French Fashions #1

Japanese inspired chocolates at the Salon du Chocolat

If, in London, it feels like there is a Starbucks on every corner, in Paris the same can be said for Japanese restaurants. Sushi, it seems, is the plat du moment for Parisiens. So, it's not surprising that two Japanese ingredients have made it big in the world of French patisserie, and can be found flavoring everything from macarons to mille-feuilles.
The first of these is thé matcha, Japanese green tea, which is commonly used to color madeleines, macarons, and financiers as an exotic alternative to pistachio. The other is yuzu, which at a recent masterclass I attended, chef pȃtissier Christophe Michalak described as a cross between an orange and a lemon, but which to me tastes more like a hybrid lemon / grapefruit.
Both of these ingredients have been known in the US for a decade, but it's interesting to see them established as stalwarts of the Parisian patisserie scene. 

New look, new focus

Before, I moved to Paris, a French friend of mine told me that, from a culinary point of view, living in France was just like being in the movie Julie and Julia. I was skeptical, and have spent the last three months waiting to be disappointed. But I can categorically state, he was right.

Yes, there is a small baker's shop opposite my apartment, where I can pop down and buy fresh croissants, and baguettes so hot from the oven, that they burn your hands on the way home. Yes, there is a large turn-of-the-century market hall in the next street, where I have made friends with one of the grocers who will suggest just the right ingredients for whatever I am making. Yes, the city is full of the most amazing patisseries which compete with each other to create stunningly beautiful cakes that make you want to weep.

If I had to find something to complain about or criticize, it would be that the baker's is closed on a Saturday, and I have to walk to the next street to find the nearest alternative; the market is only open three days a week (although one of these is Sunday), and the patisseries can be expensive.

As well as the sheer range and quality of the food, I have been overwhelmed by the fads and fashions I have seen here, many of which haven't been heard of outside France. I have also discovered that there are myriad opportunities to learn how to cook as well, ranging from lessons at well-established cooking schools, to masterclasses with celebrity chefs.

All of the above led to a bit of a crisis on my blog, as I had no idea what to focus on as I couldn't write about it all. So, I have decided that a change of focus and a new direction are in order.

This blog will now focus on patisserie. Every week, I will try one classic pastry, from a famous shop and then recreate my own version at home. As I learn, I will share my recipes and insights here which will build up into a manual. I am also going to take a class once a month at a different cooking school and will blog about my experiences there too. Updates in between will focus on anything I happen to notice around town and feel like sharing.

So, sit back, relax, and enjoy. Updates coming soon about the oldest macaron shop in the world, a masterclass with a real TV celebrity, and a legendary tart made by two sisters. 

Photo du jour: 10 Novembre 2013

Smoked salmon and capers with risotto. Sunday lunch. Recipe to follow soon. 

Photo du Jour: 8 November 2013

Bouchée à la Reine

Whichever Queen the Bouchée à la Reine was named for, must have had a very big mouth. Seriously, I suspect that the name  is actually a corruption of Lorraine, which is the home of this puff pastry case,  filled with a comforting mushroom sauce—just right for a November picnic. In Anglosaxonia, we tend to use the Belgian name for this, vol au vent, which is just what I was about to do in the picture as it's windy in Paris today. 

Photo du jour: 4 Novembre 2013

Selection of current best selling cook books in France. These include books by Christophe Michalak also a popular TV chef, and Claire Heizler, and Anne-Sophie Pic, the third generation in her family to be a three star Michelin chef. 

Photo du jour: 3 Novembre 2013

Twins - Paul Pairet

This is a design for a dish called Twins by Chef Paul Pairet of the restaurant Ultraviolet in Shanghai, China. There are two identical looking plates, one with tomato and mozzarella and the other with the same forms created in sweet food. You are supposed to eat one, and then the other to provide a kind of sensory confusion. This was one of the exhibits at Cook Book an exhibition at the Palais des Beaux Arts here in Paris. 

Photo du jour: 2 Novembre 2013

Big Fernand hamburger

According to Le Figaro, Big Fernand serves one of the five best hamburgers in Paris. Distinguished by typically French flavors and ingredients, they sure are good. The beer from the north of France wasn't half bad either. More to follow. 

Photo du jour: 1 Novembre 2013

Conger

European congers are found off both the Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts of France. This six footer (he's been chopped in half) is average since they can reach almost 10 foot in length and weigh up to 240lb, making them the largest eels in the world.

Presentation

I have become very conscious of my presentation when cooking recently, and really feel that I have moved up a notch in the last couple of months. That was until yesterday, when I attended a demonstration with Chef Iman Bogen at the Cordon Bleu School here in Paris. It was a real privilege to watch Chef Bogen in action. I think you will agree, his plates put the haute in haute cuisine.

