Organic food sales have been rising astronomically in the EU’s largest agricultural producing country, with a 20 percent increase in 2016, the fastest pace in seven years.

This is a huge departure from France’s past with the organic food movement; the nation had been relatively slow to take to the trend in the past decade, particularly when compared to neighbors like Germany or to the U.S. As the top pesticide user in Europe, with 78,000 tons of phytosanitary products in its fields, France’s reluctance to jump on the organic food bandwagon was a real shame.

That said, France had more than enough reasons to temper its enthusiasm for organic. Unlike the U.S., France has forbidden the growth of GMO foods since 2008, making many French people less worried about what’s in their food than Americans tend to be.

Add to this the fact that the French have many other historic quality labels, such as Label Rouge, which ensures that animals are raised according to strict dietary and humane standards including access to the outdoors. Label Rouge beef is grass-fed, and Label Rouge veal and lamb are allowed to consume milk for as long as possible before being weaned. This label also forbids the use of antibiotics and growth hormones, and medical treatments of animals bearing the label are kept to a strict minimum.

Another such quality label in France is the AOC label, or Appellation d’origine controlée. This label is used for certain meats, cheeses, wines, and some fruits and vegetables like lentils, grapes, and walnuts. Each food has strict standards to follow to ensure that quality is coherent, particularly as far as the production location is concerned: AOC Brie must be made in Brie, for example, and AOC Bordeaux in the region around Bordeaux.

But last year, a third label — Agriculture biologique — took off in France, and with it, the organic food market. Agriculture biologique is very similar to the USDA organic label, with a 95 percent minimum on organic ingredients in all products carrying the label, as well as an absence of synthetic ingredients.

Agence Bio reported that organic food sales are set to reach 6.9 billion euros ($7.7 billion) in France this year.

“The take-off of the organic sector is being confirmed in 2016,” Didier Perreol, president of Agence Bio, told reporters.

And supply is ready to meet demand, direct from one of Europe’s biggest agricultural producers. Organic farmland in France has expanded to 1.57 million hectares, amounting to about 5.8 percent of the total farmland in France, and about 200 new specialty organic stores opened in the first half of the year to sell organic products, while supermarkets are experiencing double digit growth in organic food sales.

Organic food doesn’t outweigh conventional yet, but it’s definitely reaching new heights and showing no sign of slowing down.

Related on EcoSalon
Is Organic Food Better? Foodie Underground
Sard-In: The New ‘It’ Food in France is a Tiny, Sustainable Fish
Millennials Are Driving Organic Food to New Heights

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ColumnThe problem with diets… even the French ones.

There is always a lot of talk about the mystery of French women. They’re beautiful in a classic way, they’re fashionable without being overstated and they hold themselves in a way that most of us Americans will never achieve. But most importantly: how do they manage to eat all that rich food and still stay so beautiful and thin?

We ask that question, seriously and jokingly, because most of the time, we come at it with our American, body-image focused, low-calorie, food marketing-brainwashed selves talking: god forbid someone eat real ingredients. Think of all those fattening sauces made with butter!

As American women we are fed a multitude of ideas about our bodies and how we should and shouldn’t eat, which in turn has created a mass culture of dieting, to the tune of a $40 million a year diet industry. Diet bars, diet drinks, diet everything. In fact, 23 percent of American women reported being on a diet at some point in 2012, and although that number is down from 35 percent in 1992, that’s still almost one out of four women.

The word “diet” insinuates that you are doing something that you wouldn’t otherwise do. Trust me, no one who eats only grapefruits and lemon water lives a long and healthy life. Dieting is therefore very different than a lifestyle change. You cut out certain things for a limited period of time in the hopes that you’ll shed some weight and feel better. That’s neither smart nor is it healthy, and if you take a look at the number of diets out there, one thing is clear: we are on the search for a quick fix.

This all came to mind as I read an article pronouncing the benefits of “The Parisian Diet.” (Spoiler alert: the only thing you need to be skinny is, start savoring your food.) No, it’s not just a few women committing to a more European lifestyle, there is actually a book written by a French nutritionist called The Parisian Diet, and according to its website it’s “France’s #1 weight loss diet.”

We’re enthralled with the idea that French women can live in a land of cheese and wine and still be skinny – notice how we’re constantly hung up on the physical traits alone. Do we really need a diet plan to tell us how to live well? If we have come that far then I fear for not only our physical health, but our emotional health as well.

