Foie gras

We've had a few agressive and rude calls just recently, mainly from youngsters who are getting worked up over foie gras. Yes we stock it and we don't hide from the fact. However we have done our homework on this issue and as with ALL our ingredients -chickens, eggs or beef - we refuse to use suppliers that have little regard for humane farming practices. Force feeding a duck is not humane I hear you cry. Ducks and geese have a natural tendancy to over feed to prepare for their migrations, this is probably how the concept of foie gras was discovered by the Egyptians centuries ago. The birds are force fed in the last month of their lives, having had a life of freedom in the open air. Take a closer look at battery hens or chickens packed into henhouses who never see the light of day but provide cheap meat for Kentucky Fried Chicken. Personally I feel animal rights activists would do well to focus on the chicken. In fact if you want to push me further I would say we should all be battling harder for the human cause and the removal of poverty in the world. This is why French Living has chosen to be an active supporter of the charity Restaurants Against Hunger for the last few years.

Here are a couple of links to contributors to this subject (who are not involved in the business of producing foie gras)

foie gras: pleasure, or murder most fowl?: Food + Drink: mensvogue.com

WorldTable - Foie Gras Redux

Finally my advice to animal rights campaigners would be to use a less abusive and more tolerant language when you speak or write to people, however sensitive the subject is to you.

Bon Appetit

Two headlines in the news caught my attention this week – the first dwells on the on-going obesity epidemic in the UK and the second talks about the ever-decreasing foreign language skills of our youngsters. It’s true that we Brits are certainly not renowned for our linguistic abilities, and our culinary reputation, perhaps rather unfairly, is not our greatest claim to fame. I believe the two could be linked. I have a sneaky feeling that a greater knowledge of foreign languages and culture could help demonstrate the importance of food in different countries.
I start to listen more closely to Nina and Pierre at the table, as they flit and fly between French and English.
“Bon appetit” they chorus
“Bon appetit” I answer back politely.
“How do you say bon appetit in English?” asked Pierre
I thought long and hard before giving up.
“I don’t think we have a bon appetit in English” I replied sadly
Perhaps this is part of our obesity problem. Maybe we should start developing a more food friendly language. We should have a bon appetit equivalent.
Bon appetit is an instinctive French phrase that everyone, young and old, will say before picking up their knife and fork to eat. If someone walks past a table of diners, they will offer a “bon appetit”, naturally, instinctively.
“A table” shouts Stephane as he switches off the oven and serves up dinner.
Everyone comes scurrying in to the kitchen as those two simple French words – a table (aah taah-bl) - echo throughout the house. Come to the table is the English translation but it doesn’t have quite the same appeal or effect. It doesn’t work either if used to get Pierre to come to the table to do his homework.
I’ve noticed that French is full of food related phrases and terms - aperitif, digestif, amuse-bouche - and then there are all those culinary terms such as coulis, puree, vinaigrette. Surely this has become essential vocabulary for interpreting the menus of many of our city centre restaurants!
Yes, learning how to cook and speak a foreign language does go hand in hand.
“I can speak Italian” Pierre announced proudly
“Minuti” he spurted out in his very best Italian accent.
“Well done” I said encouragingly.
I was used to Pierre’s eclectic conversations.
“I’ve been making pasta” he went on, thrusting a packet of tagliatelle in my hands.
4 Minuti tempo di cottura.

Cafe Food

It’s been a whirlwind week, squeezing in a buying trip to Paris, as well as a complete overhaul of our shop and café.
Paris was an adventure. The car was stuffed to bursting point with new café furniture but all Pierre seemed interested in on our return was the food.
“So what did you eat in Paris?” he asked enviously, trying hard to hide his anger at being left behind.
“During the day we ate some wonderful café food – charcuterie platters, goat’s cheese and tomato on toasted pain de campagne – just like at French Living”
“Yuk, I don’t like goat’s cheese” added Nina, in an attempt to show that they really had not missed out on much.
“And what about at night?” continued Pierre
“Well, we ate some delicious meals just like the dinners you eat at home” I explained comfortingly, trying to ease the envy.
And it was true. We chose unsophisticated restaurants that served real tasty food with no flamboyant pretension. Nina and Pierre seemed happy with that.
And so from a beautiful Paris we returned to a dusty, unrecognisable shop and café, filled with joiners, electricians and plumbers.
“Oh my goodness, this will never be ready for next week” I exclaimed in horror at the chaotic destruction of my precious café.
The next few days felt like I was playing a role in one of those make-over programmes where the count-down begins, the problems accumulate and everyone is thinking this will never be ready on time.
But as in all these TV formats, miracles happen. The shop and café opened on time, with the fridges bursting with cheeses, hams and salamis, baskets brimming with croissants, brioches and baguettes and customers flooding back in to take a look.
Unfortunately at home, the fridge was empty.
“Oh well, you’ll just have to come to French Living for lunch” I declared.
“Do children go to your café?” asked a curious Pierre
“Sometimes. Now we have more room, maybe more children will come in” I added optimistically.
Being an astute eight year old, Pierre’s concern was not the space. He was doubtful that his school pals would even try French filled baguettes as a quick lunch-time option.
“I’m having the salami comte baguette, with salad and vinaigrette” quipped Nina confidently
“I’m having a charcuterie platter like you had in Paris” said Pierre throwing me one of his cheeky grins.

