A Southwestern Salad

The Salade Landaise at Le Bistrot de Saint Paul

For today’s lunch salad, I chose a neighborhood place, the Bistrot de Saint Paul, thinking I’d take a Salade Landaise. It’s one of the few Southwestern restaurants in Lyon, a place that you can get to from the Presqu’Ile by crossing the foot bridge near the famous Fresque de Lyon. One of the reasons I chose to go there for lunch today is that it is infernally hot today. Their little dining room is quietly and efficiently cooled by air conditioning, a rarity in this town.

The Landes is a region in Gascony, located in the Southwest of France. When you see an item on the menu described as à la Landaise, although of course everyone can do things differently, you can generally expect to see certain elements of duck, like redered fat used in cooking, duck breast or foie gras, garlic, pine nuts, etc. If it's a bird you've ordered, sometimes you can expect it wrapped in grape leaves, if it's a dessert, you might expect Armagnac to work its way in somehow.

My salade Landaise at the Bistrot de Saint Paul was made up of mixed greens, diced tomatoes, chives, sliced smoked duck breast, green beans, little radish sprouts, pine nuts, walnuts, and slices of their house foie gras confit topped with freshly ground mixed peppercorns and sea salt, served with brioche toast. The salad was heavily dressed with garlicky house vinaigrette that featured a hint of walnut oil. In all, it was a pretty good salad with a nice balance of flavors. Especially counting the foie gras that tasted divine with the brioche. It was cheap too.

I ordered a la carte and paid 10.50 Euros for my salad, although they offer more copious 3 course options in their daily menus for 19 and 29.50 Euros. Their menu items feature Landes cured ham, the classic scrambled eggs with truffles, their house prepared foie gras, fresh seasonal fish, duck confit with Southwest style potatoes, and a duck tartare.

The self-serve cheese, from the famous Lyonnaise cheese monger at Les Halles, La Mere Richard, is presented in a novel way, and they usually pay tribute to the three types, ewe, goat, and cow.

They have a house doggie, a pretty German Shepherd, who greets the patrons and lies down by the bar during the day.

Update: Since the previous owners of this restaurant retired and new owners took over, this salad has been discontinued as well as a complete overhaul of the menu. I crave this salad from time to time and now make it at home. The recipe:

Salade Landaise

Serves 4

1 small head of tender lettuce, leaves separated, washed and dried
12 dandelion leaves, washed and dried
1/3 cup pine nuts
12 thin slices of smoked magret de canard (duck breast)
8 walnuts
1/2 mild red bell pepper
12 chives
200 grams of steamed fresh green beans
8 generous slices of foie gras
fleur de sel
ground black pepper
4 slices of brioche, toasted

For the dressing

20 cl sunflower oil
5cl walnut oil
10 cl sherry vinegar
1 shallot
1 teaspoon dijon mustard
1 teaspoon salt

- Make the dressing by blending all dressing ingredients in the blender.
- Crack the walnuts and roughly break the meats into pieces.
- Toast the pine nuts and walnuts in a dry pan over medium high heat until their fragrance begins to come out and they are lightly browned.
- Put the steamed green beans in a bowl with the minced red pepper, toasted nuts, chives, which you have clipped into 2 inch lengths, and add the dressing, toss.
- Compose the salad, starting with lettuce, place a bunch of seasoned beans on top, then arrange with slices of smoked duck breast and foie gras.
- dust with fleur de sel and ground black pepper, serve with brioche.

French Café Salads

Cafe Perl's Chevre Chaud.

For your visit to Lyon, in between cheese and restaurant pilgrimages, it’s a good idea to be sure to give yourself some wiggle room in your itinerary to relax and just have a salad in a café. A relaxing salad on a terrace serves to cleanse, recalibrate and recharge. It provides a needed interval within which you can let the world turn, enjoy local wine by the pot, and people watch. You can rest your feet, discuss your experiences with your traveling companion and write a few post cards or letters before you belly up to the next gastronomic temple. When in France, who doesn’t look forward to the quintessential lunch in a French café?

