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RECIPE FOR A « RESTAURANT »
OR RESTORATIVE MEAT BROTH
The restaurant is made from beef, mutton, veal, capon; young pigeon, partridge, onions, root vegetables and fine herbs. It is steamed, but without using any liquid, in a pot whose lid is sealed with pastry. The pot is put in a bain-marie for five to six hours, after which this decidedly succulent broth is sieved and the fat removed. Once this operation has been completed, then a loaf of bread is hollowed out and is filled with the minced and seasoned meat from capons and other fine cuts, before being poached in the bubbling broth. Before serving, it is garnished with cockscombs, calf sweetbread and other delicacies browned in smoked bacon.
Today, the great restaurants are the heirs of sophisticated and costly aristocratic culinary traditions (one of the most reputed establishments of Paris employs a team of 48 people for 45 covers). Smart restaurants and trendy bistros evoke the establishments of the 18th and 19th centuries as depicted in art and literature. The brasseries that grew and prospered in the 19th century have seen a renewal of interest over the last few years, due to their traditional bourgeois cuisine and flamboyant decor. The more earthy bistros with their plats du jour (daily specials) and their menus photocopied or chalked-up on blackboards are reminders of the old bouillons where bank clerks, administrative pen-pushers and shop assistants would have regaled themselves a century ago with good homely fare at modest prices. Whatever social castes they cater to, they have their regulars and nothing is more pleasing to a Parisian's vanity than being recognized, greeted by name and treated with respect wherever he may choose to eat, regardless his wealth or social status. Prick up your ears in a Parisian eatery and you will hear nothing but praise, criticisms, and opinions concerning the food and drink, for in Paris there is no pleasure without comment.
Le Train Bleu, the station restaurant at the Gare de Lyon, was inaugurated by the French president in 1901. It is the most striking example of the Belle Epoque style in France.
To complete the picture, it is important to add that the Louis XIV complex, which is still virulent, and the attachment to the "greatness" of France, nay the certitude of her superiority, do little to encourage a more open approach on the part of the French towards other culinary styles. Cuisine from all over the world can be found in Paris, with any exotic whim catered to, not to mention the gradual integration of certain "foreign" ingredients (such as Parmesan and Balsamic vinegar), but do they consider it to be "real" cuisine? It is true however that this French ethnocentrism, while doing little to improve a nation's command of foreign languages or its respect of basic rules of hospitality, serves our purposes to perfection.
Every great culinary tradition, as well as being a breeding ground of inventiveness and experimentation is first and foremost a keeper of traditional tastes and practices.
Paris and the Provinces
The cuisine of the capital city represents
a convergence of all French provincial culinary talent
Only two of the fourteen chefs who contributed recipes to this book were born in Paris and even they are first-generation Parisians: one has parents from the regions of Charentes and Brittany on the Atlantic coast, while the other's parents originally came from Normandy and the Périgord. The others together represent nine different French provinces and their distinct cuisines, plus one chef from Japan whose cooking shows a distinct enthusiasm for the food from the Basque country. The siren song of the capital has long attracted the ambitious: how can you keep them "down on the farm" when they dream of making a name for themselves and revealing their talent to the world? When chefs come to Paris seeking fame or fortune, their bags are packed with local products and local savoir-faire. So even the most Parisian of dishes are provincial in origin: fresh seafood comes from Brittany and Normandy, escargots from Burgundy, salade niçoise from Nice, warm lentil salad and andouillette sausage from Lyon, potatoes au gratin from the Dauphiné, choucroute from Alsace. It is true that the flavors of the provinces are adapted to suit the Parisian table, and in the process gain something spiritual, subtle, and elegant, even down to the humblest dish of offal. Cooking in Paris allows the chef artistic license that would not be granted elsewhere. Parisians meanwhile are absolutely passionate about the authenticity of regional traditions and celebrate peasant dishes, handmade charcuterie, and the desserts their grandmothers served. This is even more pronounced because it comes on the heels of the oh-so-precious nouvelle cuisine. It also explains their refusal to submit to fast-food and other forms of culinary globalization—feasting on a heritage handed down by generations of connoisseurs is one way of keeping the taste buds from being dulled. Drinking is another: Parisian wine bars are temples to the glory of Burgundy, Touraine or Bordeaux and the arrival of beaujolais nouveau every autumn is a much awaited event.
Le Rallye du Nord, like thousands of Paris bistros, announces the day's specials directly on its windows. Inside, dishes are listed on blackboards.
Seasonal Cuisine
Authenticity and precision,
the keys to perfection
Curnonsky, prince of gourmets, declared that "Cuisine is when things taste like what they are." This astonishing paradox is probably the best definition of French cooking, where the highest art consists of doing away with the most erudite techniques to serve a dish that blends textures, tastes, and cooking methods to produce something that appears as nature intended.
Good cuisine starts at the market, where every product has its high season. Everyone knows that you cannot find wild mushrooms or game out of season, but few people realize that all meat and seafood also have their moments of perfection, which vary from species to species, just like fruit and vegetables. Whether you are seeking higher quality or better prices, there are many advantages in buying products at the height of their season.
It is thus important to be able to evaluate the freshness of a piece of fish, the quality of a cut of meat, and the ripeness of a vegetable or fruit, as well as the happy (or unhappy) marriages between various ingredients. A novice would be wise to follow the advice of a good recipe, a friendly cook or a competent grocer: nothing delights honest craftsmen or enlightened people more than sharing their experience and knowledge with anyone who is truly eager to learn. In general, specialist grocers, experts in what they sell, are preferable to supermarkets where you have to sort the best from the worst, and where it is hard to get away from industrial production.
Harvesting leeks, illustration taken from Tacuinum sanitatis, a treatise from the 15th century. Leeks, like most vegetables in the Middle Ages, only appeared on the tables of commoners.
Finally, it is better to make your purchases as near to mealtime as possible, to avoid having to stock them in the refrigerator, which is always bad for fresh ingredients. This may seem rather complicated, but with a successful trip to the market you will already have taken a big step towards culinary triumph.
The menus of good Parisian restaurants change at least once a season and have a different market dish or menu every day, often composed that very morning according to what delights they have gleaned from their purveyors' stalls.
The window of Hédiard, the world famous luxury grocers, founded in 1854.
