- 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- 9 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
- 1 pound fresh cèpes (porcini), cut vertically into 1/8-inch-thick slices
- 1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
- 1 tablespoon chopped fresh chives
- 1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon
Whisk lemon juice and minced garlic in medium bowl. Gradually whisk in olive oil. Season dressing to taste with salt and pepper. Arrange mushroom slices on serving platter, overlapping slightly. Sprinkle mushrooms with salt and pepper. Pour dressing over (mushrooms will soak up dressing). Sprinkle parsley, chives, and tarragon over mushrooms. Garnish with shaved Parmesan cheese and serve.
Nutritional ContentOne serving contains: Calories (kcal) 328.4 %Calories from Fat 90.2 Fat (g) 32.9 Saturated Fat (g) 5.0 Cholesterol (mg) 2.5 Carbohydrates (g) 5.1 Dietary Fiber (g) 1.3 Total Sugars (g) 2.6 Net Carbs (g) 3.8 Protein (g) 5.2 Sodium (mg) 70.0Reviews Section
Apples and Calvados are the King and Queen of Normandy
Normans use apples and cider in many savory preparations, such as this classic roast pork dish. Matt Taylor-Gross
I used to love climbing the single crabapple tree across the street from my childhood home. Its pretty pink blossoms would erupt into perfume each summertime. By autumn, when the waxy, golden-green fruits would appear on its branches, I’d be in an almost delirious state of overexcitement, wild for these wild fruits. Then I’d taste them and they were…awful. Excruciatingly sour and bitter, mealier than uncooked potatoes. Certain that there must be a secret to figuring out how to enjoy them, I tried everything: waiting for them to mature on the branches picking from the tree’s upper reaches eating fallen fruit trying to ripen them on the my bedside table. Nothing helped. They never mellowed.
Cut to an apple orchard in Normandy, many years later, beneath a tree covered in fruit just like the crab-apples of my youth. I pick one off the branch and take a bite it’s like sinking my teeth into a raw turnip. The flavor is intensely astringent. It’s juiceless and tannic, almost pointillist, as individual flecks of pastel dust explode all over my taste buds. “Oui, a classic cider apple,” Julien Frémont exclaims, smiling as I grimace my way through it.
Frémont, whose apples these are, is a young, soft-spoken cider maker whose family has been tending these trees in the Pays d’Auge since 1759. I’ve come here in search of resolution, to redeem that crabapple tree—to finally understand its true purpose. “To make the best hard cider,” Frémont continues, “you need these bitter, tannic cider apples—apples that aren’t pour croquer.” Not for munching. “Every apple has its purpose: Some are for snacking on, others are for cooking, others for distilling.”
The gnarled trees all around us are glowing with red and golden and green and orange and purple and nut-brown russet fruit. As we amble through the orchard, Frémont hands me a Transparente de Croncels—an heirloom varietal he considers perfect for eating out of hand. Its exterior is pale yellow, almost white hued, with a dreamy crimson blush on its sun-kissed side. The apple is soft skinned and mildly granular, its mellow, vinous sweetness shot through with hints of nutmeg, cloves, and myrrh. It tastes the way I imagine apples might have tasted in the three wise men’s days. “It’s a variété à couteau,” Frémont explains: an apple you eat with a knife, for dessert, on its own.
Julien Frémont, fourth-generation steward of his family’s orchards. Christina Holmes
As good as that apple is, it’s those bitter cider apples that Frémont is really after. “These are the ones,” he continues, picking up a few other knobby orbs, “that taste incredible when you transform them into juice and spirits.” He leads me into his ramshackle old barn to show me what he’s talking about. The half-timbered press house is about as rickety and cobwebbed as a structure can possibly be and still stand. Generation after generation of Frémonts have stored, juiced, and distilled their harvest right here.
As soon as I take my first sip of his Cidre Brut par Nature I realize that I’ve waited my whole life to find out what that crabapple from my childhood is really supposed to taste like. It’s as good to the grown-up me as I wished those crabapples had been as a kid, with the complexity and elegance of a grower champagne, but with a rustic, cloudy undertow. Imagine a cult pét-nat crossed with a Belgian gueuze or any other on-trend sour beer, yet with a distinct, low-alcohol personality all its own. I also notice something else: His cider tastes emphatically like cheese—like one of those runny, mold-encrusted treasures of Gallic civilization, only in drinkable form.
When I ask Frémont whether that’s possible, he nods. “You aren’t the first person to make that comparison,” he says. “After all, this vegetal quality—which comes from the grass that feeds the cows that make the milk that turns into cheese—is also present in the apples. These trees grow in the same earth. The trees and the cows need each other, in a symbiotic way. They eat the weeds and fertilize the land—all naturally. And the native yeasts in the air must affect the cheese and ciders in similar ways as well.”
Frémont actually lives in the bucolic, meadow-filled heart of the Livarot, source of that namesake washed-rind, fiber-bound, raw-milk masterpiece. The designated production areas for Camembert, Pont-l’Évêque, Neufchâtel, and Pavé d’Auge are all near here as well. Frémont leads me back outside, pointing out the herd of lyre-horned Salers cows. They’re munching away contentedly on grass and fallen apples, as they’ve always done. I’m a couple of hours west of Paris, though it feels like I’ve traveled back through time, not just to my crabapple tree of youth, but also into a real-life version of an old Impressionist painting.
It makes sense in a way: Normandy is the birthplace of 19th-century Impressionism. And places like Frémont’s farm are still as old-fashioned and picturesque as they were in Renoir’s days. This particular area is called Calvados, which is also the name of the brandy made from the region’s famous apples. Even in France, industrialization has radically altered the way most agricultural goods are made, but some holdouts—like Frémont—still do things the way locals have always done them. By hand, traditionally, à l’ancienne.
