Tomatoland

Hello All - Slowly getting my Provencal act together! We found a lovely babysitter for Augustin, so now I have a few hours each morning to work (and share). I know everyone is expecting house photos - and I'm on it - just found the charger for my camera after a (desperate) two week ransacking of the boxes...

I could say I've been cooking - but that would be a slight distortion - it's more like arts and crafts: combining, stacking, slicing and dicing a few essential summer ingredients: tomatoes, tomatoes, melon, jambon cru (raw ham), peaches, plums, figs, tomatoes. And did I mention the tomatoes? I haven't turned on the stove in weeks.
The Provencal tomato is a thing of wonder - small as a marble, large as a human heart, red like a valentine, yellow like a sunflower, orange like an overripe apricot, bright green like a brand new leaf, even purplely olive, like seaweed seen through moving water. The names are equal to the colors: Ananas (Pineapple), Noire de Russie (Black Russian), Brin de Muguet (Lily of the Valley).There's no messing with perfection (ok, a little messing, just for fun) - a few crystals of coarse sea salt, a drizzle of local olive oil and a sprig or two of purple (yes, royal purple, my favorite childhood color) basil. I did do some impromptu matchmaking...Baby tomatoes with smoked mozeralla, red onion, fennel and balsamic vinegar. A giant yellow tomato (That's him. Her? Him, I think. It's a very muscular tomato) with a local sheep's milk cheese (feta would do nicely) and green basil. Last night I got a little fancy and layered slices of beefsteak tomato with artichoke puree and slivers of parmesan. I love to think of the utterly pretentious name this would be given in a trendy Parisian bistro...millefeuille de tomate Provencale, tapanade d'artichaut frais et coppa de Parmesan d'Italie (AOC) sur son lit de salade sauce apricot. The "sauce apricot" was an happy accident. While making the dressing for the green salad, I mistook a bottle of peach/apricot syrup for the olive oil. Since it was already at the bottom the bowl, I decided to try my luck. Mixed with dijon mustard and some olive oil, it was very nice - much sweeter than a French vinagrette, more like an American-style honey dijon. I decided to add it to my pretentious Parisian bistro dish because (believe it or not) they love imitating American food. Anyone who has been in Paris this past year or two will note the rise of "le Tchizzburger" (that's bistro for "cheeseburger").
Friends who sold all their worldly goods to go on an extended trip around the world stopped in for lunch (yes, even people freshly moved to Provence can experience travel envy) - and I discovered that my vegetable peeler makes very nice parmesan curly whirlies for yet another tomato salad. Excuse the close up. Tomato porn. Yes, must move on.
The days are hot and sunny - lunchtime is a search for shade. The evenings are cool and often breezy - ideal for long dinners in the garden (G. managed to snap this photo of both tomato salad and the view from our upper terrace.) I too am being eaten - the misquitos have been feasting on my ankles. My dad used to say it's because I was "sweet meat"...

Hope you too are enjoying the sweet days of summer!
P.S. I'm thinking of another tomato experiment - "tomato tatin" - which amounts to an upside down tomato tart. We'll see if I get up the courage to actually turn on the oven to slow roast the tomatoes...

A Comparative Visual

Back in Paris after a month in the US. My brain, and my stomach - are completely jetlagged. I thought I'd give you the comparative visual.

Exhibit A. My parent's fridge in the US - stocked to brusting with every salad dressing known to man, three containers of cream cheese, but little actual food. (If there was one aisle that I could banish from the supermarket forever - it would be the salad dressing. Out, out, damn Fat Free Blue Cheese. Ranch, be gone!Exhibit B. My fridge in France - cleaned by G. and awaiting my arrival and a trip to the Saturday market. G basically lives off pasta, onion and lardons (slab bacon) when I'm not around. One red bell pepper and two carrots could last him three weeks. I'm dreaming the bouquet of fresh herbs (flat leaf parsley, dill, mint and coriander) that usually lives in a mug of water on the door...

I'm doing a reading at WHSmith in Paris next Thursday, March 11th at 7pm. My desk is a catastrophe. I know there's a game plan under here somewhere, darned if I can locate it just at the moment...