Cassoulet: A French Obsession

Today is National Cassoulet Day. You probably didn't even know there was such a thing and now you do.  Yes, it is too late to whip up a big batch cassoulet unless, perhaps, you live in D'Artagnan's basement.  Even then, you won't have enough time, but maybe there is a French restaurant near by.

I have always wondered, since cassoulet is so near and dear to the French countryside, why there was no book on cassoulet.  Thanks to Kate Hill, now there is. Cassoulet: A French Obsession gives a history of the dish, its ingredients, and how to assemble it. 

Kate Hill knows of what she speaks as she has been teaching people the mysteries of the cassoulet for many years at her cooking school Kitchen at  Camont.

So you missed National Cassoulet Day.  That doesn't mean you have to miss cassoulet.  Gear up and make your own.

Here is our recipe for the perfect cassoulet.

Cassoulet

1. Brush up on your history and get a good recipe.  We recommend Kate Hill's Cassoulet, available at Blurb.

2. Get yourself a cassole. A proper cooking vessel for a cassoulet. The only place we know in the USA to get a proper cassole is from Clay Coyote Pottery.

3. Gather all the ingredients. Fine and dandy if you live in New York or Los Angeles, but what about those of us in the hollers of West Virginia?  D'Artagnan's has put together a cassoulet kit that can fill all your needs. It is one-stop cassoulet shopping.

4. Made a cassoulet, but are still obsessed?  Check out Kite Hill's Kitchen at Camont.

5. Be sure and invite me over!

Now here is wishing you and yours a very happy National Cassoulet Day.

Field Peas to Foie Gras

If you have read this blog foe even a short time, you will know that we love French cookbooks and we love Southern cookbooks. When we get the opportunity to have them meld together, we are plum ecstatic! That was the way we felt when we saw Jennifer Booker's Field Peas to Foie Gras. Take a Southern girl with serious cooking chops, send her to a fancy French cooking school and you get a book like Field Peas to Foie Gras, comforting and homey with all the technical know-how to elevate the most simple ingredients.

The wild mushroom ragout gracing the cover of the cookbook would be at home on any Paris table, but open the book and you will find my favorite, fried chicken gizzards. Very few things in a cookbook make me happier than a recipe for gizzards!

When talking about the similarities between French cooking and Southern cooking one this stands out, seasonality. One gets a strong sense of farming seasons while reading this cookbook. The first section of the book takes us straight to the larder where putting up jams, and pickles is a way to preserve the summer bounty.

Like the title says, you will find recipes for fois gras and filed peas, and you will also find lemon chevre cheesecake and sweet potato pie, braised short ribs and smothered squirrel, and host of recipes that will seem familiar and daring and most of all tasty.  Interspersed with the lively recipes are stories of home and family. Let's be clear, cooking is a family affair and Jennifer Booker is quick to include family stories in her collection of recipes.

I know you, you always say everything is better with bacon, but Booker gives you instructions on how to make it yourself. She says:

Curing meat takes time and the right ingredients, one of which is Pink Curing Salt. This curing salt, also known as Prague Powder #1 and TCM, or tinted curing mix, is not to be confused with table salt. It is a mixture of sodium, nitrates, and nitrites that inhibit the growth of microorganisms that can cause food-borne illness. It is colored pink to help distinguish it from salt or sugar, and to blend better with the meats it’s being used to cure. Curing salts can be ordered on-line or acquired from a butcher. No matter what its name, curing salt should be used sparingly, and due to its high nitrate and nitrite levels, never eaten alone.

Black Pepper Bacon

¼ cup sea salt
1 cup dark brown sugar
2 tablespoons freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon ground bay leaf
1 teaspoon granulated onion
1 teaspoon granulated garlic
½ teaspoon ground thyme
2 teaspoons Pink Curing Salt, or Prague Powder #1
3 to 4 pounds fresh pork belly

Mix the salt, brown sugar, black pepper, bay leaf, onion, garlic, and thyme together and place in a large flat plastic container with a cover. Taste and adjust the seasoning before you add the Pink Curing Salt. Add the Pink Curing Salt and mix well.

Add the pork belly to the container and spread the cure mix over the entire pork belly, being sure to press the mix into all the cracks and crevices of the belly. Cover and refrigerate for 10 days, turning the pork belly after 5 days.

After day 10, remove the pork from the container and rinse with cold water; removing as much of the cure mix as possible. Discard the mix left in the container.

Pat the pork belly dry, place on a wire rack in a sheet pan, and refrigerate, uncovered, for 24 hours to form a pellicle, or sticky skin.

Preheat the grill or smoker to 300° F using a fire made of hickory wood and ?charcoal. Smoke the cured pork belly for 1 ½ hours per pound at 200° to 215° F, or until the internal temperature reaches 155° F.

Remove and let the bacon rest at room temperature for 30 minutes. Refrigerate the bacon before slicing to make it easier to cut.

