Pink for the Sweetness, Powdered for the Nobility

Executive Summary: a round-up of three French treats- nougat, Fossier’s Biscuits de Reims, and cherries in brandy.

Until recently, I never considered myself a fan of French cuisine: too saucy, too much beurre, and way too much enthusiasm for dressing up offal. Our trip to Paris nearly two years ago, however, somewhat softened my attitude. In fact, this attitude adjustment can be entirely attributed to nougat. No, not the kind of gum sticking nougat found in a Snickers bar. French nougat is never just an incidental confection to be briefly endured on the way to the caramel and peanuts pay-off. Rather, it can stand on its own with ease: soft, sweetened with lavender honey, possibly flavored with vanilla, and studded with either pistachios or hazelnuts.

After marching around the Champs d’Elysee, we happened upon a tiny haute confectionery tucked away on the shabbiest, most unremarkable side street. Inside, we discovered a birthday cake sized wheel of nougat that looked so pillowy and heavenly that even the 9 Euro per slice sign did not deter me from throwing down such a substantial sum for something that is essentially a piece of candy. Who even knew that nougat could ever come in such an absurdly large cake-sized format? For normal people, the amount of nougat that we purchased would probably have lasted three days. Instead, I repeatedly found my hand greedily digging around in the bag for ever more nougat as we wended our way through the city. In a mere 10 minutes, we (or mostly me) had made $10 or $11 of nougat disappear. Sadly, I forgot the name of this shop, and no amount of Google sleuthing seems to have turned it up. But, I’ve managed to find contentment with the various nougat bars stocked at places like Dean & Deluca and Balducci’s. Most of them seem to have originated in Montelimar in Provence, which is considered to be the nougat capital of the world.

In the course of my electronic nougat quest, I discovered yet another French extravagance: Fossier’s pink biscuits de Reims. These delicate pink biscuits are apparently intended for dunking in champagne. Now I’m a big fan of the Kir Royale, but for the most part, champagne, particularly the sort that’s too good to be wasted on a Kir Royale, hardly needs accompaniment, let alone a starchy accompaniment. But, I am sufficiently intrigued by the idea that the French have devised a biscuit specifically to complement champagne, that I absolutely must try it out. Hopefully this dunk sensation will work out better than these rancid looking Shrek Dunkaroos. Here’s Fossier’s own description of their novel creation:

Pink for the sweetness, powdered for the nobility, crunchy for the pleasure, the characteristics of seduction of the pink biscuit are carefully preserved by the confectioners of FOSSIER. Since the origin of Maison Fossier in 1756, the secret of the recipe has been jealously kept. The recipe is simple but delicate to make: made of fresh eggs, sugar and flour, vanilla-flavoured, slightly tinted with cochineal (a natural colouring) and powered with icing sugar, the dough is baked twice successively, which gives the biscuit (baked twice) the particularity of not being flaked of when it is soaked in. The quality granted to this unique and genuine biscuit has inspired the fine tradition of dunking it in a glass of red wine from the vineyard of the Champagne region or in a flute of champagne. Moreover, this quality is at the origin of its use in the charlottes and other cakes. The inventive housewives and chefs are crazy about it.

Finally, I just watched the French movie Le Boucher, Claude Chabrol’s morally ambiguous film about the burgeoning relationship between an attractive small town headmistress and an awkward butcher who may be a serial killer. What could this possibly have to do with French sweet treats? Well, during an especially suspenseful moment the butcher shows up with a jar of cherries in brandy to share with the woman that he’s wooing. They quietly enjoy the cherries in brandy with the sort of abandon that could only be inspired by the tension of mutual suspicion. I’ve seen cherries in brandy previously, but had always thought that they were meant to be incorporated into some fancypants dessert, never to be enjoyed on their own. Now that this movie has proved otherwise, I’m intent upon scoring a jar of French cherries in brandy this weekend. But, am I actually willing to throw away $26 on such an experiment? I shall report back. -AC