I could never live in New York City. Why? Because of the Doughnut Plant.

This is an evilly addictive bakery that specializes in natural ingredient doughnuts and is so delicious that we went a total of five times during our two-week stay in Manhattan (we would have gone even more had we discovered it the first week of our trip and not the second).

It all started because I wanted Sébastien to try a real American doughnut. He, despite having lived in the US for nearly three years, had never had one before. When I first asked him about this he was sure he had already eaten a doughnut, but his description didn’t quite fit. Upon drilling, it turned out that he had eaten a bagel – same shape, but… no. It was several years ago, at the continental breakfast table of a chain hotel along Route 66. Sébastien described one of those thawed, lifeless bagels that one doesn’t actually choose to eat. I, therefore, declared my husband had tried neither doughnut nor bagel. This had to be remedied.

I myself had not eaten a doughnut in exactly 10 years – Dunkin’ Donuts’ Munchkins were quite popular when I was in college and I distinctly remember eating one senior year. I think I’d only ever eaten a doughnut once or twice in my life – remember I grew up in New Mexico, not New York. I was thus entirely unaware of the lingo when ordering at Dunkin’ Donuts.

The other day, this is what I ordered, in quite a fluster because the line was going very fast: a regular coffee, a coffee with milk, a Boston Kreme Donut, a plain donut. This is what we ended up with: a coffee with cream and sugar, a coffee with milk, a Boston Kreme, a jam-filled donut. None of this, except the coffee with milk, was what we wanted.

First off, the doughnuts: the Boston Kreme was my fault. Sébastien had wanted a simple white doughnut with chocolate glaze. In my confusion, I scanned the selection, eyed the glaze on top of the Boston Kreme and order it. Did it occur to me that there would be cream in a Boston Kreme? No, not until it was too late. As for the jam-filled, how did I end up with that? Maybe the woman behind the counter had misunderstood me. Or, was a plain doughnut in fact a jam-filled doughnut in New York terms?

This leads me to the coffee. I took one look at the “regular” (which obviously had cream in it) and quickly informed the barista, “Oh no, just a regular.”

To my amazement he responded with pure confidence. “There you go, one regular.”

I continued, “No, just a regular, nothing in it.”

By now the woman who took the order had come over, grinning. “Here, a regular means cream and sugar,” she laughed.

How was I supposed to know that?

In the end, we got the coffee we wanted (they were nice about it) and nibbled our cream and jam-filled donuts (the coffee had been enough hassle to try and exchange these, too). They were light and fluffy, but had this underlying taste of… well… something chemical and I started thinking of some article I had once read about the life of a doughnut in your body. It was something like years. We ended up throwing out the coffee half way through.

Thus, when I checked the list of “Places to Go in NY” that my friend Karen had emailed me and read “best doughnuts,” I thought we’d give them another try.

The Doughnut Plant was located not far from our hotel (there are two locations in New York: Lower East Side and Chelsea). I knew I had found our place when I walked in the door and saw “Valrhona chocolate” as a flavor. At first, we were overwhelmed by the selection, but (fortunately) there was a bit of a line so we could take a minute to figure things out. In sum, there were three types of doughnuts: yeast (big and fluffy, perfect for dunking in coffee for breakfast), cake (smaller, denser and sweeter) and filled (a “doughseed” filled with chocolate or homemade blackberry jam). Over our five visits, we tried eight different flavors, including triple chocolate, blackout (with oozing chocolate inside) and, my personal favorite, carrot cake (filled with cream cheese frosting).

Thus, I could never live in New York. Despite the fun we were having, it was necessary to head back to Paris. We needed to nip our addiction in the bud.

Go to:

Doughnut Plant

Lower East Side:

379 Grand Street (cross street Essex) / Phone: (212) 505-3700

Chelsea:

220 West 23rd Street (between 7^th and 8^th Avenues) / Phone: (212) 675-9100

2011 was quite a year – full of travels and culinary adventures!

In the course of 12 months, I spent time in Berlin, Scotland, San Francisco and New Mexico – not to mention Alsace, the Loire Valley, and Bordeaux. I’ve never traveled so much – and, uh yes, sorry to admit, written so little! I’ve been taking notes though, and here is the first in a series of posts on my travels and favorite foodie finds in 2011.