In centre-ville Lyon, sadly, the good café salad is a hit or miss phenomenon. This poses a problem since greens are a physical necessity for the digestive health of any food enthusiast doing Lyon at full hilt. A place might have all kinds of great things on the menu and serve a terrible salad: It can really be quite frightening at times, wet, wilted lettuce, or even lettuce that tastes like plastic. Drowned in oil or like vinaigrette soup. Canned corn often crops up unannounced, who knows what people are thinking. You might think my standards are too high.

What makes a good café terrace salad experience? The first criteria is that is has got to be in a real café. A place where you can order a drink or a meal at any time in the day without pretense, minimum order, or long waiting times. The salad itself has to be all good, fresh, well conceived, and have personality. In addition to being centrally located, there has to be an element of tranquility to the restaurant's terrace, with a pleasant level of insulation from traffic and pedestrian spectators while at the same time giving you a chance to watch the world go by. The service must be reactive and attentive, and most of all, there must be no regret when the paycheck comes. Does it sound too much to ask?

The last thing you want is to waste your time on a place that cuts corners or traps you into paying a fortune for what should for all intents and purposes, be the reasonably priced good meal that you hope to eat in a traditional French café. When you are smack in the middle of the Presqu’ile and looking for a good café meal experience, you can pass right on by Le Grand Café des Negotiants. You’ll end up aggravated by the outrageously inflated prices and egos of the wait staff. You don’t need starched linen, boiserie and stained glass for a good café meal.

The secret, my friend, is right there next door, at Le Café Perl. It is the unobtrusive and centrally located honest café right in the middle of everything. The owner is on site. The daily specials are enticing and attractive, incorporating classic café fare with a southern regional flair and a gesture of warmth and generosity. In short, the place is steeped in a warmth and simplicity that is just right for a relaxed café afternoon. Everything from the service, to the generosity in the plates, to the sturdy seating with elbow room is comfortable. The branches sway in the breeze filtering warm dappled sunlight on our tables. It’s the place for lunch with friends, a tête à tête, or for a simple meal alone.

One of today's specials was the Pissaladière à la Crètoise, a Crete style southern onion, anchovy and olive baked raised dough tarte, served with salad on the side, of course. They say the Salade Lyonnaise, with poached eggs and thick cut smoked bacon slabs, is well received. I saw several Croque Monsieurs float by. La Salade Italienne: Tomatoes, lettuce, mozzarella, penne with pesto, Italian cured ham, slow roasted pimento in oil, black olives. La Salade Perl: Smoked sliced duck breast, smoked salmon, a thick foie gras medallion on toast, lettuce, green beans, cucumbers, tomatoes. All salads are served with a bottle of the creamy house vinaigrette, on the side.

Le Café Perl
2 pl Francisque Régaud
69002 LYON
04 78 37 56 56
No need to reserve, arrive around noon to be sure to get a table on the terrace.

Seasons and Schedules

It's funny how things roll out a little differently every year. It was once long-windedly explained to me by one man who sells me berries and eggs from time to time. There is an "official date" for the opening of the season for everything from mushrooms to a certain cheese being at its best.

We can come to rely on a schedule for everything that the season brings. But based on the way that the weather rolls out, one heat wave or one cold snap can throw this schedule off by a week or two. So one year when we get a lot of sun in the spring and lots of rain in the early summer, we may be precociously deluged by an avalanche of delicious foodstuffs before we have mentally prepared for them. Last year, I was patiently searching for things that were supposed to be out already, and the buildup was such a pleasure. The most wonderful discoveries materialize when you have time to think about them.

When you ask, the producers are happy to tell you about their experience this year, and what factors have had an impact on this years ongoing harvest. It seems like this summer is rolling out at a precariously fast pace that refuses to slow down for me. My life also refuses to slow down. Vacation time will be here soon enough. I keep reminding myself to roll with it. Roll with it.

Pâtisson, or Pattypan Squash

In the early morning, two small white pâtisson squash await demurely for their luscious treatment, alongside a miniature head of cabbage just begging to be turned into slaw.

