French Living Diaries

French Women Don't Get fat

2011-06-13T04:16:00.000-07:00

With Summer fast approaching, thoughts of beach wear, bikinis, skimpy shorts and how to achieve that perfect Summer figure can stop us thinking of restaurants. In fact, the usual solution is to stop eating altogether. I would like to remind everyone out there who has decided to ban restaurant dining, that "French Women don't get Fat" as written by Mireille Guiliano! And the simple reason is because the French will ALWAYS find time to eat. Lunch-time in a busy French city centre and the restaurants are heaving as office workers scramble for a seat to enjoy a freshly prepared plat du jour. Three meals a day, light, freshly prepared and nutritious, no snacking, WILL keep the weight stable. Unfortunately this does not mean a daily diet of frites but French Living offers lighter options such as our daily salades or fish. And don't forget that because all our dishes are freshly prepared in the kitchen (and not frozen, ready prepped, or shipped in from a central depot) our chefs can amend a dish within reason to make it lighter - for example replace frites with steamed potatoes.

So make a French Living lunch part of your Summer time health regime and watch the calories melt away!

Merci!

2011-04-16T01:30:00.000-07:00

In 2004 we organised a party to celebrate French Living's 10 years of existence. This informal gathering was a small gesture of thanks for some of our loyal customers, suppliers and supporters. Ten years is a long time and such longevity can only be achieved by nurturing a core family of faithful followers. French Living is extremely fortunate to have discovered so many loyal customers, many of whom have watched Stephane and I mature and grow, as babies and aupairs joined the team alongside our slowly developing and expanding business.

It's 2011, Nina and Pierre no longer need aupairs and we have decided not to wait another ten years before we say thank-you again. This is why we have introduced a French Living loyalty card which will treat our regular lunchtime customers to a blackboard two course lunch in return for ten lunchtime visits.

Pick up your card today and merci beaucoup for your support and custom.

Bonne Fete Maman!

2011-03-11T00:51:00.000-08:00

French Living has never before opened on a Sunday, however on Sunday 3rd April French Living will open its doors to participate in the Mother's Day celebrations.

Just to make life very difficult for all Frenchmen living in England, the Fetes des Meres date is completely different in France. They celebrate on the 29th May. As you can imagine this generates awkward telephone conversations when "Bonne Fete Maman" is lovingly announced two months early, even worse when no kind words are forthcoming on the big day.

Maybe French Living should have two celebrations!

French Coffee

2011-02-02T05:24:00.000-08:00

As you may have now noticed (after 17 years of existence) French Living likes to do things the French way. And this includes when and how to drink coffee.

I remember being bemused by Stephane's adamant refusal to drink milky coffee after midday. He dunks his toast into a morning grand creme and then an espresso is his only cafeine shot at the end of lunch. Definitely no coffee in the evening. I did eventually lure him into a British four o'clock tea break ritual but French habits are deep-rooted and tricky to break. They are also pretty contagious and after almost twenty years of marriage to a traditional Corsican I too am no longer a 24 hour milky coffee drinker.

There are numerous health benefits to limiting cafeine intake so maybe our new French cafe opening hours will encourage you all to become healthier and more appreciative of a quality 100% arabica coffee, drunk in French time.

The cafe is open in the morning from 9.30am, where you can enjoy a milky grand creme and feel free to dunk our buttery croissants.

12 midday is lunch-time and the moment for coffee to be put on hold.

The cafe reopens again at 3pm once lunch is done and dusted, time for afternoon tea or more coffee if you cannot resist.

Try drinking coffee in French time and savour the precious moment.

Portraits Gallery

2010-10-31T03:23:00.000-07:00

We have added a portrait gallery to our website. Anyone is able to log in to www.frenchliving.co.uk and see the faces of the current team of our restaurant in Nottingham. We have put people's first names and their town of origin. It is plain to see that French Living is a French speaking restaurant, with all but 2 members of staff (one KP, one restaurant manager), originating from France.

