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I make no secret of the fact that I love French food. I like fancy hoity-toity carefully arranged plates of haute cuisine and the accessible salaryman’s cuisine of the Paris Bistro or the Lyonnaise Brasserie. I love butter-drenched laminated pastries and humble artisan breads – like the giant loaves of pain de campagne that can feed a family for a well.
If I had my way, I’d be in Paris right now. In fact, my wife and I had hoped to be there for her birthday this week. We’d be wandering from street market to street market, watching city life pass by while drinking cheap wine at an expensive table, and meandering the darkening streets with old friends. I’d be devouring a perfect baguette every day, browsing the amazing kitchen stores near Les Halles, and shopping for cheese. Like everywhere. At every. Single. Fromagerie. We pass. Because I want pillowywhite, weird, funky goat cheese molded into ever shape you can imagine. I want tiny, stinky, bloomy rind disks of all the flavor. I want good bread and wine and cheese and a moment of escapist happiness pretending I’m in a place I like with people (and cheese) that I love.
I’m not. I can’t be because of the pandemic. We talk to those old friends via video chat. I am thankful for our good, local cheese monger – who’s wonderful but simply can’t get some of the amazing French cheeses I practically dream about.
Then, because there are nights that I really want to pretend we’re in a corner bistro in the 1er, I cook. This week’s menu is a date night French Bistro recreation: Charcuterie, French Onion Soup, a bracing Salad Lyonnaise made with deliciously bitter fall greens, Steak Frites with an unusual, but unusually delicious sauce, and that most stereotypical and completely sumptuous of French deserts – Crème Brule.
So grab a bottle of French wine, a couple of crusty baguettes – some of that good cheese if you can find it – and dive in.
Rustic Pork Terrine
To me, the endless variety of charcuterie is one of the best things about France. Standing in a butcher’s stall along one of the market streets, the options feel like they are almost endless sausages from different regions, Pâtés, mouses, torchons of foie gras, and more. You're faced with an array of really delicious foodstuffs and choosing can be difficult. That's not so much the case here in the states. It’s not that there aren’t wonderful options here (If you’re in the Denver area, check out my old friend Bill Miner’s Il Porcilino Salumi, if you’re not … they ship!), it’s just that we don’t take as many occasions to enjoy it.
I’ve spent some time over the last few years learning some basics of charcuterie. I’ve made foie gras torchons (also I just found out I can order whole lobes of Foie Gras on Amazon Prime and that’s probably dangerous) , and chicken liver pâtés, cured and dried pork cheeks to guanciale, made some German and Spanish style fresh sausages, and dried Italian style salamis and French saucisson sec. I’ve also cured and smoked hams and made Eastern European style smoked sausages. All of the meats.
My favorites though are French style pâté de campagne and similar rustic terrines. With a dollop of mustard, a small pile of sour pickles (gherkins!), and a hunk of crusty baguette, there’s no better pre-meal snack. Or you could stop here. Add some cheese, of course, and I could eat this as a meal on its own. Don’t though, you would miss out on all the other good stuff.
This terrine is pretty simple to prepare, and other than a food processor, doesn’t require any specialized equipment.
Makes 2 small loaf pan sized terrines
2 hours, 30 minutes active, plus refrigeration time
1 lb. pork shoulder meat
2 pieces smoky, thick-cut bacon
4 oz chicken liver, trimmed
1 shallot
2 tsp kosher salt
1/8 tsp pink curing salt (Prague Powder #1 - opt - see note)
2 tbsp pistachios
6 dried apricots
1 oz brandy
1 large egg
2 tbsp heavy cream
½ tsp picked thyme leaves
½ tsp fresh ground black pepper
½ tsp Chinese five spice powder
¼ tsp fresh grated nutmeg
Preheat your oven to 325° F.
Peel, trim, and mince the shallot.
Finely dice the bacon (1/8th inch or smaller).
Finely chop ½ pound of the pork – look for 1/8th inch pieces, but not minced or ground.
Cut the remaining pork into 1-inch pieces and place in the bowl of a food processor with the cream and egg. Process until a smooth paste is formed.
Trim the chicken livers – removing any tough bits – and cut into ¼ inch or smaller pieces.
Add the shallot, chopped pork, chicken livers, herbs and spices, salt, pink salt, fruit, nuts and brandy to a bowl. Allow to rest for 5 minutes.
Add to the ground pork mixture and mix well. Allow to rest 30 minutes in the refrigerator.
