Cancale, encore, encore, encore…

I went to Cancale for the fourth time yesterday. I know, I’m a seafood junkie. I do have an excuse: months ago I bought a Groupon coupon for a three-course lobster meal in Cancale. I actually tried to use the coupon the last time that I was in Cancale about a month ago but hadn’t made a reservation so they wouldn’t seat us. Which was fine because then we had that amazing meal at Au Pied d’cheval….no hard feelings. This time I wasn’t taking any chances: Friday night I called to make the reservation. Everything was fine, I made a reservation for 2 at noon…until I mentioned that I had the coupon to use. Suddenly, no they were full and they couldn’t accommodate us. Quoi? I recently had a conversation with an American who has lived in France for 6 years. We were discussing the nightmare that it is to deal with administration and bureaucracy in France. While I’m not a big fan of stereotypes, this is one that has always held true in my experience.  Her advice to me was that as an American I have to get over my timidity. She said that in France when someone says ‘no’ that is when you get comfortable. You take a seat and you don’t move until you get your way. With those words in mind I took a deep breath and said calmly into the receiver “No. I bought the coupon, this isn’t the first time I’ve tried to use it. It expires in 2 weeks and tomorrow is the last day that I can use it as I live in Rennes and it’s not easy for me to get to Cancale. I spent 40 euro and I want to eat this meal!” The women on the other line chuckled, sighed and then said “Okay, we’ll move some things around for you”. I thanked her and put the phone down, shocked. What just happened? I convinced someone, in my terrible American accent, to make an exception for me? In all likelihood she just felt sorry for me, but whatever, I’ll take it! Réussite.

The next day Emma and I arrived in Cancale and went straight to Graine de Vanille, the bakery owned by my culinary hero Olivier Roellinger. We had tried to go there the last time we were in Cancale but it was closed. I guess we had a bit of bad luck during that last trip. But this time they were open and we stepped out of the cold into the warm, sweet, sticky air of the world’s most adorable bakery. Everything is warm and antique and smells like it wants you to eat it immediately. We had a hard time choosing our pastries. In the end I settled on a mille feuille and a pommé, a traditional Breton butter cake filled with applesauce. Maybe you remember last year when I went to Cancale for the first time and discovered the mind-blowing magnificence of Graine de Vanille’s mille feuille?

People sitting on the wall to devour oysters. The white on the sand below is all the old oyster shells

We tucked our pastries away to enjoy later and headed down the hill to the boardwalk. We still had a bit of time to kill before our lunch reservation so we took a seat near the pier where we had an excellent view of the sprawling oyster beds reaching out across the bay to the distant Mont Saint Michel . Chatting couples and families settled down to freshly shucked oysters bought from the nearby oyster stalls. We watched as oyster after oyster slid down greedy throats, the shells chucked onto the beach below where they disappeared into the mass of white oyster skeletons. Fingers were licked, lips were smacked and then they dove back in for more.

And then it was time for the long awaited meal. Despite my fears that the staff at this restaurant would be unpleasant due to my negative experiences thus far, we were greeted warmly and sat down to have an amazing meal.

Emma's starter: Housemade foie gras

My starter: Langoustine and oysters

Main course: Half a lobster in a pool of butter sauce with rice, veggies and a scallop

Dessert: Tropical fruit sampler

After

Emma hails from Maine and if the lobster gets her stamp of approval I don’t think I need to add anything else to express how yummy it was. We merrily drank muscadet and picked our way through our lobsters. Happily Emma was there to walk me through the operation as I’m not too familiar with lobster eating etiquette. In the end I cleaned every little bit of food off my plate, and I even managed to sop up the entire pool of butter that was covering my plate. I’m a true Bretonne now!

Two hours later, we rolled our happy tummies out onto the street to catch the bus and then the train. After yet another perfect day in Cancale it was back to Rennes to have pastries for dinner in my tiny apartment. Thank you Emma for being such wonderful company on my constant culinary adventures (comme d’habitude) and thank you Le Narval for a wonderful meal that was well worth the wait.

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A wonderful weekend

Yelle in concert. A surprise birthday celebration in the form of a Sunday afternoon tea party. Food and wine expo featuring the crème de la crème of French producers. Birthday presents. Halloween party. And now I need to detox….(yeah, right).

I got back from Bordeaux the middle of last week, content but tired out. Knowing that I had a big weekend coming up I had planned to be responsible and stay in and lesson plan. That didn’t happen…I’ve been taking this whole on vacation thing a bit too seriously I think. Tomorrow is my last day of the holiday, so I guess I’ll be doing a lot of lesson planning tomorrow! But it was totally worth it to scrimp on work for the festivities of the weekend.

Getting ready for the concert

We kicked the weekend off with a Yelle concert. If you’re not familiar with her music you can check it out here. She makes fun, French pop songs with silly lyrics that really make you want to dance. She was adorable on stage, and her voice sounded great live. Her energy was infectious. She had the whole crowd  jumping and yelling and shaking their tail feathers (with the exception of the girl standing directly in front of me who was eerily still throughout the entire affair, which just made me want to dance more of course). If ever you get the chance to see Yelle live, do it!

