Southern Fried French

'Le Réveillon': New Year’s Eve with a Bit of French Wisdom

Dear readers, today the new year is off to a good start for Southern Fried French: We’re honored to be doing a guest blog at French Word a Day.  Please head over to the site to sort out French tartes vs. southern pies, and to find the recipe for Lucky New Year Pie with Grand Marnier.  And here, other New Year’s treats are in store.

When the holiday season approaches, my dear husband, who normally avoids entering a supermarché if possible, suddenly grabs a  big grocery bag and decides to accompany me.  Why?  He’s looking for the huge display of les  Révillions that is bound to dominate the center aisle.

Le réveillon is the French word for the celebration on Christmas eve or New Year’s eve.   It’s also the name (or nearly so, spelled with one less letter)of a brand of  chocolate papillotes that only appear during the holiday season, a French tradition. These beaudacious bon-bons come wrapped up in little silver and gold packages, in a large bag.  You can choose many types:  truffles, milk or dark or white chocolate, or the spiritueux, filled with cognac , Grand Marnier or plum liqueur.  We think they are the best chocolates ever, and we load up our cart with them for gifts to friends and, bien sûr, to ourselves.

They are special in another way, however.  Unwrap each little treasure and you’ll find some words of wisdom, a famous  quote in French.  With  guests for Christmas, it’s always fun to read them and sort them out.

( Photo:  Where’s the missing piece? For the recipe for Lucky New Year Pie go to my guest blog at French Word A Day.)

For your French practice today, here are several of this year’s quotes,  with translations provided by my French class, guided by our châtelaine and linguist, Nicole (many chocolates were consumed on your behalf, Dear Readers, so we could bring you these quotes).

Il faut toujours se réserver le droit de rire le lendemain de ses idées de la veille.—Napoléon Bonaparte

Always reserve the right to laugh the day after at your ideas of the day before.

Amour, Amour, quand tu nous tiens, on peut bien dire: adieu prudence.—La Fontaine

Love, love, when you get hold of us, we can bid adieu to prudence.

Il faut toute la vie pour apprendre à vivre.—Sénèque

It takes a lifetime to learn how to live.

Apprends comme si tu devais vivre pour toujours et vis comme si tu devais mourir ce soir!—Proverbe Tibétain.

Learn as if you might live forever, and live as if you might die this evening!

L’homme aimable est celui qui écoute en souriant les choses qu’il sait, dites par quelqu’un qui les ignore.---Alfred Capus

A friendly man is one who listens, smiling, to a subject he knows well, explained by someone who knows nothing about it.

Aliments.  La découverte d’un mets nouveau fait plus pour le Bonheur du genre humain que la découverte d’une étoile.—Brillat-Savarin

Food.  The discovery of a new dish does more for the human race than the discovery of a star.

My friend Ali recycled this idea and printed out inspiring quotes to put by each plate on the holiday table, for each guest to discover and share.  A nice gesture, a reminder that ‘tis a season of new beginnings, of reunions with family and friends, of resolutions and reflection.

And so, a very happy and healthy New Year to all!  I can’t offer you chocolates, but I will offer you a recipe for Nicole’s fabulous Tarte au Chocolat, which she generously has shared with us.  It’s chocolate, pure and simple, so good.

 

 Recipe:  Nicole’s Tarte au Chocolat 

 

You will need an 11” (28cm) tart pan with removable bottom.

For the pate sablée (sweet pastry): pre-heat oven to 350F (180C)

• 1/3 cup sugar
• Pinch of salt
• 1  1/3  cup flour
• 1 stick  (115 grams)  cold, unsalted butter, cut into small pieces.
• 1 egg 

For filling: 

• 1 ½ cup light cream
•  11 oz. (300 grams) good semi-sweet baking chocolate, cut into small pieces.
• 1 egg, lightly beaten
•  Crème fraiche or whipped cream
• Confectioner’s sugar (icing sugar)

For crust:  Mix dry ingredients in a food processor with several pulses.  Add butter and pulse about 10 times, until the consistency of a coarse meal (or mix in by hand with your fingertips).

Add egg and pulse just until mixture starts to come together in a dough.  Turn out onto floured plastic wrap.  Wrap and chill at least an hour.  Roll out dough and fit into  pan, crimping edges.  Bake 15-20 minutes until crust is golden.  (You can use pie weights, but this lazy cook just pokes it with a fork before I put it in and once more halfway).   Keep oven on, for next step.

Meanwhile, make  filling:  In a saucepan bring cream just to a boil and add chocolate.  Turn off heat.  Stir until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth.  Stir in egg and mix well (add a bit of chocolate to egg first, if still warm).  Pour into pan.

