Cuisine Americaine??

I've been asked to cook an American meal for French friends. I'm terrified. I mean, I've lived alone for the past 5 years and practically alone for the 5 years before that. I'm not sure I even remember how to cook! And I don't have all my wonderful, top-of-the-line cooking equipment surrounding me and ....and....and...

Okay, I can do this. I know I can. So then comes the problem of what to cook that is all-American. This poses some serious dilemmas. I actually asked this question on facebook last night and got all sorts of suggestions ranging from hot dogs and hamburgers and fries to meat loaf and pot roast and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. The problem is, I am having a difficult time finding something that would be truly American.


We're all immigrants...mutts (save the native American population) and our traditional foods all seem to come from somewhere else.  Pot roast is basically French Pot au Feu. Hot dogs are originally German. French fries are Belgian.  Beef stroganoff was a suggestion but that is Russian. I thought meatloaf might be a nice idea but it comes from Germany and Belgium. A grilled ribeye steak could work, but I think our meat here in no way compares to steak back home and besides, I have yet to master barbecuing any type of meat (see more about that here). Tater tot hot dish came up as well but if I remember correctly, that's made with creme of something soup and we don't have that here in France. And I just CAN'T do that. Nor can I subject the French to the world's greatest hangover food, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese...even though I have 3 boxes stashed just in case!


For dessert I thought of my old staple, carrot cake. This is Swedish.  Perhaps Apple Crisp...but this is more or less British Apple Crumble. I could try apple pie but I know it would be too sweet for them. Bread pudding maybe? Nope, seems every country has that! Jello? Oh god, no! And besides, I can't get that here either.


You see my problem?


So this is what I've come up with:

                                                 

Grilled Barbecue pork ribs with a nice, slightly piquant BBQ sauce (the French have very sensitive taste buds). Barbecue and BBQ sauce seems to be  genuinely red, white and blue.

Potato Salad and/ or coleslaw (neither are really American but we've put our own, unique spin on them)

Garlic bread with lots of butter. Nobody puts butter on their bread here except if it's for breakfast.

Chocolate chip/peanut butter cookies, although I reserve the right to sic 'em with apple pie and ice cream.

My last problem is an entrée (appetizer). Anybody have any suggestions? I'm thinking nacho chips and guacamole. Did you know the avocado originates in the Americas?


I will take photos of the grand event and comments from my French guinea pigs. Even if I and my meal fall flat on our respective faces, this has got to be worth a laugh. Doesn't it???????

Let the Games Begin

I sent out a challenge last week. In Search Of...A Great Piece of Meat. I have since gotten many responses as comments and by email and have started to dig into the great mystery of how to find good meat and how to actually prepare it on the grill. This little "contest" has two parts. The first is just to find the meat. Not an easy task, and several people who have lived here in France much longer than I, seem to think this may not be possible. I'm trying to prove them wrong. 

In Search of...A Great Piece of Meat

After yesterday's post about my dismal failure making a steak and my inability to find a good piece of meat here in the south of France, I've decided to launch a new project. Sort of like Leonard Nimoy's old series...In Search Of  minus all the paranormal stuff.

But this needs to be a collaborative effort. First things first. Find the best cut of meat...okay, the best cut I can afford. From my readers in France, I need your help. Where do you buy it, what do you ask for, how do you cook it? I just know it's out there somewhere! Anybody who can aid me in this search is invited over for dinner on the terrace accompanied by a lovely bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape.

My followers in other countries...please give me your tips on how to make a Great Steak on the barbeque grill. Share with me some insight on how to achieve perfection...or close. Do you use spices, or oil, or is it all in the cooking technique?  What kind of coals do I need? Who do you know that makes an exquisite steak....I need names and email addresses! Anyone with great suggestions is also invited over for dinner under the midnight blue sky of Aix en Provence...complete with a thorough tour of my lovely city.

And so the quest begins. I'm serious here! Please join me...In Search Of...A Great Piece of Meat. If we do this right, maybe we'll get picked up by the A&E network!

The Secret's Out

Normally on Mondays, I post an article from this same time last year. Last year at this time, however, I was galavanting across France and Switzerland with my sister and eventually my Mom and took some time off from writing. So...so....so there! Today we shall live in the present.

I can’t believe I’m going to say this…. I really don’t want to say this…. it pains me to type this sentence on my keyboard…you’ve heard it here first…. and you’ll never hear it again.

I miss my ex-husband.

OUCH!

Now let me qualify that statement. You really must let me explain!

That guy knew how to make a steak. Oh yeah! I have never eaten a steak… anywhere… that was as delicious as the steaks he would occasionally make on the grill. Garlicky and buttery and full of flavor, tender and thick and moist…and PERFECT!

If you say a word to him I’ll have to kill you. Because really, other than that, I don’t miss a thing.

Last night, I fired up my little green BBQ grill and took a stab at preparing this precious slab of animal protein. I knew it wasn’t going to be perfect because I really haven’t been able to find a great piece of meat around here (as in steak!). The French seem to think their meat is good, but I haven’t found it. In fact, a few moments ago the caretaker of my building promised to take me to a good boucherie where he says I can find better meat than I've seen at the grocery stores. But after my battle with le bifteck last night, I’m reluctant to waste the money.

When I was young, I spent a couple of years as a trail cook in Northern British Columbia, where I actually learned to cook. In fact, I got the job because I told them I knew how to cook! In reality, I didn’t have a clue and there was nothing they could do about it once they had shipped me high up into the mountains, except bear with me as I learned to bake bread in a tin stove, bannock over a fire, cut hunks of meat off very large carcasses hanging from trees, and prepare all manner of entrails to perfection. In my cooking repertoire, I now have mountain sheep brains and eggs, elk testicles, deer tongue flavored with cloves and sliced thin for sandwiches, stuffed moose heart, and liver countless animals, fried tender with onion.  To be sure, these cowboys were always so hungry, I’m sure it wouldn’t have mattered if I prepared all these delicacies in bleach…they were always willing to eat it (except for my first attempt at bread which they used as a doorstop for the cabin!) I wasn’t. That’s when I became a peanut butter addict. And I never had a well-cut, big-old beefsteak to lovingly nurse to perfection.

When I was a student I didn’t have the chance to practice either. No money. My staple diet then was potatoes and if I had enough tip money that week, I would buy something delicious like cheese or sour cream to transform my spuds into a special treat. Another favorite was canned spinach (4 cans for a dollar), garnished with a hard-boiled egg. I still love that!  But a steak? Never!

When I was a wife, I avoided cooking beef. It’s not that I didn’t want to cook it. It’s just that the ex-pectorant did it so much better. And he was willing. He would spend hours at it and I was able to do other things much more interesting.

Last night it was my turn. All I can say is, that was the worst piece of shoe leather I have ever eaten…or tried to eat. What am I doing wrong? It didn’t help that the meat was all of ½ inch thick but I can’t blame the steak. I know it was the technician. I tried to remember watching the ex-pec as he went through his preparations but apparently my memory is hazy…more likely I just never paid attention.

I will give myself one last shot. I mean really, I’ve got a grill, which is the best thing ever. And Americans are simply expected to know how to cook a steak. I’m letting my country down! I’m a bad ambassador!

I truly hope that my ex-pec taught his sons to make a proper steak. It would be a shame for such a fine art form to be lost forever. And a real shame for me because one day, when I’m visiting the boys and doing something interesting like playing with their babies in the sandbox, afterwards I want to be served a glorious, grilled, buttery, garlic- infused hunk of meat. And then I will never, ever have to say “I miss my ex-husband” again.