Tag Archives: Jura

In defence of (some) hunting

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A display by a hunters’ group at a festival in the Jura market town of Bletterans Photo: Tony Cross

Autumn really is the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness in the Jura. If you’re driving down a country road you may see men looming through the fog with rifles slung over their shoulders, one of them perhaps restraining a boisterous dog.

If visibility is clearer, especially of a weekend in the run-up to Christmas, you will pass men with guns and fluorescent orange jackets, their cars parked nearby, staring intently towards the woods.  Maybe dogs will be barking in the distance. Perhaps a panicked deer will run across the road in front of you.

It’s the hunting season, whose beginning – any time after the end of August -and closure – usually before the end of February – is announced by officials in each département every year. The dates vary according to what kind of game is concerned – big beasts, like deer and boar; smaller mammals such as rabbits and hares; or wildfowl.

If you go down to the woods, wear high-vis

Watch out! Hunt in progress! Photo: Tony Cross

It’s strongly advised to wear high-vis yourself if you’re planning to go walking in the woods and, should you come across a board advising that a hunt is taking place, you may judge it wise to go home and sit in front of a nice warm fire.

You will wish to avoid the fate of Morgan Keane. In 2020 he was shot dead at the age of 25 while chopping wood on his allotment in south-west France.

The hunter who killed him said he mistook Morgan (whose mother was French and father British) for a wild boar. He was given a two-year suspended sentence and banned from hunting for life.

Statistically speaking, the danger is not that great. In the 2024-25 season, there were 11 fatal hunting accidents, all of them hunters. The total number of people injured was 92, 60 of them seriously, and 84% were hunters.

There has in fact been a decline in fatalities from 24 in 2006, although last year’s was a rise on the six of each of the previous two years (all but one of them were hunters).

Evolution of fatal accidents 2005-2024 Source: Office français de la Biodiversité

Eleven deaths are obviously 11 too many but the toll is dwarfed by the 759 fatal industrial accidents in the same year, not to mention  the 3,260 people killed on the roads, which raises the question of how many deaths we deem acceptable for the sake of the economy or convenience.

Greens call for partial hunting ban

In 2021 Ecologist presidential candidate Yannick Jadot called for hunting to be banned at weekends and during school holidays, claiming that 70% of hunters live in towns and that country folk don’t dare go walking on Sundays.

Country living means “enjoying the landscape, being able to go hiking, going cycling, taking your dog for a walk without being worried he’ll be shot at the end of the trail”, he said.

Jadot’s claim that most hunters don’t live in the country is hotly contested by hunting groups, who are energetic lobbyists, and, without having carried out a systematic poll, I have come across no particular hostility to the practice in the village where I live.

“Everyone knows a hunter”

I have to declare an interest: I love to eat game and, if you’re going to kill creatures for food, it seems to me better, both for them and for the environment, that they should have spent their lives in the wild than in a factory farm.

When I moved to the Jura, I thought game would be plentiful in season. But I found none in the local butchers or on the markets. The lady who runs the butcher’s shop in Poligny told me they didn’t have it on the counter “because around here everyone knows a hunter and can get game from them”. I eventually sourced some through my neighbour Jacques’s contacts.

Different attitudes to the countryside

Hunters’ indications in the forest near Champrougy Photo: Tony Cross

When Jadot called for the weekend ban, a sociologist who studies rural life told Le Parisien newspaper that it would have little effect on weekending urban professionals who, he said, tend to hunt on private reserves.

The controversy reflected two different attitudes to the countryside, the sociologist claimed.

For urbanites it’s a space for relaxation and appreciation; real rural folk see it as a source of sustenance (sentimental townee that I am, I’m currently agonising over the fate of a sapling that grew in my garden, while my neigbours down the road are merrily felling dozens of trees, safe in the knowledge that 46% of the Jura is covered in forest and that we won’t be running out any day soon).

