Mary Had a Little Lamb...(And I Ordered Right After Her!)

Okay, so perhaps the first time it was just "puppy love," but I can remember the exact moment. It was at Les Deux Garçons in Aix en Provence. I was among many in attendance at a monthly luncheon/lecture program. (Organized by a local businessman, this series brings together ‘Aix-pats’ and Aixoise for lecture/discussion formats on topics ranging from local to global.) The often-interesting presentation is followed by a lively discussion but on this particular day, there was a moment in which the room became a blur. Time seemed to stop. I lost all contact with auditory and visual cues and stepped out of the activity of the luncheon and into the rather profound experience of my first bite of souris d’agneau. We know this as "lamb shanks" and the delicious braised version served at Les Deux Garcons, is my first choice when I attend those monthly luncheons.

To have discovered another even more lovely version at Le Zinc d’Hugo, deeper in the heart of Aix, was like recognizing that you may have been really attracted before, but this time...yup... this time it’s the real thing: you’re in love. Yeah…it was like that. And so of course, as can always be anticipated in the early stages of a love affair, I wanted to see that souris d’agneau more often. I began researching and tweaking recipes to get as close to Zinc’s version as possible. So much "research" was being done, that when I told my sister over the phone one afternoon that I was braising yet another pot of souris d’agneau, her questioning comment (given the frequency of my current activities) revealed her suspicion: "There must be a lot of stubby-legged little lambs running around Provence?!"

Not one to shy away from acknowledging the origins of my food, I go to my local boucherie to choose from the array of fresh meats in the case and hanging in the back. Recently, though, I have aroused some curiosity at this local butcher shop because of my repeated requests for orders from their supply of lovely lamb shanks. What can I say?! I’m in love!

The butcher at the Boucherie du Palais insists that each of my guests have their own "shank", which has resulted in very large portions, indeed. When I balked (ever so slightly, believe me!) at the amount of meat he was suggesting I carry out of that place for three people, with a slight upward toss of his head and an audible ‘sniff’, he mumbled something in my general direction about how it would not "be very pretty" if each person did not have their own shank on the plate….something my butcher at the local organic market in California was never worried about, I can assure you! Lest I become the topic of conversation in the back of the butcher shop during the smoking break, I took his recommendation and carried out several more kilos of lamb than I had anticipated. After all, aside from the fact that serving food in a "not-so-pretty manner" may be a misdemeanor here, the leftovers can easily be transformed into a lamb, olive and mozzarella filled streudel for friends who come in for aperitifs (but that's another post!)

Braised Lamb Shanks in Port Wine Sauce was the star of the evening on a day that was still quite mild. Atop a fig and apricot studded couscous, grilled carrot and zucchini slices rounded out this satisfying meal. As the days grow a bit cooler, it will be served up "family style" with garlic-smashed potatoes. The rich sauce that cooks down during the braising process is as close as I’ve gotten to the "souris of my dreams." (Ain’t love grand?!)

Bon appetit!
L

Consider these suggestions from Jean-Marc Espinasse at French-Wine-A-Day, for a little something to accompany this dish and really make it "sing"! Given the spicy rub, and depending on your preference of more or less spices, try:

2002 Cornas (minimum spice)

2003 Bandol (average spice)

2000 Vacqueyras (lots of spice)


BRAISED LAMB SHANKS IN PORT WINE SAUCE
(Inspired by le Zinc d'Hugo and adapted from Bon Appetit)

For the rub:
2 tablespoons coriander seeds
2 tablespoons fennel seeds
1 tablespoon black peppercorns
4 large lamb shanks (about 5 pounds)

For the braising:
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 large white onion, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
10 garlic cloves, peeled
3 celery stalks, roughly chopped
1 small leek, white and pale green parts only, cut crosswise into 1 1/2-inch pieces
3 cups ruby Port (It is worth it to use a good port for this sauce.)
4 cups low-salt chicken broth
4 cups beef broth

6 whole cloves
2 whole star anise*
2 bay leaves
1/4 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper

