Some Things About France I Would Miss

If we ever left France and returned to the USA, which would not be a bad thing since we love the PNW, there would be things I would miss. Here are just a few that come to mind.

When we first moved to France we spent a lot of time visiting châteaux and old churches in the area. However, after seeing a bunch of châteaux they do tend to all look alike. After a few months we just quit looking for new ones to visit. We do still visit churches whenever we can, but that is for more than the architecture, there is a spiritual element going on there. Yet I would miss living in a country where views like this, the citadel of Carcassonne, are the norm, not the exception.

We drive through village after village, each one is postcard-worthy, but, here in France it is the normal ambiance, the terroir of the place, and I love it. I would miss living in a place where old buildings are a common site, not torn down to “put up a parking lot.” (Joni MItchell)

Being the foodies that we are we love the outdoor eating scene, with city squares filled with restaurants, each with an outdoor eating space. In the USA many restaurants do have outside seating, but it is hard to find a place with ten restaurants within a 200’ x 100’ square like we found in Arles. This view is along the Sorgue river in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue – there are five restaurants in this photo. Most of the river in the city is lined with wonderful places to eat and enjoy friends.

In France, and much of Europe, eating outside is just the way you eat out, unless the weather is so inclement that it is impossible. I have had coffee, wine, and food many times in the winter months, sitting outside, and no one thinks it strange. I would miss living in a place where al fresco is the first choice, not an afterthought.

As often as I write about my morning coffee and sketches it is quite easy to understand how I would miss that. Starbucks just isn’t the same as something like this.

Then there is the cheese, oh my! Not only is the variety mind boggling, the prices are unbelievable. Here are some of my favorites, and just a few at that. None of these is over 4€ here. Most would not be readily available in Seattle or Portland unless it was a specialty shop with specialty shop prices.

There is more than food and history I would miss, how could you not miss a country where in the park you can’t ride a bike, play soccer, or walk your dog, but there is an urinal close at hand. Such facilities are the norm in this country, no one thinks a thing about it.

For years we loved visiting France and Europe, as a place to travel for les vacances it is wonderful. Now that we have lived here, it is the everyday environment that becomes more appreciated.

An Appetite for Arles

After five days in Arles I can confidently say that the food here does not disappoint. Well, except for the one time I ordered a small steak cooked saignant, which in the US would be considered bloody rare, thus the name. As is common here, once they hear my accent, she said, in English, “medium”, I replied, “non, saignant”. It came with just a touch of pink, medium-rare at best by US standards. Thanks to the multitude of folks here from the UK, who tend to like their meat cooked well done, the restaurants often try to compensate, c’est la France.

Our first meal was at Bistrot de Pitchounet, located in a restaurant filled square in the heart of old town.

I chatted with the lady in the photo, not only does she work there, but her father is the owner. All of the staff were wonderful, and the food was just as good. I started with a bit of smoked herring, so different than the smoked herring in Norway. This had a much stronger smoke flavor and I liked it better than what I had in Tromsø a few months ago.

My main was tuna steak, just lightly seared, bien sûr.

Saturday we ate at Gaudina, a small place on a narrow street with service and amazing food. For my entree I had roasted eggplant with olive oil, almonds, tomatoes, and parsley.

My main was grilled octopus. As I have said before octopus must be prepared perfectly or it ends up rubbery, when done right the outside is charred a bit and the inside is moist, this was perfect. The sauce had a bit of spice and it was served on the black rice that is ubiquitous to this region. I have no idea what the crispy, golden accompaniment was, but it was delightful.

Yesterday I had a wonderful wood fired pizza at Bistro Arlésien. How can you go wrong with a wood fired pizza? They are one of my all time favorites. This one had ham, anchovies, olives, onions, and cheese with a light tomato sauce. I don’t think anyplace in Naples could do better.

