Dishing up the latest food news in San Antonio:

Jean-Francois Poujol, owner of Soleil Bistro & Wine Bar, 14415 Blanco Road, will open a new restaurant, Le Midi, on Houston Street in September.  The name refers to the region in the South of France as well as noon-time. There will be French wines to choose from, as well as Mediterranean style fresh seafood dishes, Poujol says.

5360 Walzem Road (get map)

(210) 653-9911

Hours: 9 a.m.-9 p.m. daily

Specialties: Large, clean market with plenty of Vietnamese, Filipino, Thai and Chinese options.

Fresh produce, fresh seafood and meats are offered as well as plenty of Asian noodles. More exotic items include boiled lotus root slices, frozen fried grasshoppers, banana leaves, purple yam candies, bitter gourd chips, banana brittle, pure palm sugar, canned spicy squid bits, pickled look neang and canned cassia flower.

Excellent drink selection includes Sarsi soda from the Philippines, almond juice, pennywort, tamarind, aloe vera, lychee, basil seed, apple sidra, mangosteen and calamansi.

Chef Scott Cohen shows off his Croque Monsieur at Brasserie Pavil.

For the past few months, Brasserie Pavil, 1818 N. Loop 1604 W. at Huebner Road, has been wowing diners with its simple yet spectacular approach to French classics. Among them is chef Scott Cohen’s version of the Croque Monsieur, a griddled ham and cheese sandwich on sour dough bread drizzled with Mornay sauce.

Croque Monsieur

Mornay sauce:
1 pint milk
2 tablespoons butter
1 ounce flour
Pinch ground nutmeg
Salt, to taste
Pepper, to taste
6 ounces grated Gruyere cheese

Sandwich:
2 slices sourdough bread, about 5-6 inches in length
2 ounces (4 slices) Gruyere cheese cut 1/8-inch thick
5 (3-ounce) slices baked ham
1 tablespoon sweet butter

Serve with:
French fries, ketchup, Dijon mayonnaise, 1 sprig frisee, 2 cornichons, salt and pepper.

To make the Mornay sauce: Heat the milk in a small saucepan. Set aside. In a small pot add butter and flour. Cook at medium heat stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until the flour mixture turns a golden blond, about 4 minutes.  Slowly add milk, stirring constantly and slowly. Stir in nutmeg, salt and pepper. Remove from heat. Slowly add cheese, stirring until all is melted.

To make the sandwich, butter each slice of sourdough bread and place butter-side down on griddle top. Add the ham on the top side of half and cheese to the top of the other half. Cook until lightly golden. Press sandwich halves together with the ham and cheese touching. Continue to cook each side of the sandwich until cheese is fully melted and golden brown. Remove sandwich from grill, slice in half. Place on a plate with fries. Garnish with cornichons. Serve the Mornay sauce on the side along with Dijon mayonnaise and ketchup.

From Scott Cohen / Brasserie Pavil

www.brasseriepavil.com

If you would like to see a favorite recipe from a local restaurant, e-mail info@savorsa.com.

Green cabbage is used in Curtido.

This pickled Salvadoran slaw makes a great condiment to serve alongside fish, pork or your favorite sandwich. You can find it on tables at the various La Playa restaurants in San Antonio.

1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup sugar, or less to taste
1/2 teaspoon salt
Juice of 2 limes plus 1 tablespoon lime zest, used separately
1/2 head green cabbage, shredded
2 cups shredded carrots
2 cups shredded broccoli (see note)
1 medium red onion, chopped
2 chopped jalapeños, or less to taste
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

Heat vinegar, salt, sugar and lime juice in a small pan. Turn off heat, allow to cool a bit.

Toss cabbage, carrots, broccoli, red onion, jalapeños and lime zest together in a large bowl. Add the olive oil to the vinegar mix and pour over vegetables while tossing. Store, covered, in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours. Overnight is better.

Note: Already shredded broccoli is available in many groceries if you don’t want to do this yourself.