As summer rolls on, sweet thoughts of stuffing for young pâtissons come to mind while they are small and soft. We like to stuff just about any kind of squash, but this kind are so pretty, they always make a nice addition to the summer table. Brigitte, my mother-in-law who is a real southerner, stuffs big platters of vegetables in the local style of Provence and bakes them early in the morning on summer days before it gets too hot. She merely heats them up for a meal with family and friends, without even coming close to breaking a sweat while we dine on her terrace with lots of ice-cold rosé wine. She serves up a generous simple salad followed by the cheese plate, and whatever frozen dessert she has concocted. The cicadas hum, lizards bathe, the sun warms the stones, and we slowly take in the goodness from Brigittes market basket watching the breeze from the sea nearby flutter the canopy. While we are considering whether to ride our bikes down to that really sunny stretch of beach in Hyeres, she's already deciding what to do for the next day. She takes the treck to Toulon in the mornings and hits the market there, with a list of errands that includes dropping in on Mami D, her mother, who lives in a house on the hill in town overlooking the bay, just near the market.

Brigitte usually does what the French call the sun vegetables, or legumes du soleil, tomatoes, peppers, zuchinni, and sometimes onions, but I bet she would appreciate the way we honor her tradition by preparing her simple aromatic herb and slow cooked garlic seasoned house stuffing to go into the little pattipan squash. I think I will do just that as we look forward to our next visit with her.

Summer Postcard

This is one of the seaonal stands that comes in to replace
regular vendors during the vacation period at St. Antoine

Thick Shallot Dressing

The plethora of salad dressings in my friend's refrigerators were a source of great fascination and delight when I was growing up. My mother never bothered much with bottled dressings, raising us on her stark, crisp, actually quite beautiful house simple oil and vinegar mix. As a child I would enjoy an afternoon salad with friends where we would slather our salads with thickened goopy toppings. These days I avoid these kinds of dressings mainly because I prefer to know exactly what's going on my salad!

However much I love a simple vinaigrette, I sometimes want a nice thick salad dressing that recalls my childhood afternoon salads with special friends. I have learned in the process of making my own house dressings over the years that there are lots of 100% natural ways to get a nice thick one batch dressing. One thickener is egg yolk, which gives you that creamy mayonnaise effect with little effort. Mustard powder also is a natural thickener. Shallots, when pureed into the mix, give a great thickening effect. Creme fraiche makes an appearance now and then, as well as of course the classic bleus.

One of my childhood salad friends asked me the other day for ideas about how to use the shallots in her garden. Aside from chopping them up and using them absolutely everywhere, I mentioned that I like to throw one into a pureed vinaigrette, because not only does it add a wonderful flavor, it naturally thickens the sauce.

For Thick Shallot Dressing:

4 Tbsp. oil of your choice, I often mix fruity olive and walnut
1 Tbsp. vinegar of your choice plus more as you mix, if needed
1 shallot
a teaspoon of capers
1/2 tsp. sea salt
3 black peppercorns
2 Tbsp. meat pan drippings or reduced stock (optional)
chopped chives and other fresh herbs you have on hand (optional)

About vinegar: A few weeks ago, while working on a recipe, I got into a discussion with a journalist about vinegar. As we all know, the quality of vinegars varies widely from town to town, kitchen cabinet to pantry. With the range of vinegars available today, set proportions are rarely ever reliable. I usually keep three or four vinegars in the cabinet, for different uses. Why not experiment with all kinds? I will not reject a certain vinegar because it isn't expensive! Simple yellow apple cider vinegar is always on hand, and the simple ones made from wine, Sherry and Banyuls in my cabinet at the moment, are cheap and plentiful here. Good aged balsamic vinegar is present in my kitchen but it rarely ever gets wasted in vinaigrettes!

