The intense pleasure of yoghurt

As a stylish Frenchwoman, yoghurt is a food I like to consume a lot of.  When made properly, it is an absolutely delicious food that a French woman can't get enough of (if one ignores the fact that she has a dainty appetite, tee hee).  Mireille Guiliano wrote a post about the magic of yoghurt at http://frenchwomendontgetfat.com/content/magic-yogurt .

As I have said in a previous post, low-fat low-sugar low-flavour foods are a poor strategy when it comes to dieting and I much prefer the strategy of eating a dainty Frenchwoman's portion of the real thing.  There is another disadvantage to low-fat low-flavour yoghurt that helps explain why a French woman will not touch the stuff.  If one dips one's spoon into low-fat low-flavour yoghurt and lifts it out again, the so-called yoghurt tends to dribble off the spoon.  With real full-fat yoghurt, if one does the same, one can turn the spoon upside-down and it will stay on the spoon.  A Frenchwoman eats her yoghurt by turning the spoon upside-down like this, slowly inserting it into her mouth upside-down, closing her eyes, slowly withdrawing the spoon whilst pouting and keeping her lips gently pressed against the spoon and gaining a sensation of pure pleasure in the process.

I wouldn't know personally, given that I go for artesanal producers and the closest thing to a supermarket I am willing to enter is Le Bon Marché.  However, from what I have heard, the brands of yoghurt that appear in French supermarkets that also appear in Anglo-Saxon supermarkets tend to have different formulations, i.e. the full-fat varieties appear in French supermarkets.

Obviously, the last part is impossible if it is low-fat low-flavour yoghurt, MDR.  Only the highest quality of yoghurt is sufficient to cause someone with a refined palate such as a Frenchwoman to gain a sensation of pure pleasure in this way.  For this reason, if one wants to be effortlessly thin, but still gain pleasure from eating yoghurt (i.e. from the taste, rather than one's belly being stretched), one has to select the finest yoghurt the way a Frenchwoman would do.

Firstly, one should always go organic.  A Frenchwoman's refined palate can detect anything unnatural a mile off.  Secondly, one should buy from the farm gate whenever possible.  A Frenchwoman's refined palate much prefers yoghurt that is artesanal and make by the hands of a skilled craftsman.  If one lives within a city, one should pay someone to drive or travel via TGV to a parkway station (Avignon TGV and Aix-en-Provence TGV being examples of parkway stations) to travel to a farm where artesanal yoghurt is produced, rushing it back into the city without delay.  Real yoghurt does not have unnatural preservatives in it to make it last longer: - a Frenchwoman's sophisticated palate (which can detect such things with the greatest of ease) will cause her to wince when it passes her lips.

So there you have it: - a Frenchwoman knows that yoghurt is something that needs to be done properly if one is to get maximum pleasure from it.

Effortless perfection means exercise without trying

One thing that helps make we Frenchwomen impossibly and effortlessly perfect is our tendency to walk or take the stairs where practical.  Just like Mireille Guiliano, I cannot understand the American tendency to drive to the gym and put oneself through endless pain and then eat like a pig, thereby making the time in the gym wasted.

I completely share Mireille's disdain for the American idea of "no pain no gain".  A French woman's aim in life is to have as much pleasure as possible.  A French woman, in her effortless perfection, gains great pleasure from delicious morsels of food, savouring every bite.  Given the famous restaurant scene with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal in Katz's Delicatessen in Nuu Yawk in "When Harry met Sally", even American women should know very well that it is possible to gain pleasure from food to the extent that one emits strange moans and groans!  I make similar noises when I consume a piece of chocolate that is 85% cocoa or higher!  For this reason, I tend to consume the 85%-plus varieties of chocolate only when I am alone, so as to save attracting attention!

The fundamental rule of losing weight is that the calories that enter our body must be fewer in number than the calories leaving our system.  With this in mind, there are only two ways to achieve this negative balance of calories: - exercise more or eat less.  A Frenchwoman knows that the latter is by far the most effective strategy.

When it comes to exercise, there are two points that a Frenchwoman knows.

