The asparagus is simply blanched and shocked in cold water to keep its crunch and brilliant green color.  The goat cheese, coated with ash and aged for 3 weeks, is from les Chèvres de Brassenx, a tiny producer in the hills just outside Orthez. For the vinaigrette, I chose a simple mix of shallots, red wine vinegar and olive oil. The final garnish of chive blossoms and chopped parsley.  Open a full bodied bottle of white wine, add a crispy baguette and enjoy!

Ah, spring! That most ephemeral and fleeting of seasons. Especially with the changing climate, it can often seem like we pass from winter directly to summer. All the more reason to scoop up spring veggies while they last.  Nettles, peas, asparagus, radishes, favas, strawberries!  Eat them in season, then say goodby until next year.

According to Wikipedia, vermouth is defined as “an Italian aromatized, fortified wine, flavored with various botanicals (roots, barks, flowers, seeds, herbs, and spices) and sometimes colored, produced mainly in Italy, France and Spain. The modern versions of the beverage were first produced in the mid- to late 18th century in Turin, Italy”. Fair enough.

I have been a fan of sweet vermouth as an aperitif for as long as I can remember.  Even before I saw Bill Murray order this apéro in “Groundhog Day”, I had somewhere  along the line picked up an appreciation of the the sweet/bitter combination that vermouth provides, as well as what seemed to me to be the sophistication of this unusual drink.  Ordering a sweet vermouth, on the rocks with a twist of orange, somehow seemed to me very inside baseball, something you had to know what you were doing to pull off. Plus I just love the taste. My first experience with vermouth was, of course, Martini Rossi, the world’s most popular brand of vermouth.  But during recent travels, I have learned that vermouth culture is alive and well, and there is even a growing artisan vermouth culture in France, Spain and Italy.  I have tried a number of different vermouths lately and was pleasantly surprised by the wide variation in flavor profiles and weights.  Vermouths can vary from spicy to herbaceous to flavors of citrus, with a entire palette of flavors in between. They are  more or less sweet, more or less bitter, some benefit from a splash of soda water, some are perfect on their own.

Italy is  undoubtedly the point of origin of vermouth, and specifically the northern town of Torino.  Torino is the home of above mentioned Martini, as well as smaller producers like Punt e Mes, Carpano Antica Formula and many more. The elegant piazzas of Torino, lined with cafes with there white jacketed servers, seem especially appropriate for vermouth. Of the vermouths I tried in Torino, my favorite was del Professore, at once bursting with the flavor of herbs and bitter with citrus, light enough to drink straight but mouthfilling and round. Cin Cin!

We enjoyed apéros on the Piazza del Gesu Nuovo in Napoli, where the tradition of bars serving snacks with your drinks is still very much alive. The vermouth here is Martini Rosso, which I think is a pretty acceptable starting point for learning about vermouth. Competently made, with notes of herbs and spices, neither too heavy nor too sweet. And yes, that is a Campari Spritz in the other glass, completely unavoidable in Italy and most of western Europe these days.

We were in Spain last year, in the area around Segovia, where we discovered a well developed vermouth culture. In addition to the Italian classics, I enjoyed a local artisan vermouth called Dindimut. Much lighter that Italian counterparts with a flavor profile more toward citrus fruits than herbs, with a lively bitterness almost reminiscent of Campari, I found it to be uniquely refreshing in hot weather.

Vermouth culture exists also in France, with some very good French-made vermouths, although, these days, it seems to me that vermouth is used more as a mixer than an actual apéro on its own. Still, if you order a “Martini Rouge” pretty much anywhere in France, the waiter is pretty sure to know what you want. I think that Vermouth Dolin, made in Chambéry, France since 1821, is quite good.  I use their dry white vermouth in cooking – my late father-in-law swore by a marinade of white vermouth, black pepper and garlic for grilling a steak, and he grilled a mighty fine steak! Dolin also makes sweet vermouths in red, white and rosé versions that stand on their own as apéros. Note that the Dolin web site says that the origins of

of vermouth lie in the Alps, where the the wild herbs that give it it’s particular character grow.  A nice image to contemplate as you savor a glass of vermouth!

Our Holidays here in Orthez are generally pretty quiet;  we usually avoid the crazy holiday travel rush by staying home and most all of our new friends here in France are off celebrating with their families.  But then, quiet Holidays is a tradition with us since the days when I worked in restaurants and Sheila worked in retail fashion.  December was always one of the busiest periods of the years for us both, and any time off is spent just plain relaxing, so elaborate Holiday fetes were never really in the offing.

