With Thanksgiving and the holiday season around the corner, here’s a crisp, citrus-flavored apéritif from the Loire Valley to add sparkle to the festivities. Soupe angevine, literally soup from the Anjou region, combines sparking white wine with lemon juice, sugar syrup and Cointreau. It is traditionally mixed by pouring the bubbly into a large bowl and adding a soup ladle of each of the other ingredients — hence, perhaps, its name.
Soupe angevine / Sparkly Loire cocktail
I owe this recipe to my friend Nancy, who was served soupe angevine during a festive occasion with relatives outside the Loire city of Nantes. When she returned to Paris raving about it, I had to try it. It produces an effect similar to a kir royale (Champagne and crème de cassis) — light enough to go down easy, powerful enough to deliver a pleasant kick.
The bubbly used in the region is Crémant de Loire, crémant being the name for Champagne-style French sparkling wines produced outside the Champagne area. Burgundy has its crémant, as do Alsace, Bordeaux and Savoie. Differences are minimal — in fact, if making this drink outside France, any dry sparkling white will do.
The ‘angevine’ part of this cocktail’s name derives from the city of Angers, the capital of historic Anjou, which is renowned for its fine cuisine. A beloved native son was the culinary critic Curnonsky, known as the Prince of Gastronomy, who described the region’s cooking as ‘reasonable, sincere and good-natured’, particularly praising its butter, its river fish, its fruits and its crémet, a whipped cream dessert.
When preparing to write this post, I got to thinking about Angers and other French places with English-looking names. Of course Angers (pronounced ahn-ZHAY) has nothing to do with anger, deriving from its region, Anjou. Tourists rarely visit Nevers, the seat of the central Nièvre region, but never say never — say nuh-VAIR. As for the jewel of the French Riviera, Nice (NEESE), it’s definitely nice but its name apparently derives from Nissé, the ancient name of a natural spring used by Greek tradesmen who settled there.
This brings me to a town in southwest France that I visited many years ago when my boyfriend bought a crumbling farmhouse nearby. The postcard I sent home from Condom (kohn-DOHN) produced gales of hilarity when it reached my father. And indeed, this town lent its name to the protective sheaths amusingly known colloquially by the French as capotes anglaises (English hoodlets) and by the English as ‘French letters’.
If you’ve read this far, you may need a drink to get over this bout of etymological silliness. So head to your kitchen, break open the bubbly and mix up a little French soup, Angers-style. Pour it into pretty glasses and enjoy. You won’t regret it.
Happy cooking.
Tangy and delightfully crispy, the Mediterranean spinach-cheese pie known variously as spanakopita, borek or boureka is both fun and easy to make. In this version, cinnamon is added to the spinach-feta filling for a slightly exotic taste that seems to please. When I made this pie for lunch the other day, it disappeared in minutes. Although the dish can be found in Greek shops in Paris, it tends be bland. The best idea is thus to make it yourself.
I did a little research into the origins of this dish and, although it is often assumed to be Greek, or perhaps Turkish, it apparently reached the Mediterranean via the nomadic Turks of Central Asia, spreading west across the Balkans, north to Romania and Moldova and south to North Africa. In most versions, the pie is constructed using paper-thin filo dough — the name of which, I just learned, is Greek for feuille, or leaf.
Pretty as a picture. That’s what my daughter said when this tart of fresh figs set on vanilla-flavored cream came out of the oven the other day. She posted a photo on Instagram and got, like, a jillion likes (so she said). That evening I took the tart to a friend’s birthday dinner where it was speedily consumed with evident satisfaction — all the more so since this elegant dessert can only be made when figs are in season, a few months a year.
tart and pop it in the oven. When it comes out, you can add a sprinkle of powdered sugar if you like.
As cool, rainy weather set in the other day, I had a hankering for pot au feu. Ran out for the ingredients, came home to look up my recipe on this site — and was astounded to find it wasn’t there. So today I offer you this classic French dish of broth, beef and veggies. In past centuries, pot au feu (literally ‘pot on the fire’) was made in a cauldron, simmering for hours over a fire. Although the ingredients are humble, the result is regal.
I also make a simple version, although it’s a lengthy process. The beef is boiled for more than four hours, reaching a sublime tenderness and producing a deeply aromatic broth. The veggies are added at the end to retain maximum flavor. This is a healthy dish, as the fat is skimmed away during cooking. It is served in two stages — first the broth, then the meat and vegetables arranged on a platter, often with sea salt, Dijon mustard and sharp French cornichons (little pickles) alongside.
‘Cauchemar en cuisine’ is a popular French TV show starring a celebrity chef: it translates as ‘Nightmare in the kitchen’, which pretty much defines the situation over here for the last couple of weeks. In a word (well, two), no water. But limits can spark creativity. I needed to make something quick and easy for the blog this week. And so I offer you anchoïade, a zingy anchovy-based dip from Provence that can be whipped up in minutes.
If you’ve ever grown zucchini, you’ll know that it goes forth and multiplies at this time of year, producing an overabundance at farmers markets. You’ve made 
This dynamite dish of harissa-infused chicken, potatoes and leeks, topped with fresh herbs and a tangy yogurt sauce, is (full disclosure) not my original creation. I found it on the site of the uber food blogger David Lebovitz, who had himself adapted it from a cookbook by Melissa Clark. Reader, I tried it — and have made it many times since, to the delight of family and friends. As it is now part of my Paris repertoire, I wanted to share it with you.
The subtle flavors of lamb, barley, carrots and gentle spices combine to make a soup that is both satisfying and light, perfect for taking the chill off now that cooler days are arriving at last. Topped with fresh cilantro and dill, with a touch of lemon juice and cinnamon for zest, it evokes the exotic tastes of Central Asian cuisine. I concocted it at lunchtime one gray day this week — a welcome change from the sweltering weather of July.
There’s a wildness to the combined flavors of figs, garlic and mint that I find absolutely irresistible when fresh figs appear in farmers’ markets in midsummer. Add some tender leaves, olive oil and a spritz of balsamic vinegar, and you have a palate-pleasing summer salad that can be ready in a couple of minutes. This salad marries well with proscuitto-style ham or with goat cheese on toast. I tried it both ways during the recent heatwave.
Tapenade
Poulet au miel et au thym
Charlotte glacée aux framboises
I discovered this dish at a beachside restaurant near Sète in the south of France, and found it so delicious that I asked the chef for the recipe. It is a trilogy of shellfish — mussels, clams and razor clams — that are cooked until just tender and then coated in a persillade sauce of parsley, garlic and olive oil. The recipe is simple, quick and fun to make. The combination, redolent of sun and sea, will knock your socks off.
The restaurant in question, 
