Read Around My French Table Online
Authors: Dorie Greenspan
Around My French Table (24 page)
In the meantime, pull out a Pyrex loaf pan or, if you plan to serve the peppers soon, a large platter, preferably one with a slightly raised rim.
Working with 1 pepper at a time and working over the bowl, remove the stem, let the liquid drain from the pepper, and separate the peel from the flesh. You can usually do this with your fingers, but if a little peel sticks stubbornly, scrape it away with a paring knife. Cut the pepper open along its natural separations—depending on the pepper, this will mean cutting it in half or thirds—and scrape away the seeds and ribs on the inside. Place the pepper pieces cut side down in the loaf pan (or on the platter), season with salt and pepper, strew with herb leaves and garlic slices, if you're using them, and pour over some olive oil. (If you're working on a platter, you can just brush the peppers with oil.) Continue until all the peppers are in the pan (or on the platter).
If you've got time, cover and chill before serving, garnished with fresh herbs.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
SERVING
If you haven't already done so, arrange the peppers on a platter, moistening each layer with some of the oil. Scatter over fresh herbs and serve with a peppermill and some plate-cleaning bread. The peppers are fine at room temperature and nice slightly chilled.
STORING
Covered well, the peppers will keep in the refrigerator for about 5 days. If you plan to keep them this long, you might think about packing them in a canning jar and making sure they're covered with oil.
BONNE IDÉE
Roasted Pepper Vinaigrette.
If you've kept the peppers for a day or more, the oil you poured over them will be extremely flavorful and make a delicious vinaigrette. I make my vinaigrette in a mini processor using ½ roasted pepper, 1 tablespoon sherry vinegar (you can use Champagne vinegar), ¼ cup of the pepper oil, and salt and pepper to taste. If you'd like, you can make the vinaigrette without the roasted pepper—it will be more subtle.
R
ACINES WAS THE KIND OF WINE BAR
you thought existed only in romantic novels about Paris. Squeezed into an always-busy shopping arcade, it was owned by the devastatingly charming Pierre Jancou, who chose wines that were all natural, all from small producers, and many sure to be discoveries. The atmosphere was like a house party, and the food was simple but surprising.
On a typical day, there might be four starters, four main courses, and a couple of desserts, and Pierre would have a story about each dish. If there was pasta, as there often was, it was likely to be connected to the half of his family that's Italian. If there was charcuterie, a friend probably made it. And if vegetables were in the spotlight, then the chances were good that they were plucked from the garden of Michelin three-star chef Alain Passard, as they were the afternoon we had this salad of ribbon-cut carrots and summer squash tossed with mesclun and a light dressing with a flavor that stopped all of us mid-forkful: vanilla! It was so unexpected, yet it seemed perfect.
At Racines, Pierre added a pinch of vanilla bean pulp; at home, I've been making the vinaigrette with a very fragrant pure vanilla extract. You can do it either way, just as you can make the salad with whatever vegetables you have at hand. My instructions are for a salad similar to Pierre's, but feel free to use more or less of any vegetable or to change the vegetables completely; to make the salad with spinach or arugula instead of mesclun; or to toss in some herbs as well. Like so many simple dishes, this one relies less on a set recipe than on inspiration.
| 2 | young sweet carrots, trimmed and scrubbed or peeled |
| 2 | young yellow summer squash, trimmed |
| 1½-2 | tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil |
| About 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice | |
| About ¼ teaspoon pure vanilla extract | |
| Salt, preferably fleur de sel, and freshly ground pepper | |
| 4 | handfuls mixed salad greens or mesclun |
You can cut the vegetables into ribbons with a vegetable peeler, but if you've got a mandoline, a Benriner slicer, or a V-slicer, you might find it more efficient. Start slicing each carrot on one side, continuing until you reach the core. Turn the carrot and continue slicing, turning again when you reach the core—when you finish, you'll be left with a rectangular piece of carrot. Before you make ribbons from the summer squash, slice off a small piece from all four sides so that the first cut you make on each side produces a slice that has skin only on the edges; slice the squash until you see seeds, then turn to slice the next side, and continue around the squash.
Combine 1½ tablespoons olive oil, 1 tablespoon lemon juice, ¼ teaspoon vanilla extract, and a little salt and pepper in a jar and shake; or whisk together
in a bowl. Taste for balance, adjusting the amounts of oil, lemon, and vanilla if you think the vinaigrette needs it. What you're after is a light, lemony dressing, one in which the flavor of the vanilla is present but not very strong.
To serve the salad, put the greens into a bowl, season with salt and pepper, and toss with a little of the vinaigrette. Divide the greens among four plates. Put the carrot and squash ribbons in the bowl, season, and dress with vinaigrette to taste, then arrange them over the greens. If you'd like, give each plate a little toss before serving. Alternatively, you can make a single salad in a large bowl and toss and serve it at the table.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
SERVING
You can present the salad the way it was served at Racines by putting the carrot and squash ribbons on top of the greens, or you can toss the salad and serve it on individual plates or in one large bowl.
