Moules Frites and More, July in France

Needless to say we’ve been too busy eating over the past few weeks to put our forks down and type instead. But when a friend let me know she was pimping our blog to Julie Powell of Julie and Julie fame I exclaimed “Merde! I better get on it!”. Ironically, I picked up Julia Child’s “My Life in France” to read on the flight home, and had a fantastic revelation. Having now been lucky enough to travel to Paris many times, as well as other parts of the France, I know firsthand the places she references, the dishes and markets she savors, the ingredients in French that she uses without needing to translate them. That’s what’s so remarkable to me about the city of Paris and of French cooking, the complete timelessness. She reminisces in the book about perfect moules mariniere the way that I wistfully remember one of our most memorable meals this trip, a cozy little restaurant in Normandy on the water with an open grill and big pots of the freshest moules I’ve ever had (the farm was 100 yards away) and vats of dark brown perfect fries to soak up the creme fraiche and shallot sauce. And the heavy rain outside made the live jazz, warm fire, and everyone squished into tables even more cozy.

So let’s talk some more about Normandy. The land of milk products. Where you can go to the market and get creme fraiche that is absolutely nothing like the one option (in the little pink tub) we have here in the US. Where we toured one of the few remaining raw milk camembert makers in France, where everything is still made by hand. I also learned that you can wrap camembert in foil and put it on the BBQ, the rind is delicious and you can dip bread in the warm gooey middle. This is perfect after gold medal winning hand made merguez and onion saucisson made by the boucher down the street. Because our lovely hostess knew my foodie nature she made a point to bring me to the butcher when he was in on Saturday morning, so he could show me the specific cut of pork to use for the roast she had made the other day. When none of us could figure out how what it was between our broken french and english he whipped out a side of pork from the cooler to show me where it was! And this was after a fantastic trip to the market, equipped with our “real” cart like the locals (it was so great to be able to shop and have a kitchen to work in afterwards, a first since we’re normally vacationing and only picking up items for a picnic), picking up fresh oysters at $3.50/dozen, fresh eggs, saucisson from a jovial pot bellied man that made them all himself, and more glorious cheese. I ate cheese at every meal. I do love a country where wine and cheese are encouraged at both lunch and dinner!

This trip offered me my first chance to spy in a real French kitchen, learning and savoring how to properly sugar my yogurt, how to make quiche lorraine (and the roast mentioned above), that all children love Monster Munch, that cleaning off the lovely potatoes des sable (small delicate potatoes grown in the sand) make your hands black, that beurre au sel de guerande with big chunks of sea salt is about the best thing on bread EVER, and that the simplicity and freshness of ingredients is the marquis of French cooking as I suspected. What could be better than heading out at low tide to collect clams, mussels, and snails and then prepare them the same night for dinner? And yes, I received the “eat the snail challenge” which I deftly passed, much to the surprise of my challenger. We were lucky to enjoy all ends of the culinary spectrum, from superbly fresh and innovative food at Itineraires in Paris, to lovely French bistro fare in a starlit courtyard in Bordeaux, to simple superb home cooked meals in Normandy, finishing with an all-souffle meal back in Paris before Fromage returned home.
I stayed on for a few more days to work, hosting a magical dinner at Restaurant Des Ombres at the Musee Quai Branly where the food was mediocre but to be on a terrace under the Eiffel Tower, everything tastes a little bit better.
Unless, that is, you give me ice cream. Like I mentioned in the last post, it’s my nemesis. Caramel beurre sale is my new fave, but I ended on praline speculos and fraises des bois sorbet. Heaven in a cone, while walking on the Seine. The only thing better would have been to have Fromage there with me holding my other hand, or racing with me on the Velibs that we love riding all over town. Something tells me we’ll end up back in Paris together again soon...