Today, we went back to Le Pitchounet, this time I was able to chat a bit with Nikola, the lady in the photo. We started with oysters, the third time this week we have had them. One of the servers told us about the part of the oyster that they call “the foot”. It is the dime-sized, round disk that is usually left connected to the shell after the rest of the oyster is eaten. I have never thought about eating it. He cut it out with a knife so I could taste it. His description was that it was like a sea scallop, and he was right. Why have I never heard of this? We lived and ate oysters for years in one of the top oyster regions of the world, Puget Sound, Washington, USA. Well now we know.

For my main I had a tartare of tuna and salmon. It was interesting that they brought me a bottle of Tabasco, which did in fact work quite well.

Eating is one of the main reasons we travel. This week the food in Arles has resulted in a totally enjoyable time. The Roman remains, sights of Vincent Van Gogh, and a huge market day are just icing on the cake – well, ok, the olive oil on everything, we don’t eat much cake.

I like Europe – A Lot

I like Europe. I particularly like France. Since moving to France over sixteen months ago, we have had the opportunity to visit twelve European countries, a few of them we had already visited at least once before we moved here – that is more than I ever dreamed I would get to see. If you take all of our European travel over the years we have been to fourteen countries in Europe.

The first conclusion is that I really like Europe, or at least Western Europe. The next conclusion is that I like France the best. With all of its paperwork, penchant for complaining, and unpredictability, it is still my favorite.

Just a week ago we drove back from spending time with Tricia’s sister in eastern France and Switzerland. Tricia was taking a nap as we cruised along the A11 at 130K. My thoughts pondered, what is it about Europe that I like so much?

When I visualize most anyplace in Europe it is cafes, cathedrals and castles, and a communal mindset that comes to mind.

One of the most striking features of Europe, and of course France, is the plethora of cafes and restaurants, most of which have outdoor seating. Al fresco, or en plien air, is the norm here. In Europe, the first choice is sitting outdoors for coffee, eating, and hanging out. The time of the year makes little difference. In the dead of winter, folks sit outside with un cafe or a glass of wine chatting with their friends.

The cafe culture, which France is famous for, is more about people than what is consumed. People watching is an ubiquitous pastime here. In most cafes, the chairs face the street so you can watch the people parading by. There is no rush at a cafe, and you will never have a server indicating that they need the table – a 2€ un café entitles you to sit at the table for as long as you like. The cafe scene, just hanging out over a cafe, is something that most of the population takes part in regardless of status or age – cafes, en plien air cafes, are in the very fabric of peoples lives and outlook on life. It is a time to slow down to experience la joie de vivre. I like it a lot.

Another striking feature in Europe are the buildings, especially the churches, chateaus, and castles. Every city or, in a large city, like Paris, neighborhood, has a central area with an old church. Usually the weekly market is nearby, often a castle on a hill overlooks the whole scene.

It is quite clear that this is an old culture which people are quite keen to embrace. One of my favorite scenes from the movie LA Story is when Steve Martin is giving a tour of the city and he says with incredulity, “Some of these houses are twenty years old!” We live in a house that is over 230 years old and we are surrounded by houses just as old. A twenty minute drive from here we can eat at a restaurant that sits in the shadow of Chateau de Domfront, over 1000 years old.

Joni Mitchell got it right when she sang, “They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.” In the US we tear down buildings. In Europe they update the building while valuing its history. In Europe, there is a connection to history which gives a different perspective on the future than if society is just focused on the next new thing.

The communal attitude of Europe and France stands out as well – public transportation and healthcare are two of the best examples. Trains and subways make it quite easy for many folks to never own or really need a car. Bicycles are common all over Europe, as are motor scooters. What is rare are large SUVs and trucks.

Healthcare is seen as a public necessity, not something connected with a job or only for the well-off financially. Yes, it has its frustrations, to expect otherwise would not be realistic. It is comforting to know that the societies of Europe are willing to pay a bit more in tax for the benefit of the community.

