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!

An Evening at Noma

When I was choosing a city to study abroad in about a year ago, an interesting article came out in Food and Wine Magazine listing the top 5 food destination cities. Included were Tokyo, New York, 2 others that I forget now, and Copenhagen. I was surprised, to say the least, that a country like Denmark could beat out European food A-listers such as France or Italy. In reading the article, I found that it was places like Restaurant Noma that had put Copenhagen on the culinary map. So, after making reservations back in October, I finally had my chance to experience the world's third best restaurant a few days before Christmas.

Noma, along with a small handful of restaurants in Copenhagen, are known for their "New Nordic" cuisine. This of course means reinventing the way people think of Nordic cuisine, but it also infers to relying on the ingredients at hand rather than another country's exports. That means no foie gras, no olive oil, and put down that bottle of burgundy, cause this sauce is going to be flavored with beer! In a country that is known for being extremely "green", Danes are becoming more and more aware of the foods they consume and where they come from. The people want local products,which in Denmark can be limiting, especially in the colder months. It is in this predicament that people like Chef René Redzepi step in, taking basic seasonal ingredients and presenting them in ways our minds and taste buds could never imagine.

I had been looking forward to eating here since I arrived in Copenhagen in August. I had been told by many that if a die-hard foodie was to eat anywhere in Denmark, this restaurant would be it. So as I jumped out of the car facing the old warehouse on the harbor where Noma is located, I could not repress the butterflies I felt echoing inside my specially-prepared empty stomach. I already knew that it would be a meal I would never forget.

When my mom and I walked in, the restaurant was still fairly quiet, with just a few tables full. The kitchen was open and right in front, so every member of the staff gave a casual and friendly greeting. Everyone seemed to smile knowingly at me, probably because I could not wipe the dopey grin off my face. They knew that I knew exactly what I was getting myself into.

As we were lead to our table, I took in the surroundings. The restaurant was minimalistic, with plain wood floors and white walls. The large warehouse windows looked out over Copenhagen's huge harbor. With plain white candles everywhere and white furs over the backs of every chair, the place was airy and bare, yet somehow extraordinarily cozy.

As soon as we sat down, it was down to business. Redzepi likes to begin the night with a bunch a small snacks before you receive the menu. It is in these small tastes that I saw what Noma is all about. Unfortunately, I only have a few pictures, as I was too eager to dig in to remember half the time, but hopefully you will get the main idea. First came a savory cookie made with sable, served in a traditional Danish cookie tin (you know, the big blue ones with the butter cookies inside you see every Christmas). We opened the huge tin, and inside were two perfect cookies, one for the each of us. It was a great way to get you excited about the meal because really, who doesn't love sticking their hand inside the cookie jar?

Next came probably one of the coolest things I have ever seen. The "snack" consisted of cracker thin rye bread with smoked cheese spread, topped with a thin cracker resembling the best crispy parts of puff pastry. It was chicken skin. My personal favorite part of the bird had been turned into a crispy wafer of perfection, light yet giving the bite a fantastic meaty flavor. It was in this dish that I saw that Noma strives to bring the best out of every last part of every ingredient.

Then came the signature potted plant (see above picture). A terra cotta pot filled with raw vegetables stuck in what looks like dirt. Really it is just a mixture of mushrooms and malt, giving a nice crunchy contrast to the cool yogurt and herb dip that lies beneath. When my radishes were gone, I took a spoon to it. This was the epitome of what Noma stands for: eating from the earth.

Our last snack consisted of a wavy cracker topped with roe (I forget what fish), herbs, and a vinegar powder, giving it the look of snow - which is exactly what it was doing outside. Decorated so carefully with herbs and flowers, it was ALMOST a shame to eat something so pretty. It tasted like the best salt and vinegar chip ever.


Finally, we received the menus, along with some homemade bread served with sheep's milk butter and lard. Can I just say that melted pig fat on hot bread is a revelation? Noma offers a 3, 7, or 12 course menu. Since the 7 course menu was only a few kroner more than the 3, we opted for that one, along with the wine pairing menu. Reading over the menu, I could tell that my mom was hesitant, and I could understand why. With course titles such as sea urchin, spinach, onion, and carrot for dessert, it is hard not to wonder what you are paying so much money for. However, from what we had eaten so far, I had full faith that everything would be delicious.

It was more than just delicious. I knew what to expect, yet every time a new plate was put down in front of me, I was surprised by the creativity and beauty that was brought to each ingredient. Perfectly cooked spinach steamed in tea with pickled rose petals and small, crunchy croutons was a dish that would make any spinach-hater swoon. Crispy pig's tail cooked slowly overnight was the most succulent piece of meat I have ever tried, and if I could eat bone marrow everyday for lunch, I most certainly would. With a side of Noma's house pickled vegetables, please.

The two dishes that surprised me the most; however, was the dish entitled "onions" and the dessert "carrots". The former was an array of different preparations and types of onions, my favorite being the caramelized pile in the center of the plate oozing with a danish cheese. Surrounded by an onion bouillon, it put any French onion soup to shame. I was borderline laughing as I ate it, because I had this overwhelming desire to stop the rest of the courses and eat 4 more bowls of "Onions from Læsø". I am also usually the one who always goes for the chocolate cake. So a dessert with carrots did not sound ideal. But of course I was wrong. A sweet carrot sorbet was encased in a buttermilk ice cream, of sorts, and decorated with the most perfect and crunchy slices of raw carrot. These were not your carrots from the grocery store.

This was true of every ingredient my mother and I enjoyed that evening. When you have a dish that is centered around a single ingredient, the ingredient itself has to be the best quality if it is going to be worth serving. That is why Noma cooks seasonally and does not import many ingredients, that is why Noma makes their own vinegars, fruit juices, and pickled vegetables, and that is why Noma is known for having foragers that go out into the Scandinavian countryside to find different herbs and plants to experiment with. As our potted plant told us, Noma cooks from the earth, and proves that it is in fact, where the best food comes from. Shocker.

The wine was a whole other story. Denmark, as I have reported earlier, is not really known for their grapevines, so most of the wine list came from other countries around Europe. With our menu, France was the most highly represented country, although Portugal did make an appearance. I was surprised that every wine served expect one (a 2001 Chateauneuf du Pape) was white. My guess was that since so many of the dishes were based on one ingredient, often times a vegetable, a lighter wine was chosen as to not overwhelm the flavor of the food. The pairings were phenomenal. They blended so well with the flavors of the food that they became a part of each dish themselves. Thanks, Ian, for telling me I had to get the wine menu as well. It took the meal to a whole new level of experience.

But perhaps what struck me the most was the pride and care each chef at Noma has for their restaurant and food. There are no waiters at Noma. Maybe one to refill wine glasses, but the food is all served by the cooks themselves. It made the experience more personal, as you got the sense that the particular chef had just prepared your food himself, and like an eager child, wanted to show off his accomplishment especially for you. Each chef would also tell us every ingredient in the dish, as well as a basic explanation of how it was prepared. It was not just eating, it was an education. With 17 different nationalities, one chef told me that it creates the best working environment, because everyone brings their own ideas and creativity to the kitchen. I found it fascinating how although it is a Danish kitchen, the main language spoken is English because it is the one most understand. Chefs travel all over the world to be a part of this "New Nordic" cuisine, showing a commitment and passion to the products they produce.

As the evening came to a close, our bellies full of food and roughly 11 glasses of champagne and wine, we realized that we had been there for over 5 hours. This was true of every table around us. Noma is not about turning over tables to get as many customers as possible (they charge enough to not have to worry about that). Every night Redzepi invites a few people into what really is his home, and shares a whole evening teaching individuals not just about New Nordic cuisine, but also a way of life. Eating from the earth is not something that can only be done in Denmark, it can be applied anywhere. At Noma you see the potential a simple and often times cheap ingredient can have as long as you start with good quality. Of course it does not mean that you have to go forage the countryside for exotic plants or herbs, but if we could be more aware of the goldmine of flavor in the ingredients lying around us, maybe we would not feel the need to import our entire food supply. Except foie gras. Sorry Redzepi, I am not giving that up!

Anyone want some sea urchin?

Pig's tail - yum.

carrots with buttermilk - i took a bite out of this one before i took a picture. . .