Bon Appetit!

Today was like being back in France. With the constant chitter-chatter of French behind my every move, a cupboard full of Speculoos and Bonne Madame jam, having 'raclette' for lunch seemed only appropriate.

Having never experienced the tradition that is raclette, I was about to enjoy the wonder that is losing your raclette virginity, the home cooked way. It is a tradition that emanates from the mountains, a meal fit for the aftermath of skiing, hiking and hunting but has since winded its way down the mountain tops and can be found almost anywhere. But tasting my first mouthfuls as cooked by someone who spent some time near the high rocky regions of France, I don't think I could lower my standards to the standardized versions available in Paris and the Cote d'Azur. My tastebuds only accept quality.

 It reminded me of fondue, and I was told the two are often joined together (which scares me to think about, given the amount of cheese in the two individually, let alone combined... Can I smell a heart attack?) It involves a machine that looks like a sandwich press, but instead of having a flat inner surface, there are little squares all across the inside which allows for the little trays to slot into, the handle poking out the end. When your potato is hot and boiled (mashed: optional), the ham/salami/proscuitto or meat of any kind is laid out, ready to be devoured and the gherkins are fresh, you pop a slice of cheese onto the little tray and place it into the slot of the sandwich press-like contraption. Soon enough, the cheese is heated and melted so out comes the tray and you use a little mini wooden spatula to drizzle the melted cheese onto the top of the potato. Add some meat, some gherkin and 'hey presto', yumminess!

I have to admit I was pretty excited about a meal involving these ingredients, while pre-France Hanna may have been concerned, post-France Hanna was inhibition free (which perhaps explains the post-France Hanna ballooning). I had every step of the process explained to me by a confident 5 year old and his eagerness to inform me led to a carefully watched first mouthful. Talk about pressure.

But it was delicious!

I can see why it is held so dear by the mountain-folk, it would be divine after a day's hard work done high in the ranges. Hot, filling and rather heavy, the drizzled cheese dries onto the potato and adding ham or gherkin is vital to balance the palette. It adds a wonderful fresh, cool taste. I can't believe I didn't get to try it in France, but I'm also quite glad. If I had tasted it there and had ample opportunity to eat it again, post-France Hanna may also be Type 2 Hanna. Though a new goal to add to the (empty) list is eating the real 'raclette' in its place of origin. I'm thinking a trip to the French Alps or Pyrenees is on the cards.