The thing that wouldn’t leave

As a kid watching TV I used to love the sketch on Saturday Night Live “The thing that wouldn’t leave”, about an awful houseguest that overstayed his welcome. Later, regrettably, I must confess that I’ve come across this being in various shapes and sizes, though not too often or too severely. It’s the most comic of situations, Mr and Mrs are ready to head to bed but the visitor, doesn’t get or doesn’t want to get the signals. In any case he stays too long.
Then there is that other character, the darling uncle that everybody wants to stay forever, his welcome has no expiry date. He’s the one that you’ll gladly put up on the couch in the living room, or better yet, in the five-star guest bedroom. He doesn’t want to leave, you don’t want him to go, and thus, though goodbyes have been said, though he’s had the last sip of port many times over – he’s still there and everybody is happy about it.
Lately we’ve had an uncle like that, he’s called summer. After dinner, after port and cheeses and sweets we said goodbye to him, but he’s still here, and nothing could make me happier. For weeks now we’ve been predicting autumn, every al fresco meal has been thoughtfully appreciated as if it were the last one for a while. But then a new day comes, out go the plates of summer salads, the chilled wine, the refreshing desserts. The swimming pool thought she’d be off duty by now but she’s more in demand than ever.
As I am writing this they are writing summer’s obituary once again, apparently sweater season is soon upon us.
Autumn is welcome in this house but until then we’ll be happy to entertain that other uncle, the summer that wouldn’t leave – write him off at your own peril.






Bat in a glass

Apart from amazing weather these last few weeks have been dominated by another “thing”, a very large and mysterious old château that will soon be our home. The main work is focused around the heart of the house, the kitchen, and the adjoining rooms where I will open a restaurant next summer and where I will host cooking workshops very soon. Seeing it come to life is so rewarding and promising and we can’t resist going there almost every day. The previous owner left us lots of little treasures to discover, cases of wine in the cellar, oddities in cupboards and chests, an old French flag, a framed certificate of a “Chevalier de la Légion d’honneur”, old recipe diaries, coins and curiosities. A treasure hunt in our very own house, finding interesting objects but also clues that bring us closer to the past history and spirit of la maison. Last weekend we were excited to see how the work was progressing in the kitchen so after our outdoorsy lunch we headed to St Yzans to monitor the travaux. All the kids tagged along, their favorite thing is to peel away the wallpaper and argue who gets which room (although that has long since been decided).
We love to put on music in the old gramophone we found in one of the soon to be guest rooms and the nostalgic music, more precisely Tony Murena’s ‘café au lait‘, echoes throughout the house. On one of our first visits, we were surprised by a bat that seemed to have taken up lodgings on the top floor and though we haven’t seen it since, Hudson, our eight year old boy is very much on alert, once he even brought an umbrella for protection. Last Saturday, we found a beautiful, old glass dome and it reminded me of a trip to the taxidermy shop Deyrolles in Paris. It was just before Christmas and Oddur desperately wanted to buy a skeleton of a bat, gloriously stored in such a glass display. I wasn’t too keen, the item itself … and the price tag were rather off-putting to me. If I remember correctly I gave him an overcoat instead and stupidly a stuffed toy dog (talking about opening Pandora’s box).
On the whole I think I much prefer an empty glass dome and a live bat flying somewhere outside it – a much more hopeful display. And years from now, when people ask me “why do you leave that beautiful dome empty?” I will simply say “It’s a long story … but it’s got to do with a bat”.
Of course if I change my mind I can always use the dome for cheese.

ps: Once again, just a quick reminder for those of you who have or will order my cookbook “A Kitchen in France” that you have a nice print waiting for you and all you have to do is click here and fill in your details.







Lentil soup
(Serves 6 as a starter)

There are so many different layers in this soup, from the nutty lentils to the crispy breadcrumbs and pancetta. The garlic cream gives this soup and extra punch. The soup is very easy to make – just make sure to prepare the garnishing while the soup is cooking.

230 g/ 8 ounces dried green lentils
1 large carrot, peeled & sliced
1 onion, peeled & sliced
60 g/ 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
A few sprigs of thyme, leaves picked
A few sprigs of parsley, leaves picked and chopped finely
100 g/ 1 & 2/3 cup stale bread, ground coarsely
30 ml/1/8th cup olive oil
150 g/ 1/3 pound sliced pancetta
120 ml/ ½ cup heavy cream
2 garlic cloves, peeled
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

Heat half of the butter in a large pot, cook the onions and carrots for 4 to 5 minutes on a medium heat.
Add the lentils and thyme. Pour about 1.5 1iters of water. Season with salt & pepper.
When the soup starts to boil, turn down the heat and leave to simmer for about 25 to 30 minutes, or until the lentils are tender.

While the soup is cooking, prepare the following:

For the garlic breadcrumbs
Place bread and one clove of garlic in a food processor. Pulse until coarse crumbs form. Heat olive oil in a large pan and sauté the breadcrumbs on a medium heat until golden and crisp. Leave to cool and set aside. Season with salt.

For the pancetta
Heat a sauté pan on a medium heat and cook the pancetta on both sides until golden. Drain on paper towels and chop finely.

Garlic cream

Mince garlic with garlic crusher. In a small saucepan, heat the cream and crushed garlic on a medium to low heat, stir well until mixture is warm. Pass the sauce through a sieve. Set aside.

Mix the soup with a stick blender. Add the remaining butter and stir until melted.

Serve the soup with a spoonful of garlic breadcrumbs, chopped pancetta and parsley on top. Drizzle with a bit of garlic cream.


Roast leg of lamb with basil cream

(serves 6)

This classic dish is a family favorite, and I love this refreshing basil cream sauce – it flavors the meat in all the right way. Serve with roast potatoes so they can soak up all the goodness.

1 leg of lamb – gigot d’agneau (about 2.5 kg 5 to 6 pounds)
6 garlic cloves, unpeeled
1 large carrot, sliced
1 large onion, sliced
1 large bunch of basil, leaves picked
120 ml/1/2 cup chicken or vegetable stock
120 ml/1/2 cup heavy cream
Olive oil
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F

Heat olive oil in a large ovenproof /heatproof roasting pan on a medium heat, and brown lamb on all sides. Season with salt & pepper. Add the garlic cloves, sliced carrot & onion, transfer to the preheated oven and roast for 45 to 55 minutes for medium-rare, adjust timing depending on desired ‘cuisson’.
Remove lamb from pan and cover loosely with foil to keep warm.

Make the sauce
Heat the roasting pan and all its juices on a medium heat, scoop out the excess fat with a spoon, and bring to a boil. Add chicken or vegetable stock and reduce to half. Season with salt & pepper. Add the heavy cream and chopped basil. Stir the sauce for a couple more minutes until it thickens slightly and take off the heat. Pass the sauce though a sieve.
Serve the carved leg of lamb with a generous drizzle of basil cream sauce and roast potatoes.


Grape tart/ La tarte aux raisins
(Serves 6)

This seasonal tart is a recipe given by my friend Claire. It’s actually her mother’s recipe, using grapes from her local vineyard. She recommends using smaller purple grapes, so you don’t have to de-seed them. The almond-based cream is delicious, and I love the combination with the sweet and tangy grapes.The perfect wine-harvest season tart. Merci Claire!

You will need ¾ to 1 pound purple grape (preferably smaller ones), rinsed

For the pastry
240 g/ 2 cups plain flour
1 egg yolk
90 g/ 6 tablespoons butter, softened at room temperature
75 g/ ¾ cup confectioner’s sugar
60 g / ½ cup almond, ground
45 ml/ 3 tablespoons cold water
1 pinch of salt
In a large bowl, combine the butter with the egg yolk, sugar and salt. Add the ground almond,flour and enough water. Mix until you get a smooth dough. Make a ball and store in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours.

For the cream
60 g/ ½ cup almond, ground
65 g/ 1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 egg yolks
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
60 g/ 4 tablespoons plain butter
25 g/ 1 tbsp cornstarch
50 ml/ 3 tablespoons milk

Preheat oven to 180°C/350°F

In a saucepan, melt the butter on a medium-low heat, add the ground almond, cornstarch and milk. In a bowl, whisk the egg yolks with the sugar until light and fluffy. Take off the heat and add the egg yolks/sugar mixture and vanilla extract. Mix with a wooden spoon until the cream is smooth, return to the heat stirring constantly until the cream has thickened to a custard. Take off the heat, pour into a bowl, cover with a film and leave to cool.
Line your tart pan with the pastry, prick the bottom several times with a fork and fill the tart with the custard, smooth the top with a spatula and transfer to the oven for 15 minutes. (I put the tart on the upper part/level of the oven)
Place the grapes (if you prefer, you can halve and seed them – place cut side down) on the custard and return to the oven for another 15 to 20 minutes.
Leave to cool and refrigerate for 30 minutes. Just before serving, heat 2 tablespoons grape jelly (if you don’t have grape jelly, use cranberry) in a saucepan and brush over the tart.


Oysters in the afternoon


There are times when I feel my culinary life has been taken over by a certain fruit or flavor. When every market stall, my kitchen table and even my brain is immersed in a single-minded symphony of strawberries or tomatoes, when the choice seems so limited but the possibilities endless. The last few weeks have seen us up to our knees in tomatoes and I don’t think I’ve cooked a meal for over a month that hasn’t included tomatoes in some shape or form. These food invasions are part and parcel of being on that carousel of seasonal cooking and the thing I love most is that they are all so predictable and comforting in their repetitiveness, for what are traditions but a repeat performance of last year’s feast. The fava bean deluge of April, the artichokes of May are no less predictable than Christmas or Easter – you know they’re coming and you prepare to enjoy them. But then there is that other type of food invasion, the ones that don’t dance to the tunes of the calendar but rather to fashion and whimsy and blind chance. You might come home from a holiday in Italy and have Aperol Spritz every day (until you’d never want to have it again) or you suddenly get a delivery of 30 kg of rice and you deliberately cook around it. You start with curries and Chinese dishes but then you start thinking of French ways of including them like blanquette de veau or a colonial dish like kedgeree.





Two weeks ago we were attacked by molluscs. Living in Médoc oysters are very much part of every day life, and while they are, in my mind at least, associated with the colder months, such rules have little meaning when you live close to oyster paradise. Every market in the region has at least one or two oysterman and on weekends roads are lined with little trucks or tables offering oysters to passersby. So we tend to have them about once or twice a week, usually as a starter and almost always raw, with just a squeeze of lemon or with a drizzle of shallots in vinegar. To have more than 6 or 12 at a time or to have them three days in a row, that hardly ever happens. Until two weeks ago.





It all started in Bordeaux. We had gone there for some business that must have been very tedious since I have completely forgotten what it was. To make the day more enjoyable we had decided to try a new bistrot, recently opened in Bordeaux, called Le Glouton. It’s owned our friends, Ludovic le Goardet and his wife Elisabeth. He used to be the chef at our beloved Café Lavinal in Pauillac. Due to poor planning and Friday traffic (mainly poor planning) we arrived so late that everyone else had left and to make up for lost time we just phoned ahead to ask the chef to serve us what ever he liked and was most convenient for him. First we had baked oysters with Béarnaise sauce, then chicken in puff pastry, beef cheek raviolis and the richest grilled chocolate mousse. All delicious but afterwards I kept thinking about the oysters. I’ve had baked oysters a thousand times, with shallots, wine, en persillade … but this I’d never had. And I wanted it again. The next day we bought some oysters at the market and I tried my own version. It worked, not least when paired with rosé. It’s a decadent combination, feels modern and old-fashioned at the same time, and so fitting for the season, like a swan song to summer and a welcome for autumn.





We did, however, want more oysters. The next day, a Sunday, we headed for Cap Ferret which in September is as close to perfection as you can get. The crowds have mostly gone but it’s still lively, with less traffic and no reservations. We had the loveliest of Sundays, and we had oysters … lots of oysters.
One of our rituals are the mussels with sausage meat and french fries at Chez Hortense but because we were in an oyster mood we added a sneaky order of baked oysters en persillade and another of baked oysters with foie gras. Then we headed to the oyster shacks that are everywhere, local producers who make oysters for the rest of France but offer visitors a chance to taste the delicacies. These are simple, no fuss institutions, with (sometimes mismatched) wooden tables and chairs, with extremely limited choice (read only oysters) and a choice between white, rosé or red. If you don’t like oysters these are not the places to be.