This isn’t the first time the idea of a French diet has popped up. There was the ever popular French Women Don’t Get Fat, which I must say was in fact a good read. But ultimately that was less of a diet plan and more of a reminder that knowing how to live the good life should be a sought after skill.

I was discussing French eating habits with an American friend that lives in London, sharing a flat with two French women.

“The difference is that they will eat a piece of bread slathered with Nutella on it for breakfast and not think twice about it. If an American woman does the same thing, she will make an excuse for it,” said my friend.

Her point was that it’s not that French women can just eat whatever they want – they know all about healthy portions, sugar, fats and beyond – it’s that when they do eat something that’s a little richer than usual, they won’t launch into a long discussion about it.

She’s right. In American culture, as women, we are taught that indulgence is bad. That if we are eating a rich dessert it better be because we deserved it. Because it’s your birthday. Because you ran 10 miles this morning. Because next week you’re off desserts and this is your last hurrah. We don’t indulge for indulgence’s sake. That would be so gauche.

This is why we are a country plagued with obesity and eating disorders; because food isn’t something that’s a part of our daily lifestyle, it’s just a concoction of nutrients and calories. I once heard it put this way: the difference between meals in the U.S. and France is that in the U.S. the meal is constructed of starches, proteins, vegetables, fats and sugars. In France a meal is constructed of courses: appetizer, entree, cheese and dessert.

While in the U.S. we’re busy thinking about the food pyramid (or plate), the French person is debating on whether they should pick between chocolate cake or just a piece of fruit to finish their meal with. It’s about the process and the holy moment of eating, not a nitpicking on whether or not the meal was low enough in calories that they can justify even considering finishing it all off with something sweet.

If we want a healthy relationship with food, we need to rethink our entire way of looking at food. It’s not just about the physical, it’s about the mental as well. All the side benefits that come from eating well. Happiness for example. General well-being. The time to be with friends. Celebrating the everyday. Things that we have lost track of in the search for the ultimate diet that keeps our waistlines trim.

Because what we have to remember is that eating well isn’t a diet, it’s a lifestyle.

This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’ weekly column at EcoSalon: Foodie Underground, an exploration of what’s new and different in the underground movement, and how we make the topic of good food more accessible to everyone. More musings on the topic can be found at www.foodieunderground.com.

Image: Amytropolis

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ColumnWhere can I find ‘le kale’?

There are certain staples in the Foodie Underground diet: coffee, quinoa, sea salt, red wine, cardamom, kale.

In fact, we all have staples; the essentials that we depend on, the stuff that we’ll never dream of being without. The ingredients that wake you up in the middle of the night because you think, “shit, I am out of [insert essential fruit/vegetable/product here].”

Kale may in fact be at the top of my list, second only to coffee, naturally. The versatile green makes its way into a many a dish, and on the days when you can’t be bothered to cook at all, at least you can throw it in a pan with some olive oil and sea salt and saute away. If kale hasn’t already made it into your daily diet, you’re behind on the times. It’s the new beef after all. And it helps with depression.

Kale has of course experienced a renewed popularity as of late – the trendy green – resulting in raving fanatics paired with a humorous bit of mockery. The all kale diet? Yeah, you can almost believe it.

Obsessed with kale? You my friend are not alone. There’s a blog for that. Wait, two. I mean three. And a book for that matter.

But believe it or not, in some places in the world, kale isn’t a thing. Take France for example. You can get dandelion greens, rucola, parsnips and aubergines at the local marché, but try to find a bunch of kale and you might be searching for awhile. Imagine a world without kale chips… depressing, isn’t it? Red wine and good cheese will only take you so far.

It’s a funny thing when your staples are taken away from you. You hit a new level of obsession, the kind that makes you track down an ingredient at any price. Ask an expat how much they would pay for a jar of peanut butter and you’ll see what I am talking about. Three weeks without kale and I was craving kale chips like a madwoman.

My love of kale and travel had previously led me to The Kale Project, an initiative to reintroduce the vegetable to Paris. French-based food lover trying to revive my favorite green in the markets of Paris? Sold.

