Update 28, Part 1: New Year's Goal: Become an "official" Gourmess by August 2010

I was 32 when I started cooking; up until then, I just ate. --Julia Child

Session 19: Organ Meats was quite an adventure, but I guess you could say the offal wasn't awful. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)

It took trips to two butchers and eight grocery stores before I found most of what I needed for these recipes.  The chicken livers were easy to find (Perdue sells them in a tub), the calf liver a bit trickier (specialty grocery store), and the veal kidneys and fatback were hidden like gems in the last grocery store we checked (the fatback was prepackaged in sheets -- perfect for lining the pâté terrine, and I also got thicker slabs from one of the butchers for dicing, etc.).  The veal sweetbreads were not anywhere to be found, so I am ordering them from a local butcher and will finish that Demonstration and close out this session when they come in.

Since I didn't have the sweetbreads, I skipped to the second Demonstration, which was Foie de Veau à la Lyonnaise (Calf's Liver Lyonnaise).  First, I heated about two teaspoons of butter over medium-high heat and when hot, added in 14 oz. (about 4 medium) thinly sliced onions (émincé).  I stirred frequently and cooked over low heat until they were soft and translucent, about 10 minutes or so.  In the meantime, I took my four slices of calf's liver, patted dry, added some salt and pepper, and then dredged in flour, tapping off any excess.  These went into a pan of two TBS of butter that I heated until bubbly.  I fried the livers on one side until browned and then turned them over and cooked for another few minutes until it was browned on both sides, but still pink in the middle.  When done, they went to a serving platter tented with foil.  I then dumped the onions into the meat pan and cooked them a bit longer, until caramelized, then in went two TBS of white wine vinegar, which I used to scrape up the sucs from the bottom of the pan.  Then I added some veal demi-glace and adjusted the salt/pepper before taking a bit more butter and swirling it in at the end (monter au beurre).  To finish the dish, I poured the sauce/onions over the liver, sprinkled with freshly chopped parsley (from the garden) and that was it.  It looked just like the picture in the book (yay!) and if I liked the taste of liver, it would have been delicious.  Just not my thing though.

Next was Rouelles de Rognons à la Dijonnaise (Kidneys with Mustard Sauce). The veal kidneys kind of looked like an alien brain when I first pulled them out of the package -- all grouped together and yet segmented.  There is a big strip of fat going through the center, so I cut the kidneys in half, removed the fat, and then cut each half into 1cm slices.  Then, I heated two TBS of butter and a bit of vegetable oil in a pan over high heat and when hot, seared the kidneys on both sides until nicely browned but still pink in the middle. I removed them with a slotted spoon and drained on paper towels while I finished the sauce.  I wiped out the pan with a paper towel (leaving the sucs), added a bit more butter and cooked some finely diced shallots (ciselé) until they were soft but didn't take on any color. In went some cognac to loosen the sucs and deglaze the pan. I added some veal demi-glace and heavy cream and cooked until it reduced to a sauce.  I took the pan off the heat, and then added in some Dijon mustard and salt and pepper. The kidneys went back in with the sauce and I heated them through for a few minutes more (do not bring to a boil or the sauce will break apart).  To serve, pour onto a warm plate, top with fresh chopped parsley and you're done.  I liked the kidneys better than the liver -- they still had that odd consistency and taste that organs have -- but the sauce was nice and brought out all the right flavors.  Not bad.

Next up was my biggest challenge yet -- Pâté de Campagne (Country Pâté).  Yes, ladies and gents -- I spent my Saturday making pâté.


Pâté has a few different parts: the fine forcemeat, the coarse forcemeat, the marinade and the garnish.  Let's start with the fine forcemeat.  To prepare, I sautéed chicken livers in vegetable oil for about 10 minutes, until cooked through, and then stirred in four cloves of garlic (smashed into a paste with my knife), shallots, marjoram, and thyme (from the garden), cooking for another few minutes until the aromatics had sweated their liquid.  I removed from the heat and let cool.  In the meantime, I diced up some pork shoulder, combined it with fatback (layer of fat under the skin of the back of the pig) and some boneless, skinless chicken (I used chicken breasts). I added the livers and then ground through the fine disk of my food mill/meat grinder into a clean bowl.

Next, I preheated the oven to 325 degrees and then coarsely chopped more of the pork shoulder for the coarse forcemeat, making sure that the texture was a big contrast to the fine forcemeat.  I made the marinade by combining cognac, port, sel rose (saltpeter to preserve the meat and keep its rosy hue once cooked), salt, pepper, and fresh chopped parsley.  I added the coarse forcemeat to the fine mixture, and then in went the marinade and the garnish (diced ham, diced fatback, shelled pistachios).  I mixed it all together gently, being careful not to mash the ingredients together.  Then, I took a small piece, made a patty and fried on the stove until cooked through to make sure the seasonings were right (they were spot on).  After that, I lined my terrine with the sheets of fat back (be sure to  leave enough hanging over the edges to fold close later--mine didn't quite fit in some places, but I got it to work) and then put the forcemeat mixture into the terrine (it's like a loaf pan), patting down gently.  I put some bay leaves and thyme sprigs across the top, and then completely covered the filling with the fat back.

