Love confectionary? A Parisian Gem awaits.......

Step under the quirky street sign into Le Bonbon au Palais, 19 rue Monge, 5 arr, Paris and you could easily think that you had won one of Willy Wonka's prized Golden Tickets.

A dictation "test" above the shop, Le Bonbon au Palais in Paris's Latin Quarter.

The French have the ability to inject humour into the least expected places. 

This is a world where imagination and whimsy combine with passion and tradition to produce confectionary heaven. And like Willy Wonka, the owner of this establishment of guilty pleasures, Georges Marques, not only has a delightful sense of humour, but he is also out to educate those who venture into his world of sweets. He's amassed an abundance of vintage wall charts about the art of confectionary making which fill any spare space on the walls of his shop.

Courtesy of Le Bon au Palais

A plethora of different types of traditional and contemporary artisanal confectionaries fill curvaceous apothecary jars to  create visual displays that tease the tastebuds and fire the imagination. 
Fruits, flowers, leaves and even spices have also been transformed into delectable sweet treats. My personal favourites are les violettes cristallisées (which my mother used to make), les mirabelles gélifiées and les graines d’épicées cristallisées.

For the lovers of confectionary and purchasers of gifts, the inclusion of Le Bonbon au Palais to a Paris itinerary will not disappoint.

Courtesy of Le Bon au Palais

Le Bonbon au Palais

Address: 19 rue Monge, 75005

Nearest transport: Cardinal Lemoine (10)

Hours: Tuesday-Saturday, 11am-7:30pm; closed Sunday and Monday

 

Joyeuses Pâques

The  familiar, rich tones of church bells,blanketing our village and scattering into the surrounding fields and forests, are absent today. It's disorientating as their recurring presence signposts every quarter hour of my life in France. However, come Easter Sunday, their comforting chimes will be restored once more.  

People respond when you tell them there is a great future in front of you, you can leave your past behind. Joel Osteen

The significance and traditions of this time of year very greatly around the world, but what cobbles them together, is an atmosphere of gratitude and renewal.

For me personally, it is a time to give thanks as well as a time of love, hope, and rebirth. The traditions that I observe at this time of year, both religious and non religious, help to anchor my life. 

Passover affirms the great truth that liberty is the inalienable right of every human being. Morris Joseph

Joyeuses Pâques

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Une Célébration

Ritual is important to us as human beings. It ties us to our traditions and our histories. Miller Williams

The faint sound of car horns constantly tooting is unfamiliar. Perhaps the gendarmes or pompiers alerting the traffic to make way? The cacophony grows louder before its source is revealed.  

Unexpectedly, a Citroen 2CV cabriolet, festooned in bows, appears around the 

corner of la grande rue. Its windows open and roof folded down, defying the intermittent rain. The female passenger is frantically waving to the empty street, while her male driver has his right hand simultaneously on the steering wheel and horn while making large circular motions with his left arm. Following closely behind the Citroen is a long procession of horn blowing vehicles, each with a bow and occupants who are whooping, cheering or waving. Obviously a celebration.  

The motorcade winds through the village, past the church then down Rue Jean Brugnon while, from our vantage point in the boulangerie, Mr R estimates its length - at least 1.5 kilometres. The noise trails off into the distance long after the last car disappears, leaving us to guess the reason for ces festivités. "C'est une célébration de mariage, bien sûr," explains our neighbour a few days later.

This is the France we want to experience - away from the tourist hot-spots, hotels and charms of Paris. The reason for buying My French Folly. It's the people and rhythm of daily life in les petites villages and countryside that we find truly enchanting.

Marriage brings one into fatal connection with custom and tradition, and traditions and customs are like the wind and the weather, altogether incalculable. Soren Kierkegaard

The Truffle Hunter

The corner of Guillaume's workshop

Guillaume is the quintessential Frenchman. Charming with a commitment to la bonne vie and a quick sense of humour.  He is well versed in many and varied topics and quite handsome.

