Emily in France 🇫🇷 Wild Blackberries and Wanders
Summertime rhythm
There is a path that leads me to the riverbank in my favorite place in the world that’s positively teeming with wild blackberry bushes. I can't stop myself from sampling them as I walk; I try to decide if this bush is sweeter, if I prefer them when they're fat and juicy or slightly dry and concentrated, like natural fruit leather waiting just for me.
I’m not a snacker, in normal times, despite growing up with the kind of mom who frequently carried Goldfish crackers in her purse. Snacking is a habit I’ve shaken since moving to France, where the only culturally forgivable snack is the 4pm goûter. Repetitive grazing has its own word – grignotage – and is looked down upon as an awful American habit that must be eradicated from French society immediately if not sooner. For proof of this philosophy, look no further than the deep, scary voice that announces one should “snack in moderation” following joyful televised advertisements for chips or pretzels.
I wonder, as I devour berry after berry, if this is a snack or if it’s something else.
On the way back from the river, I take a different path; there are two fig trees, one right after the other, both laden with nearly-ripe fruit. Each day, I find one or two just ready to eat; baked by the sun, they taste like hot fig jam. The figs on one tree, I notice, have the faintest whiff of cinnamon. This becomes “my favorite tree,” in the shorthand of my mind; it lies right before the second tree, and I always save one fig from the first, to be my final bite.
Even more blackberry bushes lie after the fig trees, just before the town limit begins. These bushes are even more bountiful than the ones on my path to the river, positively drooping with fruit. But I never want more blackberries, as luscious as they look. Not after my cinnamon fig.
I tell my friend, the one who’s hosting me, about the bounty of berries, and in the early evening, when the heat of the day has nearly dissipated but before the sun has fully set, we set out for the secret spots that border her son’s grapevines to see if we can gather enough for jam.
“Next year, you’ll have all the gelée you want,” she tells me as she looks at our bounty, and I consider that: the fact that the berries are here now, ripe for the picking and the devouring, that these same berries will likely be presented to me in an upcycled jar that once contained pâté or pickled wild asparagus, next year.
Cheese of the Week
This fresh goat cheese is a simple, delightful creation from la Laiterie de Paris, Paris’ first cheesemaker. It’s sprinkled generously with flakes of Basque Espelette pepper for a sweet, smoky, slightly spicy flair.
To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france, subscribe to my YouTube channel, 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
If you’re near Notre Dame and are looking for a bistro-style spot with friendly service, a cozy dining room, and a lot of heart… Au Bougnat is the one I’d send you to. (It’s also home to perhaps my favorite vinaigrette in Paris, nay, the world.) More on the blog.
Discover more of my foodie finds via Instagram @emily_in_france and on the blog.
What I'm Writing
1. How summer road-trippers put a southern French sweet on the map. For Atlas Obscura.
2. How to make gougères, the cheesy bites that look basic but taste incredible. For InsideHook.
3. All you need to read and order off an Italian menu like a pro. For Mashed.
What I'm Reading
1. Kathe Lison’s The Whole Fromage is a travel memoir that manages to delve deep into the history and technique of cheesemaking across a diverse sampling of France’s regions, all the while remaining as readable and entertaining as a novel. One of my favorite books on French cheese I've ever read – and that's saying a lot!
2. This absolutely gorgeous ode to risotto. In Vittles.
3. This exploration of the European relationship with water, which I find particularly intriguing seeing as I am a camel with a “status water bottle.” (It’s pink.) In The New York Times.
A bientôt !