Emily in France 🇫🇷 Greetings from a Golden World!

Hello from the driver's seat.

I've kept journals on-and-off since I was very young (one, received as a last-day-of-school gift when I was 9, ended up spending a rainy night in the backyard and turned up waterlogged and moldy, and still, I kept it.)

As a result of the sheer number of words I've written, I have a record of many different events in my life, but also of a variety of different "normals." I can see, through my journaling, what my main worries, anxieties, and interests were at most points in my life. And thanks to my almost obsessive scribblings, I can also see quite clearly the moment that the travel writing bug took hold: on a trip to Eze in 2007.

I was studying abroad in Cannes, and I opted into an afternoon exploring the surrounding villages perchés – "perched" villages in the mountains. In Eze, I was standing on an overlook taking in the view of the valley, and I glimpsed a little girl on the terra cotta roof of her house, jumping rope. I remember noticing how the neon green of the toy stood out against the patchwork of more muted greens all around.

Overwhelmed by the beauty of the scene, I wondered if she had any sense of how very lucky she was: that this was the view she took in while she was playing, that this was the backdrop of her childhood memories.

Since then, I've set out to write about a great many things, but that sense of wonder has always been an underlying motivation, the idea that something that can seem quotidian and banal to one person can be positively awe-inspiring for another. My job, in essence, feels not dissimilar to that of a translator: evoking what is so special about a place, a dish, (a cheese...) in a way that someone who is immersed in it every day might neglect to remember.

To celebrate earning my driver's license, last week, I decided to tack a few extra days onto a trip I was taking to Dijon to report on the last true Dijon mustard maker of France (forthcoming!) and to speak about gastrodiplomacy at a conference (in French!). I rented a car and drove out to Saulieu, home of the storied Relais Bernard Loiseau. 

The hotel had recently undergone a renovation, and I got a glimpse at one of their brand-new suites, complete with leather-bound books, a terrace overlooking the garden, and a cocoon of a bed.

(More soon for InsideHook.)

On the way there, my little rental car and I also passed fields of sunflowers just beginning to fade from summer. I passed golden trees that showed me, even more than Chardonnay, why this area truly deserves its name: la Côte d'Or. And I stopped to let a flock of sheep cross the former Nationale 6, the highway to heavenly gastronomic experiences.

And I realized... I think I'm that little girl jumping rope, now.

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Cheese of the Week

Charolais is the name of a cow, but it's also the name of a Burgundian goat cheese with a fairly firm, chalky texture and very balanced, mild acidity. It's the one that Maxime Quatrehomme chose to macerate in Nikka whiskey and smoke at the eponymous Quatrehomme cheese shop in Paris, and with its naturally rich orange color and deep fragrance, it's one of my favorite autumnal cheeses.

Another Burgundian specialty I absolutely love is Epoisses. Not for the faint of heart, this washed rind cheese is an odiferous little stinker, but thanks to the Marc de Bourgogne used in washing it, it reveals itself to have a nutty, gooey, super fruity heart.

To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france and tune into the Terroir Podcast, where Caroline Conner and I delve into France's cheese, wine, and more one region at a time.

What I'm Eating

While I was in Dijon, I stopped for lunch at a little café named after Rabelais and ordered a "salad" that openly defied definition. Topped with Epoisses toasts and a local specialty of jambon persillé, or ham seasoned with parsley and garlic, it was by no means what I would term a salad, but it was positively delicious regardless.


And of course, given my final destination, I also dined at the Relais Bernard Loiseau. My first evening was spent at the bistro, where I dug into a delightfully local menu of smoked steak tartare, a play on Paris-Brest, and the oeufs en meurette above (I swear, there are two poached eggs hiding in that bacon-mushroom-red wine sauce). More on the blog – and more on my dinner at the two-Michelin-starred gastronomic restaurant next week!

Discover more of my foodie finds via Instagram @emily_in_france and on the blog.
 

Where I'm Going

1. To Tenby, Pembrokeshire, Wales, where I intend to eat my weight in Welsh cakes and Caerphilly. And also fish and chips.

2. To Le Trianon, to see Hannah Gadsby at long last.

3. To the Caves du Louvre for an evening dedicated to art and natural wine.

What I'm Writing

1. While gender has long governed the world of cheesemongering – like many culinary professions in France – the rules are changing. More for the BBC.

2. The Giants just got their first sommelier – and he's sharing pairings with your ballpark faves with me for InsideHook.

3. From the archives: France is facing a widespread dearth of Dijon mustard, which news outlets wasted no time in attributing to the war in Ukraine. But the story is a whole lot spicier than that. For the BBC.
 

What I'm Saying

In France, non doesn't necessarily mean no. BBC journalist Sylvia Sabes joins me on Navigating the French this week to explore the ways in which the French use non, not as outright refusal, but as a bargaining tool, means of analysis, and even flirtation ritual.

What I'm Reading

1. Blonde Roots is one of those books I so wanted to like – for the concept, which I found brilliant, for the author, whose Girl Woman Other I loved. But something about the execution fell flat for me, and so I found it ultimately rather disappointing.

2. A deep dive into the weird implications of naming a French child Kévin in the New Yorker.

3. An op-ed on the evolution of complex, difficult, funny women on screen from Nicola Coughlan for the Guardian.

A bientôt !

Emily in France