France
Several months ago I was invited to a friend’s house for dinner. Having had the temerity to prepare a pasta dish even though one of the guests was an Italian, and acutely aware of the impossibility of pleasing a ‘native of the boot’ with a dish from his own country unless it were prepared exactly as Mama used to make it, my friend the cook began to apologize as he heaped the steaming fragrant noodles onto the Italian’s plate. “I am sure this won't be as good as you are used to in Italy…” he began. But he was cut short in his humility by an agitated voice from deep in the Italian throat, not bel canto, but hoarse with passion. “No, no!” the Italian cried “I am so happy, so happy to have pasta, you don't know how happy I am! I have been” and here his hands flew heavenwards, his eyes flashed fire and his entire body was possessed by rage and despair, “I have been in France for a month, and there was nothing to eat!!”
Compassionate soul that I am, my heart bleeds at the thought of this poor gentleman, languishing amidst such far-fetched concoctions as tourtes aux épinards, noix de saint-Jaques au fenouil and tartelettes au citron. I see his emaciated frame gliding, in ghostly reproach, past cafés whose daily specials included entirely inedible cailles rôties au Muscat, boeuf en daube and velouté de moulles au safran. After all, how can one live without that masterpiece of culinary art, the daily pasta? How can one eat food that is –bah!- covered in sauce?
You can see, Gentle Reader, that I am fed up. I am fed up with finicky Italians unable to eat any dish which comes from a radius of more than five miles from their childhood dining table. And I am fed up with the sycophantic crowds of Ital-o-philes who have to praise every pistachio nut and pumpkin flower to the skies. Yes, I have had great Italian food, I have savored silky Neapolitan Mozzarella, had excellent wild boar in Rome and eat hearty peasant sausages on the Amalfi Coast; but please, when it comes not to just food but to real cooking, let’s not forget the French! They do more than present flavorful, sun-drenched ingredients as simply as possible. No, dear friends, they invented, developed and to this day still protect with loving care the practice known as la cuisine soignée. Now that, for me, is Art.
Can you tell I have just returned from Paris?
What I love about France is that you can go to a café and for a very reasonable price you can have a beautiful, flavorful meal, and an excellent glass of wine, a cheerful chat with the waiter (try that in Amsterdam, HA!) and leave feeling satisfied but not stuffed to the point of waddling. Vive la France!
I am also feeling pro-France at the moment as I have finally gotten my hands on Camille Le Foll’s cookbook called Modern French Classics, published by Hachette Illustrated. That wonderful cook and God-of-the-Kitchen Kim Pineada got me onto this book and I could hug him for it! Just turning the pages and looking at the (very classy) pictures makes me smile…and all my favorites are there: veal stew (blanquette de veau), fresh peas with lettuce (petits pois à la Française), glazed turnips (navets glacés)…and I made a smart little squid tart the other day which I will certainly make again. Anyway, I have sent a copy to my brother, the master of all things culinary, for his appraisal. Once his Golden Judgment has been pronounced, I'll keep you posted!
I am also ecstatic about France because L’Eventail http://netoos.org/compagnie-eventail/the best Baroque dance company I have ever seen, came and danced here in Amsterdam, and I went to their performance…it was my birthday treat! They danced so beautifully that it is difficult for me to describe. How can one desribe movement with words without falling into commonplaces? Grace, wit, joy...it all seemed so easy, too! To my delight they performed L’Abbé’s Turkish Dance, which I discuss in that particular bit of my dissertation which I have been slaving over for the last 6 weeks, so I was enthralled to see it brought so vigorously and convincingly to life. How much pleasure their dancing gave me! And indeed, the entire audience loved them.
And...we have just recorded 6 of Telemann’s Paris Quartets, which are Frenchier than French in style and so beautiful that they make you catch your breath. So at the moment, by flattering my eyes, ears and tongue, France has taken my heart!
Last update: Wednesday, September 05, 2007