Take six to a dozen different people, from all kinds of backgrounds and varied cooking abilities. Add a French master chef, a skilled sous-chef, one who is also a wine expert, and her husband, who is another wine expert. Blend together in a modernised 200-year-old farmhouse in France’s Languedoc district, serve with walking, cycling, tennis and swimming on the side, and you have the French House Party.

St. Raymond's Gastro Acadamy where we learn to cook.

The French House Party offers a wide range of courses, ranging from video and movie making, through drama and artwork to creative writing. But, their signature dish is probably the Gastro Academy.

There are three cookery courses to choose from; the 7-day Cook au Vin;, the 6-day Gourmet Explorer; and the 3-day Cuisine in Brief, which I attended. But, please be advised, they aren’t intended to turn you into a gourmet cook overnight. It’s a pity experience is the only appropriate word I can think of.

Chef Robert Abraham ready to teach us some of what he knows.

Chopping and creating our masterpieces.

But, before I get carried away by the relaxing Art Deco atmosphere of the dining-room, sitting room and bedrooms, I’d better talk about the kitchen which, of course, would be the main focus of our business. After lunch on the first day, we were briefly introduced to it, to help to make amuses-bouche, which sounds a lot nicer than nibbles,  to go with our pre-dinner apéritif.

The kitchen is long, with a central table running down the middle, with provisions  for taller (or shorter) people to take part without too much discomfort. It was only recently refurbished, and gasps of admiration and envy greeted it. And, I have an idea that some of those features might shortly be adopted in the kitchens of the participants.

Before dinner, the chef de cuisine, Robert Abraham, introduced himself. He would, he said, be overseeing our cooking on the morrow, but first, we needed ingredients. In the morning, we would accompany him to the market in Revel to buy them.

The chef manages to find the market's best.

Up to a year ago, I thought that the idea of the chef going to the market and personally selecting ingredients was a fiction put about by the makers of TV food programmes. But, in the last twelve months, I’ve met two chefs who did just that, so I’m happy to stand corrected.

Unfortunately, my French isn’t good enough to understand the discussion — maybe even haggling — that went on between Chef Robert and the stallholders, but we came away with basketfuls of provisions that could have been entered in a competition in any County Show at home in the UK.

So, with all the people and ingredients assembled, we were ready to begin cooking. We had three sessions, prepared three meals and, for the sake of brevity, I’ll just talk about the main courses. Under the eye of Chef Robert, we all took part; some to a greater extent than others. I thought back to basic training days, when I’d sit down to a meal, and think, with pride, “I peeled those potatoes!”

For lunch on the first day, we had duck breasts with apples reinette. The apples were baked with lemon juice, honey, butter, pepper and cinnamon; the duck cooked in Noilly Prat and served in slices. It was covered with a sauce made from apple juice and the juiced the duck was cooked in.

Our plated duck and apple slices with Noilly Prat and sauce.

Dinner was St. Jacques scallops served with orange butter sauce and parsnips. I used to think I didn’t like parsnips, but I changed my mind when I tasted these. The main learning point, though, was getting the edible bit out of the scallop. Weretained the shells, to serve a seafood starter for the the following lunch.

The main course on that occasion was monkfish rouelle, served with new potatoes and a tartine of a slice of fried aubergine (that’s eggplant, to my transatlantic readers) topped with a sauce of mussels and shallots.

We also helped to make starters and sweets too numerous to mention here, except that everyone enthused about the crême brulée and the madeleines.

No French meal would be complete without the wine, and here, wine expert Carl Hargreaves came to the fore. He selected wines he thought would go best with each course and he and his wife, sous-chef Debbie, held a wine-tasting just prior to our departure.

My favourite was the Muscat served before the first dinner. It’s said that Dom Perignon visited the area, and refined the recipe for Muscat into champagne.

We all enjoy a little wine talk -- and the wine.

And, a misconception about French cooking was also corrected. I’d missed it, but it wasn’t till the end, on the way back to the airport, that director Moira Martingale pointed out that, at no point in the weekend did Robert use garlic.

In 2008, the French House Party was named ‘Top Learning Retreat’ in the National Geographic book “100 Best Worldwide Vacations to Enrich Your Life.” Cooking is by no means all that goes on there. Find out much more at

www.frenchhouseparty.co.uk

By Keith Kellett

Outside the newly renovated Hare and Hounds

When I drove through Bowland Bridge, in Cumbria last year, I was saddened to see one of my favourite pubs, Hare and Hounds, abandoned forlorn and boarded up. I wasn’t really surprised, though. Pleasant as it was, Bowland Bridge is a small community of half a dozen houses and is miles from anywhere. It was accessed by only a minor road, served by one bus a week. The only other public facility there is a small Post Office and a general store.