The next day was a lazy day, until I was surprised with an afternoon tea party (though there wasn’t so much tea involved as there was champagne). My lovely friends supplied me with mimosas, homemade scones, carrot cake (my favorite!) and tartines with speculoos and raspberry jam. We dove into all the goodies and just when I thought things couldn’t get any better they gave me the cutest most thoughtful birthday gifts. It was a perfect afternoon.  Thanks les filles!

The next day (my birthday and Halloween) I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my birthday: wandering from stall to stall at a massive food and wine expo. We paid 6 euro to get inside the hall, and once in we could sample from any of the vendors. We bounced from wine stall to wine stall, tasting wines from all over France. Then we would realize we were a bit too rosy from the wine and we would switch to the food stalls: sausage, foie gras, chocolate, nougat, pastries, macarons…Then back to the wine. This wondrous cycle repeated for 5 hours until we just couldn’t put another thing in our mouths and decided to escape the ever-growing mass of gourmands.

       

Blowing out the birthday cupcake

After a semi-comatose afternoon I managed to recover from my food hangover to enjoy a lovely galette birthday dinner made by my boyfriend (who is a bit of a crêpe master, it must be said). And then that night it was time for the Halloween celebrations. Every year I put off organizing my Halloween costume and this year was no exception. But last minute my friends and I were able to cobble together some decent costumes: we were the 6 characters from the game Clue. I was Professor Plum, who was always my favorite character in the game. Some friends had une crémaillère/soirée déguisée (housewarming/Halloween party) and while it was a small group of us, we laughed and danced the night away.

The whole Clue crew

So, after a wonderful Toussaint holiday it’s back to work tomorrow! I can’t complain though as it’s already almost the weekend and next week I have a 4 day weekend! Working in France really is tough…

*Thanks Emma for some of the photos (again)!

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Bordeaux

This is a love story. It’s about a girl with stars in her eyes who moved to Brittany and was so blinded by the sheer brilliance of the epic salted butter, the glistening seafood and the delicious array of galettes that she forgot her first love: the South of France. What truly made her fall in love with France all those years ago was the semester she spent in Provence as a student where she passed her time debating locals about politics, picking up a nasal twang and learning to play pétanque and drink pastis with the best of them. Clearly I am that girl, and while I am more than content in Brittany, I must admit that being back in the South plucked at my heartstrings a bit. I couldn’t help but feel that I was missing something not being there still. I found myself wondering, for the umpteenth time, why can’t I live in 10 places at once? Provence, Rennes, California, Hawaii, New York.  All of these places feel like home. Why can’t we just press a button to zoom from one place to the next? Surely someone somewhere must be working on this? If the French can create over 1,000 varieties of cheese is it too much to ask for someone to make this one simple thing?

Emma and I in front of the Grand Hotel

While I didn’t press a button to get there, I did recently travel to Bordeaux by train. I love taking the train in France; I don’t need any form of entertainment while on it. I can spend hours just staring out the window at the scenes flashing past: patches of forests with bright red-orange and mustard-yellow trees, slowly winding rivers, small picturesque villages and fields of golden wheat, green and white clover or yellow and purple wildflowers. A 6 hour train ride later, we arrived in Bordeaux in the middle of the night. We were struck immediately by the wide open spaces and the array of massive, beautifully lit historic buildings. Bordeaux is a city that feels incredibly spacious by French standards: the boulevards are wide and sprawling, and the city is dotted with large squares and empty spaces. Even the ancient city center doesn’t feel cramped and dense. We finally navigated our way to our hotel after a few failed attempts (we tried to check into a different hotel that had a similar name to ours) and crashed into bed and set our alarms for early the next morning so we could get up and discover the town.

Rue Sainte-Catherine, one of the many wide rue piétonne in Bordeaux

The next day we headed out with no plan other than to explore. We wound our way up to the historic city center, passing countless immense beautiful buildings, grand boulevards and crooked, charming side streets as we went. We stumbled onto the wide open space of the place in front of the Opera and the Grand Hotel, which is situated right next to the Esplanade de Quinconces, one of the largest squares in Europe that is now currently filled with a fun fair. Maybe now you’re beginning to get an idea of the scale of things in Bordeaux? It’s a city that gives you room to breathe.

Emma enjoying her café au lait

We sat down at a quaint café for a breakfast of coffee and a toasted croissant. At around 11 we started to notice more and more people lining up at the nondescript restaurant next door, L’Entrecote. The line continued to grow until it wound all the way around the block. French people only line up for good reason, so we made a mental note to check this place out online back at the hotel to see what all the fuss was about.

Sitting in the giant sunlit square I realized that one of the other things that struck me about Bordeaux besides its’ size is how hip and edgy it is. While researching Bordeaux I had read that up until 10 years ago Bordeaux was stuck in a bit of a rut; it was sooty and dirty and neglected. Under its’ current mayor it has seen a giant scrubbing of sorts. We saw evidence of this in several buildings that were halfway cleaned: the difference between the before and after is vast. Only a city that is coming from such a drab, neglected place could spring forward in such a way. In between its revitalized industrial spaces, its new tramway and its hip, young and urban student population, Bordeaux feels like the place to be.