Bake for 8 minutes.  Chill.  Garnish with crème fraiche, sweetened with confectioner’s sugar to taste, or with whipped cream.  I hope this dish is better than discovering a star.  Bonne année, toute le monde!

 

Noel au Château

We make a trip back to our former  home of Charleston every winter, but Christmas is always spent at Château Balleure with our “French family”,  Nicole and Pierre, and any  friends who have not returned to native lands.   We’ve adopted the French Christmas traditions, which are not so different from our own.

Since so many people depart, we collect those at loose ends at Balleure for the Christmas eve fête.  There is always a stray guest or two who has dropped in from  Europe or Australia, and friends who are alone or with small families.   This year we feel especially blessed, with a visit from our youngest daughter and our son-in-law.  Dinner seems to have quickly grown to 20 or so; C’est normal, chez le château. Everyone gathers early to cook, and the guys shuck a mountain of huîtres, as oysters are our traditional first course (though foie gras is the most common Christmas starter).  But first there is really good champagne, de rigueur for le revillon, the Christmas eve feast. Often this is served with smoked salmon and blinis, with creme fraiche.

Nicole is making a turkey stuffed with sausage, though the French might also do a goose, duck. a capon, or even game.   There will normally be a dish with chestnuts.  Nicole makes a purée of them, and I bring the leek casserole.  Dessert will of course be a bûche de Noel.  The bakeries make such fantastic ones-- beautifully decorated little logs in flavors like praline, coffee , dark chocolate or Grand Marnier--that it’s easier to succumb than to cook.  Finally, there will be expresso by the fire and little gifts to open.

Like many of you, we will spend Christmas morning en famille , with just our kids and a special breakfast that we can nevertheless throw together easily in our PJ’s.  Baked eggs are my favorite special occasion breakfast dish, and I’m always surprised at how many friends are unfamiliar with them.  They’re easy enough that children can can help make them. No measuring required, and pretty, too.   So from our family to yours, a very Merry and delicious Christmas!

 

Recipe:  Christmas Baked Eggs

Photo:  Baked eggs work for 2 or 20.

Pre-heat oven to 350 (175C).  Plan on 2 eggs per person, plus a few extra if you’ve got a crowd.  Butter a casserole dish. Break eggs one at a time into a small bowl, then slide them into the dish, yolks intact.  To give you an idea of pan size:  an 8x8 glass casserole dish is good for about 8-10 eggs.  Eggs should not be completely spread out,  you need a bit of depth.

Measure out some light cream, about a tablespoon for every 4 eggs.  Very gently drizzle the cream onto the whites and between the yolks.  Spread cream around gently with a fork to even it out, keeping yolks intact.  Season with sea salt and ground pepper.

Sprinkle lightly with grated cheese, but not too much, maybe a tablespoon for every 4 eggs.  Cheddar works well, or parmesan, Swiss, or a mixture.  Sprinkle with chopped chives (or slice the green tops of scallions thinly).  Parsley will work too.  Sprinkle with just a bit of very finely chopped red peppers, for color.  Bake for 12-18 minutes (time depends on depth of eggs in your pan).  Bake JUST until yolks are barely set, so start checking at 10 minutes.   Overcooking is the major danger here, and they’ll cook a tiny bit more after they come out.  Serve immediately, with Mimosas and Christmas cheer.

In the COMMENTS this past week:  Anne's still talking biscuits—ever heard of Truck Stop Biscuits?   Sandra’s contemplating a move to France; Per Suzanne and Patricia, lentils are lucky, who knew?  John’s mastering his restaurant French and Cynthia—well, she can say Bonjour. Patricia Flournoy shares her Chicken Tangine recipe (see the the Share a Recipe section). Don’t miss Mark’s language humiliation. And Mark, yes we’re cheeky to mess with a Bocuse recipe.  That’s the great thing about cooking, everyone can be a star!

 

The Long and Winding Road to French Fluency

When my husband and I decided to retire to France, in spite of our rudimentary French language skills, our globetrotting friend Harry had four words of advice for us.  “Stay away from ex-pats”, he cautioned darkly.  “They will all speak English,” he warned, “and you’ll never learn French if you hang around them.”

Americans are not known for their superior foreign language abilities, and we were no exception.  We thought total immersion would be a fine choice for language learning.  Early on in our French adventure we met an English couple who had made a firm vow that for their first two years in France, no English was allowed in their home.  They read only in French, watched French TV, and avoided the ex-pat community entirely. Their French was admirable. We hated them.