Fry the bacon slices in a hot cast-iron skillet over medium heat for 5 minutes on each side, or until crisp.

If you are a true fan of bacon, go ahead, make it yourself. Grab a copy of Field Peas to Foie Gras and head into the kitchen with someone you love. I would start by making the Fried Gizzards, but that is just me.

Vicomte in the Kitchenette

Another oldie/goldie from the shelves.  The only thing we know of the George, Vicomte de Mauduit we learned from the fine folks at Persephone Books.  They reprinted his last book, You Can't Ration These. It seems his great-grandfather, went to St Helena with Napoleon.  The Vicomte himself was an aviator in WWI. No one really knows, but it is assumed that he was captured in France during the siege and probably died at the hands of the Nazis.

In 1934 he published  The Vicomte in the Kitchenette: Being the Art of Cooking within restricted space, limited time and reduced income; with the manner of how to make easy dainty and tasty Dishes; all kinds of inexpensive and rapidly made Novelties; together with a Glossary of Cooking Terms; with finally much advise to those about to set up small house.  Looks like once you have mastered the title, cooking should come easy.

The Times Literary Supplement stated the book was: 

"Especially designed for the bachelor, male or female, his book would also be very acceptable to young married people...Within the space of 140 pages the Vicomte has managed to teach the complete novice every possible method of cookery he or she is likely to need."

What more can we say!

This book has a couple of recipes for our favorite -- cooked cucumbers.  If there is a more healthy food than cucumbers, we don't know it.  This recipe manages to elevate the cucumber to the loaded cheeseburger level.  So of course, we just love it.

Stuffed Cucumber

Cut a peeled cucumber into lengths of about three inches, then scoop out the centre and cook slowly in boiling salted water for six to eight minutes.  Heat a stuffing made of chopped cold meat, chopped mushrooms, breadcrumbs, chopped parsley, salt, pepper, and bound with milk.  Now having drained the cucumber and placed each length upright on a small round of fried bread, fill the cavity with the stuffing, piling it high and cover with a hot white sauce, serving at once.  

All it needs is a side of fries!  Enjoy.

A Kitchen In France

A Kitchen in France is one of those "aspirational" cookbooks.  One aspires to be in this kitchen...actually one aspires to be author Mimi Thorisson.

Here's the deal, Mimi marries gorgeous photographer Oddur Thorisson and they settle in Paris and have lots of kids.  Then, they move to farm in Médoc where they have more kids, dogs and she cooks while he takes photos.  She starts a blog, writes a cookbook, has a baby, all looking way better than you ever will!  Lets rehash, farm in France, 5 kids, 2 step kids,  a bunch of dogs, blog, cookbook, television show, hot photographer husband...it's like the Brady Bunch with Michelin stars.

I am sure she is a wonderful women, but feel free to hate her.  I won't tell.  Aspire till the cows come home, but you will not be in that kitchen...unless she invites you to dinner.  As for her blog, Manger, I would advise anyone looking to start a blog to marry a photographer.  Think of the money you will save when you don't have take those "Photos For The Internet" courses!

So, let's aspire!  If you never cook a single recipe from this book, you will want to spend hours just thumbing through it.  Now here is the rub (if you didn't hate her before, you will now) the recipes are quite wonderful.  OK, you probably don't have foie gras, Guinea hen, nor escargots at the local 7-11, but there are dozens of great recipes in this cookbook.  Here is a lovely potato dish that you can make in your tiny kitchen.

Potatoes  à la Lyonnaise

2 pounds/900 grams new potatoes, peeled

About 11 tablespoons/150 grams unsalted butter

Fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 onions, thinly sliced

A bunch of fresh parsley, leaves removed and finely chopped

Preheat the oven to 350° F.

Put the potatoes in a large pot, add enough salted cold water to cover, bring to a boil, and cook until parboiled, 10 to 15 minutes. Drain in a colander and rinse under cool running water. Let cool for a few minutes, then slice the potatoes into 1/8- inch /3- to 4-mm-thick slices.

In a large sauté pan, melt 2 tablespoons of the butter. Add about one-quarter of the potatoes and fry, seasoning them with salt and pepper, until golden, about 6 minutes. Transfer to a plate. Continue frying the potatoes, adding more butter each time (you should use about 8 tablespoons/120 g in total), until all of them are cooked.

Meanwhile, in another sauté pan, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons/30 g butter over medium heat. Cook the onions until golden, about 5 minutes.

Return all of the potatoes to the pan, add the onions, and mix gently. Cook for 5 more minutes for the flavors to combine.

Transfer the potatoes and onions to a large baking dish. Bake until gently sizzling, about 10 minutes.

Sprinkle the parsley over the potatoes and serve.

This is the stuff of Francophile's dreams.  Read it and weep.

Nina St. Tropez

Almost every review of Nina Parker's Nina St. Tropez says, "It's the next best thing to being there."  First, let me just clarify -- there is no "next best thing."  There is being there and NOT being there.  We are NOT there and we are not that happy about it, either.

