Around My French Table (64 page)
Read Around My French Table Online
Authors: Dorie Greenspan
Turn the spinach into the pot, cover, and steam for 3 minutes—the spinach will probably need another minute or two before it's tender, but it's a good idea to check early and to give it a turn. The spinach should be served as soon as it's cooked.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
SERVING
The easiest way to dish out the spinach is to lift it from the steamer with a pair of tongs: hold it above the steamer, letting some of the moisture drip back into the pot, and then put it onto a serving platter or individual plates. The spinach is good on its own, but it's great as a little cushion for dishes like Cinnamon-Crunch Chicken (
[>]
), Salmon with Basil Tapenade (
[>]
), or, best of all, Vanilla-Butter-Braised Lobster (
[>]
).
STORING
It's best to eat the spinach immediately after steaming, but if you have a little left over, you can reheat it gently in a microwave oven or steamer.
four ways to cook them
For years, every time I'd return from a trip to France, I'd call Julia Child to report on my adventures. Of course, she'd always ask me what I'd cooked and what I'd eaten, and she'd often ask, with a winsome sigh, if the food was still wonderful. Then one day she asked a question that came completely out of the blue but was so Julia: "Can you still get cooked beets at the market?" she asked, adding, "I've always loved that and can't understand why we don't do that here." Indeed.
Yes, you can still get cooked beets at the market, any market. Usually the beets are the big fat round kind, cooked au naturel with not a lick of seasoning (a tabula rasa for your own recipes) and stacked up with their skins still intact. They're displayed in boxes alongside the fresh produce, and when you ask for one, the vendor grabs a fork, spears it, and plops it into a plastic bag—one you hope keeps your ruby treasure safe until you get home, because beet juice, as beautiful as it is, might just as well be sold as dye.
Of course, in season, you can also get fresh beets at the French market. They come in all sizes and now in a rainbow of colors. But judging by the salads I see around town and the dishes my friends make, red remains the favorite hue and ready-cooked the ingredient of choice for salads.
Because my local markets stateside rarely have cooked beets (some markets in New York City import vacuum-packed shelf-stable beets from France), I cook the beets myself so that I can make salads. Depending on the time I have, I roast the beets, steam them, boil them, or, fastest of all, cook them in the microwave. Steaming is simple, boiling is traditional, and microwaving is better than you'd expect. Roasting gives you the deepest flavor, but I wouldn't turn on my oven just to cook beets.
GETTING READY:
If your beets are still attached to their greens, cut them loose, leaving just an inch or two of stalk; save the greens for another use. Scrub—not just rinse, but really rub and scrub—the beets clean under running water. If you've got a vegetable brush, use it.
TO ROAST BEETS:
Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Put the beets in a baking dish, pour in a little water (just a few spoonfuls), cover the dish with foil, and stab a little hole in it. Roast for 30 to 60 minutes, depending on the size of the beets, until you can pierce them easily with a knife. Slip off the skins when the beets are cool enough to handle.
TO STEAM BEETS:
Arrange a steaming basket in a saucepan and add enough water to the pan to come about 1 inch below the basket; bring to a boil. Put the beets in the basket, cover the pan, and steam until the beets can be easily pierced with the tip of a knife, 20 to 30 minutes for small beets, up to 1 hour for giant beets. Make sure to add more water as needed. When they're cool enough to handle, peel them.
TO BOIL BEETS:
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Drop in the beets and boil until they are tender enough to be pierced with the tip of a knife. Drain the beets, and when you can handle them (you can rinse them under cold water to speed the cooling), peel them.
TO MICROWAVE BEETS:
Put the beets in a microwave-safe container with a few drops of water, cover, and cook on high power for 10 minutes. (If the beets are very small, they may need just 8 minutes.) Remove all the beets that can be easily pierced with the tip of a knife; if there are some that are still too firm, return them to the oven and cook them in 30-second spurts until tender. When the beets are cool enough to handle, peel them.
