Delices de France

I am freshly fluffed and feeling fine.

We made an excursion to the open market in Nice today.  The smells were exquisite: artisan cheeses, provencal sausages, crisp white wines, multitudinous flowers conjuring the famous perfumes of Grasse just up the hill….and Socca.

Socca is a simple staple of Southern French fare.  It is ubiquitous in all the open markets in this area.  And, I always get a wedge.  I assume this is because nothing about it is bad for the figure of a small dog.

I watched carefully today as an old man concocted the batter.  Pezzo di torta, as we like to say: piece of cake.

Following is my translation.  I estimate it would serve 4 humans…or 1 dog:

The man put 1 1/2 cup chick pea (garbanzo) flour in a medium-sized blue bowl.  He added 1/3 cup of a lovely pale green olive oil and 2 cups of water and then stirred the whole slurry with a whisk.  He bent down to let me see the mix: a soft, smooth, lump-free batter that smelled like a rich bean cake.

He then poured a tablespoon of olive oil in a large, round pan, about 13-14 inches wide, like something one would use for Paella (ah, that trip to Spain last summer!). The Socca was only about 1/2 thick, or so.

He popped the whole thing into a very hot oven (I estimate, by the tinges on my whiskers when he opened the door, that the temp was 500 degrees).  He let this bake for what seemed to be 20 or 25 minutes.  Anyway, when it was set in the middle and browned at the edges, he took it out, drizzled it with more olive oil (about a tablespoon, I think, and sprinkled coarse salt and fresh pepper on top.

It was then cut into wedges and each was served on a piece of parchment paper: warm, salty heaven. I guess you could add herbs, or spices to the batter.  There are probably endless possibilities.

Personally, I think it would be a great light summer meal, with a tossed green salad and a glass or two of Provencal Rose wine.  

Alas, no one asked me.

I eat it alone, treasure on the street… a la cobblestones.  Still, heaven.

Chow.

A Vineyard Tale

Vineyard time! 

Spring has sprung and there are new, tender leaves on the vines.  My people and I were off to the south this week, and the lush, volcanic hills, about an hour from Naples and Mount Vesuvius.

Feudi di San Gregorio is a noted winery that produces wine from the ancient indigenous grape varieties of the region.

Some was spilled, as is the case at every tasting.  Enough for a small dog swilled from the glass and was very much appreciated. 

My pronouncement?

A wine of golden color, pear and citrus on the nose…my nose.   Fresh and dry on the tongue, with a crisp mineral finish.  Perfect for the coming hot weather.

Ahhh, to be a dog in Italy with summer on the way.Chow.

Easter Bunnies

I know why rabbits are a ubiquitous sign of spring; and it’s not just the Easter Bunny.  Rabbit traps are set in Chianti like clockwork come spring.  The man who runs our farm in the country stacks them high in the flat bed of his Ape, and off we go, down a white gravel road, deep into the wood to set them.

Two days later we return.  Only one trap holds a prize, but it is just enough for a proper Sunday dinner.

The local Italian rabbit is fat and tender and toothsome, especially when the farm cook , Grazia, prepares them.  This is the way:

Heat the oven to 350.  Whisk together one bottle of Chianti, 1/4 cup of red-wine vinegar, and 1 tablespoon of sugar.

Cut a 3 lb. rabbit into pieces…toss the fur to any small dog who might be nearby.  Season it (the rabbit, not the dog) with salt and pepper, then dredge each piece in flour.

In 1/4 cup of olive oil, fry the rabbit, turning once, until browned…about 6 delicious smelling minutes.

Transfer the rabbit  into a deep baking dish.  Add a hand-full of crushed garlic cloves (about 16-20) to the skillet until golden: another 3-4 delicious smelling minutes.  Pour the wine mixture into the skillet and scrape up the browned bits.  Pour the sauce over the rabbit in the baking dish.  Scatter the top with a handful of sage leaves(about 15) and 5 or 6 rosemary sprigs. 

Cover with foil and braise in the oven until tender…another 45 delicious smelling minutes.  Then, uncover and raise the over temperature to 450, basting rabbit until the sauce is thickened….yes, another 25 minutes of splendorous scent. 

A little salt and pepper; a bottle of Chianti Classico, crusty bread and green salad   Ecco, you have the perfect spring-time Sunday dinner.

Chow.

All Roads

We have a neighbor in the apartemento next door.  She is French.  Every time she makes a trip to her home country she returns with a case or two of french wine.  Obviously she is a francophile, for good reason, I suppose.  But, really.

After all: When in Rome.

Far be it from me to suggest that anything French may have been invented by the Italians but let’s look at the subject of oenology, shall we?

My people and I spend the summer and early fall in our vineyard just outside Sienna so I know something about the process of turning fruit to fermentation.

The best part, to my mind, is rolling in the lovely aromatic glop of must, a by-product of the crush.  It leaves my fur a pleasant royal purple hue.  Heaven.  But I digress.

The making of French wine was greatly influenced by the many Popes who made their homes in Avignon.  Chateau-Neuf-du-Pape (meaning, new castle of the pope) sits just to the north of Avignon and is regarded by many to be a mecca for great wines…rooted in Roman culture, of course.  All roads do, indeed, lead to Rome.

Neuf said.

Chow.

The Daily Dog

First of all, there will be no daily entries.  I know this is The Daily Dog.  I am a the dog who named it so, purely as self-inspiration:  putting the pressure on, so to speak, in an effort to share my observations in a timely fashion.  But, I am still a dog. 

There are certain highly observable things we, as dogs, do daily.  None of them involve writing.

Translating pure thought to the keyboard takes time.  First, I have to be clear of mind in knowing what I want to say.  This is an inherent problem directly linked to the canine penchant toward distraction. 

A squirrel here, a squirrel there—you know the rest. 

Then, it takes a great expenditure of effort to turn thought to word to blog; a free computer; a few naps; a bit of exercise to patrol one’s territory, a couple of square meals and a treat. 

So bear with me…I’m always thinking.

Chow!