Southern Fried French

Adventures of a Magazine Editor in France

In my former life I was a full-time field editor for the Meredith group of magazines (Better Homes & Gardens, Traditional Home, et. al.), and during my time in France I’ve continued part-time, writing and/or producing the occasional story for them, in France or on visits to Charleston.

So today, for the curious among you, we shall look at a day in the life of a field editor. This particular field being the heart of Provence, not a bad place to work! This story, which I produced, styled, and wrote, came out in the winter issue of Country French, a Meredith bookazine. Here is a behind the scenes look at how it all happens.

I found the house through a friend in Provence who knew a designer there; the designer did this house for an expat couple. I never actually met the owners, who have multiple homes.

The first step: I visit the house, and if it works I take scouting photos which I will then send to my staff editor in the states. She will then say oui or non. To be successful a field editor has to have experience in knowing which of Meredith’s 20-odd shelter magazines, if any, is a fit for the house, and if it will in fact please a particular editor. I knew as soon as I saw this one that it had an excellent chance of landing in Country French: Provençal romance, lovely architecture, the designer’s hand evident in the interiors, and the furnishings high end.

I happened to be going to Provence anyway with my two best American buds Darlene and Sandi (photo above), and they were happy to tag along for the scouting expedition. We met the designer on site. Actually Sandi is a fellow editor, but today she was pressed into service as my ‘secretary’, recording details for the story while I took the scouting photos. Photo right: The French designer, très elegante, tells us about the garden.

The staff editor liked it, so months later I was back with my shooting team. Which usually includes me, the photographer (Gordon Beall is my regular guy, and he came over for this shoot), and an assistant. Since it was an expensive shoot far from home, Ron was pressed into service as our assistant, to save on costs. Which means he packs and unpacks the van, schleps stuff, and holds up lights as needed. The pay was lousy, but he got to travel to Provence where he would eat and drink wine, so he didn't complain.

My staff editor requested some pretty heavy propping, so we rented a van for the trip, and filled it to the brim with flowers, vases, jars, outdoor pots, hats, pillows, throws, vegetables, bread, cutting boards, and all the other props necessary to make a second home look a bit more lived in (at left: loading up). Then the three of us crammed ourselves into the front seat and off we went. In addition, I planned to use every accessory I could find in the house (and I did!), moving things from room to room. Shooting is more complicated than you might think; there's composing, styling, lighting, and so on. it often takes a couple of hours just to do the first photo, but after that it goes faster. I wish I had a picture for you of what a room in progress looks like. The area we're shooting is propped and pristine, and just inches outside the shot it's often controlled chaos, with equipment, props, lighting, tools, a flower arranging station, etc.

It took the three of us a couple of very full days to do the shoot. Weeks later they sent me the shots they would use, and I wrote the story and captions after interviewing the owners. They used 14 shots; we took at least half again as many, which is typical.

Now the fun part: take a look at my scouting shots, then at the staff editor’s decisions. The 'after' shots are the ones they actually ran. 

 

Scouting shot: The staff editor requested a cozy cocktail hour scene on this unfurnished patio off the kitchen. 

 

After: We hauled furniture up from the pool to set up the shot.  In the evening, we drank the props!

 

Scouting Shot: For the foyer, our photo order specified pillows, a bit of color, and BIG flowers.

 

After: In the shot I used the owners’ pillows and some that I brought.  I couldn’t find any flowers  tall enough at the florist, so I cut these from a tree by the side of the road on the way over!

 

Scouting shot: The living room propping was pretty straight forward; they asked for pastel colors to be added, with flowers and accessories.

 

After: I brought or borrowed pillows.I couldn’t find an interesting pastel throw, so I pressed one of my wool scarves into service.

 

Kitchens are always tricky. The editor asked for a breakfast scene on the table and a baking scene on the island, and we wanted to add interest and color to the empty stovetop. You have to use enough props to tell the story, but it can easily get cluttered (What, your counter doesn’t look just like this when you bake?). Shapes are important too, like the bowls and the teapot. The open door in the breakfast room shot  invites you into the scene.

Scouting shot:

 

After, set up for breakfast:

 

Scouting shot:

 

After, with the baking scene:

 

While my job is  styling, Gordon’s is about capturing the light; we madly follow the sun around the house as we shoot (and sometimes create sunbeams where there are none). Gordon scored some gorgeous rays in this shot of the daughter's bedroom. We work together on coming up with the composition, though he’s the real pro.

 

Darn, we didn’t make the cover! Cover shots are a special breed, and we always try to line one up. We use a cover template with the title/logo to help us. But only one per issue gets chosen, it’s tough!  Here's the cover from that issue:

Now it you'd like to see an article I shot and wrote recently in France, pick up the debut copy of Mediterranean Homes and Lifestyle, which is on newsstands now, to see a gorgeous French village garden in Burgundy.

 

 

Between “Joyeux Noel” & “Bonne Année”: What to Cook

Good morning! Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas/Happy Holiday!

So now we are in that limbo week, between Christmas and New Year's Day. Perhaps you still have family and friends happily gathered around, and perhaps you are still spending a lot of time in the kitchen. Wondering what to do with those last sad leftovers, and starting to lust after something different to eat, maybe unable to  face once again that sweet potato casserole that has been cycled through the microwave one too many times.

So today, a solution to both problems.

Let’s begin with finishing off those leftovers. I went to a divine Christmas tea at my dear friend Sandi’s house, and the most popular of all the lovely little nibbles on offer was one that you can whip up out of those leftovers! They looked pretty and holiday-ish, too. Let’s call them Spicy Turkey Cranberry Rounds.

No recipe needed, just do this: Take a round cookie cutter and make some circles out of soft white or wheat bread. Top them with your leftover cranberry sauce (you do make your own, don’t you? It takes 5 minutes! I've used this recipe for years). But first spike the sauce with a little chopped jalapeno, to give it some kick. Spread it on the bread, top with a turkey slice, a tiny dollop more of sauce, and a green leafy thing (arugula, parsley, cilantro, or microgreens). Voila! Surprise your crowd with these at happy hour, or make them a light lunch.

Now it’s time to make dinner, and we are ready to take a path far from the leftover turkey and ham, without wallowing in the kitchen. For this I recommend one of my very favorite dishes. It’s indulgent, simple, and tastes of the sea.

I always order this when we visit Nice, as it’s a specialty there. Which means they probably nicked it from the (nearby) Italians, who call it Spaghetti con Cozze e Gamberetti. No matter what you call it, it’s delicious! 

 

 RECIPE: Pâtes aux Fruits de Mer

Use a hot or mild chili of your choice here. In France we would use piment from a jar; or you could use dried red pepper flakes to add heat. You can throw in any shellfish you like to the mix, but the briny taste of mussels is pretty essential. If you add some baby clams, that would make it even better. (photo above, a home-cooked version, and at left, from a fancy restaurant in Nice).

 

 

 

 

 

Serves 4

1 pound (500g) grams spaghetti
1 pound (500g) mussels
1/2 pound (250g) shrimp
6 tablespoons olive oil
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
a small red chili, seeded and diced (or piment, or red pepper flakes to taste)
1/4 cup (50 ml) white wine
juice of a lemon
small bunch of flat leaf parsley, chopped
freshly grated parmesan

Cook the spaghetti according to package directions. Meanwhile, clean mussels (tap any that remain open; if they don’t close up, pitch them). Peel shrimp. Leave tails on as the French would or off like the Americans, up to you.

Heat the oil in a large skillet and sautée the garlic and chili for about 2 minutes. Add mussels and wine and cover. Cook just a few minutes, until mussels are open, checking frequently. Discard any unopened mussels.

Add shrimp, cook 3 to 5 minutes more, turning them, until fully pink. Add the lemon juice. Remove from heat, add salt and pepper to taste, and stir in parsley. Add hot, drained pasta to the pan, toss well and serve. Pass the parmesan cheese, and toast the new year.

The basic recipe is by Antonio Carluccio and Gennaro Contaldo.

 

In the COMMENTS:  Well, several southerners checked in on the muscadine wine post, bless your hearts.  Vicky is encouraging y'all to embrace muscadines.  As I said, love 'em or hate 'em.  Suzanne, we grew up thinking just like your Tennessee daddy! (and I had a Tennessee daddy too, by the way).

A very happy new year to all!

 

A Winery with a Chicken Coop, and a Tea Chaser

 

 You know how it works: you live in a place forever, and it’s not until guests come and have their own ideas about seeing the place, that you learn something truly new.

Last year when we were in Charleston, a place I’ve lived for 30 plus years before moving to France, Ron’s brother and his wife joined us for a week. They came armed with a fun list: all the “Diners, Drivie-ins & Dives” that have been featured in Charleston. And so we were off to dives like The Tattooed Moose and the Dixie Supply Bakery and Café (5 tables, and attached to a 7-11), and did some mighty fine eatin’, in places we might never have discovered.

This year on our Charleston visit, our old and dear  friends Audrey and Bob came down from Ohio. They wanted to tour the Charleston Tea Planation (knew about it, never been) and the Deep Water Vineyard (what, Charleston has a vineyard?), both on nearby Wadmalaw Island.

First, the tea. It turns out that this is the only tea in the world made from 100% American grown tea. There are acres of tea plants, and you cruise around in a shuttle to see them. Along the way you learn how tea is grown and made. Did you know: that tea is made from a plant in the camellia family? That the first tea bushes were brought over from China to Charleston in the 1700's? That decaf tea is full of chemicals, but you can make your own natural decaf tea, from regular tea?

Then we had a tea tasting at the gift shop: hot and iced tea in many flavors, all delicious. We bought some fun teas for Charleston-ophile friends.

The winery was another matter altogether. On the way over, I told Ron and our guests, “the only grape I know that will grow in this climate is a muscadine and their cousin, scuppernongs. And they are about the nastiest thing you will ever taste!” Surely they weren’t growing those.

Muscadines have a strong, unusual taste and you either love it or hate it, kind of like okra. My mom, for example, who is from south Georgia, loves them. Most folks I know can’t be in the same room with them.

The winery turned out to be about as far from a fancy French winery as you could possibly get, but still fun. Set in the deep woods, there was a big chicken coop by the dirt parking lot. A rustic building with picnic tables outside for sipping served as the tasting room. Sure nuff, they were selling muscadine and scuppernong  wine! And as our tasting revealed, they had embraced the full flavor of the grapes.  They also make something called Firefly Moonshine, which tastes pretty much like its name.

So, if you’re looking for a true southern experience, and we are talking deep south here, head for Deep Water Vineyards. Otherwise, I recommend a very civilized cup of Charleston Tea.

