Around My French Table (73 page)

In a large high-sided skillet or, if you've got one, a wok like stir-fry pan, warm the olive oil over medium-low heat. Toss in the garlic and cook for just 1 minute. Add the onion and leek, turning them in the oil, and season with salt and white pepper. Cook, stirring gently, just until the onion and leek soften slightly, about 5 minutes. Stir in the potatoes and carrots, then pour in the broth. If you're using zest and/or lemongrass, toss them in now too. Increase the heat and bring the broth to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer gently, uncovered, until the vegetables are just short of tender, about 10 minutes.
(You can make the pot-au-feu to this point up to 3 hours in advance; cover and refrigerate. When you're ready to continue, bring the broth back to a boil, lower the heat so that it simmers, and cook gently until everything is heated through.)

While the vegetables are simmering, bring a skillet of water to a boil—you'll use the pan to reheat the eggs right before serving.

With the pot-au-feu at a gentle simmer, drop in the asparagus and shiitakes and cook until tender, about 4 minutes. Scatter the spinach over the vegetables and cook for another 2 minutes, just until slightly wilted. Taste for salt and white pepper.

Slip the eggs into the skillet of simmering water and give them just a couple of minutes to warm while you spoon out the pot-au-feu.

Ladle the vegetables and broth into shallow soup plates, dot with the basil, cilantro, or parsley puree and/or scatter with the chopped herbs, and finish each with a poached or boiled egg. Serve immediately.

MAKES 4 MAIN-COURSE SERVINGS

SERVING
This has to be piping hot—accompany the pot-au-feu with bread and the instruction that the egg should be cut into at once, so that the yolk can mix with the broth.

STORING
This is not a dish for keeping.

"N
EVER ORDER A RISOTTO IN A FRENCH RESTAURANT
," warned my Italian friend. "The French don't have a clue about what it should be." To hear my friend tell it, it was almost as though the French were physically incapable of making risotto, or maybe even genetically unable to get it right. Since my husband adores risotto, he never heeded the caution; instead, he ordered it every time he'd see it on a menu and was always disappointed. It wasn't that the dish wasn't good—it was invariably delicious—it was just that it wasn't risotto. Why, I wondered, didn't the French just call their dish creamy rice and be done with it?

I thought of this again recently when I added a splash of heavy cream to a pot of rice (Arborio, aka risotto rice), cheese, and spinach. I used the rice to stuff some peppers (see Bonne Idée), and when I served it, my husband said, "The risotto is great!"—leading me to believe that either he'd joined ranks with the French or that good creamy rice is good no matter what you call it.

In a medium saucepan with a tight-fitting lid, bring 3¼ cups broth to a boil. Stir in the rice, cover the pot, lower the heat, and simmer until almost all of the broth has been absorbed and the rice is almost tender. Turn off the heat and let the rice finish cooking on its own.

While the rice is cooking, make the spinach: Rinse the spinach well, shake off the water, and toss it, with whatever water still clings to the leaves, into a large (about 4-quart) pot. Sprinkle with salt, stir, cover the pot, and cook over medium-low heat, turning often, until the spinach is tender, about 5 minutes. It will wilt, and you'll have just a handful in the bottom of the pot. Drain the spinach, and when it's cool enough to handle, squeeze it dry between your palms. (Do this in batches, and squeeze hard.) Coarsely chop the spinach.
(You can make the spinach up to a day ahead and keep it tightly covered in the refrigerator.)

Wipe out the spinach pot, put it over medium-low heat, and melt the butter in it. Add the onion and garlic, season with salt and pepper, and cook slowly until the vegetables soften and become translucent, about 5 minutes. Turn the rice and spinach into the pot and stir well. Add the cheese and ¼ cup cream, season generously with salt and pepper, and give everything a few good turns to blend the elements. If the mix seems a little dry, stir in a little more broth or a splash more heavy cream. Serve immediately.

MAKES 4 SIDE-DISH SERVINGS OR 2 MAIN-COURSE SERVINGS

SERVING
Everyone—French, Italian, or American—would agree that you've got to serve the rice the instant it's ready: it must be eaten
chaud, caldo,
hot! You could sprinkle the creamy rice with a little Parmesan, which would be somewhat traditional but not necessary. Or, if the rice is the main course, you can top it with a little fresh spinach salad dressed with olive oil and balsamic, which bucks tradition but is delicious.

STORING
You can make the spinach ahead, but the rice is best served soon after it's made.

BONNE IDÉE
Rice-Packed Peppers.
This amount of cheesy rice is enough to stuff 4 good-sized bell peppers. Milder peppers—red, yellow, orange, or purple—are best, but you can use green peppers. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Pull out a baking pan that can hold the peppers snugly, and rub it with butter or olive oil. Cut the cap (stem end) off the peppers and use a paring knife to scrape away the seeds and remove the inside ribs. Spoon the rice into the peppers—you'll have enough to really pack the peppers—replace the caps, and stand the peppers upright in the baking pan. Pour about ½ cup water into the pan, cover the pan loosely with foil, and bake for 45 minutes. Remove the foil and let the peppers bake for another 15 minutes. You can serve the peppers as is, drizzle the filling with olive oil, or make a pesto (
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), replacing the basil with spinach, to pass at the table.

A
DDING CARDAMOM TO RICE GIVES
it a faint Indian accent, but that doesn't keep it from being the perfect accompaniment to dishes like Chicken Tagine with Sweet Potatoes and Prunes (
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), Coconut-Lemongrass-Braised Pork (
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), or Salmon and Tomatoes en Papillote (
[>]
). Cardamom, once seemingly exotic, is now available in the spice section of most supermarkets. Whether you find white or green cardamom (I prefer green), what you're after are the little seeds within the dried, reedy pods—they're the keepers of the spice's citrusy freshness. (Save the pods and steep them in your tea, or toss them into the rice, but tell your guests to avoid eating them.) If you want to get even more flavor from the seeds, tap them lightly using a mortar and pestle or the heel or back of a heavy knife.

Put a medium saucepan over low heat and pour in the oil. When it's hot, add the onion and cardamom seeds and cook, stirring, for about 3 minutes, until the onion is translucent and everything's nicely coated with oil. Increase the heat to medium, add the rice, and cook and stir until it is warmed through and it, too, is glossy with oil, another minute or so.

Turn up the heat, pour in the broth or water—stand back, it may sputter—stir, and bring to a boil. Toss in the lemon zest, season with salt and pepper, and give everything a last stir. Lower the heat, cover the pan, and cook the rice until it's tender and has absorbed all (or almost all) of the liquid, 10 to 15 minutes, depending on the rice you've used. (White basmati rice usually cooks in about 11 minutes, but you should check the package so you'll have an idea of when to start testing.)

Remove the pan from the heat and let the rice sit for 2 minutes before fluffing it with a fork and serving.

MAKES 4 SERVINGS

SERVING
Although this pilaf is a great companion to saucy dishes, it has enough flavor to stand on its own, so don't hesitate to serve it alongside simple roasted or grilled chicken, fish, or meats.

STORING
Rice is never the same the day after, but if you want to reheat the pilaf, the best way is to splash it with a little water, cover it, and warm it in the microwave oven. Chilled leftover rice can be used to make a salad (dress it with a lemon juice vinaigrette) or to stuff tomatoes.

B
ARLEY'S AN ODD-MAN-OUT KIND OF GRAIN
in the French kitchen. It's readily available and easy to prepare, yet it appears only now and then on the dining room table—but when it does, it's greeted with smiles, polished off, and sent on its way with comments like, "It's really so good, I don't know why I don't have it more often." In this rendition (which anyone will want to have more often), the barley is cooked in broth, mixed with a few colorful vegetables, and finished with freshly grated lemon zest. It's a lively way to serve an earthy grain.

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion, season lightly with salt and pepper, stir to coat with butter, and cook and stir until it is soft but not colored, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the barley and cook, stirring, for 3 minutes. Raise the heat, pour in the broth and water, toss in the bay leaf, and bring to a boil. Give everything a good stir, reduce the heat so that the broth simmers, cover the pan, and cook for 30 minutes, or until the barley is almost tender (it should retain a bit of chew).

Sprinkle over the carrot, cover again, and cook for 5 minutes. Add the red pepper, stir the pilaf, cover the pan, and turn off the heat. Allow the pilaf to rest for 5 to 10 minutes.

Stir in the scallions and grated lemon zest, remove the bay leaf, and taste for salt and pepper before serving.

MAKES 4 SERVINGS

SERVING
This dish is best served hot alongside chicken, veal, pork, or fish.

STORING
Leftover pilaf can be kept covered in the refrigerator overnight and reheated or served at room temperature the next day.

BONNE IDÉE
Chicken, Ham, and Barley Salad.
Cool the pilaf to room temperature, and stir in 2 cups diced cooked chicken, 1 cup diced ham, 1 cup peas (fresh, boiled for 1 minute, or frozen, thawed and patted dry), and 3 scallions, white and light green parts only, sliced. Puree 1 packed cup fresh mint leaves with ⅓ cup extra-virgin olive oil and pour the coulis over the salad. Stir to blend, and season with salt, pepper, and fresh lemon juice. Serve over arugula or spinach that's been lightly seasoned and drizzled with a little oil.