Crème de topinambours aux cèpes et dés de canard fumé

Côtes de veau mijotées en cocotte aux petits légumes et champignons

Moelleux d'amande et mûres tièdes, sabayon pistache

Weekend round-up

Busy weekend on the food front and one of two firsts. On Saturday evening, I was finally persuaded to try escargots for the first time. I say for the first time, since there will definitely be a next time as
they were delicious. Served in their shells with parsley and garlic butter, you winkle them out with a toothpick and eat them whole. Rather like mussels.


I also learnt how to cook 'galettes sarrasin', a popular food in Paris, known to the rest of the world as savoury crȇpes. In France the salty variety are made with 'sarrasin' flour, made with buckwheat, and which lends them a beige colour and distinctive taste. They will have a blog entry of their own very soon.

Gontran Cherrier

La basilique du Sacré-Coeur de Montmartre

Yesterday after work, I took a quick trip to Montmartre to visit the main shop of one of the most fȇted bakers in Paris, Gontran Cherrier. Extremely gifted, Cherrier has long been a part of Parisian life, but has recently achieved national fame as one of the judges on the popular TV program La Meilleure Boulangerie en France (The Best Bakery in France). His three shops in Paris have been joined by one in Singapore and one in Tokyo. It doesn't hurt that he looks like a rock-star, either.

It was very quiet when I arrived at the shop in  the Rue Caulaincourt. I took a coffee, a patisserie and a seat by the window, and within minutes the place had filled up parents and children on their way home form school, popping in for le goûter, the French equivalent of afternoon tea.

I tried his tarte aux pistaches et agrumes (pistachio and citrus fruit tart): segments of sweet orange, and sour pink grapefruit, lying on a verdant springy mattress of pistachio and almond, in a walnut-coloured bedstead of pâte sucrée—the most even and delicate I have ever tasted. Chapeau M. Cherrier. I will be back.

Gontran Cherrier, Rue Caulaincourt

Tarte aux pistaches et agrumes

Butter ratings:
Gontran Cherrier, 22 rue Caulaincourt, 75018 Paris, France

Le déjeuner du laboureur

Since I have been up working since the crack of dawn, I decided that I deserved a good lunch. I went to the fridge and gave it a good clear out and made a meal of the leftovers: roast chicken, ceps, some fabulous Livarot cheese, and of course, baguette. It was sort of a ploughman's lunch with a heavy french accent. And for dessert? Well, I discovered some wonderful 100 per cent magenta rhubarb at the market this morning, and had a lesson in how to pronounce it from the stallholder—'Rhu' like 'la rue': one of the most difficult sounds in French. So, freshly baked rhubarb crumble and vanilla ice-cream for pudding. And for those of you that think that's not very Parisian, watch this space. What a treat!

Livarot cheese, baguette, roast chicken, and pan-fried ceps (clockwise from left)

Rhubarb crumble

Pukka!

I was at the market today looking for something to make a salad, and I saw these beautiful fresh figs. So, I took them home and made this salad with mozzarella, prosciutto and an amazing lemon, olive oil, and honey dressing from a Jamie Oliver recipe. And the result was ... pukka!
I know, I know ... I am falling back on the Italian cuisine again, but it's what I am used to. I promise to try harder with the French next week.

Mellow fruitfulness

'Belle de Boskoop' apples

Cèpes

There are two ingredients that traditionally mark the season of mists in France: the first are rouged apples  from the fields of Normandy, and the other are ceps, boletus edulis mushrooms, from the forests and woods.

Ceps look like the archetypal cartoon mushroom. Their tubby little stalks, topped with a cappuccino hat, make you want to prod them in the tummy like the Pilsbury Dough Man. This cuteness, that in Italy has earned them the name of ‘porcini’ or ‘little pigs’,  belies a flavour that makes them rightly prized for eating, with a price tag to match.

Ceps smell of the earth in which they grow, or does the earth in which they grow, smell of cep? I am not quite sure. Delicious raw, they have a much more stringy consistency than white or brown cap mushrooms  more like the centre of a freshly baked baguette than a mushroom. Their extraordinary flavour is scented with hints of ripe orchard apple and walnut, and leaves the aroma of freshly polished mahogany in your nose.

Cooking completely changes the texture and flavour of the cep. Allow them, diced, to gently sigh in a hip bath of butter until lightly browned, and you have something that resembles creamy scallops. Serve on a slice of toasted bread doused in olive oil and you have the perfect autumn comfort food. Who needs cheese on toast?

Ratatouille

My local market

Thanks to Disney, almost everyone now knows the name of this classic French dish, which is one of my personal favourites. As a child, I was brought up on the Italian 'peperonata' which is very similar, but without aubergines and courgettes (US translation: egg plants and zucchini) and is delicious as a hot accompaniment to meat or as a cold salad. Add in what are my two favourite vegetables and we are very close to perfection. 

