Pays Basque Floyd on France

These are the Pyrenees, stretching from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic Ocean,

and separating France from Spain.

You usually see them from the plane on your way to Torremolinos.

But these mountains profoundly influence the Basques living here,

as reflected in the highly-spiced cooking of these fiery people.

These farmers aren't posing for picture postcards. They are essential to this region.

The landscape is dotted with stacks of fern, like crunchy walnut whips.

Spanish influence abounds.

The cooking is highly spiced, gutsy, and simple to cook.

This place is like a morgue! Nobody here! Forty-eight tables, and not an order in the place.

Well, it IS January.

You know how we scrounge things, and inconvenience the "patrons".

So they have the afternoon off, and I'll cook my own lunch.

Basque people are proud about their red peppers ` come down here, Clive! ` green peppers, and onions.

In fact, those are the colours of Pays Basque.

They're also proud of their jambon de Bayonne, which is an essential part of this chicken dish.

Maize-fed, free-range chicken ` just the legs, because that's economical. I've seasoned them.

Some beautiful fresh tomatoes which I've peeled and crushed up.

One thing we must have is their famous red pimento powder, which is a bit spicy.

So I'll do a bit of chopping, a bit of cooking...

a little glass of M Bonnet's special wine ` it's his hotel that we're staying in.

They say a day without wine is like a day without you-know-what!

The director says I haven't been doing enough chopping, so we'll put that to rights.

We'll fry these onions in a moment,

in some lovely lard.

You don't use olive oil in the Pays Basque, or butter, or corn oil, as I've said before.

You use goose fat, duck fat or pork fat. I have to chop these green peppers up.

Show them, Clive! Come on! I'm doing my best to be jolly sporty on this January afternoon,

dashing away with the sharp knife!

People like to watch this, because they hope I'll cut my fingers, but I never do!

Very elementary, very simple.

Then we need some Bayonne ham, cut into tiny pieces. I'll explain where all these go in a minute.

I'll chop those a bit finer, I think.

Pleased with me so far? I'm quite enjoying myself. I've got the hotel to myself.

About 800 rooms, and only the BBC crew staying in it ` quite a turn-off for the owners!

Bit of parsley. Lovely fresh thyme. Look, I've made a rainbow!

A little bit of pimento.

Stay on that, Clive. Thank you. I'm going over to the stove, OK?

OK, into this little pan ` ideal for a meal for one person, but you take what you're given(!) `

I put chopped onions, little pieces of jambon de Bayonne, which is ham from Bayonne ` get it? OK? `

and some lovely, lovely lard.

Next, I put in the seasoned leglets of "poulet de mais" ` chicken raised on corn.

I hope there's a picture of those corn stores!

That's why the chickens are yellow.

Anyway, back to the pot!

Let those take a nice golden colour in this quite brisk heat. Turn them all over.

Next, in go my red and green peppers.

Stir those well in. Let them take the lard, and get well seasoned with the bits of ham.

Now, if the director... Oh, I can manage.

Into my little bit of parsley I've put that fierce, red pimento powder, OK? And the garlic.

Got it, Clive? So that goes in.

It all takes the heat really well.

Then, finally, these chopped tomatoes and all their juices.

Stir it in like that.

Give it a good...

..a good shake, like that, and let it simmer.

That'll take one hour, 20 minutes. I'm going for a stroll. See you in the dining-room.

Bye, now!

MUSIC: Ravel's "Bolero"

BBC research shows that you find these pictures just as exhaus... as fascinating as I do.

This was the birthplace of Ravel. It's said he hummed "Bolero" on his way down to St Jean de Luz

for a plate of grilled sardines. Yum yum!

Seriously, this former whaling port is great in winter. Louis XIV got married here.

Hemingway liked it, and I like Hemingway. "We had a good meal.

"Roast chicken, new green beans, mashed potatoes, a salad, and apple pie and cheese."

Sounds good! ALMOST as good as my brilliant Chicken Basquaise. Isn't that delicious!

As you can see, it's down to me and Ernest at the moment,

so I'll get on with my lonely supper.

If any publishers are out there, I really want to be a novelist.

Here's a piece I've just written.

REVERENT VOICE: "The cold air cleared my head, and the snowy mountains looked fine.

