Cider Making in France
The other major cider-producing country of Europe is France. Much of the cider made at cider mills throughout the countryside in Normandy is turned into Calvados, the fiery brandy that is traditionally consumed after rich rrieals as a digestive aid. Calvados is relatively unknown outside of France, especially in comparison to the brandies made from grapes, Cognac and Armagnac. It is available in America in small quantities and is eagerly sought by connoisseurs who especially value its fruity aroma and faint apple aftertaste.
Under French law, only the apple brandy made in particular areas of Normandy can be labelled and sold as Calvados. It must be slowly aged in oak casks and approved, batch by batch, by a licensed tasting panel.
Calvados is not only an excellent sipping liqueur, but very useful in the kitchen as well. A Norman version of the traditional Burgundian coq au vin takes on a lively fruitiness with the addition of Calvados to the preparation. Another classic use for Calvados is in a light and frothy dessert souffle.
We had some firsthand experience with Calvados and Normandy cider several years ago} and like most American travellers to France} we came home in search of those “liquid apples” with little success. Fortunately, cider and Calvados are now more readily available and the nostalgic traveller can relive fond memories in the kitchen at home, as we have done.
We had spent two extraordinary weeks in Paris as the guests of an American friend who had been living in the city for several years. She was eager to show us France as few tourists have an opportunity to experience it. We spent the mornings of our days at national monuments like the Louvre and Notre Dame, and then met for lunch at a different brasserie or cafe every day, and a second establishment for dinner, until we had covered virtually every quarter of the city.
This gastronomical tour took us far beyond the culinary boundaries of Paris and even of the country itself. Parisian immigrants from all over the world seemed to bring the best of their native cuisine to their adopted city, and the local markets responded remarkably with the necessary ingredients. In discovering Paris with our palates, we also tasted the cuisines of Morocco, Algeria, Spain, Lebanon, Syria and even Russia and China.
Our hostess suggested that we spend our last weekend in France in a small seaside village in Normandy called Honfleur. She knew a small dockside pension in this community of fishermen and sailors that would serve us the very best Norman treatment of the daily catch. And then it was only a matter of climbing a small flight of stairs to a bed overlooking the harbor.
Perhaps more than in any other single region of France, the delectable cuisine of Normandy has evolved from foods grown and gathered locally. Norman cattle are grown not only for their well-marbled, tender meat, but also for some of the most flavorful, richest cream in Europe. One result of the abundance of cream is a corresponding abundance of cream sauces in many regional specialities.
Apples, cider and Calvados are also essential in the Norman preparation of food. Cider is used freely in sauces and poaching liquids. Calvados is also used with a liberal hand in the kitchen and is served routinely at the close of a large meal. We went to Normandy that weekend with great expectations of delicious cuisine and were treated to cider, Calvados, fresh cream and fresh fish in a manner and quantity that far exceeded our hopes.
Several hundred fishing boats were moored securely in Honfleur’s harbor on the afternoon we arrived. Their day’s work was completed, if in fact they had ventured out at all. Fishermen often sat out the cold, rainy January days in local cafes. We parked our car on the main street which ran along the harbor and got out to explore on foot. There was laughter drifting into the street from the closest cafe and we decided to investigate.
The bar was lined with friendly faces who spoke as little English as we did French. It didn’t seem to matter much to anyone though, as we ordered two of the small glasses filled with Calvados that almost everyone else was drinking. While most of the patrons sipped slowly on their drinks, one brave soul opened his mouth as wide as he could, tilted his head back and tossed the entire contents of the glass into his throat with one graceful motion. As he swallowed and drew a deep breath, a cheer went up from his companions and the woman behind the bar leaned over to fill his glass again.
We finished our drinks and headed into the street in search of the pension. It was dark and our dinner reservation was for 6:30. A very small sign above the door of a narrow, four-story building identified it as our destination and a friendly large woman greeted us at the door. She spoke no English, she declared immediately in French, and understood very little. Our French got us upstairs to our room and aware of her admonition to be prompt for dinner.
Although our friend in Paris had advised us of the quantity of food we would be served at every course we were still unprepared for the largesse and culinary extravagance that was set before us. There were a dozen other diners, mostly local residents who ate regularly at this “simple” restaurant. The owner remained in the dining area through much of the meal, assisting the two young men who were serving and making sure that all of the diners were thoroughly satisfied.
Shortly after we were seated, a large pitcher of cider and two glasses were placed on the table. This was customary in restaurants throughout the region, we were told. The light, fruity cider was an excellent accompaniment to the entire meal, especially the poached sole served with a rich and flavorful cream sauce and the veal chops baked in a delicious and slightly piquant brown sauce. Both entrees were prepared, we learned later, with cider-based sauces, and Calvados was added to the sauce for the veal.
After the entrees we were offered a glass of Calvados, which is the traditional method in Normandy for dividing a long meal into two more moderate repasts. The trou normand, or Norman hole, is intended not only to interrupt the progress of the meat but to create a hole in the stomach so that the diners can continue to eat even more.
We left Honfleur after two more days of glorious feasting and returned to Paris to catch a flight home. It had been a magical two weeks, given almost entirely to eating and drinking and making new discoveries. Of all the new discoveries, none was more memorable than cider.
One evening last fall, nearly a dozen of us sat around a large table, well supplied with wine glasses, scoresheets and pens, and spent several hours systematically tasting the alcoholic contents of one tall thin bottle after another. An unexpected visitor would probably have thought that we were tasting wine. But although the bottles had been purchased from local wine shops, they were filled with cider. We were tasting a variety of locally available bottled ciders, most of which had been imported from England, Canada and France.
We were all somewhat knowledgeable about wine, which gave us some preliminary understanding of the ciders. It was apparent that although bottled cider and wine share certain similar characteristics, cider has its own distinct charm.
The evening passed quickly as each taster worked intently to judge and evaluate the different ciders. Finally the scoresheets, which had been filled with cryptic notes and numbers, were handed in for tally. As we said goodnight, someone predicted that bottled cider would become as popular in America as it is in England and France.