Quintessential France: Before Dinner, by Pierre Bonnard

Published by Sunday, November 29, 2015 Permalink 0

Quintessential France: Before Dinner, by Pierre Bonnard, 1924.

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What’s the difference between a gourmand and a gourmet?

Published by Tuesday, November 24, 2015 Permalink 1

Et pevent estre diz en francois gloutons et gourmans./ And can be said in French gluttons and gourmands.Nicolas Oresme, fourteenth century

Les gourmands font leurs fosses avec leurs dents. / Gluttons dig their graves with their own teeth.–Henri Estienne, sixteenth century

Gourmandism is an impassioned, considered, and habitual preference for whatever pleases the taste. It is the enemy of overindulgence; any man who eats too much or grows drunk risks being expelled from the army of disciples.”–Jean-Antheleme Brillat-Savarin, The Physiology of Taste (1825)

The meaning of gourmand is now certainly closer to gourmet than it is to glutton, but our evidence shows clearly that gourmand and gourmet are still words with distinct meanings in the bulk of their use, and are likely to remain so.Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage, 1994

by Jonell Galloway

In English, there is confusion about the term gourmand. Technically, it means “one who is excessively fond of eating and drinking,” just like in French, but it is often used as a synonym for gourmet. Being a French speaker, I cringe every time I hear it used to mean “a connoisseur of food and drink.”

Yes, I’m a purist, and perhaps I’ve lived in France too long to find this acceptable, because being a gourmand has a pejorative connotation in French. It means someone who enjoys too much of a good thing and can’t quite control his appetites. It means “glutton”. It’s quite all right to be a gourmand of books or theatre, but not of food, as paradoxical as that may seem.

All major Western religions deem gluttony a sin. It is one of the Seven Cardinal Sins, with moderation being the virtue.

Gourmandizing means overeating or eating immodestly; it means eating like a refined pig or stuffing oneself with good food and drink.

Gourmand is extended to other sensual pursuits as well. You can have gourmandes lips; I’ll let you imagine the meaning of that. One can also be too gourmand about money, i.e. like in a little too much.

Then comes the question of whether gluttony includes pleasure, because gourmandise does, despite its negative connotation, contain an element of pleasure. Gourmands eat too much, but they do so with pleasure.

Gourmandise may be a sin in the eyes of religion, but thanks to Brillat-Savarin, probably France’s greatest gastronomic writer ever, it recovered its sense of finesse in his “meditations,” and he spent a good deal of time looking for evidence that it was a sin. He found none, he said. All the etymologists and theologians had gotten it wrong. He concluded that gourmandise is in reality a passionate, reasoned, regular preference for objects that please the taste buds. It is, he said, the enemy of excess and is only to be encouraged. That’s one writer’s opinion.

Some say the word gourmand probably comes from the Burgundian gorman, but that’s not clear. Gourmet is different, despite the fact that it may well have the same root, groumet, meaning “servant or valet in charge of wines,” from the Middle English grom, meaning boy or valet (as in groom). Somehow along the way gourmand took on the meaning friand, often linked to glouton, meaning “greedy.” A gourmet is a person who cultivates a discriminating palate and knows how to appreciate both good food and wine. In French, its synonyms are gastronome, expert, connoisseur, or master. In English and used as an adjective, gourmet often means “fancy” food. It does not carry with it the connotation of excess or lack of self-control, either in French or in English.

It’s interesting to look at the origins of words, and they do change meaning over time, as we have seen, and when they are borrowed by other languages. Whether this is technically the case in English with regard to gourmet and gourmand is still questionable however, because one often sees the word gourmand used in lieu of gourmet.

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What to Eat in France: Anchoyade Languedocienne

Published by Friday, August 21, 2015 Permalink 0

What to Eat in France: Anchoyade Languedocienne or Anchovies from the Ancient Province of Languedoc

by Jonell Galloway

Quand se garnis uno ensalado,
Fau qu’aquéu que met la sau fugue un sage;
Aquéu que met lou vinaigre, un avare;
Aquéu que met l’òli, un proudigue.–Popular minstrel rhyme

“When dressing a salad, the person who adds the salt has to be careful; the person who adds the vinegar wise, and the person who adds the oil generous,” said the wandering minstrels in Langue d’Oc.