Transfer into small loaf pans or a single terrine and place in a larger pan. Create a “bain marie” by adding water to the pan so that it comes two thirds of the way up the sides of the terrine.
Bake for 1 hour or until a thermometer inserted into the center of the meat reads 155° F or 68° C.
Chill in the refrigerator for at least four hours or overnight.
Slice, and serve with Cornichons (delicious tiny French pickles), mustard or Fruit Chutney, and sliced baguette.
Note: Curing salt or Prague Powder - preserves the meats in the terrain, both giving them an appealing pink color, but also preserving them slightly - effectively extending the shelf life of the product. Without the salt, the dish should be eaten within a day or two, and may be more grey than pink. Himalayan pink salt is not the same thing and will not have a preservative effect.
French Onion Soup
It’s a staple of white tablecloth, shopping mall, chain restaurants. It’s “basic” in the way “basic” is used as an insult. You can even buy dehydrated packets of it. Look no further than my mom’s brisket recipe. The reason French Onion Soup – and the thousands of items that purport to have “French Onion” flavor – is so ubiquitous is simple.
The stuff is really, really good.
Which is ridiculous when you think about it. If you’d never had it, and someone described the dish and the process, you would never believe it. Seriously, imagine the following description in a Looney Tunes-esque fake French accent and tell me I’m lying.
“I will cook lots of ze onions until they’re very much burnt, zen boil zem in watery stuff for a while. Zen you throw in some oily toast and burn some cheese on top? Sounds good, eh?”
I mean, obviously my imaginary cook needs to take some lessons in culinary marketing, cultural sensitivity, and cartoon acting … but he’s not wrong. The soup is basically nothing but onions. Very nearly – but not burnt – onions. It doesn’t need anything else. The magic, it’s right there in the onions.
See, we don’t think about it when we’re eating a slice of fresh cut onion, but these things are FULL of sugar. That means that when they’re cooked slowly and succumb to the magic of the maillard reaction – the chemical process that causes “browning” in foods – the sugars and proteins in that otherwise pungent onion turn into sweet, umami rich deliciousness.
A lot of folks make this soup with beef stock. That’s only necessary if you’re not cooking the onions far enough. There are also a lot of different ways to flavor and season it. I like it minimally seasoned – just a bit of thyme and maybe some salt and pepper. The flavors in a good, homemade stock can do a lot of work here. This does take time. There are short cuts. Maybe they’re worth it sometimes, but I really encourage you to try the old-fashioned, slow way at least once … the results are amazing.
Note: I do take two unusual shortcuts here. I use brioche style hamburger buns to make the croutons - they’re easy to work with, rich, and toast up well. Additionally, though I’ve tried all sorts of blends of traditional cheeses (Gruyere, comte, etc) I’ve found that American style Baby Swiss melts exceptionally well and has both a melting character and flavor that works well with this soup.
Serves 4
Time 90 minutes
4 large white or yellow onions
4 cups chicken stock
8 slices baby swiss cheese
2 large brioche style hamburger buns
1 oz brandy (opt)
2 tbsp butter
1 sprig fresh thyme
1 tsp kosher salt plus more to taste
Preheat your oven to 350° F.
Melt 1 tbsp butter in the microwave.
If the hamburger buns are not already split, split them in half. Use a ring mold or cutter just smaller than the hamburger buns to cut four rounds. Use a sharp bread knife to remove the domed top, and the bottom of the rolls, leaving four crustless rounds.
Bush both sides of the rounds with melted butter.
Bake at 350° F until well browned.
Remove, and allow to cool. Leave out on the counter to dry further as the rest of the soup is prepared.
Peel, trim, and thinly slice the onions radially (from stem to root end, not crosswise).
Place a thick-bottomed large pan, with enough room for all of the sliced onions, over medium heat.
Add 1 tbsp butter.
When the butter has melted and stopped foaming, add all the onions.
Add 1 tsp salt and stir well.
Reduce the heat and cover the pot for 5 minutes, checking occasionally.
Once the onions are soft, raise the heat to medium.
Slowly caramelize the onions, stirring frequently.
As a fond or crust begins to form on the bottom of the pan, deglaze the pan with small amounts of water or chicken stock, scrapping the bits up and incorporating them into the onions.
Repeat this process, cooking until the onions are very dark, almost on the verge of burning.
Add the chicken stock and thyme sprig. Bring to a low simmer and cook for 1 hour.
Remove and discard the thyme sprig.
Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper if desired.
To serve:
Light your broiler or preheat your oven to its highest setting.
