January 12, 2005
In Praise of a Deep Food Culture
So which country has the best food, the best restaurants, the best food scene? The US, France, Spain? Somewhere else? A perennial and parochially charged question to be sure. And most of the time, these things cluster together; it's never either/or, with all of this going hand-in-hand. Yes. And no, as I've been learning recently.
But some background first: We've been lucky to live in and visit regularly some of the best food cities in the world. So naturally, since moving to France, we've been comparing our food experiences with what we had in San Francisco and elsewhere. Perhaps our expectations were too high, but we've had to admit that the restaurant scene in Paris -- from value-for-money and diversity perspective -- has disappointed us. Other elements are unsurpassed: like the service in the higher end restaurants in Europe which is amazing, and the general ambiance in some of these quaint bistros and brasseries. Overall, I have to say, San Francisco, New York and Vancouver have been better: more innovative, more affordable, more varied in terms of ethnic cuisine which is a mainstay of our diet.
We hated to come to this conclusion, and of course, assumed that this was just our misguided perceptions. But it turns out we weren't wrong. Surprisingly enough, we discovered that we were in fact in the midst of a much broader french food crisis, which journalist Adam Gopnik told best in a chapter in his memoir, Paris to the Moon. And more locally, this sad state of cultural affairs has been commented on (and lead by) most vocally by Francois Simon, "the influential restaurant critic for Le Figaro and a writer perennially irritated by the complacency of the French culinary establishment" according to the FT.
While people are convinced that French food is dying, finished, washed-up, I think this is overstated. My hunch is that we're at the denouement of this development, that reinvention will come. The top French chefs now know what to do with ginger and lemon grass, and they know that throwing a bit of curry powder into a sauce doesn't cut it nor counts as fusion. And without question, you can eat very well in Paris and without killing your budget, as Chez Pim ably documents, although this rarely happens for less €40-50 per head. (Btw, we also agree with her about L'Entredgeu, which is two blocks from our house: 83, Rue Laugier, 17th, T: +33 1 40 54 97 24).
The ah-hah, however, happened this weekend when I could finally articulate the difference between North America and Europe in terms of our food life, thanks to the sage perspective of Alice Waters, which I read in an excellent article in the weekend Financial Times edition. (See US Leaves A Bitter Taste by Mike Steinberger, 08/01/05). Quoting the article:
In France, Italy, and Spain, food is a matter of cultural pride, connoisseurship is regarded as a virtue, and mealtime is seen as more than just a pit stop. Clearly, the same cannot be said of the US. "The vast majority of Americans have no relationship to food that is pleasurable, healthful, or responsible," says Alice Waters, the owner of Berkeley's legendary Chez Panisse and a woman who can justly be described as the doyenne of American Epicureanism.Certainly, there are pockets of enlightened eating, but even these leave something to be desired. New York is unquestionably one of the world's finest food cities - in its own way, perhaps even the best. No city does more cuisines with greater aplomb than New York. On the other hand, New York is home to exactly one world-class cheese shop (Murray's, in Greenwich Village). A first-rate patisserie? Forget it. A decent bakery? Perhaps one or two. A noteworthy traiteur? There are a number of excellent Jewish and Italian delicatessens but as prepared foods go, New York is a wasteland when compared not only to Paris but to London and Rome as well.
...."This idea that we have somehow developed a cuisine here is a little presumptuous," she says. "We are still learning. We're out of kindergarten, and no longer just painting in primary colours; we are now seeing some of the shades. But it takes centuries to develop a cuisine."
A little overstated perhaps. Perhaps not. But this last point about the difference between having a long-standing food culture versus having a good food restaurant scene is well taken, exactly right, and articulates what we've been experiencing. Sure, we've never eaten better than the French Laundry and our restaurant life is hit-and-miss sometimes here in Paris, but this is normal anywhere you go. Also, going out all the time has taken a back seat anyway, something we do when people visit. In its' place, we're cooking at home more and eating much better because our local marché is world class, the quality of ingredients are wonderful, prompting us to try new things and experiment with new dishes we would never have tried before.
