Sorrel is flourishing in the garden. Not only the main ingredient of schav (beloved of Barbara's grandmother - Barbara herself hated it - and crossword setters everywhere; Russian shchav), but it always puts me in mind not only of the sorrel soup scene in Brideshead but also a scene in a just post-war Michael Innes novel, where after a rationed dinner of whale meat, some poor blighter is carried out babbling about the sorrel soup scene in Brideshead.
Did a variant on the now classic Troisgros brothers' sorrel sauce. So:
A small mirepoix of shallots, carrots, and celery, seasoned with kosher salt and white pepper; cooked in butter.
Then a bouquet garni of thyme, parsley, and sage (the fun part is using the parsley sprigs for auto-bondage) thrown in with:
1/2 cup wine (from my own glass) and 1/2 cup water (or just my salt tears).
Cook till reduced.
At this point the Troisgros brothers (indeed, all classic French cooking) and I part company, because every French recipe at this point will say: "Press hard on the vegetables to extract all the flavor and discard the solids." And I can't . . . I just can't.
So into the lovely tiny squares of brightly colored and beautifully sautéed vegetables add
1 cup of cream. Cook till reduced (the Troisgros brothers use a stick of butter rather than the cream).
Get a mess of sorrel, and treat it as spinach: wash thoroughly and strip out the central ribs. Then cut into a chiffonade (roll the leaves into big doobie--I mean cigars--and cut into strips crosswise).
Cook for 2-5 minutes until the sorrel changes color to dark spinachy green.
We served this with pan-fried tilapia fillets and some baby yellow squash (squishes) just steamed whole for about 5 minutes.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
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