Mix coriander, fennel, and peppercorns in heavy small skillet. Toast on medium-high heat until they are releasing their fragrances and beginning to turn slightly darker, about 2 minutes. Transfer to spice grinder; process until finely ground. Rub each shank with 1 rounded teaspoon spice blend. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in heavy large wide pot over medium-high heat. Add shanks to pot. Cook until brown on all sides, about 20 minutes. Transfer to large bowl. Add remaining 2 tablespoons oil to same pot. Add onion and next 3 ingredients; sauté over medium heat until vegetables begin to soften, about 5 minutes. Add remaining spice blend to taste (I only added half of what was left and saved the other half for a rainy day.) and stir 1 minute. Add Port and simmer until liquid is reduced to 2/3 cup, about 15 minutes. Add both broths; boil until liquid is reduced to 3 1/2 cups, about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Return shanks to pot. Add cloves, star anise, bay leaves, and crushed red pepper. Cover pot with foil, then lid and place in oven to braise until tender, about 2 hours. (Can be made 2 days ahead. Uncover and cool slightly. Place in refrigerator until cool, then cover and keep refrigerated. Rewarm in 350°F oven for 20 minutes before serving.)

Place 1 lamb shank on each of 4 plates. Season sauce to taste with salt and pepper. Spoon sauce and vegetables over lamb and serve.

*Star-shaped seed pod available in the spice section of some supermarkets, Asian markets, and specialty foods stores.

Serves 4

Fish Out of Water

The days here are beginning to show signs of cooling...and then warming...and then a bit of fog to cool the morning...and then warming again in the afternoon. I am squeezing the last bit of bright sunshine out of the lavender skies of Provence before flying headlong into winter...or at least that is the experience of this California Girl! But back in July...well, let me tell you…we were doing some serious roasting - and not of the delicious sort! Fortunate soul that I am, the first week of July found me in Paris, hoping for a bit of a reprieve…but no – it was perhaps the hottest stretch of the summer for that city as well. Paris was included in our warm weather from the south.

I had arrived in the City of Light (Clothing) via the high-speed TGV. The plan was to do some serious museum viewing, café sitting and photo shooting with a friend who had
arrived from Canada. The oppressive heat, a surprise to all, had us spending our first day searching for a hotel with “climatisée”. Francophiles, yes, but still cursed with our North American conditioning…in this case ‘air conditioning’!

Sweaty shoulder to sweaty shoulder, we pressed in with other travelers on stifling metro cars, and then baked in the convection oven of the Paris streets, leaving us drenched and dragging by 11 each morning. (To be honest, I get kind of ‘cranky’ when the weather gets hot. Those who know me know this not-so-charming little fact about me...and now M. knows this about me, too!) Thinking we had reached our “permanent wilt points” by late afternoon, we managed to perk up as the temperatures dropped a bit in the evenings. (Admittedly, helped along by the lovely “climatisée”.)

Sweltering heat aside, the highlights of the brief stay in that wonderful city included the Picasso Museum, watching the semi-final match between France and Portugal for the World Cup at a little brasserie in the Marais (followed by the amazing celebration as people poured into the streets and climbed onto the Bastille monument, flags waving wildly), a brilliant and moving performance in the gardens of the National Archives by the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater (now there is an experience to make an American in Paris proud!) and a bistro dinner that will be remembered for a very long time as we joined forces one evening with M.’s friend, A.

A., another brave, new ex-pat, (Paris from Toronto) had made dinner reservations for us based on a recommendation from some of her new friends in city.

From our meeting place at l’Opera Bastille, we strolled our way to Le Repaire de Cartouche, a bistro in the 11th arrondissement that sits squarely between boulevard des Filles-du-Calvaire and rue Amelot. The milder temperatures made room for appreciation of the evening light – but really, what’s not to appreciate about the summer streets of Paris being washed in a lovely blush of golden-apricot light…then again, perhaps we simply thought everything looked rosier because of the ability to breathe with less effort in the lower temps.

