This is one of those French salads with an evocative name where the ingredients vary according to the whim of the chef. Salade vigneronne translates as ‘winemaker’s salad’, and in this version you’ll find tender leaves, walnuts, grapes and garlic in a balsamic vinaigrette, with optional add-ons such as smoked duck breast, dry-cured ham or croutons. It’s a salad I serve often in autumn. But when I surfed the web to see how others do it…
Salade vigneronne / Winemaker’s salad
… I found that others tend to leave out the grapes. Instead they may use dandelion leaves and bacon; arugula, hard-boiled egg and onion; sausage, cheese and pickles (the Alsace version, with no greens)… So is my version truly a salade vigneronne? To my mind, definitely, as vigneronne, according to the Larousse Gastronomique, is a word associated in cuisine with ‘preparations having to do with grapes, the grapevine or autumn dishes’.
Other salads with a range of possible ingredients include salade parisienne, a bistro classic, and salade périgourdine, from the Dordogne region of southwest France. Let’s start with that one. I was thinking of posting a recipe for salade périgourdine this week but dropped the idea because the ingredients are too hard to find outside France. Such as gésiers de canard, or preserved duck giblets. If those aren’t available, one can use shredded confit de canard (preserved duck), foie gras (of duck or goose), dry-cured ham and/or pâté. Then one can add walnuts, croutons, green beans, cherry tomatoes, etc. The author Martin Walker’s recipe for a classic version can be found here.
As for salade parisienne, I’ve been thinking about posting this ‘Paris-style salad’ for quite some time, the problem being that no one can agree on what’s in it. It generally includes ham cubes and cheese (Gruyère, Comté, etc.) on a bed of Boston lettuce (laitue) with a mustard vinaigrette, but after that anything goes. Potatoes? Why not. Hard-boiled eggs? Tomatoes? Green beans? Perhaps. Sliced raw mushrooms? Although I’ve never encountered them in this salad, they feature in various recipes and are said to have given the salad its name — white mushrooms being known in French as ‘champignons de Paris‘. This is apparently because they were cultivated in an abandoned quarry at the southern edge of the city until 1895, when construction of the Paris Métro put an end to that.
Getting back to salade vigneronne, my theory on why there are so many versions is that the name harks back to the tradition of winemakers serving hearty food to the workers they hire in autumn to pick their grapes. Although I’ve never participated in the vendanges (grape harvest), I hear it’s back-breaking work that deserves a substantial lunch. My lighter version of the salad may be served as a starter or as a lunch dish, followed perhaps by some cheese, and with a glass of red alongside. It would also make a nice dish to serve on the upcoming November holidays — Hanukah and Thanksgiving.
Happy cooking.
Meantime, as to what else I’ve been up to in the kitchen, I made a wedding cake this past week. Great fun!
I was inspired to make this Normandy dish of chicken cooked in hard cider by the late great writer Marguerite Duras. Not that she made it for me, but I did enjoy meals at her house — more on that later. The dish originated as peasant fare for special occasions. The chicken is lightly browned, mushrooms, shallots and bacon are added, and the dish is then stewed in hard cider, with cream added at the end. By the way, Normandy grows a lot of apples.
I discovered the apéritif known as ratafia one summer when the former owners of my cottage in Burgundy paid me a visit. As they admired the changes I’d made inside, I asked them how they had used the grapes growing on a sprawling vine outside. Since the grapes were too sour to eat, I had been leaving them to the birds. But I was sure that previous owners, including those who planted the grapevine in the first place, must have had a better idea.
In Burgundy, where grapes are plentiful, making ratafia in the autumn is an annual pastime. And now that I’ve sold my cottage, I make it in Paris. It’s fun, inexpensive and the results are thoroughly enjoyable.
I was inspired to make a carpaccio of tuna the other day after lunching in Montmartre at a place that served a fabulous version infused with Asian flavors. I didn’t think to ask for the recipe, so I had to wing it. In this version, ultrafresh tuna is flavored with a marinade of lime zest, lime juice, sesame oil, ginger and soy sauce, and topped with toasted sesame seeds and cilantro. For a gala touch, I added a sprinkle of trout roe.
Fresh figs marry beautifully with goat cheese and rosemary, so I decided to combine them in a savory tart. I came up with this plan after my downstairs neighbor brought me a bucketful of figs — lush, plump and ultra flavorful — from her vacation place in Sardinia. Although it’s theoretically the height of fig season in France now, too, there’s been a dearth of homegrown figs this year, making me all the more grateful for the gift.
On my first go, I made the pastry myself, using the 
At left, the gifts from my neighbor: figs from her fig tree, her homemade fig jam (fabulous!), and a bottle of olive oil pressed from olives grown on her property.
This zingy soup came about thanks to a visit I made to Provence last summer. While staying with friends in St-Rémy during a break between lockdowns, I came across an old cookbook of regional dishes and was intrigued to see a blended potato-leek soup that may be served cold or hot. It looked like something you’d expect to see further north — like a Provençal version of vichyssoise, in which the cream was replaced by pistou.
High summer is the time to make and enjoy this dish of roasted eggplant topped with a pungent walnut sauce. Traditionally served as a starter, it also makes a fine side dish or the star of a mezze spread. The walnuts are ground with garlic and fresh cilantro. Red wine vinegar and cayenne add tang, coriander seeds add spice, and celery adds a bit of crunch. It may not exactly be French — but it will have you saying ooh-là-là.
Paupiettes de veau, a classic bistro dish, are veal scallops stuffed with a savory meat filling. They are rarely made from scratch in French homes as they can be bought already stuffed from the butcher — and merely need to be braised before serving. But as I discovered, they’re fun to make and easier than one might think. The veal is folder around ground meat flavored with onion, garlic and herbs, then barded with bacon and tied up with string.
Preparation of paupiettes de veau begins by pounding the veal scallops to ensure they are thin enough to wrap around the stuffing. Tying them up is simple — it’s like wrapping a birthday present. Once stuffed, the paupiettes are browned on all sides and then braised in white wine or, sometimes, rosé.
These light and crispy zucchini fritters are a French adaptation of a dish I discovered on a Greek island. Flavored with mint, dill, oregano and grated onion, they make a delightful start to a meal and may also be served at cocktail hour or as part of a mezze spread. Or you can serve them alongside grilled fish, meat, chicken or veggies. They marry extremely well with tzadziki. Add a bottle of chilled rosé, and you’ll feel like you’re in the Cyclades.
So, on my second try with the zucchini fritters, I went with my instinct and folded a beaten egg white into the batter. Success! I made myself some tzadziki (see the bottom of 
This Thai duck salad with French accents is a dish my friends ask for time and again when they come over. It combines Thai flavors — lemongrass, cilantro, Asian fish sauce, lime juice and red pepper — with the supremely French cut of duck known as magret, aka the breast, fat attached. The duck is cooked to a warm rosiness, then sliced and placed over or beside the herbal salad. Add a glass of chilled rosé, and lunch or dinner is ready.
