Rick Stein's India (2013): Season 1, Episode 2 - Mumbai and Pondcherry - full transcript

Bon appetit, Monsieur.

I guess it's no secret

that France is one of my favourite
places in the whole world.

I know I'm not alone in that,

especially if, like me,
you've been going to France

ever since you were little.

You can't help but have that
sort of frisson of excitement

at the thought of all that great
food and wine you're going

to have ahead of you.

For the French,
food isn't part of life,

it is life itself,
it's that important to them.



So, what's slightly worrying
is I keep hearing these stories

about things not
being what they used

to be with cooking in France.

But the point is, I
really don't believe that if

I go off the beaten track to what I
would call Secret France,

that I still won't find those
lovely restaurants and bistros.

It's always better to
travel hopefully.

I've made my way east to a part
of France that sits

on the border of Germany.

It's a place that people
might tend to overlook,

which is a bit of a shame,

as it's a beautiful spot to
get lost in and just enjoy

whatever surprises lie
around the corner.

So far, my journey of discovery
has started pretty well.



The seafood of both Normandy
and Picardie was, as I'd hoped,

straight off the boats.

And I discovered the secret
to the perfect andouillette

during my time in Champagne.

I've now found myself drifting

across to Alsace in the hope
that this good run can continue.

Despite its tranquil setting,

or maybe because of it, the region
hasn't always enjoyed such

a peaceful history,

passing several times between
French and German control.

This is naturally reflected
in its buildings, language

and of course, its food.

A journey here is to engage in
a sort of game of cultural I Spy.

The rolling countryside
is undeniably French in flavour.

Yet these villages and houses
seem to have been wrested

out of the pages of a
Grimm's fairy tale.

I love coming to Alsace.

I've been here a few times.

I think it goes back to my
childhood, really.

My... my father came from a German
background and was very fond

of German wine, Riesling
particularly,

but also very fond of
Alsace wines, Alsace Riesling.

And it's very obvious when you
come to Alsace how German

it is because all the
names are very German.

And maybe that's why people find
Alsace a bit of a conundrum.

I mean, is it
Germany or is it France?

You can appreciate the confusion.

But I've always believed

one of the best ways to
discover a region's identity

is through the plate and the glass.

This cosy rustic diner is
known as a winstub,

roughly translated as a wine room.

Like me, you'll stumble across
these types of restaurants

all across Alsace.

I seem to be sharing mine with
a coach-load of Swiss tourists.

THEY SING
Apparently, they're former gymnasts
and the tune you're hearing

is their club song.

Another one of the joys of France,

even with a table for one,
you never truly dine alone.

Bon appetit.

I've ordered the
favourite dish of Alsace,

sliced fermented
cabbage and potatoes,

served with a selection of
salted and smoke meats.

It's Choucroute Garnie.

Wow. This looks like
a seafood platter.

A plateau de fruits de mer
for meat lovers.

I'm loving this mound of
sauerkraut right in the middle.

Looks like the sort of ice that
comes in a plateau de fruits de mer.

Then we've got pork neck,
we've got pork knuckle.

We've got so many
different types of sausage.

We've got boudin blanc, boudin noir.

We've got potatoes.

We've got onions and we've got even
a little dumpling of pig's liver.

I don't know where to start.

Maybe with a bit of boudin noir.

A blood pudding sausage.

Oh, delicious.

And now a bit of pork.

But, the combination of the
sauerkraut and everything,

fabulous.

Yves is the chef here.

He's going to show me just how
he creates his wonderful choucroute

and how it differs from
German sauerkraut.

For me, it's not so much
about the sauerkraut itself

because that's fermented cabbage.

I don't quite know how to make it.

I've tried, but not
very successfully.

But what really matters to me in
Alsace is what Yves is putting with
it.

Bay leaf, cloves, peppercorns,
onion, garlic, mustard seed.

Just note how much white wine goes
into it, a whole bottle of Riesling.

And I think that's what sets
Alsace sauerkraut up from a lot

of German sauerkraut that doesn't
have the wine in it.

And that's why I love it so much.

I do actually think that
Choucroute Garnie

is one of my favourite
dishes in the whole world.

All of which brings us right back
to my original question.

Is Alsace German or French?

Well, after that meal, my feeling
is it has its own identity,

yet still keeps the
best of both worlds.

And that's what makes it unique.

The sheer number of vineyards
in Alsace tells me the weather

is usually pretty good
here in the summer.

Sadly, the sun gods are not
smiling on us today.

Another reason why I'm happy
that I stuck to my guns and decided

to drive my own car on this journey.

If I'd taken my director's advice,
you'd now be looking at shots of me

on the side of the road...

Perfect.

..wrestling with a
leaking hood of an MGB.

As it is, I ignored David's
counsel, not for the first time,

and here I am, keeping dry amongst
the forests of the Upper Rhine.

This old paper mill might appear a
little unassuming from the outside,

but I've been told there's something
quite remarkable hiding within.

This fantastic gallery was created
by Christopher Frey,

who clearly loves food as much
as he does art.

I often feel the creative process

of an artist and a chef
is quite similar.

Both deal with a set of ingredients,
whether that's food or paint,

and neither of us can really be sure
how it will all end up on the plate

or on a canvas, or even if it
will be appreciated by its audience.

With both art and food,
well, everyone's a critic.

I know how he feels sometimes.

This is not just a haven
for art lovers, though.

Christopher also runs a butchery
here, specialising in animals

that run wild in
the forests outside.