We continued our exploration of the city by passing through the fun fair at Esplanade de Quinconces and then we headed down to the quai, the giant boardwalk that runs along the Garonne river until we reached the Place de la Bourse, yet another giant square in front of yet another beautiful old building. We played around a bit on the Mirroir d’Eau, a giant mirror made of water. It was disappointing so we abandoned our efforts and headed into the cobblestoned streets of the heart of historic Bordeaux to find some lunch.

We realized we were close to L’Autre Petit Bois, a wine bar I had read about in this New York Times article. I was shocked to find that a place they recommended was actually affordable! But it was: we had a wonderful lunch, a bottle of wine and dessert for around 15 euro each. I had a foie gras tartine and for dessert we all split a coffee tiramisu and a banana chocolate crumble. But just as much as the food we enjoyed the cool kitsch interior, which included a faux canopy of trees and a lot of chandeliers. Somehow it worked.

After lunch we continued wandering from quaint street to picturesque place until we ended up at the most famous monument in Bordeaux: the Cathédrale Saint-André. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage site that was built from the 12th to the 16th centuries. I could bore you with some architectural facts because I am a geek about that stuff, but here are some photos instead (I only took about 50 of them in my desperate attempt to capture the magnificent site from every conceivable angle).

Man making canelés

Canelés

After a day of exploring and a night of dancing, we dragged our weary bums out of bed Sunday morning to make our way over to the Marché des Quais, a huge market that runs along the Garonne river. What better way to cure a hangover than to eat a lot of food and drink some more? We ambled through the market sampling crêpes (not as good as the one’s in Brittany) and wine and stopped to watch a skilled baker turn out batch after batch of canelé, a famous Bordeaux pastry that’s really more of a small cake. We got some goat cheese, the BEST bread ever, figs, duck sausage, and some white wine and settled down on the side of the boardwalk to enjoy our picnic.

We spent the rest of day lazing about in the glorious sunshine at the Jardin Publique, drinking more wine (hey, we needed to make sure our hangovers had really gone). We continued our exploration of the city through the Quartier des Chartrons, an adorable old neighborhood full of antique shops and painfully cute wine bars and cafés where there happened to be a Fête de Vin Nouveau taking place. Vin nouveau, also known as bourru is a wine that is made of fermented freshly pressed grape juice. The streets were full of families, musicians and vendors out to celebrate its’ sweet splendor. We settled down at a café to people watch and sip on some of the celebrated wine, which was delicious.

The perfect meal at L'Entrecote

Monday night we finally made it to L’Entrecote, the aforementioned restaurant with the huge line to find out what all the fuss was about. Through research we had learned that it is a very famous restaurant that serves only one thing: steak and fries. And they do it well. We queued up half and hour before the restaurant opened and there were already at least 60 people in front of us. Happily we managed to get a table in the first round of seating. A waitress came to our table right way to ask how we wanted our meat cooked. All three of us chimed “à point” (medium-rare). We were briskly served red wine, a simple salad and a basket of bread. A short while later each of us received a huge white plate full of fries with the most dismal little portion of meat. We looked at each other with crest-fallen faces. That’s all!? This is what all the fuss is about!?

Before

After

And then it came…the platter of meat a top small candles to keep the meat the perfect temperature. It was without a doubt one of the best meals of my life. We laughed and laughed and reveled in the delicious mystery sauce that the restaurant guards under lock and key and became a bit rosier with each glass of wine.

 

The next day saw us out of bed early once again. We headed to the tourism office where we met a guide who was to take us on a daylong tour of a nearby château and vineyard, including a tasting and lunch. We piled into an old quatre quatre (four wheel drive) and as the city fell behind us our friendly and exuberant guide chatted away to the group about the geography of Bordeaux. The ride was bumpy and at times frightening, but we finally made it to Château d’Arsac, a recently restored vineyard that features over 100 hectares of beautiful vines and gardens as well as an impressive collection of modern art. We toured the property, learned about the grapes and then headed inside to check out the process of how the wine is made.

Entrance to La Winery

Next, we headed across the motorway to the nearby compound La Winery, which is owned by the same man who owns Château d’Arsac. The compound is the second biggest wine store in France and features a massive wine collection and an impressive modern restaurant. Our guide led us to the tasting counter where we settled down to sample two wines made by the Château d’Arsac family. Then it was time for lunch at their restaurant The Wy.

Main course: Dorado with Risotto and Romanesco

Dessert: Café Gourmand

After lunch it was time for more tasting, this time with a sommelier who walked us through 5 wines that represent all the different regions of Bordeaux from the Medoc to the Sauternes. An hour later, hearts warm with wine and cheeks flushed from laughter we bought some wine and headed back to the city center.

The next day saw us watching Bordeaux fall behind us from out the train window. I feel as if I could’ve stayed forever. Once again I fell in love with the South. I fell for its’ chalky, dusty white blue sky, the soft white yellow orange of the limestone buildings, and the warmth, friendliness and carefree attitude of its’ people. Hopefully it won’t be so long before my next return. Until then, I’ll just sip on pastis and stare longingly at photos…

*Thanks Emma for some of the photos!