Not being “locals from the ‘hood” and given the enthusiastic recommendation that we were following, imagine our surprise when we walked in the door to an empty restaurant! The wall of silence stopped us from taking another step and revealed the "fish out of water" that we were in that moment. We looked around, looked at one another and stepped back out the door to regroup with a bit of a ‘conference’ before going forward. The elegant menu posted in a glass case near the door seemed to be fitting of the recommendation for the place so we ventured in once again, justifying the emptiness to one another in muffled tones: “Maybe we’re just ‘early’,” came the suggestion, “Or maybe there’s a garden if we keep heading to the back,” prompted another of us, reassuringly. “Maybe the ‘local clientele’ that makes this such a popular place has already left town for the summer,” said the new Local Girl. We tentatively wandered to the back of the room as if we were accompanying Dorothy to the Wizard’s chamber. (These are the kinds of typical behaviors exhibited by some of us ex-pats who are otherwise very capable individuals, known to regularly handle a smorgasbord of social situations with grace and aplomb. Confidence and certainty get a bit scratched up when one is navigating a new country and must pay attention to which familiar social mores can be downloaded into the new life. Some clues will be offered by new friends – each one collected being a small victory in the ongoing “scavenger hunt” that is an immigrant’s assimilation process. Others must simply be learned by direct experience. The cultural knowledge and standard expectations that grease our way in our country of origin become mysteries to be cracked in another.) We followed a narrow staircase that led us into the belly of the beast, a dining room filled with tables of lively earlier arrivals. Settling into our table for the evening (and back into our skins), within 20 minutes the entire place was filled. Wine was ordered, menus were reviewed and we fell into the relaxed and lovely pace of a long dinner - something the French know how to do quite well.

The wine, each meal, (my dessert!) – it was all memorable. And there, in the refuge of the air conditioned dining room, three creative and courageous women, shared life stories, challenges, laughs and hopes reflecting a particular perspective of life in this hexagon that I suspect can only be shared by other “fish-out-of-water.” This is not, by nature, a bad thing...it just serves to remind me of my place in the scheme of it all.

Weeks have passed since that trip to Paris and so has the “canicule” (heat wave) that descended upon us this summer. But with evenings still warm enough for dinner al fresco and numerous scheduled commitments not allowing for much time to play in the kitchen recently, my happy memories of that lovely evening in Paris came to life again with the following meal.



A lover of seared ahi for years (California Girls call it ahi...the French call it thon...let's just say it's an "incomplete transition" and humor the new girl in town), I usually serve this particular “fish-out-of-water” with a dipping sauce of Thai chili paste and lots of fresh lime juice. (A curtsy to one of my favorite California foodie friends for that one.) Accompanied by a glass of champagne, seared ahi on its own makes an elegant appetizer. In this case, inspired by Le Repaire de Cartouche, the tuna, dusted with a spicy rub before it briefly hits the grill, is served along with the cool and lemony zucchini salad. Just the thing for one of the Indian Summer days ahead…or when a packed schedule leaves you very little time for cooking.

Note 1: It's always good to have a wine expert at hand and my friend Jean-Marc Espinasse, of French-Wine-A-Day, has made some lovely suggestions for wine. You'll find them listed at the end of the recipes below.




Note 2: I usually use a rub of New Mexico chili powder but had a mélange of spices on hand from a recipe I had made earlier in the week so gave that a try…same principle, just a ‘twist’ in the flavors…a little deeper, kind of quirky.

Note 3: (to self: Bring the industrial strength mandolin back to France from your US ‘stash’ next trip…but maybe not in your carry-on luggage!)

Note 4: The food, wine selection and service at Le Repaire de Cartouche were excellent. It is definitely on my list for a return visit the next chance I have to be in Paris. If you find yourself in the ‘hood, make sure to make a reservation!

Le Repaire de Cartouche
8, boulevard des Filles-du-Calvaire
75011 Paris
tel: 01 47 00 25 86
Metro: Saint-Sébastien Froissart

Bon Appétit!
L






Seared Ahi with Salad of Marinated Zucchini

Tuna:
4 (6-oounce) fresh tuna fillets
1-3 T. of New Mexico chili powder* (this is what I usually use when I prepare seared tuna, but you can see the previously mentioned ‘mélange’ option below.)
Vegetable oil for pan or grill

1. Heat large skillet, grill pan or grill on high heat.
2. Brush just enough oil onto the cooking surface to prevent sticking.
3. Season the fish fillets top and bottom with the ‘rub’. When the cooking surface is sufficiently hot, sear the tuna for 30 to 45 seconds per side (making one 90º turn mid-way on each side for grill marks.)
4. Remove from heat and slice for serving

This certainly stands alone as an appetizer (with champagne!) or as a light meal when served with the following salad: (If you are feeling brave, add one of these piments langues d'oiseaux or bird’s-tongue peppers for a little added “kick”.)