Berlin, I must say, was one of my favorite trips of the year. I remember watching the Wall come down on TV when I was nine years old and have since had a deep fascination with the city. When we arrived on a Friday night last November, it felt exactly how I had imaged – modern (most of the city was destroyed during World War II and has since been rebuilt), yet full of history.

We only spent a long weekend, so it wasn’t enough time to see and taste everything, but we took full advantage of the time we had. It helped having good friends to show us around and take us to their favorite spots. The first place we headed was the Winterfeldtplatz Market in Schoeneberg. It had a different feeling than Parisian farmers’ markets. For one, it was rather calm (no one banged into my heels with their caddy) and most people were just arriving at lunchtime (when markets here begin to close up shop). For two, there were lots of samples and yummy items ready to eat (we tried melted “käse” on bread and “apfelkuchen”, apple cake). People didn’t seem to be doing their weekly shopping, but going to have Saturday lunch and buy a few apples or whatnots. The funniest difference, though, were the little children – instead of nibbling on pain au chocolat, they were happily walking around with sausages. I’m serious – miniature chubby hands and huge slimy sausages!

Our friends also introduced us to some of Berlin’s innovative ways of preparing and serving food. Kochhaus (also in Schoeneberg), for example, is a one-of-a-kind grocery store that specializes in “ready-to-make” meals. Basically, several “recipe stations” are set up around the shop and at these stations you find every ingredient you need to make the proposed recipe (down to a teaspoon of spice). The directions are printed on leaflets for you to take home. It reminded me of paint-by-number, but for cooking. Check out this article in the New York Times: “A Streamlined Approach to Eating at Kochhaus”

While it was fun looking around this “walk-in-cookbook”, we also had innovation in restaurants to check out. That’s how we ended up at Vapiano for lunch one day. Though it has since gone international, the first spot opened in Germany in 2002. This is an Italian restaurant where you use a “clip card” (kind of like a credit card) to keep track of your bill. You hand over this card, order from a menu on the wall, watch your food being prepared before your eyes and then sit down to enjoy. I appreciated that the restaurant used fresh ingredients. I even saw one customer picking basil off a plant to sprinkle on his pasta – apparently this was allowed!

We also stumbled on the mittendrin restaurant/café where I had a “flammkuchen” (I like to translate this as a “flaming kitchen”) with spinach, feta cheese and olives. Quite nice.

Above all, one of our favorite spots was the Solar, a bar on the 17^th floor of a 1970s skyscraper. The view was amazing, the DJ excellent and the drink menu as long as a novel (I chose the raspberry mojito).

Last but not least, we ended our trip with a traditional German meal at Joseph Roth Diele (Postdamerstrasse 75). The restaurant is named after the 19^th century writer and was bustling on a Monday at lunchtime. The decor was warm and inviting, and the menu fully in German! Fortunately, we had our friends to translate. I got my fill of German spaetzle just in time to take the plane back to Paris that afternoon…

Though nothing to do with food, here are three must-sees while visiting Berlin:

- The Reichstag Dome (admission is free, but advanced booking required)

- German Historical Museum (you’ll spend hours here)

- East Side Gallery (the longest remaining stretch of the Berlin wall decorated with colorful murals)

Like I said, a weekend isn’t enough and I’m sure we left lots to be discovered in Berlin.

Any other recommendations to share?

It’s not raining.

S: Wow, this is great! We landed in Glasgow two hours ago and here we already are in Stirling!

J: Yeah, that was super fast. We got our bags, the car, went to the bathroom in, what, an hour tops?

S: Passport control, too.

J: I can’t believe how smooth is all was! The longest was just getting out of the city, you figuring out left-side driving.

S: We even got a phone card. So easy!

J: Good thing I had a few pounds saved from last year.

S: You’re the best!

J: You, too!

S: This is just all too easy. I feel like we’re in Meet the Fockers. You know, how it all starts out so well, and then…

J: Hey, take it back.

S: Hahaha….

J: Seriously, take it back!

S: Okay. Back. Hehehe. Meet the Fockers… England!