In the past, the Hare and Hounds had a prosperous farming clientele, In those days, any hostelry within walking distance was recognised as one’s “local” and those farmers were prepared to walk a fair distance for a drink and a bit of a craic* with their friends.

However, much has changed in the pub habits of the average Briton. Much of the blame has been laid on television, greater mobility, stricter drink-drive laws and the British Government’s habit to tax anything pleasurable to a fare-thee-well. People rarely just go for a drink these days. To survive, a pub needs to offer something else; a large-screen television, live entertainment and great food. Most places serve food. To stay ahead of the game, pubs must really serve better fare than the opposition. Nuking a pre-cooked, frozen meal in the microwave just isn’t on any more. “Locally Sourced” is a phrase we’re hearing more and more in the realms of pub grub.

Hare and Hounds Cumbria Sausage

You can imagine my delight when I heard from a friend that the Hare and Hounds was back in business–with that locally accessed produce! It was smaller than it used to be, because some of the building was sold to make private residences. But, fresh whitewash, a trim garden and an inviting patio sort of smiled a welcome.

Inside there is an old-world look without looking contrived. The menu won me over with one proviso; please be patient, because each meal was cooked to order, not in bulk. Most of us had ham and eggs, but, as I always do in these parts, ordered Cumberland pork sausage.Yes, you can get Cumberland sausage elsewhere in the UK, but it does taste better in its area of origin. OK, Bowland Bridge was in Westmorland (it’s all Cumbria now, anyway) but we still like our Cumberland sausage. There are those who say true Cumberland sausage comes in a continuous spiral, rather than the more usual links. I don’t really think it matters, as long as the right blend of meat and spices are used; the taste is just the same.

Inside Hare and Hound.

The sausages came on a bed of mashed potato; some say this is the only way to serve them. But, with the potatoes came a delicious onion gravy that really complemented the potatoes and the sausages. And, I made a discovery. As the “designated driver,” I chose apple juice instead of ale. It goes really well with these sausages. In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before — after all, we often eat apple sauce with pork.

Writing about hidden, secret places  such as this of often means it doesn’t stay secret for long. But, better to mention the reopened pub than have it remain  secret … and out of business.

Hare and Hounds
Bowland Bridge
Grange-Over-Sands, Cumbria, LA11 6NN
Telephone: 08721 077 077

*craic is originally a Gaelic term and means a bit of music and fun with great conversation.
Keith Kellett is globalfoodie’s UK correspondent. His email is: Keith@globalfoodie.com

Hafod Eryri, Snowdon Summit Visitor’s Centre

By Keith Kellett

Someone once said that you can see six kingdoms from Snowdon’s summit: Wales, England, Scotland, Ireland, the Isle of Man and even the Kingdom of Heaven. Whoever wrote that obviously went up on a clear day. Quite often, low clouds mean you see absolutely nothing but mist. If you walked up on one of many footpaths, you might still risk visual disappointment. You would certainly enjoy the trip if you rode up to the summit on Llanberis village’s delightful vintage rack railway. Once there, your reward — a meal at the recently rebuilt Hafod Eryri Complex, located just below the summit. If it’s a clear day you’ll get additional sustenance from the view.

By world standards, a restaurant a little over 3,500 feet above sea level isn’t all that remarkable. After all, there are whole countries that sit much higher. But, the Hafod Eryri Complex is in Britain, Snowdon, Wales, to be precise, only 60 feet below the country’s highest point. Officials are careful with facts and figures and say that it’s the highest restaurant in England and Wales. But, technically speaking, the Ptarmigan Restaurant in Cairngorm, Scotland tops it at 3,520 feet –but then again, that’s another kingdom away ….

The Hafod Eryri restaurant, originally designed to fit into the hilly landscape, was extensively renovated and refurbished and now offers an attractive and inviting building to those who make the journey, either by foot or by the little vintage rack railway that has been climbing the mountain since 1896.

Hafod Eryri’s predecessor was a squalid, grim concrete blockhouse, which I was surprised to learn was designed in the early 1930s by the noted and environmentally friendly architect Sir Clough Williams-Ellis of Portmeirion fame. (Williams-Ellis designed Portmeirion, a resort village reminiscent of Portofino, which sits on the Snowdonian coastline.)

