Figs!!!

As I was thinking about writing this post, I realized that it was going to be one of those with a lot of 'asides', or comments and tangents off the main topic. Take the title -- originally I was going to call this post "Best Fall Entrée Ever!", but changed it when I realized that it could be confusing. That's because here the entrée (literally it means "entry") is the first course of a meal, while in the States the entree is the main course. As such, laid out like a word problem: Entrée is to appetizer as plat is to entree.

Aside to the aside -- Really, the title debate is a bit moot because these figs are sooooo good that I have actually eaten them as my whole meal before. Regardless, the title is "Figs!!!" because that is the actual subject.

This time of year, the fresh markets (and some of the supermarkets too) carry gorgeous fresh figs. Having before primarily known the fig in its Newton form, of which I am decidedly NOT a fan, I was surprised to discover that I LOVE the taste and texture of a perfectly ripe fresh fig. For a few weeks in the fall I use them all over my cooking repertoire -- sliced thin in green salads; tossed with plums, honey, and balsamic for a delicious fruit salad; even diced and mixed with plain yogurt for breakfast. However, la pièce de résistance of my fig dishes is something so good that Troy and I recently named it: 'Cadeaux des Figues', basically 'Fig Presents' because they are like little wrapped gifts (though it sounds much better in French. And, yes, we wax poetic about food now and again. The pleasures of the table are manifold, and we are truly blessed with the privilege of enjoying them.) Anyway, this delectable dish can be served as either a first course or as a light main course if accompanied by a salad and bread.

I owe a big thanks to my friend Cornelle who gave me the original recipe from which I have adapted mine. In addition to its heavenly combination of flavors and textures, this dish is awesome because it looks beautiful and tastes like you slaved over it for days, when in reality it's super quick and easy.

You quarter the figs, leaving them attached at the bottom, so they open like a flower. Then, while the oven warms up, you marinate them for a few minutes in a delicious sauce of honey, balsamic vinegar, chopped fresh herbs, and S&P. Next, lay out two slices of prosciutto in an "X" and place the figs in the center.



Put a slice of goat cheese in the center of the fig and fold up the sides of the fruit. Fold up first one slice of prosciutto, followed by the other, and finally drizzle about half of the sauce over the top of your little "packages".



Pop them in a 175℃/350℉ oven for about ±15 minutes, running them under the broiler at the end to crisp up the prosciutto. Then you serve them with the remainder of the sauce poured over the top.



Of course, the real trick is not in the preparation, but in using a few high quality ingredients. The figs need to be ripe, but still firm to hold up to the baking. For the herbs, my favorite version is with fresh sage, but it's also nice with rosemary and/or thyme. The goat cheese should be an aged one so that you get that sharper piquant taste that serves as a counterpoint for the sweetness of the honey and figs. For the sauce, I use equal amounts of honey and balsamic vinegar (about 2 tbs each for a dish of two figs). Now for the best flavor and consistency, you should really use a good, thick, aged balsamic vinegar. But, regular balsamic works too. Finally, there's the issue of the wrapper. Again, for the best combo of taste and texture prosciutto is definitely primo, but bacon is not a bad substitute.

So, that's it. Super delicious, super easy. Bon appetit!

A Castle & A Cemetery

We had originally planned a trip to Colorado in August, but ended up postponing it for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was Troy's super busy project schedule at work. However, in mid-August, the project passed a major milestone and Troy's boss encouraged him to take a few days off. We didn't need to be told twice! We quickly plotted out the agenda for a trip we have been wanting to take for a while: a visit to the famous gastronomic Bourgogne (Burgundy) region of France, a region littered with historic chateaux, home to the some of the world's best wines, and birthplace of such iconic French dishes as coq au vin, escargots, and boeuf bourguignon.

Since we only had a few days to see the region, we wanted to make the most of our time. Excellent planner that he is, Troy had the idea to get a headstart by leaving on Friday afternoon and driving part way, stopping for the night at a bed and breakfast in the region of Lorraine. Using our favorite French B&B book, Troy found the Chateau Jaulny. It is an XI Century(!) chateau and historic monument that just happened to have a room available despite the short notice and was a table d'hôtes, thus a B&B that also serves dinner. (Who just finds stuff like that?!? Troy, that's who. Seriously, I am the husband-lottery winner!)