The mold then went into a larger pan filled with hot water, with the water coming at least halfway up the sides of the terrine. I placed the pans in the oven and baked for about 90 minutes, checking often to make sure that the water didn't boil, since that would make the meat shrink and toughen.  At the 90 minute point, I checked the temperature of the pâté and it was 140 degrees. The book says it should be between 140-150, so I gave it a few more minutes to be safe, and then took it out and set on a wire rack to cool.  Once cooled, I weighted the top and put in the refrigerator overnight, letting the flavors meld for 12+ hours.

When I unmolded the pâté, I was nervous that it wouldn't look like the book -- but it was perfect.  It looked great, and tasted divine.  I think Chris was truly impressed. With some Dijon mustard, crusty bread, cornichons and a glass of wine, it is the perfect, elegant summer picnic.

Did I mention that I made pâté?  And it rocked the house?  Watch out world, La Petite Gourmess is in the house...er, kitchen! :)


So, now all I need are the sweetbreads, and I'm done with offal.
Next, on to Session 20: Pastry Doughs.

xoxoxxo

Country Pate

Update 27: New Year's Goal: Become an "official" Gourmess by August 2010

I was 32 when I started cooking; up until then, I just ate. --Julia Child

Session 18: Basic Stuffings was pretty fun.  I made two Demonstrations: Paupiettes de Boeuf (Stuffed Beef Rolls) and Lègumes Farcis (Stuffed Vegetables).

For the Stuffed Beef Rolls, I first had to make some duxelles. I melted some butter in a medium pan over medium heat and sautéed some shallots (ciselé) until they had sweated their liquid, then added in mushrooms cut in a very small dice (brunoise). In went some salt and pepper to taste, and I cooked until almost all of the liquid was gone from the pan.  Then, I removed from heat, added in some fresh tarragon and parsley and set aside.  For the beef rolls, I thinly sliced pieces from a piece of top round Kobe beef so that I had four half-pound pieces. I pounded each piece into thin scallops (escalopes) and set aside. After that, I took about 7 oz. of ground veal and stirred the duxelles into it, adding more salt/pepper as needed.

Once that was well mixed, I had to test it to make sure it was seasoned correctly, which meant that I made a small patty and fried it until cooked through and tasted it. (It needed a bit more pepper.) I took one scallop of meat at a time, put a quarter of the mushroom mixture in the middle and then folded the opposite sides into the center. From there, I rolled it into a neat meat packet (paupiette), securing with toothpicks.  My fourth packet ripped, so I ended up making two smaller pieces from that one.  I put some butter and vegetable oil in an ovenproof pan and seared the pieces until browned, then set them aside.  I drained extra fat from the pan, and then added more butter for my garnish ingredients -- minced onions and carrots cut brunoise. I cooked the vegetables for a few minutes until they started to soften and then stirred in some red wine, scraping up the sucs from the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon.  I brought this to a simmer until reduced by half and then added the paupiettes back in.  I added veal stock until it came halfway up the sides of the meat and returned it to a simmer.  Then, I covered the pan and put it in the oven, which had been preheated to 300 degrees.  This baked for about 30 minutes, until the meat was well cooked (I turned a few times, and basted it with the stock).  Then, the meat was removed with a slotted spoon, put on a warm plate, and tented with foil.

For the sauce, I removed any fat from the surface of the liquid and added a bit more salt and pepper, and then heated it over the stove until it was "reduced to desired consistency" -- I wanted my consistency to be a semi-thick sauce, which it was after cooling, but when I first napped the meat with it, it seemed on the thin side. Oh well.  I removed the toothpicks from the meat and cut each packet into thin slices and arranged them on a plate with the sauce.  I wasn't sure what to think of this overload of meat, but it wasn't terrible.  The tarragon definitely stood out, and the veal went well with the beef. However, all I could think about was, Am I eating the baby cow and its parent at the same time?

For the Stuffed Vegetables, I was working with mushrooms, zucchini and tomatoes.  I took a large zucchini (washed/dried) and cut off the ends. Then, I cut it into four even pieces (about 5 cm each, give or take) and hollowed out about 3/4 of the flesh from the center of each piece with a grapefruit spoon and then cooked them à l'étuvé (cover with parchment round and cook slowly in own juices a bit of butter and salt, and very little water). I removed them from the pan and patted them dry. I chopped up any leftover pieces and the scooped-out flesh into small pieces.  For the tomatoes, I took two large ripe ones (washed/dried) and cut them in half crosswise, scooping out and discarding about a third of the pulp and all of the seeds from each piece, then I salt and peppered and set aside.  For the mushrooms, I took large button mushrooms (cleaned) and removed their stems.  I chopped up the stems and added to the zucchini. I heated some butter in a small pan and added the mushrooms, cap side down, and cooked a few minutes until slightly soft, then seasoned with salt/pepper and transferred them to paper towels to drain.

Meanwhile, I heated some olive oil in a pan and fried some cubed bacon that I had blanched earlier. Once browned, I added some shallots and then, after a minute, some garlic.  After that was nicely sautéed, I added in the zucchini and mushroom mixture and cooked for another 10 minutes or so, until the moisture had evaporated. Then, I added some fresh thyme and some salt/pepper to taste, cooking for one more minute, before removing from the heat and setting aside.  I also had some of the veal mixture left over from the stuffed meat, so I browned that in another pan until cooked through and then chopped it very fine, before adding to the stuffing mixture.