Begin with the oil, pan drippings or stock should you have any on hand, the whole small shallot, salt, and peppercorns in the mixing cup of your blender. Puree the mix thoroughly, and add the vinegar by the half-tablespoon, tasting along the way, until it reaches the flavor balance you like. Mince and add your herbs, whisking them into the dressing by hand. This dressing thickens nicely and is excellent served over simmered lentils, with mixed greens, or in composed salads.

Chameleon-like Activity Spotted in Verbena

Verbena sighting at St. Antoine

When my herb man had a bouquet of verbena out on display, I snagged it immediately. This year in the restaurants of France they have verveine infused into everything from panna cotta to pairings with lobster, or in asparagus terrines. Verbena is in the mix in poached peaches and ice cream, infused in savory sauce to top spider crabs and simmered with artichokes, even matched with piquillo peppers! The possibilities are endless for this herb. Voilà, donc, a verveine infused cheesecake with a fruit or berry coulis. I picked up some blackberries (just in case) from a Condrieu producer and and also some apricots from another, to do two sauces, choosing at the last minute which is best for the cake.

Verbena, or verveine

The idea is to make a sugar syrup, add the leaves off heat while it's hot hot hot, and let it soak off heat until it cools down again. It doesn't take more than a couple of minutes of active hands-on activity. Herb syrups keep a long time. You can use this syrup to spruce up or make your own soda or lemonade, and of course serve sublime cocktails. It's fabulous on yogurt. Or like me, you can just sip it by the spoonful. I gleaned the proportions for this recipe from a 1960 edition of Raymond Olivier's cooking magazine, Chez Vous.

in short order you can have verbena infused syrup

Fresh Verbena Syrup

for each 2 sprigs of verbena you use, measure:
200 grams or 3/4 cup sugar
20 cl or 3/4 cup water

Following this proportion, if you want a quart, use 10 sprigs.

Rinse off your verbena and pull the leaves off the sprigs. You will only use the leaves. Verbana must have appeared at a special moment in my childhood because every time I handle the fresh herb, strong diffuse emotions are triggered. Baby memories. I wonder if we had it in our garden when I was a baby. Anyway, bring the water and sugar to a full rolling boil, and remove it from heat. Add the leaves to the hot syrup, ensure that they are fully submerged (they will sink easily), and let the verbena infuse until the syrup cools to room temperature. If you are not using the syrup immediately, strain into a bottle or jar, seal it, and keep it in the fridge. It lasts for several months.

Gift idea

To make the verbena flavored cheesecake, add 5 Tbsp. of the syrup to your cheesecake batter, recipe here. You may add 5 minutes or so to the cooking time. Remember that when cheesecake comes out of the oven, it is still a little bit jiggly. Then it settles down and solidifies to the wonderful thick creamy sliceable wedge of heaven we know to be New York Style cheesecake. If you are in the States and don't have fresh white farmer's cheese, use Philadelphia or a similar kind. You won't be disappointed. Here I am, adding all kinds of crazy flavorings to cheese cake. Viva la révolution!

Very Good for Stuffing

When the onions are nice and big, they are a wonderful vessel for stuffing. Paula Wolfert has a great recipe for stuffed onions that she got from Michel Bras, in her Cooking of Southwest France book. The number one tip for following this recipe is to make sure you choose very large red onions. When they're big like this, you have no other choice. They have to make their way into your menu, non?

Summer's Berries

We often see white currants, sometimes dusted with confectioners sugar, as a gorgeous garnish on the beautiful cakes and cream desserts here. This week I made cheesecake, adding a summer twist of a tablespoon of fleur d'oranger to flavor it, and serving it with fresh raspberry coulis. Guess what went on top of each serving?

There is something in the way they glow in the morning light that attracts me.

Serpolet - Wild Thyme

A blue butterfly came and sat on my shoulder while I was hiking and I thought of the fleeting beautiful gift that life brings to this species. Imagine suddenly being able to see the world from a whole different perspective. Once a worm, dwelling in dark places and hibernating underground, and then suddenly a gorgeous fluttering burst of life occurs. What a contrast! The same creature is at once able to fly from flower to flower, sip precious nectar, feel the wind in its wings and bask in the sun. Did you know that the blue butterfly's sole sustenance is serpolet, or wild thyme?