View of the castle fortifications from below.



A modern gate shields the ancient fortress from view. The oldest buildings on the Chateau Jaulny grounds date from the XIth Century!!! I know I keep saying that, but it's just soooo old.



The chateau consists of several buildings, at one time used as storehouses, an armory, a guardhouse, and living quarters. Now they house guestrooms.



We had a room in the XI/XII century donjon, what we would call in English the castle "keep". That's our window in the center. So. Cool.





We had a beautiful, light-filled suite with a lovely view over the grounds.





For an extremely reasonable price, we enjoyed a deluxe 3-hour dinner of five courses, accompanied by wine and served in the traditional French style (l'apéro, le premier, le deuxième, le fromage, le dessert), and finished with le café et l'infusion (coffee and tea). We took the meal with the other guests, seated around this huge table in the ancient hall. Dinner was fabulous -- quiche lorraine and roasted guinea fowl, with flan and two types of mignardises (tiny cookies or chocolates) for dessert. A delicious and memorable way to kick off our trip!



Troy standing by the beautiful painted chimney in the hall, one of the many historic pieces that have been conserved in the castle.



The chateau has been owned by members of the same family for the last 140 years, giving them ample time to fill it with their enormous collections of old...stuff. Some are veritable antiques, some are plain junk, but all of it was interesting to look through. There's everything from this ancient suit of armor and cross-bow, to German army helmets from the many battles fought nearby, military medals, bullets, swords, photographs, porcelain, even an old toilette set (brush, comb, and mirror).



Germany and France have fought over the regions of Alsace and Lorraine for hundreds of years, most recently in WWII. As we were driving to the chateau, we happened to notice a sign for an American WWI cemetery. (As we have blogged about before, we have come across most of the American cemeteries we have visited purely by accident.) So, on Saturday morning after we left the chateau, we paid a visit to the World War I American Cemetery of St. Mihiel.



This was our first time seeing a WWI cemetery, and in a certain way it was even sadder than the others. Every war is tragic, but the fact that everyone thought it would be the 'War to end wars', combined with the unimaginably-horrifying hand-to-hand combat and trench warfare, made the now-peaceful grounds seem that much heavier, quieter. Like a type of innocence and optimism was lost with the soldiers.



From a design point-of-view, there was a notable difference between this cemetery and the other, later ones we have visited. Though they have all been lovely, this was the most classically beautiful cemetery that we've seen thus far -- the grounds were very formal, symmetrical, and very french. This lovely allée of lindens is just one example.







As always, the perfectly aligned rows of crosses were sobering. There are 4,153 graves at this site, mostly of men who died in September of 1918 halting the German offensive toward Paris.



The neo-classical central monument has a chapel in one wing and a room-sized marble relief map of the St. Mihiel salient in the other.



On a nearby bluff, visible for miles around, is a companion site to the St. Mihiel cemetery, the Montsec Monument.



Dedicated in 1932, this was to be a monument to the lasting peace garnered by the Great War. In a cruelly-ironic twist of fate, the monument itself took shell damage from American troops in 1944 as they were pursuing the withdrawing German forces after the Normandy landings.





I have mentioned my family's military history before, including my great-grandfather's service in the trenches of France during WWI. That connection added a layer of personal meaning to some already interesting historic sites. However, in a crazy twist, after we got home from this trip, I (re)discovered an e-mail from my mom where she explained that my Great-Uncle J.D. was part of the honor guard for the American general who formally accepted the German surrender on May 8th, 1945, in a field near Bouvron. Now, there is a Bouvron in Lorraine, between Toul and Nancy, a few miles from where we were. However, there is another Bouvron, located near St. Nazaire in Brittany, where my uncle's division was also posted, so perhaps the surrender was over there, and thus we were closer during our Normandy trip. We need to do some more research, but regardless it's pretty fascinating to travel extensively through the country my relatives fought to liberate. Troy found a couple of interesting articles about the German surrender, even a history of my uncle's army combat group, the 66th Black Panther Infantry Division.

