Tell no one. Ne le dis à personne

Although I have quite a large collection of French films on video and DVD I thought it would be interesting to check out the capabilities of my new iPad and download a film from iTunes. Ne le dis à personne is a 2006 thriller from director Guillaume Canet and it certainly lived up to the promise of its accompanying notes. It got a César award for best director and had a further two nominations. Adapted from a novel by US author Harlan Coben, it follows a series of twists and turns when Dr Alexandre Beck receives an email from his wife, Margot, who he believes was murdered 8 years earlier. I’ll not spoil the plot but it was 5 star and gripping from start to finish. You can check out the bande annonce (trailer) at AlloCiné here.

Something I noticed early on was that both the camera work and dialogue were “bright”. This made the whole film very easy to follow. Although there were subtitles these too were clear and unlike some films didn’t get in the way of enjoyment. The film was fast-paced and supported by an excellent soundtrack. It was story telling at its best, creating an expectation that despite the suspense everything would come good in the end.

So a stylish film that I felt I had to recommend and tell everyone!

Wallace Fountains: Changing colour

Wallace Fountan at Hertford House, London

Yesterday's le Parisien carried an interesting article about the decision to change the colour of the city's Wallace Fountains. My initial reaction was one of shock - How could they?!

The fountains are a symbol of Paris and an earlier time. I would really like to preserve them as they are. On the other hand, in repainting them they can be restored and maintained for future generations.

Sometimes we take our patrimoine for granted and our cultural heritage in the form of statues and monuments can be passed by - unnoticed. A bit like the painted bears of Berlin, the cows of Geneva and the bulls of Barcelona, the loud colours of the repainted Wallace Fountains call for our attention. The fountains have their own diaspora and can be found all over the world - there are two in La Rambla in Barcelona and we have two in nearby Lisburn. While the yellow or pink might not be to everyone's taste, I would be sure that local people would see them and look at them more closely.

Sir Richard Wallace was a colourful character himself and took quite a hand in the original design. I wonder if he would have approved?

Click on the link to read the article in leParisien: 

Paris : les fontaines Wallace changent de couleur ! Qu'en pensez-vous ? - 06/05/2011 - leParisien.fr

To crown it all - Galette des rois

There is a lovely custom that takes place all over France, throughout January. La fête des rois on 6 of the month commemorates Epiphany when the three kings or magi came to pay their respects to the infant Jesus.

In many homes and offices, family and friends get together to enjoy a "galette des rois", helped down with a glass or two of fizz, white wine or sometimes cider. The galette is a type of cake made up of leaves of puff pastry with a filling of almond paste. A "fève", literally a bean but more often a tiny ceramic object, is baked inside and the cake is presented with a golden paper crown.  Portions are disributed with a warning to eat carefully and the lucky person who finds the "fève" claims the crown and is honoured as king or queen of the occasion.

Earlier this month, the Cercle Français de Belfast gathered in the Dark Horse Coffee House in Belfast's Hill Street to celebrate La Fête des Rois. 50 of us munched our way through four large galettes and we crowned "3 reines et 1 roi". No "fèves" were swallowed, no teeth broken and a great night was had by all.

Galettes are almost impossible to find locally.  A French restaurant owner, in nearby Holywood , supplied the ones for our evening.  Maybe those large companies that specialise in baking and distributing French bread could add galettes to their product line next year. It would be a great custom to start here; bringing people together in friendship and sharing - now that would crown it all!

Liberté, Egalité, Sororité

2004, Entente Cordiale, Commemorative Crown

One of the beneifts of social media that I appreciate is the ease with which I can keep in touch with news and stories from France. I have a particular interest in Le Berry in the Région Centre and so will often browse to the local edition of newspapers.  Recently a story caught my attention in Le Berry Republicain.  A statue had been found in a clearing in an estate in the Sologne. It used to belong to a factory in Vierzon but had been moved when new owners took over in the 1960s. The statue was referred to as La Française and it made me think of my favourite French symbol - Marianne.  Although the French flag is the only official symbol for France, Marianne embodies the values of the nation.  She has two sides to her character - the angry warrior on the Arc de Triomphe or the sower, scattering potential, as depicted on French coinage and stamps.
The newspaper article refers to the Roman goddess, Cérès - symbol of motherhood and agricultural abundance, and the link with Marianne as sower is obvious.

