Quiche aux poireaux

A quiche brings out the best in the humble leek. Sautéd in butter to tenderness, bathed in a mixture of eggs, milk, cream and a dash of nutmeg, piled into a savory crust and topped with grated cheese, the leek rises from peasant status to nobility. And the beauty is that this quiche can be prepared very easily, especially if — as I did on a lazy Sunday (blush) — you use store-bought puff pastry (pâte feulletée) instead of making the crust from scratch…

Quiche aux poireaux / Leek quiche

Okay, I admit it. A homemade savory crust (pâte brisée) is far superior. And it’s not particularly difficult to produce. The key is having the butter at room temperature when you begin. Well, last Sunday I was in a hurry and the butter was stone cold. So I popped out to the supermarket and picked up the pastry, making sure to buy a “pur beurre” (pure butter) variety instead of one made with vegetable shortening.

The quiche can make a meal in itself, accompanied by a salad — for example, in autumn, a salad of pears roasted with parmesan or a salad of lamb’s lettuce and beets. It can also be served as a starter for a more elaborate meal, followed perhaps by stuffed pumpkin (a great recipe, by the way) or roasted chicken, duck or beef and autumn veggies, and for dessert maybe a Tarte Tatin (apple upside-down tart) or walnut tart.

I’ve been thinking about autumn menus these days as we have two big birthdays coming up around here: my daughter is turning 25, and I’m turning… well… it’s such an improbable number that I won’t bother to mention it. For her birthday dinner, my daughter has requested foie gras followed by boeuf bourguignon and a celeriac-potato purée, with a pavlova (meringue topped with cream and fresh fruit) for dessert (recipe coming soon). As for me, I’m going with a Ukrainian-Georgian theme: blini with homemade gravalax, Georgian guinea hen, red bean salad with walnuts, etc.

These back-to-back events will be followed in short order by an election with the potential to change the world. My European friends are on pins and needles waiting for the result. They fear that a certain candidate, if elected, will pull the United States out of NATO — breaking up the alliance that has defended Europe for 75 years — and withdraw from the Paris climate accords. Everyone wants to know how I think this vote will turn out. Dear reader, I’m as much in the dark as everyone else. All I can say is, I voted. Did you?

Happy cooking.

Posted in 4a. Savory Tarts and Tartines | Leave a comment

Gratin de légumes

The beauty of a vegetable gratin is that it can be made with virtually any veggies you wish. I made a gratin of potatoes, carrots, leeks and baby spinach last month when the gray, rainy weather set in after our all too brief summer season in Paris. A week later it was back on our table by popular demand. The veggies are steamed, bathed in a Béchamel sauce, topped with grated cheese and baked until golden and bubbly. Easy.

Gratin de légumes / Veggie gratin

This is French vegetarian food at perhaps its most classic. When I first arrived in Paris in the mid-70s, there was a little vegetarian restaurant on Rue Vieille du Temple in the Marais that served up the most delicious veggie gratins — a discovery for me. But, you may well ask, what makes it so French? Well, first of all the Bechamel, a quintessentially French sauce made of butter, flour and milk, with a hint of garlic, a dash of nutmeg and a spoonful of cream. Second, the cheese — usually Comté, Gruyère or a similar cheese from the eastern edge of France, near or in the Alps.

The key in this recipe is to choose veggies that marry well and suit the season. Potatoes, carrots, leeks and spinach work well in early autumn. As the weather turns cooler you could include butternut or pumpkin, or cauliflower. Broccoli and/or mushrooms may be added at any time of the year. (Other gratins on this site feature a single veggie: zucchini gratin, Swiss chard gratin, leek gratin, cauliflower gratin and eggplant gratin.)

The mixed veggie gratin may be served as a main course with a salad alongside for a simple meal, or as a side dish for a more elaborate meal. In autumn, you could begin with a seasonal starter, like a salad of lamb’s lettuce and beets or a pumpkin soup, and conclude with an apple dessert — for example, apple tart, tarte Tatin or baked apples.