That being said, while we are not in the South of France, that is simply no excuse not to cook like we are.  So grab a copy of this book and go native.  Now it may seem from the cover and very glam shots of the photogenic Ms. Parker, that this is a cookbook for the high end diner.  But it is actually a very comprehensive look at the food of the Mediterranean.  Food served in homes and bistros off the tourist map.  Parker writes:

"I want to show you the classic, often forgotten side of town -- far away from the mega yachts and spray of champagne....This is not the new St. Tropez, it's the real St. Tropez; much of it has remained intact since its heyday in the 1950's, holding on to that old-world charm and glamor all the while."

Don't worry, there are lovely photos of water and boats and beach and markets.  And there is food, food, food.  It is food one immediately wants to eat.  Beautiful and simple.  It is a page turner.  Rarely does one find a cookbook that has something to offer up on every page.  (Frankly, I hate bananas and even the banana split looked like I might even take a bite -- or two!)

The seafood it a stand out.  Alas, as stated before -- we are not there, so finding the gorgeous seafood can be a bit of a problem, but we often find scallops and we do love them.  Here is a great combination.

Brochettes de Saint-Jaques et Chorizo au Thym



350g fresh scallops, roe removed
100g soft cooking chorizo
bunch fresh thyme, leaves roughly chopped
5 tbsp olive oil
150g cherry tomatoes
2 lemons
20g unsalted butter
sea salt and black pepper

Carefully rinse the scallops under cold running water and pat them dry with kitchen paper. Slice the chorizo into chunks roughly the same size as the scallops. Put the scallops, chorizo and half the thyme in a bowl with some of the olive oil, season with salt and pepper and gently tumble together with your hands, making sure everything is coated.

Thread the scallops, chorizo and tomatoes on to the skewers and scatter over the remaining thyme. Heat the remaining oil in two large frying pans over a medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, add the skewers and cook for 4-5 minutes, turning every so often, until all sides are browned. One minute before they’re ready, squeeze half a lemon over each. Carefully stack them on a serving dish. Reduce the heat and squeeze another half a lemon into each pan. Use a wooden spoon to scrape up all the juices on the bottom of the pans and add half the butter to each pan. Cook for a moment, stirring, before drizzling the tasty pink sauce over the skewers.

You know you want to make these this weekend. I know I do! I can assure you, it will not be the next best thing to being there, but it may just be the best thing you do this weekend.  If you can't wait, grab a bottle of wine and make them on Wednesday.  It will be the best Wednesday ever!

Buvette

Happy Bastille Day, y'all.  Actually, the French never seem to say "happy" Bastille Day. In fact, they are much more happy with la Fête Nationale on a calendar.  Or simply saying today is le 14 juillet.  Truth is we Americans seem much more happy about it than the French. 

Alas, we are in West Virginia but if we were in New York City, (or now, in Paris ) we would be at Buvette right now.  Since we are here not there, we thought Buvette would be the very best cookbook for today.  By her own admission, Jody Williams is a self-taught cook and a bit on the intuitive side.  Those are the cooks we love.  A cook that can tell us about a dish and we can cook it, no amounts or ingredients lists needed. Of course, in today's market, such a cookbook would be an impossibility. But we like to walk into the kitchen thinking it is the way to go.

Williams is known for her careful sourcing of eclectic, vintage items that she uses in decorating the restaurant and many of those items make their way into the photographs in the book.  The team of Gentl & Hyers did the photos.  They are known for making the most mundane objects look as though they were painted by Dutch masters. 

If there is a problem with this book, it is that every time you turn a page w you want to eat what is on the page.  One might actually starve trying to decide just what to make.  Did we mention we are wishing we were in NYC right this minute?  

The book has its fair share of French classics, but if there is one dish that Buvette is known for, it is the Mousse au Chocolat.  Williams has shared the recipe and made the mousse on television on numerous occasions.  In keeping with her self-taught aesthetic, Williams has offered up the recipe in various fashions.  The most disconcerting was a recipe that offered up the whipped cream as "optional."  Not a chance.  Here, now, is the definitive recipe.

Mousse au Chocolat

12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks)  unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1/2 pound (8 ounces) semisweet chocolate,roughly chopped
1 tablespoon water

3 large eggs, separated, plus additional egg white

Pinch coarse salt

2 teaspoons superfine sugar

Crème fraîche or lightly sweetened whipped cream


Put the butter and chocolate in a stainless-steel bowl along with a spoonful of water and set over a small pot of barely simmering water.  Stir until completely melted.  Set the chocolate mixture aside to cool slightly.

Whisk the 3  egg yolks together in a large mixing bowl with the salt.  Set aside.

Meanwhile, place the 4 egg whites in a large mixing bowl, or into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the wire whip. Add the sugar and beat until stiff peaks form.

