The very bad good idea.
An imaginary place, joy, and sorrow.
I started to write this week’s newsletter last week. So, I suppose in all honest that this is last week’s newsletter. I also intended to send it last week … so it really is 100% actually totally completely no lie last week’s newsletter. I’ll probably keep referring to it as this week’s newsletter anyway. I can be deceitful like that.
I also started to write thisweekslastweeks newsletter as a bit of an homage to a dream of mine. Not like a “wow, that was weird, I had no idea Tom Selleck actually had a third arm attached to the back of his head he used to catch burglars” sort of dream, but more of the Hollywood movie trailer voice “he had a dream” sort of dream.
For years I’ve dreamed of opening a Frenchish restaurant. I’ve developed countless dishes, photographed them, collected photos for design inspiration, researched purveyors and properties, written up proposed menus, even did the fully adult sort of thing and started to develop a serious business plan – three or four times actually, always getting distracted and starting over like a serious fully adult person.
Yeah, I’m a serious fully adult person who makes extensive use of run on sentences and just described a restaurant as Frenchish. But Frenchish is what I mean. Because as much as I love French food, I live in Ohio. So, Frenchish. French dishes, local ingredients, midwestern attitude … which when it comes to melting cheese over things is remarkably the same as the French attitude.
This idea has matured, evolved, and mutated as I’ve played around with it … but it’s been there in the back of my mind for years. A few weeks ago, I decided that I’d share some of those ideas – in the form of a mostly-meatless menu that might be helpful to some of you at this time of year. I set to work on re-testing some older recipes and reducing and tweaking them for home. I cooked and photographed them, threw out some of those photos, and redid some more.
Then I sat down to write about it, and I just completely fell apart. I got sad.
Writing last week – a very different intro to the one you’re reading now – made me realize that I’m probably never actually going to open this place, that this was that moment when a kid realizes (at 27) he’ll never make to the majors, or that she’ll probably never actually be an astronaut because claustrophobia and motion sickness is probably not a good thing in space.
So, I stopped. I stopped writing, and for a few days, I stopped thinking about it.
But this thing, this project, this idea, it’s something that’s brought me joy for years. Even if it’ll never be that cute, blue trimmed café analog with sidewalk tables and a long zinc bar that I imagined while failing at making old school Bearnaise over and over until one time I didn’t fail. Even if wasn’t going to be real, it could still bring me joy.
So, I took a few days off. I wallowed a little. You’re allowed to wallow. Then I cooked other things, ate other things, wrote other things. Then I woke up, had three coffees, and started writing again.
Dreams don’t have to come true to make you happy any more than fairy tales have to be true to teach you not to trust strange elves offering to buy babies. They serve their purpose.
This idea, this project still brings me joy, it will still bring me joy even acknowledging that it’s probably never going to be a real physical place (with a handwriting looking cool neon sign, tile floors, and those sidepull beer taps that sort of look like old school bathtub fixtures.). And maybe, if you try and like some of these recipes, it can bring you a little joy too.
Three Day Baguette
500g Bread Flour
325g water
12g salt
3 g instant yeast
Two days before you intend to bake, start the preferment.
Measure out 200g of water, and 200g of flour.
Add both to a covered container.
Add 3g of instant yeast.
Stir to combine, making sure no dry flour remains, then cover, and allow to ferment at room temperature overnight.
The next day, transfer the preferment to the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook.
Add the remaining 125g of water to the mixer.
Turn on low, and process just until the preferment is dissolved into the water.
Add the remaining 300g of flour, and the salt.
Process until a smooth dough forms.
Return to a covered container and allow to rise for 2 hours at room temperature.
Move the dough to the refrigerator and allow to rise overnight.
The next day, remove from the refrigerator and allow to come to room temperature.
Turn the dough out onto the counter and stretch and letter fold the dough (fold into thirds.)
Return to the container and rest 30 minutes.
Repeat twice.
Divide the dough into 3 even portions and shape these portions into three balls.
Cover with a lightly damp towel and allow to rest on the counter for 10-15 minutes.
Stretch and shape the balls into rectangles – approximately 4 X 8 inches.
Cover, and allow to rest/relax for ten minutes.
Working one at a time, fold the each rectangle into thirds along the long side, then roll into a tube shape with tapered ends.
Use a baking couche or stiff well floured towel to support the baguettes, and allow to proof at room temperature at least 35 minutes and up to 90 minutes depending on room temperature.
