Ephraim, Wis., in Shoulder Season

Just 17 miles across the bay from my kitchen, the village of Ephraim in Wisconsin's Door County is a charming enclave of white clapboard houses and churches, galleries, eateries, fudge shops and harborside parks.

Door County is a peninsula - an island, really - that juts northeastward, separating the bay of Green Bay from the waters of much larger Lake Michigan. It is known for its cherry orchards and farm markets and for its lovely harbors and resorts - and its villages.

When I first discovered Door County as a teenager - in those days, many teens from my town found summer jobs as waitresses and busboys - I was intrigued by the colorful place names north of bustling Sturgeon Bay: Egg Harbor, Fish Creek, Sister Bay, Gills Rock, Northport, Baileys Harbor, Jacksonport and Institute.

Perhaps the most picturesque of Door County's villages is Ephraim, sandwiched between bluff and shore, just north Fish Creek and south of Sister Bay. With its harbor on the bay and its pristine white cottages and shops spilling down the hillside, Ephraim - the name means "doubly fruitful" - feels like a touch of New England in Northeast Wisconsin.

Settle by Moravians in 1853, Ephraim's population of 300 celebrates Fyr Bal, the Swedish welcome to summer, every June with bonfires along the shore and a celebratory spirit throughout the village. Ephraim is a dry community, and my observation is that it is the most family-oriented of Door County's villages.

Because of its long-time popularity as a vacation spot for urban midwesterners, Door County is crowded in summer. Finding a lunch spot in mid-July can be next to impossible. We prefer to visit in shoulder season - spring or fall - when traffic is light and resort rates are low. The photo above was shot mid-week in mid-May, a relatively sleepy time on the Door peninsula.

Door County offers opportunities for boating, golf, shopping, eating and gallery hopping. Especially in summer, cultural opportunities abound. You can see a play, attend a concert, watch a potter at work, or take a course in watercolor or weaving - and much more.

We like to visit galleries and play mini golf. Trying new restaurants - everything from outdoor bistros to traditional supper clubs - is essential, but we also pack a hamper of picnic foods. Visiting Door County farm markets, which offer a plethora of cherry products, is a must. In the past dozen years, a number of wineries have opened on the peninsula, and their tasting rooms are worth a visit.

In spring there is a palpable sense of excitement as the peninsula gears up for the busy summer season. In fall, the wind down begins as the marinas empty of boats, summer staff goes off to school and shops begin to clear their shelves of summer merchandise. It's a bittersweet season but still lovely, especially when the leaves are at peak color in early October.

An Old-Fashioned Staple: Hattie's Strawberry-Rhubarb Crisp

Although it's nearly the middle of June, warmer weather has only recently arrived in northeast Wisconsin. Temperatures have climbed as high as the low 80s, but evenings and mornings are still cool.

Our ancient rhubarb patches are flourishing, although a bit later than usual, and I have already made two rhubarb desserts and frozen two quarts for fall and winter baking. I will do this as long as the patches produce rhubarb, and give some away, too.

Rhubarb is a cottage-garden staple, an old-fashioned vegetable that conjures up visions of picket fences, weathered barns, climbing roses and cool summer kitchens. It is excellent on its own, or combined with apples or strawberries, and we've enjoyed it in everything from pies and muffins to cakes and crisps. 

Since we have two patches, we freeze a good deal of what we harvest for winter desserts. I plan to try it in savory dishes, too, which will be a first for us. I like this idea as well.

Rhubarb information, history and more recipes may be found here. 

Two days ago, I made a simple rhubarb-strawberry crisp that yielded six servings. 

For the filling

• 7 stalks of rhubarb, washed and sliced or diced
• 15 large strawberries, sliced or diced
• dash lemon juice
• 1/2 cup of sugar

For the topping

• 1/2 cup flour
• 1 cup old-fashioned oatmeal, dry
• 1/2 to 1/3 cup sugar
• 3/4 cup walnuts, chopped
• roughly 1/2 stick of butter
• dash sea salt

Once the rhubarb is washed and sliced, place it in a bowl, add about 1/4 cup sugar - enough to lightly coat the rhubarb - and allow to chill overnight in the refrigerator, covered.

