Category Archives: France

Food, France, Paris

Two Types of Luxury in Paris

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I just went to Place Vendôme, not to buy Dior perfume (not my scene) or Mikimoto pearls (I already have a double string, inherited from my mother) or a Boucheron watch (I’d be too scared of losing it) or even to have tea at the Ritz (it’s closed for renovation). I was amazed at how many people were milling around. I guess there are a lot of rich foreigners between Christmas and New Year.

I’m not sure I really like the decorations – I guess they’re supposed to represent reindeer’s antlers. Do you know, the word for antlers in French is “bois” which means “wood”. Seems a little mundane for such striking appendages, doesn’t it? Place Vendôme, of course, has one of Paris’ many phallic symbols, the Vendôme Column, erected in 1810 as a imitation of the Trajan Column in Rome, with a statue of the Emperor Napoleon on top. I’m sure you know some of the city’s other phallic symbols – the Eiffel Tower, the Obelisk at Place de la Concorde, the Montparnasse Tower and all those Buren columns in the Palais Royal. Then there’s Mitterand’s contribution, of course, the Library of France, which has no less than four columns!

Epicerie Fine Tetrel

After leaving Place Vendôme, I came home via Rue des Petits Champs (not to be confused with nearby Rue Croix de Petits Champs) and went past another bastion of luxury, but on a much smaller scale – Epicerie Tétrel, at n° 44 -known for its fine chocolates and luxury preserves. When we first moved to the area in 2005 (I think), the lady who ran it looked as though she was nearing 90 and would pick the chocolates up with her fingers! None of this modern hygiene stuff for her.

I was appalled, but Relationnel said they really were the best chocolates around. About a year ago, her daughter took over (she uses plastic gloves) and is just as unfriendly, but the inside of the shop is a real treat. It’s like stepping back in time. I was told grumpily that I couldn’t take photos of the inside but the outside window gives an idea of what you’ll find. It’s full of traditional products such as tinned sardines, sweets, candied fruits, biscuits of every shape and size. A most original place for presents!

Family, France

Flowers to Brighten a Grey Day

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I’ve been receiving all these emails from Australian family and friends positively flaunting their blue skies and high temperatures while we have boring nothing, not even snow or sleet or something even vaguely interesting. The fountain in the Palais Royal is working, to my surprise – they turned it off most of last winter – but looks very down in the mouth. It’s 8°C and cold outside because the air is thick. My wonderful rabbit-lined gloves somehow disappeared in an underground parking lot in Rouen and I can’t order any more from Madova in Italy until 3rd January so I’m wearing my inferior suede Australian ones. At least they’re better than nothing.

But something wonderful has happened to take the grey away. The doorbell just rang and there was man with a beautiful bunch of white roses, lilies-of-the-valley and Geraldton wax all the way from Leonardo in Australia, with a lovely note to go with them. Not only that but one of the orchids he gave me for my birthday has flowered again!

Australia, Croatia, Family, France, French customs, Slovenia

Christmas Tree’s Up!

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When I was a child in Townsville, our Christmas tree was an athel pine. Well, I think it was anyway. You certainly couldn’t buy fir trees or go out and cut them down in the forest as Relationnel and his father did when he was little. After a while, my mother got sick of all the mess from the athel pine and decided, to our great dismay, to buy an awful looking imitation tree. It was also tiny.

So when I had my own children in France, we used to buy a real fir tree until the first year I spent Christmas on my own after my divorce. I had decided not to have a tree that year but felt so miserable on Christmas Eve without my kids or a tree that I went to the local hypermarket and bought a pretend one. These days, they are far more realistic than the one Mum bought. Black Cat and Leonard were not impressed though.

