Let’s Eat France!
Of all the books I own on French cuisine, Let’s Eat France is one of my favorites. First up, the book is huge. I don’t mean in terms of scope, which it is. But physically the book is enormous. Think the size of the tablet listing five of the ten commandments, and just as heavy. The book is 13+ inches (33cm) tall and clocks in at 5 1/2 pounds (2,5kg). Let’s Eat France certainly merits the heft; each page is crammed with interesting information, well laid out for reading, with plenty of places on the 431 pages for sidebars, anecdotes, photos, charts, asides, maps, and recipes.
You don’t often come across books on French foods that are this much fun. The French certainly have a jovial attitude about food, but usually in the written world, there’s more reverence than irreverence. There’s a lot of like about French food it’s fun to see someone like François-Régis Gaudry, and his friends who contributed material, have fun with the topic.
I don’t think he missed a single topic, although everything is random. So you can just open the book and find (and learn) something new and interesting wherever you land. You might find an entry called “To the Rescue of Pain Perdu” which not only includes a recipe for a Bread Crumb Tart (which I’m anxious to give a try since we always have an overload of leftover bread) but also what you can do with old bread from various of France, including Brot knepfle (Alsatian bread dumplings), Farsous, small galettes of bread, sausage and eggs from the Aveyron, and Pastizzu, a Corsican caramelized flan.
While bread is very important to the French, arguably, there’s nothing more French than Camembert. The cheese isn’t only famous for its musky flavor, but the labels hold a special place in French culture. Many tell the story of France and include everything from milkmaids and soldiers to cardinals and flying saucers.
According to Let’s East France, in 1919, a law was enacted prohibited bakers from working late evening/early morning hours, so the baguette was born, which was easier to make and faster to bake. The baguette is the base for the jambon-beurre sandwich, also known as a Parisien, which is correctly listed in the book as “12 inches (30cm) of bliss.” When you find a good one, it’s hard to disagree.
Baguettes are easy to recognize, but want to know what all those buttery, flaky pastries are at the bakeries? Everything from Palmiers to Chouquettes are rounded up. And they’re not all only for breakfast. When I used to lead bakery tours, people often asked, “What do they do with all the leftover pastries at the end of the day?”
They were surprised when I told them bakeries rarely had anything left over. In fact, most run out of things (intentionally) so I’ve learned to go in mid-afternoon for our evening bread as after 6:45pm you might find yourself going home empty-handed. (And yes, French people do indeed snack. Trust me, it’s not just les américains devouring all those pastries outside of mealtimes.)
Contributing writer Marie-Laure Fréchat tackles the “turbulent” saga of the croissant, from ancient Egypt to Paris, noting that nowadays 80% of the croissants in France are made in factories, some made with margarine (which was invented in France) and others made with all-butter. And it’s good to know how to spot the difference; butter croissants are normally straight and the curved ones often are made with margarine. Believe me, you want the croissants that are pur beurre.
It’s hard to impress upon visitors looking for Bouillabaise or Cassoulet in Paris, how regional France is, sometimes strictly so. They’re a little dismayed when I tell them they need to head to the region where they are from, but that’s what it means to live – or visit – a country whose culinary focus is on regionality. So much so that each region also has its own biscuit!
There’s nothing more French than andouillette and I’m pretty sure you have to be born French in order to, um…appreciate it. Romain and his friends wolf it down and one night I had to wake him up to tell him to take a shower because I couldn’t sleep with the after smell wafting off him. Even the French will admit that it’s stinky, but they love it anyway. I’m not there yet…
I do, however love pâté and terrines, especially when they’re rich in chicken livers.
France is a country of rules and many of them apply to food. Bread, for example, is placed on the table, not on the plate. And according to a book on French etiquette by Baronne Staffe, bread is the only food you may pick up with your hands. Fruit should not be picked up but “…peeled and eaten with a fork and dessert knife. Prick, peel, and pit: that is how you are supposed to eat them” she advises. Romain’s mother wasn’t fancy but I remember all the silverware we had to have just to eat lunch with the right kind of fork, spoon, and knife (and glasses and plates) matched with whatever we were eating and drinking.
Anyone who is not French likely has a story about making a gaffe at a table in France. And there’s an ongoing debate about whether you should use bread to wipe the last of the food off the plate. Baronne Staffe says to leave any soup in the bottom of the bowl as it’s unseemly to tip the bowl to get the last of it. But some say wiping a plate of food with bread to get the last drop means you appreciate it – yet, others say it’s impolite, and signals that the host or hostess didn’t give you enough to eat.
