9:10 am The guest: the Nantes author Fanny Cheval. It publishes in the Béluga editions distributed by Coop Breizh, two books on the legends of Brittany, the essentials and those which take place during Christmas night. These are stories that come from the five historic Breton departments. We meet the Ankou, Merlin, korrigans, evil kornandons who live under the dolmens. The whole is intended for children from 6 to 10 years old with multiple illustrations.
The little extra: a reading time is indicated for each story.
To read and slip under the tree
Marvelous and unmissable legends of Brittany
Wonderful legends of Brittany-Christmas
9.15am The ritual of Thursday: sofa / pizza evening at Jean-Jacques Lester’s with a prestigious casting film spotted on Netflix, The power of the dog by Jane Campion.
9.25am Christel Rafstedt’s favorite from the bookstore Le Livre dans la Théière in Rocheservière, she is also president of the ALIP Association of Independent Libraries in Pays de la Loire. With her, we taste … and today with you we taste Pomegranate soup, a tasty and humane novel by Masha Merhan published by Picquier editions.
The story
Three young sisters who fled Iran at the time of the revolution find refuge in a small village in Ireland that is rainy and withdrawn. They open the Babylon Café there and soon the bewitching scents of cardamom and black cumin, toasted almonds and hot honey upset the tranquility of Ballinacroagh. The inhabitants do not welcome them with open arms, far from it. But the Persian cuisine of the three sisters, delicate and fragrant, germinates strange seeds in those who taste it. Delicious dill dolma rolls and tongue-melting baklava, drizzled with golden tea infusing in its copper samovar, make their dreams bloom and make them want to transform their lives.
Marsha Mehran was inspired by her own family history to compose this warm and sensual novel where cooking plays the most beautiful role. The garm and the sard, hot and cold, sadness and gaiety, in an alchemy with the bewitching aroma of rose water and cinnamon.
And so that everyone can experience the magic of Persian cuisine, a recipe accompanies each chapter of the book.
Extract
Marjan left Father Mahoney to his fascination with the finesse of the coffee room and returned to his abgoosht casserole dish to taste it. She lifted the lid and sniffed the slowly simmering stew, to which she had added a large, round limuomani – a dried lime. Just one of these lemons is enough to impart an intense flavor to any dish, thanks to its sour taste that always lives up to the occasion. As Father Mahoney gazed at the radiant vermilion of the walls and the curious belly of an object that seemed straight out of a fairy tale – the samovar that gurgled in satisfaction – Marjan placed a bowl of broth on a platter of silver engraved with a village scene, little children dancing around a donkey. Next to the bowl, she put a dish filled with goosht kubideh (a mixture of meat and vegetables in a mortar), hot lavash bread, a mixture of spices – torchi – sliced onions and radishes. She wished she could add fresh tarragon, but it was one of the few ingredients she forgot to bring back from Dublin, so instead she had settled for fresh mint leaves and basil. , mentally noting to get some seeds during his next foray into town. She was determined to transform her dingy backyard into a thriving herb garden. She stabilized her heavy tray and pushed open the swinging doors. Father Mahoney, standing in front of the north-facing wall, ran his fingers over the rug that hung there.
– Extraordinary, absolutely extraordinary. It’s handmade, I imagine?
– Yes, it’s from Iran. You know, each region has its own patterns. Each tribal family weaves its history in their rugs and passes their secrets from one generation to the next. So, in a way, you could say that these are magic carpets.
– Enchanting! exclaimed the priest. Marjan smiles as she puts the tray down on the table.
She noticed that her cup of jasmine tea was already empty.
– Here is the abgoosht I promised you. Hope you like it.
– I’m sure. You are so kind. My God! What perfume! What a scent, really! Isn’t this ab-abbagoosht a Portuguese dish, by any chance? When I was young, I was quite a connoisseur of Portuguese cuisine, that’s why I’m asking you.
Father Mahoney sat down in front of the dish, and when he laid eyes on it, he instantly forgot about the committee meeting he would soon be late for.
– No, it’s Persian from start to finish. It’s hearty, but it contains very fine ingredients. Do you want another cup of tea? Or a teapot, maybe?
– Oh, well, I can’t refuse now, can I?
He looked at the various components of the abgoosht, wondering where to start. He took his spoon to taste the broth, but interrupted his gesture as if it was going to hurt her.
– The broth is quite clear. You can drink it throughout the meal, but the main course is the mixture of meat there. Thin bread is called lavash. We use it to take the meat and gradually add onions and herbs, or whatever we want. It’s a very nutritious dish, especially during the winter months, Marjan explained, pointing to each food. She took the empty cup and went to fill it in the samovar. Describing the best way to eat abgoosht had awakened memories of the country. She lowered the samovar lever and watched the yellow liquid fill the glass and gold lamé cup. Had she been in Iran, this tea would have been accompanied by pomegranate seeds sprinkled with ground angelica, toasted hazelnuts or a sticky saffron and carrot halva. On the night of the winter solstice, all family members gathered on the living room rug to share these foods and tell stories. If it was particularly cold, they huddled around the korsi, a low table covered with a quilt and draped in a beautifully embroidered fabric. Under this table, a small electric heater warmed their hearts and knees when they took a seat there to share their memories and their hopes for the year to come.