Southern Fried French

Just a SIMPLE lunch....

Our neighbors Viviane and Bernard had dined chez nous, but we had never been to their home, down the road.  Their house is the maison secondaire for our cat Domino, who splits his time between our two abodes and moves in with them full-time when we travel. On this particular Monday they invited us down to meet their son and daughter-in-law from Lyon, who were passing through town.  “Just a simple lunch,” said Viviane.  “Un repas simple, you understand”.    Photo:  Our rotten au gratin cat, at home at his' maison secondaire'.

At noon as we were getting ready to walk over, Ron was holding a good bottle of red.  “No need to bring wine”, I said. “ I’ve brought a little gift for them, and anyway, they said it’s just a simple lunch, we won’t be gone long.

“Hmmph,"  said The Wise One.  “The French don’t do simple meals.”  But he left the wine at home. Domino trotted along beside us for the short promendade.

We started with apperos in the salon:  saucisson, cherry tomatoes, olives, nuts, and a wide choice of drinks.  Their kids were lively and talkative, and we were soon working on the problems of the French labor market, the American economic crisis, and ‘Sarko's’  latest scandal.  Our cat slept comfortably in his favorite chair. Funny to see him right at home,  even with his own dinner bowl, chez Viviane and Bernard.

Lunch in the salle à manger did start simply.  A lovely mixed salad was served.  Then Bernard, decked out in his best apron, arrived with a big platter of haricots verts with parsley and roasted rattes (fingerling potatoes), all straight from the garden.  When we had eaten our fill, yet another huge platter arrived: a couple of hens, roasted to perfection, with a yummy sauce.  Were we done?  Mais non!   There was a platter with a bounty of cheeses, and assorted breads.  When that was polished off, a beautiful  fresh fruit salad was presented in a footed bowl, along with a treat: a loaf of brioche, and a bottle of crémant, a sparkling Champagne-esque wine made locally.  We thought for sure that was it, but then a luscious pear tart arrived, followed by expresso all round.

We teased them about un repas simple, having expected maybe a salad and ice cream, but, as usual, it was a problem of linguistics.  “'Simple', en français,” said Viviane, "means the meal will be served family style, as opposed to plated up.  And the ingredients will be things the family might eat on a daily basis." So, not the foie gras or truffles you might serve to guests, but otherwise an all-out French feast.  Now we know.

We had not quite solved the political problems of both countries, but it was time to leave so we gathered up our shared cat and said our au revoirs.  It was 6:30 pm. 

After all, it was time to go home and get dinner started.

 

Hope your Thanksgiving feast is as special as this repas simple.  Lots of good Thanksgiving thoughts and blessings coming at you from across the pond! 

 

RECIPE:  Bernard's Pear Tart, trés simple

This simply elegant tarte aux poires is a favorite dessert in France, and you will see it in the pâtisseries. Bernard's was extraordinary. He also makes it the same way, with apples.  Note that this is a very thin tart, so you get just the crunch of the crust and the burst of pear flavor.

Bernard uses a prepared pâte feuilletée, which is similar to our frozen puff pastry.  You can use this, or make a regular pie crust pastry. Press pastry into a shallow tart pan, and roll the egdes over a bit.  Bake it for 10 minutes or so, in a 400F (200c) oven, until firm (use pie weights, or rice).  If Bernard's in a hurry, he doesn't pre-bake it.  But he says if the fruit is extra juicy, it may end up soggy.    Photo: For the record, my version, pictured here, is not nearly as pretty as Bernard's. 

Meanwhile, peel and finely chop a couple of ripe pears and cook them in a skillet with a bit of butter and sugar.  Cook them down until they make a sort of jam. (I had to add water to mine).  Mash or purée them.

Spread the  pear mixture over the bottom of the pastry.  With a Mandoline Slicer or by hand, slice three peeled, cored, ripe pears very thinly.  If pears are small you may need more. Arrange them neatly in circles in one layer, overlapping slices, over the pastry.  Bake at 400F (200c) until golden, 20 to 30 minutes.

Remove from oven and immediately sprinkle the tart with a tablespoon of vanilla sugar. If you prefer you can brush the pears with melted apricot jam. (We can buy vanilla sugar prepared; or just store a sliced vanilla bean in your granulated sugar. Or add vanilla extract to your cooked pear mixture and use regular sugar).  Cool and serve in slices with vanilla ice cream. 

