I acquired the following recipe while dating Dominique, a woman I met in France. The turnover filling is slightly altered because in France they sauté snails and use the resulting gravy to fill their crusts.

I’m not yet to the point of eating snails.

Dominique invited me to participate in the process of collecting the highly prized snails used in this dish, a practice most French keep secret. It was a warm spring evening, just before sunset. Dominique handed me a small metal bucket and a chunk of moldy cheese and told me to “polish” the inside of the pail.

“Snails don’t like cheese,” she said. “They won’t try to run if you rub it with cheese.”

I nodded, eyes watering, understanding why snails retreated from the stinky stuff. I scrubbed the inside of the pail with the cheese all the while wondering how snails would have time to crawl out of a bucket. Snails are snails. They only have one pace. But I never questioned Dominique. She had me on a string.

When I finished with the cheese rub, Dominique took my hand and led me to a small patch of woods just behind her house.

“There,” she said, pointing to a rotted log. “There you will find snails.”

I put the pail on ground and slowly overturned the dead wood; sure enough, two snails the size of ping-pong balls. I picked them up and put them in the pail. (I swear I heard them choke from cheese fumes.) We continued our search, overturning logs until we collected enough for our meal.

During our hunt, the sun had slowly slipped behind the trees. As darkness hovered, it soon became apparent why we needed the cheese bucket. A practiced lover, Dominique deftly opened the buttons on my shirt. With a whisper that could have melted an ice block she breathed in my ear, “Always wait until it is night before saying that it has been a fine day.”

I dropped my snail pail. We had not been this far before. The French connection that followed was nothing short of damn fine. Nearly an hour had past when Dominique helped me from the forest floor. My head reeling, knees knocking, I peeked into the pail. We had lost not a single snail.

Back inside the house, Dominique rummaged through the cupboards for the cooking utensils we needed. Singing like a school girl, I carried the wheezing snails to the sink and washed the rotted wood and dirt from their shells.

I couldn’t watch as Dominique dropped the little guys into about a half-inch of scalding water. I’m sympathetic toward creatures with shells dropped into boiling water. I once heard a lobster scream “You son-of-a-bitch!” when I dropped him in a pot of boiling water. Scarred me for life; although I’m certain these guys were pretty much out of it from inhaling the cheese vapors.

Once cooked, we cracked the snail shells, scraped them clean and added the meat to a small frying pan. Dominique mixed a little flour to the water they had simmered in and made a thick gravy. She added that to the meat in the fry pan and mixed it well. Dominique then filled two pastry shells with the mixture and baked the whole kit and caboodle.

I was hesitant about eating snails. After all, I had rescued those little guys from under a dark, cold, rotted log, bathed and dried them and provided a reunion, of sorts, on a large kitchen platter. However, after a little urging from Dominique, I finally gave in. I ate at a snail’s pace but actually enjoyed it. The dish tasted like – chicken.

You won’t have to go through nearly as much trouble but will enjoy this version just as much.

 

Ham and Broccoli Turnover

Two prepared pie crusts

1 package frozen chopped broccoli

1/2 pound ham (slices are easier)

1 package of any shredded cheese (8 oz.)

1 package country style gravy (1.25 oz.)

To make this dish, you’ll need two cookie sheets. I suggest making both pie crusts because I know the life of a bachelor and what’ll happen to any unused portions of food. Besides, you can freeze what you don’t eat for a night where you’re really pressed for something to eat. Unroll pie crusts and let stand. Cook broccoli, according to package, and drain. Cut ham into bite-sized chunks. Cook gravy mix according to package. Or you can use a gravy mix that comes in a jar. When everything is cooked and cut, fill one of the shells with about two or three tablespoons of broccoli. Make a line right down the center of the shell. Add the same amount of ham in the same manner; same with the gravy, being sure to spoon it so you cover the ham and broccoli. Sprinkle with cheese, as much as you like, and fold the crust over the ingredients. Press the edges of the dough together with a wet fork to seal everything inside. Poke a few holes in the crust with a fork or toothpick and bake at 400 degrees for approximately 30 minutes or until crust is browned.

No French chef needed here!