To properly understand how his ciders are meant to be drunk, Frémont suggests pairing them with local cheeses. Not just any cheese will do, he cautions. Hundreds of millions of tons of cheese pour out of this region annually, but only a handful of producers still use milk from their very own cows. As we say good-bye to each other, Frémont meticulously writes down the names of some producers whose cheeses I should seek out in the region: Durand for Camembert Spruytte for Pont-l’Évêque and his neighbors, the Fromagerie de la Houssaye, for Livarot.
He steers me toward the nearby town of Vimoutiers, a drowsy, pretty village that qualifies as an urban center in these rural parts. I stock up on Frémont’s suggestions at a small cheesemonger’s shop and then pop into Au Chant du Pain bakery on rue du Docteur Dentu. The hearth here seems to have been around since the Middle Ages, and they sell slices of their immense yard-long loaves of walnut bread and chestnut-flour bread by weight.
These almost prehistorically flavorful and nut-packed breads turn out to be the ideal accompaniment to the cheeses and Frémont’s cider I learn while enjoying an impromptu picnic overlooking the trickling Vie River, feeling very much like someone who’s fallen into an Impressionist painting.
The port city of Honfleur, the setting for many Impressionist works. Christina Holmes
Driving north through Normandy’s green and gold landscapes, I end up on the coast in the town of Honfleur, with its heart-stoppingly beautiful port. Old schooners are still docked here, and you can stop in for a glass of cider at many of the establishments lining the harbor. The main attraction here is the vibe: Honfleur and its outlying region was the primary setting for paintings by the likes of Monet, Courbet, Boudin, and many others. Those Impressionist masters didn’t come to Honfleur randomly they came for the light. It coats falling leaves in its golden-orange aura. When rain gusts in off the ocean, dimming rays make the raindrops glint in a brilliant, silvery way. And when the dampened sun bursts back, everything becomes almost blindingly bright and vibrant.
It’s hard to look at the ocean around Honfleur and not want to be a painter. The clouds and waves resemble swirling brushstrokes, all blues and whites and pearlescent pinks. It’s almost too much. Even the sound of the wind blowing softly through the trees is vividly heightened. Walking through the town before dinner, I wonder whether it’s possible that Impressionism is more than merely a visual experience. Night-blooming flowers cast their fragrant spell over the evening air. A black cat appears like a figure out of a Toulouse-Lautrec painting and disappears into a hole in the wall. Orchards abound, and the boughs of fruit in the gloaming seem to be radiating vitality. Is Impressionism about succumbing to these sensations, dissolving into the mists of sensation?
That evening, I have dinner overlooking the apple trees at La Ferme Saint Siméon, a magnificent old inn that preserves Normandy’s artistic past (the Impressionists stayed and painted there). In between courses, the sommelier suggests I partake in the local custom of a mid-meal glass of calvados, the esteemed local apple brandy. They call it a trou normand (Norman hole), as in the hole in your stomach that calvados purportedly creates that stimulates the appetite and allows you to keep forging your way through course after course of classic Norman cuisine. A newcomer soon detects a pattern in the sorts of dishes eaten in this part of France: mussels with apples, tripe with apples, partridge with apples, steak with apples, and so on. Everything is washed down with jugs of fresh cider. For dessert, they serve you bourdelots, whole apples baked in a pastry crust. This may be followed up by a sweet apple omelet. And then comes the requisite platter of local cheeses, each one more demoralizingly delicious than the last. Whether or not that calvados is actually creating any more space inside a person’s digestive system is moot. You don’t need to believe you just do it. And eating food this heavy requires drinking something as pleasantly potent as calvados.
There are apparently 800 different varieties of apples grown in Normandy today, and if you weren’t so busy marveling at the hillside castles overlooking the vast blue sea, you’d probably be able to identify many of them on the old coastal road, going southwest from Honfleur to Trouville-sur-Mer. The view is glorious, all fruit-dappled orchards and meadows and wild apple trees. As glimpses of the ocean stretching out toward the horizon flash by through the passenger-side window, you can imagine Courbet setting up his easel out there to paint the spray and the waves and the rocks. When a brief storm comes in, my car is enveloped in billowing sails of fog it’s like driving through a living canvas.
That afternoon, I meet up with Jean-François Guillouet-Huard, a seventh-generation calvados maker, at Domaine Michel Huard. He recently took over the business from his grandfather, Michel Huard. Like Frémont, Guillouet-Huard too has Salers cows in his orchards. “It’s essential to have the cows tending the land if you want to make good calvados,” he explains. “It’s always been this way. It’s all interconnected.” His operation seems to me to be the platonic ideal of a farm: a preternaturally quiet and peaceful medley of animals, fruit trees, and rolling hills. “It’s beautiful to see the cows in the orchard at sunrise,” he murmurs. “I love walking through the dewy grass at dawn. That’s what I’ve always done. It still makes me happy.”
We head into his barrel rooms to try some back vintages of calvados, which taste like fine cognac, only made out of apples, not grapes. The younger vintages are quite bracing and raw—like drinking flames. As they age, their bite mellows, taking on cardamom overtones and earthy cave notes, as well as elusive herbal flavors. “To understand calvados, you have to spend a lot of time smelling it,” Guillouet-Huard explains. “It isn’t easy to fully comprehend it. But it’s that complexity that is at the heart of calvados. That’s why it’s good after dinner. You have to be in a state of calm.”
He cracks open a bottle of 1976—which happens to be both Guillouet-Huard’s and my birth year. It’s like staring into the soul of 100,000 apples. Its florality floors me it’s more like perfume than any drink I’ve known. In fact, the aroma reminds me of the blossoms on that tree across the street when I was a kid. Although it’s nearly 40 years old, Guillouet-Huard thinks the calvados might still be too young. (I, of course, agree with this assessment, not caring whether he and I may be biased by the fact that we’re the same vintage as that too-young calvados.) “It’s not in the culture of our domaine to rush things,” he adds. “We believe that you have to be patient to make proper calvados. But we are out of step with this consumerist society where everything has to go really quickly.”
