Hot lavender
It was Shakespeare who referred to lavender as 'hot', though I'm not quite sure why. He didn't elaborate. I certainly associate fields of lavender with hot summer days, mostly in France, though here in Australia it is being grown commercially too - well everything Mediterranean is - we do after all live in a Mediterranean climate. And going back to France - we have often been there just before the lavender is really in bloom - just a hint of the glory to come. But in 2014 as we arrived in the little village of Taulignan, in the Drome area of Provence (I'm expanding on yesterday) we found that it was the day of their lavender festival. Such events doubtless occur all over the south of France where it is grown - mostly for the perfume industry and the associated wellness products. It was a very small village, and a very small festival but a wonderful surprise. Days later they were harvesting it - just before the rain I think.
When i was a child we each had a small section of our garden to call our own. I planted a cutting of lavender from the bush that grew by the steps and it grew - flourished even. I was very proud of it. Here, for some reason I struggle to repeat this success. I have tried many many times but have only ever succeeded with one bush, which is a bit straggly. Other people seem to be able to grow it though - I saw some on my walk today and the shops are currently full of lavender plants for your garden.
"There is no scent quite like lavender, each spray containing the warm, sweet smell of summer. ... Even on the bleakest winter's day, when a dried lavender flower or a lavender sachet is held and inhaled for a moment, a picture immediately forms of long, drowsy days, humming bees and a glowing tapestry of flowers in the garden." Rosemary Hemphill
And why does the nursery rhyme say that lavender is blue - because surely it is purple?
I'm not sure that they have found anything sensationally good health-wise about lavender as yet, but people do use it to help them sleep and also to calm and relax. There is research into whether it is effective neurologically - though I'm not sure what kind of neurological - again they did not elaborate.
One thing for sure is that it smells nice, as Victoria Frolova notes on the Financial Times How to Spend It website- "few visitors to Provence in August can be unmoved by the heady aroma wafting from the fields." She tells us that Hermès (Brin de Réglisse), Tom Ford (Costa Azzurra) and Caron (Pour un Homme) are just three expensive perfumes that rely heavily on lavender for their allure.
But this is a food blog - well it's supposed to be and the real reason I am writing about lavender, having been reminded of it by the Provence book, is that it has become 'hot' as an ingredient. So lavender is 'hot' in a different sense too. I know it has been used in cooking for centuries, but when I looked at my earlier cook books it seemed to only be used for aromatherapy kind of things and maybe to make things like vinegar. Elizabeth David has nothing. Rosemary Hemphill in her 1959 book Herbs and Spices makes no reference at all to cooking with it. Indeed she even says, "Long ago lavender was used not only for making scented articles, but in confectionery, cooking and in medicine. ... One charming idea that could be used today is to spear sweets and small pieces of fruit with spikes of English lavender." How very quaint. She was obviously writing well before the trend of reviving old regional dishes, because nowadays in Provence and all of southern France it is common to find a lavender flavoured dessert, mostly in 'posh' restaurants, but also in smaller establishments. One of the most delicious desserts I have ever tasted was in a small village in the Pyrenees - Ansignan - where we had a lavender crème brulée. Jamie Oliver has a recipe for this - don't know whether it would be as good, but I must try it some time. Just feed the recipe title into Google and you will find lots of recipes for other versions of the same dish.
Ice-cream is the thing though and I had to include this example because the picture is so beautiful. It's from Robert Carrier's Feasts of Provence and it's a recipe for a lavender honey ice-cream. It uses lavender honey rather than lavender but they obviously use lavender flowers to at least decorate it. Well I'm not including the recipe - it's basically an ice-cream made with a vanilla and lavender honey flavoured custard. I'm not sure whether you can get lavender honey here, though it is very common in France. Lavender ice-cream is also now common in the south of France and is the most usual use of lavender in cooking. Apparently it is often coloured with blueberry juice, which seems a bit unnecessary. There are lots of recipes for lavender ice-cream out there. One I found used almonds as well and made a powder out of a sort of lavender caramel which was also added.
So what else can you do with lavender? Well a quick look at my recipe database found two cakes, an ice-cream, a panna cotta (which is a sort of ice-cream) and marshmallows - which look quite tempting, and a coeur à la crème (a cottage cheese kind of dish), flavoured with lavender honey. The River Cottage people have a recipe for lamb and some biscuits and cup cakes and the super trendy Shannon Bennett has a couple of cocktails using lavender syrup. I doubt you will be interested in them but you might be able to find them somewhere on the net - they are in his 28 days in Provence book. Provence again you see. I'll give you the marshmallow and lamb recipes.
LAVENDER MARSHMALLOWS
4 titanium strength gelatine leaves
1/2 cup (125ml) sparkling wine
1 vanilla bean, split, seeds scraped
1 cup (220g) caster sugar
1/2 cup (175g) glucose syrup
3 egg whites
1 tbs unsprayed lavender flowers
1/2 cup (60g) yoghurt or skim-milk powder
Soak gelatine in cold water for 5 minutes to soften. Place wine and vanilla in a small pan over medium heat and bring to a simmer. Squeeze excess water from gelatine, add to pan and remove from heat, stirring until dissolved. Set aside to cool completely.
Cook sugar, glucose and 1/2 cup (80ml) water in a saucepan over medium heat until sugar reaches 128ºC.
Meanwhile, using a stand mixer, whisk egg whites and 1 tsp salt to soft peaks. Gradually pour in hot syrup. Increase speed to high. Whisk for 2 minutes, then gradually add gelatine mixture. Whisk for 4 minutes or until cool. Add lavender and whisk to combine. Spread into a baking paper-lined 20cm x 25cm x 4cm deep pan. Chill overnight.
To serve, cut into 4cm squares and dust with yoghurt powder.
LOIN OF LAMB WITH LAVENDER AND LEMON THYME
2 tbsp finely chopped lavender leaves
2 tsp finely chopped lemon thyme
Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
1 fat garlic clove, peeled and finely chopped
About 2 tbsp rapeseed or olive oil
300-600g piece of boned lamb loin
A little white wine or stock for deglazing (optional)
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 220ºC.
Combine the lavender, lemon thyme, lemon zest and garlic in a small bowl. Add some seasoning and just enough oil to make a thick paste.
Lay the meat, skin side down, on a board and smear the herb mixture all over the inside surface, working it into all the cracks and crevices. Fold the meat over on itself and tie securely in several places with string. Smear any escaping oil over the outside and season with salt and pepper.
Place the meat in a roasting dish, with the 'open' edge uppermost to keep the flavouring mix inside. Roast for 15 minutes, then lower the oven setting to 170ºC and roast for a further 15 minutes for just-pink lamb.
Leave the lamb to rest i a warm place for 15 minutes before slicing. Deglaze the pan with a little white wine or stock, or even a splash of water, to create a few spoonfuls of flavoursome gravy.
So just goes to show how one subject - Provence - can lead to another and also how food fashions come and go. I wonder how long this one will last. We saw this field of lavender growing in what looked like rock on a plateau in Provence. It's a very Provence view. I don't think this lavender was quite as ripe, if that's the word, and it does look a little bluer.
