Southern Fried French

A Sweet History of the Quintessential & Accidental French Tart

Double feature: Today I am HONORED to be doing a guest blog for book author/photographer/blogger Kristin Espinasse, at her enormously popular
French-Word-a-Day site (www.french-word-a-day.typepad.com), about her life in Provence and her love of language. When you visit, be sure to check out her books, they’re really special. They make fabulous gifts, I’ve given them to all my friends on both sides of the pond.

At French-Word-A-Day you can read a little story about Nicole that is very dear to my heart, which I’ve called “Love & a Tarte Tatin”. Meanwhile, 200 miles north in Burgundy, I’ll tell you another story: a quirky history of Tarte Tatin, that legendary French treat, and the Tatin sisters who started it all.

Our story begins in the late 1800’s in a small town in the Loire valley with two sisters, unmarried, who ran a small hotel. At the desk was the youngest, the tender-hearted Caroline Tatin. Every pensionnaire of the hotel considered her a friend, and many sought her out for confidential advice on affairs of the heart.

The older sister, Stéphanie Tatin, took care of the cooking, and she could be found at any time of day working the stove with her big copper pots. Her specialty was tarte aux pommes, that traditional French apple pie, which she served crunchy and caramelized, with melted sugar and butter.

One day when she was preparing lunch in a bit of a hurry, by mistake Stéphanie put the
apples and sugar in the pan without putting the crust in first. In a rush she threw the crust on top, baked it a bit too long, then turned it out on a plate, upside down, not bothering to let it cool as she usually did. Et voila, the delicious tarte tatin was born.

Ah, but then the intrigue begins! Maxim's, the famous Paris restaurant, got wind of the popularity of the tart, and engaged a chef to pose as a gardener and steal the recipe. It has been on their menu ever since.

If you’ve read the guest blog at French-Word-a-Day, you know by now that the best tarte tatin on the planet is made by our own châtelaine, Nicole. I’m privileged to present you with her formerly secret recipe.

RECIPE: Nicole’s Incomparable Tarte Tatin

For the filling:

6 medium sized apples, cored & peeled. Cut 4 in half, 2 in quarters.
(Nicole says any apple will do, and she sometimes mixes varieties. Traditionally it’s made with firm dessert apples, not cooking apples).
2 ½ T. butter, melted (30g)
¾ cup sugar (150g)

For the crust:

1 stick of butter, (120g), softened
1/3 cup sugar (75g)
1 egg
1 2/3 cup flour (250g)

Crème fraiche, or whipped cream

NOTE: Plan this dessert so you take it out of the oven about an hour before you are ready to serve it. It is always served warm.

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Your pan should be about 8 inches (20cm) in diameter and at least 2 inches (5 cm) deep (Nicole uses a heavy pottery dish. We southern girls would use a cast iron skillet). Swirl the melted butter around the bottom of the pan. Sprinkle the sugar evenly over the butter. Arrange the apple halves, cut side down, on top of the sugar. Fill in spaces with the quarters. Cook about an hour; apples will brown lightly.

Meanwhile, make pastry:

Cream butter and sugar together until well blended. Add egg, mix well. Stir in flour to make a dough. On floured surface, form dough into a long cylinder, cut into thirds, and pile up the 3 pieces. Mix/knead them together with your hands until blended. Repeat 2 more times. Roll out to circle a little larger than your pan; dough will be a tad bit thicker than a normal piecrust.

When apples are done, cover apples with dough and tuck in edges around apples. Bake 50 minutes more. Set pan out to cool, for 1 hour.

Just before serving, Cover pan with plate and flip pan and plate together carefully, turning tarte out onto plate. Serve with cream.

As the French say: miam miam!

Picture of the Tatin Hotel courtesy of http://web.archive.org/web/20021121201746/http://www.tarte-tatin.com/, where you can also read the story in French (or one version—there are variations of this oft-told tale).

Charleston Shrimp & Grits is a low country classic recipe, one of my favorites. Go to the fantastic expat newsletter at American Market, www.myamericanmarket.com, to get my recipe for it, and to read about the trials (and joys) of grocery shopping in France. And, fellow expats, you can buy your American ‘comfort food’ there!

French Dressing #1: The Secret Revealed

The French live to eat, and they are traditionalists. They find a dish they like, they stick with it. Remember when food in the states had names? At a fine restaurant back in the day, there was Beef Stroganoff and Seafood Newburg on the menu. These days, one restaurant dish might take a paragraph.

But in France, lots of dishes still have titles. Coq au Vin, Boeuf Bourguignon, Pot au Feu, you know the names. The traditional foods are revered (with good reason, I might add), and messing about with them would be strongly discouraged.

PHOTO: Traditional Restaurants are partout--everywhere, like gool old Aunt Agatha's place in Crémieux.

Which brings us to French Salad Dressing #1. My husband has given it this name, but c’est une blague (joke!), because there really is no number two. No, the waiter will not recite that familiar litany, “honey mustard, blue cheese, ranch, parmesan peppercorn?” Your server will simply bring you a salad, all dressed up in #1.