Whisk the yolks, one-third at a time, into the chocolate mixture, making sure each addition is completely combined before adding the next.  Don't be tempted to add the egg yolks all at once  -- adding in batches will help regulate the temperature of the egg yolks and keep them smooth and uniform.

Next, carefully fold the stiff egg whites into the chocolate mixture, being as gentle and careful as possible so as not to lose any of the volume you have worked so hard to create in the egg whites.  Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set it in the refrigerator until firm, at least 4 hours and up to 2 days in advance.

Scoop the mousse, which will have become a striking combination of fluffy and dense, into serving bowls and serve with crème fraîche or lightly sweetened whipped cream.

While the French love to open their restaurants in America, few Americans load up their French restaurants and open them in Paris.  Really, who doesn't just love Jody Williams.   With Buvette, any day is a happy one.

Tante Marie's French Pastry

In 1954, Oxford University published Charlotte Turgeon's translation of Tante Marie's French Pastry.  One of the reasons we love to read and write about cookbooks is the cultural analysis that a small cookbook can bring to light.

At the time, Tante Marie's French Pastry was considered quite complex and technical.  Cooks, mostly women, were admonished that spending the day making a French pastry might seem like some sort of drudgery, but the finished product was worth it. We were told that there might be days that making pastry would seem like a breeze.  We were told that even if we did commit to making pastry all day, we had the luxury of freezing some of the dough for later use; so again, this expenditure of time was well worth the effort.

As with so many books of this era, the instructions are slim.  A cookbook today probably has a vast list of ingredients, defines terms, illustrates difficult techniques, and warns of possible pitfalls.  In 1954, you were on your own! 

Recently the Huffington Post featured a list of 7 things your grandparents know how to do that you don't.  Among them, cooking, ironing, sewing and canning. All these skills (with the possible exception of ironing) are commonplace among young whippersnappers.  But it does illustrate the pitfalls of an old cookbook.  In 1954, a twenty-something woman was probably a wife, had children, and cooked at least once a day, probably twice a day.  She knew how to bake: cakes, bread, and pies all came rather naturally.  Scant directions were the norm.  

Consider the above illustration. What is this an illustration of, one might ask.  Well, this is to show the novice French baker how to incorporate butter into dough.  Does that jump right off the page?

Now let us take that pastry darling the macaron. There are thousands of photos of these bite-sized confections and in recent years there have been nearly 50 books solely dedicated to the baking and eating of macarons.  There are cooking aids that will outline the precise measure of your macaron.  And if you screw it up, just go out to the Starbucks and buy a box.  And what of "macaron" itself.  Current writing would have us use the French "macaron" as that is what we are making.  In America, our macaroon is a coconut confection.  At one time, we used the term interchangeably, as did Turgeon.  But the difference between a "macaron" and a "macaroon" are rather substantial and our use of the language has caught up with this culinary difference. 

In 1954, it was a little harder.  Here is the 1950's recipe for making the glorious macaron.

Macaroons

These macaroons are brittle and delicious.

1 cup ground almonds

1 1/4 cup sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 egg whites, beaten stiff

Preheat oven to 275

Mix ground almonds thoroughly with the sugar and vanilla.  Stir in the beaten egg whites.  Line a baking sheet with shelf paper.  Drop the mixture in small mounds from a teaspoon, leaving a little space around each cookie.  Flatten each cookie with the bottom of a small glass dipped in powdered sugar.  Bake 20 minutes.  Cool the cookies on the paper.  To remove them, moisten the underside of the paper.  After 2 or 3 minutes the cookies will life off very easily.

Sometimes it seems that these stripped down recipes might actually be easier to follow than the more complicated type.  Who knows? But it is fun to try.

My Paris Kitchen

A week ago I left the wilds of West Virginia to go to D.C. to have dinner with David Lebovitz.  Well it wasn’t just “me and David,” it was David and I and about 90 other people at the very French sounding Buck’s Fishing and Camping.  We all gathered to celebrate David’s new cookbook, My Paris Kitchen.

Originally, my Francophile friend, Anne, was supposed to be my companion, but Anne decided to run off to the actual France to watch something called the French Open.  It’s a tennis thing.   So I made my other friend, Ann, go with me, as she is game for most anything.  We were instructed in the e-mail to be punctual and arrive a bit before the 7 pm seating.  We did and we waited till it was actually 7 before we were let in.  This of course meant that the 7 pm dinner didn’t really get underway till 8 pm.  

I was told to go to Table 2, which was the very big table David Lebovitz was to be seated, but it seems that one of the guests decided to move place cards around.  (For the record, a very tacky and rude thing to do, you ill-mannered little weasel.)  So we ended up at a corner table.  Truth be told, we hit the jackpot for cool tables.  There was Sara, who knew the chef, Lara, who is a talented, amateur baker, Leland, who was the only “guy” at our table with the lovely Amy.  There was Carol, another Francophile among us, and of course, me and Ann.  There were several other people at our table, but given the rather noisy environment, speaking with them was a bit tough.   Needless to say, we were just the most fun table at the whole affair.

