Alsace Floyd on France

So, my little liver dumplings, it's time to set off on another

BBC mini-break, this time aboard the Nouvelle Premiere,

France's gastronomic express. Pity I forgot my trainspotters' guide.

It takes the dipso... I mean, the diplomats and politicians

between Paris and Strasbourg in supreme luxury, and offers them

a standard of cooking and service

equal to any starred restaurant in France.

Of course, I know it's not a patch on the British Rail cheese toastie,

but at least they're really trying!

HE ORDERS FOOD AND WINE IN FRENCH

Ha-ha! This is the life, lads!

The train journeys east through splendid countryside to the vineyards of Champagne,

past the world war battlefields.

But let's look at food preparation. Take this choucroute.

These meals are prepared daily at the station kitchen in Paris.

They vacuum pack and chill them, then the chefs simply have to steam them and serve them.

And believe me, the quality is superb and beautifully fresh.

Of course they charge like wounded buffaloes,

which might have something to do with why the service packed up earlier this year - a great shame.

Journey's end, and the foothills of the Vosges Mountains are thickly clad in vines.

Here in Alsace, the Riesling and Muscat grapes reign supreme.

This is the town of Colmar, which is just a few miles from the German border.

FRENCH ACCENT: Vairry interr-esting!

What I really like is this wrought-iron work celebrating the charcuterie -

Alsace's famous pates, sausages, terrines and foie gras.

Now, what has this building and the Statue of Liberty got in common?

The answer is this man, who designed both the Maison des Tetes and the aforementioned statue.

He's clutching a glass and bottle. A man RIGHT after my own heart!

This is my new chum Marc. Say hello, Marc!

I'm going to make some liver dumplings - quenelles de foie.

The dish is simple, but liable to go very wrong!

This is minced raw pig's liver with some fried onion and bacon.

It's a nasty, gungy puree, to which I've added some salt and pepper.

Moving over, you've got semolina flour there,

and to your right, a couple of beaten eggs.

Over here, some finely-fried chopped shallots, some nutmeg, and some finely-chopped parsley,

and some breadcrumbs soaked in milk.

Let me explain. All you do is mould those into little tiny...shapes,

and steam them or boil them in barely simmering water. Delicious!

But what will probably happen with me is that they'll explode,

looking like the water-processing works you see beside motorways!

What I have to do is put my breadcrumbs in...

..and my eggs in. I have no confidence in this dish at all. I don't believe it will work.

I mix in a little semolina flour.

A little bit of the onion and the parsley.

Now we grate a bit of nutmeg in -

noix de muscade.

That water is probably boiling too fast behind me.

Now this is where it's all, I'm sure, going to turn to rat.

I'd have thought this needed to be a much drier, firmer mixture,

but Marc, the chef here at the Maison des Tetes, assured me that was not a problem.

I'll just have a swig, because this IS a very nerve-racking occasion.

Now we'll see what kind of a fool I can make of myself, by putting this liquid mixture into here.

It's bound to separate into...

Oh, no, it's not. Look! Hey, it's working. Incredible!

Now how do I get the damn thing off the spoon? I'm not very sure.

Marc! Ou est le chef?

Chef! Je suis dans le merde! LAUGHTER

I'm hoping the chef's going to help me, because I'm in real trouble here.

Qu'est-ce que je fais maintenant? MARC CHUCKLES

Est-ce que tu as assaisonne? Oui, tout est assaisonne.

Il'y a du sel, poivre...

This is just bad luck that I've screwed it up, but happily help is on hand.

Now watch very carefully.

Ah! You just tip them in. You must all the time... Wash the spoon? Yes.

I see! So it's really rather like poaching eggs. It's very simple.

All you need is 20 years' experience in a real French kitchen to whack them out like that.

Now to make a little sauce to go with my dumplings,

my little liver dumplings, which I taught him how to make earlier on.

Come down close to the pot, where we've got finely-sliced shallots.

We add some white wine from Alsace and put it onto maximum heat.

Il faut le reduire, ca? Oui.

Now, we leave that to reduce, which will take a second or two.

In the meantime, I will begin...

CHEF SPEAKS TO HIM IN FRENCH

..I shall begin to prepare these beautiful little liver dumplings on a plate.

Tip them up that way - they look neater.

I'm going to make these look superb. That's reducing away nicely.

These have been in simmering water for 12 to 15 minutes, by the way.

Now, it's no good me saying that's ready, cos it isn't.

It's not ready till there's almost no liquid left.

