TOBY LESTER

Proving once again that synthesis can be fun, here’s Toby Lester back with ‘Da Vinci’s Ghost’.

Everybody knows Leonardo’s iconic picture of a man standing in a circle and a square. It’s everywhere, deployed on everything from coffee cups and T-shirts to corporate logos and international spacecraft, celebrating subjects as various as the grandeur of art, the beauty of the human form, and the universality of the human spirit. It’s the world’s most famous cultural icon—yet nobody knows its story. This book brings Vitruvian Man to life by resurrecting the ghost of a largely forgotten Leonardo. It’s a fun and surprising tale that ropes together an eclectic cast of characters: ancient Greek sculptors and philosophers; the Roman architect Vitruvius and the emperor Caesar Augustus; early European monks and Muslim astrologers; Hildegard of Bingen and other mystics; medieval cathedral builders; Renaissance anatomists, architects, art theorists, doctors, engineers, and painters —and in the starring role, of course, Leonardo himself.

www.tobylester.com

LYRE PRUNING

Since little Haggis has been with us, we’ve been out dog-walking most every afternoon, rain or shine.  One of our new and favorite circuits takes us up above the village of Viserny and in the direction of Villaines les Prevotes where the Villaines-Viserny winery is.  There are great views down the valley, and some very pleasant paths in among the vines.  What we hadn’t noticed from the valley floor is that many of the parcels of vines up here in the hills are pruned ‘en lyre‘.  Lyre pruning is rare in Burgundy: I’ve only ever seen one other parcel, up in the Hautes Cotes near Saint Romain. Most vines in the Cotes d’Or are pruned either ‘en Guyot‘, lower to the ground and in a denser plantation, or in the Hautes Cotes as vigne haute, much the same as guyot, but up off the ground to avoid frost.

Pruning of the vine en lyre, in the shape of a lyre or a Y, allows more sunlight to get to the leaf surface, leading to an increase in photosynthesis and thus better maturity, increasing concentration in sugar and polyphenols. The size of the lyre also allows easy aeration of the vine which quickens drying during wet periods and therefore reduces the risk of mildew. This is however a very low density plantation. A vineyard pruned en lyre will number 2200 to 2400 vines per hectare, whereas Guyot pruning can cram in 8000 and more. The low density of lyre pruning means the vineyard has an overall lower demand for water, so at normal rainfall levels, grapes tend to gorge themselves with water, which can counteract the gain in concentration achieved by increased photosynthesis. The solution is to regulate yields with a ‘green harvest’, removing under-ripe grapes before they sap the vine’s energy, thereby increasing concentration in the remaining grapes.

The Villaines-Viserny winery calls their white wine assemblage ‘Saveur de Lyre’, so I am guessing that this is the  wine produced from these vineyards.  It is a ‘vin de pays’  made of 60% Chardonnay, 25% Pinot Gris and 15% Auxerrois.  It has grown in confidence from vintage to vintage, and has certainly given us the sense that we are living in a wine region fighting to retain its identity.

For more about life in Burgundy, see Ellie’s book, ‘At Home in Burgundy: The Papillon Recipes‘

FATTORIA MANSI-BERNARDINI

We call it ‘Marcello’s Oil’. It’s a personal thing for everyone who knows it. The Fattoria Mansi-Bernardini, Marcello Salom’s estate in the hills overlooking Lucca, has produced olives since the 16^th century. Until recently it was a profitable business. Now Marcello likes to say that every year he asks his accountant how much he will lose on his olives this time around. It’s not because of bad farming. On the contrary, Marcello makes one of the finest olive oils on the planet.

