[Plum Tomatoes with Pecorino]

The last tasty plum tomatoes of the season, a piece of pecorino cheese your parents brought back from their Florence getaway (oh how well they know you), five minutes of preparation, and here’s a pretty and tasty little appetizer to bring to your neighbor-friends’ place when invited for the apéro (pre-dinner drink).

Watch as people wonder how to approach the tomato quarters, venture two tentative fingers, pick one up delicately, realize the quarters are really attached together, reconsider their strategy and grab the four quarters together, lift their hand and pop the whole thing into their mouth quickly, to avoid droplets of tomato juice and olive oil. Watch as they appreciate the sweet freshness of the tomato, the flattering company of the olive oil and parsley, and the sharp contrast of the pecorino.

When there are no tomatoes left, watch how they take little bites of bread and mop the shadow of the dish, a delicious mixture of olive oil, tomato juice, parsley and pecorino.

Watch and smile, but don’t forget to do just the same as they, before it’s all gone.

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The great thing about bringing food souvenirs back from your vacation — besides choosing them, buying them, fitting them somewhere in your already overbulging suitcase, hoping and praying and crossing your fingers that they don’t break/shatter/squish/smoosh/leak — is that it prolongs the magic indefinitely as you savor your goodies, little by little, over the next days, weeks and months.

I have a definite weakness for all things sweet and spreadable (as some people who share cabinet space with me are painfully aware) and I always seem to lug back herds of jars from my peregrinations.

This invariably leads to private moments of breakfast happiness, as I sit on my bar stool, pop the jar open, discover the color and texture which I had so far only guessed at through the glass, spread it on toast, take a bite, and mmmh… relish the taste, congratulate myself on the purchase, and munch contentedly away.

What we have here is a jar of walnut jam from the Périgord. Walnuts there are taken as seriously as ducks and ceps, so much so that La Noix du Périgord is protected by her own personal AOC (Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée, a certification of origin). This jam is made of sugar (55%) and walnuts (45%), nothing else. And this is all it takes to get you this fabulous, grainy, dark and intensely flavorful spread, so fragrant it almost smells like liquor.

A sweet mouthful of Périgord to last me through fall, making up for the increasing darkness at breakfast time.

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Try spending eight hours in a car on a sunny day, with a tray of twenty cabécous in the backseat. It’s an interesting exercise in willpower and determination to bring home the magic. Not the most orthodox way to age fresh cheese for consumption at their optimal stage of ripeness, but it certainly works!

Ah, what one woudn’t do, for the love of cabécous!

Maxence and I have left the Vosges, and after a diagonal drive all across the Great Kingdom of France, we now find ourselves in the Périgord, the Land of Aplenty. We will spend a few days here, enjoying the breathtaking sights, walking around medieval villages, and eating as many Cabécous as we can lay our hands on.

Cabécou is this little jewel of a goat cheese, a thin little wheel of cheese perfection, ideally sized for a single serving (ha!). It can be enjoyed at its various stages of ripeness, from fresh and mild and mellow to aged and dry and sharp, but we tend to prefer them “bien faits”, when they are starting to wrinkle and collapse, and the outer layer beneath the rind is getting to a thick, almost syrupy consistency. This is when the flavor develops fully, and this is when the piece of cheese can sit onto the piece of bread in all its majesty, arranging its soft edges like a robe around the firmness of its heart.

Cabécous are now protected by an AOC (Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée, a certification of origin) which labels them Rocamadour instead (from the name of a nearby village), but Cabécou is the traditional name and it sounds infinitely better, so in our hearts, on our lips and in our tummies, Cabécous shall remain thus named.

Special announcement! My dear friend Marie-Laure has her birthday today : Joyeux Anniversaire Marie!