Every French school child learns that, back in around 1600, ‘good King Henri IV’ wanted to put a chicken in every pot. How much truth there is in this legend is still being debated by historians. What is incontestable, though, is that the dish called poule au pot to this day carries royal connotations. And yet, it is so simple. A chicken (or a hen) is boiled with vegetables to make a two-dish supper: first the soup, then the chicken and veggies.
Poule au pot / Poule au pot
Henri IV hailed from the Béarn region of southwest France, and this dish is sometimes served béarnaise style — stuffed with a mixture of cured ham, the bird’s liver and gizzard, bread, garlic, shallots, parsley and tarragon. I’ve done it that way, but it’s a lot more work and not really necessary as the dish is succulent enough without the stuffing. The vegetables are typically carrots, turnips, leeks, cabbage and potatoes. The chicken is cooked to total tenderness, creating a rich broth — even richer if the dish is made with a hen, which needs to cook longer.
Getting back to the legend, Henri IV is seen now as a ‘good’ king, but during his lifetime (1553-1610) he was a controversial ruler. Today he is remembered for having halted the Wars of Religion between Catholics and Protestants that had lasted for 40 years. In order to be crowned king of all France, the story goes, he converted to Catholicism, saying, ‘Paris is well worth a mass.’ He then issued the Edict of Nantes, which granted religious freedom to the Huguenots. He had plenty of enemies, however, and survived a couple of assassination attempts until he was finally murdered while stuck in a Paris traffic jam.
As for poule au pot, Henri IV is said to have remarked during a conversation with the Duke of Savoy, ‘If God keeps me in life, I will ensure there is no laborer in my realm who does not have the means to have a chicken in his pot.’ By ‘laborer’, he meant a peasant with a plow who could work the land (labourer) . This story was attributed to Henri IV years after his death, and nobody seems to know exactly when the conversation took place. Or indeed what was said. A version popularized in the 1800s has Henri IV saying that the French should be able to have chicken for dinner every Sunday.
And so a myth is born. When I first arrived to live in Paris in 1974, it did seem that roast chicken was the dish most often presented when I was invited to friends’ homes for Sunday lunch of dinner, usually surrounded by roasted potatoes. These days, that tradition is waning, and poule au pot is seen even less frequently, both in homes and at restaurants. But now that the days are growing colder, it’s a great time to revive this hearty, healthy, earthy dish.
Happy cooking!
Soufflés are often regarded as too difficult to attempt at home. I found this to be true when, as a young woman inspired by Julia Child, I set out to make one. Julia’s recipe for cheese soufflé in Mastering the Art of French Cooking stretches across nine pages, with long paragraphs on subjects like how to beat egg whites by hand. Not to be intimidated, I tried — with dubious results. Only after moving to Paris did I discover there is an easier way.
We’ve been having a September heat wave. Maybe this explains why so many Paris bistros are featuring Italian dishes at the moment. Most popular seems to be the assiette italienne, typically melon, parma ham, tomatoes, mozzarella and basil. But pasta is omnipresent too. At the ultra-trendy café Merci the other day, the special was a salad of pasta in pesto. In tune with this spirit, I decided to post one of my favorite pasta recipes.
We just returned from a week at the shore in southwest France, where the beaches are vast, the waves are impressive and the food is fantastic. One of the specialties I most love in that corner of the world is squid grilled with garlic and parsley. The squid are cooked using a method the French call aller-retour, or back and forth, a phrase most commonly seen on round-trip tickets. In culinary usage, the phrase means that the food is placed on an extremely hot grill and cooked very quickly on one side (aller) and then the other (retour).
When the French say melon, they are generally referring to one particular type of melon. It is small and round, about 4-6 inches (10-15 cm) in diameter, with dark green stripes over a pale exterior and an intoxicatingly sweet orange interior. It is similar to cantaloupe, but more fragrant. The most highly reputed come from Cavaillon, in Provence, while the most widely sold are called Charentais. All pair delightfully with duck.
It is a mystery why the melons over here are so much sweeter than those found in the States. Perhaps because the sun in southern France is more intense, or maybe there’s another reason. If you have an idea, please let us know.
When summer finally rolls around over here, our kitchen goes Mediterranean. The sultry breezes make it easy to forget that Paris is in northern France, far from the turquoise waters. Salads from Provence, Spain, Greece, Morocco and Lebanon appear, eggplant and tomatoes in many guises come to the table. And spicy meat dishes can play a starring role, for example meatballs of ground lamb topped with a yogurt sauce and fresh herbs.
Dear readers of The Everyday French Chef: Normally I only post on Fridays, but today I am giving you a bonus recipe to compensate those of you who may have tried to access my site and instead found a blank page. Yes, you guessed right. My site was hacked again, and was down for about 24 hours. The problem is partially resolved now, allowing me to post this recipe for a delightfully light starter for a summer meal, or anytime of year.
A whole creamy burrata beside a nest of tender greens strewn with roasted hazelnuts and surrounded by a drizzle of raspberry sauce — I wish I had dreamt up this combination myself. But in fact I was served it at a neighborhood bistro, and have been dreaming about it ever since. The combination creates an explosion of flavors that is, frankly, kind of addictive, with the very lightly sweetened raspberry sauce as an exclamation point.
A highlight of the French summer is the rosy-cheeked apricot, which arrives from the south, generally Provence, and appears in abundance at farmers’ markets at this time of year. And a delight of the French table is a tart of apricots with almond cream. The flavors marry perfectly, the almonds adding a touch of majesty to the humble fruit. Serve it with a glass of something dry and bubbly, and prepare for applause…
The Basque country of southwest France is much appreciated for its culinary contributions. Across the Pyrenees in Spain, three-star chefs have taken regional cuisine to new heights of refinement. In France, Basque cooking retains its earthy traditions. The dish known as poulet basquaise sets grilled chicken on top of sautéed sweet peppers, tomatoes, onions and garlic, with a hint of spice. The result is a rustic, satisfying dish.
Peppers are popular throughout the southwest, and come in many varieties, from mild to searingly hot. They are often smaller and thinner than bell peppers. I found some Basque-style peppers at my local market last weekend when shopping for ingredients. They were red, yellow and orange. I added a green bell pepper to achieve the right color combination.
