This Little Piggy Went to Market

Pigs seem to be a recurring theme in this spring's travels. Today, in the Nyons' Olive Co-Op, I came across Corsican sausages and had to smile. The little and not-so-little piggies of Corsica were with me most of the trip there, both live and cooked. Cuba too.

When Hallie and I told our friend, Cristiane, at the Hotel St. Marc here in Mollans, that we were headed to Corsica, she warned us to watch out for the black pigs on the road. It wasn't more than a few hours into our trip that we realized how right she was. We headed into the rugged, mountainous center portion of Corsica to start our visit and the chestnut trees that grow there feed both humans and pigs. We learned quickly to watch for the porkers while rounding the turns that resembled their corkscrew tails. Here's a mixed set of them--black, pink and in between--imperviously grazing as traffic rolled on by.




Later, we enjoyed them in a lovely cured sausage plate for lunch and their wilder cousin--the sanglier, or boar--in a winey stew one evening. The Corsicans feel the chestnuts flavor the meat and we thought we detected an underlying succulent sweetness. We managed to consume our share of chestnuts too along the way, fattening us up just as nicely.

The reoccuring part of this porcine remembrance is that I'd come across plenty of pork on my plate in Cuba as well. Roasted to tenderness, it came served in chunks, often with companion pieces of chicken. I came across pigs on the road there too, but this time caged.





It seems only right, in honor of all these piggies gone to market, to include an old recipe of mine for pork chops braised with chestnuts. Enjoy.

BRAISED PORK CHOPS WITH CHESTNUTS AND ONIONS

24 fresh chestnuts or unsweetened canned chestnuts
4 tablespoons Canola oil
3 cups sliced onions, (about 3 onions)
¼ teaspoon sugar
6 pork loin chops, 3/4-inch thick
-Pepper
½ cup all-purpose flour
2 cups low-sodium beef broth
1/3 cup port
1 (8-oz.) pkg. mushrooms, quartered

Preheat oven to 350°F.

If using fresh chestnuts, bring 2 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot. With a small knife, make an “X” on one side of each chestnut; drop into boiling water for 3 to 4 minutes. Drain. When cool enough to handle, peel with sharp knife. Slice chestnuts in half lengthwise; reserve. If using canned chestnuts, drain well; reserve.

Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a large skillet over medium heat. When hot, add sliced onions. Cook, stirring often, until onions begin to brown, about 10 minutes. Sprinkle with sugar; continue cooking until well browned, about 10 to 15 minutes. Reserve.

Pepper each chop; dredge in flour in shallow dish. Add remaining 2 tablespoons of oil to same skillet; brown pork chops in batches, about 5 to 8 minutes per side, adding more oil if necessary. Place chops in baking dish; cover with onions, chestnuts and mushrooms.

Add stock and port to skillet; bring to a simmer, scraping up any brown bits. Pour over chops. Bake, covered, until meat is very tender, about 1 ½ hours.

4 to 6 servings

Holidays, Parades and National Celebrations

While these blogs are about my journey this spring, they're also a reflection on events as they occur. As Memorial Day approaches, it seems appropriate to meditate a moment on national holidays. We Americans celebrate Memorial Day as the beginning of summer for the most part, often forgetting that it once was called Decoration Day and that it had its beginnings in the Civil War. Meant as a memorial to our fallen soldiers, it's been extended to visiting the graves of relatives and friends but, usually, it means a long May weekend.

It's a long weekend here in France too because, while only marginally Catholic, the French close up shop for fériés (holy days) and May 21 was Ascension Thursday. Like us, they're really enjoying the nice weather and here in Provence, wine festivals this weekend will be rampant. Next weekend, they'll do it all again for Pentecost and why not? Life needs lots of excuses to step back from the everyday and to meditate a bit, relax a bit more, and honor and celebrate according to inclination and belief.

The last month has been filled with these occasions in my travels, starting with Cuba. We were in Havana for May Day with a huge worker's parade, flags, and, naturally, rum. Of course, we had to go.

You don't go and line up for this parade. There are no floats or marching bands, just masses and masses of people, waving flags and carring banners, marching with others from their places of work and celebrating just that--being workers.

What we, as Americans didn't know until our local guide told us, was that May Day, also known as International Workers' Day, evolved from a Chicago labor event called the Haymarket Massacre where a dozen strikers were killed by police bullets. We now have our Labor Day in September, mostly the other holiday bookend to the summer season, but Cubans turn out en masse to parade through Revolution Square.

We went too. It seemed an opportunity not to be missed. We lined up with the workers from our hotel and marched along. Somewhere, in a review stand, many, many workers away from us, Raul Castro watched us all walk by. Rum was passed, flags were waved, and then it was over. A parade for everyone. The flags stayed with us though, sometimes draped from buildings or filling a huge square.




Once I arrived in Mollans, briefly, before leaving for Corsica, I came across another parade. This one was small, with townfolk following a procession of children and flag bearers to the town's war memorial. The date: May 8 when the Nazi surrender of World War II took place. No one worried that the parade was ragged; it was all in the thought.



Small speeches from the kids and then slightly longer adult versions reminded the crowd how monumental it was for the French to regain their country when the Nazis fell. Flowers went on the town's physical monument to their fallen war heros and and then the whole thing was over. Everyone went home for lunch and life went forward.

