January 2002

Bonne Année !

This phrase sing-songs through the air from morning to night, as merchants wish their customers well, friends greet each other, children return to school after the Christmas holidays.

There is another phrase sing-songing through the air this year. I noticed it most vividly Saturday morning at the market, where the vegetables hid under blankets and tarps to keep from freezing in the unseasonably cold winter air. "Vous payez en francs or en euros ?" the phrase goes, "Are you paying in francs or euros?"

The voice deepens with the word euro so that at one moment, as it rang out around me, it was as if everyone was performing a capella. "Euro" is a new sound, and along with it comes a new way of life.

The change is enormous—one friend said she didn't want to go to the bank to get euros, because the new money made her feel she wasn't French any more. Others are excited about the change, as they hold the bright new gold, silver and copper-colored coins, and wrinkle the crisp new notes. Still others are suspicious. Everyone is just slightly perplexed, handing over their euros and getting back change in coins and notes they aren't yet familiar with. Transactions that were easy a month ago take more time now, as everyone stops to count, calculate, examine.

Jean-Claude Martin, one of my favorite farmers at the market, had glasses on for the first time this Saturday. I teased him about it. "I'll wear them until I"m used to the money," he said with a grin. As I looked around I saw many more farmers and merchants with glasses, their vanity put on hold as they learn the new money.

Madeleine, the quiche lady, forgave an elderly woman who handed over euros to pay for her warm quiches, but was two cents short. "Don't worry about it," she said. "We'll all get used to it sooner or later." And she is right, we will. We may not like it—it seems to me and to many others like one more step towards homogeneity for no really good reason—but it is fun to have new money to learn, and it feels historic. After all, while it is the third time in Europe's long history to have a singular money, the franc has had a long and distinguished life, and it will be missed.

We spent the week after Christmas in Alsace. It was a combined vacation and work trip, as I researched recipes for my new book, French Home Cooking, and searched out delicious restaurants for an assignment from epicurious.com. We had a wonderful time visiting the quaint little Alsatian villages (Saverne, Obernai, Kaysersburg) with their needle-like church spires, vividly colored houses and dramatic Christmas decorations, and playing in the deep snow in the nearby Vosges. We also drove into Germany for the afternoon so that our son, Joe, who is taking first year German and loves it, could hear it spoken. We stopped at a little café there and had a warming bowl of goulash topped with whipped cream, and Joe had a chance to say a few words, then we headed south through flat , snow-covered fields on our return trip to the tiny village of Waltenheim-sur-Zorn, where we were staying on a farm.

I thought I knew Alsatian cuisine, having sampled and written about it many times. But this time, as I visited people in their homes and heard them talk about cooking, and food memories, I discovered more to love. I tasted an authentic farm choucroute, which the farm cook simmered without any added fat, making it a light and delicious foil to the mounds of slab bacon and sausages, ham and pork hocks. We all sat down to farm breakfasts of pâté en croûte, smoky black forest ham and chunky rounds of sausages, as well as home-made pastries that varied daily. We had creamy potato soup and a wonderful pâté Lorraine filled with herbed pork and veal, the most fabulous apple streusel tart (the recipes will be in my new book), and cabbage in many forms. My favorite cabbage dish is the salad I present to you here—simple, refreshing, full of flavor, and a meal in itself. It appeared on the table at the farm where we stayed on our last night, and sitting right near us was the farmer who had raised the cabbage. A friend of the family who was hosting us, he regaled us as we ate with stories of how he and his family raise cabbage, slice it into paper-thin slices and sell it by the bushel-full at farmer's markets.

We met Alsatian artist Guy Uhtereiner, who designs for everyone from Puifourcat to Pierre Frey, and is just about to launch his own line of table linens and kitchen towels. He and his wife, Simone, prepared us an unforgettable meal which began with a huge platter of at least 75 snails, prepared à l'Alsacienne, where each shell is first filled with a square of herb-flavored gelatin, then with a freshly poached snail, then with garlic and parsley butter. The result is so tender and juicy that we, our children, and the Uhtereiner's and their two children finished them all and looked around for more!

We ate in a medieval chateau, in one of Strasbourg's three-star restaurants, in a brasserie that was short on ambience but long on quality. I believe I ate the best Tarte Flambée of my life there. Tart flambée, by the way, is the region's signature, crisp-crusted pizza-like creation that topped with cream, fresh cheese, thinly sliced onions and slivers of bacon. It was the dish housewives brought to the baker to bake in the flames of his wood fired ovens on Mondays, washday. Today it is a cult—I say I've tasted the best Alsace has to offer, but my search for one that is better will continue!

Salade de Choux à l'Alsacienne de Chez Fuchs

	One small green cabbage (1-½ pounds; 750 g), cored, and sliced paper thin (to give 8-½ cups sliced cabbage)
	¼ cup (60 ml) extra-virgin olive oil or sunflower oil
	1 teaspoon coarse sea salt
	4 ounces (120 g) slab bacon, rind removed, cut in very thin strips (¼ x ¼ x 1-½ inches)
	1 tablespoon sherry vinegar
	1 shallot, minced
	½ cup flat parsley leaves, loosely packed
	Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1. Place the cabbage in a large bowl and toss it with the oil so that all the cabbage is coated with oil. Add the salt and toss. Reserve for at least 2 hours and up to 4 hours, at room temperature.
   
   
2. Place the bacon in a non-stick skillet over medium heat and sauté just until the bacon is cooked through but not at all browned, about 5 minutes. Drain off any excess fat, add the vinegar to the pan and mix, then pour the mixture over the cabbage, along with the shallots, and toss well.
   
   
3. Mince the parsley, add it to the salad, season with salt and pepper and serve.

Serves 8 as a first course, 4 to 6 as a main course