Jambon et Fromage
Cheese and ham are the backbone of Buvette’s menu. We have a curated selection of each that we serve simply unadulterated with tall stacks of toast, and we also tuck each of them into so many of Buvette’s signature dishes. Our Croque-Monsieur (here) would be nothing without the Gruyère cheese and prosciutto cotto ham in between its béchamel-slicked layers. Tartiflette (here) and Aligot (here) depend on their generous helpings of cheese to be memorable and so often requested by our guests.
I really began to appreciate cheese when I worked at Caffé Arti e Mestieri in Reggio Emilia in northern Italy. Often I would bicycle out to the countryside and visit the artisans who supplied us with many of our products. One of the first of many doors I knocked on was a small caseificio, a creamery, where they made Parmigiano-Reggiano. The father-and-son team showed me how they made grana, the Italian term for the Parmigiano-Reggiano, in their barn that housed a brilliant copper kettle. The milk would coagulate in the kettle and turn into curds that got passed through cheesecloth. After the curds were placed in weighted molds, the excess moisture would be released, and the cheese took on its famous, drumlike shape. After a bath in salted water, the cheese would age for exactly two years. The technique had remained basically unchanged since the fourteenth century.
There is no better inspiration than being hands-on and knee-deep at the source, watching one of your most beloved ingredients come to life. The barn air was cool and smelled like cut grass and sweet cow dung. I can remember being distracted by a half-dozen kittens playing under the table waiting for the excess fresh cheese to be cut from the molds and thrown to the floor. Upstairs, the mother and daughter fixed bowls of hot coffee with the creamery’s fresh milk, which still had its thick cap of cream—chunks floated on the surface and melted into pools of butter in the coffee, which we soaked up with torn pieces of day-old bread. More than just a fond memory, the experience taught me that the more you know about the people who make your favorite products, the more you enjoy them.
Baked Figs
Packed with the intoxicating combination of bay leaves, orange, almond, and sweet Banyuls wine, these figs come out of the oven infused with flavor, and their texture goes from quite dry to soft and jammy. As you eat these, be sure to discard the bay leaf from inside each fig, just as you would a pit from an olive. While these complement cheese beautifully, they can also be served for breakfast with yogurt or for dessert with crème fraîche or ice cream.
[SERVES 4]
A dozen dried figs
Zest of 1 orange, removed in large strips with a vegetable peeler
6 fresh bay leaves
½ cup almonds
½ cup Banyuls or other sweet wine
Preheat the oven to 400°F.
Cut a small horizontal slit in each fig, being careful not to cut all the way through. Cut the orange zest into a dozen 1-inch-long pieces, and tear or cut each bay leaf in half. Stuff each fig with 1 piece of orange zest, half of a bay leaf, and 1 almond.
Pack the stuffed figs into a small baking dish that will hold them in a snug, even layer. Scatter over any additional almonds and any extra orange zest if you’re left with some.
Pour the wine evenly over the figs, place another baking dish over the figs to weigh them down, and press firmly to really get the figs quite flat and saturated with the wine. Place the whole thing, including the second baking dish, into the oven and bake for 20 minutes.
Serve the figs hot, warm, or at room temperature, alongside just about any cheese.
Fruit in Parchment Paper
One of my favorite accompaniments for cheese is fruit in cartoccio (Italian) or en papillotte (French), which simply means “in paper.” The packages are great to make ahead of time and are an unexpected alternative to the ubiquitous cluster of grapes that seem to accompany every cheese platter in the world. Feel free to vary the combination (diced pumpkin, apples, and dates are especially good) and the wine too. Vin santo could easily be Banyuls or Sauternes, even port. Serve the packages alongside dense bread and rich cheese, such as La Tur.
[SERVES 4]
2 tablespoons dried currants
½ cup vin santo
1 apple, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
1 quince, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
2 tablespoons honey
A pinch of coarse salt
¼ cup walnuts
Preheat the oven to 450°F.
In a large bowl, soak the currants in the vin santo for at least 10 minutes. Once they’re a bit softened, add the remaining ingredients and stir to combine.
Meanwhile, cut out four 8-inch squares of parchment paper. Evenly divide the mixture among the parchment squares. Bring the edges of each square together and fold them over each other, creating a continuous seal. Place the four packages on a baking sheet and roast in the oven until the fruit smells fragrant and the paper is browned, about 15 minutes.
Pesto di Parma
Waste not, want not! If you’ve lucked upon a whole leg of prosciutto and have worked through the whole thing and are faced with the end, pesto di Parma is for you. Of course you can also buy prosciutto ends; they’re usually less expensive than prosciutto. To make pesto di Parma, dice the dry end of the prosciutto and pass it through a meat grinder, alternating it with equal amounts of chopped Parmigiano-Reggiano and adding a few fresh sage leaves per every handful of meat and cheese. Mix the ground mixture with extra-virgin olive oil, spread the coarse pesto on toast, and drizzle with vincotto (a sweet grape must).