spicy, almost barbeque flavored sauce that I had plucked out of a cup of

Roquefort and truffle oil cheese grits.Come here, doll, lemme give ya

some more grits, said the owner of Beau Chêne, a restaurant and country

club in Mandeville, LA, on the northern bank of Lake Pontchartrain, an

hour north of New Orleans. I had quickly downed my grits and Hosie

Bourgeois (yes, that’s his name) sensed I needed more. He, and dozens of

other representatives of restaurants from Nouvelle Orleans were in Dijon

for the weekend participating in the second annual “414” Festival – a

food, wine and music affair celebrating the fact that “Americans can

cook and French can play.” (See http://www.4-14-festival.org/)

New Orleans is somewhat of a sister city to Dijon, the capital of

Burgundy. Over two days the pedestrian streets surrounding Les Halles,

the daily market, were filled with one hundred white tents housing

various restaurants from Dijon and New Orleans and featuring wines and

vineyards from Burgundy. As French and Americans alike pounced from one

tent to the next bands walked around playing street music.

I decided to visit Dijon for a couple reasons: firstly, because I wanted

to interview a chef there, and secondly, because I wanted to go

somewhere I’d never been. It was pure coincidence that the 414 Festival

would be taking place. The train from Paris only takes 90 minutes. I

arrived there by lunchtime on a Saturday. It took no more than ten

minutes to stroll from the gare to my hotel. I walked down rue de la

liberté, the main street that runs through the city. Dijon is similar to

many old French cities, in that it has your standard medieval

architecture, cobblestone streets, narrow passageways and Gothic

cathedrals that soar above the rooftops. It even has its own miniature

Arc de Triomphe. Though there was nothing particularly outstanding about

Dijon (there may be, but I hardly did anything else besides wander

around Les Halles), I loved being there. Maybe it was the shrimp and

grits. I simply loved the sheer simplicity of the city, the food, the

wine, the people, and the peacefulness.

For lunch, I accordingly ordered the “I Love Dijon” menu at DZ’envies,

the restaurant owned by the chef I planned to interview.

(http://www.dzenvies.com/) I had no idea what a jambon persillé was,

except I figured it was something with ham, and I had to make sure that

a noix de joue de boeuf did not in fact actually have nuts in it (noix =

walnut, but also can mean other things). I drank a light and crispy

Chardonnay from Burgundy with my appetizer. I must admit, when it

arrived I was taken back. On a long, narrow plate sat a square of

swirling pink and green, looking not unlike a pâté or foie gras, just in

prettier colors. To the right of the chunk of ham combined with what I

now understood to be parsley, were a few cornichons, a pearl onion, a

dollop of mustard and a little salad. I hesitated before I stuck my fork

into the strange looking square. I love ham, and parsley’s good, but I

am picky when it comes to textures. Nevertheless, I was extremely

surprised by the scary looking appetizer. It was absolutely delicious -

salty ham mixed with just the right amount of parsley.

Next came the noix de joue de bœuf à la bourguignonne, David Zuddas’

(the chef) take on beef bourguignon. I had forgotten that joue means

cheek. Once again, I worried what the texture of a beef cheek would be

like, but was excited when I found out that it, too, was also delicious.

The beef was saturated in a rich red wine sauce and ornamented with

mushrooms and potatoes. The cheeks were so tender I had no need for a

knife, and the bovine fibers almost fell apart on my fork. The flavor

was so dark and rich it seemed almost chocolate-like. I instantly

recalled my mom’s crock pot beef stew. Just as I began to ponder how the

French can eat a three dish meal in the middle of the day, my dessert

came out. A delightfully simple and fruity panna cotta with raspberry

coulis.

Presentation is très important for chef David Zuddas (hence where the

“DZ” comes from). He puts together beautiful, yet simple dishes. Nothing

too over the top or frou-frou, simply elegant and graceful. His

cookbook, La nouvelle, nouvelle cuisine, features recipes that

demonstrate his love of global influences – especially those from Japan,

Italy and the Maghreb. He is fascinated by Japan, his father comes from

Sardinia, and he loves to use Maghreb spices.

I must admit, I was nervous before interviewing him on Sunday afternoon.

He was my first official interview in France, and in French,

nonetheless. I was, and continue to be, surprised by his and other

chefs’ accessibility and willingness to be interviewed – and by me too!

A measly American who hardly speaks perfect French. Nevertheless, he was

more than willing to help and very receptive to my questions.

After my extremely filling lunch at DZ’envies, I took a peaceful nap in

my superbly air-conditioned room. When I happen upon a cold hotel room

in Europe, I like to take full advantage of it. When I awoke, I

inspected my enormous room (seriously, it was huge – even for American

standards), I realized that the view from my window offered a perfect

panorama of the city. My room was situated on the corner of rue de la

liberté and rue des godrans, literally above the H&M in a building with

a domed top, and facing the heart of the city. From my window, I could

hear the bands playing at the festival and see the cathedrals tower over

Dijon.

I didn’t explore the festival until 8 o’clock, which really didn’t

matter since it doesn’t get completely dark here until 10:30 or so.

Though the festival was free, each degustation was three Euros. I went

to the little tent that sold tickets, bought 5, and began my circular

tour of the festival. I first happened upon the Beau Chêne tent, where I

salivated over the delicious shrimp and grits – thank God my seafood

allergy has subsided! Although I have no problem chatting with people in

French, it’s always nice to have a pleasant conversation in English,

especially with those who say y’all.

I tasted savory dishes as well as met some great chefs and contacts. I

tried chicken salad atop a baguette that was sprinkled with chicken

cracklins (absolutely to die for!) at Donald Link’s stand. I chatted

with Donald about food, Dijon, France and how hot it was (34 degrees

Celsius! – look it up online, that’s hot!) Donald, who runs Herbsaint

and Cochon in New Orleans, was a real nice and easy going guy.

I had the opportunity to eat more shrimp thanks to Leon Galatoire, the

former chef and proprietor at Galatoire’s of New Orleans, whose

relatives started the restaurant over 100 years ago. Galatoire’s is an

institution in New Orleans. The white-haired, tall and large Leon, told

me all about his experiences with Galatoire’s and his trip to Dijon in a

true French Creole accent. He’s tired of the demanding restaurant

lifestyle, he said, and so no longer runs the kitchen at Galatoire’s.

Instead, he has written a few cookbooks, travels the nation giving

demonstrations, and consults with the restaurant.

Around 10 p.m., every one gathered in the main square where a stage had

been set up to accommodate Big Sam’s Funky Nation, a notorious New

Orleans band that played groovy funk and jazz for a few hours to a

really excited crowd. The Dijon-ites were loving it! Big Sam, who really

is a big guy with enormous windpipes, played the trombone while his band

mates backed him up on the drums, saxophone, guitar and base.

Sunday morning I awoke to an equally talented group of French gospel

singers that had a heckuva lot of soul. In matching purple and black

outfits, a few dozen singers of all races and ages belted out tunes

under the direction of a small woman who made grand sweeping gestures

and acted not unlike Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act.

I conducted my interview with David Zuddas later that afternoon in the

restaurant, which was closed on Sundays. After discussing new food

movements such as “Jeune Cuisine,” in France and the meaning of

“Nouvelle, Nouvelle Cuisine,” I left DZ’envies. Satisfied with my first

interview, I headed back to the train station, but not before stocking

up on several pounds of Dijon mustard (original, honey, tarragon, spicy,

and with seeds) and a few bottles of Cassis (which, in fact, comes from

Dijon and not Cassis, outside of Marseille). As soon as I run out I will

most definitely be returning to Dijon.