Despite our envy, we soon found that we didn’t really aspire to this kind of discipline. If there is one rule about the maddening, uneven, and immensely gratifying process of learning a second language, it is that there are many paths to proficiency.  Total immersion was far too exhausting for my husband and me, but we quickly settled on sustainable compromises. We attended an immersion program in the south of France just before settling in Burgundy. After the move I threw myself into private lessons, plus a weekly conversation group with other ex-pats, guided by a native speaker.  My husband holed up in his study on quiet afternoons with his weapon of choice, a computer-based learning program. 

With great trepidation we began to invite new French friends over.  At first we viewed these all-French evenings with a mixture of exhilaration and a sense of dread.  They were at once enlightening and enjoyable, fatiguing and confusing. We marvel at the patience of the French who dared spend an evening with us that first year.

On the other hand, we also cultivate friends from the rest of Europe, our friend Harry’s advice notwithstanding. Though we live in a rural village, the countryside is overflowing with ex-pats who have decamped from all over Europe and beyond.  We find they enrich our experience in so many ways. When it comes to reading, I’m sorry to report we mostly choose English, but since we are tax-paying resident homeowners, the French bureaucracy graciously provides us with challenging reading material fairly often.

We may never rise to the fluent category, but our efforts have paid off.  I still smile when I hear what is now a common exclamation from the French I meet:  “Oh, you speak French--and you’re an American!”

For our recipe today, I thought it would be fitting to include a truly French one (If you want a French language challenge, try reading une recette from a French cookbook!).  My good friend Marie-Christine gave me a fabulous cookbook from that superstar French chef, Paul Bocuse. Fortunately his book, Bocuse in Your Kitchen: Simple French Recipes for the Home Chef , is available in English as well.  It’s very accessible, full of everyday recipes from the typical French kitchen.  His Warm Lentil Salad has become a winter favorite.  I have no idea why it’s called a salad, but it sure is good.

 

RECIPE:  Salade de lentilles (Warm Lentil Salad)  Paul Bocuse

1 1/2 cups (10 1/2 ounces) lentils, preferably dark green or tan
8 cups water
Salt
1 onion, peeled
5 1/4 ounces salt pork or slab bacon
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
3 tablespoons walnut oil
Salt and pepper
3 tablespoons finely chopped chives
1 shallot, finely chopped

 

Directions
1. Place the lentils in a large saucepan with the water. Salt lightly, add the onion, and bring to a boil.

2. Lower the heat, cover the pan, and simmer for 1 1/2 hours, or until the lentils are tender but not falling apart.

3. Fifteen minutes before serving, cut the salt pork or bacon into 1/2-inch cubes. Fry until the pieces have browned on all sides, then pour off the fat, remove from the heat, and cover the pan to keep warm.

4. Make a dressing by whisking together the mustard, vinegar, oil, salt, and pepper.

5. Once the lentils are done, remove the onion and drain the lentils in a sieve or colander. Place them in a large salad bowl with the chives, shallots, and dressing.

6. Toss gently to season, and place the pieces of bacon on top. Serve warm.

(My note:  When I make this, I throw in some cooked carrots, and I add one tablespoon of lemon juice at the end.  I double the mustard and throw in a bit of chopped garlic when I cook the bacon.  Sorry, Paul).

This week at Your Garden Show, my post on chickens of two weeks ago is featured as a guest blog.  Be sure to visit this fun site if you haven't already, and connect with gardeners from around the world. You can post photos of your own garden, too!

In the COMMENTS last week:  everyone’s got biscuit ideas, bring 'em on!  Herm and Claude are sorting out yeasts; Maureen, John, and Patricia have buttermilk alternatives. Debbie’s dreaming of Angel Biscuits, and Ellen of summer shortcakes. Suzanne shares ideas about Cream Biscuits, and the old way of making them with lard.  And we’ve moved on to fruitcakes, with a great recipe from Claude, Maureen on the German version, and coming soon, Mariella’s Australian one.  Happy baking!

 

'Les Biscuits', Gone South

OK y’all, you knew sooner or later the topic would come up:  Biscuits.  The pinnacle of southern cooking.

Now in France, they don’t know from biscuits.  And yet…look at the spelling, it’s a French word!  This particular parole originated in medieval France, (about the time our favorite château was built, actually), from the latin bescuit, or ‘twice baked’.  Along the way, the second baking got thrown out, except for the Italian biscotti.   The French pronounce it bis KWI and it means a cracker or  a thin, crunchy cookie.  The Brits use the word the same way as the French.  Those pesky American colonists kept the name but changed the recipe and the pronunciation, leading to the current confusion.

