I loved going to St Martin le Vieil in October for many reasons. Nestled in the woods just an hour and a half away from Toulouse, St. Martin is a small village with a mere 200 inhabitants, a church, and a small library (tiny, actually) - the nearest store is a 20 minute car ride away in a neighboring town called Bram.
My mother would take us to St. Martin to visit her parents for two to three weeks every summer. It is beautiful in the summer too. With all the plum trees ripe with fruit, the colorful vegetable garden growing the juiciest tomatoes, and the fragrant fig trees readying their blooms to bear fruit in early fall... My grandparents' house is a playground for kids. My cousins, sisters, and I would build forts in the woods, splash around in the pool for hours in the blistering afternoons, pick the sunflowers' big black seeds and snack on them while playing hide-and-seek in the fields, go fishing in the stream... We barely ever got bored. Even when it rained, we would entertain ourselves with nature... looking for snails for my grandma's next meal, or playing game after game of rummikub or scrabble with my grandfather. We were very creative in the summers and there was always so many of us to keep us entertained!
However, Falls at 'La Combette' were quiet. The leaves rustle with the wintry winds. The logs in the fireplace crackle under the flames; my grandfather grumbling at a crossword puzzle impasse and my grandmother snoring to the Young and the Restless' lack of a plot. I love Fall. It's my favorite season. I love the smell of the first chill in the air, and of wood burning. I love the crinkling sound of the leaves beneath my feet, and the wind gently hitting against the shutters. But what I love the most about fall there is going mushroom foraging. We would find so many Chanterelles! We would come back with bags of them to clean out for dinner. Often, my grandmother would simply sauté them with a dice of butter, salt and pepper. It was unnecessary to make a complex dish out of something boasting as much flavor. She would usually serve it as a side dish with poultry or game. But I loved it most when she cooked up her zucchini soup. There's nothing better than a warm creamy soup and sautéed Chanterelles on a crisp fall day. I would sit near her in the kitchen, helping her with any task she would entrust me with; watching her every moves curious and wide-eyed.
'Qu'est ce que c'est?' - What is it?, I would ask when I saw her dropping something in the blended zucchini velouté.
'C'est de la vache qui rit!' - It's laughing cow, she would say.
'Pourquoi tu mets ça?' - Why do you add that?, I would inquire.
'Pour que la soupe soie plus crémeuse et que les enfants aiment la manger!' - To make the soup more creamy so children will enjoy it more, she would patiently answer.
I still make this soup to this day. And although I am grown-up, I still enjoy adding those 3 laughing cow cheese wedges in it!
I am very nostalgic of 'La Combette' and the time I would spend there in the Fall. My grandfather has since passed and the house has grown empty with many of us scattered around the world. But I love to hold on to those memories so dear. And whenever I cook something my grandmother has taught me - which is often - those fond memories, scents, and sounds resurface in my heart.
Zucchini Velouté - a recipe from Manou6 big zucchinis
3 laughing cow cheese wedges
A pinch of nutmeg
Salt and pepper to taste
Boil water in a large pot with a pinch of Fleur de Sel.
Peel the zucchinis and cut each of them into three even pieces. Place all in boiling water. When the zucchinis are very soft, strain them and place them in blender to create a liquid mixture. Add the laughing cow wedges into the blender one at a time.
Finish with the nutmeg and enjoy!
[image 2 thanks to
Vanessa Pike-Russell according to this
license]
