Visit – Page 3 – Nicole Peyrafitte

Fruit of the Grape & Fruit of Chance

The story goes that in the 16th century a wine maker poured —by accident— grape juice into a barrel that already contained Cognac. Few years later he needed the barrel and was agreeably surprised by the concoction et voilà! Pineau was born. There is Pineau rouge and Pineau blanc, I prefer Pineau blanc. It is a wonderful aperitif, though I didn’t spent enough time in the Charentes region to find out how popular it still is today.

Neither we got enough time to taste the escargots à la Charentaise. What we got to taste were delicious local oysters: the oysters Papin-Poget. These oysters are exactly the way I like them meaty but not too “fatty” —pas trop grasse— rich in liquid and a balanced taste.
I am quickly transiting through Paris before I head South to my homeland. I had very good Egg Benedict & salmon for lunch at the Tourville and tonight it was molto fun to watch the Rugby game on T.V — even though the French team got crushed by the All Blacks (NZ). Below a few pictures of Angoulême, the French capitol of Comic Books and the epitome of “Douce France” or Sweet France!

Back!

What I miss most when I travel is cooking my own food. During my trip to Boston, Springfield (MA) & Cornish (NH) nothing I hate was memorable, though all very decent. The highlight was definitely a vegetable chowder and a lobster roll at the Windsor (VT) train station. The focus on my trip was not food at all, but more research on Augustus Saint Gaudens (1848-1907). My first involvement with the American sculptor began in 2005 when I was commissioned to create a multimedia performance for the 2007 hundredth anniversary of his death. Augustus Saint Gaudens and I share common Gascon origins. Augustus’ father, Bernard St-Gaudens, was born in Aspet (French Pyrenees) in 1816 —the village of Aspet is next to my hometown. Bernard St-Gaudens (they spelled their names differently) was a shoemaker, he left Aspet very young, moved to Salies du Salat, Carcassonne, Paris, London and settled in Ireland where he married Mary McGuiness in 1841. Together and with their 6 month old son Augustus, they emigrated to the USA in 1848. There is currently a show at the Metropolitan Museum on the museum collection of the artist. Anyhow I will not get into details now, but I will leave you with the photograph of a funny article that I found in the archives at the Rauner Special Collections at Dartmouth. More soon!

Live Lunch at the C.I.A

“We don’t allow photography inside the school, outside as much as you want,” says the black coated supervisor/waiter at the Apple Pie Bakery Café. As soon as I put my camera down a flash goes off at the other end of the room. I am not the only one wanting to document a visit at America’s Northeast food temple: The C.I.A a.k.a: The Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, N.Y.

It is 13:05 pm and I notice on my receipt that I paid for my food at 12:53 pm. I have ordered my lunch and a few treats to bring Miles who is on the Muttnik film shoot —by the way you can check Miles’ new website here. I’m only twenty minutes away from the set and on call in case he needs anything. I hope he doesn’t call until my Riesling Cave Spring Cellar from Canada comes!

13:08pm: the bag with the to go items is brought to me.

13:10pm: Ah! The Riesling lands on my table. The glass is not perfectly clean, but not dirty enough to send it back. The wine is not cold enough, but again not warm enough to send it back either — plus, I really want to taste it. It is good, maybe a touch acidic, but decent.
At the “pay here” station along with my receipt I was given a plastic card with the number #91 on it. I was instructed to place it on my table. On the center of the table there is a little iron chipped basket carousel filled with cutlery, napkins, salt, pepper, sugar, a decorative apple and in the middle, a stem where to stick my number #91. This is how the student-waiter/tresse will know where to bring the food & drink I ordered at “order here” and paid for at “pay here”. This system makes them wander awkwardly throughout the fairly large dining room café. They have one eye on the tray for balance and the other intensely scanning the center of the tables to find the matching number. It not that easy to decipher when a stem holds several numbers. I am watching the entire waiting staff playing a table hunt game. Maybe it is a new technique in order to test and improve students’ hand/eye coordination! At any rate super entertaining to me, the lone diner!

