bleudauvergne

I'm a great fan of chicken livers, which are really cheap. They make excellent pates and spreads when sauteed in a bit of duck fat, simply seasoned and pureed with a little bit of leftover wine. This is the basis for all kinds of great terrines that you can mix together and press into ramekins, serving them at aperetif. Chicken livers are wonderful simply seared and served on a mound of braised celery root. They are great in rice (aka dirty rice). Another cheap favorite is root vegetables of any kind. Carrots, celery root, black turnips, rutabagas, potatoes. These are the basis of a fabulous winter soup. Sometimes a rutabaga bacon soup is the only thing that will hit the spot.

The canal was special to me because it was a calm and pretty area in the midst of a whole lot of traffic and activity. It was nice to stop on the bridge or stop in the park at the end from time to time. Just across the canal and a couple of blocks down, you have the Place de la Republique, which is a flurry of traffic, open space, activity and movement, and the promise of all of the boulevards that radiate from it. Living just by the canal was nice because the vegetation and the water just made it seem calm and a nice contrast to what lay beyond.

When we were in Paris, our apartment was right next to the canal between Metros Republique and Goncourt. I did a lot of my shopping along up hill along the Rue Temple de Faubourg. There's a nice poissonnerie, some individual stalls and shops selling fruits, etc, many small African shops selling beans and dried goods... In the other direction towards Place Republique there is a Picard if you walk towards Place Republique, take a right once you've crossed the canal and proceed about a block. I think either Tuesdays or Thursdays was the market that takes place on the park there, you'll be right near there. At the time I was doing a good bit of shopping with the Chinese merchants because at least I could speak their language! The further up the hill you walk on rue de Temple de Fauborg, the closer you'll get to the Chinese shops in that area.

I made a "Galette des Rois" for my French class when I was in High school - it was not even close to the real thing (more like a sponge cake) and instead of the feve, I put a white navy bean in it - thank goodness no one cracked a tooth.