J: Scotland.

S: Same thing.

Conversation between Sebastien, Telephone Booth No. 1, and I:

Middle of Nowhere, Scotland. It’s raining.

T: Please insert 60 pence.

S: It’s a free number. I don’t understand.

J: Try again.

T: Please wait.

S: Silence.

J: Silence.

T: This call cannot be completed. Hang up and try again.

S: I’ll try the other number.

T: Please insert 60 pence.

S: It’s a free number.

J: I left the change at the hotel.

T: Please wait.

J: Let me try.

T: Bring. Bring.

J: It’s working!

T: Please insert 60 pence.

J: What?

S: Let me try.

T: Please wait.

S: I’ll do the first one again.

T: Bring. Bring.

S: It’s good.

T: Welcome to Bla bla phone cards. Bla bla bla. To register a number press star 2, or enter your PIN.

S: Five, eight, what’s that? You rubbed the number out?

J: I didn’t mean to. It’s a one, I’m sure. One. Then, three, seven….

T: Please insert 60 pence.

S: Sigh.

J: It’s a free number! Let me try.

S: Press star 2. Star 2.

J: Hold on, I’m listening.

T: To register a number press star 2.

J: Star 2. Now, five, eight, one…

T: Please insert 60 pence.

Conversation between Sebastien, Telephone Booth No. 2, and I:

The next day. Down the street from Middle of Nowhere, Scotland. It’s still raining.

J: I can feel it. It’s going to work this time. The other phone had a problem.

S: Yeah.

T: Welcome to Bla bla phone cards. Blab bla bla. To register a number press star 2, or enter your PIN.

J: I’ll enter the PIN.

T: This card has already been topped off.

J: What? What’s topped off?

If I were a sheep, I would live in Scotland.

The landscape in the Highlands is impressive – more so than I ever would have thought. Lochs, mountains, ocean inlets, hills, cliffs, fields… the setting took us far away from our city life in Paris. I was in admiration about how untouched and well-preserved this part of Scotland was. Nearly every house is a bed and breakfast, so we could tell tourism is important, but of all the places we’ve been, this was the most remote. We stayed to the western side and when we were out hiking, it often felt like we were the only humans in all of Scotland!

We started our journey in the Cairngorms National Park and were based in Kingussie (which we’d recommend over Aviemore, the main town twenty-minutes to the north). Then we moved on through the Five Sisters and toward Kyle of Lochalsh. From our base near Dornie, we were easily able to explore this area and the Isle of Skye. On our way to Glasgow, we drove through Glen Coe – and wished we had more time to stay there!  In addition to the fabulous hiking (usually under raincoats) and the incredible scenery, some highlights of our trip were:

High tea on the Strathspey Steam Railway. This is a 19^th century steam engine that takes you twenty miles over a part of the original Highland Railway (from Aviemore to Broomhill and back). We’d booked first-class tickets in advance for the 2:45 pm train. We sat in our own little cabin and enjoyed a copious “tea” as we watched the Cairngorms out the windows. Part of the fun was almost missing the train, as we’d decided we absolutely had to go see Loch Ness in the morning. We’re almost in Aviemore (where the tickets are waiting) when we see signs for the Strathspey Railway. Of course we follow them without thinking and end up in Boat of Garten (a stop on the train). It takes getting out of the car and looking around for me to say, “It’s not here. We’re in the wrong town!” Like two bank robbers, we hop back in the car and race toward Aviemore (getting stuck behind a tractor, of course) – we make it just in time. Really, just in time!

Breakfast at the Auld Alliance Guest House. The owner, Lydie Bocquillon, is a French chef trained in Burgundy – this shows through even at breakfast. I was glad to stay two nights so I could try both the scrambled eggs with smoked trout (reminiscent of the thick smoked salmon from the Pacific Northwest) and the egg and spinach cocotte with Isle of Mull cheese. The “cocotte” was full of flavor and the egg was perfectly cooked – amazing!

The four-poster bed and view of Eilean Donan Castle out our window at the Loch Duich Hotel near Dornie. Though the owners were a bit distant and the room/bathroom a bit shabby, the breakfast was decent. The majestic wooden bed and excellent view were worth it.

