Who’s eating all the butter?

This week, when exactly are the French eating 8.2kg butter each a year? Plus the price of asparagus, brocanting, and a recipe for asparagus tart.

My jambon-beurre, with the correct amount of butter, ie sliced like cheese, a slick of Dijon mustard, pickles on the side, not inside.

First, an apology for not posting this at the weekend. I’m only just catching up with myself after a couple of weeks in England. Thank you for your patience, friends.

I’ve been here three years now and I still haven’t figured it out. At 8.2kg each per year, the French eat more butter per person than any other nation – the Americans consume a paltry 2.6kg, and the British manage a noble 3.17kg – but for the life of me, I’ve no idea when they’re eating it. There are possibly butter parties going on to which I’m not invited and if this is the case, then I’m going to kick off.

Of course, a lot of this butter is used in cooking and patisserie, because you could eat at French people’s houses for years without once seeing a butter dish cosying up to a bread basket. (Don’t come at me, people from Brittany and Normandy. You’re floating in milk. It’s entirely possible you sit down to tables groaning in ten different kinds of butter every night, but you’re practically a different country.)

I know at brest, many spread their baguettes thickly with butter before spooning on the jam, and that the classic jambon-beurre sandwich is a very popular quick lunch. (In March, Time Out magazine named the jambon-beurre from Paris bistro, Petit Vendôme, the best sandwich in the world.) Plates of oysters are served with circles of rye bread and miniscule pats of butter, barely enough to bait a mousetrap. Radis au beurre – radishes with softened, often seasoned, butter – is an elegant and easy starter. You may get some butter with the bread served with a plate of charcuterie and occasionally as something to soften the stronger notes of blue cheese. But all of this can only account for a couple of kilos each a year, surely, even if you really love radishes?

The butter fridge at our local Carrefour.

I’ve written before about my affection for a Facebook group for people who are visiting Paris. For the many Americans who post there, a trip to the crèmerie at La Grande Epicerie in the rue de Sèvres is as important to their immaculately-devised itineraries as Notre Dame, the catacombs, and the Arc de Triomphe. The big draw is butter, of which La Grande Epicerie stocks over 150 kinds, from many kinds of salted and unsalted, to those seasoned with herbs, garlic, seaweed, truffles, and Madagascan vanilla. Bordier, the famous dairy in Noyal-sur-Vilaine, Brittany, is mentioned with all the reverence the very devout might reserve for communion wafers. They buy it in luggage-allowance-busting quantities, get it vacuum packed in the store, and sweetheart their hotels into freezing it for them to make sure it’s fresh when they get it home. Occasionally, an innocent asks if butter isn’t made in America, only to be drowned in laugh emojis.

These visitors – who give 500g bricks of gourmet butter as souvenirs to their friends in the way the less sophisticated might hand over Tour Eiffel keyrings – must skew the numbers slightly. I always put a butter dish on my table in a determined act of great exoticism, but this can’t affect the averages sufficiently to account for the full 8.2kg, however hard I try. If anyone can tell me where the rest is going, I would be very grateful if you could let me know.

The French saying “vouloir le beurre et l'argent du beurre” means you want the butter and also the money for the butter, and is used in the same way as we say you want to have your cake and eat it.

You what?

Last week, my friend Cat shared a picture on our WhatsApp group of an empty wooden crate in a London greengrocer’s where once laid some white French asparagus. It was sold out. Even at £74.76 a kilo, it was sold out. I know white asparagus has its devotees, particularly among the Germans and Spanish, but I prefer the green myself. Nonetheless, in the interests of this report, when I was at the organic shop in Agde to buy the asparagus for today’s tart, and at Mèze market on Sunday, I checked the price of white French asparagus in France, and, well. In the organic shop it was plentiful and 15.99€ a kilo, while the green was 22.99€ and sold out, and in Mèze it was a bargainacious 8.95€. How much is asparagus where you live? Hashtag AsparagusWatch.

Compare and contrast, the price of French white asparagus in London, and French white asparagus in France.

Brocanting again

Fortified by pistachio tarts and strawberries, we set off for the brocante.

We went to lunch with some friends in Félines-Minervois on Saturday, to one of my favourite places, Le Grand Café Occitan. On the way home, rendered boisterous by asparagus, duck, and pistachio tarts, we stopped at Broc Plus 34 outside of Olonzac. This is a proper brocante, a large shed filled with the once-treasures of other peoples’ lives, everything neatly organised and dusted, and the best thing? It’s all at proper brocante prices, no antique-shop-aspiration-inflation here. Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Pézenas anymore.

In my happy place.

All neatly arranged.

Loved this sign in the linens department: Si vous ne savez pas replier, ne depliez pas (If you don’t know how to fold, don’t unfold). Somebody was on their last nerve that day.

My brocante haul comprises cocktail picks, a linen sheet embroidered with roses, a white linen bolster cover edged in pink gingham, two white platters and a bowl decorated with painted forget-me-nots, eight pink checked tea towels I’m going to use as napkins, an enamel pitcher and a large fish kettle I’m going to plant up with herbs. I took this picture in the hallway, on top of the bottom half of a dresser I bought off Facebook Marketplace which was just delivered, because the dining table where I normally take pictures is full of the contents of the pantry while the carpenter is busy constructing proper larder cupboards. Welcome to my life. It’s partially-organised chaos.

A hallway full of treasure and chaos

Tarte aux asperges et aux champignons

Asparagus and mushroom tart

This makes a great spring lunch with a green salad, or a wonderful starter for a more elaborate meal.

