The Sun-Herald

My frenzy of Frenchness

A backstage look at my heavily Gallic week, and tips on where to find the best of French in Sydney

As a Pom, I grew up with the peculiar relationship between France and England. This bickering pair of old nations can't live with each other, and can't think of many bad jokes without each other.

We can't even agree on the stretch of water which separates us like a giant, wet, referee. The English call it, of course, the English Channel, while the French refer to it as La Manche - The Sleeve. (That's what they're like, an Englishman will tell you - never use a name when an oblique metaphor will do.)

We love to hate each other but have, during times of detente, joined together to produce offspring: Concorde; the Channel Tunnel. But each claims to have been the first to come up with the idea.

We revel in each others' stereotypes, which are best captured by Walter Russell Meade in his article Entente Infernal, a review of a book called That Sweet Enemy which tracks the history of the Anglo-French dynamic:

"The French have long felt that Englishmen do not like women, are bored or frightened in their presence, and turn to drink as a substitute for female company. They suspect that the custom of educating British boys in single-sex public schools has something to do with this .... The British have felt that Frenchmen like women too much, or in the wrong way, and believe that the French are constantly involved in extramarital affairs. The Englishman is a boor, the Frenchman a fop."

So there's your historic context for this week's party activity. It was Bastille Day on Tuesday, and I used this as an opportunity to advance Anglo-French relations. (I'm all for parties as a platform for international diplomacy. Once, when I found myself going head to head with the Argentinian ambassador to Thailand in a public breath-holding contest at a Bangkok movie star's birthday party, I let him win, in a magnanimous gesture I felt our leaders could learn from.)

My endeavours began at Sally Beresford's Bastille Day Dinner at her antiques and bespoke furniture gallery in Woollahra. I was immediately detected as a Pom, and marched in under military escort:

Chef Eon Waugh had created a sumptuous feast that reminded me you just can't argue with the French when it comes to cuisine. These were my two favourite courses. The steamed gingerbread pudding was so perfect the room fell silent while we savoured our first bite. Sally's Mount Ashby wines - especially the full-bodied Merlot - were a worthy match for the warm, heady flavours and aromas of this opulent winter feast.

French attention to detail:

Next day I was still happily digesting when a dark, handsome stranger appeared on my doorstep with a box of fresh French pastries. It was Olivier Charkos, owner of La Renaissance French patisserie in The Rocks.

Recently, I'd been bemoaning the lack of good almond croissants in Sydney and Olivier aimed to change my mind with these:

They were delicious, and so were the macarons, especially the salty caramel (Fleur de Sel de Guerande). Olivier's late father was French and his son is doing him proud at the patisserie after a year's intensive pastry chef training in France. Merci bien, Olivier.

My final tribute to Bastille Day was a journey through the delicious cheese selection at Gazebo Wine Garden, accompanied by some tasty Gamay, Grenache and Merlot. By then, I had to stop, for fear of becoming the size of France itself.

You can take your own trip to France in Sydney any time you like. Here are a few more of my picks:

Sel et Poivre - hearty, authentic, friendly little Parisian enclave in Darlo. Escargots and steak et frites are highlights.

Flinders Inn - new, intimate restaurant in Paddo featuring star chef Morgan McGlone's flavour-driven, modern take on French bistro cuisine.

L'Etoile - don't miss chef Manu Fieldel's souffle au fromage at this Paddington favourite.