In Britain, Brittania has also come to symbolise the country although I have not seen her portrayed in the duality of the warrior-sower.

In 2004, the Royal Mint struck a £5 coin - a crown - to mark the centenary of the Entente Cordiale between Britain and France. I have one of the coins and much admire the artistic device of bringing together Marianne and Brittania.

Marianne wears her bonnet phrygien, itself a symbol of freedom from slavery - Liberty. She carries her sower's pouch ready to scatter a fistful of seeds. For her part, Brittania strikes the warrior pose.

Although the two are linked, there is a clear separation between them - Liberty.
Together in the round, neither takes prominence - Equality.
A feminine circle, a sisterhood - Sorority.

Saint-Emilion - Message in a bottle

Château Franc-Pourret, 1981

News programmes these days seem to be full of claim and counter-claim about the budget deficit and the effect of cuts in public spending.  Old certainties such as buying property seem no longer to apply as house prices fall, leaving some in the position of negative equity.  Canny investors suggest putting money into art purchases and others into buying and cellaring fine wine.
Back in 2000, I invested in some wine. It was more of an emotional decision than a financial one because I only bought one bottle.  Not any old bottle mind you! It was a Saint-Emilion Grand Cru from the Château Franc-Pourret, belonging to the Ouzoulias family. Its vintage is 1981.
Now 1981 is special because it was the year in which we got married.
The wine was already 19 years old when we visited the lovely medieval town of Saint-Emilion. We had family lunch in the square and still had some hours to spend before continuing our homeward journey.  I had visited the town before in the 1970s, when access to the monolithic church was much freer than now.  I distinctly recall remaining inside at the end of a short tour and feeling very much at ease in the place. There was no visit to the church on this occasion but we did pay our respects to one of the many shops selling high-end wine from the appellation. The merchant, intent on selling the bottle, assured us that it was excellent value and would continue improving with age. He even offered to buy it back at some future date provided that we had kept it properly. I wonder how he would know. Well, we bought it.
I said it was an emotional investment and we felt confident that we could keep it until 2006 when it and our marriage would be twenty-five years old.  It would, we thought, provide an appropriate focal point for an anniversary dinner.
We didn't drink it and it is still there lying on its soft carton inlay in its stout wooden box. Somehow, it has managed to survive those stressful evenings when there was nothing else to pour into a relaxing glass.
Apparently it is still going strong. I looked it up on the internet and it scores16 out of 20.  I don't know its current value as I would have to write to the château for a price but I figure I made a good investment.
Here's the funny thing, I have never tasted the wine! But by not opening it, I risk denying it its potential. It was made for drinking so we will just have to fix another date and keep to it next time.  I have uncorked a plan!
Surfing for details of the wine has revealed an interesting association. Catherine Ouzoulias provides luxury accommodation at the Château-Franc Pourret and offers tastings.  It looks a very grand and elegant place and from the 5-star reviews she gets, sounds like a great place to stay.  I wonder would she mind us bringing the wine back to its birthplace and letting us drink it there!  We might just need a second bottle.

Tarte Tatin

Hotel Tatin at Lamotte-Beuvron, France

Ever since I can remember I have loved apple tart.   As a child it was sometimes served with a taste of milk in a small bowl or saucer and at Hallowe’en the pie would hide a buried treasure - a sixpence wrapped in greaseproof paper.  Now when I see it on a menu, it’s hard to say no! 

Much though I am a fan of that closed, deep-filled pie variety if Tarte Tatin appears on a menu, that’s it.  Forget profiterolles or crème brulée, I’ll be making straight for the luscious, caramelised upside down apple tart.  Given its gourmet status on many posh restaurant menus, Maxim’s for example, it is hard to believe it was created by accident. 

