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Posts tagged ‘French cooking’

Roger Vergé and la cuisine du soleil

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As you may or may not know, I am back in school this fall. I am 9 weeks into a 40-week French culinary program in Boulder, Colorado. I am going through a particularly rough patch at the moment—trying to figure out if this is the right school for me or if this is the time to reevaluated my situation and look for a school with better facilities and more dedicated, serious students. It has been an exhilarating, challenging, terrifying and frustrating 2 months.

Yesterday I stormed out of class early so completely frustrated with our tiny under-stocked and overcrowded kitchen and my unmotivated classmates. I couldn’t bring myself to go back today. The class has worn me down. I needed to take a day to breathe and get my bearings back.

I spent the day cooking things I wanted to cook: healthy vegetarian food—no clarified butter, heavy cream or “mother sauces”. Nothing deep-fried, shallow-fried, pan-fried, or even sautéed. No flourless chocolate cakes, crème brûlées, Swiss buttercreams, or chocolate ganache. I needed to remember why I like cooking and re-convince myself that I am actually good at it.

This program has shaken me to the core and made me question my culinary abilities. It has also made me ponder my “Francophilia” and frazzled my faith in this young, up-and-coming generation…but those are story for another day…

To compliment my day of healthy cooking and remind myself why I chose to turn my life upside down and attend a French culinary school, I decided to do a little research on one famous French chef: Roger Vergé—the chef who was brave enough to distance himself from the traditional cuisine classique and introduced the world to cuisine du soleil, a variation of Provençal cuisine favoring fresh, local ingredients and unpretentious preparation and presentation.

Vergé explained his nouvelle cuisine as “a lighthearted, healthy and natural way of cooking which combines the products of the earth like a bouquet of wild flowers from the garden.” Also know as cuisine heureuse’, Vergé saw his culinary style as the “antithesis of cooking to impress”. His “happy cooking” transformed French gastronomy, and changed and the way generations of French chefs have approached food and fine dining since.

Born in 1930, Vergé grew up in Commentry in the center of France. Perched on a “small wooden bench”, he learned to cook from his aunt Célestine and was inspired by his father, a blacksmith by day and farmer by night, who “in the evenings…tilled God’s earth and brought his mother flavorful, aromatic vegetable for the table.” At 17, he apprenticed to a local chef at Restaurant le Bourbonnais and then moved on to trained at several Michelin-starred restaurants including Tour d’Argent in Paris. He spent time in Morocco, Algeria and Kenya learning and working in the kitchen of the Mansour de Casablanca and L’Oasis which undoubtedly inspired and informed his cuisine of the sun. Upon returning to France he worked in the restaurants Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo and Le Club de Cavaliere in Le Lavandou where he was exposed to the bright colors and fresh flavors of southern French food.

In 1969, Vergé opened his famous Michelin 3-star restaurant Moulin de Mougins near Cannes. Although French cuisine was still characterized by its heavy use of animal fat —butter, cream, and lard, Vergé’s cuisine of the sun — Mediterranean fare enhanced with vegetable essences and fruit reductions — elevated and celebrated lighter and healthier food, and quickly changed the landscape of French cookery.

He prided himself in serving Provençal dishes highlighted by the flavors of his travels and Moulin de Mougins quickly became one of France’s most well known restaurants. A kind and sincere man, the master chef was eager to share his knowledge with future generations of chefs. “He was one of the few chefs of that era who saw that sharing his skill set would benefit the cooking world as a whole.” To that end, Vergé trained up many of today’s great French chefs including Alain Ducasse, Jacques Maximin, Jacques Chibois, David Bouley and Daniel Boulud. Vergé once said, “the more knowledge we share, the more the cuisine is enriched; we succeed if we make what we love popular.”

By 1974, Moulin de Mougins had won three Michelin stars. A second restaurant, L’Amandier de Mougins, earned another two stars. By the mid-1970s, Vergé held the most number of Michelin stars of any single chef in France. To promote his cooking style, he founded l’École de Cuisine du Soleil Roger Vergé in Mougins. He was the collaborator and head of several other restaurants throughout France and in the US, and he also wrote dozens of cookbooks in both French and English making his ideas and cuisine accessible to home cooks.

Roger Vergé died this past June at his home in Mougins at the age of 85. Thankfully his legacy lives on.

