tom parker bowles and::Somewhere between the second charcuterie and the third fromagerie i lost the will to live-tom parker bowles and

tom parker bowles and::Somewhere between the second charcuterie and the third fromagerie i lost the will to live.
Here i was in hautesavoie, a mountainous region of france where cheese and potato are king.
This is the land of reblochon, beaufort and vacherin, an alpine paradise awash with rich civets and warming fondues.
But the more i desired these gutsticking glories, the more distant they became.
Because far from being in the midst of some carefree gastronomic adventure, i was on my way to a gruelling detox at ferme de montagne, a sumptuous ski lodge in the small mountain village of les gets.
For the next 24 hours, though, he would be cooking a menu containing no butter, flour, milk, cheese, cream or potatoes.
And to top it all off, the place would be drier than a mormon wake.
So you can understand my despair.
Cooking is about flavour and texture, whatever the ingredients are.
Then there are tiny courgettes and their lilliputian flowers, mixed with shards of preserved lemon, which explode with saline intensity on the tongue.
Baby fennel is braised and piled atop a rich figandapricot chutney, and almonds, caramelised with honey and sprinkled with a smidgen of sea salt, add muchneeded crunch.
Far from parsimony, this is pure pleasure.
The very essence of summer, the avocado was rich but never cloying, bringing out the sweetness in anything it touched.
He has no butter to hide behind, no veal stock to bolster everything up.
By the end of dinner, the detox was all but forgotten.
This was simply fantastic food.
Even the glasses of water did little to dampen my ardour.
I admit to sneaking out with henry after dinner for a cheeky bottle of local white.
Detox or not, it would have been a sin to toast white with mere water.