French

This is just one of several great poultry dishes from the area around Lyon, a region whose famous poulet de Bresse was long considered by many to be the best chicken in the world. Chef Paul Bocuse learned poulet au vinaigre as a youth and, some years later, showed considerable audacity by putting what is essentially a peasant dish on the menu of his Michelin three-star restaurant just outside of Lyon. He insisted that it was neither how much work nor the cost of ingredients that determined the worthiness of a dish, but how it tasted. Bravo.

Slow cooked onions are good enough by themselves, but when you combine them with the liquid exuded by olives and tomatoes you have a gloriously juicy bed on which to serve any fish fillet or steak. This combination, I think, is best with grilled tuna or swordfish—their meatiness gives them the presence to stand up to the richly flavored mass of onions, creating an easy dish that is strikingly Provençal and perfect for summer.

Bouillabaisse, the Mediterranean fish stew that is more difficult to spell than to prepare, is traditionally neither an idée fixe nor the centerpiece of a grand bouffe, but a spur-of-the-moment combination of the day’s catch. The key to bouillabaisse is a variety of good fish of different types, so use this recipe as a set of guidelines rather than strict dogma and don’t worry about duplicating the exact types or quantities of fish.

In a cafe in southern France about thirty years ago, I sat in a bistro and timidly prepared to order salade Niçoise. Just then, a huge bowl of steaming, powerfully fragrant mussels was delivered to a man sitting at the table next to me, and I boldly changed my order. The hot mussels were essentially tossed with fennel and fennel seeds, which I could see, but the licorice bouquet and indeed flavor were far stronger than that combination alone could provide. Later, I realized that there was a secret ingredient: an anise liqueur, either Pernod or Ricard. The combination is alluring.

In its traditional form, this cold potato-and-leek soup borders on boring: potatoes, leeks (or onions or a combination), water or stock, salt and pepper, butter, and cream. What little complexity the soup has comes from butter, lots of salt and pepper, good stock, and, of course, cream. But if you add other vegetables, like garlic and carrots, things become more interesting. And you can nudge the soup over into gazpacho territory by adding a tomato to the mix, along with basil. Some protein, like shrimp, can turn it into more of a whole-meal soup.

Most soups have origins, but none more so than this Mediterranean one of France, whose antecedent is usually called something like boiled water. At its most impoverished, this is no more than garlic simmered in water to give it flavor, with a few crusts of bread added for bulk. Simple as it is, boiled water is the perfect example of how an almost absurdly elementary preparation can be converted quickly and easily into one that is nearly grand. Use stock in place of water if you have it. This is a fine place for canned stock, because the garlic-scented oil will boost it to a higher level. Remember to cook the garlic very gently to add complexity and color; by then browning the bread in the same oil, you increase its flavor immeasurably. Also consider doubling the amount of bread given in the recipe here; like me, you may find the allure of bread crisped in garlic-scented oil irresistible.

A French peasant classic, popularized internationally by the great Paul Bocuse. My version is leaner; for something approaching the glorious original, see the variation. Bread is a must, with salad to follow.

There are more versions of this dish than you can count. You can add cayenne if you like or a little wine or stock. Some olive oil at the end contributes freshness, and 1/2 cup or more of rice cooked with the chicken (add twice as much boiling water or stock as rice, at about the same time) makes the dish more substantial. And so on. In short, it’s one of those universal recipes, but in all forms associated with southern France. Bread is the most common accompaniment, but this saucy chicken is good over rice or other grains as well.

My version of an old-fashioned French recipe, with a little corner cutting. If you ever come across an old, tough chicken, this is the place to use it; increase the cooking time as necessary until the bird becomes tender. If you use one of our typical chickens, it’s actually a pretty quick recipe to prepare. Use a decent but not too expensive red wine. Pearl onions are quite nice here, even frozen ones. If you start with fresh ones, however, which are best, drop them into boiling water for 30 to 60 seconds to make peeling (much) easier. The French would serve crusty bread with this, and you couldn’t do any better.

Duck confit is one of those foods that began as a method of preserving and continues because it tastes so damn good. It’s a simple enough process, and the results are dependable. It’s best when you use duck fat as a cooking medium. While not exactly a pantry staple, duck fat isn’t terribly expensive if you buy it from a specialty retailer that makes most of its money from other parts of the duck (like Hudson Valley Foie Gras: www.hudsonvalleyfoiegras.com). Fortunately, confit is not bad with olive oil either, though when you do the math on the two and figure in how delicious potatoes sautéed in leftover confit fat are, duck fat becomes increasingly appealing. My favorite way to serve duck confit is with a simple and strongly flavored salad of bitter greens—like the Green Salad with Vinaigrette, Roquefort, and Walnuts on page 165 minus the blue cheese and made, if possible, with a fifty-fifty walnut oil/olive oil dressing.

