Nude Gnocchi

As we scooped the gnocchi out of their "barely simmering" water onto a tea towel, they struck me as very naked (and not particularly appealing).

The menu:

Páte Á Choux

Gnocchi De Pommes De Terre

The JC method of making gnocchi is unlike any that I have previously used. Instead of making a robust dough and poaching small gnocchi in boiling water until they rise triumphant to the top of the boiler, JC asks you to make large delicate gnocchi that you poach in barely simmering water for 15 minutes in a frypan (which I did with surprising recipe conformity). To try and "toughen them up" and dry them out I removed them to the oven for five minutes. Le Gourmand suspects that they were overcooked in the poaching process and lacked the chew he expects from gnocchi. Next time I invite him to stand there and sample at 2 minute intervals so we can determine the perfect gnocchi cooking time.

I appreciated the flavour that the cheese and nutmeg added to them, when they were eventually extricated from the oven and served with reheated ratatouille and Bastille Day chicken but Le Gourmand pronounced the meal a bit bland, dousing things in cheese and salt and pepper. He may have been more appreciative if he had made the additional ingredient of choux pastry batter and then spent what seemed like an eternity pushing boiled potato through a sieve, as we lacked a crucial potato ricer. I was not highly impressed by the gnocchi's texture either (and wonder if the variations (gratineed or mornayed) will improve the base product) but I fear that Le Gourmand is showing a lack of commitment to Julia on Day 3. A bad sign!

For tomorrow:

Pralin

Biscuits À La Cuiller

How much are you going to cook from this book? he asked. We'll see, I said, as I completed two pre-recipes for tomorrow's desserts. Sponge fingers and praline. Sponge fingers were a bit challenging but at least they are done. The only problem with praline was not eating it (and burning my fingers in the process). I fear the praline's minutes are numbered in this house.

As butterless as possible please

Julia Child mocked our fear of fat in food, but surely sometimes substitution must be just as good as moderation?

The Menu:

Côtes De Porc Poêlées

Marinade Sèche

Ratatouille

Salad with Macadamia Dressing

After last night’s buttery extravaganza, I choose some dishes that would be a bit lighter. The pork chops were marinated in Marinade Simple – lemon juice, oil, parsley, thyme, salt and pepper this morning. The marinade was great as it really permeated the meat.

The pork chops were cooked in the Le Creuset in a little olive oil (butter optional so we went with oil) for 3-4 minutes each side. As the pork chops were a little shy of the prescribed inch thick mark I probably should have cooked them a little less. The chops and juices were removed from the dish and some butter and halved cloves of garlic were added and heated. The chops were returned to the dish until they started to sizzle, then placed in the oven for 20 minutes. The recipe said 25 minutes, I was working with half the amount and probably should have tried to remove them at 15 minutes. Some of the juices were then cooked down with white wine to form a jus.

Not sure why, but I have never thought of ratatouille as French. The ratatouille involved sweating eggplant and zucchini and then lightly frying them in oil for a minute on each side. Then onions and green capsicum were sweated for ten minutes in the same pan and garlic and chopped tomatoes were added. The tomatoes cooked down, covered and then the juices were cooked off and the tomatoes were seasoned. A third of this was added to the bottom of a stoveproof casserole dish, followed by half the eggplant and zucchini, more tomatoes, more eggplant and zucchini, then the final layer of tomatoes and some parsley.

The verdict? Le Gourmand thought the ratatouille should be more finely chopped (I thought it was surprisingly small, Le Gourmand rectified this by chopping his own ratatouille on the plate) but liked the flavours. I loved the flavours, particularly the green capsicum – it was smoky and tasty and relatively healthy. Good for Bruce!

The pork chops had beautiful flavour and the jus was tasty. Unfortunately just a little overcooked – obviously the amount and size of the chops should result in cooking time being adjusted. You live (hopefully dodging heart disease for another day), you learn.

Happy Bastille Day

So Bastille Day has arrived. Bastille Day is quite famous in our family. When I was eight I was involved in a stupid dare that involved a very steep hill, a bike and no helmet. And a tree at the bottom of that very steep hill that I became intimately connected with. My memory of the incident is completely gone but apparently they were quite relieved at the hospital when, despite the apparent head injury, my response to the question "What day is it?" was "Bastille Day." It was in fact, 14 July.

Hopefully the headaches are at a minimum today. I spent last night planning my attack (7 MTAOFC recipes in one hit is no mean feat!) and rose bright and early to peel and marinate pears for the clafouti. Given the fact that it is a Wednesday night, Blairgourmand kindly offered to bring something, so he was assigned entree.