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So…as I contemplate my future journey from home cook to a trained professional cook, and the extreme ups and downs of culinary school, I am encouraged by the wisdom of Caroline Conran in her buoyant preface to the adaptation of Vergé’s Cuisine of the Sun:

“Roger Vergé never lost sight of the fact that cooking should be a pleasure – a celebration of wonderful ingredients, cooked in a simple and practical way that will not overtax the cook and leave her (or him) too exhausted to enjoy the meal.”

…and that is the goal of this whole “happy cooking” thing, isn’t it? Good ingredients, good food, good times…enjoying the process and to never forgetting to taste, smell and see that “bouquet of wild flowers from the garden.”

Happy Cooking

No. 359-360: M-F and Hélène: the ladies who (make) lunch and (sometimes) spit wine

MF_helene_1.jpgSome of my most cherished memories of my time in France are from the kitchen. I was fortunate to learn about and taste all sorts of global cuisine prepared with love in the homes of remarkable women from all around the world. I was also lucky enough to have the opportunity to spend many delicious days shopping for fresh ingredients at the marché and then learning how to prepare them with the lovely Marie-Françoise and a great group of friends. Yes, when pressed, I would have to say that M-F’s approach to real French family cooking and hands on learning marks some of my most memorable days in Paris.

While in Paris, I also had the great fortune of meeting the marvelous and slightly mischievous Hélène, wine aficionado and friend. Not only has she taught me to appreciate good (and not necessarily expensive) wine, she has also taught me to appreciate life as it comes, warts and all, and to always strive to be in the moment. Those afternoons we spent nose in glass, swirling, slurping and spitting wine and strolling along the Seine were some of the best.

Here’s to my culinary friends:  the ladies who (make) lunch and (sometimes) spit wine.

Vous-allez me manquer.

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MF_helene_chablis.jpgChin chin!

Marie Françoise and Hélène (perfectly bilingual) also cater private dinner parties, wine pairings, birthday and  graduations parties in Paris. For more information contact: marie@mariefrancoiseflavors.com

No. 355: Being Covered with Croissant Crumbs

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You know it is going to be a great day when you start it covered in croissant crumbs.

Why in the world can no country besides France make perfect croissants and pain au chocolat?

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No. 347-349: la Madeleine, Madeline, and les Madeleines

Which one is your favorite?

Here’s a yummy Madeleine recipe to try at home.

 

No. 328-330: Mighty Climbers, Mont Blanc and Raclette

I love driving through France. It gives you a strong appreciation of how quickly the geography changes, and as the landscape changes, so do the people, languages and cuisines.

We just passed through the French Alps, or the Savoie, famous in the summer for her high, snow-capped mountains, pristine lakes and chic spa towns. Paragliding, hiking and climbing above and among the vast fields of wild flowers seem to be the activities of choice. With the backdrop of Europe’s highest mountain, Mont Blanc, it is indeed a spectacular part of France.

Trying to get to our next destination as quickly as possible, we were a bit disheartened to see that the wait time to travel to Italy via the tunnel burrowed through the majestic mountain was nearly 2 hours. Hungry and tired, we made a snap decision to dine in the small resort town of les Houches about 6-kilometers from Chamonix. This impromptu-pretty-village stop turned out to be a brilliant break, as the quiet town is nestled directly under the impressive mountain. Old wooden Savoyard farmhouses and restaurants dot the ski-town, and the centre ville boasts a sweet country church along with a friendly and relaxed atmosphere, all with a 360-degree view of Mont Blanc.

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les-houches-France.jpgWe found a traditional resto with a warm-enough terrace (the weather is oddly cool for August), and tucked ourselves in next to a jolly young Scotsman who was bursting to tell someone about his marvelous achievement. It turns out that les Houches is the starting point of the popular ‘Tour de Mont Blanc’ trek, and our humble, but proud, Scottish lad had, after four previous attempts, just succeeded in summiting his highland foe. Although completely caught up in his enthusiasm, I was at first less than impressed that it had taken him four separate trips to the mountain to realize his dream. But as he continued to regale us with his story, I began to understand the skill and dangers involved in trekking the Alp’s highest peak. While the scenery is magnificent on the way up, the trail gets quite rugged, and the final, exposed, snow and ice-covered summit ridge sounds harrowing. En fait, not only is Mont Blanc Europe’s highest apex, it is also the deadliest. As he modestly described his dramatic high-altitude climb and final achievement, I felt so pleased for him. Proud, like a big sister delighted for her brother. He also told us about the well-appointed hut system and fabulous food to be had on the trek, which all seemed so very French to me.

