Free On Rue Tatin by Susan Herrmann Loomis Page B

everyone inside.
    Joyfully ringing bells signal the end of the ceremony, and moments later the bride and groom come out the front door onto the
parvis
, or square in front of the church, followed by the crowd and a storm of tissue paper hearts, many of which float on the wind into our front yard. When Joe was small he loved to chase them all over the garden, carefully hoarding his handfuls. The wedding parties gather outside to await the gaily decorated cars that come to pick them up and whisk them away to what will be hours of eating, dancing, and eating again. Some days there are two or three weddings in a row. If I’m in my office I see the priest finally emerge from the church at the end of the day and lock the door with a satisfied flourish before going on his way.
     
    After my office, the next room to be finished was Joe’s room, then our room, then the bathroom, and finally a temporary kitchen, which meant the house now had a working fireplace. All of this took a full year, during which time we stayed in our little cottage on the river. We continued to love it, often taking long walks along the river during summer evenings when it is light until 11 P.M . I worked steadily on the book, traveling at least one week a month and sometimes more.
    That first year I drove the winding wine routes of Alsace, knocked side-view mirrors with another car in the Pyrenees as I went to visit a cheese maker, shivered in the cold waters off the coast in Brittany during a visit to oyster beds, and had the thrill of harvesting mussels right outside of Bordeaux. After each trip I would return laden with specialities—bottles of fruity Alsatian Riesling and an assortment of sausages, an entire Ardi Gasna (Basque sheep’s milk cheese) weighing just over two pounds,
cannellés
(custardy little pastries) from Bordeaux. We tasted these as I recounted my adventures, making them real for everyone.
                   
    EDITH’S ENDIVES ROLLED IN HAM
LES ENDIVES AU JAMBON D’EDITH
    Every time I talk with Edith (who is no longer a vegetarian) in winter, it seems she has just made and served this typical Norman dish.
“Tout le monde aime ça!”
“Everyone loves it!” she exclaims each time amazed, I think, that she’s hit upon a dish her four nearly grown children like as much as she and her husband, Bernard, do. Joe and Michael ate it once at Edith’s when I was out of town and both told me how much they liked it, so I’ve included it in my repertoire. Not only is it delicious, but it is easy to make. Serve these with a simple red Bordeaux.

    2 pounds/1kg Belgian endives
    21/2 cups/625ml whole milk
    2 dried, imported bay leaves
    4 tablespoons/60g unsalted butter
    4 tablespoons/32g all-purpose flour
    Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
    10 ounces/300g thinly sliced ham, cut in 11/2-inch-wide strips
    2 ounces/60g Gruyère or Comté cheese, grated
    1. Place 3 inches (7.5cm) of water in the bottom of a steamer and bring to a boil. Steam the endives until they are tender and have turned a flat blue-green, about 20 minutes. Remove from the steamer and let drain for several hours.
    2. Preheat the oven to 450° F/230° C/gas 9.
    3. Scald the milk with the bay leaves in a heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat. Remove from the heat, cover, and let sit for at least 10 minutes. Remove and discard the bay leaves.
    4. Melt the butter in a medium-size, heavy-bottomed pan and when it is foaming whisk in the flour. Let the mixture foam and cook for at least 2 minutes. Whisk in the milk and keep cooking, whisking constantly, until the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of a metal spoon, 8 to 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and remove from the heat.
    5. Lightly salt the endives. Lay the strips of ham out on a work surface and roll one endive up in each ham slice. Lay the endive and ham in a baking sheet with the end of the ham underneath, so it doesn’t unroll. When all of the endives are rolled in ham and placed in the baking