“But, it wasn’t Williams-Ellis’s original design,” Vince Hughes, the restaurant’s communication manager, said. “He called for large windows, which got completely destroyed after the first winter.”

It’s not surprising, really. Winds of up to 150 miles per hour have been recorded on the summit. So, those windows were replaced with narrow panes, more suited to a military bunker.

Modern technology has, however, allowed big, panoramic windows in the new building. They’re called “’whispering windows.” Stand close and you’ll hear an audio interpretation of what you see (or what you could see if the clouds weren’t there) or a poetry reading from the former National Poet of Wales, Gwyn Thomas.

The steel frame and granite are from Blaenau Ffestiniog and Portugal. Most were transported up on the train in 10-ton pre-fabricated pieces, and some of the work was finished on site. The design is and was intended to blend in with the contours of the mountain, rather than stand out against them.

The pleasing, attractive interior is lined with Welsh oak, a sharp contrast to the former structure, which made a vacuum flask and sandwiches carried up the mountain seem a much better proposition.

It would be tempting for the owners to offer dinner on “the roof of Wales” but they can’t. Everything, including the water, is brought up by train. And, since the electricity comes from the restaurant’s generators, they can’t really operate large ovens, deep-fat fryers, or even dishwashers,

“So, all our crockery has to be disposable,” Hughes said.

Visitors who come up by train, only have half an hour at the summit before returning on the same train, otherwise, a place on a later train isn’t guaranteed. And, it’s a long walk down! Although, of course, if you walked up you can stay as long as you wished. There are now three till points that cater to those walkers. There was once a self-service cafeteria and only one till point. Visitors could easily spend all summit waiting in line for food.

Hot food needs to be of the sort that can be cooked quickly – in a small oven or a microwave. It doesn’t, by any means, mean the choice is restricted, though. And, the prices are reasonable. For instance, a sausage, egg and bacon panini only costs £3.55 – and it’s Lincolnshire sausage, too! There’s also a tempting range of panini, hot savouries such as Cornish pastys (I am reliably informed that, in Cornwall pastys is the correct plural), baguettes and cakes.

It’s all fresh, too. Unable to sleep, I took a walk early in the morning, saw and photographed the food assortment delivered by a baker’s van. “Locally sourced” is a phrase you hear often about the food there. Workers load it on to the early morning train, which brings supplies and any staff needed to reinforce or replace those who have spent the night up there.

Top of the hot food range is the traditional Welsh “Oggie’,” which is almost the same as a Cornish pasty, but made in Wales; and it’s much bigger. Both have similar origins and were a handy means of providing a portable packaged meal for miners. The Welsh coal miners held it by the crimping in the crust, because of the coal dust on their fingers, the Cornish tinners held it so to keep from ingesting the antimony and arsenic, which were a lethal by-product of tin mining,

Both would leave the crusts for the spirits they believed haunted the mine, and, if you kept them fed, would give warning of impending disaster. The Welshman would throw his crust over his shoulder with a cry of “Oggie,” which is probably the origin of the Welsh rugby fans chant.

No, I didn’t try one. Only two hours earlier, I’d got on the outside of a gargantuan Welsh breakfast at the Dol Peris Hotel. Even if I hadn’t, I don’t think I’d manage it; it’s definitely an item for sharing!

(Yes, I know my mobile phone, which I placed by the Oggie to give an idea of the size, is so last century, But, I am planning to replace it soon!)

For more information visit:

www.snowdonrailway.co.uk/hafod_eryri.html

www.dolperis.com

Keith Kellett is globalfoodie’s UK correspondent and an expert on England’s food history and origin. He can be reached at: Keith@globalfoodie.com. You can see more of his work at: travelrat.wordpress.com.

by Keith Kellett

I have it on pretty good authority that mice don’t really care about cheese one way or the other; apparently, peanut butter is far more efficacious bait for mousetraps. Were I a mouse who didn’t know this fact I’d have thought I’d died and gone to heaven after entering the Dairy Products Hall at this year’s Royal Bath and West Show.

Bath is in Somerset; so is the village of Cheddar, so, naturally, the great majority of dairy products on show were cheese. And, the greater proportion of that cheese was cheddar.

