French

This dessert was the brainchild of Amanda Clarke, one of my cooks, who went on to become pastry chef at Jean-Georges’s Perry Street Restaurant in New York. The floral notes of the rose, the bitter edge of the Campari, the sweet acids of the tangerine and citrus, all meld into a unique balance of flavor and texture.

The technique here is traditional and French. The fresh and dried cranberries and the star anise are modern and provide bright hits of flavor in every bite. You’ll need two 6-cavity Flexipan savarin molds (the 2 3/4-inch size) if you want to match the shape of the dessert in the photograph. But you could also freeze the nougat in a baking sheet and cut pieces to serve.

This is a riff on Jean-Georges’s grandmother’s rhubarb tart. It’s not her recipe for the pastry or the streusel, but the notion of macerating the rhubarb before baking and adding the flan came from her. Mustard may not be a traditional ingredient for desserts, but it adds a definite edge to the jam and it’s my nod to Alsace, from where Jean-Georges hails. You’ll have leftover jam. Try pairing it with cheese or with a sizzling steak.

I started making vacherins when I was in the south of France, at Pâtisserie Chéreau in Nice, and fell in love with this combination of meringue, creamy ice cream, fruit, sorbet, and whipped cream. We made big ones in France, but I like individual vacherins best. I use a stencil when I make these meringues in the restaurant, but I’ve adapted the recipe for a pastry bag here. The recipe makes more than you will need for the dessert, but it’s nearly impossible to whip any less egg white successfully. The meringues will keep for several days if you store them airtight, and they’re a great snack. Make as many of the composed desserts as you like. You will have enough sorbet and ice cream for up to 24.

Maybe I like rhubarb so much because I started eating it when I was a child; my mother’s strawberry-rhubarb pie is one of my earliest memories. And I love summer fruit soups; that’s something I learned from François Payard. So this combination is a natural for me. You need just the pod from the vanilla bean for this dessert, so if you have saved some used pods, now is the time to recycle. And you will need a whipped cream charger (see page 279) for the foam. You will have leftover consommé (which you can freeze) and foam; you simply can’t successfully foam less liquid than is in the recipe.

This recipe offers treasures of the Caribbean “sugar islands”: chocolate, sugar, and rum. It’s a classic French buttercream using a cooked sugar technique, pâté à bombe, to blend and aerate the eggs and sugar, which creates incomparable richness. Or maybe it’s the butter. Or maybe it’s the chocolate. You get the picture—it’s rich! One batch makes enough to ice one 2-layer cake, but if you like generous layers and rosettes, double this recipe. Allow time to chill the buttercream. If soupy, chill it for another half hour. If stiff, heat it over a saucepan of hot water, then whip it. For children, you can omit the rum.

Here’s a warm version of the popular French salade niçoise. Très bien!

You know how much I love olive oil, but there is a time and place for everything. When sautéing foods that cook quickly, like these sole fillets, using some butter along with the oil helps the sole brown before they overcook. Thicker sole or flounder fillets are ideal for this dish, but if yours are thinner, you may find it easier to handle them if you cut them in half first. Traditionally, the fillets are simmered in the sauce, but I like to cook the sauce separately and spoon it around the sole fillets—they stay crispier that way.

Stand by the pot as the sauce cooks—once it starts to thicken, it will stick to the bottom of the pan if you don’t stir it constantly. And once the bottom scorches, the flavor will permeate the sauce. If the sauce does stick and burn, immediately transfer it to a clean pot without scraping the bottom. Check the sauce, make sure it doesn’t taste scorched, then continue. Don’t let these warnings scare you away from cooking the sauce enough, though; there is nothing worse than the taste of raw flour on your tongue.

This rich French sauce made of pepper, Cognac, and cream is traditionally served on steak, but it’s equally good on pork or salmon. Instead of cream, this version is given body and richness with cornstarch-thickened evaporated milk.

Steak au poivre (steak with peppercorns) is one of the all-time great French bistro dishes. Few things complement a great steak like peppercorns, brandy, and cream. Needless to say, the original is way out of our budget, calorically speaking. At one-fourth of the original calories and one-tenth of the fat, this version will make you wonder why it hasn’t been revised until now.

French onion soup began to show up on restaurant menus in the 1960s, when America’s interest in French food was piqued by Julia Child. Onions have tremendous nutritional value and have been shown to aid in preventing and treating both cardiovascular disease and certain types of cancer. Though a bowl of French onion soup is full of great things, it also has a fair amount of fat. This recipe calls for reduced-fat Swiss and little to no fat in the general preparation, which trimmed fat and calories by about one-third and one half, respectively.

This is the at-home version of another perfect meal from France. To make this more of a meal, serve with sliced French sausages and ham.

In France, I had some cèpes (wild mushrooms) cooked in duck fat—yummo! Being that I don’t kill many ducks and that I like wearing small sizes, I make these with EVOO at home. (Man, nothing beats that duck fat though! You should taste the potatoes boiled in it!)

French and fantastique, this will become a real favorite.

That’s what Mom and I called it, this light, delicious midday meal in Saint-Émilion, France. It’s a wonderful light supper in warm months and a good lunch in any season. To make this salad into a movable feast, serve with French ham, sausage, or pâté, cheese, and a baguette. Oh, and plenty of Saint-Émilion wine.

This simple feast brings together all my favorite flavors from a short, sweet stay in Bordeaux.

Ah, April in Paris! Word of advice: pack a parka! I have been in France twice in April, once to Paris, once to Bordeaux. Twice I froze. Oh, well. The hot ham and cheese tastes better then.