This brings me of course to our own fabulous and calorific Savoyard meal in les Houches: Raclette.

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If you have never had raclette, you should. Although it originated in the Swiss Alps, you can order it all over France, but it is especially delicious down here in the Chamonix Valley. There are centuries of tradition behind this simple feast (first mentioned in writings as early as 1291!), but as far as I can tell, things haven’t changed much. This semi-hard, mild, and slightly salty cows’-milk cheese (also called Raclette) was, and is still, easy to transport and yummy to eat; shepherds and farmers originally ate it over an open campfire as they broke from work. They would place a block of cheese by the fire, and as it became soft, they would drizzle the melted cheese over potatoes, onions and pickles.

“Raclette” comes from the French word racler, meaning “to scrape.” It is a bit like fondue, but you have to work a little harder and be quick on the draw to scrape the cheese as it melts from the rind. I have used the modern fancy Raclette grills at the homes of French families in Paris, but I much prefer the old-style Raclette board to enjoy this delicious fare. The warm, rich and scrumptious cheese heaped on boiled potatoes, and these days charcuterie, accompanied by crunchy pickles and healthy green salad is perfectly perfect for warming the body and soul in the cool mountain air.

No. 309: The Herbs on my Windowsill

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To understand how much I love the herbs growing right outside my kitchen window, you have to understand the climate, weather patterns and wildlife from where I use to live. It is a big misnomer to think of Colorado as the freezing cold, snowy state in the U.S. While we do get our fair share of snow (much less nowadays with global warming), Colorado is the state that boast 300-days of sunshine every year. I’m not even sure Florida can say that.

So you would think that with that much sunshine, I would be able to have a pretty awesome herb and vegetable garden. Mais, non. Where I live in Colorado is known for the wild Chinook winds that howl through the foothills and end in rowdy microbursts in my backyard.

…our backyard...

…our backyard…

To give you an idea of what that means, we once lost a 2-ton industrial play structure one evening while out to dinner. The wind funnel simply picked it up and tossed it a hundred feet into my neighbor’s yard. We have lost several barbecue grills, wrought iron chairs, swimming pools filled with water, too many trash bins to count, a slide, and a couple of windows. A neighbor had the terracotta tiles completely stripped from her roof and rain down all over our lawns. Quite different from the kind of showers we have in Paris.

In Colorado, we constantly have to rework our dinner parties and meals based on the blazing sunshine and the wind. I’ve learned always to have a backup plan when it comes to parties that involve outside grilling. Fun fact: a grill will not stay lit in 60-100 mph winds…for that matter it won’t even stay on your deck. On really windy nights, our iron bed with both of us in it jiggles on the carpeted floor and the water is sucked from all the toilets.

So imagine a pitiable petite stalk of basil or tarragon trying desperately to beat the elements. Almost always my much-wanted herbs cry “Uncle” a week or two after I plant them, succumbing to those tenacious gusts and the stifling temperature.

If they do manage to get a foothold and green up, the elk and the deer are more than happy to stroll through the cul-de-sac and boldly have a light snack at dawn and dusk. If the big brown quadrupeds don’t happen to be hungry, the greedingl and antagonistic squirrels are delighted to add some seasoning to their nuts. And then of course there are the mini, but mighty, grey voles and our crazy neighbor’s skeletal hound that pees a fountain on everything, herbs and my own dog included…

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…so this is why j’adore my hardy and healthy herbs à Paris. To me, my four window boxes of herbs are nothing short of a miracle….

…Thai basil chicken tonight, lamb with tarragon and thyme tomorrow, and fresh mint tea daily. Yippee!

No. 302: Grilled Summertime Vegetables

It is summertime in France and the open markets are bursting with color and flavor. Since barbecuing is technically illegal in Paris, given the fire hazard and all….we have to head to our local restos to get a plate of perfectly grilled vegetables. But nothing tastes better on a long summer’s night. Don’t you agree?

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