Now, cheese doesn’t have to be produced in Cheddar to be called cheddar. I’ve seen Irish cheddar, Australian cheddar and Canadian cheddar. Cheddar has become widely used internationally, and does not currently have a Protected Designator of Origin (PDO). However, the European Union does recognise West Country Farmhouse Cheddar as a PDO.

To be called West Country Farmhouse Cheddar – the real stuff – it must be made on a farm, and that farm is within the four counties of Somerset, Dorset, Devon and Cornwall. Those four make up the south-west of England.

Even in the old days, people said that only cheese produced within a thirty-mile radius of Wells Cathedral should be called cheddar.

A certain process must be used, too. After heating, the resulting curds are kneaded with salt. This is then cut into cubes to drain the whey. The cheese is then wrapped in cloth, and stored, and turned at intervals. The longer it’s matured, the better it is. It can be released for sale after three months; but mature cheddar usually starts at around 15 months. It can be stored for up to five years, after which time, I’d suppose you need to eat it quickly, before it eats your cracker!

Most of cheddar cheese country is in limestone country, which means there are plenty of natural caves to store the cheese. These are ideal, because, winter and summer, the temperature in a limestone cave remains constant. Even show-caves, such as those in the Cheddar Gorge and at Wookey Hole have side-caves for storing Cheddar.

While cheddar is usually made from cow’s milk, one stall offered me a goat’s milk cheddar. “Can you still call it cheddar?” I asked. I was told “yes; it’s made in Somerset, and the ‘cheddaring’ process is used.”

Cheesemakers throughout the country also brought their products. Double Gloucester, Stilton; Wensleydale (my favourite!) and Caerphilly, were among countless offerings. Some offered morsels of their cheese – even for those entered in the ‘Smelliest Cheese’ category.

Of these cheeses, I particularly liked ‘Stinking Bishop,” and I wondered, if, like some beers, they give unattractive names to the good stuff to discourage those who don’t know, and leave more for those of us who do?

For more information:
Royal Bath and West of England Society
Royal Bath and West Show
www.bathandwest.com

Cheddar Cheese:
www.farmhousecheesemakers

Aussie Pies

by Keith Kellett

When asked what the Australian national dish was, a comedian once waggishly replied “Pies.” Maybe it’s not the national dish, but I’ve visited very few places where I couldn’t get one. Call it a “footy pie,” a “four-and-twenty pie” an “Aussie pie” or simply just a pie, everyone there knows what you mean.

You don’t ask what goes into it, though. American author Doug Lansky once did, and was simply told “Meat!”

There are some establishments where your pie is served on a plate, and eaten with a knife and fork. But, usually, it simply comes in a paper bag, which you use to protect your fingers as you eat.

Another is the “pie floater.” The pie is served in a dish, immersed in green pea soup. You can, at your discretion, add a swirl of sauce and a side order of chips. At the Balfour’s Pie Cart, outside the railway station in Adelaide. They say it’s the cheapest meal in Australia, which is just as well, because the gambling casino stands next to the station.

The pie floater was reputedly born in Port Pirie, South Australia, conceived by one Ern “Shorty” Bradley – but, no one knows how. Did he inadvertently drop a pie into a bowl of soup? Or maybe, it developed from the Yorkshire “pea and pie supper,” useful when you have a lot of people (e.g. at harvest time or a cricket match) to feed on a budget.

The pie carts were as much a part of the Adelaide scene as “Light’s Vision” or the Glenelg Tram. The very first one was opened by an English ex-sailor called Gibbs. He opened his pie stall in 1864 on the corner of King William and Rundle streets, looking to cater to workers in search of a wholesome, but inexpensive meal.

Obviously, the site wasn’t as busy as it is nowadays. Today it’s probably the most trafficked street corner in Adelaide, but the last place you want to stand around eating a pie.

By 1915 there were nine pie carts in Adelaide, but by 1958 only two remained. They were Cowley’s Pie Cart outside the GPO on Franklin Street, once claimed as the oldest still existing in Australia, and the already-mentioned Balfour’s Pie Cart, outside the railway station.

The pie carts, for me, sum up all that’s democratic and egalitarian about Australia. They became a meeting place where cabbies, policemen and other workers rubbed shoulders with theatre patrons in formal evening wear, musicians, politicians and businessmen.

But, to visit the most famous pie-cart of all, we must go to Sydney, and head for Wooloomooloo, where Harry’s Café de Wheels carries on the tradition of selling what they claim are the best pies going. They don’t sell pie floaters as such, however, but “Tiger,” a pie with peas, mashed potato and gravy on top, is similar to the pie and mash served in some parts of London.