So it's a difference in scope and frequency: instead of having periodic "wow" experiences (which we still have, btw, just less often), our food experiences have become our daily culture, something more continuous and constant, a way of life. This was always the case in my family growing up in Vancouver, I suppose, but the fact that food was the center of our lives was seen to be family-specific and something often at odds with the broader culture. Most of my friends certainly didn't grow up this way. What's different now is that I'm discovering this food culture with Toby, who came to this later in life and thus has those wonderful beginner's eyes. Of course, we could have easily discovered the same thing -- the same value system regarding food -- in San Francisco, where farmers markets are proliferating and the food culture is real with many like-minded people and innovators like Alice Water. But being in Paris made this way of life so natural, just like breathing and sleeping; it was never a choice, just a progression.
Another interesting point I learned in the article suggests why our local marché is teaching us how to cook better:
Ed Behr, editor of The Art of Eating, a quarterly newsletter devoted to food and wine, says one reason French cuisine reached the heights it did is because chefs and housewives bought fruits and vegetables directly from farmers, and that this daily interplay resulted in better and better produce, which resulted in better and better food on the table. This kind of "steady dialogue", as Behr puts it, is now being established in the US, which augurs very well for the future of American cooking.
While the US may indeed develop a widespread food culture and become the "superpower" of the food world, Americans shouldn't be complacent. The very same food critic Francois Simon, the heretic who suggested that France was losing its' status in the gastronomic hierarchy, was not that impressed with the top restaurants in New York during his most recent visit. "There were some good things, but nothing that was really fantastic," he says. "There was something missing." "I'd wanted to be able to report that the US is getting better and better as food goes and to tell the French we're not always the best. It was so disappointing to not be able to say that."
For now, I'm just lucky to be able to live in both worlds, to mix and match innovative dishes from North America with what I'm learning about French food and their techniques here. But if you ask me now which would I rather have -- good restaurants or a good food culture? -- I'd pick living in a place that deeply appreciates and values their food any day. It's a richer way to live.
January 10, 2005
Pot-Au-Feu: A Dish for Winter Comfort
With winter now in mid stride, I'm working my way through that thick file of cold weather food recipes in search of comfort food. One of the recipes I have never cooked is a pot au feu -- a classic dish in French country cooking.
I confess the reason for this was a prejudice: I thought how could this dish be any good if it's just meat and veg in a pot without much additional seasoning? Of course, I knew this couldn't be rational or right since Jacques Pepin and Julia Child have a recipe for this in their book, Cooking At Home, (actually, it's a variation with a whole chicken) and nothing has ever turned out badly from that wonderful collection. Also, a new cooking magazine I found here in Paris called Règal: Tous les Plaisirs de La Table (October/November 2004) featured a pot-au-feu and made it just look so good and so chic.
But what really set the ball rolling was some clever supermarché merchandising. As they often do for seasonal dishes, our local "Champion" on Ave Pierre Demours put together a nicely pre-packaged ensemble for a Pot au Feu consisting of two large chunks of high grade stewing beef and two marrow bones. While normally I like to buy my meat from our local boucherie, when it comes to exploring different and strange cuts of meat and dishes, it's nice to have it put together for you at least for the first time. It's also a less intimidating point of entry, the faceless anonymity of a supermarket encounter where one can take her time staring at the strange shrink-wrapped morsels and ponder their significant in French foodlandia, versus confronting the boucher who might ask awkward questions where new vocabulary might be needed and other people might be present. Sometimes such daily humiliations just can't be born, so we find short cuts. And that's what I did here, together with some just-in-time web research. In any event, once I got everything home, it was dead-easy and the results very satisfying. My prejudice couldn't have been more wrong. And the "Toby Litmus Test" (TLT)? Well, he enjoyed it very much, especially with the added fun of playing with all of the condiments that go with it. And I was doubly happy because we had plenty of leftovers, which we turned into soup and other things throughout the week.
