©istockphoto/Inta Eihmane

Since having children I am rarely on time to anything that involves the four of us. Herding cats must be easier than getting two toddlers dressed, fed, out the door and strapped into the numerous safety devices in the car.

On our recent trip we were either too early or too late. Our hostess was still at her rocket scientist job and we realized that we had failed to take into account our luncheon options. The kids were fine with the yoghurt we’d packed along, but Mrs. E. and I were out of luck. By the time our hostess came home, we were famished. So it was with grateful abandon that we tucked into the simplest of summer meals: a sandwich made from just picked cucumbers.

Perfectly delicious, summery, very easy to make and if you trimmed the crusts, even a little bit elegant. I would have never thought to make these this way. Then again, I’m no rocket scientist.

The Rocket Scientist’s Cucumber Sandwiches
(Serves two)

In a medium bowl mix:
1 large, homegrown, delicious cucumber, peeled, seeded and chopped
1/2 block of cream cheese softened (about 4 oz?)
2 tablespoons of mayonnaise
salt and pepper to taste

Spread on:
4 slices of homemade country white bread.

Serve with iced tea.

That’s it. Can also be used as a dip. It’s summertime, the recipes should be easy!

(©istockphoto/Giancarlo Polacchini)

“I don’t know whether you like flowers, sir,” the count said, “but I took the liberty of just bringing these roses.”

“Here, give them to me.” Brett took them. “Get me some water in this, Jake.” I filled the big earthenware jug with water in the kitchen, and Brett put the roses in it, and placed them in the centre of the dining-room table.
– from “The Sun Also Rises” by Ernest Hemingway.

Today, the energetic Mrs. E. and I will pack the progeny into the car and venture to the wilds of Southern Maryland to visit a friend. The country house visit requires, as most visits do, a suitable gift. It wasn’t always this way. At one point, people thought it gauche to bring a gift. That has changed. And it is almost expected that a guest arrive with something in hand. Particularly when your friend never crosses your threshold without a picnic hamper of delicacies. Even if she is only staying for a quick drink.

I like the present-giving. As long as it doesn’t go too far. That means bringing something small and useful. Our friend is a very good cook and part Italian. Her parents owned a vineyard at one time (maybe they still do…) She qualifies as a “foodie.” Which makes my job easy.

Yesterday, I visited my local butcher (note: Monday isn’t the best day to visit the butcher. Weekends empty the cases.) Homemade Pancetta, Proscuitto and Boar sausage all made the cut. A loaf of crusty bread, several of our incredibly delicious, locally grown Hanover tomatoes and three bottles of good Italian red did, too.

We are not always as extravagant. During my early years as a college graduate, I was known for bringing three bottles of inexpensive Champagne to most events. Small, foreign soaps have accompanied me to small townhouses. Tins of real Virginia peanuts are always a big hit. A bottle of truffle oil is too. My local antiques market has a booth with lots of embroidered linens. I can almost always find an appropriate monogram on a set of cocktail napkins or a pillow case. A bottle of good bourbon or single malt whiskey is a safe bet, as is wine.

As a kid overseas, I once had a General give me a Big Mac that had been flown in “Space-A” with some other cargo. First burger I’d had in three years. Heaven. And just about as thoughtful as could be.

Which leads me to this: “it’s the thought that counts.” Think about your hostess and find something she’d love. If you don’t know her, send a thank you gift with a handwritten note the day after you leave. Even if it’s just a snapshot in the envelope, it’s sure to be a hit.

What are your never-fail hostess gifts? Or what gift have you been given that stands out as truly memorable (in a good way)?

(©istockphoto/Arthur Skiles)

During the year that I spent with my grandparents on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, I was introduced to the hunter’s breakfast. My grandfather and I, wrapped in our longjohns (thermally insulated long underwear) would sit at the breakfast table in the kitchen and fortify ourselves with a pre-dawn slice of pie. He would have a cup of strong coffee with sugar and a little milk. Mine was more than half milk. The rest of the pot (prepared by my grandmother who would make it and go back to sleep) went into a thermos. We were ready to go by 5:00 am. Breakfast would wait until our return from the duck blind. It is one of my favourite ways to start a day.

The well-rounded Mrs. E. also has a favourite breakfast, a specialty of Rennes, where she finished high school: les galettes de sassarin. My introduction to the savory crêpes came during our honeymoon. After having heard about them for years, I found myself sitting in a small restaurant at the water’s edge on Isle les Saintes, in the B.V.I. A Breton couple retired to the island and decided that they just couldn’t live correctly without galettes. I could see why.

The buckwheat pancakes aren’t just for breakfast. They make for excellent luncheons, too. Particularly when filled with sautéed mushrooms, gruyère cheese and ham, and accompanied by a bottle of cidre brut (yes, dry hard cider.) Traditionally, the galettes were made before lent to use up all the good stuff that you were going to give up for the next 40 days. Sweet filled, they are the more familiar crêpes. But the savory ones are the ones that win my heart. (If you do like a bit of something sweet, one of the most delicious preparations is to douse the crêpes with lemon juice and sprinkle with fine sugar — a very easy and elegant dessert.)

The good news is that with today’s new emphasis on things organic, finding organic buckwheat flour was as simple as heading for my local supermarket. So this morning I treated Mrs. E. to a bit of Brittany with une galette de sarrasin completes.

(Makes about four)
2/3 cup of buckwheat flour
1 egg, beaten
3/4 cup of water
clarified butter/cooking spray
sea salt
1 slice of ham
1 egg
1 slice of shredded gruyère

Put the sea salt and flour into a medium mixing bowl. Make a well in the middle and pour in your beaten egg and water, mixing them into the flour. Your batter should be runny and a little “ropey” when you lift your whisk.

Preheat your large skillet over high heat and brush it with a little clarified butter, and/or spray with the butter spray.

Pour enough batter to thinly coat the bottom of the skillet (a 1/3 of a cup?) and quickly rotate and tilt the skillet to coat the bottom with the batter. It may have holes in the middle. Fine. When the edges go crispy, flip the galette over and finish the other side. That will take very little time. The middle may be a bit spongy and the edges crisp. Perfect.

Remove to a platter and keep warm under a towel or in a very low heat oven.

Fry the egg in butter (sunny-side up or scrambled as you like), salt and pepper. The ham can also go into the pan to heat up. Shred some cheese onto a galette, top with the hot ham and your egg. Fold the sides over the top and serve. (I melted the cheese a bit in a microwave for about 20 seconds.)

This being a regular morning, we skipped the cidre brut in favour of a cup of coffee and bit of orange juice. Don’t feel you have to.