Ptipois

Tajine de viande à la courge rouge is a famous Moroccan dish. It is made with the Cucurbita moschata Adam refers to. Various squashes and pumpkins have been used all over the Mediterranean for centuries, Greece, Italy, France, North Africa — think zucchini, where do you think the word comes from? My Algerian aunt makes an incredible couscous aux sept légumes to which she adds large chunks of that cucurbita moschata, a vegetable that adds wonderful texture and taste to the other couscous ingredients. I couldn't think of homemade couscous without a bit of that squash.

Enter the co-diner. I have very little to add to what Julot just wrote. The existence of such a genuine classical French cuisine in Paris is, in our days, surprising; it is definitely not dans l'air du temps, and that certainly explains (but does not excuse) the Michelin retrogradation from two to one star. It is what used to be called "cuisine fine", my quenelles de volaille truffées in white asparagus cream would not have been anachronic on a Parisian or Versailles table around 1750. Quite a wonder. Personally I believe there should be a little of everything on Planet Earth and I am warmly of the opinion that places like Gérard Besson's should be appreciated, and cherished. Actually we were not the only ones of this opinion: we were warned by the waiters that the large table behind us would be "a little noisy", and its sound level remained reasonable for half of the meal, as a group of six or seven, seemingly food and pleasure-loving, Frenchmen refilled their glasses from a vintage champagne magnum. At mid-meal, though, a famous novelist and even more famous food critic-writer entered the dining room and sat down. That was when the waiters brought to the table small covered casseroles which exhaled a heavenly, truly heavenly smell of black truffle and feathered game once opened. I will never forget that smell. We asked the chef what the little birds were (too large for ortolans, too small for regular quail) — "caille de la Dombes", he said, quail from the Dombes region. The menu had been setup in advance for this very cheery, very old-fashioned-French, mostly-male party. I took it as a happy reminder that some things in France never die. The scene could have taken place in the 50s or 60s, or even earlier.

And I think he keeps the very best for Jean-Georges Klein at L'Arnsbourg, as I noticed the day before yesterday as I munched on the very best vintage Antony comté I ever had.

Very valuable information, tonkichi. Thank you. I can add a little more you could use: there are other (small) Chinatowns in Paris. One is the Arts-et-Métiers/rue au Maire/rue des Gravilliers, roughly between the métro Arts-et-Métiers and the mairie du IIIe arrondissement. This is the oldest Chinatown in Paris, dating back to the 1920s, primitively inhabited by Wenzhou people and, decades later, occupied by more recent waves of Wenzhou people. The food is simple, oily, very much like what you get in the Shanghai region (that is to say, not really the best in China) but sometimes it can be really tasty. Another Chinatown, not as ancient but not recent either, is in the vicinity of La Chapelle. The last time I heard about it was about fifteen years ago and I haven't explored it since. I don't even know if it is still around. There are a few remants of yet another primitive Chinatown in Paris, around the place Maubert. Mostly Vietnamese, that is where the first Vietnamese immigrants settled back in the 50s. There are still a few food shops (Thanh Binh, Sou Quan) and a good concentration of restaurants, but the heyday was some 30 to 40 years ago. I have shopped at one Chinese food market around rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis and Sébastopol, I believe it is on rue d'Enghien or rue des Petites-Ecuries. Mostly products from mainland China, a bit messy, which somewhat sounds like home. There are a few Chinese restaurants around there, particularly a "Restaurant de Chengdu" serving Sichuan food, but it is not so good as it used to be. Koreatown tends to be around the Front de Seine and the upper part of the 15e arrondissement. Iranian food stores are along the rue des Entrepreneurs in the same area (15e). I agree about the poor quality of the food at Paris Indian restaurants, including the cheapie ones between gare du Nord and Marx Dormoy. There are some nice snack shops though like Ganesha Corner on rue Cail, good chai and rotis. And the food shopping is terrific in that area. Best rasgullas I have found in Paris are sold in the lower part of rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis, in a Pakistani cafeteria right near the Arch. There is a Turkish soup bar in the same street that I have to try someday... they even have tripe soup. Yum!

