Early spring & purchased pizza at Magasin Les Fougeres
I found myself in Chelsea last week, in search of white snow. Weary of the melting March mounds, crusted black and coughing up doggy detritus, I needed a reminder of how stunning early spring can be.
I found it at Les Fougeres, at a table overlooking the garden and woods beyond, the village of active bird feeders, and the snow maiden, with her mop head and lemon eyes, remarkably robust looking for late March. A groundhog loped by.
And crouched over a smoker, a chef who wasn’t Charles Part. But someone I knew I knew, from somewhere. Turns out it was Lucas Hornblower — he of the fabulous name! — whose food I so enjoyed at (the late) Bistro St-Jacques, now part of the Part team in Chelsea.
In addition to my search for snow, I had come to browse through Les Fougeres’ store, its freezers filled with options for dinner, shelves bulging with interesting finds, a shop that seems to me more intriguing at my every visit.
A young family friend, a freshman student at Carleton, was coming over for dinner. He’d be bringing his laundry and an appetite and had a paper to finish, he said, so he couldn’t stay for long. One or two loads worth only. I shouldn’t fuss. (Roger that…)
I found what I needed in the shop’s back freezer. Gourmet pizza. Particularly the one that captures all the flavours of Les Fougeres’ signature duck confit, the richly flavoured leg meat paired with spinach, goat’s cheese, pears, fresh thyme, and with orange zest, peeled into long strips that curled and candied as they baked. And a second one, with lamb, rosemary, eggplant, sweet peppers and chevre, spread on a bechamel-coated multigrain flatbread.
They took twelve minutes in a hot oven. I made a green salad with a lemon vinaigrette so he wouldn’t get scurvy.
The best pizza he’d ever had, he said. College kids are so smart nowadays.