Showing posts with label family and friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family and friends. Show all posts

12 December 2025

Flashback Friday


Festive feasting in the English countryside.

 Above: roasted wild pheasants; savory stuffing; fresh (apple-raisin-orange-zest) cranberry chutney; creative salads; homemade tartes

Below: chestnuts for the stuffing; a chai-obsessed chicken; glorious sunrise on a country road 

 


 


 
3 hours (or less) from Paris
Eurostar
 
London
 
***
 
Years ago, living in London and invited by friends to the Cotswolds, I was surprised to discover that in the modern English countryside game birds regularly appear on tables ready to carve, and some say are more abundant than ever. These birds, trussed with rosemary, roasted til golden, skin crackling, have earned their place in the kitchen. The majority of pheasants and partridges survive the season to breed wild. Hedgerows are planted and managed specifically for them, cover crops of kale and quinoa stretch for miles and predators are legally controlled. The result: on a good estate you’ll see thirty or forty pheasants strutting along a single lane at dusk, tails flashing, while coveys of partridges whirl up from the stubble like brown fireworks. Soon the birds are plucked, seasoned simply with sea salt, cracked pepper, butter, rosemary or thyme sprigs and laid breast-up on the rack. Glasses are filled with good red wine or a local cider, and the company - cheeks flushed from laughter and gathering chestnuts - falls upon the feast with the honest hunger that only a day in the cold can give. Welcome to the enchanting rhythm of the countryside. - BPJ
 
 
Next newsletter
An English country Thanksgiving
 

7 March 2024

Throwback Thursday


 

A Christmas Eve feast, in Montmartre

Above: pit fire on the patio; granny's pink crystal (3 glasses per place setting - champagne, wine, digestif); foie gras; a fine old Sauternes - for starters

 

23 January 2022

Crêpes at Christmas


Crêpes are a festive option with visitors whatever the occasion or time of year.

Above: Breizh Café

 

19 December 2021

Bistro bliss



As Christmas approaches the whirl of dining out with family / friends has begun.
On this night, simple yet warming classic French fare par excellence at a local Michelin bistrot that's become a favorite.
 
Above: fresh sea bream atop Tarbais beans; duck in two servings; rognons de veau (veal kidneys - not shown); cochon de lait w/purée
 
Below: two of our entrées (fricassée de girolles; ballotine de foie gras de canard maison); settling on a wine
 

 

 Remerciements: 
Chef de cuisine André le Letty, former sous-chef at La Tour d'Argent
 
Le Bistrot Du Maquis
 69 rue Caulaincourt 75018
 



 

26 November 2020

Giving thanks

 
 
 If you're reading this you're alive, hopefully well, and have much to be thankful for.
 
- A Very Happy Thanksgiving 2020 -
 
***
 
Autumn in Montmartre

9 May 2020

Tribute to an Old Etonian


Above: my interview of Clement von Franckenstein (Boulevard France Magazine July/Aug 1996 issue) on his role as President of France opposite Michael Douglas and Annette Bening in The American President (director: Rob Reiner)

***

“Barbara, is your couch free?” The resonant voice on our answering machine with its distinctive English accent belonged to Clement von Franckenstein, the “c” dropped by a certain Mary Shelley writing a first novel. He was heading to England from Los Angeles, his adopted home - but first, a quick stop in Paris.

We’d met in the late 80s at a New Year’s party in LA. I was between husbands on hiatus from Europe, about to spend a year in San Francisco. The host was a friend of my daughter’s self-appointed godfather, British author, explorer, poet - and near-miss member of the House of Lords (he refused to pay the £10,000 “ridiculous” fee "on principle") - Michael Alexander. No sooner had our small group made its entrance when Clem, as we came to call him, dapper in a tuxedo, shot over to greet us. He'd recognize "Eurotrash" anywhere he said, adding wryly, "Join the club!" When Michael told him he’d known his father, Baron (later Sir George) von Franckenstein, Austrian Ambassador to the Court of St. James, it was like a gift from above. Clement had lost both of his parents in a tragic plane accident when he was just nine and had little recollection of them. It was thanks to his devoted Nanny, he told us, who'd salvaged his inheritance from greedy relatives, was he able to attend prestigious Eton College. He came to love Michael, who would recount to him details from that friendship that Clem greatly cherished - and on whose London couch he was crashing when Michael passed away in late 2004.

