I know I’m putting myself out on a limb here, but I think I’ve decided this: The English can cook better than the French.

I love you, thrice-weekly (daily of late) flaky, gooey, elastic croissants, but I’ve got to be honest: you’re nothing compared to the delights of this tiny shop in Notting Hill. If you have not heard of Ottolenghi, it’s time you do.

I recommend the lemon & mascarpone tart, the lentil salad, and the hummus of hummuses (all pictured). They were my picks and were all super delicious.

My lovely travel buddy Becca and I also dined at Jamie’s Italian, in Covent Garden (my favourite place in London). Ahhmazing.

About an hour’s drive from where I’m living is an area called Roquefort-sur-Soulzon, home to one of the most widely known blue cheeses in the world. I have never been a blue cheese fan, but going on a tour through the cheese caves sounded amazing and something worthwhile doing, even if smelly.

Several million years ago, a series of climactic events caused the Combalou Mountain in this area to partly collapse, leaving behind cracks and caves in the rock. Legend tells that a shepherd and his sweetheart met secretly in one of the caves and by accident, the silly shepherd left behind his bag with rye bread and ewe’s cheese. A few days later when the lovers met again, they discovered the cheese covered with green-blue mould. They tried it, loved it, and the rest was history.

Today, the ewe milk is curdled in the cheese dairy, then the natural mould Penicillium roqueforti, which grows naturally in the caves, is injected inside. The cheese develops in the caves too, which happen to be the perfect temperature and humidity conditions for a stable microclimate all year round. And after three months, voilà! Out comes the tangy, sharp, moist, green-veined wheels of cheese.

So I went, and sampled it, and I can honestly say that I like it. If eaten with my eyes closed, nose pinched and simultaneously consuming copious amounts of bread*.

But the day trip with special friends was great fun, seeing the architectural feat of the Millau Viaduct on the way back was equally a highlight, our picnic in the sunshine overlooking the Gorges du Tarn was also magnificent, and the scenery in the south of France continues to take my breath away.

* Don’t take my word for it – the stuff is loved by many.

And this is coming from the girl who didn’t like wine once either. Thankfully I’ve since come to my senses.

It’s beginning to feel a lot like winter.

Sun soaked Montpellier has been a rainy deluge ever since I returned from Amsterdam last weekend. Not that I mind. In fact, after having a back-to-back Australian then European summer, wearing layers and snuggly scarves has really been quite lovely.

But nothing quite speaks of comfort more than wrapping my hands around a mug of steaming minestrone, a generous sprinkling of parmesan and a hunk of crusty baguette.

Oh, the hot water bottle might have found its way out from the back of a draw and into my bed too.

xx

I promised you a glimpse into my everyday French life, and is there no better way than to begin with an inventory of my french pantry?

In truth, I would not normally have the patience to produce such a menial dissertation, but having just purchased most of these items after returning from travel to a depressingly empty food cupboard, it was easy enough to capture.

Let me start by saying this: French food is amazing. Not only is it cheaper than in Australia (throughout summer I enjoyed almost daily punnets of framboises (raspberries) for 1.5€ a pop) it’s fresher, more flavoursome, comes with the dirt and leaves attached and just looks sexier.

THE STAPLES

Andros orange pressées
Orange juice. Unremarkable and not particularly noteworthy, but it’s always in my fridge.

BIO boisson au soja nature
If you know me, you’ll know I can rant about France’s absence of soymilk on cafe menus until the cows (tofus?) come home. Obviously, I keep the stuff as a permanent fixture in my pantry, with occasional BYO soy milk requests at cafes, so I can enjoy my sometimes-lattes in peace.

Bordeaux la cave d’Augustin florent
If there wasn’t wine in my cupboard, i’d hardly be living la vie Montpellierien. I like this one because it is 375mL, therefore Em-sized and can be enjoyed over a night or two without too much tipsyness.

Boursin fromage ail & fines herbes
Becca, this one’s for you. This cheese is more than cheese. Accidentally discovered in the Adelaide Central Markets somewhere during the second year of uni, I have never looked back. I don’t look twice at Brie when there is Boursin at my fingertips.

Grand Fermage beurre demi sel
I can’t believe it’s not butter. Oh, but it is. It’s also aux cristaux de sel de mer de Noirmoutier, that is, with salt crystals from an island called Noirmoutier, not far from Nantes in France.

Haricots Rouges
Plain old kidney beans. Their presence appeases Mum, a constant worrier for her vegetarian, iron-deficiency-prone daughter.