Driving home, enjoying the fluidity of the road I decided that my next post (if I would ever have the time to do one) would be dedicated to oysters. In fact, considering how much I love them I feel like I have been neglecting them. They are such ideal food, low in calories, easy to prepare, fantastic little proteins that are rich in calcium and iron. And simply so delicious. The following Tuesday we bought 6 dozen oysters at the market. I wanted to recreate some of the flavors from my oyster weekend and perhaps come up with a few of my own. Mainly I just wanted more oysters. Oddur and I did what we love best, threw all the oysters on our blue table and started opening them side by side. In the course of the day I made one recipe after another, we shelled, cooked and shot. My mother-in-law who doesn’t like oysters at all asked “what are you going to do with all these oysters when you are finished photographing them?”, eating them was for her out of the question. The kids were all at school so no help to be found there (most of them have come to appreciate oysters). In the end we just ate them all, one type after another, paired with rosé and white and Sauternes, between lunchtime and “pick-up kids from school time” 72 oysters found their way into our stomachs and each one tasted better than the next. It was where gourmandise meets gluttony.
Having 72 oysters in one sitting is a small achievement but when compared to the endeavours of a much more famous glutton, Honoré de Balzac himself it simply feels like a very light lunch. Balzac was famous for discipline when writing his books, working for 18 hour stretches and keeping himself hungry by feeding himself only fruit and the strongest “stomach burning” coffee. When the book was finished Monsieur Balzac completely changed his tune, headed to his favorite restaurant and famously cried out “Garçon, un cent d’huîtres!” or “Waiter, a hundred oysters!”. This he washed down with four bottles of white wine, followed by a dozen lamb chops, a duck with turnips, partridge, a Normandie sole and finally dessert. I don’t think I will ever scale the heights of Monsieur Balzac but one can always aspire.

When the children came home from school that night and asked the question they always ask “what’s for dinner?” I simply answered “Not oysters!”

ps: Just a quick reminder for those of you who have or will order my cookbook “A Kitchen in France” that you have a nice print waiting for you and all you have to do is click here and fill in your details.



Oysters in a Béarnaise sauce

12 oysters
1/2 cup/ 120 g clarified butter
2 tablespoons/ 30 ml white wine
1 tablespoon/15 ml white wine vinegar
2 teaspoons lukewarm water
2 egg yolks
1 shallot (chopped very finely)
A few sprigs of fresh chervil (chopped finely) – save some
A few sprigs of fresh tarragon (chopped finely)
6 tablespoons heavy cream, whipped
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

Clarify the butter – melt the butter in a saucepan on a low heat. Simmer gently until the foam rises to the top. You should see the milk solids separating. Set aside to cool slightly, discard the foam, and pour the clear clarified butter in a bowl. You only want to keep the ‘clear’ butter which is perfect for cooking on high temperature and making sauces. (You might want to use a fine strainer if you wish).

In another saucepan, combine the vinegar, white wine, finely chopped shallot, the herbs, salt and pepper and bring to a simmer on a medium heat. Remove from heat, add the 2 egg yolks and the 2 teaspoons of water and whisk continuously. Return to a low heat, continue to whisk, and remove from heat every 1 minute – repeat this process for 8 minutes, constantly whisking until the sauce thickens. Remove from heat and add the cooled clarified butter, continue to whisk until smooth. Return to the heat and whisk for 30 seconds, or until the sauce coats the back of a spoon. Set aside and leave to cool.

Whisk the heavy cream until stiff, and fold into the cooled Béarnaise sauce.

Shuck the oysters. Place a teaspoon or 2 of the sauce (depending on oyster size) on top of each oyster. Arrange oysters in an oven-proof dish or tray and place under a preheated grill for about 3 to 5 minutes, or until the sauce is bubbly and golden. Sprinkle fresh chervil on top (optional) Serve immediately.


Oysters en persillade
(recipe from Ludovic Le Goardet at Le Glouton bistrot in Bordeaux)

24 oysters (I used Cap Ferret or Marennes Oléron)
1/2 cup/ 120 g unsalted butter (at room temperature)
2 garlic cloves
1 small bunch of parsley, leaves picked
1 teaspoon fleur de sel/ coarse salt
A dash of freshly black pepper
1/2 pinch ground nutmeg
3/4 cup/45 g breadcrumbs

In a food processor, mix garlic, parsley, salt, pepper and nutmeg and mix for 30 seconds. Add the butter (at room temperature) and mix 10 more seconds until you get a smooth paste.
Shuck the oysters. Place a teaspoon of garlic butter on top of each oyster and sprinkle with breadcrumbs. Arrange oysters in an oven-proof dish or tray and place under a preheated grill for about 5 minutes, or until the garlic butter is bubbly and golden. Serve immediately.


Oysters with foie gras & Sauternes wine

12 oysters
150 g foie gras (raw)
1 to 2 teaspoons of Sauternes wine
Coarse sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

Shuck the oysters. Place a small slice of foie gras on top of each oyster, then pour one to 2 teaspoons of Sauternes wine. Season with salt and pepper. Place oysters in an oven-proof dish or tray and transfer to a preheated grill. Cook for 3 to 5 minutes. Serve immediately.


Oysters with sausages

6 oysters
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter (or if you prefer, olive oil)
2 or 3 sausages,
1 clove garlic, sliced finely
1 shallot, minced
A dash of ground nutmeg
3 tablespoons of red wine
Olive oil, to drizzle
A few sprigs of chives, finely chopped
Coarse sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

For the garlic breadcrumbs
3/4 cup/45 g breadcrumbs
1/2 clove garlic, minced
Mix both ingredients together in a small bowl.

Slit the sausages sideways and squeeze the meat out of the skins.

Heat the butter in a sauté pan over medium heat. Cook the shallots until softened, add the sausage meat, garlic, thyme, nutmeg, salt and pepper and stir, until the meat is cooked. Pour in the wine and continue to cook for 3 minutes. Take off the heat & set aside.

Shuck the oysters. Place 2 teaspoons of the sausage filling on top of each oyster. Sprinkle garlic breadcrumbs on top and drizzle a bit of olive oil. Arrange oysters in an oven-proof dish or tray and place under a preheated grill for about 3 to 5 minutes, or until the breadcrumbs are golden. Sprinkle the chives on top. Serve immediately.




“You are having two babies this year”, a lot of people kept telling me this spring. They meant, of course, the one living in my bump and my cookbook which was by then on its way to the printers. As many of you know by now the first one arrived, if not altogether surprisingly, at least surprisingly quickly at the end of May. The second baby is still on its way but at least in this case the delivery date is firmly fixed, the 28th of October, not a day later or before. The element of surprise is how many of you have already pre-ordered the book. It warms my heart that you should have such faith in my cooking that you are prepared to buy it unseen. Merci mille fois. I had a discussion about this with the good people at Clarkson Potter/Random House and we all thought it was a good idea to reward this faith in some way, our little way of saying thank you. After some deliberation we felt that offering all you pre-orderers a little print from Manger might be appreciated, and to be totally honest (for this is an honest blog) we certainly won’t mind if this encourages even more people to pre-order the book.

It works like this. Those of you who have preordered the book or will order the book before the official publication date can click on and fill in your details. If you have any problems with this procedure or questions please feel free to contact The person on the other end of this email is a fine fellow called Kevin Sweeting. I had the pleasure to spend some time with him at Random House in NY in March and I think we are all in good hands with him. We chose three prints that we feel represent well what we are doing and hope you will agree with our selection. Those who fill in their details will receive one of the prints, which one will be a surprise. I hope you are happy with this arrangement and our selection of prints, that is all that matters.
Available for presale on

The three prints




A feast in October

Last year in October we had one of the best outdoor feasts we’ve ever had. We had already passed our deadline for the book but some recipes had not yet been photographed. The team from Canal+ were arriving the following Monday and we knew from experience that shooting for TV leaves little room for anything else. So we had this idea to throw one final glorious feast the Sunday before, cook everything that was missing from the book and have a blast of a time. And we did. We invited some of our favorite people and I started at the stove. It was a beautiful day, a beautiful feast. Of course it wasn’t seamless, we had a few mini-crisis. There were no cèpes to be found, the weather was fickle at best, Oddur forgot to buy gambas. In the end it all worked out, our friends unexpectedly brought the gambas, our other friends, the snail farmers sorted out the cèpes. Even the weather showed a kind side. If there was ever a “Manger event”, this was it. Oddur jumping on tables to photograph, dogs stealing food, more wine than perhaps was necessary and so much food that everyone left happy and heavy.
A standout dish from that day was funnily enough not the quails, gambas or even the foie gras. Not even the cèpes tartlets or harvest soup or apple tart with orange flower water. That day the dish that we all wished we had more of was the simplest, humblest of all. The potatoes, Lyonnaise style. We’ve had this dish countless times this year and speaking of babies, when I was in the clinic with Audrey May, Oddur made it practically every night with his steak, quails and other extravaganzas. This summer he’s been cooking it with both our boys and some of the girls, I’ve been cooking it, it seems, every other night. If there ever was a dish for every season and every occasion this is it … and here it is, in all its simple glory. Anyone can do it, and that’s what I love about it – you see for me cookbooks are there to inspire and encourage, to give recipes but also ideas.

Potatoes and Onions, now that’s an idea.










Potatoes à la Lyonnaise

Serves 4

2 pounds/ 900 g new potatoes, peeled
About 11 tablespoons/ 150 g unsalted butter
Fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 onions, thinly sliced
A bunch of fresh parsley, leaves removed and finely chopped

Preheat the oven to 350°F/180°C.

Put the potatoes in a large pot, add enough salted cold water to cover, bring to a boil, and cook until parboiled, 10 to 15 minutes. Drain in a colander and rinse under cool running water. Let cool for a few minutes, then slice the potatoes into 1/8-inch/3- to 4-mm-thick slices.

In a large sauté pan, melt 2 tablespoons of the butter. Add about one-quarter of the potatoes and fry, seasoning them with salt and pepper, until golden, about 6 minutes. Transfer to a plate. Continue frying the potatoes, adding more butter each time (you should use about 8 tablespoons / 120 g in total), until all of them are cooked.

Meanwhile, in another sauté pan, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons / 30 g butter over medium heat. Cook the onions until golden, about 5 minutes.

Return all of the potatoes to the pan, add the onions, and mix gently. Cook for 5 more minutes for the flavors to combine.

Transfer the potatoes and onions to a large baking dish. Bake until gently sizzling, about 10 minutes.

Sprinkle the parsley over the potatoes and serve.