Below: fields of tea plants growing under the live oaks at the Charleston Tea Plantation.

 

You can scoot around the plantation on a shuttle bus tour.

 

Workers clearing the banks around an irrigation pond for the tea plants.  They have to be careful not to dip their toes in the water; the pond is home to a number of alligators.

 

At Deepwater Vineyards, they sell southern "moonshine".  Love this:

 

Favorite Reads, from our readers: Meredith recommends WTF?!: What the French, by the very witty Olivier Magny, who is always a fun read (see my interview with Olivier in this 2013 post.)  Julie recommends Fighting France: From Dunkerque to Belfort.  Julie says,  "She was one of the few Americans who had permission to travel freely in war zones, so she went with a group to visit with and document the lives of soldiers in the field. She was close enough to look the enemy in the eye across forest lines. It's a unique piece of reporting." Thank you, ladies, for some interesting recommendations.

 

Opening up the French Experience

So many things contribute to the tapestry of the French experience. The lilting French language that is the background noise of life here. The loamy smell of the terroir in wine country. The familiar church bells, or the unexpected clip-clop of horses passing though our village on a lazy afternoon.

And then there are the visuals:  those weathered, quirky,  French doors and windows, each different, wearing the mark of time or the touch of a casual, inadvertently stylish hand.

 I can't help but collect photos of them, to remember and treasure. I'm always sorry if I take a walk in France without my camera at the ready.

This week, a collection of doors.  Another day,  we'll take a peek through some French windows. And I'm betting, dear readers who know this country, that you've snapped one or two in your travels as well.

 

 

 

 

 

The mystery and romance of Old French lace

 

A cheerful barn door, with les fleurs

 

Can you guess where this door leads?

 

Perfect patina

 

Nobody home?

A Parisian classic

 

 

The soft blue of Provence

 

The kitchen door of our friends Pete and Dee's house in Burgundy

 

...and Dee's sister Maggie's pretty rendition of it.

 

In the COMMENTS: Paul, I understand! this is not a political blog, and I did some soul-searching before I waded in last week (and in this post before the election). But in a week like no other, I just couldn't bring myself to write a perky French post and not mention a thing about the seismic shift in my own country. My conscience wouldn't let me. But now, back to all thing French and southern.

I really appreciated all of the thoughtful comments, including dissenting ones, thank you all so much for weighing in. They are interesting and worth a read for all. And those of you who speak French, pay close attention to Nicole's comment and her funny and deliberate misspelling: Il est important de ne pas se trumper...

RE our Burgundy overview, if you want an excellent little Burgundy vacation by means of a great video, check out this link, which David Watson, a fellow Burgundy expat, sent us by way of Facebook. An aerial view of Burgundy wine country, It really captures the beauty of the place.

 

A Burgundy Escape Route

“Evil settles into everyday life when people are unable or unwilling to recognize it. It makes its home among us when we are keen to minimize it or describe it as something else.”
—Teju Cole, writing about the election.

“The racist, fascist extreme right is represented footsteps from the Oval Office. Be very vigilant, America.”
—John Weaver,Republican strategist who ran the presidential campaign of Gov. John Kasich, on the appointment of  Stephen Bannon as chief strategist for the Trump presidency.

We’re in the states at the moment, engulfed in sadness and terror after the election. Sad for the for the inequality in our country that causes such terrible problems for our society, sad for those who rightly feel they’ve been left behind, and angry at an America who chose hatred as a misguided solution to our problems. Yes, I know the choices were bleak, but choosing hatred is never the answer.  Any illusions that Trump would “become presidential” and “surround himself with good people” after the election (the excuses we heard so often) were dashed when he appointed a white supremacist as his chief strategist. I’m ashamed that the underbelly of racism, sexism, and hatred that lurks in every society has suddenly become so acceptable in ours.

The saddest part is that the elitist Trump’s policies are very likely to make things much worse for the middle class. If we survive at all; we’re handing the nuclear codes over to an infantile, vengeful, impulsive man. For me, it’s just too horrifying to contemplate.  I know many of you will disagree, and I hope and pray you are right.

Sigh. I agree with Mr. Weaver that we must be vigilant and vocal, but, at times like these my thoughts turn to Burgundy, one of the most peaceful and beautiful places I know to escape.

So it seems a good time to do a bit of an overview of our adopted region. Actually it’s quite a good choice if you’re thinking of bailing, and are lucky enough to have the option. Let’s escape briefly to La Bourgogne, for those of you who want to move, to visit, or just to daydream. Burgundy has seen its share of strife in the past, but today it’s a bucolic idyll.

Looking at the Burgundy map above, I was struck by how many of the place names revolve around three things: food, wine, and ancient history. There are the many flavors of tart mustard that hark from Dijon. The pungent Epoisses is the queen of cheeses. There is a plethora of wine villages. Then there are the names that evoke Burgundy’s proud history: Cluny, Ancy-le-Duc, Autun.

La Bourgogne has four distinct departments to explore: to the north, the Yonne, anchored by the pretty towns of Auxerre, Avallon, and the Chablis wine area; to the east, the Côte d’Or, which is pricey red wine country and includes the departmental capital of Dijon and the wine capital of Beaune; the Nièvre to the west, a rural and sparsely populated area; and to the south, our department of the Saône et Loire. Here you will find the good value white Burgundies of the Maconnais. Here you also find towns with historic monuments, like Cluny and Tournus. (Actually there are now more departments, as Burgundy was recently was combined with the rural Franche-Compté region, and we’re still figuring out the details of that merger).

What to do in Burgundy? You might immerse yourself in its rich history, visiting the châteaus, abbeys, and cathedrals that are everywhere here. You could grab a bike and ride the voie verte (the “green lane”, a vast series of bike/horse/walking paths). You could cruise quietly down the canal and rivers that run through Burgundy, in a narrow bâteau de canal. You might take a driving tour of the beautiful villages, and in between drink in the gorgeous natural beauty of the gently rolling countryside. Of course you could follow the food and wine, from vineyard to village to gourmet restaurant. There is much to do, but the pace is leisurely and the road is peaceful.

And whether you’re visiting Burgundy and just visiting this blog, my deepest hope for all of  you is peace and security, in these troubled ties.

 

In the COMMENTS:  Jim, thank you for teaching us more about Reims, and now I need to go back to see that museum, plus the light show that Barbie told us about.  Paula has added another great cathedral to my list. Julie, I'm happy to know more about the little libraries.

FAVORITE READS: Paula recommends a classic book, The Road from the Past. Traveling Through History in France by Ina Caro (1994-08-01) is a history and travelog through France. Thanks Paula, for adding an important book to my list. Suzanne recommends a different sort of book, a group biography called  The Six: The Lives of the Mitford Sisters. Suzanne, I know you're a big reader, keep those recommendations coming, please!

And a techincal issue:  I know sometimes your comments disappear and you have to add them again. I have discovered this problem too when I leave comments on other blogs.  The fact is, they almost always go through, and I get two copies of your comments, one of which I delete.  Thanks for your persistence, and I have reported the problem to the server.

 

 

Reaching Reims, at Last

When you've lived in France for 13 years, folks kind of expect that you've been around to all the major towns in France.  But there is so much to see! All of France, not to mention all of Europe, to cover.  And we tend to revisit places we love, all of which means my knowledge of a lot of French cities is pretty pathetic.

"You DO know Nancy, don't you?", the French will ask us. "You HAVE been to Lille of course?  And you can't have missed the cathedral at Reims?"

Non, non, and oui.  So I was very happy to check one at least one of these off my list recently, while we were in the Champagne region.

Ron claims to have cathedral fatigue, he has seen one too many of them in our European travels.  But even he found Notre-Dame de Reims to be exceptional. It's special because so many of the kings and queens of France were coronated here. And for other reasons, as you will see.

Reims (pronounce it 'rance', unless you want to be terribly gauche), is centered around the cathedral. The first thing that sets it apart is, it's enormous. And every inch of the exterior is carved and ornate.

Before you go in you must of course look for the Smiling Angel (above), the muse of Reims. There were many angels and we were scratching our heads over this when a friendly guard wandered up and pointed her out. She does indeed have a cheerful and slightly enigmatic smile, and her giant visage looks down on you kindly.

Inside, it has the usual reverent elegance of a French cathedral, only bigger. But they've done something very interesting and very French, as the French have no fear of mixing the ultra modern with the ancient (SEE the pyramid at the Louvre). In the rear nave, they've replaced the towering stained glass windows, destroyed when the cathedral was bombed in WWI, with unabashedly modern stained glass by artists Marc Chagall, Imi Knoebel, and Brigitte Simon-Marq.  The effect is spectacular.

The museum next door showcases some of the robes and finery of the royalty who began their reign with a march under the hallowed arches.

After your tour you'll be feeling virtuous, so reward yourself with lunch and wine at on one of Reims's lively restaurant rues. We discovered L'Apostrophe, which was stylish and different.

So my French city list has gotten shorter, but my "beautiful villages" list just keeps growing!

 

Photo right: an artistic, and modern, stained glass window. This one is by Knoebel. Learn more about them here.

 

Below:  The cathedral, outside and in. 

And one aside:  In Reims we encountered the world's smallest library.  The sign said, borrow a book and bring it back, or add a new one. Bonne idée!

And speaking of books:  our loyal reader Natalia won Emily Dilling's My Paris Market Cookbook: A Culinary Tour of French Flavors and Seasonal Recipes  in our book giveaway, in conjunction with Emily's guest post. (I've just ordered a couple of copies for Christmas presents). Natalia promised to pick a favorite recipe to share, and this week she did just that.  I've had similar gratins at French tables many times, they are popular there, and delicious. A big fat MERCI to both Natalia and Emily!

RECIPE: Golden Swiss Chard Gratin (Gratin de Blettes)

Emily says: "This is a simple and nourishing autumn dinner, easy to prepare after work and a great way to use the ubiquitous Swiss chard that arrives with the chang­ing of the leaves. Bake until golden and bring a little autumn sunshine into your evening!"

Ingredients

Serves 4

4–5 stalks, Swiss chard, chopped

1 cup Béchamel sauce (medium-thick white sauce)

1 cup (120 grams) grated Gruyère

Salt and pepper

Preparation

Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). Wash and dry each stalk of Swiss chard. Remove the ends of Swiss chard stalks if dirty and then chop each stalk into thirds. Arrange Swiss chard in a large baking dish. Pour béchamel sauce over the Swiss chard. Top with grated Gruyère, salt, and pepper and bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown.

 

In the COMMENTS:  VERY interesting comments this week from our readers, on the election. I’m reminded, by comments from Julie and others, that living in a foreign country gives you a fresh and global perspective that you might not otherwise develop. In my husband’s ideal world, everyone would be required to live a year in a foreign country, to get out of their box!