No wonder our French customers feel at home when they visit, and our English guests are pleasantly surprised to sense a resolutely Gallic ambiance, which, unlike other restaurants in Nottingham and elsewhere, is not limited to a couple of student waiters, but stretches to all the chefs as well. No wonder the cuisine has this je ne sais quoi they only teach at catering college in France. (Blaise, rassures toi, ta photo sera changée bientot!)

Making Changes

2010-09-05T03:48:00.000-07:00

If I had to cite the most important lesson learnt after 15 years in business it would be the one that says don't get too emotionally attached and be prepared to make changes.
French Living has adapted again and made some big changes, all with you, our loyal customers in mind. I suppose the wine bar idea - opening upstairs for a couple of hours in the early evening - sort of showed us the way. But customers didn't want nibbles and a glass of wine, they wanted a French Living plat du jour, cassoulet, escargots as well as a broad choice of wines by the glass. And so we listened and made the major decision to create more restaurant space by removing the shop shelves and serving restaurant meals upstairs - at ground floor level in full view of hungry passing pedestrians - as well as continuing to serve meals downstairs in our cosy cellar.
French Living began life as a retail venture, a unique French shop selling everything to do with food from France. Over the years, the shop space has reduced in size, allowing the demand for eating and drinking to be fulfilled. However, the original fridge crammed full of traditional unpasteurised farmhouse cheeses, charcuterie and homemade patisserie still remains as a French Living focal point alongside the impressive regional wine display, open for retail sales along with a grand creme coffee and croissant in the morning and the afternoon.
Taking away my precious shop shelves seems like a big change, a major blow, but I have to admit it all seems very right, very French Living. It is just as it should be.

Wine Bar Now Open!

2010-03-04T06:10:00.000-08:00

Stephane used his time recuperating from a lacerated hand extremely profitably. He devised a clever wine bar menu including a selection of wines by the glass and delicious French-style tapas dishes. It took him longer than usual to type these ideas out but when he got frustrated trying to tap left-handed he moved on to formulating a play-list of soothing French jazz and blues music. And so when the shop and cafe finish their day-time business of baguettes and grand creme coffee, the lights are dimmed, the candles lit, the wine bar menus are placed on the tables and Stephane's music is turned on, miraculously creating a restful wine bar mood.

We're now waiting patiently for the scaffolding to come down so everyone can discover this hidden oasis of French relaxation. I can't think of a better way of ending a busy day at work or shopping!

Joyeux Noel

2010-02-03T04:59:00.000-08:00

Its now February and Christmas seems a long way away. Enough space to be able to look back and laugh at our disastrous celebrations!
"No problem! Everyone come round to us for dinner" I confidently announce, whispering to Stephane later in the day the plans I have made for Christmas Day.
"He won't mind" I reassure my worried sister "he's used to cooking for the ten thousand"
She still didn't look convinced as if she could sense trouble around the corner. OK I admit Christmas is a stressful, busy time for restaurateurs but we've been doing this festive madness season for more than 15 years. However, no slick routine or well planned menu can compensate for a sudden loss of your key waiting staff. Stephane decides to take a fall down the fire escape stairs while tightly clutching an empty expresso cup during our busiest Christmas week. He is whisked into hospital to discover he has lacerated a tendon in his right hand!! Right hand I ask you! The right serving hand, the one supposed to be dishing out the turkey. And even more disastrous, the right hand that should be cooking Christmas dinner for my family!
I try to stay calm and begin to meticulously come up with plans to cook this enormous turkey with all the trimmings single handedly. You see I usually leave the kitchen to Steph during dinner parties while I make the table look pretty. I had already turned my dining room into a dreamy Christmas wonderland thanks to my local garden centre so my attention could now be focused on the whopping turkey Steph had ordered from one of our suppliers.
The restaurant somehow manages to get through the last few services without Steph and they close their doors with a massive sigh of relief.
"There are some fondant au chocolat left in the cool room" proclaims our sous chef as he leaps on to the eurostar back home.
I punch the air in celebratory fashion with the knowledge that at least dessert will live up to our professional standards. Owning a restaurant has its expectations. Everyone expects you to be able to deliver restaurant quality dishes at any time. And particularly on Christmas day!
Christmas morning is like any other morning except there are endless presents, endless cups of coffee followed swiftly by champagne. The turkey is in the oven and yet there is a strange stench in the air. I empty all the bins and light the first of my festive scented candles. Mmm that smells better. However it still doesn't smell very meaty and succulent. I choose to ignore and down another glass of champagne.
Eventually I take a closer look at the roasting bird. As I open the oven door the nasty stench I thought was the bin, wafts up my nostrils.
"Stephane" I yell " there's something wrong with the turkey"
I yank the hot heavy beast out of the oven, wrestle with removing some meat to see if it is edible before declaring it unfit for human consumption. No turkey. Oh my God, everyone will be arriving in thirty minutes and we have no bird!!
We are saved by ever practical Stephane who for some unknown reason had decided to buy a load of turkey crowns as quick meals for the kids. We haul them out the freezer, calculate the weight, portion size and declare there are just enough to go round.
"I don't want turkey ever again" I growl as I frantically spray the house with air freshener.
Dinner is served and dessert is a massive success, particularly the fondant au chocolat with mince pie ice cream.
Bad luck comes in three's. And our third disaster came at 7.30pm that evening as the dish washer was loaded and I was contemplating a gin and tonic. I answer the phone.
"Is that Mrs Luiggi? The alarm has gone off at French Living on King Street"
Luckily my mum had not indulged in too much champagne and was able to whisk me into Nottingham. Unfortunately it was not a false alarm. We had been broken into. Fortunately they only got away with a couple of bottles of champagne and a £1 off the tips plate.
I crawled home at 10.30pm, the party now over, everyone making their way home and thanking me for a memorable Christmas.