Firstly, if one eats like a pig, then it is necessary to do ever more exercise to look like an impossibly perfect Frenchwoman.  A Frenchwoman loves being active, but she knows that she will hate active pursuits if she has to do them just to stay thin.  Therefore, what a Frenchwoman does is eat foods of the highest quality in the daintiest quantities so that exercise she does do tends to be for pleasure only.  As I say, a Frenchwoman goes out of her way to make sure she has as much pleasure as possible.

Secondly, the exception to that rule is passive exercise.  A Frenchwoman will try and fit as much exercise as possible into her normal routine.  When I lived in London when I was building up my career in the fashion magazine industry, I got tired of all the disapproving stares I got from overweight colleagues when I walked distances they would take public transport for or when I took the stairs in situations when they would take the lift!  Stupid people!  If they paid attention to the things a Frenchwoman just instinctively knows, they wouldn't be so fat!  This article concentrates on passive exercise.

When I receive American guests in Marseille who arrive via the train station (train travel is a bit "ye olde worlde" for them until they see how sophisticated we French are in this area), if they don't insist on taking a taxi to the Vieux Port for me to introduce them to the various cafés selling pastis, they will at the very least insist on taking the metro!  As for me personally, I have never used the metro (which has been in operation since 1977) and I don't plan to.  It is not that I dislike trains in any way (though I generally think the idea of a rubber-tyre metro is bonkers), but the distances covered by the metro are a long way within distances I would walk.  Ditto the tram system.  Maybe the metro and tram systems were built just for the tourists?

I also like to introduce people to the Calanques.  I like to walk all the way to the Calanques around les Goudes sometimes, but if someone is staying in Marseille only briefly, the walk there and back can take out a big chunk of the time.  This is where "Le vélo" comes in: - this is Marseille's equivalent of Boris Bikes and its arrival in 2007 pre-dates Boris Bikes by a long time.  There is something very French about riding a bike (and wearing a stripey jumper and a beret and having some onions in a string over one's shoulder, MDR).  Not surprisingly, as although Karl Drais (a German) invented the Laufmaschine (powered by the rider using a walking motion), Pierre Michaux, Pierre Lallement and the Olivier brothers invented what seems to be the first example of what we know of as a bicycle, given that it was pedal-driven, in the 1860s.  Also, the Michaux company was the first to mass-produce what was then known as the velocipede.  Anyway, I digress.  American visitors tend to want to take a taxi to see the Calanques, but I find that rather silly.  One would have to be super-unfit to take a taxi in preference to a bike to get there.

Granted, I tend to take the TGV when I travel to Paris, as the journey is almost 750km, which is a little impractical for walking.  Also, London-Paris is around 450km, but one is not allowed to walk inside the Channel Tunnel, MDR.

I also can't understand why unfit American guests who visit my home insist on taking the "ellllllevadorrrrrrrrrrrr".  They tend to be puffed out after the first floor.  I have sometimes made the mistake of asking American guests to help me carry shopping home on the way back from the station and up to my penthouse flat: - these people are used to doing this by car.  I love to share with people the delights of the pine smell in hot weather on the hill on which Notre Dame de la Garde, but if someone is that unfit, they aren't going to keep up with me and Americans don't know how to appreciate simple pleasures in life anyway.

Americans like to look disapprovingly at me when I say that I refuse to set foot in a gym, but they don't realise how fit French women are on account of exercise built into their routine such as walking and using the stairs.  In their stupidity, they pay huge sums of money to get an effect that we French women get for free.  American and British women should look to our example of seeking maximum pleasure in all we do: - training ourselves to be full on as little food as possible so that we can afford to only set out to do vigorous pursuits when they give us pleasure.

Effortless perfection in French high-speed technology

One thing I have been ranting about a lot recently (in spite of Zoë Williams' bitchy comment about how French women light up another fag and say "bof" in preference to ranting) is François Hollande's government's recent decision to almost indefinitely delay several LGVs (Lignes à Grandes Vitesses, or high-speed lines) and renew the rolling stock on the conventional network.  My main point of contention is that he has messed up the economy and therefore virtually cancelled them, using the new regional rolling stock (for the acquisition for which SNCF concluded the financial agreement on the 26th of September) as a smokescreen for his own incompetence.