It made me pause and does again this holiday weekend to think how important "country" is to all of us--Cuban, French or American--and how we all need to be proud to be our respective nation's citizens. And yet, what a coincidence that all these flags being waved are the same colors: blue, white and red. So over this long holiday, think of how much we're all the same, have a hot dog, Cuban sandwich, or a croque monsieur, and appreciate your life, your work, and the land we've been given.

The Journey

Mary Driving the Steam Locomotive


Travel, like life, is about the journey and not about the destination. I'm here in Mollans finally but my gut feeling is that this spring's visit is going to be just that--a visit rather than a homecoming--and that the real substance of my thoughts will be reflections on all the wonderous ways and means it took to get here.

In the last few weeks, since railing in my last posting about paperwork, piles of work, and packing, I've been to Miami, Cuba, Miami, New York, the Paris airport, Avignon train station, Mollans, the port of Toulon, Corsica, the port of Nice, and back to Mollans.

I've been on multiple planes, buses, trains, including a steam-driven locomotive in Cuba, a horse-drawn taxi cart (read Cuba again), cars, and boats.

Now unpacked and settled for a too short stay here in our small village, I'm delighting in eating at home and even looking forward to some house-maintenance. It's great to light in one place for a while, especially when that place is home, be it part-time or not.

But my mind keeps trying to sort the jumble of sensory overload that I've brought with me. I need to unpack my mental suitcases as well as my physical ones and writing will help.

So, let's start chronologically and see what shakes out of my memory. The first city in my list, Miami, really just felt like a warm-up for my next stop in Cuba. I flew in and spent the night near the airport so as to be ready for the next morning's departure.

From very white bread Minneapolis, Miami and its multi-lingual and multi-accented population reminded me quickly that I'd be visiting a country where I don't know the language. The airport coffee bar staff person who gave me my total bill in Spanish along with my Cuban breakfast pastry was a quick intro to the next eight days of stepping out of the familiar and into the unknown.

Coming to Mollans isn't like that at all. I put on life here like a comfortable, cozy, well worn and washed tee-shirt. With friends, language and food all familiar now, I love the soft caress the fabric of my village gives me every time I return.

Cuba was different. With its "b" sounds for "v"s and its own dialect, my mind soon began working on the code of a newish language. While I can understand some Spanish because of my French, listening and reading became a mostly futile exercise. What I like to think of as the "Where's Waldo?" (or what the heck is happening now?) experience of travel started in full force.

And so, the week unfolded. We ate well, if simply for the most part, realizing that we Americans are incredibly spoiled by our abundance. Cuba's riches seemed to be elsewhere, in the people, the music, and the art. And the dance and the landscape. The rum and the cigars. In the peoples' sense of irony, humor, and love for their country.

That's not to down-play the Cuban food heritage but Cuba is not a hot-bed of prosperity, to put it mildly, leaving the possibilities for elaborate dining fairly limited. One of my favorite meals included Ropa de Vieja, a traditional braised beef dish that is now, like all beef, reserved for visitors. Since I recently taught a version at my home in Minneapolis, I'm including the recipe here. Try it and put on a little salsa music for atmosphere. More musings to come.

ROPA VIEJA OR “OLD CLOTHES” STEW
Braising Liquid
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
1 stalk celery, coarsely chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon dried oregano
½ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon peppercorns
2 cups water
1 (14-ounce) can reduced sodium beef broth

2 pounds skirt or flank steak, or 2 pounds boneless chuck roast

Stew
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
1 large green bell pepper, chopped
1 serrano, seeded and chopped
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1 teaspoon ground cumin
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 (14.5 ounce) can diced tomatoes in juice
1 red bell pepper, cut in strips
1 yellow or orange bell pepper, cut in strips
½ cup chopped green olives with pimento
2 tablespoons capers

For the braising liquid, place the onion, celery, garlic, bay leaf, cumin, oregano, salt and peppercorns in the bottom of a Dutch oven. Add the water and beef broth; stir to blend. Add the beef and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Reduce heat to the lowest setting and cook covered with the lid just slightly ajar for 1 ½ to 2 hours for the skirt or flank steak and for 3 hours for the chuck roast. Turn the meat halfway through the cooking process. Remove from the heat and let the meat rest in the liquid for 30 minutes. Remove and slice the meat into ¼-inch thick strips against the grain. Strain the braising liquid and reserve. Clean the Dutch oven.

In the cleaned Dutch oven, add the olive oil and heat over medium-low heat. Add the chopped onions and green bell pepper; sauté until softened, about 6 minutes. Add the Serrano; sauté 2 minutes. Add the garlic, cumin and cinnamon; sauté 1 minute. Stir in the tomatoes, beef and 1 ½ cups of the braising liquid. Bring to a simmer over medium-heat. Reduce the heat to low and cook, stirring occasionally for 1 ½ hours.

During the last 15 minutes of cooking, stir in the red and yellow peppers, the green olives and the capers. Most of the liquid will have cooked off and the meat will have shredded. Add additional braising liquid as necessary if the mixture seems too dry. Serve with rice.

6 servings