Ken, I love your timely quote. No matter who you’re supporting, I think we can all agree that election fatigue has set in, and this election has been, as Herm says, a “vicious race”. We are all longing for the “respect and compromise” that’s been lost, as Suzanne discusses, and Michaela already misses the “civil tone at the top”.

Mark and Mel, Lady Liberty was spotted on the right bank at the base of the Trocadero. Michaela, felicitations, at having wine from your own vineyard sitting on the best of tables, at the Obama state dinner! We are dead impressed.

 

What Would Mamma Do?

Photo: On the banks of the Seine, Lady Liberty's sidekick watches over the river on the deck of a péniche, a Paris houseboat

 

I'm in the States this week, and I happened to catch a show on the radio about a new program that is catching on in South Carolina called The Welcome Table,  a series of interactive discussions to open up the dialogue between whites and blacks on the subject of racism, with the goal of reconciliation.  They were interviewing a fellow South Carolinian, and they asked her why she was participating in the Welcome Table.  And she said:

"My mama told me that I should leave every place I go a little better than the way I found it."

What a wise mama that was! I say, bless her heart. It occurred to me that her mama's words are a pretty good philosophy to live by. What if everyone did this one simple thing? What if we resolved every morning to contemplate, with our every action:" Am I leaving the world a little bit better place?".  I picture a world that is blossoming and blooming and expanding, instead of the sorry one when we've got now.

I'm thinking about this, on the cusp of the moment when we have the honor and privilege of voting in the presidential election. But this is not a normal election year. What most folks I know and are saying is, they don't much like either of the choices. And what different and divisive choices they are.

I don't much like either of them myself. So how does one decide how to cast their vote? I propose that Mama's words are as good as any as a criteria for choosing your candidate.

All three candidates are flawed, and in major ways. But which one has tried, in spite of those flaws, to make the world a better place? Strived for peace, and equality? Which has been kind and polite to their fellow humans, championed the rights of minorities, of women, and of the less fortunate among us? Which has a sense of decorum and manners necessary to represent our country to the world? Which candidate has the calm demeanor and experience to deal with the frightening world around us?

Worldwide there is a trend toward nationalism, and you certainly see it in this election. You see it in France with the rise of the deplorable Marine le Pen, in England with Brexit, in all of Europe. Certainly in Russia, and in an especially terrifying way, in the Middle East. In difficult and frightening times, we as humans tend to turn inward, to become  protective and suspicious. We close ranks, narrow our minds, we withdraw from the world. We protect our own and forget the rest. We build walls instead of bridges. History tells us that excessive nationalism has one result: world war and aggression.

On November 8 you and I have not a small but an exceptionally large opportunity to change this trend. By looking deep into our hearts and souls and minds and casting a vote for what we believe will not just make our little world, but all the world, a better place.  Please take this opportunity and VOTE, to make your voice heard. Bon courage to us all.

 

FAVORITE READS:  My friend Sandi is always reading the best books that are au courant.  This week she recommends A Paris Affair,  about the hidden lives and illicit desires of those romantic French.  Sounds like just the escape we need this week!

 

A Biscuit by Any Other Name

I do believe we've had this discussion before: the French, AND the Brits, are quite misinformed about the word 'biscuit', which of course is THE classic bread of the South (see photo left). When I'm with any of these folks and we start talking biscuits, we get all tangled up. Un biscuit in French is a cracker (savory) OR a cookie.  How can it possibly be both? But the Brits agree. And then there are scones, not quite biscuits, but neither the Brits nor the French would ever think of calling a scone a biscuit.

Nevermind. My British friend Linda served us some savory pistachio and parmesan concoctions the other day which were so delicious I don't care what she called them.

Les biscuits of the type Linda made, which she calls sables, are quite familiar to Southerners. We call them cheese straws (due to their long skinny shape, though you can make them round too and we still tend to call them cheese straws). We typically make them with sharp cheddar and pecans, but her combo was equally delicious.

 

 

 

The French use the word "sable" too, but with an accent mark. Sablé, by the way, means sandy in French.  To confuse us all further,  sablés in French are sweet. French sablés, pictured at right, resemble our sugar cookies, but they are heavier and denser, and much less sweet. 

Whatever you call them, do try Linda's recipe, for any special occasion. They are perfect with a crisp Chardonnay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

RECIPE: Linda's Pistachio Sables

Linda got this recipe from Delia Smith’s Classic Christmas, who also provided the photo.

Ingredients

1/4 cup (25g) shelled, unsalted pistachio nuts
1/3 cup (40g) strong white flower, sifted (i.e. bread flour, but I used regular)
3 tablespoons (40g ) unsalted butter, diced
1/2 cup (40g) freshly grated parmesan
a pinch of cayenne pepper

 

 Lightly grease a large baking sheet.

Start by chopping the pistachio nuts in a mini chopper, quite small.
Then mix them with all the remaining ingredients in a medium sized bowl.
Rub the ingredients together until the mixture starts to form fairly large clumps,
then press the mixture against the side of the bowl to bring it together.
Now transfer the dough to a board and knead lightly, then roll into a sausage shape about 7" (18 cm) long and wrap and chill in the freezer for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350F/180C/gas 4.
Slice the chilled log into discs about 1/4" (0.5cm) wide and spread them out on the baking sheet.

Put them in the oven on the centre shelf and bake for 13-15 minutes, until they start to go golden around the edges.
When they are cooked, transfer them to a wire rack and cool, and store in an airtight tin.

 

Les Fleurs of Burgundy

As we kiss the last wisps of summer good-bye in Burgundy (the weather has finally turned cool), it's time for our annual Burgundy Flower Show, to make our good-byes to the season. As usual, Burgundians have celebrated summer with some colorful friends. Ourselves included, as some of these photos are from our own garden. Take a peek at the beautiful fleurs of Burgundy, and you might even catch a whiff of their wonderful French parfums.  

Photo above: we lunched at the small château of some friends, and there is a carpet of hot pink hydrangeas at their rear entrance.

 

On my coffee table, roses from my garden

 

Many of the villages fill carts or large wine presses with annuals

 

 Roses are often planted at the end of vineyards in Burgundy.  If there's a disease or a harmful insect on the prowl, the rose will get it first, and alert the vigneron to the problem before it hits the vines.  This photo was taken by a photographer friend, Paul Rico.

 

On a village street, wine barrels are pressed into service as planters.

 

A wall of clematis on my neighbor's barn.

 

In August, trumpet vine is everywhere, thriving in the late summer heat.

 

Annabelle hydrangeas do well in Burgundy.  These are in a shady spot in my garden.

Our terrace in France.

 

Lavender is not just for Provence! We have plenty  in Burgundy, too.

 

In the COMMENTS:  Cheri, I've got to try that crema de limoncello!  If it tastes like those ice cream bars from our youth (Creamsicles? Dream Bars?), I'm in.

FAVORITE READS:  Thanks to my dear friend Sandi, I attended a lecture/book signing last night by Lauren Collins, author of the just-released When in French: Love in a Second Language . She is a staff writer for the New Yorker who met and married a Frenchman and now lives in Paris. Not your usual memoir---especially if you are studying French, you're going to love this one. 

 

 

 

 

When Life Gives you "les Citrons"...

 

My step-daughter Suzanne gave me a darling bracelet for my birthday one year, which is still my favorite. The outside is tossed with bright lemon slices, and inside it's engraved to say: “When life gives you lemons, make limoncello”.

Wise words indeed. Though it’s an Italian tradition to offer ice cold limoncello as a digestif after a fine dinner, some of our friends here in France  do it too, as do some restaurants (a digestif, by the way, taken after a meal, is a little nip of liquor to settle the stomach. May I suggest we all might be needing that in the coming months, in order to face the daily election news?).

You may be shocked to learn how easy it is to make limoncello yourself, and what a nice surprise to offer after a meal with friends. But it’s one of those either/or things: folks either adore the sweet, citrusy taste, or turn up their noses at the sharp sugariness of it.

I’m afraid I’m in the latter camp. Our friends Gerard and Maria, who are Dutch, make their own, and I politely decline (though limoncello lovers tell me theirs is fabulous). But one night they brought out another homemade bottle: orangecello! And to my surprise, I loved it. By the way, anglophones will call it orangecello, but it is properly called arancello, after the Italian word for orange, arancia.

Gerard and Maria have kindly shared BOTH of their recipes. In Burgundy liquors are often made with Marc de Bourgogne as the base, but you can use a clear, neutral high proof alcohol like vodka (as they do), Everclear, or grain alcohol.

Both recipes are below. Which one will you choose? Or maybe both? Salut!

 
RECIPE: Gerard & Maria's Limoncello

For 1 liter:

Put the thin yellow peel, only the yellow part and not the white, of 4 organic
lemons in one litre (4.5 cups) of vodka for at least 10 days.
Strain the mixture and remove the peels after 10 days or more.
Add 270 (1 1/4 cups) to  300 (1 1/2 cups) grams of sugar as desired
Shake until the sugar is completely dissolved
Keep the limoncello in the freezer.

 

RECIPE: Classic Aranacello 

For 2.5 liters:

5 large oranges, preferably organic
1 stick of cinnamon
3  cardamon pods
1  vanilla bean (do not split it)
1 liter of vodka (4 1/2 cups)
50 cl water (2 cups)
600 grams sugar (3 cups)

Peel a thin layer of orange zest from the oranges with the help of a vegetable peeler. Remove only the orange part, avoid the white inner layer, which is bitter.

In a large jar, place the orange zest, the cinnamon stick, the vanilla bean, and the cardamon pods. Add the vodka and close the lid. Shake well. Leave it for a week, shaking every day.

After 1 week: Bring the water to a boil, turn heat off and add the sugar, stirring until it dissolves. Cool slightly. Add it to the vodka mixture and let it sit another week, shaking the jar regularly.

At the end of the week, filter the aranchello, transfer it to a bottle, and keep it chilled. Garnish with more orange peel if you like. It will last for 6 months.

  

Photo below: Gerard and Maria, thanks for the recipes!

 

In the COMMENTS: We've been talking about Champagne this week. The photo with the tractor and the flowers?  That's the orangerie of the Trianon of Moët & Chandon, and our own loyal reader Michaela Rodeno has stayed there. And she wrote a book about champagne!-- see below (along with recommendations from Rainey). Anne Marie has a B&B to recommend in Champagne. Suzanne, Champagne IS expensive, and here in Burgundy we drink the local version, called crémant, which is way cheaper, and delicious.  Not sure if you can get it in the states. Beth, I'm so happy you're still enjoying the classic Spanish gazpacho recipe.  I make it every week when the local tomatoes arrive.