When you are ready to bake, pre-heat your oven to 350 degrees.

Toss the chilled rhubarb (you may have to remove some liquid, but do not rewash the rhubarb) with the strawberries, lemon juice and sugar. Place in a greased 8-by-8-inch baking pan.

Use the topping ingredients to make a crumbly topping, as you would with any other crisp. Spread this atop the rhubarb-strawberry mixture. At this point, I sprinkle a small amount of sea salt on the topping to mitigate any overly-sweet taste. 

Bake for one hour, or until crispy top is golden brown. 

This basic crisp recipe can be used with just about any fruit, and I've experimented with it since I first laid my hands on it while a graduate student at Edgewood College in Madison, Wis. It originated with a lovely lady named Clarice, who worked in the continuing education office, and who made it with apples and raisins (another favorite dessert at our house).

I think of the recipe as Hattie's Rhubarb Crisp, because I think the rhubarb was planted about 70 years ago by a woman with that name for whom our 1896 Victorian was a retirement home. Sadly, Hattie's husband died not long after the couple moved here from the country, and then Hattie took in boarders, female students from the nearby county normal school, to make ends meet. She also raised chickens and had a grape arbor on the sunny side of the house. 

I've thought of her a great deal this spring, although we never met, as my husband and I removed layers of wallpaper from our second-floor book room, one of the rooms Hattie rented out to coeds. We got down to the circa-1940 wall paper, removed that, and then patched and re-plastered the entire room. Before and after photos will show up in a later post. Meanwhile, I am rather proud of my prowess with a trowel.

The patch below is the smaller of the two, and is located on the sunny west side of our old horse barn.

A Fresh Start, Seven Years Later

The farm markets are back (the photo is from two weeks ago) and I'm thinking it's time to blog again. I'll be filling my big woven basket at least twice a week, from now until October.

I'm so lucky to live in a community with a burgeoning Eat Local movement that supports farm markets on Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday.

Locally-grown produce and the growers who sell it are what really fuel my culinary imagination and provide fodder for this blog. I often wish I'd given this venture a different name.

Ah, my poor blog!

To even a casual reader, it should be obvious that posts are sporadic and the blog suffers from an identity crisis. When I started it seven years ago this week, my intent was to take readers back to my the Franco-American kitchen of my grandmothers, who were ardent cooks in the French-Canadian style, and my father, who was a professional chef. I wasn't planning to feature too many fancy French dishes, but I thought I might make French-influenced food.

I never intended to write a recipe blog, that is, a blog that featured a new recipe with every post, because to me, a kitchen is more than a place to prepare food: It is the heart of the house. It is where important conversations are often started, decisions are made, broken hearts are mended.

Although my own kitchen has always been in Wisconsin or Michigan, it turns out I love to cook in a real French kitchen. Who wouldn't?

On several occasions, my husband and I rented a particular home in the French countryside. The sunny east-facing kitchen was the room that sent my spirits soaring as I made ratatouille, tomato sauce, walnut desserts and pain perdue with broiche. If you wish to rent that home, you may do so here.

We also rented an apartment in Paris and I felt such contentment in the tiny kitchen, making salads and other tasty dishes without an oven and with very basic utensils. I think cooks are at their most creative when faced with challenges.

I tried to bring that inventive spirit back to my own small kitchen here in Northeast Wisconsin. Some days, I believe I have succeeded.

I like simple, tasty meals made with fresh ingredients. That's what I'm going to feature. Period. The start of the growing season - and the availability of fresh ingredients once again - seems like a good time to start blogging.