13:17 pm: I’m patiently waiting for my food. I’m not super hungry but very thrilled to report “live” from the CIA! I have my wine and plenty of observing and writing to do.
Darn! I was going to seriously eavesdrop on the conversation of the five diners two tables away but they are already done and leaving. The jovial chubby gay student’s louder voice had carried over to me via the arch above us, maybe it was gossip about the school? I’ll never know. The table across me is being reassured that their food is on the way. I am reassured too cause I was right behind them on the line “order here”.

13:23 pm: Stretching my wine and noticing that the neighbors got their food. Great! mine must be close.

13:28 pm: The waitress who brought my wine comes to me: “Are you waiting for something?”
“Yes! A BLT and an order of fries”
“Ok! Let me check!”
A sip or two and my wine is done. Right on time when my food will come. I am not having a second glass, it is lunch and I have to drive. I don’t mind not having wine with my food, my favorite glass of wine is before the food comes.

13:13 pm: Food is here… How do they expect me to eat this sandwich? I know that I am not very articulate when it comes to American kitchen sink sandwiches but there is no way I can hold and eat a —at least— two and half inch thick sandwich. The slices of toasted Pullman bread are each one-inch thick! I try to close it as it came open face on a wooden board. Not an easy task: the crispy bacon in the center creates a complication, it pushes out the beautiful red, ripe but firm tomatoes that surf out on the mayo. Ok, I will abandon the top part and hold it carefully as it is now an overloaded toast. It is very tasty, and if the bread was half the thickness it would be a perfect BLT. I got so surprised and busy that I didn’t even pick at the French fries yet. Just by looking at them I suspect they are frozen fries, tasting them confirms my suspicion. On the other hand the potato chips are delicious even if a tad too salty for my taste. Why on hearth did I order fries when potato chips came with the BLT? For one I’m still jet-lagged, and two, I have a craving for fresh French fries as I didn’t eat any in France —all frozen there too— and at the CIA I expected they would be fresh potato French fries.
Ok! Done with the food, I left one slice of bread and most of the French fries. The waitress cleans up my table. I ask if I can order coffee, and as I suspected she tells me that I would have to go thru the long “order here” and “pay here” lines again. I don’t want to so and settle for a glass of iced water. Two tables away some people are getting table service. A women who looks like a manager/teacher comes to take their order, obviously they are VIP’s du jour… and I think it is Joel Berg who is here to give a lecture that I plan to attend. I saw the announcement in the entrance of the hall and I recognize him.

13:5o pm: I must go as I was told sitting for the talk is limited and on first come first serve basis.

The party is over!

The party is over in the Pyrenees, we will return home tomorrow. I will post a few more things about my trip, but with much regrets it will be from New York State. Miles and I have to return early as Miles is being called to finish Muttnik.
Today we had our last concert in Peyragudes and I will post a few pix and videos later. We had a blast and after the concert as we had a drink at our favorite watering hole, “le Faisant Doré,” one of my brother’s friend paid me the funniest comment ever: “How come you speak English wich such a perfect accent and French with such a thick one!”. Yeah! go figure!

Anyhow, 2 days ago Pierre decided to go back to Bourg d’Oueil early after a day in Luchon to be able to stop for dinner at the Sapin Fleuri. We had a marvelous meal full of remiscences for me. This is what we had:

Potage de Légumes (both of us)
vegetable soup

Truite Meunière (Pierre)
Pan fried trout
Ramequin (Nicole)

Faux Filet (Pierre)
Truite Meunière (Nicole)

Tarte aux Fruits
Fruit Tart

Our wine was a simple clean & chilled Saumur Champigny (Cabernet Franc). This was a lovely way to say good by to Bourg d’Oueil. The Ramequin where definitely a wink to my grandfather’s version called “Le Ramequin Poste et Golf” ( a light a divine crust less quiche, remind me to give you the recipe. It will make a great low-cal brunch item). My father always said : Jeannot Toucouère (father and co-owner of the Sapin Fleuri) was one of the best cook they had at my family restaurant. The hotel-restaurant is now run by Jeannot (father) Olivier (son) & Sylvie (Olivier’s wife) and I even saw Adrien (their 3 year old son) helping out super efficiently in the kitchen! They are all very dear to me and eating there is always an emotional moment. I will have a last glass of wine and then close down the suitcase for tomorow early call. Can’ wait to be back!

I Say Poubeau Cheeese!