Which is a good thing. Because French Dressing #1 is delicious. Every decent French cook can make it in his or her sleep. It in NO WAY resembles the orange, thick, creamy stuff that is bottled French dressing in the states. The origin of that little translation remains a mystery.

A side note: I was educated about the nuances of dressing salads forever after our first trip to Italy, with our good friends Darlena and George. We splurged one day and had lunch at the fabulous Splendido in Portofino. When my husband ordered a green salad, the waiter arrived pushing a huge cart with at least 25 kinds of olive oil and as many vinegars. He waved his hand magnificently over the collection and said “Prego, Signore…?” It cured me of bottled dressing forever.

Here then, is my version, gleaned from my French friends, of French Dressing #1 (merci, Mireille and Nicole!). Y’all just mix it up in a big fat empty Dijon mustard jar to have on hand and you’ll never buy bottled dressing again!

RECIPE: French Dressing #1

You don’t need to measure this, and you can whip it up in no time. Put it in a pretty bottle for a nice hostess gift, too.

First, finish off that big jar of good quality Dijon mustard that’s in your fridge (none of that yucky bright yellow stuff, please). Use this as your container (but buy more, you’ll need lots!). Of course any jar will do, but we’re going for good karma here.

Fill about a third of your jar with fresh squeezed lemon juice. You may, if you choose, add white or champagne vinegar in place of some of the juice. Add one small finely chopped shallot (or garlic), some sea salt, ground pepper and a teaspoon or so of sugar (important. A little yin to the tangy yang). Then add A LOT of said mustard. For a 7 oz, jar, a heaping tablespoon will do. Shake well. Fill it up with good, extra virgin olive oil and shake again. Taste to correct seasoning. Refrigerate, but take it out a bit before you use it as it may thicken when cold (3 seconds in the microwave also solves that problem). Shake well just before using.

The Anglos reading this will of course want to tweak and fiddle, especially those of the southern persuasion. May I suggest that grainy Dijon mustard is good as well, or get crazy with a basil, tarragon, or other flavored mustard. Also you may add a generous splash of walnut oil , and the French will not disapprove. Minced fresh herbs are fabulous here too, but stir them in at the last moment.

Coming soon, we're off to the saturday market, plus my all-time favorite French summer salad recipe to put UNDER this dressing, so be sure to subscribe. And if you already have, merci beaucoup!

And a Hot Tip: our British friends have a gîte (vacation apartment) in a darling Burgundy village, with the best views and most beautiful garden in the region! Go to: http://les4cheminees.co.uk.

Au Château: Balleure takes over the Boulangerie

Our story continues: the village baker has gone on vacation, but the ever-energetic Nicole, our châtelaine, has decided that the village of Balleure will take over and make bread for the commune.

It’s 7 am in Balleure, and Frédéric, our stand-in baker for the day, is stoking up the four á pain, the wood burning bread oven. It takes 3 hours for the fire to be the right temperature for the baguettes. The oven is ancient, in a tiny stone building that maybe four people can stand in, if they’re good friends (and, it’s hot). At 9:00 the volunteer work crew—residents of the hamlet of Balleure who are the boulangers du jour for the surrounding villages, start to straggle in. It’s a fine sunny day, and the sleepy staffers go right for the coffee. Nicole, clipboard in hand, has assigned tasks to everyone and has taken advance orders for the bread and the pizzas they’ll be making. There are already orders for 60 loaves and 70 pizzas, and that doesn’t include those who will be drawn in by the wonderful aromas wafting through the village.

Photo: Nicole gets the troops in order

By mid-morning the place is hopping and I, the self-appointed photographer for the event, have joined the festivities. On such a lovely day, all the commune has turned out, curious to see bread made the old way. The event has cooked up a party mood. The customers chat while kids dance around the long tables that have been set up for rolling dough. In the field just beside the four à pain, a couple of horses hang over the fence, curious at the proceedings and perhaps interested in a bite of fresh pain. Madame of a certain age makes her way to the table with her cane, to pick up the warm loaves she has ordered.


Photo: A basket of fresh bucherons, round country loaves, tempts even the horses.

Frédéric slides pizzas and baguettes into the oven, which in basically a hole in the wall with an arched opening and chimney, that starts at eye level. It is six feet deep and just as wide. He wields a big paddle to reach into the depths of le feu for his bread.

Photo: Frédéric works the four à pain

By noon Ron and I are in the garden, munching a freshly made pizza with a glass of crisp white wine. Maybe the baker should go on vacation more often…

An update: The baker came back, but the party goes on! One Saturday a month, the village gets together at the four à pain, and makes pizzas and bread to order, just for fun.

