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.
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.
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.
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.
Springtime in Paris means rhubarb and strawberries, and they combine delightfully in this light, bright dessert. The mousse can be whipped up — literally — in just a few minutes. The rhubarb is softened with sugar, the strawberries are puréed, the mix is lightened with a beaten egg white and whipped cream is folded in at the end. Topped with strawberry pieces and perhaps a sprig of basil or mint, the mousse makes a lovely end to a meal.
Snow peas, fresh peas, asparagus and chives star in this bright green medley of spring vegetables bathed in a French-Asian fusion sauce. With the sun making timid appearances and the chestnuts finally in blossom, it’s beginning to feel like spring in Paris. I’d been planning to make this dish for a long time, and at last it was the right season. So I headed to the market, where spring veggies were out in abundance — except for snow peas…
Succulent spicy meatballs served in broth with cream and topped with fresh dill — now that’s what I call comfort food with a capital C, except that this dish is light, not heavy. I first made it on a winter’s evening and have since repeated it many times as it proved very popular here at home. What inspired this creation? I may have had Swedish meatballs on my mind, but I added cumin, ground coriander, cayenne and cilantro to spice things up a bit…
This open-face pita sandwich with shrimp in curried mayo set on a bed of bacon and arugula and topped with fresh dill is an example of why I have often thought this site should be renamed ‘Meg Has Lunch’. Like many dishes proposed by The Everyday French Chef, it was invented one day when I went into the kitchen at lunchtime wondering what to make, checked the fridge to see what we had on hand and came up with a felicitous combination.
With Easter just around the corner, here are some seasonal recipes you may wish to try for a holiday meal: 
Longing for a hint of spring as the Paris winter drags on and on, I made a cheery pot of risotto with peas and fresh mint the other day. The inspiration for this dish was not my own. I first had it last summer at a beautiful English country pub, 
Making parmesan chicken, a family favorite, is simplicity itself. There are only two ingredients — the parmesan and the chicken (plus a little olive oil for pan-frying). Unlike other similar dishes where chicken is coated before frying, this lighter version involves no flour, no breadcrumbs, no egg. The grated parmesan is simply patted onto the chicken breasts, which are then lightly fried until golden, et voilà — dinner is served.
This salad of curly endive with bacon is a French bistro classic and it’s one of my favorites. I often serve it to friends at dinner parties, usually followed by another bistro dish, for example 
Let’s start with the lettuce. Salade frisée is displayed proudly in French farmers markets, its yellow heart framed by a dark green crown. This type of salad is huge. It can measure up to two feet (60 cm) in diameter when spread open. When I took the photo at right, it virtually covered the picnic table on my veranda. So unless you are cooking for an army, you won’t need all of it for your salad. What to do with the rest? Either a repeat performance or you can use it to make Italian lettuce soup, a recipe I hope to post one day soon.
Now the bacon. In France lardons, or bacon sticks, are sold precut in supermarkets. But for best results with this salad, it’s preferable to start with a thick strip of bacon — about 1/3 inch (1 cm) — and cut the lardons yourself. The flavor and texture are better, and your guests will appreciate it. If that’s not possible where you live, buy thick-cut bacon strips and chop them. My advice: be generous with the bacon. It’s the star of the show.
