Digesting it all . . .bahahaha!

This Saturday I am going home to Newburyport. These 9 months have flown by, and although there is a part of me that cannot wait to walk into Whole Foods, sink my teeth into the spiciest Mexican I can find, or chow down a pint of Coffee Heathbar Crunch, (and see my family and friends, of course!) I feel kind of reluctant to leave Copenhagen. I have learned so much not only about food, but myself as well. I wonder what it will be like taking this new me and placing her back into the place the old me came from. Sometimes I worry that I will feel as though this amazing year never happened. To remedy that situation, I decided to write down some of the things that I have learned/accomplished this year. It is personal proof for me that I did have an amazing, life changing experience, and hopefully looking back at this list when I am home will remind me of the person I have become, and how I can apply these lessons to my old life.

Since this is of course a food blog, I thought I would share some of the food-related lessons/accomplishments with you!

1. I do not, nor will I ever, like lakrids

2. I discovered Danish rugbrod, or rye bread, which is unlike any other bread I have ever tasted before. I also learned how to make it, and my host mom is sending me home with her family's sourdough. So this is a lesson that I can share with you!

3. I can order food, and especially coffee in Danish, without receiving a receipt that blatantly says "TOURIST" at the bottom

4. I can throw back a few shots of schnapps and plates of herring like an old Danish man. Well, maybe not like them, they are pretty bad ass, but you get the general idea.

5. Skål is now an unconscious part of my vocabulary

6. I can say that my favorite part of flæskesteg is the fat. Just wait until Christmas, America.

7. I can tell Danes that unless they do not like aebleskriver, they cannot say that they do not like American pancakes.

8. I will always be putting a random whole almond somewhere in my desserts.

9. Hot dogs with remoulade, ketchup, mustard, pickles, raw and fried onions, and a chocolate milk is a revelation - especially when you are drunk. (Maybe only when you are drunk)

10. Frikadeller is not a term for something that is super cool. Meatballs; however, are pretty awesome. I might start using it as such though, for instance: "You spent a year in Europe? That is so frikadeller!"

11. Cakes can be made of entirely whipped cream. And still be delicious

12. I have found a new appreciation for marzipan

13. I have eaten at the best restaurant in the world - Noma.

14. I have become familiar with several different grape varieties and regions of wine, and can accurately blind taste a lot of them (see last entry)

15. I learned how to perfectly cook a duck breast, nice and medium rare with a crispy skin

16. I cooked my first Thanksgiving turkey - 28 pounds!

17. I learned about olive oil production and what classifies Extra Virgin Olive Oil in each country (it's different depending on the acidity level!)

18. I had a beer made out of cat poo. It was good!

19. I don't like absinthe. It makes you black out

20. I learned about pastry arts in Nice at a 2 Michelin starred restaurant

21. I learned about Provencal cuisine at a 16th century estate in Aix

22. An Italian grandmother and a professional chef in Bologna and Florence taught me how to make fresh pasta

23. Lambrusco rocks

24. Ribolita is my favorite soup

25. You can get too much bratwurst and beer. But German beer, especially in the beer gardens in Munich with a huge pretzel, is divine.

26. The Sacher torte at the Sacher Cafe in Vienna is not that special. Cafe Central or Demel Cafe is much more worth your time

27. I like omelets with honey and goat cheese

28. Belgian beer is my favorite type of beer, especially when you have the choice of 2004 at Delirium!

29. London has the best food markets.

30. Haggis tastes like Jimmy Dean breakfast sausage.

31. Anything can be deep fried. ANYTHING!!

32. It is easy to get 3 complementary beers at the Guinness factory. The real question is - can you drink them all without feeling like you have 3 loaves of bread in your stomach?

33. No one, not even any restaurant in London, can beat the Indian food at Rasoi in Framingham, MA

34. A Danish pastry is a cure for anything that ails you

35. Do not go to the Austrian Alps to eat

36. Danes do not like spicy foods.

37. I am going to keep saying this, because it still amazes me: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A HOT FUDGE SUNDAE IN DENMARK!!!!

38. A cheeseburger can be eaten with a knife and fork. I still think you look stupid when you do it though.

I have a feeling that I will be continually adding to this list as time goes on and I think of more things - but food wise, I would say that is a lot to digest!

My Favorite Class at The Danish Institute of Study Abroad

Today was my last day of classes at DIS, the Danish Institute of Study Abroad. In a week, I will be returning to the states. It feels extremely surreal. Before this year, the longest I had ever spent away from home was 6-8 weeks. Now I have been gone for 9 months. Reflecting on the academic year, there have been some great classes, and a few pretty awful ones, but the best class I took this year, the class that I learned the most in, wasn't actually a class I am going to get credit for. My favorite class was a club. Gastronomy club - to be exact. Shocker.

Gastronomy club, and European wine club second semester, was an event that I always looked forward to during the school year. Each class met 6 times during the semester, consisted of about 18 people, and was a center for people who loved good food, wine, and let's face it - getting a little bit tipsy on a Monday or Thursday night. Taught by the fabulous Ian, I learned more about the world of wine this year than I had from working 3 summers in wine stores. Of course, being able to actually taste the wines helps significantly.

Gastronomy club consisted of tasting 4 wines, usually of a single country, followed by cooking regional dishes to pair with the wines. For instance, one class the focus was Italy, where after learning about a few different regions, such as Veneto, Piemonte, Puglia, and of course, Tuscany, we made fresh pasta, bread, and a few simple sauces. Other classes were all about the food, for example fish, where we paired Rieslings, Chardonnays, and Sauvingnon Blancs with a wide array of seafood.

It was in those classes that I learned mostly about basic grape varieties, their general smells, color, and taste. I was taught that a lot of wine, especially smelling it, is subjective, as our memory makes us pick out certain nuances that others may not notice. While there certainly are a number of fairly ridiculous adjectives to describe "the nose", including leathery, muddled, and my personal favorite; flabby, what may smell like hay to one person could smell like their grandma's backyard to another. In that way, wine tasting is rather personal. In terms of food, I was not really introduced to any new methods of cooking, but Ian bought the best of the best ingredients - foie gras, Muscovoy duck breasts, quail eggs, sushi-grade tuna, making cooking extremely fun, and absolutely delicious.

Gastronomy club prepared me for my whirlwind tour of France and Italy with my mom over the Christmas break. My mom has always been the one to pick the wine, and obviously being older, and at the time, the legal drinker, she would be the one to taste it. That is now no longer the case. During our trip, we chose the wines together, and when the waiter appeared with the bottle, my mom would point to me as the taster. It was with a sense of pride that I sent a bad bottle of wine back in Paris, not letting my still fairly inexperienced nose and palate question the acidic liquid in front of me. I relished in the conversations I had with vineyard owners in Tuscany, who clearly perceived me as someone who knew her stuff, and thus brought out the best of the best for my mom and I to try. I could not wait to return to DIS to start a new semester of wine tasting.

Since the cooking aspect was a lot of work, Ian reduced the class to exclusively wines, calling it "European Wine Club". In each of the 6 classes, we tasted 6 wines, taking a break halfway through for some light snacks such as olives, cheese, pates, and a ton of bread. This class was not just focused on grape varieties, but also the different countries around Europe. We learned to tell the difference between the grapes and wines from France, Italy, Austria, Germany, and Spain, and the regions within each of those countries. Each class focused on a certain country, with the exception of a class where we tasted 3 Pinot Noirs, (Ian's favorite, and mine too) before moving onto Spain.