Ladle the soup into oven-safe bowls or crocs, float one hamburger bun crouton on each soup and cover with two slices of baby swiss or similar cheese. Choose a cheese that has flavor, but melts well.
Place the bowls or crocks on a sheet pan and move to the oven or broiler. Cook just until the cheese on top begins to brown very slightly and the soup is bubbling at the edges.
Serve immediately.
Note: this recipe can very easily be made vegetarian by using a vegetable stock in place of the chicken stock.
Salad Lyonnaise
I've sung the virtue of bitter greens and salads and previous newsletters. I'm not a big fan of sweet tender lettuces. They turn mushy with even a bit of dressing, and anything with a lot of flavor in it hides the flavor of the greens. Bitter greens are the opposite. They’re strong and hearty and they will stand up to an incredibly flavorful array of dressings and accompaniments, whether nuts, or fruits or meat. Basically, they're super lettuce. Here in the states we’re not used to “bitter” as an important flavor component. We like our lettuces crunchy, mild, even watery. I don’t mean that as an insult. I love a perfect wedge salad made with iceberg lettuce – but Italian, French and other cuisines utilize a whole array of chicories – sturdy greens with bright bitter flavors that are often available early and late in the season.
This is my take on a classic Salad Lyonnaise. There’s nothing complex about it. A very simple acidic dressing contrasts rich bacon. And, a poached egg – when pierced – drenches the whole thing with rich, runny yolk. That, in turn, perfectly tames the assertive bitterness of the greens and leaves you with a salad that could be a meal on its own.
Serves 4
Time 20 minutes, 15 active
1 head leafy chicory (frisée, escarole, etc.)
4 pieces thick cut bacon
4 large eggs
1 small shallot
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tsp red wine, sherry, or champagne vinegar
1 tsp smooth Dijon mustard
1/8 tsp anchovy paste
½ tsp fresh ground black pepper
½ tsp kosher salt
Poach and shock the eggs. Cook until the white is set but the yolk is still liquid.
Slice the bacon crosswise into thin pieces. Cook over medium heat until browned well, reserving the bacon fat for other uses.
Wash and chop the greens into 2-inch pieces.
Peel, trim, and finely mince the shallot.
Add shallot, salt, anchovy paste, and vinegar to a non-reactive bowl and stir to combine well. Allow to sit 10-15 minutes for the vinegar to mellow the shallot.
Add the mustard to the vinegar/shallot mixture. Mix well.
Slowly add the oil, while whisking, to create a smooth emulsion. If necessary, add a few drops of cold water. This can help create an emulsion.
To serve, gently warm the eggs in tap warm water for 10 minutes. Toss the greens well with the dressing and scatter with bacon pieces. Arrange on a plate and top with a warm poached egg. Serve immediately.
Steak Frites with Café Sauce
What's better than a nice juicy steak? A nice juicy steak with a big pile of French fries and a delicious sauce. Steak frites is a classic for a reason. It's a perfect pairing – the unctuous minerality of a good steak paired with the crunchy rich salty starch of French fries? There's no better single plate. Okay, that's probably an overstatement. There are plenty of other great single plates. However, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that this is the greatest single meat and potatoes plate. Even that's probably contentious.
Regardless, steak frites is delicious and there are a lot of different styles. You’ll find a simple piece of grilled meat, often a hanger steak – a cut that should be more popular because of its incredible flavor – accompanied by crisp thin-cut fries. Often, but not always, there’s an accompanying sauce – sometimes dressing the meat itself, sometimes served alongside. At various restaurants in the U.S. you’ll find any number of sauces, from a small dish of Béarnaise, a bordelaise drenching sliced meat, even chimichurri or barbeque sauce. My favorite style is generally called “Café de Paris” style. It’s sliced meat – often a hanger – accompanied by an unusual greenish sauce laden with butter, mustard, herbs, and a mysterious, deep, funk.
This is the style served at Paris’s legendary “Entrecote” restaurants and at their many clones. The recipe, as well as those that mimic it, are often closely held secrets. I was never really happy with the recipes I found, so I developed my own. It’s similar, but I like an herbier profile, so mine’s greener, but it’s still got the funk – from chicken livers. Yeah. It’s weird. But trust me, it’s delicious.
Serves 4
Time 20 minutes, plus 4 hrs marinade
20 oz hanger steaks
2 sprigs fresh thyme
1 tsp fresh ground black pepper
1 tsp kosher salt
1 clove garlic
Peel, trim, and slice the garlic very thin.
Season the steaks well with salt and pepper.
Place in a plastic bag or covered container with the sliced garlic and thyme.
