French

Before I attended culinary school, my attempts at preparing rice were absolutely disastrous. Most often the final results were more like gloppy oatmeal, at best. The pilaf method I learned at L’Academie de Cuisine was my saving grace, which is why I call this recipe $20,000 Rice Pilaf (that was the cost of a year of school at the time).

Most oysters are farmed, but Apalachicola oysters are harvested from some of the only wild oyster beds left in American waters, near Apalachicola, Florida. This area of the Gulf of Mexico is known as Florida’s “Forgotten Coast.” For generations, residents of the Florida panhandle have made their livelihood working the Apalachicola Bay and surrounding waters. The area’s real claim to fame may be oysters, but every Southerner should raise a chilled glass of sweet tea to Dr. John Gorrie. The kind doctor thought Apalachicola summers were too hot for his patients and was a pioneer in the invention of the artificial manufacture of ice, refrigeration, and air-conditioning (he was granted a patent in 1851 for the first ice maker). This simple, peppery, vinegar sauce is a classic French accompaniment to freshly shucked oysters.

Halibut caught in the Pacific Ocean, in the northern areas near Alaska, and in the Bering Sea are caught by long-lining, which uses a central fishing line with smaller lines of baited hooks attached. This method is far less destructive to the marine habitat than the trawling methods used in the Atlantic. So, try to find Pacific halibut; alternatives include mako shark or farm-raised sturgeon. This recipe would also work well with a thick fillet of wild salmon. It’s important to cook the vegetables first to evaporate their moisture and concentrate their flavors. While cooking, the fish makes a lovely, fragrant broth, perfect to serve over grits, rice, or instant couscous in a shallow bowl.

Many years ago, I needed fresh cèpes for a job. When they were delivered, it was obvious there had been some horrible, grievous misunderstanding. I had ordered two pounds and they had delivered twenty! I called and they promised to pick them up the next day. However, my boss at the time was not the sort to take imperfections lightly. This may sound deceitful, but the truth is, it wasn’t worth trying to explain. I just needed to make them go away. So I had eighteen pounds and over $600 worth of mushrooms to hide—no easy feat! It was like hiding a skunk, a deliciously intoxicating skunk, but a skunk nonetheless.

This classic French country dish consists of chicken cooked slowly in red wine with onions, mushrooms, bacon, and herbs. When we were young, Mama used to make a similar dish in her slow cooker. Opening the front door on a cold night and welcomed by the inviting smells of stew from a slow cooker can be a dream come true. But winter is not the only time a slow cooker is useful. As it puts out no heat, it makes a cool substitute for a hot oven in the summer, and it uses less electricity. For this dish, a slow cooker is fine, as is a Dutch oven set on the cooktop. If using a slow cooker, don’t skip the step of browning the chicken, or you will have a flabby, tasteless mess. This is a l-o-o-ng recipe, requiring many steps to create its layers of flavor, which may seem daunting to some cooks, but it’s not a difficult one. Consider making this dish ahead and refrigerating it overnight so the flavors will marry and blend: simply reheat it the next day. Note: A wooden spoon is perfect for telling you when your sauce is finished. The sauce will coat the back of the spoon when it has reached the proper coating consistency (napper in classic French cooking).

Meme washed her chickens inside and out before cooking them, removing every last bit of fat, overlooked feathers, and any bruises, blemishes, or blood spots. She said if you didn’t, it tasted too “chickeny.” That bird was sanitized—or so she thought. I would never argue with Meme, but according to the USDA, washing chicken is not necessary. If the bird is contaminated, dangerous bacteria are not going to be affected by cold tap water. Washing the chicken actually increases the chance of cross-contamination; water that has touched raw chicken and splashed into the sink can potentially contaminate other food. This recipe relies on a classic French preparation: stuffing the bird with aromatics, roasting it to perfection, and using the pan juices plus added shallots, wine, and stock to make a light sauce. There’s not a lot to cloud the plate or palate or mask a mistake. I will often order chicken, seemingly the most boring dish on the menu, when trying a new restaurant. Simple roast chicken is the test of a good cook. Herbes de Provence, used here, is a mixture of dried herbs that typically contains some of the following: basil, cracked fennel, rosemary, sage, thyme, marjoram, lavender, and savory.