The local pubs. We especially liked The Silver Fjord in Kingussie and their house red, a California merlot called the Furious Boar – it’s the name I liked best. The Clachan in Dornie was also one of our favorites for the lively atmosphere and friendly people.

The villages Plockton and Killin. Plockton is a small village on Loch Carron, near Kyle of Lochalsh and the Isle of Skye. We found it by chance and enjoyed wandering through the main street one evening before dinner at the Plockton Hotel. Here, we watched the boats on the bay and found a random chess set out in the rain. In Killin, we stopped to pick up sandwiches and take photos of the Falls of Dochart.

I have lots more stories from Scotland, but I’ll leave you there for now. For the moment, it’s not raining here in Glasgow, so I better go take advantage!

I knew I was back in Paris this morning when I got on the metro.

That’s where I am- home. Sipping a cup of tea and gathering up my notes from San Francisco. I’m going to jump right in and tell you about the very best foodie find ever: Bi-Rite Creamery and Bakeshop. I’d been hearing about this spot for a couple years and, finally, got to go. Located near Dolores Park in the Mission District, Bi-Rite has (I’m being very truthful here) some of THE BEST ICE CREAM I HAVE EVER HAD. The unique flavors will reel you in: orange cardamom, brown sugar with ginger caramel swirls, salted caramel (I get this wherever I go), roasted banana, cinnamon with snicker doodles (I learned these where little sugar cookies rolled in cinnamon), earl grey, Meyer lemon… Oh yes, I tried every one of these! To top it off, I’m giving Bi-Rite some of my “sustainability kudos”: compostable cups and tiny wooden spoons.

In addition to ice cream, this was the second time I went back to Kara’s Cupcakes in Ghirardelli Square. Started as a small catering business, Kara’s now has five stores in the Bay area (the first of which was in San Francisco). Some people seem to think the whole cupcake craze is coming to an end, but I don’t think so. It seems to just be starting here in France- though I haven’t found any as good as these. Kara’s has good old-fashioned ones (vanilla chocolate, gluten free vanilla, carrot…) as well as “filled” ones. I recommend the Meyer lemony lemon, with a tangy filling inside and buttery frosting on top.

I also strolled through China Town where I visited some traditional grocery stores (live frogs and turtles for sale) and the Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Factory. Here, you can watch women folding fortune after fortune into cookie after cookie. It’s a tiny little place, hidden away on Ross Alley. The streets in China Town are so colorful, especially at Chinese New Year. My favorite buildings are on Waverly Place – thanks in part to my early introduction to Amy Tan (we’d listen to The Joy Luck Club and stories about Waverly Jong  as a family in the car) and part to a family visit to the Tin How Temple (#125 Waverly Place) on my first trip to San Francisco in 1996. I always enjoy wondering around the streets, smelling the herbs seeping into the air from the pharmacies and looking into the all-knowing eyes of the old women coming up the sidewalks.

A few more places I should mention are the coffee shops (slash bakeries). It’s not easy to find a satisfying cup of coffee in the US, not when you’ve been spoiled with strong European espressos. I didn’t actually discover Blue Bottle Coffee until the morning I was leaving, but it was by far the best coffee I tried (and I tried every day for two weeks). Since it was the last shebang, I opted for a moka. Not too sweet and nice rich coffee flavor. The reason it took me so long to find this place is because the address I’d been told about looked pretty much like a little shack on Linden Street (more or less an alley way). Blue Bottle calls this location a “coffee kiosk”. During open-hours there is quite a line for such a hidden place. I’d also recommend Frogs Hollow Farm in the Ferry Plaza Building and La Boulange in Hayes Valley for breakfast. The coffee’s decent and the pastries are quite nice. At Frogs Hollow I’d go for the granola, yogurt and seasonal fruit (the scones, unfortunately, seemed small compared to what I remembered from last year). At La Boulange, try to raspberry financié.