Our chef for the evening was Vickie Reh who besides being a chef is studying to be a Master Sommelier.  From what I understand of the process, it is easier to pass the Medical Board Exams than the sommelier exam.  Reh spent a great deal of time in devising the menu focusing on the wines with the help of wine importer Vintage ’59.  It was a truly wonderful meal from the Frog’s Leg Lollipops to the Golden Raspberry Clafoutis. David answered questions and made the rounds of the revelers and all was well and good.

As cookbook authors go, David Lebovitz is one of those masterful writers who make you believe he knows you and wants to tell you something important.  While thousands of people follow his blog, you will always think he is telling his story just for you.  That is a great gift.  While we have always been a big fan of Lebovitz, his specialty seems to be dessert.  He does love his desserts.  We adored his ice cream book, The Perfect Scoop, but really, given the choice for dessert, we go with cheese.  So one cannot imagine our gladness to find that he was writing an official French cookbook.  

Readers of Cookbook Of The Day know that there is not a French cookbook that we will ever turn away.   So it was quite interesting when Lebovitz told the story of receiving an e-mail from someone who said he would not buy his book because he had a tagine in it.  Lebovitz pointed out that a large metropolitan city, such as Paris, is a mecca for immigrants.  People from all over the world flock to big cities and they bring with them their culture.  It is only natural that some of their foodways become ingrained in the “local” cuisine.  It is the way food evolves. It is the way food has always evolved. In David Lebovitz’s Paris Kitchen, he cooks the food around him, and there are new and interesting foods, even in Paris. 

True to form, My Paris Kitchen is a personal and chatty book, which is engaging and fun.  Cooking recipes from it is not necessary to enjoy the book, but one really should doff an apron and give it a try.

Here is one of my favorites.  In America, when one orders a sandwich, barbecue, fried chicken, fish and chips and many other food items, they tend to come with rather small plastic shot glass of slaw.  We rather think of this heaping teaspoon as a “salad” or vegetable with our food.  In France, they are more generous with their carottes rapées.  The French love a grated carrot salad.  Lebovitz makes a point that one doesn’t often find it in cookbooks because EVERYONE can make it and everyone has a slightly different recipe. 

Grated carrot salad

2 pounds (900g) carrots

1/4 cup olive oil

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 teaspoon sea salt or kosher salt

2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

1/2 teaspoon granulated sugar or honey

3 tablespoons mince fresh flat leafed parsley, chervil, or chives, plus additional chopped herbs for sprinkling on top

1. Using the large holes of a box grater or a stand mixer or food processor fitted with a shredding disk attachment, grate carrots.

2. In a large bowl, mix together the olive oil, lemon juice, salt, mustard, and sugar.  Toss the grated carrots in the dressing along with the chopped herbs. Serve on plates and sprinkle with additional herbs.

See, you, too can be cook like an American in Paris.  Thanks for the lovely dinner, David, and for this really excellent cookbook.

Frenchie

Greg Marchand earned the nickname "Frenchie" from Jamie Olivier.  Marchand was the only Frenchman in the kitchen at Oliver's restaurant, Fifteen.  Then he took off for New York.  Then his wife got pregnant and they made the mature decision to leave New York and go to Paris with no job and a dream.

He found a little spot on a back alley, no bank would lend him a dime, his friends thought he was crazy to pick this little out of the way place, and there was a baby!  But Marchand persevered and it didn't take long for the most jaded of Parisian eaters to find Frenchie. 
A few years later he took over another spot on the street and added a wine bar.  Then he expanded the wine bar.  Then he talked some of his favorite purveyors to move onto the street.  Then he got asked to write a cookbook.  As goes the old movie adage goes, "If you build it, they will come." 

Frenchie is the epitome of the food that made France famous.  It is simply done, beautifully executed, and good to eat.  This simple, easy to put together salad is a fine example of the food at Frenchie.  Marchand says he would eat this every day.  We would, too.

Roasted Carrot, Orange, and Avocado Salad

For The Roasted Carrots

2 bunches (about 1 pound) baby carrots

1/4 teaspoon coriander seeds

1/4 teaspoon fennel seeds

1 thyme sprig

1 garlic clove, crushed

Olive oil

Salt

For the Salad

2 -3 navel oranges

2 avocados

3 cilantro sprigs

Juice of 1 lime, or to taste

Olive oil

Fleur de sel

Piment d'Espelette

The roasted carrots:

Preheat the oven to 350°F. 

Trim the carrots and put them in a bowl. 

Toast the coriander and fennel seeds in a small dry skillet over medium heat until fragrant, about 3 minutes; take care not to burn them. Let cool, then coarsely crush the seeds with a mortar and pestle or under a heavy skillet. 