Il faut etre presque sec. Oui. C'est lie avec l'oignon. Il faut mettre demi-glace. Bon!

It's good to have someone who knows what he's talking about on hand.

This is what we call "demi-glace". It's a stock pot which has been reduced slowly...

flavoured... and then thickened.

If you want to make a demi-glace, look it up in a cookery book.

This is now sufficiently reduced. Have a good look at how rich and thick it's gone.

This is not "nouvelle cuisine". This is "ancienne cuisine"!

It's good to enrich that with a little knob of unsalted butter.

That will make the sauce very shiny.

Now I just very gently beat in the butter.

C'est bon comme ca? Bon. C'est bon pour l'assaisonnement? Oui.

Maintenant une petite pouce de vin blanc. Maintenant? Juste un peu.

I've to add a tiny drop, just to make the flavour come through.

It's just to finish it off... and it does make a big difference.

Spoon. Spoon. Il faut les napper?

Oui, napper. Bien. Voila.

Here we have a little bit of tomato,

and very finely chopped chives.

That's a good dish with potatoes.

Fried or boiled potatoes? Boiled.

That's a bit too much salad, isn't it?

There we are. Voila.

OK, I deserve a round of applause for this.

As you can see, I made it all by myself with no outside help.

I'll now eat it in front of you.

But that's a little hot so I'll use THAT one!

They're light and delicious.

They're similar to the British faggot, but are much more delicate.

Comment vous le trouvez? Je veux le gouter.

Tres bien, Floyd. Presqu'un Alsacien. I'm nearly an Alsatian!

There's an answer to that!

MUSIC: "Horn Concerto" by Mozart

Here we go again, with my musical chum Amadeus.

And here's one of the production assistants, looking very anxious.

Colmar, despite being invaded three times since the Franco-Prussian war,

is a resilient place

and its citizens exude a genuine joie de vivre,

which only those who've experienced utter hell show.

And they make brilliant cakes,

which they arrange on shelves in much the same way

as a Bond Street jeweller displays HIS wares.

Of course, what makes the cakes of Alsace so good,

although a Hungarian countess once told me the only place

to enjoy cake is in Vienna - she was a bit of a snob, of course -

is the painstaking care of small family businesses,

who employ a couple of young apprentices who are very proud to learn and maintain

the fine tradition of master cake-making.

And they do make exceedingly good cakes -

and croissants, of course.

They're also brilliant at making sausages and, in a better world,

we'd devote a whole series to this master sausage-maker.

But it's a cruel world and, until now,

the sausage-maker was one of gastronomy's unsung heroes.

# Saucissons Saucissons, si bon

# Full of flavoursome meat

# Very flavoursome meat

# Such a succulent treat

# It's a tasty treat

# Stuffed and fit to burst

# Bursting with every flavour

# Saucissons Saucissons, si bon

# And the French are the best

# The French are the best

# When it comes to the test

# When they take the test

# Ces saucissons, si bon

# Sons, si, si bon

# Ces saucissons, si bon

# Sons, si, si bon

# Ces saucissons, si bon

# Sons, si, si bon

# Ces saucissons, si bon

# Sons, si, si bon. #

This is what happens when your emotions rule your mind.

My relationship with the director is based on trust and understanding.

I don't trust him and he doesn't understand me. He knows I hate flying

and I have got no head for heights. But somehow he persuaded me to take a short flight for some good shots.

The crew suggested I was yellow. I prayed for fog but to no avail.

The bottom line here is that I do not like being in this balloon.

I know it looks great on TV - sunshiny day, drifting over the Vosges Mountains,

here in Alsace on our way to lunch,

but we're 3,000 feet up! I've got a decent glass to cheer things up.

When we do land, I'm going to cook pheasant in cabbage,

and show you how they make the superb cheese, invented by Irish monks

in their monastery here in Munster.

Meanwhile, this is Keith Floyd, above the Vosges Mountains, terrified, for Floyd On France.

It was just mind over matter. HE didn't mind and I didn't matter.

But things went wrong, we ran out of gas and we crash-landed in the road. Ha-ha-ha.

Andre Graf, my mad pilot, managed to save some gas for essentials.

It is a champagne called a Cremant d'Alsace.

Of course it's an old tradition since 1783 when the balloon was invented in France.

So since this year, whenever there is a new flight,

people who fly the first time in balloon,

they have to drink champagne.

Pity you didn't save the gas you used to cool down the champagne for the balloon.

Yes, sure! We should have had the gas we used now!

