Last week, the day my mother passed away, I did for my father what she called a "cake", a dish of small things: two leeks taken from the soup, wild ideally, two eggs, a spoonful of flour, a little salt ...
On the stove in a pan black shiny well: "Do not wash, at worst rub it with salt and newsprint, there do not cook the tomatoes, pickled it and takes away the full benefit of the work of "seasoning" ...
That evening, I put my feet in his, I even have the impression that I gained a bit of patience (not my first virtue!): stir the fire, reload, remove or reset as needed round the stove ...
The cake had a taste of its cuisine.
The next day I took one of his knives (mummified in red tape in order not to discard the peels) and went down the path. I recognized guardians of odds and ends: small pieces of bamboo tongs clothes, red cloth strips to save a spontaneous seedling almond or peach wild trampling a Boeotian hunter accidentally. One of my olive trees wore an arm sling, may well be an old pillowcase to save the injured limb to a bite of the sun on the scrub ... I searched in vain leeks vine was a bit earlier. I saved the fledgling doucette, curiously, I was at peace, I felt her with me ...
Doucette, leeks, chicory to the log, milkweed, dandelion bellyful, hoops onion soft boiled eggs crushed in the salad dressing, croutons in ...
Tajines-casseroles without red wine, somewhere between the High Atlas and the Cevennes, makeshift braziers, old vines and tendrils of vine, chestnut indestructible, kindling gleaned ...
Savoy lopsided cakes, butter cream and coffee very birthday candles, fixtures Little Butter-soaked coffee and chocolate bundt rum drunk Négrita, plump cakes .. . And for Easter, chocolate marquise kills and snow eggs streaked with caramel ...
Hen eggs
happy gavaged corn "acampégés" happily swimming in olive oil and whipped with a dash of vinegar, omelets with sweet onions Cevennes hissing at the stove ...
'S' there is not enough, there are eggs ... "
Wheelbarrows tomatoes peeled and seeded with a precision of a goldsmith, trimmed green beans from his fingertips, peaches velvet lying gently spiral into hundreds of Practice and Perfect ...
paddling shiny eggplants in tomato confit, fried leeks anchovies and night of nothing, warrens fluxes, beef olives warmed Doucet with potatoes "quartered orange" chicken wrapped in bacon crispy ... coiled sausages in mashed ...
Bintje by gondola, mashed russet, potatoes "flexible" with onions, potato salad with boiled eggs and tuna to the bowl of the father ...
Applesauce scabbed and fallen, pears revived ugly Vanilla, cherry Montmorency, quince paste decadent mahogany ...
Small pies meadows to roses, with a little calf and nutmeg, in a buttery crust and sand quickly made with the fingertips, jarred mushrooms, omelets to brown powder mushrooms a blow of humus and forest when you open the pot ...
And its powder celery leaves (as she was mixing the mushrooms in an old coffee grinder devoted to this purpose), as fine and green tea matcha and gave for decades a slap in her soup, she had expected or the 'Off' or Ferran Adria
... I think she would have laughed ...
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Thank you both taught and shown
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