Rosa Jackson's Edible Adventures

Vancouver: Artisan donuts
After centuries of making fun of our cuisine, the French have suddenly embraced all things Anglo with a passion. In Paris it seems that everywhere you turn someone is dressing up hot dogs or piling gourmet ingredients onto burgers. 5 comment(s)

Vancouver: Eating on The Drive
It was ten years ago that I founded Edible Paris and Les Petits Farcis, my Nice cooking classes, after an inspiring trip to Montreal. It has also been ten years since I last set foot in Canada.  10 comment(s)

Ten days in Guatemala
Guatemala, where one of my oldest friends has lived on and off since the 1970s, seemed the perfect destination to satisfy my thirst for adventure. 6 comment(s)

Nanashi
My job frequently requires me to eat elaborate three-course meals at lunch and dinner several days in a row. It's something I have trained myself to do over the years and my stomach rarely utters a peep of complaint, as long as I don't overdo the wine (not as easy as it sounds). I am grateful, though, when I come across a restaurant that acts as a kind of cleansing interlude, replenishing my body with crunchy vegetables and wholesome grains. 12 comment(s)

A weekend in Bastia
Nonstop sunshine, rustic cakes made with chestnut flour, honey tasting of sun-scorched wild herbs, sausages of boar and donkey: these are a few of the things I expected to find in Corsica, and over the course of the weekend more than one of these preconceived ideas would prove to be false. 6 comment(s)

Sunday at the Marché de Wazemmes
Lille is a city with many charms - great beer, friendly people, a freshly restored historic center - but these are not necessarily obvious on a Sunday, when shops and restaurants pull down their shutters so that families can gather round a steaming pot ofcarbonnade flamande, beef cooked in beer until caramelized, or share a potjevleesch, an assortment of jellied meats.  4 comment(s)

New York and a fresh start
I have always taken New Year's resolutions very seriously. This year, though, too many are whirling around in my head: Blog more often. Listen to my acccountant. Start each day with sun salutations. Meditate. See more of nature. Teach my son to cook. Let my friends know how much I appreciate them. 9 comment(s)

On being vegetarian in France
A few months ago, my son Sam declared himself a vegetarian. Now, if we lived in California this might not sound unusual, but this is France, proud land of steak-frites and saucisson, andouillette and tête de veau. 47 comment(s)

A new chef at the Louis XV
It was potatoes that first cemented my friendship with Franck Cerutti, chef for ten years at Alain Ducasse's Louis XV restaurant in Monaco. 12 comment(s)

Paris restaurant: Pramil
When it comes to restaurants, I'm not really that demanding. I want the basic ingredients to be seasonal and good. I want the cooking to show restraint: nothing puts me off more than an overly complicated plate. And I want the chef to have a heart that shines through in the food. 9 comment(s)

Sunday lunch at Holland Park
Tempting as it was to linger on the beach on Sunday morning, I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to visit Holland Park, an intriguing new garden center/restaurant that has been open just a couple of months. 1 comment(s)

A few days in Montmartre with Haven in Paris
I have a vision of my perfect apartment in Paris. It would be high up - stairs don't scare me - with a small balcony and a sweeping view over the zinc rooftops, punctuated here and there with church spires and glimmering domes. 17 comment(s)

Ready, prêt, go: Eating on the run in London
For the school holidays, I took Sam to London to brush up his English. Well, that was the official excuse. 8 comment(s)

L'Ecole des Filles
The surreal extravagance of our last meal in Liguria left us with a quandary: how could any restaurant live up to that experience, which was all the more incredible for having caught us off guard? 3 comment(s)

Sunday in Liguria
When I want a complete change of scenery, I get in the car and drive for 40 minutes. As soon as we cross the border into Italy, everything is suddenly different: the people, the language, the music, the clothes, the coffee (especially the coffee). 11 comment(s)