Some dishes stay with us for more than their taste. They carry with them the story of how we first discovered them, and the memories of the people and places connected to them.
When my daughters were still very young, we were living in Tokyo, and we would sometimes spend our summer holidays with my husband’s family in France.
For my daughters, who were growing up in Japan, these summers were a chance to experience a different way of life and another culture. But they were not the only ones discovering something new. I was, too. There were many things about everyday life in France that I was experiencing for the first time alongside them.
My husband’s family lives in Clermont-Ferrand, in the Auvergne region of central France. Surrounded by a landscape of ancient volcanoes, it is an area blessed with beautiful, unspoilt nature. Volvic, known around the world for its mineral water, is also just nearby.
One summer, as we often did, we went for a walk in the forest near my husband’s family home. Wild blackberries were still growing there, so as we walked, we began picking them together.
For us, coming from everyday life in Tokyo, even picking fruit with our own hands felt surprisingly special.
Fruit was something we normally bought from a shop. Here, we could simply walk through the forest, pick ripe blackberries growing wild along the way, and carry them home with us.
I remember being quietly fascinated by the fact that this kind of life, so closely connected to nature, still existed.
Of course, in Japan we can go strawberry picking or blueberry picking. But these are usually organised activities that we pay to enjoy. In the forest near my husband’s family home, there was no entrance fee, no farm and no organised experience. The blackberries were simply there, growing in the wild.
Perhaps what fascinated me was that something which must once have been an ordinary part of everyday life could still happen so naturally.
From the Forest to Dessert
When we returned home, we decided to use the blackberries we had picked to make a clafoutis.
My father-in-law, who was very good at baking, went into the kitchen with the girls, together with their older cousin.
Their cousin, the eldest of the children, seemed perfectly at ease, helping to prepare the batter and placing the blackberries into the baking dish. My elder daughter joined in enthusiastically too, whisking the mixture and doing her best to help.
Looking back at the photographs now, my younger daughter was still so small that she seems to have spent most of the time simply standing beside everyone and watching. But in her own way, I am sure she considered herself very much part of the team.
There was something so simple and lovely about the scene: the family gathered in the kitchen around the blackberries we had just picked in the forest, making a dessert together.
At the time, it felt both fun and wonderfully new to me.
We had picked the fruit ourselves, carried it home, and by the end of the day, those same berries had become the dessert on our table.
I hope that whole experience has remained a happy memory for my daughters, too.
How I Discovered Clafoutis
That summer day was my first real introduction to clafoutis.
Clafoutis is a wonderfully simple French home-style dessert: fruit is arranged in a dish, covered with a soft batter made with eggs and milk, and baked until gently set.
But for me, blackberry clafoutis has never been simply another French dessert.
Whenever I make it, I think of that summer day.
My daughters were fortunate to grow up with both Japanese and French cultures as part of their lives. They had their everyday life in Japan, and when we travelled to France, they could experience a different family life, different traditions and a different relationship with food and the seasons.
And, in a way, I was lucky enough to come along for the journey.
Through my daughters and my husband’s family, I found myself discovering many aspects of French life and food culture too — sometimes at exactly the same time as my children.
Walking through a forest and picking wild blackberries, bringing them home and turning them into a clafoutis together was one of those discoveries.
Many years have passed since that summer, but when I make a blackberry clafoutis today, it still brings me back to that day.
It has since become a familiar dessert to me, but it will always be connected to those memories: blackberries picked in the forest, my daughters when they were little, and all of us gathered together in the family kitchen.
A simple dessert, and a little piece of a French summer that has stayed with me.
That summer memory is what first inspired me to make blackberry clafoutis myself. You can find my own Blackberry Clafoutis recipe here on Atsuko’s Table — I hope you’ll enjoy making it, and perhaps create a summer memory of your own.
