Dining Out on Paris

When my friend, Matt Moore, read an early draft of In the Shadow of Versailles, he found himself constantly hungry. While he enjoyed the mystery, the scenes of café and restaurant life whet his appetite for a return to the City of Light and its fabulous food.

Paris is known for a lot of things: light, love, modern art, the lost generation and the Eiffel Tower. It is also known for its food. While French dining was revolutionized by the appearance of nouvelle cuisine in the 1960s, when meals became lighter and simpler, the Classique or haute cuisine that Max enjoyed in 1919 continues to be served in many Parisian restaurants to this day.

When Max dines out with friends (or suspects), he is likely to encounter such delights as lamb stew spiced with cinnamon, fresh trout cooked in white wine and garlic or perhaps a rock hen, stuffed with dates and walnuts and served with a hard orange sauce, each served with a cream soup and fresh bread to start and followed by some confection of chocolate and fruit and all served with suitable matching wines. On another night he might have a nice cassoulet, duck stewed with spicy sausages and white beans and served with potatoes.

If he wasn’t too hungry (or had already eaten), he might settle for a green salad and an herbed grilled trout while bribing an informant with a foie gras appetizer followed by a filet of beef in pepper sauce plus trimmings, each served with a suitable wine, say, a Chablis to start followed by a rich Burgundy. Finish it off with a cheese plate and a pastis or espresso and you’re set for the night.

Looking for lighter fare? Well, it can be done but people will stare or wonder if you have a wasting disease. At lunch you might settle for a hearty tomato broth filled with chunks of root vegetables and shreds of roast chicken, served with a hunk of dark rye bread, chewy with a delicate nutty flavour, washed down with a crisp pale ale. And of course, charcuterie is always an option, four or five smoked or spiced meats with a range of cheese from runny camembert to a firm Emmental plus wedges of baguette and plenty of olives in great variety.

Only breakfast might be considered a dieter’s choice, if croissants with fresh butter and fruit compote is your idea of diet food. At one point, Ginger Buchan, an American diplomat, complains of the French habit of eating sweet pastries at breakfast before stuffing three of them down his gullet. He later remarks that Paris is where good Americans go when they die.

French boulangeries and patisseries are a world unto themselves with brioche and vol au vents and, oh, roughly a hundred types of breads and pastries on display and I could spend a lot more words to describe them, but frankly, I’m starving.

If you hunger for more of the good life of dining in Paris, hop on a plane, or, much cheaper, pick up an ebook of In the Shadow of Versailles from your favorite on-line store.

Turkish Hiking

If you ever go to Uchisar in Turkey, you must spend part of everyday, hiking down one of the many valleys that cover the land. With names like Pigeon Valley, Love Valley or Rose or Swords, the choices are myriad. The walks are pretty arduous and, therefore, good for you and the vistas are spectacular. But of course the real reason you must walk them is, it is the only way to work off the tremendous amount of food you will eat.

Breakfast in Turkey is always sumptuous but at our hotel in Uchisar – the Sakli Konak – it was spectacular. You arrive when you like between 7 and 10 and take a seat at one of the large breakfast tables. Soon a young man will bring you a tray with nine kinds of cheese on it. Surrounding that will be five kinds of olives, several slices of deli-meat or perhaps sausages in tomato sauce. A basket of bread, of course, is provided (more if requested – you pig) with 10 types of homemade jams as well as peanut butter and honey still in the honeycomb. Had enough yet? Would you like an egg prepared, any style? Have some fruit – melon one day, slices of apple and orange wedges the next. But wait, there’s more. Some eggy fried bread perhaps or crispy fried pita with cheese in the middle. Don’t forget your coffee and orange juice. And what would breakfast be without a tomato, cucumber and pepper salad? And to fill up the corners, a few chunks of delicious nutty halva.

Now you walk. For three to four hours or so, scrambling up and down steep slopes and along narrow ridges, taking pictures every ten steps or so because you can’t believe the next fabulous magical view. And the reward on the other end? A nice cold beer and lunch on a lovely rooftop terrace with more spectacular vistas to look at.

It doesn’t matter what you order, they always start you off with a free appetizer. On our last day it was fresh baked bread which you dip in oil, spices and crumbled feta cheese. Delicious. Then we had hot hummus (the edges were still bubbling when they served it) topped with beef bacon. For our mains we shared dry roasted lamb neck with rice, potatoes and grilled vegetables. And we had worked so hard on our hike that we deserved a dessert of yogurt with honey plus some thick Turkish coffee (with a few pieces of Turkish Delight thrown in as ‘thank you for your business’ treat).

I’d like to tell you we then walked back up the hill to Uchisar (some 8 km away) but we took a cab. We needed to rest up for supper.

And that’s ten minutes.

Omnivores

When I was living in Iqaluit in the 1980s, I knew a couple of vegans. They were not quite as proselytizing as the ones today but they were imbued with a high moral tone and always willing to tell you how your diet was both unhealthy and immoral. After a couple of months eating nearly spoiled vegetables and expired tinned goods which comprised the entire local supply of greenery, they developed a lean and hungry look.

Their solution was — unique. They decided it would be okay to eat caribou and fish caught by local Inuit hunters. It was ‘country’ food and came from ‘the land.’ So that’s sort of like a vegetable, right?

Recently, there was a minor tempest in Ottawa when the experimental farm’s dairy hosted a educational event called ‘from cow to cone,’ which not only instructed young people about farming, it also gave them free ice cream. What a treat!

Apparently not. Immediately there was a demand to provide a non-dairy option (soy cream, I guess) “to be inclusive.” You know, the way vegans offer a ‘steak’ option to their dinner guests.

