Gratin

When Elie Wiesel stopped in Bordaeux to give a speech, he asked members of the Jewish community for suggestions on where to eat. They told him to go to Jean Ramet, a marvelous thirty-seat southwestern-French restaurant. Run by a Jewish chef, it is located right down the street from the eighteenth-century Grand Théâtre. Raised in a Polish Jewish home in France, Jean doesn’t have many culinary memories from his childhood. He grew up in Vichy, where his parents, like so many other Jews returning to France after the war, had priorities other than food. But food became a career for Jean. He apprenticed at the three-star Maison Troisgros in Roanne, learning pastry skills. “Pastry-making gives you discipline; it is very important for a chef,” he told me. “You need the rules of pastry first.” In the 1970s, Jean met Tunisian-born Raymonde Chemla on a youth trip to Israel. They have now been married for more than thirty years, living mostly in Bordeaux, where they run the restaurant. On vacations, they often travel to Morocco, because they love the food of North Africa. “Moroccan food is sincere,” said Jean. “When I met Raymonde, I fell in love with North African spices, such as cinnamon, mint, and cloves.” This gratin of figs with a zabaglione sauce and a splash of orange-flower water is a dish that celebrates North African flavors and classic French techniques. It also captures the essence of the flavor of fresh fig. As the French Jewish sage Rashi so beautifully stated in his commentaries on the Bible, “Summer is the time of the gathering of the figs and the time when they dry them in the fields, and it [the dried fig] is summer.”

The earliest known French potato dish is pommes de terre dauphinoises, which originated in Switzerland in 1600. I tasted this divine dish of scalloped potato, cheese, and milk, a specialty of the region near Annecy, at the home of Ruth Moos (see page 3), who made it as an evening dairy meal served with a salad and vegetables. Instead of covering the potatoes and the cheese with the traditional beef bouillon or broth, Ruth makes it kosher style using only cream or milk.

In the movie Ratatouille, the rat made a tian of eggplant and other vegetables, set vertically in a baking dish. A similar dish came down in the family of Gérard Monteux, whose ancestors have made this dish since tomatoes came to Provence. The keys to the recipe are to make sure that the tomatoes and onions are of the same diameter as the eggplant, and to use a square or rectangular baking dish. I have made it in a French tian, but you can use any pan about 9 inches square. Good any time of year, it is spectacular in the summer, when tomatoes are at their best.

Like many French Jews today, Jocelyne Akoun (see page 28) is a cultural amalgam. She grew up in a Turkish-Spanish family that lived in Algeria for many years before immigrating to Marseille. This dish could as easily be Provençal as Algerian, the tomatoes having been added when they came to the Old World with the discovery of the Americas.

Gerard Monteux, who is a descendant of the Juifs du Pape, told me that this was a very famous dish from Carpentras, eaten at Purim. (It is also a Lenten dish.) In this town, which had an oven in the Jewish quarter, cooks prepared the dish at home, putting it in an earthenware tian. They then brought it to the public oven and baked it, fetching it when it was done. Our modern-day casserole dishes have evolved from this tradition.

Eggplant came to Europe from India sometime around the eighth century, possibly with seeds carried by Jewish merchants. Often called the Jew’s apple, the eggplant has played an important role in Jewish cooking since early times. The old recipes found in the Vaucluse, such as the Ladino almodrote de berenjenas, are present today throughout the Sephardic world in the Mediterranean. Although the eggplant is sometimes sautéed in this dish, I prefer roasting it over a fire to bring out the smoky flavor, and then chopping it into chunks with two knives, a technique I learned from Sephardic French cooks. You can also roast the eggplant in an oven then pulse it in the food processor. With the increasing number of vegetarians even in France, this dish is becoming very popular, “modernized” with pesto, crème fraîche, or anchovies, or covered with tomato sauce. A purist, I like to serve it the old way—simply, with a salad.

Slice the potatoes right before you assemble the dish so they don’t turn brown.