You can make this Provençal dish with whole duck, but it’s also great with legs. The covered pan-roasting does a good job of keeping the duck’s breast from drying out, while the legs become tender. It makes a lovely presentation, and the sauce is delicious. If you have only black olives, that’s fine, but add a tablespoon or two of capers to the mix. As with many (if not most) French dishes, this is best with bread and a salad.

The omelet remains the standby dinner for many accomplished French cooks, and it remains on the menu of many restaurants. Delicious and gorgeous, it’s a bit trickier than a frittata (page 558), but considerably faster, and nonstick pans have made it a lot more reliable. Fresh herbs are a must here; I would say butter is a must also, but I’d rather you made the omelet with olive oil than not at all. Once you learn how to do this, it will become a staple for you, and variations will be second nature. I offer a few to get you started.

A dish that often appears on bistro menus in France and increasingly here in the States. It’s best, I think, with Roquefort, which is made from sheep’s milk. But Stilton, Gorgonzola, Maytag blue, or any high-quality fairly soft blue cheese will work well. Don’t bother, however, trying to make this sauce with commercially produced domestic blue cheese, such as that sold precrumbled for salads. Not only will its taste be inferior, but it will not give the sauce the same creaminess. You need a salad here, to provide some offsetting lightness. Some bread wouldn’t be bad either; whatever your side dishes, they should be relatively uncomplicated.

Since it is made everywhere, it may be a stretch to call roast chicken “French”—but not to call it one of the simplest of the world’s great recipes. There are three keys to success: One, pay attention to the technique; it works. Two, start with a good chicken (find a free range or kosher chicken you like and stick with it); without it, the technique is wasted. And three, use butter if at all possible; the difference is profound. You can use this technique or any of the variations with baby chicken (poussin) or Cornish hens.

A choucroute need not be meat, as is the more familiar one on page 404. Alsace, where the dish originated, has a long tradition of combining sauerkraut with fish. As is always the case, buy sauerkraut that is either sold in bulk or packed in plastic and contains no more than cabbage and salt. Serve with boiled potatoes.

A Norman recipe, easily identified with the region because of the combination of dairy and meat. It may sound overly rich, but pork is so lean these days that the added fat is welcome, and the taste is incredible. A wonderful dish for midwinter; serve it with simple boiled potatoes or rice and a steamed vegetable. Other cuts of meat you can use here: veal chops or bone-in chicken breasts.

We tend to think of grilling as the ideal way to cook many foods, but the broiler is more valuable when you want to save a marinade and the fish’s pan juices. A recipe like this one was originally cooked in a pan over an open fire, and you can certainly follow that tradition, but the broiler makes quick work of it. Though the dish is French, it’s very southern, and I might serve a simple pasta beforehand; Tomatoes Provençal (page 494) would also be in the right spirit, as would a simple salad.

Rémoulade is an all-purpose fish sauce, a super spicy, chunky variation on mayonnaise and perhaps the Platonic ideal of tartar sauce. You can use it with poached, baked, fried, even leftover fish, but I think it’s best with grilled fish. Swordfish is the most obvious candidate, but you can grill steaks of cod, mahimahi, mako, salmon, or tuna and serve them with rémoulade; monkfish is also good. This combination is pretty rich; I’d be satisfied with a decent bread and a salad or steamed vegetable dressed with no more than lemon juice.

We tend to associate dried mushrooms with France and Italy, but of course they’re used wherever mushrooms grow wild, and that includes almost all of central Europe. In fact, some of the best (and least expensive) dried porcini (cèpes) sold in this country come from Poland. Make this a day in advance if you like and refrigerate, covered; reheat when you’re ready. Serve this with boiled potatoes, buttered noodles, or a rice dish, along with a vegetable or salad. This is also good served with grated fresh horseradish or Creamy Horseradish Sauce (page 608). Other cuts of meat you can use here: lamb, veal, or pork shoulder, all of which will cook more quickly than the beef.

A delicate and subtle preparation that can also be made with monkfish, striped bass, sea bass, or other firm-fleshed fish. Serve with Braised Leeks (page 465).