It is nearly impossible to find a bad baguette in Paris. And this really shouldn't be too surprising since, next to the Eiffel Tower, the baguette may be the most universally recognized symbol of France on Earth. In-fact, it is the French cultural ambassador par excellence. Some form of the baguette can be found in every corner of the planet, no matter how remote. 

Yet, even though you can find a baguette everywhere - nowhere is it as good as it is in France. A good bakery in any other part of the world usually boasts that their baguettes are baked fresh daily. In Paris, most boulangeries bake fresh baguettes twice a day. At least.

To a Parisian few things are more disagreeable than to find oneself at dinner with only the morning batch of baguettes available. Quelle horreur! And for millions of tourists each year, one of the highlights of their trip is that first bite of a crisp, still warm from the oven baguette as they stroll down a Parisian boulevard. 

But as good as they are, even a fresh baguette can start to seem somewhat ordinary after a while. Stay in Paris long enough and they start to fall prey to the 'if you've tasted one, you've tasted them all' syndrome. Oh, they're still delicious - but somewhat indistinguishable from one boulangerie to the next.

Fortunately, a new trend is emerging in France which provides a tasty antidote to this syndrome of ordinariness. I stumbled upon an example of this one day deep in the heart of Montmartre. I knew this boulangerie was something special the moment I walked in. 

From the multi-colored ceiling that seemed like a Matisse creation to the captivating 3-D pattern on the floor, this place just exuded uniqueness. This is the GC Artisan Boulangerie, 22 rue Caulaincourt. 
http://gontran-cherrier-boulanger.com/index.php?lang=en#/

The GC stands for Gontran Cherrier, the culinary artist behind the creations in this delightfully offbeat boulangerie. And when you catch your first whiff of their signature curry baguette, you are transported. As you bite into a warm sample slice of this meld of east and west, the crispy freshness and subtle Indian flavor immediately seduces you. But your journey has just begun.

Follow your nose to the chickpea and lemon multi-grain baguette designed to accompany fish. Bliss. Move on to the focaccia blended with olive oil and aromatic herbs, the "gallette des rois" (traditional Epiphany cake) baked with pistachio, lime, and almond cream - or Panettone suffused with orange peel, lemons, raisins, and bergamot; each display becomes a spellbinding discovery.

Nothing about this place is ordinary - and everything is delicious. And every genre of taste is accommodated. From paprika buns filled with cooked beef and coriander, to those filled with a vegetarian mix of marrow seeds and cumin - creativity and genius sings from each display.

And the fact that GC is not near a metro stop is a blessing in-disguise since it compels you to walk through one of the most charming, and truly Parisian neighborhoods anywhere in the capital. 

Few tourists make it this far, which provides you with a truly original and organic slice of French neighborhood culture - and a surefire remedy for everything ordinary about visiting a Parisian boulangerie.
Bon appétit !

I know what you're thinking; "oh c'mon, that's a pretty outrageous claim." And you're right. And normally I resist describing anything as the best or the worst. It's too extreme of an assertion, and completely unscientific.

Yet - I feel completely confident in this particular instance. You see - I am an aficionado of brownies, and have tasted hundreds in more places than I can remember. In-fact, earlier this year I was in France for over two months and partook of many truly excellent representatives of the art.

But as good as the Parisian, San Franciscan, and Italian contestants are (and they were each excellent), I'm afraid they all come-in a distant second-place to those found at la Maison Cakao on Montréal's Plateau Mont-Royal. Here, my friends, is the Holy Grail of brownie lovers. Here the art has been understood, and perfected.
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=123046460535weeblylink_new_window

The artist behind this delicious piece of pure decadent indulgence (one of my favorite topics) is Edith Gagnon - a graduate of Québec's Hotel and Restaurant Institute. 

She imports Barry Chocolate from France - and then applies her considerable talent to turning it into a wide variety of addictive delectables. Truffles of many types, bon-bons, chocolate drops, and on and on. Each and every one truly wonderful.

Welcome to Heaven
But it is her brownie that I find to be her piéce de résistance. I think the central element making it so good is that she puts in lots and lots of - wait for it - chocolate. Seems pretty elemental - but many brownie makers just don't seem to grasp this most basic of concepts. Not so at la Maison Cakao.

Biting into one of Ms. Gagnon's creations is to bite into dark, rich, soft and totally swoon-inducing chocolate. The cake part of the experience is light, moist, fresh - and blends with the pure chocolate element seamlessly. 

The experience is sensual and transportive. Be prepared to stop whatever you were doing before - for once bitten into, the brownie will become your sole point of attention and concentration for many moments afterward. In a way, I'm glad I don't live in Montréal, as I'm sure I'd blow both my budget and dietary discipline in her shop.

But I'm sure glad that I visit there a lot.

Tropical Storm Irene
Yesterday had been planned-out far in-advance. A gathering of friends and family had been scheduled, arrangements made, expectations set. But tropical storm Irene had other plans - and as is always the case - Mother Nature won.

The anticipated lovely late-summer day quickly gave way to powerful winds and torrential rain, and in the name of safety and common sense, our plans were cancelled and everyone wound-up hunkered-down in their respective homes for the duration. 

And as luck would have it, just as dusk was settling over us, we lost electrical power. There would be no cooking of dinner, no TV or radio - nothing of the modern world. And this was pure serendipity.

Out came the candles, and we sat together contemplating our options. It was then that we remembered the bottle of Sauternes and tin of Fois Gras purchased earlier this year while on a tour of the Bordeaux vineyards. Either one of these would've been a treat, but together they result in one of the truly great culinary indulgences imaginable.