The more I tried, the more clear it became just how different one wine is to the next. Even if it is the same grape variety, something as simple as the vintage can completely change the smell and taste. Wine is not just white or red, it is so, so much more. Call me a dork, or a wine snob, but I think it is the most fascinating beverage. It is a drink with a life - it has a birth, a prime, and eventually, a slow decay. And like you or me, each bottle is somehow different from all the others.

My crowning achievement this year happened last Thursday, our last tasting, where Ian covered all 6 bottles of wine and had us blind taste them. I proceeded to correctly guess the grape, country, and region of all 6 wines. A Colombard and Ugni Blanc from France, (we hadn't had that one before, so I guessed Chablis, Ian said it was close enough!) 100% Chardonnay Champagne, a predominately Cabernet from the left bank of Loire Valley, a French Pinot Noir from Bourgogne, a Barbaresco from Piemonte, and a Tempranillo from Spain. Being able to accurately name all these wines was such an achievement to me, as I could physically see my evolution from knowing little to nothing about wine to quite a bit - probably more than my mom, and maybe even my dad ever did. How many young adults my age can truly say that they can do more than tell the difference between a glass of red or white? Gastronomy and wine club has taught me so much about an area that I knew little about, but had always wanted to know more. It also gave me the tools that I need to continue to expand my knowledge of different countries, regions, and grapes. Thanks, Ian, for a truly fantastic class.

You may think that I am a complete wine snob now, but to tell you the truth - I am looking forward to a glass of 3 buck chuck when I return to the States. Old habits die hard, I guess!

I feel special

Today Noma moved from the third best restaurant in the world to the best restaurant in the world, according to the San Pellegrino top 50 restaurants. For those who do not remember, my mom and I had a meal to remember there last December. Now I can say that I have eaten at the best restaurant in the world.

That's awesome.

Trashy or Classy? You Decide

I had the chance to return to Bologna during my two week travel break. The food of Bologna is absolutely delicious, it is the food capital of Italy, after all. While I gorged myself on pear and ricotta gelato, perfect thin crust pizzas, and light as air gnocchi in traditional Bolognese sauce, I found that I was most excited about returning to Bologna for one thing - Lambrusco.

Sparkling red wine. Yes, like the kind my mom drank at college parties back in the 70's. What has been considered to be a "trashy" wine by many is an important and cultural beverage to the people of the Emilia-Romagna region of the boot-shaped country. Bolognese people love it - and I have to admit-after trying it for the first time in January, so do I.

Lambrusco has a relatively low alcohol percentage, is fruity, and often has a slight kick to it, reminiscent of cinnamon. One that I had recently reminded me slightly of Big Red chewing gum. Everything that I have learned about wine this year in Europe makes me want to HATE Lambrusco. Fizzy red wine? Where's my Bordeaux or even a nice Sangiovese?

Italians are the first to admit that it is not what most people would consider to be "good wine". In January, my Bolognese guide told me that she once served Lambrusco to a bunch of French guests. BIG mistake. However, she commented that she thought it was light, refreshing, and pleasing to the palate. I cannot help but agree with her, with the added bonus that it is pleasing to the bank account. The average bottle of Lambrusco in a wine shop in Bologna costs 3-4 euros. Now that is cheap!

I suppose Lambrusco is one of those things that you take it for what it is, and not try to compare it to the wines we traditionally associate with "the reds". Lambrusco is a wine, yet it is its own entity. With that in mind, I will pour my glass with gusto, and enjoy my Lambrusco without hesitation. Bravo, Lambrusco!

even though I think Lambrusco is classy, I still don't mind serving it in a plastic cup in my hotel room!

What do you mean, I don't have to eat bangers and mash?!?

In my trip to Dublin, I was expecting Guinness, bangers and mash, Guinness, Irish lamb stew with soda bread, and you guessed it, Guinness. I had all of those things during my 5 day stay, (especially the Guinness - the storehouse museum is really worth the time and money, by the way!) but I realized that Dublin is a lot more than just traditional Irish fare. So while pubs are plentiful and a ridiculously good time, it is easy to give your taste buds a break from the hearty meat and potatoes fare to something a little more refined. You just have to be willing to pay for it.

My friends and I were lucky enough to be in Dublin during the city's "Restaurant Week", where many hot spots have a 3 course prix fix menu for 25 euro. If you are not in Dublin during this time, several restaurants offer "Early Bird" menus, where you can get great food for extremely reduced prices. You just have to eat before 7pm. For my friends and I, 25 euro was still expensive, but we found that we spent just as much in a pub paying for very expensive beers and relatively cheap pub food than spending a night out in a fancier establishment. So for a couple of nights, we went all out.

My first day I reunited with a friend from school I had not seen in almost a year. We decided to celebrate by shelling out for a prix fix meal at Balzac Restaurant on Dawson Street. We were under dressed, but the waitstaff did not seem to care. The offerings for the prix fix meal were extensive, with 5 or 6 different choices for each course. Salads with pear, radicchio, and cashel blue were probably one of the least exciting choices, but it was what I was in the mood for and the flavors of bitter, sweet, and salty, with a crunch from candied walnuts played perfectly off of each other. My entree consisted of sea bass with a surprisingly flavorful sauce of garlic and parsley (I attribute it to LOTS of butter) and a silky carrot puree fulfilled everything I wanted in a fish dish. My friend's duck leg with potato and cherry and red wine reduction was also delicious. Usually dessert is my least favorite part of the meal, but Balzac surprised us with a lemon pot-de-creme with warm from the oven madelines for blissful dipping. We spent over 3 hours at Balzac, a clearly French restaurant influenced by local Irish ingredients, and had an amazing time at this unexpected Dublin find.

It was not just the fine dining establishments that offered alternatives to Irish pub fare. Every type of food from Chinese to kabobs to a fantastic burger at Gourmet Burger Co. can be found in Dublin. My friend and I enjoyed a few generous glasses of wine (a 1/4th bottle per glass) at a highly stocked wine bar in Temple Bar called Olesya's. The staff was extremely knowledgeable and friendly, and more than willing to let you sample several wines until you find the exact vintage you are craving. Along with an artisan Irish cheese plate, it was the perfect light meal and end to the day my friend and I were looking for (until we decided to go see "The Blindside" and brought a bottle of pinot noir with us. Classy? The Irish sitting around us thought so).

My favorite spot though was this bakery and cafe called "Queen of Tarts", where homemade soups, salads, and sandwiches on homemade bread were served in generous portions and at decent prices. My ham and gruyere on a soft foccacia was chock full of cheese and extremely flavorful, and the perfectly dressed side salad balanced out the heaviness of sandwich. Of course by the name, Queen of Tarts is famous for its desserts. Massive portions of chocolate cake, beautiful tarts in every flavor imaginable, and cookies the size of bread plates coming right out of the oven made every patron's mouth water, and completely defenseless to temptation. I enjoyed an epically large piece of carrot cake, with the perfect amount of cream cheese frosting and a fantastic moist crumb. Queen of Tarts was a great way to spend our last afternoon in a rainy Dublin.

I am not saying that you should not go to the pubs in Dublin. In fact, I highly recommend it (the Literary Pub Crawl is especially fun). You meet the most friendly and fascinating people there, all of whom are ready and willing to share their life story with you - and not much is better than a great hearty dish and a large beer. However, if you are in Dublin for more than a few days, it is fun to explore what else this surprisingly foodie city has to offer. And trust me, it is quite a bit!

Burrow your nose in Borough Market

"I just hated what I was doing, but I always loved to cook, and I knew this recipe was awesome".

