A Recipe for Success?

Four - sometimes glorious, sometimes exasperating - years in Paris led me to the conclusion that, ironically, were it not for the pig-headed obstinacy of a bunch of wistful old bureaucrats, Paris or indeed France, would not be the spectacular, magical place that it is. I’m mainly referring to the haute couture industry. How many of us can boast the funds or the lifestyle to justify flying off to Paris for a week twice yearly, to pick out a wardrobe, consisting mainly of floor-length party frocks? And how many times can such an opulent gown be worn before it becomes tiresome? These factors may be part of the reason that France’s illustrious couture industry is, if you’ll pardon the pun, hanging by a thread, fortunately there are many that see beyond the pragmatism, including ministry officials and the country’s revered haute gastronomy industry.

For the great fashion houses, such as Christian Dior and Chanel, the couture tradition continues mainly for tradition and publicity purposes. While we may dream of sashaying around in such creations, it is the ready-to-wear collections, accessories and fragrances that end up in our possession and thus bring in the houses’ profits. Secreted away on Paris’ most fashionable shopping street, rue St Honoré is the Fédération Française de la Couture, the governing body of the French fashion industry. Determined to preserve the craftsmanship, quality and of course, the magic of haute couture, over recent years this strange bureau of fashion bureaucracy has rolled up its shirt sleeves in an effort to save this exotic creature from extinction.

Following the lead of the fine jewellery houses of the city’s finest square, Place Vêndome, who began participating in the Paris Couture Week presentations just a few years ago, Jean-Baptiste and Bérangère Langlais of Brother & Sister Events recently announced a new haute marriage, this time between couture and cuisine. Next July the sibling team will present the debut edition of HAUTE CUISINE PARIS(c). In celebration of the recent Unesco listing of French gastronomy within its heritage list and the “savoir faire” principles of both artforms, from 7th-10th July, the Gardens of the Palais Royale will pay homage to couture and cuisine.

The programme of events or participants is to be announced next March, but with the Ministry of Culture and Communication behind it, I have no doubt that it will offer further evidence of why, despite its flaws, there is nowhere in the world like France. Its respect for heritage and long-held traditions are an important lesson for us all, now more than ever.

Distilled to Perfection

I’m a sucker for nice package design. I can’t resist a pretty tin of tea that I’ll never drink and limited edition boxes of absolutely anything. It was my penchant for packaging that led me to the stand of the Chase Distillery at this year’s Ludlow Food Festival. Rows of beautiful tall bottles embellished with decorative branches led me to the discovery of England’s first potato vodka distillery and, according to San Francisco World Spirits Competition, the world’s best vodka. I confess that after one too many bad experiences with an ‘inferior’ brand during my youth, I’ve steered well clear of vodka, but I was pleasantly surprised by its clear, crisp, subtle taste. Produced in Hereford, in the south west of England, each batch is distilled three times in a handcrafted copper pot, then twice through a 70ft copper rectifying column.

For more than 20 years William Chase has farmed potatoes. Disillusioned with supplying potatoes to supermarket chains, in 2002 he founded the successful gourmet potato crisp brand, Tyrells. Two years later the entrepreneur hit upon the idea to further utilise his crop by creating his own vodka distillery. In June 2008 the first batch was ready.

Following the success of Chase vodka, the distillery has expanded into producing liqueurs and gin, produced from the farm’s own crop of organic apples. Boasting the same lovely packaging and produced in accordance with Chase’s high standards, it only a matter of time before Chase gin joins its acclaimed counterpart at the top of the drinks tables.

www.chasedistillery.co.uk

The art of dining

Linnéa tipped me off about an interesting article in the New York Times. Journalist Sam Sifton discusses an article written by colleague Oliver Strand, and a subsequent reader response http://dinersjournal.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/09/16/when-food-is-exciting-and-you-are-bored-to-death/. the article discusses how New York restaurant Eleven Madison has reduced its seating and how the chefs serve food directly to the restaurant’s diners, in an attempt to encourage a more interactive dining experience. The article concludes with the reader’s (Brian) response to the article, in which he opines that some fine dining restaurants have such a reverential attitude to the cuisine, that the surroundings – and even the diner – seem secondary.

Although I’ve never experienced fine dining destinations stateside, I’ve tried a few Michelin star establishments in my time and, of course, I am fortunate enough to have Malmö’s finest restaurant almost on my doorstep. I must confess that I am no foodie, but my fine dining experiences couldn’t have been further away from the scenes that Brian refers to, In fact, I would argue that they have piqued my interest in food.

A good restaurant is not about an expensive meal, it’s about sharing someone’s passion. Just as a pair of bespoke shoes are incomparable to a pair of high street shoes in terms of quality, comfort, personal style and even service, so is a good meal. A restaurateur is only as good as his chef and vice-versa, and this is where fine dining establishments such as Bloom excel. For me, the relationship between Titti and Igi is like one of an artist and curator. The way in which Igi explains the provenance of ingredients, composition of flavours and ideas behind each dish is like taking a guided tour. Each course is like a journey of discovery. While of course, the surrounding plays a large role in the Bloom experience, its cosy glow only adds to the nourishing aspect of food and the warmth of the restaurant’s jovial atmosphere, which is due in no small part to Igi’s gregarious character. When I feel the strange yolky sensation of Titti’s chocolate amuse bouche pop on my tongue, or marvel at the tastiness of an unexpected flavour combination I am in awe, but never intimidated. This, to me, is the sign of a fantastic meal, but more importantly, a fabulous evening.

