Cervelle de Canut, created in Lyon when it was the center of a thriving silk industry
(Translation: LYONNAISE GARLIC & HERB CHEESE (aka boursin’s mama))
For the past seven years I’ve been taking leçons françaises. While I don’t speak the language well (really, I’m awful), I do possess an amazing vocabulary, know 13 of the 17 different verb tenses and can understand everything that is asked of me in a boulangerie.
That’s why I knew this week’s recipe involved cooking someone’s brain. Probably a duck. Cervelle means brain. Although duck translates to canard, the French do absurd things with word endings so I just assumed canut, canard, duck. If I thought Sardines Rillettes (April 13, 2012) was a culinary stretch for me, duck brains might be an impossibility.
Quack. Quack. Quack.
photo by greengabbro.net
Imagine my surprise when I realized canut meant silk weaver. Literally, this week’s FFWD recipe: Brain of a Silk Weaver. Pas de panique. Fortunately, there are no brains involved in the creation of this recipe.
Trust me on this.
After spooning the ricotta in the strainer, I placed it over a pan, covered it with plastic wrap, allowing it to drain and rest in the refridgerator overnight.
The next morning, I assembled the ingredients for the cheese spread.
Cervelle de Canut is a soft and creamy herb cheese that is part mix, part spread and part salad dressing. It is said to be the inspiration for the popular Boursin cheese that is easily found in any American grocery store. I was invited to a 70th birthday celebration last week-end and I knew it would be a wonderful addition to the appetizer table. Since it would be my first food contribution to party fare since returning to Aspen, this was a “Dorie, please don’t fail me now” moment.
photo by boursin.gif
The night before the party I spooned ricotta into a fine-mesh strainer, covered it with plastic wrap and refrigerated it overnight. The next morning I put the drained ricotta in a bowl, adding shallots, garlic, chives, parsley and tarragon, salt and pepper. After pouring red wine vinegar and olive oil into the ingredients, I mixed everything together and let it chill in the fridge for the entire day. Just before plating Trader Joe’s Raisin Rosemary Crisps with the cheese spread, I tasted the mix again and felt it needed more salt. Much more. Then it was perfect.
Mix all the ingredients lightly with a rubber spatula. Don’t overbeat the cheese and risk thinning it.
Luckily my food offering stood tall with the other delicious fare including crab won tons, Chinese shrimp-snow pea skewers, spinach-cheese squares, paté mousse and smoked salmon-neufchatel spread in filo cups. Did I mention that all my friends are fantastic cooks? And, there was some mention and mumbling that it appeared ‘Mary had not lost her touch.’
Thanks, Dorie. Soooooooo much. Merci beaucoup.
The Groaning Table
Every bite was well-worth the calories! Happy Birthday, Dear Friend.
Peter’s wife, Ruth, an author and writer, lighting his cake. The birthday boy stands nearby.
Although we urge you to buy Dorie’s inspiring cookbook, Around My French Table, you will find the recipe here. To see the brainy versions created by other Doristas, go here.
A Tart as Cake to Celebrate? She’s Nine. That’s Fine!!! Let’s Party.
This week’s French Friday’s with Dorie recipe coincided with my granddaughter’s ninth birthday. This tart originated with chocolatier Christian Constant who created it for world famous designer Sonia Rykiel, a founding member of Le Club des Croqueurs Chocolat. Now, there is nothing about Clara that doesn’t like chocolate. In addition, she’s a banana-a-day kid. What Christian did for Sonia, Grandma could do for Clara. Pourquoi pas?
Although my daughter (Clara’s mother) holds her tongue over sugar-overload at Grandmother’s house, I do, at times, exert glucose-restraint. I thought the “double” in chocolate might send Melissa over the top, so I used Dorie’s all-purpose tart dough (page 498) for the crust. “It produces,” Dorie says, “a not-too-rich, slightly crisp crust that is as happy holding pastry cream as it is encasing a creamy cheese filling for a quiche.”
Doppio zero flour from Italy’s oldest producer
What took One Him to load into the car took Two Her’s to unload from the car. Ahhhhh, Youth..
To make that crust, I used the “00” Italian flour our baking group (Michelle, Amalia, Adriana, Pina & me ) just purchased from Naples via Settebello’s in Henderson (Nevada). Now Settebello’s is a pizza place not a grocery store but we’d been eyeing those sacks of stacked flour for years. Adriana, our pseudo-business manager, volunteered to negotiate the sale for the doppio zero flour (which she did successfully).
Settebello’s is not your average joint. It’s already taped a Food Network segment to be shown in July and has another TV crew on the books. Settebello’s earned a 91% rating from Zagat and, according to roadfood.com, “the mozzarella is fresh; the flour, San Marzano tomatoes, Parmesan, and prosciutto come from Italy and the other cured meats are hand-crafted by Mario Batali’s dad’s artisan salumi shop in Seattle. The pizzas are cooked directly on the brick floor of the bell-shaped oven, next to a pile of burning wood.”
We wanted that flour.
A warm Nevada day so Adriana can divide the “white treasure” outside, under the pergola.