Apples destined to become cider on Eric Bordelet’s orchard
The best parts of Normandy are all out of step with the modern world. What else would you expect from a place where the cows that mow the lawn beneath the apple trees give milk that makes cheeses that taste ever-so-slightly like apples? You don’t need to go down some magical rabbit hole of a trou normand to feel close to the cycles of nature here. This place is a simple place, a region intimately connected to the past. It’s an Impressionist garden of earthly delights, and I hope to return again and again.
But for now, it’s my final dinner in Normandy, and I’m meeting with the cider maker Eric Bordelet, formerly the sommelier at the Michelin-starred L’Arpège in Paris, a restaurant famous for using the finest, freshest vegetables possible, many of them grown on its own farms. When he worked there, he felt that certain dishes were better served by cider than by wine. When he couldn’t find ciders made in the elegant farmhouse style he loved, he returned to the familial domaine, which had fallen into disrepair, and began making ciders his way. “I don’t want to replace wine, I want to complement it,” he tells me, as we sit down to the table at Le Manoir du Lys, located inside a nature preserve in the Andaine Forest. “A good sommelier is someone who knows how to link food and wine, and cider is excellent at the dinner table—especially when you have it with the right dish.”
To illustrate, he pours us each a glass of his “sydre,” a spelling borrowed from Old French, to go with a plate of just-picked, raw cèpes (porcini mushrooms) served with tomatoes from L’Arpège’s farm and fleur de sel. The dish is sensational—but it is even better with a glass of Bordelet’s cider, which tastes like apple pie topped with buttered popcorn and caramel sauce. It is outlandishly good—less funky than Frémont’s, but deeply flavorful and satisfying. “When I think of cider, I think of our terroir,” Bordelet says. “Our trees, our land. Cider is our wine: It’s our culture, it’s our history.”
I tell him about the bitter, sour, small crabapples from my childhood. “Those sauvage apples are simply more expressive than domesticated apples,” he answers, pouring us another glass. “And they make wonderful cider, don’t they?”
Normandy’s Best Cider & Calvados Producers
Julian Frémont’s cider vinegar Christina Holmes
Tom Aiken's spelt risotto with cèpes and walnuts
Wash the barley under cold water and place the barley into a pan, cover with cold water and bring to a simmer, drain wash and rinse in cold water. Place back into a clean pan with the split carrots, onions, shallots, garlic, thyme, parsley and bay leaves then bring it back to a simmer. This will need to simmer for approx 45 minutes till tender, leave this too cool in the liquor so they take on more flavour and add 2g salt, its best if the veg is left in for a day as the pearl barley will take on more flavour.
500g butter, diced
8 cloves garlic, bashed
Place the butter onto heat with the garlic and turn to a nut brown, then add all the herbs and leave to infuse for 8 hrs in a warm place, then pass keeping all the sediment. Leave in a warm place.
To finish the barley
400g shallots peeled and finely diced
2g chopped parsley
2g cèpe powder
2g chopped chervil
30g crème fraiche
30g grated Parmesan
50ml truffle oil
2g salt + 8 turns of milled pepper
50ml lemon juice
Place a small pan onto a medium heat adding the butter, add the chopped shallots and cook for a couple of minutes till just tender with the seasoning, add the cooked pearl barley and 300ml of the cooking liquor and reduce by 2/3rds. Add the crème fraiche to the barley with the cepe powder, grated Parmesan, lemon juice and the fresh herbs, check the seasoning.
Picked thyme leaves
These are thinly sliced then cooked in a hot pan in olive oil then butter, add seasoning, then the thyme leaves at the end, then drain in a colander, then once they are all cooked then mix enough dressing through the cepes to keep them moist.
Place the walnuts into a oven at 180c and toast till golden brown then chop roughly, this is used for garnish.
200g toasted walnuts
250ml olive oil
Toast the walnuts well then blitz with the oil and puree till smooth.
Butternut sage and honey sauce
400g butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1 cm cubes
4g fresh sage, finely chopped
4g sprigs Rosemary
50g unsalted butter
8g sea salt
150ml single cream
500ml chicken stock
100ml lemon juice
Heat a pan on a low heat then add the butter so it just melts, add the squash along with the sage, rosemary, sea salt and honey. Cover with a lid so the vegetables sweat and cook for 10-12 mins on a low heat, stir the vegetables now and again so they don&rsquot brown. Add the stock and cream and bring the soup to a simmer and simmer for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat, remove the rosemary and sage then ladle the soup in to the blender jug only fill it ½ full then blend the soup for 2-3 minute still smooth, pass through a fine sieve. Makes 1.2 litres
1 Kilo frozen cèpes defrosted and sliced thinly and dried
800g banana shallots thinly sliced
24 cloves garlic thinly sliced
750ml Balsamic vinegar
40g course sea salt
30 turns of milled pepper
3 litres of olive oil
Turn the bratt pan onto full and add 400ml of olive oil, once hot add the cepes with ½ the salt and pepper, cook till golden and caramelised. After approx 15 minutes, add the shallots, garlic and thyme. Cook this again till golden and caramelised, with the remaining salt and pepper. Add the maderia next and reduce to approx 200ml then add the balsamic vinegar. Reduce again to 200ml then add the remaining olive oil and bring to a simmer, cook at a simmer for ten minutes stirring now and again. Place into a container to cool then into the fridge for a week so the flavour improves. Stir this every other day then puree it all in a kitchen blender till smooth and pass through a fine sieve.
3 sorrel leaves stalk cut out
Pearl Barley risotto
Place the raw sorrel leaves into the bottom of the plate and then the risotto on top around the sauce, and on top the cepes, walnuts and brown butter
Gloria's mother, originally from Puerto Rico, always rubbed lime juice on her steaks before cooking them and sprinkled lime juice liberally on the steaks after they were cooked. Her sauce included anchovies and garlic. This is a delicious interpretation of her recipe.
