bleudauvergne

It's not as good as it looks...

Whatever happened to good old American Apple Pie?

Thank you, Adam. You got it. Those are radis noir, and I usually add them to the pot au feu with other roots. They are sweet and wonderful. edited twice to change the name and then back again once I verified it.

Thank you chardgirl, those pics are helpful.

Ah! Now I can explain this to my father-in-law. What a great article! We loved Trader Joes when we were in L.A. We went there every weekend. -Lucy

Eggs, taken to honor the vénérable masters who have guided me through February's egg classes. Pig face anyone? Some typical Charcuterie found in Lyon: and some dried sausages, also local, from savoie. The garlic from Lautrec, the kind schneich was talking about in the onion confit thread: Not many herbs available from the producers but always a bouquet or two in the winter months. Being in the midst of winter, we root around. The panais are more like potatoes than navets, and they can be sliced and fried. He used this to weigh my panais. Mr. Coche's father-in-law found him a nice butter mould. They used to form it fresh into balls but now his son fills the moulds. We think they're really pretty. Not many French greens but always something for a salad from the local producers. Spring is not too far away. The fish man had these fresh fished from the med: He says that the best thing to do with the poulpe are to freeze them before cooking them. In the past, people would pound them on the docks to make them more tender but now the easiest way is to freeze them and then thaw them out to get the same effect. We bought two to stuff. I don't know the difference between calmar and poulpe, except that calmar is much more expensive. My slice of bleu. There was a man at the market who's wife had given him a list (it was a long one) of things to get. He had forgotton his glasses and asked me to read what cheeses he was supposed to get, it was funny! According to the producer of these nuts, Green walnuts will be coming out for the jour de St. Jean, end of June. I will be getting them to make vin de noix at the suggestion of Trillium and ludja, in our dicsussion of vin d'orange. From a conversation with a vigneron, this year is one of the best years that he has ever had due to the hot dry summer. We bought a bottle of Syrah from him. Happy weekend! -Lucy

It was during this summer vacation. We chose our chambre d'hote because they listed that they spoke Breton and my husband was curious. His grandmother is from Bretagne. We arrived to the town after a long day of driving on crowded route nationals, and were hungry. The very nice lady at the B&B said that they were having a dinner at a church where there would be some dancing, and we were sort of luke warm about it. I wanted crepes. But we decided to go and see what was up. We could always get crepes if the church dinner was not exciting. The search for the chapel was sort of long, but we finally found it, sitting on top of a big hill in the distance of a field that was full of waving wheat or rye. We sort of got swept into it, people were motioning for us to go into a cordoned off part of a lower field to park. We parked, paid our 10F entry fee, and hiked up to where the chapel was perched on the hill. There they had dug trenches and built huge roaring bonfires in them, and suspended large black cauldrons which had choucroute boiling in them. There was a long line for the food, but everyone looked so patient and confident in their waiting that we decided to stay and wait too. We sat under a big tent on wooden benches elbow to elbow with everyone else and had large plates laden with charcuterie and lots of cider and wine too. This was the entire population of the town. Everyone knew each other and we were the only outsiders. As the darkness fell, we saw that the chapel had been lit with red and blue spotlights. We heard bagpipes and people began dancing in a circle up by the church. From the tent we saw this from a distance and it struck me as very strange. From the dinner tent we then made our way past the cauldron fires, up through the field to the chapel and looked inside, where the rafters were all made of intricately carved wood. I felt like I was in the empty hull of a Viking ship! The figures carved in the wood were like nothing I had ever seen before, strange carvings of the most fanciful types of beasts. Outside, the bagpipes had finished and a band had set up, and they were getting ready to play. It was seven beautiful wispy girls each with a stringed instrument. I thought at first I was hearing minimalist music when they began hitting the strings with their bows, very simple but repeated with a strong conviction, and harmonically quite abstract. But as they continued to play, an underlying rhythm was coming through and the music evolved and revolved, turned itself inside out in a way to come through with something quite thrilling and hypnotizing in its beautiful flailing but controlled progression. There was so much energy packed into precisely metered evolving phrases that we both felt like we were going to have to do something - dance in circles perhaps? Everyone around us all began dancing at once, while we watched. It was a bit too complicated for us to participate! They took it very seriously and all seemed to be in kind of a trance. The music never came to a stop. The girls did not rest or lose their concentration, not once. As the rhythms undulated in their patterns, so the dances changed, and each time it seemed that the people knew instinctively what dance was coming based on a pattern that they could hear. It was really something. It began to rain and everyone just continued on through the rain. I was suddenly overwhelmed at one point with the sense that I had discovered my ancient roots in some way. Of course it was just the intensity of the whole long beautiful day from beginning to end, and the shock of such a rich and exotic experience (oh and that lovely cider) that hit us like a wave. We left while the festivities were in full swing. I was happy to end the day just at that point. People smiled and talked when they were not dancing of course. We heard that there had been fireworks soon after we left and we were sorry to have missed them the next morning at the breakfast table. She had that big wooden table and we sat by the fireplace. It wasn't lit because it was summer but I imagined that in winter it would be very nice to warm up there. The woman who rented us our room for the night spent a good two hours with us. She was pleased that I was interested in her cooking, and took the time to explain in depth about the very specific qualities of breton flour, sugar and butter (oh the butter) as she puttered about in the kitchen and she wrote for me her recipe for the gateau breton she makes, and specified exactly what kinds of things to use to make it just exactly the way she makes it. She noted that her daughter in law never gets it right and she keeps calling to know what she's done wrong, and its because she refuses to use the right kind of sugar, she knows that's the reason. I cherish the memory of that cake. She kissed me before we left and waved from the drive until we were out of sight. We got on the road again very much behind schedule but happy and the both of us stuffed full of cake. After visiting some ancient mound tombs, it was about time to eat again and since we hadn't gone far we went back and had our crepes at the place she recommended. It had been our second night on the road of the breton leg of our 3 weeks of touring this summer, and it really set the scene for our continuation up the coast and discovery of that magical region. I recommend les chambres d'hotes. While we toured, we found that the ones rated by the green guide as only 2 epis were very comfortable and the price was not expensive, I think we paid about 200 francs, which is about 30 dollars for the both of us to stay in her 2 epis place and that included breakfast.

