Find something you’re passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it.
~Julia Child

BLUEBERRY CLAFOUTI (CLAFOUTI AUX MYRTILLES)

This is just a riff on an earlier clafouti take that appeared on a May 9, 2009, page but now is directly aimed at blueberries only, a perpetual fav. A more historical and geographical glimpse of clafouti is found there.

(As always, reference can be made by simply typing in clafouti in the “Search” box found on nearly the upper right of the main page; just below the Categories and just above the Recent Posts.  It is the means by which damned near everything can be found on the site.)

Blueberries, a super food, are considered one of the healthiest, both low in calories and high in nutrition.  From the genus Vaccinium, it is a perennial flowering shrub that produces berries that are hued blue to purple — indigoed — with a flared crown at the end and covered in a protective coating of powdery epicuticular wax. At first, the berries are green in color.  There are two most common types, highbush, which are most common and lowbush, which are smaller in stature, synonymous with wilder, and more fecund with antioxidants.

To my chagrin, it seems blueberries have adapted titles that resound like a female grooming brochure or study.  To somehow even think that hair “down there” is somehow contortedly unhygienic or those who inexplicably opt for that prepubescent look or those who urge their mates to do the same…quelle honte, quel dommage.

Blueberries contain fiber, vitamin C, vitamin K, manganese, antioxidants (improving brain function), flavonoids, anthocyanins, reduce DNA damage, neutralize free radical damage, improve insulin sensitivity, lower blood sugar levels, have anti-diabetic effects, prevent urinary tract infections (UTIs), lower blood pressure and protect LDL lipoproteins (the “bad” cholesterol) from oxidative damage.

Need I say more?

Well, have a happy 4th.  Whatever that means — so few years this republic, this democracy, this oligarchy or otherwise and so much violence over our time. Really, exactly When Was America Great — name some dates (even an era), bro?  Your ongoing silence, M. Donald, speaks volumes as does your silly red hat, under that asinine red/white/grey/orange comb-over that can tweet something irrational at a moment’s notice in the middle of the night. I await your prompt response — it has been days now, almost a fortnight, likely more. Apparently, you have no answer.

2 T blueberry eau-de-vie or 1 T cognac or brandy
2 T light brown sugar

1/3 C granulated sugar (divided)
1/3 C turbinado cane sugar (divided)

1/3 C unsalted butter, softened
2 lbs seasonal blueberries

3 large, pastured eggs
6 T heavy whipping cream
6 T whole milk
1/4 C cornstarch or all purpose flour
Confectioners’ sugar (optional)

Preheat the oven to 425 F

Combine the blueberry eau-de-vie and 2 tablespoons of sugar in a bowl to dissolve along with the light brown sugar.

Add the blueberries and butter and toss to blend. Transfer to a baking dish and place in the oven. Bake until the fruit is hot, and set the blueberries aside to cool to room temperature.

Lower the oven to 350-375 F

Whisk the eggs until frothy with a mixer, adding the remaining sugars. Then add the cream, milk and cornstarch (preferably) or flour and mix until well blended. There should be a smooth waffle-like batter.

Place the blueberries in a baking dish in a single layer. Slowly pour the batter over the fruit, filling just to the brim. Bake until until golden, some 35-40 minutes. Set aside, and turn broiler to high.

Sprinkle the confectioners’ sugar on top sparsely yet evenly.  Place under the broiler until the sugar is caramelized.

Serve the clafouti directly from the skillet in preferably in wedges or actually unmold and place on a platter. To unmold, make certain that the clafouti is free from the sides of the pan, and if necessary, run a sharp knife around the edge to release it.  Serve warm.

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It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.
~André Gide

A brief obit on courtship.

One sad day, Dating, a longtime mate who has been fighting an insidious illness for a decade, quietly passed almost overnight. Her closest friends whispered that the cause was cancerous by nature. She had been a tireless advocate of couplings for centuries, merging innumerable sometimes seemingly mismatched relationships, many who went on to be life long partners and others who did not quite reach that supposed paradigm. She encouraged couples to address each other directly, to communicate face à face, and openly share interests and intimacies without codes, pretenses, online personas or flat screens. Dating would not have countenanced a couple strolling through the park, engaged only by their screens and not one another, texting whomever else about whatever. With Dating, sensuous trysts steeped in droll wit, mutual charm, eager eyes, seductive words, and even homey sociability were urged. Ever exploring one anothers’ minds and bodies, exalting each other’s uniqueness, while bearing blemishes and flaws over time, became the standards. That was soulful sychronicity in full bloom.

While not fully expected, others subverted the rules of courtship rather recently, sadly causing Dating’s descent and demise. The disease process spread more rapidly than expected. What with texting, e-mails, social media, smartphones, Twitter, Facebook, online dating sites, and instant messages, Dating stood little chance in her later years. Narcissitic texters, bizarre checklisters and flyspecking online data collectors, especially, would lead to her hastened departure. The now obsolete traditional dinner + movie was replaced by online liaisons, non-dates, hookups and hanging out in groups, small and large, sometimes known and more often unknown. Commitment free flings, screen only paramours, and ambiguous dalliances that leave both halves unhappy, sexually unfulfilled, and confused about intimacy have now become all too common. We lament that there were no simple solutions Dating could have offered nor that she could have proposed before her untimely end — other than to revert to the romantic days of yore. Without her, the courtship landscape may indeed prove bleak.

Oh, we will miss the furtive and lingering glances, flirtations, seductions, angst and joys of romance, madame Dating. So many of us still embrace you in your afterlife.

CHICKEN WITH DATES, FENNEL AND LEMON

4 chicken leg-thigh quarters
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Ras al hanout
3 T extra virgin olive oil
1 T unsalted butter

1 medium onion, peeled and thinly sliced
1 medium fennel bulb, peeled and thinly sliced
4 plump, fresh garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
Hefty pinch of saffron threads, crumbled
1 T ras el hanout
2 cinnamon sticks

2 preserved lemons
1+ C chicken broth

1 1/2 C pitted dates
2 t ground cinnamon
3 T honey

Sesame seeds, toasted
Cilantro leaves, chopped

Season chicken with ras al hanout, salt and pepper. In a large, heavy skillet add the olive oil and butter over medium high heat. Sauté the chicken until browned, about 5 minutes per side, and set aside in a baking dish tented with foil. Then, add the onions, fennel, garlic, saffron, ras al hanout, and cinnamon sticks. Cook over medium to medium high heat for about 8 minutes. Add the chicken broth and lemons and increase the heat just to bring the liquid to a gentle boil and then promptly lower to a simmer. Cover and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the chicken is done and the sauce reduced some, about 20-25 minutes.

Meanwhile place the dates, cinnamon and honey in a heavy saucepan. Stir gently to combine, then simmer over medium heat until the dates are tender and the sauce is syrupy, about 5-10 minutes.

Spoon the dates and syrup over the chicken and friends, and then garnish first with sesame seeds and then cilantro.