I won't keep to any particular schedule, but I intend to continue with frugal French fare, the occasional wine or beer tasting, and easy-to-prepare meals. I will continue to veer away from recipes when I see fit; there are too many other tasty topics.  But food will always be first and foremost in my French kitchen.

Back to Basics

I have, it seems, been on hiatus for nearly six months.

Those of you who have been with me for a while know that this is not unusual. For more than five years I worked at a job that eventually sapped all creative energy from me and exposed to me the ugly reality that very few people play well with others. After a year of regular and often prodigious posting, I began to slow down, sometimes ignoring the blog for weeks or even months at a time.

I retired early, not wishing to spend my work life repairing damage caused by adult prima donnas, good old boys and sociopaths. In the last few months of my work life, I tried to summon up interest in this blog and its original intent, which was to showcase easy-to-make French classics.

But it seems my tastes have changed. For the past six months, I have found myself craving and thus preparing basic comfort food, from grilled sandwiches oozing with three kinds of cheese to savory meatloaf paired with mashed potatoes and peas.

Food took on a different role in my life.

My husband and I made it through Election Night last November, fortified by a batch of brownies and cold milk. We had chicken instead of turkey for Thanksgiving and ribs for Christmas. I made low-fat version of spaghetti Alfredo, macaroni and cheese, and slow-cooker pork chops with cole slaw all winter long. I developed a passion for peanut butter on raisin bread and cheesy popcorn.

In Wisconsin, we have been battered by snow and wind since early December. Spring made a late appearance at the end of March, only to be snatched away by three more days of snow, sleet and ice pellets.

Dare I say it? By the end of today the pristine layer of snow that covers our little hill on the west side of town will be nearly melted. Spring usually signals a change of appetite. What will it bring this year? I can't predict, because I never expected to salivate over comfort food quite as much as I have this winter.

I feel myself drawn toward old favorite items of clothing, too, and as a result I've given bags and bags of trendier items to St. Vincent de Paul. I sense the need, somehow, to return to high-quality items like Pendleton jackets and crew-neck sweaters. The same goes for food. I have developed an intense dislike for trendy ingredients.

I cannot predict how these impulses will change the tenor of my blogging. I think I will return, eventually. I don't know when. We have stripped our upstairs book room down to the walls and will be creating a new office for me, with terra cotta walls and creamy woodwork. At the rate we are moving, it will be a few months before the project is complete. I hope the new room will usher in a new era of enthusiasm and creativity.

To those of you who have visited from time to time, or stayed the course after several years, or like  Trish, made a surprise return: Thank you!

After a Day of Remembrance, a Time of Action?

The blogging community is holding a day or remembrance today, to honor the memories of the 28 people who died in Newtown, Connecticut on Friday.

These gestures help us cope with heinous tragedies such as this one, and the one that took place on Sept. 11, 2001.

Days of remembrance are not empty gestures for most of us. They honor those who died, and they give us an opportunity to do something.

There's not much I can say that has not been said already.

Except this:

Do something, America. We've been talking about gun control since I was 12 years old. Nothing of substance has occurred, except one death after another.

If we don't do something, people will continue to die at the hands of Lee Harvey Oswalds, Sirhan B Sirhans, James Earl Rays, Dylan Klebolds and Adam Lanzas.

I don't have the answers. But there are answers.

We need to find them.

Frugal French Friday: Roasted Chicken

One of the best things about not working is having the time and energy to spend time in the kitchen. You can make use of everything.

Take a roasted chicken, for example. A $7 whole (chemical-free) chicken yields a variety of meals, including chicken with roasted potatoes, chicken with rice, and chicken sandwich spread. I also made soup stock from the carcass, something I always try to do.

I also - for the first time ever - did a pretty good job of trussing my chicken. Do this to keep the chicken moist and tender. It really works. I have occasionally forgotten this step, to my great regret, and ruined my share of whole chickens.

I did a masterful job this time, if I do say so myself, and the chicken was so tender and moist, it fell apart in my hands. I had to use a photo from five years ago, which I am disclosing in the interest of transparency.

