Golden Days

I love my summer refrigerator. That said, I love my refrigerator most times of year, but I get a particular kick out inspecting the contents of my summer fridge, especially after a hefty trip to the market. Summer guests and my husband (aka the fruit monster) make sure that we go through at least 2 cagettes of peaches and nectarines a week. Tomatoes are neatly stacked next to the rare sight of French corn on the cob (the French feed corn to animals, not people) and a pot of almond pesto made by a German woman in Reillanne. The jar in the back right is Mr. C's homemade pieds pacquets, stuffed tripe, which has been there for several months, and will probably be there for several months more, until the first frost brings out the offal eater in me.

The overflow makes its way down to the wine cellar. This cellar is the reason we found the house - the French poet and Resistance leader Rene Char buried the manuscript of his most famous work underneath the dirt floor (for the full date with destiny click here).

It is also a very fine wine cellar (14C all year round), where the previous owners left us a dusty (but perfectly serviceable) garde-manger – a screen front cabinet for storing food.

The golden days of summer find me obsessed with the local saffron. Provence is turning out to be the source of some surprising staples in my kitchen. I knew the tomatoes would be great – but who knew that I would living smack in the middle of spelt (Épeautre), saffron (safran) and chickpea (pois chiche) country. There is a couple at our Sunday market who grow their own saffron (I’ve been invited to see the harvest Sept/Oct – stay tuned). And I recently tasted a little saffron hazelnut carrot muffin at the market. It was a tiny bit dry (by and large, Europe sucks at muffins - I find it comforting to know that there are some things where European cuisine simply fails), but it got me thinking about the possibilities. Perhaps a version of my carrot cake with ground hazelnuts instead of walnuts, the egg and sugar mixture infused with saffron. This is what happens, my cooking brain gets ahead of my cooking hands. There’s a limited number of recipes I can make in one day, unless I want to serve nothing but carrot muffins for dinner. No one would mind, I’m sure, but hey, it’s bikini season…

My saffron success story for the moment is the simplest of dishes: a peach, nectarine and apricot compote, which I’ve been eating every morning with yogurt and muesli. The trick to getting slightly overripe fruit is to go at the end of the market, when vendors are trying to get rid of product that won’t last another day. I’m such a good customer with my local peach man, he usually throws in a kilo or two of fast ripening fruit for free – piling them on top of the 2 or 3 cartons of perfect table peaches I’ve chosen by hand.

Saffron is more of a smell than a taste – my local variety gives off dried peaches and sandalwood. Unfortunately, cheap (or old) saffron will often do nothing but turn your meal a charming (actually quite Provencal) shade of yellow. Good saffron will give your dish a undertone, not exactly spice, but some distant glimpse of the spice caravan, almost out of sight over the next sand dune. I think works perfectly with the sweet/tart flavor of peaches.

When I get my canning act together, this is what I’m going to make, jars and jars of golden days to last me through the chill of winter.

2 pounds of slightly overripe fruit (a mix of peaches, nectarines and apricots)
1 tablepsoon of turbinado sugar
2 good pinches of saffron

Cut the fruit into 1 inch cubes. I don’t especially feel the need to peel. In a heavy bottomed saucepan, combine the fruit and sugar. Bring to a boil, stir in the saffron, let simmer over low heat until thickened and slightly reduced, mine took about 40 minutes. Serve hot or cold, over yogurt or pound cake – I was even thinking it might make a superb substitute filling for my grandmother’s apple cake. Bon appétit!