When I bite into a portion, I guess I feel a bit like Marcel Proust tucking into a madeleine and being transported back through time to old memories. 

Tarte Tatin brings me back to France and its Région Centre, to Lamotte-Beuvron in fact.  I first went there in the early seventies and on a recent holiday to nearby Pierrefitte-sur-Sauldre paid hommage to the birthplace of Tarte Tatin. 

Standing opposite the SNCF railway station is the imposing Hotel Tatin, a former hunting lodge.  The story has it that at the end of the 19^th century the lodge was being run by the Tatin sisters, Stéphanie and Caroline.  Stéphanie had a lot to do one day and Caroline is reported to have been chatting to some of the hunters staying at the lodge. Possibly annoyed that she was doing all the work, and wanting to see what her sister was up to, Stephanie left her stove.  She forgot about the sliced apples she was cooking for a pie. When she returned the apples had caramelised.  Whether though annoyance or inspiration she decided to cover them anyway with some pastry to make a pie, finished it in the oven and served it to her eager diners.  By all accounts it went down a treat and has remained with us for over 100 years. 

Nowadays, you can find Tarte Tatin on many menus, made with pears or other fruit and even onions.  It seems to me that the classic origins of the dish have been lost along with the Tatin appelation or provenance. Tatin seems to be understood as upside down.  That’s a pity because it’s a great story. 

But all is not lost.  The tarte still has its devotees from all around the world.  Several hundred of us form part of a Facebook group – The Tantalizing Tarte Tatin Appreciation Society.  Will you come and say hello?  Bring your own tarte!

Bastille night, Belfast

It has long been the custom in our family to celebrate Bastille Day and this time for the 14 July we had booked an evening meal in Bastille Restaurant, Belfast

We arrived to the sound of jazz music rising from the basement entrance and were warmly welcomed into the restaurant, under the canopy of a huge French flag suspended from the ceiling.

We were escorted to our table and were soon enjoying a welcome glass of fizz having been invited to choose our meals from the extensive à la carte menu.

We ordered and, fizz in hand, sat back to enjoy the atmosphere. Diners were in party mood and the place had filled up well. There was plenty of lively conversation, punctuated by the voices of a group of French people on a short visit to Belfast.

It wasn’t long before our starters of quail salad, with provençal olives and quail egg; and foie gras arrived. Senses heightened with the aromas, tastes and sounds, Belfast soon melted into France. We continued with our main courses of seatrout and scallops; and monkfish with sweetbreads. Frites were pretty much de rigueur as was a bottle of Ropiteau L’Emage Merlot from the Pays d’Oc.

By this time, the restaurant was buzzing. A distinguished monsieur from the next table joined the jazz band to give a warmly received rendition of La Vie en Rose. It went down a treat.

Desserts arrived. These were a cheeseboard and some wonderful pruneaux à l’Armagnac. We ate these according to the French custom by sharing the cheeseboard to finish the wine and then moving on to the pruneaux.

And then there were two firsts. The bar manager sent across a couple of glasses of Pousse Rapière, frappé style. Although the drink, from Gascgogne and based on Armagnac is usually served as an apéritif cocktail, it worked perfectly at this stage of our meal. We decided to go for its fuller-bodied parent and two ballons of Armagnac duly arrived.

We had now fully engaged with the French people at the next table. From somewhere a laptop with speakers attached appeared. It turned out to contain a playlist of backing tracks and le monsieur was back on his feet entertaining us with more Piaf and a rendition of Trenet’s La Mer.

Then came the second first. He serenaded ma femme with a song that I had not heard before. Later he explained that it was Souvenez-vous by Pierre Bachelet. A sad song of a war-torn France and quite lovely. You can link to it here.

Time had moved on and we noticed staff taking down the canopy and carefully folding the flag. It was a gentle signal that it was time to go. And we did, taking with us some happy memories of a lovely Bastille evening in Belfast, France.