That was a common phrase I heard when walking around London's famous Borough Markets. Located on the Thames near London Bridge, the market has been around since the 13th century, although the establishment that it is today was founded just over a decade ago. Filled with producers and importers from all over the UK and the world, it is the largest and coolest food market I have ever been to.

What makes Borough so awesome is not just the endless stalls of baked goods, preserves, meats, wines, and dozens of international specialties, it is the people behind the product. Their passion and knowledge of great food is infectious, and the stories they have behind their personal products are so fascinating that it is easy to go home with a new friend. If nothing else - some new friends for your pantry.




Take this one guy - we'll call him "Mushroom Man" - selling his family's recipe for a Wild Mushroom pate. His sister, a former finance adviser got tired of dealing with budgets with companies, so she decided to create a budget for selling her family's favorite appetizer. That was four years ago. Now with a stall at Borough, her brother Mushroom Man enthusiastically spreads the pate on fresh bread, giving passerby's not one, but two or three generous samples. Mushroom Man avidly talked about the ingredients used, the story behind the pate, and all the different ways it could be used. The pate, a mixture of herbs, raw cheese, and of course mushrooms, could easily be stuffed inside a chicken breast, melted on top of a steak, or spread on some baguette, like it was for us. Of course I realize that the enthusiasm is all in part to get you to buy the product, but it did not feel that way. This was not the usual corny sales-man pitch, Mushroom Man let the product speak for itself. Even if you could not buy it because your luggage was already too heavy, like mine was, he still happily spread some more on a baguette, and told me to enjoy it.

I ran into many more Mushroom Mans as I wandered the stalls of Borough. Whether it was Spanish chorizo, farm-fresh goat cheese, homemade granola, or this dynamite Thai green curry fish stew, the owners shelled out samples, and if you wanted to hear it, narratives of their product. The same was true of importers, mainly wine and beer carriers from a select few countries. Their knowledge of wine regions within a certain country was unfathomable, I doubt that anyone could stump them with a question. Beer lovers could look endlessly at the shelves holding hundreds of beers I have never heard of before, but I am sure that the importer has tasted them all. By the end of the morning, I was so stuffed with new knowledge, ideas, and food - and I did not pay a single pence.


It was amazing being in a place where everyone around you cares as much about good food as I do. If I lived in London, I am sure that the vast majority of my savings would be poured into Borough Market. If you are ever in London, you should really check it out. It is such a neat spot in such a fascinating city - and of course, you get lots of free samples!

The journey of making Danish rugbrod

It is the epitome of Danish cuisine: rugbrod, or rye bread. A tradition centuries old, this hearty, seedy, sourdough-based bread is a staple like a loaf of Wonderbread in an American home. While you may think that you have tried rye bread before, it is probably nothing like what I have been consuming daily for the past 7 months. Rye bread is not white bread with brown flecks of rye flour that you get in your diner breakfast or pastrami sandwich. Danish rye bread is dense, extremely moist, and so filling that you will not be hungry for hours, which of course was the original intention. There is nothing like Danish rye bread in the States, so obviously I had to learn how to make it before returning home in May.

My family generally buys their bread from the local bakery called Emmery's, a beautiful store selling endless breads, baked goods, and some specialty food items. It is more convenient, and after buying all the ingredients needed for a loaf of bread, economically speaking buying from the bakery can make more sense. However, many Danes still make their own bread every week, and many of them are my age. I have friends living at Kollegiums (essentially dorms for University students) who watch their Danish floormates bake breads constantly. Inspired by their need to always have fresh, homemade bread, I talked my host mother into teaching me how to bake my own.

Sourdough, the base of Danish rugbrod, is a fickle and tricky substance. I do not bake bread very often, but when I do, it is always a yeast based dough. Sourdough is much more complicated. It consists of a "starter culture", which is a culture of yeast and lactic acid bacteria. It is kept alive by adding it to flour and water. Every time a new loaf of bread is made, some of the dough is taken out and is used as the "starter" for the next loaf. As long as bread is made about once a week, the sourdough will stay indefinitely. Like a red wine, the sour dough only gets better with age, so it is not uncommon to see one that has been in a family for generations. The starter we used was my host mom's grandmother's! Now that is old!

Making rugbrod from scratch is a long, 2 day process. It is not necessarily difficult, it is just time consuming. Starting the night before, the starter is combined with flour, water, salt, and perhaps a few other flavors of choice, such as honey. In our recipe, we used mostly rye flour with a bit of wheat flour. After combining these ingredients, the bread is left to rise for at least 12 hours, or overnight.

The next day is a free-for-all in terms of ingredients. Besides the addition of whole rye kernels and water, nearly any grain, seed, or flavoring can be added based on personal preference. One time, my host mom and I added poppy and sunflower seeds. Another time, we decided to add extra flavoring with a porter beer and pure maple syrup. Adding something a little sugary is always nice to not only balance the fermented flavor of the sourdough, but to also help keep the yeast in the starter alive for the next loaf. The important thing to remember is to add enough water so that the dough is a thick, but moist paste. To put it plainly, it should look like cement. Once everything your heart desires is added, the bread is then kneaded, or with modern technology, kneaded in the stand-mixer, for the next half hour. The longer the bread is kneaded, the less dense it becomes.

danish is so funny - this is the bag for rye kernels

mixing everything together!

sour dough preserved for the next loaf!

rye kernels!

rye flour

When the kneading is completed, some of the dough is extracted, put in a jar, and heavily covered with salt to keep for the next batch of bread. The rest of the heavy dough is poured into pans, and pricked all over to invite air into the dense mixture. Then it has to proof (or rise again) in a turned off oven, for at least 4-5 hours. See what I mean about an all day process?

Of course every recipe is different, but my host mom likes to bake the breads for 1 1/2 hours at 175 C (about 375F) and then turn off the oven, and continue to bake the breads for an additional 45 minutes. Unlike yeast breads, rye bread should not be eaten straight out of the oven, as it is so moist on the inside it is difficult to slice. The best thing to do is to wait until the following morning to use for breakfast, sandwiches, or an afternoon snack (as all good Danes do). However, I have been known to cheat the waiting rule, as a luke-warm slice of rugbrod is absolutely delicious slathered with a particularly large pat of butter.

Because the starter dough is a sample of the the entire bread dough, that means that every loaf in every family or bakery tastes a little different. Even within a family, each loaf can taste different depending on what was added to the previous loaf of bread. Rugbrod is personal. Not only does it have a general history as a bread to fill your belly, but its taste also gives a little individual history to every family or individual that makes it. Your rugbrod tastes different from your neighbor's rugbrod because of the way your family before you baked it. If that is not passing down a recipe from one generation to the next, I do not know what is.

When I return to the States, my host mom has promised to send me home with a jar of her family's starter. I am so touched, I feel as though I will be receiving a family heirloom. I am glad that I can bring a little bit of my new family back with me across the Atlantic. Now the question remains - will I be able to bake and eat a large loaf of bread every week? If my fellow Smithies try some Danish rugbrod, I do not think it will be a problem!

a delicious sandwich the next day!

the finished product

Introducing Danes to Fish Tacos

When my host mom asked me what I wanted to eat for dinner on my 21st birthday - I could only think of one thing: fish tacos. My favorite summer dish at home, I had recently been feeling fish deprived and was in the mood for something light and fun to brighten the dreary and cold days of February in Copenhagen.

Of course, tacos are a relatively new idea in Denmark. They are still trying to figure out the concept of the beef taco, so one made with fish was completely foreign territory. So alas, I made my own birthday meal, but it was totally worth it and delicious, and I got everyone (including my three young host brothers) to eat and enjoy fish in a way that they had never considered before.

