The Eiffel Tower is just a lamp post with a publicist

Tales from the countryside, a market visit, and the awkwardness that is September produce. + French Onion Soup and a sumptuous Bœuf Bourguignon that I would like to bathe in, please and thank you.

Sep 25, 2023

∙ Paid

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to talk about: PRIVATE CHEF LIFE.

I’ve been working again in the Dordogne (literal Beauty and the Beast area of France, it’s glorious), cooking what I’ve found at the local markets, basking in the winds of autumn, and trying my hand at making videos. It’s slow work, but I’m getting there.

I hop around France quite frequently (perks of being freelance! And having a threadbare gypsy soul), flitting and floating between castles, farm houses, gîtes, and Parisian apartments. Every step I take in this country I fall more in love. Except for Reims. It’s just an industrial city with a sexy product.

I’ve done nothing but cook this past week. Cook and clean. Remember my advice from Cinderella's Advice Column: Tales from the kitchen sink? You cook, you clean. Every moment of every minute in the kitchen. Well that and perfect my French at the local outdoor markets.

Watch a video of my latest market tour here!

September is a weird month for produce; you’re exiting the summer season and the autumnal harvest hasn’t quite proved the cornucopia of bounty yet. The courgettes and aubergines (zucchini and eggplant, for my North Americans) are smaller but still producing, the last of the tomato crop inches their way toward marinara, and the peppers are popping off. But you know what is in bloom? Apples! Onions!

And the best part about France…

GRAPES.

I’m obsessed with this season. Every September, the vineyards fill with workers to reap the bounty of the grape harvest. Those that aren’t used for wine are sold at the local market; shopper’s patience rewarded by being astounded by the little perfume bombs.

This particular one tasted like if Shalimar and raspberries had a love child. I’m never eating a supermarket grape again.

Everything I’ve cooked at the château this week I’ve found at the market. The nights have been cold and the days are getting shorter- it’s time to warm ourselves up with some hearty French flair and a quick side that will uplift your tomato game.

Oh, Bœuf Bourgingnon. If I could I write an ode to it, I would. But I shall spare you. I make this dish for special occasions or for when there’s nothing special to celebrate, other than being alive. And hey, that’s something, ain’t it? And can I be honest with you? I’ve been making this this way for years, long before I made France my home. I’ve learned techniques from chefs which I am grateful for but I still have to say… mine is better? At least in my opinion? Zero for humility, Ten for honesty. This is called growth.

Like it’s braised sister Coq au Vin, Bœuf Bourgingnon originated in the Middle Ages as a way to tenderize tough meat and make the most out of the cheaper cuts, i.e. the more, the merrier. In 1903 the King of Chefs Auguste Escoffier published the method, and the wonder child of French Cuisine was officially introduced. The key is not cheaping out on the wine… you want a full body to compliment the fattiness of the meat.

And if French Onion Soup seems too heavy for you right now, I can assure you… it’s not. Even in the hottest Parisian afternoons, I walk by brasserie with tourists gobbling up the famous dish, delighting in the cheesy goodness and crunchy baguette topping. I’ve yet to have one in a restaurant I love though, so I began tweaking my own formulas and think I’ve finally nailed it. The secret: it’s in the caramelized onions.

Annnnnnd because the universe likes to play with us, my client’s oven is completely busted. So I’ve got to go an come up with an entirely new menu through Wednesday dinner. Huzzah.

Bisous bisous,

ASF xx