November 2001

BONJOUR...

Here in Normandy we are experiencing the most lovely season, but I don't know what to call it. It isn't warm enough to be Indian Summer, nor cool and crisp enough to be autumn. It feels as though summer has decided to stay, but has opened the door just a crack so that cooler temperatures and shorter days can slip through. I have just finished our autumn schedule of classes—which were fantastic. My schedule remains busy as I prepare for a research trip to Sardinia, and settle into spending the winter writing and testing recipes.

Michael and I get out more during this season, and just last night found ourselves at La Closerie de Lilas, on Boulevard Montparnasse in Paris. There to meet friends for supper, we arrived early and decided to have a glass of champagne in the bar. We were surrounded by a diverse crowd that ricocheted from businessmen with briefcases to leather clad women with wild hair, to rumpled artists and musicians, one of whom regaled us with the music of Georges Brassens. Hemingway would have been as comfortable as he was when he was a regular at La Closerie. The champagne arrived and along with it a small dish of paper-thin, almost translucent potato chips. We laughed. The French propensity for serving potato chips with the aperitif has never made sense in a country devoted to fine food.

Without thinking I reached for one. My palate snapped to attention. These were no ordinary chips. These were little flavor-chips, fresh and wonderful. I took another, and another, and so did Michael. Soon our dish was empty. A plaintive look at the waiter and it was graciously refilled. I asked the waiter about the chips. "We make them twice a day, once before lunch, once before dinner," he said with pride. "They are made with either charlotte or bintje potatoes which are sliced, soaked, drained then fried." It figures that the young man would know not only how they were made but the variety of potato used to make them. That is how good waiters in France are. I looked at Michael. "Life," I said after a sip of champagne and another chip. "Doesn't get much better than this."

La Closerie de Lilas offers a brasserie and a sparkling new dining room, but I will return for the champagne and those marvelous potato chips!

La Closerie de Lilas
171 Boulevard Montparnasse
75006 Paris
+33 (0)1.40.51.34.50
Help with phone numbers

P.S. To make fine potato chips, slice a firm, partially waxy potato paper thin, rinse the slices well until the water runs clear, then pat them dry. Heat 3 inches of oil—I like to use two-thirds bland oil and one-third extra virgin olive oil—in a medium-sized pan over medium heat until it ripples, and a piece of potato sizzles merrily when you add it. Add enough slices of potato just to fill the surface of the oil—don't crowd the pan—and cook them, turning once, until they are crisp and translucent. They don't need to be golden.

Remove them from the oil with a slotted spoon, letting as much oil as possible drip back into the pan, and transfer them to a plate lined with several thicknesses of paper towel.

Sprinkle them evenly with sea salt and serve.