Posted in Food, Restaurants, Travel | 3 Comments

A few dinners…

Dinner 1

Roasted Pork Loin Stuffed with Garlic and Rosemary with Ratatouille

Dinner 2

Tomatoes Baked with Pesto

The World's Best Chicken Sausage with Roasted Garlic and Cauliflower Mashed with Butter and Cream

Dinner 3

French Onion Soup

Fig Mascarpone Tart

*Thanks to Emma for the ratatouille, the soup and the some of the photos!
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A few stories: Paris, Rennes and Cancale

I have a long list of places that I want to visit in France. I’ve never sampled the world-renowned cuisine of Lyon, explored Basque country or set eyes on the sweeping beauty of central France which the French loving call la france profonde. I have so many French destinations on my list, and yet I seem to keep going back to the same places time and time again. Most recently, Paris and Cancale.

View from the Pont des Arts

Lovelocks on Pont des Arts

Paris is a place that never gets old. Though I lived there for 4 months, there are still so many little nooks of that vast snail-shaped city which I have never explored properly. And it’s always worth a trip back to Paris for the museums alone (especially since I get in for free since I am under 26 and living in Europe). The only reason I don’t go to Paris more often is that it’s seriously draining on the ole’ bank account. But last weekend I had the opportunity to be put up in a hotel for free, so I couldn’t refuse. Sadly, I still spent way too much money, but at least I got one more fix of Paris to hold me over for a while.

Walking down the hill at Montmartre

We stayed in Montmartre, which is one of my favorite quarters of Paris. When I say Montmartre I’m not talking about the bustling, dirty Boulevard de Clichy where the Moulin Rouge sits sadly spreckled among so many identical sex shops with their cheesy neon lights. Nor am I talking about the crowded area directly around the Basilique du Sacré-Coeur, packed full of tourists and gimmicky artists offering to draw your portrait. I mean the less frequented streets which wind their way down la Butte Montmartre, and the area on the border of the 17th and 18th arrondissement that is hip and lively and refreshingly void of tourists (okay, I know technically I’m a tourist when I go to Paris, but I like to pretend that I’m a well-established Parisienne).  I hadn’t spent too much time in this quarter before and was delighted by every winding and adorable cobbled street I stumbled upon. In juxtaposition to the picturesqueness of it all, many of the buildings in this area are decorated with amazing modern street art.

We spent a whole afternoon wandering around this quaint area,  exploring the undulating hills of tiny streets and the Cimetière de Montmartre where Emile Zola and many other famous writers, artists and composers are laid to rest.

We also spent half a day at the Louvre. Note: if you want to try to take advantage of the free admission the first Sunday of every month, get there before opening at 9am! The line was at least 2 hours long. We decided it wasn’t worth it and came back the next day. It was much less crowded on a Monday, and we managed to see almost everything we had wanted to see in just a few hours. Here are some favorites.

My steak tartare from Café Marcel

Of course another amazing aspect of Paris is the food. While there are so many amazing restaurants in Paris for every decent restaurant there are 3 overpriced, poor-quality tourist traps that tend to have shitty service to boot. Unfortunately for dinner our first night we ate at one of these places, as much as we had tried to avoid it. Full disclosure: This is totally my fault. My patient boyfriend trotted along behind me as I searched painstakingly for the perfect restaurant. In the end, we were both so hungry that we just went to some randome brasserie by our hotel, and it was very disappointing. The service was snooty and slow, my foie gras appetizer was shockingly void of foie gras, and his steak was chewy and tough. This is why it’s always a good idea to research restaurants before you leave for your trip! The second day we had better luck: we ate at a small restaurant just around the corner from our hotel called Café Marcel, which was adorable and had authentic, simple, delicious food. I had steak tartare for the very first time ever, and it was so sooooooo delicious. Some advice: don’t ever be put off by the idea of raw steak mixed with raw egg. It is silky and rich and a true French classic.

Some of my students contemplating the canal with their friends from Jersey

I left Paris last Monday and as much as I love that wonderful city I am always happy to come back home to Rennes. I’m done living in a city as big, crowded and harried as Paris. I am like the Goldilocks of cities: I’ve tried Paris, I’ve tried San Francisco. For now at least, Rennes is just right. And besides, a claustrophobe like me is always relieved to leave those crowded metros behind. This week saw my return to work at the elementary school, so my routine in Rennes is finally back to normal. It was an amazing first week. It hardly felt like work as I spent most of Friday on an excursion through the city center with my CM1 class (5th grade equivalent) and some visiting students from Jersey.

Speaking of enjoying life in Rennes, my goal for this autumn is to take full advantage of the seafood season. It’s the time for mussels and oysters right now, and I just happen to be living in one of the best places in the world for fresh seafood. I made good on my resolution yesterday when my friend Emma and I went to Cancale for the day.

No seafood tower this time, but we did have the best oysters and mussels I’ve ever had in my life, hands down. We picked a small, authentic looking restaurant out of the vast array of seafood restaurants lining the boardwalk and tucked in. We shared a dozen oysters, a bottle of Muscadet, moules marinières et frites (mussels marinated in white wine and shallots with fries) and several laughing fits. It was the perfect meal: delicious, fun, filling and memorable. It can be overwhelming choosing a restaurant in Cancale because of the sheer number of them. If you visit Cancale I highly recommend the one where we ate, Au Pied d’cheval. The service is friendly, the environment is authentic and the food is simple, delicious, and modestly priced. Another good sign: all of the other diners seemed to be locals.

