Read Around My French Table Online
Authors: Dorie Greenspan
Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Lightly oil a 9-inch pie plate or similar-sized baking dish.
This dish is really best if you peel the Jerusalem artichokes, a job that can be a little fussy. It's easiest to peel the gnarly hunks with a swivel-blade vegetable peeler (i.e., a peeler with a blade that moves around), so it can get in and out of the artichokes' nooks and crannies. If all you've got is a fixed-blade peeler, do the best you can without making yourself crazy, and leave whatever peel is too hard to reach—the peel is edible, so there are no worries on that count. Cut the sunchokes into quarters. I cut lengthwise quarters, but you can cut them crosswise if you prefer that look.
Put all of the ingredients in the pie plate—be generous with the salt and pepper—and, using your hands, toss everything together until the slices of artichokes are glistening with oil.
Roast for 35 to 45 minutes, turning the artichokes once after 20 minutes, if you think of it, until they're lightly browned at the tips and you can pierce their middles easily with the point of a small knife.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
SERVING
These are meant to be served hot from the oven. If the chokes look a tad dry to you, drizzle them with a little extra-virgin olive oil or let your guests do that themselves.
STORING
It's best to enjoy these freshly roasted.
E
IGHT TIMES OUT OF TEN,
when I pick up celery root in a market in the United States, someone asks me what it is. I rarely see recipes for it, and I can't remember when I was ever served celery root in a friend's home. Not so in France, where the sweet, fresh, and just-a-little-green flavor of celery root is prized, mostly for its role in
céleri rémoulade
(shredded celery root mixed with a zesty mayonnaise dressing) but also in soups and stews—it can be added to any stew in which you're using other root vegetables, like potatoes, turnips, or parsnips.
For this recipe, the celery root is cooked, then whirred in a food processor. The result is a smooth ivory puree with a soft, surprising flavor—you'll think it's celery, but you won't be sure. Because the flavor is subtle, complex, and just a little sweet, the puree is the perfect accompaniment to fish, meat, or poultry, whether it's a main dish that is robust and big flavored or one that is light and mild.
| 3 | cups whole milk |
| 3 | cups water |
| Salt | |
| 2 | celery roots, about 1¼ pounds each, peeled and cut into 2-inch cubes |
| 1 | medium Idaho (russet) potato (about 10 ounces), peeled and cut into 2-inch cubes |
| 1 | small onion, quartered |
| 5 | tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 5 pieces, at room temperature |
| Freshly ground white pepper | |
| Snipped fresh chives, pistachio oil (see Sources [>] ), or browned butter (see below), for serving (optional) |
Bring the milk, water, and 1 tablespoon salt to a boil in a large pot—keep an eye on the pot, because milk has a tendency to bubble up furiously. Drop in the celery root, potato, and onion, adjust the heat so that the liquid simmers steadily, and cook for about 30 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender and can be pierced easily with the point of a knife. Drain, discard the liquid, and shake the colander well to remove as much liquid as possible.
In a food processor, in batches if necessary, puree the vegetables until perfectly smooth. Add the butter and whir until completely incorporated. Taste and add salt and white pepper as needed.
Transfer the puree to a warm serving bowl and, if you'd like, top with a generous shower of snipped chives or a drizzle of pistachio oil or butter that's been cooked over low heat until its color is honey brown. Serve immediately.
MAKES 6 SERVINGS
SERVING
Like mashed potatoes, this puree is fine served in a bowl that can be passed at the table, but, again like mashed potatoes, it's also a good base, so think of it when you want to serve a one-dish main course—you can never go wrong with a combo like celery root puree topped with short ribs.
STORING
Leftover puree can be refrigerated for up to 3 days or packed airtight and frozen for up to 2 months. To reheat, warm the puree in the top of a double boiler or in a microwave oven.
mine, michael's, and those of a burgundy chef
In our house, it's my husband who usually makes the mashed potatoes, or what the French call
purée.