Hunters beat a track to these
doors with deer and boar.

Chris uses the meat to stock
his own restaurants,

and what's left is
turned into charcuterie.

Chris, I really associate Alsace
with game, so many forests.

Yes. Wild boar's a bit of
a pest around here, isn't it?

I mean, it is everywhere these days.

It's really... it's a big problem.

We get too many and they're
really... they're really smart.

We are not allowed to hunt them
in the night and they just come out

really early in the morning
or really late at night.

And so... and they are quite smart.

So, it's not that easy to
get the wild boars.

So, you're turning them into a nice
sausage. Can we just try a couple?

Sure. So, we have here the smoked
and cooked wild boar, sausage.

Oh, I like this.

That's French, guillotine.

Oh, yeah, you invented this.
Merciful... a merciful machine...

..for cutting sausages.

Yeah.

Nowadays we are cutting sausages.

That's really good.

You can eat it just cold.

You can just warm it up with
beans, make it into soup.

And what about this, then?

Is that boar or that's...
That's also a wild boar.

So, that's with onions, jelly.

So, it's like jambon
persillade. Yeah.

But it's with wild boar. Yeah. We
served as just with a salad.

I'm also always hungry.

That's really very good.

And the jelly presumably made
it... From it, from it, yeah.

It's very unusual to find a butchery
dedicated to just wild animals.

But it seems to work well here
in Alsace in its regulated

and sustainable form
where these lush forests can offer

such rich pickings.

Chris has very kindly
offered to cook for me

at one of his restaurants up
in the Vosges mountains.

Talk about off the beaten track.

After this weather, what could be
more appetising than a hearty
wild boar stew?

To begin, Chris takes the large
chunks of wild boar shoulder

and adds half a bottle
of pinot noir.

In go chopped carrots, onions
and an onion studded with cloves.

After that, Chris sears

these lovely, tender and
moist wild boar chunks

with the vegetables,

and simply seasons the whole lot
with salt and pepper.

Nothing too elaborate required here.

To create the stew, there's
one very important element.

You might have guessed it -
another bottle of pinot noir.

This time, the whole bottle goes in

as do the studded onion and strained
meat juices from the searing.

Some more salt and a bouquet garni -

rosemary and lovage work
particularly well here.

Chris is going to serve the stew
with spaetzle -

the word means "little sparrows"
in German.

They're simmered pieces of batter

and not too different from how we
use suet dumplings in our own stews.

Well, I'm looking forward to this.

Cooked with lots and lots
of pinot noir.

Oh.

That is delicious.

What I find so interesting
about the wild boar

is it's not really very like pork.

I suppose it's because
it's been foraging and frolicking

through the forests of Alsace.

But it tastes more like beef
because it's such dark meat -

probably through all that work.

I mean, it is
totally delicious, this,

and I mean,
it's made with pinot noir.

I think there's a suspicion
of some cep in there as well

and a bit of tomato
but it's just absolutely lovely.

And while I'm on the subject
of pinot noir, I mean...

..I love Alsatian pinot noir.

It doesn't have all that
sort of cachet of Burgundy.

It's a sort of wine
you can really just quaff.

I have to confess, I did sleep
rather well that night!

The next day, I was off in search
of something a little lighter.

And it was an opportunity to enjoy
this rather beautiful scenery.

If ever a region has been defined
by its geography, it's Alsace -

the mix of the German and French,
the Rhine River to the east

and the Vosges Mountains
to the west,

working together to provide
the ideal soil and climate

for white wine.

I've discovered a family-owned
winery near the town of Colmar.

It's run by sisters
Celine and Isabelle,

and they describe themselves
as biodynamic producers.

Hello, Rick!

Celine. So? The cellar? This,
yes, the cellar. The best bit.

The best place to be. Well,
apart from tasting the wine.

Biodynamic wine, like organic wine,
avoids the use of chemicals,

but its practices can take into
account more spiritual aspects, too.

It's not unusual for planting
schedules to follow the phases

of the stars and the moon.

Renowned winemaker Gerard Bertrand
perhaps described it best -

"organic is a methodology," he said,
and "biodynamic is a philosophy."

Oh, this is great.

Look at the barrels,
these oval-shaped barrels.

Yes, it is very special
from Josmeyer.

In fact, my sister is the winemaker.

And she make the picture
regarding with the moon calendar

because we are organic
and biodynamic.

And that means the constellation.
Pisces.

Constellations, and the moon.
Constellations, the moon,

and this is the date
where the grapes were picked.

I mean, they're lovely,
but it looks a bit like astrology.

I mean, am I to believe
in biodynamics?

Biodynamic - I will say
there is some principle.

We don't use chemicals.
We don't use herbicides. Yeah.

There is a different way to make
the "biodynamie" in the vineyard.

Do you know what I think?

I think it doesn't matter
whether it is real or not,

it's what it means to you.

And what it means to you is
it puts an additional seriousness

in your winemaking,
and a sort of sensibility.

Each one, it's important
to give an identity because

it's a very personal character.

So, what are we going to drink
with lunch, then?

Yes, with pleasure. Which one?

We don't drink everything, it will
be a dry pinot gris. Fabulous.

Well, let's, may we proceed
to lunch? Yeah, perfect.

It's always such a delight
to discover new techniques

employed in an ancient art.

And Celine, like her father,
is also an expert

in the art of pairing food
with the wine.

She's making me a salad of green
lentils with confit duck of Alsace.