The Child of Noble Rot
Surrounded on three sides by the red wine producing district of Graves, and by the Garonne River on the other, Sauternes is home to (in my view) the best sweet wines in the world. The secret to the production of Sauternes is the presence of the warm Garonne on one side and its smaller tributary, the Ciron, with its much cooler waters, on the other.

The combination results in nightly mists coating the vines, that then dissipate during the day under the warm sun. The affect of this process on the region's grapes leads to their dehydration, and the development of a rot on the fruit. This causes the grapes to become partially raisined, leading to a concentrated and distinctly flavored sweet wine. 

If taken too far - the rot is simply rot - and the grapes are useless. But if the process develops in just the right way - it leads to the growth of what is called Noble Rot. And from these grapes drips the nectar for which the vineyards of Sauternes are justly famous. It is a delicate balancing act that is very hit or miss - and leads to great differences from harvest to harvest. But to my rather un-trained palate, it is simply a difference in degrees of deliciousness.

The Sauternes wine
The Sauternes region is quite small and divided into five communes; Barsac, Sauternes, Bommes, Fargues, and Preignac. Only wines produced here may bear the name Sauternes. 

Production of this varietal is subject to the rigorous rules and guidelines which characterize all Bordeaux wine making. Each vintage must pass a "tasting exam" to gauge its sweetness, and is required to have a minimum of 13% alcohol before it can sport the appellation Sauternes. 
http://www.terroir-france.com/region/bordeaux_sauternes.htmweeblylink_new_window

The entire process results in a rather expensive final product - but my only reaction to that is to say, "you get what you pay for". Sauternes usually come in half-bottles. And holding a glass of Sauternes to you nose yields the scents of honey, apricots, and peaches. It is best served chilled between 52 - 55° F, and can be paired with many foods with delightful results.

But the classic pairing is with the utterly decadent and completely delicious Foie Gras de Canard. And mind you, I am normally a vegetarian. But as the French love to say - il y a des limites !

All in all - an absolutely wonderful evening. Thus proving that a little break from social obligations and electricity can yield some of life's simplest and most sublime joys. 

I'm taking a vacation today; from eating. 

One of the nice things about aging is that you become more and more able to hear your body when it talks to you. And one of the oft-ignored messages it sends is "hey! I need a break". Mine has been telling me this for several months actually. But like I said - "oft-ignored."

So today my body is getting its way and I will give it a break from the constant grind of digesting and absorbing all of the various substances I ingest. Today I fast.

Fasting is a paradox of sorts. After all, nothing is easier than to not eat; you just don't do it. Yet at the same time - nothing is more difficult. I mean, eating is almost as automatic as breathing. In-fact, many times we eat without even being aware that we're doing so. We call it munching. You know, when you're mentally occupied with another task, but simultaneously, without thinking about it, continue to reach into a bag of chips (or whatever) and then put them into your mouth. It's akin to slouching in a chair while watching TV. You do it without even being aware that you're doing it.

So while fasting could not be simpler, it also requires a great deal of conscious attention and effort. And therein lies one of its chief benefits. It requires focus. And living, as we do, in an age of distraction, focus is becoming something of a lost art. A skill that requires training so as not to evaporate and become lost. And it seems that anything we do that enhances this skill is beneficial since it is required to achieve any goal we pursue in life.

Of course, one of the reasons focus is so difficult a skill to master is that it too has a prerequisite; discipline. The word itself seems to connote submission to something unpleasant. When I hear that word I often think of the swats with a paddle we used to receive in junior high-school when we misbehaved. You'd have to bend-over and grab your ankles while the hefty gym teacher swung a big wooden paddle against your butt - several times. They called it "discipline".

So it really doesn't help to know that focus requires - gulp - discipline.  And not just discipline in the abstract, but the most extreme form of such; self-discipline. That's right; you have to do it to yourself.  No wonder it's becoming so rare.

But when I stop eating for a day or two I notice several things happening to me that are extremely pleasant. I begin to think more clearly. I begin to feel lighter, less tense. And I find it much easier to feel - well - me. I enter this mental state in which I'm just more aware of my own self; my mind and body more in-tune. And the more this state develops, the more I realize that it is itself a form of consumption; a meal of sorts. And a very delicious one.

So today I will not eat. And in not doing so I will feast on one of my favorite things. Me. 

Boy - it's a hot one this year. And, of course, eating outside is the order of the day. Unfortunately, at summer outings it's becoming increasingly rare to see red wines served. But while it's understandable that ice cold whites and chilled Rosés would be quite popular at this time of year, that doesn't mean you need give-up enjoying red wine till fall. 

Fact is, most red wines are served too warm. It seems to be the "common wisdom" that reds must be served at room temperature. But the question is - which room? It is quite common in France - especially Burgundy - to be served red wines fresh from a very cool cellar. The average temperature for these is around 55°. And they are absolutely delightful when served like this. The main thing to remember in this regard is that low tannin wines accept cooling much better. In other words - if it doesn't make you pucker - then you can served it chilled.

Wines grown from Gamay grapes top the list of vintages that are excellent when chilled. That means almost anything from the Beaujolais area is perfect for a summer barbeque. Pinot Noirs also accept chilling with no problem. And Zinfandels are simply wonderful when chilled.

Prefer Italian wine? Lambrusco should be your choice. And the light fizzy quality of this wine is perfect for the fatty meats that tend to show-up at outdoor grillings.

And if you do not have a nice cool area to bring your wines to "cellar temperature" - you needn't stick them in the refrigerator. Simply fill an ice bucket with water and a little (not too much) ice - and after 10 minutes or so - you'll achieve the perfect temperature. 

So the moral of this story is that if you love red wine and miss it during summer meals - it need not be so. Pick the right, low tannin red, stick it in iced water for a few minutes - and Cheers.