In Orthez, I took this photo of a local snail making his way across a rain-soaked bench.  If I was a more industrious sort, I would have captured this specimen, fed him on organic veggies, and kept him in captivity for a week to allow any toxins to flush out of his system, then simmered him in broth before broiling with garlic butter.  I went to lunch instead.

Here is a portrait of a farm raised chicken that I recently roasted for a Sunday dinner while spending time in France.   This tasty critter was raised, free range and natural, on a farm just outside of Orthez that also raises ducks,  pigeons and guinea hens (well, the pigeons probably have some limits on their movements so not totally free range).

This bird was the first time I was able to try out the new oven at our house, so I was prepared for a little trial and error;  it always takes a few essays to master the idiosyncrasies of a new oven.  No need to have worried though, the oven performed exactly as I would have hoped.

Note also the smaller breast on this bird, which I find to be a feature of French chickens as compared to American birds.  Here is a photo of an roasted chicken at Le Pichet…by comparison, the American chicken looks almost round.  I assume that the difference is the breed of chickens raised.

This is not a problem (unless you really have  a preference for white meat over dark!) but it does make necessary a slightly different roasted method.  I roasted this chicken in a slightly cooler oven than I would usually do (425 F instead of 500 F) and basted very often with a lot of butter, thinking that the leaner meat might need longer cooking time to tenderize.  I also tossed the giblets in the roasted pan 10 minutes before the end of the roasting time (because I love the giblets!).

Man that was a tasty bird…served just with just a spoonful of the butter from the pan.  The accompaniment is green chard sauteed with garlic, piment d’Espelette and a splash of red vinegar and a good bottle of petite chateau Bordeaux.  The “after” photo says it all.

Ever heard of caviar that is raised in France?  With caviar from the Caspian Sea  being either too expensive or morally murky ( Caspian Sea sturgeons have been on the endangered species list for a while) or just plain unavailable, many countries have seen growth   in their farmed caviar industries, notably the U.S., Canada, Israel and Uruguay.  Now France has joined the list as well.

Before the pollution of post WWII years, the French region of Aquitaine, and specifically the Gironde river, was known for its sturgeon fishery, although more for the meat than for the caviar.  In the last 20 years or so, a number of companies have begun to invest in raising sturgeons  in Aquitaine again,with the goal of producing French caviar of a quality to compete with Caspian Sea caviar.  If you have been through an airport in London or Paris lately, you have probably seen the Prunier/Caviar House seafood bars.  Prunier/Caviar House is owned by French luxury goods giant LVMH, which was one of the early investors in sturgeon farming in Aquitaine (LVMH also now owes the iconic Paris seafood restaurant Prunier, which has become a showcase for its culinary products.  Prunier is an art deco jewel box, that warrants a visit for interior design buffs, even if just for a glass of champagne at it’s marble bar…if your budget allows, a champagne-addled lunch there is a once in a lifetime experience).

Caviar farming requires a huge investment of time and money.  The sturgeon are raised in freshwater ponds that must be isolated from the river that feeds them to avoid returning polluting waste products.  Construction of the pens and water processing plants is very costly

Additionally, sturgeons, which are very long lived, generally don’t produce roe until they are about 8 years old, so the investment of time and money to get them to producing stage is substantial.  One outcome of this is that that caviar is now sometimes even harvested via cesarean section so that the fish can live to produce more in the future.

In the past, I have had the opportunity to try the several of the caviars from Prunier/Cavair House and found them very good, if very expensive.  However, there are now a number of caviar producers in Aquitaine.  A stay at the house in Orthez seemed like a good pretext to get acquainted with some of the local eggs.

While visiting Biarritz, we stopped by the Chez Chailla, a gourmet food vender that started as a fromagerie selling Basque cheeses in the 1980’s but has since branched out into a wide range of artisan foods from the Basque countries, including caviar from Aquitaine.  The amiable owner, Monsieur Jean-Marie Pariset (who later helped us with a restaurant recommendation for lunch…his recommendation was enthusiastically seconded by two older women who waited patiently in line behind us) was happy to fill us in on the local caviar that he prefers and that he sells exclusively, from  company called l’Esturgeonniere.

L’Esturgionniere raises Russian sturgeons in fresh water basins in near the Basin d’Achachon, which is locally famous for its oysters.  Their facility includes a hatchery and raising ponds, and their business model includes not only caviar but sturgeon hatchlings sold to other producers and sustainably raised sturgeon filets for the table.  Their caviar, which is sold under the name of “Caviar Perlita” is sort of mid-priced for French caviar – the 100 grams I purchased set me back about 150 euros (about 3.5 ounces for $190 which is pretty reasonable as caviar goes…I remember wistfully my days as Chef at Campagne restaurant when we could buy Caspian Ossetra for $34 an ounce…boy those days are gone!).

