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Amuse Bouche by Carolyn Boyd: A paean to all things culinary in her beloved France

Author balances gushing enthusiasm with morbid humour in survey of France and its foods

Boyd's knowledge of trivia is delightful, such as myriad ways to order a baguette. Photograph: Dmitry Kostyukov/New York Times
Boyd's knowledge of trivia is delightful, such as myriad ways to order a baguette. Photograph: Dmitry Kostyukov/New York Times
Amuse Bouche
Author: Carolyn Boyd
ISBN-13: ISBN: 9781800810389
Publisher: Profile Books Ltd
Guideline Price: €18.99

Amuse Bouche, Carolyn Boyd’s survey of France and its foods, has the voice of a blithe, witty insider. Boyd’s mother was an au pair in France, and Boyd was 17 when her host-family fed her frogs. She writes, “I have loved France for as long as I remember: family camping holidays opened my eyes to the joy of the croissant slathered in cool creamy butter and sweet strawberry jam.” Amuse Bouche’s chapters are organised by France’s regions; it begins in northern Brittany and wends its way down to Corsica. Within those chapters are essays helmed by iconic dishes. (“Rillettes, Le Mans; The Best Baguette, Paris.”)

Boyd, who is the communications manager for Michel Roux jnr’s Roux Scholarship, can be heavy-handed with her enthusiasm. She overuses the words “more-ish” and “sublime.” “Rich” and “caramel” appears in the same paragraph describing two separate types of honey. However, Boyd balances her gush with morbid humour.

“Rouen,” Boyd writes, “is where [Joan of Arc’s] life came to a dark and dramatic end … But chocolatier Jean-Marie Auzou found inspiration in her tears — les larmes de Jeanne d’Arc.” These pricey almonds, dusted with cocoa, are grilled. (Joan was burnt at the stake.) Boyd also reminds us of how the gateau Nantais, “with its woozy rum-infused icing and light, almondy sponge” owes its airy sweetness to the slave trade.

Refreshingly, there are no photographs in Amuse Bouche. Recipes are chatty, reminiscent of Jane Grigson. It is not for cooking pedants, because although Boyd knows her way around a kitchen, she sometimes forgets salt. Perhaps it is because Boyd can write well — for instance, when she describes the “familiar wince” of lemons — it is frustrating when her prose turns maudlin.

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Nevertheless, her knowledge of cheeses is impressive and her trivia, delightful. Who knew that the boeuf carbonnade is sweetened by gingerbread? Or the myriad ways to order a baguette, as a skinnier ficelle, or a softer pas trop cuite? The book is a gloss as opposed to scholarly investigation, and yet Boyd’s ability to briskly contextualise choucroute and cassoulet provides a key to those curious about what is, for many people, an iconic, complicated and culinary magical place.