French

Once you’ve made your small amount of hollandaise sauce, it is simple to put together that heavenly creation, egg (or eggs) Benedict,and enjoy it all alone for a Sunday brunch.

Don’t let yourself be frightened at the prospect of making an omelet. The more you make, the easier it will be, and it only takes minutes to produce a seductive oval mound of yellow eggs wrapped around a filling that provides just the right complement. An omelet can make a whole meal and is a great receptacle for whatever little bits of things you’ve stored in your fridge. So I’ll give only proportions and suggestions for various fillings, not specific directions for preparing each one. That way, you can use mine as guidelines to make your own. It is important to have a good nonstick omelet pan. Mine is 6 1/2 inches in diameter at the base and 8 inches across the top, the size I like for a two-egg omelet, and I reserve it for only that purpose. If you prefer a slightly thinner, more spread-out omelet, get a pan with an 8-inch bottom diameter.

I’ve loved shirred eggs ever since I first sampled them in a Paris brasserie years ago. But I didn’t know exactly how to make them until I came across the carefully instructive recipe in Julia Child’s masterful tome, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, where they were called oeufs sur le plat or oeufs miroir (in deference to their shimmering surface). Here’s my favorite version, which I invariably make when I have plucked the packet of giblets from the cavity of a chicken. It should always include a plump liver—the cook’s treat.

This mock bouillabaisse is so scrumptious that you would never know it had anything “left over” in it. You do have to stop and pick up a dozen or so fresh mussels and a few clams the day you’re making it, but otherwise everything else is at hand, and you can put this together in half an hour. I am assuming, of course, that you have a good fish stock in your freezer; if not, plan to make this after you’ve had a lobster or a supper of steamed mussels and have some of that intense lobster or mussel broth left. Otherwise use clam juice, diluted by Half with water because it is quite strong.

This is really another take on the preceding vegetable soup, but it differs enough in detail to warrant a full-dress recipe. It is without question one of my favorite soups, and I usually plant a couple of rows of leeks in my garden so I can indulge myself at a moment’s notice. This is one soup in which I prefer to use water rather than stock, so that nothing interferes with the sweet, pronounced flavor of the leeks.

Make this simple shrimp dish often, but only recently did I discover how good it is served on a bed of farro (see page 190), which Lidia Bastianich introduced me to. It’s also delicious with rice, grits, or polenta. You’ll get a good two meals out of this amount.

Recently I stumbled upon a package in the meat counter of my nearby supermarket that contained 1/3 pound each of ground beef, pork, and veal—just enough to make a small meatloaf for two, or for one with some welcome leftovers. I was elated, not only because I wanted to make a small meatloaf and I’d found it so hard to get the mix that I needed in modest amounts, but also because I felt it was a sign of the times. Maybe supermarkets are finally waking up to the fact that so many New Yorkers live alone and should be catered to, instead of forcing us to buy more than we need. So I took the package home and made myself this meatloaf, sneaking in a few French flavors to jazz it up a bit.

This is a favorite dish of mine that I would make often when I lived in Paris in the late 1940s. I’ve learned to simplify it a bit and make relatively small portions. I am partial to leeks, no doubt because of my Welsh husband, who called them the poor man’s asparagus, and they marry particularly well with delicate veal.

Scott Peacock, the gifted young chef from Alabama who worked with and cared for the legendary Virginia cook Edna Lewis during her final years, once told me that one of the great lessons he learned from Edna was “the way she slowly coaxed the essence of flavor” from ingredients, be they meat, poultry, vegetables, or a combination. This slow braising of shoulder lamb chops is a good example of the technique that Scott worked out by observing her. Very little liquid is used, and by smothering the meat in a covering of parchment, then foil, and a tight-fitting lid, you make sure the juices that are “leached out” don’t evaporate but fall back into the pan, penetrating the meat and vegetables. As a result, you get an intensity of flavor that is breathtaking. I have adapted their recipe here to make two servings, not only because such chops are invariably vacuum-wrapped two to a package, but because the dish is so good that I always want to use it for a second round. Every time I make it, I want to give thanks to Edna and Scott, who seemed destined to cook together to bring new life to Southern cooking.

I like this in winter with rice, or with mashed potatoes mixed, maybe, with mashed parsnip or another root vegetable. In summer, it’s good with almost anything from the garden.