Favorite Reads: Michaela Rodeno spent a career in the wine and Champagne industry, and  From Bubbles to Boardrooms, Act 1 and Act II  tell the entertaining story of her experiences. Rainey recommends two more books about Champagne for us:  Champagne: How the World's Most Glamorous Wine Triumphed Over War and Hard Times (the author wrote the very popular Wine and War), and The Widow Clicquot: The Story of a Champagne Empire and the Woman Who Ruled It.

 

Champagne 101

The title of this post doesn't refer to the sparkly spirit. No, it's a beginner's guide to the region where said boisson is made. We'd heard Champagne was pretty, but it was not high on our travel list until our friends Kent and Heather (French canal boat voyagers of the Unexcused Absenses blog) called us to say they were docked near Épernay, and we should come on up. Never ones to turn down a chance to visit with good friends in a great wine region, we hopped in the car and were off. And now, I'd like to recommend you move the Champagne region higher up on your French travel list as well.  Photo above:  the Hotel de Ville in Épernay. Below, the church on the main Place.

It turns out Épernay is the town of choice for exploring the region. I was shocked at how beautiful and sophisticated it was. Think of a very fancy Paris neighborhood, but more intimate.  

Épernay is the seat of most of the big Champagne houses. And most of these are located on the Avenue de Champagne, which might also be called Château Row.  The 'houses' are grand old ladies of a certain age, each more beautiful than the next. Add to that the fact that the town must spend at least half of their budget on flowers and parks, and you've got charm to spare.

Now about that Champagne: the historic Champagne houses there are actually working houses; the wine is made and stored there. There are underground tunnels running all through the town and beyond, and they are so long you can take a small train through the tunnels, to tour them. 

Tasting wine everywhere in France is generally free, but not in Champagne. Tasting at the big houses can be pricey.  Kent and Heather had discovered something fun, however.  Each afternoon at the tourist office, there is a free tasting from a local vintner, often smaller producers. We tasted there and had a long chat with a young vigneron and his wife who were full of passion for their their wine. It was a great Champagne moment.  Photo below: Heather, sipping a rosé Champagne at the tourisme.

 

If you go:  The Champagne region is just over an hour and a half from Paris, so it's a great add-on for your next trip there. We ate at a restaurant we loved, called La Grillades Gourmande. Delicious, great service, and the 3 course menus started at 24 euros. We stayed in Les Berceaux, which I wouldn't call memorable but it was well located and perfectly nice, and reasonably priced. Keith and Heather also recommend a stop in the nearby town of Châlons-en-Champagne, known as the "sparkling Venice".

More posts coming up on the Champagne region, so stay tuned!

 

 

Photo below: a park in the center of town.

 

 

Kent and Ron are both tall, but no worries, this door on the Avenue de Champagne will work for them.

 

A Champagne House on the Avenue de Champagne.

 

Another house on the Avenue de Champagne.  And the tractor?  Someone has to take care of all those flowers!

 

And more flowers: on a round-about in Épernay.

 

In the COMMENTS: RE the post on "Caprese Plus", as Suzanne calls it, we have great recipe ideas from Paula and Martin, and from Steve on Facebook. Mary James, those balsamic pearls sound pretty wild, never heard of them!

Favorite Reads:  My friend Ellen told me about Delicious!, a novel by Ruth Reichl (she's a famous food writer who was the editor of Gourmet), and I'm reading it now. Fun book for foodies!

 

Reconsidering the Caprese Salad

In the heat of summer, if I ask Ron what he’d like for dinner, I already know his answer: Caprese salad! That lovely Italian mix of lush summer tomatoes, mozzarella cheese and fresh picked basil is his favorite. And I’m happy because it’s a vegetarian meal (not to mention, dead easy to fix.).

But after so many Caprese salads, I start looking for ways to up my game. Happily, there are many.

Caprese salad lives and dies by the perfect ingredients. Great summer tomatoes, of course, and basil from the garden. Mozzarella from the Italian couple at our Saturday Cluny market, though I don’t mind the grocery store version. It’s best to nap it with a balsamic reduction, nice and thick so it doesn’t just flood the plate. I used to make my own (just reduce balsamic by simmering it until it thickens), but now one can buy thickened versions. And of course, a tasty olive oil.

So after you’ve gathered your basic ingredients, it’s time to play. One way is to use the newly trendy burrata. If you haven’t encountered it, burrata is  mozzarella with cream. It  it comes in a ball, in the thinnest of sacs. When you break it open it collapses into a creamy ooze that you can eat with a spoon.

Next we shall consider the architecture of the salad. You can arrange your tomatoes in a circle with your burrata in the center, or you can overlap your slices of tomato and mozzarella in the traditional way, and shower it all with basil. You could serve it on a bed of romaine or arugula, or make it into a chopped salad. Or you could stack it into a tall tower and drizzle it with pesto.

Make your Caprese with a tumble of grape tomatoes, or a mix of heirloom varieties. Go wild and make it with fried green tomatoes.  You can put it all on a pizza crust, and bake it. I once ordered a vegetarian burger at a French restaurant (the one and only time I’ve seen one on a menu here), and this is what arrived: a beautiful homemade sesame seed hamburger bun, stuffed to the brim with caprese salad. Not exactly a burger, but Miam miam!

Consider slipping some other ingredients on to your arranged salad plate. Here are some possibilities:

avocado slices
red onion slices
roasted peppers (yellow or orange ones make a pretty contrast)
very thinly sliced raw zucchini or yellow squash
thinly sliced scallions
sliced radishes
olives or capers
cucumbers
additional fresh herbs: parsley, cilantro, tarragon, chives

Then there is the question of a dressing. I don’t like to veer too far from the traditional here. But sometimes, instead of the traditional balsamic and olive oil, I nap it with lemony French Dressing #1.

I encountered a very simple but assertive dressing recipe in the New York Times recently, in a recipe by a Parisian chef for a composed chicken salad. I tweaked it a bit and it’s now my new favorite Caprese dressing, as it happens to fit that classic salad perfectly.

Now my dear readers, how do you like your Caprese salad?

 Photos: top, a traditional Caprese with the addition of avocados and chopped parsley. Center, a restaurant version from Nice, in the round. Left, a friend's Not-quite-Caprese, made with feta, cucumbers, red onions, and capers.

 

 

RECIPE: Caprese Salad with Balsamic Shallot Dressing

Make your salad in any of the above ways. For the dressing I used a combo of balsamics here, but regular balsamic works fine if that’s what you have on hand.

1/3 cup chopped shallots
1 tablespoon reduced balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon white balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
salt and fresh ground pepper
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 cup finely chopped parsley

Place the shallots in a bowl. Add the vinegars and lemon juice and allow to soften for about 10 minutes. Add the salt and pepper, and whisk in the olive oil. Stir in the parsley, and you’re ready to drizzle.

 

In the COMMENTS:  Clyde, a full outdoor kitchen would be pretty steamy in Charleston, too. Julie, I've never heard of a basement summer kitchen, how interesting. June, my neigbor and I figured out that that picture (from last year's party) includes potato salad, melon with jambon cru, tiny grey shrimp with a homemade mayonnaise, and we can't figure out the tart--some kind of pizza, I think. Natalia, I like that "spirited conversation under the stars". Exactly!

 

Favorite Reads:  If you, like me, need to (eternally!) brush up on your French, our reader Herm has a recommendation: a free on-line program call Duolingo.  He's well and happily into it, and at his grandson's high school, they use it in language classes.  Merci for the tip, Herm.

 

 

A French Kitchen Trend Jumps the Pond

If you’ve picked up a US design magazine lately, you know the biggest luxury kitchen trend of the decade is to add a second one: the outdoor kitchen. Fancy grills, sinks, even dishwashers and fridges are moving out to the back terrace, garden, or deck.

The outdoor kitchen is nothing new in France. Called the “summer kitchen” or cuisine d’été, it’s designed so the whole operation of meal prep and dining can move outside for those long, lanquid summer months of vacation.

But there is a big difference in the US and the French summer kitchen. In the states, it’s a fancy amenity for McMansions. In the French countryside, many if not most houses have one—from the grandest château to the most modest stone cottage.

French summer kitchens here are rarely slick and polished—no granite countertops and hooded stainless steel monsters for smoking multiple chickens here. The simplest ones consist of a sink, a side table, and a basic grill, under some kind of shelter. There will be a big outdoor dining table and a large parasol, and this is where the leisurely lunches of summer, which stretch well into the afternoon or evening, will be taken.

At the Château de Balleure, the indoor kitchen was small, and on the second floor (the main living space). But on the ground floor, just off the courtyard, the summer kitchen was actually the main kitchen in the château. Opening to the courtyard by an over-sized french door, it had a huge wood burning and gas stove, two sinks, a giant armoire, a big table in the center for prep, a walk-in pantry, a couple of fridges and three freezers. Many a fine meal en plein air had its origin here (see photo at right).

 

 

 

 

 

More typical are our French neighbors, who have the tiniest stone house, but an expansive summer kitchen and garden (shown above). Under a shed roof there's a sink,an electric stove, and a cabinet. There's a table under an awning where you can find our neighbors most any hour of the day. In fact, if our mail is late, we know where to look: our postman often takes a lengthy petit blanc with them, at their shady table. You will note there is even a makeshift outdoor shower. No reason at all to go inside.

The smallest summer kitchen I’ve ever seen is in a friend’s village (photo below). It cracks me up every time I see it. They have a narrow covered stone porch (called a galerie) across the front of their house, barely six feet wide. On one end they have installed an electric stove and a sink, on the other a table for two. A few pots of flowers round out the scene. Really, what more do you need for a perfect summer? 

 Photos below, and at top: Our neighbors Jean Marie and Marion have a summer kitchen of sorts where they like to entertain, tucked between their barn and a neighbor's wall. An old wooden cart topped with a plank makes a nice counter space; there's a grill, and just inside the barn is a sink. There's a free-standing firepit, too, for cool evenings and for cooking. In the last photo, Jean Marie gets a start on our dinner. 

 

And while we're talking summer suppers, here is your perfect side dish for grilled meat, simple and delicious.  It makes a nice main course too, on a week-night, served with a salad, which is exactly what we did last night.

 

RECIPE: Black Pepper Pasta with Lemon

Serves 6 as a side dish, 3 or 4 for dinner

 

• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 teaspoons fresh ground black pepper
• zest and juice of 1 lemon
• 8 oz (225 grams) linguine or spaghetti
• 1  1/2  cup grated parmesan

Cook the pasta in boiling salted water until al dente.  Meanwhile, in a large black skillet, sauté the black pepper in the hot olive oil on low heat for about 2 minutes.

