The French Market Cookbook (2 page)

2. Set up a steamer. Sprinkle the asparagus with salt and steam, tightly covered, until cooked through but still with a little bite, 4 to 5 minutes. Set aside to cool. Steam the peas in the same fashion.

3. Cut the leaves of lettuce in half along their central spine, then cut at an angle into ½-inch / 1 cm strips. You should get about 8 cups, loosely packed.

4. In a large salad bowl, whisk together both oils, the lemon juice, and ½ teaspoon salt.

5. Just before serving, add the lettuce to the dressing, sprinkle with pepper, and toss to coat. Fold in the asparagus, peas, chervil, and warm potatoes.

6. Divide among 4 salad bowls, sprinkle with the hazelnuts, and serve.

Crunchy Lentil and Watercress Salad

CRUNCHY LENTIL AND WATERCRESS SALAD

Salade croquante de lentilles et cresson

SERVES 4

This salad is inspired by a dish served at BAL Café, a popular restaurant tucked away in a quiet dead-end street behind Place de Clichy in Paris. The area has yet to become gentrified so it’s an unlikely yet lovely place to lunch; it is bright and modern and the wide windows look out onto a tiny public park across the alley.

One day in early spring, I ate there with a friend who ordered braised pork cheeks, which were served over a lentil salad with a few branches of watercress. The combination of mustardy lentils and piquant watercress stuck with me, and my appetite brings me back to it as long as watercress graces market stalls.

I add diced radishes and kohlrabi for freshness, color, and crunch, as well as finely chopped mint and chives. The lentil salad can be made in advance, but dress the watercress close to serving time so it won’t wilt. Serve with toasted slices of country bread, if desired.

1 cup / 200 g French green lentils

½ small yellow onion (2¼ ounces / 60 g), finely chopped

Fine sea salt

4½ ounces
130 g pink or red radishes and
or kohlrabi, trimmed and diced

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon cider vinegar

1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil

Freshly ground black pepper

½ cup / 20 g chopped fresh chives

8 fresh mint leaves, finely chopped

7 ounces / 200 g watercress (about 8 cups)

1. Rinse the lentils and put them with the bay leaf and onion in a medium saucepan. Add 1½ cups / 360 ml cold water, cover, and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Simmer for 15 minutes. Add ½ teaspoon salt and simmer until the lentils are cooked through but still have a little bite, about 5 minutes. Drain, rinse with fresh water, and set aside for 10 minutes to cool.

2. Put the cooled lentils in a medium salad bowl. Add the radishes, mustard, 1 tablespoon of the cider vinegar, and 1 tablespoon of the olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and toss to combine. Fold in the herbs, taste, and adjust the seasoning. This can be assembled a few hours ahead; cover and refrigerate until 30 minutes before serving.

3. Just before serving, dress the watercress: In a medium salad bowl, whisk together the remaining 1 teaspoon cider vinegar, 2 teaspoons olive oil, the honey, ½ teaspoon salt, and a generous grind from the pepper mill. Add the watercress and toss gently to coat. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

4. Divide the watercress among 4 salad bowls or plates, creating a slight depression in the middle, and spoon in the lentil salad.

KOHLRABI

Kohlrabi belongs to the cabbage family; in fact, it is sometimes sold as cabbage turnip. It has a plump, round, pastel-green body with graceful little arms shooting up from all sides and twirling around, ending in large green leaves. The greens are edible and may be used like parsley, while the vegetable itself can be trimmed of any rough spots, sliced thinly, and eaten raw, with a little salt sprinkled on top.

WATERCRESS

Watercress is a nutritious, peppery green from the mustard family that is grown in freshwater ponds and sold in attractive little bouquets. Trim the bottom of the stems; unless the stalks seem tough, they are edible. Beyond using it in salads, I also like to use watercress in soup or pesto and as a garnish in sandwiches.

BLANCH-ROASTED NEW POTATOES

Pommes de terre nouvelles rôties

SERVES 4

The French have a particular fetish for new potatoes, those egg-smooth, thin-skinned, tender spuds that are in season in the spring. The most prized varieties come in pretty crates with a proudly displayed pedigree—ratte du Touquet, bonotte de Noirmoutier—while others are sold under the generic name of grenaille (lead shot) to indicate their very small size.