Where the magic happened. Photo courtesy of Emma Verrill.

In the bathroom at the restaurant, one of the funnier translation scenarios I've encountered.

After lunch we walked around the waterfront, people watching at the oyster stands. Cancale is world-renowned for the quality of its’ oysters, and you can find them sold in restaurants the world over for exorbitant prices. But at these stands you can buy fresh Cancalaise oysters for next to nothing. We also whittled away the time by staring out at the Mont Saint Michel which you can see off in the distance, looking like a miniature sand castle in the middle of the ocean. Are we ridiculous for spending quite a bit of time and money for a few hours at the coast and a good seafood meal? Not when you consider that I’ll probably remember that meal for the rest of my life. All in all, it was a perfect near perfect day.

Posted in Restaurants, Travel | 3 Comments

The very best steak and the very best cake

This is the story of a birthday dinner for a reluctant birthday boy. Sunday was a very special someone’s big day. Unfortunately, this certain someone doesn’t like birthdays, and last year he got away with not celebrating his birthday at all! What a crime. I have to say, this anti-birthday attitude confounds me. What is a birthday besides the celebration of the beginning of your life, and an excuse to see good friends and eat good food? Not to mention the cake and presents aspect. But, this very humble man just doesn’t like all the attention…

So, I was determined to make this year different and thus decided to make the perfect birthday meal, finished off with the perfect birthday cake. The dinner request was steak (of course, what else would a man ask for?) which is simple enough. If you have a good piece of meat, the simpler the recipe the better. The bigger trick was nailing down the perfect birthday cake recipe. In a happy accident I stumbled across an article on Smitten Kitchen about making the perfect layer cake, which then led to the page for her recipe for the best birthday cake. It was exactly the cake I had pictured: a made-from-scratch yellow layer cake with decadent chocolate frosting. Simple, beautiful and exactly what any self-respecting housewife would have served up from her gleaming kitchen in the 1950’s. For once my never-ending food blog addiction came in handy!

Saturday morning saw me scouring the giant selection of butchers at the market to find the ultimate cut of filet mignon de boeuf. I picked the vendor that had the longest line and the highest prices, and asked for two tranches of their very best cut.  I then headed to the veggie vendors to see what looked good, hoping to get some inspiration for the rest of the meal. As I am panicking that tomatoes will be gone soon since summer has recently ended, I decided to start with a bushel of those bright red orbs. These tomatoes were giant, and as I picked some up to feel and smell them I immediately thought of tomates a la provençale. I also grabbed some romanesco, a sort of cauliflower/broccoli hybrid that I had been meaning to try for ages. And finally, my eyes fell onto some glistening green, yellow and red bell peppers: another summer treat that will be leaving the market stalls shortly. My mind leaped back to a few weeks ago when I was staying with a French family and the mom made the most delicious terrine of roasted bell peppers and fresh goat cheese. Alas, I had my menu for the perfect birthday dinner…a birthday dinner that could make an anti-birthday man happy to be the center of attention for once.

L’entrée: Laure’s Terrine de chèvre aux poivrons

Le plat principal: Tournedos de filet de boeuf avec tomates a la provençale et romanesco

Le dessert: Gateau jaune avec son glaçage chocolat

The terrine was light, refreshing and vibrant, and better yet it was simple and can be made ahead. The tomatoes were luscious and fragrant (see below for recipes for terrine and tomatoes). As for the steak…OH.MY.LORD. This was the Rolls Royce of steak. It was melt-in-your-mouth velvety perfection. I simply melted some butter and olive oil in a large pan over high heat, and seared the beef  (seasoned with salt and pepper) for barely 2 minutes on each side. I then removed it from the pan and let it rest for 5 minutes. While it was resting I added some more butter to the pan (go big or go home) and several cloves of minced garlic along with some fresh thyme. Once the garlic was softened (about 4 minutes) I poured the garlic butter sauce over the beef, and served it alongside the lightly steamed romanesco and the roasted tomatoes. It was buttery, rich, robust and decadent…in short (or maybe it’s too late for that?) it was everything a birthday meal should be. And the cake was…perfect. There are no other words to describe it. The birthday boy was very happy, and so was I!

Terrine de chèvre aux poivrons de Laure                                                                    Laure’s Goat cheese and bell pepper terrine

6 bell peppers: 2 each of  yellow, red and green
200 grams (1 3/4 cups)  fresh goat cheese
salt and pepper to taste
a smattering of fresh basil leaves

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Cut the tops off of the peppers, deseed them and cut them into quarters. Lay them on a lightly oiled baking sheet and roast them for about 30 minutes or until the skin is charred and puckered. Remove the peppers from the oven and put them aside until completely cooled, then remove the skin.

Line a terrine dish with plastic wrap. In a mixing bowl, stir together the goat cheese with salt and pepper to taste.  Layer the peppers (one color for each layer) and the goat cheese. You should have 3 layers of peppers and 2 layers of goat cheese.  Cover the terrine with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge overnight to firm up, then slice and serve topped with fresh basil.