When the pasta is done, drain it and save the pasta water. Add the pasta quickly to the skillet and sauté it, stirring, for about a minute.  Add half the cheese and stir in quickly, then immediately add the lemon juice and zest. Cut the heat. Stir well and add some of the pasta water by tablespoons until just moistened (I added  about 1/2 cup). Place on warm plates and top with remaining cheese.

Many thanks to The Italian Dish for the inspiration for the recipe.

In the COMMENTS:  Sounds like there are a lot of Croatia fans out there!  And Natalia has a special Croatia story. Maribeth is going back, and ready to live there. Not a bad idea at all. Thank you all, for checking in. 

 

Visiting the Friendliest Country in Europe

Croatia has long been high on my travel list. Everyone who goes simply raves about it.

A few weeks ago our beloved youngest daughter called (my step-daughter actually, but I claim her and her wonderful husband as my own), and said, “Guess what! We’re going to Croatia in two weeks. And you’re coming with us! We’ve booked hotels, picked some great restaurants, and we’ve found a good flight for you from Lyon”.

Do we have great kids or WHAT! So off we went, just like that.

If you’ve been to the Cote d’Azur, you know how drop-dead gorgeous it is, and how tightly developed. Croatia is like that, but minus the modern condo developments. Historic towns perched above the sea with happy red tile roofs, small islands everywhere, and water that is a shade of blue that can only be described as dazzling. It’s gorgeous, and it has an authentic air.

It is impossible to imagine, in this paradise, that there was a brutal war here that ended in 1995. Chatting with one of the restaurant owners in Dubrovnik brought it home. “We were trapped here for three months with no supplies coming from the outside—no food, nothing,” he told me. “I was 24, but I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Now, however, life is good. Highlights of the trip: walking over a mile around the high rampants of the old town of Dubrovnik  and looking out over the ocean and the rosy roofs and steeples of the town--where, as an added bonus, they were busy filming "Game of Thrones" (you can see a bit of the ramparts to the right in the above photo). Strolling the promenade in Split, with palm trees snaking along the water, and passing under the many arches of the old castle that once dominated the town. Cruising out to intimate islands with lazy bars and sandy beaches. Dining in the warm twilight at surprisingly sophisticated restaurants.

But the most lasting impression: the people of Croatia. To a person, the folks we encountered were sincerely convivial, eager to chat, ready with a smile.

Case in point: I was taking a photo of an over-the-top bakery, and one of the workers popped her head into the shot with a cheerful “Coucou!”  as she leaned in. I asked to take her proper picture; she grabbed a co-worker, and they posed, beaming. They didn’t speak English (though almost all Croatians do), but that didn’t stop us from having a fine time.

I hope the photos below will entice you to put Croatia on your travel list as well. Or maybe you've been, what did you think?

 

 

 
 Game of Thrones characters chat with a photographer in Dubrovnik



A ship on the Games of Thrones set, in the shadow of Fort Lovrijenac

Evening on the main square in Dubrovnik, with the famous Orlando's Column

On a Croatian island, selling sea shells instead of lemonade. This photo cost me a shell, well worth it for that smile.

Strolling the seaside promenade in Split

Inside the ruins of the castle that form the old town in Split

 A market vendor roping in daughter Suzanne with his magic kitchen tools. I bought some too! This charming Croatian has a future on the Home Shopping Network.

Waterfalls at the Plitvice National Park. There are 16 lakes and too many waterfalls to count.

 

Gelato was everywhere!  That's my kind of country.  

 

Salut from Croatia!

 

In the COMMENTS last week: Vicky, I was so touched by the story of your breakfast club, thank you! Of course the lovely Loulou, distant relative of our cat Domino, checked in. (Loulou is currently in Rome, you can follow this divine cat at Living with Loulou). Suzanne, gros bises to Sassy, and Ellie I shall say hello to Chippie for you. MM asks if there are shelters in France. It's complicated: there is an ASPA-like shelter, but they don't believe in neutering which they think it's unnatural, and it's very small--hence, pretty useless. So small local organizations (I work with two of them) try to take up the slack. But we are overwhelmed. French villages often have many feral cats unless someone in the village is into capturing and neutering them. 

House notes:  one of our readers has a beautifully restored house for sale in the Lot-et-Garonne in the Aquitaine. A riverside house with a tobacco barn and pool, at an amazing price!  You can check it out here.

Favorite Reads: Our country had a terrible, bloody, and scary week. Our hearts go out to the police, and to the victims of a few bad cops. Here are two really good articles I read this week which helped to make sense of it: Frank Bruni's Divided by Race, United by Pain and A Week from Hell by Charles M. Blow. And this one was really thought-provoking: David Brooks asks, Are We on the Path to National Ruin? Readers, you may have more readings to contribute.

In the comments Susan mentions that her favorite childhood book was Millions of Cats . It's still around, got to get it for my grandkids!

I'm currently reading a very quirky little mystery which is great fun: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, first in the Flavia de Luce series.

 

 

 

 

 

A Passel of French Cats

It's time for my annual blog about cats. I am passionnée, as they say in France: passionate about cats. And also distressed that we have way too many of them on the planet who are neglected and abandoned, and they are the focus of my volunteer work.

So today, my yearly photo post on French cats. Our lead supermodel is Artistic Cat, who was perfectly posed for a portrait, taken through a village gate.

One lovely thing about France is that pets are allowed most everywhere, and many restaurants and shops have their own. In Cluny the main hotel is on the square, and the sassy calico who has been the hotel’s celebrity resident for years can be found lounging on a sofa in the foyer, working the tables in the restaurant, or sunning outside the front door. There is an automatic sliding door at the entry, and I often see her waiting outside patiently until a guest enters or exits so she can zip through. Below, the sassy girl lollygagging in the gravel on the outdoor dining terrace, by our table:

 

 

And here are two shop cats, taking in some sun:

 

I volunteer at a Swiss neighbor’s “cat hospital”, which she has built in her back yard, as a shelter for abandoned or sick cats with no homes. At the moment several of the cats have a contagious bug, so I’ve temporarily brought home two of the healthy but feral kittens from her shelter, who are now installed in our guest room. Since they’re feral they hiss at the sight of a human, so my job as a foster mother is to socialize them. I must report that after just three days, it’s going well. They’re now fond of cuddles and are sitting in my lap. That is, when they’re not bouncing off the walls, quite literally. I call them the Flying Babycats. They careen about with not a single thought about where they might land after hurling themselves off the bed or dresser at breakneck speed. Fortunately they are so tiny that they are seemingly boneless and unbreakable. Meet the Flying Babycats,  Tigrou and Bolero:

Now all we need is a loving family for these two wild things. Croisez les doigts, s’il vous plâit: cross your fingers!

Finally, I must include a photo of our rescue cat Domino, whom you know from previous posts. Living in Burgundy, Domino is of course fond of testing the wine, and he has quite a good nose.

And for your French lesson du jour, I’ll end on this note: I was talking to a French neighbor about cats the other day, and she said, well you know what they say about cats:  "Les chiens ont des maîtres, les chats ont des valets."  In other words, "dogs have owners, cats have staff.” I was tickled to hear that they have the same funny expression we do!  And as two well-trained valets, we can attest to the truth of it.

 

In the COMMENTS: So many of you had your own French banking stories, I loved hearing them. Glad to hear it’s not just us! 

 

The Bank in the Boulangerie

The French boulangerie is at the heart of the village, the source of all things nourishing. You get your daily bread here, but also a serving of gossip or news, local knowledge, the weather report, or directions if you’re passing through town.

But back to that in a minute. First I want to tell you about French banks. Which, compared with what we are used to, are completely bizarre. We call them The Banks with No Money.

We first learned of this when we went to our own bank to get a check cashed. “Oh no, Madame, we don’t cash checks here.” Hmm. What to do? In the end we had to deposit it in the ATM, then get some cash back, in several withdrawals. Well, OK, that works (as long as the pesky ATM is working).

Then we had friends who went in to deposit some cash in a friend’s account, as a favor to them. The bank wouldn’t deposit it. “But it’s cash!" they said. "We’re not asking for money. We’re giving you cash!” Nope, they wouldn’t take it. Our friends ended up depositing it into their own account, then writing a check to the bank for the same amount. That, it seemed, was OK.

Try to get a loan, and it gets even more more strange. When the bank look at your portfolio, they won’t count your stock holdings as assets. No, those are too unreliable, you must have a guaranteed income large enough to justify the loan. As Ron likes to say, Warren Buffet couldn’t get a loan approved in France (let it be said here that the US could learn something from this conservative stance---we seem to be at the opposite end of the spectrum, and it has not been a success).

We had friends in the above situation, plenty of assets but not full guaranteed, who tried to borrow 100,000€. They had much difficulty but the bank finally agreed. “We will give loan you 100,000€” they finally said. “But you must give us 85,000€ to hold in escrow for the life of the loan”. Note to bank: it's called a LOAN, which means you give the customer the  money up front, not vice versa.

I was chatting with a French antique dealer one day and he explained it to me this way: “French bankers are thieves,”  he said. “You can’t trust them at all.” Cynical for sure, but we began to wonder  when our checks were suddenly all blocked, and people started calling us because our checks had been returned. We quickly call the banker. “Ah oui, Madame, we blocked your account because you lost your checkbook."

“But we haven’t lost our checkbook,” we told them.

“Ah yes, Madame, of course you have, that’s why we’ve blocked your account.”

“But we have our checkbook right here, it's sitting on the desk!"

“No madame, it’s lost.”

Exasperated, I asked, “Do you have some sort of documentation that we lost our checkbook? A letter, a phone call?”

“Mais non, Madame. But we are sure your checkbook is lost.” Needless to say, it took a while to get this sorted.

But here is the most curious aspect of French banking. One day I was in Macon, a good sized city, and I needed change for a 50€ bill, so I stopped into a bank.

“Madame, “ the teller sniffed, “we do not keep MONEY here.”

“But it’s a BANK," I said. "Surely you have 50€? And if not, where would I go to get change?”

“To get change” she said, “you should go to the boulangerie”. 

 

 

Favorite Reads:  I just finished Me Before You , by Jojo Moyes.  I suppose I'm the last person around to read it, but I really enjoyed it. I wish I was in the States, so I could catch the movie!

Department of Miscellany:  I had to share this photo.  Look at what our friend Gerard made, after the lid of a teapot broke. The birds can nest inside, and you can fill the cup with food.  Clever, n'est pas?

