We were short on onions and garlic, which was the main reason we were shopping in the first place. That, and the sun was out for a change. Most of the stands at the market only had new garlic, so we got a bulb of that. Nick wanted chives for an herb omelette, and the guy handed them to us explaining that the bulbous purple flower buds were edible, too. Very cool. And the small bunches of young chard looked too good to pass up, so though I have no plan for them, we bought two.

Of course, no trip to the market is complete without a stop at the Ultimate Goat Cheese Guy‘s stand. We grabbed a round of fresh cheese to complement that herby omelette, and a Selles-Sur-Cher for later. Ah, goat cheese season.

I didn’t want to leave without some fruit. A pile of pink rhubarb stalks caught my eye, and I made a plan then and there to bake a pie, using the rhubarb and some of the apples from our fruit bowl (yes, we’re still getting apples).

A bottle of crisp rosé wine rounded out our market bag, and we headed home, soaking up the sun along the way.

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

Spring officially begins this week, which means the radishes are right on time.  I sometimes have trouble coming up with anything interesting to do with them, because it’s so easy to just clean them and eat them as they are for pre-dinner snacks.  But last night, seeing the remains of a pyramide of goat cheese in my fridge and the tail end of a loaf of Poilâne bread on my counter, I decided to make tartines.

Truly, these could not be simpler.  Cut the bread into rectangles (or whatever other shape you like), place/smear some fresh goat cheese on each piece, top with rows of sliced radishes, and sprinkle with a little sea salt.  I used truffle salt, because I have some, but porcini or other mushroom salt would be good too (make your own by grinding dried mushrooms to a powder and mixing it with fleur de sel or other coarse sea salt), as would an herbed salt.

These made an ordinary Monday night feel like something a little special, and made me feel like a bit of a domestic goddess.  If radishes, butter, and salt are a classic, this is an excellent twist on the theme, if I do say so myself.

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

It’s a real live yam.  I’ll probably use it in a dinner similar to this one, where I roasted it to a fluffy mash, but instead of duck, I’ll serve it with fish, because I have given up cooking meat at home for Lent.  (In true Catholic tradition, fish is still ok.)  This is an odd vegetable to work with though – the long shape and hairy exterior invite all kinds of dirty jokes, which aren’t helped by the fact that when you cut or peel the thing, it starts oozing slime everywhere.  Hilarity in the kitchen.  Still, it’s a good starchy vegetable, a nice change from potatoes, if anyone ever gets tired of potatoes, that is.

I also got this:

Purple broccoli!  There were two small heads of it, with lots of deep green leaves that looked too fresh and healthy to throw away.  So I chopped them up and all of it went into a tasty green curry along with some carrots.

I was a little disappointed that the broccoli was white on the inside, but I was not disappointed in the way it held onto its vibrant color during cooking.  The meal was fantastically easy, one I highly recommend for any hodgepodge of vegetables, and it goes like this: chop up your vegetables.  Get a pan hot and add a little oil.  Throw in the vegetables and season with salt.  Scoop in some green curry paste (note: this also works with red and yellow curry pastes) and stir fry a few minutes, until vegetables are crisp-tender.  Pour in some coconut milk, bring to a simmer, and cook until the vegetables reach desired doneness.  Taste, adjust seasoning, and serve over rice or noodles (which you’ve obviously been cooking alongside).  It is fast and healthy, and a great way to use up those lurkers in the vegetable drawer.

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

This week’s panier included parsnips (pictured above, left) which I love and which, when asked, I tend to describe as “kind of like a big, white carrot”.  I realize these are two distinct vegetables, and that your typical parsnip is generally softer and starchier than a carrot.  I still thought it was funny when I found these white carrots (pictured above, right) next to the parsnips in my bag.  I’ve gotten yellow carrots before, and plenty of the regular orange kind, but the white ones are new to me.

Not that I’m worried about what to do with these.  I found a treasure trove of recipes featuring parsnips and carrots on Food & Wine, and I can’t decide whether I want to simply roast them (with mustard or honey) or wait for the weekend and make this biscuit-topped pot pie.  If I decide to go simple, I think a pile of roasted root vegetables can make a complete meal, especially if they’re accompanied by these savory popovers.

