Curnonsky the 20th century’s Prince of Gastronony wrote about Burgundy saying that “some had build hearths in their kitchen but Burgundians had built a kitchen from their hearths” and who I am to argue with the great man. Burgundy is probably (no letters please) the birthplace of great French food. Much thanks should be given to the long departed Dukes of Burgundy dating back to the 14th century. If the top end of the culinary ladder has its roots here, it could also be said that the great cuisine bourgeoise was also born here. For this we should thank less titled and very female Mères de Lyon. The redoubtable ladies who trace their origins back to the French revolution are responsible for bringing quality home style cooking to all of us.

A lot will be familiar to you. The produce here is so good they may have not named it twice, but they do name it; Poulet de Bresse, Charolais beef, Dijon mustard and many more.

Starting in the north in stunning Parc du Morvin where you will find deer, wild fowl and boar, the locals use the acorn gathered in the woods to feed pigs giving local hams a delectable flavour. Moving south, Dijon is one of the worlds culinary capitals home to Jambon Persillé (ham in jelly with parsley), Coq au vin, Boeuf Bourguignon, snails in bubbling garlic butter, and finally to the east in the Nirvernais that is kitchen garden of Burgundy that has adopted the carrot as its emblem.

All this is achieved amongst an unbelievable patchwork of some of the greatest vineyards in the world.

Charcuterie is amongst the finest, the Rosette salami, the Cervelas (so called because it once contained brain though now made of pure pork) it comes smoked or studded with truffles. There are white boudin, black boudin and local oddity called Judru made with pig entrails and flavoured with the local Marc eau de vie.

Fishy things are not ignored, the many rivers that criss cross this land deliver, pike, crayfish and yes I have to admit frogs’ legs and though not from the rivers this is home to snails as well.

With such fine food and wine, it is no surprise that the list of good cheeses is long most sadly are greedily kept and eaten in Burgundy. Creamy fresh cheeses eaten like a dessert with sugar, Epoisses washed in Marc Napoleon’s favourite cheese, Bleu de Bresse, and a myriads of goat cheeses in all shapes, sizes and maturity from the stately Montrachet (don’t pronounce the t) wrapped in a vine leaf to the Bouton de Culotte (trouser button) a pungent one mouthful.