Villa Luiggi

2008-11-07T04:35:00.000-08:00

I hate saying "I told you so" but on this occasion it is justified. What did I say about Corsicans not understanding the meaning of a full working week? Well this all meant that by the end of July our beautiful Corsican villa was still a building site. Although, to my horror, the architect seemed to think it was "habitable". There were no internal doors. However much I love the idea of open plan living I need my own personal space for having a pee! There was dust everywhere, no extraction for the hob, no where to hang any clothes. We retreated to the inlaws.
The desire to move in to our own space inspired everyone , including Nina and Pierre, to muck in and make the house habitable. We spent the first two weeks of our precious holiday piecing together furniture, cleaning and dusting until finally it was ready.
Our villa is more than habitable, it is luxuriously unbelievable. The massive glass structure brings the outside indoors and creates a space that generates cool well-being. One night I stood on the mezzanine floor with Pierre, mesmerised by the shadows created by the moon. The moonlight filtered through the trees and cast their reflection on the walls of the house, making us feel as if we were in the middle of a rain forest. Magical!

Villa Luiggi is now complete, ready to be experienced by holiday -makers. And it is an experience. Villa Luiggi will ensure you fall madly in love with Corsica. Of that I am sure. I'm ready to say "I told you so" over and over again.

Come to Corsica!

2008-03-14T01:27:00.000-07:00

Hallelujah! There is light at the end of the tunnel. I think we've got planning permission (again!). Still haven't received the final papers but they've very kindly given us the go ahead to recommence works. So after three years of stop, start nonsense we're back on track. In the end it was the miraculous collapse of the PLU law brought about by our architect's ex-wife that did the trick. Incredible saga. The mayor was exposed as an incompetent (possibly corrupt) administrator as well as some of his colleagues who will have to face a judge at a later date. So there is a sort of justice in this world!

Our architect says the project should be complete by the end of June. Given that no work seems to take place on Mondays or Fridays then I am less optimistic. One thing is sure. It had better be ready by the end of July when we make our annual excursion to visit the Corsican clan. We've booked the ferry crossing. Not sure I could face a month with the in-laws even though we've bonded rather nicely during these traumatic times.

When it all starts to look pretty and less dusty, I'll post a photo of this problematic house. It will be available to rent from September 2008 onwards. Unless you hear otherwise!

