The French Market Cookbook (8 page)

3 small / 270 g organic lemons

⅓ cup / 85 g coarse salt

1 cup / 240 ml lemon juice (freshly squeezed or bottled)

1. Have ready a clean 1-pint / 480 ml glass jar with a tight-fitting lid. Rinse the jar and lid with boiling water and then put upside down on a clean kitchen towel to dry.

2. Wash the lemons well and cut lengthwise into quarters. Toss in a medium bowl with half of the salt.

3. Put a little of the remaining salt at the bottom of the jar and start filling the jar with the lemon quarters, packing them tightly, and adding coriander seeds and more of the salt between each layer.

4. When the jar is full, pour in lemon juice to cover the lemons entirely. Close the jar tightly and put it away somewhere cool and dark for 3 weeks, shaking the jar every few days. The rinds will gradually become more translucent and the juice syrupy. Once open, transfer the jar to the fridge and use within a few weeks.

5. To use, gently pull the pulp and pith off the rind and discard them. Dice or slice the rind and add to the dish as it cooks or as a finishing touch.

Pebronata Canelés

PEBRONATA CANELÉS

Canelés à la pebronata

MAKES 24 MEDIUM CANELÉS

The original canelé is a small sweet cake from Bordeaux; the rum and vanilla batter is baked in its characteristic high molds with ridges all around until the outside becomes darkly caramelized and crisp while the inside remains chewy and custardy.

The signature shape lends itself to savory preparations, too, and I use my canelé molds to bake three-bite, golden nibbles whose texture can be likened to that of a crustless quiche. They are ideal for picnics, brunches, and buffet spreads; they taste good warm or at room temperature, and are easy to eat with one’s fingers without making a mess on one’s floral print dress. I’ve developed a go-to formula for the basic batter, into which I fold whatever ingredients strike my fancy: raw or cooked vegetables, cheeses, herbs, and spices. In this version, the canelés are flavored with pebronata, the Corsican bell pepper stew.

¾ cup / 100 g all-purpose flour

½ cup / 120 ml milk (not skim) or unflavored, unsweetened nondairy milk

Corsican Bell Pepper Stew, cooled

1. Preheat the oven to 400°F. / 200°C. and have ready a tray of silicone canelé molds. (Bouchon molds, a mini-muffin tin, or a regular muffin tin may be substituted; grease them very well if they aren’t nonstick or silicone.)

2. In a medium bowl with a pouring spout, beat the eggs with a fork. Beat in the flour and salt. Pour in the milk and beat until combined. Fold in the bell pepper stew.

3. Pour into the molds, stopping about ⅓ inch / 8 mm from the top. Bake until golden, 35 to 45 minutes. (If you’re using something other than canelé molds, you may have to increase or decrease the baking time depending on their size.) As they bake, the canelés will puff up and then settle down. If the tops seem to be browning too quickly, cover loosely with foil. Let cool in the molds for 5 to 10 minutes before turning out.

4. Serve warm or at room temperature. The canelés can be frozen after cooling: place them on a tray in the freezer and collect in a freezer bag when completely frozen. To reheat, arrange the frozen canelés on a baking sheet and place in a 350°F. / 175°C. oven for 15 minutes, or until warm.

Peach, Almond, and Cardamom Clafoutis

PEACH, ALMOND, AND CARDAMOM CLAFOUTIS

Clafoutis de pêches, amande et cardamome

SERVES 8

Throughout the months of July and August, a large portion of my energy is devoted to keeping us in peaches and nectarines: finding the tastiest ones, grown in the South of France; identifying the most colorful and fragrant specimens from each crate; carrying them home as carefully as I would a newborn; and eating them in order of ripening, watching out for any sign of spoilage and waging a merciless war against fruit flies.

Despite my not insignificant efforts, every once in a while I get a bad batch—the mealy kind that make your teeth protest and are neither sweet nor aromatic enough to satisfy. Fortunately, I have a redemption recipe for those: a clafoutis that turns them into a delicious dessert, bolstering their flavor with almonds and cardamom, and cradling them in a delicately sweet batter that camouflages their texture.

No need to mention you’ve cleverly used up your less-than-perfect peaches; no one will ever know. And, of course, if all you have is good peaches, they will perform splendidly in this recipe, too.

