This spring I returned to France for my first visit in over twenty years. I wanted to see Montmarault, where I was born, and my eighty-six-year-old tante Pauline who still lives there, and my brother Lucien, who lives in Paris. Accompanying me were four gourmet friends, and together we had planned an eating tour through some of the French provinces, but mainly through mon pays, the Bourbonnais countryside I have always thought that springtime is the loveliest season of the year in Prance. My memories of it, in fact, had taken on such a nostalgic glow that as we neared the port of Le Havre, I began to wonder if I had not been promising myself and my trusting friends too much. Would the aubépine that spotted the Bourbonnais hedgerows be as white and as fragrant and the air in Momtmarult as clear and as invigorating as I had remembered them? Would the good wine of Burgundy be as mellow and our renowned Bourguignon cooking as laced with fine, full flavors as I had boasted to my companions? Or had I built up memories which reality could never equal? Had the war, and all its upheaval and aftermath, left even the resilient French too weary to care about faultless meals and painstaking service? We would soon see.
As we entered Paris, it seemed as if I had left only yesterday. The familiar vistas that radiate from every major intersection, the ageless buildings and marble statues, the horse-chestnut trees on the Champs-Elysées, the clipped trees in the gardens of the Tuileries, even the blue-caped gendarmes and the eager flower vendors were just as they had been twenty, thirty, yes, even fifty years ago.
Our arrival in Paris called for a gala celebration, and for this there was only one place in Paris to go, the Plaza-Athenee Hôtel, Why? Because there my brother Lucien is chef do cuisine. I suppose I could be accused of being unduly prejudiced if it weren't for the fact that most gourmets rate the food at the Plaza-Athénée among the best in France. Certainly no place could have been more memorable for that first dinner. Every detail of the beautifully proportioned dining room, from the crystal chandeliers to the golden damask draperies and the tables gay with flowers, was exquisite. Nor could the dinner, a small but classic menu of the French cuisine, have been surpassed.
Filet de Sole an Vin Blanc
L'Agneau tie Paullac àla Jardinière
Pommes Rissolées Artichauts
Salade
Fromages Variés
Soufflé Grand Marnier
This meal was indeed what gourmets travel the world-and France, in particular-to find: the sole, sweet, fresh from the Channel, and subtly sauced; the tiny young lamb from the marshy meadows of Pauillac in the Gironde district of Prance, its meat more delicate, tentier, and white than that of Lamb raised anywhere else in the world. Surrounding it on the platter were garlands of Spring vegetables and small, carefully trimmed artichoke bottoms. There were many kinds of French cheese to choose from and eat with crusty French bread and, last but not least, was the quivering Soufflé, hot from the oven, and towering high above the sides of its white-porcelain dish.
With the fish we drank a fine Pouilly-Fuissé, and with the roast lamb, an excellent Pontet-Canet, served, as my friends quickly noticed, in chose large, roomy wine glasses which are only partly filled and which give you a suitable chance to enjoy the bouquet.
We had many fine dishes at this hotel during our stay in Paris; two of the specialties which we liked very much were the canard aux olives and Soufflé de homard.
Canard aux Oliver
(Duck with Olives)
Clean and singe a 5- to 6-pound duck and truss it to hold legs and wings close to the body. Season it with a little salt. Place the duck on its side in a roasting pan and roast in a hot oven (425° F.) for 15 minutes. Turn the duck and roast for 15 minutes longer, or until it is lightly browned. Remove the duck and pour off all but 2 table-spoons of the fat from the pan. Add 1 tablespoon flour and cook, stirring, until the roux is golden. Add ½ cup dry white wine and 1 cup stock or water and cook, stirring constantly, until the sauce is slightly thickened. Season to taste with salt and pepper and add a fagot made by tying together 1 stalk of celery, 2 sprigs of parsley, a small piece of bay leaf, and a sprig of thyme. Put the duck in the sauce, cover the pan, and continue to roast for 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until the duck is tender. Meanwhile, parboil about 2 dozen pitted green olives in water to cover to remove the salt. Drum them. Carve the duck and arrange the pieces on a hot platter. Skim off the surplus far from the sauce, add the olives, and pour sauce andolives over the duck.
Soufflé dc Homard Plaza- Atbénée {Lobster Soufflé)
Remove the claws from 3 lobsters, each weighing about 2 pounds, and cut the body sections into 3 or 4 pieces. In a saucepan large enough to hold the cutup lobsters, melt 2 tablespoons butter and add 1 medium carrot, finely diced, 2 tablespoons Chopped onion, and 1 tablespoon chopped chives. Cook the mirepoix very slowly until the vegetables are soft, but not brown. Add 1 table-spoon chopped parsley stems.
