French

Pistou is the French version of pesto. As in Italy, it’s used with pasta or dolloped on soups or stews for additional flavoring. Make this sauce when herbs are plentiful, and freeze some for later. I like to freeze it in ice-cube trays; once the cubes are frozen solid, I transfer them to a sealable freezer bag or an airtight container and freeze for up to 1 month. Pine nuts are traditional, and walnuts are a good choice for a delicious hint of bitterness. But pecans give the sauce a rich, buttery flavor. Try it also with other herbs—parsley, cilantro, or even nasturtium leaves for a little spicy kick.

Each summer, any peaches that were not eaten, jellied, or canned were frozen. We would peel and slice the peaches and pack them into sealable plastic freezer bags. Most often, they later appeared as a topping for Meme’s Pound Cake (page 266). For a child, peach season was purgatory—it was so very hot—but I am sure Meme is smiling in heaven with satisfaction when she sees me practicing now what she taught me then. This soufflé uses the meringue method to rise, and the flavor is delicate and light. Frozen peaches may be used when peaches are not in season; simply defrost them before using.

This soufflé uses the pastry-cream method as the base. Pastry cream (crème pâtissière) is a very stable custard thickened with flour or cornstarch, and it provides an excellent foundation for dessert soufflés. Vanilla is the bean of a variety of tropical orchid. Use the whole pod if possible to allow the tiny seeds to flavor and speckle the dish. As a substitution, use 1 tablespoon of pure vanilla extract.

Sabayon is the French name for zabaglione, a light foamy Italian dessert. It is served warm in glasses or coupes or spooned over a dessert, fruit, or pastry as a topping. Traditionally, it is made with Marsala or port, but it may be prepared using other wines and liqueurs. Use the freshest berries in season. Try all the same berry, or mix them up for a colorful treat.

When my grandmother became ill with cancer, I thought my heart would break. I never knew anything could hurt so badly—the pain actually seemed to make it impossible to breathe. I was living in New York, working in Connecticut, and would fly home to see her as often as possible, at least every other weekend. When I was home I would make her this soft, rich custard that she loved. The cause of death on Meme’s death certificate is actually starvation, not cancer. The cancer prevented her from swallowing, and the only solution was to feed her through a tube, something no one wanted, or needed, to face. It was a cruel irony for a woman who made so many meals with so much joy and love.

Undeniably creamy and indulgent, these are the French version of pudding cups. Pots de crème are traditionally baked and served in individual ceramic pots with lids, how they got their name. Much to my consternation, Mama buys Cool Whip instead of using freshly whipped cream. She recycles the tubs for food storage and other uses. I think a pet hamster was once gently laid to rest in a Cool Whip coffin. Whipping real cream is easy, and my mother’s opinion aside, it really does taste better. The key is that everything must be well chilled: the heavy cream in the refrigerator, and the mixer beaters and bowl in the freezer until cold to the touch. I prefer not to add sugar or vanilla to the cream, as I think the dessert is quite often sweet enough and sweetened whipped cream is overpowering.

This soup is decidedly uptown and was inspired by one I had at the Ritz-Carlton dining room in Atlanta. It’s a perfect marriage of Southern ingredients and French techniques that clearly states, bon appétit, y’all! I like to serve it in mason jars or French glass yogurt cups so you can see the layering.

This French dish, which translates to “pot on the fire,” consists of meat and vegetables slowly cooked in water or stock. The broth is traditionally served with croutons as a first course, followed by an entrée of the meat and vegetables. The combination of meat and vegetables varies according to the region. It’s traditionally a slow-cooking dish that takes hours. This version makes use of more tender cuts of meat and therefore cooks much more quickly.

Mama loves this soup. What’s not to love? It’s a hearty bowl of sweet, brown, caramelized onions in a rich beef broth, enriched with a dose of sherry and topped with deliciously nutty, golden brown, melted Gruyère cheese. Why does Gruyère taste so good? Aged, low-moisture cheeses such as Gruyère and Parmigiano-Reggiano have a stronger protein structure than younger, softer cheeses like fontina or fresh mozzarella, and require higher temperatures to melt. The higher heat, combined with less moisture, causes the protein to actually break down, bringing out their nutty flavor.

A French classic, this soup marries humble ingredients and well-executed technique to produce an excellent first course or a warming meal with cornbread on a cold winter night. When chilled, this is the famous vichyssoise, a great soup for a cool day. Omit the cream if you want a lighter soup.

Well made stocks are one of the foundations of classic French cuisine. A good stock is redolent with flavor, clear, not cloudy, and rich with the naturally occurring gelatin in the bones. Have you made roast chicken and refrigerated the leftovers? Then, the next day you look at the chicken and the juices have congealed into a kind of meat Jell-O? That’s the gelatin that gives stocks—and the soups and sauces made from them—their wonderful flavor.