Makes about 8 (1 cup) servings.

Adapted from bigoven.com

When I was young, we lived in a barrio neighborhood in an Arizona border town. My 4-year-old brother hung out with a pretty 3-year-old named Rosalinda, who lived across the street. My sister often hung out inside with a book. But I prowled the neighborhood. My mild Montana-by-way-of-Iowa upbringing had not prepared me for such things as scorpions, tarantulas and centipedes. These were scary. But the subdued, complex beauty of the Sonora Desert always drew me outside.

Late in the afternoons in summers we were introduced to another element in our new home. Rain-blue thunderclouds would gather overhead and the ferocious storms we referred to as “monsoons” would turn the unpaved street in front of our house into a torrent of light brown mud. As suddenly as they began, these rambunctious storms would stop. The sun would come out. Soon, a warm, powerful scent would rise up from the desert floor, filling not just our nostrils but our imaginations. Later, I would learn that wet creosote and acacia bushes imparted much of the scent. But damp earth and all that it harbored, was part of the romance, too. For it was a romantic scent. It brought tears to my eyes when, after a long time away, I’d catch the first whiff of desert as the door to my arriving airplane was flung open on a summer’s evening. Visiting, I would yearn as much for this scent as I did for glimpses of home.

But what does this have to do with food?

I’ll answer my own question by saying that all of the senses are involved when a place in time, or a place in the desert or a place in the wilderness becomes iconic in our memories. When it comes to taste, we don’t just remember a flavor, but we add a backdrop: sitting in our grandmother’s kitchen, sitting in the sun on her wooden chair. Focusing in more closely on day to day things, think of picking up the most perfect strawberry in the basket. We look at it and appreciate the pure crimsonness of it. We handle it, feel the grainy roughness of the seeds, catch the aroma, then take in a bite anticipating that exquisite red berry taste. All of the senses are engaged.

Sensory pleasure is the great equalizer. It is as available to simple folk as it is to rock stars or rocket scientists. Money is not required to develop a good palate or to appreciate a well-made meal or anticipate a taste that only summer can bring. Or, even to summer at a particular location — say, beneath a sprawling tree on an Iowa farm, gathering fresh morels. Or, your uncle’s backyard grill in San Antonio, with billowing savory meat-scented smoke right at your nose.

During the year we lived on the unpaved street in Nogales my senses were on full alert to the new sounds, scents and flavors. Yes, I had to learn to shake my shoes in the morning to be sure no critters had crawled inside during the night. But I also could, on certain evenings, stand in a neighborhood friend’s backyard while his mom cooked tortillas on a comal set over a fire in an old oil drum. Nothing had ever been quite like this – the black spots where the tortilla would burn a little, its pliable softness, and its incomparable taste when drizzled with honey.

In a few years my explorations would take me across the border to Nogales, Sonora. I sought out backstreet places selling hot, fragrant corn tortillas in tall stacks, wrapped up tight in white paper; I looked for the small shops that carried homemade, stretchy cheese to go on those tortillas. I’d stop into a shabby hotel and make my way back to the kitchen, run by a Chinese family, where I could order the absolute best chicken tacos in the city. I learned the difference between mayonnaise and Mexican crema (barely even related, except in appearance).

Our senses awaken to that which is new. They are dulled by the steady thump of the ordinary. We forget that they are given us as a birthright, as tools for our explorations. Even those missing one or another of the senses, sight or hearing, often are compensated by having another one sharpen. We are the ones who ultimately decide whether we’re going to use and appreciate them, or misuse and lose them.

In the realm of taste, it doesn’t mean seeking out more and more extraordinary flavors or more expensive items off restaurant menus, or more exotic locales in which to dine. A few evenings ago, as we watched a movie, my husband left the room, returning minutes later with freshly popped popcorn in a steel bowl. I might have had microwave popcorn at work sometime over the past year or stunningly overpriced, lukewarm popcorn at a movie theater. But this was really good popcorn. As I put my face down toward the bowl to inhale the buttery scent, the warmth of it came up at me like breath. A simple thing, but oh, so good.