 

Favorite Reads:  Dear Readers, I'm curious, are you e-readers too?  The new Kindle Fire is shipping, do you covet one? I'm an iPad kind of girl myself.  I love it that I can load up lots of books, magazines and movies, especially when I get on a plane--and lighten up my groaning suitcase!  Here's a fun app for iphone or ipad: In case I run out of books, I've loaded the 'Masterpieces' app, which has 36 classic novels, ready to read off-line, all for less than a buck. 

In the other big book news du jour, Jacque Pepin, that fabulously famous French chef and author, has published his definitive cookbook, Essential Pepin: More Than 700 All-Time Favorites from My Life in Food. Francophiles, this one belongs on your shelf, or maybe even your coffee table.  And speaking of great cookbooks....

Our reader's blogs:  Jessie Oleson's Cakespy is one of the cleverest food blogs around. And now she has a darling  new cookbook, CakeSpy Presents Sweet Treats for a Sugar-Filled Life.  Who doesn't want a sugar-filled life?  A great Christmas present for your Sweetie.

Unless otherwise attributed, all POSTS, PHOTOS and RECIPES on this blog copyright ©2011 Lynn McBride.  All Rights Reserved. 

 

R-E-S-P-E-C-T: Show that Turkey just a little bit!

Photo:  I know, I know, it's not a turkey!  But my neighbor's Mama duck and her adorable brood are destined for the table too.

Years ago Frank Lee, the  famous chef at Slightly North of Broad (everyone’s favorite Charleston restaurant), said something that I’ve never forgotten.  Especially since I’m a conflicted meat-eater (I’m a closet vegetarian who cooks with meat mainly to please my resident carnivore).  Frank Lee himself started off  his career as a vegetarian chef.

Frank said this:  When you cook with meat, it’s important to “respect the animal”.  In other words, out of respect for the animal that you have killed or cause to be killed, you must use every single bit of the animal for food.  Not once since hearing this advice have I tossed out a usable bone or part; it all goes into a stock, or a sauce, and I find that even the smallest bit of leftover meat can flavor a meal.  It's easy, and it's improved my cooking.

Example:  To make roast lemon chicken for four the other night, I bought a whole chicken and  had le boucher chop it into 6 parts.  I roasted the four meaty pieces for our dinner and put the raw wings, etc. into the stock pot.  The leftover pieces had a tiny bit of meat on them, so I first cut that off to make a meal later for the two of us, which I might pop into a stir-fry, for example.  

From my leftover parts plus some veggies I made a big pot of stock for soup.  (Cook's Note:  it doesn’t take much in the way of raw or cooked bones of any sort to make a stock that is tastier than the dismal stuff that comes in a can).  So from one 3.5 pound (1.6 kilo) chicken I made dinner for four, another dinner for two, and enough stock to make soup to serve eight.  It’s not vegetarian, but combined with lots of meatless meals, it's a compromise. 

The French, of course, take this to the extreme.  They eat every foot, beak, intestine, and tongue--not a single morceau goes into la poubelle (that darling word that means trash can).  For the French, their motivation tends to be economic and gastronomic.  And of course southern soul food is celebrated for delicious dishes made from parts of the animal that others might reject.

My other trick is to use the tiniest bits of meat in a dish, with lots of veggies and starches, and I almost always cut the amount of meat in a recipe in half or more.  I prefer to eat this way anyway:   I’d rather make a pork stew with white beans than eat a big slab of pork.  Instead of a giant steak, how about a lovely steak and potato salad with a bernaise mayonnaise?  So much better, and better for you.

Here is a side benefit.  ‘Respecting the animal’ by using every single bit is also a healthy and economical way to eat.  It’s a deep south tradition, and a French one.  I hope it will become your cooking mantra too.  And I wish each of you and all your families a very happy and delicous Thanksgiving.

{RON'S CORNER:  "There is nothing wrong with being thrifty and using what you have, but where is the other half of my meat?"

"I'm OK with being a vegetarain, as long as there's always leftover meatloaf in the refrigerator"}.

 

If stock intimidates you, you’re in for a pleasant surprise.  C’est trés facile!  Here’s how I do it, plus a recipe for the best five-minute soup ever.

RECIPE:  How I make Stock

Stocks are wonderful for soups, sauces, stuffings, and many other dishes.  I’m never without a good supply of it in my freezer.  I just pop it into freezer bags.  

