Source: 1000 Foods (pgs. 55 – 56, 65 – 67, 69 – 70, 83 – 84)

About two months ago, I took a trip to France. We visited Paris, Normandy, Brittany, and the Loire Valley. Among the highlights were a tour of Paris with a colorful local guide, the Joan of Arc church in Rouen, storytelling by the tour director of his previous tours, the D-Day landing beaches in Normandy, and the Apocalypse Tapestry in Angers. There was a lot of amazing history packed into everything we saw, and that was just the northwest quarter of the country. Naturally there is a lot more to experience on a future trip, but for now, let’s consider the food.
French cuisine is highly regarded around the world and has been for hundreds of years. But even while people speak of classical haute cuisine or classically trained French chefs, there is no single “French” cuisine that covers the whole country. Like any other country with varied terrain and climate, food in France is regional. Each area has its own specialties and preferences, which have persisted even with modern travel and shipping. People in Normandy eat differently than those in Provence, but one food found throughout the country is the baguette.
For something seen as a symbol of French cuisine, the baguette is a relatively recent invention. The story goes that in the 19th century, bakers designed the thin loaves to bake faster, meaning that they didn’t have to get up quite as early to prepare for the breakfast rush. The formula is straightforward: it’s a lean dough (meaning no added butter, oil, milk, or eggs) made of just white flour, water, and yeast. Actually making it is the tricky part, as demonstrated on The Great British Baking Show, but bakeries across France have mastered it. In less than 200 years, baguettes went from something that didn’t exist to a presence in every mini-grocery, café, and hotel breakfast spread. And why not? They’re plain but comforting, and very versatile.
Brioche is completely different. The dough is enriched with butter and eggs and lightly sweetened, which creates a softer texture and finer crumb. Historically, when the price of bread varied dramatically depending on the type of flour and what was added to the dough, it was a luxury or holiday bread. As prosperity increased, brioche became more popular, although it doesn’t seem to have surpassed baguettes and croissants. Of the four hotels we stayed at, they all had the latter two on the breakfast buffets, but I only remember seeing brioche at one, though it’s entirely possible that I missed it at the others.
Croissants are a quintessentially French pastry, but may not have come from France at all. One story is that they were first made in Austria to commemorate the failed Siege of Vienna by the Ottomans in 1683. After the Turkish army was driven off by the forces of King Jan Sobieski of Poland, a new pastry was created in the shape of a crescent, found on the Ottoman flag. Perhaps there was some satisfaction in eating the symbol of their enemy. But however they originated, croissants are made with a yeast puff pastry, where thin layers of yeasted dough are layered with butter, producing a rich, flaky delight. Regular croissants are delicious enough, but adding chocolate to make pain au chocolat takes them to a whole new level.
While I loved the various breads and pastries, I was less impressed with the cheeses in France. Two of the most famous are Brie, from the Ile de France region around Paris, and Camembert, from Normandy. Both are semi-soft cheeses with edible rinds, authentically made with unpasteurized cow’s milk. Because US law does not allow the production or import of raw milk cheeses aged less than 60 days, true Camembert and most Brie are not available stateside. Many connoisseurs bemoan this, but after tasting both cheeses, I struggle to understand what all the fuss is about.
Normandy is famous for its dairy products, as is neighboring Brittany. Grass thrives in the rainy, mild climate, and apples grow much better than grapes. With all its farm fields and cows, the countryside felt very familiar, almost Midwestern, except with more wheat, potatoes, and vegetables than corn. And more medieval churches. You don’t see too many of those in the US. But dairy-heavy food is another story entirely. Cheese toasted on sandwiches, especially the ham and cheese croque monsieur, buttery pastries and cookies, and salted butter caramels are definite cousins to what can be found in Wisconsin.
On our first day in Normandy we had an interesting tour of an orchard/cider production facility. The guide talked about how the fermentation process worked, how juice vs. sweet vs. dry cider was made, and how cider could be distilled and aged, producing calvados. This was followed by a cheese and cider tasting. We began with the mildest samples: camembert and sweet cider. In theory, camembert is supposed to be a mushroomy delight, according to Ms. Sheraton. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but I didn’t enjoy it either. It was an ok snack with a bit of bread, but the flavor, though mild, definitely had some “funky” undertones, for lack of a better word. The texture also felt a little off. Part of this might be what I’m used to, but I didn’t care for the camembert or the other two cheeses (I can’t remember the names at the moment).


The cider was much better; very light and sweet. Fermentation is a chemical reaction where sugars are turned into alcohol. The longer the process continues, the stronger and drier the cider becomes. For sweet cider, the apple juice is only lightly fermented, resulting in an alcohol content of about 2%. Dry cider, which we didn’t taste, is about 5.5%, about the same or slightly stronger than most beer. Pommeau is sort of like apple “wine,” and calvados is a distilled apple brandy. I didn’t care for either of those. The alcohol content made it hard to taste the apple flavor, and was uncomfortably strong for the calvados.
I don’t think the cheese agreed with my stomach either. The disagreement was not enough to make me sick, but I did feel a bit queasy. It’s possible that was just my imagination based on what I was expecting, but I prefer cheese without that effect. Supposedly cheeses with pasteurized milk have less flavor, but if funky/mushroomy is a flavor the process destroys, so be it. A nice cheddar from the local farmer’s market beats the famous Camembert de Normandie, hands down. The same is true with the Brie de Meaux found on one of the breakfast buffets. The Comte cheese from the same buffet was a lot better; much firmer, a bit saltier, and a tasty non-funky bit of morning protein to stick in a baguette.



