Salad of Marinated Zucchini

1 lb. zucchini, thinly sliced (preferable to use a mandolin for paper thin slices)
1 large lemon (more or less to taste)
2 garlic cloves, quartered lengthwise
1-2 T. good quality olive oil
Sea salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

1. Gently toss sliced zucchini and garlic in lemon juice and olive oil. (Note: use non-reactive bowl when marinating with lemon juice.)
2. Allow zucchini to remain in marinade for 2-6 hours, stirring occasionally.
3. When serving, remove garlic (and bird’s-tongue pepper, if used)
4. Salt and pepper to taste
5. Serve at room temperature


*Melange Spice Blend (for alternate rub):
1 tablespoons coriander seeds
1 tablespoons fennel seeds
1 tablespoon black peppercorns

Mix coriander, fennel and peppercorns in heavy small skillet. Toast together on medium-high heat until they release their fragrances and darken slightly…about 2 minutes. Transfer to spice grinder and process into a fine grind. Rub or dust (to your taste) the tuna fillets with a teaspoon of the rub. Grill as directed above.

Wine Suggestions: (Merci bien, Jean-Marc!)
Entre-deux-Mers
Pouilly Fumé

And with a little more spice:
Chablis
Sancerre

Two Years Ago Today...And Pesto!

So here it is. Inspired to put my penchant for planning future meals before finishing the one in front of me into words and pictures, I've landed in a blog. The aim is to offer a peek into my life in the South of France in a palatable, if not downright tasty, format.

Upon arriving, most…okay, okay…all of my first messages back to friends and family were constellated around my daily trips to the open air markets and my happy sensory immersion into the French appreciation for all things 'food'. So the food and market-themed stories about the early days after my arrival, and the sometimes hilarious results of trying to communicate in very broken French, began to be served up. And just as one might sprinkle a garnish of parsley around the edge of a plate before serving, these stories were "sprinkled" here and there with a few details of some of the other aspects of my new life. I was starting to see a pattern develop...and so was everyone else. Fortunately, I could not see the eye-rolling going on through cyberspace but I did get comments like, "Well, at least we know you're eating well!" This would come as no surprise to anyone who really knows me.

The name that emerged reflects the spirit of being carried away - in this case, from my friends, my family, my country, in fact, my life as I had known it - by a love affair...with, of all things, a place.

In fact, it was two years ago today, one day in advance of "La Rentrée", that the adventure began. My plane swooped in over the mattelassé quilt of the Mediterranean Sea hugging the rocky coast of Marseille. Though not a straight path, I found my way into the center of Aix en Provence, fork in hand. As true adventures tend to go, I had no idea how it would unfold. (Honestly, this continues to be true.) But as it began to take shape day-by-day, I held onto the intention that I had packed into my carry-on luggage for the journey: to somehow blend my writing and photography into a cohesive project. Perhaps that intention has found a little spot it can call its own in something referred to as a 'blog'.

Who knows what the strongest promptings were to get this started. Perhaps it was the discovery of duck confit or souri d'agneau - things that I just thought had to be shared for the betterment of life as we currently know it! Maybe it was the suggestion that I offer a tart-themed seminar (‘Queen of Tarts’ that I am, guests must partake of at least one tart if they come anywhere near chez moi). Perhaps it was the profound awakening of a love of cheese (a necessary 'love', it would seem, if one is to live here with any degree of commitment). Then again, perhaps it was simply that cooking may have been the sanest way to ground myself in the process of finding my way. There was plenty of ‘culture shock’ to be experienced as I put one foot in front of the other in another country...another culture...another language and without the familiar network of family and friends easily accessible.

And so the saga began...and continues.

Since this is an introduction of sorts, I offer a bit of orientation for our journey together: Living between two outdoor markets seems quite perfect for a serious "foodie". The "grand marché" takes over the two large parking lots near the Palais de Justice three days a week, while the "petit marché" exists every day of the year – Christmas and New Year’s included. I am inspired just walking through this little market – and it quickly became a part of my morning routine - like brushing my teeth. Because I’ve been here long enough that the vendors know I’m staying and not just passing through, I am greeted warmly and given ‘petits cadeaux’ (little gifts)...an extra lettuce here, no charge for herbs, two big handfuls of mussels to go with the piece of fish that will be dinner, and sometimes a petite madeleine "for the road". Always, there is the chance to practice my French. My Anglophone embouchure must find its way around new words and sounds, just as my feet had to find a new balance on ancient cobblestones coming as they were from the sandy shores of the Pacific. (I am pleased to report signs of progress: I can now ask for ‘pitted olives’ in French without missing a beat and manage cobblestones in heels at quite a clip on my way to meet a friend for dinner! Progress is measure by the little things, I tell you!)