This is my favorite steak. I like the chewiness of the cut and the faint marbling of fat, just enough to keep it well lubricated. And I find it a good size for the single cook. A skirt steak of approximately 14 ounces gives me three fine meals. First I have a piece of rare steak quickly sautéed and garnished with a little pan sauce of wine and shallots; then I have a few slices of it cold for lunch with a piquant sauce; and finally, later in the week, I’ll use what remains in a delicious baked dish with mushrooms and breadcrumbs, an inspiration of the late Mireille Johnston, whose books taught us so much of what regional French home cooking is all about—thriftiness, inventiveness, and good taste.

French-food lovers, fear not the long list of steps and ingredients for this traditional dish. It’s easier than you think. Many of the ingredients are probably already in your pantry, and the rest can easily be found in your local grocery store. The key to great bouillabaisse is fresh seafood. We’re talking fresh-from-the-sea fresh, not Joe’s week-old specials. Nothing spoils a fish-based stew like subpar fish. Get to know the person at the fish counter and find out what’s fresh that day. In fact, ask to sniff the fish before they wrap it up for you—you want it to smell like the sea. Much like paella, this dish has very flexible ingredients. It’s part of the fun. Plus, you’ll be amazed at how quickly and easily it comes together. It’s time to start a French revolution—in your kitchen!

We save time in this recipe (see page 76) by using ready-made crêpes. But if you have the extra time to make your own, you will only enhance your results. If working with crêpes is something you’ve never done, double the batter and give yourself plenty of time for a practice run!

The Queens go “coo-coo” for Coq au Vin, a classic French dish of chicken cooked in red wine. An elegant but simple recipe, it’s a great entry point to the world of French cuisine, which is often less complicated than it seems. Since this chicken dish has a decadent sauce, we love serving it in a shallow soup bowl over buttered egg noodles that have been tossed with chopped fresh parsley. We also garnish the rest of the plate with parsley, as the bright green pops against the red wine sauce. So pretty and so tasty!

This delicious, classic dish from the Burgundy region of France is designed to showcase the wines for which the area is famous. (We like anything that celebrates wine. Oui, oui!) Beef Burgundy can appear at first glance as a mere stew, but those of us who have had the pleasure of making this dish know that during the hours it slowly cooks in the oven something magical happens. The flavors of the broth are intensified by the wine, and it thickens into a velvety smooth sauce. Once finished, the cuts of beef are so tender they almost seem to melt. Traditionally, Beef Burgundy is made with wine from the French province of Burgundy. If you have trouble finding a true Burgundy (they can be pretty pricy!), the best substitutes are Pinot Noirs from California or Oregon. We suggest serving this over our Perfect Rice Every Time (page 195) and with our Rockin’ Tomatoes Rockefeller (page 139).

This is the most amazing upside-down cake you’ll ever make. And if you don’t already know how, you’ll learn to make caramel—which used to scare me to death. I always worried about burning it. But making caramel does not have to be an intimidating process—you just have to pay attention. You also want to remember that this is a flipper situation; you need to make the bottom of your tart look pretty because it’s going to end up as the top.

This is my interpretation of the French classic, pommes Anna. It’s just as elegant as the traditional version, but I’ve added Parm for a cheesy little twist. What’s beautiful about this dish is how the outside gets a delicious crispy crust while the inside has a wonderfully delicate texture, thanks to the layers of thinly sliced potatoes. I also love that you can make one cake and then just cut it into individual portions—super-cinchy!

Fish in paper is a classic preparation that will totally make you feel like a rock star in the kitchen. It’s super-easy and it’s all about the presentation. All you have to do is toss some veggies and white fish in a parchment package along with some wine, and let them steam themselves. When your guests open their packages, they get a big burst of aromatic vapor and a lovely piece of gently cooked fish on perfectly cooked veggies. Just remember that because you seal the packages, you only get one shot to season everything—if you miss your opportunity then this will taste like a diet dish. You have to season well BEFORE you seal the deal.

Who can resist a madeleine? They are so charming, so fair—so impossibly French. These Proustian delights have always appealed to the buttery fringes of my soul, and they’ve always acted as the perfect foil to the rebellious and messy attitude of my first love, the American chocolate chip cookie. Plus I get to whip out my handy madeleine tray, which I cherish wholly and completely. Get yourself one and be the envy of your baby girl’s bake sale.

Our china cabinet rattles when you walk through the dining room. With each step the lids to my collection of little pot de crème pots remind me that it has been a while since they were used.