Bon Appetit!

Tuesday, February 2nd signalled feasts in many places. In New Orleans, Fat Tuesday, brought people from near and far to "let the good times roll". In a small town in Lancashire, England, Shrove Tuesday was celebrated (as it is every year) by holding a race in which women run through the streets tossing pancakes. In Paris, of course, there's no need for a special day to make a feast. They exist any time, any where. This year, I was invited by my niece to celebrate this particular day at a cooking class given by Susan Herrmann Loomis, author of On Rue Tatin (which I have in my Inverness kitchen) and other books on cooking. American born, she has lived in Paris for over 25 years, working at first as a food writer, and now as an author and quite well known gourmande-about-town. Ten of us gathered near the Marché Poncelet (above) and, led by Susan, strolled down the street, soaking up all kinds of advice on just which kind of scallops, beets, cauliflower, lettuce, etc. to buy.

A brisk 20 minute walk brought us to the Wabi Salon in the 8th Arr. Here, in the well-appointed kitchen, we donned On Rue Tatin aprons and set to work creating the menu Susan had designed for us. That's Susan on the left in the white apron, explaining to Penny how to sauté dandelion leaves -- in French, you call them "pissenlit", a name derived from the legend that if you eat dandelion leaves you will p--- in bed....

The menu: Soupe aux Betteraves aux Nuages à la Crème (Beet Soup with Cream Clouds), Magret de Canard aux Amandes, Ail, Cumin (Duck Breast with Almonds, Garlic and Cumin), Salade d'Hiver à la Vinaigrette de l'Huile de Noix (Winter Salad with Walnut Oil Vinaigrette), Fromage (Cheese), Sauté de Fruits d'Hiver (Sautéed Winter Fruit), and Gâteau Friable aux Amandes (Crumbly Almond Cake).

Pairing off, we dove right in. Here Jim (from Wisconsin) and my sister-in-law, Genie (visiting from Vermont), tackled the duck, brewing a delicious orange sauce, creating a soft bed of sautéed onions, garlic and chopped almonds, seasoned with cumin, and then, scoring the fatty back of the duck breasts, they cooked them very quickly in a frying pan on the top of the stove, before letting them rest a while.

I volunteered to make the spiced winter fruit -- so simple and elegant, it's become an instant addition to my travelling recipe book. Light brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, powdered ginger, butter (naturally!) and various tart apples and firmish pears, peeled, cored and cut in eighths. The butter is melted, the fruit added, the sugar and spices poured in, and the whole thing merrily simmers away for about ten minutes. No stirring allowed. I had to learn how to "toss" the pan, so the fruit did not suffer from overhandling...



Meanwhile, the soup makers were hard at work, chopping the beets, simmering a vegetable stock, puréeing it all in a blender, and then whipping up crème frâiche until stiff before adding a little white pepper, to create the cream clouds. Here's the finished product with a little garnish of a mâche leaf!

We doffed our aprons and sat down to eat around 1:30 pm, a normal lunch hour here in France. The various aromas and the anticipation of the meal had given us all healthy appetites! A lovely chilled Loire wine magically appeared in our glasses as the soup was served, and two bottles of Côte de Rhône appeared to accompany the duck, salad and cheeses (a perfectly ripe Camembert, a Neufchâtel and another soft cheese whose name I've already forgotten -- but not the taste!).

As well as being loads of fun, with a very nice group of eight women and one man, Susan found ways to pass along many helpful hints (how to slice an onion so it comes out chopped, how to use a whisk so your arm doesn't fall off, etc.) and shortcuts. And, needless to say, the luncheon itself was truly delicious. I should have it all down by the time we return to Inverness!

I got home just in time to take a little nap before going to a gala evening crèpe party (!) traditionally held by friends of ours, on this, the day before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. One last chance to eat way too much before, perhaps, cutting back a little for the next forty days ... or not...

À bientôt!