If you’re anything like me,
you’ve dreamt you dream of packing up
and moving to the French countryside.
Dream about the markets,
and the boulangeries.
About the kitchens,
and the copper pots.
If you’re anything like Mimi Thorisson,
the talent behind Manger
you’ve done exactly that.
I love her site for a bunch of reasons.
But mostly because it reminds me
that childhood dreams
can do come true,
that there’s magic in the details
and that doing what you love,
with who you love
leads to great things.
FOR THE LOVE OF PIE — a series that celebrates the simple things.
Today, Mimi Thorisson and her Potato Pie with Comté Cheese and Lardons.
Potato Pie with Comté Cheese and Lardons
When I was 19, I often went on Saturdays to a small ‘salon de thé’ near the Bon Marché store in Paris with my mother. After a little shopping session, we always looked forward to a casual meal there – potato pie with salad. Ever since it closed down, I’ve thought fondly of that delicious potato pie, so I recreated it. It has become a family favourite, and for some reason I only make it on a Saturdays.
BEST SERVED WITH:
A mâche salad, for a late lunch on a Saturday!
ONE OR TWO THINGS:
I was an only child with a dream – to have a great big family with lots of dogs. I love adventure, taking chances and cooking huge meals for family and friends.
Potato Pie with Comté and Lardons
For the pastry:
- 500 g/ 4 cups plain flour
- 250 g/ 1 cup unsalted butter (cubed & at room temperature)
- 2 eggs
- 3-4 tbsp water
- 1 & ½ tsp salt
For the filling:
- 900 g/ 2 pounds potatoes, peeled and sliced into fine rondelles
- 120 g/ ¼ pound lardons/ bacon, sliced into small sticks
- 190g/ 2 cups Comté cheese, sliced (or any of your favorite cheese)
- 2 onions, finely sliced
- 3 garlic cloves, finely sliced
- 30 g/ 2 tbsp butter, cut into small pieces
- ½ tsp nutmeg
- ½ tsp fresh thyme
- 2-3 tsp olive oil
- Sea salt and black pepper, for seasoning
For the eggwash:
- 1 egg yolk
- 1 tsp milk
For the dough:
- Mix all the ingredients together, start kneading until you get a soft dough. Make into a ball, cover with cling film and store in the refrigerator for 2 hours (for best results, leave to rest overnight).
For the filling:
- In a skillet, heat 1 teaspoon of olive oil and fry the bacon. Set aside. In the same pan, add one or two teaspoon of olive oil, fry the onion until golden and season with salt and pepper. Add the garlic towards the end. Set aside and leave to cool for 5 minutes. Peel and slice the potatoes.
For the crust:
On a clean surface covered with parchment paper, add a dash of flour and roll out 2 pastry disk to fit your pie dish. Line the pie dish with the first disc, leaving 2 cm overhang. Place a layer of potatoes, onion/garlic, bacon and cheese. Sprinkle nutmeg and thyme all over. Scatter bits of butter and finish with a layer of potatoes. Season with sea-salt and pepper. Brush the edge of the base pastry with water and cover with your second pastry disc. Seal together by pressing firmly on the side of the dish with your thumbs. Cut off excess pastry dough and re-roll to create 5-7 leaves to decorate the pie (see photo). Brush pie with egg wash. Prick a small hole in the center of the pie.
Bake in a preheated oven 210°C/ 410 F for 40-45 minutes. Cover with parchment paper if pie browns too much.
A few weeks ago two very large boxes
arrived at my studio door.
I’d be expecting them
but their contents
were even better
than I’d imagined.
A while earlier the talented
Sue Paraskeva agreed to
make a round of bowls for HG (!!)
and so both bubble-wrapped boxes
were filled with those.
Each bowl is perfectly askew
and the loveliest blue grey.
They’re made from a mixture of stoneware
and porcelain which makes for
a beautiful beige dappling
and a slight sandy undertone.
Available in both small and medium
each is one of kind.
we’ve been filling them
with an easy spring broth.
