My job frequently requires me to eat elaborate three-course meals at lunch and dinner several days in a row, and I am grateful when I come across a restaurant that acts as a kind of cleansing interlude, replenishing my body with crunchy vegetables and wholesome grains…
Nonstop sunshine, rustic cakes made with chestnut flour, honey tasting of sun-scorched wild herbs, sausages of boar and donkey: these are a few of the things I expected to find in Corsica, and over the course of the weekend more than one of these preconceived ideas would prove to be false.
Nearly every French pastry shop has its cloud-like meringues sitting in a puffy heap somewhere near the window, but they often seem to be more of a decoration than something that people actually eat.
Lille’s many charms – great beer, friendly people, a freshly restored historic center – are not necessarily obvious on a Sunday, when shops and restaurants pull down their shutters for families to gather round a steaming pot ofcarbonnade flamande, beef cooked in beer until caramelized, or share a potjevleesch, an assortment of jellied meats.
Of the dozens of olive varieties grown in Provence, the caillette – informally known as the Niçoise olive – is perhaps the most beautiful and subtle.
If I had to compile a list of things I might potentially need for the house, “another kitchen appliance” would definitely not be on it.
I have always taken New Year’s resolutions very seriously. This year, though, too many are whirling around in my head: Blog more often. Listen to my acccountant. Start each day with sun salutations. Meditate. See more of nature. Teach my son to cook. Let my friends know how much I appreciate them.
Though I wouldn’t describe myself as skinny, some people do think I’m a little too slim to be credible as a cook, particularly in a country whose people are known for slathering butter on everything from baguette to radishes…
A few months ago, my son Sam declared himself a vegetarian. Now, if we lived in California this might not sound unusual, but this is France, proud land of steak-frites and saucisson, andouillette and tête de veau.
It was potatoes that first cemented my friendship with Franck Cerutti, chef for ten years at Alain Ducasse’s Louis XV restaurant in Monaco…