"Jake wanted a drink. I said no, we'd miss the dealing.

"As we walked, the sun broke the ridge. The horsehair was going good, and men did business."

Pulitzer Prize for me, I shouldn't be surprised!

"Pablo was cooking Bayonne ham over charcoal.

"I watched Clive taking mood shots of men discussing pelote with passion.

"The women sold hard mountain cheeses on rough tables,

"and stacked spiced sausages like gold bars.

"Jake said it was time Clive won an award for his photography.

"I went to buy a Gateau Basque." Filled with custard. It's good!

Anyway, back to the real business ` a cooking sketch.

This wonderful farmhouse belongs to a family of elver-fishers.

"Come into my kitchen," as we say in the trade.

I've cooked in some grand kitchens, in five-star hotels, on boats, by rivers, over camp-fires,

but I've never felt so much in the heart of things ` look at the floor!

Ancient slabs trodden by generations of people who make these wonderful hams. Look, Clive!

Superb Bayonne hams which have been salted for a month, allowed to dry for three or four days,

rubbed in piment rouge, and hung up there to last for a year, to be fried on sticks,

or cooked over this wood fire.

Madame's family has been here since 1832. She's about 84, a wonderful lady who's allowed us in.

I must get down to a little bit of cooking.

You probably saw the rifles. They shot these pigeons.

A very simple Basquaise dish called a Salmis de Palombes, a stew of pigeons. Come close!

Bits of carrot, bits of the same bacon that's hanging from the roof, bits of garlic, onion,

and the golden-brown pigeons.

To finish off this wonderful dish, some pepper... Sorry I'm slurring my words. It's very hot here!

A little salt, fresh thyme, fresh parsley...

Flame it with the Armagnac of the region, then...oops!

I knocked over the wine!

Pour in the wine... SIZZLING

Get a good look, Clive, 'cos the lid's going on. OK?

Takes about an hour to cook.

ROMANTIC PIANO MUSIC

MATCH BEING STRUCK

Ah, that's better! I always enjoy a cigar in tranquil moments.

Yes, the director likes the warp and weft of the elver fishermen. I don't care for elvers.

I know they're celebrated on the River Severn back home where they make elver cheese.

These silvery threads swim all the way from the Sargasso Sea to end up cooked in olive oil!

A brilliant programme, isn't it? Cooking, eel fishing, the coots,

weary farmers wending their way home on mobylettes at night, and me, watching the river,

with a pile of stones and a super, simple, Basquaise soup. Clive!

I've been bubbling up haricots verts, cabbage, goose fat,

making myself the perfect warming winter snack.

No tins. We do things properly!

I made this soup with hard white cabbage very finely sliced,

a pound of dried haricots, soaked overnight, a dollop of goose fat ` melt it, pop everything in...

add a litre of water, a bit of ham, pork or sausage to enrich it.

Simmer for 3-4 hours. Fabulous!

Now, what you can do while I enjoy myself is ` get on with "Elvers: Part Two."

Extraordinary! Madame ` walking past ` flatly refused to let me film in her kitchen

at Chez Pablo in St Jean de Luz.

Luckily, the chillies were not so bashful. Everyone knows how to cook elvers, or "pibales".

Toss them in very hot olive oil with finely chopped chillies

until they turn white like spaghetti, and serve hot. They sizzle in earthenware bowls.

Fade up the sizzling noises, please!

SIZZLING

Thank you. You eat them with small wooden forks.

They don't conduct the heat. I was surprised to learn

that British elvers are shipped to the Spanish border where they are enthusiastically consumed!

?7 a head is quite expensive. Did she enjoy hers?

I'd rather have a pigeon.

There, it's cooked. And they, poor souls, whose lives we've disrupted, will have to eat it.

Messieurs, j'espere que... Il faut que vous goutez un peu.

C'est un peu trop cuit, parce que...c'est cuit depuis quelques heures, maintenant.

Mais quand meme...

Il reste un peu de sauce.

This is the moment when a busy farmhouse goes very quiet.

There's something about me and the BBC that turns vibrant, lively Basque characters into statues.

I wonder if it's my food.

Ca va.

Fameux! Oui, oui!

The pigeons went down brilliantly, naturally!

Let me introduce you now to my two new chums, Philippe and Martin.

