ZUCCHINI BLOSSOMS

Here is a French word that comes in handy in summer: la courgette. I think I somewhat “discovered” zucchini when I first came to California some forty years ago. Of course, the slender green vegetable was not unknown in France but, at that time, it fell into the category of regional produce: ubiquitous in Provence, not so much in other areas. My grandfathers, both avid gardeners, never grew zucchini in their potagers and I don’t remember any of their neighbors growing them either. They both lived in the southwestern quadrant of France. At home, my mother loved zucchini; my dad and my sister did not; I was Switzerland… I’ll eat just about anything.

If we wanted to run a popularity contest, zucchini would rank pretty low on the offensive scale. Nevertheless, I was a bit surprised to see how enthusiastic Californians were about this summer vegetable. Zucchini bread? Really? Naturellement, this French girl didn’t think that vegetables belonged in the dessert category. But wait: is bread supposed to be a dessert in these parts? It was all very confusing.

Later on, I realized the reason why Californians devise so many creative preparations for zucchini is because it is such a prolific vegetable: one needs to constantly figure out new ways to use the abundant crop. Or else, you fill your car trunk with bags of zucchini and cajole your coworkers into lightening your load. If your garden is full of zucchini let me give you a bit of advice to nip the problem in the bud, literally: harvest zucchini as they bloom and stuff the blossoms with fresh chèvre instead of allowing the vegetable to reach maturity! These stuffed zucchini blossoms are showy, tasty, and easy to make. Bring them to the next company picnic and everybody will cheer you on for growing courgettes.

They're still so pretty after they're baked!

Zucchini Blossoms stuffed with Goat Cheese
Fleurs de courgettes farcies au fromage de chèvre
Serves 4

2 eggs
4 oz fresh goat cheese
1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed
6 basil leaves, finely chopped
Salt and pepper
12 zucchini blossoms
2 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

Preheat oven to 400ºF. Separate the eggs. With a fork, mash the goat cheese and mix in the egg yolks, garlic, basil, and pepper. Whip the egg whites with a pinch of salt and fold into the cheese mixture. Carefully open up the zucchini blossoms and fill them with the cheese and egg preparation. Oil an oven-proof dish with 1 Tbsp of olive oil; arrange the stuffed blossoms in the dish and sprinkle with the remaining oil. Bake for 20 minutes. Serve hot.

Vocabulary

La courgette: zucchini
Le potager: vegetable garden
Naturellement: of course
La chèvre: goat
Le chèvre: goat cheese

LES FLEURS

I hooked up in Paris with my friend Raegan last September and she was interested in visiting some the places where I grew up. We took the RER to the suburbs east of Paris and got off at Noisy-Champs. We walked to my parents’ former house –where I lived until I moved to the US– and then to the elementary school I attended when I was 10 years old. We stood at the gate just before noon, where many mothers were waiting to pick up their children. I usually walked home on my own for lunch but Mom would often come to get me at the end of the school day, with a pain au chocolat, un pain aux raisins, or a chausson aux pommes for my goûter. 

Elisabeth, among her flowers

On a whim, I decided to head out to Parmi les Fleurs, a floral shop located a mere 100 meters from the school. It also happens to stand right across from the cemetery, which is always a desirable spot when you are in the floral business. None of my family members are buried there but the florist, Elisabeth, designed my wedding bouquet in 1982. She was one of my sister’s childhood friends. I hadn’t seen her since… well, my wedding. I instantly recognized her: the blond hair gave her away. It was fun to reconnect after all these years. Her shop looked beautiful; it was inviting and uncluttered, a suggestion of how the right floral arrangement can transform your space.

Rue de Babylone, 7th arr.

I don’t routinely draw comparisons between the French and American cultures but I do believe that we –the French– have a special relationship with flowers. Take weddings as an example. In the US, the bride pretty much makes all decisions on flowers (the bouquet and boutonnieres, of course, but also the arrangements that will be displayed at the church, reception, etc.) There is a lot of emphasis on theme, color, and coordination: there is a master plan and interference is not welcomed. When you live in France, you wouldn’t dream of attending a wedding and not sending your own flowers. Same thing for a funeral: it is de rigueur to send flowers, whether you’re able to attend or not. 