Well made stocks are one of the foundations of classic French cuisine. A good stock is redolent with flavor, clear, not cloudy, and rich with the naturally occurring gelatin in the bones. Have you made roast chicken and refrigerated the leftovers? Then, the next day you look at the chicken and the juices have congealed into a kind of meat Jell-O? That’s the gelatin that gives stocks—and the soups and sauces made from them—their wonderful flavor.

The wealthy and powerful Dukes of Burgundy controlled the spice trade in the Middle Ages. The windows of the shops and bakeries of Dijon are filed with tightly wrapped loaves of pain d’épice, the traditional honey spice bread of the region. It’s similar to American-style gingerbread only in that they both contain a variety of spices. The texture of the French bread, however, is denser, as it is traditionally baked at a low temperature for several hours, and the spice combination is slightly different. I’ve adapted this version to cook in less time at a higher temperature. The texture is not as traditional, but the flavor is still incredible. Ground fennel seed is not widely available; to order it, see Sources (page 301), or simply grind your own in a spice grinder. While at La Varenne, we served this bread for breakfast for special guests. It’s also wonderful with a hot cup of tea on a chilly fall afternoon.

My grandparents had a garden each summer and fall. To keep the soil rich and fertile, Dede would alternate between the fields in front of the house and behind it and the property down at the river. He planted by the moon and used time-honored wisdom as his guide. Meme would drive the tractor and Dede would follow behind with the plow. Dede loved green beans and would plant rows and rows. When he passed away, Mama tucked a handful in his suit pocket as he lay in his coffin so he wouldn’t miss them. These green beans are fresh and flavorful—a favorite Southern vegetable made with a classic French technique. This dish is excellent served hot, at room temperature, or chilled. If making it ahead, do not add the vinegar until the last moment or it will cause the beans to look mottled and green like hunter’s camouflage.

Endive is a slightly bitter lettuce, but bitter isn’t necessarily bad; just consider it a vegetable for grown-ups. Our palate senses sour, salty, bitter, sweet, and umami (for more on umami, see page 239). When these flavors come together in balance, we perceive a dish to be delicious. Most Americans think of lettuce as a vegetable to be eaten raw. Europeans, however, prepare lettuce soups, as well as sauteed and braised lettuce. Step out of the box (or the salad bowl) and give this French version a try.

This is another example of simple country cooking that would be equally at home cooked in a cast-iron skillet in the South or simmered in a cocotte on grandmère’s stovetop in France. Cabbage is an inexpensive vegetable, and if stored properly, will keep for weeks in the refrigerator. Once again, bacon drippings was Meme’s fat of choice, but you can substitute butter. Other oils do not give the dish the richness it needs. (Before you make any comments about Meme’s arteries, she lived to be ninety-two!) Try this dish with Meme’s Fried Fatback (page 84) and her Cornmeal Griddle Cakes (page 216). You will be glad you did.

Years ago in France, many homes did not have an oven, so if anything was to be baked, it was taken to the local baker (boulanger) to cook in his oven. This recipe, known in France as pommes boulangère, is a healthy departure from classic potato recipes that use lots of butter and cream. It really shines with freshly harvested potatoes, when they are at their finest. Serve it with Herb Roast Chicken (page 110) for a warming winter meal.

At first glance, Anne Willan, the proper, Cambridge-educated grande dame of cuisine, would seem to have little in common with a Mafia don. Looks can be deceiving: those “in the know” are well aware of the “La Varenne Way.” The La Varenne Way of recipe testing has evolved with Anne’s experience of more than thirty-five years as a teacher, cookbook author, and food writer. As the director of École de Cuisine La Varenne, the cooking school that she founded in Burgundy in 1975, with the encouragement and support of the grand doyenne herself, Julia Child, Willan has shaped and influenced countless professional and amateur cooks all over the world, myself included. La Varenne alumni are called, tongue-in-cheek, the “La Varenne Mafia.” No secret society, the list of capos reads like a Who’s Who of the culinary world. The invaluable training I acquired in France working with Anne opened countless doors and a world of possibilities. Anne is one of the hardest-working individuals I know, and her drive for perfection has long been an inspiration. This rich gratin, typical of simple country French cooking, was inspired by a version I learned while at La Varenne.

French-style potato purees are very finely processed, and often incorporate copious amounts of butter, so the resulting puree is silky smooth. In this recipe, the addition of celeriac to the potatoes creates another layer of flavor. Traditionally, in classic French cooking, white sauces use white pepper instead of black, making the finished dish appear more refined. When we were children and would see pepper in a dish we would complain, often without tasting, that it was “too hot.” Sneakily, Mama started using white pepper to pull the wool over our eyes.