Guillaume is also a stonemason par excellence: an old school artisan with skills that are sadly disappearing in France. His work can be found in all manner of ancient buildings across the country, including a few famous cathedrals and chateaux ……….and now in My French Folly.

An invitation to his meticulously restored maison revealed an enormous hand-built wood-fired oven in the kitchen, a productive orchard and potager and a decent sized cellar systematically packed to the ceiling with wonderful French wines, (all reds) according to their origin. 

The subterranean cellar air was noticeably crisp and held a faint aroma of ripened fruits. Standing in the centre of this vast cave was a refectory table on which sat enormous, old glass and earthenware bottles of home made brandy and jars of preserved Tuber uncinatums –  truffles………. the size of tennis balls! 

Conversation quickly turned to cooking and truffle hunting.

Courtesy of wikipedia.org.

Yes Guillaume truffle hunts in the surrounding forests. No, he doesn’t forage with others, nor does he use a truffle pig or hound. And no, the truffles aren’t always located in the same area. The obvious question had to be asked, “How do you find them?’

Courtesy of wikipedia.org.

His eyes glinted as he gently tapped his nose and replied “mon nez”! A joke? Apparently not, according to his wife. Guillaume is so attuned to le terroir that he has no need for aids to root out his prized culinary gems.……..l'art de vivre à la français.

Panama-mania in Provence …….Weekend Reflections

Panama-mania at my favourite provençal market.

Our Panama hats, purchased at this market hat stall in Provence, have finally gone into hibernation until our winter solstice, when they will be retrieved and whisked off to France to enjoy the summer sun. 

Although renown for creating and exporting distinctive, refined fashion since the the seventeenth century, the French also have "an eye" for spotting items of elegance, style and superb craftsmanship  from other cultures.  Fashion that is now entrenched in the French culture, such as Panama hats and bright provençal fabrics, have their origins far from the azure seas of France. 

The exhibition of the toquilla hat at the 1855 World Fair in Paris by the Frenchman Philippe Raimond, a resident of Panama, is credited for making this finely woven Ecuadorian hat - "the Panama", a chic, obligatory fashion accessory of the rich and famous. 

Click here to view all participants of Weekend Reflections. 

P.S. This is not my elbows in the mirror, but that of a person trying on a hat.  I have used a zoom and I am way off to the left of this image.

Snippets from Life in France - la baguette

What can be more quintessentially French than seeing a baguette tucked under an arm, protruding from a basket or strapped onto the back of a bicycle?  Scrumptious, long, thin, crusty. A challenge for aging gums – so I am told.  

In true French style, the land of red tape has a law governing the ingredients of the authentic baguette dough.  Slight variations are allowed in the length and width of the loaf as well as in the proportions of some of its components. The small dimples on the bottom of the loaves made by the linen on which the dough sits while proving, reassures the purchaser of this infamous loaf that it has been baked by une boulangerie artisinanale.
The baguette as we know it today is a product of the 1920's, descending from a long and proud history of French bread making. Apparently baguettes were created as a result of a new French law which was introduced in 1920, forbidding bakers to start work before 4.00 am. This meant that the traditional, round bread loaves would not be on the boulangerie shelves in time for breakfast. And so the baguette was born.  The baguette's large surface area to volume ratio allows it to be prepared and baked more quickly - ready for the early morning customers. 

The boulangeries are the heart of the community. If, as in our village, there is more than more than one, each boulangerie will have its own loyal band of followers. For the many surrounding small villages and hamlets without a resident baker, a mobile boulanger visits daily announcing his arrival with a “tout, tout” of the van’s horn.

Early risers in our village will see a large white van backed up to the door of the Flourentin boulangerie. Members of the baker’s family scurry to and fro stacking their mobile shop with baskets of baguettes and other artisan-baked delights to sell via the vehicle’s side window. For many the boulangeries serve another important function  -  disseminators of local news and gossip........ Some things never change.