They have cooked for presidents Pompidou AND Mitterrand. Now they run a restaurant near Biarritz.

They're very proud of this dessert!

Add cream to home-made custard, pour it over fresh fruit, and top it with mint ice-cream.

What I'd really like is...

to get stuck into some real fish.

This is a piece of cod that passeth all understanding. I'll explain.

I'm NOT making an unidentified frying object.

I'll cook it in a traditional Basque way, in the restaurant of my new chums, Philippe and Martin.

With these wonderful ingredients... Clive, come on in!

Finely chopped shallots, salt, some peeled, skinned and de-pipped tomato,

little pieces of smoked bacon, golden breadcrumbs, baby capers, and the piece of cod itself.

Off we go, with no further ado! Whack that straight into the poele, sizzle, sizzle sizzle...

Couple of seconds each side to make it really succulent. We don't want to overcook it.

While that's cooking ` this is Philippe's recipe `

I have to put breadcrumbs along just one side of it.

CLATTER I'm knocking things over. Always the same in a strange kitchen!

Then it goes under the grill for a second or two.

They told me to leave it in the pan while I put it under the grill, but I've only got one frying-pan.

I need to fry this bacon in it!

While they sizzle away, come over, Clive, to the other important part of the sauce,

a fish stock ` fish heads, water and white wine, reduced until it's almost a jelly, and strained.

Add cream and butter, liquidise it, and pass through a sieve.

Do that in advance of preparing the fish itself.

Then you add a tiny drop of soya sauce to give flavour,

a few pieces of chopped shallot, to add flavour again ` they'll be slightly raw,

also a few pieces of tomato.

C'est bon, le poisson? Oh, yes. Thank you very much.

Stir that around a second or two, like that...

Check our little lardons...

They should be nicely golden, slightly brown on the edges. Thank you, Philippe.

Put those over there and turn off the gas.

With my ladle... a little sauce around...

like that, with the pieces of tomato and the shallot.

Then my little pieces of bacon on the top,

so that they shine through the sauce, like little jewels studded around this island of fish.

Excuse me, Clive!

And finally, my little capers.

He'll probably tell me off for bunching those together.

Philippe, come and look! How does that seem? That sauce is nice. Can I taste?

It's very nice. Just a little more salt. A little more salt? It's OK. Very nice.

I always forget to add a little bit of salt. They always tell me off!

They've been busy with bits and pieces for a super Basquaise meal, but meantime, a slight slurp...

I'm trembling! I always do when I cook for people like that.

Were you fairly happy with the way that I prepared your dish? Yes, you are a good chef, actually.

Tell me about these other things. This is black pudding!

But it's different. What is special about it? Explain that dish to me.

This black pudding was prepared by my father.

It's normal black pudding with... avec du sang. With blood.

With blood, yes, and onions.

Your father killed the pig? Yes. And he made the sausage? He made the sausage. It's superb!

With deep-fried apples and tomato.

Very simple, but wonderful!

Then, a really brilliant dish ` fillet of hake, lightly steamed,

with a creamy red-pepper sauce ` just fish stock, red peppers and cream, liquidised and strained.

These are very thin slices of celeriac, deep-fried.

A little basket of potato with fresh noodles and "piment rouge", typical of the Basque region.

And there's no need to dwell on the culinary masterpiece I created unaided, brilliantly, earlier.

But the real thing is Philippe. What is Basquaise cooking all about?

Basquaise cooking is the three colours, at the beginning ` the red, the green, the white.

We can say white for the onions, red for the tomato, green for the pepper.

So with these three things,

we are making all the time something new, but something from the region.

With these three things, we have to make something new all the time.

SCHMALTZY MUSIC: "Ebb Tide"

I'm not sure about this music. It reminds me of the "B feature".

I'd rather have my chums, the Stranglers. LIVELY BEAT STARTS

Ah, that's better! I can do my commentary perfectly now.

This is Biarritz.

It's a bit like Bournemouth,

but the shutters are up against the Atlantic winds,

waiting for the summer parties.

This place is synonymous with parties.

Edward VII, Noel Coward, Sarah Bernhardt, Mrs Simpson ` all used to meet here.

But times have changed.

My next victim, Mimi, whose father was the mayor, now gives cookery lessons to TV presenters!