Fish or chicken stock,
and purple-shelled clams.
They’re perfect for that,
but I think
they’d be beautiful
with a couple scoops of
pastel-coloured summer ice cream as well.
Hope things are swell.
I’ll be back with those new pies soon.
photos: michael graydon + nikole herriott
Hello, happy spring!
Remember last year when I told you about
a trip Michael and I took
to the Hudson River Valley?
I didn’t mention it then
but we had travelled there to shoot
a story about April Bloomfield
for the current issue Bon Appétit.
If you haven’t picked up a copy, you should,
April’s Pot Roasted Artichokes are life-changing.
Anyway, more from me soon!
I’ll be back with
for the love of pie posts,
new things for HG,
and some fun bits of news too.
Images: Michael Graydon + Nikole Herriott (that’s me!)
Page Layouts: Bon Appétit Magazine
Props: Amy Wilson
Watch for new items tomorrow, April 9, 2013 at 6pm EDT.
In the meantime, join us on pinterest, facebook
or via our mailing list.
Until a couple weeks ago
I’d never really thought about
the colour of clay before it’s turned to dishes.
It hadn’t struck me
that it might start as a solid soft grey.
And that once formed
and set to dry,
it’s colour would change each day.
Slowly, from one shade of grey to the next.
I think I’d imagined
would start out white.
So, when we found ourselves
at the studio of Atelier Make,
the potters behind a number of our pieces and our good friends,
and they told us that
while some clays do arrive white,
the specific types they use to produce our pieces
remain grey until their first firing,
I was a little amazed.
I’d known that potters’ studios
were handsome places.
I’d imagined the process of making things
from clay would be beautiful thing.
But after spending time in one
I like them even more.
There’s a fine dust that settles
over most things there.
Tiny bits of clay that dull almost every surface.
It takes the sheen from things
and leaves something of an enchanted calm.
photos: michael graydon + nikole herriott
HG juicers, clouds and totes will be back in stock soon + we’re updating this monday
to stay up-to-date join us on facebook or via our mailing list
this apron in natural
this photo from IG
i can’t stop thinking about this cake
this egg, yes please
montreal notes: the bagels and the pistacho loaf here
There’s a small part of me
that’s always imagined I’d be a beekeeper someday.
It was a wide-eyed sort of dream, mind you.
The type that forms when you’re little,
before you know what something is really all about.
Before you realize that honey takes
a truck load of bees
and penchant for sticky.
My childhood friend George
always had bees though.
And that convinced me I wanted them too.
That and the stories he told of them.
He was some years older then me,
more a friend of my parents
than a friend of mine.
But he was ever-present throughout my childhood.
Looking back now,
it could have been
the tins he brought the honey in,
that I liked so much.
They were that antique-sort-of-beautiful variety.
You know the ones I mean.
The kind that a six year old
who really liked pretty things,
might just have been into.
It’s of course possible that my memory embellishes
the pretty they actually were.
But I remember that violet honey
that came inside
and I remember the magic
it all was to my little kid self.
And as it turns out,
honeycomb mixed with cream
and eggs and sugar
and frozen together
makes for its own bit of magic too.
these paws (via)
this hotel (via)
photos: michael graydon and me
Honeycomb Semifreddo by Donna Hay
- 3 eggs
- 2 egg yolks, extra
- 1 cup (220g) caster (superfine) sugar (I used 3/4 cup instead)
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 2 cups (500ml) single (pouring) cream
- 100g honeycomb, chopped
- Place the eggs, extra yolks, sugar and vanilla in a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and, using a hand-held electric mixer, beat for 6–8 minutes or until pale and thick. Remove from the heat and beat for a further 6–8 minutes or until cooled.
- Whisk the cream until soft peaks form. Gently fold the cream through the egg mixture until well combined. Fold through the honeycomb. Pour into a 2 litre-capacity metal tin and freeze for 6 hours or overnight. Spoon into cones to serve. Makes 2 litres.
- BY DONNA HAY
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