So far, on the road to Bourgogne, we had encountered history stretching from the time of the Norman-conquest up into the 20th Century, with a family connection to boot. And that was only a day-and-a-half into the trip! What would happen next?

Lorraine & St. Mihiel Cemetery Photo Album - Click Here

The Brussels Flower Carpet

Oriental carpets, wall-to-wall plush pile, even that favorite tacky remnant of the 1970s, shag. These are all types of carpets with which you are doubtless familiar. But a carpet made of flowers? Well, this is yet another of the quirky things about Belgium...quirky, but beautiful.

As evidenced from our many flower-related blog posts, all things floral are big here in Belgium. Added to that, this is also home of the world-renowned Flemish weaving trade, resulting in history's most beautiful and valuable tapestries. So apparently in the early 1950s someone decided to combine the two, using flowers to create a large "carpet" or tapestry. The idea caught on, and in 1971 Brussels hosted its first flower carpet in the beautiful Grand Place. Now this event happens every two years and incorporates a mind-boggling ±540,000 begonias (300 flowers per square meter, "woven" over the Grand Place's 1800 square meter "floor") in a unique, themed-design. Past themes have included 'Brussels Coats of Arms & Guilds', 'Art Nouveau', and 'Brussels Lace'. This year's theme was the sort-of-boring-but-appropriately-long-titled "Belgian Presidency of the Council of the European Union'. Now, what could that look like? You'll see shortly.

Since the event only happens one weekend every-other-year, you have to get your timing right to attend. We were out of town in 2008, but somewhat unexpectedly found ourselves in Brussels this year, so we seized the opportunity to check out the spectacle!



A nice, sunny shot of us at one end of the flower carpet. These next several photos are taken at ground level, going in a kind of circle.

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This is the amazing Gothic Maison de Ville/Stadhuis (Town Hall). Normally closed off to the average visitor, they open up its balconies to the public to view the flower carpet from above.



That's the also-intricately-Gothically-amazing Musée de la Ville/Museum van de Stad (City Museum of Brussels) that among other things houses the crazy collection of Manneken Pis Costumes. You could view the carpet from its balconies too.



This end of the Grand Place has a gorgeous assembly of recently-restored guild houses. Once they get all four sides of the Grand Place restored, it really will be the prettiest square in the world.



Time to go up! As you can see, this is a popular thing and there was quite the queue, but it was totally worth it. Plus, the time spent in line was interesting because the town hall is such a cool building. Unfortunately, they wouldn't allow photographs on the interior.



There were flowers everywhere, like these at the entrance.



Now, we're on the balcony looking up at the building wall behind us. This is a detail shot, but the ENTIRE exterior is covered in intricately carved statuary.





Ok, now for the flowers. Panning from the left...



Middle...



And right.



An artistic macro shot.



The carpet really was beautiful, unique, intricate, and fascinating. And yet, I must confess that I found the theme to be a bit, well, lame. And not a little bit ironic. Rah rah EU when Belgium, yet again, doesn't have a functioning government? Plus, to me the fountain area looked like it said "EW" (tee hee). But, really, who cares? Belgian politics is a confounding tangled mess that confuses minds far more astute than mine. And we were discussing flowers -- it's a carpet made of Half a Million flowers, and that's cool.



Can't get enough? Here's a video Troy took of the whole display:

La Côte Normande

Surprise...it's a long, and long-overdue, post about a trip we took months ago! To be precise, it's the second post about our first trip to Normandy. Troy did a great job describing our big WWII tour -- there's actually more to tell if he gets around to it -- so it falls to me to write about some of the other things we saw during our visit along the La Côte Normande (the Norman Coast).

It is about 5± hours from Brussels to Courseulles-sur-Mer, the tiny coastal town where we stayed, so we stopped off on the way for lunch and a stroll through the cliffside village of Étretat. It was a super cute little town, albeit very quiet in that funny hollow way that seaside places get during the off-season.



