People interested in fine cooking are over-inclined to think in terms of truffles, wine sauces, flambéed fruits, and the spécialités of famous eating places. Fine cooking, to be sure, is all of that. But it is also derived from knowing the subtle distinctions that exist between simple ingredients. I believe that recognition of these differences marks the real connoisseur, just as the utilization of this knowledge marks the real cook.
Consider, for instance, how often the various members of the onion family are used in cooking, and you'll agree that knowing how to use them advantageously is more important than choosing the kind of liqueur to put in a coupe aux fruits.
Every French chef learns in the first weeks of his apprentissage the separate roles played by onions, leeks, and shallots—if his mother's cooking hadn't already taught him. Use them correctly, and a dish is brought nearer to perfection, not merely flavored. These are tricks of the chef's trade—and, I might add, very basic ones that no good cook can disregard.
Leeks are for soup, and no Frenchman thinks he can make a really excellent soup without them. Patage Parmentier or vichyssoise may be made with onions instead of leeks and still be a perfectly good soup, but it will lack a recognizable refinement of flavor. Imagine my chagrin, upon arriving in this country to find myself hunting the market for leeks. I finally persuaded one of my suppliers to arrange with a market gardener to grow enough to assure me an uninterrupted supply. Now, of course, you can find them at every greengrocer's in New York City—and I hope all over the rest of the country, too.
The flavor of leeks, while similar to that of onion, is more delicate and subtle, enhancing rather than overpowering the other flavors in the soup. The important thing with leeks is to distinguish their two parts—the white section at the base and the coarser green tops. The white part should be used for white soup stock and for the more delicate soups, such as chicken or vichyssoise, while the green put is only put into darker or stronger soups. The bright green tops of leeks are especially good in patage Saint-Germain, or pea soup, because they not only add flavor but also improve the color. A good trick with leeks is to add one when cooking vegetables for the purée base of cream soups. This gives a sophisticated, almost unidentifiable flavor. And. finally, there's the question of cleaning leeks, which are very sandy. To remove the grit, split the leeks lengthwise or quarter them and gently scrub the pieces under fast-running water.
Here's a recipe for a soup made in the spring and early summer in the part of France that I come from. One taste will prove how well leeks blend with other soup ingredients.
Spring Soup Bourbonnaise
Melt 3 tablespoons butter in a sauce-pan. Clean 3 leeks and remove the coarse green tops. Chop the remaining white and light green tops and add them to the butter. Add 1 small onion, chopped, and cook until it is a light golden color. Add 3 medium-sized potatoes, sliced, 1 medium-sized carrot, sliced, and ½ tablespoon salt. Add 2 quarts water, bring to a boil, and cook for 15 minutes. Remove he tough ends from 12 stalks of asparagus and cut each stalk into 3 pieces. Add the asparagus pieces and ¼ cup rice to the soup and cook for 25 minutes longer. Add ½ pound spinach, cleaned and chopped, and cook for 10 minutes more. Correct the seasoning with salt and a little pepper. Finish the soup with 1 tablespoon butter or 1 cup cream.
Another trick with leeks is to serve them as an hors-d'oeuvre. If they are simmered gently in the soup, they can be removed without falling apart. There is plenty of good flavor still in them, and they can be chilled and served with vinaigrette sauce (see May, 1950). As a matter of fact, in France leeks are called the asparagus of the poor.
Onions, of course, are used in a thousand and one ways, as even the most inexperienced cook knows. To those who like hearty food and are not concerned about fine nuances of flavor, an onion is an onion regardless of how it is cooked. But not so in the good French cuisine. For a delicate flavor, onions are cooked only until soft, as in the cream sauce for eggs à la tripe. For the more penetrating savor required in a tomato or brown sauce, onions are cooked until they turn golden. And when browned a rich, deep color, they are just right for petite marmite or for oxtail soup.
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