Patricia Wells

Poulet Grillé à la Diable In French cooking, any meat or poultry seasoned with mustard and hot pepper and then coated with breadcrumbs is called à la diable, since the devil, or diable, is associated with anything hot and fiery. Cafés and bistros all over Paris offer versions of this classic. I like to make mine with a combination of sharp Dijon and coarse-grain Dijon mustard, and with a good hit of spice, usually what the French call piments langues d'oiseaux, or bird's-tongue peppers. This is a great picnic dish as well, and I often make it for our lunch when we take the train to Provence. When we eat at home, I serve this chicken with steamed rice or sautéed potatoes and a green salad.

(MADELEINES) While researching this book, I became fixated, absolutely fanatical, about madeleines, the plump golden tea cakes shaped like scallop shells. They were something to boost my spirits on the days when I walked for miles sleuthing in search of culinary jewels. I tasted dozens of madeleines, but only a few were "just right." The best, freshest madeleine has a dry, almost dusty taste when eaten on its own. One of my favorite versions is made by André Lerch, an Alsatian baker with a bread and pastry shop on the Left Bank. To be truly appreciated — to "invade the senses with exquisite pleasure" as they did for Marcel Proust — Madeleines must be dipped in tea, ideally the slightly lime-flavoured tilleul, which releases the fragrant, flavorful lemon essence of the little tea cake. Special madeleine tins can be found in all the French restaurant supply shops and in the housewares section of department stores. The following is a recipe I developed.

Anne Macrae is a Scottish neighbor in Provence who shares my love of simple, big tastes. She served this luscious gratin one spring evening and explained that she devised the recipe when she and her husband, John, lived in an isolated part of northern Provence, in the Drôme. There were no fresh-produce markets nearby, but thanks to neighboring farmers she always had plenty of fresh goat's milk cheese—known as tomme. Her larder was always filled with the meaty black olives from nearby Nyons, and wild herbs were as near as the back door. In summer months Anne prepares the sizzling, fragrant first course with fresh tomatoes, and in the winter months she uses canned tomatoes. That evening she served the gratin in the individual gratin dishes, but I suggested it might be easier to make one huge gratin and pass it around. "I used to do that," she countered, "but people got greedy and never left enough for the other guests!" So controlled portions it is! This dish lends itself to endless variations: Think of it simply as a pizza without the crust. Add julienned bits of proscuitto, a bit of cooked sausage, sautéed mushrooms, or marinated artichokes. It's also a convenient dish when you're alone and want something warm and quick. I always add fresh hyssop, for the Provençal herb's pungent, mintlike flavor blends well with the tomato-cheese-olive trinity.