Latest news with #Vassilis
Daily Mail
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
VANESSA FELTZ: ‘There was one magnificent moment when I was gloriously, glowingly bikini body ready – it was in 1974'
Let me begin at the pinnacle. I was 12, on a four-star package holiday with my parents and younger sister in Halkidiki. I didn't realise. No one alerted me. The occasion should have been marked. Someone ought – at the very least – to have thrown a tickertape fiesta featuring the local mayor presenting me with a certificate inscribed: 'You, Vanessa Jane Feltz, did on 17 August 1974 reach the world's required standard in curvaceous, non-cellulite-riddled, firm-thighed, high-breasted, flat-stomached, deckchair adorning perfection.' The Feltz family should, for one fabulous foray, have abandoned the grim pre-paid hotel half-board buffet and splashed out on celebratory moussakas at the taverna down the road, toasting my never-to-be-equalled swimwear slam dunk with diluted ouzo. Alas, my mother, disgruntled by the lustful looks directed at her pre-teenage daughter from waiters – and Vassilis, who offered me free rides in his water-ski boat – hastened to draw a veil over my Lolita fortnight. Literally. She kept flinging oversized T-shirts and gigantic towels at me, barking, 'For heaven's sake Vanessa, cover yourself up. There's no need to parade yourself about the place.'
Times
28-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Times
In France, a perfect sauce is something to fight for
In France, a sauce is seldom just a sauce. To traditionalists, the beurre blanc — a deliciously decadent butter-based concoction — is perfection in four ingredients. To innovators it is a blank canvas upon which to sketch the future of food by adding novel flavours. Now, after years of what they see as wanton disregard for culinary heritage, the traditionalists are getting organised. The grand master of France's newest culinary confrérie, or brotherhood, presided over a select lunchtime assembly at a restaurant beside an elegant 18th-century square in Nantes, which was the capital of medieval Brittany. The Confrérie du Beurre Blanc was founded last month by Éric Fauguet, a television presenter, for 'the noble mission' of rescuing beurre blanc from modernisation. 'We want to preserve this classic of French cuisine, which pairs perfectly with fish, for posterity,' Fauguet, 59, said. 'The original recipe is in danger of being lost. These days some chefs are trying to spice it up it by adding ginger, wasabi or even chocolate.' Traditionalists are nauseated, nowhere more so than in Nantes, the birthplace of beurre blanc. To Fauguet and a number of leading French chefs who have joined the confrérie, blending in new flavours is nothing short of sacrilege. Fauguet said: 'You have to preserve the meaning of beurre blanc, otherwise you lose your values. We will derive no glory from this noble mission. It starts from a passion and it's a way of thumbing our noses at the ignominy of standardising tastes.' Yvon Garnier, a veteran chef and honorary president of the Culinary Union of Brittany who is the 'chamberlain' of the confrérie, said: 'We aren't against innovation or creative cuisine, but when you include new ingredients you're creating an entirely new sauce that isn't beurre blanc.' Garnier, 87, looked on as Sadok Sellami Vassilis, the chef and owner of the restaurant La Souris d'Agneau, demonstrated to The Times how to prepare beurre blanc. Vassilis, 64, said: 'You begin by reducing finely chopped shallots in white wine and vinegar. The shallots are then cooled and the sauce is 'mounted' by whisking in butter. There are just four ingredients. You don't need to add anything else.' Vassilis said he followed the recipe taught to him decades ago by Garnier, who said: 'You have to respect the principles that have formed the greatness of French cuisine.' Fauguet, who often presents culinary programmes, said: 'A sauce is just a sauce, but this is also part of something much bigger. Beurre blanc is quintessential to French gastronomy. If we don't protect the savoir-faire built up over generations, future generations will be left with industrial food that may not be bad, but it will never be great.' Vassilis prepares a beurre blanc … ADELINE PRAUD FOR THE TIMES … as it thickens ADELINE PRAUD FOR THE TIMES Since he formed the confrérie, a number of leading chefs have joined. Several now sit on its governing body, the 'Council of 12 Sages', including Michel Roth, president of the Bocuse d'Or cooking competition, and Philippe Faure-Brac, elected best sommelier in the world in 1996. Fauguet said: 'Several young aspiring chefs have also joined and we're training them to become ' maître sauciers ' [master sauce makers].' According to legend, Clémence Lefeuvre, a chef in a restaurant near Nantes, created buerre blanc in 1890 when she forgot to include egg yolks while making a bearnaise sauce. Fauguet said: 'Some great dishes have started with mistakes in the kitchen.' His idea of creating a confrérie is in line with a long gastronomic tradition in France. One of the first of the country's 2,500 confréries was formed in the Middle Ages by wine merchants, who were given the mission of tasting the king's wine to ensure it was not poisoned. Their protocols for serving wine at the royal table eventually evolved into a formal system of food and wine pairing. Maximilien Robespierre banned the confréries after the French Revolution, but they resurfaced at the end of the 19th century. In 2010, Unesco recognised them as an 'intangible cultural heritage'. Asked if the Confrérie du Beurre Blanc would follow the practice of others and don ceremonial robes for special occasions, Fauguet said: 'I'm still thinking about that.' As The Times sat down with Fauguet and other confrères for a lunch of sea bream with beurre blanc, accompanied by a purée of potatoes and sweet potatoes washed down with a glass of Muscadet, he added: 'In Brittany we like to wear our napkins tucked into our collars instead of leaving them on our laps. That will do as a uniform for now.' ALAMY Yvon Garnier's beurre blanc recipe Finely chop shallots. Place them in a pan and cover them with equal quantities of white wine and vinegar. Slowly reduce until almost all the liquid has evaporated. Take the pan off the heat and gradually 'mount' the sauce by whisking in small pieces of butter. You can use salted or unsalted butter, but many chefs prefer unsalted to avoid oversalting the sauce. If you like, you may add more salt at the end. When the sauce is finished, you may add pepper, but it should be white, to avoid darkening the beurre blanc. Garnier said: 'It's best if you serve a little sauce on the fish and then serve the rest in silver sauce boats so people can take more. Mopping up any leftover sauce with bread is a good idea.'