That being said, one can still put together something delicious and festive.  This year, I kept it easy.  On New Year’s Eve, we took the train to Biarritz to enjoy the festive ambiance of the quarter around its old covered Halles.  Tons of people shopping or craning their necks to check out the lovely things to eat and cook, or enjoying a pinxto and a glass of wine in one of the markets many stalls. Among the fish stalls, the vendors set up tables so that clients can enjoy freshly shucked oysters from Arcachon and a glass of bracing white Cotes-de-Gascogne wine. Outside the Halles, restaurants and bars set up stalls serving all sorts of good things to eat and drink, and bandas (a sort of ambulatory brass and drum band playing tradition music) circulate through the streets, playing for tips and drinks. We made sure to get back on the train for home before the nighttime craziness started…leave that for the young!

Our favorite stall in the Halles to Biarritz is  Maison Chailla, which offers everything from wonderfully aged cheeses, to charcuterie from the Basque countries, to more luxurious items like caviar from the rivers of Aquitaine. Here, we purchased smoked trout from the famous river-fed farms at Banka in the high Pyrenees above Irouleguy. Its a true délice, more delicate than smoked salmon but just as rich and intense.

For my money, the best way to serve smoked trout is the most simple:  with toasted bread, and sides of creme fraîche, capers and chopped green onions.  Open a bottle of champagne and go at it (yes, that is Billecart Salmon rosé you see in the picture…Réveillon only comes once each year).

After smoked trout, we had my foie gras terrine “mi-cuit”, which is whole fattened duck liver, marinated overnight with a splash of port and spices, cooked to very low internal temperature, then pressed overnight again in the fridge.  The low cooking temperature means that less of the fat is cooked out and therefore the liver maintains its silken texture.  The success of this type of terrine is almost wholly dependent on the quality of the foie gras, so I took no chances and ordered weeks in advance from Maison Paris, a small scale producer located in the town of Pomerez in Les Landes, the heart of the southwest’s foie gras region and about 15 minutes north of Orthez. Foie gras has been hard to come by (and expensive when found) the last few years, due to the bird flu epidemic that swept the region and seriously damaged both artisan and larger farms. The good news is that near universal vaccination of ducks has meant more foie gras and of better quality, and less pricey!  Add toasted brioche and maybe a spoonful of fig jam and the terrine is ready. We enjoyed it with a bottle of Jurançon from Domaine Castera.

Here in France, I was late recieving news of Armandino Batali’s passing on November 28, 2025. It was not until a Seattle friend sent me Le Pichet’s Instagram post about it that I had the news. A very sad day and I am so glad that Michael and  Marcel took the time to point out his importance to Seattle and what a kind, gentle man he was.
I first met Armandino when I was the chef at Campagne, where he and his wife would come to dine. He was always very kind and encouraging to me, which made a big difference to someone in his first chef position. When Salumi opened, Sheila and I would often snag one of the 2-3 tables and sit for several hours trying whatever Armandino and his crew were cooking that day. Often, at the end of the meal, Armandino and his sidekick, Bill Gould, would pull up a chair and a glass, just to talk about food and eating and life. He was such a sweet man and always interested in young talent and ideas. Later, lunches at Salumi became a sort of  restaurant staff rendez-vous, with friends like Matt Dillon, Daisley Gordon of Campagne, and David Butler of Le Caviste joining in.
Armandino and I formed a bit of a bond, as it turned out that we had a lot in common. We were both former Boeing engineers who had given it up for the kitchen.  We both had lived in Federal Way, in fact his sons played for the same Boys Club soccer team as I had. Anyway, he eventually made me an offer: if I would teach him how to make French pâtés, he would teach me about Italian sausages. Of course I agreed, and we worked together for 5-6 days during the time between when I left Campagne and when I opened Le Pichet.  It was a treat to spend time learning from him but also just to hear him talk about his experiences. We made my recipes for country pâté and chicken liver terrine, and I got to see his whole process for cured and fresh sausages. I think I even spent a day making gnocchi with the woman who made them every Friday (his sister?).  I never had the chance to apply at Le Pichet most of what I learned, as we never had the space for a curing facility. But our version of Saucisson Lyonnais is a direct descendant from his recipe for Salumi Cotto. Still, I felt very lucky to have had the experience. I think his biggest impact on me was to witness his genius for making guests feel welcome, to give the impression that one was dining around the kitchen table in his home (the fact that he would often open a 1.5 l bottle of inexpensive Montepulciano only increased the impression!).
I last saw Armandino shortly before we left Seattle to live in France, when I was a volunteer in the St James Cathedral Garden on Madison street Armandino was working as a sort of part-time guiding light for the cathedral soup kitchen, and he would stop to talk for a few minutes when I would bring a basket of fresh veggies from the garden. Even though he seemed a bit frail, he was still doing what he loved, giving of himself by cooking with love.

One of the joys of living in France is that you are never more than a train ride away from Paris. From our TGV station in Orthez, you can leave in the morning and be in Paris in time for a lunch reservation. A few weeks ago, we took advantage of the great French train system (and our Cartes Senior Advantage, which give fat discounts for voyagers over 60…not everything about getting old sucks!) to spend a couple nights in Paris with the goal of seeing a couple interesting museum exhibitions and, of course, dining.