Nine days late. I hereby accept that this entry will not be considered in the running for the Golden Gully. Hey my life motto is: Better late than never. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You can tell more about a man by looking into his fridge than looking into his eyes. Not that looking into his eyes ever reveals anything. Margaret is in the car on the way home, dangerously barreling north on the interstate. The wind is roaring through the open windows and in the vortex she is trying to shake the sadness. Her hands are still trembling. Of course waking up in a strange room isn’t anything new. The smell of dirty sheets and stale cigarettes is pretty much normal. Stumbling to the kitchen in stilettos to make breakfast in her skivvies to tease and play domestic type is a surefire probability. Finding one can of Budweiser attached to the six-pack holder, a couple of ageless eggs and a takeout box containing mystery meat? That’s basically what she expects. So how could she have been so wrong about the guy’s fridge? She inhales deeply on the cigarette, not her brand, flips the turn signal, and closes the windows. In one hour and 40 minutes time, Margaret will be showered, dressed in a double breasted navy blue herringbone straight skirted suit, slick low chignon in place, cheerily and briskly soothing the nerves of various pitiful groveling fallens-from-grace. During the morning, she’ll find seven 15 minute slots for conferences with the President’s current favorites, clinch 6 coveted dinner reservations in four continental capitals with the slick utterance of her boss’ name, and strongly command to the staff at the hotels before arrival to include only certain fruits to the President's liking in the suite baskets. Before the afternoon is over, she’ll have arranged for the corresponding VPs to submit their contributions for files and she will have worked out the details of his every move down to which dossier President opens from second he kisses Lorella goodbye on his front step in Beverly Glen to the moment the limo picks him up at airfield to take him home again 6 days later. She will present herself - Smiling, polished, professional, artificially cheerful, of course in a realistic and concerned sort of way. But that is in one hour and 40 minutes time. Right now, Margaret swings though her neighborhood toward her Westwood apartment, her eyes wreathed by deep black mascara stains, her skin shining with a layer of grimy bar and bed. She had gotten it all wrong. All wrong! She takes another heavy drag from the artist’s brand cigarette and reaches up to press the remote as she turns into her covered lot. No, of course she did not bother asking details about his life, there was no point! All of the signs indicated that this specimen’s dim future would not, could not ever include her, and that was why she chose to go with him in the first place. She had no idea that she would ever wish to see this man again. Discovering the contents of his refrigerator had ruined everything. Margaret scrubs the sordid freakish night from her skin and lets the water take the past down the drain. This process, usually a source of great pleasure, is tinged with the violence of two realities colliding. As the smoke and filthy night smells are rinsed from her long black hair she relives her trip to the kitchen and the surprise she found there. M in stilettos had been mildly shocked by its cleanliness. Prepare for Emp-ty, she gloated, bringing right arm over to bring it open, wide. There she was suddenly before a full frontal amassing of delectable provisions. Good God, what had she done? The Corsican hand formed rigotte smelled less than a week old. How? A twinge of fear of the unknown took her as her eyes caressed the line of langouste and coquille St. Jacques paté in morille lined glass ramekins. Bunches of fresh parsley, chervil, basil, thyme, and wild oregano. She discreetly took a whiff of the Chorizo. She knew it was real, and she only knew of one domestic source of this particular kind. There was no way he could have gotten it into this country legally. She wildly calculated the ramifications of her complete failure to properly judge last night’s specimen, knowing there was no taking back the laundry list of dirty deeds she’d led him through step by step the night before. His vision of her had already been ruined. There was no hope. A glutton for punishement, she opened the vegetable bin - the paragon of freshness and seasonal flavor. In the door, an unmarked ceramic pot contained unmistakably hand whisked aioli, her perfectly manicured left ring finger having been slipped though it and into her mouth to be sure. The sharp and spicy mustards and the well used Tupperware labeled “Alba” that contained, in a shallow bed of rice, a specimen the size of a child’s fist that shot sadness through her splendorous breast when she surrendered and inhaled its contents with a heady sigh of regret. This was the first time she’d so grossly miscalculated. At that moment she had begun to feel disoriented, cornered, a wave of panic sweeping over her. She heard a noise. She immediately did what anybody would have done in her situation. Margaret took his cigarettes and was gone before he could get a good look at her face in the morning light. Margaret is at the office now. She smiles, a pillar of strength, profesionally administered compassion, competence, and complete reliability, as the shock still wears her thin from the inside. She is but a shell. Her lips part slightly as she verifies that her lipstick has been applied with the usual flawless technique. The telephone rings. Margaret answers in the perfect sing song voice: “President’s office!” Just then she gets the shock of her life when the specimen walks up to her desk in a Brooks Brother’s suit. “I believe I’m Jim’s 9 o’clock”, he smiles, gently straightening his tie while his eyes directly rivet her with a jolt of passion and desire. M’s world begins to spin. From this day on begins the defragmentation of M’s reality, the joining of diametrically opposite and seemingly incompatible sides, yin and yang united in a turbulent sea of complexity. The foundation has shifted. Life has begun. M has a boyfriend.

As one of 5 courses one average sized rabbit will generally serve 4-6. I prepared a rabbit on a Food Blog here some time ago with examples of the cuts Here. How do you plan to cook it?

The 2 things that I'm disappointed I can't find are vanilla extract and stock. There is no vanilla extract, except maybe the imitation stuff which I don't like at all. There is vanilla powder but I've never really used it. Any of you think its a good substitute for vanilla extract? I've been thinking of making my own by steeping vanilla beans in alcohol. I have some vanilla paste at the moment that I'm using in the mean time. As for stock, I used to buy UHT packaged liquid stock in Australia that I thought was pretty good since I couldn't be bothered to make my own most of the time. However here you can only buy stock cubes or powdered bullion. I may find the time to make some stock of my own now. ← Hi, I've been following your fascinating food blog with interest! I could not believe the price of French potatoes in your grocery store, in comparison to the others. They must be some pretty great potatoes! I completely understand your frustration in not finding the same products being abroad. Through my own trial and error in the various countries I've lived and cooked in, I find that any product containing real extract or real vanilla can be just as good as the extract I find at home. Check to make sure it's real and not an artificial flavoring and you won't be too far off. I've found that the packets of ground vanilla with sugar sold here in France do well in my baking products. I was actually grating a vanilla bean for awhile there until I finally tried the product. The other thing is to make your own extract as you mention above by steeping the bean in alcohol or bourbon, which I did one year. Stock is another story. Making your own stock is the best thing to do, in the end, really. It's a very good sign that you have started off on the right foot with your housekeeper, who can help source things on the local market. Perhaps you can instruct your housekeeper on how you like to do your stock if you aren't able to invest the time and she's willing to check the simmer from time to time.