Rue Beaubourg, 3rd arr.

And there is Valentine’s, and Mother’s Day, and anniversaries. Even with no special occasion in sight, the French purchase a lot of flowers for their own homes; while growing up, I would often come home and notice that Mom had just bought a bouquet of mimosa, a pot of hyacinths or cyclamens, a bunch of tulips, or a bouquet composé. Just because it looked nice and smelled good.  My grandmother would cut roses, gladiolus, or dahlias from her garden and set them out in a vase on the kitchen table.

Rue Caulaincourt, 18th arr.

Floral shops in Paris are almost –almost– as ubiquitous as pharmacies and pâtisseries. Maybe that gives you an idea of where our priorities lie. When I perused a batch of photos recently, I realized that floral shops tend to be a favorite subject of mine. Maybe I should buy more fresh flowers instead of immortalizing them digitally? Anyway, I’m happy to share some of my favorite pictures of floral shops all over Paris. Sorry, no scratch and sniff yet… 

Rue Condorcet, 9th arr. Check out that mosaic!

Rue Duban in the 16h arr. in posh Passy.

Marché des Enfants Rouges, 3rd arr. with murals to match.

Boulevard Henri IV, 4th arr. Organized by color!

Avenue Ledru-Rolin, 12th arr.

Place du Dr. Félix Lobligeois, 17th arr.

Place de la Madeleine, 8th arr. There are several floral stalls on the eastern side of the church.

Rue des Martyrs, 9th arr. A flower bar...

Rue du Jourdain. 20th arr.

Vocabulary
Le pain au chocolat:  puff pastry (like a croissant) with a chocolate bar in the center
Le pain aux raisins: raisin snail-type pastry
Le chausson aux pommes: lit. a slipper with apples; half-moon shaped puff pastry filled with applesauce
Parmi les fleurs: among the flowers
De rigueur: customary
Le bouquet composé: lit. a composed bouquet of flowers, a floral arrangement
La pâtisserie: pastry shop

SMELLING THE ROSES

My grandmother’s house has sat uninhabited since she died twenty years ago. Restoring it and bringing it up to modern standards will be our retirement project (yes, I do enjoy the convenience of central heating.) In the meantime, the wood shutters remain closed except when we visit or when my sister checks in with my nephews during school breaks.

Grandma’s days were packed with all the typical activities of a small farm: tending to the chicken and the rabbits, picking and canning vegetables, working in the vineyard, fetching water from the well, stoking the fire in the cantou, preparing meals for the family, washing clothes and sheets by hand, sewing her own dresses and aprons… all essential tasks to supplement my grandfather’s modest pension.

And yet, she always found time to take care of her beloved flowers. She was especially fond of the three rosebushes planted by the front door and the kitchen window. One plant produced roses the size of small cabbages, or so it seemed when I was haute comme trois pommes. They were an unusual blend of pale yellow and delicate pink; I couldn’t escape their heady scent when I walked by. The other two were pourpre, that deep blackish-red color of luxurious satin or velvet. They produced tight buds like the ones sold in floral shops; their beauty was only matched by their intense fragrance.

Lack of care and a few harsh winters were fatal to a couple of grandma’s rosiers but the scraggly red rosebush by the porch still manages to produce a few flowers every May. What a treat to see and smell these beautiful roses! That plant is a sexagenarian, a true survivor. I hope it will hang on a few more years so I can lavish it with the TLC it deserves. And continue to feel grandma’s benevolent haunting.

Vocabulary
Le cantou: large fireplace in a country kitchen
Haut(e) comme trois pommes: literally “high like three apples;” of short height, referring to a young child
Pourpre: cardinal red
Le rosier: rosebush