It’s become a matter of pride. Quality olive oil must be made by hand, so costs outrun the price the finished product can command. That leaves Marcello three options. The first is that he could cut corners and make inferior oil. But that is out of the question. Mansi-Bernardini has been one of the locomotives of quality oil production in Lucca for generations. The second is to give up altogether, but that’s not even really an option. The government prohibits the ripping up of olive trees, ostensibly to protect a cultural tradition. But if they did not, most farmers (including Marcello, I fear) would happily get out of the business. And the third option is to follow through and make excellent oil, finances and the government be damned. With 500 years of heritage resting on his shoulders, Marcello could hardly have chosen otherwise.

But what does it mean to make excellent oil? As with any prized food product, the further you live from the area of production, the more likely you are to be sold something inferior. This is especially true of olive oil. An ocean of oil is bottled every year, and most of it comes from an industry that has overcome the cost constraints that make good oil expensive. It’s an industrial product. Standardized. And the less the consumer understands about those standards, the further afield standard oil can be distributed.

Look at a label. You’ll probably see those olive oil buzzwords ‘Extra Virgin’ and ‘First Cold Pressing’. What do they tell us?

Extra Virgin is a grade of olive oil (like grade A eggs). Aside from requiring that olive oil be made only of olives, the grade is essentially a quantifiable level of the free fatty acids. To be Extra Virgin, that acid level must be lower than 0.8%. There are two ways to attain this. The first is to pick the olives at optimum maturity. Which sounds easy enough, but at optimum maturity olives cling stubbornly to the tree and pretty much have to be hand picked, using a rake-like tool. If you wait for the olives to fall from the trees and collect them in nets, the acid level goes beyond the acceptable limit, and oxidation begins. However, oil produced from over ripe olives can be de-acidified to bring it back into Extra Virgin limits. So Extra Virgin tells us something about the oil but essentially nothing about quality.

And what of First Cold Pressing? Well, what’s the alternative? Second Cold Pressing? First Hot Pressing? All of these processes happen (or did…because industrial oil is not pressed anymore, it is centrifuged). But consider that most of the green tannins are in the skins and pits. Any extraction from the pulp after the first pressing is likely to be bitter. Processors will go so far as to steep the crushed pulp in hot water to extract the last bits of oil, but these oils are destined for industrial use.

The other thing you will see on a label is Product of, say, Italy. But look at the back label and you just might see ‘contains olives from Spain, Italy, Greece and Tunisia’. Product of Italy only means that the oil was processed and bottled in Italy.

The olive oil aisle in an Italian supermarket is like the cereal aisle in the US. More oils than anyone needs stretching as far as the eye can see. And every one of them is Extra Virgin. You could not sell an oil that is not. Now look at the olive oil section in the US. Europe has regulations about labeling that the US did not sign up for. Not only can Americans buy oil that is not Extra Virgin (…and what is that?), there is no guarantee that it is Extra Virgin even if the label says it is. Before you ask, there is no such thing as Extra Extra Virgin. And anything labeled Extra Light is now at least required to add ‘in flavor’ somewhere on the label. That says is all: same calories, less flavor.

So what do you do? First, you need to know enough not to be duped by vague labeling. Secondly, there are a few broad guidelines that can help you spot different levels of quality. For example, oil that comes in clear glass is very likely to be highly processed. Light is one of the main enemies of oil, but processed oil is more stable. Because processors think that the consumer is looking for limpid green oil, they bottle in clear glass to show off those qualities. (Beware the hype of green oil, however. One way to get that lovely color is to macerate olive leaves in the oil. And those leaves contain bitter tannins.) Oils that come in dark glass usually have something good to protect, so that’s a hint. But to find the best oils, look for small producers. Good wineries often make good olive oil. And there is a movement afoot to guarantee the provenance of the olives. Look for DOP Italian oil; it’s a sign of a serious producer.

Beyond that, there is a place in the kitchen for any well made oil. We keep three different qualities of olive oil on hand. The first is for frying and sauteing, and this can be one of those processed oils in the big dark jars. The second is for seasoning hot food, and you should be looking for some sign that the producer cares about quality. You won’t generally find this in an American supermarket, but specialty shops will take pride in offering a good mid-range oil. And lastly, we have Marcello’s oil (or some other artisan’s pride) which we keep for seasoning cold food and salads. It will not be cheap, especially from boutique sellers, but once you have tasted it you will understand.

