Wild mushroom hunt / Chasse aux cèpes

Though I still think of myself as a city gal, I am growing to love the countryside more and more, especially as living right in the town centre (all be it a relatively small town) seems to equal being woken up by idiots on motorbikes driving past at 4am and never being able to park outside the house when I've got all the food shopping in the boot. 

Besides the peace and quiet, there are many other things I am learning to appreciate about the French countryside. Wild mushrooms is one of them. 

Mushrooms seem to be one of those foods that people either love or hate. No-one just 'doesn't mind' mushrooms. Cheri hates them. I love them. However, Cheri does love going hunting for them in the woods. I think it's his hunter-gatherer instincts coming through. However, I also like to think of myself as a curious Lara Croft style adventurer(minus Angelina Jolie's body the crop top of course), so when our countryside-residing friend invited us to accompany him on a chasse aux cèpes, I put on my wellies and grabbed my plastic bag.

However, we were not the only ones on the prowl for wild mushrooms. My friend explained that these delicious and ridiculously expensive fungi can be found more or less abundently depending on weather conditions, and also the position of the moon. Apparently today was an excellent wild mushroom gathering day, will all conditions reunited. Apparently we weren't the only ones to know this.  

Thus, the hunt required a keen eye, a certain discretion and a good amount of bluffing. After spotting several of the little beauties just next to another elderly couple of mushroom hunters, Cheri craftily incited them to move on: Il n'y a rien ici, quelle dommage! At 15 euros the kilo, one can't afford to play Mr Fun Guy. 

One hour and two plastic bags full later, the mission was a success. I'm planning on freezing half of the mushrooms to make chicken and mushroom pie or a wild mushroom risotto. The other half are going in tonight's dinner, lovingly cooked with garlic, fresh parsley and olive oil to make a perfect winter omelette filling.  

Confit duck / Confit de canard

There's a good reason that confit duck is a French classic. It's one of the most tender ways of cooking meat that exists, and the side-dishes that normally accompany said duck are just as flavoursome if admittedly not too diet-conscious, notably thin sautée potatoes cooked in duck fat and sprinkled with lots of garlic and fresh parsely. 

While this is a dish I love eating, it has the reputation of being a bit tricky to get right at home so I normally only have confit duck when Chéri and I eat out.

But being the adventurous gourmande that I am, it wasn't long before I decided to give it a go especially saying as Lidl had tins of brand-name confit on special offer! 

The result was not bad at all really. The duck turned out crispy on the skin side and stayed tender. This is one of the main problems when cooking a confit duck, as cooking over too high a heat can dry out the meat. I chose, for this reason, to cook mine in a large frying pan for about 25 minutes over a low heat, or until the duck was warmed through.

As for the potatoes, no real problems there either. You need quite a lot of duck fat when frying, as the potatoes seem to drink it up. Add the parsely and garlic just at the end so as not to lose their flavour and turn the potatoes constantly so they don't burn. 

Maybe I'll give coq au vin a try next!

Pass the snails / Fais passer les escargots

Having dinner as a family is one of the main things I thought I’d miss when crossing to the other side of La Manche. Not just for the meals themselves (though they play a big part I won't lie) but for the time spent talking and laughing together. 

So when Chéri asked me if I'd like to experience a traditional family Sunday dinner à la française, I jumped at the chance. Mmmm...here was everything I’d been missing: roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, mashed potatoes drizzled with Bisto gravy, all topped off with a massive helping of homemade trifle. I could hardly wait.  "Mais, Chouchou", Chéri reminded me, "I said à la français. »  Oh yeah...

Sunday morning found Belle-Maman and Taté  busy chopping and mixing like women possessed. Despite Chéri's advice to leave them to it, being a curious cuisinière it didn't take me long to pop my head around the kitchen door to see what was on the menu. 

Snails with garlic butter / Escargots au beurre aillé

The first thing I saw were the snails. It was hard to miss them, piled high in pride of place on the kitchen bench. Now I like to pride myself on giving most things a try, but the thought of eating something that leaves slime trails behind when it moves just seemed a step too far even for me. 

It was with a certain reticence that I took my place beside Chéri at the table, knowing I’d have to face the slippery gastropod sooner or later. And sooner it was, for starter to be exact, smothered with garlic butter and roasted. Keeping my eyes fixed on anything but the fellas themselves, I took the mini skewer held out by Taté and impaled my snail.

A delicious aroma of sweet roasted garlic rushed up my nostrils, combining with the pleasant crispiness of the snail flesh cooked in the herb-infused butter. I swallowed the second one to make sure this wasn’t just a mistake. But no, this was in fact another one of those moments when I had to admit that the French may just be right about all things food.

“Cheri?”

“Hmm?”

“Pass the snails.”

Snails in Garlic Butter Recipe