White is a pretty common color for vegetables in winter, now that I think about it.  Leeks and endives (both of which which I love broiled and doused in vinaigrette) are mostly white, as is celeriac.  And button mushrooms.  And look!  Here’s a divine-sounding lasagna recipe with three of those four!

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

They say that eating greens on New Year’s Day will bring wealth and prosperity for the coming year.  Too bad this doesn’t apply year-round, because I love me some greens!  The lack of variety of dark green leafy vegetables available in Paris has been a bit of a bone of contention the last few years, because one can only eat spinach and chard so many times, and the climate in France should be conducive to growing all kinds of healthy greens.

Enter The Kale Project.  Kristen is something of a food superhero these days in Paris, having championed a rapidly growing movement to get kale into the markets here.  There are now a handful of places around town to buy the delicious, nutritious vegetable, and more and more farmers are starting to grow it, so I hope it will be increasingly available throughout the winter.

But kale isn’t the only green missing from my plate.  Broccoli rabe (aka rapini) is an old favorite of mine which (until very recently, anyway) I haven’t seen since moving across the Atlantic.  I’ve tried replacing it with so-called broccoli leaves and other “exotic” greens found in the city’s Asian markets, and these are good, and I’m sure very nutritious, but they lack the mustardy bite and sharp bitterness of true broccoli rabe.

So where has this delectable leafy green been spotted?  At the vegetable seller on the corner of rue Cambronne and rue Lecourbe in the 15th.  I walked by a few weeks ago, on a Sunday morning hunt for something else, when I saw a pile of leaves with small bunches of tiny flowers among them.  I did a double take, inspected the sign, which read “cime di rapa” – the Italian name – and picked it up.  The bunch was huge, so I asked the friendly Portuguese owner if he would kindly sell me half of the bunch.  He did, no problem, and then seemed surprised that I knew this vegetable.  I asked if he had it regularly, and he told me that he will be getting it in every Thursday until March.  This is very exciting news.

That first bunch I braised with white wine, tomatoes, chile flakes, a couple anchovies and lots of garlic, and it was wonderful over twirly pasta.  You can be sure I’ll be getting more before the season is through.

Now, how about some mustard greens?

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

Well, what do you know?  It’s been exactly one year since I posted on this here blog.  I’m still in Paris, still getting my panier every week, and still love to cook.  But I’m afraid the format here had gotten a bit stale.  I mean, there are only so many photos one can take of lettuce, leeks, potatoes, apples, carrots, and eggs. (Just out of curiosity, I looked through the tags and those are by far the most often written about here, with 48, 35, 61, 55, 40, and 80 posts, respectively.)  And only so many things to write about said ingredients, week after week.

So I’m shifting gears a little bit.  We’ll skip the bajillion poorly-lit pictures of potatoes, etc. and focus on the more esoteric and interesting seasonal vegetables that come my way, either via the panier, the market, or La Ruche Qui Dit Oui.  What’s that last one, you ask?  It’s an organization that works to link local producers with consumers.  There are ruches, or hives (as in beehives), scattered throughout France.  You sign up online for the one nearest you, and when they’re going to have a sale (about every two weeks or so) you get an email.  Then you go to the website, choose your products, and pay.  The day before pickup, they email you again with the list of things you’ve bought, and you go and pick them up.  It’s a really cool idea, and I’ve gotten some great deals on flour, honey, and even a Christmas tree!  The cheeses I’ve tried from them were both stellar, and I love knowing that none of it has had to travel very far to get to my table.  At the last sale, I picked up a small bag of chervil root – they’re the smaller, darker ones in the above photo – which I’m excited to try.