Anchoyade is the langue d’oc spelling. In French (and in the Provençal dialect), it is written anchoïade. In English, anchoiade.

The former province of Languedoc bordered Provence, where anchoïde is king, but in Languedoc, anchovies are mashed into a paste. Anchoïade is to Provence what fondue is to the Savoy. When the anchovy mixture is pounded in a mortar, as it is in Provence, it is actually anchovy paste. Anchoyade Languedocienne differs in that the anchovies are fried and served whole.

Technically, anchoïade is considered a sauce in France, although it is eaten as we would eat dip, called bagna cauda, or banha cauda in Provençal, with fresh raw vegetables into which it is dipped, or as a spread on toast. It is also used to make Fougasse aux Anchois and on salads.

In the region, anchoïade is most often accompanied by a dry white Cassis wine.

This is a traditional recipe and is perfect for topping a salad. Today, it is almost always ground into a paste like in Provence before serving as a dip. If you wish to do this, see the instructions following the traditional recipe.

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FRENCH RECIPES: POT-AU-FEU OR PETITE MARMITE

Published by Saturday, May 23, 2015 Permalink 1

Emmanuel Ménétrier / Foter / CC BY-NC-SA

ESCOFFIER’S RECIPE FOR POT-AU-FEU OR PETITE MARMITE

Pot-au-feu and petite marmite in today’s vocabulary are the same thing. Until the nineteenth century, the term pot-au-feu simply referred to a family soup to which was added different ingredients every day, usually with beef and chicken added on Sunday. The regional variations were endless, depending on availability and season and depending on the cook.

In 1829, the French etymology dictionary defined  pot-pourri  as “the name our fathers gave to the pot-au-feu.” In the nineteenth century, the recipe started to take on its modern ingredients of beef, root vegetables and a veal bone, but it still included chicken, which many people, including my French butcher’s wife, leave out these days.

Escoffier, who codified French cuisine in the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century, set down the recipe in Le Guide Culinaire in 1902, still calling it petite marmite. The regional variations started to disappear, and the recipe has now been simplified by most home cooks to contain only beef, no chicken. Escoffier insisted on the importance of the chicken, but today, one rarely finds a pot-au-feu with mutton, veal, pork, chicken, duck or turkey. The other name, petite marmite, has pretty much gone out of usage.

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About

Published by Monday, July 28, 2014 Permalink 0

The Rambling Epicure was founded by Jonell Galloway in 2009. From its inception, it has showcased professional and high quality food writing and photography.

Jonell grew up on Wendell Berry and food straight from a backyard Kentucky garden. She attended Le Cordon Bleu and La Varenne cooking schools in Paris as well as the Academie du Vin. She ran a cooking school in France, and owned a farm-to-table restaurant, The Three Sisters’ Café, with her two sisters in the U.S. Jonell is a freelance writer who has worked for the GaultMillau guides The Best of France and The Best of Paris and for CityGuides, amongst others. She has collaborated on many projects including Le tour du monde en 80 pains with Jean-Philippe de Tonnac in France, At the Table: Food and Family around the World with Ken Albala, Ma Cuisine Méditerranéenne with Christophe Certain, André Raboud: Sculptures 2002-2008, and the biography of Pierre Gagnaire.

 

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Switzerland: Cucumber and Tarragon Salad Recipe

Published by Monday, July 16, 2012 Permalink 0

Jonell Galloway, Editor, The Rambling EpicureSwitzerland: Cucumber and Tarragon Salad Recipe

by Jonell Galloway

Spontaneous Cuisine: A Swiss Recipe

When the days are hot and sultry, few things can be as refreshing as a cold cucumber salad, especially this classic cucumber and tarragon salad. In Switzerland, we make it with sour cream and tarragon, while in France they cook the cucumbers slightly and then add crème fraîche and chives.

This salad goes perfectly with a grilled chicken breast or any white fish. It also goes perfectly with smoked or natural salmon, in which case you might want to replace the tarragon with fresh dill or dill seeds.

 

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David Downie: Brittle Delight

Published by Monday, February 28, 2011 Permalink 0

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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