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I love adopting other countries' holidays. In fact, I wonder if, due to the fact it is not my holiday and I have no real cultural obligations to it, I end up having more fun than a similar holiday celebrated here in the United States. Take ANZAC Day in Australia and New Zealand. ANZAC Day is essentially the Australia and New Zealand version of Memorial Day. Commemorating April 25, 1915, the day that began a bloody eight month offensive in Gallipoli where over 4,000 soldiers from Australia and New Zealand perished, the day has evolved to memorialize all those soldiers killed in battle. Rather than a solemn day of mourning, the holiday (at least from what I have seen here in the America) has become something of a celebration instead. It seems that, for many in the US, Memorial Day is just an occasion for a three day weekend and perhaps a barbecue or trip to the beach. Little is done that even reminds us of what the day is supposed to be about. ANZAC Day on the other hand is the best of both worlds: a celebration with clear reminders of why this is a holiday in the first place.
Several years back at an Australian restaurant in New York I had my first taste of Anzac Day. For an afternoon and way into the evening, Aussies and friends of Aussies packed into a back room to play hour upon hour of two-up, eat meat pies and barbecue, and participate in a chook (chicken) raffle. Two-up is this crazy game of no more than chance that dates back to the trenches of World War I. A group of people stand around the perimeter of a circle, each player selecting an opponent on the opposite side of the circle. One of the pair calls heads, the other tails. In the middle the “Spinner” holds a paddle filled with coins. With a flick of the wrist the coins fly in the air, the majority side facing up is called the winner and the loser of each pair pays out winnings to their opponent. In spite of the exactly 50/50 odds this game inspires infectious revelry and fierce competition, no wonder it kept the soldiers entertained during those long days, weeks, and months in the trenches.
This week marks another of my favorite adopted holidays: Bastille Day. Bastille Day is the French equivalent of our Independence Day. Marking the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille prison and the symbolic end of the French Revolution, the day has become, if not a bigger celebration than our July 4th, an excuse for the celebration of all things French, not the least of which includes food and wine.
Again, my introduction to Bastille Day came not in France but on the streets of New York City. Every year on July 14th, French ex-pats ditch their office jobs and come out for one of the many celebrations going on around the city. My favorite was always the MacDougal Street party in SoHo in the days when the little strip of MacDougal south of Houston was no more than a string of French cafes. The southernmost end of the street would be filled with sand for a tournament of the French game, petanque, a relative of the better known bocce ball. Waiters from the French restaurants around town would make appearances before going into their evening shifts for a race wherein trays stacked with wine glasses and the city's best and most agile French servers would do their best to cross the finish line first without breaking a glass.
And then there was the food and drink. Wine was a must and on a warm day in July, glasses would fill with rosé and slightly chilled Beaujolais. Plates of steak frites, baguettes sandwiches, and quiche with salad would spill out from the cafe doors and onto the streets where the cafes, for that one day, had taken over the blocked off asphalt to double and triple in size their capacity en plein air.
Today in the United States we can find Bastille Day celebrations in cities around the country from Orlando to Milwaukee to Seattle. It seems that whether one is in Philadelphia watching “Marie Antoinette” throw pastries at a “Parisian militia” or hanging in Chicago for this year’s joint Bastille Day and World Cup celebration being held on July 11th, more than just the French are getting in on the festivities. With the planet growing smaller by the day, it seems only appropriate to flip a coin, raffle a chicken, race a waiter, eat and raise a glass to celebrate with our neighbors around the world.
©2026 CDKitchen, Inc. No reproduction or distribution of any portion of this article is allowed without express permission from CDKitchen, Inc.
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Just Say "Oui" to Bastille Day
I love adopting other countries' holidays. In fact, I wonder if, due to the fact it is not my holiday and I have no real cultural obligations to it, I end up having more fun than a similar holiday celebrated here in the United States. Take ANZAC Day in Australia and New Zealand. ANZAC Day is essentially the Australia and New Zealand version of Memorial Day. Commemorating April 25, 1915, the day that began a bloody eight month offensive in Gallipoli where over 4,000 soldiers from Australia and New Zealand perished, the day has evolved to memorialize all those soldiers killed in battle. Rather than a solemn day of mourning, the holiday (at least from what I have seen here in the America) has become something of a celebration instead. It seems that, for many in the US, Memorial Day is just an occasion for a three day weekend and perhaps a barbecue or trip to the beach. Little is done that even reminds us of what the day is supposed to be about. ANZAC Day on the other hand is the best of both worlds: a celebration with clear reminders of why this is a holiday in the first place.