Serves 4 as a main course, 6 as a starter

1 x 250g sheet or block of puff pastry or shortcrust pastry
A little flour for dusting
1 egg
2 egg yolks
3 tbsp crème fraîche, about 15g
About 400g asparagus
30g butter, plus a little softened butter for greasing the tin
3 small shallots, about 90g, halved and thinly sliced
120g mushrooms, wiped with damp kitchen paper, trimmed and sliced or quartered
120g soft, rindless goat’s cheese
About 25g hard cheese, Comté, Cheddar, Parmesan, finely grated
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

I like to use a rectangular tin for this tart so I can use the asparagus without cutting it. The tin I use is 30cm x 14cm with a loose bottom. Lightly grease the tin with softened butter.

Lightly dust a clean surface with flour and dust a rolling pin. Roll out the pastry to fit your tin. Chill for at least 20 minutes in the fridge.

Heat the oven to 200C/180C Fan/Gas 6.

Line the tin with crumpled baking parchment and fill with ceramic baking beans or dried rice or pulses.

In a bowl, beat together the egg and egg yolks with the crème fraîche.

Blind bake the tart for 14-15 minutes. Remove from the oven and carefully remove the paper and baking beans or dried rice or pulses. Prick the base all over with the tines of a fork and brush lightly with the egg mixture. Return it to the oven for 10 minutes until completely cooked through. The base should be dry. If you’ve used puff pastry and it’s puffed up a bit, press it down with the tines of a fork. Reduce the temperature of the oven to 180C/160C Fan/Gas 4.

Prepare the filling. Trim the asparagus to get rid of any woody ends and to ensure it will fit in the tin in an even layer. If the asparagus is thicker than a pencil or has been in the fridge for a couple of days, peel the bottom parts of the stems with a sharp vegetable peeler.

Steam or boil the asparagus until it’s tender, about 5 minutes – you should be able to pierce it easily with a small, sharp knife. Drain and run it under a cold tap to stop it cooking any further.

In a frying pan, melt the butter over a medium heat and sauté the shallot with a good pinch of salt for a few minutes until they’re softened, then add the mushrooms to the pan and raise the heat a bit. Fry them until they lose their moisture and start to take on some colour. Remove from the heat.

Tip the shallots and mushrooms into the tart and spread them out evenly.

Crumble the goat’s cheese over the shallots and mushrooms then arrange the asparagus spears over the top.

Season the egg and crème fraîche mixture with salt and pepper then pour it evenly over the asparagus. Scatter on the grated cheese.

Bake the tart until the egg is just set – about 20-25 minutes. Cool slightly before sliding it out of the tin onto a serving platter or board. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Printable Recipe

Tarte Aux Asperges Et Aux Champignons

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A LITTLE HOUSEKEEPING

If you’re new here (welcome, and thank you), let me explain this feature. Each week, I pull together a simple menu based around a central recipe. I noticed many of my French friends entertain without losing their minds because a lot of meals are assemblies, where good shopping is just as important as good cooking.

A typical meal might begin with some olives and charcuterie, bought pâté or a little tomato salad and definitely here, on the banks of the Étang de Thau, a platter of oysters. For the main course there might be a roast chicken or whole fish, a casserole, something substantial accompanied by simple boiled potatoes or rice, and a vegetable or two (never crowd the plate with too many competing flavours). There’s almost always a green salad and cheese, and sometimes a pudding which is invariably bought from the local patisserie rather than being home made.

Each week, I share with you a single recipe around which you can build a simple three course meal. The idea is it will allow you to spend time with your family and guests, not languish like Cinderella in the kitchen. I also give you a work plan and advice on how to get ahead. I really, really want you to enjoy yourself, always.

A LIGHT SPRING LUNCH

Bought celeriac rémoulade with Bayonne ham

Tarte aux asperges et aux champignons

Green salad

Strawberries and cream or ice cream

PLAN OF ACTION

I prefer the tart made on the day I’m going to eat it, but I sometimes bake the shell the day before. If I want to serve it warm, I prepare all of the ingredients – steam the asparagus, sauté the shallot and mushrooms and so on, then assemble it and bake it just as we sit down for the starter.

Wash the lettuce for the green salad up to a day ahead, dry it well and keep it in a Ziplock-type bag or container in the fridge with a sheet of kitchen paper. You can also make the vinaigrette if you want and keep it in a jar in the fridge. When you’re about to sit down, pour a puddle of the vinaigrette in the bottom of your salad bowl and tip the leaves over the top. Cover it with a tea towel, then toss it well just before serving.

An hour or so before you want to eat, set the table, chill the white wine and/or beer if you’re drinking that, and open the red to breathe. Make sure you have water and water glasses on the table.

Cut or tear the baguette into pieces and put it in a bread basket covered with a napkin.

Place the celeriac rémoulade on a platter surrounded by the Bayonne ham for people to serve themselves, or arrange a generous spoonful of rémoulade and a slice or two of ham on individual plates. Scatter some capers and some finely-chopped chives over the celeriac if you like. Cover with a clean tea towel until you’re ready to sit down.

Briefly rinse the strawberries in a colander with cold water then lay out gently on kitchen paper or a clean tea towel to dry. Halve any larger ones. If they need sugar, sprinkle on the smallest amount you can get away with (too much and it masks the flavour of the strawberries) 10 minutes before you serve them and give it a gentle stir. If you’re serving them with thick cream, pour it into a jug,if you prefer whipped cream, lightly whip it (with some a little icing sugar and vanilla if you like), cover and refrigerate. If you want to serve the strawberries with ice cream, don’t forget to take it out of the freezer 10 minutes before serving so it’s not too hard to scoop.