Wooloomooloo is the Royal Australian Navy’s equivalent of Portsmouth, and it was near the entrance to the Navy base that Harry “Tiger” Edwards set up his pie stall in 1938. He reasoned, correctly, that sailors returning to the base after a night on the town would be hungry, and there were very few places in Sydney where a reasonably inexpensive meal could be had at that time.

As in Adelaide, theatre and concert-goers began to frequent Harry’s, too and, as in Adelaide, mixed happily with the night-workers and sailors who frequented the café. One ex-sailor recalled seeing a full captain in dress uniform sitting on a nearby wall eating his pie.

The original stall was on wheels, because a city by-law said that such establishments had to move at least twelve inches each day. So, the structure was studiously moved the specified distance, and returned to its original position the following night.

Except for one night, when some practical joker stole the wheels … and the café temporarily became the “Café de Axle.”

In 1939, the café closed while Harry was away in the Army. But, on his 1945 demobilization, he found that the Sidney eating situation hadn’t improved while he was away. The Café de Wheels was soon operating almost to capacity once again.

Somehow, the word spread, and the café found itself hosting such household names as Frank Sinatra, Robert Mitchum, Johnnie Ray and Marlene Dietrich. And, perhaps the most distinguished visitor was Colonel Harlan Sanders, of Kentucky Fried Chicken fame. He ate three portions of pie and peas there, and declared Harry’s pies were the best he’d ever tasted.

Harry Edwards retired in 1970, and sold his now-thriving business. But, the café retained his name, and continued to prosper. A lot of customers still came from the Navy, and, in 1978 they decided to mark the 40^th Anniversary of the opening of the Café de Wheels in a rather unusual way.

It was officially commissioned into the Royal Australian Navy as one of its unsinkable’ ships, and was called: HMAS Harry’s!

Harry died in 1979, but the Café de Wheels continued, and its fame continues to spread. Celebrities still flock there. Elton John, Kevin Costner, Brooke Shields, Olivia Newton-John, Pamela Anderson and others of that stamp know Harry’s well.

The present owner is Michael Hannah, and I rather think he may be connected with Hannah’s, the firm who makes the pies. And, very good pies they are too, as I learned when the Open-Top bus tour I was on passed through Wooloomooloo around lunchtime.

The stall isn’t the original; that can be seen in Sydney’s Powerhouse Museum. But, the ethos is still there. I watched as office workers, taxi-drivers, glaziers, telephone engineers and road menders came for their lunch. It’s easy to tell who does what, because sometimes it seems that everyone in Sydney wears a corporate uniform.

And, of course, a policeman came. He was rather disappointed, though, because I wanted to photograph him buying his pie rather than astride his motor-bike. He’d visited Salisbury, where I live, he said, and, mentioned a B&B where he’d stayed, one run by some friends of mine.

But, I didn’t see any celebrities. Maybe I came at the wrong time; maybe I should have come back in the evening. I got what I came for, though — a pie. What at an excellent pie. It was so good I bought another!

As always, Keith captures the moment — and the food. Contact him at: Keith@globalfoodie. More of his work is available on his website at: travelrat.wordpress.com.

By Keith Kellett

Since English isn’t the first language in Tunisia, I thought it might be a prolific hunting ground for my Silly Signs, which I collect, photograph and occasionally post in my blog (see information below). No such luck. The only one I saw was from a bus, and we were gone before I could photograph it.

My luck changed later when we were passing through a Berber village.  I saw a restaurant promising “Authentic Barbaric Food.” Well, the two words come from the same root, anyway!

But, we didn’t have to stray far from food to finally find something. One night, we went to a “Traditional Tunisian Banquet.” where wine was served.

Now, although Tunisia is a Muslim country, alcohol is readily available, and, in fact, beer and wine are produced in country. Grapes for wine are grown in Tunisia, rather than them making wine from imported grape concentrate, as they sometimes do elsewhere. The centre of wine production is at Mornag, a little way to the south of Tunis. They produce reds, whites and rosés, and the result is … well, I wouldn’t go out of my way to seek any, but I’ll drink it if it’s offered.

I do think they might have been a little more careful with the name, though! As Oliver Hardy might have said:

“This is another Vin de Mess you’ve gotten me into, Stanley!”

Keith can be reached at Keith@globalfoodie.com. To see more of his work visit his blog: travelrat.wordpress.com/

by Keith Kellett

I like cheese.