How Marcello makes such fabulous olive oil is a subject for another post. But we send this out because the very first of this year’s Mansi-Bernardini oil is on the water (so to speak), en route for Philadelphia as we write. Locals in the area of olive oil production will tell you that harvest time is always exciting. The new oil has a particular spiciness, a peppery punch that may even make you cough. They call it pizzicante because it grabs the back of your throat. It only lasts a few months, but it marks the rhythm of the year.

And a footnote to the story: Mansi-Bernardini was one of the founding members of the DOP consortium in Lucca. Marcello has always maintained that the only path for small producers is towards ever-greater quality. (The Extra Virgin acid limit is 0.8%; Marcello’s oils regularly come in at <0.1%). So it’s ironic that his oil is rarely labeled DOP. The rules require producers to submit samples each year to the DOP committee who officially grant the right to label the oil DOP. But by the time the committee makes its decision, Marcello’s oil has already been bottled, labeled with a generic Mansi-Bernardini label and sold. Bella Italia!

THEN AND NOW

We had a white wine from Viserny last week. That’s Viserny there in the cover photo from Ellie’s book. It’s just down the road, and you would never guess but it’s the most important wine village in the area. The wine we tasted was a well-made-home-made inscrutable, and enough of a curiosity that we wanted to meet the person who made it. So we got an introduction and went to see Raymond Berthier whose farmyard is in the center of the village.

We live in the heart of Burgundy on high ground known as the Auxois. It’s the French continental divide, so rivers flow off from here to the Med, to the Atlantic or the North Sea. For this, Burgundy has always been an area of passage, and the Auxois one of the few places around where you could keep your feet dry. If all roads led to Rome, one of them came right through here. And if you’ll allow me to cram two millennia into one phrase, this goes a long way to explaining wine production in Burgundy…though maybe not wine production as you know it:  a lot can change in a millennium.

There’s more to Burgundy wine than the great wines of Burgundy. Many of the world’s most famous vineyards are to the east of here on a strip of crumbling cliff that runs above the Saône river valley from Dijon down to Macon. They call it the golden hillside, the Côte d’Or, and it is special. To the west there’s Chablis, and Chablis too is special. But rewind 150 years to a time when commerce for wine was driven by quantity, not quality. Those famous few vineyards were known and prized, but wine for the most part was made by farmers for whom viticulture was just part of a bigger job. Poly-culture was prevalent all across Burgundy, with farmers raising cattle, growing wheat, tending orchards and also vines. Because wine-making was not a full-time occupation, not all farmers were good winemakers, and not all wine was good. But the decent stuff made it’s way to market via a new canal system that was navigable from Dijon to Paris and beyond.

Which brings us back to Viserny. Here in the Auxois we have good south-facing limestone slopes, rich river-bottom pastures and expanses of fertile plateau, all within easy reach of the Burgundy Canal. Perfect farm country, always has been, with more cows than people. But 150 years ago, the Auxois also did a booming business supplying table wine to the cafes of Paris. Some of the production was as highly considered as Chablis. But the world changed overnight when the phylloxera epidemic swept across Europe at the end of the 19^th century and laid waste to vineyards great and small indiscriminately. The wine trade died.

When the panic subsided and a solution to the problem was found, grapes were replanted bit by bit, with those famous few vineyards logically the first. But when Paris started thinking of bulk table wine again, another world changer put the Auxois out of business. A new railroad linked the sunny south with the capital.  And the sunny south could make an ocean of consistently ripe cheap wine.

It took the Côte d’Or and Chablis nearly 50 years to get back to their feet. In fact, until the mid-60s lots of classified vineyard land was either planted in cereal or lay fallow, and could be had for a relative pittance. The lesser appellations were the last to come back to production, and the table wine regions never really did. Political push has helped several outlying zones rise from the ashes, but the wine of the Auxois all but died.

