Feasting on Frenchness
It's this newsletter's 6th birthday and some ideas for celebrating all we love about France, with recipes, serving suggestions and shopping inspiration for your next trip.
Joyeux anniversaire to the France Traveller newsletter! A grand merci to all those who have been subscribers since the start, when it was going out via Mailchimp, and a warm welcome to those who have joined the gang since then. While the French themselves set up their fireworks and enjoy a day off today for le 14 juillet, it’s also a day when the France-loving community come together to celebrate all the things we love about the country. I have been enjoying the posts on Substack Notes and Instagram, where I posted a selection of very random images of stolen moments in France, with a bleu, blanc et rouge theme.
For us, here in Gloucestershire, I invited some friends over to have a feast inspired by Amuse Bouche and we duly ate our way around a virtual France on the table. Here are some of the things we had, which might provide some ideas if you are planning a French feast soon:
Chicory leaf boats
The Brits aren’t so keen on endives as our northern French pals, but I learned so much about how versatile chicory leaves can be for serving an ‘apero’. You can fill them with all kinds of foods, such as rillettes, blue cheese and pear (sprinkled with toasted walnuts), or other dips. This time, I discovered a wonderful fresh combination that was welcome in the heat: smoked salmon, pink grapefruit, shallot, chives and olive oil (with thanks to this recipe from endive producers themselves). This little explanation from the book helps explain the names we give this product, in case you’re wondering…
When you’re talking about chicory or endive, it can get a little confusing: what we British call chicory is generally the white, bitter-leaf vegetable that grows in the ‘hungry gap’, early in the year after the last winter crops are finished but before the new season fruit and vegetables arrive. The Americans call this endive, and so do the French. What the French call chicorée (and the British also call chicory, just to really confuse things) is chicory root, from which the chicory plant grows, which is served as a coffee substitute and added as a flavour to pâtisserie and desserts. Brits also call a kind of curly bitter lettuce endive, but that’s not what I mean here. We really should have just adopted the brilliant Belgian word for it – witloof – and made our lives easier, but here we are.
Corsican charcuterie
For the charcuterie, we virtually travelled to the other end of France entirely, and crossed the sea to Corsica. I have eaten a LOT of charcuterie in France and the best-ever is, I believe, in Corsica. But you have to know where to look for the proper stuff, because there are imposters. However, having learned what to look for when on the island, I was at an advantage at the Salon d’Agriculture where I bought a couple of mortgage-requiring cuts. We scoffed the lonzu earlier this year, but had the coppa as part of our feast. One of my friends said ‘you know when it’s good when the fat is just as tasty as the meat - it just melts in your mouth’.
Tour de France de fromage
For my trip to London last week, I went to the slightly mad effort of bringing a cool bag and cool blocks so that the cheese I bought at La Fromagerie would survive the evening in a cloakroom of a press event, and then the two-hour train home (I was delighted to have succeeded in getting it back safely). I felt like a kid in a sweetshop when choosing, especially as we’re not able to bring cheese back from France at the moment, and my last few trips have been too quick for any fromagerie visits. Alongside a British goat’s cheese I bought locally, I served a wonderful summer Comté which gave us a taste of Eastern France. I was also delighted to see the Coeur de Normande, which is like a Neufchatel from Normandy, so I had to have that after interviewing the producer for this article. And for another little visit to Corsica, the Fleur de Maquis just takes you straight into the island’s hills, with its wild herbs. And finally, we needed a blue so I chose a favourite - Fourme d’Ambert from the Auvergne, for its creamy and more gentle flavour (compared to other blues). We are lucky to have a French bakery near us, so I was even able to slice up some baguettes made by a Frenchman! Cornichons also obligatory, along with some wonderful condiments.
Condiments
Some cheese-lovers are purists and don’t want anything to interrupt the experience of the cheese, and I completely understand how a chutney might get in the way of tasting the terroir of a cheese. However, since I discovered the Holy Communion of top notch camembert and calvados jelly, I am 100% a condiment fan. On Saturday, we had the calvados jelly with the Coeur de Normande (though I will admit it is better with camembert), and I also brought out treasured jars of blackcurrant ketchup from the producer Fruirouges in Burgundy (to be fair it is better on a burger than with cheese, but I wanted my friends to try it), and a very special jar of ‘Caviar de Bar-le-Duc’. I very much enjoyed visiting the only remaining producer of this incredible redcurrant and whitecurrant jelly in Lorraine when researching Amuse Bouche. It is made with a technique that dates from the 14th century and each currant is deseeded with the quill of a goose feather. Mary Queen of Scots is said to have been a fan. And then there are cornichons. I love a cornichon so much that I even originally wrote a little ode to them (with apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning) for my book, but my editor took it out. He was probably right.
Ode to the Cornichon
How do I love thee, little pickled cucumbers, let me count the ways.
I love thee on a charcuterie board, with saucisses, and hams and terrine.
I love thee on a cheese board where your vinegar cuts through creamy brie.
I love thee with sticky rillettes and in jambon-emmental-beurre baguettes,
and in the mountains your pickley panache matches fondue and raclette.
I love thee in Sauce Gribiche, where your texture gives it bite.
And I love thee from the jar, after dark, lit only by the fridge light.
Tarte aux Pralines from Lyon
And for dessert, I couldn’t decide between a tarte aux pralines and chocolate mousse studded with Griottines (cherries in kirsch from north of Burgundy) so I made both. The tart was inspired by my trip to Lyon two weeks ago, when I bought a bag of the local pralines. These feature in many different products throughout the city, such as the praluline from Pralus, but most common is the tarte aux pralines. I was curious to see how the bright pink sugar coating would melt down into the crème fraîche for the filling and was sceptical that it would set in time, but it all worked out fine and was really delicious too. I made a gluten-free tart case which was a bit thicker than the ones you find in Lyon, but it worked out well as it countered the sweetness of the filling.
Bon appétit!
Whether you’re feasting French style today or just dreaming of your next French meal, I wish you a very bonnes fêtes! There is a whole lot more inspiration to be found in the pages of Amuse Bouche: How to Eat Your Way Around France, and it contains more than 200 stories about France’s regional specialities, from the sweetest strawberries in Brittany to the crunchiest salade niçoise (strictly no potatoes or beans!). It also shows you how to find them, people who cooks them best in the regions and how you can use their stories to learn about history, culture, traditions and the landscape.
Until next time, bon voyage et bon appétit! This is a free post to mark the special date, but there is so much more discover with a paid subscription, so do consider supporting my writing by upgrading.
Carolyn x
Ode to a cornichon: classic! 👏👏👏
Oh my goodness, what a gorgeous spread! I need to get my hands on some of those condiments too.