Before lunch one day, we stopped for an apéro at Bistrot Vivienne in the Galerie Vivienne, one of the storied passages that dot central Paris. The fantastic Belle Époque ambiance is included with he cost of the drinks, as are the olives. This galerie is also home to one my favorite Paris bookshops, Librairie Jousseaume, which has been in this location since 1826. Jousseaume specializes in rare and antique books, so I rarely find anything in my price range. But the shop is such a voyage back in time that I like to brows and maybe take home a few old postcards or a bookmark.

I recently had a note from Brant asking the following question:  Is there any French cookbook that’s in the same vein as “The Joy of Cooking”?

Good question and thanks for asking Brant!

First off, I have to admit that I am not that familiar with  The Joy of Cooking.  Written by Irma S Rombauer and first published in 1931,  Joy of Cooking has gone through 9 editions and is considered by many to be the most popular American cookbook of all time.  That said, when I was growing up, the two cookbooks that my mom would always use were The Betty Crocker New Cookbook and The Lilly Wallace New American Cookbook. I still have my grandma’s much thumbed and annotated copy of the latter on my shelf here (see this earlier post).  However, for the purposes of this question, Joy of Cooking is THE bible of American home cooking (according to its publisher).

I have been told by French people who should know that Je sais cuisiner de Ginette Mathiot is, for French people, what Joy of Cooking is for Americans; a compendium of classic French home cooking but also filled with hints, shortcuts and general wisdom for the home cook. However, I am guessing that you are looking for a reliable, English-language book of  classic French dishes.  There are two that I go back to again and again, and that I consider must-haves for anyone serious about traditional regional French cooking.

Elizabeth David’s French Provincial Cooking is my ablsolute favorite.  This cookbook, written just after the end of WWII, is a compendium of recipes, stories and observations from the time David spent traveling and living in France, Italy and Egypt.  I own the 1958 edition – it was originally called “French Country Cooking” –  as well as the significantly updated and expanded 1999 edition with a forward by Julie Child.  David’s recipes are reliable, aware of regional variations and imminently practical. Her stories, antidotes and asides make the book read like a novel.

Richard Olney’s Simple French Cooking is les novel and more textbook. Almost technical in his approach and insistence on authenticity, his recipes can seem a bit daunting in their complication  and the amount of time required.  But country cooking sometimes consists of a number of steps that traditionally were integrated into the flow of the work day. The finished dishes shine in their simplicity.  When I worked at Campagne restaurant in the 1990’s, “Simple French Cooking” was the go-to source when we wanted the definitive, authentic version of a recipe. The house copy was so much used that the binding had cracked and the pages falling out. It was held together with a fat orange rubber band.  One of the gifts I took with me when I left Campagne to open Le Pichet was this old copy, which I kept for many years in a manila envelope. I finally bought a new copy when I could no longer keep the pages in order.

There you have it Brant, hope that helps. And if you have a question, please let me know via the Comment tab on my posts.

During the time that I was chef and owner of Le Pichet and Cafe Presse, I was always happy when guests would ask me questions about myself or the restaurants.  It’s fun to share what I have learned or experienced over the years and questions (usually!) mean that people are interested.

Have you got questions that I might be able to answer? About Le Pichet or Cafe Presse?  About moving to and living in France?  About French cooking? About favorite restaurants in Paris or Bordeaux or Toulouse or elsewhere in France?

Send me your questions via the COMMENTS function on this blog and I will do my best to respond.

On August 3rd, 2025, Le Pichet marked 25 years since it first opened its doors. Wow, what a landmark!  Sitting at my desk in Orthez, its easy to forget all the challenges that came as part of those 25 years.  We all remember 9/11, but do we remember “Freedom Fries” and the backlash against all things French that followed (does anyone remember why we were mad at the French?).  How about the financial crisis of 2008, that caused the closures of so many restaurants? Or, worst of all, COVID, what a nightmare!

But all of the challenges seem small when I think back on how much I enjoyed working with our great team, who were both professionals at a high level  and just plain wonderful people. Or how edifying it was to have guests tell me how much they loved our restaurant, and then to prove it by coming back again and again.  I am so proud to have had a part in building a restaurant that has become iconic in its neighborhood and its city.  Finding a job that is also a passion is a rare thing, and I consider myself very lucky to have done just that.

Congratulations to everyone who worked to make Le Pichet what it is, and to all our friends and guests who’s support made 25 years possible.  Congratulation to Michael and Marcel,  who have stepped up to the tough job of taking over an icon. I am sure that, under their leadership, Le Pichet has many years ahead of it.

Jim

I never get tired of watching the swallows in the evening! This year they seem especially plentiful around the 14th century Église Saint-Pierre, where they make there nests under the church’s ancient tiled eaves. Seated at a terrace table with a glass of good wine, watching them circle is better than Paris people watching!