Once the stuffing had cooled, I stirred in some grated Parmesan cheese and then filled each of the vegetables with a bit of it.  I heated the oven to 350 degrees and put a thin layer of chicken stock in the bottom of a baking pan and then added the stuffed vegetables.  I sprinkled with a bit more cheese and baked until everything was heated through, about 10 minutes.  The book suggests putting the cooked vegetables under the broiler for even more color, but since Chris and I will eat this for dinner tomorrow, I will do that extra step when I reheat them.  These came out really well, and I especially loved the tomatoes.

Definitely two nice, colorful dishes for a summer evening.

Yum and yum.

Now, on to Session 19: Organ Meats.

Liver and sweetbreads and kidneys, oh my!

xooxoxo

Update 26: New Year's Goal: Become an "official" Gourmess by August 2010

I was 32 when I started cooking; up until then, I just ate. --Julia Child

Session 17: Braising and Marinades was a relief (I didn't have to scale, fillet, or kill anything). My book says that "the general braising technique involves cooking by wet heat with the food to be cooked partially immersed in liquid. The principle behind braising is exchange: the item being cooked gives off juices to the liquid, and in turn, the flavorful liquid infuses it." (pp.312)  Sounds good to me.

The first Demonstration was Jarret d'Agneau Braisé (Braised Lamb Shanks) served with Basic Couscous.   We had company staying with us, so the pressure was on for this dish to turn out well, and I think it did.  (Everyone's plates were clean at the end of the meal.)

The first step was to preheat the oven to 325 degrees. (It was hot and humid this weekend, so I was glad to have my convection oven, which heats up the kitchen much less than my kitchen range.) Then, I trimmed two large lamb shanks of excess fat (leave a very thin layer) and seasoned with salt and pepper.  I seared the lamb pieces (there were four) in a pan of hot olive oil for about 10 minutes, until nicely browned, then removed them from the pan.  Back into the pan went four cloves of peeled/crushed garlic, carrots, onions, and celery (strings removed) -- all three of which were cut in large pieces (carrots/onions large mirepoix, celery 1 inch pieces), and I sautéed them for about five minutes, until they started to color. I carefully drained off any fat from the pan, then put it back on medium heat.  I stirred in 1 and 1/4 cups of red wine (Burgundy) to deglaze the sucs from the bottom of the pan, and added in a little over two cups of veal stock and some coarsely chopped (cored/peeled) ripe tomatoes. I added more salt and pepper and then added the lamb back in.

I covered the pan, put it in the oven and braised for about 2.5 hours, until the shanks were nice and tender, but not yet falling off the bone.  I skimmed off the fat from the top of the surface and removed the shanks from the pan and tented with foil to keep warm. Then, I brought the liquid to a simmer for about 10 minutes until it had reduced a bit and thickened slightly.  I added more salt and pepper and kept warm.  The book said to trim the meat from the shank and place it in the sauce, then serve with the couscous.

Basic Couscous involved bringing one cup of White Chicken stock to a simmer then pouring over 6.5 oz. of couscous that I had put in a stainless steel bowl.  I quickly covered with plastic wrap and let sit for about 20 minutes.  Then, I added in about 1 TBS of melted, unsalted butter and some salt and pepper to taste.  I had some beautiful English peas from my organic box so decided to cook those (à l'anglaise) and added to the couscous for some color.

I sliced the lamb into small pieces and topped the couscous with the meat, sauce and vegetables.  It was a nice light dish (partly thanks to the couscous) with the wine and garlic complementing the lamb and vegetables adding crispness.   We ate this with a simple green salad with assorted herbs from the garden and a terrific Syrah from Chris's wine collection. So good!

The second Demonstration was Coq au Vin (Chicken in Red Wine Sauce) which is traditionally served with Pâtes à Nouilles Fraîches (Fresh Noodles).  My book also notes that this dish is traditionally made with rooster, and that if made with a white wine, it is called coq au Riesling.  First, I made my marinade which involved combining about 2.5 cups red wine, carrots, celery, onions (mirepoix) eight peppercorns, two bay leaves, a sprig of fresh thyme, and a clove of garlic (peeled/crushed) in a large bowl.  Into the bowl went a quartered chicken that had been rinsed (pat dry).  I covered the bowl with plastic wrap and put in the fridge to marinate for about eight hours (the book says you can marinate it for three hours minimum, or preferably eight.)  

After the time was up, I removed the chicken pieces from the bowl (they were stained with wine) and then strained the marinade through my trusty chinois, separating the liquid from the vegetables/herbs, but reserving both. Then, I preheated the oven to 300 degrees.  I then got to work on the garnish.  I sautéed some bacon cut into lardons until nicely browned (about 5 minutes) and removed with a slotted spoon, to drain on paper towels. Into the bacon drippings went the chicken pieces (pat dry, season with salt and pepper first) and I seared them about 10 minutes, until golden brown, then transferred to a plate.

I got rid of any excess fat in the pan, and then added back in the vegetables/herbs from the marinade and sautéed those for about 10 minutes, until they started to color nicely.  Then, I stirred in some flour (singer) and cooked for about 2 minutes.  The chicken went back in the pan, and I added some cognac and flambered it, and then added in some veal stock and the reserved marinade and brought to a boil.  I lowered the heat and simmered (skimming off any fat) for about 10 minutes.  I put the cover on the pan and put it in the oven, where it braised for about 30 minutes until tender.