Poultry or meat stock:  To get a really intense stock, you must start with meaty pieces of beef or chicken. But you rarely need 'intense'.  For most soup recipes, to which you will likely add vegetables and other ingredients anyway, an intense stock is not necessary.  Taste any canned stock, and you’ll see how weak it is--and not very tasty, normally. 

To make a stock, let’s use that roasted turkey carcass as an example.  Take the meat off that you’re going to use, and throw everything else into the pot, including all bones and skin.  Add a bunch of vegetables.  Here is a chance to clean out your fridge--any leftover veggies will do.  Carrots (no need to peel them), leeks, onions, mushrooms, celery and its leaves (not too much--celery has a strong flavor), zucchini, beans, greens, all these are good.  Add salt and pepper and a bay leaf or two.  If I want a stronger stock I put in a bit of good quality jellied or powdered bouillon (some are salty, so reduce salt as needed).

Cover it all with water, add a couple of cups of white wine.  Bring it to a boil, then simmer it for a few hours. Your house will smell wonderful!  Cool it, then put a colander over a large bowl and strain it.  Pitch the solids.  Chill to skim off the fat easily, if you prefer.  Then divide it up into plastic freezer bags and freeze.  Dream of the lovely recipes you will make.

Here's another stock tip I like:  If you're cooking meat to put in a  dish--say you're cooking chicken to make chicken salad, for example--simmer a whole chicken, or meaty pieces on the bone, in water as above, just until done. Take them out, remove the meat for your dish, and put the bones and skin back in.  Continue simmering for a couple of hours. You'll have your cooked meat for your dish and you'll have a big pot of stock for another day (meat on the bone is often cheaper, too, so you're really getting a bargain!).     

Fish stock:  I don’t make this much, except for shrimp stock, which is dead easy.  Just rinse the shells and cover them in water with a bit of wine, salt and pepper, and a bay leaf.  Simmer for a half an hour, strain and freeze.   Great for seafood soups or sauces. 

RECIPE:  Elegant Artichoke Soup in Five Minutes

Drain a 14 oz.  (.4 kilo) can of artichoke hearts and chop them coarsely.  Heat up 2 cups (.5 liters) of chicken broth with a splash of white wine.  Add artichokes and a healthy squeeze  of lemon juice, stir just to heat.   Pour in soup bowls and sprinkle with some freshly grated parmesan and finely chopped scallions (both white bulbs and green stems) or chives.  Serves two.

 

Special Note:  I wrote two articles for the December issue of France Magazine (available in US and UK, at their website or at  Amazon.com) which might interest you.  One is called 'Lyon on a Plate'. The wonderful city of Lyon is not so far from the château, so we are there often, sampling the food in France's gastronomic capital.  I also wrote the "Village Life" feature on the artsy Mediterranean town of Mougins.

Favorite Reads:  I do love it when readers send in recommendations!  Especially for period books and dramas, I'm a sucker for these.  Be sure to read Linda's entertaining review in the Comments, of Susanne Alleyn's trilogy of historical mysteries set during the French revolution.  They include The Cavalier of the Apocalypse,  Game of Patience, and A Treasury of Regrets (also for Kindle and ipad). I've just ordered the first one, can't wait to try it.  Hampton (who says he made Nicole's tarte tatin, and "I can't even cook well!"), takes us beyond Downton Abbey to two BBC series I didn't know about, that he says we addicts will like : Lark Rise to Candleford (link is for season 1, DVD's are for US region 1 if you order here), and A Horseman Riding By (complete series, you'll need a UK or dual player).

...and in other reader Comments, yes Betsy, I would LOVE for readers to submit their favorite French recipes!  And thank you all, for the lovely comments, with a big bisous to Dee for her apple cake recipe, which seems quite popular.

Our Reader's Blogs:  Belinda is an American who stayed in the Château for a while, and has a charming blog about her time here, called Sixty Steps in the Turret.  Belinda and Mark, we will miss you terribly! I'm also crazy about Dani's blog, An American Girl in France.  She has news on free French lessons for new arrivals, plus that sticky tu-vous problem.

Unless otherwise attributed, all POSTS, PHOTOS and RECIPES on this blog copyright ©2011 Lynn McBride.  All Rights Reserved.

 

A Man and his 'Moulin'

envie, n f   envy    (=souhait)  desire, wish;  avoir envie de, to feel like;  avoir envie que, to wish that; une envie pressante, a pressing need. Ex.:  Mon mari, il a envie d’acheter un moulin.  