There’s nothing like a cheese-board to round out a good meal. One of the best ones I’ve had in a long time is produced by John Crompton, the chef at the Hotel Aravis Lodge in France’s mountainous Haut Savoie district.

There were only two cheeses on the board, the local Reblochon and, from further afield, Tome de Bauge. But, they were enough, especially accompanied by glasses of red wine and bowls of dried apricots and walnuts.

The previous day, we sat in an upland pasture and feasted on crusty batons, stuffed with the Reblochon and Tome. Looking down the verdant and lush valley, one surrounded by lofty mountainous peaks, made the “cheese sandwich” description sound inadequate.

We hadn’t come here to taste the cheese, though. We’d come to walk in those mountain pastures, but, cheese was everywhere and couldn’t be avoided.

Our daily path led us past mountain chalets, or upland farms. In winter, the farmer and his family live in the valley, where the herds are kept while snow lies on those high fields. In spring, the cows are led up the hill, and the family move back into the chalet.

France is noted for its wide variety of cheeses, and also has the AOC, or Appelation d’Origine Contrôlée. This means that the names of locally-produced cheeses are protected by law. You cannot do as they do in England, where “cheddar” cheese is sold – and it wasn’t produced in England, let alone Cheddar.

Reblochon has been made in the Thones valley since the 13^th Century. It ust be produced within that area and made from milk from only three breeds of cows.

Reblochon means second milking from the product of which the cheese was originally made. It is sometimes said that farmers used to be taxed according to the milk yield of the herd. But, to avoid paying tax on unsold milk, they only partially milked the cows, taking just what they estimated they could sell. Then, they turned the cows back out to pasture, to milk them again when the inspector had gone. This milk had a sweeter taste than the first official milking

They couldn’t, however, sell the milk obtained by this method, so they made cheese instead.

These days there are two kinds of Reblochon. Some farmers take the milk to a co-operative, where the cheese is made; this is marked with an edible red disc, or pastille in the cheese’s rind. If the farmer makes the cheese himself, it gets the green disc and is called ‘Reblochon Fermier. It is made from the milk of a single herd and held to be superior.

One important note: you mustn’t call your cheese farmhouse cheese unless it was made on a farm.

If a farmer doesn’t actually make cheese, but sends it to a milk to a co-operative, it’s blended with milk from other herds, and is distinguished from Reblochon Fermier by being marked with a red pastille in the rind.

A close relative of Reblochon is Tome, a name which comes from a dialect word ‘Toma’, which means “cheese from the mountain pastures.” It’s made in much the same way as Reblochon, but cooked at a higher temperature and left to mature for longer.

This results in a harder, nuttier cheese, and the most highly regarded is the already-mentioned Tome de Bauges … distinguished by spelling its name with one “M.”

Walking the Walk

For a lot of people, the phrase ‘Alpine walking’ is a bit of an off-put. It conjures up visions of using a lot of arcane and expensive ironmongery to climb up a gnarly, near-vertical, ice-covered rock face. But, in actual fact, the kind I’m talking about involves good paths through lush meadows, accompanied most of the time by the plangent clangour of cow-bells.

With the minimum of clothing and equipment, maybe you’re marvelling that you are well above the highest point in the British Isles. Even then, you’ll frequently pass a farm where they make and sell cheese.

But, if you don’t fancy that kind of walking, you can go into Annecy on Sunday morning where a market is held in Old Town. Around here, as well as elsewhere in France, the phrase “farmer’s market” is a tautology. Most stalls sell local produce … ham, vegetables, and, of course, cheese.

How to Get there: The nearest airport is Geneva, across the border in Switzerland; approximately one hour’s drive from St. Jean de Sixt. The nearest main rail station is at Annecy, about one half hour away. There’s a bus service from Annecy approximately every two hours; fare is about seven euros.

There is no public transport form Geneva airport, except in winter, when a ski-bus operates.

Where to Stay: We stayed at the Aravis Lodge Hotel in St Jean de Sixt, where there’s an excellent kitchen presided over by chef John Crompton, who also runs cooking holidays, see www.cookinginfrance.biz. The owners of the Aravis Lodge organise ski-ing and walking weekends. You can find the details at www.karibuni.co.uk. If you’re taking part in one of these tours, or just staying there, the owners will arrange a free transfer from Annecy or Geneva for you.

Keith Kellett is globalfoodie’s UK correspondent. He can be reached at: Keith@globalfoodie.com.