Raymond Berthier is retired now, and after a broken leg in 2005 was not able to keep up with the several acres of vines that he had tended all his life on the slopes above Viserny. His son-in-law kept a small patch, but the rest has been ripped up. The wine we tasted was from 2003 or 2004 he guessed, he wasn’t sure. A blend of Aligote and Melon. He is proud of it, and described perfect traditional wine-making methods that explained how a simple hand-made white wine could be so crisp and clear seven years on. But he’s pushing 80, and he and his wine making neighbors find that they have no one to continue their part of the tradition. Various reasons: people move away or only have weekends to tend the vines or just don’t care for the work. Whatever. The fact is that once upon a time this valley was rimmed with vines, and now need a sharp eye to see the vestiges.

But real traditions die hard. In the mid-70s a small group of local winemakers built a dossier and raised enough money to start a serious winery. Since the early 90s the group has been planting and tending Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Auxerrois and Pinot Gris, the traditional grapes of the Auxois. By the end of the decade, there were 24 acres (10 ha.) producing ‘vin de pays’ under the name Domaine de Villaines-Viserny . This year they were awarded an IGP and can now call the wines ‘Vin de Pays des Coteaux de l’Auxois’. It’s a big deal. It’s determination. And it has required local support from business and concerned investors. But the wine is good, the press is good, and a little green shoot from a once-vital wine region has been saved and is being nurtured here in our valley.

JUST BACK FROM SCOTLAND

Two months in Scottish drizzle after two months of Burgundian drizzle; you would think we’d be gray.  But summer was otherly this year, and Scotland was a dream land.  A thousand stories, but one great picture:  meet Haggis, our Border Terrier pup.

More soon, as we adjust to life back home in Burgundy!

CLOSER TO HOME

Introducing Burgundy Food and Wine.

We’ve spent many years roaming far and wide in search of regional cuisine and wine when, of course, some of the very best is in our own backyard. So as of November we will begin Burgundy Country Cooking and Burgundy Wine Weekend Getaways.

Join us for a taste of the real Burgundy.

Burgundy Food and Wine

LES CLIMATS DU VIGNOBLE DE BOURGOGNE

CLIMAT (sic): CHANGE.

A beautiful summer’s evening in Burgundy, and for some reason we’re watching re-runs on BBC4 of this fellow in the north of England trying to convince us that chips and pies constitute regional cuisine.  This particular episode is about Lancashire, its potatoes, and how they all end up in Blackpool fish and chips shops.  What holds me spellbound is the proposition that this confluence of place and produce gives Blackpool chips terroir.  Terroir: he says it so many times in the half hour program that I swear I will never use the term again.

You see, I am guilty of the same abuse. I’m sure that, over the years, I have said or written the word at least as many times as the man from Lancashire did this evening.  In my case, however, I was trying to explain the wines of Burgundy…which only makes things more complicated.

Without retracing all those dead-end attempts to explain terroir, let’s just say that anyone who’s into food and wine has a gut idea of what it means, like the notion of eidos to a young philosophy student.   But no one seems able to define it.  Me, I’d go so far as to say that the ‘post-modern’ usage is undefinable…it means what it means when you use it and somebody else nods agreement.

So goodbye mister fish and chips, and thanks.  Who would ever have thought that deep-fried potatoes could be such a cathartic?

So now what?  Now how do we explain Burgundy?

Voila!

Les ‘Climats’ du Vignobles de Bourgogne …and there’s an excellent English version.

Support the candidature of the Burgundy vineyards to the UNESCO World Heritage list!

All the best from Burgundy

ZUCCHINI BLOSSOMS

The garden rules the seasons. So summer has officially begun here in Burgundy: we cut the first zucchini a couple of weeks back. We take the earliest ones no larger than a finger, and the young plants seem to love it, bursting with vigor and momentum. Four plants are enough for us, giving more zucchini than we could ever eat, and almost enough blossoms.