I love the shops in this area, not only along rue Cail but on rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis from gare du Nord to Marx-Dormoy, and along rue Perdonnet and rue Louis-Blanc. Not many of them are Pakistani though. More or them are Sri-Lankan and that is why you get weird spice mixes, strangely-colored drinks and vinegars made from unknown fruit (particularly at the Louis-Blanc shops). Like Tang, they seem to import more new stuff each time I go there. A portion of the lower part of rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis (between gare du Nord and Porte-Saint-Denis) also has some Tamoul and Srilankan shops, including those in the Passage Brady. It is also a great street for Turkish food shops and restaurants, some gourmet food stores, Yugoslavian groceries (rue du Château-d'Eau) and halal butchers. In fact the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis is a food shopper's heaven. Publicis is actually the name of the advertising company that created those "drugstores" in the mid-1960s. There used to be several of them in Paris (the most famous being the one at Saint-Germain-des-Prés, now an Emporio Armani), with one at each end of the Champs-Elysées, and some of them in provincial cities also (I remember the one in Nice). Now I believe the one at the top of the Champs is the only one left. The Sixties and Seventies were their big era. They were pretty fantastic places back then.

50 € seems like an awful lot for France. Half of that is IMO the upper limit. Even at a 3-star many French people don't tip at all. At upperscale places, dining-room salaries are quite high, much higher than the kitchen crew's. There is no need to tip extravagantly. It makes more sense to give a good 5-euro bill to the single waiter, or the one of two waiters, catering to one whole bistrot room at lunchtime. This one will reach the end of the service exhausted.

Try the magasins bio and other health food stores. They sometimes carry additive-free liquid cream. The Yoplait bottle you're mentioning is (I think) crème fleurette. But I believe you're confusing "uncultured" and "without additives". All crèmes fleurettes and crèmes liquides are uncultured; some of them contain thickeners or stabilizers, which are not a culture. Being in Provence you won't easily find that, especially in supermarkets. That kind of cream is rather a regional product, which you will find in Alsace and Lorraine (crème alsacienne) or Savoie.

It is none of all that. It is actually crème fraîche, sold under the appellation "crème fraîche épaisse". It is not double cream, which is uncultured. Crème fraîche is cultured, hence the thickening. It is a totally different product than "crème liquide" or "crème légère" or "crème fleurette" which are liquid in texture and can be thickened by whipping. Normally you do not whip crème fraîche. Double uncultured cream is difficult to find in France. Even the crème épaisse de Normandie AOC Isigny (which is a type of crème fraîche) is slightly cultured. This one may, if necessary, be thinned down with water and whipped.

The tarte aux rillettes sounds... very weird. It is, in fact, a quiche with rillettes added. I'm not sure I like the idea. Might be better than it sounds though. The "trompe-goule" that you find as you scroll down the page looks to me like a better option. It is a real traditional dish and it looks yummy.

Pas mieux. Abra, you may find some inspiration in this recipe by Jacques Thorel. Always remember that pork rillettes should include pork belly with skin on. Most commercial rillettes don't have enough of it.

Oh, sorry John, I had missed the "pasteurized". American pasteurized milk, after opening, will keep just like french pasteurized milk: in my book, no more than three or four days. Sterilized (even opened) tends to keep longer.

I don't know how long American sterilized milk is supposed to last, but French sterilized milk keeps for a long time unrefrigerated and unopened (check the sell-by date) and keeps like fresh milk once opened. If the carton was more or less hermetically closed when you left, that would explain why your milk kept longer.

Thank you John, I am so glad you came to the Fromages d'Auvergne stand! And that you got a sip of the soup. The dish was also quite successful with monsieur le Ministre, who showed his knowledge of old-fashioned French politesse by kissing the cook. Later I made little cabbage parcels filled with diced Cantal cheese, ham and apple, and slowly roasted in butter. That was appreciated too. Recipes on my blog soon.

Well I think that I enjoyed very much co-writing that book with Philippe Delacourcelle back in 2001 or so, when Solar publishing house introduced us to each other... The book was recently translated into English. Back then I was already very admirative of Philippe's personal style, which shows a lot of respect for the classical bases of French cooking, with a simple, family touch, and a very clever, creative use of spices. I found that all recipes were simple and easy to prepare at home, which is a rare thing in a chef book. Later we worked on two other books together. We have remained very good friends since then. At the time, Philippe and his brother Marc (who takes care of the wines) were still at Le Clos Morillons, in the 15e, a reputed restaurant in a quiet neighborhood. Philippe, who had lived in Asia for some time, was already serving lovely, simple cuisine with a sensible use of spices, as he still does. After that book was published, Philippe sold Le Clos Morillons and took a couple of years off, part of them spent travelling in Asia. When he came back to France he went looking for a new location and could not find a suitable one for some time. And then in 2003 he opened Le Pré Verre on rue Thénard/rue du Sommerard and it was an instant success. It hasn't gone down since. Le Pré Verre will be celebrating their 5th anniversary sometime in early March. I also like Le Pré Verre as a restaurant, I think there is nothing else like it in Paris. There is a second Pré Verre now, in Tokyo, opened last November.