In France, kale is a forgotten vegetable. The kind of thing that one farmer grows, sometimes by accident, but no one really even knows what it is. Hell, the French can’t even decide on a unilateral name for the thing. It was once even called “the most elusive ingredient.” That’s why The Kale Project founder Kristen Beddard made it her mission to bring it back. Working with farmers, markets and restaurants, she’s putting the green on the Parisian map, one bunch of kale at a time. An admiral goal if you ask me.

I grabbed drinks with Kristen and another Paris-based food lover and locavore Emily of Paris Paysanne. What ensued was a conversation about the complexities of food politics, French versus American food culture and how to make a good winter kale soup. Friends within seconds. Kristin promised to let me know where to find kale as soon as her farmers let her know who would have it at their stand the following Saturday.

“They’ve got kale at C’Bio this weekend, I’ll be there around 10:45 if you want to go!”

It’s always nice to have an insider kale tip.

We wandered around Marché Biologique des Batignolles, one of Paris’ most renowned organic markets, navigating through the large crowd of market goers on a mission. Don’t dawdle while you’re standing in line or that sweet looking old French grandmother will cut right in front of you with her market sack on wheels.

I felt like I was a ten year old on a scavenger hunt. It seemed ridiculous to get so excited about a leafy green, and yet…

“There it is!”

Right there in the middle of C’Bio’s stand was an entire wooden crate of beautiful kale leaves.  “Chou/kale” it was marked.

“Un demi kilo s’il vous plaît.”

I wasn’t sure what I would do with a half a kilo of kale, but it seemed like the appropriate choice. Kristen took an entire kilo, “I have to develop this recipe…”

My kind of woman.

And that was how I ended up trekking the streets of Paris for an afternoon with half a kilogram of kale in my purse. Some might call that obsessed. I just call it knowing what’s good for you. Because on Sunday morning, brunch consisted of sauteed kale with fried organic eggs and cardamom currant scones.

Sometimes you just need your staples.

This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’ weekly column at EcoSalon: Foodie Underground, an exploration of what’s new and different in the underground movement, and how we make the topic of good food more accessible to everyone. More musings on the topic can be found at www.foodieunderground.com.

Images: Anna Brones

The post Foodie Underground: In Search of French Kale appeared first on EcoSalon.

Column What is it that makes us so obsessed with French food culture?

Travel and food go together like… well… travel and food. There’s no better way to get to learn a place, except for maybe pack up and move there, which is of course not usually possible. Food allows us a look into the everyday lives of others. It’s a chance to smell and taste the local ambiance and really get to know the terroir of a place – its flavors, its ingredients, its producers.

One could argue that there is no better place for food and travel than France. Yes, yes, there are many others, but France has a very special allure that other parts of the world find hard to beat. In fact, the commitment to food tradition in France is something that many of us are drawn to, the kind of thing we might make a comment about, pointing out that “well, it’s not like we have as strong of a food culture as France does…” when we’re talking about our own culinary traditions.

Think what you want about the French (and no, they are not all rude), but we’re obsessed with Julia Child for a reason: French food is romantic, idyllic and delicious, and we want as much of it as we can get. We drool at the sound of a pain au chocolat and we have bucolic visions of French farmers tending their happy chickens, most likely named Pierre and Jean-Claude.

But what is it that makes France such a romantic place for foodies? Is it just because if you wanted to you could drink a glass of wine with lunch? Or is it that no matter where you are in France–urban or rural–a good boulangerie is never that far away?

Maybe it’s because food culture in France is so ingrained; it’s not a trend, it’s just part of everyday life. A Parisian neighborhood joint serving wine and good cheese with the day’s offerings marked in white chalk on a black board doesn’t feel forced. It just is. The waitress waxing ecstatic about the smoked mozzarella isn’t doing so because she’s an avant garde foodie, she just simply loves cheese. Good food isn’t pretentious, it just is.

When the chance came to go to Paris for a bit (as a writer you can legitimize these things by saying you’re “on assignment”) I couldn’t resist. In fact, as Audrey Hepburn once said, “Paris is always a good idea.” For the record, it is.

My first night in town, only a few hours after stepping off the plane, I got taken along to a vegetable pick up at the local Association pour le maintien d’une agriculture paysanne. AMAP is an organization that’s meant to support small farms in a world of corporate agribusiness, creating a direct link between producer and consumer, similar to a Community Supported Agriculture program in the U.S.