Anyway, given this piece of train news, I thought I would take this opportunity to brag about how impossibly perfect Alstom (our main national trainbuilder) is when it comes to rolling stock, focusing on their past, present and future high-speed rolling stock.  As I have often said, there is nothing ladylike about being a gricer, but Alstom's high-speed rolling stock is part of what makes we French effortlessly perfect.

Alstom's first high-speed train in normal service in France was the TGV Sud-Est that commenced operations in 1981.

This was in the benighted days (unfortunately, virtually every other nation in the world is still benighted in this respect) when the full extent of France's high-speed track was the first phase of the LGV Est, which back then just covered part of the route between Paris and Lyon.  My mother moved to Marseille in 1980.  Just as is the case today, Marseille's fashion scene was not as extensive as that of Paris.  My mother always loved the sight of France's countryside, so she always preferred taking the train.  Before the first phase of the LGV opened, the journey was around 10 hours, I think I recall my mother saying.  As the years went by, journey times gradually eroded.

The first phase of the LGV Est (between Saint-Florentin and Sathonay) entered service in 1981.  The second phase between Combs-la-Ville and Saint-Florentin entered service in 1983.  In 1992, the first phase of the LGV Rhône-Alpes entered service (between Montanay and Saint-Quentin-Fallavier), with the second phase (between Saint-Quentin-Fallavier and Saint-Marcel-lès-Valence) entering service in 1994 (at the same time as Lyon-Saint-Exupéry TGV station entering service).  The final push to Marseille with the LGV Méditerranée (between Saint-Marcel-lès-Valence and the outskirts of Marseille) began in 1996 and this final section entered service in 2001.

The entry into service of the final section enabled journey times of 3h05m between the ritzy-glitzy fashion scene of Paris and the beautiful sunny weather, soap, olive oil, Herbes de Provence, Vieux Port, pine trees on the hill on which the basilica of Notre-Dame de la Garde is sitauted, pastis etc of Marseille.  Abba felt strongly enough about Parisian summers to write the song "Our last summer", whose lyrics are as follows: -

The summer air was soft and warm
The feeling right, the Paris night
Did its best to please us
And strolling down the Elysée
We had a drink in each café
And you
You talked of politics, philosophy and I
Smiled like Mona Lisa
We had our chance
It was a fine and true romance

I can still recall our last summer
I still see it all
Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain
Our last summer
Memories that remain

We made our way along the river
And we sat down in the grass
By the Eiffel tower
I was so happy we had met
It was the age of no regret
Oh yes
Those crazy years, that was the time
Of the flower-power
But underneath we had a fear of flying
Of getting old, a fear of slowly dying
We took the chance
Like we were dancing our last dance

I can still recall our last summer
I still see it all
In the tourist jam, round the Notre Dame
Our last summer
Walking hand in hand

Paris restaurants
Our last summer
Morning croissants
Living for the day, worries far away
Our last summer
We could laugh and play

And now you're working in a bank
The family man, the football fan
And your name is Harry
How dull it seems
Yet you're the hero of my dreams

I can still recall our last summer
I still see it all
Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain
Our last summer
Memories that remain
I can still recall our last summer
I still see it all
In the tourist jam, round the notre dame
Our last summer
Walking hand in hand
Paris restaurants
Our last summer
Morning croissants
Living for the day, worries far away
*Fade*

Paris summers are wonderful, but Marseille summers are even better.  When I was living in Paris and a summer's day was lacklustre (which happens from time to time), I loved hopping on a train to Marseille, walking over to the hill on which the basilica of Notre-Dame de la Garde is situated, admiring the views from the top and walking a short way down the hill and breathing in the scent of pine in hot weather.  A Frenchwoman loves the simple pleasures in life, even if she does strive to keep her eye on the ball when it comes to the latest fashions, MDR.

