French

The allure of crème brûlée, French for “burnt cream,” lies in its apparent contradiction: a topping of sugar, singed to golden brown, crackles over a cool, creamy-smooth custard. To achieve that silky consistency in baked custards, it’s critical that the oven temperature be regulated (to be both even and gentle). This is why the custard molds are set in a bain-marie, or hot-water bath, made by pouring water around molds into a roasting pan, which insulates the custard from hot spots in the oven. Another precautionary measure is to eliminate any excess bubbles in the custard after it is poured into the ramekins (just before baking). These bubbles will rise as the custard bakes, causing holes to form in the top. To get rid of them, pass the flame of a kitchen torch briefly over the liquid in the ramekins. Don’t worry if some remain, since the tops will be caramelized, hiding any imperfections.

With its clean taste and light body, Court Bouillon is used to poach fish, shellfish, and lean white meats such as chicken and veal, when you want to impart only subtle flavor. It can be as simple as a few aromatics steeped in water or more complex with a fruity white wine or other acidic ingredients, such as vinegar or lemon juice. As with stocks, you should feel free to improvise with whatever is in your vegetable bin (or garden, if you have one). The ingredients called for here are common, but you can leave out some or replace them with other mild-tasting herbs or vegetables. The goal is to avoid overpowering the food that will be poached in the liquid.

Chocolate soufflé, with its chewy exterior and warm, puddinglike center, might be considered the more refined cousin of molten chocolate cake. With or without a sauce of Crème Anglaise (basically the ice-cream base on page 468 before it’s frozen), a soufflé is a showstopper. And although it has earned a reputation for difficulty, following a few key techniques will reward you with a masterpiece every time. Before whipping the egg whites, be sure your bowl and whisk are thoroughly clean and dry; just a drop of grease, yolk, or water will prevent the whites from expanding properly. Avoid overbeating the egg whites; you’ve taken them too far if they lose their glossiness and become clumpy. Above all else, don’t open the oven door until the end of the baking time, since any fluctuation in temperature, as well as an accidentally slammed oven door, can cause a soufflé to fall. This recipe will produce the best results when baked in five 10-ounce ramekins; you can divide the batter among six dishes, but the soufflés won’t reach the same height as those shown here (though they will be just as delicious).

Heavy cream is the most traditional liquid in gratins, but milk or stock, or a combination, can replace half the cream for a lighter result. In this recipe, the liquid is infused with thyme to help its flavor disseminate more effectively since the vegetables will soak up the liquid; this step can be omitted but it does make a difference.

A tian is a Provençal creation named for the traditional earthenware baking dish. Be sure to drizzle generously with oil to impart flavor and keep the vegetables from drying out (remember, there’s no other liquid in a tian); you can spoon off excess oil after cooking.

Preparing foods en papillote, which loosely translates to “wrapped in paper,” is actually another way to steam food, even though it takes place in the oven rather than on the stove. It is most commonly used for fish fillets but is also well suited to shellfish and leaner cuts of chicken, such as boneless breast halves. This French technique always manages to impress, the pretty little packages resembling gifts, one for each guest. When the packets are slit open—ceremoniously, at the table—their fragrant aromas are released all at once, hinting at the tastes to come. These bundles are ideal for entertaining, but cooking en papillote has other advantages, too. The packets can be assembled a few hours ahead of time (covered with plastic wrap and refrigerated on a baking sheet) and then tucked into the oven once your guests arrive. And, like other steaming methods, it doesn’t require much added fat; instead, the sealed parchment traps in all that wonderful moisture and flavor. In this recipe, a compound butter helps bring all the components together while adding richness to the dish. Forming the packets is easy—no special skills required. The shape isn’t as important as making sure the edges are tightly sealed. You can fold the parchment into envelopes, wrap it into bundles, or form it into bags, but half-moon packets are the classic shape. The traditional technique begins by cutting paper into a heart shape, but this one starts out as a simple rectangle.

These two egg-based sauces are examples of emulsions, among the most ethereal of the sauces in the classic canon. Emulsions are mixtures of two substances, such as oil and vinegar, that would not usually combine; made properly, they are perfectly smooth and delectably rich yet surprisingly light. Although other ingredients, such as butter and mustard, can act as emulsifiers, the egg yolk is the most effective. It is also a stabilizer, holding the emulsion over time.

