A Literary Culinary Journal
This is another low-fat, high-fiber meal that fits perfectly in to any weight loss plan. All these ingredients are available as of late April in Switzerland.
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by Jean-Philippe de Tonnac
Cliquez ici pour la version française.
Translated and adapted by Jonell Galloway
French bread bakers are in the limelight these days, and are considered as much artists as artisans. Marie-Odile Briet recently paid homage to their creativity, unbridled by the French government’s 1993 “bread decree,” defining in very precise terms what could and couldn’t be defined as “bread.” The most illustrious advocates of the art of bread making, which in essence had to be reinvented, were Gontran Cherrier (Paris), Dominique Saibron (Paris), Christophe Vasseur (Paris), Jean-Luc Poujauran (Paris), Basile Kamir (Paris), Eric Kayser (Paris) and Benoît Fradette (Aix-en-Provence).
They merit the name of bread baker, or boulanger, as well as inventors. But we mustn’t leave out the stout-hearted artisans, working quietly in their bakeries in the wee hours of the morning, with no one tooting horns for them, who are nonetheless master bakers. And where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and this is the proof of the true renaissance of the French bread making profession — a renaissance that has spread from a few Parisian arrondissements to the entire country. It is a true phenomenon that has spread its wings far and wide; it is a movement that has started a new chapter in the history of French bread making. In this new paradigm, there is no longer any plausible excuse for bad bread, for flavorless bread, for bread that is too expensive or too anything. The movement is quietly deepening its roots, backed by a history dating back thousands of years, basking in the glow of its established nutritional qualities. But that’s not all: these master bakers are now an integral part of the whole redefinition of French cuisine. Bread is no longer considered a humble food to fill your belly or to sop up your sauce. It is clearly in the public eye.
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by Jonell Galloway
For most of us, the word “fondue” conjures up images of poking those long skinny forks into a piece of bread and dipping it into a Swiss-style melted cheese fondue on the table in front of us, while sitting in a rustic chalet in the mountains with a beautiful view out over the mountains. Fondue certainly can mean that, but it doesn’t always.
The word literally means “melted” in French and should, if all be told, be used as an adjective. Although the name has been twisted a bit from the original meaning over the years, it still strongly retains traces of the original meaning, since it always includes the sense of something solid like cheese or chocolate melting into a sauce or pulp. The one exception to this is Burgundy fondue, which is basically like a smaller version of the medieval boiling pot of oil that was poured over the heads of invaders, and if spilled on you, it may not kill you, but it is highly possible it will leave you with lifetime scars.
The original fondue originated in Switzerland, and consists of a cheese sauce made with cheese, corn flour, kirsch, garlic and sometimes flavorings, such as wild mushrooms, tomatoes, shallots, depending on the canton.
Eighteenth-century French gastronome Brillat-Savarin also used the term in his Physiologie du goût, or Physiology of Taste, considered one of the great classics of all time on French cuisine. His fondue consisted of scrambled eggs and cheese, and the cheese was melted.
Many vegetable preparations also go by the name fondue. When vegetables are cooked slowly in fat for a very long time, they eventually start to “melt” and form a pulp. They can then be used to make sauces or as constituent elements in other dishes, for example fondue of carrots or fondue of onions.
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by Jonell Galloway
I always get really excited when the strawberries and rhubarb come on the market. For me it’s literally like “breaking news.” They’re really the first local fruit.
One of my favorite dishes is strawberry-rhubarb compote. It’s healthy, full of fiber and vitamins; it’s also versatile and can be used in many ways.
In addition, it’s about as easy as you can get.
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by David Downie
Confession time: for the last 25+ years I’ve lived in Paris and traveled the byways of France and Italy, tasting and writing about delicious food and lickerish wines. I’ve rarely felt gastronomic nostalgia for my native land, though the food and wine of California admittedly aren’t bad (this is serious understatement as you all know). But I have an incurable passion for peanuts in all sizes, shapes, and clonal varieties. I also love other spicy nuts, and, the real shocker, brittle. Yes, brittle. Peanut brittle not only hits all the right pleasure buds. It also whisks me back to the happy days of my youth in San Francisco and Berkeley, when “wild” was the operative descriptor.
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by Christophe Certain
Recipe translated and adapted by Jonell Galloway
Click here for French version
Tajine or tagine, as the Berbers call it, is a oven-stewed dish baked in a heavy clay pot. It is found in North African cuisines, in particular in Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia and Libya.
The name “tajine” actually refers to the clay pot in which it is cooked, because it has a very particular shape. The bottom part is flat and circular with low sides. The cover is dome-shaped and rests inside the base while baking. A tajine dish is usually painted or glazed and is quite decorative, so it can put directly on the table.
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Meet Jonell Galloway, a freelance writer and editor specialized in French cuisine. 