Several years back at an Australian restaurant in New York I had my first taste of Anzac Day. For an afternoon and way into the evening, Aussies and friends of Aussies packed into a back room to play hour upon hour of two-up, eat meat pies and barbecue, and participate in a chook (chicken) raffle. Two-up is this crazy game of no more than chance that dates back to the trenches of World War I. A group of people stand around the perimeter of a circle, each player selecting an opponent on the opposite side of the circle. One of the pair calls heads, the other tails. In the middle the “Spinner” holds a paddle filled with coins. With a flick of the wrist the coins fly in the air, the majority side facing up is called the winner and the loser of each pair pays out winnings to their opponent. In spite of the exactly 50/50 odds this game inspires infectious revelry and fierce competition, no wonder it kept the soldiers entertained during those long days, weeks, and months in the trenches.
This week marks another of my favorite adopted holidays: Bastille Day. Bastille Day is the French equivalent of our Independence Day. Marking the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille prison and the symbolic end of the French Revolution, the day has become, if not a bigger celebration than our July 4th, an excuse for the celebration of all things French, not the least of which includes food and wine.
Again, my introduction to Bastille Day came not in France but on the streets of New York City. Every year on July 14th, French ex-pats ditch their office jobs and come out for one of the many celebrations going on around the city. My favorite was always the MacDougal Street party in SoHo in the days when the little strip of MacDougal south of Houston was no more than a string of French cafes. The southernmost end of the street would be filled with sand for a tournament of the French game, petanque, a relative of the better known bocce ball. Waiters from the French restaurants around town would make appearances before going into their evening shifts for a race wherein trays stacked with wine glasses and the city's best and most agile French servers would do their best to cross the finish line first without breaking a glass.
And then there was the food and drink. Wine was a must and on a warm day in July, glasses would fill with rosé and slightly chilled Beaujolais. Plates of steak frites, baguettes sandwiches, and quiche with salad would spill out from the cafe doors and onto the streets where the cafes, for that one day, had taken over the blocked off asphalt to double and triple in size their capacity en plein air.
Today in the United States we can find Bastille Day celebrations in cities around the country from Orlando to Milwaukee to Seattle. It seems that whether one is in Philadelphia watching “Marie Antoinette” throw pastries at a “Parisian militia” or hanging in Chicago for this year’s joint Bastille Day and World Cup celebration being held on July 11th, more than just the French are getting in on the festivities. With the planet growing smaller by the day, it seems only appropriate to flip a coin, raffle a chicken, race a waiter, eat and raise a glass to celebrate with our neighbors around the world.
Steak Au Poivre
Made with beef or veal stock, cognac, filet mignon, black pepper, kosher salt, vegetable oil, butter
Made with beef or veal stock, cognac, filet mignon, black pepper, kosher salt, vegetable oil, butter
Serves/Makes: 4
- 4 cuts filet mignon
- freshly ground black pepper
- kosher salt
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 1 tablespoon butter
- 1 cup cognac
- 1 cup good beef or veal stock
- 1 tablespoon cold butter, diced
Bring steaks to room temperature for 15-20 minutes. Coat both sides with pepper then sprinkle with salt.
Heat vegetable oil over medium high heat in a large saute pan then add 1 Tb. butter. Reduce heat to medium and add steaks. Cook for 4 minutes on each side.
Remove steak from pan and add cognac using a wooden spoon to scrape the bits off the bottom of the pan. Add broth and reduce by half. Stir in cold butter along with additional salt and pepper to taste.
Transfer steaks to a serving platter and spoon sauce over to serve.
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©2026 CDKitchen, Inc. No reproduction or distribution of any portion of this article is allowed without express permission from CDKitchen, Inc.
To share this article with others, you may link to this page:
https://www.cdkitchen.com/cooking-experts/amy-powell/1073-bastille-day/