My heart lept when I spied these old mouldy linen-lined baguette baskets at our local vide – grenier. To Mr R’s relief, practicality over-rode emotions so reluctantly they were left on the side of the road for some other purchaser to scoop up and rescue.

The following recipe was given to me from a delightful dame française. Although the ingredients and instructions are simple, there is a definite art for producing an authentique baguette artisanale. Bonne chance!

FRENCH BREAD (2 loaves)



Preparation time: 25 min           

Cooking time: 30 min           

Total time: approximately 180min

        



Ingredients



2 cups warm water 
(40 ⁰ C or 110 ⁰ F )

1 tablespoon of  yeast


1 tablespoon of  sugar


2 teaspoons of  salt


5 cups plain (all-purpose) flour
 


Directions



• ·      Dissolve yeast and sugar in warm water in large bowl.
• ·      Allow yeast to proof or foam (approximately 10 minutes).

• ·      Add 3 cups flour and salt; beat for 2 minutes.

• ·      Stir in 2 cups flour to make a stiff dough.

• ·      Knead the dough on a lightly floured surface until it smooth and elastic (about 8 -10 minutes).

• ·      Place the dough into a greased* bowl, turning the dough to coat all surfaces.
• ·      Cover the dough in the bowl (using plastic film or a damp tea towel) and let it rise until it has doubled in size.

• ·      Punch down the dough then divide it in half.

• ·      Shape dough into two long, thin loaves.

• ·      Grease* and sprinkle with cornmeal.
• ·      Place loaves on a baking sheet  or in pan or a French bread baking tray and make some superficial diagonal cuts on top of the loaves.

• ·      Cover and let rise until each loaf had doubled in size.

• ·      Bake at  190 ⁰ C or 350 ⁰ F for approximately 30 minutes.

• ·      Note: For a very crunchy crust, sprinkle or spray water onto the loaves during baking.
  * Use a pastry brush dipped in butter or a light oil such as grape seed oil

Snippets from Life in France - des jardins potagers

Neighbours' potager wall

Life in our corner of France has a gentle rhythm that is aligned to the seasons.  Summer temperatures in the high 20's to mid 30's (celsius) with intermittent heavy rains, (clearing the air of its gathering humidity),  ensure bountiful yields from des jardins potagers, if one keeps an eye on the bugs, mildew and enormous mustard brown slugs - so strong that they can upend a flower pot.

Frequently I would see the tip of an inverted "v" over the high old stone fenced vegetable plot on the corner of the ruelle as I rocketed down the hill on my bike before turning right to My French Folly. It would be the derriere of either Sylvie or Christian who were bent over, tending their potager. Often I would find  produce from their patch of earth on the stone seat beside the back door - tomatoes, lettuce, potatoes, cucumbers and haricot vert (eaten al dente after being tossed in unsalted butter and garlic). Wonderful. My meagre contribution to the community table was fresh herbs - basil, parsley, chives & thyme - which grew prolifically beside the front door after being planted within a few days of our arrival at our house.

Stone seat on the terrace beside the back door.

During the first week of Autumn, a daily vision would be the neighbours sitting in the afternoon sun with a huge sack of dried beans (pods and seeds) at their feet and a bowl in their laps which would catch les harricots blancs as they were released from their casings. These white beans were then tipped into a big bucket from which they would be divided, stored and consumed in the coming seasons. I felt privaliged to be able to pull up a chair and join in this ritual and the ensuing family chatter. During this activity  I would find myself taking stock of my surroundings as we sat in the gentle autumn sun overlooking the village and the verdant green rolling hills and surrounding forests, hearing the now familiar  bird calls and smelling the scent of fresh earth.

These lovely old shutters keep the hot sun out of the kitchen.

A French Tradition

Traditional dress of the Vaucluse region
 of Provence.

Traditions often provide a sense of place, continuity and security. They can simplify the daily rhythm, create feeling of purpose and anticipation and draw a community together. Sadly in some cultures, the practice of traditions is not always positive; traditions are used as methods of control and oppression, but such traditions are not those to which I refer.

