Nearly half a century ago, I ate the most simple of chocolate puddings. The pudding itself was delicious but what really captured my imagination was what it was served in – a tiny white pot with its own lid, decorated with gold trim. It was 19th century porcelain and part of a set of eight little pots with a matching porcelain tray. Nicole, my French friend who had cooked the pudding, told me they were called “petit pots de crème au chocolat” and were made specifically for ‘crème au chocolat’. Continue reading “Petits Pots de Creme au Chocolat – memories of summers on the Normandy coast”
It’s the middle of May. In London the sun makes a rare appearance and then disappears off again behind thick white cloud to be replaced by soft spring rain. Man disappears as well, off to the sunnier climes of East Africa for six weeks, leaving Dog disorientated and searching the house for the missing part of his pack. Dog is not the only one a bit lost. After forty years of planning meals for a full house of four children and four (successive) partners, I am not used to cooking for one, never mind eating on my own. Continue reading “The Art Of Eating Solo”
Spring time is the season for ‘respounchous’ here in the south west of France. There were a few bunches of them for sale in the market last Saturday but it only takes an hour or two of foraging in the wooded lanes to gather enough respounchous for a light lunch. So, in need of a break from my computer, I decided to go hunting for respounchous… Continue reading “Foraging In Occitanie – wild green weeds”
Last week’s Proustian post on asparagus inspired us to come up with our own Proust Quiz on seasons and seasonal food. It’s a theme we are both passionate about, but our answers below reveal that we approach the subject from very different geographical points in the hemisphere… Continue reading “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter – seasonal rhymes and reasons”
After nearly twenty years of travelling that took my parents from post-war Germany via colonial East Africa to New Zealand, my family finally put down roots in a large ramshackle farmhouse in Buckinghamshire, surrounded by barns, old pigsties, and a huge overgrown garden. When we moved in – it was the summer of ’68 – the flower beds were rampant with nettles and bindweed except for one, which was filled with the long feathery fronds of summer asparagus plants gone to seed.
I had never seen an asparagus plant, let alone tasted asparagus, but it became one of our favourite spring vegetables. My younger sister and I were fascinated by the curious smell asparagus gave to our pee after eating it, but that didn’t put us off – it was just too delicious! My mother would cook the freshly-picked asparagus in the wire baskets of her pressure cooker (without the lid!) and we’d eat them with a simple mix of butter, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Perfection! Or so I thought – until, in my late teens, I ate asparagus served with Hollandaise sauce in France. To this day, it remains one of my favourite ways to serve asparagus.
Do you feel that bread is ‘the staff of life’, an essential part of your diet? In Europe we’re a ‘grain’ culture, part of the 35% of the world’s population who depend on wheat as a staple food. In other countries with different climates, different grains are used. Continue reading “Our Daily Bread – simple, no fuss bread rolls”
What a week! Politically I mean. Are you as exhausted by politics as I am? Theresa May calls a snap General Election in the UK, leaving many people not knowing who they will vote for. And by the time this post is published, the French will be going to the polls to vote for their next President. There doesn’t seem to be a clear winner from any of their parties, so the French are in for a cliff hanger until May 7th. Anyway, with this political and meteorological chill in the air on both sides of the Channel, my thoughts turn to comfort food and going back to my roots. Continue reading “Comfort Food – turning to one’s roots”
It was an early April morning, light cloud sitting over the Seine masked the attempt of the sun to break through. A winter’s chill still lingered in the depths of the side streets as we headed towards the light of the river. We were in need of caffeine. Continue reading “Why Is French Food So Brown?”
Yesterday was one of those perfect sunny spring days, and at the Saturday morning market I was too tempted by the strawberries on Jean-Pierre’s stall. Continue reading “Strawberries With A French Twist – and vice versa”
I am an addict of sheep cheese. My passion for it began years ago in southern Spain with the discovery of manchego, a hard cheese produced from the milk of Manchega sheep, from La Mancha. Continue reading “The Simplest of Salads – my favourite weekday lunch”