What are those little sausages in the middle above the cabbages, Adam? They look heavenly.

Dear Adam. The ambient light where you are is wonderful. Can you tell me a bit more about the salt cod you photographed at the market? I recently got some from my local Italian vendor and I want to know about the grades, and most of all, the best way to prepare it. Do they grade it by thickness? Have you tasted it yet? Kind regards.

Mayonnaise Maison (other recipes may differ): If you have a blender: 1 fresh egg, 1/4 t. dried mustard, 1/2 t. salt, a grind of pepper, and 2 t. vinegar or a mixture of lemon juice and vinegar. Whir in blender for 2 seconds. THen on the lowest speed you can, pour 1/2 cup of oil in a thin stream into the blender while it's going. You should be able to incorporate all of the oil in a matter of a minute or two. I use a mixture of salad oil & evoo, or just evoo. Add chopped herbs by hand afterwards if you are going to do that instead of mixing them in the blender. Add mashed garlic for an aioli, paprika and saffron to put on croutons for fish soup, the possibilities are endless. You'll never go back to the store bought stuff. It's good in the frigo for a few days after that. By hand, use egg yolk only, and whip with a whisk while incorporating the oil. This takes a bit longer than blender method but it gives a very good result. Edited to say when I make the mayo I don't measure the oil anymore, I just pour it in a thin stream until it takes on the consistency I want. I add that we don't keep the store bought mayo at home. After getting used to the mayo I can make at home, I find that store bought mayo has an odd sweet taste to it that I don't like.

I had a chance to swing by the shop chefzadi mentions. The shop is called La Regionale Pre Gastronomie, and is at 14, rue du Plat in Lyon's 2eme. The street it's on is just near the south end of the Marche Saint Antoine, about a block and a half down rue du Plat, and it would make a nice stop after the market on a Saturday morning, as it was for us. The store is open from Tuesday to Friday, 8h - 12h and 14h - 18h, and Saturdays from 9h - 12. They are located a half-block south of the SE corner of place Bellcour. Their specialty is patisserie and traiteur supplies, with many many accesories and tools for baking and decorating, in addition to bulk supplies of chocolate, pralines of course, nuts, and various ingredients. They had chocolate moulds and pan forms in many shapes and sizes, plus packaging and presentation supplies. They had supplies for making fruit preserves as well and bulk marzipan and almond paste, plus ice cream making equipment. Their selection of useful accesories was pretty impressive, and more impressive still in that area were the prices. As for the general cooking supplies, the pots and pans were rather limited, although they did have a nice selection of Staub cookware and a full range of copper. They had two gammes of professional knives in which they carried pretty much all sizes, one French, and one Japanese at reasonable prices. I saw a lot of things that I'll be going back for. One thing to note about this store is that they do not post the prices of items and you must ask the clerk behind a window to tell you the price. She looks up each item by hand in a catalog, and the price given is without tax. I'll be posting pictures this evening!

This thread has been inspired by chefzadi's teaser in the Pans of Paris Thread where he hints that he might share with us his sources for cooking supplies. This reminds me that it would be nice to get a list going of the places to shop for kitchen supplies in Lyon. I know there are a couple of shops near Les Halles in Lyon, two places just off cours Lafayette, some places on the presqu'ile in the 1ere and also along the Quai St. Antoine. There are a couple of new places in the 6eme near Foch, some are outrageously expensive and some seem reasonable. The exclusivity of the neighborhood has little to do with it in my experience... So, where to go first?

So lab no. 1 is to get the materials together, make your stock, etc.?

Hi Helen, I see a lot of tropical fruits and vegetables used only in the south. My whole question is about where these influences come from, since some of them are clearly from Asia and also from many other places. I'm also asking what significance this plays in the collective mind of the institution of French cuisine.