In a skillet, add the lobsters and sprinkle with a little salt and pepper. Cook over a brisk fire for about 5 minutes, or until the lobster pieces are red on all sides. Place the lobsters on the mirepoix of vegetables and sprinkle with 1 tea-spoon paprika. Add 2 tablespoons cognac. ½ cup dry white wine, and ½ cup heavy cream, and mix lightly. Bring to a boil and cook for 18 minutes, or until the lobster meat is done.
Remove the lobsters from the pan, separate the meat from the shells, and cut the meat into ¼-inch slices. Cook the liquid remaining in the pan until it is reduced to about half, and add 1 cup cream sauce (see January. 1953), 3 tablespoons heavy cream, and 2 table-spoons cognac. Strain, making sure all the fine bits of shell are removed. Add half the sauce to the sliced lobster meat, and keep the remaining sauce warm.
Butter 2 one-quart Soufflé molds and divide the lobster mixture between them.
In a saucepan melt ¼ cup butter, add ½ cup flour, and cook, stirring, until the roux turns golden. Stir in gradually ½ cup hot milk and cook for 5 minutes, whisking constantly. Season with ½ teaspoon salt and a little cayenne pepper. Bear 5 egg yolks until light and stir into the hot sauce. Bring the sauce almost to the boil, stirring briskly, fold in ¾ cup finely grated dry Swiss or Parmesan cheese.and cool. Fold in 6 stiffly beaten egg whites.
Cover the lobster in the two Soufflé dishes with this cheese Soufflé mixture. Bake the Soufflés in a hot oven (425° F.) for 18 to 20 minutes, or until they arc puffed and golden brown. Serve the reserved sauce separately.
Paris, as you may already have discovered, lived up to its reputation for fine food. The luscious snails at L'Es cargot on rue Montorgueil surprised my American friends, who had never before seen them quite so large, and the Coquille Saini-Jacques served at the Grand Vatel, made in the traditional way with thinly sliced, scallops and bits of orange-colored roe in a wine sauce, delighted them. We had many memorable lunchcons and dinners in Paris-at Jean Casenave's friendly place, at L'Auberge de la Truite, hidden in a small court not far from the Madeleine, at the Restaurant Drouant. near the Opera on rue Gaillon, and at many others that any visitor ran find in the pages of the estimable Guide Michelin. And, of course, there was the well-known Grill Room of the Crillon, across the street from the American Embassy, where we never failed to run into some American we knew.
On Good Friday morning we rented a car and drove leisurely south, leisurely, that is, by the way most Americans count touring time. I think all of us, however, would willingly have gone a mile an hour just to have been able to take in all the freshness and charm of the blossoming countryside, and to have had more time to eat the delicious food and drink the delightful wines to say nothing of longer visits with new-found friends and for me, with old-time associates.
By noon we had reached Moret-sur Loing, where we decided to lunch at the unpretentious Le Petit Vatel, run by M. and Mme. Marcel Robinex, who had come there years ago from Normandy. We picked out two of the specialties, croussades irouvillaise, pastry shells filled with a fish mixture and richly sauced, and quenelles de brochet provincial, a smooth, delicate mixture of freshwater pike, heavy cream. and egg whites, shaped like sausages, poached, and then served in Nantua sauce. The cherry tarts that we chose for dessert reflected the Norman inclinations of M. Robinex. Very heavy sweet cream the kind so seldom found in America unless one lives near a dairy farm-was spread on flaky shells, cooked cherries were arranged on top, and the glaze that generously masked the cherries was faintly flavored with liqueur.
AtL.e Petit Vatel my friends saw the typical small restaurant where native Frenchmen gather to cat and be happy. Just such Frenchmen were seated when we arrived, leisurely discussing the fine points of conking and comparing their regional cuisines over a bountiful meal washed down with glass after glass of inexpensive, but delicious, vim du pays,
Then on to Vézelay we drove, Vézely perched high amid gently rolling fields and woodlands, with its great historic Basilique de la Sainte Marie-Madeleine, the twelfth-century church where Richard the Lion-Hearted met Philip of France before starting off on the Third Crusade. At Vézelay we stopped at the old Hotel de la Poste et Lion d'Or, which has recently been enlarged and improved to offer the weary traveler every modern comfort. Yet it still retains its old dining room and bar, its enormous fireplace, and many of its original furnishings.
We were invited that night for supper to the little town of Saint Père in the valley below Vézelay, a scant three kilometers away. M. Chapuis, an old friend whom I had not seen in almost thirty years, was our host. We approached his centuries' old house, with its formal doorway balanced on either side by long French windows, through gravel paths and box-edged gardens, both well concealed! behind a ten-foot stone wall. There was a swift, narrow brook at the front of the house that had been bridged and channeled under the right wing to reappear at the rear beside a shaded path of clipped trees leading to the kitchen garden, fruit trees, and grape vines, all planted in careful symmetry.