This is generally a cool-weather dish, so it was perfect for pre-autumnal Paris. But after making the veggie gratin twice in September, I escaped to Washington, D.C., where the glorious sunshine was a delight. It wasn’t gratin weather there yet. Still, winter is coming — literally, of course, but in this danger-fraught political season, not figuratively, we hope.

Happy cooking.

Posted in 8. Vegetables | Leave a comment

Salade de hareng fumé

This zingy smoked herring salad proved a winner when I was asked to cook for 50 people at a party in Normandy in late August. It was meant to be served on the night of the party as part of a salad buffet to accompany a mechoui — slow-roasted lamb cooked over an open pit. But the 30 or so guests who had arrived by noon had it for lunch, which worked out well as I hadn’t really made enough for 50. Reader, they ate it all and asked for more.

Salade de hareng fumé / Smoked herring salad

The only challenge I faced with this dish was figuring out how much to make for such a large crowd. The recipe is simplicity itself. The fish is chopped and tossed with minced red onion, lemon juice, olive oil and fresh dill. It takes just five minutes to prepare if you’re making it, say, for two people as a light lunch, perhaps accompanied by a mesclun salad, or for up to six as cocktail-hour canapés. But 50? Now that was a brain twister.

As much as I love to cook, and despite my early experience as chef at a small restaurant in Ithaca, New York, it’s rare these days for me to make a meal for more than, say, twelve. The hostess had instructed me to arrive no earlier than noon on Friday, the day before the party. The house would be full of guests, so I’d have to find a way to cook unobtrusively — and very quickly — to get everything ready in time for the festivities on Saturday night,

What would be on the menu? We put our heads together and came up with a selection of easy-to-make dishes that wouldn’t break the bank and that would marry well with the lamb. Many are already on this site: Georgian red bean-walnut salad, spicy Moroccan carrot salad, herbal tomato salad, French potato salad and spicy lentils. We added a pasta gratin and had planned to include roasted eggplant salad as well, but I ran out of time. For dessert I made three huge flaky baklava cakes (recipe coming soon).

Preparation turned out to be less problematic than I had feared. I was able to work undisturbed on the first day as the other guests were off visiting the D-Day beaches. And I had help on the second day in the form of a couple of young guests from Texas who peeled and chopped and stirred and generally amused me with funny stories. By lunchtime on the Saturday we were virtually done.

At this point the man in charge of the mechoui had been at work for a couple of hours. He’d dug a huge pit on the edge of the garden and set up two three-tier arrays of spits loaded with lamb. He lit the fire, and the aroma wafted over the property all afternoon as guests played games and picked flowers to set out on the seven white-clothed tables installed in a giant tent in the yard, and as a musician friend tested out the piano and sound system, which had been installed under the tent the day before.

The original idea for the fish had been to serve it on small squares of black bread for the Saturday evening toast that opened the festivities, accompanied by icy vodka. For yes, one of the guests of honor was the Russian husband of our hostess. (He spends most of his time in France these days and opposes the war.) He had turned 70 this year, and their younger daughter had turned 30, making this a 100-year birthday party.

The smoked herring having already been eaten, we improvised for the toast with smoked salmon on black bread. The dinner proved a success, and afterwards there was music (variations on ‘Happy Birthday to You’ in the style of Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin and Mussorgsky by our incredibly talented musician friend), a raffle (I won a kitschy ceramic biker filled with vodka — not kidding) and dancing into the wee hours. Super fun.

So where does this leave us, cooking-wise? Bottom line: you don’t need 50 people to enjoy smoked herring salad. You can make it for two, or just yourself.

Happy cooking.