Mélange gourmand
Pre-washed mixed lettuce, which is really quite unfrench, but it’s the only way to buy lettuce for one. Buying it soily and whole always leads to soggy brown mush in the fridge before I can chomp my way through it.

Oeufs frais fermiers
…de poules élevées en plein air, pondus en Pays de Loire (by free range [lit. open-air] hens laid in the Loire Vallery, France).

Sauce tomate aux 4 légumes
Pasta sauce when i’m too lazy to make my own (and it’s so good that I haven’t since I discovered it).

Thon à la catalane
Also a mother placater, tinned tuna in a sauce tomate et légumes (tomato and vegetable sauce).

Thé vert menthe
I bought this assuming it was peppermint tea – and I was wrong. My guess is spearmint, but i’m not really sure. It’s a strange flavour and I am not a fan. It has remained untouched and probably will until I clear my pantry and leave.

Yaourt Brassé à la vanille
The dairy I don’t drink in milk I make up for with this yoghurt. This one is my favourite – you can see specks of Vanilla bean throughout. It’s creamy and yum.

Yaourt Activa saveur coco
I discovered coconut yoghurt at the Cinque Terre last week – it was available for breakfast alongside the more typical strawberry/vanilla tubs and I was intrigued. It tastes exotic and i’m giving it a go for a while.

NECESSARY IMPORTS

Brookfarm macadamia muesli
Next in line to soymilk, my other point of content with France is the lack of decent muesli. The ‘nicer’ ones here always seem to feature chocolate, which I can’t conceive consuming for breakfast. Mum thankfully brought this one over, and so for the next X days, I will be savouring my breakfasts.

Dilmah ceylon gold
Nothing beats Dilmah. Um… Do try it!

Maggie Beer spiced pear paste
I’m not sure what the French would think about serving paste with their stinky fromage, but a little bit of Maggie atop a hunk of non-boursin cheese is something I won’t budge on.

Miel de la chataigneraie (honey of the chestnut grove)
This isn’t really an ‘import’, but it does fit ‘necessary’. Somehow, it mysteriously came home in my handbag from a recent fancy breakfast at Hôtel Plaza Athénée for Mum’s special birthday in Paris.

Patak’s Madras curry paste
To my delight, I found this in my local Monoprix, but as it’s not really French I decided it should go on the imports list. Chickpea curry made with this paste is heavenly.

Twinings Pure Peppermint
I picked this up in London after the aforementioned Thé vert menthe disaster.

Vegemite
After 3 sad weeks sans Vegemite, my stores are now replenished.

(Haighs Chocolate should be on this list, alas nobody has sent me any..)

SWEET STUFF

Kusmi Tea Kashmir Tchai
This tea is big in France – and i’m a doting fan. Trés delicious flavours meets trés delicious packaging.

Les macarons – Ladurée
A treat from Paris, and no treat can trump macarons from Ladurée. I am fickle when it comes to deciding on my favourite. My heart lies somewhere between purist Vanille, exotic chocolat pure origine de Madagascar (pure origin chocolate from Madagascar) and delicate pétales de rose (rose).

Pépites Fraise
These are simply tiny squares of 100% dried strawberry and apple. My snack of choice for planes and trains has always been a kit-kat, but after finding these, I haven’t looked back.

Petit écolier
The biscuit of France. In fact, I think they’re pretty universally known these days.
x

There are a great many things that I love about France. And there are a few things that I definitely do not love about France. At the top of the list, perhaps even higher than French administration, is the serious lack of soy milk.

I cannot understand it. For a country that has possibly some of the freshest and most exquisite produce in the world, an impressive and most extensive range of foodstuffs, hundreds upon hundreds of cheese varieties with only the most subtle nuances of difference, how is it that they cannot offer something so basic as a choice between dairy milk or soy milk, anywhere? Seriously.

Today I have been en-route to Switzerland. This morning, upon waking very early with not nearly enough sleep, I felt grumpy and irritable. I usually LOVE train rides, but I was not loving this one. With a niggling head reminding me I needed to use these 7 hours on the train productively – with freelance to do, french to study, a lecture to write, photos to edit – and nil inspiration backing me, I knew there was only one simple yet totally fail-proof measure to fix all of that: Just give this girl her coffee.

