Somerset --
I have good reason to recall my last visit to Isigny-sur-Mer. It was when some demented French motorist (well, not that demented by French standards) decided to facilitate his negotiation of the traffic-clogged main street by mounting the pavement just behind me.
The blow my forearm was struck by his wing mirror was evidently considered acceptable collateral damage since there came neither a halt to his progress nor even an apology. I was reduced to shouting one of the rudest French words I knew at him (and no, I'm not telling you) as the pain started to kick in after the initial numbness.
There was a dairy nearby and for a moment I was tempted to pop in and buy a pot of the local crème fraîche to apply to the affected area – after all, crème fraîche is good for pretty much everything else. But eventually I opted for the neighbouring bar and a short, self-prescribed course of treatment based on the excellent local Val de Rance cider, taken internally.
Isigny-sur-Mer is tucked into the elbow formed by Normandy's D-Day beaches and the Cotentin peninsula which has Cherbourg at its tip. The peninsula itself was a crucial capture for the Allies, who forced the Germans back into, and eventually captured, Cherbourg itself. The action, under General George Patten, led one national newspaper sub-editor to omit, in his excitement, an all-important apostrophe and hyphen from a headline with the result that the next day his publication announced to its startled readers: Allies Push Bottles Up Germans.
Anyway, crème fraîche is what Isigny is most noted for. Indeed it is a jealously-guarded product. Dairy farmers in the town and the 192 surrounding villages that produce the milk that makes the cream that becomes crème fraîche achieved Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée status for it in 1986, and in return for the listing have to abide strictly by the standards for raw ingredients and preparation methods that ensure the integrity of the product.
What we are talking about is an ever-so-slightly soured cream, but one which retains a sweetness which full soured creams have generally lost. That's down to the gentle processing method. The cream is first pasteurised, then seeded with lactic starters and left at room temperature for 18 hours. That's it. Then into the jar or pot it goes.
For years it was impossible to get crème fraîche in this country, but now you'll find it in almost any supermarket. There are also British versions and although they aren't bad, few come up to the standard of the French original. Particularly if they are badged as 'low-fat'. This, quite frankly, is nonsense. Proper crème fraîche is 40 per cent fat, which is what gives it its outstanding flavour. Reduce the fat content and you might as well put wallpaper paste on your stewed fruit. Listen: you want to stay thin, just eat less.
The remarkable thing about crème fraîche is its sheer versatility. It's easy to cook with because thanks to the chemical changes it has undergone it doesn't split like ordinary cream. And that sweet-sour flavour goes with a fantastic range of foods.
I refuse to put anything else (even clotted cream) on Christmas pudding because nothing quite cuts the richness like a dollop of Isigny's finest. You can stir it into fried onions to make a rich sauce to accompany liver, while it produces the creamiest, tangiest mash you'll ever concoct.
Stir a teaspoon into a mug of warm home-made chicken stock and add a generous pinch of salt for a wonderful soup. A couple of tablespoons with a teaspoon of Thai fish sauce beaten in go brilliantly well with salmon. And then there's the fish pie. Nowadays there's no problem finding good, fresh fish, and there's no better way than this to bring out its flavour. Quantities given are for six to eight mainly because this is an ideal supper party main course. In fact, your friends will probably end up fighting over the final scrapings from the dish.
Caramelised apple sauce
Fish pie Reported by This is 6 hours ago.
I have good reason to recall my last visit to Isigny-sur-Mer. It was when some demented French motorist (well, not that demented by French standards) decided to facilitate his negotiation of the traffic-clogged main street by mounting the pavement just behind me.
The blow my forearm was struck by his wing mirror was evidently considered acceptable collateral damage since there came neither a halt to his progress nor even an apology. I was reduced to shouting one of the rudest French words I knew at him (and no, I'm not telling you) as the pain started to kick in after the initial numbness.
There was a dairy nearby and for a moment I was tempted to pop in and buy a pot of the local crème fraîche to apply to the affected area – after all, crème fraîche is good for pretty much everything else. But eventually I opted for the neighbouring bar and a short, self-prescribed course of treatment based on the excellent local Val de Rance cider, taken internally.
Isigny-sur-Mer is tucked into the elbow formed by Normandy's D-Day beaches and the Cotentin peninsula which has Cherbourg at its tip. The peninsula itself was a crucial capture for the Allies, who forced the Germans back into, and eventually captured, Cherbourg itself. The action, under General George Patten, led one national newspaper sub-editor to omit, in his excitement, an all-important apostrophe and hyphen from a headline with the result that the next day his publication announced to its startled readers: Allies Push Bottles Up Germans.
Anyway, crème fraîche is what Isigny is most noted for. Indeed it is a jealously-guarded product. Dairy farmers in the town and the 192 surrounding villages that produce the milk that makes the cream that becomes crème fraîche achieved Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée status for it in 1986, and in return for the listing have to abide strictly by the standards for raw ingredients and preparation methods that ensure the integrity of the product.
What we are talking about is an ever-so-slightly soured cream, but one which retains a sweetness which full soured creams have generally lost. That's down to the gentle processing method. The cream is first pasteurised, then seeded with lactic starters and left at room temperature for 18 hours. That's it. Then into the jar or pot it goes.
For years it was impossible to get crème fraîche in this country, but now you'll find it in almost any supermarket. There are also British versions and although they aren't bad, few come up to the standard of the French original. Particularly if they are badged as 'low-fat'. This, quite frankly, is nonsense. Proper crème fraîche is 40 per cent fat, which is what gives it its outstanding flavour. Reduce the fat content and you might as well put wallpaper paste on your stewed fruit. Listen: you want to stay thin, just eat less.
The remarkable thing about crème fraîche is its sheer versatility. It's easy to cook with because thanks to the chemical changes it has undergone it doesn't split like ordinary cream. And that sweet-sour flavour goes with a fantastic range of foods.
I refuse to put anything else (even clotted cream) on Christmas pudding because nothing quite cuts the richness like a dollop of Isigny's finest. You can stir it into fried onions to make a rich sauce to accompany liver, while it produces the creamiest, tangiest mash you'll ever concoct.
Stir a teaspoon into a mug of warm home-made chicken stock and add a generous pinch of salt for a wonderful soup. A couple of tablespoons with a teaspoon of Thai fish sauce beaten in go brilliantly well with salmon. And then there's the fish pie. Nowadays there's no problem finding good, fresh fish, and there's no better way than this to bring out its flavour. Quantities given are for six to eight mainly because this is an ideal supper party main course. In fact, your friends will probably end up fighting over the final scrapings from the dish.
Caramelised apple sauce
Fish pie Reported by This is 6 hours ago.