4 green cardamom pods or ½ teaspoon ground green cardamom

⅔ cup / 85 g almond flour

½ cup / 65 g all-purpose flour

½ cup / 100 g unrefined blond cane sugar (also sold as evaporated cane juice)

¾ cup / 180 ml unflavored, unsweetened almond milk or dairy milk (not skim)

2¼ pounds / 1 kg peaches, yellow, white, or a mix

Crème fraîche or all-natural Greek yogurt (optional)

1. Pop the cardamom pods open with the flat of a chef’s knife and grind the seeds finely with a mortar and pestle.

2. In a medium bowl, combine the almond flour, all-purpose flour, sugar, cornstarch, and ground cardamom. Break the eggs into the bowl and whisk until combined. Pour in the milk in a thin stream, whisking all the while to incorporate.

3. Preheat the oven to 350°F. / 175° C.

4. Pit the peaches, cut them into slices without peeling, and arrange on the bottom of a greased 8-inch/20 cm square glass or ceramic baking dish. (Alternatively, use individual baking dishes.)

5. Pour the batter evenly over the peaches. Bake until set and golden, 30 to 40 minutes (20 to 30 minutes for individual dishes).

6. Serve slightly warm, at room temperature, or cold, with an optional dollop of crème fraîche or Greek yogurt. The leftovers do well at breakfast.

pantry gem

STAR ANISE AND GREEN CARDAMOM

Whole star anise and green cardamom pods can be purchased from ethnic markets, gourmet stores, or online spice stores. They keep for years, unlike their ground counterparts, and find their place in many dishes, sweet and savory. Star anise pairs well with carrots, zucchini, melon, figs, pears, and oranges; green cardamom with winter squash, eggplant, egg dishes, chickpeas, lentils and rice, chocolate, citrus, stone fruits, and persimmons.

SOUR CHERRY AND ROSE COMPOTE

Compote de griottes à la rose

MAKES 1½ CUPS / 360 ML

In a short story titled “Les Vieux” (the old folks) drawn from Daudet’s Letters from My Windmill, the narrator visits a friend’s grandparents in the countryside as a favor to the friend who lives far away and can’t see them regularly.

He is greeted with the same warmth as if he himself were the prodigal grandchild and they fuss over him as only grandparents will. They insist on opening a jar of sour cherries in eau-de-vie that the grandmother put up some time ago and had set aside for her grandson who loves them so.

Only she is old and forgetful and it soon becomes apparent that she has not added any sugar at all. The cherries are atrocious, but the narrator eats his entire cup without a peep.

This tale of filial love by proxy moves me to tears and I cannot buy sour cherries without thinking of Mamette, the grandmother in the story. I’ve never been fond of sour cherries in eau-de-vie myself, but I do love to make compotes out of them. I add a touch of rosewater and find the mix of sweet, sour, and floral flavors delightful. Serve over yogurt, ice cream, or Savoy Sponge Cake.

1 pound / 450 g pitted sour cherries

½ cup / 100 g unrefined blond cane sugar (also sold as evaporated cane juice)

1 to 2 tablespoons rosewater or orange flower water (optional), to taste

1. In a medium saucepan, combine the cherries, sugar, and ¼ cup / 60 ml water. Bring to a simmer over medium heat and cook, stirring often, for 5 minutes.

2. Lift the cherries out of the pan and into a bowl with a slotted spoon. Turn the heat to high, bring the juices to a boil, and cook until syrupy, 3 to 5 minutes.

3. Pour the syrup over the cherries and stir in 1 tablespoon rosewater, or more to taste. Serve warm or chilled.

Savoy Sponge Cake

SAVOY SPONGE CAKE

Biscuit de Savoie

SERVES 8

I once had the opportunity to lunch at a very old restaurant of great renown in Paris. My companion and I were excited, our imaginations racing with dreams of delicate dishes, plush chairs, and graceful service. We were to have none of that, except for the chairs, which gave us no complaint. We were rushed through a meal that sorely lacked sparkle, glasses of wine were brought to us out of order, and an insensitive comment was made about my friend’s coat.

The one redeeming component of this lunch debacle was the slice of biscuit de Savoie that was produced at the end of the meal: a thin wedge of pale-crumbed sponge cake on a plain white plate. The bites that we tore from it landed on our tongues with a soothing sigh.