I have been following the recipes in the Spoon cookbook because so many of them don't follow the what I have come to know in French cooking, and I like what it's doing to my thought process, it's opening my mind. I feel it's good to follow them at least once. I guess this comes from a certain trust in Ducasse. When I cook from this book I do take it as a learning experience. There is an assumption that I know the basic techniques already, which I appreciate. But I like the suprises. It's the learning process that keeps expanding possibilities in my mind. For example, I have rarely ever used seaweed in my cooking, frankly because it is not readily available as a seasonal ingredient at the market where I live in the Rhone Alpes. But now I see it's commmonly used in Brittany. Nor would I think of it as instinctive in French cooking to introduce wasabi, tabasco, and dijon mustard at the same time to anything - it's more like one of my crazy experiments (which those who love me have come to expect from time to time). My original question was rather an institutional question, not a question about mastering technique, or about available ingredients, or even about what people are cooking at home. It's about what chefs choose to include as ingredients in the recipes. I want to know whether combinations of this kind seem logical in the French (culinary) mind, and where the ideas of certain of these Asian ingredients come from. It may seem like a silly question to ask in the first place since we have everything we want now shipped by air and sea, from anywhere in the world at our fingertips. I have learned, a long and difficult life lesson, that the French and American mind have different basic routes of association for very fundamental things, different conduits of reference. This becomes fruitful knowledge in the negotiation of the things that basically make our cultures different. It helps me come to a more thorough understanding of what I encounter here, and it enhances my experience. My understanding of Chinese cuisine is basic, I would never ever claim to understand it fully, that would be a monumental project. But my understanding also comes from my having spent years cooking and dining in China, without which I would not be asking certain questions. When we eat in a restaurant China, like in France, there is a list of dishes, sometimes written, sometimes simply recited - and we choose from the list. Explanations are not necessary because the dishes, we know, are common knowledge, have been established for hundreds of years. The discussion of the dish comes from how well it is executed. In many cases you have discussion of how much liberty someone who fully understands the classic reference for a dish, has taken. You must have some point of reference in order to have an opinion in that context. The same is true in France. The Spoon cookbook seems to transcend this idea altogether, which I find refreshing. At the same time, it's refreshing because of the very same context. If I were at la FNAC and picked up a cookbook, oh let me create in my mind, called "Sophie's Sauces", for example, and opened to page 19 where I saw a "chutney" containing wasabi, dijon mustard and tabasco, I might pass it over for another, thinking, oh another tome of "petites astuces" that may or may not be useful to me. But there is an established master here, as Ptpois has mentioned in earlier posts, a chef who is relying on the public's confidence in his certain relationship with the institution of French cooking and fine dining, who suggests we make this combination in a table of hundreds of other calculated combinations which constitute the grammar of the language of Ducasse, and it's called "Vision". I want to know, I think it's certainly legit to try and delve deeper, precisely because of this institutional association. As I cook my way along with Spoon, which I trust is French to the very core, I am beginning to believe that it actually is "Vision" and not just a few ideas to spice up my life like those that might come in a magazine. I think that it's a good idea to at least take a concerted glance at the recipes. So where is the chutney coming from? Most certainly not directly from India. To answer your question, chefzadi, it is to be served with scallops steamed with seaweed and vegetarian spring roll, or soft boiled eggs with bottarga (poutargue) royale (which incedentally calls for 1tsp of "raw crab roe" )with watercress seaweed salad, or alfonsio (a kind of fish) au natural with snakendos, peppers, ginger and lime stock. It's making me think. I certainly think that ptpois is right in asking what the chefs are cooking as opposed to what the people are cooking at home, and what we as amateurs, hobbyists, are doing in between. This is not everyday cooking but I learn (and spend ) a lot from following the recipes. I think that the chutney idea came from much closer. I'm venturing it came via England. I think that the use of dulse and wasabi in the same recipe is not accidental and is a direct reference to Japan, even if the dulse is from Brittany. I think that the star anise (badiane) is a mystery and I would like to understand why. I saw star anise at my mother-in-law's table in a sauce for fois gras two years ago (which she got from a recipe in Femme Actuel, speaking of petites astuces). Why in this recipe and not cinnamon, for instance? I am assuming the choice was deliberate and not accidental.