The bigger, parsnip-looking things next to the chervil root are parsley root.  They are one of my favorite oddball winter vegetables, because they are so unexpected.  Who would have thought that parsley had such a big root?  Or that it was so tasty, like an herby, vegetal parsnip?  I think the two roots will make a fine combination, peeled, sautéed, and dressed in a fennel-herb dressing that I got from Frank Camorra’s book Movida.  His recipe for zanahorias aliñadas has long fascinated me, and I finally made it a couple of weeks ago, substituting sautéed carrots and parsnips for the boiled carrots he calls for.  But oh, that dressing is a winner: a tablespoon of toasted fennel seeds, a teaspoon of dried oregano, a small handful of chopped fresh mint and parsley, a minced clove of garlic, the juice of half a lemon, two tablespoons of sherry vinegar, three or four of olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste.  Mix it all together and pour it over the vegetables in the hot pan when they’re done cooking, and serve hot or at room temperature.  I’m hard pressed to think of a root vegetable this wouldn’t be great with.  And I expect to use this dressing often, all winter long.

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

Butternut Squash Soup with Poached Eggs

Duck Breast with Caramelized Brussels Sprouts and Mashed Potatoes

Vacherin Mont d’Or, Mâche, Shallot Vinaigrette

Speculoos Apple Crumble

I’ve deliberately left this menu open to interpretation.  Say you have some extra carrots or apples you want to put in the soup – go ahead!  Want to top it with a drizzle of rosemary oil or chopped sage?  It will probably only be better.  I’ll probably use caramelized shallots for the Brussels sprouts, and if for some reason you don’t like mashed potatoes, by all means roast them.  And the cheese is, of course, substitutable.  I chose Vacherin Mont d’Or because it’s something special that I can’t get at other times of year, but if you prefer a pungent bleu or a creamy Camembert, serve that instead.  And if you want to use pears in your crumble instead of apples, I see no reason you couldn’t.  (Or both!  Anyone seen Carnage?)

So happy end-of-the-year holidays to all of you!  I’ll be back in the new year with plenty more wintry vegetables.  See you then!

Seasonal opposite: Spring Vegetable Crumble

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

What’s so different about this produce?  Well, the carrots are yellow, tinged with green at the top.  They’re much harder and stronger in flavor than their run-of-the-mill orange siblings.  These definitely benefit from roasting, which I did last night, along with some parsnips, underneath a chicken.

The turnips are not turnips, but watermelon radishes, their light green and white exteriors giving way to bright pink insides.  Frankly, I think they’d be great with some ranch dip for a little taste of pseudo-summer.

The pears are certainly unexpected at this time of year.  Normally by December we’re down to apples and apples alone.  But these pears are a newish variety called Angelys, which apparently thrive in the winter and have a good, long shelf life.  Hooray!  A warm, warming dessert like a crumble sounds like just what I want to do with them.

I guess the rest isn’t so surprising.  The leeks made a lovely side to the roast chicken, briefly broiled and drizzled with vinaigrette.  The eggs and patidou squash (maybe sweet dumpling squash in English) have me thinking of this quiche, but that squash could just as easily become a tartiflette of sorts, or a pizza, or a pasta dish, or I could stuff them, or…

Seasonal opposite: June 8, 2011

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

I seriously love root vegetables.  These beets, along with Melissa‘s, will be roasted with balsamic vinegar and chestnuts (no bacon this time, though) for a girls’ Christmas shindig on Saturday.  The parsnips make me want to roast a chicken, just so I can have them roast along underneath it, bathing in the savory juices.  I think the potatoes will be happy to join in the fun, and, if we’re being honest, some of the many leftover carrots from last week.

I also like greens quite a bit, and am especially happy to see heartier ones as the days get shorter and colder.  Frisée is a truly wonderful salad green for winter (or late fall, as the case may be), sturdy and flavorful enough to hold its own with poached eggs, toasted nuts, juicy pears, crispy bacon, pungent blue cheese and maybe some chewy dried cranberries on top.  It’s also a good cooking green, with a nice bitter flavor that complements rich bean dishes particularly well.

Swiss chard and squash are a fabulous combination (seen most recently here, and less recently here), and since I also have plenty of those baby pumpkins from last week still hanging out on the counter (did I mention I got a double panier last week?  Because I did.) I think a pizza is in order for tonight.

Seasonal opposite: June 2, 2010

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

It’s decorative gourd season…well, you probably know the rest.  (Don’t click that link if you’re sensitive about off-color language.)