I just love how she's put so much
effort into choosing the ingredients

to give the finished dish
such affinity with the wine.

Complementing and not competing
is a fine art indeed.

I'm looking forward to this.

It's a pinot gris, 2014.

Foundation, it's coming
from old vines.

Very nice nose, it's got
a beautiful complexity,

it's quite, quite weighty,
it's got a lovely acidity,

and it's got a lovely finish.
Yeah, the balance is very nice.

The balance is perfect.

And this is the same grape
as pinot grigio, isn't it?

It's the same variety,
but the wine is completely different

because the pinot grigio
have less alcohol.

You have around 13.5, 14 alcohol.
Yeah. Is that right?

That's quite strong, 14%.

You need to keep the energy because
we like the wine to match with food.

Good. That is perfect.

And I have to say, I would just like
to go on talking on this level

for the rest of the day. OK.

But... But? ..back to the salad.

There is a dynamic.
There is energy in this salad

and normally, with the wine,
it matches very well.

I don't know, how do you find it?
Oh, it's just...

It is so lovely, that.
I know what you mean.

I always think lentils
are quite earthy anyway

and you can pick up that flavour.

I can't think of any other country
that I've been to

who would describe the matching
of the wine with the food

with such precision.

My father was a very good cooker.
Aha.

I don't know, we don't know if
he make his wine for his dishes...

He's a "cook"...or he cooks
for his wine. The word is "cook".

Cooker. It's "cook".

But he was a cooker. No, no,
but I just love the way

the French say "cooker".
Ah, he was a very good "cook".

So, now, whenever I say to somebody,
"He's a very good cooker."

Cook. Cooker. But a very good cook,
yeah.

LAUGHTER

THEY CHATTER

It was wonderful to discover
that home cooking in France,

well, in Celine's kitchen, at least,
is so very much alive and well.

Back at my country retreat
in the hills of Provence,

amongst the herbs
and olive groves,

I'm aiming to recreate the dishes
that I've discovered on my road trip

inspired by the people I've met
and the places I've seen.

I'd heard on my journey that maybe
people in France didn't have

the time for those celebrated
two-hour lunches any more.

And while in Alsace, I discovered
a very French version

of their fast food.

So, this is tarte flambee -

it's the closest thing
the French have to pizza.

But, unlike pizza, which would be
made obviously with tomato,

anchovies, garlic
all that sort of thing,

this comes from Alsace,
so, we've got lardons of bacon,

we've got Emmental cheese,
and we've got creme fraiche.

So, first of all, the lardons,

they're cut from poitrine fumee

which is just a piece of
streaky bacon joint

and cut into these
nice lardon shapes.

And I'm just going to fry them
until they're nice and brown

because they look much better
on the finished tart.

I just love the look of pepper
on lardons, I don't know why.

There we go.

And they're really getting
quite nice and brown now,

so, I'll just empty those
into the bowl.

Now, we're going to make the dough.

Ordinary plain flour,
just some salt here.

Just making a well in the middle.

Then, add some of the water
and some oil.

Don't add all the water at once

because I need to judge how wet
the mixture is going to be.

The other name for tarte flambee
is flammekueche,

and that's from Alsace -
sounds very German, of course.

It just means a quiche or a tart
cooked in the flames.

And, of course, it was made
originally in bakers' ovens

and I guess the idea of flambee
means

there's lots of fire
in a wood oven.

Sometimes, it was made with yeast,
and sometimes not.

But I really like the idea
of making them without yeast.

We should get this really,
really crisp base.

Now, on to the deck.

I'm doing a bit of kneading.

The dough should feel a little dry
when you start kneading because

it will start to feel more and more
moist as you get on with that.

Just pop that back in the bowl.

Tea towel to cover it, and leave
that to rest for about 30 minutes.

The French love their pizzas,
and there's pizza shops everywhere.

Why aren't there tarte flambee
shops, and how very unFrench that is

because, generally, the French
love their food, love their cars,

they like being French!

The tart base is rolled much
thinner than you would a pizza

and into a rectangle, of course,
rather than a circle.

And now, to add the ingredients.

First of all, some cream fraiche -
quite a lot of it.

I mean, it is quite a rich tart,
this tarte flambee,

but it's delicious.

And now, plenty of
thinly-sliced onions,

sort of got to be in Alsace,
I think.

Dot that with my browned lardons.

And now for some Emmental,
plenty of it.

Notice that I'm leaving
a little border around the outside,

that's just so
that's nice and crisp.

Now, I'm going to finish off
with a bit of salt

bearing in mind, of course,
that the cheese and the lardons

have got salt in them.

Pepper.

Now, very important to me,
some rasps of nutmeg.

There we go. I mean, I must say,
even not cooked,

that looks pretty appetising.

I'm going to put it into
really a very hot oven,

about 230 degrees Centigrade
at least

to try and simulate a baker's oven.

And I'm keeping it in
for about ten to 12 minutes.

Well, for those that
are very hungry,

that would be a sight for sore eyes,
I think.

Smelling wonderful. You can see
it's going to be really crisp.

Just want to get stuck into it,
actually.

I mean, this is the sort of food
that

practically everybody in this world
will find irresistible.

I'm leaving Alsace now
and rolling my way down to Jura.

It's another border region
but this time with Switzerland

and again, it's a place that's
off the usual beaten tourist track.

It has a real outdoors feel

and those that are drawn here
come in search of great food

and these vineyards tumbling
down steep limestone hills.

These will be Chardonnay
and Savagnin

the idiosyncratic grape of Jura.