By Keith Kellett

I often take part in Spain’s Vaughantown English-language programs. They usually start with a get-to-know-you tapas party on Saturday night. For first-timers, it’s an introduction to a Spanish custom, where your beer or wine is often served with a little nibble.

It’s difficult, if not impossible, to translate the word tapas concisely into English. Originally, the word meant “lids,” and was assigned to the pieces of bread or slices of cheese or ham that covered drinks to ensure the drink wasn’t contaminated by insects, leaves or bird droppings when it was consumed outside.

As time went on, the pieces of bread became little open sandwiches, and nowadays, the term has come to mean any little snacks served with a drink. It’s even given rise to a verb … tapear … to partake of tapas.

There are some who say the practice came about as the result of the command of a King, one of the Alfonsos, I think who, concerned at instances of drunkenness among his army, decreed that no alcoholic liquor should be served unless food was also provided.

Tapas serves a multitude of purposes. Maybe it demonstrates the hospitality of the bar owner, or just encourages thirst to sell more beer or wine; maybe its eaten to fill the gap until dinner. Like most Mediterranean countries, the Spaniards dine late. Or, it could demonstrate the quality of the food, so the customer may return to eat more substantially later. Or, maybe a bit of all four!

There’s a multitude of places to enjoy tapas. In Madrid, there’s El Quinto Vino, in Calle Hernani , which is always crowded. I fought my way to the bar, and exhausted two thirds of my Spanish by saying ‘Una cerveza, por favor!’  Usually, I try to avoid too great a press of people in bars, but this was different. Anywhere else, I would dismiss the décor as “too Spanish” or “touristy.” But here, the mass of pictures, bits of wine boxes, photographs and wall souvenirs – with every spare bit of space taken up by bottles of all kinds – seems just right.

Just down the road is La Carihuela, which I like for its superb exterior tile work. The beer and the tapas aren’t bad, either. They brought me a sort of Cornish pasty, about the size of a 50 pence piece.

But, tapas bars aren’t only confined to the bigger towns. In a little town called Carriòn de los Condes, I found an excellent tapas called Chamffix. Although, I do wish Alberto had told me about the pigs’ ear before I’d eaten a piece.

For more information:
www.elquintovino.com (Spanish)
www.madridman.com

Keith Kellett is globalfoodie’s United Kingdom correspondent. His email is: Keith@globalfoodie.com.

Denise Dubé, globalfoodie’s creator and editor, is a food writer who travels – or a traveling foodie who writes. Foods preparation, its origin, smell and presentation are a passion (and obsession) and she enjoys tasting and writing about its cultural nuances. globalfoodie is her baby and food is her muse. It’s also the main reason she needs to lose a few extra pounds. Her work has appeared in Intermezzo, travelgirl, MSNBC.com, National Geographic Traveler and the Boston Globe.  Reach Denise at: Denise@globalfoodie.com.

Ami Hooper is globalfoodie’s creative designer and the cyber brains behind the site. She can be reached at: Ami@globalfoodie.com.

Maureen Costello is a Boston-based freelance journalist who loves writing about food and has  sampled appetizers, main courses, beverages and desserts from almost every ethnic group.  Maureen is passionate about food various flavors and forms,  its cultural meaning, tradition and preparation and is thrilled to share her finds with globalfoodie readers.  She can be reached at: Maureen@globalfoodie.com.

Sue Frause is an award winning freelance journalist and photographer. Her words are on images in print and online and include: the Examiner, True/Slant and she is also a About.com spa website contributor. She’s an avid fan of social networking and writes a blog about all things Canadian called,  Closet Canuck. She’s also an on-air contributor to Around the World Travel Radio. Sue and her husband live on an island in Puget Sound where they tend to their chickens, turkeys, garden and their very own field of dreams. She is a popular guest speaker on travel and other earthly delights and frequently appears as an emcee at community charity events. In addition to her frequent travels, Sue enjoys theater, movies, jazz, fine food, heavenly spas and tiptoeing through the tulips … when they are in bloom.  Sue’s website is www.suefrause.com and she is reachable at: sue@suefrause.com.

Richard Frisbie is a food wine and travel writer; a bookseller and publisher of New York centric books; and a newspaper columnist who resides in New York’s Hudson Valley. Online, his articles appear here, on Gather.com, GoNomad.com, travellady.com and the many websites of EDGE Publications. He also writes for regional New York magazines such as Adirondack Life, Life in the Finger Lakes, and Kaatskill Life. Richard can be reached at Richard@globalfoodie.com.