OK! Brilliant!

Then there is another tradition...

but I guess we have to take care of the technical point of view...

but THIS is the other tradition! LAUGHTER

You sod!

My rendez-vous was a remote farm in the Munster Valley where they sell cheeses.

The rest of the journey I made on foot, entertained by Andre.

It turned out that Andre was a distant relation of another of the valley's famous sons,

Dr Albert Schweitzer, who said,

"You'd never get ME up in a balloon, Sean!"

Today I'm cooking a simple dish of pheasant rolled in cabbage and stewed in the local white wine.

The reason French provincial cooking tastes so good all the time

is they use the ingredients from their own area.

Clive, spin round the ingredients.

Here's a pheasant shot locally.

Here's home-cured smoked bacon from this farm,

carrots from the garden, juniper berries from Sainsbury's, bay leaves and garlic from the garden here,

and proper home-made sausages.

The dish tastes so good because they use the Riesling wine.

They wouldn't buy Moroccan wine for it, like we would in England.

Anyway, I've got to wrap up the rest of these little leaves around the pheasant.

I'm muttering my words a bit, but you have to put up with that

because we were up very early this morning,

getting shots and making cheese and all that sort of stuff.

Then I have to fry off all my bits of ingredients in the frying pan, and mix it all up together.

As you've seen that so many times before, all those shots of bubbling frying pans,

why don't you go and have a look at the cheese-making? See you later.

# When manufacturing Munster cheese No diseased ingredients, please

# One vat of local rather fresh white curds

# And all of this must be stirred

# And thereupon that fire of wood

# You have to warm it up real good

# Until it gets so nice and heated

# See that the mixture is carefully treated

# Now add the rennet, make it all congeal

# You must feel a little ill

# Fish out the lumps Which now are nice and big

# Then you must chop them quick...

# Or you'll be far too sick! #

RETCHING

That was witty(!) The set cheeses are salted, stored and turned daily for up to three weeks.

It's a strong and pungent cheese, but quite delicious.

There we are. That's 4-5 minutes in the pan there,

so it's lightly golden. Now, it's ready to go in the main pot.

You don't HAVE to use pheasant. You could use old grouse, pigeons, all kinds of game birds...

As long as it's the old and tough ones.

It's a way of using up old toughies and not the succulent, tender ones you'd use for roasting.

Now it owes a lot to Alsatian cooking,

and Alsatians owe a lot to me,

because the reason I'm having this substantial dish today

is after that nasty crash, we need something to build ourselves up.

I did not enjoy that experience.

Boats and helicopters are OK, but the balloon made me miserable.

I'll bring this over to you to show you what is in there now...

The packets of pheasant wrapped in cabbage, on top of their little bed of vegetables and bacon.

The bay leaves go in, and some juniper berries plop in like that.

You can't use those sausages you get with E-numbers in the supermarket.

You've got to find somebody who makes a proper sausage.

I'll just give these a slight prick.

You should never cook with wine that you can't drink. If the wine is not good enough to drink...

..which this most certainly is, you mustn't cook with it.

I'll pour myself one last slurp...

It IS only the balloon pilot after all.

The way he was interfering with that gas yesterday was very worrying.

There. That goes in like that.

The lid goes on to the top.

Seen the lid?!

This you do very carefully,

because the director will say, "Did we SEE the oven properly?"

THEY CHAT IN FRENCH

'I didn't realise so many people were coming to lunch!

'I panicked when I saw these big farmers with enormous appetites.

'It's a bit much to ask one pheasant to feed six people.

'One pheasant is fine for two. The mad balloonist and I had to make do with cream cheese.'

This cheese is not ripe at all

and it is still a sweet cheese.

So it is served with some cream

and what we call in France "the small milk".

It's what...drops from the... The whey, I think. Yeah.

And so you take the kirsch... Yes.

And you pour it on the cheese.

This is very good with truffes du Perigord, or goose liver,

or champagne... Something very well-known from France.

But this one should be very well-known. It's very good.

Would you take some sugar with it? You take some sugar with it. I guess there's already some on it.

It is very fine.

So all the gastronomy on the farms was originally... Beautiful!

..so that people could stay all summer long on the mountain.

They didn't need anything - only sugar.

You had desires to invent cheese yourself, didn't you?

Yes, this was a strange story.

It's not a good story! I tried to make a mixing with Roquefort,

that is the cheese from...er, west...south France,

and with Munster cheese.

And I took some bread, because we have to take some moulted...?

Mouldy! Mouldy bread.