Refrigerate for at least 4 hours and up to overnight.
Preheat your oven to 300° F.
Remove the steaks from the bag or container.
Brush off herbs and salt.
Sear the steaks in a very hot, cast iron pan until well browned on all sides.
Transfer to a sheet pan lined with a rack, and place in the oven.
Cook until heated to your preferred doneness.
Traditionally, this is served rare – an internal of 125° F – or even “bleu” or on the rare side of rare. I do not recommend cooking hanger steaks beyond medium rare – 135° F – as above that, they can become stringy or tough.
Serve over Café Sauce with French style frites.
French Style Frites
4 large russet potatoes
Scrub and peel potatoes.
Cut into thin fries – between thick cut and shoestring.
Soak in cold water, changing water at least once, for 2 hours or up to overnight.
Preheat a fryer or Dutch oven with neutral oil or lard to 325° F.
Drain the potatoes well.
Dry using a clean dishtowel.
Fry in batches at 325° F until fully cooked, but not yet brown.
Remove from the fryer, drain, and allow to cool to room temperature. Refrigerate or freeze until ready to serve. If freezing, spread thinly on a sheet pan, uncovered, and place in the freezer until just frozen – then transfer to a storage bag to store. Frozen fries will last several weeks in the freezer.
To finish, heat your fryer or Dutch oven fryer setup to 375° F.
Fry in batches until lightly browned and crisp.
Café Sauce
4 tbsp butter
¼ cup heavy cream
2 tbsp minced chicken livers or 3 tbsp chicken liver pate or mouse
1 tbsp chopped parsley
1 tbsp tarragon leaves
1 medium shallot
1 tsp smooth Dijon mustard
1 oz brandy
4 sprigs fresh thyme
¼ tsp fresh ground pepper
Salt to taste
Peel, trim and coarsely chop the shallot.
Add one tbsp butter to a pan over medium heat.
Add the shallot and sauté until translucent and just starting to brown.
Add the chicken livers and sauté until cooked through. If using pâté or mouse, add after the next step.
Deglaze the pan with brandy, flambéing to burn off excess alcohol.
Remove pan contents to a bowl and wipe out the pan.
Add cream to the pan with one sprig of thyme. Bring to a low simmer and cook for three minutes to infuse the thyme into the cream.
Add the cream, 3 tbsp butter, 1 tsp mustard, and shallot/liver mixture to the container of a blender.
Blend on high until smooth.
Add herbs (pic the thyme leaves, discarding the woody stems), and blend again.
Taste, and salt to preference. The sauce should be fairly salty.
Refrigerate until just before use. Warm to just above body temp before service.
Crème Brule
Crème Brule is the Tiramisu of French food. It’s the go to, the expected, the … yeah. It’s almost tired out and done, but not quite. It’s still the driving force behind the sale of those twee little kitchen torches. People will get Crème Brule sets as wedding and housewarming presents for years to come. Promise. It’s a desert we’ve all been taught to think of as fussy and fancy. And, I’m sure it can be, but it’s also delicious. And, as someone who apparently doesn’t have the coordination to make fancy, well-decorated cakes – it’s a lifesaver “fancy” desert.
Oh, and did I mention it’s delicious?
You’ll see a lot of recipes that call for more steps than this – cooking the initial custard in a double boiler, scraping and infusing vanilla bean into the cream, etc. Will they improve the quality of your result? Probably. But it’s like the difference between an A and an A+. Something over the top was probably done to impress the grader. This is a fairly quick, fairly easy way to get really good results.
Serves 4
1 hour, 25 minutes active, plus 2 hours refrigeration
4 cups heavy cream
6 egg yolks
1 cup sugar plus 8 tbsp sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract (or ½ vanilla bean)
Preheat your oven to 325° F.
In a thick-bottomed pan, bring cream to a low simmer.
Separately, whisk together egg yolks and 1 cup of sugar, beating just until the yolks begin to lighten.
While continuing to whisk, slowly pour the hot cream into the egg yolk and sugar mixture.
Add the vanilla to the custard.
Pour mixture through a strainer into four ramekins or gratins.
Place the ramekins in a larger pan, and add water until it reaches 2/3rds of the way up the sides of the ramekins.
Move the whole contraption to the oven and bake until the center of the custard is just barely wobbly - 35 to 45 minutes.
Remove, allow to cool, and refrigerate uncovered for at least two hours and up to overnight.
Generously sprinkle granulated sugar over the top of each custard, and broil or use a torch to melt the sugar into a crust.
Allow to cool completely before serving.