This is part of a series on French idiomatic expressions that relate to food. Read the introductory Edible Idiom post, and browse the list of French idioms featured so far.

This week’s expression is, “Rouler quelqu’un dans la farine.”

Literally translated as, “rolling someone in flour,” it means duping someone, playing a trick on him, or using one’s wits and lies to take advantage of someone who’s a little naive, or not quite as smart as one is.

According to these sources, the expression dates back to the early nineteenth century. Rouler quelqu’un (literally, rouler = to roll) means cheating or swindling somebody, and la farine (flour) symbolizes lies, or misleading arguments, perhaps in relation to the fact that actors then used it as stage makeup. It also adds a notion of ridicule: the gullible victim is somehow responsible for letting himself be fooled so easily.

Example: “A chaque fois, elle lui promettait que ça ne se reproduirait plus, mais tout le monde voyait bien qu’elle le roulait dans la farine.” “She kept promising it wouldn’t happen again, but everyone could see she was rolling him in flour.”

Listen to the idiom and example read aloud:

Where’s the online scratch ‘n sniff when you need it?

Since such technology is not yet available to us (sheesh!), we’ll just have to rely on our imagination and invoke, in our mind’s nose, the irresistibly sweet, floral, candy-like scent that quince, the most gnarled and unprepossessing subject of the fruit kingdom, emits.

In fact, if you were to cook quinces right away upon purchasing them, I would call you crazy: what you should do instead is keep them for a few days on a platter somewhere, in your kitchen or living room, where they’ll act as a natural home fragrance.

If you were to cook quinces right away upon purchasing them, I would call you crazy: what you should do instead is keep them for a few days on a platter somewhere, in your kitchen or living room, where they’ll act as a natural home fragrance.

When you’re done near-fainting with felicity every time you take a whiff, it’s time to poach them and enjoy the second surprise they have in store: the flesh of quince, which doesn’t look like much and tastes horrible when raw, takes on a ravishing, ruby pink shade* and a most palatable flavor when cooked.

Because quince has a high pectin content, quince paste (or dulce de membrillo, or jam, or jelly) is the most common use for it, but these preparations are usually too sweet for my taste, and I prefer my quinces as a compote, poached in a not-too-sweet syrup**.

After a few hours of simmering — yes, it takes that long — the wedges become soft, with a pleasantly grainy textural veil, and taste like a cross between an excellent apple and an even better pear, with underlying notes of honey and spice.

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This is part of a series on French idiomatic expressions that relate to food. Read the introductory Edible Idiom post, and browse the list of the French idioms featured so far.

This week’s expression is, “Pédaler dans la semoule.”

The literal translation is “pedaling in semolina,” and it means being entangled in a thorny situation, with the added notion that every effort made to get out of it is fruitless, or makes things worse. In short, being confused and overwhelmed, or being in over one’s head.

The image is, I think, clear enough: picture yourself riding a bicycle in a lake of couscous, or grit, and tell us how well you’d do. (It is also used for appliances and devices, computers in particular, when they’re whirring furiously without doing much actual work.)

Note that it is a colloquial expression, to be used in casual conversation only — not in your thesis, nor if you’re having dinner with the French ambassador/ambassadress, though perhaps he/she might think it endearing and fall in love with you. It’s worth a shot.

Example: “Ça fait une heure que j’essaie de résoudre cette équation, et franchement, je pédale dans la semoule.” “I’ve been trying to solve this equation for an hour, and frankly, I’m pedaling in semolina.”

Listen to the idiom and example read aloud:

This expression sometimes appears as, “Pédaler dans la choucroute,” or pedaling in sauerkraut, an equally illustrative variation.

An estimated 62% of my cooking begins with me lying in bed, thinking about some ingredient that needs using, and not being able to sleep because my mind is awhir, trying to devise rewarding ways to do so.

These closed-eye sessions usually yield satisfactory results and, every once in a while, a plain fantastic one. I am counting this ice cream among the latter.

The first taste of my improvised concoction, straight from the paddle of the ice cream maker, gave me pause: could it really have turned out so shockingly well?

The challenge was this: I had a bit of a dairy glut in the fridge, and in particular, a scant half tub of organic crème fraîche that had been open for three or four days, and which I was determined to use before it got any crazy idea like turning rancid or growing a beard. I also had real Greek yogurt* in there, which I know for a fact makes the best glace au yaourt (yogurt ice cream).

Chocolate Frozen Yogurt For The Win!

And because I hadn’t made a chocolate-based frozen treat in a while (not since the dark chocolate sorbet and the nutella ice cream) I decided I’d make a chocolate frozen yogurt. Then I fell asleep.

I had no basic recipe to build upon and merely played it by ear: I melted a few ounces of good dark chocolate, whisked it into the cream, added raw cane sugar, a little cocoa powder, salt and vanilla, added yogurt until the mixture looked and tasted right**, chilled and churned.

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