Savagnin wine is made
slightly oxidised.

This is an acquired taste
which, to me, somehow,

becomes the memorable flavour of the
region, often used in local dishes.

Not everybody likes it

but it says Jura in the same way
that retsina says Greece.

I like to measure my journey with
places I'd like to come back to

without the camera.

Jura is an absolute case
in point.

I mean, it's not just the fact
that it's just beautiful -

the mountains,
the meadows, the lakes,

but also, there's a sense
of timelessness about the place.

And I think it's not
for no reason

that Jura is named after Jurassic.

It sort of goes on forever,
the vistas,

and you just sort of feel
a little bit insignificant,

but not in an unpleasant way.

COW BELL JINGLES

This is Auberge La Boissaude -

a restaurant I've discovered
up in the Jura Mountains.

I'm told it's very popular
with locals

who might not thank me
for revealing its location.

They love to flock here
for a family Sunday lunch.

TUNE PLAYS ON HORN

I did say we were close
to Switzerland!

The restaurant is
owned by Ludovic

who, like a captain
steering his own ship,

still takes charge of the grill.

I love the mix of generations
brought together by food.

Is there anything else
that still has such power?

And it's a familiar sight
still all over France,

often involving several courses
and a bottle or two.

A special menu for children
is almost unheard of.

And - notice anything unusual?

Not a mobile phone in sight.

Everyone's so very in the moment.

Or maybe there's no signal.

I suspect Ludovic's ancient
wood-burning meat grill

is one of the reasons behind
these full tables.

Crikey.

I had my eye, of course,
on this prime cut of cote de boeuf.

No elaborate sauces, no horseradish
or mustard required.

just a dressed salad
and a baked potato.

Well, what a lovely thing
to have for lunch.

I've just been watching... Oh!

Charolais beef.

Not aged for too long, about
a month - but beautiful.

I've just been watching Ludovic
cooking the beef on the open fire,

and he's so skilful.

I mean, that takes a lot
of knowledge to just keep working

the pieces of beef and pork
and everything else on there.

This is very lovely.

The other thing I would observe
about this,

the French prefer their beef
a little bit more chewy

than we do in the UK

and I do, too, because the reason -
the longer you age beef,

the tenderer it gets, but also, it
loses flavour, it loses sweetness,

and this is deliciously sweet.

Finally, you might think
I'm a little greedy

but, believe me,

none of this will be wasted.

The crew are hovering as I speak.

I love how, with the French,

the family lunch is approached
with such reverence,

and if there has been
a decline in standards,

I certainly couldn't find it here.

That fine cote de boeuf
came from the Charolas cattle

you'd find across the way
in Burgundy.

But Jura is rightly famous

for its own distinctive
red-and-white breed.

Montbeliarde cattle
are used mainly for dairy

and are responsible for the region's
equally distinctive Comte cheese.

It's the wild herbs and flowers
that grow at this high altitude

that gives milk from these beautiful
beasts that special flavour.

But of course,
that's only part of the story.

This is Fort Saint Antoine.

It used to hold a garrison
of 400 men.

But, today, the soldiers
are long gone,

the building, now repurposed
as the Cathedral of Comte.

These cheeses are stored
between six and 24 months

before they're considered ready.

During that time,
they're in the care of Claude,

who's known as an affineur,
a dairy equivalent of a sommelier,

and no less skilled.

Qui me permet d'ecouter mais aussi
de ressentir

la qualite et la texture.

He's just listening to the texture.
On recherche une fragilite.

Que'est-ce que c'est, une fragilite?

Il pourrait y avoir une petite
fissure a l'interieur.

Oh, OK. Il faut ecouter.

He's listening to...

It's a little sort of break
in the inside of the cheese.

They're all slightly different
colour

and it depends what the cows
have been eating

that affects the milk.

Merci.

It's warm.

It's...

It's comforting.

It's fragrant.

They make a great omelette

here in Jura, which is
just a simple egg omelette

with a young Comte in the middle.
It is sensational.

That would be perfect for that.
Parfait.

There are a staggering
100,000 truckles of Comte here.

In the UK,

just one kilo of this fine cheese

can usually set you back
about 30 quid.

For me, it's like a visit
to Fort Knox, but ten times better

as it smells so wonderful.

Watching Claude at work is another
good illustration

of the seriousness
the French bring to their produce,

which results in the magical dishes
you find here.

I really think this is a point worth
repeating time and time again.

But rather than just listen
to me bang on about it,

I have a plan to show you instead.

I just came into this restaurant.

It's called Restaurant de Fromage,

so what I've asked is if they'll
produce eight dishes for me

of different cheeses
with different dishes.

The reason being, that a lot
of the time,

I do have to eat lots of food

just to get a taste of a region.

And I just want to show you
what this actually means.

So, first of all, I have an omelette
of potatoes

with Saint Point cheese.

Saint Point cheese
and smoked ham.

So here we go.

Delicious. Delicious, lovely, smoky
flavours even in the omelette.

Very, very mellow-tasting cheese

and some lovely smoked ham
to go with it.

Well, this looks really good.

Tarte flambee. Oh, oh!

Now we have a tartine de Morbier.

Now, a tartine is something you
normally have for breakfast

with butter on it.

But this is with Morbier cheeses
and onions and lardons.

And, again, this is...

Mm, wow!

Goes so well with this
local Jura wine,

this is chardonnay from Arbois.

The wines have a slight bit
of oxidisation

which is part of the trademark
of their wines.

