One More Croissant for the Road: Felicity Cloake

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It’s packed full of information but written with a lightness of touch, and very funny in places too. didn’t exactly change my opinion (though the view was STUNNING) so I wasn’t too sure if this book would focus on the cycling side of things too much for my liking.

The poor quality and brief descriptions of French towns don’t spark the imagination, and are missing great chunks that you would expect in a travel book. Felicity is both meticulous and generous in crediting her sources, weaving the tips and hints of others into her own exacting recipes, making them all more practical and trustworthy. No doubt her descriptions of the different styles of boeuf bourguignon in different cities will thrill those readers who share her enthusiasm.Every special occasion in the early 90s was celebrated with a trip to the same Soho brasserie in London for onion soup and steak frites, always culminating in the same pièce de résistance, a little pot of custard with an eminently smashable sugar top. Felicity Cloake is the author of the Guardian’s long-running weekly column, How to Cook the Perfect. Most of the ingredients for this bistro classic are readily available, although you may have to go to a greengrocer’s for a frisée lettuce. Felicity has long established herself as an absolute authority on everything that is important about food.

It was the pesto I noticed first, a sludgy green interloper in the door of the fridge at home, the vanguard of an Italian invasion that would eventually see the Naked Chef cosy up to Keith Floyd on the kitchen bookshelf, and the butter dish on the dinner table replaced by extra virgin olive oil (which, my dad’s anxious face suggested, was expensive stuff, not to be wasted on teenagers). I particularly enjoyed her capturing of examples of typical Frenchness, especially the total unreliability of advertised opening hours for restaurants and cafes. We follow her route from the oysters, moules, omelettes and crepes of Normandy and Brittany, south to the beef of Limoges and hot chocolate of Bayonne before she heads east to indulge in Cassoulet and Provençal fish soup, among other delights. An evocative, infectious, and at times utterly hilariousadventure that will make every food lover, and even themost lapsed of cyclists, want to jump on their bike, and on a ferry to France, immediately. Leave out the lardons if you would prefer to keep it vegetarian– fry a finely chopped shallot at that stage instead, to flavour the vinaigrette.This is one long journey and I can only imagine how tough it was at times and the perseverance needed to see it through. Rinse the mussels in cold running water, then give them a good scrub and scrape to remove any barnacles or dirt. I only wish I was familiar with a lot of the dishes she describes (I’ve never been to France), but I suppose I‘ve learned some new recipes and foods to try in the future! There is rain (lots of rain), steep climbs and erratic opening hours that would challenge even the most ardent Francophile and while her mood is constantly changing and she sheds the odd tear in frustration and disappointment, she robustly takes it all in her stride and never loses her love for France or a good meal. It’s probably the account I pay most attention to that doesn’t belong to someone I know in actual real life.

If I’m honest, I was initially a little upset that Felicity has beaten me to it, although I have to admit she probably made a better job of it than I would have done. Each of the 21 ‘stages’ concludes with Felicity putting this new found knowledge to good use in a fresh and definitive recipe for each dish – the culmination of her rigorous and thorough investigative work on behalf of all of our taste buds. Her aim was to sample the best versions of her 21 favourite French foods, while keeping to a fairly tight schedule. Needless to say, this – and the raw fish that followed – blew my tiny mind, just as the accompanying wasabi blew my sinuses.Then there were the myriad hyperlocal specialities I had never even heard of, such as spicy tomato macaroni with braised beef and sausage in Sète on the south coast, or the creamy deep-fried tripe eaten with relish in Lyon. Such a shame because the title is clever, and the idea for the book is good, and there are a few brief funny parts. Since implmenting screen-free Sundays, we've been playing more board games and Clue is one of those featured. Remove the stalks from the cherries, but don’t bother to stone them unless you are feeling very energetic.