And I knew there was mouldy bread in the Roquefort, to make it blue.

And I put some mouldy bread in one cheese.

And I put it in the cellar with the other hundreds of cheese.

You had asked the farmer permission to make this blue cheese?

I had, but he didn't really realise.

But I did it and I went to the cellar every two days to whisk up the cheese.

You have to whisk up the cheese with salt and water,

so that the mushrooms... You know it is all riped up by mushrooms,

and these mushrooms have to develop correctly.

So one day I went to the cellar and I found my cheese completely blue,

and I was glad because it was like a Roquefort.

But when I looked at the other cheese, all were blue! All the other cheese were blue!

And so this was a really, really big story in this farm,

because I had to stay days and days into the cellar,

and I had to take off all the blue places on the cheese, and there were hundreds of cheese!

Mad as a hatter! There are more out than in, you know.

Meanwhile, back at the Maison des Tetes,

they're busily preparing the great regional speciality - choucroute. Take it away, boys!

JAUNTY FRENCH ACCORDION MUSIC

Tout de suite! Tous tout de suite!

Just to remind you what choucroute is - it's fermented cabbage, boiled

and then heaped with slices of ham, bacon, pork sausages,

liver dumplings and boiled potatoes. It doesn't half build you up!

INSTRUCTIONS ARE BELLOWED IN FRENCH

I was in the middle of cooking a very important dish

when a couple of coachloads of German holiday-makers marched in

demanding choucroute - and so my chicken in beer had to be put to one side.

I'll explain what I've done up to now.

First, I fried chicken pieces in butter, flamed them with gin,

added shallots and mushrooms, covered them with beer,

pinch of salt and pepper and parsley and simmered them for about an hour.

Now's the time to finish the dish off.

Although the mice have been at my chicken during my absence,

and some of these chaps behind me have been eating little bits of it,

I would, in fact, like to continue with the cooking demonstration,

if that's all right with the rest of Germany and this part of France!

Right. So we lift out these portions of chicken into here

and finish off the sauce by adding a little fresh cream.

Pull it back from the heat so it doesn't all curdle. Stay there.

And then we enrich it with a knob of butter,

as before, put it back on to the heat...

..like that. I shall ask Marc to taste this in a minute, to see

if he thinks it's any good or not. Melt the butter into that.

Check for seasoning. I think it needs another grind of pepper...

..like that. I, then, think...

I can simply pour that over there.

Bubble it up,

sprinkle a little parsley on, and that is coq a la biere,

a ma facon, ici a la Maison des Tetes in Alsace, OK?

It's terribly dextrous to be able to carve a tomat... I mean, a mushroom or whatever it is,

but it does nothing for the flavour. Why can't they leave things alone?

And another thing - they didn't even ask me if I wanted these little tombstones

put on top of my wonderful-looking dish, which I cooked on my own.

Looks silly like that.

And now, of course, for the terrible moment of truth.

As usual, the chef will be invited to taste it.

If he says something nice about it, he stays in the film.

If he criticises it, he gets cut. It's quite straightforward.

He doesn't actually know I've said that.

Bon. Tu veux le gouter un peu, poir voir? OK, OK.

Dis-moi franchement! Ah, mais je dis franchement! Ca va.

Mm. It's very nice, Floyd.

Perfect cooking. The sauce is all right, but...

If you keep a little bit beer and you put it on the end,

it brings a little... You know?

Just brings the flavour... Much better.

Much better. You see?

We do it here and in other places, but it's very good.

Very good. Good. So what he's really saying there, in precise terms -

although the sauce is made from beer,

I should've saved a little bit of beer - fresh beer -

to add at the last minute, just to bring back the flavour of the beer.

Otherwise, he said it was well cooked. You heard. You speak English as well as I can.

All these chefs are smiling, they're drinking Champagne.

Everybody's being very happy.

If he's such a nice bloke, then why is this in the kitchen, I would like to know?

He says it's just for pointing at the orders,

but you see chaps round here with bandages and things like that.

This has been used quite a lot.

What exactly is this for? That...

HE CHUCKLES

I can't tell you in English, but, er...

You know when somebody's doing something wrong?

He becomes a little bit...

That is broken in two places and we have repaired it.

Est-ce qu'il est si cruel et monstrueux, comme ca, des fois?

Souvent. Ouais, ouais. Souvent.

What I've always wanted to do is take a lesson from a master chef

and have a go at my producer! Where is he?

MUSIC: "Peaches" by The Stranglers