I'm really loving this.

We're into dish three now.

Mm!

Well, this is Chevre chaud de Jura
a la creme.

Thinking of that Monty Python
cheese sketch.

"It's a bit runny, sir."

Right, dish number five.

This is local Morteau sausage dipped
into what's called cancoillotte,

which is like very difficult
to describe.

I've only just come across it,
but it's like aged curd cheese,

so it's full cream milk with rennet
and made with wine and garlic,

and each family
has their own cancoillotte.

Wow!

This just looks lovely.

But I am, you know, I would be so
full of enthusiasm

for this leg of chicken boned out

and stuffed with mushrooms
and Comte cheese

with a sauce of morels,
of morel mushrooms and cream

and a bit of stock.

But, you know, I'm not denying this
tastes absolutely great,

but where do we go from here?

Gosh.

Fondue.

Two types of Comte cheese in the
fondue

and a secret cheese and some
sauvignon wine...

Oh! Some new potatoes.

Even though I am a little full,
this is fab.

Phew!

And, finally, raclette, the name
of the cheese

and the name of the dish

and the name of the machinery,
I guess.

The name comes from the word
"racler",

which means to scrape.

The rather '70s-looking
brass table heater

melts the cheese right onto
the plate.

You always have it with potatoes,
with gherkins

and plenty of black pepper.

But raclette is the stuff
of skiing holidays.

And it's one of those things,

when you come off the ski slopes
in the late afternoon,

maybe you have a glass of Gluhwein

and you just think,
"We're having raclette tonight."

For me, cheese is France.

I mean, you go into any
restaurant in France

and that lovely smell of cheese,

it couldn't be anywhere else.

There's always a smell of warm
cheese,

a slightly smelly cheese
in the air.

And it's sort of synonymous
with France for me.

So actually sitting down,
I have had too much to eat,

I am a bit stuffed, to be honest.
But...

..that, I hope, is that.

I hope there's not a sweet
with cheese in it.

I've had enough.

I was far too stuffed to enjoy
a dessert - cheesecake, what else?

But while I was in Jura, I spotted
a fantastic dish on the menu

that I was desperate to try

and I'm going to recreate
it here

in my hideaway in Provence.

The pud was made with bilberries
which the French call myrtilles.

But I'm just going to make
it with blueberries

because it's such a great tart.

I'm going to start off by making
a sweet shortcrust pastry.

So into my bowl goes loads of flour.

Just adding some butter.

I quite enjoy doing this

cos I've memories
of my mum doing it.

The other thing I can remember
about making shortcrust

was I actually went to college
to learn how to make pastries.

Really only people with cold
fingers make good shortcrust.

No chance for me then.

And that's simply because you
don't want to heat the butter up

while you're doing this,

otherwise, you don't get
a good sort of granular crumb,

which is what you need
for a really short pastry.

That's looking quite granular.

So now I'm just going to add some
caster sugar

and I think it's very important in a
lot of sweets

just to put a little bit
of salt in there.

It just gives it an edge, emphasises
the sweetness, I would say.

And now one egg,

and just a tablespoon of
very cold water,

enough for the time being.

We might have to add some
more later.

Again, just using my fingers
all the time, not my palms.

Not the world's best pastry chef,
but I really do enjoy it.

It's always quite delicate work
rolling out shortcrust.

The harder it is, generally,
the better the shortcrust,

because short just means it's
going to fall apart very easily.

When you taste it,
it just tastes so much better,

that granular, sandy texture.

OK, onto my rolling pin
and then just over the tart.

Another childhood memory.

We'd get to eat the off-cuts
from my mum's pastry-making,

sweet pastry.

I guess that's what cookie
dough is all about, that ice cream.

Maybe cookie dough.

Lovely. I'll just dock
the base of the tart

just to stop it bubbling up
when it's cooking.

And I'll just take that off
and chill it for a while.

It's nicely chilled, the bits
I like doing,

getting the greaseproof
ready for my baking beans.

It's important to scrunch it up

so that it just goes into all
the corners.

I've bought these superior baking
beans at the supermarket.

I just use haricot blanc.

Smells nice when it comes up.

A sort of smell of pastry
and hot beans.

I'm just going to put the tart
in a hot oven

just to bake blind
for about ten minutes.

When that's done,

sprinkle the pastry with ground
almonds,

add the berries
and bake for 15 minutes.

So they're looking lovely,
the blueberries,

they've gone a really deep black.

They've cooked nicely, but also
so has the pastry,

and what we're really looking for,

above all, I think,
is a good crisp base.

So now for the custard,
in goes some cream

and then some icing sugar,

a couple of eggs and then about half
a teaspoon of vanilla.

Give it a nice vanilla flavour.

And just for me, a tiny
little pinch of salt.

I always like that

just to offset against the
sweetness. In that goes.

And then just pour that
all over the berries.

And back in the oven for about
20 to 30 minutes.

Despite my warm fingers,
I'm really rather proud of this -

crisp, sweet pastry and even
sweeter blueberries and custard.

And why not go that extra mile
with a little bit of cream?

Delicious!

Well, I couldn't resist that.

Just a tiny little bit.

I think, really, for me, I couldn't
imagine doing a sweet menu

in a restaurant without including
a French tart like this.

It's just... It's a bit like our
nursery puddings back home.

You have to have a blueberry tart.

One of the joys of this journey
is that,

as my route isn't written
in marker pen,

I'm free to stray off
the main road

when the mood should take me,

a chance to get lost and perhaps
find a little something

along the way.