Coquille St. Jacque
This is the classic scallop dish. The end all and be all of scallop dishes- in my opinion. If I wrote all I’d like to about it, this newsletter would be too long to send - and I could definitely do that, but since I already failed to send it once, I think I’ll limit this description to .. “This is the most pretty, most delicious, most fun way to serve scallops and you should do it.”
8 medium or 4 large scallops
4 oz mixed mushrooms
2 small shallots
1 sprig fresh thyme
2 ¼ cups dry white wine
1 cup heavy cream
2 tbsp unsalted butter
½ cup fennel fronds and stems
1 tbsp bread crumbs (optional but pretty)
1 tsp minced preserved truffle (optional but awesome)
2 sprigs fresh thyme
1 bay leaf
pinch of nutmeg
pinch of white pepper
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt, divided
Prepare the Duxelles
Pick the thyme leaves from one sprig and mince very finely.
Peel, trim, and finely mince one shallot.
Clean, and minced the mushrooms as finely as possible.
Add 1 tbsp butter to a medium frying or sauté pan over medium heat.
As soon as the butter has stopped foaming, add the shallots.
Cook until the shallots are translucent.
Add the mushrooms, ½ tbsp of salt, and the minced thyme.
Cook, stirring frequently, until the moisture is gone and mushrooms are beginning to brown.
Deglaze the pan with ½ cup of white wine.
Cook until the moisture is almost all gone.
Add the nutmeg and minced truffle (if using), mix well, and set aside until ready to plate.
Poach the Scallops and Prepare the Sauce
Peel, trim, and half the remaining shallot.
Add two cups of white wine, 1 tbsp unsalted butter, the fennel fronds and stems, and the halved shallot to a medium sized pan over medium heat.
Bring to a low simmer and cook for 2 minutes.
Reduce to low heat.
Add the scallops, and poach – spooning liquid over the scallops, and gently turning them to ensure they cook evenly.
Remove the scallops and set aside.
Add the cream to the pan.
Bring to a low simmer and cook for 5 minutes.
Strain out the solids, and return the liquid to the pan.
Cook at a fast simmer until reduced to ~1 cup of liquid.
Season with salt and white pepper.
Stir in the remaining minced truffle if using.
To Finish…
Spoon a portion of duxelles on an oven proof plate or scallop shell (available at many fish mongers or online).
Arrange the scallops on top of the duxelles.
Drape the sauce over the scallops, top with a little bread crumb, and broil until hot and bubbly.
Serve immediately garnished with fresh herbs.
Pommes Lyonnaise
These potatoes, called Lyonnaise either because they’re actually from Lyon, or more likely because Parisian chefs simply attached the moniker “Lyonnaise” to anything that had a bunch of onions in it, are definitely greater than the sum of their parts. There are a lot of different recipes for this dish available in books, the interwebs, and from smartassed friends and relatives who definitely know what the authentic version is. This is all of those.
The waging tongues and furtive writers of the food internet all agree that this dish is some variation of potatoes with onions. One very old recipe I found included a technique that really struck me – and tied into my current obsession with putting onion purée in anything I can think of up to and including ice cream (I haven’t actually done this yet, but you know I probably will.). That recipe, written down back when dinosaurs ruled the earth and fashion used more yards of cloth than a sailing ship, calls for coating sliced boiled potatoes in onion puree before frying in butter.
Um, awesome?
Yes. Awesome. I played around with it until I got it right, but it makes some amazing potatoes and it’s totally worth the extra weird sort of gross-feeling step of rubbing cooled cooked potatoes with pureed onions.
4 large waxy potatoes
1 large onion
4 tbsp clarified butter
salt and pepper to taste
finely minced greens as garnish (I like tarragon)
Prepare a large pot of salted water and bring to a boil.
Wash the potatoes.
Boil the potatoes until tender – about 20-30 minutes.
While still warm, peel the potatoes by rubbing the skin under a thin stream of cool running water.
Allow the potatoes to cool to room temperature.
Peel, trim, and half the onion.
Thinly slice ½ the onion lengthwise.
Coarsely chop the remaining half.
Place the coarsely chopped onion in a high speed blender and process until smooth.
Slice the potatoes into ½ thick rounds.
Coat the rounds in the onion puree.
Add the clarified butter to a large pan over medium heat.
Add the sliced onions.
Cook until the onions are just starting to brown.
Remove the fried onions and set aside, leave the (now deliciously onion-ey) oil in the pan.