While in the Pyrenees, Miles Joris-Peyrafitte (my younger son) and I have two gigs at the mountain resort of Peyragudes. Our first one was last Thursday and the next one is this coming Thursday (08/13/09). Peyragudes is located at the top of the Peyresourde pass (If you follow the Tour de France bike race you might have seen this breathtaking valley on TV, the pass has been part of the race since 1910).
When we drove up for tech rehearsal Miles noticed a road sign pointing to “Poubeau”. He asked me if this village was related to the Poubeau cheese. “Yes Miles! and if we have time we should stop on our way down” I replied. Thanks to my brother Jean-Louis’ efficiency our session was smooth and short and we could stop in Poubeau on the way down.

It was rush hour at the farm, the cows had been milked and many customers where lined up for fresh milk and cheese. Jean-Pierre Lavigne, the cheese maker with whom I was good friends when we were young, recognized me immediately and greeted me very warmly. We waited patiently for our turn while being entertained by the banter between Jean-Pierre and the customers. When our turn came we were brought to the cave to taste and pick our cheese. Jean-Pierre apologized for the lack of older cheese: “I got burglarized this winter and lost a lot of cheeses, so there is no way I can give you anything too aged, but this one should be good”. We got one wheel of cheese and 1½ liter of fresh milk. I promised Jean-Pierre that I would return before my departure to take more pictures and chat a little. On the way down Miles started drinking the milk out of the bottle and then asked:
“Is there another place where they make Poubeau cheese?”
“No, why do you ask?”
“You guys talk so much about this cheese that it is hard to believe it all comes from here!”
Miles grew up with the Poubeau cheese mythology. One year my mother managed to fool the US customs and sent an entire wheel through the mail for Christmas – that was before September 11th 2001. Another year our friend Eric Paul, then in charge of the dairy section at the Albany Food Coop, was determined to import Poubeau cheese. A cheese distributor assured him he could get him some. Twice Eric called to urge me to come to the coop; the shipment had arrived and I should be the first tasting the Poubeau cheese. Sadly I had twice to tell him that it was not Poubeau cheese but a generic pasteurized Pyrenean cheese that was not remotely close to the Poubeau.

I told the story to Jean-Pierre and he confirmed that there is no way his cheese could travel overseas via a distributor. As a matter of fact, he is not allowed to sell his cheese beyond a 80 kms radius. He went on to explain that his operation functions with a special dispensation. His mode of fabrication doesn’t comply with all the super cumbersome European Union norms. He sells about 1700 cheeses a year, mostly at the farm. He has 2 retailers in the town of Luchon and a couple of restaurants in the area.
Jean-Pierre minds a herd of 14 Brown cows and makes cheese every other day, he has one helper coming a few hours a day and hopes to be able to take one day a week off, once Gabriel –the new helper- is trained.

In winter, when the cows are stabled for most of the day, he supplements his income working at the Peyragudes ski resort. He works has a ski patrol/rescuer and loves the change of pace and action on the slopes. When Pierre and I went back to take pictures and talk to him I should have asked more practical question on how to make the cheese but we started reminiscing about the past and Jean-Pierre’s loved sharing his salsa dancing passion. One of thing we discussed though was that due to the lack of land available in the area, he had to buy land 70 kms away to be able to make enough hay to feed the cows in winter. The land that could be available for farming is slowly being taken over by the more lucrative business of tourism and second homes. In order to buy the land mentioned above he went to see his banker to get a loan. The banker was being very demanding in terms of guarantees. Jean-Pierre appropriately pointed out to him that if he would walk right into a car dealer’s lot he would get instant credit to buy a 30 000 euro car (same amount of the loan he needed to purchase the land). How come he could get a car in one afternoon and not get land to feed his cows? It is not an easy life to be a farmer anywhere, but it sounds like the European system is applying a lot of the agri-biz policies the U.S is trying to recover from. One hope though is that José Bové was recently elected at the European parliament and is working on agricultural issues.
We returned to the valley with another cheese and left Jean-Pierre with his beautiful children who had been serving us the most beautiful pretend-food throughout our stay. If you want to taste Poubeau cheese you will have to visit the area, however Pierre and I tried to describe it:
A fresh and clean cow milk taste, with a complex nutty undertone. The texture is supple and subtle. The rind is not too thick and I always eat it —I like tasting the mold of the aging layers.

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