RECIPE: Pizza Margherita

I’m a pizza purist: My favorite pizza is the simplest one, Pizza Margherita, which is probably available in every pizza restaurant in France (and bien sûr, in Italy). It’s best with summer tomatoes, basil from the garden, and fresh mozzarella . Use ready made dough (just don’t tell Nicole) or do as they do at Balleure, and make your own.
For 2:

Dough for 1 pizza
2 T. olive oil, divided
¾ lb. good summer tomatoes, or plum tomatoes
8 oz. fresh mozzarella, well drained
A dozen large basil leaves, torn
1 t. dried herbs de Provence, or oregano
Sea salt and fresh ground pepper
A pizza stone, if you have one

Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees.
Slice tomatoes thinly, remove some seeds so they won’t be so juicy, and leave them in a colander to drain while you prepare pizza. Roll out dough and brush with 1 T. olive oil. Slice cheese as thinly as possible. Top dough with tomatoes, then with cheese and basil. Spinkle with sea salt, pepper, and herbs. Drizzle remaining oil over all and bake 20 to 30 minutes. If using a pizza stone, shorten cooking time and check at 15 minutes. And grazie to the Italians, who invented this lovely pizza!

A Crisis at the Boulangerie

The Château de Balleure is in a tiny hamlet, about 20 minutes from civilization, such as grocery stores, etc. So the boulangerie, which is just a mile away in the next village, is quite important. Not so long ago it was owned by a grumpy old Madame who sat just inside the door, smoking a cigarette. She sat on a hard stool guarding the only item for sale: a basket of long, slender baguettes. Requests that they perhaps make the occasional pain aux céréales (whole grain bread) were rebuffed. “We’re in the countryside, no one here will buy that,” she would mutter.

Then a miracle: Madame retired, and a young, ambitious couple took over. Suddenly the bakery, freshened up with paint and new shelves, is a happening place. There is a grand counter, piled high with croissants, pain au chocolat, brioche sprinkled with coarse sugar, and small pizzas to take out. There are fat loaves with walnuts and raisins, and slim ones studded with corn or sprinkled with seeds and grains. Baguettes of all shapes and sizes line the bins on the wall. Madame at the counter always has a pleasant word, and Monsieur happily works the ovens all day. The bakery is bustling with lively chatter, the customers there to pick up their daily bread, their morning paper, and the latest gossip.

Photo: pain au chocolat at the boulangerie in Etrigny, near the château

So all was well until that problematic month arrived: August in France, when everyone in Europe takes their vacation at the same time. Astonishingly, many of the restaurateurs and hôteliers take theirs as well. And—quel horreur!—so does our baker, just when the guests are arriving and parties are planned. This was, indeed, une crise.

Photo: Our baker,Adrien, in Etrigny, with Allison: how can we go on without him?

Nicole, our châtelaine, is not phased. Our village will take over and make the bread, announces that master organizer. Say what? Bake bread for the whole area? But as usual, Nicole has a plan. Someone in our village has a four à pain, a old bread oven from another age, in a little stone building which was built just for that purpose. Could this work?

Tune in next week, to see how it all went. In the meantime, guest chef Nicole has agreed to teach us how to make a baguette. And if you are a dieter, take heart: a fresh baguette, hot from the oven, is a great treat and has zero grams of fat. It needs no adornment: just tear off an end and start munching. Bon appétit, y’all!

Photo: Our Guest Chef Nicole, at work

RECIPE: Nicole’s Real Live French Baguettes

Yeast breads are not really in my repertoire, so I haven’t tried this out. Anyway, I’m lucky enough to have Nicole to make them for me!

Makes 2 loaves

Instead of adding the flour, water and yeast all at once, the French traditionally make a levain with part of the ingredients, and let it rise before mixing it with the rest.
Ingredients:
2 t. active dry yeast
1 ½ cup water (divided)
4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (divided)
2 t. salt

First prepare the levain:
In a bowl mix the yeast with ¾ cup lukewarm water (105 -115 degrees). When well mixed, add ¾ cup flour. Cover the bowl with a tea towel and leave it to rise for 3 hours in a warm place. The dough will double in size and will be covered with bubbles.

When the levain is ready, in a larger bowl combine the rest of the flour with the rest of the water, and the salt. Add the levain, mix the two together and knead for 10 minutes until the dough is no longer sticky, and is smooth and elastic. Leave it to rest in a warm place for 1 and a half hours, covered with a damp tea towel.

Punch dough down and turn out on a lightly floured surface. Clap it by passing it from one hand to the other to get rid of the gas. Shape it into a ball and leave it to rise for one more hour in a warm place covered by a damp tea towel.

Place dough on a lightly floured surface. Divide it in half. Roll each half and shape into 2 baguettes, place on a cookie sheet, and leave it to rise for 30 minutes, uncovered.

Put a roasting pan with an inch of water on the bottom of a gas oven or on lowest rack of electric oven. Heat the oven to 450°. (Nicole says, “When we use the village wood-burning bread oven, we put a piece a paper in, and when it becomes a light brown color without burning or browning, it’s the right temperature”. Do not try this at home!)

Dampen the surface of the bread with water (with your hands, or a brush). Make 3 shallow diagonal slashes down the length of each loaf with a sharp knife or razor. Bake until golden brown, 25 to 30 minutes. Congratulate yourself, you are oh so French!

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