Mad Mayors, Crazy Corsicans

2007-09-17T07:15:00.000-07:00

I promised news on our Corsican house build project; well we're back from our annual Corsican excursion with the latest developments hot off the press. It's a nightmare project that is becoming increasingly rocambolesque. If I told you that in France you can have your planning permission taken away from you even when the house is almost completed, that someone can declare the house 1m50 too high, have all works stopped and then two years down the line admit that they were wrong (we are in fact 60cm higher than the plan) - would you believe me?
We're in a situation where the planning authority (the DDE) very kindly decided to rectify the height discrepancy with a new planning permission, allowing us to continue the build, only to realise 2 months later that the Mayor should have been the signatory and not the DDE. The planning permission is swiftly removed once again. No problem you're thinking, just get the Mayor to sign it.
If only Corsican life could be that easy! The Mayor will not sign the planning permission.
Here are some of the reasons:
1. He doesn't like the modern design of our house and there's alot of wealthy, influential voters in the area who don't like it either
2. He wants us to saw off the roof and lower the entire house by 60cm! - he refuses to believe our engineeering expert who repeatedly tells him this is structurally impossible without demolishing the lot and starting again.
3. He has now introduced a new building law for the area (called a PLU) which doesn't allow buildings higher than 6m (ours is 7m20!)
So we're now caught up in a catch 22 situation. Where do we go from here?
Well we've had to resort to the courts. We did try to placate the mayor, build relations and rationally plead our case during our summer holiday. Not easy when faced with an explosive character who's ego is immense, who's temper is even bigger and who can scream, shout and bully as well, if not better than my 9 year old son. So it's the expensive, time consuming legal route UNLESS Stephane's Dad can work his Corsican charm on the head of the DDE or our architect's ex-wife can win her case to bring about the fall of the PLU! I did say it was rocambolesque! But I'll save all of that for another time.....

Best Small Restaurant 2007

2007-06-22T08:20:00.000-07:00

We're officially an award-winning restaurant. I have always dreamed of attending an award ceremony - the Oscars, Baftas - so an invite from the Nottingham Restaurant Awards threw me into my glamorous dream world of memorable speeches, gorgeous dresses, champagne and more champagne. Well the reality was pretty close to the dream apart from the speeches. I had prepared my acceptance speech - apologising for Stephane's absence, thanking everyone and anyone, wondering why recognition had taken so long coming, maybe a tear before kissing the award and taking my seat. Oh yes, I had always fancied myself as a Hollywood actress. However, The Restaurant Awards preferred to hand over quickly the prize with no opportunity to even say a very quick thank-you. I should have grabbed the microphone anyway.
If we win next year, I'll be ready. An award ceremony is not an award ceremony without speeches!
French Living - Best Small Restaurant 2007. We prefer to drop the small and declare ourselves best restaurant 2007. We deserve it. 13 years of hard graft, dedication and sticking to what we do best has finally been recognised by the people who hand out awards. As Stephane says, we have the best recognition of all in the loyalty of our customers so "Who needs an award?" In some ways I know he is right. We have never won anything before but we have always had a full restaurant, complimentary letters, smiling faces and loads of regulars. But I'm proud anyway. And I could dress up and pretend I was an actress at the Oscars for one night!

Foie gras

2007-05-23T07:19:00.000-07:00

We've had a few agressive and rude calls just recently, mainly from youngsters who are getting worked up over foie gras. Yes we stock it and we don't hide from the fact. However we have done our homework on this issue and as with ALL our ingredients -chickens, eggs or beef - we refuse to use suppliers that have little regard for humane farming practices. Force feeding a duck is not humane I hear you cry. Ducks and geese have a natural tendancy to over feed to prepare for their migrations, this is probably how the concept of foie gras was discovered by the Egyptians centuries ago. The birds are force fed in the last month of their lives, having had a life of freedom in the open air. Take a closer look at battery hens or chickens packed into henhouses who never see the light of day but provide cheap meat for Kentucky Fried Chicken. Personally I feel animal rights activists would do well to focus on the chicken. In fact if you want to push me further I would say we should all be battling harder for the human cause and the removal of poverty in the world. This is why French Living has chosen to be an active supporter of the charity Restaurants Against Hunger for the last few years.