Jour de Fête


Choices, choices
On the last Saturday in July I was standing behind a table lined with rows of vegetable tarts and meringues, little delights that I had made and was now meaning to SELL! “How utterly odd” I thought to myself, after years and years of going to markets, buying delights, to be at the opposite side of the table presenting people with my own little creations. And how fun! Growing up this was not really a scene I could have imagined, nor was having 7 kids, countless dogs or basically anything that’s happening in my life today, including writing a cookbook. I was recently reminded of how unpredictable life is, how the wars we prepare for are not necessarily the wars we fight. This reminder came from an unlikely and, frankly, a rather unwelcome source – but it did serve its purpose, at least I am writing about it now. Some person left a comment on one of my instagram photos, one where I am coming out of a pastry shop with my two daughters and a dog in tow. It’s a beautiful green storefront with the most sumptuous pastries on display and I’d like to think we all look very content. The comment (which I deleted – but now sort of regret having done that) said something along the lines of this: “You promote childbirth and cooking but women should be in boardrooms making important decisions as CEO’s”. One has to wonder if the commentator thinks that CEO’s never buy pastries, even on weekends, or perhaps that they don’t have children. Maybe just that they’d look miserable buying strawberry cakes with their kids because they’d much rather be … in the boardroom. I suppose a top CEO would have a nanny, and a personal assistant for buying pastries but let me go on record and say that even if I was the president of France I would still buy my own pastries. My life was always filled with food and cooking but being practical I did actually prepare myself for the boardroom. I studied business and finance, I worked in business development. I am quite sure that had I persisted I might even have made it to the boardroom. Now I am not saying that there is anything wrong with the boardroom, it’s a perfectly acceptable room. No worse in fact than the kitchen, the little shop, the atelier, the classroom or any other room I can think of. I guess what I am getting at, is that this little comment reminded me of how grateful I am to have had a choice. A choice that my grandmother and great-grandmother perhaps didn’t have. They were never destined for the boardroom, they didn’t get the chance to choose. Choice is freedom. Finding something you like to do, something you are, hopefully, reasonably good at and then having the chance to do it – that is the path to a good life, the path to happiness even. So to the person who left that comment I’d like to say this: “I understand where you are coming from, thanks for the input – but your comment would have been more appreciated had it been less aggressive and more polite. Sometimes it’s not what you say but how you say it.”

p.s. Since I am opening a little table d’hôtes/ chambres d’hôtes, with cooking workshops etc I guess I am technically the CEO of that operation. I will still be buying my own pastries though.






Meringues at midnight
I had originally planned to make duck burgers for my stand at the Fête de village in St Christoly. But there wasn’t enough time and we didn’t really have the facilities to fry burgers at the square. Next time! This time I just wanted to make something light and tasty that everyone likes and could be made in advance. Tian tartlets seemed to fit the bill, all the ingredients are in season, they are easy to make, lovely to look at and so tasty with a sprinkle of salt and olive oil. The real challenge was making a hundred meringues with one oven. Meringues take more than an hour to cook and as I wanted them as fresh as possible most of the“meringuing” happened after midnight on Friday night and then in the early hours of Saturday. The whole family helped out (some more and others) slicing vegetables, carefully arranging them on top of the tarts. Thorir went on an excursion deep into the forest to gather bunches of fern that we meant to decorate our table with. When we decided not to use them (mainly because we ran out of time) he contemplated selling them but as Médoc woods are 50% covered in fern he realized there wasn’t really a market for it. We had a small worry that all our efforts would be in vain, what if nobody wanted tian tarts and meringues, especially since they were waiting for duck burgers. The small queue that waited for us when we arrived was most encouraging and I am happy to report that everything we had sold in under two hours. We had our share of little mishaps, I sprayed creme chantilly over a woman who was very gracious about it and Louise fell and got herself a bloody nose, her first ever.




In the end we ran out of cream, out of sauce, so we started giving the meringues for free. The two tian tarts we gave to a lovely couple, readers of the blog who had come all the way from Bordeaux to have duck burgers. Hudson and Louise, ever competitive, were mesmerized by all the money that we put into an old biscuit box. Hudson even embarrassed me by counting it from time to time in front of everybody. The best thing about that box though was taking money out of it and using it to buy food from all the other stands around us. We had the tastiest duck sausages from one stand, Moroccan biscuits from another. Oddur bought some wine, the kids some candies. I can’t think of a more fabulous, old-fashioned experience than staying up late, making little “plats”, then taking your efforts to the market and trying out what the others have to offer. It is country life at it’s best.
I love writing this blog, cooking and communicating, reading your comments and answering them. But meeting people face to face, your neighbours, some readers of Manger, old faces, new faces – that’s even better. That’s what I hope to achieve with my cooking workshops. Meeting people, enjoying food, sharing stories. I may be going out on a limb here, and we are behind schedule, but I am determined to get started with the workshops later this year. All roads lead to St. Yzans.





That Saturday night, exhausted but happy, I made an old-fashioned veal roast with summer vegetables. It wasn’t supposed to be a blog post, it was just something I wanted to make and thought could be delicious. Hudson kept asking me how big his share of the proceeds would be. “Gunnhildur did the most” I said, “So don’t you think it’s fair she gets the biggest share?” I asked. He wasn’t sure about that. In the end we settled it all amicably. Bigger efforts got bigger rewards. That box still stands on a shelf in my bedroom. It’s empty now but for a cheque of 12 euros that someone used to pay for meringues and tarts. I think I’ll keep it as a souvenir of a good day. Sometimes a cheque is worth more than the number that’s written on it.





Tian tartlets (for eight tartlets)

These pretty and rustic tartlets look like small bouquets, perfumed with thyme and bay leaves. the trick is to slice the vegetables as thinly as possible to create a pretty tartlet.

230 g/ 8 ounces x 2 shortcrust pastry/pate brisée
1 small eggplant/ aubergine, sliced finely
1 zucchini/ courgette, sliced finely
2 tomatoes, sliced finely
2 cloves garlic, sliced finely
A few springs of fresh thyme, leaves picked
Olive oil
Coarse sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 200°C/395°f.

Grease with butter 10 cm/4 inches wide tartlet pans x 8
Use pastry to line base and sides of tartlet pan. Trim excess pastry. Using a fork, pierce pastry base.
Slice zucchini, aubergine , tomato and garlic finely. Line slices alternating zucchini/aubergine/tomato to create a rose-like pattern until you reach the center. Slide in 4 garlic slices between the vegetable slices. Drizzle with olive oil all over, sprinkle salt, black pepper, fresh thyme and 1 small bay leaf (see photo).
Bake in the preheated oven for 20 to 25 minutes or until vegetables are golden. Leave to cool for 5 minutes before unmoulding.


Old-fashioned summer veal roast

This delightful summer veal roast is so easy to prepare and has become a family favorite for dinner. The tomatoes stand out in this recipe, and the sauce mixed the vegetables and pancetta is heavenly with mashed potatoes.

1.3 kg /2.8 pounds veal shoulder roast(preferably with bone, but rolled is good too)
60 g/ 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 onions, sliced
230 g/ 8 ounces pancetta, sliced finely into matchstick size
2 cups/500 ml dry white wine
80 ml/ 1/3 cup veal stock
3 small carrots, sliced finely
4 garlic cloves, unpeeled
2 celery branches, sliced finely
15 plum tomatoes
1 bouquet garni
Coarse sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 160°C/ 320°F

In a large cast-iron dutch oven/cocotte, melt the butter and sauté the onions until soft but not browned. Add the pancetta and continue to sauté for 3 minutes, then add the veal and brown the meat on all sides. Add the carrots and celery, season with salt and pepper, and throw in the bouquet garni. Pour the wine and mix all the ingredients together. Bring to a simmer, add the tomatoes, veal stock & unpeeled garlic cloves. Cover the pot.
Transfer the dutch oven/ cocotte into the oven and cook for 1 hour and thirty minutes to 2 hours, until cooked through and tender. Cut the veal into slices. Serve with mashed potatoes and pour the gravy with vegetables on top.


Vanilla meringues with peaches & cream

Simply irresistible – this dessert literally sold out within minutes!

For the meringues
(for approximately 8 meringues)

6 egg whites (at room temperature)

260 g/ 1 1 1/3 cup caster sugar

50 g/ ½ cup icing sugar

1 teaspoon cornstarch (maïzana)
½ teaspoon vanilla essence
A pinch of salt

For the ultra-easy coulis

For the raspberry
230 g/ 8 ounces raspberry, 3 tablespoons granulated sugar. Blend together in a mixer.
For the apricot
230g/ 8 ounces apricots, 3 tablespoons granulated sugar. Combine pitted apricots with the sugar in a small saucepan. Heat on a medium heat until they are soft and the sugar is melted. Process in a mixer and leave to cool before serving.
To garnish:
1 cup/ 250 ml heavy cream, for whipping
8 yellow or white peaches (count 1 peach per person) – peeled and sliced

Pre-heat your oven 140°C/280°F.

In a large glass bowl, whisk the egg whites on a high-speed until frothy. Add the cornstarch, pinch of salt and sugar/ confectioner’s sugar (1-2 tbsp at a time) gradually. Add the vanilla essence. Continue to whisk until stiff and glossy. Transfer mixture to a piping bag and pipe meringues (about the size of a medium-sized orange) on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet.
Bake in a preheated oven 140°C/280 F for 25 minutes, then lower heat 95°C/200 F and continue to bake for 1 hour (2 hours if you prefer them slightly crunchier). Switch the heat off and open the oven door. Leave the meringues to cool in the oven.
 When the meringues are completely cooled, whisk the cream in a large bowl until stiff. To serve, tap the meringues to create a little nest, add a few spoons of whipped cream, scatter the sliced peaches on top and drizzle with the coulis.


The big blue


In search of “perfect happiness”

“Don’t you think Audrey May looks a bit like Marcel Proust?” I asked my husband last week. As he is quite accustomed to nonsense, his own and that of other people, he gave it some thought and then said “Do you mean as you imagine he would have looked like as a baby or simply as we know him, moustache and all?” This of course prompted me to place some of my own hair on Audrey’s upper lip, a trick that always draws a laugh or two in the family.
For me Marcel Proust is linked with something good and admirable. It’s a time that I would have liked to perhaps live in or at least visit. The Proust reference is one I use often. When I am buying plates, when I am describing a room or visit a restaurant. Either Marcel would have liked it or he would not. In school I read his big work “In search of lost time”, which brought me some joy and, at times, some boredom. Years later when I read it again, this time unforced, I loved it unconditionally, this time there was no boredom.
There are things you can’t do without thinking of Marcel Proust. Having a madeleine is one. Funnily enough reading Vanity Fair is another. He is always there, on the last page, presiding over a little questionnaire that bears his name. And not because he wrote the questions. He simply took the test, twice (and since he took in French the questions were probably a little different) It’s the page I always read first in VF, I like the idea of someone revealing themselves through a set of questions. From time to time, out of boredom perhaps, I’ve taken the test myself (though I’ve never written down the answers) but I’ve never really analyzed the questions. The first question is usually about happiness. That in itself isn’t remarkable but the question is actually “What is your idea of PERFECT happiness?”, as if just happiness wasn’t enough. After all these years of reading the Proust questionnaire I finally started thinking about perfect happiness last week. It’s a big question, in fact you have to deconstruct it to answer it. It’s really two questions. What is perfect, what does it mean? And does happiness have to be perfect to be … happiness. Taking it further isn’t just happiness, any happiness something perfect?





Something about the sea

These are real summer days filled with peaches and apricots and barbecues. Us being us they are of course also filled with babies and puppies and gardening and big plans of moving house and promoting a book. Then there is the cooking. Now that the older kids can drive a car they can go on excursions of their own and much as I love it, for some reason, call it tiredness, I had resisted for a while to join them on a beach trip. It’s so pleasant staying behind in big empty house, the breeze coming through the windows, just me and Audrey at home, lounging in a comfortable chair perhaps cutting a few roses and putting them in a vase. I guess I just forgot about the sea. Then one day last week they forced me to come along. My mother-in-law said she’d take care of Audrey. We headed to our secret beach and as soon as I could smell the pines, hear the ocean, I knew I had made the right decision. There is something about that particular time of day, when the temperature is just right, the sun is descending but still shining proud. The hues are golden and everything feels … shall we say, perfect. Watching the kids run around making sand castles (and destroying each other’s sand castles), seeing no one but your own family on a vast beautiful beach. Whether you look left or right, nothing but unspoilt stretches of sand and water. Then your little eight year old boy suddenly stops playing and takes a seat next to you and puts his little hand in yours. And the two of you sit there and gaze at the others as if you were watching a movie.
That’s when the idea of perfect happiness doesn’t seem so far-fetched.





Natural selection (via Marcel Proust)

Happiness in our house does of course not really exist without food. That’s where all the threads of our lives lead, these days more than ever. And for some reason we’ve been having a lot of seafood lately. I’m an impulsive eater, with a lot of instant cravings and now that I’m breastfeeding those cravings and pure hunger are more powerful than ever. This time I’m sharing 4 recipes, not a single menu, just meals we’ve had in the past few days. These four dishes happened upon our table in very different ways, let me try to explain how.