To walk through the market in summer is to be seduced by a warm perfume blended of striped cavaillon melons, tangy strawberries and sticky purple cherries. This blend is punctuated by the piquant aroma of basil and olives, with base-notes provided by an array of fragrant cheeses displayed in two stalls, strategically placed at opposite ends of the marché like parentheses around a phrase. Add to this concoction the lighter notes of lettuce. Who knew that lettuce actually smelled so...well...‘lettuce-y’?! When lined up, one little green head after another, red-leafed rosette piled upon red-leafed rosette, a fragrance is emitted that keeps me coming back.

Inspired by a wander through the marché, with a tap and a twist of the mortar and pestle, it's pesto! To me, the magic of summer is in pesto! And this summer I have become the veritable ‘princess of pesto’. With a basil bouquet from the morning's market, sea salt, garlic and olive oil at hand, I head for the mortar and pestle on a regular basis. I take great pleasure in seeing the various ingredients sacrifice their uniqueness to the greater good that is to be: the creamy, fragrant paste born from this “alchemical process”. Of course a Tart Queen must incorporate all favorites into a tart, but batches of my summer ‘elixir’ have found their way into supporting roles in pasta dishes, as a spread alternative to tapenade atop slices of fresh baguette for aperitifs, mixed into a bowl of steaming garlicky white beans, a hearty garden vegetable soup or steamed mussels, drizzled over roasted potatoes, and yes, on occasion, by the spoonful over the sink when no one is looking.

Pesto freezes beautifully. Bring it out in the middle of winter and it offers up a reminder of summer past. (Note: I slip a layer of plastic wrap directly onto the top of the pesto in its container, making sure all the air bubbles are released, before putting the lid on and popping it in the freezer. Contact with the air darkens the lovely bright green to a brownish top layer that can certainly be mixed in to brighten it up before serving. But the plastic layer reduces the darkening caused by this oxidation process.)

There is a bit of a twist to this pesto in the form of ground almonds. Partnering with parmesan cheese, the combination makes this more of an Italian style ‘pesto’ as opposed to it’s Provençal cousin over the border, "pistou", a sauce of only garlic, basil and olive oil – no nuts, no cheese. (Or so I've heard...this distinction is still a bit unclear to me, but I'm following the prompt of one Monsieur Q., who upon being offered some of my "pistou", kindly gave me a lengthy explanation of the difference between what I had made - "pesto", to his way of thinking - and what is actually "pistou"...the research continues on this point. I will keep you posted.)

The almonds, used in place of pine nuts here, provide a softer, rounder flavor that I have come to like very much. This "tweak" was inspired by my favorite Italian deli down the rue. Alas, my budget could not keep up with my hankering for their delicious pesto, so I took my inspiration from them directly to the kitchen and - voilá’! Although I prefer the creamy blend as it is transformed by the grinding action of a mortar and pestle, it works in a food processor as well.

(A humble curtsy to Patricia Wells, and her Patricia Wells At Home in Provence cookbook. I’ve added some twists, but her Pistou recipe was the jumping off point for me while still living on the edge of the Pacific.)



PESTO (Adapted from Patricia Wells At Home in Provence)

4 plump, fresh garlic cloves, peeled and minced or crushed (This is the only time I use a garlic crush as with mortar and pestle it quickly transforms into the pasty consistency needed to get started.)
Sea salt 1-2 teaspoons to taste (The courser grind here creates more friction in the grinding action.)
2 cups loosely packed fresh basil leaves
2 tablespoon ground almonds
2 tablespoons finely grated parmesan cheese
1/2 cup + extra virgin olive oil (start with 1/2 cup and add by tablespoons to desired consistency)

1. In a mortar, place the garlic and a first toss of salt and mash with the pestle to form a paste. Add the basil (tearing the larger leaves into smaller pieces as you add them to the mortar) little by little, pounding and turning the pestle with a grinding motion, adding the remaining salt in stages, to form a paste. Add the ground almonds and grind to blend into the basil/garlic paste. Add the parmesan, one tablespoon at a time, incorporating it into the paste as well before adding the oil. Add the oil slowly in a fine but steady stream, blending all of the ingredients with the pestle until the paste has become homogenous. Taste to check seasonings. This must be stirred again before serving.