T
HIS SIMPLE DISH IS MADE SPECIAL
with the addition of a little sautéed pancetta. It adds a speck of saltiness, another texture, and elements of elegance and surprise.
| ¾ | pound green beans, trimmed |
| 2 | ounces pancetta, coarsely chopped |
| ½ | tablespoon unsalted butter |
| Salt and freshly ground pepper | |
| Walnut oil (my preference) or extra-virgin olive oil |
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, and fill a bowl with ice cubes and cold water. Toss the beans into the boiling water and cook just until crisp-tender, about 5 minutes. Drain, transfer to the ice-water bath, and cool for 2 minutes; drain and pat dry.
Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Add the pancetta and sauté until frizzled and crisp, about 2 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the pancetta to a plate lined with paper towels and pat dry. Drain all but 1 tablespoon of fat from the skillet.
Return the skillet to medium heat and add the butter. When the fat is hot, toss in the beans and cook, stirring, until heated through. Season with salt and pepper and stir in the pancetta. Remove from the heat and drizzle the beans with a little oil.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
SERVING
Get the beans to the table while they're hot and serve them alongside steaks, roasts, chops, or chicken.
STORING
Leftover beans can be kept covered in the refrigerator overnight. Reheat them gently, or serve them at room temperature with a splash of sherry vinegar or fresh lemon juice.
On the last day of my first trip to France, I was severely scolded by a fruit vendor because I'd dared to pick my own plum. I was startled, embarrassed, and a bit surprised that my always-on-my-side husband didn't leap forward to defend me. It was only after I'd apologized to the vendor and allowed him to choose a pair of plums for me that Michael pointed to the big sign just inches above the fruit, a sign that said, "
Ne Touchez Pas
" in big letters and "Don't Touch the Fruit" in even bigger letters.
Away from the scene of the crime, I realized that the vendor's scolding was a matter of pride: he knew his fruit, knew what he had on the stands that day, and knew that it was his job to choose just the right fruit for each of his clients.
When it's done well, this kind of service is a delight—you feel special and, most important, you get the best food. At the
fromagerie
—still a don't-touch kind of place—the cheesemonger asks you when you plan to serve a particular cheese, and then he presses and prods as many as need be to get you the one that will reach its perfect moment of readiness at just the right hour.
It's the same story at the fruit stand. At the height of melon season on the rue de Buci, near my apartment, I ask the vendor for one melon, please. "When will you be serving it?" he queries.
To my answer, "Tonight," he asks, "At what time?"
I play the straight guy and tell him, "9:00 p.m."
He starts hefting the melons, discarding each in turn, until he finds what I presume to be the ideal one for me. He moves it from hand to hand, furrows his brow, and says with deep seriousness, "I hope this one will be good—it really won't be ready until 9:15."
R
OLLING BROCCOLI AROUND IN SOME BUTTERY
bread crumbs flavored with garlic, lemon, and herbs is quick, easy, and transformative: the everyday vegetable is suddenly ready for company.
| 1½-2 | pounds broccoli, trimmed and cut into 6 stalks |
| Salt and freshly ground pepper | |
| 4 | tablespoons (½ stick) unsalted butter |
| 3 | small garlic cloves, split, germ removed, and finely chopped |
| ½ | cup plain dry bread crumbs |
| Finely chopped or coarsely grated zest of 1 lemon | |
| 2 | tablespoons minced fresh mint or parsley |
In a steamer or a pot fitted with a steaming basket, steam the broccoli, covered, until the stalks are just tender, 7 to 9 minutes. You should be able to pierce the stalks with the tip of a knife. Transfer to a plate lined with a double thickness of paper towels, drain, and pat dry. Season the broccoli with salt and pepper and set aside.
Put a large skillet, preferably nonstick, over medium-low heat and add the butter. When the butter's melted, add the garlic and cook for about 2 minutes, just until it is softened but not colored. Add the bread crumbs, season with salt and pepper, and toss the crumbs with the garlic until they are well blended, moistened with butter, and toasted, about 2 minutes. Stir in the zest and mint or parsley.
