1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (32 page)

6.
Untruss the chickens and cut them into quarters, setting aside the bay leaves and garlic cloves from inside the chickens. Cut out and discard the backbones (being sure to nibble the meat off them; it’s a cook’s treat). Place all of the chicken quarters skin side up in a large, heavy skillet, add the pan drippings along with the reserved bay leaves and garlic; cook over medium heat until the juices reduce and turn slightly sticky, about 5 minutes, shaking the skillet vigorously. Carefully remove and discard all of the bay leaves and garlic.

7.
Add the brandy or Cognac to the skillet and heat it until warmed through, about 2 minutes. Standing back from the pan, ignite the brandy with a match and let it burn until the flames die down.

8.
Add the hazelnuts to the skillet and cook over high heat, shaking the skillet, until the sauce is reduced and takes on an almost syrupy sheen, 2 to 3 minutes.

9.
Place the chicken on individual heated serving plates or a warmed serving platter, making sure that all of the bits of bay leaf have been removed, and spoon the sauce over all.

Variation:
If using a rotisserie, fasten the chickens onto it and place a pan beneath to catch the drippings, which should be used for frequent bastings.

Where:
In Vence, France
, Auberge des Seigneurs, tel 33/4-93-58-04-24,
aubergeseigneurs.com
.

By any name, a fine salty treat.

Known by various names—
Salicornia europaea, salicorne
, St. Peter’s cress, marsh samphire, sea beans, sea asparagus,
passe-pierre
—this emerald-green, delicate, and exquisitely salty seaside plant is a late spring and early summer favorite in France, and elsewhere when imported or harvested locally for upscale greengrocers and restaurateurs. (Due to its mineral content, it once was used in glass production, hence yet another name, glasswort.)

The leafless, fleshy plant grows in salt marshes along the North Sea coast of France and England and in some regions of the U.S. Its strings of tiny berries, best appreciated raw and freshly gathered, need only be trimmed of a few brownish, dried tip ends. The berries may be nibbled; if very tender, the entire stalk can be eaten, but tough stalks are best blanched, chilled, and dressed. In salad,
pousse-pierre
should be glossed with a bit of wine vinegar and olive or walnut oil.

Although it seems a pity to destroy its bright green color and crackling texture, pousse-pierre is sometimes lightly sautéed in butter or pickled with capers, vinegar, or lemon. For an unusual treat, the greens are rubbed through a sieve and stirred into a hot cream soup garnished with mussels lightly poached in white wine—a refreshing taste of the sea. In fact, because of its natural affinity with seafood, pousse-pierre often is sold in fish markets in France.

Pousse-pierre was in style in U.S. salads during the 1990s; it could be due for a nicely saline comeback.

Mail order:
Melissa’s Produce, tel 800-588-0151,
melissas.com
(search sea bean).
Further information:
The Oxford Companion to Food
by Alan Davidson (1999);
inlandseafood.com
(search pousse-pierre).

One of the world’s most essential ingredients is neither plant nor animal but chemical compound—our beloved salt being the product of the reaction between sodium and chlorine (NaCl). The ancient Greek mathematician Pythagoras put it a little more poetically when he proclaimed the stuff to be “born of the purest of parents: the sun and the sea,” and indeed it is just as ancient and elemental as that lineage suggests.

Used as purifier and preserver of food since before the written word existed, salt has been considered sacred by nearly every culture. It makes frequent appearances in the Bible—“Can anything which is unsavory be eaten without salt?” Moses asks in the Book of Job; and who could forget Lot’s wife, who was turned into a pillar of salt as she fled Sodom and turned to look back. The Egyptians used it to make mummies, the Romans paid their soldiers in salt, and in traditional Japanese theater, it was sprinkled on the stage to protect actors from evil spirits.

In the modern world, salt has become a buzzword. “Salt is the new olive oil,” chef Thomas Keller of The French Laundry and Per Se (see
listing
) has said, and like olive oil, it has spawned a varied subculture of gourmet, exotic salts. Frequently, these are not meant for cooking but are considered “finishing salts,” meant to be sprinkled over dishes just before serving; heating them reduces their intensity and downplays their unique characteristics.

There are Mediterranean sea salts, rich in natural curing agents, the finest of which is the French
fleur de sel
(“flower of salt”) from the marshes of Brittany, hand-harvested from the surface of salt ponds in order to retain its natural shape—not compact and solid but instead flaky and hollow, rather like a miniature and very delicate snowflake. There is Murray Darling salt from the Murray River in southeastern Australia, a pink crystal with a soft aroma. And Himalayan rock salt, which is noted for its umami, or mouthwatering savoriness. (This last in particular should never be added to food before cooking, as high heat destroys its delicate aromas and the organic materials that cling to the crystals, tinting them pink and gray and giving the salt its character.)