This may be something interesting to look at. Thank you Mark. The different cultural references that have worked into the French mainstream definitely have their path of least resistance from this. It will be useful to look through it. If you get it before I do, please share your impressions from the book.

Well, basically, I've been going through the recipes in Ducasse's Spoon cookbook... The Chutney d'Algues contains altogether a group of things that I class very simply in my mind, but I wonder if there is something more behind my reading. Let me give an example. I see: algues (rouge, blanc, vert) au sel / salted seaweed capres puree de wasabi moutarde de dijon vinaigre de xeres / sherry vinegar huile de pepins de raisin / grapeseed oil puree d'olive fumet de poisson / fish stock badiane / star anise Tabasco I think - tapenade - made with seaweed, capers, and olives, spiced up with mustards and spices from a variety of places. Obvious Japanese almost stereotypical ingredients. We used to play a game as children where we'd identify things that didn't fall in a pattern although they could fall in the group. And I see the star anise as falling in that category, just being "kind of the same" but not quite. And what about the name chutney? Is this just a convenient name that's named after a chunky sauce with a lot of spice and some acidity? Why not call it a salsa or a tapenade? What am I learning from this as I work through these amalgams ? Is there a method somewhere in this? A reference or simply a lack of one? When it comes down to the recipes, I think that sometimes they're good, sometimes they’re useful. But sometimes I wonder if the recipes were created for a kind of linguistic reason, to pull people mentally in different directions and present a snapshot of inspiration, and not necessarily about taste or use in cooking. And yet at the same time there are the tables and combinations, and breaking things down into elements. Things are presented quite formally. The vast compendium of recipes presents in the beginning a table of "conjugaison" (which is translated into English as "to combine" but I'm not sure these can be considered equivalent terms especially considering the cultural context), it's as if these recipes represent a basic standard upon which we can (and should, and are correct to) build. But I want to know what are we building on and how much will I be able to rely on these recipes as I build on the groups and develop repertoires from this?

Hi John, There are lots of links to recipes for soups here. (click) Among many others, you can find: Name of the Soup (followed by the name of the chef that contributed the recipe) Soupe a l'indienne (Anne-marie De Gennes) Soupe a la bière et farine brulée (Thierry Schwartz) Soupe au pistou (Michel De Matteis) Soupe aux fèves (Pierre Koenig) Soupe d'asperges et de blanc de poulet (Bernard Mariller) Soupe d'huitre (Michel Oliver) Soupe d'oeuf mollet au basilic (Xavier Mathieu) Soupe d'orties, tranche de pain au jambon (René Meilleur) Soupe de bolets au lard croustillant (Alexandre Faix) Soupe de cresson à l'oeuf (Henri Charvet) Soupe de cresson et escargots (Romuald Fassenet) Soupe de favouilles (Jean-andre Charial) Soupe de foie gras en croute (Joel Robuchon) Soupe de grenouilles au riesling (Olivier Nasti) Soupe de haricots (Jean Albrecht) Soupe de haricots aux coquillages (Alain Dutournier) Soupe de melon au lillet blanc (Gaelle Benoiste Pilloire) Soupe de moules de bouchot à l'orange, effilochée de légumes (Thierry Conte) Soupe de moules et mimolette (Eric Provost) Soupe de potimarron, tortellinis de chèvre frais à la fleur de thym (Serge Chenet) Soupe de potiron, fleurette au goût de lard (Marc Veyrat) Soupe glacée à la tomate (Christian Millet) Soupe minute velours vert (Georges Blanc) Soupe de canard (Philippe Redon) Soupe d'asperges à la mélisse et langoustines rôties (David Zuddas) Soupe de moules au curry (Eric Frechon) Soupe de poireaux et pomme de terre au cabillaud (Pascal Auger) Soupe de poisson (Gerard Lorenzoni-salini) Soupe d'oranges, d'ananas et de fraises à la menthe fraîche (Philippe Gobet) Soupe de bananes a l'ananas (Babette Fuzellier) Soupe de chocolat aux pommes à la cannelle (Pierre Herme) Soupe de melon aux framboises (Pierre Koenig) Soupe victoria au safran, quenelle maringuée (Sonia Ezgulian) I don't have a cookbook for soups, I tend to follow my nose at the market and also catch ideas wherever I can for soups. I keep an eye out for really wonderful food combinations and I like to make them in soup form.

