french food – THEFRANCOFLY

Truite Rose en Papillote

One of the first things I have learned living in France is that non happens much more quickly than what you want to hear. Similarly, customer service follows the same philosophy. Every time I ask where to find something at the grocery store, I get a few shrugged shoulders and a je ne sais pas. But luckily, I have found a place where useful information is generously rationed, at the biweekly, neighborhood market. And wouldn’t you much rather take advice from an artisan? Recently, I’ve been experimenting with smaller, inexpensive, more sustainable fish like mackerel and sardines. Truite rose, or rainbow trout, a distant cousin of salmon, caught my eye. I quickly inquired how my fishmonger would prepare it. He suggested en papillote, or wrapped up and baked in parchment paper. I brought the little beauty home, stuffed her with a few lemon slices, parsley, plopped on a nob of better, sea salt and sealed her in egg-brushed parchment. Cooking the trout precisely for 15 minutes at 250 C or 480 F, we were left with a perfectly cooked fish for two. Although the truite rose itself is not as tasty as its oilier predecessors like sardines and mackerel, this non-recipe recipe can be suited to any fish with any combination of herbs and aromatics. Just ask your poissonnier!

Which aromatics would you add to your truite en papillote?

Radishes & butter.

Terraces and cigarettes. Rosé and the summertime. Radishes and butter. Radishes and butter? Yes! As a Ranch-dipping American, this came as a bit of a surprise to me . (How does one butter a radish? Have the French found an excuse to dip things into butter now? I admit to sneaking single-serving Country Crock packets under restaurant tables as a kid, but this is absurd!) In France, butter is the assigned spouse to radishes, with a sprinkle of extramarital sea salt just to keep things interesting. Although everyone does it differently, according to mon mari qui fume, the butter to my radish, the radishes are cut into four parts which create the surface area for the butter. The beauty of the pairing instantly makes itself clear; the smooth butter flatters the crisp, occasionally spicy radish. Give it a try! Anyone know where to get some Country Crock around here?

A Blurb on Butter

France is known for many delicious things. There’s charcuterie with all its nuance and varying levels of porkiness. Then there is the abundance of cheese. Charles de Gaulle himself so famously exclaimed, “how can anyone govern a nation that has two hundred and forty-six different kinds of cheese?” Additionally, there is butter. It is the undisputed backbone of traditional French cuisine. It is butter that gives a croissant its flaky altitude of layers. And then there is the butter of the unknown, that special ingredient that creates sensuous sauces and envelopes vegetables on a restaurant plate.

However, there is a new realm of butter that I have never known before. One recent morning, I whipped up a tartine for my husband comme d’habitude. I sliced a day-old baguette lengthwise, threw it in the toaster oven, threw a little butter on top, and let the oven do the work. I spread on a thin layer of plum jam and awaited my ‘merci’. “I don’t like it when the butter is melted”, he said. My jaw dropped. It’s toasted bread! The butter is supposed to be melted by the heat of the toast! That’s magic of breakfast right there. I shrugged it off; so particular, this husband of mine. Then over our Alpine vacation, over one of the many chats about food over coffee with my mother-in-law, she exclaimed the same disfavor for the taste of melted butter, like in pound cake. But butter is as butter does, non? I’m an intelligent person. I saw The Tree of Life. And I liked it. But somehow, I never thought about the difference between butter in its many mediums. Alas, at the end of the day, I have lot of work to do. And I am still as American as I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter!® – Spray.

HAPPY JOUR DE MACARON! HAPPY SPRING! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

_1070856 — Flowers from our petit jardin. Spring has sprung!

Today is my birthday! And the first day of Spring! And it also happens to be the ‘jour de macaron’! I was born on a good day. Free macarons! Thanks http://parisbymouth.com/ for sharing this. If you’ve never tried a macaron before, they are the semi-precious confectionary jewel of certain French patisseries. Crisp on the outside, unctuously intense on the inside. Although the macaron trend is going strong in the States, I’ve never wasted my time finding an American equivalent. (Have you found any good macarons in the USA yet?) So shortly after I started planning my trick-or-treat-style macaron conquest, I realized that France doesn’t follow the same ‘demand and supply’ criteria as Halloween or that happy, happy day when Ben & Jerry’s gives out a free scoop in the States. Eloquence is key to getting anything done in France. Everything needs to be stated precisely and efficiently. So I strutted into Dalloyau, a local participant. I inquired ever-so politely in my most proper French, “Good day, dear sir. Do you happen to be participating in this joyous day of macaron?” Pause. “Yes, in fact we are. If you happen to participate in a tasting, you are certainly welcome.” “Uhhh, yeeaah!…I mean, if you please. I will take a vanilla, kind sir” A little coercing for a small treat. I should have mentioned my birthday first thing.