While it cooked, I finished the garnish. I cleaned and quartered button mushrooms and sautéed in butter (season with salt/pepper) for about 10-12 minutes, until browned.  I removed from heat and set aside.  Then, I took some pearl onions (peeled) and put in a small saucepan with a little bit of water, some sugar, and butter, and cooked until caramelized to a nice brown (glacer à brun). Those were set aside, too.  Then, using a heart-shaped cookie cutter, I cut out four hearts from a couple slices of white bread.  Our dear guest made a lovely brunch (challah french toast stuffed with cream cheese/whipped cream and topped with blueberries in syrup) so I used the challah bread that was left over.   I fried the pieces of bread in clarified butter until golden brown and set aside with the rest of the garnish items.

When the chicken was done (nice and tender), I transferred to a plate and strained the liquid through my chinois into a clean pan, getting rid of the solids. I skimmed off any fat that was on the surface and then brought the liquid to a boil. I lowered to a simmer and cooked for about 12 minutes, until a more sauce-like consistency was achieved.  I added more salt/pepper to taste.

When ready to serve, I made a bed of fresh egg noodles on a serving platter, nestled the chicken on top and poured the sauce over it.  I tipped the bottom of the heart toasts in the sauce and then into some chopped parsley and put on the middle of the plate.  I placed the lardons, mushrooms and onions around the dish and that was it.  Terrific, lovely, and oh-so Français!  Our guest said it deserved an "A"!

For the egg noodles:

I put semolina flour on a clean work surface and mounded it slightly to make a well in the middle. I broke 2 eggs into the well and added some coarse salt.  (You can mix 1/2 all-purpose flour and half semolina if you prefer, but should use 3 eggs instead of 2 for the recipe.)  I added some olive oil, and using a fork, I beat the wet ingredients together.  Then, using my hands, I worked the flour into the liquid, moving from the outside in, until I could put the dough into a ball.  I kneaded it for about 10 minutes until smooth and leathery, and then formed a ball, wrapped with plastic and chilled in the fridge for a couple hours. (Per the book, the longer the dough rests, the easier it is to roll out.)

 After cutting the chilled down into three equal pieces, I covered two of them with a damp towel (to keep from drying out) and flattened the third with a rolling pin and fed through the rollers of my pasta attachment set to its widest setting (mine fits on my Kitchenaid mixer), repeating at least three times and folding into thirds after each roll to keep smooth. It started to stick a bit, so I dusted with flour and that seemed to fix it. When all three balls of the dough were satin-like, I ran through my attachments at thinner and thinner settings until I had a thickness I wanted for the egg noodles.  I let the sheets of dough dry for about 20 minutes (the book says no more than 30) until it was pliable, but not brittle or tacky and then changed my attachment to the noodle cutter and cut the pasta sheets into standard egg noodles.  When ready to serve, I brought a pot of salted water to a boil and added the pasta and cooked until just tender (al dente) which only took a few minutes, and then drained it.  I tossed with with some butter and fresh herbs and a little salt and pepper, and that was it. It was a lovely addition to the chicken and there's nothing like fresh pasta... :)

I served this meal with a salad of greens from our garden, and a lovely Cabernet Sauvignon.  We also sopped up the sauce with a crusty bread -- the flavors were so great together, too -- the meat was tender and juicy and full of flavor, and the combination of the salty bacon, the sweet onions and mushrooms, and the eggy pasta...Yum. Yum. And more yum.

The last two Demonstrations for this lesson were marinades: Basic Cooked Marinade and Basic Uncooked Marinade. Marinades are used to add flavor and to tenderize the meat (amount of acid in marinade determines the degree of tenderizing). They are often used in braises and stews, and their ingredients have infinite possibilities. One note: items being marinated should always be refrigerated and a marinade that has raw meat in it can only be used as a sauce after it as been boiled--otherwise, you risk contaminating your food.

Both marinade recipes involved 7 TBS of vegetable oil, 2 oz. of carrots, 1.75 oz of onions, 1.5 oz. of celery, and .75 oz of shallots, all thinly sliced (émincé).  Then, depending on your preference or the item you are marinating, 3.25 cups of red or white wine and 2/3 cups of red or white wine vinegar and a bouquet garni. The recipes then differ from this point on.  For the cooked marinade, you heat oil in a saucepan over medium heat and add in the carrots, onions, celery and shallots and stir to combine. Then, in goes the wine and vinegar (I used white), the bouquet garni a whole clove, peeled and crushed garlic cloves to taste (I used 3) and a few peppercorns to taste (I used 6).  You bring this to a gentle simmer for 30 minutes, then set aside to cool completely before using it.  I will use this later in the week, or freeze for future, but will be tasty with chicken breasts on the grill.

The uncooked marinade involved combining the oil, carrots, onions, celery and shallots in a nonreactive bowl. Then, I added in red wine and vinegar, a bouquet garni, 20 parsley stems, a whole clove and about 6 peppercorns (to taste).  This will be a great marinade for steak...we're going to have some good eats this week!