Allo? Une biere, s'il vous plait.

Bonjour, monsieur, une biere. Bien.

Merci. Je vous en prie.

Well, I'm here, mid-afternoon,
and I love these sort of bars

like this, just quiet time
to contemplate

and, particularly,
I'm loving this one

because it's stuffed full of all
kinds of artefacts.

It's a bit like a sort
of bric-a-brac bar.

I remember a pub a very similar
to this in Cornwall in the '60s

and the little fishing village of
Polkerris.

And it had sort of stuffed seagulls
and fish and hay forks

and maybe the odd sort of sousaphone
covered in dust in a corner,

and lots of old trunks and maybe
a pirate somewhere,

a plaster pirate a bit like that
chef over there.

I was sort of thinking
that I'm about a quarter or a third

of the way through my journey
and it's called Secret France.

But a lot of the places
I've been to

aren't particularly secret

simply because there's so many other
people,

some of the other tourists looking
for those idyllic villages

with a perfect little bar
or the perfect little bistro in it.

But this one is really hard to find,
I would say.

Anthony Bourdain,
who was a friend of mine,

late and much lamented,
used to go all over the world.

And I used to be terribly taken
with the sort of rigour

and the way he used to eat

and the political acumen
he had about places.

But he used to say that there's
a certain element of sadness

about revealing somewhere so
special, generally,

because it's almost like that line
in Hotel California,

"call place paradise
and kiss it goodbye."

I just feel that.

But I think, in this case,
I'm going to say to you, find it.

I hope, if you do manage to connect
those dots,

that your moment of reflection
proves as enjoyable as mine.

I'm leaving Jura,

I have to say slightly regretfully.

It's a place that so easily
gets under your skin,

but I have to move on,

and I'm heading west,
on the way to Burgundy,

which does, of course,

immediately lift the spirits.

I think the thing I love most
of all about Burgundy are the wines

just two grapes,
Chardonnay and Pinot Noir,

and both, for different reasons,

are probably amongst my most
favourite wines in the world,

particularly the Chardonnay,

and that is white Burgundy.

I mean, names like Montrachet,
Meursault,

Saint-Romain, Auxey-Duresses.

Those villages, actually
passing through some of them,

just gives me such a sort
of frisson of excitement

because all the wines from Burgundy
are named after the village,

not the grape, and I'm thinking,

"Wow, that's where the most
wonderful wine comes from."

And then the look of Burgundy,
I mean, the limestone,

the lovely colours
of the villages in Burgundy

and the pastures and the vineyards.

It's just so beautiful and such
a lovely part of France to be in.

Burgundy has much more to offer
than just wine, of course.

I've arrived in the ancient city
of Louhans,

and I'm making a beeline
for this fantastic market.

I must say, I'm very happy to be in
a livestock market like this.

It's full of chickens, ducks,

guinea fowl, rabbits, guinea pigs,

and lots of songbirds.

It's not just about eating animals,

it's also about show animals.

There's a fantastic selection
of chickens over there

with big bouffant hairstyles.

You sort of wonder how they can see
out of their eyes.

Over there... Here is the sort
of serious breeders.

But over there, it's like a car-boot
sale with animals,

and people just coming in
and selling one or two.

I was talking to a really good chef
friend of mine here, Pierre
Koffmann,

who comes from Gascony.

I said to him before
I started my journey,

where can I find a really good
market in France cos I want to go
there?

He said anywhere
that sells live animals.

He said most of the markets
have been taken over by tourism

but you go to somewhere
where there's live animals

and you'll see the real heart
of agricultural France.

You can see why markets
like these are maybe not

being overrun by tourists.

The tangible journey
from farm to fork

is perhaps not to everyone's taste,

but for me, there's an authenticity
here and an opportunity to observe

a way of life that probably
hasn't changed too much

over hundreds of years.

And of course, there's a chance

to discover one of Burgundy's
greatest exports.

Well, this is a special
moment for me...

Poulet de Bresse.

Very close, we are here,
to the city of Bresse.

Just looking at the price of them,

these chicken here in British
money would be 20 quid.

Is it worth paying 20 quid
for a chicken?

In my view, 100%, yes.

But I'm just going to ask, erm...

..Domini, I just want to ask this...

How would you cook
a poulet de Bresse?

Un beau poulet de Bresse comme ca,

qui fait a per pres trois kilos,
trois kilos cinq -

le mieux, ce que je prefere
le faire, uh... c'est le faire

en cocotte, a la creme, a une creme
avec du vin jaune et des morilles.

Well, what he said was,
holding that chicken up,

he said, "You can roast them,
that's lovely,"

but he likes them cut up into sort
of bite-sized pieces, a bit bigger,

I guess, and cooked in a cocotte,
in like a casserole with local
cream,

very important but, more important,
vin jaune, which is the wine in Jura

with the lovely, slightly sherry
note to it, and fresh mushrooms

mostly, and most famously, morels.

Parfait, merci, Dominique.

Merci.

There's good reason why Poulet de
Bresse is held in such high regard

and costs so much.

These distinctive white chickens
are kept free-range

for at least four months.

Their diet is kept deliberately low
in protein, so they're encouraged

to run wild and forage for insects,

which is all, of course, reflected

in their wonderful flavour.

No wonder they're described
as the queen of poultry,

the poultry of kings.

Much as I enjoy whole
Poulet de Bresse simply roasted,

there's another chicken dish
I really want to make

back at my Provence hideaway.