My husband Ron, imminently handy and forever fascinated with the way things work, would love more than anything to have his own watermill.  Well, who wouldn’t want one of those charming old moulins beside a river, but mills seem to be a particular obsession of the male of the species.  You may see them standing wistfully in front of the windows of the agences immobilières, the real estate offices, doing a little lèche-vitrines (window-shopping; literally, ‘licking the windows’). 

We almost bought a moulin once, in northern Burgundy.  It was a fabulous old mill house set in a shady, isolated valley.  A stream rushed by, and at it’s edge was an enormous, and still functional, mill wheel, used back in the day for making flour.  What does one do with a mill wheel these days?  Here was our fantasy:  we would bring out a handful  of coffee beans each morning, and bring all the power of the mighty wheel to bear, for the perfect cup.

But buying a mill house to grind your morning coffee turned out to be a rather expensive solution; we made do with a new espresso machine instead.  We still have envie, however.  So we were delighted to discover one Sunday that they were holding a porte ouverte, an open house, at the moulins in our corner of Burgundy.  

First up was the mill at Angoins, which we frequently pass and admire.  It was perfectly done up in it’s magical setting, all flowers and old stone, babbling brooks and bridges.  We were greeted by a well-groomed French poodle and monsieur the owner, who gave us a private tour.  The mill was not functional (in fact the wheel was missing--but if you happen to have an old one, 20 feet tall or so, he’s actively looking), and much of the mill space had been renovated into their lovely home.

The next one, in Sigy-le-Châtel, couldn’t have been more different.  The house was faded and ill-kept, and the mill works dominated the property.  The mill itself was in perfectly restored working order.  Gears groaned, pulleys pulled, and water poured over the creaky wheel.  The proud owner explained and demonstrated every step of the flour-making process.

There are now internet sites dedicated exclusively to the sale of French water mills. We may be grinding our own coffee after all.... 

Favorite Reads/Films/etc.:  Important TIP for Americans!  Are you as hooked as we are on that elegant English period soap, Downton Abbey? Are you rooting for Mary or for Lavinia, and are you worried about Mr. Bates?  We’re hardly alone; a record 11 million Europeans watched the finale of Season 2 on Sunday night.  If you missed  Season 1  you can catch up by buying all seven original, uncut episodes as they aired in Europe  here.  Season 2 doesn't air until January in the states, so I won’t spoil the ending for you (or rather, the multitude of unresolved crises, since Season 3 will be back at the end of next year!). You can pre-order  Season 2  now but it won't be released in the states until February 7.  (Europe will also have a 2-hour Downton Christmas special, don't know about the US, but watch this space).

And an interesting recommendation from reader Sue Wallace:   “I just read a book I hated to finish: Roy Cloud's To Burgundy and Back Again: A Tale of Wine, France, and Brotherhood. Learned a lot about wine and terroir without feeling like I'd just read a text book because he adds the vignerons' personalities so charmingly into the mix”.  Merci, Sue, for reminding me about this one--it's new, has great reviews, and I'll be buying it for Christmas presents.  It's said to be in the style of A Year in Provence.  Martin has a good one for us too:  "Have you come across The Discovery of France: A Historical Geography by Graham Robb? it's a quirky history of France from the revolution to the First World War but deals with everyday life, language and customs in "La France Profonde". Utterly readable!"  Martin, thank you, Ron's read this and it's sitting by my bed as we speak!

In the Comments:  Shelley, thank you and yes I am working on a download for readers, of all the recipes.  If I can figure out the techincal part!  Suzanne, I peel the apples but I don't think it matters much; I think most any apple will do, I used some from a neighbor's tree.  I don't have a recipe for old-fashioned caramel icing, which Suzanne has lost, can anyone help?  Frank, I will be posting the chicken with cider recipe later but in the meantime, sounds like Julie has a good one--Julie, will you share?  And thanks, Julie, for the great restaurant recommendation in the Cote d'Or, it's on the list now!

Our Reader's Blogs:  This beautiful autumn weather has me thinking about fall bulbs, and you can find them at Mary's blog, Mary's Garden Patch.  And for one of the prettiest food blogs around, go to Maria's A Platter of Figs.

Les Pommes et L'Amour

What, you don't have your own personal orchard?  The French in the countryside would not dream of being without un verger.  We have French neighbors who have only a tiny formal garden but they’ve managed to squeeze in a peach tree, grape vines, a raspberry bush, and a bed of strawberries at the base of their topiary roses  Our Italian neighbors have a miniscule garden with a cherry, plum, and apple tree.  At the château there is of course a proper orchard, with fruit enough to feed the village.