So, next, we move on to Session 18: Basic Stuffings.
Bye!
xoxoxo

Update 25, Part 2: New Year's Goal: Become an "official" Gourmess by August 2010

I was 32 when I started cooking; up until then, I just ate. --Julia Child


I finished Session 16, and... I killed my first lobster!!!!!!  (It was a traumatic day for both of us.)

Oddly, the book doesn't give instructions on how to kill a lobster, so I looked at a few of my other cookbooks and then watched a few how-to videos on the web. I decided to go with what is considered the "more humane" way to kill a lobster, which involves taking a sharp chef's knife and plunging it into the area about an inch behind the eyes, then cutting the head in half in one quick motion. Fast, painless -- and better than being boiled alive.  I also read that research has shown that lobsters have a nervous system that is too simple to include feeling pain...but, none of this made me feel any better about my first murder. I also read that you can freeze a lobster for 20 minutes before killing it to numb it -- but why prolong the inevitable? The poor creature has been yanked out of the lovely ocean and dumped in a teeny tank at a grocery store, its claws secured by rubber bands, only to be yanked out of that, put on a scale and stuffed into a bag, then transported home and thrown into the freezer? Yikes.

Before going to the store, I prepped my sauce ingredients ahead of time and did as much as I could beforehand so I could bring home my guy, take his life quickly, and move on with the recipe. When I took him out of his bag, Chris wanted me to show it to the cats -- Rocco couldn't have been less interested. I decided not to take a picture, because honestly, that's just mean. ("Smile for the camera -- I'm going to kill you in 2 minutes!" )

I took my knife, held down the rather feisty creature and went in for the kill. I admit that I screamed a bit, okay, maybe a lot -- which sent Chris and the cats running for cover, so the deed was done alone. Just me and the lobster. 

I plunged my knife into the area as instructed, but it got stuck on the next stroke down. I swear the lobster was silently screaming back at me -- I think there were some bubbles coming out of his mouth at this point, as I struggled with the knife and kept saying "I'm sorry!" over and over again. Thank goodness it didn't make any verbal noise, as I assume it would have been horrible to hear.  Finally, the knife came loose and I quickly cut his head in half and figured that was it and he was gone. It was all a matter of less than a minute, but it seemed like it took forever.  Its legs and little antennas were still moving for a bit after the death blow -- which was totally creepy and made me feel even worse. I cut the rest of it in half and then rinsed out the guts and grossness, reserving the liver (tomalley) before chopping him up into pieces -- he was still moving. I think he might have fared better in the boiling water. Poor thing.

(Deep breath, shake it off!)  I didn't need to do this myself -- I could have had my nice fish guy do it for me, but he suggested me doing it, for ultimate freshness. Plus, I admit, I love eating lobster, so I kind of felt like I had to do it. In fact, I had lobster four times already this week (2 lobster rolls, a fritatta and tonight's grilled tails). And, a couple of years ago on vacation, I had it every day for 10 days, sometimes twice. So, I figured I should be directly responsible for one's death for once. I haven't made peace with it yet, but I will.  This is what happens when one likes to eat other living things.

Anyway, enough with this -- let's move on to the Demonstrations, shall we?

I made Sauce Américaine/Armoricaine by taking my freshly killed and chopped lobster body (I had a big lobster, so just used one -- the book says to use 1 lb., 11/2 oz. of lobster bodies w/shells and my guy was 1.6 lbs.) and sautéeing the pieces in vegetable oil for about five minutes, until they turned orange and gave off a strong aroma.  Then, in went some carrot and onion mirepoix, which I sautéed for a few minutes, until soft. Cognac followed, and I flambéed it, then added in some white wine and brought it all to a simmer for about 10 minutes, until it had reduced by about half.  To that, I added fish stock, chopped canned tomatoes (drained), tomato paste, two peeled/crushed garlic cloves, and a sprig of tarragon, salt and pepper.  This was brought back to a bare simmer and cooked for about 40 minutes until a nice stock had formed (I skimmed the surface frequently).

The stock was then strained through my trusty chinois and into a clean pan where it as brought back to a simmer for another 15 minutes until it had a deep flavor.  In the meantime, I made a liaison with 2 TBS butter and flour, then whisked it into the sauce.  I lowered the heat and whisked off and on for about 10 minutes more.  Then, I removed from heat, swirled in some more butter (about 3 TBS) and added in some fresh chopped parsley, tarragon and chervil, with more salt and pepper to taste.  It smelled terrific and we will have with grilled lobster tails tonight.  Yum!

My last Demonstration was Court Bouillon, the aromatic liquid that is used primarily for poaching seafood.  There was the normal recipe made with white wine, and then Court-Bouillon Vinaigré (Vinegar Court-Bouillon), made with white wine vinegar. 

Both involved 3 liters of water, and an enormous amount of onions and carrots émincé (thinly sliced).  The regular version took 1.5 lbs each, and the vinegar version, 8.5 lbs each!  The basic recipe is to combine the water and the wine (or vinegar) with the onions and carrots, as well as parsley stems, thyme,  bay leaves (3-5 of them) and coarse salt in a stock pot.

Then, you bring to a boil and then lower the heat to a gentle simmer for about 20 minutes. Then, you add in 10 peppercorns and simmer for another 10 minutes, then remove from the heat, cool, and strain through a chinois, then move on with a specific recipe (which the book did not suggest, so I will use it for the next time I make scallops or mussels, etc.)