Biscuit de Savoie is thought to have been invented in the kitchens of the Count of Savoy in the middle of the fourteenth century and has been delighting gourmets ever since with its light, mousse-like texture and subtle citrus notes. It is a fine breakfast or tea cake, but I like to serve it for dessert as well, with a fruity dancing partner, such as Sour Cherry and Rose Compote.

6 large organic eggs, separated

1¼ cups / 250 g unrefined blond cane sugar (also sold as evaporated cane juice), plus more for sprinkling

Grated zest of 1 organic lemon

1¼ cups / 150 g cake flour

⅓ cup / 55 g potato starch or cornstarch

A pat of unsalted butter, for the pan

¼ teaspoon fine sea salt

⅛ teaspoon cream of tartar

Confectioners’ sugar, for dusting (optional)

1. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, or by hand with a whisk, beat the egg yolks with the sugar and lemon zest until smooth and pale yellow. Add the orange flower water. Sift together the flour and starch and fold into the egg mixture with a spatula; the batter will be stiff.

2. Preheat the oven to 350°F. / 175°C. Grease a 10-inch / 25 cm fluted tube pan (the kind you would use for a Bundt cake) with butter and sprinkle the inside with sugar. This buttering and sugaring should be done regardless of the type of pan you use—nonstick or not—but if it isn’t nonstick, grease the pan very thoroughly so the cake will unmold without drama.

3. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites with the salt and cream of tartar until they form stiff peaks. Stir one-fourth of the egg whites into the batter, stirring them in with a spatula to loosen the batter. Fold in another fourth of the egg whites, working more gently now and lifting the preparation with the spatula to avoid deflating the egg whites. Repeat with the remaining egg whites in two additions.

4. Pour into the prepared pan and sprinkle the surface with a little more sugar. Bake until the top is golden and springy to the touch and a knife inserted into the cake comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Avoid overbaking.

5. Run a knife around the cake to loosen, then turn out onto a rack, and let cool completely. Dust with confectioners’ sugar, if desired.

pantry gem

ORANGE FLOWER WATER

Orange flower water, also called orange blossom water, is a clear liquid distilled from the flowers of bitter orange trees. This wonderfully fresh and aromatic ingredient is popular in the Middle East and all around the Mediterranean, including France. You’ll find it in Middle Eastern markets and gourmet grocery stores. Used with a light hand, it brings subtle floral notes to desserts (such as compotes or the Fruit Salad with Spiced Syrup), baked goods (such as madeleines or focaccia), and drinks (such as fruit juices or cocktails). In Lebanon, it is added to piping hot sweetened water to make “white coffee,” and it can be used as a perfume; just dab a little of it behind your ears.

Yogurt Mousse with Raspberries

YOGURT MOUSSE WITH RASPBERRIES

Fontainebleau aux framboises

SERVES 6

My first brush with fontainebleau was at an old, beautifully preserved cheese shop in my neighborhood, where I noticed pretty bundles of cheesecloth filled with an off-white mousse. The cheese lady explained that fontainebleau was a classic preparation named after the city outside of Paris and a specialty of theirs: a mousse made of fromage blanc (a French yogurt-like dairy product) and whipped cream that you eat with a sprinkle of sugar and a few berries.

I bought a couple and we feasted on them that night, discovering what it would feel like to eat a cloud made of milk. I soon attempted to make my own and found it easy. With a handful of fresh raspberries and possibly a drizzle of Lemon Verbena Syrup, it makes for a quietly elegant dessert.

Fromage blanc is hard to find outside of France, but plain yogurt may be used instead. If you have access to artisanal dairy products, this is the perfect opportunity to let those excellent yogurts and creams shine.

1 cup / 240 ml plain all-natural yogurt

Pinch of fine sea salt

½ small fresh vanilla bean or 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 cup / 240 ml heavy cream

¼ cup / 50 g unrefined blond cane sugar (also sold as evaporated cane juice)

1 container (6 ounces / 170 g) fresh raspberries, for serving

Lemon Verbena Syrup, for serving (optional)

1. Line a medium fine-mesh sieve with a 4-layer piece of cheesecloth and set over a deep bowl.

2. In a medium bowl, combine the yogurt and salt.

3. Split the vanilla bean lengthwise with a sharp knife, scrape the seeds from the inside of the bean with the dull side of the blade, and add them to the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Add the cream and whip, starting at low speed and beating faster as it gains volume. When the cream is thick enough that the wire loops of the whisk leave traces, sprinkle in the sugar, beating all the while, until the cream forms peaks.