Troy outside the cute restaurant where we lunched, a meal that included a really fabulous local, warm, herbed camembert demi-lune served over salad. De-li-ci-ous!



A bol de cidre ("bowl" of cider) -- apples and apple products are a Norman specialty.



The cliffs were especially dramatic (and quite bright and breezy as you can see from the funny expression on my face).

From Étretat, we made the quick hop over to Courseulles-sur-Mer to our lovely 18th century farmhouse bed and breakfast.



View over the Norman countryside. The geography was crazy -- these lovely green fields are literally only ±1/2 mile away from the ocean!



The entrance path to our B&B.

Although the primary draw, for us, was to visit the many heritage sites related to the Normandy Campaign and the D-Day Invasion, there were several other interesting things to do in the region. One such place is Bayeux, a pretty little town with cute shops, a gorgeous cathedral, and also the home of the 70 meter long, 11th century embroidery known as the Tapisserie de Bayeux/Bayeux Tapestry. This 'tapestry' is an incredible pictorial accounting of the Norman Conquest -- incredible in its fabrication and in the fact that such a fragile textile has survived for nearly a thousand years! For those of you who slept through your history courses in college (as opposed to eating them up the way I did! Nerd, I know), this was that whole event in 1066 with the Battle of Hastings and the Normans beating up on the English and where Guillaume de Normandie became William the Conqueror.



Bayeux Cathedral just after sunset.



The interior masonry was amazing and super detailed.



Masonry masks close-up.



Troy outside the Bayeux Tapestry Museum.



This pâtisserie and salon de thé was the cutest thing ever!



All decorated for Easter.

On our way to Bayeux we stopped off at a neat bio cidery, an organic farm and orchard that produces calvados (the famous Norman apple brandy), plus pommeau, cidre, juice, compotes, and other apple products. The owner was a quirky older man who seemed to enjoy the tastings as much as his clients did (tee hee), but he was also very welcoming and even let us peek in the cave. Needless to say, we left with a couple of the local specialties.



Les Vergers de Ducy, organic cidery.



Troy in the cave.



All of this was great, but even so the big regional attraction for me was Mont-St-Michel. With its spectacular setting on a rocky outcropping in the middle of a bay, the architectural drama of this place has called out to me since I was a child. (I was about 12 when I first learned about Mont-St-Michel, and I have wanted to visit it ever since.) So, one day we made the trek practically into Brittany to see the Mont. We climbed the paths to the very top of the rock, toured the abbey, and watched an incredible thunderstorm roll in across the bay.

Visually speaking, this was a highlight of the trip for me. In fact, it is one of the most stunning things that I have ever seen in my whole life. However (SPOILER alert for anyone who, like me, has harbored a lifelong romantic notion of Mont-St-Michel and doesn't want their fantasy shattered) the town that lies at the base of the rock, below the abbey, was one of the chintziest, tackiest, most tourist-riddled, neon-signed, expensive places anywhere. And...the food was terrible. That is like an insult to the entire nation of France! We didn't actually eat on the island -- everything looked so utterly unappetizing or outrageously expensive (I'm talking 90 euro for a lobster omelet expensive) that instead we found a grocery story on the 'mainland' and had a little picnic at a roadside pull-out with a view of the Mont.



This was our first view of Mont-St-Michel, approaching from the south.



As with much of our trip, it rained off and on this day. It kind of sucked, but it was kind of cool because it added that extra bit of drama to an already exceedingly dramatic place.



The whole place is encased in massive stone walls.



The tide was out when we arrived.





Inside the abbey cloisters





What a cool shot, if I do say so myself -- everywhere you looked was beauty and drama.



The storm approaches!



Despite my utter disappointment with the town, Mont-St-Michel was still really, really cool and a must-see for anyone with even a slight interest in architecture. Our Normandy trip was surprising in many ways and so chock-full of interesting sites, tragic and heart-warming stories, and multiple layers of history, that five days felt like weeks. But, you know, in a good way.



La Côte Normande Photo Album - Click Here