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Everything posted by Ptipois
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I have tried to get some information on the book. First of all it is not very easy to find in French (as a food writer I have never heard of it, though it was issued in 1996) and from what I gather it is originally a university thesis based on the careful observation of the Carpentras market. Which is not really enough to draw conclusions on "the markets of France". If I were an anthropologist/geographer/student in ATP (popular arts and traditions), and were I to study the market of Carpentras, I would by no means expect to come up with a fair and objective study of French markets in general, but rather, through the Carpentras market, with a complex report on the phenomenon of local commerce aimed at tourists and rich Parisians and Britishers who have their country houses in the near region. Local produce and authenticity being things I wouldn't particularly be seeking at the Carpentras market, especially in Summer. Of course the locals still have to buy their food, but the tourist aspect does weigh a lot in that particular market. At any rate, this is a well-defined subject, which is not really French markets, unless (again, I haven't read the book) the author has covered the whole French territory up to the small villages and city suburbs (where you often find the most amazing produce). Now if this is the case, it was probably not a good idea to start with Carpentras anyway.
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Anyway, to the point: I was attracted to this thread by the title "the myth of the French 'country' market" and I find out in amazement that the discovery of a few dishonest practices (though how dishonest they really are deserves to be looked at more closely; for instance where is the fraud in selling artisanal produce that you didn't grow yourself but bought from the next field when what you're supposed to sell is artisanal produce?) seems to be enough to put the blame on the whole phenomenon of French country markets and, thus, on the whole population of small farm producers and maraîchers, who do a terrific job all over the country, I can testify for this. Once again, a few flaws seem to be considered enough of a trigger for global bashing, and the serious term "myth" is immediately applied to French farmer's markets without any closer look on the question. I mean, people, isn't there obviously a problem there?
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This only means that the organic vendors were doing what organic vendors usually do, i.e. define their products as organic. Which doesn't mean that the non-organic stalls were selling lower-quality products. Just that they were not organic. This is defined by a chart of production, and a very strict one — and some vegetable and fruit growers in the other part of the market may very well sell much better produce, and healthier from an organic point of view, but they don't have the label, either because they did not try to get it, or because the criteria were too hard to meet.
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I find it a bit dubious to build theories on a few examples and thus stamp the "inauthenticity" label on French farmers's market stalls as a rule. Anyway, this is by no means my experience at French provincial or even city markets. These practices are unknown in the Norman, Auvergnat, Breton, Languedoc, etc., markets I'm familiar with. Also, I fail to grasp how the picturesque examples of your Auvergnat farmers may be a proof of artifice. The preserves were not made entirely from fruit grown on the farm? So what? And it seems perfectly normal to take the stuff to market in a deux-chevaux instead of the more fragile Peugeot. Where's the inauthenticity in all that? That was certainly good farm produce. I mean, what more would you need for things to be more french-authentic? Preserves being cooked on a wood fire and the jars carried to town by oxcart?
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Absolutely. Being able to tell the difference between artisanal and "industrial" produce is the least a food lover should be able to do, wherever in the world they roam. France or not. Small "producer" market stalls exactly the way I described them, with goods purchased from wholesalers? Sorry, I don't buy that. With just a little practice it is quite easy to know what you're buying. It also takes a bit of knowledge of the region and its agricultural peculiarities, which I agree visitors can't always have. But believe me, if you know how to buy good produce, you'll know how to do that wherever you are. As for the modest stall vendors I'm referring to going to quite elaborate lengths to achieve the appearance of artisanal produce, I don't buy that either, for buying from wholesalers would be more troublesome for them than just growing the stuff. In no way the little granny and her son with their three trussed chickens, one basket of mushrooms and six jars of honey are likely to have bought them from a wholesaler, for that would be a lot of trouble for not much of a gain. I'm tempted to believe that the illusion is more in the eye of the beholder, i.e. mistaking an average "maraîcher" who sells fine-looking produce, some of it of their own production, some of it bought - which is quite common in France - for someone pretending to be a 100% artisanal producer. My favorite maraîcher at the Monge market in Paris does grow some of his vegetables and herbs, and buys the rest. He doesn't claim to grow everything but he will tell you what he grows and what he doesn't. Everyone does the same. However, I believe that some tourists or visitors, seeing his stall, could easily believe at first sight that everything he sells is home production and would be disappointed if they asked him the truth. I go to markets a lot, in Paris and in other parts of France, and apart from the typical cases I've described before, I see very little likeliness of fraud in terms of "country" produce. Unless the "fraud" concerns produce that doesn't even look "country"-like in the first place. There are laws and rules, too. Producers have to be labeled as such at markets. I know some stall vendors who sell 100% home-grown produce. I know some who sell only partly home-grown produce. And others who sell only bought produce. The quality may be excellent in every one of these cases, but the aspect of the produce, the choice offered, and even the way of selling them will be different - and unmistakable. Of course, just PM me before you come to France, and I'll take you to a market when I have a chance. I'll show you how to spot a true maraîcher, a true small producer, and a true tourist trap (if we find one).