French men and woman, dressed in long black winter coats and rugged boots because of the snowy sidewalks outside, took part in the mad rush towards the carrots, potatoes and even sauerkraut by the kilogram. The vegetables were so freshly picked that they were still covered in clumps of dirt. Even the most committed produce stand in the U.S. wouldn’t dare put out root vegetables that haven’t at least gotten a casual brush off; we have things to learn.

The farmer on hand laughed and joked with customers. You could tell this was a convivial gathering. Food bringing people together. Even in the heart of Paris the producer to consumer connection is alive and well. Certainly, not everyone participates in something this direct, but just go to any Parisian market to see the value of access to fresh produce and an interaction with a farmer or butcher and you’ll see that the commitment to good food is alive and well.

French food is good – really good – but that’s not why we fall in love with it. We fall in love with it because it’s simply a part of everyday life.

A good pastry for breakfast isn’t out of the ordinary. It just is.

Choosing a bottle of white Bourgogne to heighten the taste of the cheese isn’t snobby. It just is.

In France, eating isn’t a task or something you cram into fifteen minutes, it’s an essential part of living, an action that is just as much tied to who you are with and what you are talking about as what you’re actually eating. Food is life, and life is celebrated.

This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’ weekly column at EcoSalon: Foodie Underground, an exploration of what’s new and different in the underground movement, and how we make the topic of good food more accessible to everyone. More musings on the topic can be found at www.foodieunderground.com.

The post Foodie Underground: The French Connection appeared first on EcoSalon.

French puffs of pastry for the breakfast averse.

When it comes to food, we have a bit of a French obsession. Is there anything better than a cafe au lait and a pain aux raisins on a Sunday morning? Not a lot, but this recipe for choquettes from French Revolution just might give that menu a run for its money. So bring a little joie de vivre to your kitchen table this weekend and enjoy.

***

I still remember my first chouquette.

I’m not big on breakfast. While it’s most people’s favorite meal, it’s something I usually resolve to eat around this time every year. Mostly, I fail. But one fine morning, I was in Paris and on my way to cooking school. Cooking school is not for the faint of heart or the empty of stomach. You need calories to burn. So as I passed by the bakery around the corner from Le Cordon Bleu, I gazed into the window for some inspiration.

In a little cloth-lined basket, I saw a stack of something I’d never noticed before. Puffs of crisp dough, covered in a crust of pearl sugar. I asked what they were. That baker was never friendly and replied with a terse, “chouquettes.” I realized I was on my own, so I ordered a handful. With my first bite it hit me: profiterole shells. They are profiterole shells, without all the sweetness of cream and chocolate. Just the simple, air-filled, balloon of a shell, crisp on the outside, airy pocket inside, and covered in sugar. A little bit eggy, just a little bit rich. But light enough for a girl who hates breakfast.

They’re so easy to make at home, and so charming to serve in a little basket at brunch. I add a slight American twist by serving them, and sometimes even injecting them, with an assortment of jams.

INGREDIENTS

• ½ cup water
• ½ stick (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter
• 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
• A pinch of fine sea salt
• ½ cup flour
• 2 eggs
• 2 tablespoons pearl sugar, or more to taste
• Assorted jams and preserves

PROCEDURE

Preheat the oven to 400°F. In a medium sauce pot, bring the water, butter, sugar, and salt to a boil in a covered pot over medium heat. Take the pot off the heat, and dump in the flour. Stir with a wooden spoon until completely incorporated. Return the pot to medium-low heat and stir for 60 seconds, until the dough comes away from the sides of the pot and forms a ball.

Turn the dough out into a bowl, and add 1 egg at a time, stirring with a wooden spoon until the egg is completely incorporated. The dough will be thick and sticky. Use a tablespoon measure to place balls of dough on a parchment- or Silpat-lined baking sheet, spacing out the chouquettes. Dip your finger in a bowl of water, and pat down any spikes in the dough that might burn. Sprinkle with pearl sugar.

Bake 10 minutes at 400°F, then reduce the heat to 350°F for 30 additional minutes. Take the chouquettes out of the oven, pierce the bottom of each pastry with a skewer, and cool on a wire rack. The hole in the bottom allows the steam to escape without making the chouquette soggy. Serve in a cloth-lined basket.

Sunday Brunch is an ongoing series featuring brunch recipes from some of our favorite food blogs around the web. New recipes every Sunday, so that you’re ensured a gourmet weekend. Bon appetit!

Image: French Revolution

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