The skin on such young potatoes is tender and edible and the flesh inside is creamy and nutty. My cooking method of choice for these spuds makes the most of these two qualities: I parboil the potatoes and then roast them in the oven. Not only does this simple two-step cooking process ensure that the potatoes are creamy inside and will brown well, but it also shortens the overall baking time. The resulting golden and lightly wrinkled nuggets are nice in a salad (such as the Very Green Salad) or on their own with a drizzle of Herbed Tahini Sauce.

2 pounds / 900 g new potatoes (such as creamers or fingerlings), small and evenly sized, scrubbed

1 teaspoon fleur de sel or other flaky salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1. Preheat the oven to 425°F. / 220°C.

2. Put the potatoes in a medium saucepan, pour in cold water just to cover, and add the coarse salt. Cover and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. As soon as the water boils, drain the potatoes thoroughly and transfer to a baking dish large enough to accommodate them in a single layer. Drizzle with the olive oil, sprinkle with the fleur de sel, and toss well to coat.

3. Bake until cooked through, golden brown, and crusty, 30 to 40 minutes. Sprinkle with pepper and serve hot, slightly warm, or at room temperature.

GLOBE ARTICHOKES WITH VINAIGRETTE

Artichauts vinaigrette

SERVES 4

Fresh globe artichokes appeared regularly on the dinner table at my parents’ house during the peak season, from May till July. My mother would cook four big artichauts from Brittany in the pressure cooker and whisk up a thick vinaigrette to serve as a dipping sauce. We ate the artichokes with our fingers, leaf by leaf, dipping them lightly in the vinaigrette, scraping the sweet flesh from the tips with our teeth, and tossing the leaves into a large bowl in the center of the table.

When I was very young, I seemed to find this all too much work and usually lost interest shortly before reaching the heart of the artichoke, the tastiest part. I know better now, savoring the experience and wondering when I’ll reach the point where the leaves grow more and more tender. When I finally push away the dome of hay-like fibers that protect the heart, I get a special thrill knowing that the best part—the tender puck of impossibly sweet artichoke flesh—is still to come.

1. Break the stem off each artichoke; the stringiest fibers will come along with it. Remove any of the small outer leaves that seem tough. Rinse well.

2. Bring a large amount of salted water to a boil in a pot big enough to accommodate the artichokes in a single layer. Lower the artichokes into the boiling water, cover, and cook until the tip of a knife can be easily inserted into the stem end of the artichokes, 20 to 30 minutes, depending on the size.

3. Transfer the artichokes to a colander to drain upside down. Serve warm or cold, with the vinaigrette for dipping.

note The most under-celebrated aspect of eating an artichoke is the peculiar, faintly sweet flavor of the first sip of water you drink when you’re done.

ARTICHOKES

The part of the artichoke plant we eat is the flower bud: it should feel firm and dense, its leaves tightly closed, smooth, and evenly colored. Keep in the refrigerator and use within two days of purchasing.

Radish-Top Pasta

RADISH-TOP PASTA

Pâtes aux fanes de radis

SERVES 2

When I buy radishes, I seek out the bunches with the prettiest leaves. The reason for this is twofold: it guarantees the radishes have been freshly picked, and it means I’ll be able to eat the leaves themselves, a part of the plant that is often neglected. If I am to be perfectly honest, I must say I look forward to them even more than to the radishes themselves.

I use the leaves to make pesto and to fill miniature Corsican Turnovers with Winter Squash, but the quickest and most rewarding preparation is this pasta dish, which is ready in as much time as it takes to boil the pasta.

Use the leaves within a day or two of purchasing, as they will quickly go limp in the vegetable drawer.

Leaves from 2 bunches of radishes, turnips, or beets (about 10 ounces / 280 g)

8 ounces / 225 g dried short pasta, such as fusilli or orecchiette

Olive oil for cooking

3 medium / 150 g shallots, finely diced

2 garlic cloves, minced

Freshly grated nutmeg

Fine sea salt

Extra-virgin olive oil

Freshly ground black pepper

Aged Parmesan or pecorino cheese, shaved with a vegetable peeler

12 walnut halves, toasted and roughly chopped

1. Pick through the radish leaves and discard any that are wilted or discolored. Wash in cold water to remove all traces of sand or grit. Dry and chop roughly.