Though still a bit of a curiosity in much of France,  throughout Italy zucchini flowers are abundant for much of the year, and turn up in some ingenious preparations. For us they bring a touch of delicacy and exoticism, an element of surprise, in even the simplest dishes. We’ve eaten and prepared them in every Italian region that we have visited, and we have a collection of our favorite recipes that will feature as a chapter in the forthcoming Italian book.

But first, a little practical information.

In English, when we talk about ‘zucchini blossoms’ we generally mean the flowers of the dark-skinned summer squash. But in Italian, ‘fiori di zucca‘ is a more general term, and includes flowers from a number of other members of the same genus (curcurbita), most notably the pumpkins. The main difference, for our purposes in the kitchen, is the size of the flower. Any squash or pumpkin flower large enough to stuff will do.

All curcurbita species produce both male and female flowers, and we would use either in these recipes. However, choose male flowers if you can; they are larger and easier to manipulate. The male flower grows on its own long stem, and will last several days on the plant until eventually withering. The female flower grows at the tip of a set fruit, and will stay attached for a few days before dropping off as the fruit begins to swell.

It’s important when and how flowers are harvested. If your plants are vigorous, take just male flowers, always leaving enough to ensure fertilization. And if you have tons of flowers, take females that have tiny zucchini still attached and serve them battered and fried.

Pick flowers in the morning when they are partially open. You do not want flowers that are fully open; they will be difficult to close. But pick too late in the day and they will close up completely. Cut them young while they still have verve, before the edges go floppy. And leave a good long stem. The stem makes them easier to handle in certain recipes, and they’re tasty too!

Check the inside of the flowers for bugs. Bees and ants love zucchini blossoms.

If you need a quantity of flowers, you can collect them over a few days. Place the cut flowers gently in a zip-lock bag with a damp paper towel and refrigerate them until you have enough. They will last better this way than on the plant.

If you like, you can remove the stamen or pistil, but it’s not necessary. They are perfectly edible.

Gratin of Zucchini Flowers
Fiori di Zucca Gratinati
6 Servings

The simplest of the stuffed flower recipes in this section takes minutes to prepare and is…simply…delicious.

12 zucchini flowers
8 ounces (225 grams) mozzarella cheese
12 anchovy filets packed in oil
12 cherry tomatoes split in half
12 fresh basil leaves
½ cup (50 grams) plain breadcrumbs
3 tablespoons (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil
fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

When ready to bake the flowers preheat the oven to 425°F/220°C.

Cut the mozzarella into 2 inch long sticks.. Rinse the flowers and pat dry. Take the flower and gently open with your fingers. Remove the stamen if you like, but it is not necessary. Insert the mozzarella, anchovy filet, tomato halves and basil leaf into the center of the flower.

In a small bowl combine the breadcrumbs with the olive oil and season with salt and pepper.

Lightly oil a baking tray or dish that will hold the flowers in one layer. Sprinkle half the crumbs over the bottom. Place the flowers on top. Sprinkle over the other half of the crumbs. Drizzle a little oil over the flowers bake in the hot oven for 10-15 minutes until browned. Serve warm.

Zucchini Flowers Stuffed with Salt Cod
Fiori di Zucca Ripieni di Baccalà
6 Servings

In Italy you can buy salt cod that has been pre-soaked (ammollato) and is ready to cook, especially on Fridays. Some things never change. If using un-soaked salt cod you will need two days to soak the cod before proceeding with the recipe.

It is important to mince all the vegetables in this stuffing because if the dice is too large, stuffing the flowers will be more difficult.

