An Old Canard?

France has something of a reputation for its food. No! Really. Apparently a lot of people think that along with its wine, food is the country’s defining feature. Personally, I cannot help but think that any cuisine which eschews the chilli and does not count curry among the culinary necessities is in need of some re-programming in the taste bud department. 

Having said that, our local supermarket has the Asian and English foods right next to each other.

There may be a little confusion but they mean well.
 

But the Francophile foodies have a point in the wider sense. Meal times are sacrosanct, the French build time into their day for eating. This does not include travelling to the table – they recognise that eating and driving are not the same thing. You seldom see a Frenchman eating in his car. This is something the rest of the world could learn from.

They eat more seasonally than most other ‘developed' or 'western’ countries. The shops are full of the current crop fresh from the farm, all at prices which reflect the plenty. There are seasons for wild asparagus, green beans, courgettes, tomatoes, melons, etc. When they are not available fresh, you cannot get them so easily in the average market. This is changing, but it is not necessarily a change for the better.

At a French meal there will be at least three courses, and often more. They eat slowly and enjoy the process. Sunday lunch and other family get-togethers take all this foodieness to new heights. It is discussed at some length in this laudable publication which makes Mrs Beaton look like a Victorian.

 

Most noticeably the French do not snack. You will be hard pressed to find a packet of crisps in a French bar. Nor, in my experience, do they take tea-breaks during the working day.  This may have something to do with the length of the working day. I will leave it to others to speculate on this.

There is a common belief among the English that the French dress really well. However careful examination of people on the high street will reveal the same spread of clothing both in terms of quality and style as one might see in the UK. You will see the a mix of expensive smart, all sorts of casual, and down-market catalogue tat. Yet somehow they look better in their clothes. My theory is that this is because there are fewer obese specimens. Classy tailoring hides a multitude of calorie sins which cheap cuts have more trouble concealing. When people look OK in catalogue clothes it may be because their clothes have less work to do. Not being obese is a good start. And not snacking is a good start to not being obese.

And the food thing starts young. Next time you are in France, check out a primary school. If it has a notice board you may find the weeks menus on display. You will be amazed. School meals are similar to the meals their elders will be eating at exactly the same time - including a cheese course – though I have yet to see wine on the kid’s menu.

Click on this menu to fully digest the splendid
culinary experience that are French school meals

If you find another primary school with menus on display see if they are the same. I have not done this but suspect that the menus are centrally devised, possibly with local variations.

While most of us are aware of the blah-blah about the French culinary arts, many are less aware of how constrained local cuisine can be. Outside of the big cities or posh restaurants the menus are quite limited. There tend to be some national staples and the local speciality dishes. You go out to eat at an average restaurant in the provinces for a change, you go out because your guests want to repay your hospitality, you go out for quality, you go out for a seasonal food special, you go out for freshness, you go because you can’t be arsed to cook. You do not go out for variety.

Every region has its specialities. Ours is duck. Of course there are other bits and pieces, we have great lamb, industrial quantities of apples, melons and prueaux, and a lot of grapes (natch), sunflowers and corn on the cob abound (corn is too good for humans and is reserved for cattle), but what you see on just about every menu is confit du canard - the signifier of our locality.  

We have home made examples tinned at home with home made labels and sold by the maker in the market.

There are artisan duck merchants who use glass jars and better quality labels.

 

And there are the full blown commercial producers supplying supermarkets with racks of the stuff in all its variety.

 

There is also foie gras, the duck and goose liver which is the object of much debate and anger. Most people will recognise the picture of the bird grasped between stout thighs having corn rammed down its throat to make the liver unnaturally large, a distressing and cruel process.

I always thought that fois gras was a paté made from duck or goose livers. It turns out that they are in fact whole livers. C’est tout. Your get your duck, ensure it is dead, rip out its liver, split it into two lobes, remove the veins with tweezers, sear it very quickly and stuff it in a jar.

 

Of course it is not necessary to force-feed ducks. Some say it is only done for financial gain – like so many processes undertaken by humans. Other claim it is in order to conform to the EU regulation about the minimum size and fat content of a genuine foie gras. As with line-caught tuna and veal from free range calves, it is possible to buy naturally-fed ducks with smaller, and possibly less fatty, but nonetheless delicious livers.

So it is against this background that Tricia, and to a much lesser extent I, become enmeshed in some local confitting. 

Watch this space… meanwhile here is an old canard