Take advantage of the beautiful day. And a macaron too, if you please.

Spring a Leek!

By George, I’ve sprung a leek! Excuse the unforgivable pun; at least it’s a tad bit more sophisticated than ‘taking a leek’. Eh? Eh? Whenever I speak to my parents about one of the lesser-known members of the onion family, it’s the first thing out of their mouths. Hence, proving my point that Americans are sadly unfamiliar with the said vegetable! However, it is one of the first things I noticed in French markets and menus: braised leeks, a light potato and leek potage, and the principle cure of obesity in Mireille Guiliano’s book French Women Don’t Get Fat. The secret to not plumping up in these conditions is a magical leek soup which allows the occasional taste of wine and cheese with the promise of looking as svelte as one of Godard’s gals. So I encourage you to take a liking to leeks, too!

When the tough, green leaves are cut off of the leeks, they can be subtle addition to soups, stews, and even salads. However, I learned the following recipe from an Italian transplant in Paris, which explains the parmesan cheese. However, you could replace the parmesan with emmental or swiss or simply omit it. Either way, the leek is the star here ! So enjoy as a light lunch with a green salad. And according to Mlle Guilano, because you are eating leeks, you are permitted to a little wine and cheese, too.

TARTE AUX POIREAUX Leek Tarte

Any kind of savory pie crust will work here, but homemade is always better. The egg yolk in the dough makes it both tender and cracker-like.

Pastry :

1 1/4 Cups Flour

4 tablespoons chilled butter, cut into ½’’ pieces

¾ teaspoon kosher salt

1 egg yolk, beaten

2-4 tablespoons ice water, more if needed

Filling :

2 large leeks, green tops cut off, white portion cut into 1/4’’ rounds

1 tablespoon olive oil

¼ cup creme fraiche or sour cream

¼ cup milk

4 eggs

¼ cup parmesan, emmental, or any flavorful cheese

1 tablespoon chopped chives

salt & pepper to taste

1.) Mix flour, salt, and chilled butter. Using a pastry cutter, two small knives, your hands, or a food processor, cut the butter into the flour until the butter resembles small, pea-sized pieces. Add the egg yolk. Add ice water one tablespoon at a time until a soft dough forms, being careful not to overmix.

2.) Turn the dough onto a floured surface and kneed several times until the dough is smooth.

3.) Wrap in plastic and refrigerate at least 1 hour.

4.) Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

4.) In a saucepan over medium-low heat, sauté leeks in olive oil until soft and caramelized, about 7 minutes. Let cool slightly.

5.) In a bowl, mix the eggs, crème fraiche, eggs, salt and pepper.

6.) Roll out the pastry dough to 1/8’’ and spread carefully in a pie pan. Add the prepared leeks. Pour in the egg mixture. Sprinkle on the cheese, it will nice caramelize in the oven.

7.) Cook for about 30 minutes, or until the custard is set and the top. Enjoy!

Waiting for Anton…

So, I’m in Paris. I have a humble babysitting job to make ends meet while waiting on my working papers. I search for the kids after school, buy groceries, cook dinner, and encourage the completion of homework. Yesterday afternoon, the children’s mother informed me that I would be cooking for 8 on Friday night. Nothing a roast chicken couldn’t handle, right? Sure enough, this afternoon she informed me of one other important detail. And guess who is coming to dinner! It’s family friend Frédéric Anton, three-star chef and judge on Masterchef France. (SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!) There really is no American equivalent to this. But I’ll shallowly compare Frédéric Anton to Tom Colicchio since they are both tv personalities with culinary street cred and members of the bald brotherhood.