While in Jura, I was really taken
with a leg of chicken,

stuffed with mushrooms
and Comte cheese.

It was one of the eight dishes
I enjoyed that night

and I was a little too stuffed
to enjoy it properly,

so I can't wait
to recreate it here.

So this is a chicken leg, called
cuisse de poulet in French,

so I'm going to start
boning out the thigh bone here.

It's just got an almost
slightly gamey smell,

a bit like sort of guinea fowl,

and it's not quite like
our chickens at home.

And, also, I can just feel
it's quite tough,

but it's got more texture to it.

I mean, it's just worth
spending money

on really good quality poultry.

I mean, you do get what you pay for.

That's the truth of it.

Just cutting the bone out like that.

And when I've done it... There we
go.

..that. Don't throw it away.

Make stock with it.

And if you're not going
to make the stock immediately,

bung it in the freezer
and use it later.

And now we'll go
and make the stuffing.

I'm adding butter to a heated pan
before some olive oil,

which will keep the butter
from burning,

and also because I love the flavour.

Smash up and then add the garlic.

Then it's some chopped mushrooms.

I'm using Portobello mushrooms here.

Add some salt and pepper,
and cook gently

until all the moisture
is cooked off.

That's when I'll add it
to the rest of the stuffing.

Now to make the rest of the filling.

So, first and most important thing,

of course... There's my mixing bowl.
..is Comte.

Probably my favourite cheese.

Young Comte has this lovely,
sort of slightly acid fruitiness,

which I adore.

My assistant in this cooking,
Valerie,

it's her grandmother's cheese grater

and it's the sort of thing my mum
would have had.

This is just quite a young Comte.

You'd never really think
of using aged Comte for cooking.

So, the only drawback...
I've got one, a modern one of these,

which is about half as rugged,

but the only drawback
is you get those little bits.

Well, is it a drawback?
I don't know.

Just give that a little stir.

I'm adding cream cheese to the
Comte.

A little salt and pepper,

some freshly chopped parsley

and a little bit of thyme,
fresh from the garden,

just because I'm in Provence,
and I can.

Finally, I'm adding
the gently cooked mushrooms,

stirring it all together,
and now it's time to stuff.

I don't want to go mad with stuffing
anything, just slightly
underestimate

what you think should go in there
because you don't want

all the filling sort of oozing out
of the side, or maybe you do.

Depends how you view your cooking,

whether it's cooking neatness,
and tidiness, or cooking of excess.

Maybe I have got a bit
too much stuffing in there,

but I like a bit of an excess.

There we go. Perfect. Sort of.

Great.

There we go.
Looks like a very bad operation.

So now we just fry those
a little bit.

So now I'm just going to pop these
into an oven at 200 degrees

for about 20 minutes.

Wow! Don't they look
deliciously crispy?!

The next thing I'm going to do

is make a bit of jus, or gravy,
if you prefer.

After draining off the fat,
I add a little chicken stock

to the caramelised bits left
from the chicken legs

before letting it reduce.

A sort of rustic deglaze - au jus -
as the French call it.

Not the absurdly reduced sticky glue
you get in posh restaurants.

While it's on the go,
I'm serving up the chicken

with some crushed boiled potatoes,

made with a little bit of milk,
olive oil, salt and pepper,

crushed with a fork
rather than mashed,

and add a little haricot verts
to finish.

So that's looking very nice.

Caramelised bits and bobs
from the legs.

I must say my inclination
would have been to pass that

through a sieve but Valerie,
my assistant, says

they wouldn't do that in France

because they like all
the little bits, and she is French.

I can see what she means.

Look at that!

I have to say, the Burgundy
landscape does put me in mind

of the Jerome K Jerome novel,
Three Men In A Boat.

At the end of the book,
the men, cold and dishevelled,

cut short their holiday
and head back to London.

They eat in a French restaurant,
where "the odour of Burgundy

"and the smell of French sauces

"and the sight of clean napkins
and long loaves,

"knocked as a very welcome visitor
at the door of our inner man."

You really can't sum up
French cuisine

much better than that, can you?

I'm stopping off
in the village of Auxey-Duresses,

meeting Tom, who's English.

He moved out here and married Aude,
the daughter

in a local winemaking family.

Now wine, like French,
has become his adopted language.

Very nice to be here.

I'll introduce you to my
parents-in-law - Bernadette.

Enchante. Eric. Bonjour.

Bonjour. And we're going to go and
taste their wines. What a great
idea!

Watch your head.

Oh, my gosh. Oh, yeah. I see what
you mean. Gosh.

So this is Eric and Bernadette's
cellar.

What's so nice about it -
it's so small.

Yeah, and it's rare in Burgundy to
find a small domaine

that's still just a couple doing
everything.

This is what you hear
about Burgundy, isn't it?

It is all about small producers.
Absolutely.

It's micro... micro-produced wine
and...

Talk about anticipation!

There you go. Well, it's six
o'clock,

so it's time for a drink.

So we'll start... It's
Auxey-Duresses. Yeah.

It's a Chardonnay, and it's a
2015, which is a great vintage -

very hot, so it's full of fruit.

Merci, Eric. Oh, that's good. Yeah.

Oh, it's a lovely wine.

Oh, that's really nice. Mmm.

HE SPEAKS FRENCH

It's round to start with.
Oh, lovely.

Oh, come on. Give us a...
Yes, a kind of linear...

So all the limestone that it's
growing in gives it that lovely

kind of mineral cup, which just
makes you want to drink more of it.