Fresh Fast-Food

I’m racing against time at the moment. I wake up in a panic as I realise there is nothing left in the fridge. Oh well, it’ll have to be tuna sandwiches again. My early morning lunchboxes are hastily scrambled together while trying to hide from Pierre the contents of his box.
“Have you forgotten to go shopping again?” he enquires quietly.
There’s no chance of hiding anything from my observant son.
The children are deposited outside school and I sprint off to work. It feels like the old days when we first set up French Living - a time when we left the children in the care of au-pairs while we worked every hour to persuade the people of Nottingham to visit our fledging French business. It was such an intense time that I cannot recall how or when mealtimes happened. Today, I find myself thrown back to this chaotic yet exciting time as French Living expands. We have acquired the next door shop unit and it’s now a race against time to transform it into a Gallic haven.
Why do schools end their day at 3.30pm? I scrape off the Provencal blue paint from my finger nails and dash back home to collect the kids.
“What’s for dinner?” squeals Pierre
“Why do you have blue hair?” asks a puzzled Nina
Dinner, oh yes, dinner!
It’s true that these last few years I’ve had the luxury of time to plan, organise and indulge in cooking for the family. Consequently, this week has been a shock to the system. To my surprise, however, I’ve found it remarkably easy to keep up the mealtime reputation - even without the kids noticing too much of a difference.
I think fish. Salmon, trout fillets, chunks of cod, hake. Twelve minutes baked in the oven with a drizzle of olive oil, herbes de provence. Lamb chumps are Stephane’s favourite fast food dish. Browned in the pan and then left in the oven for fifteen minutes before slicing into a fan of pink succulence.
OK so there’s a bit of a wait, the service is not quite as fluid as usual but over the years I’ve learnt not to be frightened by fresh. Fresh is quick and there’s no need to resort to expensive, salty ready-meals.
“Is it tuna again tomorrow?” asks Pierre
“Why is your hair blue?” asks Nina
OK, so they have noticed a few changes.

A Frenchman’s Dinner

Stephane’s welcoming a party of school children to French Living this week and he’s been asked to talk to them about healthy eating.
He’s busy typing away at the computer preparing his speech. I’m not sure his words will be what they are expecting. You see, a Frenchman’s attitude to food is very different to our concept of healthy eating. Stephane’s focus is very much on the enjoyment of food.
He hands over a questionnaire/quiz sheet he has compiled for the children to complete after his speech.
“What do you think of this?”
I stare at the sheet and giggle. There are questions about wine consumption in France and England, about recipes for snails, about wine and coca cola.
“They won’t be able to answer this. What on earth is in your speech?”
I suddenly wish I could be there to see the children’s faces as this Frenchman talks passionately about buying baguette from the bakers when he was a little boy and munching on it on his way home. I want to listen to his childhood routines - eating hungrily at the school canteen with his pals, visiting the butchers after school to pick up the evening meal and enjoying an apero (a pre-dinner drink of juice for the kids and something stronger for the adults) before moving to the table.
Stephane will not talk about deprivation, elimination or diet. There’s no mention of good, bad or healthy. These words do not exist in a Frenchman’s vocabulary when talking about food. Eating a freshly prepared meal at the table and at the right time – one at lunch and another in the evening – is how Stephane would define being healthy. And yes there are vegetables and salad, but they are there not because they feel obliged to have them but because they are seasoned and dressed and are made to be just as delicious as the grilled steak.
I wonder if the kids will get it. Perhaps after eating their French Living vegetables they will notice the difference.
Question 7 – Find the missing word: Broccoli is great to eat, as long as it is………
I look further down the questionnaire and squeal -“What has this got to do with food?”
Question 9 – France will play England in the World Cup final…Agree/Disagree
Well I suppose it does sum up rather nicely my Frenchman’s attitude to food – passionate and optimistic.