The Sardines

My husband loves sardines, he loves them canned, he loves them fresh. Every time we are in a grocery store, he will go for sardines, especially those in beautiful packaging and then he stacks them in our pantry as if he was preparing for a war. As a kid growing up in Iceland it was one of his favorites – aren’t we all the products of the palates of our youth? Last week he came home with many kilos of fresh sardines. So what is a cook to do? I stood by him but since I’m less keen on sardines than he is I added a bit of tomato, some pastry, a hint of lemon zest. It worked beautifully.

The Moules (mussels)

We saw the most attractive moules at the market and it being mussel season we just had to get some. If moules (mussels) are dark blue and beautiful I just can’t resist them. There are of course countless ways to prepare them but again we fell victim to our memories and I cooked them in the most classic way, just like we used to love having them at Les Vapeurs in Trouville, in our Paris days. Food memories again.




The Tielle

As a child I spent summers with my aunt and grandmother in Moissac not far from Toulouse. They were both terrific cooks and loved fresh produce. They were, however, originally from a gorgeous seaside town in France called Sète. Often called the Venice of France, due to its canals and number of Italian immigrants, Sète has a “national dish”, the Tielle. I often had it in my grandmother’s kitchen but lately I had forgotten about it. Then one day last week, we were having fish in spicy tomato sauce and boom it hit me, I had to make a Tielle (Proust again). It was a beautiful experience and a first for me, I especially loved the part of telling my kids that this was their grandmother’s real home town food.

The Apricots

Our large kitchen table is always filled with vegetables and fruits, partly out of necessity for a big, ever cooking family, partly courtesy of my husbands fantasy mind where everything must look like a painting. It’s also a place of “natural selection”, and I mean that literally. The kids have a way of sniffing out the newest, freshest, the best. The rest I try to salvage by putting them in tarts, in cakes, in condiments. But this summer we’ve had a particular problem. Apricots. They were exciting at first, went so well with the cherries of May and June. But in July the clear favorites have been nectarines and peaches. My husband thinks apricots are more beautiful than peaches so he keeps buying both. But the apricots just sit there. Let’s just say we’ve been having a lot of apricot desserts.

ps: This week I am featured in French ELLE, 12 barbecue inspired summer recipes in Medoc. For those of you who can’t get this week’s ELLE, click here.


Tarte aux sardines (Sardine tart)

230 g/ 8 ounces puff pastry
5 medium-sized tomatoes, diced
8 sardines, cleaned & filleted
A handful of fresh basil leaves
Zest of half a lemon
Olive oil, to drizzle
Fleur de sel & freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F

Prepare the pastry base. Place pastry on a parchment-lined baking tray, and cover with another piece of parchment paper. To avoid them to puff up too much, place another baking tray on top (or any rectangle shaped cake tin, grill etc) for 10 minutes. Then remove the parchment paper with the added weight and bake for another 10 to 15 minutes, or until golden brown.
Dice the tomatoes. Heat olive oil in a large pan and sauté the sardines fillets on both sides for 2-3 minutes, or until cooked through. Season with salt & pepper.
To assemble the tart, scatter the tomatoes on the pastry, then place the sardines fillets on top (see photo). Drizzle with olive oil, season lightly with salt & pepper and sprinkle with basil leaves. Grate the zest of half a lemon and sprinkle on top. Serve immediately.


Moules à la crème

To be served with French fries & ice-cold beer!

Count 1 kilo/ approx 2 pounds of mussels per person as a main course.

4 kg/ approx 9 pounds mussels, cleaned & scrubbed
700 ml/ 3 cups white wine
A large bunch of parsley, leaves picked
3 shallots, finely sliced
1 onion, finely sliced
2 garlic cloves, halved
1 celery stick with leaves on
1 bouquet garni
350 ml/ 1 & 1/2 cup crème fraîche
A few sprigs of chives, finely chopped

In a very large pot, melt the butter and sauté the shallots, onions and garlic on a medium heat – they should be translucent and soft, not golden. Add the bouquet garni and the white wine. Pour the mussels in the pot, add the celery branch, give it a good stir, cover with a lid and leave to cook for 3 minutes. Lift the lid, give the mussels another good stir and cover again for a minute or two. With the help of a large slotted spoon, transfer the mussels in a large bowl and cover to keep warm. Add the crème fraîche to the pot. Do not boil or the cream will curdle. Return the mussels to the pot, sprinkle with chopped chives and serve immediately with French fries.


(serves 6)

The tielle from Sète is a traditional local speciality, brought to Sète by an Italian family from Gaeta in the 18th century. The octopus is the emblem of the village of Sète. The tielle, in other words octopus pie, consists of a very tasty tomato sauce with a dash of chili and tender octopus. The pastry is similar to a bread, very tasty thanks to the tomato & muscat flavors. I serve this with a simple fennel salad (see below). For this recipe, I used a standard tart pan (26cm/10-inches).

750 g/ 1 & 2/3 pounds octopus, cleaned and prepared
420 ml/ 1 & ¾ cup tomato coulis
1 carrot, diced
2 tablespoons tomato concentrate
125 ml/ ½ cup dry white wine
1 large onion, sliced finely
¼ tsp piment d’espelette (or chilli flakes)
2 garlic cloves, sliced finely
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp paprika
¼ tsp saffron threads
A few sprigs of thyme, leaves picked
Coarse sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the octopus:
1 carrot
1 celery stick
1 bouquet garni
10 black peppercorns
Coarse sea salt

Add 1 carrot, 1 celery stick, 1 bouquet garni, salt & 10 black peppercorns to a large pot of water. Bring to a boil and add the octopus. When the water starts to boil again, cover and lower the heat. Leave to cook for 35 to 45 minutes. Test with a fork to see if the octopus is fork tender. Drain and set aside to cool. Once cooled, slice the octopus into small to medium chunks.

In a large skillet pan, sauté the onion and garlic for 5 minutes in olive oil on medium heat. Add the diced carrot and continue to cook for 5 minutes. Add the tomato coulis, tomato paste, saffron, paprika, piment d’espelette (or chili flakes) and sugar. Sprinkle with thyme and drizzle with the white wine. Add the octopus, stir so all the ingredients are combined, season with salt and pepper. Cover and leave to cook on a low heat for 45 minutes. The mixture should reduce at least a quarter. Set aside and leave to cool.

For the dough

300 g/ 2 1/2 cups plain flour
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp active yeast
2 tablespoons olive oil
60 ml / 1/2 cup tomato sauce
45 ml/3 tablespoons water
1 egg yolk
60 g/ 4 tablespoons butter, at room temperature
1 tsp honey
1 tsp salt
45ml/ 3 tablespoons Muscat de Frontignan (alternatively , use another sweet white wine)

Place the yeast in a little bowl and add 2 tablespoons of lukewarm water. Leave for 5 minutes until mixture is frothy. Gradually incorporate the water, muscat and tomato sauce. Knead gently and add the honey, olive oil and butter. Bring the dough together into a ball, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1 hour before usage.
Roll out 2 circles. Butter a tart pan and line with the first disc. Brush the edges of the pastry with water. Fill the tart with the filling. Cover with the second disc, pressing on the edges to seal the borders. Brush the pastry with the egg yolk. Transfer the tart to the preheated oven 200°C/400°F and cook for 25-30 minutes.

Leave to cool for 10 minutes before serving.


Fennel salad

Slice one large fennel thinly (I use my magimix slicer) and sprinkle with the feathery fennel strands. Drizzle with olive oil and a dash of balsamic vinegar.


Apricots rôties et crème chantilly pistache(roasted apricots with pistachio cream)
(serves 4)

25g/ 1 ½ tablespoon butter
2 tablespoon brown sugar
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise
8 large apricots, halved and pitted
80 g/3 ounces unsalted pistachios, shelled

To serve with
A large handful of pistachios, shelled & coarsely chopped
120 ml/ ½ cup heavy cream, for whipping

Preheat the oven to 210°C/ 425°F

In an oven-proof skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the sugar, vanilla and apricots. Gently stir so the apricots are covered with the mixture, for a few seconds. Transfer to the oven and roast until tender, about 8 to 10 minutes.
Whip the cream and incorporate ¾ of the pistachios. Serve apricots with the whipped cream on the side. Sprinkle the rest of the pistachios on top.


The Sunflower Thief


Cast & Characters
If you ever find yourself living in the country you will soon discover how hard it is to avoid your neighbors. Not that you’d necessarily want to avoid them but all the convenient excuses that city life provides are removed by the slow motion of “la vie de campagne”. It’s the difference of driving down a street or walking down it. A car takes you further, faster, but on foot you will see more, learn more. In Paris I lived in the same building for 6 years and though I was little by little on friendly terms with most of the occupants I never really befriended more than a handful. Some I never spoke to. A few, of course, only spoke to us because of the dogs or the kids and they didn’t all have smiles on their faces. The point is, the countryside is a good place to make friends. The local policeman, the one who watches your TV show and calls you “the ambassadrice of Médoc” when you go to the town hall to apply for a passport for your daughter, will also be at the market on Saturdays “stealing” shrimps from the fish stall where his wife works, calling it “inspection”. The polite journalist who interviewed you for the local newspaper will be there buying vegetables and so will your children’s teacher, your doctor and even the electrician who is so nervous that he must have had a shock or two in his time. Let’s just call it a “village thing”. Everybody knows you are moving house, and where to. They’ve either played in the new house as children, dated the previous owner’s daughter or at least had a fight on the corner.

Country life is somehow more old-fashioned than city life, the characters (for they are characters) are painted in more vivid colors, the stage is set for … something. And it isn’t just any old stage, Médoc has it all, the finest wines in the world, glamorous châteaux, deep dark forests, rough hunters that roam them looking for wild boar, oystermen, surfers, adventurers.





Murder in Médoc, read all about it (one day)
All this rustic complexity gets the imagination going and makes for an interesting plot. The backdrop, the fascinating quirky stereotypes, I could see myself writing a little roman in this setting, or a play even. We already have the characters, an intriguing mix of old families, real Médocains and newcomers. There would have to be a crime of some sort – murder most foul à la Agatha Christie. Once when I was visiting the chais at a friend’s château, climbing up the old wooden ladder right up to the top of the enormous barrel, looking down into a sea of red wine it occurred to me what a great hiding place for a corpse it could be. I have always loved a good mystery and could never resist a bit of plot. Over time the body would dissolve in the barrel and in true “noir” style the wine would win many awards and accolades. Too add a bit of humor the villain would find a way to add the victims name on the bottle. Somewhat in the style of “The Perfume” perhaps but with a different twist. Maybe you’ll read all about it one day.
But it wouldn’t have to be an epic family feud or even murder, maybe just a nice little mystery, stolen antiques, counterfeit wine, a piano player … wait I am getting ahead of myself.





Recipes in the attic
Close to St Yzans, where we are moving, is a most beautiful and quiet village called St. Christoly. It’s right on the banks of the Gironde estuary and has a special place in my heart because it has my favorite antiques & brocantes store in the world. I’ve talked about this store before and over time Anne, the owner, has become a dear friend. She’s kept us in props and plates, given me great advice and generous terms and I simply couldn’t think of anything lovelier to do on a lazy Sunday than pop over to Anne’s, for a chat and to see if she has unearthed some gems for me.
Recently Anne was elected to the town council and she has big plans for the future. Coming up first is a fête du village on the 26th of July and in true neighborly fashion I have volunteered to do some catering. I’ll draft all the kids and we’ll be making delicious duck burgers and meringue desserts in the town square. Of course I’ll make a post of it but it would be a thrill if some of you could come – a good excuse to visit Médoc.





An event like this needs some planning so last Saturday we met up at the pretty house Anne shares with her companion Michelle and their German Schnauzer, Ella, just up the street from her antiques store. We did some planning, some cooking, had a few laughs, drank a bit of rosé. All the objects in their house have such stories to tell and I felt compelled to cook something to match, something with a bit of history. From time to time I’ve been inspired by Anne’s collection of old cookbooks and for this occasion I cooked a few things in the “esprit” of those books – sometimes the food just has to match the plates and the mood. A classic tomato tart tatin, a red wine chicken dish you might have had at a country inn 200 years ago, an “exotic” dessert that Parisian society might have been swooning over in the days of Balzac. The children enjoyed playing in the garden and Hudson, smitten by Anne’s house even bought a few items at her store. As he had nothing to pay with Anne just put it on his tab. He says he’ll pay with the 20 euros he has in his bank account, the same 20 euros he’s used so many times in the past year. It was a gift for me so I’m not complaining.




It turned out to be a very late lunch or an early dinner, Michelle and Anne had to leave us early, they were invited elsewhere (they are sought after) to watch France’s game with Germany. We took the rest of the chicken with us and headed home too, to watch what we hoped would be a French victory (it wasn’t but let’s not talk about that now). On our way home we were ambushed by the most irresistible sunflower field, so beautifully lit in the late afternoon sun, like a painting so inviting and bright that all you can do is jump in, even if you are late for the big game. For a while we were completly lost in time, wandering around the flowers as if on another planet. Some moments cannot be planned, they just happen. And when they do it’s good to have a camera.





Back in the car I noticed that Gaïa was holding a little sunflower, beaming with pride. She had nicked it as we were about to leave, somehow managed to tear it up with her little hands. The boys might be thinking about the game, but she was not about to leave this field of treasures empty-handed.
It brought a smile to my face. I might not have caught a killer but I had found my villain, a determined little sunflower thief.


Tomato tarte tatin

1 & 1/3 pounds/ 600 g cherry tomatoes (or enough to fill your tart pan)
1 pack 8 ounces/230g puff pastry
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 teaspoons oregano
A few sprigs of fresh thyme

Preheat the oven to 200°C/ 400°F

In a large pan, melt the butter and sugar together. When it starts to caramelize, add the tomatoes and cook for 5 to 8 minutes. Sprinkle the oregano leaves and one tablespoon of sugar all over. Season with salt & pepper. Add the balsamic vinegar and reduce for 2 minutes. Place the tomatoes in a tart pan. Place the pastry on top of the tomatoes and tuck the sides in. Place the tart in the oven and bake for 25 minutes, or until pastry is golden brown.
Leave the tart to rest for 5 minutes, then flip over on a plate. Pour as much excess liquid as possible. Garnish the tart with fresh thyme leaves.


Red wine & vinegar chicken

Serves 4

For the chicken
1 chicken 1.3 kg/ 2.8 pounds approx. cut into 6 pieces – keep the chicken carcass or any unwanted pieces and save for the sauce.
3 tablespoons/45 ml Armagnac
3 tablespoons/ 45 g unsalted butter
2 shallots, finely sliced
6 garlic cloves, unpeeled

For the sauce
1 & ¼ cup / 300 ml good-quality red wine
2 tablespoons/30 ml red wine vinegar
3 tablespoons/ 45 g unsalted butter
2 tablespoons mustard
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 1/2 tablespoon tomato concentrate
A few sprigs of thyme & rosemary
Coarse sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

To garnish:

Finely chopped chives and diced tomatoes ( 1 medium-sized tomato per person).

In a large dutch oven/ cocotte, melt the butter & sauté the chicken until golden. Add the unpeeled garlic cloves and sliced shallots. Season with salt & pepper.
Flambé the chicken with the Armagnac. Off the heat, pour the Armagnac, light a match, and carefully ignite the liquid to flambé.
For the sauce
In a large saucepan, heat the butter and sauté the chicken carcass. Add the minced garlic, season with salt & pepper, add a few sprigs of thyme & rosemary. Pour the vinegar in the pan, along with the red wine, and mustard. Leave to reduce until the sauce has thickened. Sift through a sieve before serving.
Serve the chicken with the sauce, sprinkle with the chives and garnish with diced tomatoes on the side.


Orange blossom flower cream pastilla

8 sheets of filo pastry
2 cups/ 475 ml full cream milk
1 cinnamon stick
3 egg yolks
8 tablespoons/ 100 g granulated sugar
2 tablespoons corn starch (Maïzana)
1/3 cup/ 80 ml orange blossom water
2 tablespoons butter
Extra butter for the filo pastry
A large handful of mixed nuts: pistachios, pine nuts and blanched almonds
Confectionner’s sugar, for dusting

In a saucepan, heat the milk, cinnamon stick, and half of the sugar on a medium heat– bring to a soft simmer. Meanwhile, in a bowl, whisk 3 egg yolk with the rest of the sugar. Add the corn starch & orange blossom water – whisk for 3 minutes.
Off the heat, add the egg yolk mixture to the saucepan, stir continuously until blended, then return to the heat on low and stir until the cream has thickened to a custard-like cream. Take off the heat. Add the butter and stir until melted. Pour into a bowl and cover with baking paper directly on top of mixture. Leave to cool completely and place into the refrigerator until ready to serve.
Cut the filo sheets into circles 23cm/ 9inch wide circles.
Heat ½ teaspoon of unsalted butter in a frying pan, fry the filo sheets until crispy and golden on both sides. Repeat with each sheets.

For the sauce
1 orange
1 lemon
1 ½ tablespoon unsalted butter
6 tablespoons/ 80 g granulated sugar

Heat the juice of 1 lemon & 1 orange with the sugar in a saucepan until dissolved. When the mixture starts to thicken, take off the heat and whisk the buuter. Leave to cool.

To assemble, place two sheets of pastry on a serving plate, then spread the cream all over. Repeat with the remaining sheets & cream. Sprinkle with icing sugar on the last top sheet and scatter the nut mixture all over.


The busy bees


Mrs Dalloway, Tampopo and me

Next to my bed there is a small bookshelf filled with my favorite books. The more I like them, the closer they are, and my absolute favorites are so close I hardly have to lift my head from the pillow to reach them. One of those favorites is Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway. I don’t read it very often, but once in a while I get the urge and it’s comforting to know it’s there for me, always. On Monday night, the 26th of May I felt restless and impatient, I was one day overdue (at least) in my pregnancy, I had expected the baby to come earlier, let’s just say I felt a little anxious. So I reached for Mrs Dalloway and she calmed me down. Tuesday was a beautiful sunny and warm summer day. Perhaps inspired by Clarissa Dalloway the first thing I did after I got dressed was to cut roses for the house. I cut some for every room (and we have many rooms) and filled every vase I could find. I wanted everything to be clean and shiny and beautiful. I wasn’t planning to throw a party but Mrs Dalloway had inspired me to act as if I was. Next on my list was the laundry, nothing beats the scent of freshly washed sheets drying in the sun, hanging just high enough so our little puppy, James Joyce, can’t get a hold of them, try as he might. In late afternoon when the kids came home from school I had already baked them a pear tart for goûter and was on my way to making a cherry clafoutis for dessert. Oddur kept encouraging me to take it easy, especially since I was having some contractions but it was as if I had acquired some mystical power and though I sat down from time to time I felt somehow invincible and strong.




One of my favorite films about food is a Japanese classic called Tampopo. It’s lighthearted and very funny but most of all it always makes me hungry for noodles. It has a main narrative which is broken up by several little sketches that all have to do with food. One of my favorite little stories is that of a woman who rises from her deathbed to cook her family one final meal. By evening I felt like that woman, not because I expected to die but while the sensible thing would have been to lie down and rest I still felt strong enough to cook one last meal. I chose a family favorite, what we call mafia chicken. An Italian style dish with lots of tomatoes, parmesan and rosemary, served with roast potatoes. I laid the table and went to bed. I gave Oddur instructions to carry out the meal at eight, by then we both knew something was stirring.
They served me some mafia chicken in bed and though he had to defend it with his life my dear husband managed to save me a small piece of cherry clafoutis. We discussed when to leave for the clinic. “I am not staying any longer in a stale room with plastic floors than I need” I said. Oddur sort of agreed, “It’s all up to you, we go when you are ready” he said. He doesn’t like plastic floors either. Just before ten I had a big contraction and said to Oddur “It’s time to go”. The contractions had been regular but not that regular and the experience I had from my previous four children told me we still had ample time. At this point I didn’t really feel that close but I decided to play it safe. Oddur got my suitcase in the car, locked up the dogs and gave instructions to the kids who were all washed and dressed in their pyjamas but couldn’t sleep (adorable looking I might add). While he was doing this something big happened, one more contraction but a serious one and I felt I couldn’t move after that. Oddur insisted, quite firmly, “I’ll carry you to the car”. “I’m not moving, and I mean it” I howled back like a wolf. He had a look on his face that implied that he was considering taking me into the car against my will. Then he thought better of it and called the emergency services who advised against moving me at this stage. Did I say the water broke?
While the doctors and firemen were hurriedly on their way the two of us just brought the baby into this world as naturally and effortlessly as people have been doing for thousands of years in their own homes. For a brief moment I got slightly worried but when he placed that little girl on my chest I knew everything would be fine. Those few precious minutes that followed were pure magic and a privilege to live through them. She was so precious, so perfect, a rosy colored baby that came into the world through a room full of roses. Then the show started. I don’t think my bedroom has ever drawn a bigger crowd, doctors, firemen with heatblankets and endless gadgets, my father-in-law on the road guiding them with a flashlight (one that he bought in case of emergency – he likes to think ahead, a trait I might add that has not been passed on to his son).

We called her Audrey May.




When the cat is away … the mice cook!

In France a father has to go to the local townhall and declare a baby’s birth. Our little commune has no hospital and therefore hardly any births, perhaps one a year. So the officials are a little rusty when it comes to issuing birth certificates. At the clinic Oddur entertained me with the story of his encounter with an official at the mairie (townhall). The thought of having to deal with a birth was already a big task for her but when she realized that the baby’s surname would, due to Icelandic traditions, be derived from the father’s first name and not his surname, she just threw up her hands and made a lot of oh lah lah’s and ce n’est pas normal!. Calls were made, papers were ruffled, but like our other daughters she finally ended up Oddsdóttir (the daughter of Oddur).
It gave me great joy to learn that while I was at the clinic my husband, with the help of the children, cooked almost exclusively from my new cookbook, “A kitchen in France”. We recently received a mock up/galley of the book and while it’s in black and white it feels great to have it on the shelf, next to all my favorite cookbook authors. They went for all the “manly” dishes in the book. Entrecôte à la Bordelaise, veal liver, à la Bordelaise, rustic potatoes with onion and duck breasts grilled over vine sarments. I am happy to report that they all worked out and to quote Louise (almost) as if mom had cooked them. Every recipe has been tried and tested, every text read and re-read but then, when it’s out of your hands, at the printers, you start to worry if there are any mistakes. According to this random selection, it’s all good.