It was a lovely, fragrant broth, and I can imagine how great it will taste with seafood.

And that's it!  

Up next is Session 17: Braising and Marinades.

xoxoxo

Update 25, Part 1: New Year's Goal: Become an "official" Gourmess by August 2010

I was 32 when I started cooking; up until then, I just ate. --Julia Child

Session 16: Working with Shellfish was a fun one for a sunny vacation week.  I began with these two Demonstrations: Moules à la Poulette (Mussels in Cream Sauce with Parsley and Spinach) and  Coquilles Saint-Jacques (Scallops in White Wine-Cream Sauce).

Both of these would make a terrific appetizer or small plate. For the mussels, right before cooking, I rinsed and removed the beard with a knife (I used Blue Bay mussels from Whole Foods and they were already pretty nicely cleaned).  For the scallops, I used 12 fresh, wild-caught sea scallops.

To begin the mussels, I reduced some heavy cream in a small pan and then set aside. I put wine and shallots in a pot and brought to a simmer, then added my mussels (about 1.5 lbs.), covered and cooked for about two minutes. Then, I uncovered, tossed them and cooked for about five minutes more, until they shells had opened and the meat pulled away from the sides.  I removed the mussels and put them in a large bowl, where once cooled, I removed from the shells.  I also removed any remaining beard remnants and also the foot.  Then, I broke the shells in half and put them in the oven to dry for a few minutes.

I measured out about 3.5 TBS of the cooking liquid from the mussel pot and set aside.  I reheated the rest to a simmer until it had reduced by 3/4, then put it through a chinois and set aside.  Before I started the mussels, I had cooked some spinach à l'anglaise and set it aside to drain. I chopped it up and then added to about 5-6 TBS of heavy cream that had been thickened over medium high heat, and stirred for a few seconds until the spinach absorbed the cream. Then I set this aside, keeping warm.

I also took the reduced heavy cream from the beginning of the recipe and put it on low heat. I whisked in the reduced cooking liquid and seasoned with fresh lemon juice, salt and pepper to taste.  I kept this warm as well.  When ready to serve I put the mussels back in the 3.5 TBS of cooking liquid I had reserved and brought to a simmer.  Then, I put an equal amount of the spinach in each shell half, then topped with a mussel and napped with the warm cream sauce.  It was rich and a bit briny, with the lemon and shallots giving a slight bite.  A really nice, warm appetizer...

There was a side-note on the page that suggests serving these on a bed of sea salt or seaweed -- I was so excited to eat these that I read it after I had plated the dish, so sorry for the less than glamorous presentation. I did sprinkle with fresh chopped parsley, though. These lasted about five minutes on the plate anyway-- Chris said they were a real winner and I couldn't stop eating the sauce. We had some chilled Rose with these --our own little cocktail party. Yum.

The scallops also had a cream sauce -- what is it with the French and heavy cream?  (Not that I'm complaining.) I made it by first starting with a white roux of butter and flour that I set aside. Then, I whisked together 1.5 TBS of heavy cream with two room-temperature egg yolks and set aside. A half cup plus one teaspoon more of heavy cream went into another pot and I brought to a simmer, then removed from the heat, keeping warm.  

To cook the scallops, I lightly covered the bottom of a pan with butter and then added white wine, fish stock, sliced button mushrooms and shallots and brought to a simmer.  In went the dozen scallops and I poached gently for about five minutes, until they were just set, but not overcooked.  I transferred them to a bowl and covered with a bit of the cooking liquid to keep them moist.  

I brought the rest of the cooking liquid to a boil and then down to a simmer and whisked in a bit of my roux to thicken.  Then, in went the warm cream and it simmered for about 10 minutes, with me whisking every few seconds.  In went the liquid the scallops were soaking in, and I whisked a bit more -- with the result being a slightly thin sauce.  Finally, the egg yolk/cream mixture went in along with a bit of white pepper, salt and lemon juice.  The sauce thickened a bit and I folded the scallops into it.

The book suggests serving in cleaned scallop shells, but I used all those lovely mussel shells for my own presentation.  Before I plated though, the scallops went into the broiler to glaze and brown a bit. 

They were sweet and creamy with a bit of a tang from the wine and lemon -- a really nice dish for a summer lunch.  We drank some sparkling wine with it and called it a success.  Yum, yum.

Almost done with Session 16! I still have Sauce Américaine/Armoricaine, which involves a whole lobster and two versions of the spiced, aromatic liquid that is used primarily for poaching seafood: Court-Bouillon and Court-Boillon Vinaigré (Vinegar Court-Bouillon).

Stay tuned!
xooxoxoxo

Update 24: New Year's Goal: Become an "official" Gourmess by August 2010

I was 32 when I started cooking; up until then, I just ate. --Julia Child

Session 15: Working with Fish was quite a challenging experience, yet a very rewarding one, too.  I had five Demonstrations.

The first thing I needed to learn was how to clean a fish.  We had a boat when I was growing up, so I had seen my dad and grandfather do this thousands of times, but it was a bit different in my little kitchen-- all on my own.

I had trouble finding whole fish in the types needed for the recipes, so after a few hours of searching every food store in the area, I decided it was the technique I needed to be practicing, so I bought a few whole fish that were available (Snapper from the USA) and practiced my filleting skills on those. The fish was very fresh and the clean smell of it took me back to being 8 years old and on the lake, "fishing" with my parents and sisters.  I used quotes because I always made my dad throw back whatever I caught, which usually still resulted in the demise of the poor fish.