Add the broccoli and turn it around to coat the florets with crumbs. Transfer the broccoli to a serving platter and spoon over any crumbs that remain in the skillet. Serve immediately.
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
SERVING
The broccoli is particularly good with fish or chicken, grilled or sauteed, and nice alongside omelets.
STORING
You can steam the broccoli a few hours ahead, but once you've coated the stalks with crumbs, get the dish to the table.
C
ARROTS, SO SWEET ON THEIR OWN,
are an easygoing mate to ingredients both sweet and savory. Here, in addition to onion and garlic, the carrots are cooked with a fair amount of ginger and a few cardamom seeds, which add a kind of citrusy brightness that's both welcoming and elusive. To get the most flavor from the cardamom, bruise the seeds just a little with a mortar and pestle, or give them a smash with the heel or back of a chef's knife.
| 2 | tablespoons unsalted butter |
| 1 | small onion, finely chopped |
| 1 | ½-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and thinly sliced |
| 1 | garlic clove, split, germ removed, and thinly sliced |
| Seeds from 4 cardamom pods, bruised (see headnote) | |
| Salt and freshly ground white pepper | |
| 12 | medium carrots (about 1½ pounds), trimmed, peeled, and cut on the diagonal into pieces about 2 inches long |
| 1 | cup chicken broth |
Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir in the onion, ginger, garlic, and cardamom seeds, season very lightly with salt and white pepper, and cook, stirring, until the vegetables soften, about 5 minutes. Add the carrots and stir to coat them with the butter. Pour in the chicken broth and bring to a boil, then lower the heat so that the broth is at a simmer. Cover the saucepan and cook until the carrots are just tender, 10 to 15 minutes.
Remove the cover, raise the heat, and cook until the broth almost completely evaporates and all that remains is the spiced butter glazing the carrots. Season with salt and white pepper and serve.
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
SERVING
Prepared this way, carrots are a utility player: they're as good with light dishes like fish and chicken as they are with meat.
STORING
Although these are best served soon after they're glazed, leftovers can be refrigerated overnight and gently reheated the next day.
T
HE SUNDAY ORGANIC MARKET
on the boulevard Raspail is probably the most expensive in Paris, in part because it's organic (one of only two outdoor markets in the city that are
biologique),
in part because it's in a high-rent district, and maybe in part because the people-watching is so good. It was here that I fell into conversation with the actress Juliette Binoche over a basket of muffins made by a longtime Paris resident. Despite the fact that the market is narrow and terribly cold and dark in winter, it's always crowded, and the lines for the best vendors are always long.
I'm not the world's most patient waiter, and one very cold day, when the line was at a standstill, I had to remind myself that the attentive service the woman at the head of it was receiving was what so endeared the markets to me. Finally, after what had to have been a full five-minute conversation, the vendor handed a small paper bag over to the woman. I couldn't imagine what she had bought. It's rare to leave a vegetable stall with just one package, unless you're buying wild mushrooms, truffles, or the first of the season's berries, none of which were on offer that day.
My turn came and went, and I continued along my way. In the course of finishing my shopping, I ran into the woman who'd held up the line. I stopped her, excused myself for being so bold, and explained that I was curious about what advice the vendor had given her about her purchase. "Whatever did you buy?" I asked. "Oh," she exclaimed, "look!" And, with great delight and excitement, she pulled out two (out-of-season, imported, and slightly shriveled) ears of corn, complete with husks. Had she purchased diamonds, she couldn't have been more pleased and I couldn't have been more surprised: you don't see much corn on the cob in France, where it's long been considered fit only for feeding animals. When corn turns up in French recipes, it's usually in salads, and almost always kernel corn straight from the can. "What are you going to do with the corn?" was my next question, to which the woman replied, "I'm going to cook it exactly as the vegetable lady told me to."