Here are a couple of links to contributors to this subject (who are not involved in the business of producing foie gras)

foie gras: pleasure, or murder most fowl?: Food + Drink: mensvogue.com

WorldTable - Foie Gras Redux

Finally my advice to animal rights campaigners would be to use a less abusive and more tolerant language when you speak or write to people, however sensitive the subject is to you.

Bon Appetit

2007-05-04T06:44:00.000-07:00

Two headlines in the news caught my attention this week – the first dwells on the on-going obesity epidemic in the UK and the second talks about the ever-decreasing foreign language skills of our youngsters. It’s true that we Brits are certainly not renowned for our linguistic abilities, and our culinary reputation, perhaps rather unfairly, is not our greatest claim to fame. I believe the two could be linked. I have a sneaky feeling that a greater knowledge of foreign languages and culture could help demonstrate the importance of food in different countries.
I start to listen more closely to Nina and Pierre at the table, as they flit and fly between French and English.
“Bon appetit” they chorus
“Bon appetit” I answer back politely.
“How do you say bon appetit in English?” asked Pierre
I thought long and hard before giving up.
“I don’t think we have a bon appetit in English” I replied sadly
Perhaps this is part of our obesity problem. Maybe we should start developing a more food friendly language. We should have a bon appetit equivalent.
Bon appetit is an instinctive French phrase that everyone, young and old, will say before picking up their knife and fork to eat. If someone walks past a table of diners, they will offer a “bon appetit”, naturally, instinctively.
“A table” shouts Stephane as he switches off the oven and serves up dinner.
Everyone comes scurrying in to the kitchen as those two simple French words – a table (aah taah-bl) - echo throughout the house. Come to the table is the English translation but it doesn’t have quite the same appeal or effect. It doesn’t work either if used to get Pierre to come to the table to do his homework.
I’ve noticed that French is full of food related phrases and terms - aperitif, digestif, amuse-bouche - and then there are all those culinary terms such as coulis, puree, vinaigrette. Surely this has become essential vocabulary for interpreting the menus of many of our city centre restaurants!
Yes, learning how to cook and speak a foreign language does go hand in hand.
“I can speak Italian” Pierre announced proudly
“Minuti” he spurted out in his very best Italian accent.
“Well done” I said encouragingly.
I was used to Pierre’s eclectic conversations.
“I’ve been making pasta” he went on, thrusting a packet of tagliatelle in my hands.
4 Minuti tempo di cottura.

Cafe Food

2007-05-03T06:02:00.000-07:00

It’s been a whirlwind week, squeezing in a buying trip to Paris, as well as a complete overhaul of our shop and café.
Paris was an adventure. The car was stuffed to bursting point with new café furniture but all Pierre seemed interested in on our return was the food.
“So what did you eat in Paris?” he asked enviously, trying hard to hide his anger at being left behind.
“During the day we ate some wonderful café food – charcuterie platters, goat’s cheese and tomato on toasted pain de campagne – just like at French Living”
“Yuk, I don’t like goat’s cheese” added Nina, in an attempt to show that they really had not missed out on much.
“And what about at night?” continued Pierre
“Well, we ate some delicious meals just like the dinners you eat at home” I explained comfortingly, trying to ease the envy.
And it was true. We chose unsophisticated restaurants that served real tasty food with no flamboyant pretension. Nina and Pierre seemed happy with that.
And so from a beautiful Paris we returned to a dusty, unrecognisable shop and café, filled with joiners, electricians and plumbers.
“Oh my goodness, this will never be ready for next week” I exclaimed in horror at the chaotic destruction of my precious café.
The next few days felt like I was playing a role in one of those make-over programmes where the count-down begins, the problems accumulate and everyone is thinking this will never be ready on time.
But as in all these TV formats, miracles happen. The shop and café opened on time, with the fridges bursting with cheeses, hams and salamis, baskets brimming with croissants, brioches and baguettes and customers flooding back in to take a look.
Unfortunately at home, the fridge was empty.
“Oh well, you’ll just have to come to French Living for lunch” I declared.
“Do children go to your café?” asked a curious Pierre
“Sometimes. Now we have more room, maybe more children will come in” I added optimistically.
Being an astute eight year old, Pierre’s concern was not the space. He was doubtful that his school pals would even try French filled baguettes as a quick lunch-time option.
“I’m having the salami comte baguette, with salad and vinaigrette” quipped Nina confidently
“I’m having a charcuterie platter like you had in Paris” said Pierre throwing me one of his cheeky grins.