Individualism is quite acceptable here, and there is acceptance of live and let live. There is less of the attitude that has grown so divisive in the US where one group feels the need to intrude on the lives of other people’s lifestyles, lifestyles that most often have nothing to do with them. The US claims a separation of church and state, yet the church today wants to impose its beliefs on everyone. France is officially secular, which does not mean anti-religion. What it does mean is that you are allowed to practice your religion and just let me practice mine. (Sadly, recently this is being tested by far-right groups wanting to oppress some races and religions.)

Europe is not perfect, and like a good Frenchman I can complain with the best of them about the bureaucracy, the frequent waiting, or that we still have 3G phone service half the time. Yet, I like it here. There are a few places I know in the US that are close, like the part of Portland where our friends live, and a few pockets in Seattle, so if/when we return to the US we will need to seek out such a place. But, in the meantime, I will enjoy France.

Next week I will explore why I like France the best.

Basel Ticked All the Boxes

Basel was our first introduction to Switzerland, and what a pleasant place to start. Stereotypes of mountside cottages with goats and cows ringing their bells would have to wait, Basel is a big city.

Bicycles and pedestrians rule, crossing and swerving with no rhyme nor reason. Driving our car was a two person job – I watched the street and listened to the GPS directions, Tricia watched for pedestrians ready to step out in front of the car with no warning, or cyclists coming up on my right as I was starting to turn. Once our Dacia was tucked safely away in the underground City Parking we joined the chaos on foot.

My mornings started at the Confiserie Bachmann on Blumenrain street, next to the Rhine River. One lesson from our European travels is how coffee differs from region to region. I know how to order in France – un cafe, un double, un café crème, une noisette. In other countries it is not always the same.

My first morning I ordered a latte with an extra shot, I dislike most American lattes because all you get is coffee flavored hot milk, so at Starbucks I always add an extra shot or two of espresso so as to be able to taste the coffee – thankfully caffeine has never had any effect on me. Look at what the server brought me in Basel – on a tray, nice serviette, small glass of water, a small baked nibble, and the coffee beautifully layered in a tall clear glass. This is why I like coffee in Europe, no paper cup with a plastic lid.

The next morning I asked for a cappuccino. Thankfully many of the better coffee shops in Seattle serve them just as well, though, with the exception of one shop I know of in Mill Creek, the water and the tray are missing.

Tricia is the travel photographer in the family, she posts her enticing work on her blog site, Travels Through My Lens. However, while in Basel, I was drawn to people in doorways and on the streets that got me to wondering what they were thinking or feeling.

The food in Basel was equally impressive. One meal that stands out was this spicy steak tartar at ONO Deli Café Bar. It tasted just as good as it looks; when it is done right, food can be such a joy.

Our Brit friends have a phrase, “It ticked all the boxes.” Basel ticked all of my boxes: morning coffee while observing the city and sketching, people to watch, and excellent food to share with Tricia en plein air. As Bob Hope sang, “Thanks for the memories…”

I Needed a Burger, in France

Thirty six years ago this month I went on a date with the lady who would become my love, the mother of our wonderful daughter, my best friend, as well as my travel and food buddy. We have made it through the ups and downs of any relationship yet we still love to eat and travel together. Today I had my first real hamburger in over 16 months – before we moved to France.

When we moved to France we did so with the intention of embracing the culture, and we have done so quite well. Our UK friends still have people bring them beans and brown sauce from the UK, we have only asked for red pepper flakes and Panko. We strive to eat what is here, though we do make nachos at home now and then. But we live in another country, one that is known for its food, which we accept and enjoy.

One of the challenges of living as rural as we do is that the variety of famous French foods is limited. At even the smallest of cafes the food is done quite well but often without variety. It is the same if you live in rural USA, all the restaurants have similar food, I know as I have traveled there. So we do at times crave different tastes. We go to Mayenne to have Indian food, we get to Paris as often as practical to visit wonderful cafes. But every now and then a food from the past gets into my brain as a craving – a hamburger.