Pickled Red Onions

Serve Pickled Red Onions with cochinita pibil, pulled pork or your favorite sandwich to give it a little extra tang. You can find it at Guajillo’s at Blanco Road and Loop 410.

1 pound red onions (about 2 medium or 1 large), thinly sliced
1 1/2 cups white vinegar
1/2 cup sugar, or less to taste
1/2 cinnamon stick
5 cloves
1 bay leaf
1 star anise
Dash red pepper flakes

Optional extra spices: fresh ginger slices, allspice berries, oregano, garlic, cumin seeds, mustard seeds, coriander seeds

Blanch red onions in a saucepan of boiling water for 2 minutes. Drain in colander. While the water is heating, in a separate saucepan combine the vinegar, sugar, cinnamon, cloves, bay leaf, star anise, red pepper flakes and any additional spices of your choice. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to simmer, cover and simmer for 5 minutes.

Add blanched, drained onions to the vinegar mixture. Simmer for 1 minute.

Transfer to a glass jar. Allow to stand until cooled. Will keep several weeks refrigerated.

Serve this with cochinita pibil, pulled pork or any kind of roasted meat., from chicken to beef. You can use it on hamburgers, in salads or a small condiment.

Makes 1 1/2 pints.

Pickled Red Onions in a Jar

Adapted from www.elise.com.

Red radishes can bleed color when pickled.

If you use red radishes to make this pickle, the color will run. Don’t worry, the flavor is still great.

3 pounds radishes, small whole ones or large radishes cut in half, cleaned and stemmed
12 large sprigs fresh dill
4 cloves garlic, sliced
Fresh grape leaves or fig leaves, optional
3 cups white wine vinegar
5 cups water
1/4 cup kosher or fine sea salt
1/2 teaspoon whole coriander seeds

Divide radishes, dill and garlic evenly in layers in sterile quart glass jars, beginning with radishes, then dill, then sliced garlic. Place grape leaves between layers, if desired. Set aside.

Mix vinegar, water, salt and coriander seeds in large nonreactive pot and bring to boil over high heat. Immediately pour this over the vegetables, filling the jars to the top. Make sure an equal amount of coriander seeds are added to each jar.  Set aside to cool completely; then cover and refrigerate overnight before using. The pickles will keep in the refrigerator for several months.

Note: Save any extra liquid to top off jars after the ingredients have cooled and settled, so the jars are filled right to the top.

From “The Olive and Caper” by Susanna Hoffman

Cucumber Apple Pickles

Judy Baum had never made pickles before Easter of this year.  All that work sterilizing jars, fussing with boiling water and second guessing whether the lid actually sealed was too much for her.

And why put up pickles when there’s only one at home?

But she ran across a recipe for Cucumber Apple Pickles on the Internet during one her routine recipe searches. And she just had to try them.

This difference is that these were fresh pickles,  small batches of pickles you make up and eat within a couple of days or weeks. You don’t have to seal the jar. You don’t even have to sterilize it, though if you’re reusing a jar,  it might help to wash it out. You wouldn’t want any leftover peanut butter tainting the flavor.

Baum, who lives in Live Oak, stayed away from making pickles because too many of the recipes called for a gallon of this or a bushel of that, far too much for a single person to think about.

Plus, fresh pickles take no longer to make than any other side dish. And they can add plenty of tangy flavor.

What can be pickled? You’re limited only as far as your imagination, of course. You can make pickled beets or chowchow, green tomatoes or piccalilli with cauliflower.

Pickled green beans can be used as on a relish tray or in a Bloody Mary.  Cabbage is the basis or a tart curtido, or Salvadoran slaw, like the one you find at the various La Playa restaurants in town.

Pickled red onions, as most Mexican food fans know, are great with cochinita pibil. One place you’ll find this flavorful treat is at Guajillo’s on Blanco Road at Loop 410.