- 4 skirt steaks (about 6 ounces each and about 3/4 inch thick)
- 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice, plus more to sprinkle over the cooked steaks
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 1 teaspoon good olive oil
- 1 can (2 ounces) anchovies in oil
- 2 teaspoons chopped garlic
- 2 tablespoons minced scallion
- 1/4 cup water
Rub the steaks with the 1 tablespoon lime juice and sprinkle them with the salt and pepper 10 minutes before cooking.
Heat the olive oil and the oil from the anchovies in a large heavy skillet over high heat. When hot, add the steaks and cook them for about 1 1/2 minutes on each side for medium rare, or for more or less time based on your own preferences.
Crush the anchovy fillets with the chopped garlic. When the steaks are ready, transfer them to a hot plate and set them aside to rest for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, add the anchovy-garlic paste and the scallions to the drippings in the pan and cook for about 30 seconds. Add the water and boil for 30 seconds. Pour over the steaks, sprinkle them with more lime juice, and serve.
Napoleon Bonaparte apparently had very little time for, or interest in, what he ate. Brillat-Savarin said of him “his household was organized in such a way that no matter where he was or what the hour of the day he had but to speak one word in order to be presented with a chicken, cutlets, and coffee.”
Out of that predilection grew the chicken dish named for Bonaparte’s famous victory at the battle of Marengo on June 14, 1800. As Robert Courtine recounts the story in his fascinating historical cookbook The Hundred Glories of French Cooking, the general’s cooking wagon had gotten lost, and his chef, Durand, had nothing in his own carriage but a drum of oil and a flask of brandy. Durand sent soldiers out to scavenge in the countryside, and they returned with a few chickens, eggs, tomatoes, and garlic. Then:
In the twinkling of an eye the birds are plucked. They are cut up with a saber and set to brown in some oil while the garlic is being crushed between two stones and the tomatoes thrown into the frying pan without even being peeled. A spurt of brandy flavors the sauce. And the victorious general is served as befits a leader … [the dish] attended by a ring of fried eggs and full military honors.
If that legend is true, the combination was a great serendipity.
Courtine’s recipe is the version of Poulet Marengo I like best, and happily it doesn’t insist on either the saber or the stones. Normally I do cut up a whole chicken for it, but this time for a casual supper for three, I used just three chicken legs – thighs and drumsticks. I salted, peppered, floured, and browned them in garlicky olive oil. (Courtine wants the garlic crushed and stirred in raw at the end of the cooking, but we prefer our garlic a bit tamer than that.)
Next I flamed them with a generous dose of brandy. It would’ve made a lovely campfire!
As soon as the flames died I added cut-up tomatoes (peeled, I confess), along with a few more “inauthentic” ingredients called for by Courtine: white wine, salt, pepper, bay leaf, thyme, and parsley. This all simmered, covered, for 40 minutes.
Meanwhile, I prepared another item added by Courtine’s recipe: slices of bread fried in olive oil. (Possibly Durand commandeered bread for Napoleon from the soldiers’ rations?)
At the last minute I fried the eggs, set them on the fried bread slices, and placed them around the serving dish with the chicken and its sauce. Et voilà, poulet Marengo!
It really is an excellent dish. The sharpness of the sauce, from the wine and brandy, contrasts beautifully with the lushness of the fried eggs and bread. The chicken just sits there enjoying it all – as we three diners did.
Page 3: Mushroom Glossary A To C
This is Page 3 of a six-page article on edible mushroom types. Click on the black links below to visit other pages. Check out our many other delicious food glossaries.
Wild & Specialty Mushroom Glossary A To C
Once, we had to wait for glorious mushrooms to come into season to enjoy them fresh, although dried versions are always available to add flavor to soups, stews and stocks. Today, many varieties are cultivated year round, transporting us to mushroom heaven. Mushrooms add wonderful flavor and have minimal calories. Experience all of them&mdashthe flavors are so different. Here are some of the wild and specialty (formerly wild, now cultivated) mushrooms available in the U.S.
Available in brown and white, the beech mushroom grows in bunches of tiny and delicate white stems 1 to 2 inches high, topped with small light brown or cream-colored caps. The flesh of this mushroom is crisp in texture, providing a crunchy yet juicy meat. Its flavor is slightly nutty and sometimes herb-flavored when cooked. Also called clamshell, buna shimeji and hon shimeji mushroom. See Bunapi mushroom and clamshell mushroom, below.
BLACK CHANTERELLE or BLACK TRUMPET MUSHROOM
A very flavorful mushroom with a trumpet-shaped cap. See trumpet royal mushroom.
BLACK FOREST MUSHROOM
Bunapi is a trademarked name for the white beech mushroom white beech is buna shimeji in Japanese. It is a combination of crunchy texture and smooth, nutty flavor. Its firmness stands up well in hearty dishes like stir fries and wild game, and with herbs like thyme and. The White Beech is somewhat bitter in its raw state, but very enjoyable once cooked. Try it in soups, stews, or your favorite sauces. It also makes a great meat substitute in your favorite recipes.
Bunapi or white beech mushrooms. Photo and information courtesy Hokto-Kinoko.com.
Resembling a cauliflower floret, this mushroom is very flavorful, but a bit chewy. It is best fried, or cooked in soups or stews.
CEP, CÈPE, PORCINI or KING BOLETES MUSHROOM
Robust, meaty cèpes/porcinis can be &ldquonormal&rdquo size, two inches in diameter, or can grow to a giant eight-inch diameter, when the cap will expand from umbrella-shaped to nearly flat. The color ranges from yellow brown to dark red brown, with a firm, smooth, moist texture. Ancient Greeks and Romans prized these stubby mushrooms with their earthy and somewhat nutty flavor. Today they are enjoyed as culinary gems all over the world. Prevalent in French cuisine, cèpes are added to tarts and buttery dishes. They are prevalent in Italian sauces, pastas and risottos. Even the liquid from soaking the dried porcinis is a delicious ingredient in soups and sauces. They are available wild June through November, but are also cultivated year-round. The heartiest, most savory of dried mushrooms, they are essential in deep-flavored sauces. Their meaty texture and great depth of flavor enable them to be grilled like a steak.
