On Rue Tatin: Living and Cooking in a French Town

On Rue Tatin: Living and Cooking in a French Town

Susan Herrmann Loomis

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 0767904559

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Susan Loomis arrived in Paris twenty years ago with little more than a student loan and the contents of a suitcase to sustain her. But what
began then as an apprenticeship at La Varenne École de Cuisine evolved into a lifelong immersion in French cuisine and culture, culminating in permanent residency in 1994. On Rue Tatin chronicles her journey to an ancient little street in Louviers, one of Normandy’s most picturesque towns.

With lyrical prose and wry candor, Loomis recalls the miraculous restoration that she and her husband performed on the dilapidated convent they chose for their new residence. As its ochre and azure floor tiles emerged, challenges outside the dwelling mounted. From squatters to a surly priest next door, along with a close-knit community wary of outsiders, Loomis tackled the social challenges head-on, through persistent dialogue–and baking.

On Rue Tatin includes delicious recipes that evoke the essence of this region, such as Apple and Thyme Tart, Duck Breast with Cider, and Braised Chicken in White Wine and Mustard. Transporting readers to a world where tradition is cherished, On Rue Tatin provides a touching glimpse of the camaraderie, exquisite food, and simple pleasures of daily life in a truly glorious corner of Normandy.

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hundred of the squeaky birds for local restaurants. Edith and Bernard opened champagne. Christian made a toast. “To Suzanne and to Michael, who have just bought a house in the Marseille of the north,” he said with an evil smile. “That your car doesn’t get stolen nor your windows broken.” My heart stopped. Marseille, a lovely city, nonetheless has a reputation of being full of voyoux, hoodlums. Was there something I should know? They all burst out laughing. “He’s just trying to scare you,” Nadine

closer look. “It’s so beautiful,” he said. “It’s incredible.” For the rest of the afternoon he sat at a table in Edith’s house making drawings, chewing on his pencil, calculating. Our third day in France we signed the papers which made us the legal owners of 1, rue Tatin, in Louviers. We did this in front of the notaire, a sort of lawyer who handles real estate deals. A portly, officious young man, he greeted us in the waiting room and showed us down a long, wood-paneled hallway to his large,

with beer. Often we made our way to the first arrondissement and would always stop at a pâtisserie/charcuterie on rue St-Honoré called Gargantua, where the pastries were gigantic and excellent. In Chinatown we would have egg drop soup or dim sum, and very occasionally we would dress to the nines and go out for a meal at our truly favorite restaurant, Le Grand Véfour in the Palais-Royal. I still try to walk wherever I’m going in Paris so that I can inhale as much Parisian air as possible.

off, and Joe started to moan, then he fell asleep. Another Parisian adventure, certain to make Joe hate the city even more. But we’ll counter it soon with a visit to the Science Center at La Villette—a favorite spot—or some other event that will redeem the City of Light in the eyes of a young boy. RUSTIC APRICOT SORBET SORBET RUSTIQUE AUX ABRICOTS When apricots are in season at the market the air is filled with their honeyed scent. We love to eat them fresh and in tarts and compotes, but I

asked a doctor at the clinic why I had to have a test every single month he rolled his eyes. “It is a disease discovered by a Frenchman. We are very proud to have discovered it, thus we must test constantly for it. It is ridiculous.” Another obligation was regular visits to the clinic where the baby would be born, meeting the anesthesiologist, and a session with a genetic counselor. The anesthesiologist, a charming woman originally from Jordan, spoke a French so difficult to understand we

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