Fresh Fast-Food

2007-05-02T07:25:00.000-07:00

I’m racing against time at the moment. I wake up in a panic as I realise there is nothing left in the fridge. Oh well, it’ll have to be tuna sandwiches again. My early morning lunchboxes are hastily scrambled together while trying to hide from Pierre the contents of his box.
“Have you forgotten to go shopping again?” he enquires quietly.
There’s no chance of hiding anything from my observant son.
The children are deposited outside school and I sprint off to work. It feels like the old days when we first set up French Living - a time when we left the children in the care of au-pairs while we worked every hour to persuade the people of Nottingham to visit our fledging French business. It was such an intense time that I cannot recall how or when mealtimes happened. Today, I find myself thrown back to this chaotic yet exciting time as French Living expands. We have acquired the next door shop unit and it’s now a race against time to transform it into a Gallic haven.
Why do schools end their day at 3.30pm? I scrape off the Provencal blue paint from my finger nails and dash back home to collect the kids.
“What’s for dinner?” squeals Pierre
“Why do you have blue hair?” asks a puzzled Nina
Dinner, oh yes, dinner!
It’s true that these last few years I’ve had the luxury of time to plan, organise and indulge in cooking for the family. Consequently, this week has been a shock to the system. To my surprise, however, I’ve found it remarkably easy to keep up the mealtime reputation - even without the kids noticing too much of a difference.
I think fish. Salmon, trout fillets, chunks of cod, hake. Twelve minutes baked in the oven with a drizzle of olive oil, herbes de provence. Lamb chumps are Stephane’s favourite fast food dish. Browned in the pan and then left in the oven for fifteen minutes before slicing into a fan of pink succulence.
OK so there’s a bit of a wait, the service is not quite as fluid as usual but over the years I’ve learnt not to be frightened by fresh. Fresh is quick and there’s no need to resort to expensive, salty ready-meals.
“Is it tuna again tomorrow?” asks Pierre
“Why is your hair blue?” asks Nina
OK, so they have noticed a few changes.

A Frenchman’s Dinner

2007-05-02T01:52:00.000-07:00

Stephane’s welcoming a party of school children to French Living this week and he’s been asked to talk to them about healthy eating.
He’s busy typing away at the computer preparing his speech. I’m not sure his words will be what they are expecting. You see, a Frenchman’s attitude to food is very different to our concept of healthy eating. Stephane’s focus is very much on the enjoyment of food.
He hands over a questionnaire/quiz sheet he has compiled for the children to complete after his speech.
“What do you think of this?”
I stare at the sheet and giggle. There are questions about wine consumption in France and England, about recipes for snails, about wine and coca cola.
“They won’t be able to answer this. What on earth is in your speech?”
I suddenly wish I could be there to see the children’s faces as this Frenchman talks passionately about buying baguette from the bakers when he was a little boy and munching on it on his way home. I want to listen to his childhood routines - eating hungrily at the school canteen with his pals, visiting the butchers after school to pick up the evening meal and enjoying an apero (a pre-dinner drink of juice for the kids and something stronger for the adults) before moving to the table.
Stephane will not talk about deprivation, elimination or diet. There’s no mention of good, bad or healthy. These words do not exist in a Frenchman’s vocabulary when talking about food. Eating a freshly prepared meal at the table and at the right time – one at lunch and another in the evening – is how Stephane would define being healthy. And yes there are vegetables and salad, but they are there not because they feel obliged to have them but because they are seasoned and dressed and are made to be just as delicious as the grilled steak.
I wonder if the kids will get it. Perhaps after eating their French Living vegetables they will notice the difference.
Question 7 – Find the missing word: Broccoli is great to eat, as long as it is………
I look further down the questionnaire and squeal -“What has this got to do with food?”
Question 9 – France will play England in the World Cup final…Agree/Disagree
Well I suppose it does sum up rather nicely my Frenchman’s attitude to food – passionate and optimistic.