CHANTERELLE or GOLDEN or YELLOW CHANTERELLE MUSHROOM
There are several varieties of chanterelle the one generally thought of as the chanterelle is the golden or yellow chanterelle. The most delicate and refined of wild mushrooms, chanterelles have notes of apricot in both their scent and the taste&mdashand their color, as well in addition to the apricot fruitiness there is a typical mushroom earthiness. They can range from pale orange to a golden apricot color, and can also be recognized by their trumpet-like caps. Chanterelles are tender yet firm and their wild flavors will shine even when they are used with many ingredients, and they are exquisite when breaded and fried. They are available fresh eight months a year, from the summer through February (and dried year round). See also black chanterelle and yellowfoot chanterelle mushroom.
CHICKEN OF THE WOODS or SULFUR MUSHROOM
Not to be confused with the hen of the coods (Maitake), the chicken of the woods mushroom got its name because it has the texture of cooked chicken, even shredding the way chicken meat does. It is popular with vegetarians who substitute it for chicken. The mushroom is also known as the sulphur shelf mushroom.
CHINESE BLACK MUSHROOM
CINNAMON CAP MUSHROOM
CLAMSHELL or BEECH MUSHROOM
All varieties of clamshell mushrooms have a taste that is somewhat evocative of the shellfish, but that doesn&rsquot mean that they aren&rsquot a versatile mushroom. They aren&rsquot best eaten raw, but can be blanched quickly and then cooled for use in sandwiches and salads. Clamshell mushrooms pair well with seafood and meats and are excellent for tempura. Look for the brown clamshell and alba clamshell mushrooms (pictured at right).
CREMINI or CRIMINI or BROWN MUSHROOM
Creminis are similar in size and shape to the white button mushroom, though tan to brown in color and far meatier and earthier in taste with a firmer texture (they taste similar to button mushrooms). Creminis are actually portobello mushrooms that have been harvested while they are young, while the veil still covers the gill surface. They are excellent uncooked, as crudités or sliced into a salad and are good stuffed, breaded and fried, sautéed, marinated, and in sauces, stocks and soups. They&rsquore an especially good choice for kabobs. Creminis cook more firmly and with less shrinkage than classic whites and are a great complement to any meat or vegetable dish. They are cultivated year round.
CULTIVATED SPECIALTY MUSHROOM
With advances in food technology, numerous wild mushroom species can now be cultivated indoors year-round, instead of being limited to their natural growing seasons a few months out of the year. While these are often presented as &ldquowild&rdquo mushrooms, they do not grow in the wild the term &ldquowild&rdquo is accurate only when applied to mushrooms gathered (foraged&sbquo wild in the woods. However, cultivated mushrooms are a blessing to all who enjoy specialty mushrooms such as beech, enoki, oyster, portabella and shiitake year-round.
Brown beech mushrooms are one of several formerly wild varieties that are now grown indoors year-round, in an organic matrix. Photo of Golden Gourmet Mushrooms by Claire Freierman | THE NIBBLE.
CULTIVATED WHITE MUSHROOM or BUTTON MUSHROOM
Classic whites, the old reliables, can always be found at the supermarket, and when there aren&rsquot any fresh ones there are always (gasp) the canned variety. They have a mild taste and gain flavor as they cook. If you want to make marinated mushrooms, stuffed mushrooms, or slice mushrooms into a salad, they are a cost-effective solution. Sautéed with butter and garlic, they are always a treat. They are cultivated year round.
Lifestyle Direct, Inc. All rights reserved. Images are the copyright of their respective owners.
3. True Bouillabaisse
Bouillabaisse is France’s most argued-about stew. Adherents to the cult of bouillabaisse will argue until they are blue in the face about what fish are permitted to go into it, whether or not potatoes are allowed, and how to serve it. Even the name itself is a contradiction: Bouille means to boil hard, and baisse means slow and easy.
At its core, bouillabaisse is an assertively flavored, richly textured saffron-laced seafood stew. It’s not a dish to throw together on a Wednesday night. Rather, it is a celebration, so invite friends over and have a party — this is what life is truly about.
I once wrote, “Eating bouillabaisse is a carefully choreographed religious ceremony, requiring 24 hours notice and preparation, whose consumption is performed in two sacred rites ending with genuflexion to the sacred cauldron.” I stand by those words with more conviction today than when I originally wrote them a few years back.
Bouillabaisse is correctly served in two courses, starting with the pungent saffron and tomato hued broth ladled into warmed bowls and served with garlic croutons, shredded cheese, spicy rouille, and garlicky aioli. After seconds are offered, the whole fishes that were poached in the broth are presented to the table, then filleted and served glistening in a thin pool of extra broth.
For adherents of the bouillabaisse religion, there are certainties and expectations to be met. Trying to describe what authentic bouillabaisse should taste like is a bit like arguing with a Mexican over what constitutes a real mole or maybe with an American about what true bbq taste like. Ask ten people and you will get twelve answers.
From The Good Cook: Salads The Good Cook by Time-Life Books
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- Categories: Mousses, trifles, custards & creams Main course French Russian
- Ingredients: cooked chicken meat partridges ham roast beef salted anchovies smoked salmon chervil tarragon carrots potatoes asparagus peas cucumbers dried cèpes mushrooms beets capers scallions pickle relish eggs caviar aspic jelly celeriac pickled gherkins green beans
French-English Food Dictionary
(adj) to go (as opposed to sur place, for here).
old-fashioned, as in une baguette à l’ancienne.
(f) in a bird (mostly duck or chicken), the tip of the breast meat.
(m) potatoes mashed with fresh mountain cheese a specialty from Auvergne.
(m) or amuse-gueule. Savory nibbles served before the meal, to arouse the appetite.
(f) Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée. A certification granted to certain food items (such as varieties of cheese or produce) made in a specific area, according to a specific production process.
(m) or apéro. A pre-dinner drink. Also: a general term for the drinks and savory nibbles served before dinner. It is also a widespread custom to invite people over just for l’apéro, which is a more casual way to entertain than a full-blown dinner invitation.