12 fresh zucchini flowers
1 small onion minced
3 small zucchini minced
2 tablespoons (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil
fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1½ cups (325 gr) pre soaked salt cod
1 medium sized waxy potato
1 whole egg
¼ cup (25 grams) grated parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons chopped flat leafed parsley
3 tablespoons (45 ml) heavy cream
½ cup (25 gr) plain bread crumbs mixed with 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Rinse the cod well and put into a large bowl or pot that fits in your refrigerator. Cover with plenty of cold water and let the fish soak for 36-48 hours, changing the water 3 or 4 times during this period. This will reconstitute the fish and remove excess salt.

If sandy rinse the flowers and pat dry with paper towel. Remove the stamen if you like but it is not necessary.

In a small sauté pan over low heat cook the onion and zucchini in 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Season the vegetables with salt and pepper and cook until softened and cooked through. Let cool.

In another small pan cook the potato covered with water until done. Drain and let cool.

Peel the skin from the potato and finely dice the flesh.

In another pan bring the salt cod covered with cold water to a boil. Remove from the heat and let the cod cool slightly in the water. When cool enough to handle, skin, pick over for bones cut the cod into a very small dice.

In a mixing bowl mix the zucchini, potato and cod gently. Beat the egg and add it to the mixture with the parmesan, parsley and cream.

Preheat the oven to 400°F/200°C. Brush a baking dish or tray large enough to hold the flowers in one layer with some olive oil.

Carefully open the flower and insert the cod mixture a teaspoonful at a time, using 3 or 4 teaspoons of the mixture per flower. Gently squeeze the opening closed. Arrange the stuffed flowers in the prepared baking dish. Sprinkle over the bread crumbs that have been mixed with oil and bake the flowers uncovered for 25 minutes until puffed and golden. Serve hot as they are or with a fresh tomato sauce if you like.

Ellie’s first book, ‘At Home in Burgundy: The Papillon Recipes‘, is on Amazon and elsewhere.

All the best from Burgundy!

NETWORKEDBLOGS

We’ve taken Foodstuff into NetworkedBlogs.  If you would care to follow us there, the link is HERE

All the best from Burgundy

HERE AND THERE AND BACK

We had every intention of posting from Scotland, but never quite got it together. Sad, really, because we had plenty to report. We were based in Glenisla, 30 minutes north of Blairgowrie, which is just north of Perth, which is an hour north of Edinburgh; it’s the gateway to the Highlands, and it was sensory overload. But not to worry: we head back in mid-August for the Fall Papillon tours, and we’ll be more settled this time.  Expect reports from the front lines.

But now we’re back in Burgundy. The garden is overgrown despite a worrying drought, and we’ve been busily whipping it all back into shape. We ate well in Scotland, but you do miss green vegetables and salad. So we’re delighted to see the results of our pre-Scotland gardening there under the weeds!

We lettuce, mustard greens, arugula and the wintered-over bietola coming in. We’re cutting the first zucchini, and the other pumpkins and cucumbers are all in flower. Peas are popping; green beans are set; and we’re digging beets and new potatoes. There are more raspberries than we can eat, so they get frozen for summer sorbets; ditto the black currants. And lots more on the way.

Summer starts today, and we’ll have six week’s of it here in the garden before heading back to Glenisla.  Attention turns to the Italian book-in-progress, so for purposes of this post, we wanted to tie Scotland and Italy together via Burgundy….you be the judge…

…Rabbits. They’re considered a nuisance on ‘our’ Scottish estate. But they sure are cute when they’re little. The local gamekeeper warned us though that they would not be getting much bigger; that the boys with the hawks were due any day. Rabbit barely rates as game in Scotland; there are larger beasts to cull and rarer birds to pluck.

But in France, and in Italy as well, rabbits are rarely pesky: the hunters get them all.  So here rabbits are prized as food, and are raised, plump and free of shot. In the country it’s still common for farmers to keep a hutch of rabbits out back. There’s a boy in our village who comes selling door-to-door when his pen gets too full.  Pets or food….we weren’t sure at first.