I've spent a considerable amount of time researching various methods of chicken roasting, and I've come up with my own approach, which - save for the falling apart stuff - is close to perfection.

Roasted Chicken

Preheat oven to 450.

• 1 medium whole chicken
• 1/3 stick of butter
• sea salt flakes
• 1 small lemon
• freshly ground pepper
• herbes de Provence
• 3-4 garlic cloves
• roughly 1/3 to 1/2 bottle leftover white wine (I used Riesling)

Remove the liver or whatever is packed inside the chicken. I actually forgot to do this once.

Wash the chicken; pat dry. Quarter the lemon and cut the garlic cloves in half. Stuff these inside the chicken, along with a small handful of sea salt and herbes de Provence.

Truss the chicken; rub with butter after trussing (or it will slide around and trussing could become a contest between you and the chicken). Next rub the entire chicken with more sea salt, ground pepper and even more herbes de Provence.

Place in roasting pan. Add wine and about a cup of water. Roast for 90 minutes. I carefully turned the chicken over for the last half hour of roasting, so it would brown evenly.

When the chicken is completely roasted, remove it form the oven and let it rest about 30 minutes, covered, before removing it from the pan. Save any liquid in the pan; you can add this to your stock pot. I recommend removing the lemons if they have fallen out of the chicken. They impart a fresh flavor to the chickens while roasting, but will spoil your stock. Trust me on this one.

This chicken was packed with meat, yielding a total of eight servings. I made chicken sandwich spread, chicken vegetable soup, and used the pan drippings for pumpkin soup. I froze a small serving of chicken, so I can make a casserole for one some night when my husband is eating something I don't like.

Cost: I paid almost $7 for the chicken, but had everything else on hand. It was easily under $1 per serving.

Wine pairing: I like an oaky chardonnay. But there are many other options.

Roasting a chicken is one of the best ways to eat frugally. I have served it for Thanksgiving during lean times, and enjoyed it just as much as turkey or ham.  

Sweet Pumpkin Soup with Cipollini Onions

I confess: Even though I live 53 miles north of Green Bay, Wis., football games on TV put me to sleep. It's white noise to me. So on most fall Saturday or Sunday afternoons, while my husband is cheering for Notre Dame, Wisconsin, Michigan or Green Bay, I'm sleeping on the couch.

Except when I'm in the kitchen.

On Sunday afternoon, I was in the kitchen watching nuthatches and chickadees frolic at the backyard feeders and making pumpkin soup. Since I'd never made it before, I did my research, perusing a variety of approaches online and in cookbooks.

My goal was to use ingredients on hand. I had a small cipollini onion left over, and the savory liquid from the bottom of a pan I'd used to roast chicken. While I roasted the chicken, I also roasted a small sugar pumpkin.


Easy Sweet Pumpkin Soup with Cipollini Onions

• 2 teaspoons butter
• 1 small cipollini or other sweet onion, chopped
• 1 cup unsalted chicken broth
• 1/2 cup water
• 1 can (8 ounces) pumpkin puree, or 1 cup fresh pumpkin, mashed
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• dash ground cloves
• 1 cup fat-free milk
• 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

In a medium stockpot or sauce pan over medium heat, melt the butter and brown the chopped onions slightly. Gradually add the chicken broth and water. Then slowly add the pumpkin puree, the spices and the milk. Grate pepper over the soup last. Use a whip to keep the soup smooth. Makes 4 good-sized servings.

The soup is mild but comforting. I added a dollop of sour cream to mine.

This soup won't appeal to people who need spice or heat. I'm going to try it with canned pumpkin and vegetable broth next time. It's a start, but I think it needs some tweaking.

I served this with chicken salad sandwiches on beer bread and a small green salad. I think next time I will serve it with corn bread croutons and grated Gruyere cheese.

The onions and pumpkin were locally grown, from Immerfrost Farm.