2. Bring salted water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Add the pasta and cook according to package directions until al dente.

3. While the pasta is cooking, heat a good swirl of cooking olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. Add the shallots and garlic. Cook, stirring often to avoid coloring, until softened, about 2 minutes.

4. Add the radish leaves to the skillet, sprinkle with a touch of nutmeg and some salt, stir, and let the leaves wilt briefly in the heat; they should become darker by a shade, but no more. Remove from the heat.

5. When the pasta is al dente, drain (not too thoroughly; keeping a little of the starchy cooking water makes the pasta silkier) and add to the skillet. Add a gurgle of extra-virgin olive oil and toss to combine over low heat. Sprinkle with pepper and divide between 2 warm pasta bowls or soup plates. Top with the cheese and walnuts and serve immediately.

RADISHES

The most common type of radish in France is pink-bottomed and white-shouldered, but you can use any color you prefer. It is more important to focus on finding small ones; their flavor is sweeter. Check that they feel firm, not limp or hollow, and that their leaves look pert and fresh—it is a sign they’ve been recently picked.

Poor Man’s Bouillabaisse

POOR MAN’S BOUILLABAISSE

Bouillabaisse du pauvre

SERVES 4

From all of the many cookbooks my grandmother has given to me, our favorite is La Véritable Cuisine provençale et niçoise, which she bought when she lived in the South of France in the late thirties. The cooking of Provence is possibly the most produce-driven of all regional French cuisines and it has proven a precious source of inspiration in my vegetarian cooking.

The following dish was prompted by two different bouillabaisse recipes found in this book. When people think of bouillabaisse, they think of the most iconic example of the genre, a luxurious fish soup served with spicy mayonnaise. But it is also traditional to make a poor man’s bouillabaisse, featuring fresh green peas for body and poached eggs for a silken mouthfeel—all in place of the seafood.

Beyond the fresh clean flavors of this soup, I love that it is served in two installments. First, you ladle the broth over a slice of bread and some spicy garlic mayonnaise; once that’s been eaten, you serve the vegetables and poached egg with olive oil and lemon juice. The different elements can be prepared ahead, making this an elegant but low-stress dish to serve to guests.

1 small yellow onion (4¼ ounces / 120 g), finely chopped

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

Fine sea salt

12 ounces / 340 g new potatoes, scrubbed and halved

½ cup / 120 ml dry white wine

4 cups / 1 liter Vegetable Stock

7 ounces / 200 g baby turnips, scrubbed

2 cups / 290 g shelled green peas, fresh or frozen

6 scallions (white and green parts), thinly sliced

4 slices country bread, toasted

Cheater’s Spicy Garlic Mayonnaise

1 lemon, halved

Freshly ground black pepper

1. Heat the cooking olive oil in a heavy-bottomed soup pot. Add the onion and garlic, sprinkle with ¼ teaspoon salt, and cook over medium heat, stirring often to avoid coloring, until softened, about 4 minutes. Add the fennel seeds and saffron and cook for a minute to awaken their flavor.

2. Add the potatoes and ¼ teaspoon salt. Pour in the white wine and stock. Cover, bring to a simmer, and cook for 8 minutes. Add the turnips, peas, and scallions, and simmer until the potatoes are cooked through and the turnips and peas are firm-tender, 5 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning.

3. First, serve the broth. Tilt the pot to one side so the broth pools over the vegetables, and use a ladle to collect and transfer it to a heatproof pitcher; you should get about 4 cups / 1 liter. Keep the vegetables warm in the soup pot.

4. Spread the slices of bread with spicy garlic mayonnaise, cut them into fingers, and place at the bottom of 4 shallow soup bowls. Bring to the table and pour the broth into the bowls.

5. When the broth is eaten, divide the vegetables among the bowls. Break a poached egg into each, add a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and a squirt of lemon juice, sprinkle with pepper, and serve.

FRESH PEAS

When buying unshelled green peas, look for pods that are smooth and shiny; wrinkled or dull pods mean older, starchier peas. If you’re not going to use the peas within a day or two of purchasing, shell and freeze them right away so they’ll remain at their sweetest. You can then use them as you would fresh ones, without thawing. Note that 1 pound / 450 g unshelled pea pods will yield about 6 ounces / 170 g shelled peas.