God forbid that you should buy it! Besides, if you have a friend who actually forces you to ingest apéricubes, I suggest that you dump the friend together with the apéricube, that's a very weird friend indeed. About the cancoillotte: that was not the right way to try it. First of all you should avoid anything labeled Président (I do, that's my own personal advice). Second: get the garlic-flavored cancoillotte. Poach a Morteau sausage or, better, a Morteau jésu (a very large boiling sausage), boil some potatoes, toss a green salad in a nicely vinegary, shalloty vinaigrette and pour the cancoillotte on slices of hot boiled potato. Eat with the warm sliced sausage and the salad. Then you may understand what cancoillotte is about. I've never seen it on a cheese platter anyway. ← Now now, Ptpois, no one's twisting my arm. I usually eat what's put in front of me when with my friends. It's only polite. In any case, I don't plan to ditch my friends for any apericube habit they may have. It's not my style. Honestly, though, it was the cancoillotte I wanted to taste to understand it's flavor. I understand it's commony used as tartine for morning toast, and both products claim to be absolutely necessary to the cheese plate. Unfortunately I've thrown them away, so I won't be ladling them over potatoes at my house any time soon. A nice Morteau jésu with boiled potatoes and a green salad in a nice vinegary shalloty vinaigrette sounds very nice indeed, however. When I am in the region where this is made locally from fresh ingredients and without the chemical stabilizers which in my opinion shine though the flavor of this cheese-like product quite strongly, I may change my opinion. I will certainly try it the next time I am in the area where they make it without the stabilizers. My rejection of Apericubes does have a context. Bux has mentioned a particularly offensive cheese-like product. It was put out by a national chain store which I will not mention because I see that they are still in business. They pretended to be selling artisanal farm made products, and which used to make these gift baskets in the 1970s that looked very nice but in actuality were not. Back when I was a kid, they made "cheese logs" rolled in nuts which were very strongly laced with lots of salt and stabilizers and chemicals to make them last for years. They suggested that they'd been flavored with down home on the farm things, when in reality they contained no natural flavoring whatsoever. The cheese-like products were usually accompanied by nitrate laden "sausages" that contained little to no real meat (they were most likely made of reconstituted animal "dust" and fillers) and dyed a bright red color or painted brown with smoke flavoring to seem as if they'd been smoked at the farm. Many people believed that these products were the real thing, and gave them as gifts to each other at the holidays. A memory of this type of product, the strong predominance and flavor of additives, and concern about them in my mind makes me sensitive to it. About Apericubes, sure, they are a novelty here in France, Ptpois. But precisely these types of products were also a novelty of a similar kind in America, in the 1970s. And little by little, marketing campaigns made a whole country believe that products like apericubes were actually cheese. It may sound crazy but it's true. These things and many other products like them actually replaced the things that were at one time produced authentically on farms. Consequently, the farms dissapeared too. Now there is a whole movement to bring back the real food to America. But there was a period of time when real quality products were not accessible, at least not to the everyday people. I have so many choices available to me here. You don't know (maybe then again you do know but you're just pulling my arm), how lucky you are to have been raised in such a rich environment. My world has completely opened up to a whole new spectrum of flavor and enjoyment in this country. I have no problem with someone saying it tastes good to them, but God forbid that I would ever buy apericubes. Yes, you've got that right.

Alright, Ptpois, I'll try and fish out a tomato flavor one the next time I am forced to take apericubes again! But I won't buy them, it's one thing I won't do.