Since I’m on a bit of a French run (talking about bakeries and all), I’ll mention Bistro Central Parc for a special dinner. Located near the Panhandle, this is a “neighborhood” restaurant that offers traditional French cuisine. I didn’t know this “bistro” beforehand, but was lucky to be introduced to it by friends. The atmosphere was relaxed and modern, yet reminiscent of Europe. The food was excellent. For vegetarians, they propose a “Chef’s vegetarian special”, but I chose the special fish of the day: trout with slivered almonds. I was happy to see this dish on the menu because that’s exactly how the fishmonger here in Paris told me to prepare my trout (grill it with almonds). That was a hint that even in San Francisco, French tradition abounds.

While in San Francisco, I made it a point to check off a handful of the restaurants and other food spots on my “To Try While in SFO List.”

The day after arriving at SFO International, a dear college friend and I made it girls’ night out and treated ourselves to Chez Panisse’s innovative, yet refined cuisine. This set the stage for the rest of my trip and San Francisco’s fascination with French-inspired fare.

We dined at the upstairs “Café,” which isn’t a café at all, but a fine-dining restaurant where the menu changes daily, according to seasonal products. There is also the downstairs “Restaurant,” which is where it all began in 1971 (here, they propose set menus). As a side note, “Panisse” was the last name of a character in Marcel Pagnol’s 1930s film trilogy set in Marseille (Marius, Fanny and César). The two-storey restaurant is located in a one-of-a-kind wooden house in a part of town that immediately made me feel like I was back in college again. Shattuck Avenue was bustling on a Saturday night, mostly with students squatting on the median eating pizza from a local, and obviously popular, spot (never mind the “Keep off Median” sign clearly planted in the middle).

Once inside Chez Panisse, the atmosphere changed completely and we were transported to a dimly lit room that timelessly hovered somewhere between a refined French restaurant and a Zen Japanese tea garden. In other words, I felt like I was in the Bay area- where many restaurants have taken Alice Water’s lead and succeeded in bringing out an idyllic combination of the past (French culinary tradition) and the present (fresh new attitude and natural, organic ingredients). I was especially interested in discovering Chez Panisse since it has been an important leader in supporting local, sustainable products.

The whole experience was pretty near perfect. The menu, inspired by Rose Gray* (see end), didn’t help our indecisive natures though! We must have spent a good twenty-minutes mesmerized by the array of tempting choices. Looking back, deciding between the local halibut tartar and the goat cheese salad, must have been one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made in a restaurant.  In the end, we were content with what we ended up choosing:

Entrées:

- Local halibut tartar with Belgian endive and steelhead roe

- Orange salad with red onions, cilantro and pistachios

Mains:

- Ravioli di cima di rapa e ricotta with wild mushrooms

- Wood-oven roasted squid and artichoke with rosemary salsa and aioli

Dessert:

- Bittersweet chocolate truffle tartlet with candied bergamot and crème chantilly

- Vin Santo ice cream with almond brittle and biscotti

- 2 Cappuccinos

Wine:

- 2009 Navarro Pinot Gris, Anderson Valley

The starters were a toss-up, both excellent. The squid (calamari) was my very favorite dish- a perfect combination of flavors. I also enjoyed the ice cream, made of Italian dessert wine. The pinot gris, from California grapes, was fresh and reminiscent of citrus fruit.

Like I said, Chez Panisse was a special treat. I was glad to finally dine in the restaurant that is so well known for marrying traditional French cuisine with local products. This experience is up there with the one I had last year at Greens. If I were to compare two similar dishes though, (the raviolis), Greens gets the gold medal. I remember them simply melting in my mouth like butter. The ones at Chez Panisse were nice, but weren’t as memorable. Since Greens is purely vegetarian, I guess we’ll never know how they’d do roasted calamari. I’m happy leaving that to Chez Panisse.

*Rose Gray was a British chef, cookbook writer and co-founder of the River Café in London. Here’s a neat article about how she helped revolutionize British cuisine.

I’m in San Francisco, the first time back “home” in a year. The curse of falling for a foreign country (France), and actually having the good fortune to live there, is you’re forever split between two places, two cultures. I haven’t yet decided if it’s a good curse or a bad one. There’s no denying that I feel foreign (American?) when I’m in France, and each time I come to America I seem to feel less American (dare I say more French?). What an awkward thing to feel in the country I grew up in.