In a final note, our hearts go out to our friends in Orlando. Might we do like they do in France, and in Europe? Almost no one has guns (and you certainly couldn't buy an assault weapon legally if you were on a terrorist list), and there are almost no domestic shootings, gun accidents with children, or mass shootings, especially with legally purchased guns. As a result the murder rate is a fraction of what it is in the states. If only we could learn from them!

Slipping and Sliding into Summer

When it’s spring and you’re ready for le soleil, a cool rainy day (or week) can suck the sunlight right out of your soul. We had a mild winter here in Burgundy, but a spring that’s cool and damp enough to soak into your bones and your spirit. The grass looks perky, but our scowling faces do not.

Still, the marché is full of fat, ripe spring veggies begging to be plucked. So when the spring rains come, it’s time to make soup.

My neighbor and great friend Marion made a tomato red pepper soup the other day that was delicious, so I decided to try my own version. I consulted Martha Rose Shulman's recipe as well as Marion's. Now I have a great new soup recipe, which I can serve to company as my summer starter, since it’s delicious hot or cold. It was tasty enough to penetrate our sun-starved spirits.

On this rainy day I served it hot, with cracker crostinis. I spread crackers with a cream cheese/parmesan/garlic/chive dip, and topped that with sliced radishes. A lovely crunch with that supple soup. Come summer I hope to be serving it cold, on a dazzling cloudless day. Here’s wishing you a spring full of sunny skies, and if not, at least a bubbling pot of soup on the stove.

 

RECIPE: Rain or Shine Tomato Red Pepper Soup

I happened to have some tasty spring cherry tomatoes from down south on hand, and fresh tomatoes really amp up the flavor in this soup. But I took the short road and used roasted peppers from a jar, they’re fine for this recipe. For the broth, use chicken or veggie broth or water. I used two parts water to one part wine, plus a teaspoon of Fond de Volaille, which is a sort of powdered bouillon commonly used in France.

This is a no-measuring, make-it-in-a moment recipe.

Chop an onion and just a bit of celery if you have it, and finely chop a couple of small carrots. You can add some heat here by adding a small chopped hot pepper, or if not you can add some heat later.

Sauté the veggies in olive oil for maybe 5 minutes, then add 3 chopped garlic cloves, and cook another minute. Throw in about 1 1/2 cups of coarsely chopped fresh tomatoes and sauté another minute. Add a 12 oz. (340 gr) jar of roasted red peppers, drained, and stir it all around a bit. Then add broth (see above) to cover,  2 cups or more.

At this point I added salt and pepper and a little piment d’espelette for heat. You could add Tabasco, Sriracha, or cayenne pepper to taste. Simmer this for about 15 minutes, taste to correct seasonings. Then throw in a few fresh basil leaves if you have them; cool slightly and then purée it with an immersion blender, or a regular one (if you’re worried you’ve got too much liquid and it will be thin, drain some off and save it; then add back in as needed after you blend it). Add a half a cup or more of crème fraîche or sour cream, and stir well. Re-heat just to a simmer, or chill it and serve it cold, with a swirl of cream and a bit of chopped fresh herbs. Some small croutons would not be a bad addition.

 

In the COMMENTS: Ellen, Julie, Ali and Alix have church bell stories of their own to tell. Suzanne, I've been sneaking out between showers to prune and plant, and I hope it will pay off when the weather "settles", as you say. Stephany, welcome to the blog. And to Natalia: oops, that chocolate disappeared like magic, merci!

One of our commenters this week, Lin Wolff, is an American with a charming English bookstore in the south of France, which is well worth a stop if you are in the neighborhood, the kind of old-fashioned book store you really want to linger in. It's in Valbonne, which is one of my favorite towns in the South.

 

 

 

In the Shadow of A Steeple

Je suis habituée. It means, I’m used to it. I think of this sometimes when I’m working in the garden. I’ve been out weeding and slaving over my plants all morning, and I’ve forgotten to take a moment to survey our sweeping view of the valley.

But there is a view from the front of our house, very different from the one at the back. We live in the shadow of a Romanesque church, built in the 10th century. It stands alone on a grassy knoll, our watchman, the pinnacle of our perched village.

In daylight it looks friendly and lovely, its stone roof and steeple silhouetted against periwinkle sky and pillowy cloud. And if I pass it by sometimes without a glance or a thought, it’s because it is so closely woven into the fabric of the village. Photo right, the front of our house faces the church.

But when darkness comes, it’s different. When I go out into the quiet heart of the village at night (which I so often do, very late, to corral our roaming cat), it never fails to startle me. Bathed in its floodlights, it looms above, dazzling against the dark sky napped with stars. In the dead quiet of a village midnight, it speaks volumes, of the present and the past, of the many centuries that have passed under its stony watch.

Then there are the bells, three rounds of them, which define our day. They start at 7:00 am—not just with seven bells, but with a bright carillon. Traditionally for waking the farmers, but a bit hard on the expats who might like to sleep just a tad later. But the church is a stone’s throw from our bedroom window, so it keeps us industrious, and 7:00 it is.

Working in the garden or around the house, near mid-day I have one ear tuned for the sign that it’s time for every French person’s favorite time of day: lunch. Twelve bells means it's the moment to put work aside to putter about the kitchen, and set a table on the terrace for two.

As evening sets in, we wait for seven bells, quitting time for farmers (and gardeners) and the official French moment to bring out the wine (though we’ve been known on occasion to follow the American it’s-five-o’clock-somewhere rule).

Sometimes, in an off hour, the village is suddenly filled with an insistent clanging, a carillon that plays and repeats, each swing of the heavy bell pealing louder and louder. We pause from our tasks. Did someone in the village die? Or is it a wedding? Or a funeral? We can’t know until we peek through the gates to see what sort of procession is passing by.

La cloche and its ringing: je suis habituée. The rhythm of a French village, shaped by bells and steeples, and now matched by the rhythm of our hearts.

 

In the COMMENTS: One of our comments this week is from Lidy at French Garden House. Francophiles, rush right over to her design blog where you can get ideas, plus buy something from her edited French collection. Then click on her Facebook page to see that her house is on the cover of French Country Style Magazine this month.  Felicitations, Lidy! On Facebook, my old friend Steve Savage talks about fallen chocolate cake, which we must try.  And Myrtile offers another mother's day quote from Victor Hugo: O l'amour d'une mere, pain merveilleux que nul n'oublie. (Oh the love of a mother, a marvelous bread that no one ever forgets).

FAVORITE READS:  My friend Patty recommends Mrs. 'Arris Goes to Paris, what looks to be a charming tale that dates from 1958. Somehow I've missed this one--readers, do you know it?

 

Photos below:  The church viewed from our bedroom window; and on the other side of the hill, the path to the church from the village cemetery.

Bonne Fête, Maman! Mother's Day in France

Mother's Day is this week-end in the states, so I think it's time to look into how les mères are fêted in France.

Turns out that in France, Napoleon started it all in 1806, when he issued an edict to celebrate mothers with large families, in hopes of upping the birth rate. But the fête des mères didn't really get going until after World War I.

Though the date is different, (last Sunday in May), it's celebrated here pretty much like in the states. Moms are appreciated with a festive meal (we hope THEY don't have to cook it, but it happens), and/or a cake. The primary school kids labor over homemade cards and presents for their beloved Maman.

For a little French practice, here are a few things the famous French have to say about mothers, with their translations:

 

Une maman formidable donne toujours une grand-mère exceptionnelle --Jean Gastaldi, French writer.

(A great mother always makes an exceptional grandmother.)

 L'avenir d'un enfant est l'oeuvre de sa mère--Napoleon Bonaparte.

(The future of a child is the work of his mother.)

Le coeur d'une mère est un abîme au fond duquel se trouve toujours le pardon.--Honore de Balzac, 19th century French novelist and playwright.

(The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.)

Tendresse maternelle, toujours se renouvelle.--French proverb

(A mother's affection always renews itself.)

Ma maman est une maman comme toutes les mamans, mais voilà, c'est la mienne.--Mick Micheyl, French actress from the 1960's.

(My mom is a mom like all moms, but there it is, she's mine.)

 

For a perfect Mother's Day dessert, how about a beautiful heart-shaped French Coeur à la Creme?  It's a rich concoction involving lots of heavy cream and cream cheese or sometimes ricotta, served with red fruit or a coulis. Our friend Sam Hoffer over at the My Carolina Kitchen blog tells the story of this dessert and gives us a great recipe. To make it in its traditional heart shape, you need a special special porcelain mold with holes in the bottom (I'm searching for one at the flea markets), but Sam gives you easy options if you don't have a mold. This dessert isn't common in our region, but I mean to try it when I find that mold!

And a very happy mother's day to all!

 

In the COMMENTS: I certainly learned something(s) from our commenters this week about ‘hand pies’. Martin, I had never heard of Jamaican patties, similar to empanadas I think, but often curried. And Anne (of Musics and Markets Tours) mentioned pastillas; they seem to be Spanish in origin, and made with phyllo dough. Several folks mentioned cornish pasties—forgive me for forgetting an English classic! Natalia has a recipe for a delicious turnover, and Christine (of Pen at the Ready) tells us how to make Chilean empanadas. Jackie, I think you are right, a ham and cheese croissant is about as close as it gets, for the French. Francine, thanks for being a sharp-eyed editor.

 

FAVORITE READS:  Very pleased to announce today that our long-term loyal reader Herm Meyer has a book of poetry out!  It's called Pic-poems and Stuff and it's unique because it includes "talking pictures", in other words poems built around and inspired by photos. Have yousat down and relaxed recently with a book of poetry? Me neither, and I'm looking forward to it. Felicitations, Herm!  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was also delighted to discover that our reader Jackie Mancuso is a book designer and author and has done a children's picture book about her “expat” dog Hudson adapting to life in France. It’s called Paris-Chien: Adventures of an Ex-Pat Dog. What fun! A second book is called Hudson in Provence (A Paris-Chien Adventure) .  These are going to my grandkids toute de suite!

 

 

 

An international Dish That is Anything but French

Most every culinary culture has a version of this: something a southerner might call a ‘hand pie’, or a savory turnover. Pastry or dough, wrapped around something delicious and usually baked, or maybe fried, that you eat with your hands. In Italy, it’s a calzone; in Spain, an empanada; a burrito in Mexico; a pastel in Portugal.

In France, non, merci. The French have a horror of eating with their fingers. There is le sandwich, but even that is eaten neatly, wrapped in parchment paper. Le hamburger, newly popular, is generally attacked with a knife and fork, as is pizza. They will wrap a filet en croûte and bake it, but that’s formal, knife and fork food.