Add the toasted spices to the carrots, along with the thyme, garlic, a drizzle of olive oil, and a pinch of salt, and toss well with your hands. Transfer the carrots to a baking dish and roast for 20 to 25 minutes, until tender and lightly browned. Set aside.

The salad:

With a sharp knife, peel the oranges down to the flesh, removing all the bitter white pith, then slice into 1/4-inch-thick rounds. You need 16 slices.Cut the avocados in half, remove the pits, peel, and cut lengthwise into thick slices. Remove the cilantro leaves from the stems.

To serve:

Combine the carrots, oranges, and avocados in a medium bowl. Sprinkle with the cilantro, lime juice, olive oil, fleur de sel, and a pinch of piment d’Espelette and toss gently. Arrange on salad plates and serve.

 Nothing would make us happier than to live around the corner from Frenchie.  Since we don't, this lovely cookbook will have to do.

Chez Maxim's

 "It was an accumulation of velvet, lace, ribbons, diamonds and what all else I couldn't describe. To undress one of these women is like an outing that calls for three weeks' advance notice, it's like moving house."

Jean Cocteau on the women dining at Maxim's

Rarely does a restaurant rise so high above its food as Maxim's has.  Say "Maxim's" and most people immediately know of the restaurant but rarely could they tell you a single dish on the menu.  It's no wonder, eating at Maxim's is a literary shortcut to convey wealth and worldliness.  From The Merry Widow to Fawlty Towers, from Ian Fleming to Quentin Tarantino the very mention of Maxim's fills the mind with wonder. 

Maxim's hay day may well have been the late 1950's and 1960's.  The "International Jet Set" made Maxim's their home away from home as the likes of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Maria Callas, Porfirio Rubirosa, Barbara Hutton, and Jacqueline and Aristotle Onassis were frequent guests.   It was during this era that Maxim's published their cookbook, Chez Maxim's.  It was quite a document in 1962.  The book is big and filled with recipes, stories, and photos including full page color photographs laid in. 

If there is a "famous" Maxim's recipe it may well be Potage Billy By.  According to the cookbook:

It was Louis Barthe, the former chef at Maxim's, who told me the story behind the Potage Billy By. In 1925, he was working in the kitchen at Ciro's, a restaurant in Deauville known for a special mussels dish with a particularly succulent juice. One day a very good customer, Mr. William Brand, decided to invite some American friends to Ciro's. Mussels are generally eaten with the fingers in France, using one double-shell as tongs to scoop the meat out of the others. As Mr. Brand wanted to spare his fiends this delicate operation, he requested that the juice be served without the mussels. It was such a success that during the days that followed, each of his guests returned separately to Ciro's and ordered the "Potage Billy Brand." For the sale of the discretion, it was placed on the menu as "Potage Billy B." and thus was born the "Potage Bill By" which has since become a classic of the French culinary tradition.

The soup was popularized in America by Pierre Franey.  In 1961, Craig Claiborne published Pierre Franey's recipe for "billi bi" in his New York Times Cookbook, declaring, "This may well be the most elegant and delicious soup ever created. It may be served hot or cold."

Franey's history of the soup list William B. Leeds as the soups' namesake, leading to years of conflicting stories.

"The story goes that a wealthy American named William B. Leeds lived off and on, in Paris and that his favorite restaurant was Maxim's. The menu listed a cream of mussel soup, and this was his choice on almost every visit. Leeds was a real favorite of the owner and as a result of his passion for the soup it was dubbed billi-bi, a version, of course, of Billy B."

A 1958 book about Maxim's written by Jean Mauduit states it was named for Brand.

Franey might have the namesake wrong but Claiborne may well have been right about "delicious."

Potage Billy By

1 1/2 cups Fumet de Poisson
2 qt. mussels
1 large onion
1 stalk celery
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1 cup dry white wine
2 sprigs parsley
1/2 tsp. ground peppercorns
Salt

Scrape and wash the mussels thoroughly.  Mince the onion and place it in a deep saucepan along with the celery, wine, and pepper. Add the muscles, cover the sauce pan, and boil over a high flame for 6 minutes. Shake the muscles in the pan two or three times during the cooking process so that those on top go to the bottom and vice versa. When the muscles are open remove and drain them. Pour the liquid in the sauce pan through a fine strainer, return to the saucepan, and reduced to about 1 quart of liquid. Add the Fumet de Poisson and cream and reheat over a low flame until liquid comes almost to the boiling point, stirring continually with a wooden spatula. Season to taste.

Serve very hot without the muscles. This soup can also be served cold.
 

 Pierre Cardin eventually bought Maxim's and now it is more famous as a brand than a restaurant. 