So, what does one cook for a famous 3-star chef? One thing is for sure, even though I can crank out a decent boeuf bourguignon, there is no way I’m touching French food. Just like I would never sing the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ in the presence of Aretha Franklin. Luckily, I have been a devoted pupil of Masterchef since its conception. And Frédéric Anton preaches to his puppy-eyed aspiring chefs to keep it simple and respect the integrity of the ingredients. Part of me feels like I should really do something American; there’s always something to be said about the complimentary coupling of peanut butter and jelly. At the end of the day, I need to make something I know. Needless to say, HELP!

1 Part Tomatoes+1 Part Red Peppers

There’s nothing like a soon-to-be mother-in-law! Fortunately, as of now, I’ve only good things to tell. When I moved to France, I quickly learned that Sunday was the ultimate day of relaxation. I mean a ‘watching 3 movies, not moving the couch’ type of Sunday. And thanks to France, I was finally able to train myself to do this without feeling a drop of guilt. When I started seeing C, I learned Sunday was the ultimate day of family, too. Whenever we weren’t glued to the couch or scavenging for food after noon, we were more than likely on our way to his parent’s place in the 15^th arrondisement. C’s mother is a very striking beauty. She’s impeccably preserved with radiant, olive skin and dark tresses. Only her slow walk gives away the fact she’s in her early 70s. She’s a retired primary school teacher. Thankfully, she speaks clearly and simply enough for both a 4^h grader and a barely bilingual Americaine like me to understand. And she just adores her son. She beams when she sees him and buys him a chocolate basset hounds every Easter and is quick to pull out his childhood photos. But I knew she finally warmed up to me when she whipped out the vegetables just for me! And plenty of them! Carotte rappe with just a touch of olive olive, cucumbers simply dressed with vinegar, and the most beautifully sumptuous red pepper and tomato salad/confiture/thing you must try at home!

So, it’s just a kilo of tomatoes and a kilo of red peppers. It’s that easy. They are scorched on either an open flame or in the broiler until their skins are completely black and pull away from the flesh. From there, wrap them in a papertowel and wrap in a plastic bag until they cooled. Remove the skins and slice into strips. From there, place the sliced peppers and tomatoes into a skillet with some olive oil and let them slowly concentrate until they morph into their own sauce. Add a little water here and there to keep them from sticking to the pan and to continue the caramelizing. After about 45 minutes-1 hour, you are left with is just the silkiest and smokiest thing that has ever come out of 2 kilos of vegetables. The sweetness of the peppers mellows out the acidity of the tomatoes brilliantly. With the necessary addition of baguette, you’re set for a terrifically light lunch or first course. Or reserve a little for your omelet the day after. Or place on top of a crostini with a little goat cheese for an elegant hors d’oeurves. But from my experience, the salad won’t last long enough to consider sharing.

From this day on, I still haven’t seen this little salad anywhere else! Unlike the Thai chicken wraps or the Mexican tortilla soup my family has adopted as our own family recipes from the supermarket periodical aisle, I can assume this recipe is one of those time-treasured Marseillaise recipes made in C’s family for at least a couple of generations. And nothing can taste as good! Not even a molten chocolate Martha Stewart recipe from my family recipe vault. Enjoy.

I never tasted panna cotta until about a year into Paris, in the early ‘wining and dining’ days of my courtship with C. After a beautifully prepared Italian dinner at Swan et Vincent, a neighborhood restaurant in the Bastille quartier, he ordered panna cotta for dessert. It came to our table humbly in a ramekin with a veil of raspberry coulis. But its simplicity was a marvel! It had the luxurious texture of a proper pudding, but with an absolutely pure taste of cream, milk, and vanilla bean. Panna cotta is to pudding as gelato is to ice cream. Panna cota and gelato showcase the flavor of their ingredients without being weighed down with eggs. And luckily, for the humble home cook, this makes it a lot easier to make, too!

I hold no grudges against animal hooves, but the inclusion of gelatin in recipes always intimidated me a bit before making this. But much like quinoa or fennel, it was just a matter of time and a good recipe to take away any culinary fear! A basic mixture of cream, milk, and sugar is heated until warm enough to melt good-quality dark chocolate and the softened gelatin. If you are more vanilla than chocolate, the chocolate can easily be replaced with a halved and seeded vanilla bean. The mixture is poured into individual cups and chilled. I do not know who I am quoting when I say this (too much Saveur Magazine), but the finished panna cotta should have the ‘wobble of a woman’s breast’. And remember, respect for quality, pure ingredients will leave you with an exceptional result every time! Enjoy!

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