Working in batches if necessary, and turning occasionally, fry the onion coated potato slices in the onion scented oil until browned.
Return the fried onions to the pan, toss to mix, and reheat.
Season with salt and pepper, and serve hot, garnished with fresh herbs like parsley, dill, and tarragon.
Quenelles de Brochet
I first encountered this dish in a French cookbook I picked up at a library sale or church rummage sale sometime in the late 80’s. I was still in high school, but I’d already become interested in cooking. By cookbook, I mean one of those weird not quite a book, not quite magazine things, really only a few pages thick, printed on thick matte paper and filled with weirdly muted color photos. It was part of a series, one for each of a number of “international” cuisines. I’m pretty sure “FRANCE” was the only one I picked up.
Nestled into one of only about 30 pages, was a photo of this dish. The description said it was fish, the title said it was pike, but it looked nothing like any fish I’d ever seen. Perfect little Lyonnaise loaves of minced river pike draped with bright red shellfish sauce.
I never made it then. First of all, my only source of pike in that era was pulling it from a northern Ontario lake myself – and I wasn’t about to tackle this over a campfire or on a cottage stove.
Secondly, I hated… I mean loathed hated … fish for a very long time. But I thought it looked cool. It stuck with me.
Flashforward more years than I care to admit, and somehow, I find myself in a conversation with our friend Timm (who is probably reading this) about Pike Quenelles. By that time, I’d overcome my hatred of fish – surprisingly easy when the fish is fresh, prepared well, and no longer in a frozen fried compressed log. I’d even had Quenelles de Brochet. I hadn’t cooked it.
So, I did. It’s now one of my favorites. It’s a little fussy, but not difficult, and the results are amazingly delicious – and crayfish and pike are perfect local options here in Ohio (ok, the crayfish come from Louisiana and the Walleye from Michigan … but they are both native here.)
This recipe calls for walleye – a member of the Pike family that’s fairly easily available in the Midwest. You can substitute tilapia or rockfish/striper, or ask your fishmonger.
1 recipe Walleye Mousseline Quenelles (below)
1 recipe Sauce Mantua (below)
Assorted herbs for garnish
Preheat your oven to its highest temperature.
Ladle portions of sauce into 4 gratin or other oven safe dishes.
Arrange 2-3 quenelles in each dish, topping with a little additional sauce.
Transfer to the oven.
Bake until the sauce is bubbling.
Garnish with fresh herbs.
Walleye Mousseline Quenelles
1 ½ lbs walleye filets, skin removed
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 egg whites
1 ½ tbsp kosher salt
pinch of fresh grated nutmeg
pinch of white pepper
Cut the walleye into 2 inch pieces.
Add all ingredients to the container of a food processor and process until as smooth as possible – stopping occasionally to scrape the sides of the bowl to ensure every bit gets beaten into submission.
Transfer to a tightly covered container and refrigerated overnight, or at least 8 hours.
Prepare a large pot of heavily salted water.
Bring the water to a low boil
Using two large spoons, form quenelles (a sort of three sided round shape)from the mixture by passing back and forth between the spoons.
Drop the quenelles into the boiling water.
Once they float, cook for 1-2 minutes.
Remove from the water, drain, and place on a greased pan or plate.
Refrigerate, lightly covered with plastic wrap, until ready to serve.
Sauce Mantua
Sauce Nantua is the classic sauce served with Quenelles de Brochet. Mantua is a village in Portage County, Ohio that sort of almost sounds the same. This sauce isn’t really French. It’s Frenchish and it’s Ohio. So, I’m calling it Sauce Mantua.
1 lb crayfish
1 cup dry white wine
1 cup heavy cream
1 small can tomato paste
2 large leeks (white and light green only)
1 large fennel bulb
1 medium carrot
1 large onion
1 celery rib
4 large white mushrooms or 2 dried mushrooms
2 oz cognac
2 bay leaves
2 sprigs fresh thyme
5-6 sprigs fresh parsley
2 tbsp unsalted butter
pinch of cayenne pepper
pinch of white pepper
Clean the leeks. Quarter and rinse well to remove any sand.
Remove the green parts of the fennel, and chop into 2-inc pieces. Reserve the fronds for garnish and the green stems for other use.
Peel, trim, and quarter the onion.
Clean, trim, and cut the celery into 6-inch pieces.
Peel the carrot and break into pieces.
Add the butter to a large stock pot over medium heat.
As soon as it has stopped foaming, add the crayfish.