I was not thinking of your map, which I think is an excellent idea. I only meant that an absolute listing of interesting markets in France would be an impossible task. That does not mean that the most remarkable markets cannot be listed and put on a map. One has to focus on the exceptional, knowing that the point is not to mention every village or small town market that seems appealing, since most of them, if not all of them, are.

I have eaten at Sensing twice, I liked it twice; the chef is doing a good job, probably a better job at Sensing than Guy Martin at Le Véfour. Expanding the Sensing formula in foreign locations seems like a move to steady the business in the perspective of Le Véfour possibly losing a macaron or two, but that is only my own pronostic. At any rate, and wherever the location, the interest of the place will entirely depend on the quality of the chef that will be placed there, for formula alone bears minimal interest.

The reason for the absence of definite information about provincial markets in France is probably that there are wonderful markets, big and small, all over the country and it would not make much sense to try to list them. If you are serious about your food shopping and know how to rely on your senses of smell, sight, and touch, I cannot think of a place where you won't find not only ample reason to be happy, but also plenty of unexpected terroir gems. Every large town has at least one famous food market, and those can be listed. In Rennes, the marché des Lices is known all over France. On weekend mornings, people take the 2-hour TGV ride with their shopping carts back and forth just for that market. In Rouen there is the magnificent Clos-Saint-Marc market, which also doubles as a flea market. In Nice the beautiful Cours Saleya market... All-week-round covered markets should not be forgotten, they offer high quality stuff. I like the Halle Saint-Michel in Brest and the Sète covered market. There are many examples and I am sure that some eGulleters will add more to this thread.

Confirmed. "Lou" is the masculine singular definite article in the Occitan language. (Dave I have serious doubts about your Occitan dictionary...)

I do not think what he thinks of the matter makes any difference in this case. Posting such information might get him into trouble whether he gives a damn or not.

I should add: "Go if you're in town, but don't cram the place, and don't make the chef-waiter-washer-upper-wine pourer any more overworked than he already is, for he probably already has his good share of Montpellier regulars." I do not think the detail about the smoking ban is of the kind that one should attract attention to on such a widely-read food board. Sometimes I, too, come across such miraculous little places. But, sorry to say, I think twice before posting about them here.

I can't figure out how Simon can, on the one hand, state (with good reason) that the attribution of Michelin macarons owes more to politics than to food appreciation, and on the other hand decide who deserves three and who does not. As long as nobody has come up, as yet, with an efficient, clear and detailed set of criteria allowing to judge what it takes to deserve one, two or three macarons, and as long as the Michelin rules of attribution remain anything but transparent, I wonder how anyone can play at let's-pretend-we're-Michelin and think in their place. I mean, a minimal requirement would be to know exactly how Michelin thinks.

Asleep in the very same limbo where all the other myths dwell.

Prices will be more or less the same everywhere. Choice is important; I'd recommend Darty.

I Golosi, 6 rue de la Grange-Batelière near the Grands Boulevards (métro of the same name), has a wonderful aged balsamic vinegar. Also a remarkable agretto di vin santo which I bought last night. The advantages of this place: few but great products, fair prices, and since it is a restaurant with a grocery section, you can go there until relatively late at night.

The question is, how do you get a great meal from him? What does it take? Being very able does not mean you will be a great cook, even if you can become a renowned chef. It takes something special, a touch of humanity, I don't know but whatever it is Piège does not have it. To me his food always meant pure technicity without the grain of madness that makes true talent. I owe him (from his days at Le Plaza) the only haute cuisine meal that ever nearly bored me to sleep. The problem, when you are into this "pure technique" trip: it does happen that your primary concern — taste and texture — no longer makes it through your creations, even though it may be the only thing you ever talk about. Last monday, at the OFF3 festival in Deauville, he did a demonstration on stage. He has to be praised for sending stuff to the audience for tasting, which few chefs actually did. But he should have refrained from it. Everything was bad. Not not-quite-successful, just bad. Deconstructed tabboulé (French-style tabbouleh, i.e. a couscous salad) was a crispy tube filled with a snotty, gooey, tasteless cream and nasty small bits of hard, dry semolina that stuck to your teeth (and damaged your fillings if you had any). Liquid grated carrot salad tasted, quite simply, like stale carrot juice mixed with sparkling, carbonated water, and it was awful. It was supposed to reproduce the taste of carottes râpées and it was a failure. No acidity, a dull dusty taste — give me a carrot, a bunch of parsley and a juicer and I'll do much better than that. It seemed like another case of the Emperor's new clothes.