Seven of us sat down to a supper which M. Chapuis described as just a simple Good Friday repast. Perhaps it was simple to him, but it was exquisite to us, every detail of it-the room, the table, the food. Side by side on a great long silver platter lay brook trout sauté meunière, each fish topped with a slice of lemon sprinkled with finely chopped parsley. For me, however, the frontage blanc àla crime was the delight of the evening. These molded rounds of a cheese similar to cottage cheese had a special smoothness that only that local milk seems to give, and were served with heavy sweet cream and a sprinkling of fine sugar. Only one who has for years missed the simple food of his youth can appreciate my delight.
Our journey from Vézelay to Chagny for the week end took us along the famous Burgundy wine trail on to the Hôtel du Commerce, a pleasant white building with green and white tables, chairs, and umbrellas in front. It was not a large hotel, but it bustled with activity, and at mealtime its dining room was always crowded. That, in France. means that the food is superlative, M. Lameloise, the owner and chef, presided over the activities of the hotel with the help of a busy, happy French family. Monsieur managed the kitchen, his young wife sat at the desk or seated the guests in the dining room, and a sister and brother-in-law helped on week ends. All were gracious, hospitable, and eager to make you comfortable, an attitude that you will generally find wherever you go in France. Here are some of the specialties of Monsieur and his family.
Terrine de Cbagny Lameloise
Chop ½ pound of fresh chicken livers very finely and mix well with 2 pounds of fresh sausage meat. Season with 1 teaspoon salt and a pinch of poultry seasoning. Add 2 ounces good Madeira or sherry, 2 tablespoons cognac, and 3 eggs, well beaten, and beat thoroughly with a wooden spoon. Line the bottom and sides of a heavy casserole with thin slices of larding pork and fill it with the meat mixture. Cover with thin slices of larding pork and place a bay leaf on top. Cover the casserole and seal the edge with a stiff dough, made by mixing Hour and water together. Set the casserole in a pan containing about 2 inches of boiling water and bake in a hot oven (400° F.) for about 1 ½ hours, adding more boiling water to the pan as the water evaporates. Remove the casserole from the oven and cool. Remove the cover and discard the bay leaf and larding pork from the top of the pâté. Chill the pâté and serve it from the casserole. Aspic jelly, flavored with Madeira, may be poured over the top and chilled until it is set.
Truite de Rivière au Montracbet au
Beurre de Truffes
(River Trout in Wine wish Truffle Butter)
Bring to a boil 2 cups each of water and Montrachet wine with 1 carrot and 1 onion, both sliced, 1 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon peppercorns, and a small fagot made by tying together 1 stalk of celery, 4 sprigs of parsley, a little thyme, and a small bay leaf. Simmer this court-bouillon for 15 minutes. Clean 6 fresh trout, each weighing about ½ pound, and put them in the bouillon. Bring the bouillon almost to a boil and poach the trout for 10 to 15 minutes, or until done. To serve, remove the skin from the trout and place each trout on a warm serving plate. Pour over each trout 1 to 2 tablespoons of the bouillon and arrange a slice of the carrot and the onion on each fish. Serve with truffle butter.
Truffle Butter
Mix ½ cup creamed butter, 1 table-spoon chopped truffles, and season with a little salt and freshly ground pepper
Lamb Kidneys with Madeira
Remove the skin from 12 lamb kidneys. Wash. dry. and split them in half or in quarters. Season with salt and pepper. In it shallow pan heat 2 table-spoons good fat. Add the kidneys and cook them quickly for 4 to 5 minutes, or until golden brown, turning frequently to brown them all over. Remove the kidneys to a colander and drain thoroughly.
Discard the fat from the pan and return the pan to the fire. In it melt 2 tablespoons butter, add I pound of small mushrooms, and sauté the mushrooms for 6 to 8 minutes, or until golden. Add 1 tablespoon chopped shallots or onion and 3ounces red Burgundy wine. Cook until the liquid is reduced by half. Add
1 cup brown sauce (see January, 1953), or if that is not available, ½ cup beef gravy and ½ cup stewed tomatoes. Swirl 1 tablespoon butter, and then 2 tablespoons Madeira, into the sauce. Add the kidneys, bring the sauce just to the boiling point, and sprinkle with finely chopped parsley.
Escalope tie Vean à la Crème au Porto
(Escalope of Veal with Port Wine Cream Sauce)
Flatten 1 ½ pounds of thinly sliced veal with a wooden mallet. Rub each piece with flour, season with salt and pepper, and saute in hot butter for 3 minutes on each side, or until golden brown. Arrange the scallops in a warm serving dish, and to the juices in the pan add 1 tablespoon chopped shallot or onion and 1 tablespoon paprika. Mix well and stir in 1 teaspoon flour. Add gradually 1 cup hot cream and cook, stirring, until the sauce is blended and slightly thickened. Add 2 ounces port wine, correct the seasoning with salt, and pour the sauce over the veal. Serve with noodles or rice.
Tuiles aux Amandes
These are very delectable crisp little rolled cookies that are served with tea at the Hotel du Commerce. Mix together 5- egg whites. ¾ cup confectioners' sugar, and a little salt, and beat until very light. Stir in 5 tablespoons Hour. 6 tablespoons melted butter, and 2 tablespoons milk. Add ¼ cup almond paste and beat until the batter is smooth. Add t/2 cup blanched, slivered almonds. Drop the batter by spoonfuls onto a buttered baking sheet, leaving enough room between them so that they can spread, and bake in a hot oven (450 °F.) for 5 to 8 minutes, or until golden. Remove the cookies with a large, thin spatula, and while they are still hot, curl them over a long rolling pin.
After so much rich food, one member of our party was beginning to talk of a “light lunch.” Actually, I don't think he ever found one in France. Each time he asked. “How about a simple omelette and a green salad, this noon?” the waiter hovering over us would reply. “Monsieur can cat a simple-omelette anywhere in France, but here-ah, here he must have one of our local specialties.” And we would be off on two hours of never-to-be-forgotten eating.
The town of Mêcon and the Hôtel Bellevue et Lamartine was our next stop. Again it was no “light lunch” that M. Champagne, the owner, served us. Chateaubriand grillé, taken from those cream-colored Charolais cattle we had seen grazing all along our trip, was preceded by cbarcuterie, hors-d'ouvre, and friture de goujons. When was it, I wondered, that I had last eaten real goujons, those tiny fish caught in the rivers of central France and fried in deep fat to a crisp, golden brown? Our plates were piled high with them, and Monsieur warned us that a real connoisseur eats every morsel, including heads and tails. Artichoke bottoms, tomatoes. pommes frites served with the meat, were also part of lunch, as well as salad, a tray of locally made cheeses, fruit. and biscuits à la cuiller. The biscuits in Macon are always served still warm from the oven. They look different. too, from the usual ladyfingers;they are not only a little longer, but about two or three times as wide as the American variety and have an attractive puffiness. Tin's is how they are made:
Biscuits à la Cuiller Mode de Mácon
Beat 1 cup sugar and 8 egg yolks Until the mixture is thick and almost white in color. Add ½ tablespoon orange-flower water or vanilla. Sift ¾ tup Hour over the surface, a little at a time, and fold it in lightly and carefully. Fold in 8 stiffly beaten egg whites. Put the batter in a pastry bag with a medium-sized plain tube. Place a piece of heavy white paper on a baking sheet and on it press out the batter into cakes about 3 inches long and 1 1/ 2 inches wide. Sprinkle the cakes very lightly with confectioners' sugar and bake in a slow oven (300° F.) until they are pale gold. Remove the little cakes from the paper, lifting them up lightly with a thin spatula to cake raeks to cool.
From Macon to Moulins we passed through rolling countryside, valleys white and fragrant with blossoming fruit trees, and hilltops neatly tiered with grape vines. Moulins meant visiting the Mnison Calondre, where many, many years ago I had served my apprenticeship. Today, two lads work with their pastry bags at the very same table 1 had worked at more than fifty years ago.
In Moulins you get the feeling of a small French city, a city where food shops are particularly fine, a city where you can while away the hours walking through an old cathedral or an interesting museum, and count the time by the carillons of la tour Jacquemarr which sound hourly.
At Vichy, where we stayed several days. I had an opportunity to visit Montnarault, my major goal on this visit, aow only a few miles away. We found my little old tante Pauline on her knees, working in her garden, scarcely a gray hair on her head, her eyes sparkling, her humor as keen as it had ever been. She brewed us the IK-SI cup of coffee we had during the entire trip. and she served us a favorite dish of my family, one which I had almost forgotten. a quiche bourbonnaise. She gave me the recipe to bring back, and I pass it on to you.
Quiche Bourbonnaise
Line an 8-inch pie plate with rich dough. On the bottom arrange 4 thin slices of cooked ham and sprinkle the ham with ¼ cup grated dry Swiss cheese. Beat 3 eggs and I yolk and stir in 1 cup heavy cream and ½ teaspoon salt. Pour the mixture into the pie shell and bake in a moderate oven (375° F.) for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the custard is set and the top is brown. Serve warm.