Mange Tout

 Yeah, yeah, yeah, another French bistro cookbook; a squab here some asparagus there, been there done that.  Yes, Virginia, we are the repository of dozens of said cookbooks, but Mange Tout, is not one of them.  It is bistro cooking and there is really a twist.  The first twist is Bruno Loubet, himself.  Born in Bordeaux, Loubet moved to England and just a few years was awarded Young Chef of the Year by Good Food Guides.   He joined Raymond Blanc before opening a series of restaurants including L'Odeon in 1995.  In 2001 he uprooted his family and went down under for eight years.  In 2009, Loubet returned to London and opened Bistro Bruno Loubet.  The ever-entertaining critic, Giles Coren, wrote of the event:

"...chef Bruno Loubet’s return to Britain is the most exciting comeback since Jesus appeared on the road to Emmaus just hours after the Crucifixion and said, “It ain’t over till it’s over.” (Or am I thinking of Rocky VI there?)... This, I immediately decided, is what a bistro is supposed to be. This is what happens when a

major, major chef decides to do bacon and eggs, to roll up his sleeves and get his boots dirty. One immediately knows this fellow can perform at the absolutely top level but today is going to relax on his technique and enjoy himself. It’s Philip Roth on Twitter."

The cookbook is indeed filled with twists.  There is a traditional duck breast, but bathed and crisped in maple syrup with a walnut pesto.  There is pheasant, not hung for days, but thrown into a pan with potatoes and carrots like a common pot roast.  There are aubergines, but roasted with lime pickles and yogurt.

Think back a few posts and remember our love of Put An Egg On It, well Loubet does just that with these tasty little pancakes.

 Pea Pancakes and Poached Eggs with Balsamic Syrup

350g of frozen small peas
2tbs of cornflour
Salt and pepper
1 whole egg
Butter (optional)
100ml Balsamic vinegar
4 eggs
2tbs of chopped chives
3tbs of white wine vinegar
4tbs of extra virgin olive oil
100g of pea shoots


For the pancakes

Cook the peas in boiling salted water for a few minutes, then drain in a colander. Place the peas in a food processor; add the cornflour, eggs and seasoning and process to make a puree.

Using a spoon make little round pancakes (about 8mm thick) with the puree.

Heat up a non-stick frying pan with a film of olive oil and the butter. When the butter is foamy, cook the pancakes on both sides and then place on an oven dish.

For the eggs

Heat a pan with water, salt and white vinegar. Have a tray with a hot damp cloth on the side.

Break your eggs gently in little cups (coffee for example) then slowly pour the eggs in the simmering water, letting them slide onto the side of the pan, (it will only take a minute to cook them). Remove them gently with a draining spoon and place onto the damp cloth.

Loubet's latest restaurant gets a nod in the new Modern Farmer magazine, reviewed at Lucindaville.

Breakfast Lunch Tea

Yes, we did this backwards.  The problem is so many cookbooks, so little time.  Often we just rave about a cookbook (in our head) and then we fail to get it on the page.  So here is the back story from yesterday's post which you should already know if we had posted about  Breakfast Lunch Tea years ago. 

Rose Carrarini was lovely English lass who like to cook, love food, and loved Paris.  So she married a Frenchman and got into the food business.  In 2002 they opened Rose Bakery.   The rest is history.  Every year people flock to Paris to find a British baker! 

Since 2002, the bakery has expanded to multiple locations across the globe and has been imitated by the best.

It is not so much that their food is remarkably innovative.  You have seen carrot cake and quiche before, but Rose Carrarini does it with more style and grace than almost anyone out there.  Her sheer joy in baking is infectious.  One look at this book and you want to rush to the kitchen.   He tiny complex tarts are little square bundles of goodness.  Her clean virtually unadorned cakes are sublime. 

We are not big on cereal here, but we do love a good a granola.  Rose Bakery's is a favorite.

Honey Granola

400 g (5 1/3 cups) old-fashioned rolled oats
125 g(1 cup) whole almonds
100 g (2/3 cups) sunflower seeds
100 g (3/4 cup) pumpkin seeds
50 g (1/3 cup ) sesame seeds
1 tablespoon wheatgerm
125 ml (1/2 cup) sunflower oil
250 ml (1 cup) honey
50 (1/4 cup) brown sugar
a few drops of vanilla extract
pinch of ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 handful of dried fruit such as sultanas or dates

Preheat oven to 165 degrees C/325 degrees F / Gas Mark 3.

In a bowl mix together the oats, almonds, seeds, wheatgerm.

Put the sunflower oil, honey, sugar, vanilla, cinnamon and salt in a small saucepan with 125 ml (1/2 cup) water.

Bring just to a boil, stirring constantly, then pour over the dry ingredients in the bowl and mix well. 

If the mixture is too wet add more oats -- there should be excess liquids  in the bottom of the pan, and the mixture should be sticky.

Spread evenly on a baking tray and bake slowly for about 1 hour.

Reduce the temperature to  140 C /275 F/ Gas Mark 1 and continue baking until the granola is golden - about an hour.

Switch off the oven and leave to dry out for a further hour -- or even overnight.

This is a great cookbook and cheaper than a flight to Paris.  But if you are headed that way, by all means, do fly on over!