(m) a spongy yeast cake soaked with rum syrup, often served with whipped cream.
(m) firm cow cheese from the area of Beaufort, in the French Alps.
(f) mezza-luna a chopping tool with two handles and two half-moon blades. Literally: lullaby, because of the rocking movement made while using it.
(m) butter. Beurre doux is unsalted, beurre salé is salted.
(m) winkle, especially periwinkle.
(adj) (short for biologique) organic.
(m) a pink, rectangular ladyfinger and a specialty from Reims, it was designed for dipping in a glass of Champagne. It keeps its shape when moistened, which makes it perfect for charlottes.
(m) a set pudding made with almond milk.
(f) a creamy stew, generally of veal, cooked with carrots, onions, and mushrooms.
(f. pl.) also: bettes. Swiss chard.
(adj) very rare. Literally: blue.
(m) a stew of beef, red wine, and vegetables a specialty from Burgundy.
(m) spicy blood sausage. A twist on boudin noir and a specialty from the Antilles, the French Carribeans.
(f) salt cod mashed with olive oil and milk until smooth sometimes made with potatoes, too a specialty from Provence.
(f) originally, a restaurant that served beer (the literal meaning of brasserie is brewery) and a simple hearty fare, often of Alsatian inspiration. The term is now used, more broadly, for traditional restaurants that are larger than bistros and offer a longer menu served around the clock (choucroute, grilled meat, shellfish platters, etc.).
(f) (alternate spelling: brik) a very thin wheat dough used in North African cuisine, similar to phyllo dough but slightly thicker and grainier.
(f) a lightly sweet yeast pastry, made with eggs and butter.
(f) a type of fresh cheese from Provence. It is called brocciu when made in Corsica.
(m) coffee when ordered in a café or restaurant: espresso.
(m) espresso with added water.
(m) a cake baked in a loaf pan.
(m) an almond shaped confection from Aix-en-Provence, made with almond paste, sugar, and crystallized melons, with wafer paper at the bottom and a crisp sugar glaze on top.
(m) (alternate spelling: cannelé) a small cake from the city of Bordeaux, caramelized and crusty on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside.
(f) school or office cafeteria, it is sometimes used to mean a restaurant that has a laid-back and relaxed atmosphere, and where you could see yourself having lunch or dinner everyday.
(f) a stew of beef, beer, and onions a specialty from the French Flanders and Belgium.
(m) curry (in créole cuisine).
(m) rack (as in a rack of lamb). Literally: square.
(f) a soft brown cane sugar.
(m) a stew from the South-West of France, involving white kidney beans and various meats cooked in goose fat.
(f) fromage blanc flavored with herbs and garlic a specialty from Lyon. Literally: silkweaver’?s brain (silkweaving was the traditional craft of Lyon).
(m) blowtorch can be used to caramelize the sugar topping on crèmes brûlées.
(f) a store halfway between a butcher’s shop and a deli. Also, the variety of sausages and pork products (jambon, saucisson, salami, mortadelle, pâté…) sold in such stores.
(f) a no-bake dessert in which the mold is lined with ladyfingers, then filled with layers of fruit, and layers of custard or fromage blanc.
(f) a variety of small potatoes, tender-fleshed and sweet.
(m) short for fromage de chèvre, goat cheese.
(m) an elongated donut similar to the Spanish churro, usually sold by beach-side vendors, rolled in sugar and served in a paper wrapping. Sometimes called chouchou.
(m) the best edible thing on Earth.
(m) an artisan who makes and sells chocolate confections.
(f) like a teapot, but for hot chocolate.
(m) cabbage. Chou rouge (red cabbage), chou blanc (white cabbage), chou frisé (Savoy cabbage), chou-fleur (cauliflower)…
(f) sauerkraut served with assorted sausages and cured meats.
(m) a golf-ball-sized pastry puff sprinkled with pearl sugar.
(m) a simple, grandmotherly dessert in which a pudding batter (usually made of flour, sugar, milk and eggs, sometimes butter) is poured over fruit (most commonly cherries, to make clafoutis aux cerises) and baked. A specialty from the Limousin region.
(f) a coconut shaped exactly like a pair of buttocks that’s unique to the Seychelles and is said to have aphrodisiacal virtues.
(f) a heavy (most often cast-iron) pot with a lid.
(m) an orange-flavored liqueur. (Cointreau is a brand name.)
(m) mallard. Literally: green neck.
(adj) full (for a restaurant), or whole (for a grain).
(f) a dessert made of fruits cooked slowly with sugar or syrup. Also used, by extension, for vegetables or meat cooked the same way.
(m) semi-firm cow cheese from the Jura, a mountain range in the East of France.
(m) applies to any preparation that’s cooked in its own fat, or cooked slowly until very soft.
(m) a duck leg, salted and cooked slowly, then packed in its own fat. A typical dish from the South-West of France.
(f) milk jam. It is the French equivalent of dulce de leche, i.e. a creamy caramel spread made with evaporated milk and sugar.
(f) in the shell. Oeuf à la coque is a soft-boiled egg served in the shell.
(f) a custard-like dessert served in a round and shallow earthenware ramekin, and sprinkled with a layer of sugar that’s blowtorched into a caramel crust just before serving. Literally: burnt cream.
(f) blackcurrant liqueur, typically blended with white wine to make a kir cocktail.
(f) sweetened chestnut purée.
(f) also: crème liquide. Whipping cream.
(f) thick, slightly sour cream, that doesn’t curdle when heated (it’s the fat content, you see…). Substitute heavy cream or sour cream, preferably a mix of the two.
(f) large and thin pancake. A specialty from Brittany.
(f) restaurant that specializes in crêpes and galettes.
(m) a crunchy almond cookie from Provence.
(f) a style of eating raw vegetables, with salt as the only seasoning. Used for radishes especially (radis à la croque au sel).