This rich yet airy, velvety sauce is made by enriching an acidic liquid with egg yolks and then thickening with butter. Here, we used a wine reduction, but you can skip that step and simply whisk eggs with 1 teaspoon lemon juice and 1/4 cup boiling water. As one of the French “mother sauces,” its preparation is a basic culinary technique that can be varied to create other sauces in the same family (often referred to as “warm emulsions”). By changing the acidic liquid to blood orange juice and zest, you get sauce Maltaise, typically served over steamed asparagus; tangerine juice and zest flavor Mikado sauce. Perhaps the best-known variation is Béarnaise, a traditional accompaniment for steak. To make it, prepare the hollandaise as directed, adding tarragon (the defining flavor of Béarnaise) to the reduction mixture. As it is designed to demonstrate, the method is the key to making the sauce, not the specific ingredients used to give it flavor. When making hollandaise or any of its variations, using gentle heat is critical to achieving the right consistency. The best—and classic—way to do this is to “cook” it in a bain marie, or hot-water bath, instead of directly over a burner.

This “white” stew borrows a nonbrowning method commonly used in making blanquette de veau, one of the canons of French cuisine. In that dish, a stew of veal, onions, and mushrooms is blanketed in a creamy sauce. The meat is never browned (hence the term “white stew”); the stock is thickened with a roux and, traditionally, a secondary thickener called a liaison, made with egg and cream, making it exceptionally rich. This recipe, however, opts for springtime produce over the usual vegetables and makes the liaison optional (you can omit the egg and just stir in the cream, without tempering). To make a classic blanquette de veau, see the variation that follows.

Making your own mayonnaise is a great way to observe the process of emulsification—and the result is far superior to the store-bought variety. The key to preparing any emulsion is to add the oil very slowly while whisking constantly and vigorously. In this case, you end up with a creamy concoction in which tiny droplets of oil are suspended in the lemon juice.

Unlike most other vegetables, tomatoes release a lot of moisture as they cook, so there’s no need to completely submerge them in the oil (or added liquid). It is this “cooking in its own juices” that makes this dish a “confit” (see page 232). Because this technique cooks out most of the moisture from the vegetables, it concentrates the sugars, for a sweet, jamlike condiment to serve with roasted, grilled, or sautéed meats (such as the calf’s liver on page 253). While the confit cooks, stir very gently, or the tomatoes and onions may fall apart.

Pâte sucrée is another type of pastry dough. The method for making it is the same as for pâte brisée; you just have to add a bit more sugar and a couple of egg yolks. The presence of sugar results in a sturdier crust—ideal for the more structured crusts used for tarts. The flour and butter are processed slightly longer than for pâte brisée, as there should be no pieces of butter remaining. Both sugar and egg soften the dough a bit, making it a little harder to roll out perfectly than pâte brisée; it’s easier to patch, however, because any tears can simply be pressed together. Pâte sucrée is often used for blind-baked tart shells (meaning the crust is baked before the filling is added; see note on page 448). Because it is tender (due to the eggs), it will hold its shape better than a flaky crust would. A baked pâte sucrée shell is delightfully crisp, providing a nice contrast to soft, unbaked fillings, such as the panna cotta in the recipe that follows.

In this recipe, the eggs are paired with a heady sauté of shallots and morels—wild mushrooms prized in French cuisine for their distinctive taste and rarity (they grow largely in areas recently stricken with forest fires). They are in season during the spring months; substitute other wild mushrooms, such as oysters or chanterelles, if morels are unavailable.

In this classic French first course, the vegetables are first poached, then marinated in vinaigrette. For deeper flavor, the vegetables can be braised in stock instead of poached. The leeks are especially delicious when garnished with sieved egg yolk (called “mimosa” for its resemblance to the golden flower and most often used with asparagus). The leeks can also be combined with other components to create an elegant composed salad, such as the one on page 312.