I did mine entirely in the crock, and they progressed perfectly into the golden brown caramelized product I expected. I did monitor the process, and I did spend a good amount of time on high temp just to get my satisfaction that enough caramelization was taking place. Once that was done I turn it down, covered it up, and let it richen and mix with the bay and herbs which I think would not have happened if I had just done the fast version. -Lucy Edited to add that I used a very concentrated version of stock, not much liquid at all. And it never got very liquidy.

I cannot believe that only two people mentioned apples in this thread and both were granny smith. Cortland apples are simply heavenly in tuna salad sandwiches. With the obligatory celery. I'm also a no to the cornichons kind of girl, when I'm making the salad. They interfere with the delicate flavor balance, in my opinion. Not long ago we had tuna steaks and had leftovers. I made a blender evoo mayo and a tuna salad for lunch the next day, and I can say that it was the most wonderful tuna salad I had ever consumed in my entire life. I added fresh parsley and a nice hefty grind of black pepper. It called for a dusting of finely minced mint and the call was answered. I can't say that I'd go out looking for fresh tuna steaks with the idea of tuna salad in mind. But I can say that if anyone is grilling steaks, consider picking up an extra to take you into the next day's lunch. I wrote a letter about it to a friend it was so nice. -Lucy edit typo

I'm definitely a non-eater during times of turbulence, and during one very bad time I recall it going on for months and months. I found myself stoically trying to cure myself of the feelings by deprivation. When it was time to open my mind to sensation again, it was Chinese conge that nursed my appetite back to health. I find that conge is a very soothing thing for a stomach that can't handle much. I really hope you feel better soon. Sorry you have to go through this. -Lucy

