To believe that French cooking must of necessity be rich—and rich almost to the point of indigestibility—means that somewhere in one's gastronomical adventures the essence of la vraie cuisine française has been missed. Not that French cooking isn't often rich. It frequently is. But the real secret of this world-famous cuisine is not its richness but its skilled preparation. Goodness knows, I would be the last one in the world to condemn the use of plenty of cream and butter in cooking, of foie gras and truffles, of mayonnaise and hollandaise sauces. But it is too easy to pour in cupfuls of cream, to stuff the dish with foie gras and truffles, to have it swim in butter or be suffocated with mayonnaise or hollandaise without ever achieving the gourmet touch. That touch comes from knowing when and how to use these delicacies and from knowing when other foodstuffs and flavorings and the right seasonings will bring a dish to the peak of culinary perfection. Willingness to put an extra minute or two into the preparation of a dish is also part of the picture, like cutting a vegetable into evenly sized pieces so all cook evenly, skimming soup stock religiously, and patiently stirring a sauce as it thickens. Attention to these details involves only a little added time and effort, but anyone can tell when they are neglected.
During Lent, the season when our western world turns away from rich foods, good cooks give their first attention to the tricks of making simple fare delectable. And it is possible to do just that and to satisfy even the most discriminating tastes. There is a kind of balance-wheel quality to leaving for a time the fleshpots pursued—probably with too much zeal—during the winter holidays. Continued overindulgence in rich foods is an easy way to impair one's appreciation of fine flavor—a fact that many people learn too late. Real gourmets, however, make a practice of interspersing their days of lobster thermidor, supreme of chicken Pojarsky, and baby salmon royale with days of pot-au-feu, poule-au-pot, plain omelettes, and poached fish. The food is simple. But simplicity is so well overlaid with savor that each morsel is eaten with le goût agréable.
Nature, too, seems to tell us at this time of the year that we are in the season en faisant caréme—keeping Lent. At least, many of her most delectable spécialités have either finished their season of opulence or have not yet appeared. Of course, we stretch nature's seasons with canning and freezing, but what she actually makes available to us at this season are the foods that will store well, the root vegetables, those of the cabbage family, dried foods like rice and beans, and fruits like apples, although generous supplies of citrus are part of the picture, too.
Scores of people think they don't like these simpler fords. But they are probably missing many of the pleasures of the table merely because childhood food experiences were curtailed by adults who didn't like this and wouldn't think of eating that and talked about these dislikes continually and boastfully. The chances are, of course, that the particular foods were just carelessly prepared. But the pity is that children pick up these idiosyncracies so quickly and carry them through an entire life. I'm thinking of people, for example, who are afraid to serve anything to guests except peas and asparagus, believing other vegetables to be too generally unpopular. Well, I am happy to be able to recall many distinguished patrons of the Ritz who felt quite differently. For example, one woman who did a great deal of entertaining always had us serve vegetables that were in season, although she was most particular about their preparation and insisted, too, that they look attractive. She liked our ways of cooking Brussels sprouts so much that before she moved to another part of the country, she came to my office and wrote down all the details of preparation.
Brussels sprouts, as I explained to her, are strong in flavor but delicate in texture. In cooking them, therefore, we try to make the flavor more delicate and to prevent them from getting too soft and mushy. The trick in subduing their flavor is to use a generous amount of water in cooking. To keep them firm and evenly cooked throughout, prepare them this way. After cleaning and removing the outside yellowed leaves, cut off the bottom stem flush with the bottom leaves and make an incision in the stem with a sharp knife. This allows the boiling water to reach the center more quickly, and the sprout can be cooked evenly without getting too soft. Do not overcook. After they are done, drain and sauté them in a pan with a little melted butter for a minute or two, seasoning them with salt and pepper.