Posted in 1. Starters | Leave a comment

Fusilli aux brocolis et saucisses

Pasta with broccoli, sausage, olive oil and red pepper flakes is a family favorite that I tend to make when cooler weather sets in — which has suddenly happened in Paris after a couple of warm months that went by in a flash. We had a hailstorm yesterday and overnight the temperature dipped to 6º C (43º F). It’s enough to send you scrambling for a warm quilt and a bottle of hearty red, which goes well with this spicy, garlic-infused dish.

Fusilli aux brocolis et saucisses / Pasta with broccoli and sausage

Preparation is super simple. You slice up and fry the sausage, chop the broccoli into bite-sized flowerets, boil the pasta — adding the broccoli towards the end, drain and toss in a sauce of olive oil, garlic and crushed cayenne or red pepper flakes. Top with freshly grated parmesan — et voilà. A one-dish meal in 20 minutes or less.

The recipe may be made with any kind of pasta. I chose fusilli this time because the sauce clings nicely to the little spirals. Sometimes I make it with spaghetti or with conchiglie rigate (shells). As Italian sausage isn’t that easy to find in Paris, I generally use a similar French variety called saucisse de Toulouse. What it lacks is Italian spicing — but you can do that yourself by combining the sausage meat with some fennel seed and herbs.

To make more of a meal of it, a lovely Italian-style starter in autumn would be country ham with fresh figs. Another possibility is ‘Salade de l’ambassadeur‘, a salad with bresaola and late summer fruit (which got its name from the person who gave me the recipe, the former French ambassador to Poland!). Vegetarian starters that marry well include burrata with mesclun and hazelnuts, roasted eggplant salad and salad with garlic and croutons. And by the way, a veggie version of this dish is easy — just omit the sausage.

If you’re serving this pasta to guests and would like to add a dessert, I’d recommend tiramisu, which is not only popular but also fun to make. Or you could serve a fresh fig tart, a walnut tart or — why not? — a classic French apple tart. Any of these options would make a fine coda to a comforting meal as, after the joys of summer, we head into a cooler, darker season…

Happy cooking.

Posted in 9. Pasta, Rice, Grains | Leave a comment

Omelette au fromage

This fluffy cheese omelet, a classic of French cuisine, is the last thing I expected to write about when I returned from Provence last week. I’d picked up three new recipes, including one for a fabulous garlic spread that is served in the region but largely unavailable elsewhere in France. Well, dear readers, I made it twice — and both times it was a dismal failure. So I consulted my fridge to see what else I could make on short notice…

Omelette au fromage / Cheese omelet

Yes, I had eggs, yes I had a block of cheese, yes I had a little butter and olive oil as well as some fresh basil to scatter over the omelet. Easy peasy. And to my surprise, I found that after posting recipes here for over a decade — there are now more than 500 on the site — I had never shared this absolutely essential French dish. There’s a technique to making it in the French style, and this is explained in the recipe.

Cheese omelets are served across France  both at bistros, generally accompanied by French fries, and at home at lunchtime, suppertime and, more recently, also for brunch (a meal that is catching on over here, although not traditional). The cheese is generally Comté, Gruyère or Emmenthal, which hail from eastern France near the Swiss border. But I’ve experiemented a lot and can testify that this omelet is also delicious with cheddar, gouda with cumin and many other cheeses.

The omelet was a handy solution after my two attempts at crème d’ail resulted in a garlic spread that I wouldn’t serve to my dog, if I had one. No comparison to the version we picked up at the market in Apt, a charming town in Luberon region. After tasting it I wanted to ask the vendor for his recipe but, alas, the market is only on Saturdays and I was leaving on Thursday. Maybe next year.

The second recipe I picked up was for making green olives in the Provençal style. These superb olives are known as picholines. They’re available at farmers markets elsewhere in France but not always easy to find. The recipe came my way when the gregarious landlord of our rental stopped by to clean the pool and we began conversing about his olive trees. It’s a recipe I’d like to try, but unfortunately I don’t have a fruitful olive tree in Paris. (There’s a small one on my veranda, but this year it produced exactly one olive…).