My host mom does not make fish. She says it is because she is not good at it, and because they only way she knew how to make it was the traditional Danish way - in a cream sauce or parsley sauce with rice or potatoes. This seemed so weird to me, because when I think of fish, while it can be served breadcrumbed and buttered, most of the time it is something prepared simply with light flavors such as citrus and fresh herbs. Even after being here 7 months, there are still so many things about Denmark that continues to surprise and fascinate me.

I told my host mom that fish tacos go well with just about any fish, so I asked her just to buy what looked the best. She came home with a few kilos of the most beautiful fresh tuna I have ever seen. This confused me even further, as she claimed the fishmonger was right down the street from our house, and it was actually significantly cheaper than buying meat from the butcher. With fish this good, why would you not make it more often?

I prepared the fish with a simple red cabbage slaw, an avocado and tomato salsa, and top the seared tuna with an orange and lime vinaigrette with lots of coriander (cilantro). Stuffed inside your choice of flour tortilla or corn taco shell - my taco-deprived friends and I could not have been happier.

However my host family was at first pretty skeptical. One of my host brothers walked in as I was slicing cabbage and said in a very negative voice 'it smells like the ocean in here', before promptly walking out again. When I was searing the tuna for just a minute on each side, my host mom looked as though I might be trying to give them all food poisoning. My host father, who is always on alcohol duty, asked if a Chianti Classico was the appropriate drink to have with a fish taco. I could not help but laugh before I explained that fish tacos were all about the beer or margaritas - as is anything that is wrapped in a tortilla. But I also assured him that the delicious champagne he bought for my 21st would be a very proper aperitif.

The skepticism ended when tacos were individually assembled and all 12 of us took our first bites. That perfect silence, where only the sound of chewing and clinking of forks can be heard - I call it the 'happy food silence' - completely fell over the room. For the first time, my entire family abandoned all utensils (that they use for even a cheeseburger) and dug in with gusto. As I finished my first taco, I realized that I would have to act quickly to get my hands on more tuna, as the few kilos my host mom had bought were almost gone. They literally just evaporated.

As a result, my family made me promise if they brought fish home once a week, I would prepare it. I have absolutely no qualms with that. I had been missing fish so much since being here, but I never bought it because I assumed my host family did not like it. On the contrary, they LOVE it, but like many ingredients, they just had to experience it in a new way. I am glad that even after living with my host family for so long, I could still teach them something new about American culture and California's fantastic fish tacos.

Hungry? Let's Fry Something!

The creek at Glengoyne Whisky Distillery

The lovely people of Scotland are good at making two things: drunk food, and hangover food. How do I know this? Having just turned 21 the night before leaving for Edinburgh and Glasgow. . .how do you think?

Of course, there has to be a reason for this - Scotland has a rich culture dating back thousands of years. I learned this reason when my class visited the Glengoyne Scotch Whisky Distillery for a tour and liquid debriefing. Glengoyne is located in the lowlands of Scotland near Stirling - essentially "Braveheart" land. It is one of the few distilleries left in Scotland that is still owned and operated by Scots, as most have been bought by other countries including Japan and the US. So we felt as though we were getting the real deal.

Even if you do not like Scotch Whisky, (most of our class made faces of complete disgust when they tried it) you have to respect the process. A tradition that is centuries old, Scotch is made with three simple ingredients: barley, yeast, and water. A single malt Scotch, or the expensive stuff, is made exactly how it sounds: with one type of malted barley. Our guides stressed that it should be served by itself, or perhaps with a splash of water. Since it is an oily drink, water can help to bring out the intricacies of flavor in the spirit. The cheaper blended whiskeys are often times only 40% barley, and up to 60% of other grains. That is what you use for your whisky and coke, my friends.

The barley is traditionally dried out for a few days on the floor of a large store house. Because it is so labor intensive and production has grown, Glengoyne now gets their dried barley delivered to them. The barley is then ground and combined with yeast and water and churned in these huge vats. Water is an extremely important part to making whiskey, as it takes 100 liters of water just to make 1 bottle. The mixture is then left to ferment in large wood containers. Taking a peek into the barrels we could see huge bubbles foaming off the liquid. Our guide warned us not to breath in too deeply while standing over the vats, as the CO2 coming off of it is so strong that it could knock you out!What is then essentially beer is taken away to a copper distiller. They use copper because it is a good heat conductor. The liquid is then heated, and since alcohol boils before water, the steam from the alcohol leaves the liquid and goes up a tube to another compartment. It is there that it returns to a liquid state, and becomes much higher in alcohol content. Scotch whisky makers do the distilling process twice, where as Irish whiskeys and bourbons tend to distill 3 times, thus having a higher alcohol content. Scotch is only distilled twice because the makers believe that too much alcohol takes away from the flavor.

After reaching the appropriate alcohol percentage, the Scotch is stored in oak barrels for a period of at least 10 years, although 20 is preferable. The barrels at Glengoyne all had a previous use as storage for Spanish sherry, so the Scotch, a clear liquid when it goes into the barrel, emerges a golden color as it soaks in the residual alcohol and the color from the wood. The longer it sits, the deeper the color gets. When it is ready, the liquid is bottled and is ready to be enjoyed by the masses.

And it IS enjoyed. Along with beer, the Scots love their alcohol as dictated by the dozens of whisky shops that line the streets of Glasgow and especially Edinburgh. Go into one of the many pubs and you can expect to see a long menu of different types of Scotch. Chat up some of the friendly locals, have a few drinks, and a few hours and whiskys later, you will realize that it is time for something to eat.

Which leads me to the food of Scotland. While several international places, especially Indian, have opened recently, dinner hours end relatively early in Scotland. I personally think it is because restaurants know that they cannot compete with the traditional Scottish meal after one too many whiskeys. That meal is at your corner fry shop, where you can have anything your heart desires - as long as it is deep fried.

wedding photo? enjoying a fried mars bar

it totally needed to be fried longer, but still gooey and good, if that's your type of thing!

Fish, chips, pizza, mars bars, burgers, oreos, I am not kidding when I say 'anything your heart desires'. Whether you prefer sweet or savory for your "fourth meal", the Scots have got you covered. While in theory it is completely appalling and gross sounding, and most joints are not of stellar quality, when you have been drinking a bit too much there is nothing better than sinking your teeth into the fattiest substance you can get your hands on. It helps ease the potential morning hang over as well.

fry shop fish and chips. we had the real deal at a restaurant in glasgow, and it was much more delicious

If you happen to wake up the next morning feeling not quite 100%, no worries, the Scots have a cure for that too. It is called the full Scottish breakfast. Fried eggs, bacon, pork sausage, blood sausage, hash browns, baked beans, tomatoes, and maybe a bit of bread on the side - it is the perfect breakfast to revive your body and get you ready for the day, whether it is work, errands, or perhaps a psychology seminar. . .

And of course, as a food blogger, I could not leave Scotland without trying the infamous haggis. If you do not know what haggis is, one of my favorite quotes from the movie "Armageddon" explains it perfectly: "hearts, lungs, and liver. You stuff that into a sheep's stomach, and then you boil it. That'll put some hair on your ass". Seeing it on the breakfast buffet among the various meats, I decided to give it a go. Don't get too excited - it tasted like a frozen brand of breakfast sausage.

So now here is some food for thought (pun intended): Just what exactly is in your favorite brand of breakfast sausage?