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Fake "country" French product stalls are to be found at nearly every market, particularly in touristy regions. They sometimes gather to form whole "terroir" markets even in the heart of Paris. They are extremely easy to spot: heaps of saucissons with various flavors, so-called artisanal bakery, fleur de sel sold for the price of cocaine in blue gingham cloth bags... Vendors in black wide-rimmed hats and blue Auvergnat blouses whatever region they mean to represent, or sometimes Breton hats. Strange as it may seem, they don't only cater for foreign tourists but to the locals as well. Well, some locals. However, it is quite easy not to fall into the trap. The whole thing reeks of inauthenticity and has "phony" written all over it. Hating the French? Or admiring them? What for? Is falsified folklore a uniquely French phenomenon? Aren't marketing techniques, including the corniest ones, perfectly international? There's nothing particularly French about those silly market stalls. Or aren't they rather a consequence of the fact that a bit too much is expected from the French by foreign visitors in terms of "authenticity" and "country products", playing on the chord of hyper-romanticism, which is a thing that wasn't started by the French themselves — and Provence was one of the most severely afflicted regions? If you really like French country products, well, get to know them. When you do, it is very unlikely that you'll get gypped at any of those stalls. Those who cannot tell the difference between industrially-grown and artisanally-grown produce are to be pitied indeed. Real producers with real produce should be spotted from the very first sight. They often have modest stalls, few produce, and diversified: a few chickens, two or three bunches of radish, a few bunches of cress or hairy leeks, three crates of ugly potatoes and sandy carrots. Apple with spots on them. Six half-pounds of butter, hand-shaped into balls. Another way to spot them: there's a waiting line and most of what's available is gone before 10:30 AM. The owner is not dressed "as a peasant", though he or she may have a tan from staying outside in the fields. And so on. I believe anyone who buys produce from a "fake" stall and believes it to be the real thing deserves every bit of it. One word about charcutiers "not making their terrines": there's no rule. Some still do (and will tell you so, truthfully, if you ask). Some don't, and sometimes the so-called "industrial" pâtés and terrines are just as good as home-made. It all depends on the company, which may be artisanal and very good quality. This has been going on for decades and is not really a criteria to judge a charcutier, on a market or not. At any rate, not to be put in the same bunch as the fake Auvergnats selling phony "pain artisanal au feu de bois".
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And then you've got durian-scented coffee beans. How lovely! Wow, you really have got to love durian to do things like that
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It is just as easy as opening Time Out or The Times. You may open Zurban or Le Figaroscope instead. Paris is a capital and not that different from others.
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Picking apartments based on food/wine proximity
Ptipois replied to a topic in France: Cooking & Baking
I'd pick La Contrescarpe any day, but that's where I live. I love it because it's a livable, unsnobbish and not-too-hyped part of Paris. It's relaxed and cozy, yet youthful as well. Place des Vosges and Le Marais are extremely touristy, not very interesting food-market-wise, and there's much less of a neighborhood feeling. La Contrescarpe has outstanding markets nearby: place Monge on Wednesday, Friday and Sunday, and place Maubert on Saturdays and Tuesdays. The Jardin des Plantes is a great park, there's the museum of Evolution there and other nice old-fashioned science museums, and the lovely great Mosque of Paris, built in 1922. However, I suggest that you compare the furnishing and floor plans anyway. -
We've been in chip and pin mode for ages. The chip was actually invented by a Frenchman.
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I see now. This indeed was not part of any of our recipes! But it is a nice idea. Since I have some curry paste left from Pim's recipe, I intend to make khao soi again soon, with beef instead of chicken. I might also try with lamb. And I'll try adding the coconut milk swirl before serving. I suppose it brings extra creaminess and mellows the taste.
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OK, but what pictures?
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Was this "bonbon anglais" in the original? How lovely! I do like the way those peculiar varietals (marsanne, viognier, roussane, savagnin, etc.) age.
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Could you provide a link to photos where you see this? For I can't see any white coconut milk on any of the pictures that Austin, Onigiri or I provided. Coconut milk is mixed with the curry paste at the early stage of cooking, so that it gives its creamy opacity to the sauce, which is quite yellow-brown from the other ingredients. When you cook the sauce long enough, the red oil (red from the curry ingredients) does separate, but the sauce remains opaque from the coconut milk however long you cook it.
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Thank you! At last someone who trusts me!
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Letting this particular wine "breathe" was not likely to change it in any way, since hermitage blanc becomes stable once it's oxidized. I'm with mdibiaso on the idea that the waitress probably got the information from someone back there who knew about the wine and tasted it, and I'm also sure that they wouldn't have given you this information in order to fool you. This seldom happens anyway, and not with very particular wines like old Hermitage blanc. It's quite likely that the wine wasn't bad, only you didn't enjoy it. What a waste ! Now if it really got a heat stroke, then the person who tasted it and sent it back to you would certainly have told you so and removed the bottle instead. Sorry if this may offend you, but the fact that after that experience you chose to order the cheapest wine instead of browsing again seriously through the wine list probably sent the restaurant staff the message that you had poor taste. Hence their attitude. Which is not an excuse but perhaps an explanation. I'm curious about this place, I might drop by and try it. Again, how much were you supposed to pay for the hermitage? That sort of wine is a bit hard to come by.
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It seems obvious that you didn't have very good service, but maybe you should have given this hermitage a second chance, for the girl was probably right. That's the way some white hermitages do age and it's not necessarily considered bad. I do like a very aged, oxidized hermitage. It's like fine jerez. Once I had an ancient, slightly oxidized chevalier-de-sterimberg (a fine hermitage blanc), and I enjoyed it tremendously. It was wonderful with seafood. How much were you supposed to pay for that bottle? If they still have some, I'm interested.
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I heartily agree. I insist on geography because it's a discipline that requires you to establish links and connections between all phenomenons instead of studying each one separately. It does put a lot of stress on daily life and habits, and particularly on food and wine, as a result of agriculture, and agriculture as a result of soil, climate, etc. Studying geography at La Sorbonne was the greatest preparation to food writing I could ever dream of. Of course, there were other factors, but now I believe this was the strongest influence.
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A lot of valuable advice has been given, but here's mine: - Eat, travel, taste, listen, etc. - Know, or learn, how to cook. (Most important. I don't understand why some people seem to consider this optional). - Learn wine, seriously. - Get a good level of academic culture and study some geography if you have an opportunity. - Don't go to journalism school if you want to develop a style. - Learn to write, maybe, but deep down I don't believe in this. Either you have a potential to be a writer or you don't. No writing classes will ever give it to you if you don't. On the other hand, your writing skills and style must be developed. Indeed they'll never stop developing. But I don't believe on patterns and formulas. At first you may think that they might get you more jobs, but they won't, for there will be thousands of aspiring writers out there doing exactly the same thing as you. A good method for improving your writing: write un-self-consciously, then trim as many adjectives and adverbs as you can. And zap the metaphors unless they're really funny. That's a good start. - Read a lot of non-food literature, namely: 1) Classical literature and 2) Essays on geography, ethnology, history. - Read some food literature but not too much of it. Sometimes it's better not to know what others are doing. On the other hand, the old models (I mean the classics) are never intimidating or discouraging. - Know your ingredients and stay as open as possible: don't establish a hierarchy in styles and levels of cuisine. - Learn at least one foreign language. - Get decently paid. Set the standards to what they should be. This is good for you and for the whole trade. - If possible, when you can begin to afford it, get an agent.
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Well, thanks! Although I think all our khao soi were wonderful, each one very personalized though very authentic. And certainly all three were delicious. (Seriously: yaaaaaay! I won!)
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Several Breton places around the gare Montparnasse. I have no idea which ones are the best. If the galettes are crisp, they're OK. If they're limp, pick another place. The Moisan bakery on place d'Aligre. Quiche is not Parisian, so nowhere in Paris but in Lorraine, sure. First choice : Mariage Frères, rue du Bourg-Tibourg (4e). Any fancy hotel in the 1er or the 8e. Or Ladurée, at last resort. Best in Paris (but nobody ever believes me): the Special Sip Chocolat Chaud, with hazelnut paste, at the Sip brasserie, Sèvres-Babylone. They're often out of it. Or at La Maison du Chocolat, Delicabar (Le Bon Marché), or Les Deux Magots. Le Flore's chocolate is not bad either. Don't know about that one but boulangeries displaying huge meringues in their windows are usually dreadful, you should probably avoid them.
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What do they look like, precisely? I've followed the advice of roasting, seeding and pulverizing the red chillies instead of soaking them whole. This saves a lot of pounding and helps with the texture. Also, I chop all ingredients finely before pounding them, which saves time but also produces a smoother paste. All chillies should be seeded, also. Even the small green chillies (phrik khii nuu).
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My first intention was to leave them out as you both did. But I had never deep-fried noodles before and I had a little oil left, so why not take a couple of minutes to do it? Also, I realized that (as is usually the case) each element of the dish has its function and is important in the final taste and texture. That is the case of the deep-fried noodles, they do add a dimension to the khao soi, and, just like the pickled mustard and the shallots, they help make it complete (you eG jury out there, please take note!). It tasted heavenly. We adored it. The two bowls were literally devoured and my son had seconds. The combination of tastes and textures is amazing: three different kinds of crunch (shallots, pickled mustard, fried noodles), two kinds of sweet (the coconut curry sauce and the sweet sulphurousness of the shallots), of tender (chicken, noodles), the acidity of lime meeting the sourness of pickled mustard, plus the aromas of shallot, coriander, and spices... That is one of the most complex (tastewise) dishes I've ever tried. And it's so easy to put together, as long as you've got the curry paste made. Also, I was lucky enough to find some imported Thai coriander with roots and leaves; that makes a difference. The taste is stronger, the leaves are firmer, and they may be eaten as a salad. Now I don't know if I did win, but at least I believe I would be acceptable as a Thai daughter-in-law (don't brood Onigiri, I'm absolutely sure you'd be too, in spite of the ready-made curry paste!) Coconut curry sauces seem to reheat very well. Indeed, we all win. However I'm looking forward to hearing his opinion when he comes back. After all, hey, I fried the darn noodles!