The third recipe is for caponata, a Sicilian take on ratatouile that includes black olives, celery and capers as well as the other ingredients and is served cold, never hot. This deeply flavorful dish was brought to our table by our friend Christian, a superlative cook, and he was kind enough to share the recipe. But I’ll wait untili next summer to post it as I first need to check in with my Sicilian friend Gisella, another fabulous cook.

So there you have it. Even though it’s still officially summer and we’re in a new round of the Olympics here in Paris, there’s a whiff of autumn in the air. Residents who fled the first round are returning in droves, the kids go back to school on Monday and the first bounty of the fall season is appearing at markets. Today I bought girolles, the larger French cousin of chanterelles, and the year’s first plump grapes are also on offer.

Here’s wishing you a gentle rentrée (post-summer return to reality). And… happy cooking!

Posted in 4. Omelets, Soufflés, Quiche | 4 Comments

Poisson brésilien au lait de coco

This dish of fish in a tomato-coconut-lime sauce hails from Brazil, where it is known as moqueca. I discovered it at the home of a friend in the English countryside, and found it so wonderful that I had to share it with you. Jane, the friend in question, learned to make it while her husband was serving as a senior British diplomat in Brasília. They entertained a lot and, as she put it, this is a great party dish because it can be largely prepared in advance.

Poisson brésilien au lait de coco / Brazilian fish stew ‘moqueca’

Regular readers of this site may remember that the recipe in my last post was also from an English friend, another superlative cook. What’s the connection? We all lived in Moscow when it was still the capital of the USSR — and thus we learned to be creative cooks. There were a few state-run restaurants but there was nothing resembling normal nightlife. If we wanted to have a nice dinner, we had to prepare it ourselves.

This involved creative shopping as well. The building to which all three of us were assigned was within easy walking distance of a decent farmers market, but the quality and quantity of the food on offer there was unpredictable. Even less predictable were the state-run shops, hence the habit of every Muscovite of never going out without an avoska (string bag) in case something interesting should turn up. Which happened rarely.

One food item that was generally available somewhere was ice cream, and it was excellent. People lined up for it in the streets in winter, never mind the -30 temperatures. But there was only one flavor — vanilla. Well, dear friends, creative cooking means figuring out how to go beyond vanilla. Soon I was delighting my dinner guests with exotic flavors like chocolate or strawberry. (Hint: let the ice cream soften, add cocoa powder or mashed strawberries, stir and refreeze). Another thing I learned to make in Moscow was French-fried onion rings — as no such thing was available there (coming soon).

Getting back to moqueca (pronounced moo-KAY-ka), fillets of any firm, white-fleshed fish are marinated for a while in lime juice, garlic and ginger, then cooked in a sauce of sweet red pepper, onion, garlic, tomato and cayenne, with coconut milk, more lime juice and chopped cilantro added at the end. The dish is traditionally served over rice.

And, you may well ask, why is a Brazilian dish that came to me via Moscow appearing on a French food blog? Well, for one thing, I made it in Paris. For another, we’ve got the Olympics happening here in a matter of days, and what better way to celebrate the Olympic spirit of friendly competition among nations than a multi-culti dish?

Happy cooking.

Posted in 5. Fish and Shellfish | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Salade aubergine-tomate-poivron

This summery salad of roasted eggplant with tomatoes and sweet red pepper is a versatile dish that may be served as a starter, as a side dish, as part of a mezze spread or as the star of a vegetarian meal. It is similar to its French cousin, ratatouille, but in fact hails from further east. Crushed coriander seeds lend an exotic flavor, while cayenne adds bite. Enjoy it chilled with a bottle of crisp rosé as we head into the hottest time of the year.