Even if you have a bountiful harvest, you may want to think of fresh pickles for some of it, because you are able to cut back on the amount of sodium and sugar, both of which are used as preservatives, and without sacrificing any flavor.

Raw food fans out there, you can also do raw pickles if you like, using agave nectar instead of sugar for pickled cucumbers, onions or radishes.

Play with the recipe to suit your needs. For her Cucumber Apple Pickles, Baum used small cucumbers and cider vinegar, which she found a great match for the apple.

“I combined the brine in a baggie, then added the squeezed-out cucumbers and apple, put the baggie in a bowl and turned it around several times,” she said.  “I also used more than a pinch of the red pepper threads.  It didn’t seem to be too much heat.”

She served the pickles at Easter dinner, and her friends ate most of them that evening. The rest were gone by the end of the week.

The pickles may be gone, but Baum’s hunger to make more remains.

Links to Recipes:

• Pickle Recipe: Curtido, or Salvadoran Slaw
• Pickle Recipe: Pickled Red Onions
• Pickle Recipe: Pickled Radishes
• Pickle Recipe: Cucumber Apple Pickles

Cucumber Apple Pickles

Cucumber Apple Pickles get a little kick from Korean hot red pepper threads, which can be found at Asian markets. The pickles remain fresh for 5 to 7 days.

1/2 pound Japanese or small cucumbers – unpeeled
1 teaspoon salt (kosher or sea salt), or to taste
1/2 Granny Smith or Fuji apple, unpeeled
2  cups water
1/3 cup unseasoned rice vinegar or cider vinegar
1 tablespoon thin peeled ginger or minced ginger from a jar
1/4 cup sugar or agave nectar, or to taste
Pinch Korean hot red pepper threads or red pepper flakes

Slice cucumbers 1/8 inch thick or use box grater or food processor.
Toss with salt and let stand 30 minutes.  Then rinse well and squeeze out water with your hands.  Halve apple lengthwise and cut out core.  Slice slices 1/8 inch thick.
Combine water, vinegar, ginger, sugar and hot pepper threads in a glass jar or baggie, mix well.  Add cucumbers and apple.  Refrigerate for a day, then eat!

Adapted from epicurious.com.

Many of the Chinese restaurants I frequented when I was growing up offered something called kitchen sink soup.

No, it wasn’t made of whatever was dumped down the drain, but it featured a little bit of everything, as if not a single leftover morsel were going to waste.

Each bite would be different because you never knew what you were going to find, a shrimp or a strip of pork, a lone pea pod, a few strands of bok choy or water chestnuts all in a clear broth.

I use that approach whenever I make chicken salad, which is fairly regularly, given my fondness for roast chicken. I always use what I have on hand that seems complementary to the chicken and the mayonnaise.

It could be fairly standard, such as celery, onion and pickle. Or it could be exotic: hearts of palm, artichoke hearts, sun-dried tomatoes, capers, slivered radish (both red and daikon).

Nothing wrong with a touch of bell pepper (your choice of color), fresh hot pepper if you want your tongue to tingle, hard-cooked egg, chunks of apple or your choice of nuts. Dried cherries or dried cranberries add a sweet-tart touch.

Just don’t let the dish get too busy.

For a dressing, I prefer a nice mix of sour cream and mayonnaise (Duke’s, preferably). But that doesn’t always work out either. Whenever I don’t have sour cream on hand, I merely added a touch of heavy cream or buttermilk to the mix.

Make sure you add the mayonnaise and sour cream in small amounts. You’d be surprised as how little mayo is needed to cover a relatively large bowl of chicken. Plus, you can always add more to taste.

Salt and pepper, either black or red, are the only seasoning needed unless you want to get fancy, which is the antithesis of chicken salad to me.

Then comes the hard part: Let it set for awhile for those flavors to mingle and coalesce into whole. Go off and do something for 20 minutes, at least. That’s the real reason for this blog entry. I just needed to bide my time until lunch was ready. Enjoy.