My first days in San Francisco, I’ve actually kind of felt like I’m in a foreign country- observing the world around me as though I’ve never seen it before. Re-adjusting back to the way things are done here. Some first impressions: the blown-up size of everything (yep, that gets me every single time – from cars, to streets, to billboards, to houses, to the sky, to milk cartons); the elongated, high-pitched sirens of fire-trucks and police cars; the casual, friendly attire worn by just about everyone (from hand-knit bonnets to bicycler’s gloves without fingertips); and, since I’ve been learning all about French driving this year, the straightforward way people drive. I never thought signing up for French driving lessons would bring me to such deep reflections (which I think I’m going to end up writing an entire book about), but it is so true that French and Americans do not take the same approach to driving. And I, the walker, have to adjust according to where I am. In France, for example, you have to throw yourself into the crosswalk before anyone will stop for you. Until I learned that cars don’t have to stop unless you’re actually “engaged” in the crosswalk, I spend many a long moment waiting on the side of the road, waiting for someone to halt (not wanting to be killed by the rapidly approaching vehicles of course). Here, in San Francisco, I’m just standing on the corner of the street, showing no invested intention of crossing, and cars stop, blocking up a whole line of surprisingly patient traffic. Maybe it’s just the west coast, but it’s a nice representation of “my country.”

But that’s just the thing. Am I still “chez moi” when I’ve spent more of my adult life in France than in America? When so many aspects of American culture seem so strange to me? I’m still here for nearly another two weeks and wonder if this feeling will wear off. Wondering if I’ll soon start feeling like a  natural-born  “American” again. It’s an odd feeling, looking at two different countries, and thinking they’re both right – in their own ways.

When traveling, you sometimes stumble upon the best places to eat without even trying.

This was our case with Jamie Oliver’s Italian restaurant on the corner of George and Gloucester Streets in Oxford. Moseying along, we noticed a long line of people coming out of this one particular restaurant – must be good, we thought. Soon enough we found ourselves in the crowd, not quite aware of what we were getting ourselves into (not necessarily recommended, but in this case it worked).

The line outside moved fairly quickly, as the place is rather large (two floors). Once through the doors, we were given a beeper and told the wait would be about 15 minutes. Not so bad, I’m thinking, as a young woman directs us to the bar and waiting area. As soon as we order some wine, the restaurant’s entire computer system crashes. That means no food orders, and no more seating until the problem is solved! This is where the impatient customers shout, “Pen and paper, pen and paper!” I agree, but I’m having fun sitting on a high stool overlooking the modern dining room with a glass of red wine in one hand and roasted almonds with chili and fennel salt in the other. These nuts were the only computer-independent food in the lot – lucky for Jamie, they were quite nice and tied us over until we were finally able to be seated.

The Oxford restaurant opened in 2008 and was the first in the line of Italian restaurants Jamie Oliver has opened around Britain. While the general atmosphere was contemporary, the smells coming from the kitchen (which you could peek into via a television screen) were reminiscent of old-fashioned Italian cooking. I think Jamie’s secret is garlic.

What we ordered: Monachelle Putanesca – a traditional sauce I have always been fond of. This version was excellent, slightly tangy with ripe Kalamata olives and juicy capers. I was disappointed with the pasta, though. A lighter noodle would have done better justice to such a delicate sauce. Instead, the putanesca was served with thick, heavy shells that were too overwhelming. Jamie’s Italian Spaghetti Bolognese – here, the chefs took a traditional dish and revisited it. My husband thoroughly enjoyed it, as there was a balanced combination of different meats, and the pasta was cooked just right – al dente. We continued drinking our wine (2003 Piemonte – Barbera d’asti superiore ‘Tere caude’, ca’ del matt), which was smooth and plumy -  highly recommend.

In sum, our experience wasn’t perfect, but the sauces, wines and smells were worth it.

Oh wait, I forgot to mention the Funky Chips with fresh garlic and parsley. These home-made fries were the tell-all and why I’m sure Jamie’s secret ingredient must be garlic.

Address:

Jamie’s Italian, Oxford

24-26 George Street

Oxford, OX1 2AE

Tel: 01865 83 83 83 (No reservations!)