Serpolet, or wild thyme, is an herb that is generally available from one vendor at the Saint Antoine market in the summer. I use it for many preparations. It pairs well with the chanterelle mushrooms that are coming out now, with lamb, in rabbit terrines, with quail brochettes, even with seafood like stuffed squid or mussels. It grows abundantly naturally, in dry rocky soil, so we see it a lot in the mountains and also along the coast. I had guests for lunch and put some of my leftover flowers on the table for everyone to enjoy at the table. They went straight back to the kitchen when I cleared the table, to live a second life in food.

I have ground the blossoms and leaves to a paste and massaged four souris d'agneau (lamb shanks) with it. They will marinate in the herb for a day before receiving a glazing of green chartreuse. After another two days being turned now and then in their herbal liquor marinade, I will pierce them with garlic cloves and season them with salt and pepper, the last step before I either braise or spit roast them for dinner with friends. But of course you will see the end result! Yes, I also have several recipes for vegetable dishes using Serpolet in my kitchen notebook. I promise to share them.

Cool, Smoky Gazpacho

My friend Clare was getting ready to teach a yoga class when we last talked and it got me thinking. She was going to be teaching something called yin yoga. What is yin, you ask? The whole idea centers around elements to cool, calm, and center you in spirit and mind, as a compliment and grounding element to those that actively stimulate you. Stimulation is good, but sometimes you need to tone it down a bit with some calming elements. There are lists of foods labeled yin and others which are yang. The best cooking will of course incorporate a balanced combination of both yin and yang. You've got to have a balance.

I understand it is hot and sticky back home, while we are walking around in trench coats and sweaters here in France. But for Clare and Mom, both languishing in the current heat wave back stateside, I want to share a recipe that might cool you off with some yin and at the same time give you a little spank of yang to keep you moving.

A nice house Gazpacho can be put together in the morning before you start the day. It takes all but 10 minutes to do and it really hits the spot once the sun is high. It can be served as a first course or as a meal with fresh bread, followed by the cheese plate.

I guarantee that this soup is the one that will win over a staunch cold soup cynic. It was entered years ago into my kitchen notebook after I tried the one in the good old standby, the Silver Palate Cookbook. If you have the cookbook you'll see that I have deviated completely from it over the years. It no longer even resembles the original recipe. But I like to attribute my ideas. Quand meme!

Cool and Smoky Gazpacho

This recipe will serve 4 to 6, depending on what course you serve it in.

6 of the most flavorful ripe tomatoes you can find
1 yellow onion or a bunch of mild flavored onions, the kind you get in spring and early summer
1 red bell pepper
1 yellow bell pepper
1 large cucumber
2 shallots
1 celery branch, cut into chunks
1 dried chipotle chili (a dried, smoked, jalapeño from Mexico). Note, if you don't have this kind of pepper, get some, silly! I will not be held responsible if you don't get yourself a chipotle pepper!
1 or 2 teaspoons coarse sea salt (cold food needs salt)
1 1/2 cups mixed poultry stock (had to get meat in there somewhere! Ha!)
-or- 1 1/2 cups of your favorite prepared vegetable bouillon
1/2 cup hot water for the chili pepper
2 limes
up to 1/2 cup good fruity olive oil (optional, depends on your regime)
1 bunch of chopped fresh dill weed or cilantro
4 to 6 tsp. wine or basalmic vinegar (your favorite vinegar) for serving

About the chipotle: This is a kind of pepper that is available everywhere in the USA! Dried and smoked jalapeño peppers from Mexico, I adore them. They not only add a complex, manageable heat, but also add amazing breadth of flavor with their natural smoke. If you haven't discovered chipotles, it's high time you did. If you cannot obtain the dried ones, you can use a canned one, the kind in adobo. If you live in France and are set on making this soup but have no peppers, call me and I'll send you one of mine.

