October 2007

My last memories of France involve juggling. I was at the airport, waiting for a plane to Prague. I was bored sitting in the terminal and pulled out my red juggling balls and started to inexpertly work through my basic routines. In my own world, I didn't notice the security guard approaching. I was just reaching down to pick up a dropped ball when I heard his heavily accented voice.

"You look so serious. Can I see?" the guard asked, reaching for the bean filled bags. Conditioned not to refuse airport security anything, I handed them over, worried that I'd done something wrong. The other travelers were all looking at us; I slunk into my seat.

The guard smiled an impish grin, tossed the first ball in the air and suddenly he was juggling smoothly. They cascaded one over the other. He flipped one behind his back, caught it with a flourish and handed the three back to me. The airport travelers broke into applause.

That is France. Crazy, unexpected, beautiful. It juggles culture and food and old-time tradition with flair and panache. This month at the deli we are juggling a bunch of French foods, bringing in unexpected things alongside traditional favorites.

Eric Martin's oil
You should start with Eric Martin's oil from the somewhat bleak but beautiful region of northern Provence. The bottle even looks like a juggling baton. Eric is one of those traditional farmers who does things his own way. He focuses on making a superb olive oil from the olives he grows on his land — a blend of traditional Provencal olives with one spicy Italian varietal thrown in to make things interesting. I wouldn't toss this bottle in the air, but I would upend it over a pile of roasted potatoes.

Alziari olive oil
Eric's oil a nice contrast to the Alziari olive oil — a classic Nicoise oil from the Cote d' Azur. One of our lightest and most delicate. You wouldn't know it from the bottle, which is one of our most striking. It's a blue cylindrical tin with red and gold writing. Inside is an oil that comes from the last standing olive oil mill in Nice.

El Galet vinegars
Pair these with a couple of vinegars from El Galet. The two vinegars are almost a case study in the contrasting attitudes in France: The Maury is simple, refined, delicate, almost effete. The Muscat is aggressive, dominating, almost over-bearing. I love both of them. You almost can't have one without the other.

Banyuls vinegar
Or go for the Banyuls. Another baton shaped bottle. Towering over the petite El Galet vinegars. Almost Spanish, Banyuls is made from a fortified wine, at the foothills of the Pyrenees. The wine dates back to the 13th century, only 10000 bottles are made each year. The vinegar ages for 6 long years. The flavor makes it all worth it — sweet, spicy, a touch of almond.

But just as a good juggling routine needs a flaming baton, so does our Deli's French show need French cheese.

Comte cheese
You can't toss Comte in the air, but you could roll it across the stage. This 80-pound wagon wheel of a cheese started out life more than two years ago as a flower growing in the French Alps. A mountain cow ate that flower and its milk formed the base for this classic gruyere-style cheese. We get ours from Daphne Zepos who personally tastes wheel after wheel until she finds the one for us. There is always a bolt of electricity running through our staff when we first cut into one of these wheels. Every one is different, lately, every one has been better than the last.

Roquefort cheese
In England they say Stilton is the king of cheese. In Italy, it's Parmigiano Reggiano. Leave it to France to proclaim two kings. Some say France's cheese king is Brie. We have a contingent at the Deli that crown Comte the undisputed king. But I side with those who argue that Roquefort is the true king. This is a blue cheese to reckon with. Only six companies make true Roquefort. We get ours from the smallest and most traditional. The cheeses are actually aged underground in real natural caves. The blue mold comes from moldy rye bread. In France, all the wheels are traditionally cut in half before sale. We've somehow managed to get a few whole wheels. These are practically unheard of in the cheese world. What it means for you is that the cheese has that much longer to mature and sit unexposed to air. This creates a more complex, fuller, creamier cheese.

Gabietou cheese
If I were to name the next heir to the cheese king crown, I might point to Gabietou. This is a rare thing it France — a new cheese. The recipe was only invented about 7 years ago in the French Pyrenees near the border with Spain. One part sheep milk, two parts cow's milk, it's a creamy, soft, smooth cheese, sort of like Brebis d' Ossau Iraty or havarti and would taste perfect melted over a slice of our farm bread, which is on sale this month.

Throw more batons in the air. We have Duck Leg Confit, Lyonnaise style salami, five kinds of pates, more French mustards and honeys than an expert juggler could keep in the air... France can put out quite a show. All month we'll have a little taste of France on display. We always have a few special cheeses that come in unexpectedly. Ask us to toss a sample your way.

Jess Piskor
Retail Scribe