A land of glorious landscapes, and even more glorious food, France is a place built for cycling and for eating, too – a country large enough to give any journey an epic quality, but with a bakery on every corner. Here, you can go from beach to mountain, Atlantic to Mediterranean, polder to Pyrenees, and taste the difference every time you stop for lunch. If you make it to lunch, that is… A green bike drunkenly weaves its way up a cratered hill in the late-morning sun, the gears grinding painfully, like a pepper mill running on empty. The rider crouched on top in a rictus of pain has slowed to a gravity-defying crawl when, from somewhere nearby, the whine of a nasal engine breaks through her ragged breathing. Whether you are an avid cyclist, a Francophile, a greedy gut, or simply an appreciator of impeccable writing – this book will get you hooked’– YOTAM OTTOLENGHI season was colored by Charisma Carpenter's startements of how terrible Whedon is. Veronica Mars. We watched Angel

unknown to me and I new the basic story. This fleshes out what I knew, but leaves out some key aspects: I’ve had a hard time focussing on reading recently – too much going on in my head – but I just finished a fabulous read that transported me to France for 30 minutes each day as I read my way around each “stage” of a very special “Tour de France”. Clearly I just needed to find the right book! Felicity’s Cloake’s One More Croissant for the Road is, quite simply, a delightful escape that all Francophiles should read! I did not watch this as it came out- I was a little young when it started and busy with my life by the time I was a teen. The nation’s `taster in chief’ cycles 2,300 km across France in search of the definitive versions of classic French dishes. A green bike drunkenly weaves its way up a cratered hill in the late-morning sun, the gears grinding painfully, like a pepper mill running on empty. Such a simple dish, but such a delicious one, with the added theatre of the shelling operation, of which I never tire. I like to use Norman cider and drink the rest with it, but you can use a dry white wine if you prefer. Chunks of baguette or (or preferably and) hot, salty fries to mop up the liquid are, however, mandatory.Pour on top of the cherries, carefully put into the hot oven and bake for 50 to 65 minutes until firm on top with a slight wobble in the middle. Felicity Cloake is the author of the Guardian’s long-running weekly column How to Cook the Perfect.... as well as having been the New Statesman’s food columnist since 2011 and the author of four books with Fig Tree. She was named Cookery Journalist of the Year at the 2016 Fortnum & Mason awards and won the Cookery Journalist of the Year and New Media trophies at the 2011 Guild of Food Writers awards. The poor quality and brief descriptions of French towns don’t spark the imagination, and are missing great chunks that you would expect in a travel book. It doesn’t make me want to travel to France - and I already love France!

there was something I could enjoy without knowing that slimy people were behind it. I wish Gellar had more gumption about Sadly the author fails to hit the mark when it comes to any level of quality travel writing, or food writing. Neither area is well handled. This dish is the star turn of Gascon cuisine, an apologetically rich gratin of beans and animal fat, studded with various meats and served hotter than the southern sun. The great food writer Richard Olney called it “a voluptuous monument to rustic tradition”.A battered van appears behind her, the customary cigarettedangling from its driver’s-side window... as he passes, she casually reaches down for some water,smiling broadly in the manner of someone having almost toomuch fun. ‘No sweat,’ she says jauntily to his retreating exhaustpipe. ‘Pas de problème, monsieur.’ The rider crouched on top in a rictus of pain has slowed to a gravity-defying crawl when, from somewhere nearby, the whine of a nasal engine breaks through her ragged breathing. A battered van appears behind her, the customary cigarette dangling from its driver’s-side window… as he passes, she casually reaches down for some water, smiling broadly in the manner of someone having almost too much fun. `No sweat,’ she says jauntily to his retreating exhaust pipe. `Pas de probleme, monsieur.’ A land of glorious landscapes, and even more glorious food, France is a place built for cycling and for eating, too – a country large enough to give any journey an epic quality, but with a bakery on every corner.

otherwise how would he have been blown across the street). It doesn't go into why we was there messing withIt was the pesto I noticed first, a sludgy green interloper in the door of the fridge at home, the vanguard of an Italian invasion that would eventually see the Naked Chef cosy up to Keith Floyd on the kitchen bookshelf, and the butter dish on the dinner table replaced by extra virgin olive oil (which, my dad’s anxious face suggested, was expensive stuff, not to be wasted on teenagers). An evocative, infectious, and at times utterly hilariousadventure that will make every food lover, and even themost lapsed of cyclists, want to jump on their bike, and on a ferry to France, immediately.’ Rosie Birkett Part travelogue, part food memoir, all love letter to France, One More Croissant for the Road follows ‘the nation’s taster in chief’ Felicity Cloake’s very own Tour de France, cycling 2,300km across France in search of culinary perfection; from Tarte Tatin to Cassoulet via Poule au Pot, and Tartiflette. Each of the 21 ‘stages’ concludes with Felicity putting this new found knowledge to good use in a fresh and definitive recipe for each dish – the culmination of her rigorous and thorough investigative work on behalf of all of our taste buds. The nation’s ‘taster in chief’ cycles 2,300 km across France in search of the definitive versions of classic French dishes. A green bike drunkenly weaves its way up a cratered hill in the late-morning sun, the gears grinding painfully, like a pepper mill running on empty. The rider crouched on top in a rictus of pain has slowed to a gravity-defying crawl when, from somewhere nearby, the whine of a nasal engine breaks through her ragged breathing. The food writer Diana Henry remembers the moment well: “I was cooking out of Raymond Blanc and loving French bistro food and then it all changed.” She attributes this partially to the influence of places such as the River Café, but also to a collective move away from the cream- and butter-heavy school of French cooking historically popular in this country in favour of lighter, sunnier flavours.