Ratatouille, (ra-ta-too-ee) has it's origins in the southern, Provence region of France and therefore has cousins in most Mediterranean countries. You will find it on menus hiding behind names such as 'pisto' (Spain), 'caponata' (Italy), 'kapunata' (Malta), lecso (Hungary), and 'briami' (Greece). Even in France, it sometimes masquerades as the romantic 'valentine' or the mouthful 'bohémienne languedocienne'.
Tuesday morning is market morning in my neighbourhood, so I popped out to get the vegetables to prepare it. 

Ratatouille

2 aubergines (egg plants)

2 white onions

1 red pepper

1 yellow pepper

2 medium courgettes (zucchini)

6 large plum tomatoes

2 cloves of garlic, chopped

6 tablespoons of olive oil

2 tablespoons of tomato purée

2 teaspoons of chopped tarragon

1 teaspoon of chopped rosemary

salt

ground black pepper

Chop the aubergines into large cubes. Cover them with salt, and leave them to sweat their juices for about 10 minutes. 

Peel and halve the onions and them cut them into semi-circular slices. 

Remove the insides of the peppers and cut the skin into large square pieces. 

Chop the courgettes into rounds and chop the tomatoes into eight pieces each. 

All your pieces of vegetable should be about the same size. 

Heat the oil gently in a large saucepan or casserold and add the aubergines, onions, peppers, and courgettes. Cook for about 5 minutes and then add the garlic and the herbs. Add the tomatoes and tomato purée, season with salt and pepper. Add a small amount of water and then cover and simmer for about 15 minutes or until the peppers are tender. 

Serve hot as an accompaniment for chicken or meat, as a main course, or cold as a salad. 

Give us this day ...

There are many cliches that come to mind when one thinks of France: stripy jumpers and berets, 'oh la, la!', and people wandering the streets with a baguette under their arm. When I first came to France, I was amazed to see that at least the third of these is no cliche, but a daily sight in Paris, where you are never more than 300 metres from a boulangerie. In fact, there is a boulangerie opposite my apartment, and I have made a daily ritual out of the three-minute trip across the road to buy my baguette. 

My boulangerie is a family-run enterprise and is open six days a week «de l'aube au crépuscule». The offending closing day is actually Saturday, which means that Sunday begins with the smell of fresh bread and viennoiserie wafting up from the street below. A sign in the shop proudly proclaims that all their bread is made from Sel de Guérande, salt produced in a tradition manner in the Loire estuary. 

The baguettes themselves are made by hand in the traditional method, crusty on the outside, soft in the middle, going stale in less than 24 hours, which fortunately means a daily trip to the boulangerie and starting all over again.

 

'pain de la tradition française'

My boulangerie

Battle of the croissants.

The origins of the croissant lie closer to Zürich than to Paris. As the french term, Viennoiserie, used to refer to croissants, pains au chocolat, chaussons aux pommes, and the like, suggests, it was the Austrian capital that exported 'kipferln' to France after the Napoleonic Wars.

During my final week in Switzerland, I decided to consumer test 'gipfeli', as Swiss-German calls them, from two of the most popular bakeries in Zürich: Jung (est. 1976), on Bleicherweg, and Sprüngli (est. 1836), on Paradeplatz. I will be comparing these with the french version in the next few days.

The Jung gipfeli (1.40CHF / 1.13€), straight shaped with quite a dark colouring, was soft and dense, with an obvious flavour of butter and a hint of salt. 

The Sprüngli gipfeli (1.70CHF / 1.37€), a perfect crescent shape, in fact almost a circle, with a golden colour, was crispy but rather dry, with a light consistency, again a good buttery flavour, and more salt.

For flavour, I preferred the Sprüngli, but I must say I preferred the consistency of the Jung. However, both were a little disappointing, especially the dryness of the Sprüngli.




Butter ratings:
Sprüngli, Bahnhofstrasse 21, 8001 Zürich, Switzerland 

Jung, Bleicherweg 10, 8002 Zürich, Switzerland

Bonjour tout le monde!

After two years living in the Swiss city of Zürich, I have moved, lock, stockpot, and Kitchenaid, to the city of Paris, France. So, my blog has a new look, a new name, and a new focus. Chueche Bueb, is no more but welcome to Pain, Beurre, Vin, named for three of the cornerstones of French cuisine, and dedicated to a twenty-first century take on 'mastering the art of French cooking.'
Living in Paris will be a culinary adventure, which I intend to punctuate with learning the classic recipes, as well as writing about contemporary trends and attitudes to food in France. Watch this space for hints, tips, and photographs of what I hope will be some of the best food in the world.
All the posts from Chueche Bueb will continue to be available in the archive. So, 'Uf Wiederluege, Züri' and 'Bonjour, Paris!'