I love a good savory empanada or turnover or hand pie, however. Not only are they delicious and fun to eat, but they can also be whipped up in no time without a recipe, with whatever’s handy, which is my favorite way to cook. They’re quick, unless you choose to make your own pastry, in which case I am in awe of your talents. If, like me, you are inclined to cheat, buy the best. In the states I like Pillsbury pie dough that you just unroll. In France I use use pâte feuilletée, pur beurre (puff pastry made with butter). You can make a meat version or a vegetarian one, and if you include a dipping sauce, it’s really special.

Like this week. I was in my usual, “Oops-it’s-6pm-and-I-don’t-have-a-dinner-plan” mode. In the fridge I had a leftover pork chop and a bit of cooked squash, so I made what you might call an Italian empanada. I sautéed some onions and garlic with a finely chopped carrot, then added some white beans and cooked it all down a bit. Then in went the squash, and a bit of baby spinach I had on hand.

We are a mixed household (meat-eating, and not). So I put half of the filling on a round piecrust, topped it with a bit of cheese, and folded it over. I crimped the edges, and my vegetarian version was done. I then stirred the chopped pork into the rest of the filling, and repeated the process on the other round of pie crust, for the carnivore edition. I baked them at 400 for about 15-20 minutes. We dipped them into a warmed marina sauce. Dinner for two, and lunch for tomorrow too!

Of course you could do a Spanish take, with red or black beans and some spices, and dip it in salsa. Or fill it with cooked meat and whatever veggies you like. Shrimp or fish would work too—well, the possibilities are endless. You don’t want your filling to be too liquid, or it will be soggy; but not too dry, either (mine looked a bit dry so I napped it with olive oil).

So how can we French-up our hand pies? I’m thinking of filling one with a mixture of mushrooms, sautéed with garlic and parsley, and just a splash of soy sauce, wrapped in puff pastry. Shall we dip it in a little sauce béarnaise? I’d better get out the silverware, though, if my French friends are around!

 

In the COMMENTS: Jan, love your image of finding raspberries while horseback-riding, and yours too, Vicky, of strawberries on the trail. Diane, I've had some wicked encounters with nettles in France, and I won't be gathering any! Noreen, you are the kind of cook we like, that chicken dish sounds wonderful. Cynthia tells us about cress gathering, Leslie has a great blog on gardening to visit, and thanks to Ellie I've checked out the May Victoria Magazine article on Burgundy. Ami, I share your mushroom gathering phobia, though I've done it and survived. Bobby and Diane, happy French honeymooning in Burgundy, and Paula, good luck with your move to France!

Check out the blogs of some of our commenters this week: Speaking of France, Mary James Dishes it Out, VA de Pintor, Process Artist, Living with Loulou, Charleston Today, The French Elements, Pen at the Ready.

 

Favorite Reads:  Congratulations to Natalia, who won our book giveaway of Emily Dilling's My Paris Market Cookbook: A Culinary Tour of French Flavors and Seasonal Recipes. And speaking of cooking, if you’re a meat eater, you might want to read the New York Times article this week by Nicolas Kristof, Animal Cruelty or the Price of Dinner?. In which he makes the point that, while we may be indignant at the abuse of a dog, we buy chicken that’s been scalded live in boiling water, or endured other atrocities—and is probably filled with chemicals you’d never want to put in your body. It’s worth your consideration.  

 

A Paris Cookbook Author Takes Us Foraging

When I first came across Emily Dilling's gorgeous book, My Paris Market Cookbook: A Culinary Tour of French Flavors and Seasonal Recipes, I knew she was a kindred spirit. Emily moved to France from California to explore the markets of Paris, and later moved to the French countryside. We're honored to have her as our guest blogger this week.

 

Springtime Foraging in the Loir-et-Cher

by Emily Dilling

 

When I lived in Paris I spent a lot of time shopping. Not the kind of shopping you may think of when you think of Paris- I wasn't shopping for clothes, or shoes, or antique books along the banks of the Seine. What I spent most of my time each week doing was shopping for food (full disclosure: I also spent a lot of time seeking out great beer and wine, too).

Because the origins of my food (and wine and beer!) are important to me and because I try to always support local producers, I planned my days around where to get the best quality produce and groceries. I would work my schedule around that of my neighborhood market, the craft beer store, the natural wine cave and my favorite small shops- the fromagerie, the Italian deli, and the fishmonger, to name a few. I am lucky to have a flexible schedule given the nature of my work and I often wonder how people balance full time jobs AND food shopping in Paris. The erratic hours, the fact that the markets happen in the morning, the time to get from one side of town to the other in order to get the best bread, and not the just ok bread, it's a full time job itself.

Fortunately, food is my job and shopping for it is part of the fun. Though I must admit that I think the errands that take over your day and the overall stress of city living are part of the reason I decided to leave Paris and move to the countryside. After 10 years living in the city, a city I still love very much, I was ready for the calmness of the countryside. The change of pace didn't change my commitment to eating locally and seasonally and as soon as I was settled into my new home I started to look into the best places to shop for food in the area.

The local market and co-op were obvious options, but the most surprising- and convenient- spot for me to faire mes courses ended up being right outside my front door! Apparently the slow pace of country life extended itself as far as food shopping, as I regularly found myself foraging in fields and forests for the ingredients for my dinner.

Fall foraging brought mushrooms- chantrelles and black trumpets in our region- as well as walnuts that fell on their own accord from a large tree in my backyard. Winter brought with it wild mâche, or lamb's lettuce, and the beginnings of spring onions- which showed up early due to this year's mild weather. I quickly had foraging fever- creating new recipes around things I could find in my backyard or in the nearby biodynamically cultivated grapevines. Walnut cakes, garlicky mushroom sautés, a mâche salad cosied up to some oeufs mayonnaises- these became common meals served in my country house. I love the fleetingness of foraging, how it makes you truly appreciate the changing of the seasons and the edible treasures of each time of the year.

Now spring is upon us, and with its arrival comes a whole new bounty of wild things to put on your plate. The spring onions have reached maturity and now can be cajoled out of the ground to reveal lovely little pearl-like onion bulbs that taste great thrown on a grill or chopped up and sprinkled over fresh eggs. The nettles are at their pre-flowering prime and will soon take over ever yard and field in sight. If you are careful to pinch off the topmost tuft of leaves- touching the stem and not the tops of the leaves- you can manage to avoid the “stinging” and just get the nettle. Another new arrival is ail des ours, or wild garlic, whose bright, tender leaves can be made into a delicious pesto.

Soon there will be wild strawberries bringing ruby red spots to lush green pastures, they will be accompanied by dandelion leaves and all sorts of edible flowers. By the time I've run out of recipes for those, bright red cherries will be ripening overhead and a new culinary conquest will begin. Sometimes I miss the baskets of walnuts that filled themselves when left under the tree. Sometimes in the winter it feels like the days of wild strawberries will never come. Foraging not only makes you love, and sometimes long for, a particular time of year- it also makes you take the time to appreciate the present. While I can't wait for fresh cherry pies and roasted cherries with creamy cheeses and all tha ways my imagination will wander with the next ingredients that nature offers up- I also know that, at any given time, I can go for a walk in the woods and come back with dinner.

 

To learn more about Emily, and get some great recipes and tips, go to her blog, Paris Paysanne.  And don't forget to order her book, My Paris Market Cookbook: A Culinary Tour of French Flavors and Seasonal Recipes.

Or better yet, you can WIN a copy with our BOOK GIVEAWAY this week! Anyone who leaves a comment on this post this week will automatically be entered into a random drawing to win a copy (drawing will be on April 15th, and winner announced in the next post). 

In the COMMENTS:  Mary-Anne, I'm still looking for one of those wicker market baskets! The rolling fabric one I have is foldable and practical, but not the least bit romantic. It seems I have lots of company, with my Basket Probation. Mariella, we hope to be sitting in the sun with you very soon at the Cluny marché.  Natalia, well put: "Je suis Brussels, and further words are inadequate."  How we hope it will be the last incident, but I fear we are in for more. And hello to my cousin Ann, thanks for checking in!

 

Come along to the Saturday Cluny Market

The medieval city of Cluny has one of the best Saturday markets in southern Burgundy.  We never miss it. It's nearly spring, bright and sunny even if it is a bit chilly, and the market is gearing up for the season. Come along with me today, for a typical Saturday morning at le marché de Cluny.  Photo left: I always pick up a little something for the garden, from monsieur who grows the annuals. Who has an Italian accent and a very polite manner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On arrive: Market day is busy, as you see. The whole center of town is closed off for the morning. 

 

First stop, the veggie stands.  Everyone has their favorite stand. I like the farm family, parents with kids in tow who grow every single thing they sell; and the bio (organic) stand, with le lait, le fromage, le yaourt, and les oeufs that they produce. 

Then to la boulangerie. I'd really like to buy one each of these...

But instead I get one of these:

Spotted these fun outdoor cushions---they may have to come home with me!

These are my weakness. I love the green and blue one, but Ron has put me on Basket Probation.

Meanwhile, at the Bar du Nord, Ron and the neighbors are sipping their first expresso. Later in the morning they'll switch to une bière, or un petit blanc (white wine). For me, un chocolat chaud. We know the waiters well enough to get les bises (kisses on both cheeks). Below, Ron and friend Monty peruse le journal with their first coffee, supervised by Bugs himself.

If your bags are too heavy, Madame is there every week with her donkey to help out.

Lunch with the gang, then time to head home.  Ahead of me, Madame has a bit of planting to do (and I'm coveting her basket). 

Heading home after a great morning!

In the COMMENTS: Anja, welcome to the blog! Y'all will for sure want to check out Anja's own blog called DasBrooklyn. Anja is a German baker living in Brooklyn, and boy do her recipes look yummy! Dani and Julie, you are so right about the walking.  A French friend stopped by and asked me to go for a walk with her--I got home four hours later! And to my Furman sister, no the French don't diet, and it may be time for another post on that subject. Natalia, "more days behind than ahead", I'm afraid that's quite true for me too.  What better way to seize the day than to make that decadent quiche you suggested! (or Harriet, with your chocolate cake). Katy, that is the most unusual quiche I've ever heard of, and no wonder it's famous, it sounds delicious. Sam and Peter, my husband always says he hopes folks who visit us will take away one little French thing home with them, to better their lifestyle---maybe a glass of white wine with lunch, a leisurely breakfast, or a good expresso machine!

 

A happy Easter to all, and special prayers for the victims of terrorism in Brussels and their families and friends, with great sadness for the horror they have endured.

 

The Enviable French Lifestyle, and How You can Get it

Those French—they really know how to live! The French lifestyle is famous the world over. Truly, there is no “rat race” here. It’s funny, I get right with the French program when I’m in France, but back in the US, I slip back into my harried ways!