If you prefer a food processor:

Place minced garlic, salt and basil in the bowl of a food processor and process to form a paste. Add the oil in a steady stream in a second round of processing. Taste for seasonings. This must be stirred again before serving.

2. Transfer to a small serving bowl. Serve immediately. If you have any left (!) store, covered and refrigerated for 1 day, or frozen up to 6 months. Bring to room temperature again before serving.

Makes about 1 cup of sauce

And what to do with that batch of pesto? Eat it by the spoonful over the kitchen sink(?!)…or…perhaps sacrifice some of it for this savory tart that is simple to put together when a purchased puff pastry is on hand.


RED ONION, GOAT CHEESE AND BASIL TART (adapted from Bon Appétit)

2 medium-size red onions, peeled with stem ends trimmed only slightly
3 tablespoons olive oil

1 roll or sheet frozen puff pastry (half of 17 1/4-ounce package), thawed

8 ounces soft fresh goat cheese
1/4 cup pesto (see above)
1/4 cup crème fraiche
3 tablespoons fresh basil, chopped
1 large egg, beaten to blend
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 400°F. Peel onions, trimming stem ends only slightly. Cut each onion into 12 wedges, leaving each wedge connected at the stem end. Arrange wedges in a single layer on a lightly oiled baking sheet and give them a light drizzle of olive oil. Bake until bottoms of onions are golden and onions are very tender, about 15 - 20 minutes. Transfer sheet to rack; cool. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover and let stand at room temperature.)

Place pastry in tart pan, trim finish sides in pan. Pierce bottom of pastry several times with fork. Bake in 400ºF oven until pastry is golden brown, about 15 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool. Reduce oven temperature to 350ºF.

Stir cheese, pesto, crème fraiche and 2 tablespoons basil in medium bowl until smooth. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Mix in remaining beaten egg. Spread cheese mixture evenly over bottom of crust. Fan wedges, golden brown side up, over cheese mixture.

Bake tart until crust is brown and cheese appears set, about 35 minutes. Transfer to rack and cool.

Sprinkle tart with 1 tablespoon basil chiffonade. Serve warm.

Serves 6-8

Bon Appétit!
L

The Long, Hot Simmer...I Mean 'Summer'

"La Rentrée" officially begins 1 September. A two year anniversay for me, the date celebrates my move to France. On that joyous occasion I will be returning to my kitchen, a more ordered life, and the business of playing with my food. Please join me to see what unfolds in (and out) of my little kitchen in the south of France. In the meantime, the most important thing 'cooking' is this blog design...which is still in its early stages. I'm new to the process so there are still "kinks" to be discovered and worked out. There will be new additions to these pre-launch posts as I learn the ropes. Check back often to see the changes and gather some tasty ideas.

For instance, here is the result of my wander through the marché today...after all, a girl's gotta eat! Sometimes combinations just call to me from their places on the tables. And so it was with this trio. The complex creamy/'edgy' taste of the chevre marries perfectly with the earthy figs. Each softens and rounds out the edges of the other. The honey...well, let's just say it's the little touch of sweetness found in every good marriage.



The Trifecta of the Summer Market
(Chevre, Figs and Lavender Honey)

4 ounces fresh goat cheese
4-6 fresh figs
2 ounces lavender honey (Just enough for a drizzle...the amount will depend on how heavy handed a 'drizzler' you are.)

Serve 'ensemble' for people to 'make-their-own' or serve quartered figs with a spread of chevre and a drizzle of honey. Of course, this was an exceptional 'biologique' (organic) lavender honey, bien sûr! And although I might suggest it as a lovely appetizer, I had it for lunch: Generous swipes of chevre across a slice of 6 cereal organic bread, topped with quartered figs then drizzled with honey had me saying 'miam miam' mid-day on a late summer day.

Whether for lunch or as an appetizer for your next gathering among friends, bon appetit!

L