So how do get the Scots to accept a domesticated version of an animal they don’t consider fair game?  Fry it!  QED

Marinated Fried Rabbit
Cogniglio Fritto all’Umbra
4-6 Servings

Rabbit is almost as common as chicken on many Italian tables. And as with chicken, frying is one of the more common preparations. But as opposed to that extra-crispy coating that we have come to expect, in Umbria they will often simply dredge the rabbit pieces in flour, then dip them in egg and fry directly, resulting in a softer finish. This is the effect we are looking for here. But if you prefer a crispier coating, simply dredge the pieces again in flour after the egg.

We also marinate the rabbit in garlic and herbs before cooking which impregnates the flesh with flavor and keeps it moist.

A whole rabbit can be cut into 16 small pieces, which is generally how it is butchered in Italy: ready for a ragout. You can do this yourself. Cut the front legs into 2 at the joint. The hind legs into 3 pieces, one at the joint and the fatter piece whacked in half with a cleaver (remove any sharp bones after you do this).  Then cut the loin into 3-4 pieces and the ribs into 2 leaving the belly flaps attached.

1 rabbit cut into pieces as described above
3 large garlic cloves minced
2 tablespoons fresh sage minced
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary minced
3 tablespoons (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil
2 cups (280 gr) all purpose flour
3-4 eggs
olive, canola or sunflower oil for deep frying
fine sea salt for seasoning

In a large bowl combine the rabbit with the garlic, sage, rosemary and olive oil. Rub the pieces well to impregnate them with the herbs and garlic. Cover the rabbit and let marinate for 2 hours at room temperature or refrigerate for up to 12 hours. Bring the rabbit to room temperature before frying.

Spread the flour out on a large dish. Beat the eggs in a shallow bowl.

Put the oil in a fairly large high-rimmed heavy-bottomed pan. The oil level should come about half way up the sides of the pan but no more. Just enough to cover the rabbit when frying but not so much that you risk it overflowing and causing a fire. Heat over a medium-high heat and test the oil with a small cube of bread. When it sizzles and browns quickly, the oil is hot enough for the rabbit.

Have a large platter lined with paper towel ready to receive the fried rabbit when done.

Dredge each piece of rabbit in the flour then dip in the beaten egg and put directly into the hot oil. Depending on the size of your pan you may have to fry the rabbit in two batches. Don’t overcrowd the pan; the secret to light frying is for the oil temperature to remain as constant as possible. Fry the rabbit until golden and cooked through to the bone, about 10 minutes. Remove the pieces with tongs and put on a platter lined with paper towel to absorb excess oil. Reserve in a warm oven while frying the next batch.

When all of the rabbit is cooked, remove the paper towels from the platter, sprinkle the rabbit with salt, and serve immediately.

Now, if you are looking for more connections, bring it back to Burgundy with Lapin a la Moutarde de Dijon, a recipe to be found in Ellie’s book  ‘At Home in Burgundy: The Papillon Recipes’ . On Amazon.

THERE AND BACK AND THERE AND BACK

We had every intention of posting from Scotland, but never quite got it together.  Sad, really, because we had plenty to report.  We were based in Glenisla, 30 minutes north of Blairgowrie, which is just north of Perth, which is an hour north of Edinburgh; it's the gateway to the Highlands, and it was sensory overload.  But not to worry: we head back in mid-August for the Fall Papillon tours, and we'll be more settled this time.  Expect reports from the front lines.

But now we're back in Burgundy.  The garden is overgrown despite a worrying drought, and we've been busily whipping it all back into shape.  We ate well in Scotland, but you do miss green vegetables and salad.  So we're delighted to see the results of our pre-Scotland gardening there under the weeds!  

We have various types of lettuce, mustard greens, arugula and the wintered-over bietola.  We're cutting the first zucchini, and the other pumpkins and cucumbers are all in flower. Peas are popping; green beans are set; and we're digging beets and new potatoes.  There are more raspberries than we can eat, so they get frozen for summer sorbets; ditto the black currants.  

