Can We Talk? About Food?

This talk is long past due. I've shown you lots of scenic photos of Europe, and I've told you lots of stories of our travels. But I haven't talked about food yet. Oh, I've mentioned my fascination with the markets, but I've just scratched the surface. I mean, we're in France for cryin' out loud. So let's get serious for a while. Here's the other Europe that we're visiting.

I'll begin at the beginning. There are no photos for this part, maybe because I just wasn't expecting good food in the Netherlands. (And maybe because I didn't do a very good job with the photos I did take.) Ellen and Ben each took us to a favorite restaurant in Maastricht. Ben thanked us for helping him care for Wes while Ellen was gone by treating us at Tapas & More, a delightful Spanish place where we ordered somewhere around a dozen of the appetizer dishes and passed them around while we drank sangria.

Then, Ellen thanked us for teaching her French class by taking us to India House, where at the end of the meal we ordered additional bread because I did not want to leave one drop of the exotic and unbelievably tasty sauces on my plate.

So the best two restaurant meals we had in Netherlands were from faraway places. Coincidence? Not exactly. We had a third restaurant meal in the Netherlands - at a real castle. It was Haute Cuisine with a vengeance - Formal to the point of stuffy (I don't know if it was a rule that you had to whisper, but everybody did). It was verrrrry slow-paced, but tastefully so. It was delicious and well-presented. It was the most expensive meal Carol and I have ever eaten in our entire lives. (Maybe if you ply me with enough good wine, I'll reveal the price tag.) We knew all this going in; it was something we just had to do, and it was fun.

And then, we went to France. We had arranged with our hosts, Jean-Pierre and Danielle, for a home-cooked meal upon our arrival, since we would have been traveling all day (since six a.m.) and knew we would be exhausted. What a wonderful introduction to France, a reminder of one of the reasons we love this country. Jean-Pierre and Danielle welcomed us into their lovely home and gave us a lovely meal - regional wines (I learned to savor Monbazillac) and a famous regional specialty - duck, prepared exquisitely by Jean-Pierre. It was topped off with a delicious tarte au pommes, an apple tart made by Danielle. We enjoyed the good food and got to know our gracious hosts, practicing our French and having a thoroughly enjoyable first evening in France.

Ellen and Ben and Wes followed us in a few days. My daughter, I have to brag, knows her way around a kitchen. For a firsthand look at her culinary adventures, check out Ellen's cooking blog. She cooked that Dordogne specialty - duck - for us while she was here. Ooh! La! La!

The master at work, with one of her sous-chefs in the background.

A most yummy accompaniment to the duck - a potato/apple/shallot hash. We've imitated it since Ellen left, but haven't matched it.

And voilá! The main dish - duck breast with balsamic/fig reduction! Carol had a delicious duck at a very nice restaurant several days later (I'll get to that, be patient), and said that it wasn't in the same league as the dish served up by Ellen.

Breakfasts around here aren't like at home. Ellen (again!) served this up for her dad one morning.

Our first restaurant meal here in the Dordogne came last Friday, at La Belle Étoile (Beautiful Star) in the lovely town of Roque Gageac, on the Dordogne River. Ben and Ellen had celebrated their sixth anniversary there a few days before, while we happily watched Wes. They returned with rave reviews, so off we went.

Ellen and Ben had gushed about the little complimentary "amuse bouche" we started with - a cup of pumpkin soup. After my last spoonful, I thought long and hard about tipping the cup upside down to get what I couldn't spoon out, but I opted to not be an ugly American. I will experiment with pumpkin soup when I get home, with the hope of approaching this dish.

For the first course, I had a smoked salmon appetizer, and Carol had a poached egg with morel mushrooms - essentially a creamy mushroom soup. Doesn't sound so special, does it? Well, my dish was wonderful; Carol's was bowl-lickin' good. (She didn't.) For the main course, Carol had duck with pasta. I took Ellen's advice and had the veal, which they didn't order but ogled whenever the waiter brought it to another table.


It was delicous, fabulous, stupendous, scrumptious, heavenly. I saved my bread, so I did not have to lick the sauce off the plate. I would have. And the veal was perfect - tender and full of flavor. I chewed very slowly and only grudginly gave Carol a taste. (After 35 years, the romance still flames!)

For dessert, I had the tiramisu, since it was the specialty of their in-house chef. It was very good. Carol, on Ellen's recommendation, had a chocolate trilogy and loved it.

And then it was Sunday! Market day! I was so happy! We've learned not to arrive too early. (These French just aren't in a hurry to get started with their day, a trait I'm growing to admire.) When we arrived near 10:00, the street was bustling with shoppers. We walked up and down Rue Gambetta, the main street, taking it all in and deciding which vendors had the best-looking foods. Then we got down to business.

I bought country sausages, which Carol turns her nose up at. Ben and I love'em. Maybe it's a guy thing, slicing hunks, eating with your hands or stabbing a piece with your knife. We don't need no stinkin' forks.

We bought lots and lots of fresh produce. We were disappointed to find no mushrooms; it's been very dry here. By the way, the cherry tomatoes are delicious. I eat'em for snacks. They won't replace chocolate, but what can? Really?

I needed a panoramic lens to capture all the olives for sale. My favorites so far are the green olives stuffed with garlic or walnut slivers or anchovies.

This cheese vendor was in a very good mood. Each time we passed, if she wasn't helping a customer, she was singing or playing with her yellow lab, who sat patiently watching all the action. What choice did I have but to chat with her (Yes, in French), taste her samples and buy a wedge of a local cheese?

And finally! Our special treat at the Saint Cyprien market is the vendor who sells "to go" dishes. I should've taken more photos, 'cause words don't do justice to the dishes they serve up. Each week, they have huge wok-like pots on an open flame. They offer paella, cassoulet, mussels and duck confit. At our first market, we took home the paella. The following week we nearly cried because they weren't there.

This Sunday we ordered the duck confit! And next week, I'm getting the cassoulet, no matter what.

So, what do a couple Americans on holiday in rural France do after such a frenzy of food acquisition?

They go out to lunch, of course!

There! I'm glad we had this little talk. I know that talking about food isn't the same as tasting it. I hope I kept it interesting. But I had to write this one.