One of the first questions Romain asked me shortly after we met, was “What is your favorite breed of cow?” Coming from America, it was different than the usual question about which Seinfeld or Sex and the City character you are. I didn’t quite know how to reply but I’m come around and appreciate the beauty of the various breeds of cows, who give us all that wonderful milk to make cheese with. Yes, they are worthy of adulation.
Drinking French isn’t the only book that gives you a taste of forgotten French apéritifs. François-Régis Gaudy is a food journalist and television presenter in France (you can follow him on Instagram) and he has a very popular radio show on Sunday morning. I’ve yet to meet him, but was kind enough to give me a very heartfelt quote in support of my book. It meant a lot to me coming from someone so well-respected in France.
Another contributor, sommelier Léo Dezeustre provides a chart of forgotten French apéritifs, such as Dubonnet, Cap Corse, Byrrh, and Suze. And unless you spend a lot of time in troquets (dive cafés) you might not know about all the different drinks based on pastis, simply made by adding a colorful fruit syrup to the anise-flavored drink. I listed some of them in Drinking French, but who knew pastis with banana syrup was known as a cornichon? Clearly I need to work on Volume 2!
While on the subject of drinks, it’s hard to imagine an apéritif in France without potato chips. If you don’t believe me, many champagne experts say the best accompaniment to champagne is les chips. An article I read in an American newspaper called the pairing “a melding of high and low, a perfectly American mix” and I have to say, I’ve eaten more potato chips in France than I have in the States. That said, I do think the ones in France are better, but I’m happy they serve them on (very) small plates to accompany drinks, rather than salad-sized bowls. Because I am powerless to resist potato chips, no matter how they’re served.
Also from across the Atlantic, did you know that Philadelphia cream cheese was based on Neufchâtel, a semi-salty, soft French cheese from Normandy? And that France produces over 800,000 bottles of whisky a year? And Coca-Cola may be traced back to a recipe in France?
And yes, there’s more than one way to make an apple tart.
Explained in the book is why Madeleines have a hump, the picky rules regarding what mayonnaise is (does it have mustard, or not?), how Paris restaurants fared during the occupation, and why a buckwheat crêpe isn’t a crêpe. Also, that quiche Lorraine doesn’t have cheese, the French eat more than 2 billion sandwiches a year, how organic farming is gaining ground, and what makes French flour so different than American flour.
I got a message when My Paris Kitchen came out from someone who was indignant there were some “non-French” recipes in the book. He specifically referred to a North African recipe, but when couscous is said to be the third most popular dish in France (after duck breast and mussels and fries), it’s hard to ignore that like most countries, France has adapted and adopted dishes from various cultures, which have become part of their food culture.
I didn’t realize some hors d’oeuvres were “endangered.” I’ll admit the first time a friend ordered œufs mayo, hard-cooked eggs with mayonnaise sauce, I was a little stupified (but then again, that’s what egg salad is) and now I always order it when I see it on a menu. So I’m doing my part to keep it alive.
I think it was a mistranslation when they listed certain French appetizers as “clichéd” (the book first came out in French and was translated into English), but one still sees celeri remoulade, leeks vinaigrette, mushrooms à la Greque, and radishes with butter served in cafés, so hopefully they’re sticking around.
I’ve heard France described at the Land of Museums, which is true. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been on road trips and passed a gastronomy museum that I wanted to visit. But it’s also a country of strict opening and closing hours, and especially out in the countryside, unless you get there early, there’s a long lunch break and they don’t reopen a second before reopening time, which is mid- to late afternoon, so we often miss them. Sometimes however, Romain doesn’t want to stop, so I save my “break (or brake) credits” for restrooms and antique stores.
In addition to being the land of museums, who knew there was a knife for every region?
You’ll find pages listing varieties of figs in France, the beautiful tins of sardines one comes across, which bread comes from where, the resurrection of rosé, recipes for Choucroute, a new-to-me Pichade de Menton (a tomato-based version of pissaladière), smoked and grilled eel in cider, a salted butter caramel Religieuse, Brittany Lobster with Vanilla, Stuffed Cabbage, and Jacques Genin‘s famous Lemon tarte au citron amongst the 375 recipes.
As they say – chapeau! – to François-Régis Gaudry and his friends who contributed to this encompassing tome that celebrates French cooking and gastronomy. There’s so much more I’m looking forward to learning from the book!
[Let’s Eat France is available from your local independent bookstore or online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Bookshop.org, and Book Depository. It’s also available in French – On Va Déguster: La France.]
