"Cèpes à la Bordelaise Recipe – Classic French Porcini Mushrooms with Garlic and Parsley"
The French Fork
Archives
"Cèpes à la Bordelaise Recipe – Classic French Porcini Mushrooms with Garlic and Parsley"
SIGN UP FOR OUR NEWSLETTER
Cèpes à la Bordelaise |
Wild mushrooms from the Bordeaux woods, kissed by garlic, parsley, and a touch of red wine. |

The French Fork
Oct 22, 2025
When the vineyards of Bordeaux are brushed with gold and the mornings smell faintly of woodsmoke, you know it’s time for cèpes. Those noble porcini mushrooms — fat, fragrant, and earthbound — appear like treasure in the forest, hidden under oak leaves still damp from the night’s mist.
Locals carry small knives and wicker baskets, whispering to one another as though afraid to wake the trees. The first cut through the stem releases a scent so deep, so buttery and nutty, that you might mistake it for the perfume of the earth itself. And then, back home, it’s a race — to clean, to slice, to fry, before the delicate flesh begins to darken.
In Bordeaux, cèpes à la Bordelaise is the way generations have honored this gift of autumn. It’s a dish that needs no grand gestures. Just olive oil, butter, garlic, parsley, and a handful of breadcrumbs to catch every drop of their golden juices. Some add a whisper of Bordeaux red — not to drown the flavor, but to give it depth, like a cello note beneath the violins.
The smell that fills the kitchen is like walking through a forest where the floor has turned to butter. The mushrooms sizzle, the breadcrumbs toast, and you swirl your glass of wine as the day outside folds into dusk.
Serve them on thick country bread, or beside a roast duck, or even stirred through fresh tagliatelle. But if you ask me, the best way is the simplest: just as they are, in the pan, with a fork and someone you love leaning over your shoulder.
Recipe: Cèpes à la Bordelaise
Serves: 4
Ingredients
Instructions
Wine pairing
The Bordelais would naturally pour a Saint-Émilion or Pomerol — both Merlot-driven reds with soft tannins that echo the earthy sweetness of the cèpes. But for a lighter touch, a Graves Blanc, with its grassy minerality and hint of smoke, is divine.
If you’re cooking near the fire, the bottle should stay close enough to warm — the way the French do when they don’t want the chill to reach their glass or their heart.
And if you ever wander through the forests near Saint-Émilion in October, listen for the faint crunch of leaves and the quiet laughter of mushroom hunters. Somewhere nearby, someone is already dreaming of lunch. |