I discovered the apéritif known as ratafia one summer when the former owners of my cottage in Burgundy paid me a visit. As they admired the changes I’d made inside, I asked them how they had used the grapes growing on a sprawling vine outside. Since the grapes were too sour to eat, I had been leaving them to the birds. But I was sure that previous owners, including those who planted the grapevine in the first place, must have had a better idea.
Ratafia / Ratafia
‘We made ratafia!’ my visitors announced proudly. And they explained how to do it. Crush the grapes, filter the juice and add a glass of strong alcohol such as marc de Bourgogne or grappa (in a pinch, you can use vodka). Let it sit in a dark place for three weeks, add some sugar and let it sit a week more. Refilter and funnel it into a bottle.
That autumn, when my sour grapes were ripe, I followed these instructions and a month later had a bottle of sweet fortified wine — homemade, and as natural as could be.
Ratafia is usually served chilled at cocktail hour. It can also accompany cured ham, foie gras, cheeses like blue or Roquefort, or dessert. It may be slightly murky, but that’s not a problem. The strong alcohol prevents fermentation, and it will keep for up to a year.
Ratafia is enjoyed across rural France and beyond, and is not always made from grapes. Quinces, raspberries, walnuts, cherry stones, even rose petals are used by home brewers. The word ratafia is said to derive from the Latin rata fiat, meaning ‘the accord is sealed’ — apparently a toast in years gone by. And indeed, ratafia is popular across a swath of land that was once Roman, from Italy to Switzerland, France and Catalonia.
In Burgundy, where grapes are plentiful, making ratafia in the autumn is an annual pastime. And now that I’ve sold my cottage, I make it in Paris. It’s fun, inexpensive and the results are thoroughly enjoyable.
Happy drinking!
I was inspired to make a carpaccio of tuna the other day after lunching in Montmartre at a place that served a fabulous version infused with Asian flavors. I didn’t think to ask for the recipe, so I had to wing it. In this version, ultrafresh tuna is flavored with a marinade of lime zest, lime juice, sesame oil, ginger and soy sauce, and topped with toasted sesame seeds and cilantro. For a gala touch, I added a sprinkle of trout roe.
Fresh figs marry beautifully with goat cheese and rosemary, so I decided to combine them in a savory tart. I came up with this plan after my downstairs neighbor brought me a bucketful of figs — lush, plump and ultra flavorful — from her vacation place in Sardinia. Although it’s theoretically the height of fig season in France now, too, there’s been a dearth of homegrown figs this year, making me all the more grateful for the gift.
On my first go, I made the pastry myself, using the 
At left, the gifts from my neighbor: figs from her fig tree, her homemade fig jam (fabulous!), and a bottle of olive oil pressed from olives grown on her property.
This zingy soup came about thanks to a visit I made to Provence last summer. While staying with friends in St-Rémy during a break between lockdowns, I came across an old cookbook of regional dishes and was intrigued to see a blended potato-leek soup that may be served cold or hot. It looked like something you’d expect to see further north — like a Provençal version of vichyssoise, in which the cream was replaced by pistou.
High summer is the time to make and enjoy this dish of roasted eggplant topped with a pungent walnut sauce. Traditionally served as a starter, it also makes a fine side dish or the star of a mezze spread. The walnuts are ground with garlic and fresh cilantro. Red wine vinegar and cayenne add tang, coriander seeds add spice, and celery adds a bit of crunch. It may not exactly be French — but it will have you saying ooh-là-là.
Paupiettes de veau, a classic bistro dish, are veal scallops stuffed with a savory meat filling. They are rarely made from scratch in French homes as they can be bought already stuffed from the butcher — and merely need to be braised before serving. But as I discovered, they’re fun to make and easier than one might think. The veal is folder around ground meat flavored with onion, garlic and herbs, then barded with bacon and tied up with string.
Preparation of paupiettes de veau begins by pounding the veal scallops to ensure they are thin enough to wrap around the stuffing. Tying them up is simple — it’s like wrapping a birthday present. Once stuffed, the paupiettes are browned on all sides and then braised in white wine or, sometimes, rosé.
These light and crispy zucchini fritters are a French adaptation of a dish I discovered on a Greek island. Flavored with mint, dill, oregano and grated onion, they make a delightful start to a meal and may also be served at cocktail hour or as part of a mezze spread. Or you can serve them alongside grilled fish, meat, chicken or veggies. They marry extremely well with tzadziki. Add a bottle of chilled rosé, and you’ll feel like you’re in the Cyclades.
So, on my second try with the zucchini fritters, I went with my instinct and folded a beaten egg white into the batter. Success! I made myself some tzadziki (see the bottom of 
This Thai duck salad with French accents is a dish my friends ask for time and again when they come over. It combines Thai flavors — lemongrass, cilantro, Asian fish sauce, lime juice and red pepper — with the supremely French cut of duck known as magret, aka the breast, fat attached. The duck is cooked to a warm rosiness, then sliced and placed over or beside the herbal salad. Add a glass of chilled rosé, and lunch or dinner is ready.
This is a very unusual crumble in that the strawberries are not baked but rather piled fresh into a glass and layered with crumble baked separately, whipped cream and homemade caramel sauce. The result is a light, fresh spring/summer dessert that is as lovely to behold as it is to eat. I can tell you that the crumble in this photo was devoured in seconds by my daughter, and its twin by her boyfriend. And this all came about thanks to French TV…
A lovely way to serve an omelet in springtime is with freshly shelled peas, with a scattering of mint and scallions for an extra burst of flavor. You can add cheese, ham or bacon, baby spinach or arugula — anything your palate desires. The omelet is light, fresh and ultraquick to prepare. Peas straight out of the pod need to be cooked for only a minute. Then whip the eggs, swirl them into the pan, and lunch can be on the table in just ten minutes.
My love of fresh peas translates into many other recipes: 