This country French recipe was one of my final exam dishes in culinary school. Delicious and simple, it has become a real family favorite. It’s very important to use the best quality red wine vinegar. We made our own at school with the leftover dribbles and drabs of wine. Many years later, I was cleaning the kitchen at the television studio where Martha Stewart’s show was produced, and noticed a cloudy substance in one of the bottles that I was about to recycle. I realized that it was a “mother,” a live bacterial culture that turns wine into wine vinegar. I took it home, transferred it to a glass cookie jar, and added red wine. That was over ten years ago. My tasty biology project is still alive and well, producing incredible vinegar. In France, this dish is often made with guinea hen, which has rich, dark meat, and much more complex flavor than chicken. Meme used to raise guinea hens; they would roost in the trees and make a huge fuss if anyone came into the yard.

Pepper, made from the small dried berries of a tropical vine native to India, has been the most widely used spice in the world for centuries. Green peppercorns are harvested when not quite ripe, and are most often dried or cured in brine or vinegar. Black peppercorns are picked when ripe, allowed to ferment, and then dried until they shrivel and turn brownish black. White pepper is allowed to ripen more fully on the vine before the black outer husk is removed. The husks are removed in a steady stream of water, so the peppercorns are very white and very clean. To crust a beef filet with a combination of crushed peppercorns is a traditional French cooking technique known as au poivre. Here, the bite of the pepper is tempered by the sharp cognac and fruity golden raisins.

Lamb rib chops have a dandy handle (the rib bone), and are excellent served as lamb “lollipops” for delicious, but rather extravagant, hors d’oeuvres. As the ribs get closer to the neck and shoulder, the nugget of meat becomes smaller, perfect for hors d’oeuvres. The larger ones are best as a main course served with a knife and a fork. Loin lamb chops are cut from the loin and look more like miniature T-bone steaks, with a bit of the loin and tenderloin on either side, and take a little longer to cook, but may be substituted in this recipe.

In classic French cooking, each dish has a name that indicates its precise ingredients and correct garnish. Bourguignonne is a term for dishes cooked in red wine, as some of the most famous French wines are from Bourgogne (Burgundy). These dishes are garnished with pearl onions, button mushrooms, and lardons of bacon. Never choose stew meat already in precut cubes. It’s more expensive and you have no idea if you’re getting, for example, leftover bits from the shoulder or rib-eye, two wildly different cuts that won’t cook at the same rate.

Doesn’t the phrase “dried plums” sound much more appealing than “prunes”? The slightly sweet flavor of the pork combines nicely with tender, fruity dried plums and is based on a classic French combination. This recipe calls for pork chops on the bone. When you cook meat on the bone, the bone essentially becomes a heat conductor. The meat cooks more evenly and tender with less loss of juices. Serve these chops with quick-cooking polenta for a delicious meal in minutes.

Hot, bubbly cheese, buttery toast, and fresh snipped herbs are a captivating combination for a first course. Serve this in individual dishes for a more elegant presentation. In the summer, it is incredible with chopped fresh tomato. In the winter it takes on a completely different taste and feel topped with your favorite tomato sauce. Compound butters (see page 281) are flavored with herbs or spices. This recipe features tarragon butter, which is a classic French combination that makes this simple recipe taste spectacular. The flavoring possibilities for compound butters are vast: I once worked with a cowboy chef who made a compound butter for steak with freshly chopped cilantro, fresh lime juice, and finely chopped jalapeño. Mix it up!

