Into the Archives: Patrice Fortier, permaculture hero & seed evangelist

fig. a: Patrice Fortier in his element

It’s hard to believe, but it’s now been OVER 20 YEARS since we first made the acquaintance of Patrice Fortier and his incomparable la Société des Plantes, one of the world’s great purveyors of rare and heirloom seeds, and, therefore, significant figures in the push for biodiversity and sustainability. Its name might conjure visions of vast fields and orchards, huge arrays of greenhouses, and large teams of botanists, but la Société des Plantes is a modest operation, owned and operated by Patrice and his small team of associates and based on a small farm in Kamouraska, in the Bas-Saint-Laurent region of Eastern Quebec. In any case, in retrospect, it seems as though we actually met Patrice before we started “…an endless banquet,” in the fall of 2004, but that our second encounter with Patrice occurred right in the thick of the first month of AEB’s existence—November 2004—a period of excitement and high enthusiasm that resulted in a torrent of posts (21 in all, although many of them amounted to little more than “micro-blogging,” avant la lettre).

Patrice quickly became not only an inspiration for this couple of novice food bloggers, he became a good friend. And back in the day, he used to regularly show up in Montreal with his fantastic (and fantastical) assortments of vegetables and hold these largely impromptu farm stand sales that were very much true to the DIY roots of la Société des Plantes (and very much in line with the DIY philosophy of AEB), so he also became a recurring character in the pages of AEB. Not surprisingly, a number of our favourite posts feature Patrice quite prominently.

The photo up top—the one with the full angelica headdress—is my favourite photo of Patrice. In 2012 we finally went to visit Patrice in Kamouraska, and when we did we discovered that a documentary film was being made about him: Julie Perron’s Le Semeur (2014). We arrived just in time to behold the shooting of an elaborate fertility ritual that Patrice had created for the film. My photograph is a behind-the-scenes view of the action that captures some of the chaotic energy that was in the air on that August afternoon. If you’re interested in tracking down the finished version of Le Semeur (The Sower), you can do so here.

And if you’d like to read all about that magical first visit to la Société des Plantes, you can do so right here. In addition to details of our visit to Patrice’s farm, you’ll find tales of bakeries, charcuterie producers, smokehouses, restaurants, and eel appreciation centres, as well as a preview for a stunning “Hommage à Kamouraska” menu that Michelle had created for Foodlab (a.k.a., Labo Culinaire), featuring vegetables from la Société des Plantes.

fig. b: Patrice’s squashes, Mile End, 2005

The AEB Archives also contain a number of posts about Patrice’s numerous DIY farm stand sales, especially in the years 2004-2010. Some of these literally took place on street corners. Others took place in an odd assortment of businesses, all of them run by members of Montreal’s secretive Vegetable Underground, like bike shops and wine importation houses.

Examples of these posts include our very first piece on Patrice and la Société des Plantes in November 2004, as well as the following items:

• November 2005: a sale at Villeneuve Bicycle (now C & L Cycle)

• October 2006: a sale “in the parking lot at 5550 Casgrain”

• November 2010: a sale at the wine importers la QV’s headquarters on Beaubien

fig. c: Michelle & her Société des Plantes cardoon, 2006

Finally, this is one of my favourite photos of Michelle from AEB. It’s a photo of her holding a prized la Société des Plantes cardoon in 2005.

We had the pleasure of seeing Patrice again yesterday when he held a sale of his seeds (sorry, no vegetables this time!) at Librarie Gourmande at Marché Jean-Talon. It was such a treat to see him again—it had been a while. And one of the reminiscences that came up was the vision of Michelle and her cardoon at one of those early streetside sales. Patrice mentioned that AEB had been among the first to draw attention to la Société des Plantes in Montreal. That may have been true, but our interest in Patrice and la Société des Plantes had everything to do with his phenomenal assortments of vegetables and his magnetic personality. He was the one who was doing something extraordinary. He still is.