So what is a Pot-au-Feu [poh-toh-FEUH]? Literally in French it means a "pot on the fire" and traditionally it's cooked in an earthenware or cast-iron pot. We use our indispensable, well-loved Creuset (Thanks, mother dearest). Since this started out as a peasants' dish, the ingredients can vary but they usually include: meat (beef or chicken, with the addition of marrowbones, veal, pork, or mutton) and vegetables (traditionally carrots, turnips, celery, onions, and leeks) that are slowly cooked in water or consommé. We use our home-made brown stock instead of water, and believe that makes a huge difference. But use whatever you have handy. The whole point, and beauty, of this dish is that it's meant to be easy and economical.
Two Ways to Serve It
The dish is served family style and is accompanied by mustard or horseradish and cornichons.
The easiest approach is to serve everything at once on a platter, which is how Jacques Pepin likes to have it, with the rich and meaty broth ladled into individual soup bowls for people to sip, thus lubricating the "mouth feel" of the flavors and to wet the plated meats and vegetables. This is what we did.
Or, alternatively, as the chic magazine showed, the meal can be dressed up a bit and divided into two courses making it suitable for a causal dinner party by a fireplace. The first course, for instance, can feature the delicious marrowbones (Les Os à Moelle) which have been slow cooked in the broth. Just gingerly fish these out, put them under a broiler for a few minutes to brown if desired, and serve them with rock salt, grilled bread, and a Parsley and Apple Salad, which all work together remarkably well. I first tasted this combo at the wonderful eatery, St. John's in London, a restaurant that is reintroducing "nose-to-tail" cooking to the world (their recipe is found here) which I'm all for because it promotes the old idea that if we eat animals nothing should be wasted. I never fancied marrowbones before, but love them now, so you should try this too! You'll need some kind of implement -- a lobster fork will do -- to push out the gooey good bits which you spread onto your bread. Of course, if marrowbones put you off (a vegetarian's nightmare, I should think, but then a veggie wouldn't be interested in this dish in the first place) the other option is to serve just the broth as a starter soup with crisp croutons or bread.
Other tips? Do make sure your meet is good quality and fresh, and not the stuff the supermarket is trying to get rid of. It's worth it going to a butcher to ensure this, and to get the broth-enhancing bones and cuts like beef cheeks or beef ribs. Also, a few drops of soy sauce can bolster the broth if it's a little lackluster, a surprising little trick, but it works.
Pot-au-Feu Ingredients
Serves 7-8 People
5 L of water or stock
1.5 kg of high quality stewing meat with bones (either a mix of veal, beef, pork, chicken or just one kind. We used just beef.)
4+ marrowbones (if you are serving this as first course get as many as there are people)
1 onion studded with 2 cloves
5 medium carrots whole
6 potatoes quartered
4 leeks whole cut in half
4 cloves, roughly chopped of garlic
I medium head of green cabbage (Savoy is the best) cut in sections
1 Bunch of Parsley
1 bouquet garni (thyme, bay leaf, rosemary, parlsey, tied together with kitchen string)
Salt and Pepper to taste
Bring the water/stock and meat to a gentle boil and then simmer for 60 minutes. Then add the vegetables (with as many "whole" as possible) for another 40 minutes. If the meat is not falling-off-the-bone tender by then and the stock still weak, remove the vegetables to a platter and keep warm. Then cook the meat and broth for another 40-60 minutes or until done. Season and taste. Serve as desired, either family style or in multiple courses as mentioned above.
Parsley Salad
1 lg. bunch of Flat-leafed Parsley
3 Tb. of capers
2 Shallots finely diced
2 Granny Smith Apples
Olive Oil to taste
1 Tp. Lemon zest
Squeeze of Lemon
Salt and Pepper
Finely chop the parsley and apples and mix with the rest of the ingredients. Serve with the marrowbones and/or soup as a side dish.