Probably not the best photo op but that’s some fine lookin’ flour. Honestly, it’s flour.
In their catalogue, King Arthur Flour, which also markets an Italian style-flour, writes, “American flour has a type A personality. It’s full of gluten, ready for action, go go GO! Italian 00 flour, on the other hand, mirrors the warm, laid-back climate of its native land. Its protein is not only lower, but much more mellow. Make pizza or flatbread with this flour; you’ve never worked with such friendly dough! It’s incredibly extensible, practically flowing under your hands as you pat it into shape. And the resulting bread or crust? Light as air, tender, snapping crisp or soft as a cloud… this flour is definitely personality type B.”
I found the dough to be easy to work, really, a pleasure (King Arthur has it right.). The crust baked beautifully, remained filling-firm and was delicious.
After making the crust, I caramelized the bananas. Dorie suggested 1/8-inch-thick-slices but I found them too thin for this process. Next time I make the tart, I will slice to 1/4” or 1/2” thickness.
My favorite tart dough from “Around My French Table”, chilling in the fridge.
Caramelizing the banana pieces which, when I make again, will be 1/4″ to 1/2″ slices rather than the suggested 1/8″.
While the caramelized bananas were cooling, I made the bittersweet ganache using Ghirardelli’s 60% Cacao Bittersweet Chocolate Chips. (This is probably not the time to go with Nestle’s.) I arranged the caramelized bananas in an even layer over the bottom of the crust and then carefully poured the ganache over them. Simple.
Just cooling off, waiting for the topping-off party.
During the hour required for refrigeration, I made an apricot jam glaze and cut 1/4” banana slices for the topping. Remember to toss all the cut bananas in a slight bit of lemon juice to prevent blackening. To finish off the tart, I placed the cut bananas in a spiral and then gently spread the light apricot glaze over the top. Since I wanted the tart to be firm and cooled, I popped it back into the fridge.
This tart is rich. Serve slender slices. Although it’s best to enjoy immediately, we found the tart to be delicious on Day 2 and Day 3.
In a word, sublime.
A delicious Single Chocolate & Banana Tart
Although we don’t provide this recipe, we’d love you to buy Dorie’s “Around My French Table,” you might try here. If you’re curious about the double chocolate creations of other FFWD cooks, go to http://www.frenchfridayswithdorie.com/.
“STOP! DON’T TAKE ANOTHER BITE.” ( I guess the bread was soooo tempting “we” could not even wait for Mary’s photo op. Yeah, they look contrite!
Let’s see if I have this straight. In Italy, it’s focaccia. In France, fougasse. The names of both breads are derived from focus, theLatin word for “fireplace”. These flatbreads were originally cooked on a hot hearthstone or in ashes rather than an oven. Not often seen in a Parisian boulangerie, fougasse is “rooted in Provence,” as Dorie explains, “where olive oil trumps butter and rusticity reigns over prim, precise, and formal.”
The finished product. Think of this as a leaf from the Tree of Life.
In a word, fougasse may not be très chic or Parisian-sophistiqué but it sure is délicieux. Now, leave it to the French to get fancy. Fougasse is often cut in a leaf shape to suggest the Tree of Life. To make the traditional pattern, you slash 2-inch slits in the dough and then nudge and tug the slits open. Honestly, that “technique” caused me the most stress. To check that the holes remained holes, I opened the oven five times to monitor the nine openings and managed to burn my right thumb twice!
Fougasse is a yeast-raised bread seasoned with olive oil, fresh rosemary and studded with oil-cured black olives. There is nothing difficult about mixing the dough and shaping it into flatbread ( the recipe makes two). I did let the dough rise for two hours before stirring it down to chill overnight and shaping and baking it.
The dough, after rising two hours, before stirring it down to chill in the fridge.
After deflating the dough,I placed it safely in the fridge for an overnight slumber . Note the soldiers on guard.
Dorie gives explicit and excellent directions as to shaping fougasse. It’s amazing how nicely a 12” X 9 “ rectangle can be transformed into a leaf. Here, a slash. There, a slash. Everywhere a slash, slash. Viola. Done. It is important, however, for tasty results that the bread be at least one-inch thick.
Please note that fougasse will not bake too dark. Its brown will be a golden hue. The salt on top? I used Diamond Crystal Kosher Salt, author Michael Ruhlman’s salt-of-choice.
The rectangle prior to surgery.
Slash, Pull, Tug, Pray.
The definition of chutzpah may be sharing your first attempt at fougasse with my five-star neighbors, Ray Dillion and Dominick Prudenti, former East Coast delicatessen owners. As well as, Sicilian-born-and-bred, Adriana Scrima and her family. Relying on Dorie’s every word and explicit directions, I baked pretty darn good fougasse. Pat Mary on the back. Although my neighbors all lean Italian focaccia, my French fougasse earned some respect.
Oven-ready.
I would suggest the fougasse ultimate Provençal eating experience is with savory bites and a glass of Sancerre while dreaming of the Côte d’Azur. That’s, of course, reality. Far better is to just BE there.
Although we cook from the book and urge you to purchase Dorie’s “Around My French Table”, go here for this recipe. To see how my baking buddies did this week, go here.
