
Pan-fried squid for apéro
A couple of squids
Basic white cooking vinegar
Olive oil
Garlic
Thyme
Chili flakes or piment d’espellette
White wine
Half a lemon
Bring a small saucepan of water with 3 tablespoons of vinegar to a boil.
Meanwhile prepare the squid: clean it in cold water and remove the cartilaginous parts.
Cut the squid into strips.
When the vinegared water boils, add the squid and simmer for 2 to 3 minutes. Remove immediately and drain well.
Skin and thinly slice a few cloves of garlic (about two cloves per squid as a measure).
Heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a skillet, drop in the squid and cook over medium to high heat for just a minute. Add the garlic and thyme, reduce to medium, and cook for 2 minutes more.
Sprinkle with white wine and cook for one or 2 final minutes. Serve immediately with a generous squeeze of lemon and some good bread to sop up the sauce.
But also, we cooked ox tongue! It was the day before our departure, and I’ll admit I spent a large part of the afternoon halfway irritated that this big kitchen endeavor was crowding our last day. The tongue needs to be parboiled, then boiled, then peeled. It takes hours. However the beast, bought from the cattle farmer neighbour, had been obligingly thawing in the refrigerator for two days — what was there to do
I must admit, it was great fun. It freaked out the children a bit — ha! (though they all ate some), it tasted very good, and it forced me to prepare an (unexpectedly good!) sauce, which I never do.
As always, summer creates an impulse.