Would I use them like chives? In soups? How do you use them? -Lucy

I mean if I buy one of these bunches, which in essence may contain at least 50 full heads of garlic, much more than I could possibly eat, and they won't break it down for you, I feel like whatever I can't use immediately may develop icky black mold under the skin, which I have also seen in this same garlic when the fresh garlic vendors have been lugging this stuff around long enough and their voices get more urgent in trying to attract people to their stalls. It starts out at the market as this glorious wonderful stuff and then it looks like it's going bad on the tables after a couple of weeks. Then I see other garlic which comes in smaller quantities and is much more expensive, seems already to have been properly aired out, no fungus, but it does not seem like the same stuff. When we get fresh figs, they don't seem like the same thing as the ones that have been slowly dried. They don't pack as flavorful a punch, either. I am wondering if the garlic fresh can be used in much greater quantities because it's not as concentrated. It seems to be more stable, when it's been dried, and last longer. Perhaps it's been hung in a properly ventilated place, a barn that's kept dry with plenty of ventilation. I am thinking that it will get icky black fungus disease when I ask myself what it's going to do. But I will buy some this year. My new oven has the capacity to puff a very low heat and dry things while ventilating them. Perhaps what I don't eat can be saved. I am going to try it that way. I do know that if you eat too much fresh garlic, the smell begins to eminate from your skin. I have been here in France for about 3 and a half years now, and the fresh goods available to me continue to astound me. It's true.

Placing container of creme fraiche in freezer - will report next week.

It's comforting to know that this could possibly be a really huge coincedence as J. Whiting first mentioned, and as you point out with the detailing of similar restrictions having been placed in Canada in the past. Because my country would just look so stupid if it were not. There is not a whole lot of banter about it in the French press more than the reiteration time and time again that they simply do not agree with the findings. Maybe I jumped to conclusions, and I can rest easy, perhaps there is no agenda. I am not a politician. I am ok standing corrected. edited to add a smile.

Please don't get me wrong. I've never ever felt forced to make excuses. But in the process of living authentically, feeling good in my own skin, so to speak, in being able to accept the people that I have daily transactions with, in addition to my friends, my loved ones here, who are fed one line by their press, and my own take, which comes in another language and from another cultural standpoint, I have had to come to terms with differences. Sometimes that involves explaining, long discussions, and even justifications. I just try and negotiate my existence from day to day as an American in France, cultivate my friendships, which I value, and do my best to share the good qualities of my culture with the people who I care about, because being a friend, I care about what they think and the quality of what we share is proportionally affected by the effort both sides put in. Sometimes it's hard because many people do not have the linguistic or time capacity to complete full investigations. They soak in news items at the end of the day, or on the radio, like many of us do. I love my home country in addition to being deeply in love with this country and it's ways. The conflicts don't sit well with me, especially when it's clear they are created by purile pettiness motivated by political interests. Whew. It's time for dinner. Thanks for listening. -Lucy

You should really make an effort to come to France if you want to experience French products. It's really a wonderful place. And not poisonous, or full of venomous people. Really. I promise.

When fresh garlic comes out at the markets here in the spring it scares me. It's bundled in these fabulous wonderful bouquets and is dirt cheap but I don't know what it's going to do after that. The market smells gloriously of garlic. You can stand between the witchy ladies who deal in fresh garlic, lemons, prunes, and cinnamon, and the chicken roasters and almost have lunch by breathing. What is that fresh garlic going to do? should I buy it? I never have because my feeling was that I should let it "stabilize" (this may be a concept of my imagination) and get the bunches with the proper papery skins. I may be missing out on something, though. -Lucy edited to fix a horrendous typo

I have made these friends, you see. They had us over for dinner, and on the terrace, they brought out these plastic 1.5 liter soda bottles, not very pretty, mind you, just brimming with murcky stuff. They asked if we'd like a "punch". His parents are from the isle of Reunion. Apparently each time that a distant aunt or uncle is planning to come and visit, they send ahead a large package containing several varieties of home made "punch" and necessary foodstuffs for surviving here in France. And this year, they sent the package, and then changed their travel plans so they were stocked up with several varieties. He says that the secret is a slowly caramelized raw sugar syrup, made at home. This is combined with fruit of various kinds, macerated in rum of the isle for months and months, and it keeps forever. We tried lychee (they are second or third generation Hong Kong immigrants to Reunion), pineapple, and other flavors. Lychee was really incredibly amazing. Pineapple was just heavenly, and I cannot remember what the other flavors were although I believe we did sample several others. My husband does not remember either. This is the nectar of the Gods! The only punch I ever knew was a kind of last minute thing involving lemons limes and sugar syrup. No long term maceration. Is this something truly worth investigating. Can anyone provide insight as I embark on my journey into the world of "punch"? Also, does long term maceration and things like sugar added add to the alcohol content of this lovely aperetif? We were struck first off by the most agreable way it went down, then we realized that it was much more potent that we first thought. Thanks for any input you may provide. -Lucy edited to fix i before e except after c.

