Cherry soup with ginger, lime and vanilla
Un…deux…trois…Whenever I start eating
cherries, I cannot stop.
You?
I am really fond of the fruit.
I love to keep a few cherry pits in my mouth while I go on with my daily activities, and I even forget about them until I decide I need to eat or drink more.
For my entire French family, cherries are really special too.
My grandparents and parents have always owned
cherry trees at the back of their houses. Each spring, we enjoyed conversations to guess how good the season would turn, awaiting when the fruit would become ripe.
“
Ton père est dans l’arbre entrain de cueillir des cerises,” (Your father is picking cherries in the tree) my mum said a few days ago when I called to ask how they were.
“
Je ne sais plus quoi en faire tellement il y en a cette année,” (There are so many this year that I don’t know what to do with them anymore) my father later added.
This year, everyone back home says it happened very early.
With us, cherries would go in
jams and
tarts;
clafoutis and
cakes;
ice creams and
preserves.
My grandmother always liked to
poach cherries in syrup. She’d add the fruit to tall glass containers that she’d sterilize attentively. They were what she’d decide to take out of the pantry and serve for
dessert with
crème fouettée (whipped cream), should unexpected guests stay for dinner. Then, she always gave my mother a few of the preserved fruit, and I remember that we loved to have them when cherry season was over. When we were lucky, they’d last until the next season started.
Thankfully.
Even if to me, the best way to enjoy cherries is to gulp them down one after the other while continuing with my day, I also enjoy to use them in
sweet or
savory dishes.
Do you remember? In the past years, I’ve used them in
clafoutis,
with or without chocolate; in
amandines and
crumbles;
salads with shaved fennel and radish; and summery
soups.
This recipe is another summery soup, refreshing and light, that highlights the beauty of the fruit.
With accents of
vanilla,
ginger and
lime, I know it’s certainly not the kind my grand-mother would have made since ginger would have been a foreign ingredient to her.
I kept thinking about how recipes evolve. With time, and
generations.
I keep thinking how special it is to initiate Lulu to the taste of the soup (there’s some work ahead…) And about how much I wished I could have prepared it for my grandmother if she were still alive.
Maybe she would have liked the taste of
Rainier cherries too.
Les radis multicolores
When we woke up early on Friday with Lulu cuddled between us, the sun was already filtering through the bedroom blinds. A few robins were chirruping in the trees near our window and instantly, we knew that the day would be gorgeous. P. had the day off so we decided to go to the
beach. And have a
picnic.
Since our plan was rather spontaneous, I was thankful for my visit to the first farmer’s market the afternoon before.
I had come home with pretty colorful
radishes,
strawberries,
purple spring onions and beautiful
mesclun salad in my market basket. Enough to imagine a
radish salad that would accompany a dish of warm
black quinoa with asparagus sauce that takes only minutes to prepare.
“
On va à la plage,” we told Lulu while we were having a plate of
vanilla-flavored millet waffles at the breakfast table. Her face immediately lit with a large smile.
“
Vacances !” she shouted out loud.
We laughed.
Of course. Our small excursion sounded like a vacation indeed.
And so with the help from my Lulu, I prepared our
picnic lunch.
It was a beautiful and easy day.
The bushes lining the sand dunes displayed pretty flowers that looked like colorful pieces of candy. I could smell the vibes of summer without the crowds and the August heat.
As expected, Lulu had a lot of fun. Seeing her run and skip on the beach, laughing heartily, was the best gift we could have hoped for that day.
“
Tu as faim ?” (Are you hungry?) I asked her shortly after her first dip in the water.
“
Oui,” she replied instantly.
The three of us sat on the edge of the blanket with our feet dug into the sand. And we started to eat. Quietly. Undisturbed by the seagulls curious about our food.
The way Lulu was letting me feed her quinoa showed that indeed, she must have been hungry.
P. and I enjoyed the balance of texture and spicy taste the
radish salad brought to our meal. I had also packed a
strawberry salad and
apricots, and was glad to find
rhubarb muffins in the freezer that I wrapped and tossed in our picnic bag too.
By three o’clock, we decided to leave because, on the way back, we wanted to make a stop at a farm nearby to
pick strawberries.
“
We start tomorrow,” the tall solidly-built young girl standing at the cashier said when I asked her whether we could pick the fruit.
“
But you can buy strawberries we’ve already picked, if you want. And you can go and see the animals at the back of the farm.”
So I bought two large containers of
strawberries. One for us to enjoy. The other to go inside a
dessert I was planning to make and bring to a friends’
garden party the next day.
Les fraises de la ferme
And then we walked outside to see
chicken and
geese;
ducks and
goats;
sheep and
ponys.
“
On reviendra la semaine prochaine,” (We will come back next week) I told Lulu as we were walking back to the car. She was holding her
papa by one hand, with a warm
doughnut I bought for her at the farm stand in the other.
“
These are good!” P. exclaimed after biting into one too. “
So nice that I think I want a second one!”
I looked at them and smiled. Munching each on a doughnut, they really made a happy-looking pair.
“
I am sure she is going to sleep in the car after all of this, ” I laughed.
It didn’t fail. Back inside the car, within minutes on the road, Lulu was fast asleep, assuring us that she liked the beach, when we asked her if she had had fun.
Like many people I suppose, for me, certain foods are connected to memories of people and places. I first tasted this week’s choice, Aunt Sally’s pralines (auntsallys.com) during a trip to New Orleans. I remember walking into the charming shop and deciding to try some of the local fare. With the first taste, I became a praline fan. It was delicious, and there was something wonderfully decadent about it. Over the years, I’ve brought back pralines to enjoy and shared them with family and friends.