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A year in a French market: Wild (insert ingredient here) chase
By Ann | September 3, 2009
Do you ever get into one those moods where you must cook a certain, specific food? Maybe you have a craving, or maybe you’ve planned your dinner party menu, carefully considering each course. But then you can’t find a crucial element at the grocery store. And so the hunt begins…
Such was the situation that I found myself in last week. The food: spanakopita. The missing element: phyllo dough. I trekked from Monoprix to Picard to La Grande Epicerie and scanned each frozen section, hoping for a glimpse of that friendly, long, rectangular box. But at each shop: rien, rien, rien.
Finally, at the fourth store, G20 on rue de Grenelle, I tried a novel approach: I asked. It took me a few tries to describe what I wanted: “c’est une espèce de pâte… chaque feuille est très, très fine.” (A type of pastry… each sheet is very, very thin. Cringe, cringe.) The woman cashier seemed confused and when she directed me to the refrigerated section I knew I’d said something wrong.
Except, there, in the refrigerated section, was a bonanza of prepared pastry! Pâte brisée, pâte feuilletée, and brick. No, not the red building blocks of the Three Little Pigs fairytale. Brick, pronounced “breek,” is a paper-thin dough, similar to phyllo, which comes from North Africa. I had read about it in the Moro cookbook.
I’d never worked with it before, but it turns out brick is just as thin as phyllo, but much more resilient and less brittle. Each sheet is stuck to a layer of wax paper; you must carefully peel the pastry from the wax paper, which is slightly easier than it sounds. From there, it’s smooth sailing — the stuff behaves just like phyllo dough. I had my spanakopita whipped up in 20 minutes. My dinner party was saved and I had learned a valuable lesson: In France, dough is kept in the refrigerated (not frozen) aisle.
Of course, if I were a smart cook, I would have planned a tomato-themed dinner, because as the photos from the market (top and above) prove, the red fruit is having its heyday. The small, round tomatoes (left) are called “cocktail;” the oval (right) are coeur de pigeon.
I loved this sign from my favorite vegetable stall, proudly announcing all the types of produce they had grown themselves.
Finally, summer’s last vegetable hurrah.
Topics: A year in a French market: Summer |
7 Responses to “A year in a French market: Wild (insert ingredient here) chase”
Comments
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September 3rd, 2009 at 10:35 am
Those market vegetables fresh from the source look so inspiring. Angel hair a la Checca, anyone? How are the tomatoes? Are they as juicy and sweet as their deep redness make them look? I remember the vine-ripened beef-steak tomatoes from our victory garden which we ate out of hand fresh off the plant with just a sprinkle of salt, the sweet juices streaming with every bite.
September 3rd, 2009 at 10:43 am
Those tomatoes look divine. I have some rather sorry ones growing on my balcony. May I suggest a spicy tomato relish/chutney with that divine looking spanakopita.
September 3rd, 2009 at 1:00 pm
Ah, feuilles de brick. Like phyllo, but less aggravating!
September 3rd, 2009 at 7:09 pm
Which market is your favorite? Is that where you took these pictures? How I envy you being able to shop in a French market. C’est formidable!
Libbie
September 5th, 2009 at 10:39 am
The spanakopita was delicious! Well worth the chase.
September 6th, 2009 at 7:27 am
Thank you for finally showing me how to spell “spanakopita,” which in my mind’s eye has always been “spinachoppidda” or some such thing. Meanwhile, just back from Kurdistan where the late summer veggies were also great — plus we had very sweet honey and wonderful fresh yogurt for breakfast.
September 7th, 2009 at 3:16 pm
Dad — The tomatoes are indeed juicy and sweet. And yesterday they were deeply reduced to 2 euros a kilogram!
Mallika — You have the best ideas! Do you have a recipe for tomato chutney on your blog? Post a link, if so!
Camille — Indeed, my hair will stay dark a little longer with feuilles de brick in my life. Also — according to a friend who’s lived in Paris for many years — phyllo dough n’existe plus à Paris! It seems impossible… then again, I’ve yet to see it…
Libbie — So many great markets to explore, so little time. My favorite is the Blvd Raspail, but that’s because I live so close. Sheer laziness, you know. And, yes, that’s where I took the photos. Thanks for stopping by!
Claire — I ate the last piece for breakfast on Friday and thought of you guys!
Chris — Excellent phonetic spelling. Of course, it’s all Greek to me!