Bastille Day Bouffe

Bouffe: ( pronounce “Boof”) French slang for “Food” in general, family or friends gathering involving food… Like we say in Ireland: ” Quelle Surprise”.

“What do French people eat on Bastille Day?”… I was first asked this question during an interview on TV3 in the summer of 2002. I was clearly not prepared for this question, to the obvious disappointment of the interviewer ( who was also a weather man). ” Well sir, there is not really such a dish, a merguez or paté baguette while we all go drinking and dancing?”. That answer fell flat on its face; depending of the region, meals can probably be quite different. All I can remember is street food, we tend to go out, enjoy the fireworks and some music. In my case, we didn’t celebrate the whole thing too much to be honest, a bit like asking an Irish man if he celebrated St George’s Day… We are proud people, no offence.

Duck Confit
Duck Confit

But if I was going to do something, it would probably be Duck confit. It taste of the South West, very versatile, with Sarlat potatoes, simply sliced spuds gently melting in duck fat, with a crush of garlic at the end and a hand full of freshly chopped parsley… Too hot for this? Shred the duck and include it in a salad of roots, spinach and a bit of walnut and blue cheese…

Continue reading “Bastille Day Bouffe”

Strawberry Tart

Strawberry Tart
Strawberry Tart

Did you know that the first garden Strawberries were first cultivated in Brittany? Yes, I can say that with a proud face, squinty eyes and hair in the wind while staring at the horizon from the bow of my ship; a mixture of Clint Eastwood and Jacques Cartier, Breton explorer, Canada discoverer and Strawberry amateur who brought back some Fragaria virginiana in the hull of his ship… The rest is history.

Continue reading “Strawberry Tart”

Roast ‘n’ Ratatouille

Ratatouille
Ratatouille

Ah, summer… Cycling to the beach, sword fights with giant fennel batons, building a tree house (more like a bungalow really) in the shrubs across the house or hiking through the old salt marshes of Séné, July had just started, school was truly over and all these adventures made us all very hungry. There are three dishes that colours the memory of my blessed summers: Dad’s legendary tabbouleh, homemade tomato coulis and of course, my mother’s ratatouille. Not a week without, it has to have had an impact… Tastes and smells? Of course it has! The solid anchors of a happy childhood. Did you ever wonder why they call food comfort?

Continue reading “Roast ‘n’ Ratatouille”

Aubergine is not my lover

Aubergine
Aubergine

Saturday night is a bit of a downer for me; spending nine hours talking about cheese, wines and other delicacies, advising and sharing recipes, debating about the weather, local news and gossips or the scheduled 5th end of the world since 2012. What I really like about my day job is the people; so colourful in so many ways, from so many different backgrounds, cultures and ideologies, I wonder sometimes if my food world landing was not just a mere excuse. After such a busy and intense – almost choreographed – day, when six o’clock comes, sitting at the wheel of my car, I can actually see the tumble weeds rolling across the road…

Continue reading “Aubergine is not my lover”

Butter Beans Burger

Butter Beans burger with bue cheese sauce
Butter Beans burger with bue cheese sauce

When I was 12, my grandmother sent me a birthday card saying that I had finally reached the age of wisdom and reason… Yeah, about that, sorry to break it to you Gran, but I think it took a couple of decades before I got the message. Or did I? Immature with knowledge and experience it is then!

Continue reading “Butter Beans Burger”

Spinach and Bellingham Blue

Spinash and Blue soup
Spinach and Blue soup

I know it is May 11th, but either Spring or like they call it here “Summer” has been and gone, either it hasn’t shown its face yet. A blustery, wet and cold Monday. Just as well I am off. Plans for today? Nothing.

Continue reading “Spinach and Bellingham Blue”

A wee mousse

Chocolate Mousse
Chocolate Mousse

I was 25 when my mother passed; she was just three weeks in her 50th birthday. I received an early phone call. The morning was early and bright, brisk and clear like the streams pouring out of neighbouring Connemara’s sterile and alkaline lakes. Between two sobbing sentences, my beautiful sister asked me to come home from my adoptive Galway. Time was running out and the unexpected news started to sink in. As I don’t fly, I travelled to Rosslare Harbour to catch a cargo ship. For £60, the Panther II gave you a cabin to yourself and three meals. It was an unsung way to travel at the time, the company didn’t advertise for a service mostly reserved for truck drivers, but in the meantime, didn’t object to the odd pedestrian crossing the channel. It was like travelling in time, travelling in style and honesty as the recent “Tiger” started to roar. As soon as we passed Tuskar lighthouse on our port, a school of common dolphins leaded the way at the bow, I looked at the sunset, dwelling at the inevitable. I was trying to forget about my canned grapefruit segments and the dry chicken Maryland we had for dinner when the ship’s Chef/ Barman brought me a ramekin of his homemade chocolate mousse. It is such a groovy dessert, but in time of need and hardship, old fashioned puddings feel like an unspoken hug. I think he knew what was going on… People of the sea know them things,no matter where you are from!

Continue reading “A wee mousse”

Lemon Breton Biscuits

Last Thursday, I was missing the ocean. It happens from time to time and like Baudelaire once wrote: ” Free man, you will always cherish the sea“. I was hungry for freedom I guess, and facing difficult times. The ocean always provides me with good advice, the Atlantic with some comfort and Breton biscuits a mini hug around a cup of coffee. The day after, I came back to my wee cottage in the midlands with amazing pictures and a savage need for a spot of baking…

Lemon Bretons ready to bake
Lemon Bretons ready to bake

Continue reading “Lemon Breton Biscuits”

Blanquette

Blanquette of roast chicken
Blanquette of roast chicken

If there is a dish that has been made by at least three generations of women in my family, it has to be Blanquette. Funny name for the proverbial duvet cover of comfort foods methinks, but I think it refers more to the colour that the dish, which in its final stage, rewards the eye with a beautiful white colour and silky texture.
It is traditionally made with veal but the availability in Ireland is next to nil. On another note, I do not care too much for it, partly for ethical and anthropomorphism reasons… Don’t ask.

Continue reading “Blanquette”