Seriously, though, those little mini-pumpkins are called Jack Be Little or pomarine squash, and apparently they’re edible.  I might try stuffing them, but if anyone has eaten these before or has any advice, I’d love to hear it.

The leeks are already gone, some in turkey stock along with several carrots, some in the wild mushroom bread pudding I now make for every Thanksgiving.  Which also used up some shallot and more than a few eggs.

Happily, I got Granny Smith apples this week, which is exactly what this recipe called for.  Of course, I would have made the apple-bourbon bundt cake anyway, but it’s nice to know I had the right kind of apples.  The cake, which we ate alongside Hopie’s famous pecan pie, also makes and excellent breakfast.  (You should know by now how I feel about cake for breakfast.)

I think the bag of mixed greens – purportedly mâche and purslane – is just what we need for lighter post-Thanksgiving meals.  And it will be good alongside leftover turkey and stuffing, too.

Seasonal opposite: May 26, 2010

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

The first thing I said upon receiving my panier this week was something along the lines of, “Onions!  Hooray, now I don’t have to go buy them!”  I’ve also been flying through the carrots lately, testing coleslaw recipes, so those were a welcome sight, as well.

I am always excited about winter squashes, which is why, even though I know that this butternut squash will keep longer than, say, the mâche, I’ve already cooked and eaten it.  For lunch today, I diced it up and roasted it, adding some chopped leek after about 20 minutes.  Meanwhile, I was making a creamy, bechamel-based piquillo pepper sauce and boiling whole wheat pasta.  When everything was ready I mixed it all together and served it in deep bowls with a sprinkling of pine nuts.  Really, really good eating.

These kiwis are perfectly sized for snacking.  I have a short train trip coming up, and I think I’ll bring along a knife and a plastic coffee spoon and scoop the sweet green flesh from their fuzzy skins as I watch the countryside whiz by.

Because the new kitchen for work is still under construction, for a short time I get to have a Kitchen Aid at home, so whatever happens to those eggs is going to involve whipping.

Seasonal opposite: May 11, 2011

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

Today is a holiday in France, so we’re not getting a vegetable delivery this week.  Instead, Nick and I headed to the market on Sunday to pick up supplies for the week.  First stop was Production d’Ile de France, who only sell fruits and vegetables grown in the region immediately surrounding Paris.

Nick was after a celery root, to replenish our supply of homemade celery salt.  This stand had some great-looking ones, with whole stalks of celery still growing out of the top.  If that doesn’t indicate freshness, I don’t know what does.  Of course, having seen that, we still had to wait in line, the various lettuces in perfect placement for some impulse shopping.  I love endives, and these looked fantastic, so I picked up four of them.  And this baby radicchio was so cute, how could I not buy a couple of them, too?

I envision both of these vegetables in mini-wedge salads, drizzled with hazelnut oil and sherry vinegar, and maybe sprinkled with something crunchy like sunflower or pumpkin seeds.

As we approached the front of the line, I had Nick skip ahead to select a bunch of parsley from the array of fresh herbs on display.  Meanwhile, while the vendor was getting my celeriac, I noticed the gorgeous orange potimarrons (kuri or Hokkaido squash) next to it, and asked for one of those as well.  I’m going to roast it with Thai curry paste, in another recipe inspired by Super Natural Every Day.  Arranging my purchases into my shopping bags, I overheard a woman ask the vendor if he had any green beans.  His reply?  ”C’est fini.  L’année prochaine.” (“They’re finished.  Next year.”)  Which I just love.  I also love that these vegetables are even more local than the ones I usually get in the panier.  My total, for one celery root with celery, one potimarron, one bunch of parsley, four large endives, and two small radicchio was 9 euros.  For comparison, my weekly delivery of organic vegetables (these are not) from the Loire valley, plus half a dozen eggs is about 15 euros.

The only other thing on my list was wild mushrooms.  But before we found the mushroom stand, I had to stop at La Ferme de la Prairie (referred to as the Ultimate Cheese Guy in this discussion) for goat cheese.  The Valençay was looking particularly good this week, so into my bag went a truncated pyramid.

Finally, I found the mushroom foragers I’d been seeking.  A small handful each of lactaires, shiitakes, chanterelles, and girolles, all foraged in France (as evidenced by the pine needles still clinging to many of them), and my shopping was done.

* * * * *

But wait, what about the gratin?  Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.  It’s a very simple non-recipe, and it goes like this: thinly slice fennel, reserving the fronds.  Peel and slice potatoes about the same thickness.  Slice up an onion, too.  Toss it all together in a large bowl with chopped fennel fronds, parsley, rosemary (you can use whatever herbs you like, those are just what I had on hand), salt, pepper, and a small tub of crème fraîche (or sour cream) thinned with a little milk.  Mix until everything is evenly coated, then turn out into a buttered baking dish and bake until tender and browned on top, about an hour.

Seasonal opposite: May 4, 2011

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

…Is good for things other than salad?  Fortunately I know that this escarole is good cooked, because I got it once last year, and made a tasty bean-and-green stew with it.  Right now, Nick is wilting it to go in a warm salad of yellow lentils with cilantro pesto.  The recipe comes from Heidi Swanson‘s Super Natural Every Day, which I just won over on The Kitchen Illiterate.  It’s a great book, and merits a post of its own, so look for that over on Croque-Camille.

I’m always excited about fennel, and this one reminded me of a dish I made frequently at home: a creamy gratin of fennel and potatoes from Suzanne Goin’s Sunday Suppers at Lucques.  Perfect for the chilly nights ahead.

At least half of that huge Napa cabbage is getting turned into kimchi, and the rest will end up in a stir-fry.  If it was warmer I might make a tangy slaw with sesame seeds, but it’s not.

This apple-goat cheese cake was pretty darn good, so I might just make it again.

Fried egg sandwiches on English muffins are our new favorite weekend breakfast.  They’re fast, tasty, and keep us going through busy weekend days.

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

It’s true.  Once a year, I get a spaghetti squash from the panier.  This year’s might not be as sunny yellow and cute as the ones from years past, but I’ve no doubt it will be just as delightful.  I’m roasting it right now, which is what I do with spaghetti squash, until it’s tender enough to poke into the skin easily with a fork.  I’ll let it cool slightly, then I’ll cut it in half, take out the seeds (saving them for further roasting for snacks if I’m feeling frugal) and gently pull out the strands of flesh with a fork.  In the meantime, I will have prepared a carbonara sauce of sorts, sweating sliced leeks with some happy bacon, seasoning generously with black pepper, and stirring in some crème fraîche.  An egg yolk will serve to bind the sauce, if I’m feeling decadent (both decadent and frugal in the same night?  kind of unlikely.  I’ll leave you to guess which door I choose).  If carbonara’s not your bag, I was also tossing around the idea of serving the squash with an amatriciana sauce.  Either way, There Will Be Bacon.

I think the combination of celery and leeks means that it’s time for me to make some stock again.

While the apples may get tiresome after a while, right now I’m still excited about them.  I particularly enjoy the sweet-tart balance they bring to savory dishes, like these roasted chicken thighs.

Radishes, lettuce, salads.  At least they make a nice counterpoint to the rich, warm dishes of fall.

Seasonal opposite: April 27, 2011

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.

They sure didn’t skimp on the tomatoes this week, which I suspect will be their last for the year.  But they’re small and sweet, and I will enjoy every last one of them, whether I’m just popping the smaller ones in my mouth whole or letting them bring a taste of late-summer sweetness to savory dishes, like I did with the Swiss chard last night.  I caramelized an onion, then added the stems, thinly sliced.  Deglazed with a splash of white wine vinegar, then added a few chopped tomatoes.  When all was nicely softened, I threw in the chard leaves, cut into ribbons, and a can of white beans.  Season with salt, pepper, and hot paprika, slice up some seeded bread, and dinner is served.

I really want to make this Italian lentil stew to go with the eggs.

Once again, I have curried the cauliflower, but this time it was Thai, not Indian.

These pears are crying out to be baked in something, and I think this olive oil cake is just the thing.

As for the potatoes, they’re the first of the starchy kind (as opposed to the waxy kind we tend to get over the warmer months), and that makes me want to mash them.

Seasonal opposite: April 7, 2010

Originally published on Seasonal Market Menus.