When we started coming to Le Mesnil Jourdain for Christmas, there were no more excuses for not buying the real thing. First, there is always a vendor in Louviers, second, they sell Nordman trees that don’t lose their needles and third, there is plenty of room for a big one. Last year, it snowed so much that we nearly missed out because we were housebound for two days. By the time we got back to Louviers, the vendor had packed up and gone. Fortunately the flower shop in the main street still had some left. This year, it was the first thing we did when we got here. I love the system. First, you choose your tree, then they put it through a Christmas tree packaging machine and it comes out the other end in netting so that it’s easier to transport.

Black Cat is coming this afternoon so we’ll decorate the tree together. The male element (as my father used to say) likes the idea of the tree but are not even remotely interested in decorating it. All our decorations have a story, starting with the oldest, two little Chinese lanterns a friend brought back from Hong Kong when I was in high school and that I kept safely until I had my own tree. Several of the decorations were made by Leonardo who is an origami expert and one by Forge Ahead when he was little. All the others come from our travels.

We try to bring back something for the tree from each place we visit. We began in Rottenburg in Germany after we discovered the wonderful Käthe Wohlfahrt Christmas store. I could have bought the whole shop! The decorations are absolutely fabulous. Our latest acquisitions are a flamenco shoe from Seville, a traditional heart from Croatia, a pendant key ring from Bosnia Herzogovina and a violin from Innsbruck in Austria. We seem to have forgotten about Slovenia! Black Cat also adds to the collection whenever she can. This year she brought us back a lovely hand-painted bauble from Sweden. Friends who know about it contribute as well – we now have a little plaque depicting the French quarter in New Orleans.

My favourites are two baubles from the decorative arts museum next to the Louvre, the one Black Cat brought back from Saint Paul’s in London, the beautiful ruched egg a friend made me, Leonardo’s origami unicorn, Thoughtful’s king on a reindeer and the crib inside a glass bauble.

 

 

 

It’s a good thing we’ve bought a house of our own in Blois – we’ll need a truck to transport everything soon!

Food, France, French customs

A Country Market in Normandy

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We always go to the market in Le Neubourg in Normandy on the Wednesday before Christmas. Definitely not a tourist venue, but it’s a real country market with lots of little old ladies selling what they can spare from their gardens, such as chestnuts, eggs, leeks, carrots and even holly with red berries (that’s why I can’t find any in the forests – they’ve taken it all). There are vendors you only find on local markets selling blouses (a sort of house coat that country housewives of the older generation still wear over their regular clothing), charentaises (those awful checked carpet slippers), rubber boots (because it rains so much), flannel nightdresses buttoned up to the neck, handkerchiefs and other things you can’t buy in Monoprix any more.

Then there are the local specialities such as onion-flavoured black pudding from the charcuterie and Norman high-fat cheeses such as the well-known round camembert, the square-shaped pont l’évèque, the heart-shaped neufchatel, the strong-smelling livarot that I won’t let Relationnel buy any more and the very delicious excessively creamy brillat-savarin that I don’t let myself buy because of how quickly it seems to disappear!

We also like to buy our favourite “spéciales” oysters from Normandy but this year, for some unknown reason, there wasn’t a single oyster vendor on the whole market! So instead we bought 4 kilos of coquilles Saint Jacques (the large sea scallops they fish off the Norman coast which I love), a real bargain at 22 euros! They opened them all in record time, joking among themselves the whole time, despite the cold and steady drizzle! Last year, they were just as cheery in the snow.

There isn’t only food and little old ladies’ clothing of course. You can buy the latest fashion, including jeans and demin jackets, stretch pants and boots and these gorgeous little hats! I tried a couple on in the hope of keeping my ears warm without having to wear my hood all the time but I look absolutely ghastly, not anything like these cut little models!

