This is part of a series on French idiomatic expressions that relate to the culinary world. Browse the list of idioms featured so far.

This week’s idiom is, “Mettre son grain de sel.”

Literally translated as, “putting in one’s grain of salt,” it means interfering with a conversation or situation with an unsollicited comment or opinion. It is a colloquial expression that is somewhat similar to the American English idiom, “adding one’s two cents.” Depending on the context, a person’s urge to slip in his grain of salt can be seen in a positive light (outspoken/endearing) or a negative one (meddlesome/annoying*).

Example: “Ils avaient choisi le menu, mais le père de la mariée a mis son grain de sel, et il a fallu tout changer.” “They had chosen the menu, but the bride’s father put in his grain of salt, and the whole thing had to be changed.”

Listen to the idiom and example read aloud:

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Gâteau roulé matcha et azuki

The thing that happens when you buy a big pouch of anko (Japanese sweetened red bean paste) to make strawberry daifuku is that you’re likely to run out of rice flour long before you use up all the azuki paste.

I assume it keeps for weeks if well wrapped, but I didn’t want to let it sit in the fridge for too long (shelf space is in short supply), so I tried to think up ways to use it. A quick brainstorm led me to the gâteaux roulés (cake rolls, a.k.a. jelly rolls or Swiss rolls) that my mother makes and sometimes garnishes with crème de marron, sweetened chestnut paste, which I’ve always felt is a close cousin to anko, texture- and flavor-wise. And since the pairing of green tea and red bean is always successful, perhaps I could flavor the cake with a little matcha*?

Alhough I have stood by my mother (and held my breath) as she deftly rolled up layers of sponge cake, this was my first time actually making a cake roll of my own.

I opted to make the cake component (la génoise) butterless, using almond butter instead, and I cut the red bean paste with about a third of its weight in yogurt, to make the filling easier to spread and less intensely sweet.

Alhough I have stood by my mother (and held my breath) as she deftly rolled up layers of sponge cake, this was my first time actually making a cake roll of my own, and I was rather pleased with how it turned out: I did bake my génoise a tad too long, which resulted in crisp edges that I should probably have trimmed, but the heart of the cake was moist and tender, and the balance of flavors was just right. Not to mention, I was tickled to notice that each cut slice drew the hiragana character の (no), a feature few cakes can boast.

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This is part of a series on French idiomatic expressions that relate to the culinary world. Browse the list of idioms featured so far.

This week’s idiom is, “Raisonner comme une casserole.”

Literally translated as, “reasoning like a saucepan,” it means demonstrating poor logic, formulating arguments that are evidently flawed. It is a colloquial expression that should only be used in informal conversation.

Example: “Ce n’est pas la peine d’essayer de discuter avec lui, il raisonne comme une casserole.” “It’s not worth trying to talk to him, he reasons like a saucepan.”

Listen to the idiom and example read aloud:

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This is part of a series on French idiomatic expressions that relate to food. Browse the list of idioms featured so far.

This week’s idiom is, “Le ver est dans le fruit.”

Literally translated as, “the worm is in the fruit,” it means that the damage is done, that a situation is inherently faulty, and that it’s impossible or too late to do anything about it. It can also be used humorously, to comment with mock fatalism on the way a situation is turning, or is bound to turn.

Example: “Ils ont beau essayer de lutter contre la corruption, le ver est dans le fruit.” “Try as they might to fight corruption, the worm is in the fruit.”

Listen to the idiom and example read aloud:

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