The French adore fruit, especially in desserts, but I think their favorite must be that symbol of love and lust, the apple.  What do they do with les pommes of autumn?  Well, the other day Nicole brought me a jar of her homemade gelée des pommes (apple jelly, above).  “I make it because it’s so beautiful,” she said, holding the translucent golden essence of apple up to the light, and watching it sparkle. Painting by Libby Mathews.

The French also make hearty tarte tatins, of course (see this post for Nicole’s recipe), and thin, elegant, apple tarts.  A standard breakfast pastry is the Chausson aux Pommes, a sort of apple turnover made from flaky croissant dough.  Up north they make hard cider from apples, and also the wonderful Normandy chicken, slow simmered with apples, cider, and cream.  

Chut, don’t tell my French friends, but my very favorite apple dessert is made by my English friend Dee (well, but Nicole’s tarte tatin is in a class by itself). Dee makes a caramel apple almond cake that is simply extraordinary. Don’t skip the caramel sauce for this cake; the hardest part of making the sauce will be restraining yourself from emptying the bowl with a spoon.  The sauce is so good that I’ve been looking for other things to put under it---is it redundant to dip cookies in it? 

Serve this cake warm, if you like, by the fire, and you too may tomber amouresuse.

 

RECIPE:  Dee's Apple Almond Cake with Caramel Sauce

Oven: 325 F (160C).  Serves 8.  

For the cake:

• 200g (1 ⅔ cup) flour
• 3 teaspoons baking powder
• 200g (1 cup, scant), lightly packed light brown sugar
• 100g (1 cup) ground almonds
• Grated zest of  one lemon
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 150 g (⅔ cup) butter , melted
• 350g  (¾ lb) apples
• 25g (1/4 cup) sliced almonds
• 1 tablespoon honey 

Grease  a 20cm (8”)  cake pan with removable bottom, and line bottom with parchment paper.

Core apples and cut into chunky slices.  Put first five ingredients  into a bowl, then add the eggs and melted butter.  Mix well and beat for about 1 minute. Spread half the mixture into the pan; cover with the apples slices. Top with the remaining cake mixture. Sprinkle sliced almonds over the top. 

Cook in oven for 1½ hours.  To be safe, begin testing at one hour. Cake is done when a cake tester comes out clean and cake is golden and shrinking away from sides of pan. While cake is warm spread the honey over the top owith the back of a spoon, to glaze. Let cool in pan.  Serve warm with ice cream and with caramel sauce (recipe below).  The cake and sauce can be made ahead and warmed up.

For caramel sauce:  Put 100g  (½ cup) sugar  in a heavy saucepan (it will burn in a thin one) and shake to distribute evenly.  Heat sugar on high heat until it turns a golden brown, less than 5 minutes; watch carefully but do not stir.

Remove from heat and add 1 cup light cream, whisking constantly.  Mixture will sputter and sugar may ball up; don’t panic, just keep whisking.  When sugar is completely melted and mixture is smooth, sauce is ready (you may have to put it back on low heat, to melt all of the sugar).  Mixture will thicken slightly as it cools.  Drizzle over cake and ice cream.  Store leftovers  (ha!) in a jar in the frige, reheat if desired.  

Favorite Reads:  I don't know how I've missed this book:  Olivier Magny (of O Château wine bar fame) has written Stuff Parisians Like: Discovering the Quoi in the Je Ne Sais Quoi. In which he merrily pokes fun at uptight Parisians, and gives you the latest trés cool French words to throw around. Too funny.  Then Adam Gopnik has a new book, just out.  His Paris to the Moon  is the best book on France anyone ever wrote, in my humble opinion.  Now I can't wait to read The Table Comes First: Family, France, and the Meaning of Food. The critics are raving.

In the Comments this week:  Many thanks for all your kind words about the Poubelle kitties. Unfortunately, the cat rescue group I work with, Amicale Féline, has more abandoned kittens at any moment than we can handle (Want one?  Let's talk!). 

Our Readers' Blogs:  Art lovers, you really must zip over to Kristin Dam's site, Snefnug Studios, to see her prize-winning watercolors--fabulous!  Also in the creative department, Monica in Alaska has an unusual site at Between Two Rivers, where she blogs about writing, art, nature, and photography.  And over at French Word A Day, Kristin is doing another e-book---with help from readers!