Camont: Sunday morning thoughts about a farm- circa 2011

When I was a girl, my mother used to scold me for my messy room with- “when you grow up, you’re going to have to be rich so you can have a maid!” Such prophetic words, Mom. I am the maid. Today, I try to reach those two story cobwebs that sway in the breeze from the cheminée’s draft. Later, the kitchen baking area gets a rehab with a new deeper shelf for storing spices and new lights (enfin!) for over the whole work surface. Then, if I survive this without electrocuting myself, I’ll celebrate by hanging the winter curtains in the doorways… a bit late but better than never!

It’s not all foie gras and glamour down on the French farmette. While we’re at it, let’s set the record straight for those who have never visited me at the Kitchen-at-Camont.  This is where I live- Camont 47310 Ste.Colombe-en-Bruilhois. See that ‘A’ in the center of the map? That’s Camont- circa 2011. You can see the Julia Hoyt, the barge I’ve lived on for 25 years on the canal. But now it’s all about Camont which covers in this new century a little over two-acres of land in the form of a bow tie with the cluster of house, barn and ruins as the knot in the center. The canal and its towpath form the straight line to the north, while each side stretches out to the curve of a one lane road called the ‘Chemin de Picadie’ to the south. The east wing is the shady parc, potager, garden shed, orchard chicken yard and summerhouse; the wild west is a tangle of old ash trees and oaks sheltering the lavoir and cold spring- the fontaine. The whole is surrounded by my farmer neighbors’ fruit orchards- apples, peaches, pears, kiwis, and fields of sunflowers, wheat and corn. Camont is cradled south of the bend of La Garonne that defines the northern limits of mythic Gascony.

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In 1724, Camont was a hard working farm with oxen for tractors and fields stretching to the Garonne River; it sported many barns, stables, and outbuildings as well as a hamlet of river rock and brick houses for farmworkers. Now, the heart of that historic and long gone Camont serves as an extended cook’s potager, herbier and medicinal tea gardens; a living pantry where laying hens, meat chickens, ducks, and the occasional sheep help keep me focused on what it takes to produce good healthy food- work. Camont is a culinary retreat where daily, conscious, and diligent hard work produce good Gascon food. Today, nearly 300 years on,  Camont is my own personal expression of a living pantry, an ongoing design project, and especially, a hands-on celebration of seasonal food… in and outside of my Kitchen.

Bon Jour les Poulets!

Created by Julia Leach, 8-week stagiere at the Kitchen-at-Camont.

Fall ’09.

Sunday Grasse Matinee- hatching ideas

I love it when I feel I am in the middle of something. It doesn’t happen often being a bit of a “living on the edge” sort of person- in all senses. But when it does, I feel that delicious “a-ha!” moment welling up out of my back brain and jumping out of my mouth onto The Keyboard.

• A-ha! Locavorism is my way of being a lazy bum- what’s growing outside the door? dandelions? rosemary? rosehips?
• A-ha! Organic Gardening is also wonderfully lazy, no schedules to follow for spraying or bottles of poison to sort out by use by date.
• A-ha! Canning & Preserving in small batches is fast and easy. 4 jars of quince here, 5 jars of salsa there; faster than going to the supermarket.
• A-ha! Butchering & Charcuterie making on the farm with artisan French butchers is part of the yearly cycle here.
• a-ha! Farm-to-table does work when you live surrounded by fertile fields in a wealth agriculturally based society. “France” in a word.
• A-ha! Urban farming works as long as you have Wi-Fi and can Google “mysterious chicken diseases”.
• A-ha! The Back-to-the-Land movement I joined in the 70′s on Lopez Island, WA never went away, it just got better music.

So when the I see this big kahuna wave swelling around me,  I’ve been sitting on my long French board for about 20 years, it makes me want to start paddling faster and faster. Catch that wave now! And at last, I can be the #1 Surfer French Farm Queen-Dudette in town.

This week’s wave is all over the web on blogs and news sites. Kim Severson writes an article at the NYT  about  some of the of the problems people are having raising chickens in an urban environment. And today, Alex Williams writes about the new “do-it-yourself butchery” taking place around the country in shops, cooking schools and well as bars. Like preaching to the choir, I want to join in and shout Amen! or Hallelujah! After all, I learn by doing, too. And while I want to encourage and applaud these Good Food neophytes, I want to bang them on the head, too.

Like parents that think Easter chicks are cute- for a week, I imagine those chickens abandoned by someone who found out that a living breathing animal eats, poops and needs attention just like we do.  I think about the wasted meat not cooked from that lovingly raised porker by someone whose stomach was turned by the smell of too much raw meat or the serial killer smell of fresh blood. I know some of that good meat will end up in the garbage uncooked. I know what happens not just because I see it when fresh students and interns show up in France all starry-eyed or because I have years of experience of sheltering the delicate Gourmet-reading gourmand from knowing too ‘much ado about foie gras’, or the ‘truth behind truffles’.   I know what happens because I, too, have been there. And I am willing to admit it.

I’ve learned a lot these two decades of eating France. Yet, I still have a lot to learn.  About Charcuterie- did you know that the age of the pig (minimum 12 months) affects the acid level produced in the meat muscle and thus affecting the quality and curing of the jambons, saucissons and chorizo?  I didn’t either until this summer when Camas D., Jonathon K. and I sat down at teh lunch table with the Brothers Chapolard for a Q&A about their pig farm and artisan charcuterie operation.  About Chickens- after a year with my own layers  (11 hens- 1 rooster) and losing a couple to neighbor dogs (including Bacon the teenage gangsta pack member),  I am soooo glad I have chicken-raising neighbors who coached me through my first crisis (one too many rooster) and told JK and me exactly where to stick the knife. The Coq au Vin was as good as any I have cooked and eaten.