French Farmhouse Cookbook

We have checked our log of cookbook entries and simply cannot believe that we have never featured Susan Loomis' French Farmhouse Cookbook.  What were we thinking?   Clearly, we were not thinking.  Over at Lucindaville we featured our favorite holiday planned-over, an after Christmas eggs Benedict that is made with leftover dressing, giblet gravy and a poached egg or if one is so inclined, our favorite confit de gésiers. 

J.W. wanted to know our recipe for gizzard confit and the one we love to use is from the French Farmhouse Cookbook.  This cookbook is often described as the French cookbook to buy if you are in the market a truly authentic French cookbook.  One that presents recipes that a French family would actually eat every day.  That seems to be the best description one could provide. 

This is a rather old-fashioned cookbook in the sense that is offers no photos of the food.  While there are lovely line drawings, the food is left up to one's own imagination.  Still, this is the go-to French cookbook on my shelves that house thousands of French cookbooks.

With out further ado...

Confit de Gésiers. 

2 pounds chicken gizzards, cleaned and well rinsed
1/4 cup coarse sea salt
10 sprigs fresh thyme or 1/2 teaspoon dried
3 imported bay leaves
4 pounds pork fat cut in 1-inch pieces or lard
2 small onions, each pierced with one whole clove
1 teaspoon allspice berries

1.  Place the gizzards in a large bowl.  Add the salt, half the thyme, and one of the bay leaves, and mix until well  combined and the salt is evenly distributed.  Cover and refrigerate for 2 hours.

2.  Rinse the gizzards well by placing them in a bowl and filling the bowl with water.  Drain the gizzards, then repeat the procedure at least 4 times, to make sure you remove all the surface salt.  Pat gizzards dry.

3. Place the pork fat or lard in a large heavy saucepan over medium-high heat.  When it is two-thirds melted, add the gizzards, onions, remaining herbs, and allspice berries, stirring and pushing them down into the fat.  Lower the heat s the fat is simmering slowly.  Cook, uncovered, until the gizzards are tender, about 2 1/2 hours, stirring them occasionally and pushing any beneath the surface of fat so they cook evenly, adjusting the heat if necessary.

4. When the gizzards are cooked, remove the pan from the heat and let them cool in the fat until nearly congealed.  Transfer the gizzards and the fat  to a bowl or an earthenware or glass container and let them cool completely. Either eat them immediately, or store in the refrigerator for up to two weeks, covered with fat and aluminum foil.

5. Remove the gizzards from the fat and warm them gently in a saucepan over low heat.  Use a slotted spoon to remove them from the pan.

We are lucky enough to have several old cheese crocks that have hinged lids to lock in the gizzard goodness.   Also, we never use just plain aluminum foil on food products.  We used to use parchment lined foil that was designed for sandwich shops.  Now the good folks at Reynolds have introduced this parchment lined foil to the supermarket shelf.   Buy it --  it is wonderful.   If you are out there looking for a really good French cookbook that an actual French person in your exact shoes would cook from,  the French Farmhouse Cookbook is a safe bet.                                                                              
 

The French Country Table

 Face it.  We will read any French cookbook out there.  It is a sickness. An addiction.  We love it and that is that.  By now, the biggest differentiation between French cookbooks is the photographs. 

Ryland, Peters and Small, always a favorite publisher for cookbooks, publish the French Country Table.   They understand the value of photos, good recipes and basic bookbinding.  The thick muted paper has an old-fashioned feel and is the perfect vehicle for a country cookbook. 

Writer Laura Washburn has taken many of the familiar French dishes and given them a bit of twist.   There is a roasted chicken, but with guinea fowl.  There is a gratin with macaroni (yes, it is just a macaroni and cheese).  The clafoutis is rhubarb instead of cherries.

The pictures are lovely.  It is no wonder that Martin Brigdale has won numerous awards on three continents for his food photography.  The photos show the food at its best!  

 Your carrots should look like the above left carrots, especially if you procured them from one the vegetable vendors pictured!

Carrots with cream and herbs.

2 lbs. mini carrots, trimmed, of medium carrots

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

a sprig of thyme

2 tablespoons crème fraise or sour cream

several sprig of chervil, snipped

a small bunch of chives, snipped

fine sea salt

If using large carrots, cut them diagonally into 2-inch slices.  Put in a large saucepan (the carrots should fit in a single layer for even cooking.) Add the butter and set over low heat.  Cook for three minutes, until the butter has melted and coated the carrots.  Half fill the saucepan with water, then add a pinch of salt and the thyme.  Cover and cook for 10 – 20 minutes, until the water is almost completely evaporated.

Stir in the crème fraise and add salt to taste.  Sprinkle the chervil and chives over the top, mix well and serve.

If you have ever passed one of those sad bags of “baby” carrots in vegetable section, now you have a great idea of what to do with them.  Whip up these carrots in cream and you, too, can transport yourself to the French countryside.