SO how was it?  Pretty good is the short answer.  The long answer is that, of the traditional types of Caspian caviar (sevruga, ossetra and beluga) the Perlita resembles Beluga caviar in its large egg size, jet black color and intense salty-creaminess.  I think that the flavor is more bitter  and less complex than my memories of Caspian beluga, but that might be just memory.  Full disclosure,  I have always preferred Ossetra caviar, which has a slightly smaller, firmer eggs of a deep brown-golden color that pop between your teeth.  However, the Perlita made a lovely first course with a bottle of cold Macon so no complaints here.  The traditional accompaniments include creme fraiche, capers, chopped hard boiled egg and wild chives from our yard.

When arriving in Orthez, our first stop, even before our house, is always our favorite  dairy,  Ferme Lait P’tit Béarnais.  A couple miles up the road from our house, this family-run organic farm features the output of their small troupe of 20 or so of the local tawny brown Bearnaise cows;  raw milk, sometime still warm from the animal, fresh cheese curds, fresh and aged cheeses and the best yogurt I have ever tasted.  This quick detour lets us avoid the horror of a completely empty refrigerator (no milk for morning coffee…nothing for breakfast…nothing at all!).

My favorite way to enjoy their yogurt?  With black cherry confiture, a local specialty.

Remember a post I wrote in January about making cauliflower gratin at the house in Orthez?  In that post, I mentioned that my inspiration for making that dish at that moment was a discussion with food writer Nancy Leson on the topic of crème fraiche  for an article she was working on.

If you do remember my post, thanks!  Your memory is better than mine.  I had forgotten it until a cook in the kitchen at Cafe Presse mentioned that they had seen the finished article in the Pacific NW Magazine section of last Sunday’s Seattle Times.  Check it out here.

The house next to ours in Orthez is what I would term a manor house;  that is, a grand old home in its own modestly sized park.  I am sure that the term ‘manor house’ implies something specific, but to my eyes,  it’s a manor house.

Although it was originally built as the home for a single family, the current owners, sisters in their 80’s whose father built the house, have converted it to apartments for a number of families, one of which they occupy.  The park has been in part converted to garden and a meadow that is home to chickens, rabbits, a calico cat and usually, a number of migrating birds just passing through.

Monsieur Belkir, who keeps the grounds and tends the chickens is kind enough to offer us fresh eggs as often as we like, along with vegetable and lettuce in season.

We in turn contribute all our vegetable trimmings and stale ends of baguette by tossing them over the fence.  I think we get the better end of that bargain!

On the lookout for Foie Gras
On a Tuesday in November, the display of foie gras at the market in Orthez is an impressive sight.  Not that the market at Orthez is uniquely gifted with foie gras; at this time of the year,  most of the markets in the region are similarly gifted.  The holiday season, from late November through the New Year, is foie gras prime time and a make or break period where producers count on making a major part of their total sales for the year.

As we hope to have  friends or neighbors to the house for l’heure d’apero at several points during our stay, I am on the lookout for a nice foie gras with which to make a terrine.  Nothing simplifies entertaining like having a terrine of whole foie gras in the fridge.

There are two venders ay the Orthez market selling, in all its formats, the snow white ducks raised locally and fattened for foie gras.    There is fresh duck, either whole or broken into magret (the thick, steak-like breast), legs, hearts, gizzards, and various bits for the stock pot like wings, necks and the mahogany colored carcasses stripped of everything but the bones.  There is also confit, primarily legs but many of the other parts as well, all tender and preserved in a layer of white fat.  The fat itself is available, rendered than chilled and resembling nothing so much as a 5 gallon chunk of lemon sorbet.  And there is charcuterie made from duck, including rillettes, pates, and cooked foie gras, either in bocal, can or sous-vide.

And this time of year there is also fresh liver.  The elderly monsieur behind the counter at the Maison Paris stand assured me that the pale, tan colored livers had been separated from there original owners only that morning and that they had not yet been refrigerated.   I like the look of one.  He lets me turn it over and inspect it for bruises, bloody spots or the green discolorations that indicate the bile sack has been broken open and come in contact with the liver.  As I have never seen a liver this fresh, it is hard to judge;  a liver that has been refrigerated has the firm feel of good quality butter, but these are soft and pliable, with a wonderfully mild, gamey smell.

My choice, which weighs .75 kilos, cost about 24 euros, about half the price I would pay wholesale in Seattle.  ‘Tis the season!

Let’s Make Terrine
The process for making terrine  of whole foie gras is not very complicated and success largely depends on the quality of the liver and on following some simple steps very closely.  I have detailed the process earlier and given a recipe so wont trouble you with the details. The biggest problem I had was assembling all the ingredients, as our home here is not yet fully equipped.  Specifically, I had trouble finding pink (or curing) salt.  Pink salt, which is a form of sodium nitrite, helps set the color of cooked meats and is helpful in the preservation of terrines, especially those that are not cooked to high temperature, as is the case with foie gras. I add a very small amount to the spice mix for my foie gras terrine if I don’t plan to use it up within the next couple days.   In any event, it is fairly easy to find in Seattle through professional sausage making supply companies but where to look for it in Orthez?

The solution, of course, is to visit the local Charcutier and ask for some.  After a bit of translational difficulties (a French charcuterie maker uses several different curing salt mixtures, so a bit of label reading was involved) the owner of the local charcuterie sent me on my way with a neat little half pound package and refused to accept payment, a social obligation that I later resolved by dropping by a bottle of wine.

Here are a few photos of the terrine making process.

PS The terrine turned out great (at least I was very happy with it), the liver pale pink and firm with very little loss of fat.  Along with fantastic flavor and texture, a liver that doesn’t render a lot of fat is a mark of quality.

The cold streams of the Pyrenees are renowned for the wonderful quality of the freshwater fish they produce.  For this reason, one can find the designation Truite de Banca in markets and on menus throughout the  the Southwest of Franc. The Branca trout are raised in stream-fed ponds in the mountain pass above Saint-Jean Pied de Port.

I purchased  a couple small ones from the local fish monger in Orthez.  These are cooked “a la meuniere”, meaning simply dredged in flour and pan fried.  Add sliced almond toasted in brown butter with a bit of lemon juice and you have a classic bistro dish, Tuites aux Amandes.  When the fish is good, I say keep it simple.

On arriving at our home in Orthez, the first order of business is always a visit to the market.  Conveniently, we arrived just in time for the Saturday Market (the smaller of the two weekly markets featuring exclusively local farm product  (the big market day, that includes in addition to food,  a wide range of housewares, garden tools, cleaning products, clothing, shoes and on and on, takes place on Tuesdays).

Here is a photo of a bar (sea bass) caught off Saint Jean de Luz the day before, as it arrived finally at our table.  I roasted it whole stuffed with lemon and thyme, accompanied by roasted carrots and Brussels sprouts.

This national characteristic came to mind recently when I was lucky enough to be the recipient of several pounds of beautiful local walnuts.  These came compliments of Nikos and Alex who run The Shop Agora on 15th and thanks to a tree in the yard of one of their employees (thanks Amanda!).

Being a city boy (roughly speaking), it took some trial and error for me to develop a reliable shelling method.  I finally arrived at a technique that uses my marble mortar and pestle…not elegant, perhaps, but effective.

Of course, first and foremost with walnuts is the nut.  It is hard to tell scale from this photo, but these are big, robust beauties and, upon cracking, they turned out to be full of flavor, so toasty and delicious they are great just eaten raw.  They were fully magnificent in a salad of mixed lettuces with warm goat cheese croutons and a grain mustard-walnut oil vinaigrette.

Having devoured the contents of the shells, I decided to try my hand at making walnut scented Cognac using the shells.  After all, why let any part of something this good go to waste.  Flavoring Cognac with walnuts is not a new invention but something I first saw while traveling in France.  I vividly recall tasting walnut flavored alcohols, wines and liqueurs during a visit to the region around Albi, in the French southwest.

Closer to home, Bruce Naftaly, at the much lamented Le Gourmand use to gently macerate walnut shells in brandy each Fall, tucking the batches away for the following year (and I have personally tasted a batch made by  Le Gourmand sommelier David Butler).

Anyway, the method for doing this is so simple that I hesitate to call it a recipe.

1)  Put Cognac over the shells

2)  Leave in a cool place for 1 year.

3)  Strain, and enjoy.

Variations are possible;  I have seen bay leaves added to the shells to add an note of menthol, or a peel of orange, or a sprig of thyme.  Or the flavored Cognac, once strained, may be sweetened slightly.  But, given the quality of these shells, I think it will be best to just focus on the flavor of the walnuts.

See you next year, little friend.