The scent of strawberries and honey

My family picked me up at the clinic after a trip to the market on a glorious Saturday morning. Audrey and I had gotten up early and sat in our little outfits by the window at the hospital waiting to see the world. They brought us home in a car perfumed by basil and placed us in that familiar bed with freshly washed (again as you can imagine) sheets and more roses from the garden. I promised to take it easy, I did not. By evening I was cooking up a pepper steak and spinach, hospital food leaves a lot to be desired and all the wonderful dinners they had been having in my absence stirred my food envy.
Audrey is a good baby and, knock on wood, sleeps through the night (elle fait ses nuits as we say here in France). She’s already been to an important meeting regarding our new house and last Friday she had a big outing with her parents and her big sister Gaïa (I can’t believe that little girl, the so-called “our last child ever” is now a big sister). Our first stop was at a honey farm less than a mile from our house. We had often seen a simple sign at the turn of the road that simply read “MIEL” (honey). We had inquired in May about the miel but were told to return in June when the bees had done a bit more work. This honey farm is a little paradise, a handsome stone house, surrounded by forests and meadows with a beautiful manicured rose garden, an orchard and the loveliest cherry trees. Though officially retired the beekeeper, Bernard Seguin and his wife Liliane are every bit as busy as the bees, keeping a garden this pretty requires a lot of work and they say it keeps them young and fit. The honey tastes delicious, a mixture of all the various flowers found in the garden, a bit of acacia, blackthorn, a hint of cherry, a tiny bit of roses, a mix of everything local. It’s a small production and not their livelihood but Bernard says it allows him to meet people and chat and he is a man of many opinions judging from our brief encounter. A former chemist, with a passion for collecting ancient coins and fearless amongst the bees, his favorite band to this day are the Doors, probably he says, because those were his halcyon days. They are a wonderful, interesting couple, Bernard and Liliane, with the most beautiful, thick grey hair. It must be all that honey. We bought a kilo’s worth at the cost of 9 euros, not a penny more not a penny less.
One of my favorite memories of last summer are the moments I spent at the Arnould’s strawberry farm near St. Vivien de Médoc. Strawberries really taste better in the moments after they are picked, and no matter how fresh you get them at the market, a tiny bit of flavor will already be lost. I had breastfed Hudson as an infant at Strawberry Fields in Central Park, now I would take Audrey to a real strawberry field, with actual strawberries. When we arrived the clouds were winning their battle with the sun, it was still hot but the breeze was gathering force. Caroline was delighted to hold Audrey while Gaïa and I picked a handful of strawberries before it was time to pick up the big kids from school.
It may be a far-fetched thought, and Audrey is certainly still very little. But a part of me believes that one day she’ll be standing in a field of strawberries, the wind blowing in her hair and filling her nose with the sweet scent of fresh strawberries and she will think “I don’t know why, but this feels strangely familiar”. The seeds of her first déjà-vu are already in place.

You are never too young to pick strawberries.

ps: The Arnould family have 4 gîtes located in St Vivien de Médoc (basic fully-equipped rooms with kitchen/pool/max 6 people) and there are still availabilties  in July. The prices range between 390-490€ for the whole week! Click here for more information.





Seared or sarment-smoked magrets de canard (duck breasts) are amongst our favorite family meals. I love to partner this versatile meat with something sweet, like peaches or pears, as well the the classic French side dish potatoes Sarladaises. I usually start cooking the duck at the same time as the potatoes Sarladaises, so I can use the rendered duck fat immediately. And when you add the peaches, pear and cherry tian, you end up with a lovely embellished dish fit for any occasion.


Duck breasts with honey & balsamic vinegar
Serves 4 (a generous 4)

3-4 magrets de canard/ duck breasts 350-450g/ 3/4 to 1 pound each
5 tablespoons honey
5 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
Fleur de sel & freshly ground black pepper

For the duck
Score the magret duck breasts on the fatty side using a sharp knife, cutting in a cross hatch pattern (making the cross-hatches about an inch across). Season the magret duck breasts with salt, and place them on a pan, fatty side down. Heat the pan to medium. Cook the breast until the skin is crispy and most of the fat has rendered, about 15 minutes, depending on thickness of breast. Pour off the fat from the pan frequently and reserve in a bowl. It’s best to have the meat on the rosé side. Turn magret breast over, and cook for 5 minutes. Leave to rest for a few minutes, and slice breast into slim slices. Set aside on an oven-proof plate and keep warm in the oven (90°C/200F) while you make the sauce.

Keep 2 tablespoons of duck fat in the pan, add the honey and balsamic vinegar and stir gently. Cook for 30 second on a medium heat (or the sauce will caramelize very quickly), add the juices from the duck and pour in a serving dish.

Serve with the potatoes Sarladaises.

Sarladaises potatoes

900 g/ 2 pounds new potatoes
3-4 cloves garlic, sliced finely
6-8 tablespoons duck fat (use the duck fat rendered from the duck magrets/fillets)
A small bunch of parsley, leaves picked
Fleur de sel & freshly ground black pepper

Slice the potatoes in rondelles, chop the parsley and slice the garlic cloves thinly.

In a large sauté pan, heat the duck fat (on a medium heat), add the potatoes and stir gently for 10 to 12 minutes. When the potatoes start to be golden, season with salt and pepper.
Lower the heat and continue to cook for 15 minutes, or until the potatoes are cooked and tender. Add the garlic and parsley towards the end. Serve immediately.


Cherry, peach & pear tian

Per person: 1 pear, 1 peach and 6 cherries. A few sprigs of rosemary & one tablespoon honey. You will need a small recipient (I use a round ramekin) for individual portions.

Preheat the oven to 180°C/350F

Peel and slice the pear and peach. Slice finely into small rondelles (round slices). Align the slices alternating with each fruit, and place cherries on each side (see picture). Place the sprigs of rosemary on top and drizzle with the honey. Cook in the oven for 20 to 25 minutes. Serve as a side dish with the duck and potatoes.


Summer strawberries are irresistible, and I can’t think of a better dessert than a lovely strawberry tart to serve your guests. The lemon flavored crème patissière is light yet creamy with a little twist and I love throwing a refreshing handful of mint leaves to decorate the tart. Enjoy!

Strawberry tart

1 pack strawberries/ 450 g approx.
2 tablespoons redcurrant jelly/gelée de groseille
A handful of mint leaves

For the shortcrust pastry
125 g/ 1 cup plain flour
75 g/ 1/3 cup butter (softened at room temperature)
15 g/ 2 tablespoons sugar
30 g icing/ 4 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar (sifted)
40 g/ 1/4 cup ground almonds
1/2 egg
1/2 pinch of salt

1) In a large bowl, mix all the ingredients together until the mixture forms a soft dough. Shape into a ball, wrap in cling film and place in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour.
2) On a floured parchment covered surface, roll out the dough to fit the tart pan. Line the tart pan & gently press the edges of the pastry against the interior of the tart pan and prick the base with a fork. Use a piece of leftover dough to press down the edges (this trick will prevent any over-stretching or finger marks).
3) Cover with cling film and place in the freezer for a least 30 minutes (the longer the better). This is a good trick to prevent shrinking.
4) Cut out a piece of parchment paper and line the bottom of the tart. Place beans/marbles/any oven proof weight and blind bake in a preheated oven 180°C/ 350°F for 15 minutes. Remove weight and parchment paper and bake for a further 5 to 8 minutes, or until slightly golden. Set aside and leave to cool for at least 20 minutes before unmoulding.

For the lemon crème patissière
240 ml/1 cup whole milk
120 g granulated sugar
3 egg yolks + 1 egg
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise, beans scraped or 2 tsp vanilla extract
The zest of 2 lemons
150 ml/2/3 cup heavy cream
Juice of 1 lemon
30 g/1/4 cup plain flour

In a large bowl, whisk the sugar, eggs and flour until light and fluffy, about 8 minutes. Add the lemon zest and lemon juice.
Place the milk, cream and vanilla seeds in a large saucepan and bring to a soft simmer. Gently pour the warm mixture into the egg bowl, whisking continuously and return the mixture to the saucepan. Continue to whisk on a low heat, until the mixture thickens to a custard. Pour into a bowl and cover with baking paper directly on top of mixture. Leave to cool completely and place into the refrigerator until ready to serve.

Spoon the crème patissière into the tart and smooth with a spatula.

Place the strawberries on the tart (see picture), starting from the edge in a circular pattern.

Heat the redcurrant jelly and 1 tablespoon water. Leave to cool and brush the strawberries with the mixture for a glossy and sweet glaze. Decorate the tart with the mint leaves.


From one mother’s day to another


Mother’s day comes twice a year

One of the privileges of having a melting pot of a family are the frequent occasions to celebrate. More meals to cook, feasts to have and, sometimes, more presents to enjoy. Like everyone else in France we celebrate the New Year but then we also have a little feast some weeks later to celebrate the Chinese New Year. My husband has introduced into our household an Icelandic tradition called “husband’s” day (very clever of him) and since Louise shares a name with a saint she has a special day to celebrate in addition to her birthday. Social media has further accentuated this tendency, how is it possible not to get caught up in other people’s festive moods, displayed on instagram or facebook. So I often find myself having pancakes and barbecues on the 4th of July, my husband speaks with an Irish accent (very bad one) on St Patrick’s day and has a Guinness. We go ghouly on Halloween, romantic on Valentine’s day and reflective and thankful for peace on Armistice day. It seems there is always something to celebrate, somewhere.
My point is, how is it possible not to get caught up in other people’s joyous celebrations, how can a food lover like myself wake up to photos of roast turkeys with cranberry sauce and pecan pies, and act as if it’s just another day? The answer is I can’t, if someone is celebrating mother’s day I will celebrate it too. Mother’s day in America is ahead of ours here in France by two weeks and two whole weeks is a long time to wait. Last year around mother’s day in France the black locust trees of Médoc were in full bloom but this year they went yankee on us and burst out in early May. So I had two great reasons to do something special, the ripeness of the black locust flowers and mother’s day in America.
In a few days we’ll have another mother’s day, the French one, it’s next Sunday, the 25th of May. That is also my official due date. I’ve never been a particularly punctual person but that would be the ultimate mother’s day celebration.


The best poule-au-pot I’ve ever had

So I woke up on Sunday the 11th of May determined to celebrate Mother’s day (the first). Black locust (Acacia faux-robinier in French) flowers would somehow be on the menu but something else, something bigger, was on my mind. Months ago our good friends Florence and Fabien Courrian were over for dinner and I served them chicken Marengo. They loved it and it sparked a conversation about chicken dishes. Florence kept raving on about her mother’s poule-au-pot, the best one she’d ever had. Let’s just say it planted a seed in my appetite and that seed soon grew into a full-blown craving. Weeks later we were at Flo’s and Fabien’s for dinner and after apéritifs and delicious starters, Florence put a huge cocotte on the middle of the table. Could it be, was I finally to have the famous poule-au-pot? She lifted the lid and out she scooped the most flavorful, spicy … langoustines. When you are being fed something delicious you couldn’t possibly be disappointed, but that moment of anticipation only served to feed my determination. What had been a lingering thought was now a full-blown obsession. At the end of the meal I praised the langoustines and then kindly asked for the recipe … of the poule-au-pot!





On Saturday we had bought the finest chicken (at the Vertessec farm of course), bought crates of vegetables at the market on the way home and when I awoke on Sunday all these goodies were waiting for me like parts on a mechanics table, waiting to be assembled into a masterpiece. Louise was very happy to put on a pretty dress and go look for flowers but Hudson wasn’t really buying the whole mother’s day thing. “I know that mother’s day is not today because we are making things for you at school and they are not ready” he said. After a crustacean lunch I quickly made a stuffing for the chicken and then took Louise with me for some flower hunting. The other girls were under the weather – another good reason to make a luxurious but ultimately comforting chicken dish. It all went according to plan, flowers were picked, a cake, filled with love and petals, was baked. Hudson who was already sceptical about the mother’s day thing was even more sceptical about putting all the flower petals into the dough. He asked “is there another dessert too?” Later that night the chicken came out of the pot and the look on Oddur’s face said it all, this was it, a triumph – after countless other versions of poule- au-pot, in bistros, brasseries and my own kitchen, some of them bland, some of them very good – Florence’s mother’s version is without a doubt the best one. It’s really a winter dish but I think I’ll have to have it every year on Mother’s day, the first one!




Should I stay or should I go

One thing you may not know about me is that I’m fairly indecisive, always weighing my options. When I’m planning a menu I change my mind right up to the moment the butcher or grocer takes my order. It’s the same in restaurants, I need to order last, I listen to everybody else’s order, I picture all the dishes and imagine how they will fit on my palate. Then in a split second I make up my mind. I’m having such a dilemma right now. I’m fairly sure that this will be my last pregnancy, and these are my last days with a bump. Meaning that next time I write a post I’ll be back to normal. I can’t wait to give birth to my little girl, I’m dying to meet her. But there is a part of me that won’t mind keeping her in the oven a few days more, so she’ll be well-baked and ready for life.
The good thing is that it’s not really up to me, she’s on some sort of timer, not one that I set, and if she wants to make a big entrance Sunday the 25th is there for the taking – to be a mother on mother’s day!
p.s. Had this baby been a boy his name would have been Marcel. Marcel Reynard, the second name upon my husband’s insistance as he is infatuated with all things fox. I think it’s a good name and it’s yours if you want it.