But what I like best is the live poultry. An amazing variety of hens and ducks (including wild mallards), capons, turkeys, guinea fowl and geese. I felt rather sorry for them, knowing that they’d soon be in the pot, particularly since we’ll be having côte de boeuf cooked in the open hearth! I won’t mention the foie gras …

Accommodation, Family, Food, France, French customs, Restaurants

Rouen in the Rain

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Le Mesnil Jourdain with Le Logis du Porche & church

One of the sad things about Normandy is that it rains a lot. For the last four years, we’ve had snow at Christmas with particularly heavy falls last year. This year, however, it’s not cold enough so we’ve got rain instead.

This is the fifth Christmas we’ve spent in this lovely mediaeval manor house in Le Mesnil Jourdain. The main buildings form an L-shape. “Our” house, Le Logis du Porche, was built in the 15th century while the owners, Valérie and Marc Jonquez, live in the 16th century wing. Le Logis de la Garenne on the other side of the courtyard was built during the reign of Louis XIII in the 17th century up against a mediaeval motte. That, in case you don’t know, is the artificial mound on which theNormans used to build their keeps. Today it’s home to a herd of goats. There is a beautiful vaulted ceiling on the ground floor.

16C wing

But we prefer the Logis du Porche for its huge brick fireplace, large bay window with its original grille and stone seats where the ladies used to sit with their embroidery and watch the world go by in the courtyard below, its original timbered ceiling and lovely oak panelled door. The stone walls are as thick as the length of your arm and there’s even an arrow slit! That’s on the main floor. Upstairs, one of the bedrooms has a massive low timber door with a peak hole and traces of oil lamps on the walls while one of the others has an enormous fireplace where they used to hang the meat and an original mullion window.

La Garenne

Valérie et Marc have done a wonderful job of restoring and decorating both houses, combining modern comfort with the historical charm and authenticity we love.  It was Le Mesnil Jourdain that inspired us to buy the house in Blois. Our four children usually join us for Christmas, but this year, with Leonardo in Sydney and Forge Ahead in Madagascar, there will only be four of us. We’re waiting until Black Cat arrives to decorate the tree and put up the crib. But more of that in another post.

Joan of Arc's tears

Back to rainy Rouen. One of our pilgrimages is always to Auzou’s in the main street where they sell Joan of Arc’s tears – chocolate-coated almonds! I actually prefer Rozans des Pyrénées, melt-in-the-mouth chocolates that traditionally are only made in the Pyrenees in winter and that you can only usually find at Christmas. You have to keep them in the fridge. But the other members of the family prefer praline chocolates except for Black Cat who has never liked chocolates. When she was growing up in a country of chocolate freaks, she was so embarrassed about it that she used to tell everyone that “my mother won’t let me eat chocolates.”

Rouen cathedral with Christmas market

I like doing our Christmas shopping in Rouen because the historical centre is very attractive with its half-timbered houses and enormous clock tower spanning the main street. The cathedral, made famous by Monet, is always worth a visit as well. We usually have lunch at the art deco Brasserie Paul on one side of the cathedral. It’s in all the guide books so it very popular, but we still enjoy it. At 14 or 15 euros for the main dish, it’s also good value for money. It also sells real cappuccino (as opposed to the usual Norman “all-cream” version if you prefer a mid-morning or mid-afternoon break instead. Maybe next time, it won’t be raining!

Le Mesnil Jourdain
Valérie et Marc JONCQUEZ
5 rue de l’église
27400 LE MESNIL JOURDAIN
v.joncquez@gmail.com
http://www.rent-gite-normandie.com/
 
 
Brasserie Paul
1 place de la Cathédrale
76000 Rouen
http://www.brasserie-paul.com/index.php
 
 
Chocolateire Auzou
163, rue du Gros Horloge
76000 Rouen
France
 
France, Lifestyle

Je chine, tu chines, nous chinons

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There’s actually a verb in French – chiner – for poking around in junk and antique shops looking for treasures! Now that we have a house in view, we’ve started doing the rounds of “brocantes”, “dépôts ventes” and “antiquaires” though I think we might have to give the last one a miss because of the high prices. A “brocante”, Relationnel tells me, is always out of town and everything is just piled higgledy-piggedly and you have to really root around. The “dépôt vente” is a place to which you take something you want to sell i.e. you “deposit” it, and the seller takes a commission. The prices are usually very reasonable, particularly for large items of furniture that are too big for most apartments and houses. We went to one in Nogent sur Marne last weekend and saw lots of things that would be great for the new house, once they’ve been spruced up a little, but we don’t have anywhere to store them. Antique shops, on the other hand, particularly in Normandy where we’re staying until Christmas, are more upmarket. 