Anyway, back to the trains.  After the TGV Sud-Est, there was the TGV Atlantique, which achieved the world speed record in 1990 and was built originally for the LGV Atlantique that currently runs as far as Tours and Le Mans via two different branches.

After that was the TGV Réseau, which I believe was the first of France's high-speed rolling stock models to be capable of 320km/h in service.  These entered service in 1992.

The TMST, or Eurostars, entered service along with the Channel Tunnel in 1994.  The British decided to dither about building the Channel Tunnel Rail Link, so these trains had to be built to the British loading gauge (which is almost as small as a Frenchwoman's dainty figure, tee hee) and it also had to be made compatible with the British third rail system (a totally stupid system for intercity trains and only really stupid people like the British would ever use it, MDR).  Fortunately, now the Channel Tunnel Rail Link is complete, Eurostar has placed an order with Siemens for UIC gauge trains without third rail compatibility, which makes things much simpler, but the downside is that Eurostar rejected Alstom's bid in favour of Siemens' bid, which the French government was rightly unhappy about, given that we French are the best at everything, including trainbuilding.

These sets were also ordered in shorter variants known as the "North of London" sets.  Unfortunately, the British did some market research, found there wasn't much demand for these services and, rather than doing the sensible thing of trying to grow the market, just gave up and SNCF eventually acquired these "North of London" sets for domestic use.  Shame they are built to the British loading gauge standards and French customers are therefore uncomfortable in them, but that is better than them going to waste because the stupid British couldn't be bothered to make more effort to promote high-speed rail travel.

Next was the TGV Duplex, the first double-deck high-speed rolling stock used by SNCF, built for economies of scale and capable of running in service at 320km/h.  The power-weight ratio is a huge improvement over the TGV Sud-Est (being effortlessly perfect also involves fast advances if you see what I mean).

Then there were the Thalys PBKA (which stands for Paris, Brussels, Köln or Cologne and Amsterdam).  The original PBA sets were constructed using TGV Réseau sets.  The PBKA variant has 15kV 16.7Hz capability, though because it is a fairly rubbish design (unusually for things in effortlessly fabulous France), it is limited to 200km/h running under this traction supply voltage and frequency.  It regrettably also cannot run on the Cologne-Frankfurt new line, with its 4% gradients.  We shall see if Thalys decides to buy some new rolling stock in light of the new route to Lille, Deutsche Bahn pulling out the arrangement and the disastrous Fyra contract with AnsaldoBreda (and the consequent need to run the journeys with other rolling stock): - any French woman could have told the stupid Belgians and Dutch to just buy from France, where everything is effortlessly fabulous!  My advice to Thalys is that it procures new rolling stock, buys it from Alstom and specifies in the tender from the beginning that it is to have full compatibility with 4% gradients, 15kV 16.7Hz electrification, 320km/h running under all the main four electrification systems etc.

Next is the TGV POS (Paris-Ostfrankreich-Süddeutschland, or Paris-Eastern France-Southern Germany).  The most notable point about this rolling stock model is that a modified version of this achieved the world speed record of 574.8km/h on the then-unopened LGV Est.

The other noteworthy model is the TGV 2N2, the successor to the similar Dasye sets, which was designed with international operation in mind.  I believe the first variant entered service in 2011 and I am under the impression that there are different variants according to routes.  The variant compatible with 3kV electrification will be used for journeys to Spain (at the time of writing, TGVs only went as far as Figueres-Vilafant station, where it was necessary to change for other trains to continue into Spain).

That is pretty much the bulk of high-speed rolling stock models by Alstom that operate in France.  Also noteworthy is the AGV (Automotrice à Grande Vitesse), an EMU (electric multiple unit) high-speed train used by the private operator NTV in Italy.  Alstom proposed this with the Eurostar tender a few years ago, but this was rejected in favour of the Siemens Velaro platform.  Alstom has also been involved in high-speed trainbuilding for countries such as South Korea and Spain.