So, back to the task at present, I chose a few different fillet/fish knives in my collection, prepared my mise en place and got to work.  In the beginning, I was not so great -- I made a huge mess scaling the fish. Who would have thought those little scales (they look like dried up contacts) could go everywhere! In my hair, in the toaster, stuck on the window screen -- the book says "This tends to be a very messy operation..." (page 266), and they weren't kidding. It was like a fish horror movie was happening in my kitchen -- guts and scales and debris everywhere!  I was smartly working in the confines of the sink, but those little scale suckers can fly!  I spent 30 minutes sweeping up all those scales and had to take everything off the island and counters and wipe it all down.  (I should have done it outside!) Plus, to remove scales, the book suggested using the back of a knife -- so of course at one point I cut myself with the sharp end. I also stabbed myself with a fin, cut off the head because the eyes were freaking me out, and got sidetracked/mesmerized by the gills.  Hours passed, I think.

But, my first fillet looked like this, and by the third fish (6th fillet) and a different knife, I was doing pretty well, so figured I could move on.  By the end of this session, I was pretty good.

The first Demonstration I made was Fillet de Sole Bonne Femme (Fillet of Sole with Vegetables).  The recipe calls for sole or flounder fillets, and my Whole Foods had a great selection of USA, wild caught flounder from New England, so I went with that.  This demo also called for the preparation of fish stock or Fumet, which, you'll remember I postponed from Session Three: Stocks, so I got to make that as well.  I made the stock by heating butter in a pan over medium heat and then sautéed onions and leeks in it until they had sweated their liquid but hadn't taken on any color. I added some mushroom trimmings, a bouquet garni, and a bunch of bones I had reserved from my fish butchering practice and added just enough cold water to cover.

I brought to a gentle simmer for 30 minutes, then strained through a chinois.  I was expecting the house to start to stink of fish, but the stock actually smelled terrific. Not fishy, but really complex and lovely. My neighbors weren't home, but if they had been, I don't think they would have minded the smell that was wafting up through the house.

Anyway, once the fumet was made, I coated the bottom of a pan with butter, sprinkled it with a mixture of sliced button mushrooms and shallots I had marinating and folded my flounder fillets on top. I added salt and pepper to taste, and then some white wine and the fumet until the liquid came just halfway up the sides of the fish.

I covered with a parchment round and cooked over medium heat, simmering for about three minutes, or until the fish was slightly underdone.  I removed the fish and set aside to drain, then tented lightly with aluminum foil on a warmed plate.

The sauce was made by bringing heavy cream to a simmer and then lowering the heat until the liquid had reduced by about a third, and thickened up.  This was whisked into the stock/wine mixture in the now fishless pan, which had been brought to a boil for about 10 minutes, until it had been reduced too.  The cream/stock mixture was then simmered for a few minutes more, until it was thick enough to coat the back of a spoon (nappant).  A bit more heavy cream was whisked in a cold bowl until medium peaks formed, and then this was folded into the sauce.

I put some mashed potatoes in the center of a plate, topped with the fish and mushrooms, and then covered with the sauce.  This went into the broiler for a few minutes until the fillets were glazed,  sprinkled with fresh herbs, and that was it.

I'm not sure where the "with vegetables" of this dish comes in, but I guess mushrooms count? (I thought they were a fungus?).  Either way, this dish was really great -- rich but not fishy, and the wine, cream, and shallots went perfectly with the flounder.  It reminded me a bit of the Chicken Fricassee with Spring Vegetables from Session 10.

I skipped over the next three Demonstrations to Goujonettes de Sole aux Deux Sauces (Fried Slices of Sole with Two Sauces) since the recipe called for sole or flounder, which I used in the first recipe.  This was a fun recipe, and I instilled the help of my handsome and trusty sous chef: Chris. First, I cut the fillets on the bias into strips that were 2 inches x 3/8 inch, and practiced my breading skills by lightly dipping the pieces in flour first, then a mixture of eggs, peanut oil, and salt, and finally in breadcrumbs -- making sure to tap off any excess at each step.  These went into the fridge until I was ready to cook them.  In the meantime, I made the tartar sauce (sauce tartare) by making a simple mayo and then adding chopped cornichons, capers, tarragon, parsley and chervil.

The second sauce was a red pepper sauce (sauce au poivrons rouge), which had me sautéeing red bell pepper strips in olive oil over medium heat until they had sweated their liquid. I then added some crushed garlic, a bit of water to moisten the pan, and covered with a parchment round with a hole in the center for about 20 minutes, until the peppers were almost mushy.  Then, I put them in a blender and puréed them before running through my trusty chinois.  The strained purée then went back on the stove to simmer and then I added some reduced heavy cream until it had a nice saucy consistency.  I added some salt/pepper to taste, and that sauce was ready, too.

I heated oil in my deep-fry pan until it reached 365 degrees, and then added the fish pieces (gougonettes) a basket at a time, for just a few minutes, until golden brown. They drained on paper towels, and then in went waffle cut potato slices (gaufrettes), which Chris had sliced for me on the mandoline. (He's much better at it than I am.) And then finally, some parsley sprigs went into the hot oil until crisp and those were drained as well.  To plate, I put an equal portion of fish and the chips, garnished with lemon wedges and the fried parsley sprigs, and then served with the tartar sauce and a dash of the red pepper sauce.