Once again, if you’d like to learn more about la Société des Plantes, you can check out their website HERE. If you’re a gardener, or you have gardeners in your life, seeds from la Société des Plantes make a wonderful gift.

aj

p.s. 1: One of our earliest recipes was one inspired by our second visit to one of Patrice’s sales, where we picked up “white carrots and white beets, tomatillos, chervil, homemade plum preserve, homemade herbes salées, and fresh horseradish.” The fresh horseradish found its way into a recipe for Horseradish Mashed Potatoes that we’d gleaned from Amanda Hesser’s 1999 book The Cook and the Gardener (seems appropriate), just a few years before Hesser founded Food52. Without any further ado:

Horseradish Mashed Potatoes

1 1/2 pounds potatoes, washed
salt
1/3 c. freshly grated horseradish
juice of 1 lemon
1/4 c. heavy cream
3 tbsp. butter
black pepper

Boil the potatoes in water and salt until tender. Drain.
Grate horseradish, keeping eyes as far away from the grater as possible, and add lemon juice right away.
Crush potatoes with a masher, add horseradish, cream, 2 tbsp. butter, salt and pepper to taste. Mash until desired consistency is reached.
Heat remaining tbsp. of butter in a medium pot, add potatoes, cover, place over medium heat, and stir until they are served.

Serves 6 as a side dish.

(This recipe comes from The Cook and the Gardener by Amanda Hesser)

p.s. 2: Did we pick up some seeds for ourselves? Yes, of course, we picked up some seeds for ourselves!

fig. d: La Société des Plantes seeds, ready to be broadcast

The Time is Now 1: Tomatoes

It’s rare that I get stopped in my tracks by a recipe these days, but this was one of those times.

fig. a:  veg lit

I was browsing at our local bookstore in Montreal when I came across a book I hadn’t seen before:  Deborah Madison’s Vegetable Literacy.  I thought, “Oh, cool.  Deborah Madison’s got a new cookbook out.”  But when I flipped the book over the price sticker indicated that it had been published in 2013.  “That’s strange,” I said to myself.  “I never noticed anything about this book when it came out.”  As it turned out, Michelle had never heard of it either.

Michelle and I read a number of food magazines.  We keep a pretty close eye on the latest cookbook releases, but here was a book that had totally slipped us by.  And this was not just any cookbook.  Here was a book that a) was written by one of the prominent cookbook authors of our time; b) was published by one of the top houses for cookbooks and food literature:  Ten Speed Press; c) features photographs by the dynamic duo of Christopher Hirsheimer and Melissa Hamilton, who are two of our absolute favourites, and among the very best in the business; and d) is book devoted to understanding, growing, and cooking vegetables (and features over “300 deliciously simple recipes”) that was released at a time when vegetable-centric and vegetable-forward cuisine was just beginning to sweep the food world.  Who knows?  Maybe we’d just missed all the hoopla.

Then I started to leaf through it, and I was immediately impressed by its encyclopedic take on the vegetable kingdom, it’s beautiful photographs and layout, its fresh, often imaginative, and highly tantalizing recipes, and its enormous value to both gardeners and cooks, and especially those of us who garden to cook.  The book breaks things down according to twelves families of vegetables:

The Carrot Family:  Some Basic Kitchen Vegetables and a Passel of Herbs

The Mint Family:  Square Stems and Fragrant Leaves

The Sunflower Family:  Some Rough Stuff from Out of Doors

The Knotweed Family:  Three Strong Personalities [sorrel, rhubarb, buckwheat]

The Cabbage Family:  The Sometimes Difficult Crucifers

The Nightshade Family:  The Sun Lovers

The Goosefoot and Amaranth Families:  Edible Weeds, Leaves, and Seeds

The (Former) Lily Family:  Onions and Asparagus

The Cucurbit Family:  The Sensual Squashes, Melons, and Gourds

The Grass Family:  Grains and Cereals

The Legume Family:  Peas and Beans

and The Morning Glory Family:  The Sweet Potato

Each chapter is as captivating and fascinating as the last, and, not surprisingly, Madison excels when it comes to establishing linkages across families, providing inspiration for how to successfully combine edible plants from different families, as well as from the realm of fruit.  [Note:  This cookbook is entirely vegetarian, and all the better for it.  For a book like this, which is so focused on gardening, meat-based recipes would just be a distraction.  Plus, there are plenty of other cookbooks that do that and do that well.]

And then I came across that recipe.  Actually, I noticed the photograph first. 

fig. b:  tomatoes & cream

It was a perfectly composed overhead shot that was highly colourful and just a bit mysterious.  I wasn’t entirely sure what I was gazing upon, or what the recipe entailed, but it involved a beautiful array of heirloom tomatoes, and it looked good.  I scanned the opposite page.  “Comforting Tomatoes in Cream with Bread Crumbs and Smoked Salt.”  That’s what the recipe was called.  As I began to make my way through it, I was a bit stumped by what I was reading, and I was happy to see I wasn’t alone.  Madison begins her recipe by explaining its origins, and she, too, was stumped by it the first time she encountered it:

A friend once told me that her comfort food, and her only one at that, was a dish of canned tomatoes cooked in cream which she poured over toast.  I struck me as odd at the time, but I’m now in the same camp.  It’s a perfect indulgent lunch for a day when tomatoes are irresistible.