Hunting and the law

A poster on safety advises people not to go hunting while drunk or on drugs (among other useful tips) Photo: Tony Cross

In any case, you can’t just pick up your rifle and go hunting in France. You must have a licence and, this being France, you must undergo a theoretical and a practical test to get one. The law has been progressively tightened over recent decades, hunters being obliged to wear a fluorescent jacket since 2019, for example.

The most obviously cruel forms of hunting, such as chasse à glu – hunting with birdlime, which traps birds with sticky substances on branches – are banned, although not without opposition from some “traditionalists” and, of course, there is no agreement as to where to draw the line – is hunting with dogs OK? What about digging out badgers’ sets?

And endangered species are protected by both French and European law. Killing, mutilating or capturing them can be punished by up to three years in jail and/or a fine of up to 150,000 euros.

Fewer hunters, more boars

A boar’s head on display in a restaurant Photo: Tony Cross

The number of hunters is in decline, falling from 2,219,051in 1976 to 963,571 in 2023.

Meanwhile, ungulates (the big beasts) are definitely not endangered. Their numbers have soared in the past 50 years – red deer by 15 times to about 82,000, roe deer by 12 to about 600,000 and boar by 22 to about 800,000.

Numbers of wild boars counted 1973-2012 Source: OFB

This sounds like good news. But not if you’re a farmer. Ungulates are estimated to have caused 60 million euros-worth of damage to agricultural land in 2022-23. The boar is the biggest villain, credited with causing 85% of the bestial vandalism.

Initially, the proliferation was partly the hunters’ fault. They released animals bred in captivity, some crossed with domesticated pigs and more fertile than wild boars. This practice is now banned, although the gendarmes still bust illegal breeding grounds from time to time.

But the numbers continue to rise .

This is partly due to a decline in the number of natural predators like wolves and lynxes. But it’s chiefly because of human activities, such as the government-sponsored encouragement of large-scale farming, that provides wild animals with a ready source of food, and because of climate change, responsible for more of the young surviving the winter and for females being able to give birth sooner.

Indeed, there are increasing reports of boars venturing into built-up areas, although no French shoppers have yet suffered the fate of the Italian woman who was mugged by a family of wild boars in a supermarket carpark or the German nudist obliged to run after a beast that had run off with his laptop.

So, for the sake of agriculture and the environment, these animals must be culled and the government calls on hunters to do the deed.

Who opposes hunting?

Although many of the most vociferous anti-hunters are on the left, there is no strict left-right divide on the question. Readers of Brigitte Bardot’s more honest obituaries will have noted that as well as being a passionate opponent of cruelty to animals, she was a committed supporter of the far-right Front National, a virulent Islamophobe and not that keen on humanity in general .

On the other hand, the Communist Party has always supported hunting. Its current leader Fabien Roussel has even suggested founding a Communist hunters club as part of the bid to construct an image as an average French mec that has led to him to bragging about how much he enjoys a rib of beef and make a distasteful joke about Green leader Marine Tondelier.

The party has always regarded the right to hunt as part of the legacy of the French revolution, which ended the feudal restriction of the right to hunt deer and boar to the aristocracy.

Inspired not only by the wish to keep the best game for the upper crust but also by the fear of peasants having weapons, the feudal law punished poaching with whipping, banishment, forced labour and, for repeat offenders, the death penalty (the Normans extended restrictions on hunting and access to forests after conquering England, punishing infractions with imprisonment or maiming).

Who loves nature most?

“Thanks to hunters, this natural space is saved”, this sign boasts Photo: Tony Cross

Hunters’ organisations respond to the Greens’ hostility, and a public image that leaves something to be desired, with the claim that they are in fact France’s greatest ecologists.

Although some of the pro-hunting arguments seem disingenuous – that the small number of equestrian hunts in France save horses from the abattoir, for example – hunters do have an interest in preserving natural environments and contribute to the maintenance and restoration of wetlands, the planting of hedges, which many French farmers are not keen on, and the clearing of litter in rural areas.

The place where hunters pick up their licences ­– the Maison de le nature et de l’environnement – delicately avoids the mention of hunting in its title, although it is administered by hunters’ groups in collaboration with a state agency.

