Around My French Table (71 page)

ANOTHER BONNE IDÉE
Bacon is a natural with lentils. Stir small pieces of cooked bacon into warm lentils or, if you're making a salad, use a little of the bacon fat to replace some of the oil in the vinaigrette.

I
N TRUTH, THIS IS A RISOTTO
the way that finely sliced apples are a carpaccio, which means not at all, but these days the definition of a dish—particularly one that didn't originate in France—is often applied loosely and with a dash of poetic license. This faux risotto (it's really macaroni mixed with cheese) is simple and quick to make, yet chic enough to be served at fancy dinner parties.

As with so many French dishes, the native preference is to make the chicken broth with bouillon cubes. Of course, if you have homemade stock, you should use it, but if you're stockless, go with the cubes; they're just fine in this dish.

Melt the butter in a large skillet or saucepan over medium-low heat. Toss in the onion, season with salt and pepper, and cook, stirring, until soft and translucent, about 10 minutes. (Or, if you'd like, go ahead and cook the onion until it's golden.) Pour in the chicken broth or water and bring to a boil; if you're using bouillon cubes, drop them in now and stir to dissolve. Add the pasta, stir it around, and let it cook at a steady simmer until it has absorbed almost all the broth, 20 to 25 minutes. (There should be just ¼ inch or less of liquid bubbling at the bottom of the pan.)

Pour in the cream and allow it to simmer for about 3 minutes, until it thickens slightly. Stir in the Parmesan and mascarpone, cook for 1 minute, and taste for salt and pepper (it should be generously peppered). Pull the pan from the heat, cover, and let rest for 3 minutes before serving.

MAKES 4 SIDE-DISH OR STARTER SERVINGS

SERVING
You can certainly serve this as a side dish to a roast of almost any kind, including chicken—think of it as fancy mac 'n' cheese—but it's elegant enough to be served on its own as a starter. It can be served plain or with a dusting of parsley or a little more Parmesan; of course, if you have some truffles to grate over each portion . . .

STORING
This is meant to be eaten as soon as you uncover the pan and finished on the spot.

BONNE IDÉE
About 30 minutes before you start the pasta, bring the cream—plus another 2 tablespoonfuls—to a boil in a saucepan and drop in some dried mushrooms, chopped fresh thyme or rosemary, black truffle peelings, or even a spoonful or two of crushed black peppercorns. Turn off the heat, cover the pan, and let the cream infuse for 20 minutes or more. Strain the cream before you pour it into the pasta pan (check the amount—if you don't have ½ cup, top it off) and proceed with the recipe.

ANOTHER BONNE IDÉE
Sophie-Charlotte's Macaroni Risotto.

When my friend Sophie-Charlotte Guitter gave me this recipe, she told me it was one that her little children really loved. Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet or saucepan, add 1 onion, finely chopped, and cook until soft. Add 1½ cups elbow macaroni and stir to coat with the oil and onion. Pour in about 3½ cups beef broth (or chicken or vegetable) and bring to a boil. Cover the pan, lower the heat so that the liquid simmers, and cook until the pasta is done, about 15 minutes. (Check as the pasta cooks to see if you need to add some more broth; you may need up to ½ cup more.) Stir in 2 tablespoons butter, cut into bits, and dust with about ½ cup freshly grated Parmesan. Season with salt and freshly ground pepper. Sophie-Charlotte says that to vary the recipe, you can add a couple of tablespoons of white wine to the pan when the onions are cooked and boil it away before adding the macaroni, or stir in cooked bacon, mushrooms, or leeks.

I
WOULD HAVE LOVED THIS DISH THE FIRST TIME
I had it, no matter what. The fact that I tasted it when I was cold and jet-lagged and hungry added to its initial appeal—it was the perfect comfort food for that moment. However, I've made it many times since, and it's never failed to make me happy. The dish comes from La Ferrandaise, the bistro around the corner from our apartment, and I first had it when my friend Hélène Samuel and I had walked in and just about pleaded for a table, since it was thirty seconds before the kitchen was to close. Always gracious, the owner seated us, suggested a few dishes, and poured us glasses of wine to both welcome and warm us. Looking back, it seems only natural that, having begged for a meal, our first dish was
linguine mendiant.

Mendiant
translates as beggar, but the word is actually used more often to describe a delicious bonbon, a chocolate disk topped with nuts and dried fruits, sometimes accented with candied orange zest. The fruits and nuts on the candies were originally chosen to represent the four mendicant monastic orders: dried figs for the Franciscans, raisins for the Dominicans, hazelnuts for the Augustinians, and almonds for the Carmelites. While you might find this combination today, you'll also find
mendiants
with pistachios or walnuts, dried apricots or lemon zest, or whatever fruit the chocolatier prefers.

Anyone can imagine how good the mix would be with chocolate, but it takes a very creative culinary mind to imagine the concoction as a savory dish, and that's just what the chef did when he mixed pasta with browned butter, chopped almonds, pistachios, raisins, snipped dried figs, grated Parmesan, and a pinch of orange zest. If I didn't know the origin of the dish, I'd have thought that the name meant that people begged to have it often.

Cook the linguine according to the package directions; drain it well.