The art (and trials) of fresh pasta making

getting our pasta dough ready

If you go to Italy, there is one food substance that you cannot avoid: pasta. And if you have any interest in food, your trip to Italy will include a lesson where you learn how to make pasta from scratch. During my trip to Italy, I got to experience making pasta in the traditional "grandmother style", and in the modern restaurant kitchen setting. Let me tell you - it is harder than it looks, and if it is not perfect, you will be told so. More often than not in the traditional Italian way; hand-waving and "yelling" included!

In Bologna, I had the opportunity to take a pasta making class with the Cesarinas, women who invite tourists and Italians alike into their homes to teach about the traditional food culture of Italy. I did not know what to expect, as our Cesarina did not speak a word of English, so everything was going to be explained through hand gestures and by the help of our tour guide. However, what I thought would be an awkward experience was anything but. After being eyed from head to toe, she immediately welcomed us in her home and treated us as though we were members of her family. That of course included putting us straight to work.

I was told by our tour guide that several Italian families try to get together once a week to catch up and make fresh pasta. It is this simple act that keeps Italian culture alive for each family. At our Cesarina's, a large pine wood board covered the entire dining room table, showing that the table was not just a place for everyone to eat, but also a place for everyone to gather and prepare the meal. Our dough of flour and eggs was already sitting there waiting for us, so after being handed a large wood rolling pin, we set out to roll a thin sheet of perfect pasta.

being taught (again and again) how to make a torteloni

Forget weights, rolling pasta by hand is the perfect arm-workout. While I struggled to get my pasta to the desired rectangular shape, our Cesarina rolled out her pasta with incredible ease and quickness into the perfect thickness and size. This could only come with years and years of experience. That day, we were going to learn how to make tortelloni and tagliatelle, the two iconic pastas of Bologna. It took me forever to learn how to fold and wrap the perfect piece of stuffed pasta. Mostly because our Cesarina and Italian tour guide each had their own method of doing it, and both women were insistent that her way was the right way. Stereotypical Italian fighting ensued, and I just watch in utter amusement, while I continued to try to make a single tortelloni, in whatever way was most suitable to me. However, when I finally placed a single, almost perfectly folded tortelloni onto the pine wood board, our Cesarina and tour guide cried "BRAVA!" with the enthusiasm and pride as though I were their own child. All arguments were forgotten.

working with tagliatelle

Tagliatelle was easier for me to get a hand on. It was done by taking a thin sheet of pasta and rolling it over itself several times. Then a sharp knife cut the rolled sheet into several pieces, before taking a spoon to release the thin strands of pasta. It was amazing seeing these long strips of pasta unraveling on my wooden spoon. It is truly fascinating that something as simple as making fresh pasta gave me a kind of satisfaction and feeling of accomplishment that I had not experienced in a while. I could not wait to eat it!

Sitting around our Cesarina's kitchen table, we enjoyed the torteloni with a fresh pesto sauce, and the tagliatelle in a traditional Bolognese meat sauce - another recipe that Italians endlessly argue over the "correct" way of making. With a bottle of Lambrusco, we chatted the best we could with our language barriers, mostly using our hands - in true Italian fashion. Full of good food and company - I felt as though I was experiencing the real Italian culture and lifestyle - and it made me understand why so many families continue to make their own pasta today. (In whatever form they think is best!)

i finally made one!

Keeping Culture Alive: Artisan Products of Italy

parmigiano reggiano in action!

the machine that cleans each wheel of parmigiano reggiano

I think I died and went to heaven. . .

the family estate in modena where aceto balsamico is made

As a foodie, there are some things that you have to learn to deal with or accept. For instance, places like McDonalds will continue to grow and extend to all parts of the world, and wherever it goes, it will become popular. Mom and pop places will continue to struggle and oftentimes lose to big corporate businesses. Bits and pieces of cultures will be lost. However, there are many parts of food culture that are still active and being practiced in full force today. The thing to do is to make people aware of the masterpieces that are artisan food products, so that they can be alive for the future generations to come. To completely forget where a country's food culture comes from; now that is something that I will not accept.

Italy is certainly a place that has been affected by modern capitalistic culture. With more employment opportunities for women, it is more common now to see both parents working full time jobs than having the mother stay at home. While this is actually a good thing in my eyes, it also makes things like home-cooked meals get lost to the power of convenience foods including fast food and meals-to-go. Italian women are slowly developing the US mentality towards food. Why make bread when you can buy it? Why roll out pasta dough when you can boil dried for 10 minutes and be done with it? It is this attitude that shifts a country towards a more globalist culture, rather than one that is individual and unique.

But no fear, there is still hope! In my travels around Bologna and Florence, I saw how the special products of Italy are being adapted to fit and actually thrive in the global market. Whether it is through expansion or just savvy business sense, it is through these products that Italy is and will continue to be a food capital in the eyes of the rest of the world. These products are Parmigiano Reggiano and Aceto Balsamico.

Outside of Bologna in the town of Reggiano, I visited a factory where real Parmigiano is made. Mom and I made sure to get there early in the morning, so we could watch the actual process of making the cheese. Donning our white lab coats of sorts, we were ready to begin our tour. As we walked into the steamy main room, we saw these huge copper vats each holding a mound of cheese curd weighing 90kilos each. The milk for the parmigiano comes from a special herd of cows that have diets that are extremely monitored. This ensures that the milk is the best of quality, and is also completely gluten free, as the cows do not consume any wheat products!

The milk is cooked with a combination of milk from the morning and milk from the evening. When the curds are separated from the whey, the residual is cooked again to make ricotta cheese (twice cooked cheese). What I found most amazing; however, was that the residual product can and is used as a cleaning agent for the factory. This ensures that no cleaning chemicals what-so-ever are entering the room where the product is being produced. The place is literally covered in dairy.

Once the cheese is in the 90kilo ball, it is cut in two with a large knife. It takes two people to do this. Then each ball is lifted out and placed in a cylinder mold to drain and eventually be aged. The balls of curd are carried into a room to dry out and receive their characteristic parmigiano reggiano rind. Then they are placed in a salt water bath with salt from the dead sea, only because it is considered to be the purest salt. This is what helps to give parmigiano reggiano its distinct, salty flavor. Once the cheeses are ready to come out of their briny bath, they are dried out once more before being brought to the storing room to age.

The storage room is probably the most fascinating thing I have ever seen in my entire life. Looking at my pictures, my friend at home described it as the Room of Prophecies from the 5th Harry Potter book. I couldn't agree more. Aisles upon aisles, rows upon rows of individual rounds of cheeses, stretching all the way to the ceiling. If I were a mouse, I would have a heart-attack - it was that amazing. The cheeses are left to age for at least a year, with a machine that rolls through the aisles every so often, picking up and cleaning each cheese. I think it is the best use for a robot the world has ever come up with. The longer the cheese sits, the sharper, and in my opinion, the better quality, it becomes. The dark, slightly cool storage room ensures that the world gets the best parmigiana money can buy.

Grading parmigiano is a serious process. At the end of the first year, the national board of parmigiano reggiano cheese testers (yes, there is such a thing - only in Italy, right?) comes and goes through the grueling process of testing each cheese for quality. They do this with a simple test: banging each cheese all around with a small hammer. A good quality cheese that is graded parmigiano reggiano will make the same noise all throughout the hammering. A cheese that makes a more hollow noise in parts cannot be labeled as such, so it becomes simply parmesan and is kept from aging longer. Hence the difference between parmesan cheese and parmigiano reggiano. The good stuff is aged for as long as desired, the manager of the factory showed us one that is waiting to be cracked open on the factory's 50th anniversary, which was coming up soon. 50 year cheese? That might be pushing it a bit for me. . .but hey, you never know.