Of course, this being a book that’s all about growing your own—or at least acquainting yourself with your nearest farmer’s market, so you have access to a wide variety of vegetables at their peak of ripeness—Madison’s take on her friend’s comfort dish doesn’t involve canned tomatoes.  This is a dish to be made “when tomatoes are irresistible,” when field tomatoes are ripe, juicy, and plentiful.

Well, at the time I was reading this local field tomatoes were still nowhere to be found—it was late June, after all, and we live in a Northern zone—but I knew they’d be here soon, and, in case you haven’t noticed, that time is now.  

fig. c:  heirloom time

This recipe also calls for garlic and basil.  Again, the time is now.  Local hard-neck garlic is available again, and fresh, local basil is easy to find, if you’re not growing your own.

How did Madison update and improve her friend’s favourite comfort food?  How did she transform it into an ode to late-summer seasonality?  Let’s see…

Comforting Tomatoes in Cream with Bread Crumbs and Smoked Salt

Serves 1

4 tbsp heavy cream, preferably Vermont cream

1 clove garlic

1 fresh basil leaf

8 oz ripe tomatoes, preferably a mix of the ripest, tastiest heirloom varieties you can find

fresh bread crumbs toasted in olive oil until trip

smoked salt* and freshly ground pepper

Warm the cream with the garlic and basil in a small skillet over gentle heat.  When it comes to a boil, turn off the heat and steep while you prepare the tomatoes.

Bring a pot of water to a boil.  Score the tomatoes on the blossom end (the “bottom”), then drop them into boiling water for about 10 seconds.  Transfer them to a bowl of cold water to cool, then peel.  Cut the tomatoes into quarters if large, into halves if smaller.

Add the tomatoes to the pan, along with a generous pinch of smoked salt and some freshly ground black pepper.  Turn the heat back on and allow the cream to bubble over the tomatoes and mingle with their juices for 2 to 3 minutes.

Ladle into a bowl.  Adjust the seasoning, if need be.  Scatter the bread crumbs generously over the tomatoes.  Devour, making sure to have some delicious bread close at hand to sop up all the juices with afterwards.

[this recipe based very, very closely on a recipe by the same name that appears in Deborah Madison’s Vegetable Literacy]

It’s hard to explain just how good this dish is.  There’s a simplicity, and purity, and genius to it that’s breathtaking.  If you’re a true lover of fresh tomatoes at the height of season, this is the dish for you.  If you’re a true lover of fresh cream, all the better. 

If you’re still a little mystified by the combination, think of the pleasures of a fine rosé sauce, but one where both the tomatoes and the cream have more of an assertive presence.  Even better, think of the pleasures of eating a fine, ripe burrata—one that’s been allowed to come to temperature—with the ripest, freshest, most delicious tomatoes you can find, some torn basil leaves, and some freshly baked bread.  You know how you’re left with that delicious cream mingling with the tomato juices?  You know how good it tastes when you run a piece of crusty bread through there?  Is it all starting to make sense?

The first time we tasted Madison’s “Comforting Tomatoes” we were completely beside ourselves.  Maybe the two of us are just the ideal audience for this dish.  Maybe it was specifically the combination of our local, organic Vermont tomatoes with local, organic Vermont cream that made the difference (we had intentionally waited to make this recipe in Vermont, so that we had access to a pint of Kimball Brook heavy cream).  But this was the single best thing either of us had tasted in quite some time.  Madison describes it as a “perfect indulgent dish,” but I’m not sure I entirely agree.  It was, quite simply, a perfect dish.  It was one of those exceptional dishes that was entirely satisfying.  And, in fact, it was a dish that lingered with us for hours afterward, even after we’d had our main dish (which was definitely no slouch, either).  Even after we’d had dessert.

You’ve been warned.

aj

*  Don’t skip out on the smoked salt.  If you don’t smoke your own, look for Maldon smoked salt, which is a very fine product, indeed.