Cook for 2 to3 minutes, then use a potato masher or other tool to crush the shells as much as possible.
Continue cooking until almost all the liquid has been evaporated.
Deglaze the pan with the cognac, flame if desired.
Add the white wine and cook for 2 minutes.
Add the tomato paste, leeks, celery, carrot, mushrooms, onion, and fennel, stir well.
Add enough water (ideally 6-8 cups) to cover the aromatics and bring to a low simmer.
Add the herbs, tie into a bouquet garni if desired, but as all solids will be strained this isn’t strictly necessary.
Cook at a low simmer for 2 hours.
Strain out the solids using a very fine mesh strainer and rinse or wipe out the pot.
Return the strained liquid to the pot, add the cayenne and white pepper, and reduce at a low simmer until 2 cups of liquid remain.
Add the cream, and cook for 10 minutes, or until well thickened and the sauce will coat the back of a spoon.
Taste for seasoning and add salt as necessary.
Refrigerate tightly covered until needed.
Can be made in advance, as long as you use it within 2 days.
Bitter Greens with Tarragon Mustard Dressing
This is a simple mustardy, bitter green salad that helps cut through the richness of other other dishes in this meal. Rather than include it as an early salad course, I’m leaving it down here at the bottom – either as a side, or a palate cleansing salad course – because in our household we’ve gotten into the habit of eating salads at the end of our meal. I could pretend that it’s for some fancy reason – but the truth is, when it’s just the two of us, I ‘m not going back and forth to the kitchen all the time. The salad won’t get cold while I eat the main course. The main course will get cold while I eat the salad.
1 head escarole or Frisee
1 tbsp sherry vinegar
1 large shallot
2 tsp prepared smooth Dijon mustard
2 tsp finely minced tarragon leaves
1/2 tsp fresh ground black pepper
½ tsp kosher salt
Trim, chop, and wash the greens.
Peel, trim, and half the shallot.
Finely mince half the shallot.
Finely slice the remaining half shallot from end to end.
Add the salt, vinegar, and sliced shallot to a small bowl, and microwave for 30 seconds.
Allow to cool to room temperature.
Remove the shallots, and set aside to use as garnish.
Add the shallot infused vinegar, salt, and minced shallot to a large non-reactive bowl.
Allow to sit for 5 minutes.
Whisk the mustard into the vinegar.
Slowly whisk in the oil to form a stable emulsion.
Whisk in the tarragon leaves.
Toss the greens with the dressing, and garnish with the pickled shallot slices.
Tarte au Flan
If you just saw the word “flan” and semi-recoiled don’t worry. This isn’t the wobbly yellow orange caramel marked Flan you’re probably reacting to. Parisian Flan is a different animal all together. It’s not an egg custard (though this particular recipe includes an egg to enrich it), but basically a simple pastry cream baked into a shell. It’s simple, sweet, and delicious.
Tart Crust
2 cups AP Flour
6 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
2 tbsp granulated sugar
1 large egg
2 tbsp cold water
Add all ingredients to the container of a food processor, and pulse until a crumbly dough forms.
Gently knead into a ball, and press into a dish shape.
Wrap tightly with plastic wrap and allow to rest at room temperature for 30 minutes.
Unwrap, roll out, and shape into tarts, or drape into tart molds.
Dock with a fork or docking tool and blind bake, until just beginning to brown.
Cool to room temperature, fill with Flan filling (below), and bake until the filling is lightly browned on top.
Cool to room temperature and refrigerate at least 4 hours before serving.
Filling
1 cup whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup granulated sugar
¼ cup AP Flour
4 tbsp unsalted butter cut into small pieces.
1 vanilla bean
In a thick bottomed pot over medium heat, bring the milk, cream, and sugar to a low simmer.
Cut the vanilla bean in half lengthwise and use a knife to scrape out the pulp.
Add the pulp and bean shell to the milk mixture, remove from the heat, and allow to infuse for 30 minutes.
Remove and discard the beans – leaving the pulp – and return the mixture to a very low simmer.
Whisk together the flour and egg in a large heatproof bowl – adding a very small amount of water if necessary to make a smooth mixture.
Slowly, while whisking vigorously, pour 1/3 of the milk mixture into the egg/flour mixture.
Reverse the process, and slowly pour the egg/flour/milk mixture back into the pan – all while whisking.
Return to a simmer, and cook, whisking gently, until the mixture thickens.
Remove from the heat, whisk in the butter, and allow to cool somewhat.
Use to fill tart shells.