This was a really great dish -- and again, there was no strong fish smell in the house.  It was a classy take on fish (sticks) and chips, and I especially loved the red pepper sauce.  This is a keeper.  We made fish tacos with the leftovers, too.  I made a quick coleslaw with cabbage, carrots, cilantro from the garden, mayo, sugar, and vinegar and put it in the center of a wheat tortilla (I wanted to make the tortillas from scratch, but didn't have enough time), and then topped it with a few pieces of the fried fish, a dash of the red pepper sauce and a piece of lettuce.  Talk about yum.

Next, I went back to the Demonstrations I had skipped and started with Filet de Truite Grenobloise (Trout Fillet with Lemon, Butter, and Parsley Sauce). This was terrific, too.  First, I took cubes of bread and sautéed them in 2 TBS of butter until golden brown and then set aside on paper towels to drain.  Then, I removed the rind and pith (peler à vif) from a lemon and then cut those suprêmes into 1/2 inch pieces. I seasoned my trout fillets with salt and pepper and lightly dusted with flour.  I added to a hot pan of clarified butter (presentation side down) and cooked for about 3 minutes on each side until browned. The fillets went on a warm plate and were tented with aluminum foil.  I wiped the pan clean and then added 5 TBS of butter and cooked until it reached the noisette stage (nut-brown in color). Then, in went the diced lemon, capers, parsley and croutons until heated through.  This was spooned over the fish and garnished with potatoes and lemon wedges. Ta-da!

After the trout, came Basic Fish Mousseline, which I must admit, I don't think I would ever serve to anyone I like or want to have back for dinner ever again. It was kind of gross fish puff, I think. But, I still had to make it.  The recipe didn't specify what kind of fish to use, so I used the snapper from my fish massacre.  I puréed it in a food processor until smooth, and then pressed that through a strainer and into a chilled bowl until the texture was extremely smooth. This went into the fridge for about an hour until well chilled. Then, the bowl went over ice and I whisked in an egg white. Once that was mixed in, in went about a cup of heavy cream at small intervals, until creamy and fluffy.  The book says to then season with whatever flavorings are required in your recipe -- but I didn't have a recipe beyond this demo, so I added some salt and pepper.

I brought a pan of water to boil, then brought to a simmer and formed the mixture into quenelles (using two spoons), dropping each into the water for about 2-3 minutes, until cooked through. These were pulled from the water and drained.  And then, you proceed with whatever step your recipe calls for next (again, no other instruction for this).  They were quivery and white and just not my idea of good eating, so I had a bite (they tasted like fish and egg and cream) and then tossed them.  After all, the last Demonstration, Poisson en Papillote (Fish Cooked in Parchment) was waiting.

This next dish, I will make again and again.  It was easy, yet impressive, and the flavors went beautifully together.  I had to improvise with this recipe too (not a good week for fish, apparently), and instead of regular bass fillets, I used sea bass from the Georgia coast -- the fish guy at Whole Foods said it would be terrific, and he was right.  After all, the book didn't specify what kind of bass... :)

I had to make a tomato fondue and duxelles for the base of this dish.  The tomato fondue, I had made before: heat butter/oil in a pan over medium heat, sweat onions, shallots and garlic for about 5 minutes, then add cored/peeled tomatoes and cover with parchment round (with small hole cut for venting) and cook for about 10 minutes until the liquid has evaporated. The duxelles was made by finely chopping 7 oz. of button mushrooms (soak in water and lemon juice if not nice and white) and then adding to a pan of sweated shallots and some lemon juice and covering with a vented parchment round for about 10 minutes until all the liquid has left the pan. I also julienned leeks, carrots and celery and cooked them à l'étuvé with butter and salt.  Then, I assembled the dish.

I took parchment sheets and cut them into large heart shapes (12 h x 18 w) and in the middle, put equal portions of the fondue and the duxelles. Then, on went my bass (they had been brushed with vegetable oil and sprinkled with salt/pepper and chopped thyme from our garden, and the skin was scored to prevent curling)  a handful of the julienned garnish, a sprig of thyme and a drizzle of white wine.

I folded the parchment half over this and sealed the edge with egg whites, and then crimped them again for extra security.  I think next time, I wouldn't put the fish in the center of the paper, as the book suggests, but instead, off to the side so I have an equal amount of paper to fold over the fish.The parchment packets (papillotes) were brushed with vegetable oil and then went into a 450 degree oven for about 8-10 minutes.

When we opened the packets, a puff of fragrant steam was released and a lovely, colorful dish was presented.  It tasted like summer and Chris, who does not usually like mushrooms, was raving about the duxelles.  The fish was perfectly cooked -- silky and flaky, but slightly firm, too.  The flavors were perfect together -- a bright, light, satisfying dish.

Chris said this was restaurant quality, and I would agree. This was a knockout dish and I can't wait to make it again. So, that's it fishes -- you're safe for now from the Gourmess.

Next is Session 16: Working with Shellfish  -- just in time for a quick vacation to the shore!

More soon --we're getting there, folks!!!

xoxoxxo