The process of making parmigiano reggiano is simply phenomenal. Of course some things have changed over the years. For instance, the workers have become mostly immigrants, mainly for the same reason why it is the immigrants in America that pick strawberries: citizens do not want to do the hard labor, low paying job. However, this is still an Italian-run business. Even though the product production has expanded to meet society's demands, the quality has not declined and the process of the old world craft is still ever present. It is through this cheese that Italian food culture is kept alive to the rest of the world.

The same can be said for aceto balsamic, or as what people know as balsamic vinegar. But do not be fooled, there is a huge difference between the two. Balsamic is a relatively new product on the world food market, becoming ridiculously popular in Europe and the US around 10 years ago. When I was little, I do not think I remember my mom putting balsamic on anything, now it is a staple in our pantry. The difference is that aceto balsamic is a product with an extremely long and limited family-run process, while the balsamic vinegar that most people know is a duplication of a flavor that many generations of people have enjoyed in Italy through the centuries. Even if the label says Balsamic di Modena, it is probably not the real thing, as the families of the Aceto Balsamic business do not own the rights to the name, so any Tom, Dick, or Harry can say that he makes balsamic from Italy, even if it is produced in Iowa. Oftentimes what we buy is not balsamic at all, but a blend of chemicals and sugars made to taste like the real stuff. However, after visiting a small estate where real aceto balsamic is made, I have a feeling that I will never be able to eat the vinegar from the grocery store again.

Aceto balsamic has been made in Italy for hundreds of years, mainly for the purpose of a wedding gift or having something to hand down to younger generations. This is because a good aceto balsamic is generally aged at least 12 years before it is consumed. And that is just the bare minimum. By the time I had left the estate, I had tasted a 30 year balsamic.

The only ingredient in aceto balsamic, I was surprised to find, is grapes. The grapes are cooked, and then stored in a large wooden barrel, with woods ranging from cherry to oak, depending on the tastes of the maker. The wood imparts some flavor to the vinegar, just as oak barrels impart flavor to a chardonnay. Since the aceto balsamic is going to be stored in a number of barrels while it is aged, a producer might even choose to use a few different types of wood during the process, sometimes creating a more complex flavor. This makes every aceto balsamic different from the rest.

The aceto balsamic is left in the barrel in a dark room (oftentimes in the attic of the household) with a small hole in the top to let air in. This helps the product to reduce down. After a year or so, the reduced aceto balsamic is moved next door to a smaller barrel, where it stays for another year or so, then moved to an even smaller barrel, etc. There can be up to 8 barrels that the balsamic is stored in, the smallest being no larger than a pasta pot. This of course means that after years and years of waiting, the end quantity is very small. This is why aceto balsamic has always been so special to the Italians, and it is why it is so expensive and hard to come by for us.

the barrels where the aceto balsamic is stored

To show us just how special aceto balsamic is, the owner of the estate gave us a testing of basic balsamic vinegar (the kind you get in the grocery store), an 4 year balsamic, a 12 year balsamic, and his special 30 year balsamic. Giving me a pretty hefty spoonful of the cheap stuff, I almost spat it out - it was so strong and acidic. But mellowed out with some honey, dijon, and olive oil, I could see that it was the base of most balsamic vinaigrettes. The 4 year was much better, slightly thicker and sweeter, I saw that this would make a fantastic dressing. Then we had the 12 year stuff. When he tipped the bottle, it took a few seconds for it to slowly pour out. The flavor was so complex and delicious, with a definite flavor of wood lingering somewhere in the background. Just a few drops would be perfect on a fresh summer tomato, a steak, or even vanilla ice cream. The 12 year was so good, I could not see how the 30 year could get better. But it was. This time when he tipped the bottle, it took about a minute for a few drops to come out. But that was all you needed. It is one of the most delicious things I have ever tasted. I really cannot even describe the flavor - fruity, acidic, woody, maybe even meaty, it was everything all at once. Just one or two drops of this could make any dish taste 50 times better, the flavor was that powerful.

In the end, I resisted the urge to spend $100 on a small bottle of 24 year aceto balsamic and stuck with the 12 year for a modest $60. The 12 year was delicious enough, but I will never forget tasting that liquid that was so much older than me. Although it can be hard to come across good balsamic in the states, I urge you to keep an eye out for Aceto balsamic that has been aged for at least 8 years. While more expensive, the difference in flavor is astronomical.

While times may be changing in Italy, many try to keep the food culture and history alive. Through products like parmigiano reggiano, and cities such as Bologna's efforts to keep mom and pop places running by naming them historical landmarks, we can expect that despite McDonalds, traditional Italian food will always be there, and it will always be popular around the rest of the world.

And yes, I am guarding my aceto balsamico with my life.

Some French-tastic Discoveries

During my week in Paris, Aix, and Nice, I had some things that were brand new to my eyes and/or palate. I thought I would share them with you!

1. Desserts that light up: Yup! At a restaurant in Nice called l'Ane Rouge, our tapioca dessert with a poached pear was served in a glass that lit up. It kind of looked like ET. It tasted good though!


2. Sweet omelets: In Aix as well as Paris, I kept seeing both sweet and savory omelets on the menu. So one morning, I ordered one with goat cheese and honey. It was a revelation! The sweetness of the honey was so perfect with the savory richness of the egg and saltiness of the cheese. I did have it with an aged goat cheese, but I am sure the fresh would be delicious as well!

3. Kumquats: Similar in flavor to an orange, the fruit was reduced as a glaze for my duck breast at a cafe in Paris. I know you can find them in the US, but I had never had them before. They are really good, and it is really fun to say. Kumquat kumquat kumquat. . .

4. Chateauneuf du pape: probably the most famous wine region in Provence, characterized by the red rocks surrounding the vines mostly of the Grenache and Syrah variety. During my stay, I had my first wine-tasting experience at Chateau La Nerthe, one of the largest and most esteemed wineries in the region. We had a tour of the facilities, saw more barrels than I have ever seen in my entire life, and bought some great red wines from 2004. Provence is also known for their Rose, and after trying a few, I can easily put to rest the bad connotations Americans have with the pink stuff.

5. Provencal EVOO: One morning we visited a small olive oil mill outside of Aix. A cooperative operation, several farmers brought their olives there to be processed by the mill. We learned that there are four different olive varieties used in Provencal olive oil, 3 green and 1 black. Harvesting begins in October and ends in January. The earlier the olives are picked, the more acidity the olive oil will have. Provencal EVOO has a very low acidity, with a .8% maximum acidity to be classified as true EVOO. This is different from other countries such as Spain, where EVOO can have an acidity of up to 1.25%. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as Spanish flavors tend to be more heavy and bold than those of Provence, therefore the ingredients can hold up to a higher acidity. In Provencal cooking, I learned that you do not want to cook with an olive oil with high acidity because it will make the food taste bitter. Higher acidity olive oils are better fresh in a salad or served on bread.

6. Fresh anchovy puree: In Provence, people do not consume meat on Christmas Eve. It is all about fish and vegetables. One thing that is extremely common as an appetizer is an anchovy puree made with fresh anchovies, garlic, vinegar or lemon, and olive oil. Spread on bread or with crudites, it is probably the best thing ever. *sigh. So many anchovy-haters to convert, so little time.

I'll add more as I think of them!