Tomates à la provençale

4 large tomatoes, tops cut off and seeds removed
salt and pepper
2 cloves of garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh herbs (marjoram, oregano, thyme, rosemary or a combination thereof)
2 tablespoons olive oil

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Place the tomatoes on a lightly oiled oven tray or dish. Season them to taste with salt and pepper. Distribute evenly amongst them the garlic, herbs and olive oil. Bake them for for 40 minutes. Serve hot.

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The girls are back in town!

There have been many welcome changes lately. First of all, la rentrée (return to school and work after the summer holidays) which I have welcomed with arms wide-open. While I love the lazy sunny days of summer as much as anyone, I am above all someone who likes to be organized and have a routine. I feel guilty and ashamed saying this as I know one day in the not-so-far-off future when I am a real adult with children and a career I will look back and cringe about my cavalier attitude towards “too much free time”. That being said, I am happy to be back to work.

And, more importantly…my friends are back, and with them my social life! My social life which evaporated  last May when most of my fellow assistants packed up and left. My plan was to make more French friends once the Anglophones left, but that is nearly impossible during the summer time when all French people migrate to the beach, leaving the cities barren and desolate. Happily, many of my closest friends succeeded in the difficult task of renewing their contracts and are back for a second turn as English assistants. And this year will be even better because the bureaucratic bullshit is a breeze now that we know the ropes and are already in the system.

The last few weeks the city has turned from a ghost town into a vibrant, pulsing mecca. With the rentrée have come endless events around the city. There have been music festivals and braderies (flea markets), art exhibits and even a festival gourmand.  One of the flea markets we had recently was the second biggest in France, and attracted Parisians and all other sorts of tourists. It took us 2 hours to walk from one end of it to the other!

And the Saturday market is back to its’ usual booming, busy self. Although I can’t say that I missed the crowd there this summer, there is something nice about the return of the crush of people who add an energy that is otherwise lacking. Everywhere you look you see families, laughter, excitement, passion. Gypsy bands play lively music and men make balloon animals for hordes of excitable children. More than anything I love the rapport that I have with my usual vendors. Last week my poultry man asked me if I will be needing my turkey for Thanksgiving soon…

And then there is the return of the weekly dinners with my 2 closest friends here, Berit and Emma (we missed you Jules!). Last weeks’ menu included chicken and parsley sausage (from my favorite poultry guy, mentioned earlier), cauliflower roasted with garlic and onions, salad, and medallions of roasted eggplant with a bruschetta topping. It was a long-awaited reunion, and a much-anticipated meal that did not disappoint.

The girls being back has also meant we’ve begun making the rounds to our favorite creperies. The latest one we went to is called Jardin des Saveurs and is just outside the city center, so the prices are cheaper even though the quality is amazing. I had a galette with creamed leeks, smoked salmon and scallops. It was heavenly. My friends had equally amazing galettes as well. I was particularly jealous of one which had duck with pears and a fig reduction (pictured below, in center).

These days, I am feeling very at home; I couldn’t be happier in Rennes if I tried. Fall is in the air, and everything is as it should be.

Coming soon is the story of an amazing birthday dinner which included the best steak and an equally delicious cake.

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Yogurt Cake with Apples

It’s officially fall, and that means all sort of yummy new foods at the market stands. Although I am sad (almost heartbroken) to bid adieu to peaches, nectarines, melons and all those other wonderful summer fruits, I am equally excited to usher in the fall produce. I saw my first chestnuts at the market today. And apples galore! I recently made an apple pie while staying with the French family (I wrote all about them in a recent post). I was working without a recipe as they had no internet at their house so it was a bit of a baking adventure. They assure me that the result was delicious, but I don’t think it was the greatest representation of the grand apple pie. Especially not after I’d built it all up by saying things like “You can’t get more American than apple pie” as I clumsily led the girls through the process of measuring and mixing. I would like to blame the failure on the girls’ overzealous kneading of the dough, but the fault can only lie with this humbled American. So I’ll just have to duck into Apple Pie soon to get my fix of the real stuff made by a professional! However, I’ve recently had better luck with a baked apple dish…

Yogurt Cake with Apples Adapted from Chocolate and Zucchini                                                  

For the cake

2 eggs
250ml (1 cup) whole milk plain unsweetened yogurt
200g (1 cup) sugar
80ml (1/3 cup) vegetable oil
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
a good pinch of salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla paste/extract
1 tablespoon light rum (I didn’t have rum and the cake was fine without it, but alcohol always boosts flavor so if you have it on hand use it!)

For the topping

4 apples, sliced in thin wedges
the juice of 1/2 a lemon
the zest of 1/2 a lemon
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 180° C (350° F), line the bottom of a round 25-cm (10-inch) cake pan with parchment paper and grease the sides. In a large mixing-bowl, gently combine the yogurt, eggs, sugar, vanilla, oil, and rum. In another bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add the flour mixture into the yogurt mixture, and blend together — don’t overwork the dough. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan.

In a separate bowl, toss the apple slices with the lemon juice and zest. Arrange the apples lovingly on the top of the cake batter. In a small bowl, mix together the cinnamon and sugar. Evenly distribute the cinnamon sugar mixture over the apples.

Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a cake tester comes out clean. Let stand for ten minutes, and transfer onto a rack to cool.

