SIDE TRIPS: To Market, To Market!

There are open-air markets every day in a town or village around here. My favorite one is on Sunday mornings in the nearby town of Aubel. It’s smaller than the raucous, lively market in my town, but the quality of the food is extremely high. Most of the food sellers are selling what they’ve produced themselves, rather than re-selling food that they’ve bought. The food is local, fresh, and I love dealing directly with the producers.Not all of the vendors here are producers as well, and some of the producers mix ‘imported’ food with their own stuff. But the atmosphere here is always happy, the food is good, and the 15-minute drive is through some gorgeous countryside. I love to go.

Yesterday morning I took my camera and brought back some photos, so if you’re too far away to come to the market with me, you can come along on a virtual tour!

This man sells sausages that he’s made. There are several different kinds, some spicier than others. Some have herbs and others are made with different kinds of meat in them. He also sells a prosciutto-like dried ham made from wild boar, a specialty of the Ardennes. Have a taste!

Next comes cheese. Because we're a cheese producing region, there are a lot of cheese vendors at this market. I had to get there very early this morning to get this photo--normally this counter is three or four people deep. He has cheese from Belgium, France, Italy and Germany. But the photo he wanted me to take was the one on the right, with the local cheese, Herve. Aubel is situated on the plateau of Herve, where a soft, ‘strong’ (read stinky) cheese is produced. I’ve seen this cheese for sale in markets in Provence, where it’s much appreciated for its strong flavor. These people not only produce the cheese, they also have free-range eggs and cream cheese for sale.

And of course, fruit and veggies!

The big vendors are often resellers, ‘though some of their products may be local. “du Pays” means it’s from the Region. “Belgique” means it’s from Belgium. The grenaille potatoes you see above are firm, for boiling. Other strains are better for mashed potatoes, still others for the famous Belgian fries.

This woman is selling a traditional specialty of the region, cuberdons. These little cones have a soft, jellied center. The range of flavors is amazing, though the traditional one is raspberry. YUM! The colors glowing in the sun were irresistable for me. I bought an assortment.

I love this guy. He sells eggs, butter and whatever orchard fruit is in season from the back of his car. No fuss, no fancy booth--just opens up his car and sells it to you. His butter tastes of what his cows have been eating--flowers, onions, garlic sometimes. It’s wonderful to cook with.

Along with the buzz of crowds shopping and the merchants hawking their wares we have music. And smells. The smell of fresh bread, of spices, of vegetables and fruit. Someday they’ll invent a camera that can capture sounds and smells--

This is where I often buy my goat cheese. She also has homemade jams and honey from her bees.

More cheese. This man has cream cheese from both goats and cows. He also has hard gouda-like cheeses with garlic, herbs, spices in them. In the spring there’s one with nettles! If I want one he doesn’t have, he can tell me when it will be ready. His cheeses are local, they’re organic, and I love buying them from the person who milked the cow.

It’s mushroom season! The mushroom lovers are out combing the forest, finding chantarelles, girolles, cepes and trompettes de mort. I have to confess that I don’t have any confidence in my own ability to identify mushrooms--I don’t hunt them. I buy them. This year is not a good one for mushrooms in Belgium, because we’ve had a dry and glorious summer, without our normal rains. So many of the mushrooms available here are from France.

We’re not far from the North sea, so of course there’s a fishmonger. What I like about his stuff is that it doesn’t smell like fish. It smells like the sea. It’s fresh and always good. It was hard to get photos because it’s all behind glass and the sun was shining.

I grew up in the Southeastern part of the US: Ham. Barbecue. Greens. Okra. One of the things that I miss here is ham. You can buy it, but it’s already cut and it’s often bland and tasteless. You CAN’T buy a ham to cook at home, though. I don’t know why. I think maybe because the ovens are smaller and a whole ham wouldn’t fit? Or maybe because it’s just not the tradition here. In any case, I have finally found a source of wonderful ham. This young lady and her grandmother sell ham and fresh meat at the market. This ham is reallyreally tasty. It’s sliced by hand, and you can specify which piece you want. The grandmother told me that it takes three months to make a ham, and her family has been hamming since 1904. There aren’t many farmers who still make their own ham. Most of it’s commercial. I will patronize this family as long as they are there. Good ham is something one shouldn’t have to do without!

We are currently having a dispute between the dairy farmers and the supermarkets. The farmers are paid only a fraction of what it costs them to produce the milk. As we used to say when I was a consultant, “You can’t lose a little on each one and make it up in volume”. So a group of young dairy farmers is selling milk directly to the public in the market.