(Never mind that almost any fruit or vegetable can be pureed; when you hear the word in France, the odds are that potatoes are involved.)
My own recipe is straightforward: For 4 people, I take about 2 pounds of Idaho (russet) or Yukon Gold potatoes, peel them, cut them into chunks, and cook them in a large pot of generously salted boiling water. When they're soft enough to break when poked with a knife, I drain them, put them back into the pot, and toss them around over low heat to dry them. To mash them, I use a food mill, which is what many of my French friends use, or a ricer, a tool that turns ordinary boiled potatoes into short, rice like, fluffy strands.
Following advice I first heard from Julia Child, I stir warm milk into the potatoes. (The quantity depends some on your potatoes and mostly on the consistency you want, but have at least ½ cup at hand.) Then, when the potatoes are the way I like them, I start adding butter a tablespoon at a time, tasting as I go and usually going not further than 3 to 4 tablespoons.
Michael, however, thinks my potatoes aren't rich enough. I like a puree that retains some starch and graininess, while he likes it to be flawlessly smooth, the kind of smooth you can only get if you're profligate with the butter and carefree with the cream. When Michael's on KP, he boils the potatoes the way I do, but he mashes them using the paddle attachment of a stand mixer. Where I add milk, he adds heavy cream, lots of it, since he likes his puree fairly thin. Finally, in goes the butter, again, lots of it, usually twice as much as I add, making the potatoes slightly stretchy and exceedingly luxurious.
Michael's platonic ideal of mashed potatoes is the puree we had in a now-defunct restaurant near Beaune in Burgundy. He loved them so much that he ordered seconds and begged the owner to give us the chef's secret for the richness and startling smoothness. "
C'est simple,
" she said, "the puree's more butter than potatoes!"
If you're hesitant, just add as much butter as your conscience allows, then close your eyes and, while adding another pat or three, think of the legendary chef Fernand Point. His guiding principle was
simple
too: "Butter, butter, and more butter."
A
CROSS BETWEEN PANCAKES AND BLINI,
a side dish, snack, or starter,
matafan
used to be eaten in the morning in the hopes of staving off belly rumbling before lunch. (
Mat
is short for
matin,
or morning, and
fan
is what
faim,
the word for hungry, sounds like.) The first time I made
matafan,
my plan was to serve the little mashed potato pancakes as an hors d'oeuvre, something to nibble with white wine and tide everyone over until dinner, but they barely made it out of the kitchen. No sooner did I flip one cake from the frying pan onto a plate than someone would come into the kitchen and snatch it. I had made them blini-size and wanted to serve them with a bit of crème fraìche and salmon roe, but I gave up when Michael pulled out the maple syrup (something I always keep in Paris) and started dipping the
matafan
into it. I have to admit, it was a great combination.
To get the best texture, you should use Idaho (russet) potatoes, and you should follow the instructions and bake them on a bed of salt. Salt-baking the potatoes dries them out and makes them easy to blend with the other ingredients. I tried making
matafan
with yellow potatoes, specifically Yukon Golds, and I tried boiling the potatoes (so much faster) and then drying them by tossing them around in a saucepan over heat, but the pancakes weren't the same. Also, if you've got a potato ricer or a food mill, pull it out—it will give you the best texture for these cakes.
I serve mini
matafan
as a nibble with an aperitif, in pancake size as a side dish with anything that's got a sauce (it's great with Boeuf à la Mode,
[>]
), and in any size as the base for a salad at lunch, when I pile dressed greens on top of the pancakes.
| Kosher or other coarse salt, for baking the potatoes | |
| 2 | large Idaho (russet) potatoes (1½ pounds total), scrubbed and dried |
| 4 | large eggs; 2 separated |
| ½ | cup all-purpose flour |
| ¼ | cup hot whole milk |
| Salt and freshly ground white pepper | |
| Butter, for cooking the pancakes |
Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Choose a small baking dish (it needs to be just slightly larger than the potatoes), or use a foil pan, and pour in 4 inch of kosher salt. The salt bed doesn't have to cover the whole pan; it should be just as large as the 2 potatoes side by side with a little breathing room between them. Put the spuds on the salt.