A lynx greets visitors to the hunters’ centre near the Aire du Jura Photo: Tony Cross

The Jura centre is nestled in a small wood just off the A39 motorway. When I visited, not to collect a licence, it was hosting an impressive display on the lynx, reminding us that we must share the booty of nature with this beautiful animal, native to France’s mountains but absent from the Jura between 1885 and the 1970s.

There were pamphlets on hunting as “the heart of biodiversity” and a project to restore a lake and surrounding wetlands, leaflets on recognising wild animals, monitoring wildfowl numbers, the health benefits of eating game and a row with bird-lovers over the length of the snipe-hunting season, and free packets of seeds of meadow flowers.

A snipe on display at the hunters’ centre Photo: Tony Cross

One display was less ecologically correct – a case full of stuffed birds, who had attracted hunters’ attention.

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You can eat all of the pig … but you might want to find out how it was farmed

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Here’s looking at you – a Duroc pig grazing in the Jura Photo: Les Meilleurs cochons du monde

Don’t turn up your nose at fromage de tête, more widely available in France than in Britain or, I imagine, the US, but still a traditional dish wherever people eat pork.

Fromage de tête on display in a butcher’s shop in Dole Photo: Tony Cross

« You can eat all of a pig but its squeal.” (I was sure that we used to say “You can eat all of a pig but its whistle,” but can find no evidence to confirm this conviction.) I imagine every pork-eating culture has a similar old saw, the French version is “Tout est bon dans le cochon,” which is less colourful than the English version but does have the advantage of rhyming.

Use your head

A farmer in Georgia (the country, not the US state) sells his pig by the side of the road Photo: Tony Cross

The major challenge after you’ve butchered your pig, fed the genitals to the dogs and saved the blood for black pudding, is surely what to do with the head.

You can salt the ears. They were on sale, along with the tails and trotters, on Portuguese stalls when I used to shop at Champigny market. If your Italian, you can cure the cheeks to make guanciale. Some tripiers (butchers who specialise in offal, who are more common in the cities than around here, strangely) sell pigs’ brains, a dish that is definitely not for the squeamish or those concerned about their cholesterol level. But why not use the whole damn thing?

Well, you can if you make fromage de tête. This is far from being an exclusively French recipe, the English version sometimes being referred to as head cheese but more usually called brawn.

But, given that English-speaking culture feels it necessary to change the name of the animal when it is prepared for the table, dishes that ostentatiously declare what part of the body they are composed of face a certain amount of food-prudery.

Produce on sale at L’atelier du charcutier, which also does an excellent pig’s head sausage Photo: Tony Cross

Not so in France, where fromage de tête is sold by all self-respecting charcutiers and freely available in supermarkets.

I’m pretty sure that one of France’s favourite films, Les Tontons flingeurs, has a scene where Jean Gabin, as a senior gangster, shows a colleague how to prepare the dish, combining, as I remember it, folksiness and menace. I can’t find a clip of it, however, so here’s a video of how to prepare fromage de tête the French way. Apparently there are regional variations regarding what herbs to use and whether to add juniper berries – common in eastern France, it seems.

Recipes, with or without video, are available in English should you feel motivated to make your own brawn.

Cut out waste and boost your vitamins

British cuts of pig, from Mrs Beaton’s All About Cookery 1970 edition. A guide to cutting up a pig the French way can be seen here

One good reason to tuck into a pig’s head is to reduce waste. In France nearly four million tonnes of edible foodstuffs are thrown away every year and, even here, much of that is caused by items discarded for “aesthetic” reasons.

Another reason, advanced by nose-to-tail eating advocates, is that, having killed an animal for food, it’s only courtesy to eat it in its entirety. Plus the dish is rich in vitamins and potassium.

As with tête de veau (calf’s head), you have to like the gelatinous to appreciate fromage de tête. The texture makes a fine contrast with nice, crunchy pickles.

Factory-farms of 20,000 pigs

Conscientious carnivores should, however, pay attention to where their pork products come from.

Animal rights campaigners have brought to light several scandals concerning conditions in slaughter-houses and pig farms, for example the farm that was recently fined a modest amount by a court in Châlons-en-Champagne for brutal practices, including castration without anaesthetic, killing potentially unprofitable piglets by bashing their brains out on the ground, removing tails and teeth with pliers, and failing to treat animals with abscesses and hernias .

These abuses are generally found on industrial-scale farms that raise thousands of pigs to supply supermarkets. The farm that found itself in court, thanks to the campaign group L214, was raising 20,000 pigs.

Every now and then fires break out in these food factories. On New Year’s Day this year 1,032 pigs were roasted alive when just one of three sheds in a farm near Béthune in northern France caught fire.

Last year L214 filed legal complaints alleging “structural cruelty” against farms supplying the ELeclerc chain of supermarkets and accused two suppliers of Lidl of “flagrant breaches of regulations” in 2024.

These outfits were in Brittany, the epicentre of industrial pork production in France. The region produces 56% of the country’s pork, that’s 1,258 million tonnes, in 5,166 farms. The trade is worth 2.3 billion euros a year. There are only 100 organic farms there. In the Côtes d’Armor département there are four pigs for every human.

According to the Welfarm campaign, 95% of France’s pigs are raised in intensive farming, crowded into bare sties and prevented from going to feed in the open air. Sixty per cent are concentrated in just three per cent of farms, according to Greenpeace, which points out the massive pollution and health risks they are responsible for.

Admittedly no French producer has reached the heights attained by the Chinese establishment that was reported to be raising 650,000 pigs in a 26 storey-building near Wuhan.

However the agribusiness lobby is powerful in France. Critics of the hyperactive “farmers’ union”, the FNSEA, point out that its president, Arnaud Rousseau, spends little time ploughing furrows or feeding livestock, being the chairman of the agro-industrial group Avril and on the boards of several other companies. He claims there is no intensive animal farming in France.

Rousseau’s deputy, Jérôme Despey, chairs the organisation that runs the Salon de l’agriculture, the much-publicised annual event in Paris where the sitting president and lesser politicians feign an interest in prize bulls in front of the TV cameras.

Ethical(ish) eating is possible

Free-range pigs enjoy the Jura weather Photo: Les Meilleurs cochons du monde

But small-scale producers do exist. I asked the woman who sells pork on the country market at Bletterans how many pigs she had on her family farm; 50-60 was the reply. And the meat she sells actually tastes of pig (in a good way), ten time better than the bland pap you buy in a supermarket.

Another local producer, owners of the immodestly titled “Best pig in the world”, boasts that their pigs are raised in the open air, free, like Spain’s famous pata negra, to wander in the woods where they feed on leaves, acorns and berries.

Their website features charming photos of happy pigs and boasts that they abstain from several widespread practices such as castration (principally carried out to prevent the meat of mature boars having a taste and smell to which some people object),  putting a ring in the nose (to avoid churning up soil, only necessary when the pigs don’t have enough space, according to the site), killing off weedy piglets, drawing teeth, cutting tails, and artificial insemination (let nature take its course!).

So is possible to buy the meat of pigs that have lived the kind of life a swine might enjoy, although, obviously, that life has to be brought to a premature end in to get it to your table.

And these methods, along with the reduction of waste, can reduce the environmental harm caused by industrial-level meat production. But food production is responsible for about a third of human-caused greenhouse gas emissions. So, let’s face it, the enormous demand for meat, which is the major contributor, will continue to be a threat to the planet’s future.

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Why you should eat escargots + other snail fun facts

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A snail stall at Sellières’ Fête de la pomme Photo: Tony Cross

“That would be good to eat,” my neighbour and principal source of local lore, Jacques, said as a particularly fine escargot de Bourgogne slimed its way across my garden.

It turns out he goes snail-hunting from time to time, armed with a special ring to make sure he isn’t breaking the ban on taking molluscs under a certain size.

Snail shells collected in my garden – the largest ones are escargots de Bourgogne Photo: Tony Cross

It’s hard to believe in my garden on a damp evening, but some snails are at risk of  disappearance, in particular the most culinarily prized snail, helix pomatia – the kind Jacques was admiring – partly due to the voracity of French gourmets but principally because of pesticides and urban sprawl gobbling up its natural habitat.   

So there are French and European rules protecting them.

Since 1979  collecting them has been illegal in France from 1 April to 30 June – their mating season, which, like everything else to do with snails, takes some time. Unfortunately, the measure was not backed up by the establishment of a snail inspectorate, so it is unclear how effective it has been. In 2016 the Paris Natural History Museum appealed to gardeners to take part in a snail census. It appears to have been paused and relaunched on more than one occasion since.

Snacking on snails in the provinces

The snail farm at Domblans Photo: Tony Cross

Beside a road near the Jura hamlet of Domblans is a small field covered in nets. It’s a snail farm and you can buy its produce, to take away or enjoy sur place with a glass of white wine, at a nearby market during the sunny months.

There were no fewer than three stalls selling snails at Sellières’ annual fête de la pomme this year and frozen ones are available, ready to cook, at the local supermarket.

The Golden Snail and a competitor near les Halles during the last century

Like frogs’ legs, snails seem to be more popular here than in Paris. That was not always the case. In 1900, 500 snail merchants petitioned the Paris city council for more space in the Les Halles markets (before municipal vandals destroyed Baltard’s beautiful structures), pointing out that they sold 1,200,000  kilogrammes a year. Old photos show a number of restaurants in the area leading with their snail offer, advertised with seductive snail statues, one of which still survives, and catchy slogans like “Venez gouter mes limaces”.

The Burgundy city of Dijon, 68 km up the road from here, was one of the main suppliers with one company selling three million snails a year.

Demand may have declined but there are still at least 20 farms in this region. It’s not exactly a capital-intensive business, I suppose, given the limited amount of space and personnel needed, but it’s apparently not easy to domesticate helix pomatia, which is the biggest French variety and sports a handsome cream or pale brown shell,so other less glamorous species are more widely available for sale – the petit-gris (helix aspersa aspersa), the gros-gris (helix aspersa maxima) and the helix lucorum, which doesn’t have a French name and is imported from Turkey and the Balkans.

It turns out that we should all be eating snails. Their meat is a source of protein, low in calories and fats, and rich in organic nutrients such as magnesium, iron and selenium, although I’m not sure how many you have to eat a day to get the full benefit.

Snails ready to cook on sale at the Fête de la pomme Photo: Tony Cross

The classic French recipe is à la bourguignonne, cooked in butter, parsley and garlic and served sizzling hot in the shell to be extracted with the aid of specially designed tongs and a little fork. Jacques prefers them cooked straight on a hot slate, “like the gipsies”.

“It keeps their earthy taste,” he says.

Remember to purge your snails

The Philosophy of the snail, a stall on the market at Bletterans Photo: Tony Cross

Before eating them, you must purge your snails by keeping them for several days in straw and feeding them flour, so that any toxins they may have consumed are evacuated. It also used to be common to deslime them by immersing them in salt for about an hour.

Chef Daniel Zenner says his father used to do this, “you could hear them oozing”, but, quite apart from how the snails might feel about the process, he finds it makes them lose flavour and become tough. After they have had their week in detox, he keeps them in the cold for at least a week, then boils them, takes them out of their shells and puts them in jars with their stock.

“With time their flavour is enriched,” he says.

You don’t have to eat your snails à la bourguignonne. Other French recipes include in pastry, in salad, à la franc-comtoise (with cheese, mushrooms and sausage, although I have never seen this around here) à la Provençale, aka cargolade catalane, grilled in their shells with herbs and served with aïoli.

From Cro-magnons to the tsars

Snails and asparagus to feed them on sale at a market in Jerez de la Frontera, Spain Photo: Tony Cross

Who eats snails? Just about everybody except the English-speaking peoples, according to the experts, although I’m not sure that they are equally highly regarded everywhere.

In many countries they’re seen as poor people’s food but the Italians and the Spanish are pretty enthusiastic.

“My husband loves them,” Concha, our Spanish neighbour, told us when we found her collecting them in the courtyard where we lived in Champigny. Gourmet detective Pepe Carvalho prepares a particularly exciting rabbit with snails and chilli in Manuel Vasquez Montalban’s El balneario (The Spa). Feel free to post other recipes in comments.

Archaeologists have found evidence that humans were eating land snails 20,000 years ago. A 2014 dig in Spain uncovered 1,500 shells at a site inhabited by Cro-magnons, who appear to have raised them for consumption (they seem to have discounted the possibility that it was a race course).

The earliest debris has been found in the Mediterranean region but remains have been found in the Americas, Africa and Asia.

Snails as a feature of fine dining appear date back to the Roman era, when a certain Quintus Fulvius Lippinus, started farming them. He’s known as the “father of heliciculture”, which seems a bit unfair on those Iberian Cro-magnons. When the Romans invaded Gaul, they were delighted to find that snails who lived in vineyards or hopfields were especially tasty, an opinion that some modern French chefs still share.

After being considered food for peasants for centuries, they found their place in French gastronomy in the 19th century, supposedly when the chef Antoine Carême had nothing else to hand to feed Tsar Alexander I and whipped up what is now known as the Bourgignonne sauce to make them fancy. His Majesty was apparently impressed and that was enough to convince the aspirational bourgeoisie to order them in restaurants. And now you can bung a pack in your freezer. That’s progress for you!

Bon appétit! Photo: Tony Cross

Fun facts about snails:

  • Most species are hermaphrodites (As a nature studies-keen child I told my grandmother this. Looking back, I think that must have been quite embarrassing for her, not the sort of thing her generation discussed);
  • They have sperm banks in their bodies, ensuring that several different individuals’ sperm fertilise their eggs (I didn’t know this, so my grannie was spared some blushes);
  • Pre-intercourse courtship can last between two and 12 hours;
  • They stab each other with a calcium spike called a love dart during the mating process (for more on the sex lives of snails click here;
  • They hibernate, burying themselves underground and growing a calcium cover over the opening in their shells;
  • They usually live five to seven years but can reach 30-years-old in captivity;
  • Some snails “sing”, emitting a sort of fart that sounds like a kiss or a plaintive cry when caught;
  • There are some 200,000 kinds of snail, terrestrial, fresh-water and marine, the latter including whelks, winkles, abalone and conch;
  • Colonialists introduced giant African land snails to some islands to provide food, leading to significant damage to their ecosystems.
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Frogs’ legs, hazelnuts and globalisation

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A grenouille rousse Photo: Holger Krisp (Wikipedia)

The French tend to translate the disparaging anglophone term for French people “Frogs” as mangeur de grenouilles (frog-eaters). I’m not sure whether it isn’t based more on alliteration than dietary preferences but there’s no denying that most English-speakers consider eating amphibians a bit odd. Personally, I’m ready to eat almost anything that won’t kill me but I’ve been learning that I should discriminate a bit on this question.

An ad in the regional free paper announces “I buy frogs’ legs, especially those from the Haut Doubs [a mountainous area north of here, which is rich in rivers and waterfalls]”.

The advertiser is after the grenouille rousse, which, despite apparently being called the  common frog in English, is a protected species. In the 1980s so many frogs were caught for food in Europe that they were in danger of extinction.

It may be caught or bred for food but in limited quantities (850,000 a year may be bred in Franche-Comté, the region which covers the Jura). It is prized for its taste of hazelnut. Make sure you eat at restaurants that specify that the frogs are local, Le Progrès newspaper warns.

Because your frogs’ legs may come from the other side of the world. Every week a plane touches down at Geneva carrying a cargo of live frogs and, concerned officials point out, they are not grenouilles rousses. They appear to be transported in string sacks. I wonder if there has ever been a mass breakout, with thousands of the little fellers hopping around the hold.

Nowadays most of the frogs’ legs imported to the EU – 4,520 tonnes between 2011 and 2020, according to Eurostat – come from south-east Asia: 74% from Indonesia and 21% from Vietnam, with 4% coming from Turkey and 1% from Albania. India and Bangladesh were the biggest suppliers in the 1990s but the trade led to a collapse in the frog population, which in turn led to a proliferation of mosquitoes and other pests and thus an increase in the use of pesticides.

A study this year found that 58 species are threatened with extinction by the trade, which it described as of “extreme cruelty”, with a knock-on effect for the environment. It called on the European Union to “take immediate action” to tighten its control of its imports.

You don’t see frogs’ legs on the menu in Paris very often but during the season – end of January to the beginning of May – they pop up in regions rich in rivers and lakes. Three million frogs are eaten every year in Franche-Comté, not counting those caught by poachers or the owners of ponds or lakes.

Its a frog-friendly environment around here Photo: Tony Cross

They’re not easy to farm. Given that they eat insects, the farmer can only try to attract their food to the ponds, which, in any case, they tend to leave for the woods when it is not mating season (I have narrowly missed stepping on some when on my walks in the forest). There are about 80 frog-farmers in Franche-Comté, fewer than 10 of them in the Jura.

So, for both gastronomic and environmental reasons, local good, imported bad. A local restaurant offered cuisses de grenouilles menus last spring. I was tempted but didn’t go. After all, gout de noisette or not, it’s really the sauce that provides the flavour and you can serve that with other dishes – snails, for instance.

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Back to blogging – Funny French food and other rural delights

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The Eventail (fan), one of the succession of waterfalls known as the Cascades du hérisson Photo: Tony Cross

I haven’t blogged for a while but, having moved to a village out in the eastern Jura département, I think I’ve come up with a few insights into French rural life that are worth writing about, so let’s see if that interests anybody, shall we?

First, a few words about the Jura – not the Hebridean island, as I had to explain to a Scottish friend who kindly offered help in establishing myself there, along with a puzzled “Why there?” – but the French département, which is not all that well-known to English-speakers (although you all know about the Jurassic Age, which takes its name from geological discoveries made here).

A valley in the Haut Jura Photo: Tony Cross

It’s a beautiful area, mountainous in the east where it stretches over the Swiss border. At a slightly lower altitude, there’s the “petite montagne”, an area of lakes, waterfalls and meadows, where the cows that provide France’s favourite cheese, Comté, graze. Then comes the revermont, a sharp descent to vineyards and villages, and then the Bresse jurassienne, a large, flat, fertile plane that extends into Burgundy.

OK, it does get cold here sometimes Photo: Tony Cross

Parisians are convinced that the Jura is a frozen tundra – they don’t tend to come here except for winter sports in the mountains. France’s coldest village, Mouthe, “la petite Sibérie française”, is in the Jura mountain range, although actually in the neighbouring Doubs, which has the distinction of being France’s coldest département. Mouthe enjoys 176 days of frost a year and is said to have experienced -41.2°C on 17 January 1985.

But that’s up in the mountains. Down here on the edge of the Bresse temperatures are not so different from those in Paris and, as elsewhere, getting warmer on average, even if my neighbour Jacques, of whom you will hear more, tries to frighten me every winter with claims that temperatures in our village sometimes go down to arctic levels.

My vilage, Sellières, on the occasion of the annual Fête de la pomme (apple festival) Photo: Tony Cross

Life here is quiet compared to the multicultural bustle of the Paris banlieue and I don’t go on reporting trips any more, so no more being robbed at gunpoint in Afghanistan, watching shootouts in Iraq or witnessing the humiliation of an entire people in the Palestinian occupied territories.

An étang (pond/lake) in the Bresse Photo: Tony Cross

But it’s not boring if you enjoy watching the seasons change, hearing the local gossip and learning about the region’s history. And rural life enjoys a special place in the French imagination. So I have some things to tell.

I’m going to start with a look at the sort of French foods that Brits and Yanks tend to turn their noses up at, item 1 being frogs’ legs. So watch this space.

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