Gorgonzola and Taleggio are my favorites of Lombardy’s many fine cheeses. Both are made from rich cow’s milk, exclusively from animals that have grazed in the pastures of particular locales. The finest Taleggio, in my opinion, comes from small producers in the highlands north of Bergamo, where the cheese originated centuries ago. Creamy and soft when ripe, Taleggio is a superb table cheese, all by itself or with a piece of good bread or fruit (and at room temperature, of course). On my recent trips to Lombardy, though, I’ve appreciated it as a component of cooked dishes. As I’ve suggested in the recipes, fold it into any of the riso dishes in this chapter—after the heat is off—and you will love how it melts and lends its luxurious texture and complex flavors to the rice. Because it browns beautifully in a hot oven, Taleggio is a great cheese for a gratinato, as you will find when you try this very special recipe. Thick veal chops are browned, then braised in a sageinfused tomato sauce and finished in the oven under thin slivers of Taleggio and a sprinkle of grana. The golden crown of cheese over the tender meat is a perfect final touch. To be sure, this is an extravagant dish and demands the best ingredients. Meaty veal chops are always expensive, and these should be cut extra thick (either rib or, my preference, loin chops are suitable). And your Taleggio must come from a reliable cheesemonger who has allowed the cheese to ripen properly before it’s cut and sold—too young and you won’t get the full flavor. The cheese should be soft under the rind but not runny all the way through. In fact, you’ll need to chill ripe Taleggio in order to slice it thinly for the recipe. But the effort and expense are well worth it, as you’ll find when you taste your costolette al formaggio.

How do you take gnocchi to the next level? Bake them in cream and melty gorgonzola cheese, of course.

Celery root, also known as celeriac, has a knobby exterior that is best peeled (carefully!) with a paring knife.

Definitely decadent, this sweet potato gratin is destined to become a do-or-die part of your family's holiday spread. Cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg perfume the cream with their warm flavors and seep their rich taste of fall into each layer. A mandoline makes quick work of slicing the potatoes and is worth the investment for the time it will save you in prep work. Don't forget to remove the cover for the last portion of baking time—the browned and bubbling crust is not to be missed!

Not all potato gratins have to be creamy to be deeply satisfying. Thinly sliced boiling potatoes mixed with equally thin slices of fresh fennel and then lubricated with a little butter cook into a richly flavored side dish for your holiday roast. A little melted cheese on the top adds a lustrous touch. For more seasonal recipes, download the free Gourmet Live app and stay tuned to the Gourmet Live blog for the latest updates.

You are, no doubt, familiar with the so-called trinity of Louisiana cookery: onions, celery, and bell pepper. Susan Spicer of New Orleans, a self-described eggplant freak who cooks in an internationally inflected Creole style, has honed a new sort of trinity: eggplant, oysters, and tasso.
Here, tasso, an intensely flavored smoked pork of Cajun origin, serves as a seasoning, in the same way that a smoked pig trotter flavors a pot of greens. Although Spicer recommends that you serve scoops of this gratin as an appetizer, consider yourself warned: We have done the same. And no matter what we served to follow, it paled in comparison. Your guests might be happier with a large helping of this Creolized casserole and a salad.

This casserole is based loosely on the French home-cooking standard, le miroton. If you fear goatiness, please turn the page. This dish celebrates the sweet carnality of the goat with abandon.

The technique: Any dish that's topped with breadcrumbs or cheese and then browned is considered a gratin.
The payoff: Layers of flavor and texture and a way to transform almost any vegetable into something special.

The technique: Parboil sliced potatoes in whipping cream, then layer them with mushrooms and top with Gruyère.
The payoff: Great texture and flavor through and through—the cheese gets browned and toasty in the oven, and the layers of creamy potatoes and mushrooms are rich and satisfying.

This striking side dish (it's bright pink) is a delicious new way to dress up humble beets. Pair the gratin with roasted lamb.

This rich, creamy gratin of beautiful white asparagus wrapped in a cozy blanket is delicious paired with a simple roast chicken. A leafy green salad—tossed with a dressing that has a note of acidity—is the only other accompaniment you need. Alternatively, you can serve this gratin as it is, with some warm bread to mop up the sauce and, perhaps, some finely sliced porcini mushrooms on the side, dressed with no more than beautiful olive oil, sea salt, and black pepper.