Kitchen Christening (17/10/11)

Here I am, bien installé in our new flat. First thing I did was sort out the kitchen (well that is after Adrien and Hubert had lugged a 1960s cooker that weighs an absolute tonne up the stairs- quite glad I didn’t have to get involved in that). I made an old bookcase into a sort of cabinet to store all the pretty kitchen stuff and then put all the crappy stuff in the cupboards. After visiting our local épicerie fine (Lidl :P) we stocked up the cupboards and had people over to dinner. Turns out they didn’t do things by halves in the 1960s- our oven is hotter than the sun. But great for making roast potatoes smothered in oil and rosemary grown in the Rochefort garden.

One thing I’ve put on my lovely cabinet of attractive kitcheny stuff is a selection of bottles into which I’ve whacked in some rosemary, garlic and chillies. I’m gonna leave these a long old while so they get nice and infused, they’ll be great for salads, pizzas and bruschetta after a couple of months of stewing away. mmmmmmmm. 

Les Huiles Huilus

Right on our doorstep there’s a huge market known as le marché de la croix rousse. It’s incredible, stretching right down le pente (the slope) and spilling out into squares and side streets. Shopping at a market is an incredibly pleasing experience. Standing by the butchers stall we learnt from an extremely smiley old lady how to go about cooking tete de veau  and other such stomach turning meaty delicacies.

Other exciting market adventures involved wolfing down a fresh oyster (I’m trying to train myself to like them but I have to say swallowing a salty, still squirming sea creature with the texture of phlegm at 10 in the morning with a hangover wasn’t the best idea in the world) having a quick glass of red with a Beaujolais wine maker and chewing on a twig that tasted of liquorice. This bizarre snack called a ‘baton de réglisse’ was introduced to us by Adrien who as a child, apparently couldn’t get enough of chewing on sticks (it doesn’t surprise me). Me and Daisy were puzzled  and chewed too hard, ending up with a mouth full of tiny splinters (not my idea of a tasty snack)The monsieur who sold them to us saw our failings and began to tell us that this natural delicacy took time and patience to appreciate, that you should leave it in your mouth and let the flavour develop.  This philosophy of appreciation and dedication is something  that can be seen throughout the French approach to eating and cooking. It’s all about taking your time.