fête de la carotte

My apologies for seemingly drifting off again; I've been feeling under the weather. A phrase I almost didn't want to use, but in a rained-upon sense it is correct. Let's take a carrot-centric field trip to the west coast of France while I'm recovering.


Créances, Normandy is the site of an annual fête de la carotte in celebration of the uncommon carrots grown there in sandy soil, A.O.C. carrots cultivated under the influence of salty seaside air and nourished, somehow, by the proximity of seaweeds. (In this respect I identify deeply with these particular carrots; seaweeds do something for me too). The fête happens in August so you've got plenty of time to plan your trip.

Créances carrot elders at the 2009 fête

via The World Carrot Museum

sandy carrot display, carrots for sale, carrot medal, and carrots growing 

in Créances also via The World Carrot Museum

fête de la carotte 2011

I don't speak French but I believe this says that proximity to

green seaweed elevates the flavor of even industrial pork, and

is engaging for boys on vacation.

From Greenpeace France.

carrot women from Elizabeth Gordon's 

Mother Earth’s Children: The Frolics of the Fruits and Vegetables
via City Farmer News

Cooks who wish to hold their own carrot festival may be interested in the recipe for Rikers Island Carrot Cake, which calls for twenty five pounds of the carrots of your choice. In lieu of inmates to grate them, why not make the festival-goers do it? People will do pretty much anything if there's a prize given at the end. 

Rikers Island baker by Michael Appleton for The New York Times.

I'd like to think the carrot cake-baking inmates are the only ones

 who get to wear orange striped jumpsuits but the article doesn't say.

Less ambitious carrot-munchers may be interested to hear that spicy carrots are very nice in a sandwich. I'm not talking about a few shreds in your bánh mì, I'm talking about a proper carrot sandwich.  I'm a huge fan of the recipe for Tunisian carrot puree (omi houriya) in Claudia Roden's New Book of Middle Eastern Food, which calls for boiled carrots to be pureed with harissa, ground caraway, cumin and ginger, and a splash of both olive oil and wine vinegar. You could certainly use the same treatment for grated or sliced cooked carrots if those seem more suitable to your sandwich needs. Cozying up to leftover grilled lamb, for example. (I do think the carrots need to be cooked for most sandwiches, even if grated, even if only blanched for a few moments). I also like this recipe from Gourmet for sandwiches of Moroccan carrot salad, goat cheese, and green olive tapenade. The sandwich below was made with the carrots from that recipe — spiced with cinnamon, cumin, cayenne pepper and sweet paprika — and squeaky little pillows of fried halloumi cheese. Mint leaves on top and whole wheat sourdough below.

As long as we're on the subject, I feel compelled to mention that my all-time favorite carrot recipes are: Marcella Hazan's braised carrots with Parmesan (yes, they really do take so long to cook, just try it), Madhur Jaffrey's carrot cake with cardamom and pistachios (with more pistachios for sure, plus some grated coconut if you're into that), and this simple-but-incredibly-good crème crécy, all of which I have been making for many years. If you make the soup don't be tempted to use vegetable or chicken stock in place of the water; I've tried that and it muddles the flavors.

further deliberations by our fritter subcommittee

I wasn't going to write about ramps this year, despite the risk that keeping quiet about them might lead to trouble with the food blog police. (I'm sure I'm already on some sort of watch-list for being insufficiently bacon-crazed and for only ever baking breads that get kneaded, among other things). I wasn't going to mention them but then I remembered that around this time last year I made ramp bhajis, loved them, and never got around to posting about them before the season ended. It seems particularly appropriate to call your attention to the recipe now because fritters of all varieties have been on my mind lately.

Ramps seem relatively pricey this year, and I'm assuming it's because more and more people know what they are and wish to take some home and not because growing conditions were unfavorable. Last year they were $3/bundle at the Union Square greenmarket (and the same the year before, if my memory is correct); I haven't priced them there this year but this morning I noticed them at my local (the Tompkins Square Park greenmarket) for $6/bundle. Six dollars! Have any of you taken on seasonal work this year to support your ramp-munching habit? Or tried smoking them?




There's no blue light special; those are yesteryear's ramps above.
Obviously it's preferable to gather your own ramps for free. I spotted plenty of them growing in the woods last weekend in Connecticut, particularly very close to the stream we crossed on our hike. If you're planning to forage your own be sure to bring something spoon-like; their little bulbs can be difficult to dislodge even if you're willing to get your fingers dirty.




On to the recipe. It comes from the always-reliable (in my experience) Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, and it's got chickpea flour in it (besan), which is reliably one of my favorite ingredients. The resulting fritters have plenty of exciting crisp wispy bits around the edges, and it's a nice change of pace to have ramps getting along with rather bold spices rather than dominating a dish. I'm not going to cut-and-paste the recipe because I didn't change anything about it apart from using ramps in place of the spring onions, so go have a look at it here. Ramps are more pungent than spring onions so you'll want them daintier than the "chunky slices" he calls for.




Hugh F-W (even the Grauniad calls him that) gave a recipe for a radish goats' cheese raita to accompany his bhajis. It sounds great but I improvised one made with just yogurt, chopped cilantro, chopped mint, and a pinch of salt:


I don't have any measurements for the raita, sorry, but if you're confident enough in the kitchen to make ramp bhajis I'm sure you won't screw it up.

I've been thinking of them as bhajis, but the throat-clearing sounds coming from the direction of my fritter subcommittee remind me that you might look at them and see bhujia (or bhujiya) or pakoras. I've only been to northern India and these would be pakoras there. At the Bangladeshi-owned Indian restaurant near Tiny Banquet HQ they'd probably be bhujia (though they also have bhajees on the menu) and from what I understand they'd be bhujia in southern India. I don't want to make any enemies among the barons of the Big Bhujia industry so I'm open to calling these whatever seems most reasonable. We all agree they're fritters, correct?