Top Carrot

fig. a:  carrots

This recipe--Vadouvan-spiced "Tandoori" Carrots--appeared on our radar months and months ago, courtesy of Bon Appétit, but I only got around to making it this summer.  It showed up in a winter issue as a recipe you could make with wintertime root vegetables, but it's a carrot recipe that benefits from using the freshest, prettiest carrots available--like those in the photograph above--so, really, it's ideal for the current harvest season.  It's also an incredibly versatile recipe.  You could certainly serve it as part of a South Asian menu, but I'd have no qualms serving it in a wide range of contexts, including even an upcoming Thanksgiving meal.  Most importantly, it's a remarkably flavourful and attractive recipe, one that takes roasted carrots to a higher plane.

If you've never heard of Vadouvan, it's a spice blend that's said to be a product of French colonial rule in India--one that typically is built with a base of shallots.  If you can't locate Vadouvan where you live--I wasn't able to track it down in Montreal--it's fairly easy to make, and the flavours are intoxicating, especially if you're able to score fresh curry leaves.*  You might very well find yourself making spiced potatoes, roasted cauliflower, dal, and other dishes with it, in addition to these carrots.  That's what I ended up doing, and every variation was a hit.

fig. b:  spices

Vadouvan Spice Mix

 2 pounds onions, cut into 1-inch pieces

1 pound shallots, halved

12 garlic cloves, peeled

1/4 cup vegetable oil

1 teaspoon fenugreek seeds

1 tablespoon thinly sliced fresh curry leaves (optional, but highly recommended)

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

1 teaspoon brown mustard seeds

3/4 teaspoon turmeric

1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon hot red-pepper flakes

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

Special equipment:  this recipe calls for using parchment paper, but I highly recommend using a Silpat silicone baking mat, if you have one.

Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle.

Pulse onions in 3 batches in a food processor until very coarsely chopped (there may be a few large pieces remaining), transferring to a bowl. Repeat with shallots, then garlic.

Heat oil in a deep 12-inch heavy nonstick skillet over high heat until it shimmers, then sauté onions, shallots, and garlic (stir often) until golden and browned in spots, 25 to 30 minutes

Grind fenugreek seeds in grinder or with mortar and pestle. Add to onion mixture along with remaining ingredients, 1 tablespoon salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper and stir until combined.

Transfer to a parchment-paper-lined (or Silpat-lined) large 4-sided sheet pan and spread as thinly and evenly as possible. Bake, stirring occasionally with a skewer or spatula to separate onions, until well browned and barely moist, 1 to 1 1/4 hours.

Note:  This recipe makes a lot of Vadouvan spice mix, but it's delicious, it's versatile, and it keeps well in the refrigerator for up to 1 month.

fig. c:  spicy carrots

Now that you have your spice blend, you can actually make the "Tandoori" carrots.  Don't worry, you don't need a tandoor.  You just need a hot oven.  The "Tandoori" part comes from the fact that the technique replicates the manner in which other Tandoori dishes are made, like Tandoori chicken.

Vadouvan-spiced "Tandoori" Carrots

2 tablespoons Vadouvan

2 garlic cloves finely grated, divided

½ cup plain whole-milk Greek yogurt, divided

5 tablespoons olive oil, divided

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 pound small carrots, tops trimmed, scrubbed or peeled

¼ teaspoon ground turmeric

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Very coarsely chopped cilantro leaves with tender stems and lemon wedges (for serving)

Preheat oven to 425°. Mix Vadouvan, half of garlic, ¼ cup yogurt, and 3 Tbsp. oil in a large bowl until smooth; season with salt and pepper. Add carrots and toss to coat. Roast on a rimmed baking sheet in a single layer, turning occasionally, until tender and lightly charred in spots, 25–30 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat turmeric and remain­ing 2 Tbsp. oil in a small skillet over medium-low, swirling skillet, until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat.

Whisk lemon juice, remaining garlic, and remaining ¼ cup yogurt in a small bowl; season with salt and pepper.

Place carrots (along with the crunchy bits on the baking sheet) on a platter. Drizzle with yogurt mixture and turmeric oil and top with cilantro. Serve with lemon wedges.

The finished product is a work of beauty:  sweet, spicy, tart, and savoury, with wonderful textures and vivid colours to boot.  You might serve these carrots as a side dish, but, if you do, don't be surprised if they steal the show.  They're really that good.

aj

p.s.  If you can't find Vadouvan near you, and making your own batch seems like too much trouble, just come up with your own curried shallot blend by frying some up in a pan, and try the rest of the recipe.  Everything else about this recipe is dead easy, and the method is sound.

* I got mine at Marché Oriental, on boulevard St-Denis, and they were fresher than fresh.