Grand Reserve Hawaiian sea salt from Kauai obtains its red hue via the natural process of being mixed with a ruddy volcanic clay; it is then dried by slow baking in ovens made from the same clay, which imparts a sweetly earthy hint to its flavor. Among Hawaii’s other salts are the Molokai red, with a full, almost buttery flavor; and black lava salt, naturally harvested and then purified with the lava and charcoal that lend it distinctively earthy and mineral notes.

The English Maldon salt is a coarse, natural sea salt with a fresh, briny taste produced by panning the salt beds in Essex’s coastal marshes near the town of Maldon. From India, there are edible black rock salts and pink rock salts, essentially large pieces of crystallized salt resembling unpolished jewels. These can be found in Indian groceries; ground using a mortar and pestle, they add a marvelous crunchy texture to any dish. Pink Peruvian salt from the Andes is harvested from the remains of ancient ocean beds for a faintly sweet and subtle flavor, and smoked Danish sea salt is incredibly strong, with an effect rather like adding a dash of fire to your food. A little goes a long way.

Mail order:
Zingerman’s, tel 888-636-8162,
zingermans.com
; the Meadow, tel 888-388-4633,
atthemeadow.com
; SaltWorks, tel 800-353-7258,
saltworks.us
.

Ethereally cloudlike in texture but substantial in rich flavor, these elegant oval dumplings, most traditionally made with pike, owe a debt to the artistry of the French kitchen. Lightly flavored with no more than salt and white pepper and
a pinch of nutmeg, the boneless fish is beaten with heavy sweet cream into a silky-smooth mousseline. For substance, the mousse is blended into an eggy pâte à choux dough (see
listing
), also known as a
panade
, before it is shaped with a tablespoon into supple dumplings.

Into the poaching water or fish stock these go. Added richness comes from the sauce, classically the satiny Lyon version, cream-colored and heady with strong stock and white wine; an alternative is called
sauce Nantua
, featuring a roseate base sparked with essences of shellfish. The first is far more subtle, while the second appeals to those who need a bigger taste bang for their buck. Either way, steamed rice is the correct accompaniment.

With so much going on already in this dish, balance is essential. In this case, gilding the lily means stirring a bit of Swiss cheese into the sauce and/or browning the finished dish under the broiler or salamander, thereby destroying its purity, simplicity, and texture. An even sadder, and unfortunately common, state of affairs: quenelles made of different fish or crustaceans—salmon, other firm-fleshed saltwater fish, scallops, crabmeat—or even chicken. Imposters all.

Where:
In Lyon
, Daniel et Denise, tel 33/4-78-60-66-53,
daniel-et-denise.fr
;
in New York
, La Grenouille, tel 212-752-1495,
la-grenouille.com
.
Further information and recipe:
Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1
, by Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle, and Simone Beck (1961).

In these days of culinary one-upmanship, the savory baked custard tart known as quiche might include bits of almost anything: seafood, meats, vegetables, herbs, cheeses, and perhaps even fruit. But the one, the only, and still the most delectable is the original quiche Lorraine, which to be truly authentic may include only bacon, eggs, cream, nutmeg, salt, and pepper.

Although the incident may have faded from memory, quiche became something of an American joke in 1982. The publication of Bruce Feirstein’s bestselling book
Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche
, a send-up of modern macho culture, succeeded for a while in branding the tart as sissy food—an undeserved slight for a delicious dish that has been around since the sixteenth century, when the French invented it in the northeastern city of Nancy, then the capital of the Lorraine region. (In an etymological twist that may only add fuel to the sissy-food fire, the word
quiche
is said to have been adapted from the German
küchen
, or cake; possibly because, though its pastry crust has long been standard, quiche Lorraine was originally made with bread dough.)

Now a gender-neutral staple of brunch menus across America, it is usually accompanied by a green salad. More substantially and dramatically, in Lorraine it is traditionally served on May Day along with roast suckling pig in aspic.

Where:
In Paris
, Angelina, tel 33/1-42-60-82-00,
angelina-paris.fr
;
in New York
, François Payard Bakery, tel 212-956-1775,
fpbnyc.com
;
in Sonoma
, The Girl & The Fig, tel 707-938-3634,
thegirlandthefig.com
.
Further information and recipes:
Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1
, by Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle, and Simone Beck (1961);
The Country Cooking of France
by Anne Willan (2007);
saveur.com
(search quiche lorraine julia child).