A side note: if you describe a southern biscuit to the English, they will say, “oh, you mean a scone”.  Non.  A biscuit in is not the same as its drier, firmer English cousin, which nevertheless is an acceptable vehicle for lots of clotted cream and jam.

No, light and fluffy Southern biscuits, or the flat, crunchier old-fashioned version called beaten biscuits, are not found anywhere in Europe, as far as I can tell.  Happily, the ingredients are readily available (except for buttermilk, which I haven't found yet).  They are dead easy to whip up. Photo: The French & the English think these are biscuits.

I will share with you my very favorite southern biscuit recipe, gleaned from years of testing.  I like this version because it makes lovely biscuits without buttermilk, though by all means use it if you have it.   The only French touch I've given these is that instead of buttermilk  I use a mixture of milk and crème fraiche, which makes a mighty fine biscuit too.  I like to use a heart shaped cutter, it makes them more fun.

For the uninitiated, biscuits, traditionally eaten for breakfast but good anytime, are meant to be eaten with lots of butter, never dry.  When I serve them to the French, I always butter them while they’re hot before I serve them, because they do not generally butter their bread and will miss the fun.  Jam works, too;  honey and molasses are also common toppers for a split, hot biscuit in the South.  For me the best thing to put on a biscuit is orange marmalade, but I must admit my neighbor Marion’s white peach jam from the garden is pretty wonderful with them as well.

Ron, who lived in Charleston many years but is from ‘off’, is nevertheless an enthusiastic biscuit convert.  He has tried to train me to get up with the chickens every morning and make a batch so that the aroma of baking biscuits wakes him up.  To this I say, Fat Chance.  But I do indulge him from time to time.

 RECIPE:  Lynn’s  Southern Biscuits from the Heart, slightly Frenchified

 2 tips:  you can mix in the butter with your fingers the old fashioned way, but for truly great biscuits, I must admit that  a food processor is the way to go.  And if you avoid making them due to the messy clean-up, try this neat trick:  sprinkle a little water on your countertop, then cover with a large piece of plastic wrap.  Flour it and turn your dough out onto it to work it.  When you’re done, just fold it up and pitch it.  Voila, a clean counter.

 Oven:  400 degrees F, (200 C)

•  2 c. flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons sugar
• (If using buttermilk or sour milk, add ½ teaspoon baking soda to dry ingredients)
• 1 stick (113 grams) cold unsalted butter, diced
• ¾ cup liquid: stir together about half milk &  half crème fraiche  (or sour cream),  or use  buttermilk
• Egg wash (1 egg beaten with 1 T milk)

 Put dry ingredients in food processor, pulse to blend.  Add butter, and give it about 10 one-second pulses until mixture is like a coarse meal.   (or, knead butter in with your fingertips).  Turn out into a bowl.

Make a well and add liquid all at once.  Stir quickly with fork, just until dough comes together in clumps, there may be a bit of flour left that you can mix in as you knead the dough.   Turn onto lightly floured surface.  With floured hands, knead and fold dough just a couple of times until it comes together nicely into a ball, then pat out into a circle about ½ inch thick.  Use heart-shaped or round cutter to make about a dozen biscuits (try Kaiser Bakeware Heart Cookie Cutter, Set of 6).  Place on cookie sheet, on a Silpat Non-Stick Mat (my favorite baking tool!  Clink on link for info).  Brush with egg wash and bake for 15-20 minutes until golden brown.  Eat ‘em while they’re hot with your favorite topping.

Making biscuits ahead: cooked biscuits can be wrapped in foil, frozen, then thawed and re-heated in a hot oven.  I prefer to freeze them before cooking:  after cutting them out place them on a small cookie sheet or pie plate, close together, and cover the dish with plastic wrap or foil.  When they’re frozen into little rocks, you can remove them and put them in a freezer bag.  Thaw and bake as in recipe.  This way you won’t have to get up early to please your Sweetie!

If you missed last week's post, you can read it this week at Your Garden Show, where Southern Fried French is a guest blogger!

 

The Ravishing of Dominique by The Italian Policeman, and Other Stories

Photo:  a cockerel named Joyce, and friends.  Painting by Margaret Chambers.

Our red-headed British friend Margaret, a great raconteuse and a painter, moved to a Burgundy farmhouse with her husband Paul back when expats were as rare as hen's teeth, some 25 years ago.   If you’ve followed this ‘blob’ from the beginning, you may remember her as the person who got us to the château, by introducing us to Nicole and Pierre.

