Mini ham toasts with pickle butter
These open-faced canapés are a slightly modified take on the conventional ham sandwich, and they’re perfect for accompanying before-dinner drinks. Or you may choose to forego the mini format here and make them as whole sandwiches to take with you on a picnic at the Villette, or anyplace you care to dine outdoors with friends and a blanket.
ingredients:
½ cup cornichons, small French pickles (70g)
½ tsp. strong mustard
7 tbsp. salted butter (105g), softened but not melted (Echiré butter is perfect here)
4 slices wheat or whole-grain bread
2 slices deli-quality ham (4 oz. or 120g), each cut into 8 small squares
how to make it:
In a food processor, combine the pickles and mustard, and pulse about 4 or 5 times to break down the pickles. Add the butter and process again until the butter and other ingredients are fully incorporated, but not totally smooth – you’re looking for a rough texture, although one that can be spread onto bread slices. You’ll probably have to scrape down the sides of the processor a few times. Toast the bread slices, spread them generously with the pickle butter, and top each with a small ham square, pressing slightly so the ham sticks. Serve with apéritifs.
makes 16 toasts; recipe can be doubled or tripled
note: elite product warning! Echiré butter doesn’t come cheap, but if you’d like to buy some, Google Echiré butter to find any number of internet sources for ordering.
Ripped butter
One of the greatest pleasures of Parisian food shopping is the astounding availability: any product made in France is regularly trucked and trained in to the city, to the delight of the deep-pocketed foodies who live here. Although I try to buy as locally as possible, from AMAP (like CSA) farmers and producers in the île de France, everyone knows that cows aren’t exactly grazing on the grounds of the parc de la Villette. Can’t you just imagine the tumult caused by cows nibbling tabbouleh from outdoor cinema fans’ picnic baskets? The bovines turn out in record numbers for My Beautiful Laundrette or Pasolini’s Accatone, displacing Parisians in a cinema-inspired transhumance. One trampled city-dweller hears a far-away moo, emanating from somewhere behind the inflatable cinema screen, and he reaches for his cell phone, thinking it was on vibrate mode. No, few Parisians would be prepared to accept a harmonious cohabitation of cow and human in their fair city. And they don’t have to, since nowadays the tractor trailers hauling in our wonderful products from all over the country are being put onto trains, to save on fuel, pollution, and road traffic. Occasionally, after obtaining yet another overdraft authorization from my friendly banker, and instead of spending cash on wicker platform sandals, I’ll walk my flaming pockets straight down to the cremerie to buy one of these imported products: a mini-basket of butter from the town of Echiré.Home to a world-famous milk cooperative, Echiré is located in the Deux-Sèvres department, a part of the Poitou-Charentes region, which you’d cross if you traveled from Paris to Bordeaux by train. Situated along the Sèvre river just north of Niort, Echiré’s particular terroir is largely responsible for the taste of its butter – the land’s geology is different from that of surrounding areas. The butter is extra-yellow and a little nutty-smelling, with a fresh, rich, and wholesome odor, the kind that causes me to wonder why I would ever buy any other kind of butter. But then I remember my banker’s patient but slightly pinched smile as I tell her about the day my tastebuds took my change purse hostage.
In French, the AOC appellation beurre d’Echiré tends to cause confusion among those who are unfamiliar with it. Upon spoken orders, a young kitchen apprentice goes looking in the walk-in for beurre déchiré, or ripped butter. When he returns, dumbfounded, a veteran commis says, "It’s on the shelf, right next to the elbow grease."
Besides its capacity to bewilder gullible apprentices, Echiré butter finds its way into puff pastry and beurre blanc sauce, where the butter’s pure flavor is the star of the dish. But the butter is best tasted straight from its bourriche, or mini-basket, spread onto bread or combined with other ingredients to make a beurre composé, such as maître d’hôtel, herb, anchovy, or caper butter. Lately, chefs all over France have taken these compound butters to fashionable new places, re-inventing them by whirling in non-conventional ingredients like lentils, ham, Roquefort, or lavender. So far, I haven’t discovered any trendy compound butters that feature elbow grease.
The annual Outdoor Cinema at La Villette lasts from mid-July to late August.
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