There are various proposals that have existed at one time or another.  For instance, Wikipedia's AGV article has talked about a 400km/h locomotive setup.  Also, Alstom proposed a Speedelia with the Trenitalia tender a few years ago: - I think the fact that the Italians gave the contract to a consortium of AnsaldoBreda and Bombardier shows that Italians wouldn't know quality if it bit them on the backside.  Anyway, enough detail for one article.  This brief history of Alstom's high-speed rolling stock shows that it is not just dainty portions of top-quality food that we French are fabulous at, but also the manufacture of high-speed trains.  Vive la France!

Medical science aiding people with excuses

Though I most definitely don't have any interest in returning to the United Kingdom for anything other than business, given that the United Kingdom is a planned future market for my magazine, I find it expedient to keep abreast of current affairs, hence why I often find myself reading BBC News Online.

Another reason why it is expedient for me to read up on current affairs in the United Kingdom is the fact that sometimes, it gives stylish and sophisticated Frenchwomen such as myself excuses to feel good about ourselves and look down on less stylish and sophisticated British women.

I just came across one such excuse at http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-24402163 .  This article talks about how lots of people are wrongly labelled as having food addiction when in reality, they are just greedy and gluttonous.

I can't stand the way people in the Anglo-Saxon world constantly try to attach medical explanations to everything to justify human shortcomings.  In the USA, yuppies have enjoyed wasting psychiatrists' time when they knew perfectly well there was nothing wrong with them.  This nonsense has been around for a very long time.  I recall George Webber (the protagonist of the film "10", played by Dudley Moore) visiting a psychiatrist for frivolous reasons: - this film was released in 1979!

Examples abound everywhere.

Dyslexia is middle-class for thick: - middle-class Anglo-Saxon parents don't want to admit their children are actually thick as two short planks, so they get quacks to diagnose them with dyslexia.

Autism is also middle-class for badly-behaved.  Michael Savage, one of the few Americans with any common sense at all, was noted for saying, "Now, the illness du jour is autism. You know what autism is? I'll tell you what autism is. In 99 percent of the cases, it's a brat who hasn't been told to cut the act out. That's what autism is. What do you mean they scream and they're silent? They don't have a father around to tell them, "Don't act like a moron. You'll get nowhere in life. Stop acting like a putz. Straighten up. Act like a man. Don't sit there crying and screaming, idiot.""  The Anglo-Saxon medical establishment, rather than admitting that it over-diagnoses people with autism spectrum conditions turned on him and persecuted him.  On the other hand, whilst the Anglo-Saxon world remains in ignorance, French people know all about how to raise children properly: - a lady named Catherine Crawford from Brooklyn, New York finally admitted that we French know best when it comes to raising children in her book "Why French children don't talk back" (a parody of Mireille Guiliano's "French women don't get fat").  However, she is a very rare breed.  Most of the time, rather than admit that we French know best about everything, the Anglo-Saxon world chooses to slag us off, e.g. this article about France's supposed autism treatment shame at http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-17583123 .  There is also a documentary in post-production called "Shameful" produced mainly by Alex Plank, an American autism advocate and film-maker, which attacks France's supposed poor record when it comes to autism treatment.

The truth is that we French, in our effortless perfection, recognise that sometimes, medical explanations are attached to human shortcomings to try unsuccessfully to justify them.

This is not to say that there aren't people out there with genuine binge-eating disorders, dyslexia, autism etc.  In fact, another reason I dislike all these phoney medical diagnoses is the likelihood that this will lead to the few people who do genuinely have binge-eating disorders, dyslexia, autism etc not being taken seriously, given that for every one person given a correct diagnosis, the medical profession probably gives 50,000 wrong diagnoses.  If the medical profession is not willing to stop phoney diagnoses on the basis that they are just excuses, it should stop phoney diagnoses on the basis that they make a mockery of people who really have the conditions.

Anyway, rant aside, because according to Zoë Williams, French women don't rant like this: - instead, we just light up another fag and say, "bof".  MDR!