Meanwhile, about 5 minutes before the pasta is ready, melt the butter in a large high-sided skillet or casserole over medium heat. (You're going to add the pasta to this pan, so make sure it's large enough.) When the butter is melted and golden, stir in the nuts, figs, and raisins. Allow the butter to bubble and boil—you want it to cook to a lovely light brown, or to turn into
beurre noisette,
butter with the color and fragrance of hazelnuts.

When the butter has reached just the color you want, add the pasta and stir it around in the butter to coat it evenly and to tangle it up with the bits of fruit and nuts; season with salt and a generous amount of pepper.

Turn the pasta into a serving bowl and add the grated cheese. Toss and turn the pasta to incorporate the cheese, then dust the top with the orange zest and chives and/or parsley, if you're using them. Taste and add more cheese and/or zest if you'd like.

Bring the pasta to the table immediately and, just before you're ready to dish out the first serving, give it one more toss to mix in the zest and (optional) herbs.

MAKES 6 TO 8 STARTER SERVINGS OR 4 MAIN-COURSE SERVINGS

SERVING
This pasta is so good—and so surprising—that it should be served as its own course, whether first, middle (as the Italians would have it), or main.

STORING
This is not a dish that can be reheated, and it's not a pasta that can be served cold, so eat up!

F
RANCE IS NOT A PASTA COUNTRY,
but then spaetzle, a chewy, baby-sized pasta, comes from Alsace, and Alsace is not the main branch on the French family tree. Holding down a long swath of eastern France and sharing its extensive frontier with Germany, Alsace was passed back and forth between the two countries up until the middle of the last century, and you can taste this teeter-tottering of allegiance in the region's robust food. You can also see it in the names of many of the dishes—just looking at the word
spaetzle,
you know it's not bred-in-the-bone French.

The egg dough for spaetzle is quickly mixed by hand, and it's shaped and cooked by pushing it through the coarse holes of a grater, a slotted spoon, or a colander (or a special spaetzle maker) into a pot of boiling water, a process that can be a little messy.

Since it is plain, in the way pasta is plain, spaetzle is versatile: it can be served in soup, like dumplings, or tossed with a little butter and served as a side dish. It can also be mixed with other ingredients—a temptation I rarely resist. Here I've flecked the dough with herbs and given the dish a touch more dash by adding mushrooms and onion and cooking everything in some chicken broth. It's pasta with enough flavor to hold its own alongside any main course, even a deep, dark, winey beef daube (
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).

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, 1 teaspoon salt, ¼ teaspoon white pepper, and the nutmeg. In a large measuring cup, whisk together the milk and eggs. Slowly pour the liquid ingredients over the dry ingredients, stirring with a wooden spatula or spoon. Continue to stir until you have a soft, sticky, thick, but wet dough. Stir in 1½ tablespoons of the herbs.

Have a large buttered bowl at the ready.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Using a spaetzle maker, the large holes of a box or flat (easier) grater, a large slotted spoon, or a colander, push small batches of the dough through the holes into the water. Stir, let the spaetzle float to the surface, and boil for about 2 minutes. Remove the spaetzle with a skimmer or slotted spoon and toss into the buttered bowl. Repeat until all the dough is used.
(The spaetzle can be cooled and kept covered at room temperature for a few hours or refrigerated overnight.)

At serving time, heat 2 tablespoons of the butter and 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the mushrooms, season with salt and white pepper, and cook, stirring, until they soften, about 5 minutes. Add the onion, season, and cook just until it softens, about 5 minutes more. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter and 1 tablespoon oil, and toss in the spaetzle. Cook, stirring, until the spaetzle is heated through and starting to brown, 5 to 10 minutes.

Pour ¾ cup chicken broth over the spaetzle and cook just until it almost evaporates. If you think you'd like the spaeztle to be softer and even moister, add up to ¼ cup more broth and cook it down. Taste for salt and pepper, stir in the remaining 1½ tablespoons herbs, and serve immediately.

MAKES 4 SIDE-DISH SERVINGS OR 2 MAIN-COURSE SERVINGS

SERVING
There isn't much that isn't good with spaetzle, from delicate sauteed fish fillets to he-man grilled steak. Sometimes I make the spaetzle the main course of a light supper or a lunch, topped with a few slices of crumbled well-cooked bacon and served with a green salad and a hunk of cheese.

STORING
The just-boiled spaetzle can be cooled to room temperature, covered well, and refrigerated overnight. While the spaetzle is best just after it's been cooked with the broth, leftovers can be refrigerated and reheated the next day. I've had the best results sprinkling the spaetzle with a little water and reheating it, covered, in the top of a double boiler or covering it and giving it a couple of minutes in the microwave oven—the time you'll need to bring it up to temperature will depend on how much spaetzle you've got left over.

T
HIS RECIPE COMES FROM MY LONGTIME FRIEND
Paule Caillat, who handed it over to me with a story. It seems that when Paule, the Parisienne behind Promenades Gourmandes' market tours and cooking classes, was getting married, her husband's family wanted to be certain she'd be ready to cook the kind of food he liked, and so they passed their family recipes along to her. Among the several she received was this one, taught to her by Tante Léo, for a dish that is most definitely Parisian but contains nothing that we know as gnocchi. Standing in for the potato dumplings is
pâte à choux,
or cream puff dough, which is poached just the way gnocchi are, and then baked under a blanket of creamy béchamel. It is, as Paule told me, a filling dish of the comfort-food variety best served in winter.