The French tradition of attention to artistic detail – in their dress, homes, and businesses – inspires creativity which can be observed in the least expected places. For me, whimsical graffiti, that appears to be more prevalent in southern France, is particularly appealing.

Chateau Villandry

Pernes-les- Fountaines

Pernes-les- Fountaines

Pernes-les- Fountaines

Pernes-les- Fountaines

The diversity of regional traditions in France is not only respected but also encouraged. I’ve been told, by two French friends, (not a statistically significant sample size), that one reason for this is that the government hopes that such practices will give the younger generation a sense of local identity, which will encourage them not to abandon their community for life in the cities.  

Like millions of others, I love Paris, but for me, the true France lies in the countryside.

La Bise......The Kiss

To the uninitiated, a greeting in Europe can be a high-anxiety moment, fraught with danger. And no more so than in France . 

When I first started to travel around this country of contradictions, I ignorantly thought that 2 kisses on the check – with no “lip to skin” contact - was "the norm", but I was sadly misguided! Consequently  on meeting friends and acquaintances  en France my head resembles that of a confused hen darting awkwardly to and fro, backwards and forwards while waiting for a cue, from those whom I’m greeting, to stop. And when do I kiss-kiss (or should it be kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss) on the cheek, give a firm handshake or just a verbal greeting, with no accompanying body contact? 

Even Britain is no longer a safe haven from la bise when meeting and greeting! As for Australia – that’s simple, as I live in an area renowned for kissing when saying hello to friends and family. And it is definitely a single, albeit prolonged, kiss in the vicinity of the right cheek.....with the accompanying sound effects!

So if you are as confused as I am about exchanging kisses in France, you may benefit from watching the following video, L'art de la bise, and adding the web address of Combien de bises? to your iPhone.....to  which you may discretely refer in order to meet and greet with finesse instead of confusion.

Addendum: this is my 100th blog! It may be the only century I ever reach! My hat is off to those of you who have been committed to maintaining a blog for years. I hope I have the energy to follow in your footsteps. Bon weekend. 
If you are the owner of the lips image, please contact me so I can acknowledge you. Thank you.

House in France - Update

Silence.... Not a word from the project manager about the renovations to My French Folly, despite having a bevy of artisans in the house to give relevant quotes. Initially I assumed that this lack of communication was a result of the artisans being frightened off the job, due to its enormity and our tight budget. Or perhaps the quotes were so ridiculously large, that our project manager was seeking additional cost estimates in order to quell my anxiety and avoid a volley of emails being exchanged between the northern and southern hemispheres.  

Summer skies, Provence

No, I was wrong on both accounts. It's the holiday season in France so life is in slow motion.  In summer, many businesses cease operating until the end of August - an enviable trait of the French lifestyle if one were not trying to renovate  - from the other side of the world - a house while there is no snow on the ground. I concede that it is better to have the artisans on site 'from start to finish' than have them wander off on holiday half way though the project, but for this INTJ personality 'going with the flow' and giving my authority to someone else are difficult.  And exhausting. I seem to have a permanent glow when dealing with issues relating to our French house. A lesson learnt from renovating in France - the French don't die from ulcers! Perhaps I need to be more French................

In summer, the song sings itself. William Carlos Williams


Bastille Day

Although not in France, Bastille Day  was a time for celebration - with French champagne - and a time for reflection. 

Question - What drives an extremely cautious woman to purchase an old derelict house in France  over the internet,?

Answer - An irrational passion for France.

Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fires.  Francois de La Rochefoucauld 

There are many attributes of France (and the French) I find appealing. Currently they blind me to the faults, foibles and frustrations of this hexagonal piece of intrigue. But will familiarity eventually spawn contempt? ..... 7 months after purchasing My French Folly I still don't possess the keys to the house ..... missing mail ......  disappearing artisans ..... French taxation ..... a dwindling bank account .......  

Oh, the price of passion!