Pauvre petit! Un peu plus rapide. OK. Voila, voila, c'est comme ca.

Si les oeufs ne sont pas battus, ca ne sert a rien.

Nous avons a right one here!

She says I'm really handsome!

This is the piperade, made from colours of the Basque countryside. Pas du tout d'accord!

C'est fait des couleurs du pays Basquaise. Oui. Pas "Basquaise", Basque. Pays Basque.

Blanche, verte et rouge. C'est ca. Red, green and white.

The vegetables of the area. Clive, I'll give you a quick run-through.

Salt, fresh thyme, garlic, pepper.

Sliced onions, fried in lard. Fresh parsley, fresh tomatoes, and red and green peppers.

Eggs, and a glass of wine...

If I don't become an alcoholic after this programme, with la chere madame, Mimi, my friend(!),

I shall want to know what happened!

Over to the stove, Clive. Ca brule! It's burning. Ca recommence. Si je mets de la graisse...

SIZZLING

Non, mais, c'est tout neuf.

First of all... It's difficult to know who's cooking. C'est moi ou toi(?)

Ecoute... Laisse-moi faire a ma facon. Je vais te dire une chose.

Si les pauvres Basques devaient faire la piperade comme ca ` preparer les petites assiettes...!

Real Basque people would not go into this ridiculous detail

to prepare a simple scrambled egg and tomato dish.

Les pauvres! Toi, tu fais une piperade sophistiquee.

Mais la piperade, c'est un plat que les paysans font quand ils rentrent des champs.

I cut it up so that you can see. Non, non, non! Pas du tout! Bon!

OK, the essential thing is that you get into the pan all these bits and pieces,

the onions, red peppers, green peppers, now some garlic, pepper, some salt...

all sizzling beautifully, soft, but not too soft... C'est la Floyd piperade. Oui.

C'est mon tablier, egalement. Maintenant, c'est le mien. Je regrette. Il m'appartient. OK.

A little parsley... Je ne rends pas mon tablier a la BBC!

Let that simmer away for 5 minutes. Non, c'est pas bien, tout ca. SHE says it's no good!

C'est pas comme ca qu'on fait une piperade. Put the eggs in. Doucement! Je le fais doucement.

Stir the eggs around.

Tu es comme ca, comme ca, comme ca. Tu m'enerves, c'est pour ca. Parce que tu fais mal les choses.

Rien a voir avec une piperade! It doesn't look a BIT like a piperade, she says.

A lot of restaurants in England make it like that!

Dans une poele a demi brulee! It wasn't "demi brulee" at all.

That, with some pieces of fried bread and a good glass of wine, makes a superb snack.

Ca m'etonnerait. It's lovely! Ah, bon? Goute-le! Je doute.

Je vais essayer de gouter, mais vue la facon comment tu l'as fait, ca ne donne pas envie de gouter.

C'est vraiment pas tres fameux. Tu comprends? Oui, je comprends. Alors, traduis!

She has no interest in eating it because the way I cooked it was so off-putting,

she knows it'll taste awful. Pas mauvais. Les piments sont crus. The peppers are raw.

Pas assez de sel. Not enough salt. Pas de poivre. Not enough pepper.

Ca ne sent pas les herbes, ni le thym, ni le laurier.

So... Madame, c'est a vous. Allez-y! Fais-le! Fais comme chez toi. OK?

Je vais essayer de faire comme chez moi. Oui. That's not a piperade, THAT is a piperade.

Voila. Deja, pour commencer, j'ai tout ensemble, cuit a l'avance.

She's cooked hers all together, whereas mine were all apart, to remind you of my mistakes.

Look at that, Clive, not me. I'm embarrassed!

MUSIC: "Peaches" by The Stranglers

Merci.

Je peux dire que tu as oublie le persil? Non. Pas de persil. No parsley. Le persil est dedans.

Il y est deja, le persil.

C'est delicieux! Tu as tout a fait raison. La reine de la piperade... C'est moi! C'est toi! Merci. Merci.

Absolutely true. Look at that rubbish ` heavy, lumpy, nasty, British Rail-style eggs.

Jolly awful! But this, with these lovely crunchy slices of jambon de Bayonne, soft, ochre colours...

Magic flavours! We should go off somewhere together. Bye bye! Mimi and I have things to do!