Summer starts today, and we'll have six week's of it here in the garden before heading back to Glenisla.  Attention turns to the Italian book-in-progress, so for purposes of this post, we wanted to tie Scotland and Italy together via Burgundy....you be the judge.

Rabbits.  They're considered a nuisance on 'our' Scottish estate.  But they sure are cute when they're little.  The local gamekeeper warned us though that they would not be getting much bigger; that the boys with the hawks were due any day.  Rabbit barely rate as game in Scotland; there are larger beasts to cull and rarer birds to pluck.

But in France, and in Italy as well, rabbits are rarely pesky: the hunters get them all.  So here rabbits are raised, plump and free of shot.  In the country it's still common for farmers to keep a hutch of rabbits out back.  There's a boy in our village who comes selling door-to-door when his pen gets too full. Pets or food....we weren't sure at first.  

So how do get the Scots to accept a domesticated version of an animal they don't consider fair game?  Fry it!  

Marinated Fried Rabbit
Cogniglio Fritto all’Umbra
4-6 Servings

Rabbit is almost as common as chicken on many Italian tables.  And as with chicken, frying is one of the more common preparations.  But as opposed to that extra-crispy
coating that we have come to expect, in Umbria they will often simply dredge the rabbit pieces in flour, then dip them in egg and fry directly, resulting in a softer finish. This is the effect we are looking for here.  But if you prefer a crispier coating, simply dredge the pieces again in flour after the egg.

We also marinate the rabbit in garlic and herbs before cooking which impregnates the flesh with flavor and keeps it moist. 

A whole rabbit can be cut into 16 small pieces, which is generally how it is butchered in Italy: ready for a ragout.  You can do this yourself.  Cut the front legs into 2 at the joint.  The hind legs into 3 pieces, one at the joint and the fatter piece whacked in half with a cleaver (remove any sharp bones after you do this).  Then cut the loin into 3-4 pieces and the ribs into 2 leaving the belly flaps attached.

1 rabbit cut into pieces as described above
3 large garlic cloves minced
2 tablespoons fresh sage minced
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary minced
3 tablespoons (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil
2 cups (280 gr) all purpose flour
3-4 eggs
olive, canola or sunflower oil for deep frying
fine sea salt for seasoning

In a large bowl combine the rabbit with the garlic, sage, rosemary and olive oil.  Rub the pieces well to impregnate them with the herbs and garlic.  Cover the rabbit and let marinate for 2 hours at room temperature or refrigerate for up to 12 hours. Bring the rabbit to room temperature before frying.

Spread the flour out on a large dish.  Beat the eggs in a shallow bowl.

Put the oil in a fairly large high-rimmed heavy-bottomed pan.  The oil level should come about half way up the sides of the pan but no more.  Just enough to cover the rabbit when frying but not so much that you risk it overflowing and causing a fire.  Heat over a medium-high heat and test the oil with a small cube of bread.  When it sizzles and browns quickly, the oil is hot enough for the rabbit.

Have a large platter lined with paper towel ready to receive the fried rabbit when done.

Dredge each piece of rabbit in the flour then dip in the beaten egg and put directly into the hot oil.  Depending on the size of your pan you may have to fry the rabbit in two batches.  Don't overcrowd the pan; the secret to light frying is for the oil temperature to remain as constant as possible.  Fry the rabbit until golden and cooked through to the bone, about 10 minutes.  Remove the pieces with tongs and put on a platter lined with paper towel to absorb excess oil.  Reserve in a warm oven while frying the next batch.

When all of the rabbit is cooked, remove the paper towels from the platter, sprinkle the rabbit with salt, and serve immediately.
Now, if you are looking for more connections, bring it back to Burgundy with Lapin a la Moutarde de Dijon, a recipe to be found in Ellie's book 'At Home in Burgundy: The Papillon Recipes' by Eleanor Garvin.  Out now on Amazon.