Can you see why I like this market?

MARKETS

Markets. I love markets. Not supermarkets, but open air markets. There’s a market every day in a town around here--you just have to know that it’s in Spa on Tuesday, Dolhain on Wednesday, Ensival on Thursday, etc. In medieval times, one of the privileges of a town was the permission to hold a market.

Whenever we travel, I search out markets. There’s a wonderful word in French for what I love to do at markets: flâner. It means to stroll around, browsing a little, chatting a little, buying a little. I love to flâner in the markets.

The market in our town is Saturday morning, and it’s one of my favorites. I get to practice my German with the lady who makes roasted chickens, and my French with everyone else. The market is one of those with everything: fruit and vegetables, flowers, cheese (to die for!), clothes, olives, tagine dishes, hair stuff, cleaning stuff, towels, batteries, dog toys, etc, etc, etc. I love the sounds of all the vendors crying their wares and all the flâneurs walking around bargaining. I love the smells of fruit and vegetables and flowers and chickens roasting. I love the colors and the atmosphere.

Our market takes place in the Marketplace (DUH!) surrounding the town hall, and every Saturday there are weddings going on in the Town hall. The wedding party comes up in the middle of the market, and everyone waits to see them come out. It's wonderful to see the bride and the groom and the bridesmaids and the families. And especially the little kids.

Sometimes there’s an Italian fruit and vegetable vendor who sets up next to the town hall; he’s wonderful. "Fraises, un kiloOOOO pour deux euroooOOOOO" (strawberries, 2 Euros a kilo), "Tout est a vendre, sauf le proprieteur" (everything is for sale but the owner), "Mesdames, je suis celibataire!" (ladies, I'm single...) When a wedding party comes by, he switches to Italian: "Bella, bella!" It's wonderfully full of life, and I wouldn't miss it for anything.

When I want fruit, though, I try to wait till Sunday, when the market is in nearby Aubel. This is a small market, with mostly producers rather than resellers. Because we live in a fruit producing area, we get some wonderful stuff. Right now there is a bumper crop of blackberries and raspberries, and people are buying them by the case to make jam. The music of the shouts and the smell of the berries, combined with the warmth of the sunshine make me very happy. I love dealing with the people who produce the fruit, and taking advantage of their knowledge. Here's an example of a transaction:

Bonjour, Madame, can I help you? (actually, they say, “je vous ecoute”, which roughly translates to “I’m listening”)

I'd like some apples, please.

But of course. What kind? For when?

Ummm. I want some to eat during the next week, and some for a pie.

Aha. Good. These are for the pie, and THESE are to eat during the week. This one first, then this one, then.... Anything else?

Yes, a melon.

For when? Tomorrow? Ahhh...this one, then. Anything else?

Yes, some cherries.

To eat or for jam?

To eat.

When?

They actually choose the fruit for when you will use/eat it. It's always perfect on that day, and I'm rarely disappointed. I can’t think of a better way to spend a morning than to flâner among the sellers listening to the music of a market. Its a nice outing. You should come along.

THE WORLD'S BEST TAPENADE

In the south of France, in a village called Lorgues, there’s a market every Tuesday. There’s nothing unusual about that, in fact, it would be unusual if there wasn’t a market there at least one day of the week. So, you ask yourself, why mention it? Good question. It’s because at this market, you can buy the World’s Best Tapenade.

I first heard about this from my friend Tessa Nelson, who’s a private chef. Tessa is an amazing cook, the only person I know who’s received a standing ovation from the director of the Culinary Institute of America. More about Tessa later. The first time I visited Tessa, we went to the market in Lorgues, where she lives. Why did we go to the market, you ask? Because that’s what I do. I love markets. So does Tessa. See why we’re friends?

If you go to this market, about in the middle, on the right hand side as you climb the street, you’ll find a man selling olives and tapenade. I love tapenade, the provençal spread made from black olives, anchovies, garlic, and all things good. When it’s good, it’s food from the gods. But it’s not always good. When it’s bad, it’s ...well, bad. Ick. Ew. Nasty.

Now Lorgues is in the sunny part of the world, where they produce wonderful olives. And when Tessa says something is good, that gets my attention. So when she stopped at this booth and said with a sigh, “Ohhhhhh....”. I knew there was something I needed to try. “This is the World’s Best Tapenade”, said Tessa. The seller, Alain Villaret, was flattered and offered her his recipe. She laughed, and asked if she could buy his olives in bulk instead. He laughed and declined. Later, she explained, “I KNOW how to make tapenade. But without his olives it wouldn’t be the same at all. It’s the olives that make that the World’s Best Tapenade”.