At the moment, we’re looking for plaques de cheminée (firebacks), chenêts (fire dogs, isn’t that a neat name?) and other sundry utensils for the four fireplaces in our new house in Blois, only three of which we’ll be using. The other’s in the bedroom, which would be a bit messy because of the carpet. We all ready have one set of utensils that we have bought over the years to take with us in winter when we rent houses with fireplaces because they aren’t usually properly equipped. It seems that people get off with the pokers and tongs and break the belows. So we have our own pair of bellows, a shovel, brush, poker, large rake affair and a meat grill. We also have a chestnut pan (with holes in the bottom). 

The only problem with this type of activity in winter is that the places are never heated. I was positively frozen through after the third one. So we’ve decided to change tactics. There is a website called “Le Bon Coin” (The Right Corner) that Relationnel has been checking out. It even has an iPhone app! So we looked up plaque de cheminée and came up with a long list. We ruled out the ones that said “à débattre” which I always thought meant the seller was ready to knock the price down but it seems that it actually means they sell to the highest taker. We finally narrowed our choice down to three. The first was already sold, the second wasn’t answering so we left a message and the third said someone else had already contacted him and it would be “first in first served”. He was 50 minutes away, on the other side of Rouen. 

We put the firescreen in front of the fire, put our shoes and coats on and arrived on his doorstep 50 minutes later. The other buyer didn’t have a chance. Relationnel told me he had spoken to a “couple in their thirties”, but the man who opened the door was a spry 70! He took us down to a lean-to at the bottom of the garden and there was the fireback, a pair of firedogs, a log-holder (no doubt there’s a real name in English) and a firescreen. It seems they used to have a fireplace but something happened to it and they got a wood stove instead. He bought the fireback in 1976 from a foundry in Cousances that dates back to 1553 and uses traditional designs. We actually have a “certificate of authenticity” and our fireback is numbered!

France, French customs, Life in France

The French Post Office – a love-hate relationship

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The French post office has changed. You used to spend hours waiting in queues in dismal-looking buildings hoping that the person behind the window in front of you wouldn’t suddenly close it just before you got there. I took to buying aerogrammes (remember them?) so that I wouldn’t have to go to the PO too often. I discovered that one of the reasons for the long queues is that the post office is also a bank, which is particularly popular in rural areas where there is a post office, but not a bank, in every village. Why anyone would have a post office account in Paris is beyond my understanding.

One of the most wonderful things about the arrival of the internet was that it freed me from my bondage to the post office. Before that, I was always having to worry about meeting deadlines for my translations, rushing out in the car to catch the last post at peak hour. There was a special “emergency” room behind the main office where you could make sure that already-stamped letters got there in time or else send them by Chronopost. I had dreams of buying a house next to the post office.

Then a couple of years ago, when the post office was practically bankrupt, they changed the concept. All the buildings were revamped with white walls and floors to offset the yellow and dark blue signature colours. The windows disappeared and were replaced with open desks. Stamping machines and a self-service area were added. It has taken a while for people to get used to the new system but it has gradually become more efficient and the queues have diminished slightly.

