Deep France (36 page)

The first phase was to fix the river mouth and stabilize the port at Bayonne. To do this, a sea wall was planned and the sand dunes, which shifted easily, were turned into solid ground. A dyke
twelve metres high was built, and the dunes were anchored by sowing marram grass, known in French as ‘
gourbet
’, which has thick, mat-forming roots. The engineer in charge,
Bremontier, also ordered the inland ground to be stabilized. Seedlings of the pines, broom and gorse which are now so characteristic of the region were imported and raised under cover of brushwood.
The sandy ground was perfect for these hardy species and in two years the gorse was two metres high.

It took generations of toil, but by 1867, three thousand hectares of sand dunes on the coast were covered with
gourbet
, and eighty thousand hectares of inland ground were planted with
pines. The Landes problem wasn’t fixed, however. There was still a large area of marsh inland.

A geological survey revealed that about fifty metres below the swamp water and the reed beds was a layer of brown limestone, material from the Pyrenees which had been washed down by the river
millions of years earlier and compacted into an impermeable layer that prevented water from draining away and formed a barrier to the roots of plants.

In the days of Napoleon III and the Empress Eugénie, an engineer called Chambrelent came up with a plan to drain the marshes and plant a mixed woodland – pine again, alternated with
shallow-rooted cork oaks and holm oaks. He succeeded, and the Landes was finally converted to dry land.

The conversion isn’t complete, however. There are still dozens of lakes and a labyrinth of little waterways left, a unique environment which is extremely rich in wildlife. There is a
little terrapin found nowhere else in the world, masses of birds and freshwater fish including eels, pike and shad.

The pines became the Landes’ fortune, making the department at one time the richest in all France. They are grown not only for their timber, but also for their resin. In modern times the
sap is gathered from each tree every twelve days by a process involving sulphuric acid, which doesn’t damage the bark too badly. In Eugénie’s time the foresters still milked the
pines by slashing deep cuts in the bark, and letting the sap bleed out into a little conical pot. Theophile Gaultier found the sight so upsetting that he wrote a poem about it.

The Pine in the Landes

Sangria

Two weeks before you want to drink the sangria, marinate the fruits and spices in the spirits. Cut up the lemons and oranges, pour the spirits onto them, and leave them to
steep in a covered jug or jar.

When you want to make the sangria, strain the infused spirits into a large jug or bowl, add the wine and dilute to taste with soda or lemonade. It must be said that the Béarnais host may
not dilute the mixture significantly at all. If your guests have a sweet tooth, stir in some sugar. Decorate with sliced red apples, orange, lemon and strawberries if you must, but all that fruit
salad takes up an awful lot of room in the glass.

Tomato Tart with a Polenta Crust

This is a wonderful celebration of the tomato glut of high summer. If you’re lucky enough to have the great bulging tomatoes found in gardens and markets all over
southern Europe, you can make a rustic, lumpy tart with thick slices of them piled deep. If you’d like something more elegant, you can make individual tarts packed with whole cherry tomatoes,
or a big tart filled with halved plum tomatoes.

This recipe is adapted from one in
Cuisine Grand-Mère
, Marie-Pierre Moine’s affectionate book of traditional French home cooking. The essential principle of the dish is
that the grated cheese under the tomatoes makes a barrier between the tomatoes and the pastry, and so keeps the crust crisp in spite of the juicy filling.

Polenta, or maize semolina, is every bit as typical of Gascon cooking as it is of Italian, if not more so. The maize, after all, must have travelled from Spain and through France before it
reached Italy. Along with the peppers, tomatoes and chocolate, it is an integral part of the New World heri­tage in the cooking of the South-West.

Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F/Gas6. Slice the tomatoes, sprinkle lightly with salt and leave to drain in a colander.

Start the pastry either by mixing the dry ingredients, including the Parmesan, in a bowl, then rubbing in the but­ter, or by processing the dry ingredients briefly in a food mixer and adding
the butter in small pieces. Next beat the egg and work all but a little of it into the mixture, then add enough oil to get a stiff, workable dough. Wrap in clingfilm and rest in the fridge for a
short while. Butter a 28cm (11 in) tart tin, or some small tins.

Roll out the pastry and fit it into the tart tin at about 5mm {¼ in) thickness. The pastry will be very crumbly but don’t worry if you make a bit of a bodge of getting it into the
tin, it will all bond nicely in the cooking. When the tin is lined, rest it in the fridge again.

Pat the tomato slices dry on kitchen paper. Take out the chilled pastry in the tin, brush with the remaining beaten egg and prick the base with a fork, leaving a border of 1 cm (½in)
round the edge. Then sprinkle the grated cheeses evenly over the bottom, and add the sprigs of thyme. Arrange the tomato slices on top, sprinkle with sugar and a
little salt,
then bake for about 20 minutes, until the pastry is cooked, the cheese melted and the edges of the tomatoes slightly caramelized. If too much juice has run out of the tomatoes in cooking, carefully
tip it out of the finished tart before it causes sogginess.

While the tart is cooking, whiz the rocket and parsley, mixed with the basil, in a food processor, or chop and pound in a mortar. Dribble in enough olive oil, or, if you’re using
ready-made pesto, dilute it with a little oil, to get a green sauce that will just pour. Drizzle the sauce over the cooked tart, and serve warm or cold.

Sticky Pork Salad with Lime Dressing

This is a Gascon take on a modern fusion dish, using local ingredients instead of some oriental ones. It also works beautifully with
magret
of duck instead of pork.
The contrast between the rich, spiced, sweetish meat and the cool, crisp, aromatic salad is an unexpected delight.

Marinate the pork fillet whole in all the remaining ingre­dients, for at least an hour and preferably overnight. Rub the marinade in well and turn the
fillet several times.

Preheat the oven to a high temperature. Put the pork on a piece of foil in a roasting tin, anoint with marinade and cook on maximum heat for 5 minutes. Then baste again, and turn down to
190°C/375°F/Gas 5. Roast the pork for a further 15 minutes, basting and turning twice. Take out of the oven, baste again and allow to cool. The outside of the meat should be a deep glossy
brown. Slice into medallions when it’s cold.

Juice 1 lime, and mix the juice with the oils, sugar and salt. (If you have to use salted peanuts, the salt may not be necessary.)

Slice the peel off the other lime and cut the flesh off the pith in segments. Tear up the lettuce and put in a flat salad bowl. Mix in the cucumber batons, lime segments, aromatic leaves and
spring onion strips. Chill the salad until just before serving.

Toss the chilled leaves with the lime dressing. Pile the
slices of pork in the middle of the salad and glaze with a little of the leftover marinade. Sprinkle over the
peanuts and serve – the meat and salad will naturally mix in the serving process.

Roast New Potatoes

Simply take a large piece of foil, lay it in a roasting tin, smear it with olive oil and sprinkle with a little sea salt. Add several branches of fresh thyme. Pile new potatoes
into the centre and spread them out in an even layer. Drizzle with more oil, sprinkle with more salt and add more thyme. Seal the foil to make a cushion-shaped packet, and roast in a medium oven
for about 45 minutes, until the potatoes are cooked and coloured on the under-side. To serve, simply slide the potatoes out into a serving dish, glaze with the warm oil, pick out the cooked herbs
and garnish with a bunch of fresh thyme.