- Wash and cut the tomatoes, onion, celery, bell peppers, cucumber, and shallots into rough chunks and put them into a large bowl or a soup pot.



- With scissors, cut the top from your dried chili pepper and slice it down the side, opening it to reveal the seeds and strings. Remove the seeds and pulpy strings from the inner part of the dried pepper (some may call this heretical behavior, so this step is of course optional, but note that you can keep the heat to a nice afterglow by doing this).
- Heat the 1/2 cup water to boiling and remove from heat source. Immerse the chipotle into it. Set it aside to soak.
- Take the stick blender to the vegetables. Concentrate on the onions, celery and shallots first, then the tomatoes, then the peppers and cucumbers as you blend the vegetables, not aiming for a totally homogenous puree, but leaving little chunks and crunchy bits here and there.
- In another container like a large measuring cup, put the poultry or vegetable stock, the entire chili pepper and its smoky flavored soaking water, and the salt.
- Puree the liquids with the pepper until the chili pepper is completely pureed and is like little specks in the liquid. Break down that yang. Add it to your cold vegetable puree. Add the juice of two limes, the olive oil, if you're using it, the chopped fresh dill weed or cilantro, and stir.
- Transfer to large jars or just cover the bowl or pan and refrigerate a few hours or overnight.
- Stir before serving and drizzle a teaspoon of the vinegar of your choice on top of the cold soup in each bowl. Don't forget the vinegar when you serve it.

Blessed are the Little Ones

20 minutes south, 20 minutes north
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Sometimes the cheese freak show comes to town. They roll in during the vacation periods, when the regular vendors have left spots to fill, and they roll out an enormous wheel of Beaufort. Tourists come and stand in front of them to have their photos taken, and then get fast talked into buying some.

Put that huge cheese out of your mind for a moment. Imagine arriving to the market and hearing a different call. "Step right up folks, right this way! Here we have the smallest wheel of cheese in the world!"

Sounds a bit odd, you say? One day a few years ago I started thinking about small cheeses. A whole new delectable universe opened up to me. There are quite a few different cheeses that I could easily put on the table in the kitchen of my dollhouse, and they would look right at home there. Sumptuous and grand. But at the fromagerie they are so small, they can be easy to overlook. Don't let the little ones pass under your radar, folks, you'll be missing something special.

actual size
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One of my favorites of the lilliputian stature is a local raw goat’s milk cheese called the Rigotte de Condrieu (the cheese on the left). It rarely weighs more 30 grams when fairly new, and the fromager gets them in palettes and takes it from there. With time, it shrinks down and dries until it splinters when wedged into delicious little shards of pleasure. You can get it at all stages of affinage. I prefer mine rather dry, because it’s then that the cheese takes on a beautiful balance between tangy and creamy. My idea of heaven is a nice Rigotte de Condrieu with a glass of St. Joseph, preferably at sunset when there's nothing to think about but how the sun makes it glow.

Most of the other rigottes are made of cow’s milk, and there are many kinds to choose from. A very good one is the Rigotte des Monts du Lyonnais (on the right), from the other side of town, about the same distance north from Lyon as Condrieu is to the south. It also ages quite well but I prefer this one younger than I do the Rigotte de Condrieu.

There is a fromager at Les Halles called Marechal on cours Lafayette that tends to the little ones extremely well. They have really got it down to a science. They also have really good connections, and source many of the little cheeses that you just won’t find elsewhere. I always go to Marechal when I want itty bitty little cheeses for the plate because no one does them better.

For the little cheeses:
Fromagerie Maréchal
Halle de Lyon
102 cours Lafayette
69003 LYON
04 78 62 36 77

Le Clafoutis

You never know if people you know are clafoutis purists - i.e. do they take life's bowl of cherries pits and all and insist that everyone else does too - or are they the kind to do what they can to enable quick painless gobbling activities in their entourage, thus removing the pits before putting the cherries in?