A Foodie's first trip to France - PART II

Simple, farmland - inspired French cuisine. Everyone can do it. However, there is another side to French cooking that is not so easy to master - the high end, professional French cuisine. To try and get a handle on this side of the French food spectrum, I visited the kitchen of Jacques Chibois at La Bastide Saint Antoine in Grasse, just outside of Nice. This hotel/restaurant, formerly the summer home of one J.F. Kennedy, is now a high end establishment, with 2 Michelin stars to match. It was there that I had a pastry lesson and the most ridiculous lunch - ever. It is official: I am a spoiled brat.

My mom and I were not expecting the day that lay before us. To us, this was just going to be a simple cooking lesson that a travel agent had set up in advance. My family has never traveled with the help of travel agents before, so we were just going with the flow, expecting nothing yet subconsciously everything from our planned week in France. So when I was handed an apron in a 2-Michelin star industrial kitchen, surrounded by about 20 French-speaking chefs preparing for the lunch rush, my expectations were beyond fulfilled. And yes, I was super-intimidated.

the outside of La Bastide Saint Antoine. SOOOO pretty!

We were introduced to the Pastry Chef, who immediately put us to work. While there was a slight language barrier, we both knew enough of each others' languages to get by. While clearly professional, he had the attitude of "let's just screw around in the kitchen", putting my mom and I at ease allowing us just to have fun in the high-stress environment.

We started with chocolate mandolins, a particularly shaped cookie that is very popular in France. High in cocoa and low in sugar, they had a rich chocolate flavor with the added bonus of dried apricots and pistachios, making them texturally interesting. What I found interesting was that he used a combination of all purpose wheat flour and potato flour, which made the cookies denser and gave them a really moist crumb. Ours looked more like footballs than the traditional elegant shaped cookie, but they tasted good none-the-less.

I also learned how to make marshmallows in a new way. I had always learned that the best way to make marshmallows or fluff was to cook egg whites to a certain temperature and then beat them until stiff peaks form. However, Chef told us that he thought that egg whites could be fickle, thus gelatin was his go-to method. Flavored with green tea and piped into decorative molds, I wanted to throw a bunch into hot cocoa. However, Chef told me that would not be very French. Oops.

We continued with other desserts that I had some experience with - pastry cream, souffles flavored with lime zest (Chef was impressed with my folding in egg white skills), and frozen mousse. But there was one huge highlight during my pastry lesson. I conquered my nemesis: the caramel sauce. For the first time in my life, I made a caramel sauce that did not burn, did not harden immediately, and actually tasted delicious. I was so proud!

All the while that we cooked, the other chefs ran around, prepping vegetables, huge chunks of foie gras, reducing sauces, and baking breads. With so much going on at once, I could see how much work goes into preparing each dish. Each plate that would be going out to a customer was a puzzle with several pieces - the meat, the side, the sauce, the garnish - and each piece had to be thought about and prepared separately with such proficiency. That way, each puzzle could be completed smoothly and in sync with the other dishes going out to every table during the rush. It was daunting, and I could not help but just stare in complete fascination.

We were having so much fun, so as lunch time approached mom and I were disappointed that our lesson was about to come to an end. I felt as though we had become a part of the kitchen, joking with the other chefs, tasting different ingredients, even washing the dishes (which I think made Chef very happy). What we did not realize, is that they had planned a special lunch for us.

As we were cleaning up, the maitre d' came over and asked if we were allergic to anything, and showed us a potential list of courses they were going to serve us. He asked us if we liked scallops, turbot, and calamari, which we told him we did. Then he gave us a funny look and said "and how do you feel about sweetbreads?". I am not kidding, the entire kitchen STOPPED what they were doing and stared at us. Everyone was so curious about what the Americans were going to say about brains. It was almost cartoonish. I had never had sweetbreads before, so of course I was not about to pass up the opportunity to have them at such a good restaurant. So we responded - "oh yeah, of course we like sweetbreads!"

After a 10 course lunch menu was finalized, they showed us to our table. It was in the corner of the kitchen. While we were feasting, we would be able to watch the chefs prepare every dish going out during the lunch rush. I felt like I was Anthony Bourdain, getting the inside scoop and exclusive treatment of the world's most exclusive food havens. [Insert cynical witty sarcasm here]. Really though, it was amazing to see such masters of their craft at work. I also saw why restaurants love prix fix menus. Every time a table was about to receive a new course, all the plates would be laid out, and anywhere from 6-10 chefs would gather around the plates, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. One would place meat, someone else would delicately ladle sauce, and someone would garnish with finesse, often times decorating plates with the use of a medicine dropper. The waitresses would then cover the dishes with silver lids and quickly bring them out to the hungry customers. It made me realize how much of a team effort it takes to run a successful kitchen. Everyone has to do their part, or the dish fails. I have to say, I think kitchen teamwork puts teamwork in some sports to shame.

Unsurprisingly, everything was delicious. A Mediterranean calamari salad, a perfectly seared scallop, delicate gnocchi with truffles, and even flavorful creamy sweetbreads were just a few of the courses that perfectly demonstrated an area influenced by both French and Italian cuisine. A cheeseboard with at least 50 cheeses from all over France was presented to us, and I think the waiter would have put every type on our plate if we had not told him to stop after about ten. My favorite was a cheese from a small village in the north, a cow's milk flavored with beer, herbs, and several spices including paprika and a large amount of black pepper. I had never tasted anything like it. Finally we were given three different desserts incorporating pieces of the puzzle we had created that morning. A chestnut molten cake with our frozen mousse and caramel sauce, our lime souffle, and an assortment of hand-made sorbets, we were almost crying because we were so full. Never before have I ever eaten so much food in one sitting, not even at Thanksgiving. We were treated like celebrities, and yes, I certainly felt like one.

Among all the extravagance of our meal, I did take note that a lot of the ingredients were fairly similar to those I had seen in the rustic food of Provence and the brasseries of Paris. Yes, Nice has influence from both Southern Italy and France, so pastas and use of ingredients such as tomato and fish are more common, yet I saw the mushrooms, the foie gras, the reduced wine sauces, the olives, and the cheeses and breads associated with the other side of the French food spectrum. These fancy chefs even practice the art of using every part of an ingredient, such as the brains of a cow! The difference however, is the preparation and presentation of the ingredients themselves. While I was blown away by my meal and experience at La Bastide Saint Antoine, I was equally impressed by my experience with Marc Heracle and the small cafes of Aix such as Le Tomat Verte (an excellent little restaurant if you are ever in the area). There is not one that I prefer over the other, because every part of the spectrum is so special and culturally rich in its own way. However, I will say this: I love French food.

A Foodie's first trip to France - PART I

the outside of Marc's Kitchen

Marc Heracle's estate

I had been waiting to go to France all year since I arrived in Europe back in August. Actually, I had been waiting to go to France since I read Madeline when I was 4 or 5 years old, but that was for a different reason. I no longer wanted to go to France to be one of the 12 little girls in two straight lines, I wanted to go to France to eat.

I was a little intimidated about my trip to France. I took Latin for six years and now Danish, so the extent of my French is limited to about 10 words. I thought that I would be seen as the ignorant American, and I was ready to whip out my Danish health care card if anyone was to question me about my nationality! However, in traveling around Paris, Provence, and Nice, I was surprised and filled with the utmost respect for the gracious people I met who taught me so much about their culture and food.

I think that there is a spectrum when it comes to French food. I found that while ingredients are fairly similar around the country, their application in cooking changes vastly. On one end of this spectrum is the rustic peasant food - coq au vin, ratatouille, hearty cheeses and breads, etc. On the other end is the refined French technique food, with complex, deeply flavored sauces, expert knife skills, and plating compositions that make food become works of art. In between lies the brassieres and cafes serving a mix of refined and rustic classics. In my trip, I got to experience both sides first-hand, giving me a real inside look of what French food is all about.

I am purposefully skipping over Paris for two reasons. One is that Paris is a well documented place in terms of food, so anything I write I feel as though it would be a regurgitation of another person's experience. Second, I found that I learned so much more outside of the bustling city, where the menus ceased to be written in both French and English and I was able to get my hands on the food in the kitchens. So while I did eat well in the city of lights, the real heart of my trip was in the south.

Outside of Aix, I had the most amazing opportunity to cook with Chef Marc Heracle at his large 16th century estate. As my mom and I pulled into the property in our rented Peugeot, I was captivated by the sheer beauty of this large house, surrounded by neighbors of olive trees, grape vines, and a pair of talkative donkeys! I never imagined myself ever being able to experience France in this way. But the view was just the beginning.

Marc Heracle prides himself on cooking traditional Provencal style food while emphasizing the health benefits of cooking with local and organic ingredients. While we were expecting this to be a cooking class with at least 12 other individuals, it turned out that no one else had signed up that day, so our class turned into a private lesson. I got to cook and chat with a professional chef for over 4 hours, allowing me to pick his brain on rustic Provencal food, and learn a lot about life as well.

The menu we prepared consisted of a greens tart on an olive and olive oil crust, topped with a mild cow's milk cheese, coq au vin, and an apple and pear tatin. Everything we prepared was so simple, but the quality of ingredients, as well as the clever tricks of the Provence region, made everything absolutely delicious. For example, Marc told us that every family in Provence regularly makes their own herbed salt. With the mild weather, herbs such as rosemary, savory, and oregano grow all year round, making them a essential part of Provencal cooking, and in this salt. While I'm not willing to give away Marc's recipe, (you'll have to take the class yourself!) the mixture included fleur de sel and a myriad of fresh herbs from Marc's garden, ground together and left out to absorb any moisture. The herbed salt is used whenever salt is called for in a savory recipe. Just the smell of the salt mixture gave the impression that it would make shoe leather taste good.

Also, when we started cooking the coq au vin, Marc simply lay a few large sprigs of rosemary, some garlic cloves "with their shirts (skins) still on", and whole peppercorns in a saute pan as a base of flavor for the dish. Simple, rustic, and downright gorgeous, it made me want to go home and cook this one dish every night of the week. Using simple tricks such as the salt mixture, along with the best quality ingredients, I saw that you did not have to do much to make something phenomenal. The food did the work for you.

What I like most about working with Marc was the way he treated me. I was intimidated going into the kitchen with a professional, especially one who is French! However, I believe that he immediately noticed my love of food and good ingredients, and a mutual respect was formed. While we walked around Marc's beautiful property, he commented on some of the tourists he teaches. He told us how many Americans (several of them extremely obese) would come in on busloads, constantly take pictures while he did all the cooking, and would not recognize over half the ingredients he was using. This really saddened me, because it is not a question of blatant indifference or ignorance, it is just that so many people do not have the access or money to buy good quality food. I think it is brilliant that Marc is sharing a centuries old food culture to travelers that is relative and accessible today. I mean really, who can't throw some rosemary and a few cloves of garlic into a pan?

Godt Jul!

my host family enjoying holiday cheer!

christmas cookies = deceptively addictive!

It is the biggest national holiday in Denmark. Christmas. Forget the "happy holidays", "Christmakah", or "let's try to be P.C". In Denmark, it is all about JUL.

Living with my host family, I got to experience the full Danish Christmas. In my opinion, mostly because I am always thinking about food, there are two main parts to the holiday season. Christmas lunches, and Christmas Eve. Many Danes say that the reason why they celebrate all throughout the month of December is because it is so cold and dark, it keeps them happy. Really, Denmark is no more darker than Boston, and certainly receives a lot less snow, but any excuse to party all month is good enough for me!

Christmas lunches are get-togethers that last all month. My first was on the 30th of November. They are essentially the equivalent to office holiday parties or friend/family holiday outings, but a lot more festive. They include drinking, eating, drinking, perhaps an exchange of presents, and more drinking. Danes immediately gather around the table, pour the schnapps and enjoy the traditional foods of the holidays. The same is true of Christmas Eve, or Jul Aften. While of course everyone has their own traditions, Danes tend to eat, dance around the Christmas tree and entire house (not kidding), and open presents all on Christmas Eve, rather than the American's tradition of opening gifts on Christmas morning.

First there is the herring. I have described herring before in this blog, but at Christmas lunches it is served in all possible forms - with curry, remoulade, vinegar, or plain, and with all the tradition accompaniments. The potent fish is then washed down with a shot or two - or three - of schnapps, and, if you are being traditional, you throw the glass over your shoulder once you are done. This; however, is not practiced in many establishments today.

The main course can involve several different entrees, but while beef and ham are the two main meats of choice in America, duck and pork roast are the Dane's. Flaeskesteg, or a Danish pork roast, is delicious with its thin slices of pork cracklings on top. Roast duck is traditionally stuffed with apples and prunes, producing flavorful juices that are the perfect base for a sauce. The meats are served with braised red cabbage made with current juice, and boiled potatoes that are then coated in a caramel made of butter and sugar. They are probably the tastiest potatoes I have ever had.

Dessert is always traditionally a dish known as ris ala mande. Known for being the dessert to keep mischievous Christmas elves happy, it is a sweet vanilla-flavored rice porridge made sophisticated by folding in whipped cream and lots of almonds. With a sweet cherry sauce lacing through it, it made even a rice-hater like me become a convert. Danes also have the tradition of placing a whole almond in the bowl. Whoever happens upon the almond gets good luck or a prize. It also encourages no leftovers!

Other Danish Christmas food traditions include glogg, aeblescriver, and Danish cookies. Glogg is the Danish term for mulled wine, and is served at every bar and at several stands across Copenhagen. It is said if you want glogg done right, you have to start back in June, mixing the honey, almonds, raisins, and brandy or schnapps together to really meld the flavors going into the hot wine. When it is good, it is delicious, and on a cold day, there is nothing better to keep your hands and tummy warm. Aebleskriver are actually becoming quite popular in the US. You may have seen them on infomercials. You know those pans that make spherical pancakes? That is exactly what aebleskiver are. Dusted with powdered sugar and served with jam, they have the exact same batter as the average American pancake - including buttermilk. It makes me wonder if so many Danes love aebleskriver, why do so many claim to hate American pancakes? Guess what, Denmark? They are the same thing!

Finally, Christmas cookies are a huge tradition in Denmark. You see them every year in stores around the US in those circular blue tins, but they are so much better than that, especially if they are homemade. A few times during the month of December, my host mother (Sanne) made huge batches of vanilla almond cookies and spice cookies. Using a meat grinder, she cranked out pounds of vanilla cookie dough into a snake-shape to form little lifesaver shaped cookies. They had an addictive crunch of almond and the perfect amount of sweetness, making it easy to down at least 6 a day. I know that I will never be able to go another Christmas without them.

With great food, several cries of "skol!", and hundreds of IKEA candles twinkling around the room, I could definitely feel the Danish "hygge" that is so a part of this fantastic country. This year I got to spend Christmas with my two families: my biological family and my Danish family. Holding hands while dancing around the tree, seeing my 3 little host brothers' faces when they opened the t-shirts I got them from their favorite American baseball teams, and eating ALL that amazing Danish food, it was the best and most complete Christmas I have had since before my dad passed away. Even when I return to the states, I hope to continue some of the traditions I have experienced this Christmas. Godt Jul, everyone!