*The wonderful thing about yogurt cakes is that you can add just about anything to the top of them (or mixed inside of them). This is something I’ll definitely be experimenting with more in the future. If you try a yogurt cake chez vous, please share!

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The perfect Sunday breakfast

It’s not the happiest day today, as if anyone needs reminding. The 10th anniversary of a terrible event which changed America forever.  The weather seems to be paying tribute: I woke up to pouring rain and frosty cold creeping in through my open window, while just yesterday I was wishing I had a fan because it felt so hot and humid in my tiny attic apartment. I lay in bed for quite awhile (my guilty Sunday pleasure) not quite knowing what to think or how to feel about today. On the one hand I feel a hope which is bolstered by the demonstrations and social changes which have been sweeping across the Middle East these last few months, on the other hand I feel sad for the families of 9/11 victims, and particularly for the first responders who are fighting daily to win basic human rights from their government: health care. I have no resolution, no inspiring words. I only have the comforting breakfast which I made to warm up both my temperature and my mood this morning.

It started with the English fry-up, otherwise known as the traditional English breakfast. This dish is one of the few British culinary creations which has a good reputation internationally. Though for the record I must say that I think the prejudice against English cuisine is unfair. Some of my favorite ‘celebrity chefs’ are British, Nigel Slater and Heston Blumenthal for example. Sure, there is a lot of bad food in the UK, and the average British person’s palate and expectations may be lower than their Italian or French counterpart. But just like in the United States, things are changing there. A fresh food revolution is blossoming and more and more people are trying to get back to their roots. And I must add that my boyfriend (British) makes a mean English roast dinner and the most delicious cottage pie (like shepard’s pie but made with minced beef instead of lamb). Okay, done rambling…

My scaled down fry-up. I love meals that can be made it one pan.

The traditional English breakfast includes one or two sausages and rashers of back bacon, two fried eggs, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, served with toast and marmalade on the side. There are many variations and everyone has their own specific way of making/eating it, but you get the general picture. So, this is what I woke up craving. Unfortunately, everything is closed on Sunday in France so I had to work with I got at the market yesterday and les restes (the leftovers) in my fridge. I didn’t even have bread to sop it all up with! But I made do. My ingredients included 2 fresh tomatoes, 1 big sausage (local and organic if you can swing it, makes such a big difference), 1 fresh egg, leftover roasted onions and garlic and a handful of chopped flat-leaf parsley.

Directions for the fry-up

1. Cobble together whatever ingredients you have available. Eggs and some sort of meat are a must, but the rest is up to you. Leftover grilled or roasted veggies would be great, especially spinach and potatoes if you have them on hand, and some fresh herbs to perk things up.

2. In a large pan, add 1 tablespoon butter or olive oil and cook your sausage and bacon over medium-high heat. Cooking time depends on size of the meat, use you judgement (or an instant read thermometer if you’re nervous, 160 degrees is the general safe temperature for pork sausages). Usually bacon requires less time than sausage, though this depends on how crispy you like your bacon! If using whole tomatoes as I did, I would add them to the pan at the beginning along with the meat. If using toast, toast the bread in the meantime. Or, do as my boyfriend does and quickly fry it with the leftover fat from the meat once is has been removed from the pan.

3. Once meat has only a few minutes left, add leftover veggies to pan to reheat.

4. When meat is practically done cooking, add egg(s) and cook to desired consistency.

5. Add some herbs (this is definitely branching off from the traditional English fry-up as they generally never include something green!). Gobble it all up enthusiastically.

The bell tower of the nearby cathedral.

Lucky me, I got to sit down and enjoy my breakfast to a serenade of church bells. I love how often you hear church bells in Europe. It’s hard to go a day without hearing them tolling off in the distance somewhere or another, and I’m not complaining.

So, my belly is full, the sun is peaking out and I think it’s time for me to go for a stroll in the nearby park to help me digest this breakfast a bit. Keep you spirits up, cook a good meal, and better yet share it with someone you love.

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Larmor Plage (a.k.a this is work?!)

A few weeks before my recent trip to California I was contacted by a French woman inquiring if I would be interested in staying with her and her family in their beachside home on the Breton Coast for a few weeks. She would provide me with meals, my own room and a weekly salary in return for me speaking only English to her 3 girls and giving her eldest daughter daily English lessons. If you’ve been to France than you know that August is the month where everyone deserts the cities and relocates to some seaside resort or another, and only the unfortunate souls are left to deal with the tourists and the hot and humid weather. So of course I jumped at the chance to get away to the beach. As much as I love Rennes, there’s not too much to do here on a sunny summer day.

The beach in front of the house I stayed in

I had 1 week to recover after my international travels, and before I knew it I was on a train to Lorient, about 1 1/2 hours southwest of Rennes. The friendly husband picked me up at the train station and drove me to the small town of Larmor Plage, about 10 minutes from Lorient. This couple grew up here, and though they are now based in Rennes they go to Larmor Plage practically every weekend during the school year and they also spend every holiday there. Their home is a stone’s throw from the beach, right in the very small centre ville and just next to the boardwalk. Not a bad place to spend 2 weeks, pas du tout.