STORING
The vanilla vinaigrette can be made up to a few hours ahead, but it's best to toss and dress this salad at the last minute.
Just when I got the hang of asking the vendors at the market for stuff in metric quantities, I realized I was still clueless when it came to buying greens. Things that were sold by the head were easy. But what about the multicolored greens labeled mesclun—which, just to confuse things, is also called
salade
(the word defines both the raw ingredient and the dish you make with it)—the baby spinach, the tight little clusters of (always expensive) mâche, and the jagged-edged arugula with stems as long as beanpoles? I couldn't grasp whether 100 grams of the featherweight greens would be just enough for a white mouse or for a family of four, so I lurked around the stalls and listened to the way savvy shoppers bought their leaves, and I discovered just how easy and sensible it was.
Ask for
unepoignee de roquette,
and you get a fistful of arugula; say
encore,
and you get another. I didn't even have to worry about one guy's handful being twice the size of another's because vendors always look up after grabbing the greens, turn their harvest toward you, and cock an eyebrow, the universal symbol for "Okay?"
And, by the way, 100 grams is too much for one mouse and not enough for four people. It's best to buy enough to tip the scale at about 250 grams.
A
RIFF ON THE FAMOUS MOROCCAN ORANGE SALAD
that's usually accented with cinnamon, this is an exceedingly simple first-course salad that's less sweet than the original and just as welcome as a side dish or chaser when the main event is a tagine or rich stew. Here, slices of orange are drizzled with olive oil and strewn with onion rings and small black olives. I'm most likely to make it to follow Osso Buco à l'Arman (
[>]
), which calls for the zest of 4 navel oranges and leaves the fruit begging to be used. True, the rules of menu-planning discourage using the same ingredient in more than one dish, but no one who's ever experienced the one-two of osso buco-orange salad has quibbled while cleaning his or her plate. If you'd like a salad that follows tradition a little more closely, take a look at the Bonne Idée or, if you'd like to play up the olive part of the salad, dress it with tapenade vinaigrette (
[>]
).
| 1 | small onion, red or yellow |
| 4 | navel, Temple, or other "meaty" oranges |
| About 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil | |
| Niçoise or other small black olives, pitted or not | |
| Salt, preferably fleur de sel, and freshly ground pepper |
You can leave the onion whole or cut it in half. Thinly slice it, and separate the slices into rings or half rings. Rinse the slices and drop them into a bowl of ice water. If you've got the time, let them sit in their water bath for about 20 minutes—the rinse will wash away some of their bitterness, and the bath will make them crisp.
You may want to remove the zest and save it before peeling the oranges. (It's too precious to lose; see above.) You can remove it in wide strips, cut away the white pith on the underside, and freeze the strips; you can sliver or chop the zest; or you can grate it. (Slivered or grated zest won't freeze as well.)
Remove a thin slice from the top and bottom of each orange to give yourself flat surfaces, stand the orange up, and, working your knife around the contours of the orange, cut away the peel, the pith, and the tiniest bit of flesh. Once they are peeled, cut the oranges into rounds ⅓ to ½ inch thick, and arrange attractively on a large serving platter. If you'd like, you can cover the oranges and chill them before you finish and serve the salad.
Drain the onions and pat them dry. Drizzle the olive oil over the oranges, scatter over the onions, top with the olives, and season with salt and pepper.
MAKES 4 SERVINGS
SERVING
The salad can be served as an appetizer or a side dish—it's nice with grilled fish—or after a rich main
STORING
You can chill the oranges for a couple of hours before serving, if you'd like. If there are leftovers, they can be refrigerated overnight, but don't expect the salad to have the same verve a day later.
BONNE IDÉE
A More Moroccanish Orange Salad.
Instead of olive oil, drizzle the oranges with lemon juice and a few drops of orange flower water and then sprinkle the salad with a little confectioners' sugar, a pinch of cinnamon, and some salt. If you'd like, scatter over some nuts—almonds or walnuts—and finish with slivers of dates.
I
CAN'T REMEMBER WHERE I FIRST SAW
tomatoes and strawberries together—I want to say that the combination had something to do with the pastry chef Pierre Herme—but I do remember that it made sense to me immediately. It wasn't just that they made a gorgeous pair, it was that they were both sweet, both a little acidic, and both sweet and acidic in complementary ways. It's irresistible to use the duo to riff on the classic tomato and mozzarella salad, which is as popular in France as it is in the United States.
The success of the salad depends entirely on the quality of your ingredients. You need sweet ripe tomatoes and strawberries—this is a summer salad. But, as ripe and sweet as they should be, the fruits should retain some of their characteristic acidity. If they're ripe and right, then you won't need even a micro splash of vinegar on the salad. If the berries and tomatoes are just a tad shy of acid, give the salad a tiny drizzle of raspberry vinegar or balsamic—but when I say tiny, I mean it.
I like to use grape or cherry tomatoes for the salad, so that when they're cut, they're about the same size as the sliced strawberries, but choose whatever tomatoes are at their prime in your market. And, while I've given quantities for the ingredients, like so many salad recipes, this is one you can play by ear.
