French Tradition, Preserved

“We’re not far from the highway,” Roseline Fontaine says cheerfully on the phone. Not far in mileage, but the little town of Quarre-les-Tombes in the hilly Morvan Nature Park in central France is half a century away in time.

On a misty fall morning, I sip chicory coffee (no effete espresso here) while M. Arnaud, former baker, dispenses white wine kir and gossip in the local patois, which is impossible for anyone but a local to understand. Walking across the square under the plane trees, I pass burly, blue-overalled figures gesticulating with hand-rolled cigarettes. They are discussing the latest crop of wild mushrooms.

My destination is the bustling bakery, pastry and chocolate shop of the Fontaine family. The modest window gives little clue to the treasures lining the wall inside: Burgundian spice bread made in the old way with rye flour; dark, crusty loaves of country bread; chocolate orange strips, the aromatic peel candied by hand and freshly coated that morning; squares of dense four-nut cake, designed to be nibbled in slivers with coffee.

And then there are Mme. Fontaine’s jams and jellies. From floor to ceiling, the walls are lined with vivid pots: golden tomato jelly, jams of purple wild peach, pink grenadine, green damson, red cherry with honey. Strange names abound, such as love-in-a-cage (cape gooseberry), scratch-your-backside (rose hip), paradise jelly (wild plums and cranberry) and wedding night (apple, wild pear and candied ginger).

“I’m an eccentric,” Roseline Fontaine says. Over the years she has collected old cookbooks in bric-a-brac stores, researching time-honored combinations and names. “So much has disappeared.

“My jams fall into three categories,” she explains, “the classics such as quince, novelties such as apple with lime or lavender and curiosities like chutney of zucchini and hazelnuts or seaweed jelly.”

Even the classics need some updating. She says she uses less sugar, since today’s fruit is sweeter. Most important is quality: The fruit must be prime and without blemishes.

“Jams are not a way to use up stale ingredients,” she insists. “However, in the old days much less was discarded. Did you know that the stalk on bolted lettuce was preserved as ‘angel’s throat’? The flavor resembles rhubarb. Stringy green beans were candied in sugar as lollipops for the children.”

Fontaine started selling her jams and jellies when she left some jam she had made for the family cafe on the counter to cool. “So many customers asked to buy them that I thought, why not? I sold 200 pots within three weeks and we were launched.”

Now, after nearly 20 years, she employs 15 people year-round to fill more than 20,000 pots with 214 types of preserves. Jams go to half a dozen outlets throughout France, but most sales are made in Quarre or nearby Veezelay, a mecca for tourists.

“We are still artisanal,” she says. “Jams are made in batches of seven to nine pounds, never more, otherwise they lose the fresh flavor.”

For maximum taste, she recommends macerating fruits with sugar for 24 hours before cooking. Supplies depend on the season and whatever ingredients are available. As much as possible comes from local growers. Dandelion flower jam is a spring favorite: “It takes 365 flowers to make three [one-pound] pots,” Fontaine says. September is the time for rose hips, elderberries, figs and wild plums.

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Preserves are just a part of the Fontaine family business. M. Fontaine is a chocolatier, his pride being a yearly Easter exhibition of chocolate sculptures and molds, more than 2,000 of them. This year’s theme was the American West, and next year may be the history of chocolate.

The Fontaines’ daughter is the pa^tissier e, married to the local butcher, whose pride is home-cured “rosette”--dry sausage and hams, which are salted Morvan-style for five months before smoking. Their son is the boulanger , a key post in rural France where baguettes are eaten three meals a day--frequently, of course, with jam or jelly.

CONFIT OF SHALLOT IN WHITE WINE

Mme. Fontaine uses shallots from the garden and dry white wine from Vezelay for this recipe, delicious with roast meats, ham and duck. The flavor mellows if it is kept at least a month, so start now on gifts for the holidays. This quantity of shallots seems expensive, but just a spoonful of confit makes all the difference to a dish.

4 pounds shallots

1 cup white wine

1 cup white wine vinegar

3 cups sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons salt, more if needed

1 teaspoon ground black pepper, more if needed

Peel and very thinly slice shallots. Combine wine, vinegar and sugar in large preserving pan and heat gently until sugar is dissolved, stirring occasionally. Bring just to boil.

Add shallots. They will fill pan but will soon wilt. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until shallots are transparent and soft enough to cut with spoon, 30 to 40 minutes.

Remove from heat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. While still very hot, spoon confit into sterilized jars and seal them. Store in cool place.

Makes 1 1/2 quarts.