Demolished before the pasta dinner. No contrition. Note the basalmic – a good companion.
A Beautiful Evening and Lovely Meal with a Friend of Twenty-Five Years
Almond flounder meunière is today’s FFWD recipe choice. It couldn’t have been a better one for me. This week my friend Kent Harding, who lives in Toronto, is visiting Las Vegas. Every year he joins his colleagues for a golfing junket here and always spares time to see me. He and his wife Jean, one of North America’s preeminent portrait painters, also own a home in LaCadière, a tiny village located in the far western sliver of the Cote d’Azur. We have known them for the past 25 years, since first meeting on a bicycle tour in Provence. Friends ever since, over the past 8 years I have often enjoyed their extraordinary French hospitality and been welcomed into their expat community of friends there.
What better dish to serve him than the Dorie-version of sole amandine and sole meunière rolled together into Almond Flounder Meunière. If we wanted to wring out a few precious French memories, this would be the perfect meal for it.
Unfortunately, flounder doesn’t come easy, sole is trés chère and I needed to cast a wider net to haul in an acceptable substitute.
Skai Fish Farm, photograph courtesy of koi-bito.com
The good news is, according to experts, skai is a white-fleshy fish with a sweet mild, taste and light flaky texture that can be broiled, grilled, or coated with bread crumbs and fried. The bad news, for me at least, is it is a river-farmed catfish (with a wink, wink, to river-farmed) harvested from the Mekong River in Vietnam. Whoops. The more investigation I did, the more I questioned whether I should take the bait and buy Skai.
There was all kinds of Internet chatter about this fish because it is a cheap alternative to pricier swimmers. I scanned the comments. My thinking was that Skai was kinda French, being from Vietnam which had been a part of the French colonial empire until 1954! Reason enough. However, what locked in my decision to buy Skai was a comment left on a food blog forum. Regarding Skai, the commenter wrote, “I have other things to worry about killing me before the Skai will.”
I took the bait.
I purchased 16 ounces of the Skai which was maybe river-farmed but probably just caught out of the Mekong River which flows through Vietnam which used to be part of the French colonial empire until 1954. Two pieces, available in fillet form, no bones. On sale – $2.99 per pound.
Almond Skai Meunière
It’s a simple process to fry the fish in browned butter. The coating mixture is ground almonds, flour, lemon zest, salt and pepper. The next time I make this I will use almond flour rather than grinding my own almonds. After brushing the fillets with an egg wash, coat one side of each fillet. I fried the skai 4 to 5 minutes on each side since it was a fleshier fish than either sole or flounder would be. Toss some toasted almonds and parsley over the browned fish, squirt a shot of lemon on top and, viola, skai became Almond Flounder Meunière.
What a wonderful combination, Asparagus, Leeks, & Parmigiano Reggiano
To accompany the fish, I made a simple recipe of sautéed asparagus and leeks, both purchased at the Farmer’s Market. The recipe, compliments of Kate who blogs on Savour Fare can be found here.
No one has died from eating my Skai…….yet. The meal was delicious and the fish, tasty. Of course, what about “fried in brown butter” doesn’t spell heavenly. The cautionary note is I will do more research before serving Skai again. And, truthfully, this recipe really belongs to a fish in the sole or flounder family.
To see what other Doristas reeled in this week, go here.
Hungarian Shortbread Bars with Blueberry Preserves Filling
For the record, I spent four glorious days in Budapest last Fall. Cruised on the Danube. Stuffed myself with pierogi. Hiked up Gellert Hill and crossed the Chain Bridge. Nowhere was I offered Hungarian Shortbread.
Those Hungarians don’t know what they’re missing!
Mise En Place, The Ingredients and the Box Grater
This week our TWD/BWJ group is baking shortbread bars. These delicacies are delicious and a bit of a smile to make. Have you ever grated cookie dough? For this recipe, we needed to pull out our box graters, choose the side with the largest holes, and go crazy. If grating is your technique of choice and you wish to make this bar cookie, find the recipe directions here or here. This week’s hostesses, the gals who did the heavy-lifting, are Lynette and Cher. We thank both of you.
Instead of making the traditional rhubarb jam filling, I used a jar of organic blueberry preserves. Although there’s nothing unusual about putting together the dough mixture, the next chill-and-grate step may give you pause……. but charge right ahead. The filling goes in the middle and is covered by more grated dough. Immediately after baking, dust the top of the shortbread heavily with confectioner’s sugar.
Grating the first ball of frozen shortbread dough into the pan
After carefully spreading blueberry preserves over the shredded dough, I grated the second frozen dough ball on top.
Although my batch was delicious, they were a tad chunky because my baking pan wasn’t large enough. This is a rich cookie. My portions should be smaller. I think I’ll perfect this recipe and use it on my cookie platters during the upcoming Christmas holidays (okay, still 8 months away). If the filling were homemade raspberry or cherry preserves, it would look very festive.
After slipping it into a 350 degree oven, I just had to catch a picture of the preserves seeping through the dough.
Do we think I was a bit heavy-handed with the confectioner’s sugar?!?