It's got a round fruitiness,
which is very typical of 2015.

Really? Yeah. It was a hot, hot
year, and... ah, it's great!

Complex.

We could go on talking! Absolutely.

Just tell me this - they've got,
like, Saint-Romain, Auxey-Duresses,

Meursault. Eric and Bernadette
have four hectares of vines,

but they have 18 different little
fields. Oh, so it's... in Meursault,

they're close... Yeah, neighbouring,
neighbouring villages.

So, I mean, if you walked
2km that way,

you'll get to Meursault, so we
slightly live in the shadow of
Meursault.

It's very famous all over the world.

I think a lot of people
can't pronounce Auxey-Duresses.

People are always asking me this -
what would be your last supper?

It's not so much what you're eating
as what you're drinking...
Absolutely.

..the day before you go.

And it would have to be a glass
of white Burgundy.

Dare I ask, what are we going to eat
with this wonderful wine?

THEY SPEAK FRENCH

OK. So snails for a Burgundy.

Nice. Voila! There's some space for
you.

I have to say, I love snails.

I've had snails all over the world,
but there is nothing

to beat garlic butter.

Bernadette finds the snails in the
vines every morning. Gosh!

And she'll pick 200, 250 when she's
out working in the vines.

She brings them back, purges them
in the barn, and then prepares them,

and then makes the garlic-parsley
butter

and then... to drink these snails
with this wine...

So in a sense,
it's part of the husbandry -

it's collecting snails, stopping
them eating the vine leaves.

Exactly.
And getting something nice to eat
out of it, which happens to go

very nicely with the wine, too.

It's almost like a sort
of ecological circle of perfection.

I agree. Or something like that!

Mind you, the wine's
getting to me now!

SPEAKS FRENCH

Mm.

Perfect, perfect match.

Merci!
SPEAKING FRENCH

Tom's invited me to supper

and he's making
an oeuf en meurette.

It's a traditional Burgundy dish,

but he's putting his own
twist on it.

He begins by poaching the eggs

and then setting them aside
in ice water.

Then he fries two and a half
shallots in 150g of butter,

adding garlic for extra flavour,

and in go a little salt
and pepper, too.

Tom then adds two glasses
of white wine -

not red wine, you'll notice.

He then adds cream to the reduced
wine and shallots, whizzing

it all up with a hand blender.

The eggs, now beautifully poached,
are plated up, dressed with chives

and a turn of black pepper.

Tom's wife, Aude, is joining us

and I can't wait to see how well
the dish and the wine match up.

It's a little kind of original
twist on a local classic.

Thank you.

Right.

So, sante!

Oh, excuse me!

The most important bit.
Cheers. Sante.

Sante. Sante.

That was lovely, by the way.

I love oeuf en meurette,
but it's quite a commitment,

whereas this is light. It's
something lighter and I think it
fits

the season. Like, an oeuf en
meurette for me is a...

Yeah... it's a winter dish. Yeah.

It was a way to make the boeuf
bourguignon go a bit further,

so you'd have the sauce left over
and then the next day

you'd poach some eggs and put them
in the sauce. Great idea.

And I think now it's been, you know,
it's evolved.

It doesn't send you to sleep
so quickly. Now, that's true.

Only the wine probably will!
Yeah, the wine. Absolutely.

Just funny, with your father,
right, we were in the cellar.

Right? A-ha. And Tom was there

and we were in a bit of a hurry
and we said,

"Well, do you want to pour the
wine, the Auxey-Duresses?

And Tom said, "I don't think
that would be a good idea!"

Your dad is so proud.

Yes. He's very proud. Yes.

They're so hard working, so...
Devoted. So into what they do.

Like, my father would not
be cooking here and Tom...

Wouldn't serve the wine.
Wouldn't serve the wine.

That's how it works here

and it's part of French
people's pride, I guess. Yeah.

So... It's funny. In France, when
they... Like in England, people say,

"Oh, what do you do?"

But in France, they say,
"What's your metier?"

"Qu'est-ce que c'est, ton metier?"

What are you a master of?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I think that's just wonderful.

You know, Erica and Bernadette
are winemakers. The kind of

raison d'etre of a winemaker here
in Burgundy is to make

the best wine, the best wine that
is the best representation

of where that vine is planted

and I think that carries
into the kitchen as well.

You know, a chef in France
will choose the best tomato.

They will choose the best chicken.
For the French, it's in their DNA.

I mean, they just love food
and they love cooking

and they talk about it
all the time.

You know, I mean, if you take
the bins out here and, you know,

you're putting your bottles
into the recycling and the neighbour

will see you and they'll see the
bottle go in and they'll be like,

"Well, what did you eat with that?"

You know, what did you...
"Maybe some asparagus."

"Ah! Did you have it with a
bearnaise or with a mayonnaise?"

"And you should try it because
the wine is a bit more acidic"

and I mean, I don't know,

I don't think that would
ever happen in England. No.

So it's been a delight,
the whole thing,

and here's to you! Here! Sante.
And here's to your lovely parents.

Thank you. Cheers.

Cheers. Cheers.

What a great word, metier.

It's not what you do,
it's what you're a master of.

Such a wonderfully French way to
talk about and approach food and
drink,

which gives me hope that the rest
of my journey

will be just as successful.

I'll be continuing my meander
through Burgundy, discovering

the most perfect steak along
the way,

before arriving
in the medieval majesty

that is the Auvergne, a place

that is as beautiful
as it is ancient.