So let’s look at 8 ways we can soak up some of that great French lifestyle:

Cherish your leisure time.

We often live to work, while the French work to live.

Be with family, with friends, get outdoors. The concept of not using every single minute of your annual leave would be completely foreign here in France.

Don’t eat: Dine

Life in France revolves around the pleasures of the table. Meals, including breakfast, are long and relaxed and sociable. No snacking, s’il vous plâit, because its better to be really hungry. Anticipation is everything!

Dine en pleine air

The French will dine outside at home or at a restaurant, whenever they possibly can.

Drink good wine

The French have a deep appreciation of, and understanding of, fine wine. Up your quality if you can, and drink it often, in moderation.

Have a Cheese Plate 

Un plâteau de fromage, always served after the meal, is one of the great traditions of dining in France. Serve two or three cheeses with some good bread.

Appreciate and revere beauty and good taste

Just one example, albeit a bit of a historical one: at any flea market, you’ll find tons of elegant, artfully embroidered linens. That’s because French women traditionally embellished everything from sheets to towels to tablecloths. It’s all about celebrating the art of living.

Take a Walk with Your Family

It’s a Sunday tradition: after the big Sunday meal, everyone, from Gram to toddlers, take a long stroll together. You see them on country roads, you see them in cities.

Be a good conversationist

The French LOVE to talk! The food at all these leisurely meals is important, but so is debate, discussion, and laughter. Put down the cell phone, raise your glass, and start the conversation.

And let’s keep the conversation going—what tips do you have for adopting the French lifestyle?  And why not up your lunch game to start, by making this easy French quiche. Even easier if you have some leftover veggies, ready to add.

 

 

RECIPE: Quiche, the French Way

I saw a recipe the other day for a deep dish quiche, made in a cheesecake pan.  The French do the opposite: they make their quiches in the thinnest of tart pans. 

If making the quiche in a tart pan with removable bottom, pre-bake the crust with pie weights. Then before you fill it, brush with some of the filling and bake again for 5 or 10 minutes more, to seal it. This prevents it from leaking in the oven, but I put a sheet pan under it, just in case.

I like to fill my quiche with vegetables and fresh herbs, but get creative! Smoked salmon is a frequent and interesting addition to French quiches. Photo right:  Pile in the veggies as a base for a healthy and delicious quiche.

 I am sorry to say I used a prepared crust, and I'm dead impressed if you make your own.  Pillsbury makes a good one in the states, you just unroll and go.  In France, try a pâte brisée. So here we go:

• 1 piecrust, homemade or store-bought
• Any cooked veggies you like, and/or cooked meat or fish (for this one I sautéed some squash, onions, red peppers, and scallions)
• 1/2 cup of cheese, your choice; I used a mixture of white cheddar and parmesan. Gruyère is the classic.
• 3 eggs
• 1 1/2  cup milk
• a dash of nutmeg and cayenne pepper
• a handful of fresh herbs, if desired
• Pre-heat over to 375. Mix eggs, milk and spices, plus salt and pepper to taste.

Line the pie crust with foil, add pie weights or rice.  Bake about 10 minutes; don't let it get too brown.  Remove weights and foil; brush with egg mixture.  Cook 5 to 10 minutes more, or until light golden brown.  Check often.

Add sautéed vegetables to the pie. Top with grated cheese.  Pour egg mixture over all.  Bake for about 30 minutes, or until center is set and it starts to puff and turn golden.

 

In the COMMENTS:  Natalia and Suzanne have refinements on our Better Than Sex cake, so be sure to check! 

 

How the French Talk About Sex

Ah, l’amour! “The French, they love Love”, as our friend George always says with a flourish, in his best fake French accent."

My husband is fond of quoting an astute observation from Nicole, who is French teacher to us all: “Americans can’t talk about sex, and the French can’t talk about money.” In France it is quite impolite to talk about income, your investments, or even your career unless you know the person well. Ostentatious displays of wealth are seen as très gauche. Sex, however, may be more freely discussed.  Photo left: Spotted at a French flea market, I believe this is an old-fashioned chamber pot, but with a festive theme.

So today, we WILL talk about sex, in honor of Valentine's Day this month. Or rather, we will talk about how the French talk about sex.

This post was inspired by an article in the Local (an e-zine for French expats, in English), called French Expressions for Sex you Won’t Find in Your Dictionary. As you might guess, many are quite amusing.

You will not be surprised to learn that many of the French “sexpressions” revolve around food. Hey, let’s dip the biscuit, Baby! That’s tremper le biscuit, in French. Well anyway the Local translated it as ‘dip the biscuit’; a more correct translation is to 'dunk the cookie', but that doesn’t rise up to the same level of nuance.

I tried to think of some American expressions for sex that involve food. Mae West’s famous comment leaps into the mind: “Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?”.

I asked my expat friends in France to offer up some sexpressions from their native tongues. Some of what they sent is of questionable appropriateness to be printed here (including a photo, sent by a Dutch friend, of a woman who has incorporated condoms into her hairstyle. Don’t ask). But one you should know about, in the faux amis category, if you go to England: If you ask a Brit if they’d like to shag, you will be talking about a dance, but they will be thinking of something more, ahem, intimate.

Vive l’amour, and happy (belated) Valentine’s Day!

RECIPE: Better-Than-Sex Chocolate Cake, from Julia Child

This is a nearly flourless chocolate almond cake which I’ve been making sort of forever (Madame Child calls it Gâteau Reine de Saba). It’s from her first cookbook. It’s lighter than most flourless chocolate cakes and has that lovely hint of almond. The top often cracks; doesn't matter, it's still the best chocolate cake ever. The only tricky part of the recipe is the baking. You have to take it out at just the right time, so check carefully. You could frost it, but to me it needs no adornment except perhaps a dollop of whipped cream. Photo left by Justine Bursoni.

 

4 oz. (110 gr) semi-sweet chocolate
2 tablespoons espresso, brandy, or rum
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar, plus 2 tablespoons
3 eggs, separated
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
a pinch of salt
1/3 cup almonds (add  to blender with 2 tablespoons of sugar and blend until finely
ground)
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 cup cake flour

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Set the oven rack in lower middle level. Butter and flour an 8” cake pan.

In a saucepan over low heat, melt the chocolate in the coffee or liquor. Set aside. In a mixing bowl, cream butter. When soft and fluffy, add sugar and beat 1 minute. Beat in egg yolks until well blended.

In another bowl, beat egg whites until foamy. Beat in cream of tartar and salt and continue beating until soft peaks are formed. Gradually beat in 2 tablespoons sugar and continue beating until stiff, shiny peaks are formed. Blend melted chocolate mixture into yolk mixture, then add almonds and almond extract.

Delicately fold in a third of the remaining whites and when partially blended, sift a third of the flour over it, and continue folding. Alternate rapidly with more egg whites and more flour until all egg whites and flour are incorporated.
Turn batter into prepared pan, tilting it to get it evenly distributed. Bake 25 minutes but start checking at 20.
Cake is done when puffed to the top and a toothpick inserted 2 to 3 inches from edge comes out clean. The center should move slightly when the pan is gently shaken.

Remove pan to a rack and let cool 15 minutes. Unmold onto rack.  Let cool 2 hours before storing. To serve garnish with berries, almonds, whipped cream, or powdered sugar.

In the COMMENTS: Frank, I love the Camenbert story!  And see what Ralphe, who is French, has to say about cutting cheese.

Favorite Reads: If you haven’t been reading The Local, my dear Francophiles, you are missing out. It is France's news in English, plus lots of features for expats. Another good one, in a similar vein, is The Connexion.

My friend Sandi, an avid reader, kindly sent me a list of some  interesting books she's dipping in to, and several have a French theme.  Here are some to try:  Some Girls, Some Hats and Hitler: A True Love Story Rediscovered, by Trudi Kanter; Paris Was Ours: Writers Reflect on the City of Light, by  Penelope Rowlands; and True Pleasures: A Memoir of Women in Paris, by Lucinda Holdforth.  Maybe some of you have read them, and can offer a review?

To “Couper le Fromage”, Know your Rules!

I was several years into our French adventure when I discovered to my horror, that there were les règles de politesse (rules of politeness) which had completely escaped me. Oh la la, I’d been an ugly American all that time!

Of course I should have realized, that in the land of liberté, egalité, fraternité, one must share the prime parts of the cheese.

Who knew that cheese, even slices, had prime parts? But indeed they do. And when there’s a plâteau de fromage, you must not be a greedy goat and take the best pieces for yourself (as I’d been unwittingly doing for years).

So stay with me, Francophiles, this is going to be complex.

First of all, there is the rind and there is the dough. Your role is to not leave the rind for the last person; the dough should be distributed as evenly as possible. For info, the taste gets stronger as it gets closer to the rind. This means any small round cheese, such as a Camembert, should be cut into wedges, so each person gets all the flavors.

Easy enough. But if a wedge from a large round is served on a platter, like a big slice of brie, the rules change. In this case, the first cutter slices off the nose, but at an angle, never straight. The next person cuts a diagonal slice, making a smaller wedge. Subsequent diners cut perpendicular to the rind. Got it?

But what if the slice is laid on its end, like a big slice of Roquefort? In that case, cut each dough corner off at an angle. Then cut in slices perpendicular to the rind.

Logs are cut in parallel slices, but you may remove the end first if there is a thick rind. Pyramidal and square shapes should be cut like a cake. There are additional acceptable ways to cut a square cheese, too complicated and mathematical to cover here.

Runny cheeses in a round box, such as époisse, are dipped out with a spoon, and eating the rind is optional.

Firm cheeses, usually laid flat in a rectangle, are cut in slices lengthwise if rind is only on one end, crosswise if rind runs along parallel edges.

Now, you cheese gluttons, get out there and eat some fromage!

 

Many thanks to French Today and to Acup-le blog for some of the tips and illustrations.

Some Ideas for a Great French Cheese Platter:  Be sure to serve cheeses at room temperature, and  serve them after dinner, not before. Choose a balance of flavors and textures: firm and soft cheeses, sharp and mild. Three or four is a good number.  Serve with a garnish of fruit and/or something to spread on top: walnuts soaked in honey, jams, or chutney.  For an alternative to the plâteau de fromage, try serving a special goat cheese: see my post called Goats on a Log.

 

In the COMMENTS: Debbie, Ann, Judy, and Connie have all been to Le Rochepot, and yes Connie, let's all chip in and buy the place! Kiki, I was sorry I missed that Rick Steves show on Burgundy, but then I found this on Youtube: Rick Steves Burgundy: Profoundly French.  Thanks for the tip!