Recently, I had to collect a registered letter. I don’t know about Australia, but in France, they send you a registered letter whenever they possibly can. This was to confirm that I had signed the promise of sale for our new home in Blois. Jean Michel had one too but we obviously couldn’t collect each other’s! There was quite a long queue in front of one counter and no one at the other counter which was labelled “registered letters”. I went up and someone came out of nowhere to serve me almost immediately. Suddenly, people started shouting at me from the other queue that I’d jumped my turn! I am usually very respectful of queues but I just acted very French and ignored them. I collected my letter and scuttled out.

The final sale of the house was brought forward by a couple of months so I had to pick up another registered letter of course. We arrived to find that the PO doesn’t open until 10 am on Saturdays. With ten minutes to spare, we went to the dry cleaner’s across the street. When we got back, there were already several people waiting in front. Once the PO was open, we were served quite quickly but the lady took ages to find the letters.

They may have revamped the inside of the post office but they haven’t changed the staff. I also asked for a prepaid box to send my Christmas presents to Australia only to learn that they’d run out of medium-size boxes. God knows how I’m going to fill the ludicrously priced big box but I can’t bear the thought of going to another post office where they probably only have big boxes anyway. Why don’t I just make my own parcel you may ask? It’s because the same weight would probably cost twice as much.

The lady then gave me TWO FORMS to accompany the box which means, obviously, that I’ll have to go back to the post office to send it once I’ve filled it. I’m going to try and find a country PO in the hope that it will be less stressful, but with Christmas coming up, I think it’s a lost cause. I’m also hoping I’ll have a friendly little corner post office in Blois but that’s not for another two and a half years.

Family, France

Reflections from a Garret

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First French home in PauThat is the very corny title I gave to the diary that I started on my arrival in France on 1st October 1975. I had a corner room on the 3rd floor of a 4-story building in Pau in the Pyrenees. Hardly a garret but I guess I’d never been higher than the upstairs of our Queensland house on stilts. It also sounded very romantic of course. It cost me 220 francs a month – about 33 euros. Unbelievable isn’t it ? Through the window, I could see “the steeple and spire of St Martin’s Church which is very beautiful”. When I saw the church again last Easter, I was most disappointed!

I’ve lived in a few places since then. After my first year as an “assistant” English teacher in a high school, I had a very short stint working in a disturbed children’s home during which I shared a very cold house with another special needs teacher. Thank goodness it didn’t last long. I was hardly prepared for the job and certainly not trained. Fortunately, I got another year as an “assistant” in Nantes and lived in a teachers’ training college. I had my own room and shared a shower and kitchen with a couple of others girls. Most of the rooms were vacant, but I don’t know why.

After that I moved to Paris with my future husband in 1977 and we rented a two-bedroom flat in Fontenay sous Bois. I can remember having the impression of “playing house”. I’d go down to the market on my moped (which eventually got stolen for the second time) and join the other housewives, trying out new fruit and vegetables. But once I started going to uni on the other side of the city and audiotyping for two translators in between classes, I didn’t feel I was pretending any more! We lived there until 1984 when I was pregnant with Black Cat and working as a freelance translator. Leonardo was 2 ½.

We bought a house just down the road and Black Cat was born there. This time there really was an attic which eventually became my office. It wasn’t a very pretty house, I must admit, but I loved the fact that it had three floors and a long garden with raspberries and a very old acacia tree. The kids had a little wooden cubby house underneath it. There were also three beautiful old rose bushes with the most divine smell and huge thorns which sometimes bothered friends with small children but no one ever pricked themselves. The first year, there were masses of tulips in the garden. We didn’t know that mowing would remove them completely. Now I know better!

When I divorced, I had to sell the house, but I found a ground-floor flat on the edge of Fontenay with a little garden and lots of trees. After we married, Relationnel and I turned the garden into a “mini Giverny” as he called it and had so many barbecues that one of the neighbours eventually complained. I think they were just jealous! We also added enormous sliding glass doors between the living room and garden to make the most of the view. I moved my office to nearby Nogent sur Marne to make room for Thoughtful and Forge Ahead who used to come and stay every second weekend and half the school holidays. Our four children got on like wildfire to our great relief. During the 27 years I lived in Fontenay, I made many friends, all of them French and I often used to drop in and visit them.

