Hello again dear Platform 13 readers. Is it December already? Wow. . where did the year go? Christmas ... Some, like my husband Kris, just don't like it, but most people love that dark period of the year where lights and candles shine and give us a special feeling. Our eldest son especially loves this time of the year, just because of the lights everywhere. On the streets, in the gardens strung around the house … For me Christmas always has been a family thing. Being togethe

French supermarkets at Christmas-time are irresistibly mesmerising. Perhaps it’s the seasonal theatre of it all - quarries of oysters; gentlemanly rows of sincere-looking Champagnes, serious wines that require a quick chat before being chosen. Stockpiles of chocolate logs arranged like artillary ordanance. Or maybe it’s simply the Star Wars scale of the Hypermarché itself, which in December feels less like a shop and more like an obstacle course in Oz. "It's ok, I've got thi

In France, where "bread is life", what happens when the bakery closes? Few countries keep such extensive data around bakeries as France does. According to a 2017 government report, 73% of the French population lived within half a mile of a Boulangerie. Of course, in a country where 8-out-of 10 people live in largely urban areas, it is plainly not a city-dwellers problem. It is in rural France where the loss of the village bakery strikes like a family bereavement. For the purp

Is food really better in France? Not in that romantic "strolling through the market with a cute wicker basket" way, but in a pure sense of basic taste. And I am not talking about Michelin-starred fine dining or €500 truffle tastings. I am referring to bread, cheese or tomoatoes. A roasted "poulet frites" in a budget bistro. The kind of food that should be pedestrian enough not to even warrant effusive praise, yet still makes you pause, mid-mouthful and smile. Butter, infused

There are few ingredients as humbly useful as the onion. It appears in every kitchen, at every stage of unprompted regrowth and under every list of ingredients. Raw and sharp in summer salads, melted and brown in winter stews, or quietly working in the background of rich sauces, often without due credit. The French don’t just cook with onions — they have built the entirety of French cuisine around them. France grows more onions than any other country in Europe, and you can ta

Golden apples. The asteroid-like quince is the last fruit to ripen - the one that waits until the year breathes out. Hard and bitter when raw, it softens only through patience and care. Once sacred to Aphrodite, it remains a quiet symbol of transformation: if you take your time, you'll get your reward. It's not the best looking fruit in the orchard, but nature is not so bothered with looks. Perfect imperfection is sometimes just right. The quince is a golden relic of autumn t

There are so many questions when one moves to France. Will it be hard to learn the language? How should I dress? And, most urgently, how will I not “wear” all those pastries and calories, never having been raised on French cuisine? I can’t be the first one to obsess over these things, right? I did some investigating and data collection after a house viewing trip that coincided with my Birthday. We stayed in a tiny village in Provence, with nothing in it, aside from a few farm

Let’s start with the obvious: the French eat. With butter, with wine, with joy. Meanwhile, across the channel or indeed the big pond, we seem to eat with an undercurrent of apology. We talk about “being good” when we skip dessert, or “cheating” when we don’t — as if a pastry were a moral failing. Somewhere between the calorie counter and the confession booth, food stopped being nourishment and became a referendum on self-control, by which we often judge ourselves unkindly Thi

October in the Dordogne is quieter now. The fields are slowing, the walnuts gathered, the vines picked clean. But for bees, it’s still very much office hours. The hum in the hives may have softened, but inside, a busy workforce is still clocking in. Bees don’t get the autumn off. While we shake moths from sweaters, and begin baking with cinnamon, the bees are in full admin. mode — stocktaking, rationing, and preparing the winter filing cabinets. By October, the queen has sort

October is the opal month of the year. It is the month of glory, of ripeness — and of walnuts. It's a grand month in France, is October. The days are still and temperatures kind. It's good market weathr land walnuts are everywhere. Craggy little treasures, it feels so good to plunge your hand into a sack of them just for a grin.I am not sure which nut wears the kingly crown, as they could all make a pretty good case, but the walnut could easily be annointed. They have that re

On a rainy day last November, the humble baguette was acknowledged and enshrined forever by UNESCO as “a thing of exceptional interest for the common heritage of mankind.”