One day Margaret and I were sipping tea together on the back porch of house of her house (porch being mostly a southern word, though in Charleston we’d call it a piazza, and in Burgundy it’s a galerie. But I digress).  Her garden is overlooked by a small château, which is on a steep bluff above their house, so the view is quite pretty.  As we sat talking, a small, colorful band of chickens, the parade led by a shamelessly flamboyant cock, emerged from the château garden and carefully picked their way down the rocky bank and into her yard.  These were Margaret’s chickens, which she kept just because she found them pretty.  Apparently they lunch at the château and show up chez Margaret promptly at tea time each day.

Margaret told me the story of the colorful cockerel, mysteriously named Joyce, who was born with four other chicks but completely ignored by his mother. “When I took it from the nest, newly born, it was a wet little thing, both sides of its head bleeding”, she told me.  “ I warmed him up with my hands a bit.  Our  noddy cat was sleeping in a tight ball, so I tucked him inside, against her stomach.  She roused herself briefly, meowed sleepily in protest, and went back to sleep.”

 Margaret left them to cuddle, but just before guests arrived for a dinner party that evening, the cat decided she’d had enough of chick parenting, and sauntered off.  Unable to devote any time to the chick but knowing it needed heat, Margaret quickly fashioned a little papoose, popping the chick inside, and hung in on a chain around her neck over her dinner dress.  The chick stayed warm, and Margaret sported what may be the most unique jewelry ever seen in France: a live chicken necklace.

Then there was the incident of Dominique and the Italian Policeman.  Margaret pointed out Dominique,  a black and white checked hen of considerable charm and a favorite of Margarets.  Dominique was destined to die of old age, and never see the inside of the freezer. 

“We named our last cock the Italian Policeman because his dark jacket of feathers had colorful specks, like the medals on a uniform,” Margaret explained.   “Dominique is getting old and has no further interest in the attentions of a cock.”  The Italian Policeman, however, had other plans.  One day they found Dominique had been completely scalped: all her head feathers missing, her head bloodied.  She was promptly placed in a protective cage.  The Italian Policeman, who had become tiresome, was soon to meet his maker, and the frying pan.  Dominique’s feathers grew back, with only a head that was a bit misshapen to tell the tale of her abuse.

A sad epilogue to this post:  Margaret died, after a long struggle with cancer, shortly after telling me this tale, and her bright, gentle spirit is much missed by all who knew her.

Margaret left the cooking to her husband Paul—except for desserts, which she loved to make.  So in her memory, here is my version of a Burgundy favorite.

RECIPE:  Poached Pears Vin Chaud

Vin Chaud is a hot, spiced red wine that  is commonly served in France in the winter, especially at outdoor  festivals  and such.   For this dessert, pears are cooked and marinated in vin chaud, which is reduced to a rich syrup.  Make this the day before serving.

Serves 4.

• 2 cups red wine
• Juice of a small orange
• ½ cup sugar
• A dozen black peppercorns
• 2 cloves and 2 whole allspice
• 1 small cinnamon stick
• Dash of salt
• 4 pears
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Combine all ingredients except pears and vanilla in medium saucepan.  Stir and simmer several minutes until sugar is dissolved.  Set aside.

Peel pears and cut in half.  Put pears in wine mixture, cover, and simmer slowly until they are soft but not mushy when you put a fork in them; begin checking after 10 minutes.  Turn them every few minutes with a spoon, if the  liquid doesn’t cover them completely.

Remove pears to a storage container.  Reduce wine mixture by simmering, uncovered, until it’s reduced by half (begin checking at 10 minutes).  Remove from heat, stir in vanilla.

Pour wine mixture through a strainer over pears and refrigerate overnight. To serve, put  pear halves in bowls and spoon syrup over.  I serve it chilled, but it's also good at room temperature, or warmed up.

In the Comments:  Will the death of corks save wine, or screw it up?  Don't miss the lively discussion about Jean-Marc’s guest blog last week. And Mark asks, what to do with all those saved corks?  Well, here’s one idea.  A friend made these placecard holders for us this year for Thanksgiving—very cute. Just take a slice off the bottom of the cork and make a slit for the paper.

 

This week I’ll share a favorite book for those interested in traveling to Burgundy, or who love the cuisine: Pedaling Through Burgundy Cookbook which is both tour guide and cookbook by one of my favorite food writers, Sarah Leah Chase. Click on the link for more info.

 

Unless otherwise attributed, all POSTS, PHOTOS and RECIPES on this blog copyright ©2010 Lynn McBride.  All Rights Reserved.