Brussels Sprouts au Gratin
Clean 1 quart of sprouts, remove the outside yellowed leaves, and trim the stems. Make an incision in the bottom. Drop into 2 quarts boiling water with 2 teaspoons salt and cook gently for 20 to 25 minutes, or until they are just tender. Drain thoroughly. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in another pan. add the sprouts, and sauté for a minute or two. Season with salt and pepper. While the sprouts are cooking, prepare a ring of potatoes duchesse [see June, 1950] on a heatproof serving platter and put in the oven until the top just begins to turn golden. Remove from the oven and spread a little mornay sauce [see April, 1950] inside the ring. Fill the center with the cooked Brussels sprouts and cover with more mornay sauce to which has been added a tablespoon of whipped cream. (One-half to 3/4 cup of sauce will be needed.) Cover the sauce with a little grated cheese and melted butter. Place in a hot oven or under the broiler flame until the cheese has softened and the top is golden-brown.
There is, incidentally, a trick in cooking vegetables of this kind in a ring of potatoes duchesse. It is to brown the ring just a little before filling the center. The whole dish will then have an even brown because it takes just a little longer to brown the potatoes than the mornay sauce with the cheese on top.
Brussels Sprouts Châtelaine
Mix together 1 1/2 cups each mashed sweet potato and puree of lentils. Add 1 tablespoon butter and a little salt. Form in a ring on a heatproof platter, brush with butter, and brown in the oven. Fill the center with Brussels sprouts that have been cooked, drained, and sautéed in a little butter.
For those who like a sweet vegetable dish the following is a pleasing combination.
Brussels Sprouts Louisiana
Make a ring of overlapping rounds of sliced, cooked sweet potatoes, alternating them with small pieces of pineapple. Sprinkle with maple syrup and glaze in the oven, basting with syrup while glazing. Fill the center with Brussels sprouts that have been cooked, sautéed in butter, and mixed with cooked chestnuts also sautéed in butter.
For myself I like Brussels sprouts the way my mother cooked them in France. This was a real country method, the trick being to use bacon or pork to flavor them.
Brussels Sprouts Ménagère
Clean 1 quart of sprouts, remove the outside yellowed leaves, trim the stems, and cut an incision in the bottoms. Cook in boiling salted water until just done, or for about 25 minutes. Drain thoroughly. Melt 1 tablespoon butter or fresh goose fat. add 2 or 3 slices of bacon (or some salt pork), finely diced, and 1 teaspoon finely chopped onion. Sauté until golden-brown. Add the drained sprouts and toss until well mixed. Correct the seasoning with salt and pepper and serve sprinkled with chopped parsley.
If you are one of those people who avoids parsnips, let me say that parsnips have a distinctive flavor that is really good. No French cook ever leaves them out of the pot-au-feu through choice but only when they are not available. The special savor that they give the broth comes from no other vegetable. Of course, I have my own opinion why parsnips go begging in the market: they are too often carelessly cooked. The trick is to cut them in pieces of uniform size so that they will cook evenly and at the same time look attractive. The time required for cooking will depend upon the age of the parsnips. In the fall when they are freshly harvested, it takes about 30 minutes, but in the winter when they have been stored for some time, 45 minutes should be allowed. And they are best when prepared quite simply—creamed, fried, or made into cakes. The latter are a very nice garnish for almost any kind of meat. This is a vegetable, incidentally, for which elaborate sauces are not appropriate. I would like to remind you, however, in creaming parsnips or, in fact, in creaming any vegetable to use only a very little sauce, just enough to make a liaison. A vegetable should never be overwhelmed with a lot of soupy cream sauce. The trick is to dress it so sparingly with the sauce that if it is served on the plate with other food, the sauce won't run into everything else.
Creamed Parsnips
Clean and peel parsnips and cut into small, sticklike pieces, as for French fried potatoes. Cook in boiling salted water until tender, or for 30 to 45 minutes. Drain. For 2 cups parsnips, melt 1 tablespoon butter in a saucepan, add 1 tablespoon flour, and cook until it just starts to turn golden. Add 3/4 cup hot milk and cook, stirring constantly, until it cooks down to about 1/2 cup. Season with salt, add the parsnips, and cook for a few minutes longer, shaking the parsnips in the sauce until all the pieces are coated. For a richer sauce, add 2 tablespoons cream.
Fried Parsnips
Clean and peel parsnips and cut into small, sticklike pieces about the size of French-fried potatoes. Cook in boiling salted water until tender, or for 30 to 45 minutes. Drain. Dip in fritter batter and fry in hot deep fat or oil until golden-brown. Drain on paper towels, season with salt, and serve with fried parsley.
Fritter Batter
Mix together 3 tablespoons flour, a little salt, 1 teaspoon salad oil, and 1/3 cup lukewarm water. When the batter is smooth, fold in 1 stiffly beaten egg white.
Fried Parsley
Wash parsley thoroughly and dry well. Drop into very hot deep fat and cook for a few minutes, or until the parsley comes to the surface of the fat and has become crisp. Drain well and sprinkle with a little salt.
Parsnip Cakes
Clean and peel parsnips. Cut into small pieces and cook in boiling salted water until soft. Drain thoroughly and mash. Put in a saucepan and place over the heat to dry, shaking the pan all the time to prevent scorching. To 2 cups mashed parsnips add 2 tablespoons each butter and cream, 1 teaspoon salt, and 2 egg yolks. Mix thoroughly and spread on a plate to cool. Form into small, square or round croquettes. Dip each one in flour, then coat with a mixture of 1 beaten egg. 1/4 cup milk, 1 tablespoon salad oil, and 1/2 teaspoon salt, coating each piece thoroughly and draining it of surplus liquid. Dip in fine, dry bread crumbs, completely covering the surfaces. These cakes may be fried in hot deep fat or oil until golden-brown or they may be sautéed in butter.
Of the cereals that I am continually asked about, wild rice is the one that poses the most problems to most people. I myself had never seen this kind of rice before I came to the United States and, as a matter of fact, it wasn't until about twenty-five years ago that it started to appear in our markets. Therefore, many of the older cookbooks have no recipes for preparing and using it, and this is a bit of a handicap to many a cook. Wild rice does need a little more attention than ordinary rice. In the first place, it is apt to be dusty and should be carefully washed in more than one water. Soaking it for 15 to 20 minutes is a good way to get out all the dirt. It requires a longer cooking time and a larger amount of water (2 quarts for each cup of rice) and it swells to greater proportions than white rice. Thus, for each cup of dry wild rice, you will have three cups when cooked. You will find, though, that it reheats nicely in butter if not used immediately.
Wild rice goes with both meat and poultry but seems most appropriate with game. In the old days we always used to serve hominy with game, but now wild rice has almost completely replaced it. The rice is good, too, with such flavorful foods as chicken livers and mushrooms and also makes an excellent stuffing for poultry. It can replace white rice in some recipes, but it is not always good to substitute wild for white rice. For instance, someone asked me once to make some wild rice croquettes and they were not too successful. At least, to me they seemed heavy. But when I made beignets or fritters, they came out light and delicate. Incidentally, if cost means anything to you, wild rice, which is expensive, goes much further when made into fritters. But however you serve wild rice, just remember to serve plenty of butter or sauce with it and avoid rather dry eating.
To Cook Wild Rice
Clean 1 cup wild rice in several waters, soaking for 15 to 20 minutes if it is very dusty. Bring 2 quarts water with 2 teaspoons salt to a boil, add the rice, and cook slowly for 40 to 45 minutes, or until the rice is soft. Drain. If not used immediately, melt 5 tablespoons butter in a pan and let it become hazelnut-brown. Add the rice and shake the pan over the fire until the grains are coated with butter and the rice is hot. Season with salt and a little freshly ground pepper.
Wild Rice and Mushrooms
Clean 6 to 8 mushrooms and slice or cut in dice. Sauté them in 1 tablespoon butter and combine with 2 cups cooked wild rice. Shake the pan over the fire until the mushrooms and rice are well combined and are heated through.
Wild Rice Stuffing for Poultry
Combine 2 to 3 cups cooked wild rice with 1/2 cup chicken livers sautéed in butler. Add 1/4 cup meat gravy or velouté to hold the mixture together.
Beignets of Wild Rice
Put 1/2 cup water, 1/4 cup butter, and a little salt in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Remove from the heat and add, all at once, 1/2 cup flour. Return to the heat and cook, stirring briskly, until the mixture rolls away from the sides of the pan without sticking. Add 2 eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each one is added. To this mixture add 3/4 cup cooked wild rice mixed with a little butter. Drop by spoonfuls into hot deep fat and increase the temperature of the fat as the beignets cook. They will turn by themselves when cooked on the underside.