Anyway, back to the main point.  Why won't people in the Anglo-Saxon world just realise how effortlessly perfect we French are and slavishly replicate our wonderful example?  We don't pig out on food and then blame it on phoney psychiatric illnesses.  No, what we do is we take responsibility: - we only eat the daintiest quantities of food of the highest quality, use the stairs rather than the lift, walk rather than take the car (though I have to admit I use the TGV for Paris-Marseille journeys, given that the distance is almost 750km, MDR) etc.

If one is overweight and does not feel "bien dans sa peau", one can do no better than refraining from seeing a psychiatrist and looking to the effortless perfection that we French display.

Aioli

After my negative article criticising our incompetent president, I thought I would write an article about something a little bit more happy.  One of the culinary products of Provence with an absolutely beautiful flavour is aioli.  Aioli has a flavour that is absolutely divine.  A Frenchwoman knows that only French cuisine is of sufficient quality to eat if one is the bee's knees.

There are various factors that go into this distinction.  We have very capable farmers, even if they are dinosaurs receiving far too much in the way of agricultural subsidies via the Common Agricultural Policy.  We have very finely tuned senses that can discern which ingredients are of the highest quality.  We have chefs that are very skilled at their craft, making food that is a feast for all the senses.  We have consumers that have finely trained senses that create a marketplace in which only the highest quality of food will be successful.

One delicious condiment that exists in France that goes into making our cuisine effortlessly perfect is aioli, a garlic mayonnaise.  Please note that this isn't the low-quality stuff in the bargain aisles of supermarkets made from vegetable oil.  This is the real McCoy, made from olive oil, mustard, garlic, egg yolk etc.

As I have been keen to point out in numerous previous posts, one of the reasons a Frenchwoman has such a dainty appetite (and is therefore effortlessly thin) is the rich foods she eats.  Real aioli made the proper way has an extremely rich flavour.

There is another variant that is commonly consumed in Spain, which is spelled "alioli".  From what I can gather, it is fairly common in the province of Catalonia (as well as the Balearic Islands and Comunidad Valenciana), which forms part of the French-Spanish border.  Catalonia's proximity to France means that it isn't complete garbage, but it is still nowhere near as good as traditional provençal aioli.

A little piece of information for people who are ignorant about French cuisine: - there is also the name "aillade" in existence.  In Provence, this refers to a garlic-flavoured vinaigrette, whereas in other regions of France, e.g. Languedoc-Roussillon, it refers to aioli.

In my beloved Provence, there is a complete dish known as Le Grand Aioli, which normally includes boiled vegetables (commonly including carrots, potatoes, green beans, cauliflower courgettes and raw tomatoes), boiled desalted cod (though other fish are sometimes used as well), boiled eggs and sometimes also snails and mollusks.

Many of the aforementioned ingredients are very typical of Mediterranean regions, e.g. olive oil, garlic etc.  

As with chocolate, a Frenchwoman likes bitter flavours in her food sometimes.  One example is olive oil: - when making aioli, it should never be the mild version, but the extra virgin variety.  This will give the aioli a lovely bitter and rich flavour.  Please note that anything a Frenchwoman doesn't know about cookery is not worth knowing: - a Frenchwoman knows that there are very few circumstances where mild olive oil (rather than extra-virgin olive oil) is the best choice.

 

One of these examples is when using it for frying.  Extra-virgin olive oil is a poor choice for frying, as it can easily fill one's house with acrid smoke.  However, mild olive oil is a good way to enjoy the benefits of olive oil without doing this if frying.

Another example is bakery: - it is possible to bake cakes with extra-virgin olive oil, but unless one uses a Frenchwoman's intuition to work out the interaction of the flavours, the cake might end up tasting funny.  Given its strong flavour, extra-virgin olive oil often overpowers the other flavours.  However, with a properly worked-out flavour combination (which only a Frenchman/woman is remotely capable of doing), extra-virgin olive oil can produce cakes with absolutely beautiful flavours.  A good example of this is a pastis-flavoured cake: - a recipe can be found at http://www.jujucuisine.com/recette.php?recette_id=73 .  I love all the Mediterranean ingredients, such as pastis, olive oil, almonds etc.

All in all, ailoli is one of those things that go into making we French inexplicably special.  So there!