and some French herbs with which they were already familiar. I kept in touch with Jeanne, who would be doing the day-to-day gardening, throughout the spring and early summer, and in midsummer I went to New Jersey to visit. The garden was simply glorious. It gave a true French feeling, and the vigor of the plants spoke to both the care they had been given and the wonderful condition of the soil. The vegetables, of course, were the primary focus, and they were planted throughout the garden in long, rectangular beds. A latticed fence, painted light gray, surrounded the whole garden.
The French vegetables included 'Lorrisa' and 'Marmande' tomatoes, 'Cadice' bell peppers, 'Arlesa' zucchini, 'De Carentan' leeks, 'Vernandon' haricot beans, 'Paros' chard, 'Cornichon' cucumbers, 'Oak Leaf and 'Mantilla' lettuces, 'Planet' carrots, and charentais melons. Also included were mâche, French sorrel, arugula, a frisée chicory a friend had brought from France, and, of course, lots of herbs: "I was pleasantly surprised with the flavor of the produce," Jeanne told me. "Many of the varieties were distinctly superior to those I'd grown in the past. I noticed that some of the plants were smaller, but they seemed equally productive." All in all, Jeanne and Dan Will were very pleased with their French garden and hoped to keep growing many of the vegetables in the future.
Jeanne and Dan Will's New Jersey French garden was designed in the French parterre style. In the beds are eggplants, bronze fennel, tomatoes, and lots of herbs.
interview
Georgeanne Brennan
Working on a book about food can be dangerous to your figure. For days, as I transcribed the information on French cooking from Georgeanne Brennan, onetime co-owner of Le Marche seed company and author of Potager, I would eat and eat. As Georgeanne described dipping French bread into sun-ripened tomatoes mashed with garlic and basil, off I went to the kitchen. When she described a chard tart with sultana raisins, pine nuts, and honey, I found myself needing a snack. We all know how deeply the French value good food, but Georgeanne's recollections emphasized the fact.
Born in California, Georgeanne went to school in France, where she later married and settled in an old farmhouse in the country. There, far from the supermarket, she and her husband raised goats, and she grew and cooked the family's food. Eventually they moved back to the United States, but Georgeanne still retreats regularly to her old farmhouse in France for weeks at a time to research vegetables and recipes for her books.
One of Georgeanne's descriptions of living in the French countryside exemplifies the French respect for food: "The first time I had fava beans, a local farmer came to the door and said, 'Here are some favas for you.' He saw my blank look and, transported by the first favas of the season, proceeded to show me how to use them. He shelled the beans and asked for a skillet. Then he heated up a little butter and oil and soon stood over my stove, cooking away. He just popped those beans into the oil and butter, added a little salt and pepper, and shook the skillet around for a while. Then he said, 'I'm going to cook my own,' and left me to feast on the ones he'd prepared. They were delicious."
The average French person is passionately involved with good food and, often, with cooking as well. Part of this involvement is because of a great respect for the garden-table connection—whether the produce comes from a local farmer or from an individual's plot. The French consumption of mesclun, a mix of perishable salad greens, is a good example. Instead of sitting down to a head of lettuce and a few tomatoes at dinner, the average family in southern France eats a mixed salad that includes baby lettuce leaves, young chicories, and herbs. "Through the centuries,'' Georgeanne explained, "different kinds of greens were grown in the garden—lettuces, chickweeds, and herbs—and the French refined these combinations. While many French people still grow their own salad greens today, market gardeners offer mesclun to the general public. When you go to the markets in Nice, you see piles of different little mixed greens and herbs for sale by weight. One seller might offer a mix with nine ingredients, another five, and so forth, but the principal selections will include romaine and butterhead lettuce, chicory, chervil, roquette, or any variation thereof. All the elements are there: peppery rockets, bitter chicory, tender butterhead, somewhat crunchy romaine, and slightly anise-tasting chervil. I grow mesclun myself. It's actually very easy to grow and can be harvested within about twenty to thirty days of planting. Just about anyone can grow it—it even works well in a window box.
"I miss French leeks and chervil. I think the leeks you find here in the supermarkets are all wrong. They're two inches in diameter. In France they're usually very small, maybe a few pencil widths, and they're more mild, tender, and flavorful. I grow them in my potager and love to harvest little ones, steam them and serve them warm with a simple vinaigrette. Or cover them with béchamel sauce or serve them Italian style in a tomato sauce. The rich yet mild flavor of the leek is unique."
Chervil appears in one way or another in French sauces, soups, and salads, particularly in northern France. Because it's so perishable, though, it almost never appears in produce markets in the United States. Georgeanne likes to use chervil, with its aniselike flavor, with fish, white wine, and cream. "It tastes refined and doesn't overpower," she said, "so it's very good for delicate dishes."
When Americans spend time in France, they often become passionate about French melons. Undoubtedly, the melon they've had is charentais, a type of muskmelon with a smooth pale green skin. Traditionally, these melons are eaten as a first course, often with a thin slice of salt-cured ham. "This is one melon," Georgeanne reminisced, lighting up as she spoke, "that you'll never forget if you ever have it in its perfect state. You'll crave its taste and smell long afterward."
Those who have grown charentais know, however, that a charentais not in its perfect state is less than distinguished. If underripe, it is flavorless; if overripe, it becomes fibrous and fermented. These melons are difficult to grow, particularly in a damp climate. They need heat for high quality, and they crack open easily if watered near harvest time. The French barely water them for the last six weeks before harvesting. To complicate matters further, the melons are difficult to harvest at peak perfection. As Georgeanne said, "They're tricky. You can pick a perfect one in the morning, and by evening it's begun to ferment. Charentais don't slip from the vine when they're ripe like other muskmelons do. You have to judge ripeness by the feel and aroma of the melons instead. Despite these difficulties, though, if you live in a part of the country with a Mediterranean climate, it would certainly be worth growing charentais with a hope that you will get at least one perfect melon."
Picking and serving produce at the peak of perfection is a crucial element woven throughout French cuisine. When you have your own French garden, you too will be able to savor these vegetables and fruits at their best.
Southern Europeans enjoy many vegetables in common, as reflected in the display of Italian Treviso radicchios next to the more classical French Belgian endives in the market at Aix-en-Provence.
french
garden
encyclopedia
Most of the vegetables and herbs used in France are well known; in some instances they are the same varieties as our domestic ones. However, some French produce is seldom grown or seen in the markets here—for instance, celeriac, some varieties of shelling beans, Alpine strawberries, chervil, and sorrel. In addition, the French enjoy miniature versions of some of our common vegetables—petite varieties of peas, snap beans, and carrots—sometimes referred to as "baby" vegetables.
The following pages detail growing and preparing garden vegetables that are popular in France. For basic