Well, I finally got around to picking up some of this cancoillotte product. The small Monoprix store where I got it had two kinds, one President brand, and the other which looked like the producer packages and sells it himself, from a fromagerie called Poitrey, the same product as Therese got in Atlanta. Neither of the packages claim that this is actual cheese, Poitrey describing it as a "Specialité fromagère de Franche Comté" The ingredients listed on the package were basically the same except for the butter content: Curdled skimmed milk, butter (8% for President and 14% for the Poitry brand), salt, Disodium phosphate, Trisodium phosphate, and polyphosphates. However looking at the website for Poitrey, I see that the product I picked up is their "super" version which contains more butter than the usual basic cancoillotte. They also list on the website that the curds contain 50% minimum milk curds and that some of the curds have been made with présure (they don't specify how much). They don't say if the présure comes from vegetable or animal origins. website here. The President brand touts 6% total fat content, and the Poitry brand 11%. Both say it is a low fat treat. Both were chilled in my fridge overnight, and this morning, I opened up the plastic tubs and peeled back the foil on top. They were exactly the same color, a sort of creme anglaise color. When I tipped the pots, the President brand ran faster than the Poitrey brand, logical, since it contains less fat. The consistency reminded me of a play compound my little brother once got a long time ago at a birthday party when we were kids. It came in a little plastic garbage pail and was called "slime". The appeal to children was that it had a runny, icky slippery feel to it, but it didn't stick to your hands. The Cancoillotte seemed like this, with a slightly gelatinous quality. Unlike "slime", it stuck to everything it touched. I took a little bit in a spoon and tasted the President brand first. It tasted similar to a bland cheese whiz. The Poitrey brand tasted as if it actually had been through some kind of very slight fermentation process, while the President brand did not. They were both very artificial tasting to me. (it could be the context...) I spread some of each brand on my breakfast toast. It did nothing to improve the toast. heated up on the surface of the toast, it melted to a thin runny consistency instantly. The extremely high salt content was more evident in the heated product, and the chemical flavor receded slightly but not completely. It smelled better than it tasted. I suppose this product might have some kind of appeal to someone trying to trick themselves into eating less fat in their diet, since it has about 1/10th of the amount of butterfat in it than real butter, but a buttery smell and color. If I had to choose between the President brand and the Poitrey I'd choose the Poitrey. Both of the Cancoillotte packages say that this product is an absolute necessity to any cheese plate. Thinking of the cheeses I have on the plate at the moment, I think it would be a real shame for anyone to pick up this product thinking that it was a kind of French cheese. It really falls in the category of cheese whiz in my mind, it leaves a chemical taste in my mouth, a tingle on my tongue that doesn't go away right away. I went to the website and looked at the metton, thinking it might be worth it to try to make it at home with just the cheese curds and forego the massive dose of sodium and stablizers. There has got to be some appeal to the original dish, if it is a specialty of the region... Oh well, I see that the cheese curds are also sold with the sodium di, tri, and polyphosphates. The next thing to do is to curdle some skim milk, since I have some presure in the fridge.

Link to FDA website Hmmm, we can safely assume that this applies to goats as well? (Cheese on my mind)

Ales. What are the official statements with regard to this event? U.S. response? Articles?

I spent several years in Beijing, where I learned to cook many of the staples from my housekeeper. My Asian cultural and culinary education leans very northern Chinese. I've tasted the food in port and smelter towns in the entire eastern region from Mongolia all the way down to and including HK, and in the mining towns of the upper western region of China. The cuisine up north is wheat based and they experience the four seasons. I come to France, and everything is nems this and nems that. My husband, who had a vietnamese nanny, explains that this is a take on Vietnamese. The line with Vietnam is clear. What are the other subtle Asian influences I'm not picking up on? We established with the Fernand Point Question a reference to Japan and Bocuse. I see lots of southeast Asian influence in the fruits in Ducasse's Spoon cookbook recipes, but I'm not familliar enough with the cuisine in that region to really trace the source of this inspiration. Can anyone give me some insight on the geographical influences, not just of the cuisine of Ducasse, but in general, your ideas : What Asian geographical points of influence have made their way into French contemporary cuisine? Thanks.

It's the Spoon Cookbook. I was thinking of the Grand Livre as the Spoon Cookbook, since it is a grand livre but now I understand that you are talking about two different books. Sorry about the confusion. This edition was published in November 2004 and has 456 pages. I'll be concentrating on the savory things, since I am a sad failure at all things baking and pastry due to my problem with the mastering of the flour translation and wierd chocolate mysteries that never seem to get solved, although I try to compensate for that by doing other people's masterpieces justice in photographs. I had a nice long look again last night and am feeling much better about the book and the recipe contents. This is going to be an interesting journey, and one that will leave me a better cook, I think.