This dish is such a national treasure of France that one of its kings, Henry IV, is reported to have said that even the simplest of peasants should be able to have it every Sunday. Of course this says a lot about France, a place where the quality of life is measured in food. Poule-au-pot has long been a staple in French homes and bistros, it exists in countless yet similar versions and can be, at its best, pure heaven. For me the most important thing is, as always, to start with a quality chicken and a delicious stuffing. This recipe comes from a mother of my good friend Florence who is more than an excellent cook. She slides the stuffing under the skin as well as in the cavity, giving the chicken an extra special flavor and texture. Traditionally, the broth was served as a starter with garlic croûtons, followed by the chicken, slices of stuffing and vegetables, as well as rice (boiled in the broth) and a mushroom sauce on the side. As a little bonus, I used the leftover chicken, broth and vegetables the next day to make a very comforting chicken noodle soup with angel hair pasta. The kids loved it!

(serves 6)

1 chicken, approx. 3.3 pounds/1.5 kilos

For the stuffing/farce
4 ounces/110 g stale bread
1/3 pound/ 150 g Bayonne ham
1/3 pound/ 150 g bacon
Gizzards & liver of chicken
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely sliced
2 eggs
1/3 cup/ 80 ml milk
Salt & pepper
A small bunch of parsley, leaves

Soak the bread in the milk. Squeeze out the excess milk. Chop all the ingredients finely, add the eggs and combine together in a bowl. You can also place these ingredients in a food processor and blitz for a few seconds. Season with salt and pepper.
Prepare the chicken. Gently lift the skin away from the breast meat on each side, gradually lifting as much skin as you canall over the chicken. Be extra careful not to tear the skin. Gently place stuffing, with the help of a small spoon or your fingers, under the skin. Place leftover inside the chicken’s cavity and tie the chicken legs together with kitchen twine. Set aside.

For the stock
2 leeks, white part only
2 carrots, peeled
1 celery stalk
1 onion and 8 sticks clove (prick the cloves in the peeled whole onion)
3 garlic cloves, peeled

Prepare the bouillon/broth. In a large dutch-oven pot, pour 3 to 4 litres of water (enough to cover the chicken) and place the leeks, carrots, onion with the clove sticks, the bouquet garni, the garlic cloves, coarse sea-salt and black pepper. Bring to a boil and place the chicken in the broth so it’s entirely covered. Cover with a lid. Depending on the size of the chicken, cook for 1h 15 minutes to 1h 30 minutes on a low heat.

For the rice
1 pound/ 450 g basmati rice
About 30 minutes before serving, pour some of the chicken broth on the rice (about 1 inch above the rice/ 2.5cm), cover with a lid and steam on a medium to low heat for about 15 to 20 minutes, or until the rice is al dente.

For the mushroom sauce
2/3 pounds/ 300 g mushrooms
1 onion, sliced finely
2 tablespoons of unsalted butter
Salt & freshly ground black pepper
For the roux sauce
6 tablespoons/ 90 g unsalted butter
¾ cup / 90 g plain flour

In a large sauté pan, sauté the mushrooms and onion on a medium to high heat with 2 tablespoons of butter for 4 to 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Set the pan aside.
On a medium heat, melt 90 g/ 6 tablespoons unsalted butter in a saucepan. Add 90 g/ ¾ cup plain flour off the heat in one go, mix well with a whisk, and return to the heat (medium to low heat) until the color turns golden. Add a ladle or twoof chicken stock to thicken the sauce and mix well.
Return the mushroom pan to the heat, add the roux sauce to the mushrooms adding a little chicken stock until desired thickness. Check seasoning.

Remove the chicken from the broth and set aside to cool for 3 minutes. Cut into serving portions, remove the stuffing from the cavity and slice into rounds. Arrange chicken pieces, stuffing slices and vegetable on a serving platter. Serve with the rice and mushroom sauce on the side, and generously drizzle the chicken broth.


Black locust flower cake

12-15 locust flowers clusters, pluck the petals only
3 eggs
¾ cup/ 150 g plain sugar
1 tablespoon honey
6 tablespoons/ 90 g unsalted butter, melted
1 tsp  baking powder
1 &1/4 cup /150 g plain flour, sifted
¼ cup/ 30 g corn starch (maïzana), sifted
¼ tsp salt
1 tablespoon orange flower water

Preheat oven to 180°C/ 350 F
In a large bowl, whisk the eggs and sugar together until light and fluffy. Mix the flour, corn starch, salt and baking powder together in another bowl and add into the eggs & sugar mixture. Add the butter, orange water and honey – mix well. Fold in the flower petals and gently mix.
Butter a cake mould and pour in the batter.
Bake in the preheated oven for 30 minutes.
Leave to cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes and unmould. Decorate with flowers all over.


Sorrel, Rhubarb & Squid


It’s been quiet in the countryside of late. The little girl inside me (the actual little baby girl inside me) is starting to take her toll on my back so I find myself increasingly sitting down as I continue with the cooking. My father-in-law says I shouldn’t make such a fuss about every meal (although he enjoys them as much as anyone) but there is just nowhere I’d rather be, sitting in my chair shelling fava beans, like an old lady from Sicily. The weather has been fickle but charming, warm winds, rain and sun. My oven broke down, which for me is a disaster, I am still waiting to have it back, the repair got delayed because of the “Bridges of May” – in France one holiday on Thursday calls for Friday off too. In the meantime I have put my frying pans to good use and I can always count on my cocottes (dutch ovens), they never let me down. This calm won’t last though, the little girl has some exit plans and then we collectively have an exit plan of our own as I mentioned in my last post. It was overwhelming how many of you reached out, commented and sent me emails. I promise we’ll be up and running as soon as we possibly can and I can’t wait to meet you all. Thank you so much for your kind words of encouragement – they truly mean a lot to me. Merci, merci et merci!




In the midst of all this calm something strange but wonderful happened. I was lying in bed one morning trying to figure out a whether my back would prefer to stay in bed or do some gardening. There was a light, polite knock on my door. The kids were at school so I thought it must be Gaïa, or even a dog with manners (not that we have many of those). I was wrong. When I opened the door I was greeted by the curious trio of a Sorrel, a Squid and a stalk of Rhubarb. They seemed to have something important to say.




“Mimi, we need to talk”, said the Sorrel. “We feel we’ve been in the chorus long enough, now it’s time you give us some starring roles”.
“Yeah”, said the Squid.
The rhubarb just looked down. “Guys I’m not sure about this” he mumbled.
I spoke directly to the Sorrel “but I use you all the time, in sauces, with other vegetables, non?”
The Sorrel spoke confidently back to me, “Nobody notices me in those dishes, they rave on about the lobster, they praise the sauce but no one ever says – wow that Sorrel tastes amazing, they probably think I’m estragon.”
“But that’s your job” I said, “you’re a character actor, not a star, there aren’t that many starring roles for Sorrel” (this is when his cousin  the Rhubarb just quietly disappeared).
“That’s your problem, not mine” the Sorrel said, “I want a portrait, not a group shot with tons of other vegetables, I want top billing, I want to be the hero for once – A Sorrel monologue – just me!” “Otherwise I quit and you just have to find yourself some other herb to flavour your sauces.”
I thought about it for a while then said cautiously, “Well I have to pair you with something, potatoes maybe.”
He thought about it for a while, then nodded approvingly. “Potatoes are fine.”
“Yeah”, said the Squid.
The following day I presented them with my suggestions. A soup dominated by the slightly acidic and punchy taste of Sorrel, a warm Squid salad with colorful peppers and fennel. The Rhubarb was there but still looking down.
“I like it” said the Sorrel, “don’t forget the solo portrait – and we have a deal”.
“Yeah” said the Squid.
“What about you” I asked the Rhubarb.
“I’m not comfortable talking in front of the others” he said.
As the Sorrel and Squid were leaving the former suddenly turned and said “It’s Sorrel soup and Squid salad – no funny business like Sorrel AND potato soup, right?” Then they left.
The Rhubarb edged closer and said, half whispering “Look, I know I’m not star material, I’m no George Clooney. I’ll never be a peach or a cherry, and I know some people find me sour. But please find something for me to do, I’m dying here.”
“Why don’t I introduce you to some strawberries and we’ll make a nice compote for a panna cotta”. “I would love to roast you but I have no oven and the strawberries will give you a nice red color”, I said.
“I love panna cotta” the Rhubarb said and he was flushed with pride, even his green side turned red.
“So panna cotta it is, and don’t worry, we’ll have more photos of you than any of the others” I said encouragingly.




And so it was that we, during our quiet days in the country, had three wonderful little dishes, where these auxiliary players of my food universe stepped up to stardom … and might I add, got rave reviews.
Apart from a short trip to Paris this week, having this quiet time has been wonderful and prepares us all for what lies ahead, it’s the calm before the storm. Although I am hoping that we’ll just breeze through it all, that there won’t really be a storm.

Let’s just call it a summer wind.


Sorrel soup
(serves 4-6)

110 g/ 4 ounces (a small bunch) sorrel leaves, stemmed and chopped
450 g/ 1 pound potatoes, peeled and diced coarsely
45 g/3 tablespoons butter
½ tsp ground nutmeg
Crème fraîche, approx 1 tablespoon per serving
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper
In a large pot, melt the butter on a medium heat and add the sorrel leaves. Stir for a few minutes, until the leaves have melted, then add the diced potatoes. Continue to cook for 2 minutes. Season with salt and pepper, add the nutmeg. Pour 1.2 liters/ 5 cups of water into the pot and bring to a soft boil. Turn the heat to low and leave to cook for 30 minutes. Blend soup with a stick blender, season if necessary and serve into individual bowl, with a spoon of crème fraîche if desired. Serve with grilled parmesan tartines, with a drizzle of olive oil.


Venus Clams sautéed en persillade

These clams are particularly fleshy, excellent in every ways. I love roasting them with a garlic & parsley butter stuffing (just like snails à la Bourguignonne), but I also enjoy cooking them simply, sautéed in a persillade, with a dash of wine.

1 kg/ 2-2.5 pounds Venus clams/ in French they are called praires
A bunch of fresh parsley, chopped
3-4 cloves of garlic, sliced finely
3 tbsp olive oil
1 glass of dry white wine
Sea-salt and black pepper
Zest of 1 lemon
A dash of piment d’espelette

Rinse clams in cold water several times and drain.
Heat 3 tbsp olive oil in a medium-sized pot or large sauté pan over medium-high heat. Add garlic, stir for 1-2 minutes. Add clams and white wine, season with salt and pepper. Cover, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes, or until clams open. Add a handful of chopped parsley and sprinkle with piment d’espelette. Grate the zest of 1/2 lemon just before serving. Serve immediately.


Squid and fennel salad

1 kg fresh squid, cleaned (you can ask your fishmonger to prepare them)
1 large fennel (reserve the feathery leaves), thinly sliced
2/3 small red peppers
3 /4 garlic cloves
1 bunch of parsley, leaves picked and finely chopped
Zest of one lemon
Juice of ½ lemon
6 tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for frying
A dash of piment d’espelette or chili flakes
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

Rinse the squid under cold running water and pat dry. Halve the tentacles lengthwise and cut bodies crosswise. Cut 5 cm /2 inches slices. Season with salt & pepper.
Using a sharp knife, lightly score to mark parallel lines 1/2 cm wide on the cuttlefish flaps. Heat the olive oil in a large pan. When the pan is sizzling hot, cook the squid on both sides, just about 30 seconds or less on each side. Set aside.
Add a bit more olive oil to the pan and sauté the diced red peppers for 4 to 5 minutes. Return the squid to the pan, sprinkle a dash of chilli flakes, add the garlic and cook for 3 mores minutes. Turn off the heat, add the finely chopped parsley, the fennel and set the pan aside. Drizzle the lemon vinaigrette and toss everything together. Just before serving, grate the zest of one lemon all over, and sprinkle the feathery leaves of the fennel.
Serve immediately.


Rhubarb & strawberry panna cotta

This delightful dessert is so incredibly easy to make! I always keep pretty yogurt pots, either in terracotta or glass – they come in very handy for this treat. Make sure to prepare these well in advance, as they do need time to set, at least 1/2 day or overnight in the refrigerator. The gelatin I use comes by pack of 9 sheets weighing 17 g – so 5 sheets is approximately 10 g. The rhubarb & strawberries compote is a perfect match – I usually make a double dose of compote, as I love having some for breakfast or mixed in my porridge bowl. Enjoy!

For the panna cotta
(makes about 8 small jars)

750 ml full-cream/whole milk
250 ml heavy cream
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise
150 g/ 2/3 cup granulated sugar
5 gelatin sheets – (10 g)

Soak the gelatin sheets in cold water.
In a saucepan, heat the milk, cream, vanilla beans and sugar on a medium heat. Bring to a soft simmer, take off the heat and add the gelatin sheets (squeeze off excess water). Stir with a whisk until completely dissolved. Set aside.
Fill the ramekins 3/4 full. Leave to cool at room temperature, then refrigerate until set (at least half a day).

For the rhubarb and strawberries compote

250 g/ ½ pound rhubarb, chopped
150 g/ 1/3 pound strawberries, halved
65 g/ 1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons water
1/2 tablespoon lemon juice

Rinse rhubarb and strawberries. Cut the rough ends of the rhubarb and slice into small chunks. Halve the strawberries.
Place fruits in a saucepan, add the sugar, lemon juice and water. Turn the heat on medium and cook, stirring occasionally for about 10 to 12 minutes.
Leave to cool, store in a glass jar with a lid, and store in the refrigerator.
To serve: When the panna cottas are set, fill the panna cotta jars with the rhubarb & strawberries compote.

Mimi's bump

37 weeks and counting…

While we’re still young


In this family we have a habit of finding things we weren’t looking for. Or at least things we didn’t know we were looking for. Years ago we went looking for a hound and ended up with a terrier (which has since multiplied), then we thought we might move to Normandie but ended up in Médoc, I studied finance but found myself in the kitchen. Let’s just say that with us, things happen rather than being planned. Last year we went searching for yellow flowers, which we found, but the flowers also led us to the the château of one of the nicest guys we’ve ever met, Fabien Courrian. Earlier this spring, through Fabien, we found something so special that it might change our lives forever. I am guessing I have your attention now?





What we found was the greenish-blue door of an old house in the center of a quiet village in the middle of the vineyards. As I walked through that door I had the most powerful serendipitous feeling I’ve ever had – this house was meant for me. As in a haze I glided like a ghost through the vast dark corridors, the shutters kept most of the sunshine out but what little pierced through led my way. Slowly the house unveiled itself and as we rushed to open more and more windows it was gradually exposed. This house was too good to be true. But wait, it gets better. The house was previously owned by a woman called Plantia, a formidable woman, famous for her black dresses and her wonderful cooking. Hmm, black dresses, cooking – it does ring a bell. There is far more to her story but that is for another post, in fact it is worthy of a book, my next one? She ran a restaurant and a hotel in the house, yes it’s that big and as I walked into her kitchen, adorned with a dreamy fireplace, I could almost smell the cooking of times gone by. It’s all so mythical that it makes me feel like I’m right in the middle of an Isabel Allende novel – it really is a house of spirits and my future lies in it.





To make a very long story short – we decided to buy it, and so we’re moving this summer from our beloved home in the forest to live amongst the vines. It is also the beginning of a new chapter for us in a different way. The house is so grand, so big, with two kitchens, and a terrace on the roof no less, that I can do what I’ve been dreaming about for a while, forever, which is opening a seasonal restaurant (table d’hôtes). It will be the bistrot of my dreams where I’ll serve all my favorite food and source the best products available. Let’s imagine it together. I can picture you walking through the big front gate (that needs to be painted) and I (or maybe Oddur) will greet you with a glass of rosé or perhaps Pineau if you prefer. There might be a little fox terrier puppy fooling around in the courtyard and some folks playing pétanque. You will nibble on the amazing baguette from Soulac and some charcuterie from Louis Ospital. I might give you a bit of tuna rillettes while you make up your mind on the menu and if it was your lucky day, some freshly picked cèpes mushrooms too.





The menu will be ever-changing but you can rely on always finding my parmentier de canard, my crème fraîche with herbs chicken and my chocolate swirl meringues. The wine-list will be fairly small and personal with a selection of the best wines that have ever graced my table. Of course you will find Fabien’s Tour Haut Caussan, Olivier Compagnet’s Elise, as well as one of my husband’s favorites the Clos du Marquis from St Julien. For rosé, I can’t think of a better choice than L’Ostal Cazes, so fresh and perfect for summer. Some Drappier champagne to celebrate anything you want… And I hope I’ll manage to offer the ’96 Château Lynch-Bages that I had last summer and am still dreaming about.
I am so excited as I write this that my chair has now lifted from the floor and I am floating in air (mythical meets Mary Poppins). And there is more news to tell. As you know I am very fond of people who love food with passion. Now I’ll have a chance to finally meet some of you as I am planning to host cooking ateliers (workshops). We might start as early as late this fall, hopefully the rooms will be ready and we’ll be roaring to go. Of course I will give more details later but I’d love to hear from interested parties. There will be fun and there will be food & wine (too much of both).





I might be walking on air but I certainly can’t live on it so despite all this excitement this Mary Poppins as been as busy as ever in the kitchen. I’m still under the spell of fava beans – in all honesty I have them every day and sometimes twice. They are the meatiest of vegetables, so versatile and just so good. Last Wednesday I bought all they had at the market but we still managed to finish it in one day. First I made a delicious steamed flan, with peas and asparagus on the side. La douceur ressort dans la vapeur. Then, because Easter is near, I wanted to try something with lamb and ended up including fava beans in that too. The campagnarde sauce is courtesy of my trusted butcher M. Manenti – a bread, garlic and parsley delight to accompany the lamb. For dessert, a fontainebleau so delicate that only the finest muslin can dress it. Who knows maybe you’ll find yourself sitting at my restaurant next summer and I’ll be serving you a fontainebleau with a smile on my face.


One more month to go till baby arrives!




Some people find what they are looking for (or not looking for) at the end of the rainbow but I found my house at the end of the alphabet, x marks the spot for me just before the YZ of Saint-Yzans de Médoc. I’ve had it in the back of my mind for a while now to branch out and open a little bistrot. I’ll put all I’ve got into it and give it my best shot. After we’ve restored the gem of a kitchen to its former glory, after some wallpapers have been updated and a few floorboards put into shape, I hope everything I’ve learned about food and cooking through the years will pay off and that my passions will land firmly on your plate. My enthusiasm and spirit for this project is boundless, blind luck and bottomless ambition have merged and it just feels the time is right – while we’re still young!




p.s. My husband has been listening non-stop to a song called ‘La mia seranata‘ by Jimmy Fontana while he’s been preparing the photos for this post. He says it goes perfectly with the mood of the house. It’s a nice, quaint little serenade, don’t get me wrong I like it, just not twelve times in a row. Nevertheless he recommends you try to find it and play it, in low quality (like directly from an iPod) from another room or even put it inside while dining outside – to imitate the sound coming from a far away old gramophone. So there you have it (yes his instructions are often this detailed).





Fabien Courrian & Louise. Fava bean flan (right).

Fava beans and peas flans

180 ml/ ¾ ml full cream/crème entière liquide
240 ml/ 1 cup whole milk
2 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced
4 eggs
¼ tsp nutmeg
100 g/3/4 cup + 150 g/ 1 cup for garnish fava beans, peeled
50 g/ 1/3 cup peas + 50 g/ 1/3 cup fresh peas
10 green asparagus
A small handful of fresh mint leaves
Lemon zest of 1 lemon
Olive oil
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

For about 4 to 6 ramekins depending in size

Heat milk and cream with garlic in a saucepan, add 100 g peeled fava beans and 50 g peas. Add nutmeg, salt and pepper. Bring to a soft boil and simmer on a low heat for a few minutes, until fava beans and peas start to be tender. Take off the heat. Blend mixture with a stick blender until smooth. Whisk the eggs in a bowl and pour in the cream mixture.
Prepare to boil the water in the steamer. Pour about half a teaspoon of olive oil in the ramekins and swirl them around so the oil covers the sides as well. Place 2 fava beans and a few peas in the bottom, and pour the mixture in (3/4 full). Place the flans in the steamer, cover and cook for about 15 to 18 minutes, or until the flans are set.
While the flans are cooking, sauté the asparagus, the rest of the fava beans and peas in a tablespoon of olive oil for 3 minutes on a medium heat in a pan. Add 2 tablespoons of water and continue to cook for 5 minutes, or until vegetables are al dente. Season with salt and pepper.
Prepare a serving plate, unmould the flans using a palette knife, and place the sautéed vegetables on top. Sprinkle with chopped mint leaves, a drizzle of olive oil and a few gratings of fresh lemon zest. Serve warm.


Roast rack of lamb and campagnarde sauce

Serves 4

1 rack of lamb, about 900g -1 kg/about 2 pounds
650 g/ 1 1 1/22 pounds ratte potatoes
8 garlic cloves, unpeeled
250 g fava beans, peeled
Olive oil
A few fresh rosemary sprigs
A dash of piment d’espelette
Sea-salt & freshly ground black pepper

For the lamb rack

Parboil the potatoes for 10 minutes in a large pot of salted boiling water. Halve them horizontally.
Season the lamb with salt and pepper and sprinkle piment d’espelette. Brown the meat until golden in a large sauté pan with olive oil on all sides and place lamb in a roasting pan, along with all the juices and 6-8 unpeeled garlic cloves (we call them ail en chemise). Scatter fresh rosemary sprigs on top, place the halved potatoes and fava beans around the meat. Drizzle with olive oil and season with salt & pepper.
Place in a preheated oven 180°C/ 350 F. Cook for 20-30 minutes, or until desired cuisson.

For the campagnarde gravy sauce

Sauce from the pan
120 g/2 cups bread crumbs from stale bread (like baguette), crust removed
60 ml/ ¼ cup white wine
180 ml/3/4 cup veal stock
Sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons butter
A small bunch of parsley, leaves picked and finely chopped
2-3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

Process the stale bread (crust removed) until loosely crumbled. Pour the juices from the lamb rack pan into a saucepan, add the stock and cook on a medium heat. Bring to a soft boil, add the wine, salt and pepper, and continue to cook for 10 minutes. Add the butter and take off the heat. Add the breadcrumbs (adjust more or less if you want a thicker or thinner sauce), finely chopped parsley and garlic – stir gently. Pour into a serving gravy dish. Serve immediately with the lamb.



Serves 4-6

Faisselle is made from fresh curds, hand-ladled into colander molds, so the liquid is drained to your liking. If you can’t find faisselle, then I would suggest to use full-fat/whole fromage blanc as an alternative. Let the faisselle drain for at least 4 hours (or even overnight), either in its own container or place it in a colander and over a bowl in a refrigerator. Fontainebleau is sold in French cheese store, wrapped in muslin cloths and placed in a small cup. My favourite ones in Paris are sold at the fromagère Marie-Anne Cantin, 12, rue du Champs de Mars, 75007 Paris.

350 g/ 12 ounces faisselle (alternatively fromage blanc if you can’t find faisselle)
160 ml/2/3/ cup heavy cream/ crème entière liquide (for whipping)
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise and seeds scraped (optional)
Whip the heavy cream, add the vanilla seeds (optional). Discard the drained liquid and whip the faisselle (or fromage blanc). Fold in the whipped cream to the faisselle (or fromage blanc).
Place the mixture, about the size of a tennis ball) on a square of muslin cloth, join the four ends and twist on top (just like in the photos).
Make a fresh coulis by blending 250 g strawberries and 120 g fine/caster sugar in the mixer. As simple as that.
Serve the wrapped fontainebleau desserts on individual serving plates. Let your guests unwrap the little parcels and serve with strawberry coulis.



Get every new post delivered to your Inbox

Join other followers: