Culinary Bordeaux

If you are looking to eat what the winemakers eat, or where they eat, you can’t do much better than having them sit down next to you at the restaurant where you are having dinner.

Seriously, it was a pretty cool coincidence. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Upon arriving in Bordeaux and dropping my bags at my centrally located rental apartment, I hurried off to Bar du Boucher where I had a dinner reservation for one.  I don’t mind eating by myself when traveling.  I’m somewhat accustomed to it, having traveled alone quite a bit and I’m happy to pass the time people watching.  (Although one downside is that you have no one to bully into ordering the other dishes you wanted to taste on the menu.)

Located right off the Place du Parlement in the Saint Pierre District of Old Bordeaux, Bar du Boucher is a raucous meat-centric restaurant dominated by long communal tables and a well-stocked meat counter where you are invited to select your cut of meat for the butcher to send off to the kitchen.  It seems a little touristy, but you definitely know what you are getting. 

I settled in to my place at one of the long tables, happily eating juicy cherry tomatoes from a small terra cotta bowl.  This is exactly the type of thing I love, restaurateurs who have the guts to find a source for a good ingredient and serve it simply. There was a lot to choose from on the menu but I knew what I wanted.  Oysters from the Bay of Arcachon, check.  Glass of white Graves, check.  Visit to M. le Boucher (butcher) to pick out my araignée or spider steak—a cut with which I was unfamiliar (not surprising, as French cuts of meat are different than those in the U.S.), check.  It was now time to sit back with my glass of wine and observe. 

When I had arrived at a little past 8 p.m., I had been one of the few people in the restaurant and had been slightly embarrassed that I had called from DC far in advance to make a reservation.  Shortly thereafter, I was relieved.  Within 20 minutes, the restaurant was completely full—the din of large groups of patrons making for a lively atmosphere (useful for keeping jetlag at bay).  With the help of a charmingly casual but extremely knowledgeable sommelier I sampled wines by the glass for my oyster starter and my second course, the araignée steak accompanied by thick fries cooked in duck fat.  Having no time constraints, I dallied over my meal, enjoying the sight of bottles of old Bordeaux (now that’s where I needed a dining companion so that I could have ordered an interesting bottle of wine from the list) being decanted into the huge long-stemmed glasses that served as decanters.

Cue the cheese course.  You should know that I will rarely order dessert—I’m a cheese girl through and through.  So I opted for some Ossau-Iraty, a sheep’s milk cheese from the Pyrenees and a glass of Vigouroux Pigmentum Gros Manseng Moelleux, a moderately sweet wine from the Cotes de Gascogne, a region about an hour south of Bordeaux.  I was enjoying the pairing and mentioned it to the sommelier.  He said I could tell the winemaker myself because he was seated with the group at the end of my table.  I considered going over to chat with him but frankly the jetlag was catching up to me and he looked quite occupied with his large group of friends so I paid my bill and went on my way--still marveling that I really had eaten where the winemakers eat.

The following days reinforced my conviction that my remembrances of the food in Bordeaux had not been an exaggeration--every taste and smell brought memories rushing back.  Chocolatines (that’s pain au chocolate to you non-Bordeaux types), croissants filled with bittersweet dark chocolate from a bakery on Rue Sainte Catherine; Canelés de Bordeaux, small fluted cakes that are a specialty of Bordeaux--their chewy dark brown fluted exteriors hiding a soft incredibly moist center—perfect with my morning coffee.

I dined on duck confit and goose foie gras at La Tupina, Bordeaux’s venerable paean to Southwest cooking (where I was joined by a friend of mine and a group of Greeks from some of Greece’s most important wineries.); glistening pristine oysters and sole from the nearby Arcachon Bay and a really fabulous fish soup at Le Petit Commerce (where I ran into someone from Champagne Collet—wine people everywhere!); and cheese from Jean d’Alos, the well-respected cheese shop on Rue de Montesquieu.

The food in Bordeaux is delicious yet simple in its preparation, which is not to say it is fast or easy to make, but rather that it relies on fantastic ingredients and traditional cooking methods.  These are foods that go well with wine without stealing the limelight. They are what informed my food personality and what I keep going back to.  These are true stars of Wine Table cooking.

The Bordeaux Report

Back in the US and recovered from my jetlag, I am pondering Bordeaux’s recent accolades--UNESCO World Heritage Site, 2015 European Travel Destination of the Year to name two.

Girondin Monument - Place des Quinconces

Certainly, I understand the city’s inclusion as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  Bordeaux has over 2,000 years of historical and cultural significance (first records of a settlement on the banks of the Garonne River date back to the 3rd century BC), including records of a university in 286 AD, the political and commercial link to the British (300 years of British rule from 1154 to 1453) and the Netherlands, and its undeniably important wine trade with its Grand Cru Classification ordered by Napoleon III in 1855.  With 347 historically protected buildings (second in France only to Paris), Bordeaux is a monument to 18th and 19th century Classical and Neoclassical urban and architectural unity and coherence.

But, European destination of the year?  I wasn’t sure about that before my arrival and frankly, I think I would need more than 5 days to be wholly persuaded, especially when the bulk of my days was spent tasting wine at the enormously overwhelming international wine trade show that is Vinexpo.  What I can tell you is that it has changed quite a bit since I was a student there—and definitely for the better.

When I was there before, Bordeaux was gray.  There is no other way to describe it.  The buildings were elegant architecturally, but unattractively stained from years of exposure to smoke from the coal fires used to heat the city.  There was a movement at the time to clean them of their soot covering and the sparkling facade of the Bourse (Stock Exchange) evidenced the success of these first efforts.  Back then I had no idea what a difference that would make.  What was once a rather dour, formal large collection of buildings is now an elegant cohesive urban center, their facades glowing with pale gold-hued limestone.  The bone structure of the city is the same, but the color palette is more flattering, bathing the city in a warm glow.  

Miroir d’eau – Place de la Bourse

Nowhere is this glow more evident than at the Miroir d’Eau.  Built in 2006, 2 centimeters of water covers 37,100 square feet, making it the world’s largest reflecting pool.  The most photographed site in Bordeaux, its mirrored surface reflects the elegant 18th century Place de la Bourse and the large symmetrical Bourse and Customs buildings.  In the sun, it glistens. At night it glows and every 15 minutes tiny fountains produce thin streams of mist that create an ethereal fog effect.  

The Bordelais make excellent use of lighting, with blue spotlights rendering magical the Grosse Cloche (Grand Belltower) and golden lights spotlighting the Grand Theatre, the Pont de Pierre (an elegantly arched stone bridge spanning the Garonne River) and the churches of Saint Andre and Saint Michel among others.  Fountains in the squares dotting the town are likewise attractively lit, their radiance drawing you closer, inviting you to mingle with the locals and take part in the café or wine bar scene.

Le Petit Commerce – Saint Pierre District

That is the part of Bordeaux I liked the most.  I can be impressed by large buildings, elegant architecture and astute civic choices like cleaning the buildings and lighting the city’s undeniably attractive monuments, but I remain a devotée of the small, older sections of cities--the neighborhoods that envelop you in the warm glow of their welcome, no additional lighting needed.  

I feel very much at home in the slightly winding streets of the old town—many of them with limited vehicular access, closed for the most part to all but pedestrians and bicycles.  (You need a special pass to bring a car into the area.)  Small shops, intimate yet bustling restaurants, and trendy wine and beer bars line the streets.  The mood is not one of overt tourism--so common in most heavily visited European cities.  There are no pushy restaurant hosts waving you in, in fact, the locals both patrons and restaurant folk alike take little notice of the passersby, preferring it seems to concentrate on their own affairs—like drinking, eating and serving good food, wine and beer.  

As a traveller, I like these areas because these are the type of places where I would choose to live had I the opportunity.

Just as the small shops and intimate restaurants fill my need for a sense of place, the rustic simple cooking of Bordeaux is what I want to eat.  As promised in my previous blog, I did not seek out any fancy restaurants.  Rather I was comfortable in my quest for cooking defined by local ingredients prepared in ways traditional to Bordeaux and its environs.   I’ll detail my food journey in Bordeaux in the next installment of my blog.  But although my questions regarding Bordeaux’s place as a tourist mecca have yet to be fully answered, I remain bitten by the bug to go back and experience more.  So maybe I do have my answer, after all.

Bordeaux

I’m off to Bordeaux!  It’s a pilgrimage of sorts.  I was an exchange student in Bordeaux the Fall after I graduated from college and although I did stages (or internships) with several companies in the surrounding region, I spent a considerable amount of time in Bordeaux proper on weekends, hanging around with the students at the university that sponsored my exchange.  

Since then, my visits to Bordeaux have consisted of “quick strike” visits for meals or hotel stays with the lion’s share of my sojourns in the region concentrated on the vineyards—as they should be.  The Bordeaux of my youth was a businesslike city—a bit austere and gray.  Imagine my surprise when the city was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2007—and then my shock when it topped the list of European Best Destinations in 2015 (so named by the eponymous European Best Destinations not-for-profit).  Clearly, I had to check this out!

So, I’m on my way.  

Let’s be clear.  Bordeaux is where I learned to drink red wine.  In fact, the first red wine I ever drank was Bordeaux—not a bad way to start.  One of my co-workers at Arrowine used to laugh because when we tasted red Bordeaux and people were searching for descriptors (as wine folks are wont to do), I always said, “It tastes like red wine.” Bordeaux is where I cultivated a love for the rustic cooking of the Southwest of France, with duck confit, pork rillettes, pâté and a simple sauté of cèpes (that’s porcini to you Italophiles) topping the list.

