Showing posts with label crackers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crackers. Show all posts

28 April 2009

Baked Brie with Cherries and Pecans

I was attracted to this idea (a recipe contest using Brie cheese) because of my paternal grandmother's maiden name, La Brie. I thought I could come up with some cute approach.

But the truth is, if someone along the St. Lawrence River, circa 1700, had not begun calling a guy named Migneault by the name LaBrie, she might have been Laura Migneault. I suppose the moniker was a reflection of the Migneault's roots in Melun, a cheesemaking city south of Paris - an ancient version of Cheesehead (as we Badgers are often called). "Dit" names, as they are known to every genealogist with a French Canadian heritage, can also reflect an occupation. Perhaps I am descended from cheesemakers.

I was running out of cute when I realized I had to turn in my recipe and photo by tomorrow.

My first couple of ideas flopped. I was desperate. But not out of ideas. A few years ago, my husband and I caught Emeril Lagasse's baked brie show on the Food Network. We've been enjoying that treat ever since, usually around the holidays.

What about baked dip? I scrounged around the cupboard and found dried cherries, a staple, and a bag of pecans. Here's what I came up with:

Baked Brie Dip with Dried Cherries and Pecans
  • 1 package Brie Cheese, trimmed and cubed
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 tablespoon brown sugar
  • dash fleur de sel
  • 1/3 cup chopped pecans
  • 2 teaspoons dried cherries

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Melt butter in small saucepan over low heat. Add chunks of brie and stir until melted and blended. Stir in brown sugar and fleur de sel, gradually adding pecans and cherries. Place in a small ramekin and bake for 20-30 minutes. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for about 10 minutes.

The result is a slightly sweet cheesy spread for crackers with the merest hint of salt.

I'm tasting this on thin slices of whole wheat beer bread, slightly toasted.

Note: In the interests of transparency, I must disclose that I was invited to join this contest. The cheese was provided by Ile de France. I have no hopes of winning, but it was fun!

28 November 2008

Chive Crackers with Brie and Chestnut Butter

Under normal circumstances, I am suspicious of food items that purport to be created to be "paired with" another food item. Having worked for an advertising agency (and being a fan of "Mad Men"), I know this is a marketing gimmick. It works, though.

These chive crackers (green, yet!) grabbed my attention.  "For Brie cheese," said the box.

Brie is one of those acquired tastes for me. It was not part of my diet growing up, and even when I went off to college, Camembert on a baguette slice was the cocktail party food of choice.

I could not get into Brie. Maybe there is a reason for that.

My father's maternal line, as far as I can determine, came from Melun, a city south of Paris that is know for its Brie cheese. The family name in the U.S. is LaBrie, which is one of those "dit" names that started out as something else, but got changed upon arrival in the New World, or perhaps soon after.

Family history records are not very extensive on my father's side, but it looks like the orginal name was Migneault or or some variation thereof, and became LaBrie somewhere on this side of the Atlantic. Perhaps the orginal immigrant was a cheesemaker who acquired a nickname. Or perhaps, he was not a cheesemaker. Maybe he acquired a nickname that referred to his geographic roots, not his occupation - as in cheesehead.

Whatever. It's a lovely name, and I like the fact that it is feminine, although Brie is actually masculine. Brie is a feminine cheese, if you ask me, mild, earthy and comforting.

Brie is especially goos when paired with something sweet. The chive crackers were perfect, but I thought they needed something more. So I scrounged around in the pantry and found a jar of Bonne Mamam chestnut spread. I plopped a dollop of that atop the schmear of Brie that sat atop the chive cracker.

I was a little nervous as I slipped it into my mouth. But, oh, the taste! If France can be reduced into a cracker with two toppings, this was it. I was immediately transported back to Montcuq and its chestnut trees. Or Paris.

Merde! This is good, I told my husband.

And he agreed.