Snow Day Ployes

Snow day! Do we ever outgrow the delight of having an unexpected day home in the middle of the week? Megan and I celebrated this morning by whipping up a batch of ployes—French Acadian buckwheat pancakes. I used batter mix from Bouchard Family Farms that Lisa had picked up for me at the Cultural Survival Bazaar. The Bouchard farm is located in the Upper Saint John River Valley on the Maine-New Brunswick border and has been milling the light buckwheat flour for generations.

About the size of silver dollar, ployes are traditionally griddle cooked on one side only—no flipping. The silver-skinned or common buckwheat grown on the Bouchard farm gives the ployes their unique greenish yellow color. Up until the 1950s, farming families in the river valley would prepare and eat ployes as a flat bread, buttered and rolled with every meal. Today we drizzled them with Massachusetts maple syrup and swished them down with coffee made in the French press.

Sap Happy

Maple sugaring time is fast approaching and I can hardly wait. I came across this article in the nytimes last spring and it’s been on my mind since: Sap Happy.

Does anyone have a recipe to share for tarte au sucre, maple-syrup pie?

Saratoga Weekend – Part I

Halloween weekend was spent visiting the one and only Rita C. in Saratoga Springs, NY. Although for the past two years she has made her home in Dublin, Ireland she had chosen to spend this past autumn in upstate New York. She applied for an received a prestigious folkloric fellowship through the state and was assigned to the public library in this quaint town. And since her Irish tourist visa was about to expire it seemed like a good time for an extended stay in the US.

From Boston’s South Station I hopped aboard the almost ever reliable Peter Pan/Greyhound charter bus to Albany. Dear Rita picked me up at the bus depot in the enormous Buick sedan she had been borrowing for the past few months. Neither of us are known for our driving nor navigational skills but we eventually managed to get ourselves to the cozy bistro that Rita had picked out for dinner (one minute prior to closing time). Chez Mike is an unremarkable name for remarkable restaurant in a location that is either unremarkable or remarkable depending on your sense of irony. Tucked among the chain stores and a supermarket at a nondescript shopping plaza, at first glance it appears to be nothing more than the front for a suburban “family resturante” where one might go to devour a huge plate of overcooked spaghetti drenched in watery tomato sauce. The interior decor did little to dispel this interpretation, but by our first bite of fresh baked baguette and whipped olive butter, we had been set straight.

For our first course we chose Little Neck clams steamed to order with chorizo sausage. The accompanying sherry-based broth with garlic and herbs was superb and more memorable than any New England version I can recall. My main dish was equally phenomanal– beef short ribs braised till tender in veal stock, stout and honey. On the side, mashed yukon gold potato, fall vegetable hash, and horseradish gremolata. Wow, Chef Mike!

Mike’s wife, Michele Cohen, is responsible for the desserts. Our layered carrot cheesecake was a delightful new concept to me and I’m certain that it must now be infamous in the greater Albany area. Imagine three thick layers of cheesecake flavored with slightly spicy, sweet shredded carrots, crushed pineapple, and chopped nuts. On top of that, our competent and kind server brought us tiny maple cut out cookies with our bill. It was a sweet ending to a lovely first night in town.