These are the foods my Bordelais winemaker friends have served me on subsequent visits.  It’s the kind of food they like to eat with their wines.  Could they go to Michelin-starred restaurants?  Sure.  Is that where they take their “in-the-know” clients?  No.  

So, I’m eschewing visits to any Etoilés (Michelin-starred restaurants).  I’m going to search out the rustic, the local, the heart-felt cuisine of the Southwest.  It’ll be like going home—and after all these years, I can’t wait.

Radishes

This time of year at the farmers’ markets a rainbow of radishes are available. I must admit a fondness for the slender white tipped ones they call French Breakfast radishes.  One of my favorite snacks is fresh radishes—add a little crunchy sea salt and some lovely butter and you’ve got an easy delicious snack.  What could be more French? 

As wonderful as radishes are, I have always lamented having no use for the green stems a.k.a. fronds.  That’s where this soup comes in. 

The recipe for this springtime soup comes from Damien Delecheneau.  He and his wife Coralie make wine at Domaine La Grange Tiphaine in the Montlouis region of the central Loire Valley, just south of Amboise.  Normally I recommend making it in very early spring when the radish and carrot fronds are at their most delicate, but I found some lovely tender fronds at the market last week—perfect for this delicious soup.

Radish and Carrot Frond Soup

Ingredients:
1 quart chopped radish fronds
1 cup chopped carrot fronds
1 clove garlic
1 cup diced peeled potatoes
2 quarts water
kosher salt
black pepper, fresh ground
Crème fraiche

Optional Garnish:
Julienne of radishes
Radish sprouts

What you’ll need:
4-quart saucepan                                                         
Blender                                                                               
4-quart bowl                                                                        
Salad spinner (optional but recommended)

Timing:
Prep Time:  15 minutes
Cook Time:  20 minutes
Purée time:  10 minutes

Process:
The hardest part about this recipe is cleaning the fronds, which just goes to show you how easy the recipe really is.  Take the time to clean them well, preferably in a salad spinner.  You don’t want any grit left to spoil the texture of the delicate soup. Tear or lightly chop the fronds. 

Put the fronds, cubed potatoes and garlic clove in the saucepan.  Add enough water to just cover the vegetables.  (You may not need the full two quarts). Season with 2 tspn. kosher salt and a couple of grinds of black pepper.  Bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer.  Simmer until the potatoes are very soft.

At this point the soup is done except for the pureeing.  The amount of time you puree it is a matter of personal preference.  I have processed it lightly so that there were small flecks of green and little tiny chunks of potatoes remaining to give it a bit of texture.  I have also pureed it until it was completely smooth. If you are making it your main course, a little texture might be preferable, but whichever you choose is fine.  Process it in batches, placing the newly processed soup in the 4-quart bowl.

Once you achieve your desired level of smoothness for the whole batch of soup, quickly wash the saucepan, transfer the newly processed soup back into the saucepan and return it to the stove.  Reheat the soup on medium high heat.  When it is hot, taste for seasoning and adjust it to your liking .

Serve it with a grind of fresh cracked pepper, a dollop of crème fraiche and if you like a garnish of julienned radishes or radish sprouts.

Yield:  six 8-ounce servings
Wine Pairing:  Dry or off dry Loire Valley Chenin Blanc (Montlouis or Vouvray) like Damien's La Grange Tiphaine Clef de Sol Blanc
Difficulty:  Easy

Sourcing: Moderate. 
You just need to find radishes and carrots with extremely fresh greens still attached, preferably from a farmer you know, or better yet, from your own garden.

Notes:
#1. Blenders are incredibly convenient, but they can also be dangerous—and not for the reason you might think.  Overfill the blender bowl and the contents can splash out, making a complete mess; and if that liquid is hot—wow!  It is a recipe for a bad burn.  Anyway, let your soup mixture cool slightly and do not overfill the blender bowl.  It may take a minute or two longer, but you’ll avoid both a messy clean up and a trip to the ER to treat the burns!

#2. Even if you do not plan to eat the soup right away, it is best to reheat it after pureeing it so that you can check the seasoning while it is hot.  When food is cold, the salt contents tastes muted.  If you salt it while cold, you run the risk of it tasting too salty when it is warmed to serving temperature.

Damien Delecheneau of La Grange Tiphaine

About Damien, Coralie and La Grange Tiphaine

La Grange Tiphaine is located 4 km south of the Loire River and Damien and Coralie farm it using organic and biodynamic practices.  They care about the land—believing healthy land produces healthy grapes.  They feel the same about the food they eat and as parents of two active growing boys, they practice what they preach—buying local and organic food, raising their own chickens and trading their organic hay to a neighbor who returns the favor by providing organic manure to be used as fertilizer in the vineyards.  Their boys chip in as much as they can, helping take care of the horses that are used to work the fields and taking part in meal preparation.

La Grange Tiphaine produces white chenin blanc-based wines under the Montlouis-sur-Loire appellation and Touraine and Touraine Amboise reds from Cabernet Franc and Cot.