Early in our relationship Tricia, who has a degree in nutrition and food science, told me, “If you are going to have a burger then have the juiciest greasiest one you want, enjoy it, but just don’t do it everyday.” Some folks, when they learn that she has a degree in nutrition, give me their sympathy, thinking we must have an austere diet, au contraire, we eat most everything, but with a bit of balance – frites don’t count of course. So it made sense that when I began to vocalize my craving for a burger she was completely supportive.

The French do eat hamburgers, it is common to see them on menus, even at rather upscale restaurants. McDonalds are relatively common, and it is not because McD has forced themselves on the French. McDonalds is a big business, they would not stay in France if the French were not patronizing their restaurants, the French eat hamburgers.

BUT… Often the burgers I see on the plates of other diners do not look much like what the burgers in the US look like. I did order a burger last summer, the bun was black, not gray, not burned from grilling, but black. I have no idea what kind of flour or process made it that way, I have seen the same at other restaurants. It’s texture was like a macaroon, almost like eating air; defiantly not a genuine burger in my book.

The other interesting difference is that when you see a person eat a burger in France it is almost always with a knife and fork, not picking it up and eating it with your hands. In France most everything is eaten with a knife and fork, even pizza.

There is a chain of restaurants here in western France that promotes itself as American food, Buffalo Grill. We have driven by them over the year but never stopped, well today we did, in Le Mans.

They have burgers, ribs, chili, even buffalo. So the time and place was right to fill my craving.

I ordered the Extra Cheeseburger – here is the menu description: Steak haché de bœuf façon bouchère ou galette végétale façon chili, cheddar, sauce cheddar, sauce premium, oignon, salade, cornichon. Or, thanks to Google Translate: ground beef steak or vegetable patty chili style, cheddar, cheddar sauce, premium sauce, onion, salad, pickle.

Confusing description aside, it was a genuine American style cheeseburger and I enjoyed every bite – and of course I picked up and ate it properly, with my hands. Tricia had fish and chips, again quite good. So my hamburger craving is satiated for now, and we discovered a place that will work well if we want a taste of non-French cuisine.

I started this blog yesterday, today we are in Montmorillon in the Nouvelle-Aquitaine region of France. We had lunch with friends at a crêperie where I had a galette with chicken and curry sauce, so delicious. French food is great, but every now and then a bit of home comfort is required. We will visit Buffalo Grill again, there is one just 30 minutes away in Flers.

An Expat’s Struggles With Ordering Food

The stereotype for many in the USA is that the French are not friendly, well after multiple trips to France, and living in France for a year I can say that is just not true. In general the French are so kind and helpful. When we butcher their beloved language they may correct a bit but most often they encourage our efforts. Sometimes they are too helpful, particularly when it comes to food.

Now before I continue a DISCLAIMER is in order. I enjoy my British friends and their quirky language, we all get to laugh over terms and pronunciations. However my eating preferences are not British and therein is the problem. In an attempt to cater to our tastes, as they (the French) perceive them, they often make adjustments to my order that don’t work for me.

In my last blog I alluded to one of those adjustments, ordering le café. In one hotel they actually brought me a mug of coffee from a 12 cup coffee maker common to most homes in the USA. Other times I say, “Je voudrais un café, SVP,” the server pauses for a minute then asks if I mean an espresso, a question they would never ask a French person. It comes from their experience of bringing an English speaking person a French le café and having the customer unhappy because they wanted a mug of drip or at least an americano – like I said the French are so helpful most of the time.

Second DISCLAIMER. When it comes to anything bureaucratic that help may be hard to come by – this post is all about food.

The French are carnivores, big time. Vegetarians often struggle, though we are seeing some changes making it easier. Meat preferences in France are often quite foreign to US or UK diners.

When it comes to le boeuf they like it rare, really rare. The go-to degree of doneness is bleu, which, just as it sounds, means blue. The piece of meat is seared for no more than 30 seconds on a side and served. For most UK and USA folks they see this and say it is raw, which of course it pretty much is. Here is a photo of one such steak I had when we were with our friends in L’Isle-sur-la- Sorgue.