Salade aubergine-tomate-poivron / Roasted eggplant salad

I discovered this dish in April while visiting my friend Penny in England. A fabulous cook, she shares with me a background in the former Soviet Union and picked up many delicious recipes there. This salad, which is served across Ukraine, Moldova, Armenia and other former Soviet republics, is known in Russian as baklazhannaya ikra and in Ukrainian as baklazanu ikra, both of which translate as ‘eggplant caviar’. But it bears little resemblance to the eggplant caviar served in France and the Middle East.

This is not only because it includes other veggies in addition to the eggplant, but also because the veggies are not puréed or mashed together but remain recognizable, with their lovely colors making an attractive dish. I served it twice recently, first alongside smoked fish and dark rye bread, in honor of a Polish dinner guest, and then beside roast chicken, which was the most reasonable thing I could think of to serve to a friend who came over to watch the French election results — roast chicken being the ultimate French comfort food.

For a vegetarian or vegan summer meal, the roasted eggplant salad could be served with herbal tomato salad, Moroccan carrot salad, chickpea salad with cumin and dill, tangy fava spread, beet salad with walnuts, summer salad with fresh figs, and the list goes on. If you’d like to serve something warm alongside, I’d recommend bulghur with red onion and mint, spicy lentils with onions, provençal tomatoes or — why not? — potato pancakes.

As for drinks, this salad goes well with rosé or red wine — and also, given its origins, with chilled vodka. We may be needing a lot of that over here with the far-right National Rally poised to dominate in the French parliament after the second round of legislative elections this Sunday. Less than a month ago, it was inconceivable to me that my adopted country could find itself governed by the heirs of the Vichy leaders who oversaw the massive deportation of Jews from France during World War II. But then President Macron pounced with his insane decision to dissolve the National Assembly.

To calm my nerves, I plan to spend a lot of time over the coming weeks being creative in the kitchen — as making beautiful food is not only my art form, but also my zen.

Happy cooking.

Posted in 3. Salads | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Tagine de poulet aux petits pois

This deeply flavorful Moroccan dish of garlicky chicken infused with cumin and coriander on a bed of meltingly soft peas makes a fine family supper or a festive dish for special occasions. And as we are reaching the tail end of the season for fresh peas, this is a good time to try it out. The recipe is easy but takes time as the chicken needs to marinate before going into the oven. The peas are cooked separately, and everything is combined at the end.

Tagine de poulet aux petits pois / Spicy Moroccan chicken with fresh peas

I first encountered a version of this dish at a Moroccan restaurant down the street that is fittingly called Le Tajine (the word is transliterated from the Arabic, and is alternatively spelled with a ‘g’ or a ‘j’ in France). It was springtime, and in addition to the usual menu of various tagines and couscous there was a seasonal special — tagine de pigeon aux petits pois. This I had to try, and I was not disappointed.

The next day I called the woman who runs the place to ask for the recipe. This was a few years ago, when farmed pigeons were still available at my local farmers market (which they no longer are because apparently they’ve become too expensive).

Armed with the recipe, I headed to the market and bought two large handfuls of peas in the pod. Then I bought a couple of pigeons, had them cut in half, came home and marinated them as suggested — in a sauce of olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, cumin, crushed coriander seeds, salt and pepper. While the pigeon was marinating, I shelled the peas.

That’s the first stage. The second was to roast the birds and cook the peas until they were meltingly tender — which is kind of counterintuitive in that peas are more commonly served only just barely cooked these days. When the pigeon and roasting juices were combined with the peas at the end, the flavors married beautifully.

This tagine (Moroccan stew), which unlike many other tagines does not feature fruit, proved popular at home. So when pigeon disappeared from the market, I started making it with guinea fowl (pintade) or chicken. The results, while less exotic, were fine.

The tagine may be served on its own or over couscous. For a festive dinner, it could be preceded by by a Moroccan carrot salad, herbal tomato salad, chickpea salad and/or eggplant caviar. For dessert you could serve fresh seasonal fruit, a walnut-almond-orange cake or sliced oranges with star anise. A smooth red or crisp rosé would go well.