So imagine my excitement to arrive in Lyon for a 2 hour stopover, walk outside, look up to the sky and see a huge red sign glittering magnificently in the morning sunlight right before me … Illy. And then, to see a huge, beautiful modern cafe with glass windows, red seats and white tables, minimalist decor, guys in suits drinking lattes while tapping away on their laptops right before me. A world away from the typically intimate and smoky French brasserie with wicker chairs and neon signs I am used to. I really could have been walking into a Cibo. The cafe was air-conditioned. There was lovely relaxing background music playing. The smell of espresso was irresistible. The coffee menu was magnificent. And forget café crème – they had real cappuccinos, lattes and frappes on the menu. But soy milk? Of course not.

I was so completely deflated. But I was not to be defeated. So, with my biggest inviting smile and very best French, I asked the waiter if it would be possible for me to buy my own soy milk, bring it back to the cafe and have my soy coffee in peace. Oui, c’est possible, said the waiter, clearly amused by my indigence. Music to my ears!

So that’s what I did. I found the nearest Monoprix (Aussie equivalent to Woolworths) and returned with a carton of organic soy milk. And here I am, tapping away with my own possibly more than perfect soy cappuccino next to me. Grumpiness? Vanished. Irritability? Not a care in the world. Happy? Blissfully content. Sleepy? So totally alert. Lecture? All over it like a rash. Good coffee? Oh yes. Enjoyed it so much that I am about to order my second.

When I was delayed for 6 days during London’s snowstorm last December, I sought solace every single snowy morning at Le Pain Quotidien, a beautiful french cafe around the corner from my Kensington hotel. Imagine my delight to find a Le Pain Quotidien café also in Aix-En Provence this weekend.

Not feeling so spritely, I spent most of my days drinking endless cups of tea, reading my book and doing french study. An organic granola breakfast and drinking yummy soy coffee from a ceramic bowl was so comforting that I even bought the coffee bowl to take home. I just wish I could take the whole café back with me!

With my apartment all packed up, I went for one last dusk walk along the Charles Bridge. On the way over, brilliant sunset shades of pinks, mauve, orange and blues danced before me. With Charles Bridge being the hotspot it is for romantic hand-holders, date-nighters and overt-kissing-under-the-pretty-statue types and feeling slightly vulnerable in missing my own darling hand-holder back home, I prepared myself for the walk back by wrapping my hand around a Häagen-Dazs raspberry sorbet.

Didn’t notice the kissers at all, brilliant.

{The travel bug}

It has been another incredible beautiful cold blissful fun week. I have wobbled my way across the Capilano Suspension Bridge (thanks Craig) and walked amongst the Fir treetops, indulged in a beyond amazing tapas dinner at one of downtown Vancouver’s most hip and happening restaurants, Sanafir (more on that below), ate a Sesame bagel literally straight out of the wood oven at the Granville Island Public Markets, cycled the perimeter of picturesque Stanley Park (with multiple stops at the ‘washroom’ to thaw out frozen hands under the dryers….brrrr), laughed alongside some crazy laughing public art statues, attempted (and survived) ice skating, lined up for an hour to brunch at the popular Twisted Fork cafe, sighted about 29 too many Starbucks, purchased some groovy gumboots, discovered how many people can actually fit into a Smart Car (if you’re smart about it), contemplated my future on Facebook after watching the fascinating film The Social Network, tasted my first Snapple, bought mandatory Maple souveniors at Gastown and most importantly, spent quality, beautiful time with two very special, cherished friends, Bec and Craig, who have been my amazing hosts for the week.

After a thrilling first week of solo travel in San Francisco, I cannot describe how comforting the simple gestures of a welcome note on my bed, homemade cooking and two familiar faces to greet my arrival in Vancouver felt. This week, I don’t think I held a map once…and I have relished being guided around the Vancouver sights instead of going it alone! Bec and Craig, who moved from Adelaide to Vancouver a few months ago for working holidays, have immersed themselves in the depths of this cool city. Now locals in the Big V, unbiasedly i’d say they are the coolest cats in the Yaletown hood.

This week, we’ve reminisced over the good times shared together back home, and made a whole heap of new memories that I know will leave an indelible imprint in the years of our friendship to come. No matter how far I circle the globe, it’s the simplest places and experiences that mean the most. This week has been about good food, good coffee (finally), good chats, great company, and so much laughing… and really, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

Next stop? New York, New York! x

P.S Dinner at Sanafir was so magical, I just have to share my attempt to capture the evening’s magnificence through my camera lens. The restaurant has such a beautiful ambience… including hand-lit pillar candles on one wall, ALL the way to the ceiling!