Interested to learn more? Not on the web but live and in person with people who love their food and make it too. It’s easy this winter. Come to France (air fares are looking good, children!) this November (read about it here) or meet me in the North West this New Year 2010 as  I pack my Gascon bags with lots of ideas and tons of experience on making cassoulet, rendering duck fat, confit and natural foie gras with Neal Foley on his Podchef Island and Robert Reynolds at his wonderful Chef’s Studio in Portland.

Now about that wave… let’s keep it swelling. There are a lot of delicious rides ahead.

The Golden Egg- chicken love.

These warm fall days inspire lots of things- flanning along the canal, browsing old magazines, sorting the summer pantry… but real work? No, thanks. I’ll look around and stay outside to do some garden chores.

It’s been dry since April.  I know this fair weather won’t hold much longer. Rain is sure to come. The chicken coop needs some end of season love and weather proofing,  so it’s off to the tool shed, hammer, nails, screws and ingenuity in hand. The best part is getting to spend an hour with the girls, clucking and clicking as they scratch, peck and lay their golden eggs.

With Julia preparing some winter crop beds, we’ll turn the flock into the potager and let them give us a hand. Should be a slugfest frenzy!

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Playing summer games- the new Kitchen Game.

New site, same old blog? I hope not.  For me as well as for you, this fresh clean site for the Kitchen-at-Camont is as much a sign of the time as the Julie & Julia film. Old world cook meets new world cook-sort of.  My old world tilts a little. The French Kitchen is now my new world- the Kitchen at Camont.

What’s changed? Why the change? There is a new game afoot. A fast paced, catch-as-catch-can game of virtual tag & twitter, of who’s in front, who’s on first and who the heck is following me?

I began my early blog as an exercise in writing, a way to share these French days and a seduction for those looking for a French kitchen adventure.  Whereas none of the above has actually changed, I am imposing a new set of rules for the game dictated by a new hunger, a craving if you will, to focus on the close at hand, the impossibly ‘close to the earth gastronomy’ , that surrounds me as I write.

The hunger for a sharper view, a singular depth of field is sometimes inspired by the photographs I love that blur the edges of real life and leave the mouth-watering detail seducing our palates.  Where the  early French Kitchen was as broad and inclusive as its namesake, rambling across a map of recipes, musings of all things French, the new KITCHEN-AT-CAMONT focuses on this very French dirt surrounding the 18th century farmhouse called Camont, one hectare (2.4 acres) of  heavy river bottom silt, clay and stone, and the concentric circles that radiate out from here, the beating heart of the kitchen, to include the Lot-et-Garonne department, the Gers, Gascony, the Southwest. It’s a game of who plays what where.

Games We Play at the KITCHEN-AT-CAMONT

Tic-Tac-Toe. Even as I describe my ‘hood, I picture a game board of circles and diagonals, a rural tic-tac-toe (or naughts & crosses) that begins in my Potager Carre’ where the vegetable  are planted in 8 square beds surrounding a center square. In the center of this square, now late summer overgrown with weeds and grass, is a circle table where tools and seeds spill onto the gravel and topped by a X-crossed pergola struggling to be overgrown with shade giving grapevines. This is where the planting game begins every winter as I plan the season to come in my own version of the potager game- where to plant the too many tomatoes, the curling beans, the slender leeks for winter soups? There are other games here, too.

Jacks. I remember the toss of palm-pinching  metal spikes and bounce of a golf ball as I pick raspberries into my palm. The thorns prick my palms as I cradle the ripe berries and try to keep any from falling off to the jungle underfoot. I win when I gather a cup before breakfast or enough for confiture without cutting up my summer brown arms. I was always good at jacks.

“Up periscope!” “DIVE, DIVE!” 11 year old David Holland and I shouted as we held our breath and blew invisible bubbles. Growing up at Pearl Harbor we played submarine while hiding in an orange tree. Here, at Camont, I am more likely to hide in the ‘canned ham’ of an office, my 70′s trailer turned gypsy wagon, listening to Bacon snore while I tap at creating a new kitchen game.

Hide & Seek, played on hot summer nights in Phoenix when the temperature often rose after midnight and the neighbor kids rushed to find a place to squat and disappear into the scary dark, now becomes Hunt & Peck as I tap out the stories and recipes that fall in my lap from a neighbor, a fete, an inspired idea.  I still wonder how long I must wait until someone finds me crouched behind the keyboard. Ally, ally, oxen free!

Summer at Camp Camont begins this week as the sleeping tents unfurl and the Gascon croquet hoops are staggered amongst the orchard trees.  The bbq pit is ready, the pizza oven is hot and the herbalicious popsicles are freezing. All serious food will cease and desist until further notice with only playful, summer fun food allowed.  Haricot verts are free for the picking, tomatoes eaten at every meal and ice cream mandated even after eating fish. (Sorry, Grandpa Hill!)  Bacon insists on pork every day and who should know better.

Bacon

Summer Fun begins at Camp Camont August 14th. There is room to camp under the trees, bring a tent, share some food, tell some stories. Woofers and couch surfers alike are welcome. Bikes, hammocks, kayaks and rowboats all need a good scrub and some heavy duty play.  I’ll be hiding in the ‘gypsy wagon’ playing a game of  Chutes & Ladders as I string the Chinese lanterns for the summer evening boules tournaments.

PS. I haven’t tossed out all the old blog posts. They are now archived at the katehill.blogspot location.  But don’t forget to change your feed to this new URL and subscribe to the Kitchen-at-Camont blog by using the widget on the sidebar.