The next move was to Paris in 2004. It was a golden opportunity in more ways than one and I can’t fault the location as my windows overlook the Palais Royal gardens, but I miss my own garden and my friends. A lot of my contacts these days are by phone or email. There is no one I can actually drop in to see. And I think I went to more exhibitions and plays when I lived in Fontenay than I do now though when we first came here, we spent a lot of time in the Louvre. I do love exploring my neighbourhood and trying out new restaurants, but I’m not a shopper, to the despair of Black Cat, so having the Galeries Lafayette and Printemps around the corner is not really a bonus. I do like having Book-Off down the road though, because it has a wonderful selection of second-hand English books at one or two euros a time.

Now that we have found our dream house in Blois, I feel I have new wings. I’ll have a garden again and trees and I already have a host of new friends waiting for me whom I can drop in to see from time to time. We can still come to Paris for the day if we want to or stay overnight – it’s only 200 kilometers away.

Accommodation, France, Loire Valley

My Two Favourites B&Bs in France

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Dove cote at Le Clos Postel

It took me a long time to start using B&Bs in France. I had horrible memories of my arrival in Dublin when I first left Australia many long years ago. I went there with friends who were staying with friends and I had thought, in my innocence, that I would be staying with them too. Not so. It was back in the days without mobiles of course and I must have knocked on twenty doors between the airport and the city (I don’t really think I’m exaggerating) before I finally found a room. I must say I felt very much like Joseph and Mary. No room in the inn. I had a bedroom to myself but I shared the bathroom and toilet with the rest of the family and the other guests. It was very eerie staying in a house with people I didn’t know.

I tried out some more B&Bs in Ireland a couple of years later, but I always felt the guests were displacing the family. We would be having breakfast around the table while the kids would be talking in hushed voices in the kitchen, obviously on their best behaviour. Then a few years ago, a friend told me about a wonderful B&B she stayed in on her way to Italy each year that had a private bathroom for each of the guests which sounded much more to my liking. But I was still reticent because I didn’t want to have to interact with other people I didn’t know first thing in the morning.

Rose bower at Le Clos Postel

But in the end, we decided to give it a try five years ago on a spur-of-the-moment cycling trip to the Cotentin which is that little peninsula that sticks out into the English Channel where the D-Day boats landed. We headed for the western side which is much prettier, not far from Granville. The B&B, Le Clos Postel, was just perfect. We were in a separate building (the dove cote) from our hosts who have renovated a lovely old stone presbytery. Tastefully furnished with our own bathroom and separate toilet and a lovely view of the surrounding countryside. Our hosts, Lydie and Robert Friaux were charming, the breakfast table full of lovely surprises such as a different type of cake each day and unusual home-made jams, and the other guests were interesting and not invasive. There was even a log fire to take the chill of the morning. Guests can also use the lovely grounds with their trellised roses and herb garden. We have been back several times and tried many other B&Bs since, but Le Clos Postel remains our favourite, especially now that the bed has added comfort. We usually sleep in Angelus, but next time we’re going to try the little split-level appartment called Prélude which has a small kitchen as well.

Breakfast table at Le Moulin du Mesnil

However, we may have discovered a rival! We went down to the Loire Valley last week and stayed at Le Moulin du Mesnil, a renovated mill-house near Montrichard, recommended by an American friend living in the area. Yvonne, the English hostess, came out to greet us in the cold and took us to our lovely warm room with its separate entrance from the rest of the house. Perfect, once again, with a little entrance containing a cupboard, a table with a jug to make coffee and tea and hooks to hang up our coats (often a missing feature). Then came the bedroom, with its visible timbers and white walls and furniture. Like Le Clos Postel, the bed is very comfortable and the shower is attached to the wall! At breakfast next morning in Yvonne and Jean François’ beautiful open-plan kitchen/dining room/living room, we had a wonderful view of the extensive grounds. Fresh scones and pancakes. Need I say more? They have a log fire too. Next time we’re taking the suite across the way which has a little patio.