I’ve come to believe that this true for much of the cooking that I love--it’s not so much about recipes and ‘cheffy’ stuff. It’s more about the quality of the ingredients. When they’re fresh and the best that I can lay my hands on, then I don’t have to do much to them to make something wonderful. When they’re stale and jet-lagged and out of season, it doesn’t matter what kind of recipe I have, whatever I make will be mediocre.

We’re lucky to live in a part of the world that’s still rural. It produces fruit and dairy products and beef and lamb and pork from animals who lived in fields with grass before they became my dinner. Chickens that actually ran around on their legs, making for HUGE drumsticks. In the fall, there is wild game--boar and deer and duck and pigeon and partridge. It’s not hard to get fresh local food here. I can buy cheese from the guy who milked the cow, and vegetables still warm from the sun. The fruit smells like itself because it’s picked ripe and ready for me to eat.

I used to live in a major US metro area, where styrofoam strawberries and mealy tomatoes abounded. But there were also farmer’s markets where I could buy fresh local products. There were supermarkets that labeled their produce as to its origin, helping me pick food that wasn’t feeling homesick. I had to learn what was in season when, because everything was always available. It just wasn’t always good.

A friend who visited us here in the summer asked for my recipe for Bruschetta. I gave it to her, though ‘recipe’ is too grand a word for what I do. She emailed me in the winter saying that she had tried my ‘recipe’ and it wasn’t nearly as good. She attributed the difference to the ambience and the company. I tend to think it was the tomatoes. Ok, the company too.

Maybe.

A few years ago I decided that if I had to be as old as 40 I didn’t have to eat styrofoam tomatoes any more. Ditto for strawberries. So I quit buying them out of season. Now I look forward to them. I anticipate them. I celebrate them when they finally arrive. LES TOMATES NOUVELLES SONT ARRIVÉES! It’s better than Beaujolais. We welcome them with a glorious lunch-- BLT, unknown here, or another classic, Insalata Caprese. The strawberries I welcome with Strawberry Tiramisu.

In nearby Germany asparagus is called “Spargel”. Since Spargel is one of the first vegetables to appear in the spring, Spargel season is anxiously anticipated. And when it arrives, there is much fanfare. Restaurants feature Spargel menus, Spargel is Angebot (on special offer) in all the markets, and people gorge on Spargel. About the time we all start to get sick of Spargel, it’s gone until the next year. At least the fresh stuff. The good stuff.

There are things that I don’t try to make. I buy them, because I can’t get the ingredients I want. Tapenade is one of those things. I make my own pesto in the summer when I can get wonderful basil and I freeze it so that I can have it all year round. Tapenade and pesto. In the middle of winter, it’s a taste of summer.

Here’s James Martin’s recipe for Tapenade. But I warn you, without Alain’s olives, it just won't be the same.

Ingredients

1 garlic clove, crushed

1 lemon, juice only

3 tbsp capers, chopped

6 anchovy fillets, chopped

250g/9oz black olives, pitted

small bunch fresh parsley, chopped

salt and freshly ground black pepper

2-4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

Method

1. To make a rough textured tapenade, simply mix all the ingredients together, adding enough olive oil to form a paste. 

2. For a smoother texture, tip the garlic, lemon juice, capers and anchovy into a food processor and process for about 10 seconds. Add the olives and parsley and enough olive oil to make a paste. 

3. Season to taste if necessary.

Uses for Tapenade

• The classic use is to spread it on toasted baguette rounds as an appetizer. I sometimes use it on little melba toasts as well. Top it with a tiny piece of roasted red pepper for color. I usually make some with pesto on them as well and serve the two together.

• A variation on Provençal pissaladière: in tiny tart shells, spread some tapenade, cover with onions which have been sauteed slo-ow-ly till they’re caramelized. Here too, I’ll add a bit of roasted red pepper or maybe some slivered cheese for color.
  
• Pound a slice of pork tenderloin thin. Spread it with tapenade, add some (guess what?) roasted red pepper and roll it up. Bake it, slice it and serve as an appetizer.
• Serve it as a sauce with fish.
• Throw some in an omelet.
• Eat it from a spoon.
  

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and visit Tessa. Because I’m almost out of The World’s Best Tapenade.