This week, I checked out the two farmers’ markets at Gloucester Green in central Oxford.

Gloucester Green is a square surrounded by several stores, restaurants and some great coffee shops (Combibos Coffee and Caffe Nero both have excellent lattes). Located between Beaumont, St. George and Walton Streets, it comes alive during market times. Both markets are fairly small, but offer a nice alternative to the regular grocery store.

Oxford City Council Market

Every Wednesday, 9am-5pm

To be honest, this market wasn’t anything extraordinary (there were too many cheap clothing stands and not enough produce for my taste). This said, the foodie I am did manage to find a couple unique edibles. First, I stumbled upon some Turkish Delight – only the second time I’ve ever tasted it. I remember reading about this sweet delicacy in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe as a child. What better place to rediscover it than Oxford (where C.S. Lewis spent most of his adult life)? Then, I came across some free-range duck eggs. As I approached the stand, I overheard a man with a very English accent asking his son if he’d “eat a duck egg for lunch,” as though it was nothing out of the ordinary! The vendor told me these particular eggs had been picked up that morning and that the chickens (I mean ducks) drank running water (instead of still water), which gave the eggs a finer taste. They’d be good for about 2 weeks (chicken eggs last 3 to 4) and are great in omelets, thanks to the consistency.

Sketts Farmers’ Market

1st and 3rd Thursday of each month, 9am-3pm

Sketts is a market and events organizer in the UK and has pretty strict trading criteria when it comes to farmers’ markets. Local produce, for example, must come from within 50 miles. I liked this small and friendly market. I spent time looking at old antiques, second-hand books, and, of course, the various food stands. Nearly every one caught my attention and had something enticing to sell. Fresh and smoked trout, vegetarian mushroom pâté, apple and pear juices, traditional Indian samosas (try the Mirch, filled with potatoes and chili- spicy!)… My favorite stall was the Windrush Valley Goat Dairy. They offer a handcrafted selection of soft goat cheeses (the pepper one is nice, and the fresh herb even better). I’d also recommend the pro-biotic yogurt (thin enough you can drink it or poor it over muesli) and the quite perfect cheese cake.

]]> http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/07/farmers-markets-at-gloucester-green-oxford/feed/ 0 http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/07/oxford-blue-and-marksbury-cheddar/ http://thetomatoknife.com/2010/07/oxford-blue-and-marksbury-cheddar/#comments Wed, 14 Jul 2010 08:45:48 +0000 Joy Anna Becvarik http://thetomatoknife.com/?p=1391 It’s the Quatorze Juillet back in France. A good day to write about cheese, no?

I haven’t been in Oxford very long, but I’ve already noticed quite an admiration for France – in culinary terms at any rate. Walk down the streets in the city center and you’ll come across many French-style bakeries selling croissants, crepes, baguettes…. Since I’m only in England for two weeks, I’m trying to avoid anything that I can find back home (except Dijon mustard – just couldn’t convince myself otherwise when it came to making salad dressing). This friendly “boycott” goes for cheese, too.

Thus, I headed to the Oxford Cheese Company (located in the Covered Market) to pick up some local cheeses. They have a wonderful selection and the young woman behind the counter was more than happy to point out her favorites. I ended up with five different types, and these two stood out as being especially worth trying:

Oxford Blue

This is an award winning blue cheese made from cow’s milk – and not nearly as strong as French Roquefort. It’s soft, creamy and has a salty tang. This is a fairly new cheese, created in 1993 as an alternative to stilton – and still made in a Stilton dairy.

Marksbury Cheddar

The first cheddar originated in Cheddar Village in the county of Somerset, England. There is record that it was being made (and purchased by the King) back in the 12^th century. Check out the British Cheese website for some interesting history – including the fact that Henry II once purchased 10,240 lbs. of it!

Marksbury Cheddar (from Somerset) is among the best cheddars I’ve ever tasted. It’s fairly strong and sharp. Although it’s a hard cheese, it seems to melt in your mouth. It really tastes like it came directly off a farm in England!

The cheddar was especially nice with the malt bread I picked up (a common find here in England).

Address:

Oxford Cheese Company

17 The Market
Oxford OX1 3DU
Tel: 01865 721 420