Wintertime in (this part of) rural France is marked by many things: coats and gloves, but more importantly scarves; apéros in more often than nights out; alternating wind and rain and snow; and food…lots of food. France is a foodie country…I know – lots of countries can make that claim, but a few are just a little more so than others. Ethiopia, Italy, China, Morocco, Mexico…these are countries known for their food. France is right up there.
As a vegan there are, of course, all sorts of French nibbles in which I happily do not partake. But there are two staples in near enough everybody’s fridge and freezer I could eat year-round if they’d let me: soupe and compote. Now I realize that I could have spelled soup without an “e” and left the italics off it, but la soupe of which I speak is not something eaten by the average anybody-else, and it is eaten with a nearly religious reverence – it’s not quite borscht (borsch?), but almost. Incidentally, there are those here who fervently hate la soupe. Chris is one of them.
But la soupe is for another post. Chris is coming back tomorrow. And he does not hate la compote. In fact, he’s usually (read: always) the one to make it. I tried once. It was going to be wonderful. The apples were soft, but I was off to lunch at the in-laws. I turned off the stove – swear I did – and came back a couple hours later to find the flat filled with smoke, my compote, and my – ahem – our Le Creuset pot ruined. A scary, bad afternoon, that was. But apples were 1€/kilo at the market last weekend, so I thought I’d give it another go.
This isn’t, ladies and gentlemen, your ordinary ol’ apple sauce – non! Because you make it at home. Because it’s hot before it’s cold. Because you literally put sugar and spice into the pot. This is compote. I had no idea what I was doing in terms of quantities or timing, but it turned out perfect. Which leads me to believe it might be pretty hard to mess it up.
Makes 2 big mason jars’ worth.