The next degree of doneness is sanglant which literally means bloody, this would be extra rare in most restaurants in the USA, it is my normal way to order here. Yet what often happens is the server questions me, “medium?” Or the cook just cooks it so there is barely any pink at all. You see the Brits tend to like meat well done, which is considered unthinkable to the French, and to me as well, so like with the coffee they often adjust.

Here in Normandie andouillette, not to be confused with the spicy, smoked andouille from Cajun Louisiana, is on most menus. Here are photos of both.

French andouillette are made from pork large intestines, spices, grains, and onions. They are quite corse compared to the Cajun smoked sausage. Wikipedia says, Andouillettes are generally made from the large intestine and are 7–10 cm (2 3/4 – 4in) in diameter. True andouillettes are rarely seen outside France and have a strong, distinctive odour coming from the colon. Although sometimes repellent to the uninitiated, the scent is prized by its devotees.

The first time I ever ordered andouillette the owner of the open-fired grill restaurant tried to talk me out of it. He said that Americans don’t eat this. I assured him I did. With mustard sauce it is quite OK on occasion. On other occasions the server has asked if I know what andouillette is, or if I am sure. I know they are trying to be helpful, but I also know this expat is not like all the others.

A third challenge here is finding spicy food. With the exception of mustard, which is always Dijon, the French don’t eat much that is spicy. We wanted some salsa, they have Old El Paso, the same brand as we could get in US, but it only comes in mild and extra mild. I can’t imagine what extra mild would be, tomato sauce???

Soon after we moved here we discovered an Indian restaurant not too far away, craving a bit of spicy food we went. It took us a few visits for me to convince the very nice server, that we have come to know well, that when I asked for spicy I meant spicy. In fact last time he actually brought something out that was too spicy for me, that is rare. Yet he is so used to compensating for the French palette that he just naturally tones things down.

In all my years of travel I have attempted to eat like the locals do. I am not like Tony Bourdain was, nor Andrew Zimmern, there are some limits, but in general I say give it a go. Often I end up liking things that might put some folks off, that is one of the joys of travel, and this expat loves the journey of food.

I guess I do agree with Zimmern when he says, “If it looks good, eat it.”

Un Café – The Price of Admission

In France un Café is more than a beverage, it is the cornerstone of the café culture. In the USA coffee is something you do while you do something else, in France it is much more deliberate, for a traveler it is a perfect entry into the local culture.

I have never seen a drive-through Starbucks in France; the drive through food and beverage concept is as rare here as it is ubiquitous in the USA – as are insulated travel cups. In France you stop what you are doing to have un café. The Dunkin Donut idea of unlimited refills is just as strange, as would be a “grande” or “venti” size. These are uniquely American concepts where quantity often supersedes quality.

In France this is un café

In its most basic form it is a shot of espresso, always served in a cup and saucer, with a small spoon, sugar – never cream – and a petit biscuit. There are other drinks that are only coffee: un double which is two shots served the same way, un café allongé which is a single with more water forced through, and an americano which is espresso diluted with hot water to cater to the taste of Americans in WWII that found un café to strong – an americano is as close as you will get to a mug of coffee in France. One of my favorites is un café noisette which is an espresso with just a dollop of steamed milk.

One of my frustrations is that often when I order un café, with my best attempt at a French accent, they will either bring me an americano, or clarify that it is espresso I want, as they are so accustomed to folks from UK and USA not wanting a real un café.

In France coffee with milk is rarely consumed after early morning, having a latte in the afternoon clearly signals you are from Starbucks country. Un café is the norm after a meal, but of course without milk.

Un café is also your ticket into the café culture, you can sit for hours at a table, with no one implying that you need to give up your table, participating in the French pastime of people watching, or in my case sketching.

Le café and les cafés are one of the things I like the most about France. Whenever possible I go early and enjoy starting my day watching, sipping, and sketching.