I’m not a big vegetable eater – the list of ones I can’t stomach is much longer than the list of those I can tolerate. But I try not to complain. I don’t always succeed but I try. And eat what I’m offered and if there is a lot left on the plate — I just wasn’t very hungry

Back at the dairy farm, things have escalated. People raised the spectre of cattle-rape and asked about the fate of the calves. Last time I was there the calves were frolicking — though make no mistake; this is a working farm so they may not frolic forever.

The final blow came in a comparison of dairy farming to Nazi death camps. Seriously?

Evolution provided humans with the tools to pretty much eat anything (except cellulose — that’s why we have cattle). The environment, sweet old Mother Nature, pretty much demanded we do that to survive. Humans have for a million years been hunters, gathers and yes, scavengers. In olden times, road kill was called lunch. We are, by nature, omnivores.

Some cultures have adopted dietary restrictions as part of their religion — such as kosher or halal foods or vegetarianism among Hindus. Religion masks this as ethical but evidence suggests there is a big — horrors — economic motive as well. You can’t afford to eat animals if they are more valuable as sources of labour. One of the best ways to stop people chowing down is to make it immoral with threats of supernatural punishment.

The demands of radical vegetarians that we all stop eating meat products have no more basis in fact than most other religious beliefs. Too much of anything is probably bad for you but too little leads you to taking dietary supplements and enriching the coffers of big Pharma or its whole earth equivalent.

I look at it the way I look at homeopathy. It doesn’t work but no real harm done. And if you get really sick you can always turn to medicine. Like those northern vegetarians turned to caribou.

But that’s ten minutes.

Food Security

There was an article recently on CBC saying a study showed that Ontario could grow more of its own food. This was touted as good for the economy and good for the environment. Reading past the headline, the findings are not quite so dramatic. It is clear that the professors are not advocating ‘food independence.’ Because, of course, you soon discover that there is a lot of food we just can’t grow here: citrus and other fruits, rice, most fish, things that don’t store well over winter like peppers and cucumbers.

Local food is nothing new. Our recent ancestors pretty much relied on it. The consequences were a limited diet and frequent periods of hunger if not outright famine.

One of the arguments made for growing local is that it is more environmentally friendly and produces fewer greenhouse gases. The reasons cited are the lower need for transportation. Yet most of the GHGs emitted by food are in the growing of them. Transportation — even in this globalized world — represents less than 15% of GHG emissions from food production. Refrigeration and storage costs are somewhat similar but the bulk of GHGs come from energy intense agricultural practices (not just farm machinery but also fertilizer) and land management practices. Given that northern agriculture tends to be energy intensive rather than labour intensive is a factor. Local food production may in fact be worse for the environment than growing it elsewhere where there are easier conditions and more use of human and animal labour.

In any case, food security — often the primary driver behind these studies and frequently used to justify massive subsidies to North American and European farmers — is a two edged sword. Security — taken as a larger concept — might well be enhanced by making the world more interdependent rather than more isolated.

Take Africa. This continent could produce half the world’s food and yet agricultural development in Africa is limited. Not by the capabilities of Africans but by the many trade barriers (including between African nations) to the international flow of food. Nations with three growing seasons would easily out-compete ones with a single season. We eagerly consume African mineral resources — leading to all kinds of conflict. Blood diamonds are the most obvious but what about blood cobalt and blood copper and blood gold?

Free trade in minerals has been disastrous for Africa, socially and economically, whereas free trade in food might well promote peace and prosperity. A richer Africa is a safer world.

The article cited also notes that Ontario both exports and imports carrots — because of the individual tastes and desires of consumers. There is a reason this happens: farmers make more money when they find a market that truly desires their food — as opposed to markets where we are forced to eat local stuff because ‘it’s good for you.’ Yummy — more Brussels sprouts.

Have to stop now — because that idea is making me gag.

And that’s ten minutes.

Our Human Heritage

Yesterday was as perfect a day as one could ask for – almost, if I don’t count the absence of my wife. But still. Slept until I wasn’t tired and then rose leisurely with no prospect of work other than this brief ten minutes. A slow gentle entry to the day with coffee and breakfast consisting of toasted sourdough bread topped with locally smoked bacon, fresh tomato slices and melted cheese served with berries and fresh yogurt. Gentle conversation as we overlooked the calm blue waters of the Salish Sea (aka Georgia Strait). An eagle flew by at eye height (we were on a deck on the side of a hill) while sailboats drifted lazily along.

Later a trip to the market to buy vegetables and meats and bread all locally grown or made, followed by berry shopping at local growers and lunch at a vineyard. We returned to the deck for a few drinks and wide ranging conversation filled with insight and humour and deep felt friendship and love. A home cooked meal and more talk into the gentle evening. Warmth in the air and between old friends. Nothing accomplished; no great works contemplated or carried out but no conflict either. Sunshine and water and fresh air and friendship. What more could anyone ask?

Really, it sounds like the first world existence of the overfed bourgeois and I suppose it was yet it also had a universal quality too. We observed and reveled in nature and our own comfort, we ate food that had been locally grown and prepared, which we gathered from merchants whom my friends knew by name. It was the life of a community. We shared libations and conversation. We laughed, cried a little too from the joy of shared sadnesses. We discovered some small thing about each other and ourselves that we didn’t know before. We soaked in heat and beauty and peace.

This is the commonality that should bind us together. Instead we humans – so magnificent in our intellect, so rich in our ability to understand and to share things both simple and complex – can find no end of ways to fight and disagree, to hate and to hurt. The very tools that should tie us together – language and the sense of wonder at this glorious world – we use to turn life into a hard scrabble of struggle and conflict. How sad.

But that’s ten minutes.