Southerners have a bad habit of calling any dish with whipped egg white in it a soufflé—hence all those recipes for cheese grits soufflé and sweet potato soufflé. Believe me, there is way too much butter in both of those concoctions for them to ever rise, especially the latter, which is typically topped with marshmallows. This classic French soufflé is the real thing, and uses the béchamel method (see page 67). It is very important to use low-moisture cheese when making soufflés. Gruyère and Parmigiano-Reggiano are perfect because they are very flavorful, but dry and not overly fatty. Rich, fatty cheeses like blue or Brie are too heavy and your soufflé won’t rise as tall.

The first time I cooked a soufflé for my teacher, culinary authority and soufflé master Anne Willan, I opened the oven door to discover a lopsided, exploding disaster. Determined to learn, I cooked a soufflé once a week for months with the leftover bits of cheese from the cheeseboard. It was brutal, but I finally mastered the soufflé. That said, cast your fears aside: adapted from one of Anne’s recipes, this soufflé is the absolute perfect recipe for beginners because it demonstrates how easy soufflés are to make and to manipulate. Even if everything does go wrong, no one will know, as the soufflés are hidden under a glorious blanket of rich creamy sauce and melted cheese.

Mama often prepared quiche during the time that coincided with that ridiculous phrase and tongue-in-cheek bestseller, Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche. I thought it was absurd then, and still do. Cheesy, yummy, eggy goodness encased in rich, golden pastry? What’s not to like?

Honey is a fine example of the French concept of terroir—quite literally, a little bit of the earth of the surrounding area is imparted to every jar of honey. Dede loved honey and enjoyed it on his toast or biscuits. When I grew older and started to travel, I would always bring home a jar of the local honey as a gift for him. Although he has long since passed away, I have continued the tradition and always bring home a jar of local honey as a memento when I travel. The shelf in my cupboard resembles an amber rainbow. I once had a bit of pecan-crusted goat cheese left over from another recipe and served it the next day, nestled in a quartered fresh fig and drizzled with honey—that’s how this recipe was born.

Here is my version of a recipe taught by Anne Willan. Her version uses small cherry tomatoes, which are scored, blanched, and peeled. The combination is incredible, as the peeled tomatoes soak up the flavorful vinaigrette and explode in your mouth. However, the number of people I would peel cherry tomatoes for is fairly limited. The wine may seem a little surprising, but tomatoes contain alcohol-soluble flavors that can only be delivered to your taste receptors in the presence of alcohol. As the salad marinates, the tomatoes begin to exude their juices, so don’t make this more than 2 or 3 hours before serving. Serve this pretty combination in a butterhead lettuce cup with plenty of bread to soak up the juices.

While I lived and worked at La Varenne, we often dined outside on a terrace overlooking miles of Burgundian countryside. One memorable day, I cut off the tip of my left thumb while preparing potato salad for one of our outdoor feasts. I quickly wrapped my hand in a towel and raised it above my head. I grabbed the severed bit from the cutting board in my right hand, walked into Anne Willan’s office, and told her I had cut myself. She asked to see it. I refused. She insisted. Finally, opening my right palm, I said, “Well, here it is.” The grand dame Anne blanched and replied, “Oh dear, I think we need a Cognac.” After a trip to the hospital I did enjoy the feast, but declined a serving of the potato salad.

Alain Passard is the chef-owner of the Parisian restaurant L’Arpège, awarded three Michelin stars, the highest possible rating from the most prestigious organization. He caused quite a stir when he “went vegetarian,” as he had come from the classic French tradition of cooking with meat stocks. This salad is inspired by a dish he created when he entered his veggie phase. This is well suited for cooks who grow their own herbs or are able to purchase good quality fresh herbs from their farmer’s market—otherwise, it can be somewhat costly at a traditional grocery store. Rinse the herbs under cold running water, then spin them dry in a salad spinner. Carefully remove the leaves from the stems (don’t cheat: use only the leaves, discard the stems). Use more herbs than lettuce. Nasturtiums (both leaves and flowers), cilantro, basil, and chervil are other herb suggestions.