(m) a croque-monsieur with a fried egg on top.
(m) a grilled sandwich of cheese and ham, sometimes topped with a béchamel sauce.
(m) any crisp preparation.
(f) (Alternate spelling: cuiller) spoon.
(prefix) half- (as in demi-baguette).
(m) after-dinner drink, usually a brandy such as Armagnac or Cognac.
(v) to have dinner.
(f) hardware store. Despite the name, does not sell drugs, legal or otherwise.
(f) old-fashioned grocery store.
(v) to split dishes. Short for moitié moitié, which means “half half”.
(adj) stuffed, as in “stuffed zucchini”, not “I’m stuffed” (that would be j’ai assez mangé, I’ve had enough, or j’ai trop mangé, I’ve eaten too much).
(f) corn starch. Also referred to by the brand name Maïzena.
(f) a farm-inn, i.e. a farm that also operates as a casual restaurant, in which the farm’s products are cooked and served.
(adj) farm-made or farm-raised.
(f) a sheet of plastic that chocolatiers use to ensure their confections have a shiny finish. Literally: guitar sheet.
(m) a small almond cake shaped like a gold ingot.
(f) flecks of sea salt collected at the surface of salt marshes. Grey-white and slightly moist, it has a distinctive and delicate taste.
(m) small disks of slivered almonds and candied fruits, baked together in sugar, honey, butter and/or cream, and dipped in chocolate. Recipe here.
(m) a selection of the best items in a category.
(m) the liver from a fatted duck or goose.
(f) a type of fondue in which you cook cubes of meat (generally beef) in hot oil then eat them with a variety of dipping sauces.
(f) cheese fondue, made with white wine and cheeses from Savoie, a region on the French side of the Alps.
(f) a limited selection of dishes offered for a set price, usually cheaper than a menu.
(m) blue cheese from Auvergne, a mountain range in the center of France.
(f) something fried. Specifically: tiny fried fish served in the South of France, and the fish-shaped Easter chocolates meant to represent them.
(m) a smooth, unsalted fresh cheese, similar to yogurt.
(m. pl.) literally: fruits in disguise. A traditional Christmas confection, in which dried fruits (dates and prunes mostly) have their pit replaced with a piece of brightly colored marzipan.
(m. pl.) dried fruits. Nuts are sometimes included in that category.
(f) a savory crêpe made with buckwheat flour. Also: any preparation that’s flat and circular, or patty-shaped.
(f) a puff pastry pie filled with frangipane, which is a mix of almond cream and pastry cream. It is one of the traditional cakes served on the Epiphany, a Christian holiday celebrated on January 6.
(f) a smooth preparation of chocolate melted with cream and/or butter. It is used in filled chocolates and chocolate tarts in particular.
(m) afternoon snack kids are given when they come out of school around 4pm, hence the other word for it, le quatre-heure.
(v) to taste.
(m) pencil-shaped breadstick cracker, similar to the Italian grissino.
(m) firm cow cheese from the town of Gruyères, in the Swiss Alps.
(m) bean. Haricot vert = green bean, haricot blanc = white bean, haricot rouge = red bean.
(m) snow pea. Literally: the eat-everything bean (unlike regular peas, you eat the pod as well).
(m) white kidney-shaped bean from Tarbes in the Pyrénées. It is the only bean to be protected by a Label Rouge and regional appellation, and can only be hand-picked.
(f) red chili garlic paste from North Africa.
(f) egg whites beaten until stiff then poached or baked, and served in a cup of crème anglaise. Literally: floating island.
(m) fermented milk from Brittany (laez ribod in Breton), a cousin to the North African kefir.
(m) a cookie made with ground almonds and egg whites. The macaron parisien in particular is made of two delicate meringue-like cookies sandwiched together by a creamy filling.
(f) lamb’s lettuce, i.e. a salad green that comes in small bouquets of mild-flavored leaves shaped like drops (or lambs’ ears).
(f) a small, butter-rich teacake baked in an oval mold that gives it a vaguely scallop-like shape. The dough rises in the oven to form a characteristic bump which is, to some, the tastiest part of the madeleine.
(m) the breast of a fattened duck or goose.
(m) candied/glazed chestnut, i.e. a chestnut that is cooked in several baths of sugar syrup until meltingly tender. A typical Christmas delicacy.
(m) a disk of chocolate topped with dried fruit and nuts. Also: any preparation (cake, ice cream, chocolate tart…) that involves chocolate, dried fruits, and nuts.
(f) the crumb of a loaf of bread. Not to be confused with miettes, crumbs.
(f) crumb, as in “there are crumbs all over the table.”
(m) A napoleon, i.e. a rectangular pastry made of alternating layers of puff pastry and vanilla pastry cream, iced with white fondant or sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar. Also: any dish involving layered ingredients. Literally: one thousand sheets.
(f) a bright orange cheese from the North of France. It is labeled extra-vieille (“extra-old”) when aged for a long time until brittle and very sharp.
(adj) soft, mellow. When referring to wine: sweet.
(m) a soft cow cheese from the Jura with a thicker rind wrapped in pine bark and sold in a round wooden box. A popular way to serve it is the boîte chaude (hot box), in which the Mont d’Or is oven-baked in its box, with a splash of white wine, and eaten warm.
(f) a finger of toasted bread, usually spread with butter, to be dipped into a soft-boiled egg.
(m) turnip. Also: a bad movie.
(f) a crunchy mixture of caramel and chopped almonds, often used in pastries as a layer or as a decoration.
(m) an egg baked in a ramekin over other ingredients — usually ham and crème fraîche, with an optional topping of grated cheese.
(f) a chocolate confection in which a strip of candied orange rind is dipped in dark chocolate, sometimes with chunks of almonds. Recipe here.
(m) a honey spice cake, litterally “spice bread”.
(m) rustic bread. Literally: country bread.
(m) French toast, i.e. slices of day-old bread or brioche dipped in an egg batter and sautéed in butter until golden.
(m) rustic starter bread, sold by the Poilâne bakery.
