Ptipois

Good website, but they forgot the best of all mustards, la moutarde d'Orléans!

I have read Ribaut's recipe and I find it a bit dubious. Worth trying, who knows? That may be the real thing. But serious (?) research has also led to a variation of the Swiss sauce "Café de Paris" and that sounds more like it.

No, only one claims to be the original, but some relatives or children of the founders ran away from the Porte Maillot restaurant with the secret sauce, or some close copy of it, and opened L'Entrecôte restaurants in several locations a while later; there is one on rue Saint-Benoit and another one near the Opéra. Please note that they are called "L'Entrecôte" while the original place is called Le Relais de Venise - L'Entrecôte. The other L'Entrecôte do not claim to be the original, while the original insists that the other ones are not the original. From what I have gathered, the sauce at the more recent locations is not quite identical to the one at Le Relais de Venise.

I remember one very bland and watery couscous at Oum-el-Banine, and I've never been to Essaouira-in-the-Seizième. My experiences with couscous places in 16e and 17e, including the dreadful Timgad, have all been very poor. But maybe Oum-el-Banine deserves a second visit and Essaouira a first one? Anyway, couscous is a popular dish — cheap joints rule!

The lady at La Table de Fès is quite a character, she already was years ago when I was there for the last time, and I can see she's still in good shape. Now she perhaps could have said it more nicely, but she really had a point in insisting on her family recipe, and on the fact that bstella is always served on its own — no salad no nothing — because it is a complex, multilayered dish that should suffer no interference. She was only showing due respect to her bstella, all the more since, as I hear, hers is a good one. That kind of interaction is to be expected when you want traditional Moroccan cooking in its motherly, almost tyrannical, aspect. On the other hand, you're concerned that Le 404 would be too hyped. To tell the truth, I do not know if it is hyped, because the food is good (not great), though served more impersonally, without much regard to tradition. There is no chance that you will get bugged by the waiter because you're ordering a salad with your briwat or even Coke with your bstella. So sometimes it is not easy to know what people really expect when they want Moroccan cooking.

Now my knowledge is still a work in progress but while I have oftentimes heard of "vin de noix" made from green walnuts picked on the day of Saint-Jean (Summer solstice), I have never heard of any liquor or spirit made from green almonds. A recipe for almond liqueur I found requires dried almonds, not green, and a mixture of sweet and bitter. And orange flower water, plus the spirit and sugar. You are supposed to get something somewhat resembling amaretto. IMO the sensible thing to do with green almonds is break and peel them then eat them raw, or put them in salads.

Oh, that's easy. Use some Kiri.

To be more exact: Valrhona now takes up most of the market for couverture (the primal matter for chocolate and choc. pastry), so many chocolatiers use their products and so do, also, most pastry chefs in 2- and 3-Michelin star restaurants. Which explains why much trendy chocolate and most "haute" chocolate desserts all taste pretty much the same. However, chocolatiers like Jean-Paul Hévin, Michel Cluizel, La Marquise de Sévigné, Pralus (who also makes couverture), Michel Chaudun still make chocolate from the beans. Which allows Hévin, for instance, to add the precise amount of sugar he wants, i.e. very little. La Maison du Chocolat buys couverture from Valrhona, but the couverture is made according to an exclusive recipe of La Maison du Chocolat. Pierre Hermé uses Valrhona and then mixes and flavors it. I suppose that is also what trendy pâtissiers like Sébastien Gaudard do. I'll add that Valrhona is certainly not the only source for pure origins; names like "Jivara", "Caraque", "Manjari" do not necessarily indicate pure origin, they can be a mix of different beans (I have to check on that). On the other hand, a pure-origin chocolate will bear a clear statement on the package. Pure origins are a style, mixes are the more traditional way with chocolate. Pure origins can be very idiosyncratic and not necessarily the best solution for cooking and pastry. For that, mixes have always been the best choice, unless a distinctive taste is expected (for instance Alain Passard's carrots served with Valrhona Araguani chocolate — the dish just does not function with another chocolate).

Pardon my inexperience, but isn't a carrot cake supposed to rise only a little? In my experience is it a rather moist, dense cake. The grated carrots sort of hold it down with their little arms. Personally I'm ready to forgive anything to a carrot cake if it has good cream cheese frosting on top.

I will send pictures to Braden today. About the origin/percentage question, I have to add that the criteria was to bring a dark chocolate within a certain range of cocoa percentage (70-80), which is different than choosing according to the origin. But it would be quite possible to organize a tasting based on origins. Most chocolatiers are very big on pure origins right now. (The chocolate I liked the best from that tasting was a pure origin Sao Tome from JP Hévin.) We may try that another time, when we've digested all that chocolate. During an interview with Pascal Le Gac, from La Maison du Chocolat, two years ago, he told me that he did not believe in cocoa percentage, which was not meaningful to him. He said better have a good 65% than a mediocre 80%. What was important to him was the origin, and above all the right handling and roasting of the beans and a proper conching (LMDC does the longest conching of the whole world of French chocolate). It's true that you taste chocolate differently once you start focusing on the origins.

Oh yes, the Claude Guermont book. I love it and bought it in the US when it was first published, back in the mid-80s. It was nice to read those recipes from back home, even though Guermont's origins are in the Orne, and I am from the pays de Caux. It is one of my favorite cookbooks. I ordered a used copy from Amazon a few years ago, since I had left my first copy in the US when I moved back to France. I had not mentioned it because I was not sure the book was still available. I'm glad to know it may still be ordered.

Dave, there is an essential difference: Norman cream is a raw, natural, unprocessed product, while clotted cream is scalded, therefore the fermentation process is stopped by the heating. Hence the very mild, buttery taste of the cream. Norman cream gets a slightly tart taste from its natural fermentation and also has a different texture. Devon cream and clotted cream are a "cooked" cream product, like Turkish kaymak, Italian mascarpone and Indian malai. Abra: in savory dishes, just add the cream or incorporate it into sauces shortly before serving. On its own, serve it with strawberries, warm fruit tarts, warm puddings, etc.

Loladrian, thanks for this question. A great coincidence since I was just about to resume this study of Norman food with one of its chief ingredients: cream. The question of Norman cream does deserve some explanation since many people, even in France, are unaware of what the term really means. True Norman cream is "crème crue", unpasteurized, naturally fermented, and you may find it in Normandy, directly at the farm; or on country markets; or sold by the bulk by cheese vendors all over France, whether in shops or at markets. AOC (Appellation d'origine contrôlée) Isigny cream is also available in glass jars in supermarkets, as I will recall later. What complicates the matter is that you will also find other types of cream, which may or not be produced in Normandy, including the ubiquitous "crème fraîche" which is a different product: Norman cream should be sold as "crème fraîche de Normandie" or "crème de Normandie", while more commonplace crème fraîche will be sold as "crème fraîche épaisse" ("épaisse" indicating in this case that the product has been artificially fermented). In traditional Normandy, naturallly thick raw cream is called "crème fraîche", to complicate things even further. - So crème fraîche épaisse (or just "crème fraîche") is made from cultured pasteurized cream (with bacterial culture added). It is pure white and thick, slightly glossy, like yogurt or sour cream. It is different than AOC Norman cream, though some of it is produced in Normandy. It is sold in round lidded plastic containers. - Crème liquide or crème fleurette is pasteurized, runny, unfermented cream, white or off-white. It is the equivalent of heavy cream or whipping cream. Much of it is also produced in Normandy, but it is still not "crème fraîche de Normandie". It is sold in cartons or plastic bottles. - Crème crue de Normandie is not pasteurized and not artificially fermented (theoretically, no bacterial culture added). It is naturally thickened and its color is pale yellow. It is, typically, not glossy, with a matte aspect. It is similar to Jersey cream, but it gets its slightly sourer taste from natural fermentation. It is preferrably obtained from the milk of Norman or Jersey cows, and the cows should not have eaten any fermented food (ensilage) which gives milk a bad taste. They have fed on grass, hay, or beets in Winter. A Norman cow, anyway, is supposed to eat grass from the meadow all year round. Hence variations in the color of the milk/cream/butter. In Winter, the cream is of a very pale yelllow, and as cows graze the rich new grass in the Spring the color is, gradually, of a more decided yellow, to achieve a bright buttercup color in June and July. Naturally that color is also visible in farm butter. Being a pure, unprocessed product, Norman cream goes through several evolution stages. When newly separated from the milk, it is very runny, like crème fleurette, and when you buy it at the market you may well believe you are buying thin, whipping cream. But if you leave the container for a couple of days in your refrigerator, you may have the surprise, when you open it again, to see it has thickened considerably. The more you will keep it, the harder it will be; very rich Norman creams, after a 10-day stay in the fridge, may even look like butter. The organoleptic qualities of that unique cream, coupled with natural ferments in the air, create that texture. Of course, if the temperature is too high, the fermentation will be excessive and the cream will go sour. Which is why it is better to let the natural fermentation process take place in a cool place. In the old days, new cream would be poured into an earthenware jar which would then be secured with ropes and taken halfway down a well and left there to thicken. You do not cook with Norman cream the way you cook with other creams. Crème fraîche, crème liquide, crème fleurette can be heated, boiled and reduced. Norman cream has to be added at the end of cooking and should never boil. Of course it will not curdle if you boil it or reduce the sauce that contains it, but it will be a waste for its fresh taste will be lost. It is also possible to whip Norman cream (it produces whipped cream with a very distinctive taste), however thick it is. The trick is to thin it down, never with milk, but with water. Then you may whip it like crème fleurette. How do you recognize, how do you get Norman cream? In cheese shops or on markets, check for the presence of the label "AOC Isigny". The cream will often be ladled into plastic containers from large white buckets; you'll see its unmistakable yellow hue. Depending on its age, it may be very runny (especially if you buy it in Normandy) or thick and unctuous. In supermarkets, look for cylindrical glass jars with a screw top or a plastic lid, with the label clearly reading "crème fraîche d'Isigny" with the AOC mentioned. It is not technically "crème fraîche" and there is no mention of pasteurizing, but on some jars there is a mention of "selected lactic cultures". However, since the same jars mention that the cream is "naturally thick", it is not clear how much of a culture has been added, or if it actually has been added. Minimal processing is probably part of the legal requirements. If you are lucky enough to buy cream at the farm or on producers' stalles on Norman markets, it will not contain any added cultures. I have found that crème de Normandie keeps much longer than it is supposed to, if you do not open the jar; it is a self-preserving product. One month in a cold refrigerator is not too long, if you will let it age that much (of course, the fresher, the better). The only thing to remember is that it always has to be touched with clean utensils; if you scoop it out with a spoon that has touched another food, even slightly, the cream will go sour and might even get mouldy.

Spinal cord.

On boulevard de Belleville and Ménilmontant, it will be Jewish Tunisian-style couscous. Simple but good, and plentiful. Likewise, restaurants around the Maghrebi-Jewish area of rue Richer-rue du Faubourg-Montmartre (Folies-Bergère) will serve rich and copious, though not always very refined, Tunisian-style couscous, either with the usual meat and vegetable stew and grilled meats, or, more interestingly, with various t'fina — slow-cooked dishes usually prepared on the night before the Shabbat and stewed overnight. Tfina pkaila (melted spinach, white beans, beef shin and lots of oil), tfina arissa (cow's foot, white beans and wheat kernels), loubia (white bean and tomato stew), etc., all very good with a side dish of steamed couscous. My favorite couscous places are also the simplest; unfortunately the best of all (La Mitidja, a Kabylian joint on rue Lacépède) is now closed, but Chez Hamadi on rue Boutebrie (Tunisian couscous, country-style) is still around. La Mansouria has really gone downhill; like Braden, I like Le 404 (Algero-Moroccan) but I haven't been there lately (and yes — next door Andy Wahloo is one of the loveliest bars on the Right Bank), and Smaïn's Le Pied de Chameau is now closed. I am not impressed by Moroccan restaurants in Paris; but I still like L'Atlas, which serves fabulous steamed fine-grain couscous. To be checked: Ziryab, on the top floor of L'Institut du monde arabe. Has anyone been there?

I see what you mean: when you're on either of the Normandy pages the link to recipes leads you to recipes by the resident chef of the website, which are not particularly Norman. But I am sure you can find other websites. True, Norman cooking is not very stylish these days, indeed olive oil cuisines are much more in style. And although great chefs will be known for their Mediterraneanity or Southwesterness, you no longer see a chef being publicized as a Norman. However, there is nothing uncontemporary in the Norman habit of treating perfect ingredients as simply as possible, with the added pleasure of dousing them with what is probably the best cream in the world (more on that later). The first French cookbook in history, Le Viandier, was written by a Norman chef, Guillaume Tirel dit Taillevent, in the 14th century. Other great Norman chefs in history were (and are): - Alfred Prunier, a specialist of seafood, who founded the Paris restaurant of the same name, where typically Norman dishes like sole à la normande and marmite dieppoise used to be served. - Alexandre Choron, creator of the eponymous sauce (a béarnaise enriched with tomato purée). History also kept track of his ability to cook dishes from strange meats. During the 1870 siege of Paris, his Christmas menu, based on animals from the Jardin d'acclimatation (the zoo), has remained famous: "kangaroo civet", "elephant bourguignon", "elephant trunk in chasseur sauce", or more simply "cat surrounded by rats". A fierce sense of humor is one of the main aspects of the Norman regional character. Other traits include a developed sense of business, a tendency to argue, and noncommittal, ambiguous discourse ("réponse de Normand"). - Auguste Fauchon, a caterer whose business is still thriving on place de la Madeleine in Paris, - Gaston Lenôtre, born in Caorches-Saint-Nicolas (Eure), - Eric Fréchon, chef at Le Bristol (Paris).

I'll be delighted to answer your questions, if I do have the answers of course! Indeed "pays" are the easiest and most significant way to understand the food geography of France. However, while there are "pays" all over the country, they do not have equal importance depending on the regions. In Normandy, Brittany, Ile-de-France, Picardie (in the Northwest, roughly) they are small, with a lot of character. There are many possible approaches to the food of a region. Mine will be based on products, from which other questions will arise. Cream, butter, calvados, cider, apple, meat, charcuterie, seafood = enough to draw the landscape.

Poiré is delicious and made all over Normandy, but the Domfrontais poiré is the most famous. The poirés made by Eric Bordelet deserve their reputation.

One good source is Simone Morand's Gastronomie normande, now unfortunately out of print. Alan Davidson in his Seafood of the North Atlantic has a good section on Norman seafood dishes. Websites: I do not know many, but take a look at this one. The recipes are interesting. If I hear about other books or websites, I'll post about them here. Having been brought up partly in Normandy, I do not have much documentation on the food of that region. Much of what I am posting here comes out of my memory. It will not be the same for other regions.

None of us luminaries had anything to do with the index. Actually in French the articles (le, la les, l') are left out of the index (and thus placed after the name, which is indexed according to the initial of its first word (for instance: Ami Jean, l' - Cagouille, La) but with Aux, À la and Chez and the like, the prepositions tend to be included in the whole name (so Chez Géraud and Aux Fins Gourmets would be indexed just like that). However, for an English edition of that index, I am of the same mind as yours and I think the indexing should go by the first main word.

Boulard and Busnel have a good reputation. I do not know about the others. An expensive bottle, of course, would be wasted in cooking while it should be kept for drinking (and pouring over desserts). Pick a medium-priced calva for flambéing. Calvados flambé technique is probably my favorite use of a strong spirit in cooking. I will write about it later.

I thought I'd begin this series of threads about the regional cuisines of France with Normandy. Because 1) it is a relatively easy subject to grasp, the region has a marked personality, 2) I am partly from there, 3) The limits of the region are clear. Normandy is a large region in the Northwestern part of France. It is composed of five départements, from North to South: Seine-Maritime (capital: Rouen), Eure (capital: Evreux), Calvados (capital: Caen), Manche (capital: Cherbourg), and Orne (capital: Alençon). These are the official, political divisions — the older, more traditional divisions, as in other French regions, are the "pays", which are cultural entities often related to the ancient Celtic population that used to live there. Taking the "pays" into account are useful when you try to define the cuisines and the food variations throughout a region, since the pays correspond to very ancient cultural as well as geographical particularities. For instance, it is significant that Neuchâtel cheese comes from Seine-Maritime, but it is even more significant that it comes from Pays de Bray (and the Northern part of Pays de Caux). Owing to the geological differences, ciders from Pays d'Auge are mellower than ciders from Pays de Caux, which are drier and less famous. Etc. If the gastronomic nature of Normandy had to be summed up, I would write that it revolves around dairy products (cream, cheeses), apple products (cider, calvados, apple jelly and fresh apples), superior meats (beef, veal, pré-salé lamb) and sea fish. Vegetables are used not only as side dishes but also as aromatic ingredients (particularly leeks). Preparations are very simple and product-oriented, with as little fuss as possible. Sometimes, food being drowned in cream is all the recipe there needs to be. This is not just a caricature. Sauces do contain cream, but it goes far beyond that: cream is the sauce. I think it is only fair to begin the visit with the most important figure of Normandy: the cow. Normandy was always "graced" with a damp climate, with Rouen (nicknamed "the chamberpot of Normandy") considered the rainiest of all cities. This dampness, together with the existence of large chalky plateaux (pays de Caux) and of hilly landscapes with green, grassy meadows characteristically separated by thick hedgerows ("bocage" of Pays d'Auge and Cotentin), has helped Normandy to become one of the main cattle breeding regions. The Norman cow is famous for its rich, fatty, tasty milk, which is made not only into camembert but also in yet more odoriferous cheeses like livarot, pont-l'évêque, or pavé d'Auge. Neuchâtel, which is a very ancient cheese made in the North of Normandy, is slightly apart because it is drier and saltier than its more Southern counterparts. It is one of the very few cheeses in France that come in several shapes: it may be heart-shaped (cœur), square-shaped (pavé), or cylinder-shaped (bondard). Here is what a Norman cow looks like: It is a strong and sturdy animal, with large dark rings ("lunettes") around the eyes and a thick, irregularly mottled fur that is particularly soft and fluffy in Winter. The spots are of all shades of brown or grey on a cream-colored background. Norman cows stay outside all year round and are not taken inside in cold weather; in the old days of hand-milking, they were milked right in the fields, rain or shine. Of course nowadays they are taken inside for mechanized milking. A classic Norman scene, often depicted on camembert boxes: Norman cows grazing in the shade of the apple trees, since pastures often double as apple orchards. More to follow, let questions and suggestions roll in.

I don't think there is a lot of difference regarding the taste and quality. As long as the confit is made of good mulard duck, pre-salted and peppered, then slow-cooked in duck fat the right way, I never thought sous-vide was better or worse than canned. Duck confit is a preserve anyway. Canned has two advantages: you get more confit jelly, and you can age the confit at room temperature. Sous-vide has to be refrigerated. The difference I found was with butcher-bought confit de Paris, which is really nothing to write home about. I suspect it is only duck legs (not even mulard) recycled before they get blue.

I thought also of mentioning Georges Blanc. To me he is the emperor of poulet de Bresse and the man on Earth who treats that fowl the most fairly. He has a loving, delicate touch on all his products. I have fabulous memories of the poulet recipes he served me while I was working (successively) on two of his books. He learnt all about poulet de Bresse from his mother, la mère Blanc. I have to say the dish that impressed me the most was the simple poule au riz, with a cream sauce and morels, served at the Auberge. There was also the "poulet G7" which is quite another matter, brings out the goodness of poulet de Bresse perfectly but the calorie overload was remarkable. It is made of cut-up poulet de Bresse sautéed in butter with whole peeled garlic cloves, then a sauce is made with fond de volaille (de Bresse of course), white wine, lots of cream and foie gras, truffle juice and vinegar, and poured over the chicken. Good but much too rich for me; definitely a dish for politicians. There are some of his chicken recipes in his books, and his son Alexandre also created a great recipe for poularde de Bresse en croûte de sel. Basically he puts a half-head of garlic, half an onion and a bouquet garni inside the bird, and wraps it tightly into a layer of pâte à sel (1,2 kg coarse salt, 1 kg flour, 2 whole eggs + 4 yolks, 15 cl water, mixed and refrigerated overnight), then the whole thing is baked for 1 h 30 in a 175 °C oven, then left to rest in a warm place for 30 minutes before the crust is broken and the poularde cut up.

Confisuc is sugar with pectin added; in Margaret's case (I'm keeping in mind that she serves the preserve with cheese), it would be perfect because it makes the cooking time very short and the setting easy. So if the texture and fruit taste are important, and if the preserve needs not be very sugary, pectin is great. I have noticed that Confisuc (or Vitpris, which is pectin without sugar) is less interesting when you prefer a more syrupy jam, with a slightly caramelized taste. The use of pectin keeps the preserve a bit on the acidic side, which is good for serving with cheese.