On The Trail of Green Gold

Next week Titti and Vickan will be off to Andalucia in search of olive oil, just in time for harvesting! They’re off to the desert of Tabernas in search of pure, freshly pressed extra virgin oil and other goodies that they may find along the way. While the Moors sang the praises of Valencia’s juicy oranges harvested from the “naranjo” (orange tree), my money is that our intrepid explorers will also sniff out some fantastic iberico pig during their trip. The ladies will be back in the kitchen on October 14th, so book a table now to try out some of Titti’s new finds.

Tasting Notes

I’ve never really been much of a hobbyist or collector. Although my now dwindling collection of high heels were once a contender for Imelda Marcos and, budget permitting, I enjoy staking out new additions to my collection of Diane von Furstenberg dresses, I confess to being a bit of an under achiever in the hoarding stakes. However, the beauty of living with a collector is that you can partake in the pleasure, without feeling the guilt that comes with accumulation of too many posessions.

I’ve chosen to collect cookbooks vicariously. As the kitchen is out-of-bounds (my “My macaron moment” post may give clues to why I’ve been relegated to washing up duties) cook books are of absolutely no use to me, but like a cleptomaniac, I no longer seem able to leave a restaurant without a copy (preferably signed) of its cookbook in my hand as a gift for my foodie sambo.

I used to glance bemusedly at those who chronicled their every gastronomic experience via their Nikons, but as I have tapped into this savvy marketing ploy employed by restaurateurs, I understand that the recording of a beautifully prepared starter is like capturing the image of an exotic sunset. Each visual souvenir holds special memories. Take Mark Hix’s British Regional Food, a lavish pictorial guide to the the best British fayre and its producers. Ravishing images of Welsh onion cake, or Norfolk treacle cake topped with an indulgent dollop of extra thick clotted cream conjure up memories of the chef’s wonderful summer vegetable salad with runner beans and girolles enjoyed in the company of my family, rather than the bland, non-descript cuisine of my youth.

However, I’m not content with the images, I want to know the secret behind the magic. My latest purchase is Yes Chef!, prompted by a fabulous lunch at Alan Murchisan’s La Becasse in Ludlow. Featuring 100 recipes submitted by 20 of the UK’s most exciting chefs, including La Becasse’s Will Holland. Like a watercolour brought home from a loved holiday, you cannot recapture all the unique elements that attracted you when first experienced in its natural surroundings, but it can inspire the memories of a special moment in time. I am fortunate enough to be able to experience the pleasure of Bloom on a regular basis, but for the sake of the many diners who make a special excursion to experience the sights, smells and extraodinary taste of Bloom, I sincerely hope that Igi and Titti will too publish their own culinary tome soon.

Ludlow Knows Best

As I began to write this post, I looked out over the verdant pastures of Ludlow in Shropshire, the place where I was born and where Igi ran the restaurant, Overton Grange, prior to his emigration to Malmö. However, my return (for the first time in 39 years) was not so much a sentimental journey, but one of curiosity. We visited the Ludlow Food Festival to discover why a region that boasts more four-legged residents than two-legged has become a foodie capital and the birthplace of the UK’s slowfood movement. As we wound our way through the many stalls, through the throngs of gourmands and other curious visitors, trying freshly cooked local sausages, liquers made from fruits from nearby orchards and hearty vegetable stews, it’s easy to understand why the food is rated so highly, but why, historically has this quiet unspoilt region, been a favourite of the Michelin guide? Ludlow and nearby villages boast no fewer than three Michelin star restaurants: La Bécasse, Mr Underhill’s and the nearby Stag Inn. As the French manager of La Bécasse explained “Everything is produced locally here, so nothing travels very far. This is still very much an agricultural area.”

Farming is not an industry in the region, it is a way of life. As we walked around St Laurence’s church in the town centre, I saw boxes of produce laid at the alter, like the boxes that I once delivered to the elderly during the harvest festival as a schoolgirl. The food that is grown, bred and harvested locally is as integral to the community as religion. This is why restaurants such as La Becasse and indeed, Bloom excel, not just for the culinary skill of master (or mistress) chefs Will Holland and Titti, respectively, but for tapping into local resources, following the way of our ancestors.

The Carnival Came to Town

So the Malmö carnival came and went, heralding the end of the holiday season. The week-long carnival has become a popular event, celebrating the diversity of this growing cosmopolitan city. In a city in which almost half the population (including myself and, of course, Igi) are not of Swedish origin, a walk around the food stalls of Gustav Adolf’s Torg offers clues to the many cultures of Malmö’s inhabitants. The korv wagons, falafel vans and noodle stands that pitch up for the week may reflect the cultural influences and changing tastes of Sweden’s youths (after all, Malmö does boast more falafel stands per capita than any other city in Sweden), but local restaurateurs like Igi believe that there was one vital element missing within the main area during the festivities – healthy, locally produced cuisine. Where were the cloudberries, or locally farmed organic meats?

In addition to the local producers, “Why the absence of the city’s fine dining restaurants?” I asked. “Fine dining is all about the experience” responded Igi, and it’s true. Why does a simple club sandwich at Le Ritz in Paris leave such an indelible memory, while an outstanding meal can be tainted by its presentation and surroundings? Food is more than mere energy, it’s a sensorial experience, one of the greatest pleasures in life. If our body is a temple, then each meal is a veritable sacrifice that should be offered with passion.

Igi’s second argument was that Malmö Karnevalen is a celebration of a city, so why should it be segregated to one small area, when there are so many outstanding sights to see throughout the city, Pildammsparken being a prime example “Why should visitors be subjected to the chaos of one small area, when this is a celebration of the city? Why can’t the organizers offer tours, including culinary tours, taking the visitor beyond the stigma of Sweden’s falafel capital.” Is Mr Vidal possibly laying down the gauntlet for next year?