Bake the potatoes for 1½ hours—they will be very dry and the skin will be very hard. Set the potatoes on a rack, and as soon as you can bear to handle them, cut them in half and scoop out the flesh. Run the potato innards through a ricer or food mill—first choices—into a bowl, or push the flesh through a strainer (tedious but effective).
Using a sturdy spatula or a wooden spoon, beat in the 2 whole eggs and the 2 egg yolks one at a time. Stir in half of the flour, followed by all of the warm milk, and then the last of the flour. Season the batter generously with salt and white pepper.
With an electric mixer, beat the 2 egg whites with a pinch of salt until they form firm but still glossy peaks. Stir about one quarter of the whites into the
matafan
batter, then add the remaining whites to the bowl and gently fold them in.
(You can cover the batter at this point and chill it for a few hours.)
When you're ready to cook the
matafan,
place a heavy-bottomed skillet, preferably nonstick, or a griddle over medium heat. Put 2 teaspoons butter into the skillet or lightly butter the griddle, and when the bubbles subside, start making the pancakes. For regular-sized cakes, use about ¼ cup batter; for blini-sized pancakes, use about 2 tablespoons. Spoon the batter into the pan (or onto the griddle)—nudge it gently to round the cakes—and cook for 2 minutes, or until the bubbles that form on top of the pancakes have popped, then flip the cakes over and cook for another minute, or until the underside is nicely browned. Transfer the finished pancakes to a plate, cover loosely with foil, and continue flipping the cakes until you've used all the batter. (If you want to hold these until serving time, you can keep them in a 200-degree-F oven for about 20 minutes.)
MAKES 4 SIDE-DISH SERVINGS OR 8 HORS-D'OEUVRE SERVINGS
SERVING
Matafan
should be served hot, although they don't lose their appeal when they're only just warm. If you're serving
matafan
as a side dish, you don't need to fancy them up, although a quick brush of melted butter never did anything any harm. And, as my husband will tell you, they're not half bad with maple syrup. If you're serving them as an hors d'oeuvre or even a starter, you might top them with crème fraîche and caviar, a spoonful of
cervelle de canut
(
[>]
), a little cottage cheese and cracked pepper, or a green salad dressed with a sharp vinaigrette.
STORING
You can keep the batter in the refrigerator for a few hours, and once the pancakes are made, you can keep them warm in a 200-degree-F oven for about 20 minutes if you cover them loosely with foil. You can also pack the pancakes airtight—make sure to separate them with sheets of wax or parchment paper—and freeze them for up to 2 months. Defrost them on the counter or in a microwave oven and warm them in a moderate oven or, for a little crispness, pop them into the toaster.
T
HINK OF THESE AS ENERGIZED BOILED POTATOES.
They get the same high marks as boiled potatoes for playing well with others and extra points for having more flavor, since they're cooked in chicken broth infused with garlic, herbs, lemon zest, and olive oil. The broth et al bring up the sweetness of the potatoes and add a touch of intrigue to a dependable dish. This treatment works best with small potatoes, like fingerlings, baby Yukon Golds, or new potatoes, but you can cut larger potatoes into smaller cubes.
| 1 | cup chicken broth |
| ½ | cup water |
| 1 | tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil |
| 2 | garlic cloves, split and germ removed |
| 1 | strip lemon zest |
| 1 | bay leaf |
| 2 | thyme or rosemary sprigs or 2 fresh sage leaves |
| Salt and freshly ground pepper | |
| 12 | fingerling, new, or baby potatoes, scrubbed or peeled and cut in half (or about 1¼ pounds large Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cut into about 3-inch cubes) |