Now I have two favourite B&Bs!!!

Lydie and Robert Friaux
Le Clos Postel
5, 7 route d’Urville
Village d’Urville
50590 Regnéville sur Mer
02 33 07 12 38
clospostel@hotmail.com
http://www.clospostel.com
 
Yvonne and Jean-François David
Le Moulin du Mesnil
31 Chemin du Moulin du Mesnil
41400 St Georges sur Cher
France
T +33 2 54 32 22 51
M +33 6 62 57 91 75
http://www.moulindumesnil.com/en/

France, Wine

Le Nez du Vin

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One of my greatest frustrations during our 4-part introduction to wine-tasting many years ago was my inability to identify all the “noses” that the other participants seemed to have constantly … on the tip of their tongues. “Blackberry, most definitely”, they’d say, or “bilberry – reminds me of my grandmother’s tarts”, “morello cherry – just like home-made cherry brandy”, “wild violets – you can smell the undergrowth”, “hawthorn – shades of country lanes”. “Mmmm …”, I’d say, trying desperately to memorise the elusive scent.

Although I’ve now been living in France for over 30 years, my childhood in the Australian tropics did not prepare me in any way for the subtleties of berries and flowers from temperate climes. The next spring, during our long country walks, Relationnel would invite me to smell the blossoms along the way: hawthorn, wild cherry and apple blossoms. I gradually began to enrich my olfactory memory and was delighted when I, too, could identify what the French usually lump together as “fleurs blanches” or “white flowers”. When the summer came, I seized every opportunity to smell all the different berries available on the market. But having to wait until the season came around again made the learning process a little slow.

During the wine-tasting classes, our instructors used to pass around tiny numbered phials of “noses”, part of a collection of 54 different concentrated aromas called “Le Nez du Vin” with an explanatory card for each “nose”. Since the full collection was rather expensive, we started with a smaller set of the 12 most common aromas found in bordeaux wines: strawberry, raspberry, black currant, blackberry, cherry, violet, green pepper, truffle, liquorice, vanilla, pepper and smoke (!).

It didn’t take long for us to learn them off by heart and it became our best party trick. One day, we tried them out on my daughter’s friend who was born and bred in the country and I was most reassured to see that she had even more trouble than me putting a name to what she could smell.

Of course, when we started tasting white wines, I came into my own: citrus fruits, pineapple, banana and lychee were far more familiar to me than wild berries of course. I’ve become quite an expert at picking up the “banana” aroma intentionally cultivated in “beaujolais nouveau”. Contrary to popular belief, most French people probably know less about wine today than Australians do. When beaujolais nouveau hits the cafés and restaurants on the third Thursday of November the question is always “does it smell of banana or strawberry this year?” Since people expect one or the other and love being able to get it right, the winemakers often adapt the wine-making process to produce isomyle acetate which is the molecule that gives a banana its characteristic smell.

Then one November, at the wine producers’ fair at Porte de Versailles in Paris, we didn’t like any of the wine we tasted so decided to splurge and buy the whole set of “noses”. The box is divided into citrus fruit, exotic fruit, seeded fruit, red berries, black berries, pitted fruit, nuts, floral aromas, vegetables, mushrooms, wood, herbs, spices, animal aromas and roasted aromas. Of course, the concentrated phials are only a reminder of the real thing, and what you can smell in the wine is something else again. Fifty-four aromas, however, are taking much longer to get our noses around!

But I can now identify most of the berries and flowers with a reasonable success rate, often confirmed by the experts at our regular wine tastings. And I can tell you, having the whole set is a much better party trick!

Le Nez du Vin: http://www.lenez.com/en/index.htm

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