You'd be surprised at the way a normally mild mannered, friendly and generally laid back person can turn into a rabid dog and go for your throat should you even mention removing pits for a clafoutis. This is one of those pressure points in the French human psyche that are so completely unpredictable and random. My warning to you is to tread lightly, my friend.

I know now never to even breach the subject, for example, with my hairdresser when he is holding scissors, lest he purse his lips and then lapse into a daydream before he reasserts his opinion that the pits must be left in the fruit. No mind that I agree with him completely, except for the fact that I always add the "to each his own" clause. Just the mention of this clause and something begins churning in his mind and unpleasant memories are triggered about the errant clafoutis cook that fell to the wayside in his childhood and removed the pits. It's enough to start him tersely clipping away, with such vehement conviction that I must change the subject entirely or end up with a bad haircut.

Me I am a pits in the cherry kind of gal - but try very hard not to impose my opinion on others. In my opinion, pits are part of the package, integral to the full experience of the clafoutis. I have heard that the juice runs into the custard and clouds it up if you break the cherries open to remove the pits, but I have also heard that if you freeze pitted cherries before putting them in, then you can have the best of both worlds with a nice clean looking custard base.

What's wrong with a few pits? What doesn't kill you will make you stronger. You don't eat them, anyway, you spit them out. I suppose the people who prefer their clafoutis with the pits removed would also be the kind to dislike eating tacos or long noodles or remove the bones from their chicken. But it's good! You let the custard melt on your tongue and rub the fruits against the roof of your mouth, and the whole fishing for the pits sets things in motion for complete and perfect enjoyment of this classic French dessert. On the other hand, you're free to do it however you like. I won't judge you.

The Mystery of the Pyramids

One look at the luscious pyramids of chevre that appear in artisan form from all regions of France and I begin to tumble the mysterious shape and its history like a puzzle in my mind. Why pyramids for goat cheese?

Baskets are hung to favor the quick elimination of whey, it might be easy to dismiss the whole issue as just the preferred method for cheese-making in general, but then again the pyramid shape seems to be classically linked to cheese coming from goats. If it were a question of the mechanics of cheese in general, we would not think "chevre" when we see this shape.

The truncated pyramid shape (above) is said to have its origins in Valencay, inspired by Napoleon Bonaparte's dinner in the countryside with his interior minister, Talleyrand. When presented with local cheeses, the story is that Napoleon commented on the tall pointed pyramid shape as reminding him of his campaigns in Egypt. His host followed the next day with a delivery of six truncated pyramid shaped cheeses, and it has been made that way ever since.

An alternative and more exciting version of the story is that the little conqueror took out his sword and violently chopped off the tops of the cheese right then and there at dinner, in a fit of rage. As a counterbalance to the mayhem, blithe naysayers will sit back and point to the steeple of the church of the town, insisting the shape of the cheese is inspired by it. Most people choose the more exciting story.

No matter what the origin, these short topped pyramids have become a classic symbolic shape that means chevre, influencing many artisan cheese-makers the world over to adopt it. Nowadays we find them everywhere in the world that French inspired goat cheese is made, and each one holds its own mystery - why does goat cheese taste so wonderful?

Prune Saint-Jean or Cherry Plum

These plums are the first ones to arrive on the summer market. They get their name from the fact that they are ripe for the festival of St. Jean, the third week of June. They are for sale only for a week or two.

I picked up a scoop on the way to meet a friend for coffee yesterday, knowing it was probably my last chance this year, and my 59 centimes went a long way. My friend and I made a pretty good dent into the lot when I put them on the table between us, but there were still a few dozen left that I carried home like a kid with a sack of candy. We had to finish them after dinner tonight because tomorrow they'll be too ripe.

They are like little sunbursts of flavor, with a sweet juicy inside and a nice pithy skin that you can chew on after you've sucked the inside out. Apparently, the tree for this fruit has in many regions been hit at the roots with a fungus and attempts are being made to salvage the variety with grafting, but success has been spotty. The man who sells them has been at the market every year right on time with his plums since we came to Lyon. We enjoy them fully, savoring each one, not knowing if he will come back with a harvest next year.