Leeks, Glorious Leeks!

The lazy days of summer are near their end, and September is upon us. Soon, the gelateries and ice stands will close down, and I will no longer ride the train any farther south than Bay Ridge Avenue. Brighton Beach will be a teasing memory, and I will have to exchange flip-flops and tank tops for shoes and sweaters. Autumn will nonchalantly replace summer's blueberries and peaches with apples and squash. Nights will begin to overshadow our days, and, little by little, cooks will return to the warmth of the stovetop's flame.

I am saddened by summer's end. Time got away from me this year, as always. But where one door closes, another inevitably opens, and for me, that door leads to a market full of leeks, glorious leeks! ( Poireau, in French) They may not sound glorious, or look glorious, and, after all, a leek is only an onion...but oh, what an onion! Nature's compensation for taking the beach weather away, leeks are versatile and savory and just lovely. September means they're in season and ready to be baked, braised, chopped, fried, and added to soups, stews, hash, or made into lasagna. Sure, you may be able to buy them before September rolls around in some places, but those are impostor leeks. Real leeks are ready in September, and the best ones come from this farm: http://www.saturfarms.com/products/vegetables/ on Long Island.
In Spring, the leeks are thin and much smaller, known as pencil leeks. They're good, but I like Fall leeks. Big, hearty, grown up leeks.

The ultimate way to prepare leeks is to braise them in red wine. A French tradition, leeks in red wine is my favorite recipe, and makes a simple, hearty meal. All you need are the leeks, wine, some fat, some bacon or ham, a few yellow onions, and a few eggs. It is the best motivator for getting me back into the kitchen after a summer of cold salads and grilling outside. And it includes red wine, so what else could you want? I made this dish for guests and everyone was lured into the kitchen, unable to resist the aroma coming from the simmering pot.

Then, of course, there is the standard, but no less deserving of recognition - leek and potato soup. I will make it more than once this year, with plenty of cream and a little bacon. Mmmm....bacon. Next, there is a delicious leek and apple hash, which makes a nice side item, or leek, apple, and duck hash, which is even better. Occasionally, when I want to put a little more effort into dinner, I like to make leek lasagna. In fact, maybe I'll make that for dinner tonight. I really do love my leeks.

While searching online for some images of leeks, ( I was too lazy to take my camera to the farmer's market) I came across some pertinent information about their history. The Welsh have worn them in their hats for many years on St. David's day (patron saint of Wales) in remembrance of their victory over pagan Saxon invaders. I suppose if it isn't enough for the Welsh to merely use them for food, then the leek isn't the most unattractive ornament. I find the tradition no less odd than wearing green clovers. Here is an excerpt from my source:

Waaaay back in the day, Saxon pagan invaders were pillaging and invading the Welsh countryside (as was their wont, being pagan invaders; unlike the Vandals, the Saxons had very little appreciation for fine art). It so happened that one of the battles betwixt the Welsh and the Saxons was about to take place in a marshy area where leeks grew in abundance. So, St. David suggested to his fellow Welsh that they tuck a leek in their caps to (a) distinguish friend (leeky-smelling Welsh) from foe (leek-less Saxon), (b) blend in (an early and fragrant attempt at camouflage), and (c) maintain the element of surprise. Needless to say, the Welsh carried the day (as often happens when you put produce in your hat) and ever since then, the leek has been an emblem of Wales. Hence the famous Welsh proverb, "Gwisg cenhinen yn dy gap a gwisg hi yn dy galon" (Wear a leek in your cap, but also in your heart).Shakespeare cites the wearin' of the green (onion) as well, in Act IV scene vii of Henry V. On the battlefield of Agincourt, Fluellen questions Henry about the produce in his hat:
FLUELLEN Your majesty says very true: if your majesties is remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in agarden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps; which, your majesty know, to this hour is an honourable badge of the service; and I do believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek upon Saint Tavy's day.
KING HENRY V I wear it for a memorable honour; For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.

http://modelenvironment.blogspot.com/2005/03/cenhinen-or-cenhinen-pedr-you-decide.html

Back to modern leeks.

French women make a leek soup that induces weight loss. No recipe required; simply boil leeks. This magical broth is to be drunk for two to three days, shunning all other foods. It's a proven detoxifying agent and diuretic. Here is the regimen: http://www.mireilleguiliano.com/leeksoup.htm.

I've never tried it, but I wouldn't question the advice of Mireille Guiliano, because after all, she's an icon of elegance and Champagne. But I have my own advice, which doesn't involve restraint or regimens. I recommend a good bottle of Cotes du Rhone to go with your leeks. Here is an excellent one: Chapelle St. Arnoux 2003 reserve Vacqueyras.

Hale, the mighty leek! A soup. A hash. A symbol of triumph over pagan pillagers.