Although it may seem like a complicated restaurant dish, bouillabaisse has simple origins in the French seaport city of Marseille, where there is an abundance of freshly caught seafood (and an aversion to waste). Julia Child defined it as a “fisherman’s soup, made from the day’s catch,” or from its leftovers. What it actually consists of depends on whom you ask. A pot will typically have at least four types of fish (some insist on no fewer than seven) and a roster of regional ingredients, notably fennel, garlic, saffron, tomatoes, orange zest, and olive oil. Purists would insist on using fish only from the local (Marseille) waters and absolutely no shellfish, while others take a more liberal approach, improvising here and there but basically sticking to the same formula. Most everyone agrees on the required accompaniments: rouille and croutons made from a crusty baguette. The process for making the stock, which is similar to a classic fish fumet (page 55) but with Mediterranean flavors, takes little time; since it gives the finished dish its rich flavor, don’t skimp on this step. Rouille is a variation of mayonnaise (page 95), with spices, garlic, and fish stock for added flavors as well as bread for a rustic texture. It has a tawny color from the addition of saffron (hence its name, which means “rust” in French).

This stew is a variation on the well-known French favorite, boeuf bourguignon, also made with mushrooms and onions; here, stout replaces the red wine, but you could make the stew with either. There are a few steps that help enrich the flavor of this dish, all of which are classic in making some stews. First, lardons are cooked to render their fat for use in subsequent steps (they are added to the stew at the end, too). Next, the beef is browned and the pan deglazed to incorporate all of the tasty bits. Then, a bit of Dijon mustard is stirred into the aromatics. For even richer flavor, you can add about a half cup of glace de Viande (page 52) along with the stock. The stew is thickened with a small amount of flour and by simple reduction; that’s why the lid is kept partially askew while the stew simmers, to allow some moisture to escape. Buttery noodles make a perfect accompaniment, as they soak up some of the flavorful broth, while julienned carrots and freshly grated horseradish add fresh flavors—and a little textural contrast—to the otherwise rich dish.

Making homemade pâté, of course, is all about grinding. Here again, you can always buy a ready-made pâté from a specialty store, but making your own allows you total command of the quality of the ingredients and the freshness of the finished product. This recipe is for a country-style pâté, which means that it’s more rustic in texture and appearance than a smoother, mousse-like pâté. Country-style pâté usually includes chicken liver as well as pork and veal. The mixture is ground coarsely, and small cubes of meat, bits of fruit, and nuts—called garnishes—are folded in before the whole thing is packed into a terrine and baked. Maintaining the desired texture depends on making sure that all the ingredients—as well as the grinding equipment itself—are well chilled before you grind. Place everything in the freezer (the grinder for a half hour, the meat for fifteen minutes or so), so it’s very cold, then grind the meats according to their fat content, starting with the fattiest, as these are most likely to lose their structure and become pasty if ground when warm. After baking the terrine in a water bath (bain marie), the final, vital step is weighting the pâté to compress it, eliminating excess moisture and fat and giving it a sliceable texture. Once the terrine is compressed and well chilled, unmold it, then slice with a serrated knife, which will cut cleanly without marring the shape. Serve with its classic accompaniments: good bread, a flavorful grainy mustard, and cornichons.

This recipe makes good use of a bone-in cut that takes very well to braising. The ribs are marinated overnight in red wine to give them a deep flavor, then the marinade is reduced to a sauce that glazes the meat. You will need to start with more liquid than in other braising recipes, to avoid having to turn the ribs frequently during cooking, but this leaves excess liquid that must be reduced separately later, before it can be used for glazing (all that reducing is advantageous, since it concentrates the flavors for a rich and unctuous sauce). To do this, use a technique called depouillage, whereby the pan is placed off-center over the burner as the liquid simmers, allowing the impurities to collect on one side for easy skimming and discarding.

Consommer means “to accomplish” or “to finish” in French, and consommé is indeed a “finished” stock. (In a culinary context, one could say that to make a consommé is to bring out in full all of the flavors.) What gives consommé its purity and clarity is a bit of culinary magic: Egg whites (combined with mirepoix and ground meat) coagulate in the soup and rise to the top (forming a “raft”), drawing up any impurities that would otherwise cloud the stock. This mixture also infuses the broth with deeper flavor, as does an onion brûlé (or charred onion), which imparts deeper color to the broth. After an hour or two of simmering, the raft is also discarded, leaving behind a clear, intense broth. Consommé can be served either hot or cold, usually garnished in some way or another (there are literally hundreds employed in formal French cuisine); one of the more common embellishments is vegetables cut into julienne or brunoise (page 14), such as the blanched carrot and leek shown here.