Trained opera-singer-turned-actor, Clem played cricket in the shadow of the Hollywood sign alongside Julian Sands and was friends with Billy Idol’s mother. On the Gallic front digestifs, Bordeaux wines, Renoir and Yves Montand topped his list. He approved of my French husband, adored daughter Danielle (in a happy coincidence they were once cast as father and daughter in the same film) and was a staple at family events. His address book throbbed with A-listers and rock stars, and no matter what day of the year we’d land in LA, he'd be off to yet another private bash that same evening, and invite us along: parties in gated mansions overlooking city lights or the ocean, catered rooftop soirées where the hired musicians might sound exactly like The Beach Boys... because they were.

One of my favorite Clem stories was the time he asked me to be his guest at the Viennese Opera Ball to be held at the Beverly Wilshire. We knew it would be quite the occasion but were unprepared for the sheer number of tiaras, and felt slightly under dressed. Still, holding our heads high, we entered the Grand Ballroom and waited our turn to be announced as the other guests - including actor Joseph Cotten and an assortment of international glitterati - had been. “Miss Barbara Pasquet James and the Baron Clement von Franckenstein!” As we entered the ballroom, flanked by a lineup of smiling onlookers, a woman in a red gown (that "made her look like a London bus" Clem was to quip later) was overheard loudly telling her apparently hard-of-hearing husband, “Honey, that's the name of that monster!” Clem stopped in his tracks and, with all eyes upon him, calmly turned to face her. "My dear Madam," he boomed in his most engaging theatrical voice, "Frankenstein was the doctor!”

Years later over lunch at the Chelsea Arts Club's communal table in London where James Whistler had entertained Monet, Clem said to me, thoughtfully, “You know Barbara, had you married me you’d be the Baroness Von Franckenstein!” I told him it was tempting, pointing out that I wasn't "buxom" (one of many Clem terms) enough for his tastes. And we couldn't stop laughing.

But Clement was, as Michael used to say, "not husband material." An insatiable ladies man, in 2001 he found himself on People Magazine's "50 most eligible bachelors in America" list along with Ben Affleck, Josh Hartnett and Matt Damon. He was that rarity in life, a devoted and true friend. He was offensive, hilarious, debonair, outrageous and generous, all at the same time. He could burst into a flurry of insults if cut off in traffic as easily as a litany of limericks. He was in over 80 movies, mostly under-the-radar roles, but for us, his biggest and most starring role was being part of our lives. - BPJ

R.I.P.
Clement von und zu Franckenstein
May 9, 2019
 




He talked too loud. He drank too much. He cursed like a sailor. But he also sang like an angel, let strangers crash on his couch, and cried like a baby when his kitten was sick. He offended some, charmed many, but was forgotten by none.” - From one of his many friends
 
 
 
Below: at Michael Alexander's wake in London w/me, Danielle; Clem helms magnificent Christmas Day lunch in the English countryside; at Berlin red carpet film festival (w/George Clooney, his dear friend Tilda Swinton, Ethan Cohen, Alden Ehrenreich, Josh Brolin, Channing Tatum, producer Robert Graf); joining us in Cadaqués, Spain, his hair dyed blonde for a film role; photographed w/one of his paintings in his LA home last year, one of the last times we were to be with him
 





23 November 2017

Wild turkey


Fall means hunting season and game - hare, pheasant, quail, duck, turkey... - in butcher shops all over the city.