Our plane back from France has just reached cruising altitude, and I’m already hungry. It’s been hours since my quick, early breakfast. I reach for the baguette sandwich stashed under my seat. (A thoughtful steward has brought me a glass of French red from business class.) At that moment the food trolley comes down the aisle. It’s too late. The smiling stewardess slides a tray of human kibble under my nose. I am forced to face the truth: I’m not in France anymore.
But I have plenty of memories. I will relive my favorite French meals as I review my photographs in the coming months. They are a visual diary from which I’ve chosen a few notable examples to share with you. (Warning: Read after eating.)
This emerald green lettuce gaspacho with burrata cheese and girolle mushrooms was unquestionably the most imaginative dish I ate this trip. The very idea of a cold lettuce soup intrigued me. It’s refreshing flavor was enhanced by delicate, sweet-sour vinaigrette seasoning. Even more amazing was the piece of burrata cheese in the center of the bowl. Burrata is made by hollowing out and filling warm, stretched mozzarella cheese with bits of firm cheese and cream. Each cheese ball is closed and placed in a mold to cool. Imagine my surprise when fresh creamy cheese flowed from the break my spoon made in the outer skin. The soup and cheese complemented on another beautifully. Sauteed baby girolles littered the surface of the gaspacho adding a toothsome contrast and the scent of wild herbs.
Note: Burrata is a fragile, short-lived cheese. This was the first time I had seen it on any menu. Other Paris bistros featured burrata in a starter course; none were as appealing as this combination.
I ordered this Ile Flotante, (floating island) following a seafood meal in Honfleur. It’s nursery food at its best: a tender iceberg of meringue sits in a cool pool of crème anglaise. It was finished with warm caramel sauce and toasted almond slices. I took a picture to help me remember this attractive presentation. Then I happily spooned up burnt sugar syrup from the bottom catching some of the thick vanilla sauce on the way. Divine. This comforting dessert never fails to satisfy even when you don’t have fresh Norman dairy ingredients. Here’s a link to my version of Ile Flotante: http://www.chezm.com/welcome-to-recipes/47-desserts/605-floating-island-iles-flotantes
I was served this confit of pork with vegetables on a tree-shaded terrace just inside the walls of St.Paul de Vence. The restaurant had been recommended by a waiter at our hotel. Should we try it? I’m glad we did because the meal exceeded all expectations. This assembly of meat and vegetables looks simple. But it’s not easy to do well. In this case, every ingredient had been cooked separately to exactly the right tenderness and harmoniously arranged on the plate. The pork was succulent and flavorful. The dish was hot when it arrived at the table. Underneath, a delicious demi-glace bound all the elements. You’re looking at a perfectly executed dish
Not all dishes were successful. I ordered the appetizer pictured above in an elegant Avignon dining room. Forget the long smear on the left – I’m not sure what that is - and direct you gaze at the fried spring roll, the obese macaroon and the mound of desiccated matchsticks. Each represents a riff on foie gras. Unfortunately, not one of them worked. The rice paper roll was crispy but its duck liver contents were raw and runny. The threads of dried foie gras felt leathery in the mouth and tasted only vaguely of duck. The slice of terrine de foie gras dressed as a macaroon was too cute - the combination was cloying. Too bad, because the terrine de foie gras itself was delicious.
The photo above is not a page this years Neiman Marcus Christmas Book You are looking at a Rolls-Royce Picnic Hamper (it’s British you know) on display at the Paris Auto Show in early October. The ultimate outdoor dining service was perched on the open boot (Brit-speak for trunk) of a white Phantom Drophead Coupe (two door convertible). Just think, for a mere $1,400 you can purchase this hamper and pretend you're on Masterpiece Theatre.
What meals have I avoided mentioning? Here’s one: I ate at McDonalds. During the tour in Provence we stopped at a shopping mall near Avignon to refuel our rental car. It was 2 pm; we wanted to eat quickly; the ‘golden arches’ sign beckoned.
This ‘McDo’, as the French call the chain, was swarming with noisy teens and young families on a Saturday afternoon. It was the perfect clone of the ones at home. Does it bother me that the French have embraced American fast food? Not at all. As I ate my tasteless Caesar salad, I thought about the restaurant in Limoges that serves sheep’s testicles cooked with garlic and parsley.
