When I arrived in France last month, I headed to the local Bi1to pick up a few groceries for our first night: wine (yes, a necessity), coffee, some nibbles for our apéro, a slice of jambon persillé, a bottle of crème de cassis (any arrival in la Bourgogne should be celebrated with a kir), olive oil, butter, a baguette, salad greens, vinegar and mustard. You can imagine my shock when I discovered there was no mustard to be found. They had a few jars of the fancy stuff with assorted flavors, but absolutely no plain, simple Dijon mustard. How was I to make a dressing? And how could I serve that jambon with no mustard? (Side note: this makes me think of a very funny video recently posted by Tatty Macleod. I may not be a Frenchman, but I certainly felt their pain as I scoured the shelves that day!) I had to make do with a jar of mustard flavored with cèpes and black tea (which actually turned out to be quite delicious).Â
Much to my delight, I found the real deal a few days later at another supermarket and quickly snatched up two jars – only to see a huge sign by the cash register warning greedy guts like me that you were only allowed one jar per person. Yes, the situation is that dire.
And to what do we owe this madness? The main culprit is climate change. You see, most of the brown mustard seeds used to make ‘French’ mustard actually come from Canada.* As a result of the heat wave that made its way through Alberta and Saskatchewan last year, production was slashed by fifty percent. And scorching temperatures in Burgundy didn’t help the small harvest there either. As Europe currently boils and fires rage through south-west France, I am left wondering what we can expect next.
If sweltering temperatures are making it hard to keep your cool today, why not treat yourself to a cold, fruity soup? In France, cold fruit soups are often served as a refreshing dessert, sometimes topped with a scoop of ice cream or garnished with chopped fruit. The inspiration for this recipe came from a soup I was served as part of a three-course lunch menu at L’Augusto in Autun, where we had some wonderful meals.
I really love the combination of flavors in this recipe, but feel free to experiment with other kinds of fruit and herbs. Melon and verveine with lemon sorbet sounds really good to me, too!
Before giving you the recipe, I would like to remind you that I’ll be back again this Friday with another recipe and video for the ‘Cooking with Vegetables’ series. It’s not too late to subscribe, and if you do, you’ll have access to all the recipes and videos! And we’re just getting started – there will be lots more French deliciousness to come!
Bon appétit and stay cool!
Soupe de fruits rouges à la crème de cassis
Serves 2
Ingredients:
350g strawberries, hulled
125g raspberries
Fresh mint leaves, plus extra for garnish
4 tbsps crème de cassis, plus extra for garnish
Coconut ice cream
Instructions:
Blitz the strawberries, raspberries and mint using a (stick) blender. You don’t want the consistency to be too smooth. Stir in the crème de cassis. Divide the soup over bowls and top with a scoop of ice cream. Garnish with mint and a drizzle of crème de cassis.
*More about mustard
According to legend, Louis XI was never without a jar of Dijon mustard. Pope John XXII also adored the sharp, yellow mustard and even hired a ‘Grand Moutardier du Pape’ to work for him at his court in Avignon. Headlines were made years ago when former US president Barack Obama ordered a hamburger – not with ketchup, but with Dijon mustard.
I am also a big fan of mustard and always make sure to have enough on hand. To me, it is just as important in the kitchen as garlic, sea salt and good olive oil.
The creamy condiment is part of French culinary heritage and has a history that dates back to the Romans. They were the first to plant mustard seeds in the fertile hills around the city of Dijon and ground them with vinegar into a zesty paste. Toward the end of the 14th century, the manufacture and quality of Dijon mustard was regulated, and the product became one of the greatest prides of the Dukes of Burgundy. No festive meal was complete without a jar of Dijon mustard.
But it wasn’t until 1752 that the mustard received worldwide recognition when Jean Naigeon revolutionized the recipe by using verjuice (the sour juice of unripe grapes) instead of vinegar. This resulted in a less acerbic flavor, pretty close to the Dijon mustard we know today. Nevertheless, Dijon mustard is still mostly made with vinegar or white wine.
Most Dijon mustard is produced outside of France. Since 1937, the name ‘moutarde de Dijon’ refers only to the recipe and not the place of production, meaning that Dijon mustard can come from anywhere in the world. Most Dijon mustards made in France use seeds imported from Canada.Â
Hungry for more French food history? Grab a copy of Dishing it Up: The Story Behind 20 Icons of French Food & Drink. Dishing it Up features a selection of interesting (and often surprising) stories behind some of the most popular French food and drink items. From when the first snails were devoured in France, to why you should order a jambon-beurre or oeufs mayo the next time you visit Paris, this book will take you on a gourmet journey that may just leave you hungry to discover more. Included after some stories is a recipe inspired by the product discussed. You’ll be dipping the prettiest madeleines into your afternoon tea, baking up a pissaladière just as they do in Nice, serving pork chops in tangy mustard sauce, and much more.
Writing these brief food histories has seen me through some of the most delicious research, discovering interesting recipes… and uncovering truths. PS: Can we please stop giving Henri Le Roux the credit for inventing caramel au beurre salé? And yes, there is a difference between ‘canelés’ and ‘cannelés’!Â
Finally, looking for a quick meal tonight? How about making a sandwich? Not just any sandwich, but one of these delectable international beauties! Read my article published on Reader’s Digest here.