(m) a soft, flat round of bread with dimples from Sweden.
(m) a fried chickpea flour patty. It is a specialty from Marseilles, typically sold by beach-side vendors.
(f) a technique in which ingredients (fish, most often) are wrapped in foil or parchment paper and baked in the oven.
(m) a mixture of finely chopped or pureed seasoned meat, usually used as a spread on bread.
(f) choux pastry. A soft dough made of butter, flour, salt, water and eggs, that puffs up when baked. It is used to make a variety of pastries: chouquettes, éclairs, salambô, Saint-Honoré, profiterolles, gougères…
(f) a flaky pastry dough made with flour, butter, eggs, and, if it is to be used for a sweet preparation, sugar.
(f) almond paste, or marzipan.
(f) sweet and crumbly pastry dough.
(f) pastry. Also: pastry shop.
(m) a rectangular piece of meat or fish. Literally: paving stone.
(f) housewarming party. (Une crémaillère is a trammel, the adjustable hook that was used to hang pots in the fireplace a housewarming party was thrown on the day that this essential piece of equipment was added to a new house.)
(m) a crisp, rectangular butter cookie.
(m) fresh unsalted cheese sold in small cylindrical cartons.
(f) stewed bell peppers, tomatoes, and onions combined with scrambled eggs a specialty from the French Basque country.
(f) an onion tart with black olives and anchovies, on a thin bread-like crust. A specialty from Nice, in the South of France. The name comes from pissalat, a condiment made with pureed anchovies, cloves, thyme and bay leaves, which was traditionally spread on the tart before baking.
(m) a paste made of basil, olive oil, garlic, and sometimes cheese, equivalent to the Italian pesto. A specialty from Provence.
(f) any preparation cooked in a skillet.
(f) breast, or, for pork, belly.
(f) apple. Sometimes also used to mean potato, short for pomme de terre, as in pommes sarladaises, pommes sautées, pommes frites, pommes dauphines, etc.
(f) potato. Literally: earth apple.
(f. pl.) potatoes sautéed with garlic (and sometimes mushrooms) in duck fat. A specialty from Sarlat, in the Périgord region.
(m) a stew of beef with carrots, onions, turnips, and leeks.
(m) winter squash with a delicate chestnut flavor. Its French name is a portmanteau of potiron (pumpkin) and marron (chestnut).
(m) (also: pountari) a terrine of pork, swiss chard, and prunes a specialty from Auvergne.
Note: in France, menu prices include a 15% service charge.
(f) a paste made of ground caramelized nuts and chocolate.
(f) a chocolate bite filled with the above paste.
(f) a caramelized nut, usually an almond or a peanut.
(f) a sugar-coated almond with a pink coloring a specialty from Lyon.
(m) an intermediary course served after the main or cheese course, to cleanse the palate and prepare it for the dessert.
(f) mashed potatoes, or any mashed preparation.
(f) an oval dumpling, classically flavored with pike, served poached or baked. Also used to designate the shape of such a dumpling.
(f) an oval plum with purple skin and green flesh. It is similar to the damson plum, but sweeter.
(adj) refined. Non raffiné means unrefined — whole (for flour) or raw (for sugar).
(f) a vegetable stew made with tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, peppers, onions, herbs and olive oil a specialty from Provence.
(f) a small, nutty potato, similar to the fingerling potato.
(f) a round, green-skinned plum. Literally: Queen Claude.
(m) a moist towelette with a citrus smell on which to wipe one’s fingers after eating seafood. Also: a small bowl filled with citrus water, serving the same purpose.
(pl, m) sweetbreads, of veal or lamb.
(m) an individual round goat cheese, produced around the town of Rocamadour, in the Périgord region.
(m) coconut macaroon. Literally: coconut rock/boulder.
(f) rucola or arugula, a peppery and tangy spear-leaved salad green.
(adj) rare, when referring to the cooking stage for duck or lamb.
(m) rosé wine.
(m) a potato pancake with cheese.
(m) a sweet, whipped sauce flavored with wine.
(m) a butter cookie with a sandy consistency.
(m) pig’s head sausage from Lyon.
Saint-jacques (or Coquille Saint-Jacques)
(m) 1: living-room.
2: trade show.
(m) a member of the wait staff of a restaurant who specializes in wine.
(m) crunchy cinnamon and cassonade cookie from Belgium.
(adj) for here (as opposed to à emporter, to go).
(f) green or black olive paste.
(m) a dish that involves a raw ingredient, chopped or diced finely, and seasoned. The most classic example is steak tartare, made with raw beef, but the term is also used for preparations of raw fish or vegetables.
(f) a thin Alsatian tart usually garnished with crème fraîche, onions, and lardons.
(f) fruit pie (traditionally made with apples) baked with the crust atop the fruit, but flipped before serving.
(f) originally, a slice of bread, toasted or not, with something spread on it, usually eaten for breakfast. More recently, a main dish of one or two slices of bread on which ingredients are laid, creating a sort of open-faced sandwich.
(m) a preparation of meat, fish or vegetables, cooked or assembled in an earthenware dish and served cold, in slices. Also: the earthenware dish used for such preparations.
(f) a wheel-shaped Swiss cheese. It is traditionally served in thin shavings, cut from the top of the cheese with a rotating knife planted in the center of the wheel. Literally: monk’s head.
(adj) lukewarm, or slightly warm.
(f) tumbler, can be used for any dish served in a small cup, or shaped like a small cup.
(f) a savory pie with a top crust. Also: a loaf of rustic bread.
(m) a cheese cake from the Poitou region, traditionally made with fresh goat cheese.
Focaccia with olive, onion and rosemary (Focaccia con olive, cipolle, e rosmarino)
From Leaves from the Walnut Tree: Recipes of a Lifetime Leaves from the Walnut Tree by Franco Taruschio and Ann Taruschio
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- Categories: Pizza & calzones Italian
- Ingredients: all-purpose flour yeast dry white wine rosemary onions black olives