Happy cooking.

Posted in 6. Poultry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Pain perdu

Forget maple syrup, bring on the powdered sugar. French toast, French style, is mainly served as a dessert or an afternoon snack. Known as pain perdu (‘lost bread’), it was a poor man’s dish until, according to lore, it was discovered by the nobility in the 16th century, becoming a favorite of King Henri IV. From the king’s table, French toast made its way abroad, and the rest is history.

Pain perdu / French toast, French style

Unlike the American variety, the French version of French toast is dipped into an egg-milk mixture that has been sweetened and flavored with vanilla, or possibly cinnamon. It can be made with any type of bread, from baguette to the currently trendier pain brioché, which is similar to egg bread or challah. (Brioche also had it’s moment in history, when Marie-Antoinette allegedly said, ‘Let them eat cake’ — Qu’ils mangent de la brioche.)

French toast had a moment in my family’s history during our first trip to Paris back in 1967. At our first café lunch, my perenially amusing 14-year-old brother got that look in his eye. We were in France? He wanted French toast. With two years of high school French, I was the only French speaker in the family. ‘Le French toast?’ I tried. The waitress stared at me blankly. I listed the ingredients – bread, milk and egg. ‘Ah, du pain perdu!’

Lost bread? That seemed illogical even then. The idea of using stale bread to create a confection surely meant that the bread was saved, not lost… For the record, my brother continued his quest to unravel the mysteries of French cuisine by ordering French fries (frites) and French dressing (an equivalent doesn’t exist). Meanwhile, I was trying French onion soup (gratinée) and loving every minute of it.

These days French toast is rarely seen on bistro menus. It is most commonly served in French homes for the afternoon goûter (snack), a national institution for French schoolchildren to tide them over until French dinnertime, around 8 p.m. But this can also be a sophisticated dish. Serve it at your next brunch, with fruit and/or bacon, and prepare for applause.

Happy cooking.

Posted in 4. Omelets, Soufflés, Quiche | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Aïgo boulido

French garlic soup from Provence is called aïgo boulido, which translates amusingly as ‘boiled water’. Well, you can believe me — it’s a lot tastier than hot water. The garlic is boiled until soft, allowed to steep with fresh sage, thyme and a bay leaf, puréed with an egg yolk and olive oil, and served over toast topped with freshly grated cheese. Pale yellow, creamy and deeply flavorful, it’s a delight to the palate and the eye.

Aïgo boulido / French garlic soup from Provence

Although less famous than it’s illustrious cousin, French onion soup, garlic soup is served throughout France. In the north, the garlic is typically cooked in chicken broth with potatoes, carrots and cream or butter. Sometimes smoked garlic is used. In the southwest, where garlic soup is known as tourin à l’ail, it may include onion, flour and wine vinegar. The provençal version tastes like sage-infused aïoli (garlic mayonnaise), but is far lighter.

Even in Provence, there are many versions. As Andrée Maureau, author of the wonderful cookbook Recettes en Provence, explains, ‘A chaque famille sa recette‘ — each family has its own recipe. She provides several versions, the first of which consists simply of garlic boiled with sage, thyme and bay, unblended and served over toast. This may hark back to the days when hikers in the Alps of Provence made the soup using herbs they gathered and water from bubbling brooks, which they boiled for purposes of purification.

Possibly because it’s a family thing, or perhaps because the regional aspect of French cuisine persists to this day, garlic soup is rarely seen on Parisian bistro menus. In fact, I owe the inspiration for this post to my sister-in-law, Mary Foran of Oakland, California. I guess that means it’s a family thing for us, too. Mary encountered a recipe for garlic soup in a novel and ran it by me to check on its authenticity. That sparked my curiosity. I’d been wanting to try aïgo boulido, the version from Provence, for a long time, looked into it and finally made some. Very glad that I did!

Happy cooking.

Posted in 2. Soups | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments