The Greedy South West

The produce market is alive and thriving in regional France. Towns in the various regions or departments have a market, each on a different day of the week, allowing producers and stall holders to visit and sell at each town.  Recently, I visited a market in the town Issegiac in the Dordogne in South West France. It was a very busy market and a far cry, our hosts told us, from when they first visited the region nearly 35 years ago.  Issegiac, like many towns in the region, was extremely poor and in an advanced state of disrepair.  But travel writing, cheaper property prices and agri-tourism bloomed over the ensuing period so that Issegiac and many other towns in the region blossomed.  Eymet, a smaller town only a few kilometres away is playfully referred to as ‘Little England’ because of the large number of ex-pats that live or own property in the town.

Issegiac is a Bastide (a walled town) but is unusual in that instead of being set out in the traditional grid pattern, it is more akin to snail shell. This spiral pattern means the market is spread attractively along the narrow, winding streets rather that clustered in the centre of the town. There was lots of great produce framboises (raspberries) and trays of prune sec (dried prunes or as we know them, dried plums which are in fact - prunes!) which are a specialty of the region, including some great home made English Pork Pies from the farm near where we were staying as well as punnets of lovely fresh

Another specialty, which was to be our dessert that evening is the Tourtiere. I was looking at a recipe for this pie in a cook book at a local Château where it was referred to as a ‘Pie from the greedy South West’, a thinly veiled reference to the amazing food bounty of the region.  This wonderful confection if comprised of a thin sable biscuit base covered with a few layers of finely sliced apples.  This is topped with the thinnest of pastries, piled and scrunched on top of the pie, finished with sugar and then baked.  The pastry is neither a puff, nor a butter pastry but a thin, crunchy sweet pastry that is similar to a filo but not as flaky. When I purchased the Tourtiere, it was finished off with a sprinkle of Armagnac and a flourish of vanilla sugar and then into a box with ribbons and a ‘merci’.

No need to say that it was delicious - the four of us ate a pie clearly designed for 6 or 8 but after all, we are greedy South Westerners!

You Say Macaron, I Say Macaroon

This is the closest I will ever get to Le Jules Verne, the restaurant on top of the Tour Eiffel, famed for it's fabulous views and fabulous prices to match!

Michelle asked if there were any Macaron sightings - why thanks for asking Michelle, indeed there have been, in two very different locations.

The first was at Laduree - famous for it's Macaron and other sweet delights.  Between Laduree and Pierre Herme (which incidentally, you can get at the Sofitel in Sydney), they have turned the world on to Macaron. Light and crumbly with a chewy centre and buttercream or ganache filling, who wouldn't enjoy a Macaron?  These little treats are the 'Cupcakes of 2010' (as in 'I hear that Macaron are the new Cupcake....')

Alas, I couldn't justify a delicious Caramel Beurre Sel (Salted Butter Caramel) Macaron at Laduree, at 7 euro a pop so I had to visit the saviour of all tourists for my Macaron fix.  Mc Cafe.  Yes, that's right, even Mc Donald's is supremely French with Macaron in their Mc Cafes. We split a Pistache and Vanille mini Macarons.  These little treats were only 1.80 euro and to my tastes, they were just as scrumptious and exotic although from a lesser pedigree.

Start petitioning now!

Cave de l'Os a Moelle - Paris 15e

Who says you can't eat well and at the right price in Paris? Who says there are no decent restaurants in the double digits? Obviously they have not visited Cave de l'Os a Moelle. On of all things, a recommendation from the Qantas magazine, we visited this Cave in the 15e (Metro 8: Lourmel) on a very warm Wednesday evening .

What a wonderful experience. This narrow wine cave has communal dining with the tables crowded into the narrow back area and as well as an ancient wine press set for 6 diners, at the front near the bar. Our host advised us it was 'buffet' but it was clear that this was no Sizzler. By the time we arrived, the first sitting at 7.30pm had only just commenced and the joint was jumping. All tables the back were full with a couple of large groups so we took our seat at the front. As it turned out, this was a better option. Although we were perched on stools, the dining area at the back was cheek by jowl and the air on conviviality was fuelled by copious amounts of wine, making it perhaps just a little too jolly for a relaxed night's dining.

The tables are set with a vast array of starters, to which you help yourself - as much or as little as you like. Included were crudite' legume and mayonnaise (with sweet, hot, crunchy little radishes that are fantastic), boudin noir (blood pudding), pate campagne (pork terinne), rilletes de canard (duck rilletes). If that's not enough, there are dishes of cleriac remoulade, grated carrots and grated beetroot as well as endless accompaniments such as cornichon, moutarde, buerre, sel etc (gherkins, mustard,butter, salt) and of course, fresh crusty pain de campagne (rustic country style loaf bread).

