'Hative de Niort' shallots |
I've been growing
shallots for many years now. I like their ability to store for –
well, pretty indefinitely, which makes them a good follow-on once the
main crop of onions is over. And there's something rather pleasing
about watching them grow and magically spread into that open palm of
multiple bulbs.
But I've never been
able to get that thing the chefs go on about – the whole shallot
flavour thing. Some particularly picky chefs refuse to use anything else. All the
shallots I'd grown were distinctly oniony: nothing to choose, in
fact, between them and my regular onions.
Until... I grew French
shallots.
'Hative de Niort' was
the one that opened my eyes. I can't remember where I came across
them: I was probably on the hunt for my more usual 'Golden Gourmet' or 'Red
Sun'.
I have a
weakness for any French vegetables as they are invariably
exceptionally good to eat. Think 'Vitelotte' potatoes; 'Charentais'
melons; 'Chantenay' carrots. Sometimes they're trickier to grow: but
that's only because for the French taste is everything and if you can't grow it, well tant pis. And all the
better for that, I say (though I defy anyone to produce a 'Marmande'
beefsteak tomato with more edible flesh than blemishes).
Back to shallots,
'Hative de Niort' were a revelation. Such plumpness. Such flavour. By
far, in fact by a country mile the best shallots I have ever, ever
grown. And the flavour was everything they said a shallot should be:
mild, subtle, definitely different from onions. Ah. So this is what
they were on about.
I graduated from
'Hative de Niort' to 'Echalote Grise', which is just French for Grey
Shallot. Doesn't sound very enticing, until you grow the actual
shallot: again, plump, with a smoky sheen to the skin, richly
flavoured and so silkily beautiful that other shallots simply curl up
in embarrassment alongside.
Now I discover from my
new favourite gardening blog, 'Au Potager' (written in English by an
American garden writer from Indianapolis living in Paris and
Normandy.... oh, do keep up) that there's a reason for this
head-and-shoulders superiority.
And that reason is that
until now, I haven't been growing shallots at all.
You see, the French
shallot grows differently. If you buy a packet of shallot seeds, at
least according to French growers, you aren't buying shallots at all.
(Don't mention this to
the Dutch, who by and large are responsible for the seed-grown
varieties. Though they are also behind standard-issue
bargain-basement supermarket tomatoes, so that says it all, really).
I confess I've never
gone to the trouble of growing shallots from seed: far too lazy when
sets are available. But of course 'shallot' sets like the best-selling 'Golden Gourmet' are technically seed-raised.
And what about exhibition shallot
growers, who make a point of raising their shallots from seed –
longer growing season, better selection of varieties and less
tendency to bolt, so you're more likely to end up with perfect
shallots for sweeping the board at the village horticultural show.
Except they aren't shallots.
L'échalote
traditionnelle, or true shallot, however, propagates itself
vegetatively, and – get this – doesn't ever set seed. And the
flavour is therefore fully developed, rich, elegant, vastly superior.
Seed-grown shallots, on
the other hand, are just mini-onions, with the same sharp taste. So
that explains my disappointing 'Golden Gourmets' then. And you've got
to ask yourself what is the point of that.
To tell the difference,
look for the scar on the root plate: French shallots have a small
flat rootless area where the offset came away from the parent. Also
traditional shallots have two central cores when you cut the bulb
open: seed-raised have just one.
So the hunt begins for
as many French échalote traditionelle varieties as I can find. It's a
short list:
Echalote Grise: said to have superior flavour even by French standards. I think 'Griselle'
is the same thing
Hative de Niort:
fatter, flatter bulbs: super, duper flavourJermor, Longor: recently-bred in France and 'Jersey' long types: inferior to the above but still good
If anyone else has
found other varieties for me to try, do let me know.
3 comments:
I haven't noticed much difference between onions and shallots except in storage. I must try some of the French varieties....
We discovered Echalote Gris in a French market years ago and it is perfect for making Confiture. The shallots are very dense and tightly packed (if that makes sense) so they don't fall apart in the long cooking process. On the other hand they are particularly difficult to peel so making the confiture is a real 'labour of love'. I think French chefs favour them for similar reasons.
Hi Janet - my guess is you've probably been growing the (more widely available) Dutch ones which are seed raised. See if you can hunt down some Hative de Niort this year - I guarantee you'll be surprised...
Hi Arabella, I forgot to mention the difficulty in peeling! Yes they're a bit of a pain to prepare but not so much so that they're not worth it :D Like the sound of that confiture...
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