The 3 little angel monsters showing off the American chocolate chip cookies we made together

And then there are the girls. 3 adorable little schmeckens (as my friend Emma calls them). At 6,9 and 11 years old they are all energetic, unique, vivacious and adorable little monsters (at times angels). Hanging out with them for 2 weeks didn’t feel like work at all. I almost felt guilty being paid! I was so content to spend 2 weeks with a French family (even if I was speaking English most of the time) because I never lived with a host family when I was a student in France, and it’s something that I’ve always regretted. To sit down to 3 meals a day with a family teaches you things about French culture that would be difficult to learn otherwise. How they eat, how they communicate, how they live. But more surprising than the differences are the similarities, of which there are many. The teasing, bickering and affection that are part and parcel of every daily family routine.

Another amazing benefit of staying with the family was the food. The food. Oh my god. Every meal, even if it was simple and thrown together quickly, was delicious. Every meal included fresh seafood or meat, served with some sort of salad and bread or grain, and of course cheese and dessert of some sort. And that was just the home cooked stuff. We also went out to eat many times. I had moules frites quite a few times I can tell you, and so many delicious filets of fish. Brittany can’t be rivaled for its fresh seafood. On my last night we had a remarkable meal at  a very traditional restaurant located in an old hotel. This meal left even them impressed, which is really saying  something as this family may be even more gourmand than my own! For starters I had poulardes (clams) which were drenched with butter and topped with garlic and parsley and then baked in the oven. By the time I had forked out the last morsel of clam my hands and my chin were absolutely covered in butter. The husband had ordered the same thing, and of course he ate them impeccably. So impeccably in fact that he didn’t even need the wet towelette that came with the dish: he gave it to his 6-year-old daughter. I think I would’ve needed 3 of those measly little towels just to clean the butter off the fingers on my right hand. Alas, I will always be the awkward americaine. The wife ordered bulot (sea snails) for her starter, and gave about half of them to me. Don’t let the name fool you, these little buddies are delicious, especially when dipped in a homemade aioli. And this particular aioli seemed to be where good garlic goes to die. I had bulot for the first time when I had my infamous seafood platter, and I was horrified to discover that I had eaten them all wrong (although I suspected this at the time). There is an art to eating a bulot: Spear it with the small silver pick, and then gingerly using your fingers you take off the ‘foot’, a hard little disc on the very end of the snail. Then dip the snail into the mayonnaise and enjoy. Another dining mishap: when picking the foot off of my first bulot I squeezed too hard and the thing shot off of the pick and into my lap (I still ate it of course). The husband was kind and pretended he hadn’t seen but I saw a small smirk form as he lifted his glass of rosé to his mouth. For the main course I had sole meunière. If any of you have read Julia Child’s book My Life in France you will recognize this as the first plate she had when she moved to France.  It is the very dish that made her fall head over heels in love with French cuisine. The husband taught me how to properly dissect the whole fish, and I am proud to say that I passed the course with flying colors. At least I was able to eat one thing properly that night.

The view from the citadel at Port Louis

But we weren’t just sitting around eating the whole time. We also went on many excursions on their motor boat (they also have a sailing boat). In the 2 weeks I was there I saw Port Louis, a town just across the bay from Larmor Plage where there is an ancient citadel. The citadel used to be the operating headquarters of the French India Trade Company and is now a museum. It hosts ramparts that have sweeping views of the ocean and the bay. I love being in old places like this in France and trying to imagine the people who occupied that space centuries ago. For example,  Napoleon was imprisoned there and later triumphantly returned with his army when he was free (and in power) to gloat.

Les Grands Sables, the crescent beach on L'île de Groix

The port at L'île de Groix

We also went to L’île de Groix, a small island off the coast of Larmor Plage. We spent the day on an idyllic crescent beach with vast amounts of white sand and abundant tide pools, located underneath sweeping cliffs. We had a picnic, French style. I don’t want to make you jealous but the menu included fresh shrimp, saucisson sec, fresh chipolata sausages and filet mignon barbecued on the beach, cherry tomatoes, fresh melon, roast chicken, several cheeses and wines and for dessert, far breton (I’m sure there will be an upcoming post dedicated soley to this amazing Breton dessert). After a beautiful day at the beach, they swept me off in their boat to the largest port of the island, where we docked the boat and meandered around the quaint island streets up to the center of the town. What is it about islands? Their ambiance is always so much slower, calmer and quieter than anywhere on the continent.

La Laïta, a river that acts as the border for the Finestere and Morbihan departments

On my last day we took the boat out to the open ocean and followed along the contours of la Côte Sauvage (the wild coast). We turned off into the Laïta river at the Port du Pouldu. After passing through the port, we went for a two hour promenade upstream.  As it was extremely low tide, we had to go very slowly in the boat, meandering through a maze of sand banks. We got stuck a few times, and each time the girls would splash happily out into the warm shallows to tug the boat along into deeper water. By the time we turned around and headed back to the port, the tide was up and so was out appetite, and that is when we headed in to enjoy the amazing meal I wrote about earlier in this post.

The next day we all piled into their SUV (rare in France) and took the motorway back to Rennes, back to reality, back to la rentree (the bittersweet French term for the return to school and work after the long summer vacation). Now I’m back chez moi, ready for work to start, and excited to try out some new recipes from the traditional French cookbook I bought today. More to come soon…

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