“Have spoon will travel,” is Kori A. Gaff ’s motto. This 31-year-old Maine native is married to a Marine, and has two small children. She manages to make meals everyone will enjoy by using innovation and simplicity. It’s a gift we all need once in a while. Kori also enjoys cooking for the neighborhood, no matter where she’s stationed. Kori can be reached at: Kori@globalfoodie.com.

Emilie  C. Harting’s articles on culture and ecotourism have appeared in a number of major magazines and newspapers, most recently www.forbestraveler.com,  The Philadelphia Inquirer, and MSNBC. When she’s not walking around the streets of various cities or hiking in the countryside, she can often be found in her kitchen.

Kaye Hurst is a Louisiana southern woman who loves all things food-related — it nourishes her soul and her tastebuds. Cooking is her favorite part of life and she is compelled to share her passion for all things sauteed, braised, boiled or basted. In fact Kaye has more palpations over a recipe-laden cookbook than a steamy romance novel. Celebrations at home always involve good food marinated in comfort and seasoned with love. Kaye can be reached at: Kaye@globalfoodie.com.

Shannon Hurst Lane travels the world in search of inspiring destinations and adventurous moments. She enjoys family travel, romantic escapes, girlfriend getaways, and those all important soul-oh trips. She’s an unofficial ambassador for her home state, Louisiana, where the people don’t eat to live, they live to eat. Contact her at: Shannon@globalfoodie.com.

Keith Kellett, our UK correspondent, is an expert on England’s food history and origin. He can be reached at: Keith@globalfoodie.com.

Vivienne Mackie was born in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and later became a clinical psychologist. She switched to counseling foreign students and their families and teaching ESL after moving to the United States. Toting a journal and a Brownie camera, her travels began at 8 when she and her grandmother boarded a ship and journed from Rhodesia to England.  Mackie still travels as often as possible — with a modern camera and better journals. Vivienne, fascinated by different languages and cultures, realized that music and food are a big part of any culture.  Tasting food from different countries, taking pictures of the dishes, and collecting recipes, have become an integral part of any trip. She’ll try (almost) anything at least once but found that willingness put severely to the test in China—-where she did draw the line at cat, dog and snake. Vivienne may be reached at:

Susan McKee is an independent scholar and freelance journalist specializing in history, culture and travel. She can be reached at: Susan@globalfoodie.com.

Rosemary Minati spent her early years working as a pre-school teacher in the New York suburbs. Her tools included a handful of plastic scissors, hundreds of kid-proof glue containers and dollops of creativity. After spending her days feeding her students minds she raced home to feed the family. This should-have-been-a-chef foodie can make a delicious and unforgettable meal-at a moment’s notice and knows no cultural bounds when creating a meal. Rosemary will find New York’s best restaurants, whether in the city or hidden in Westchester County. She’ll also be giving us a heads-up on some of the best cookbooks written. She can be reached at: Rosemary@globalfoodie.com.

Deston Nokes is our western correspondent, this Oregon native knows adventure and food. He can be reached at Deston@globalfoodie.com

Stephanie Oswald:

Wine and the good life are the focus of the Sip & Savor column by Denise Reynolds.  Awarded the grand prize by Wines of France for her writing on French wines, Denise holds an Advanced Sommelier certification. Recently, she garnered another award when she was recognized for her unsurpassed knowledge and contribution on food and wine by Indagare, the premier resource for the world’s most discerning travelers.  “Denise” means Goddess of Wine and so it’s fitting that she can be reached at: Goddessofwine@globalfoodie.com.

Ron Stern, the editor-in-chief of JustSayGo.com, an on-line travel-oriented e-zine, is also the travel columnis for the San Diego Community Newspaper Group, Fifty Plus Marketplace News and The Womens’ Newspaper Group. His articles have appeared in national and regional newspapers and magazines including Shape, Cruise, Frequent Flyer, AAA Motorist, Visit Los Cabos Guide, Destinations West, Key Biscayne and La Jolla Today. Gannett, The Bismarck Tribune, The Jamaican Observer and travel trade magazines have also published his work.  Ron’s other contributions have been noted by PBS, Mobil Travel Guides and his  photography has been used extensively by Jordan Tourism Board. He has traveled extensively and is the author of five books. Ron lives with his wife, Nancy in Fort Collins, Colorado. Email him at Ron@globalfoodie.com.

Roseann Tully: