129. Porcs volants

17th March 2011. Need a laugh this morning? Look no further!

"A survey of British consumers has revealed the ignorance of many people when it comes to butcher's shops, once a part of people's weekly or even daily shop. Not only did some think pig wings existed, nearly two in ten thought tofu ribs were a cut of meat, and a leg of liver was something you could buy. As many as 23 per cent thought a chicken chop or a lamb drumstick was a product they could pick up in a supermarket or a butcher's shop."

And a Wiki article to tickle your taste buds.. Did this paragraph I found somewhere make your mouth water - or is it just me?

"I find it extraordinary that chicken has become a cheap filler on our plates – they were once regarded as a luxury and rarely eaten until fully grown. There is still a culture of eating large birds in France. I have to admit – sheepishly – to making a recent pilgrimage to Lyon to eat the famous Volaille de Bresse Demi-Deuil (138 euros serving two). This is the dish made famous by the late “Mère” Eugenie Brazier at her eponymous restaurant in the city. Black truffles are slipped under the skin; the whole bird is wrapped in muslin (or sometimes cooked in a pig’s bladder), then poached. The breast meat is served first with a cream sauce made with the stock, then the legs are taken away to be roasted and served as the second course."

Madame and I have promised ourselves a Poulet de Bresse one of these days. Inceasingly these days we prefer poultry to red meat and a good free range chicken is worth every penny. I don't know what a Poulet de Bresse would cost but I think it would be worth it. These birds are the Rolls-Royce of the chicken world and have had an "Appellation d’origine contrôlée" (AOC) designation since 1957. One of the reasons for their fame - apart from the taste - is that they're red, white and blue: a single red crest, with red wattles; white feathers including the hackles and fine blue feet.

I must admit to watching the process of raising the chickens with mixed feelings (urban guilt and a shot of hypocrisy). I think it's a straightforward commercial operation for the farmers and sentiment has no place in the equation for them.

I forgot to mention that, France being France, where there's a food delicacy, a Confrérie won't be too far behind! As you'll see from this clip, chicken is a serious business in France. As for the judges - as the saying goes, it's a tough job but someone has to do it..

Here's today's free bonus offer! This is one of the best recipes ever for chicken.. Roast chicken with 40 cloves of garlic (recipe in English) (recettes en Français). Madame's made it a few times. When the chicken emerges from the oven, because the garlic hasn't been cut, it doesn't have that familiar pungency that causes many Anglo-Saxons to recoil and call for the vicar. In France, the chicken is served with a few slices of unbuttered toast on the side. If you take a clove of garlic and squeeze it flat from one end, the garlic comes out like toothpaste which you then spread on your toast. If you are slightly paranoid about garlic, make it for a Friday evening, then you'll have the whole of the weekend to purge yourself! (plus you'll guarantee you'll have a fly-free house for the weekend!)

Edited to add:  I'm reminded that the Poulet Landais is just as good as the Poulet de Bresse.. and I'm inclined to agree. After trying a Poulet de Bresse, I must admit that the best chicken I've ever eaten was a free range bird from Les Landes. I'm happy to set the record straight! 

Bon app!

28. It never rains but it..

5th November 2009. I’ve been confined to barracks for a couple of days – last Tuesday the rhumatologue administered the final injection (last of three) of 'gunge' into my knees to act as a cushion in the joints. After my knees have stabilised, I’ll then have to see a physio for some “re-education” as they call it (sounds a bit Maoist). Rowing looks to be ‘off’ for the foreseeable future – it will probably be around Christmas before I can start again.

The Indian summer we’ve been enjoying up last weekend has suddenly segued into a week of most un-English rain. Fortunately, window shutters here in the South West are solid wood – they’re not the effete louvred jobbies beloved of impressionist painters – and, as always, there’s a very good reason why.

The Vieux Port, Biarritz taking a pounding.

Here, rain doesn’t manifest itself as a gentle drizzle that lasts most of the day, or as dancing showers that spatter the windows for a few minutes and puts a short-lived shine on the pavements. No, rain “à la Pays Basque” sweeps in directly from Ye Famouf Olde Baye of Bifcay (Purveyor of Torrential Downpourf to SW France fince Time Immemorial). Rain that, if it were any heavier, would be solid water. Rain that seems malevolent and blows in visible sheets that hit the ground and bounce back up again. Rain that drums in rising crescendos against the roof, walls and shutters, swept in by wailing winds that buffet and swirl around the house, rattling the tightly fastened shutters as if searching for the weak point.

Approaching storm at Anglet

Last night was a particularly bad night I’m told. While I was deep in my usual 3am coma-like oblivion, apparently the world as we know it was ending just the other side of our shutters and Madame feared for the house. This phenomenon probably explains why hanging baskets are rarely if ever seen here.. they'd be blown away in one of these storms.

Here's a clip of the breakers smashing in to the rocks at Biarritz..

I've come to realise that France is greatly more politicised than England. French politics exert a huge influence on daily life here. The complete politicisation of French society surprised me when I first noticed it and it continues to surprise me. Politics are everywhere and just about everything on the radar seems to have a political dimension.

In England, the Royal Family is available to act as a distraction for the media but here in France, with no Royal family, the media in all its forms has the government of the day's actions under permanent microscopic daily scrutiny. Every argument has 2 opposing elements – Left & Right – and the airwaves are awash with programmes with political journalists arguing and chewing over every action by the government. Journalists of the Left and Right try to tease an anti- or a pro-government spin respectively from daily events. The apparatus of the State is visibly politicised to a degree unknown in England – although maybe in England it is there but it’s less intrusive. The power of the State cascades down through a formal system of Prefets, sous-Prefets and mayors - all the way down to idle wasters.. like me.

And so we sign off on this rain-sodden dank grey day with this uplifting reminder of the 1950s:

And if I'm not mistaken, I reckon the chicken giving its all for Pathe News is a poulet de Bresse - ze Rolls-Royce of chickens, at least here in France.