The boudin noir was a bit to fatty for my tastes but the flavour was mild and whilst the pudding itself was chunky, the consistency was smooth. Both the pate and boudin noir had been cooked in their stoneware pots, covered by the traditional caul. The rillettes were also mild in taste and had a good layer of duck fat covering them - these are certainly not dishes that will fete' vegetarians, nor cardiologists.

Returning our empty plates to the bar, we collected a clean plate from the stack of mismatched crockery and cutlery and fought our way to the back of the restaurant, where the soup and main of the day, sat bubbling on the stove. Once again, you help yourself, and it feels a lot like you are serving yourself in someone's private kitchen. It's a little clunky trying to juggle your plates and serve in the incredibly cramped space and it's very hot near the stovepipe so it was a relief to get back to the wine press and tuck in. Soup of the day was simply labelled 'poisson' (fish) but was in fact a rich, velvety bisque. Strong in taste and quite addictive.

When we had scoped out the restaurant earlier in the day, the main had been Roast Pork but unfortunately, that had finished at lunch. Dinner offered up Pot au Feu (literally 'pot in the fire' and traditionally meaning lesser cuts of beef, simmered with herbs, carrots and turnips). The beef was incredibly tender with the spring onions that had been added towards the end, giving a sweet crunch to the soft texture of the meat. I was not a fan of the vegetables, which were served in a separate pot - mainly because I can't stand cooked carrot and turnips aren't high on my list either. Anthony assured me they were delicious and helped him to maintain his '7 a Day'.

When I was serving my main, I grabbed one of the small pot au chocolat (no translation needed) as I could see the tables that were closer to the action, devouring the desserts like locusts. Just as well, the pots soon disappeared and unlike most of the food, there was no replacement We tried the chocolate pot which was smooth and tasted of good cocoa (intensely chocolate with a hint of bitterness) and only mildly sweet. A vanilla pot tasted sweeter and reminded me of the junket that I used to have when I was very small. The dessert table was extensive with candied fruit, rice pudding, sweetened ricotta, 3 different types of cake (chocolat, banane, raisin) as well as the biggest bowl of Ile Flottante (Floating Islands) I have ever seen. The bowl of creme anglais was huge with perhaps 30 soft meringue islands floating on top, dotted here and there with small nuggets of praline. I was interested to see that the meringues were snowy white and had not been finished off with a blow torch to scorch and caramelise the tops, like I have seen in Australia. This dessert will always be linked in my memory to New Year's Eve 1999 when we ate at La Kasbah before welcoming in the new Millennium. Like all the other dishes before it, we were welcome to just dive on in and serve ourself! Needless to say, we both did.

As a complete Philistine, I ate the cheese course last, rather than before dessert as it done in France. The plate was made up of soft cheeses including a couple of different chevre and Camembert styles - just cut as little or as much as you like. By this time, as you can imagine, we were fairly full but it would be criminal not to fully commit to the experience. Again, in what is no doubt considered an act of bad taste, I added a couple of prunes from the compote to my plate as well as some bread. Cheese is eaten as a savoury course in France, with salad and sometimes a few nuts. It's certainly not served up with muscatels, quince paste and poppy seed lavosh. But there you have it - you can take the girl out of Australia but you can't take Australia out of the girl!
By this time, the Cave was gearing up for the 9.30 sitting so we made a quick exit, before the partiers at the back started to tot up and attempt to pay for their bill. Our own bill was a modest (by Parisian standards) 64e with the meals costing 22.50e each with the balance in wine. This was a fabulous experience and we were lucky to find this type of bistro. There was no concern about sharing of serving implements, using you hand to pick up the loaf of bread and cutting your own slices with the big, sharp, scary knife or protecting the food with plastic barriers. There was absolutley no pretense at all - just a relaxed atmosphere of sharing good food. It would appear that there aren't many of these bistros around anymore - or rather, there are still some out in the far flung corners of Paris but they are local neighbourhood establishments where tourists don't generally go. And this one so close to where we are staying!

It would appear that all that travel for work, finally paid off......

Paris Marche' - 15e

Everywhere I turn in Paris, there is food. In the short stretch of a few hundred metres between my apartment and the Metro, I pass 4 restaurants, 2 bars, 1 wine cave, a Russian deli, a Middle Eastern deli, 2 boulangeries (bakeries) and a patisserie (a good old fashioned 'cake shop'). The variety and quality is excellent and as all of you dedicated foodies already know, Parisians (and the French in general) have a reputation for using only the freshest and best quality ingredients. This is why, despite there being small supermarkets dotted throughout the suburbs, the boulangeries outnumber them in a ratio of around 5 to 1. In fact, in both the supermarkets I have visited, bread is not even sold. The daily run to the boulangerie is ingrained and the fresh Baguette reigns supreme.
The other mandatory activity is the weekly visit to the neighbourhood marche'. The local market in our part of the 15e sets up every Wednesday morning, at the very respectable hour of 7am, around the base of the raised Metro station La Motte Piquet Grenelle along the Blvd Grenelle.
When I wandered down at 9am, I was expecting a small market of a dozen or so stalls (1 boucherie (butcher), 1 poissonerie (fish monger), 1 boulangerie etc). I also thought that perhaps there would not be too much left to look at. Well, how wrong could I be? Not only did the market spread over a few blocks underneath the rail lines, it was only starting to warm up at 9am with some sellers still setting up their stalls. By the time I left at 10.30, it was in full swing.As I read in Michael Booth's book Sacre Cordon Bleu (thanks Michelle O), you can tell the stalls that have the best produce. I witnessed stalls with no customers, right beside stalls where the well heeled retirees and Nanny Noir (a term that we have coined) gently jostling to be served. Perhaps the prunes (plums) were over ripe at the other stalls , the noisettes (hazelnuts) a little stale or the eye of the saumon (salmon) too dull? Who can say - it's a secret code that you need to divine over many visits to the marche' and unfortunately, is a luxury I do not have.

I was surprised to see only one place selling fromage (cheese) and fewer bouchers that I expected. Most interesting was the plethora of poissonerie, which perhaps reflects the desire for truly fresh produce on the day it is caught. I watched as the fish mongers filleted purchases on the spot (that's purchases, not purchasers) and replenished stocks with fish that was so fresh, it was still firm to the point of being stiff. Very stiff (!) competition indeed with an amazing array of fish and shellfish.
Next time you visit Paris (and you know you will end up here one day), make sure you fit in time to visit one of the fresh food markets. They're all over the city on various days so there is sure to be one on the day you visit and it only takes a couple of hours to immerse yourself in this 'other side' of Paris.

The Elusive Roti Canai

Some of you will recall a post a month or so back called 'Dreaming of Malaysia’. Well, finally the dream became a reality and I was in heaven with so many tempting treats, it was daunting to think I may not get through it all.

We knew we were off to a good start when these little beauties were delivered to our room as a welcome gift. At first I thought they were marzipan but after a day, when we caved and tried one, they turned out delicious chocolate ganache in a crisp orange sugar shell. Like super deluxe Jaffas. Of course, once we made that discovery, they didn’t last long!

A highlight was Jalan Alor in Bukit Bintang, where the street vendors come out in force each night at dusk to tempt you with the exotic:

And the better known:

A serve of satay, asian veges with garlic, a char kway teow and a large Tiger Beer set us back 37MR ($12) for the two of us and it was a benchmark that was hard to beat. The satay were so good that we went back to the same stall on our last night in KL to enoy the sweet and smoky little morsels of meat with a slightly spicy peanut sauce.

As it was Ramadan, I enjoyed checking out the Straits Times special daily supplement every day, dedicated to the buffets at all the major hotels, for breaking the fast each evening. There is stiff competition with early bird offers, all the Durian you can eat and other enticements such as special gifts and home delivery - imagine getting your meal home delivered from the Sheraton!

We also enjoyed some hawker food including pulled coffee - a mix of coffee, milk powder and condensed milk that is poured (pulled) from jug to jug to mix it make it frothy. Very sweet but strangely addictive, even for someone who doesn’t take sugar in their coffee.

At the same stall we enjoyed a mid morning snack of Nasi Lemak - rice, sambal, boiled egg and ikan bilis (crisp anchovies and peanuts). The sambal was surprisingly mild which was probably just as well.

We had one breakfast in the hotel and at last, I was able to have some fantastic Roti Canai with amazingly tender Lamb Rendang. I also enjoyed a Vege Samosa but opted out of the sampling all of curries for breakfast. Meanwhile, at the other side of the buffet, the table was groaning under the weight of the Western Style pastries.

I did my best to liberate some and take them back to our room where we enjoyed them in a picnic breakfast the next day.

Food in general was very cheap, whether it was on the street, at a ‘restoran’ or in the supermarket. Fruit and vegtables are more expensive that I would have expected but I picked up these beauties - Rambutan, at the Jalan Alor markets. Delicious!

We also visited Little India which has a heaving night market with surprisingly little Indian food. That night, we shared a portion of Sambal Ayam (BBQ Chicken) with rice, relish and soup for a wopping 4MR ($1.50).

The one thing that I dreamed of, the delicious Roti Canai, remained elusive despite intensive searching (the hotel one doesn't count). It appears that as it was Ramadan, special meals and treats are served so a lot of the usual items are 'off' the menu for the month.

Malaysia absolutely lived up to the expectations of my inner glutton and as mentioned in the travel blog - we will definitley be back. It's certainly not for anyone with a Peanut Allergy but happily, with an extensive history of eating peanut butter out of the jar, was safe!