It's just so - messed up. I keep trying to make excuses to people for the annoying images of wine being poured out into the streets, etc. saying it's not true, it's staged, that many Americans love France and French products will of course continue to buy French products. After reading an article about fromages.com being boycotted I wrote them a letter of support, and they were happy to say that sales were not affected. I was so happy when the mayor of Carrboro, North Carolina proclaimed it French Product Month and they had all kinds of special promotions on French products... Now, it seems that people are not going to be given a choice anymore. This is clear proof of political corruption and no one can say otherwise. I'm really really upset about this. I can't really put a finger on it, I mean nasty words have been exchanged in the press, and I've always blamed sensationalism for it, I guess I was holding out with the hope that, that we could trust somehow against politics corrupting the agencies and services that are meant to serve the people in an impartial way and protect people instead of serve political interests. Clearly if this can happen, any big industry can pay one of these wet noodles to swing in the other direction. It makes me question the validity of any and all inspections. I am losing faith. It makes my country look so out of control, and dumb. It stings. I am so so upset about this.

This thread prompted me to reminisce about our family seal-a-meal. It was a great item. I see they are made by rival now, and include a vaccume pack feature. I have ordered one for my brother, a gift for his birthday. schneich, you are in Germany, right? Who is the manufacturer of your foodsaver? Am I correct in assuming that this is something that heat seals? I am in France and do not know who might manufacture such an item for use in Europe. edited to correct a typo

My patron saint is the kitchen god, who was smiling at me as the realtor turned the key. When we first saw our apartment, a lovely turn of the century wood paneled gem of a place overlooking a square in the heart of the gastronomic capital of Lyon, France, it was missing one thing. A kitchen. There was a closet with a water connection off of the living room. The previous owner had set up camp in it by plugging in a hot plate and a microwave, and nothing else. But the kitchen god tugged my cuff and nodded. I instantly decided that our long search was over. During our one week cooling off period after signing the papers, I was strangely serene. I was not my usual self. My husband, the one who is the calm and scientific one, began to fret as he went over the details relentlessly. He was kept awake at night. He didn’t get it. He could not figure out how a place with a kitchen that small could be acceptable to me, the one who waxed poetically about how one day I’d have a real one with an island, and endless counters, a kitchen with stone floors, a home to an enormous wooden monastery table, with windows galore. Stained glass windows. The thing that simply floored me was that the kitchen was in the perfect location of the house, and the positive energy reverberated from micro to macro. I also did the calculations considering the building, the neighborhood, the river, the surrounding elevations. Everything focuses on the perfect placement of that kitchen! As I inserted the elements in my plan according to the good principals of wind and water, everything fell miraculously into place, made common sense. The kitchen god is smiling on the space, on me, and the house, he is making a good report. Choosing and installing the elements became a breeze. It was as if we snapped our fingers. Color schemes melded as Villeroy Boch and Artigo united. Form followed function, function followed form. Contractors became available, artisans calendars opened, the understood the nobility of our goal. Every inch of space was utilized and maximized. We breathed easy as the cabinets, some with windows, some without, the space saving racks that roll out on ball bearings, the brushed aluminum detailing all converged. It was meant to be, we were meant to do it, and in the end, surrounded by the perfect balance of metal, fire, wood, earth and water, our home is complete. Our patron saint is watching us make memories. We thank him for keeping us aware.

Bonjour, Je ne suis pas un expert, mais quand je cherche un recette je toujours jette un coup d'oeil sur Restocours Bon courage! - Lucy édité pour dire que vous devriez aller au l'espace bac professionelle

Marlena, I just want to say - You're beautiful.

How about a hair dryer? edited to add the context

Best way to get enameled cast iron, if it's not a gift.