As I walked to work, I mentally organised the order in which I would cook everything and the pots and pans I would need. I stressed over my lack of a 6-8 capacity cooktop proof clafouti pan and decided I would need to modify the recipe. Internet research led me to decide that I would ignore the direction to set a film of clafouti on the cooktop (requiring the cooktop pan) and set it in the oven instead.

I arrived home in time for almost two solid hours of cooking before the guests (and as it turned out, Le Gourmand) arrived. Flicking back and forth between seven recipes in MTAOFC was a challenge involving sticking various kitchen utensils and post it notes in the right place but things went reasonably well, despite having to halt proceedings for entree and Le Gourmand's arrival. Petit Poulet and Blairgourmand arrived, beer and bubbles in hand (as all good guests do).

The menu:

Coquilles San Jacques a la Blairgourmand (Scallops)

Poulet Poêlé À L'Estragon (Casserole Chicken with Tarragon)

Carottes Étuvées Au Beurre (Carrots braised in butter)

Pommes De Terre Sautées (Sauteed potatoes)

Chou-Fleur Blanchi avec Beurre au Citron (Blanched cauliflower with lemon butter sauce)

Haricots Verts À La Provençale (Provencale Green Beans)

Clafouti aux Poires (Pear "flan". My idea of fwhat a flan is and Julia's idea of what a flan is differs slightly, so let's just stick with Clafouti.)

The Verdict:

Scallops were superb! Blairgourmand eschewed the poaching required by Julia and most other recipes for scallops, seared them on one side and laid the seared side down in the shells, covering them with shallots, mornay, cheese and breadcrumbs, then grilling them. We licked our shells!

I hastily returned to the kitchen to put the clafouti in the oven, reheat the vegetables and finish the sauces for the cauliflower and the chicken. The beans and cauliflower appeared to suffer the most from the pause but I suspect this was also Julia's 1950s cooking style.

The carrots were the most familiar recipe - slice and add water, butter, sugar and salt, bring to boil then boil gently for 30-40 minutes. Melt in the mouth!

Somewhat appalled by the butteriness of my lemon butter sauce (lemon juice reduced and butter slowly beaten in) I went off piste with the recipe and instead of adding 3 tablespoons of hot vegetable or seafood stock at the end, I added half a cup of chicken stock and heated it again. The blanched cauliflower were drenched and we could decide for ourselves whether or not to add more of the butter sauce which pooled at the bottom of the bowl. The lemon cut through nicely and balanced the other dishes.

The beans were Blairgourmand's favourite - cook the life out of tomatoes, sweated onions, garlic and herbs wrapped in cheesecloth, then add some partly blanched beans. My theory is that if you add tomato and onion to any green vegetables they will taste good (especially if you sprinkle fetta and toasted pine nuts on top, but that's another day).

I had cheated a little with the potatoes - for evenness of size I had cut some of them in half. As a result they didn't roll around the pan quite as easily in the butter and oil. They also browned a little more than golden in the reheating but Le Gourmand, Blairgourmand and Petit Poulet loved them and thought that the caramelisation was a welcome addition. They were melt in the mouth.

I feared that the chicken, which I diligently browned in the casserole before lying on top of carrots and onion, covering in foil and the Le Creuset lid and adding to the oven, would be overcooked as a jab with the meat thermometer showed we were eating a hot chicken! Instead of port or madeira, I used some marsala and red bubbles in the sauce, which blended beautifully with the tarragon that I had seasoned the chicken with. The meat juices and stock thickened with it beautifully (with the assistance of some cornflour). I sieved it, added some enrichment butter and chopped parsley and voila! I think this probably impressed me the most. The chicken was beautifully tender (lovingly carved by Le Gourmand).

The flavours balanced quite nicely, despite the buttery top notes and the meal was deemed a success!

So we washed the mountain of dishes. The clafoutis had cooked and was sitting in the oven. It was not quite as puffy and brown as I had hoped (probably because I used too many pears and the dish was too big) but when we finally served it with french vanilla ice cream, the pears were a hero. Perhaps all pears should be soaked in wine and sugar for several hours. My favourite thing about the clafoutis? No butter.

Dinner done, we lolled around discussing baby names for little Bruce, who (judging from his little kicks) appeared to have enjoyed the buttery feast.

Le Commencement

Is there anyone else with a childhood recollection of complaining about never going overseas and the response being something along the lines of "Don't you remember that we took you to Disneyland when you were 6 weeks old?" The wheel has turned and with no small amount of satisfaction Le Gourmand (my husband) and I realised that we would be able to tell our bub-to-be, Bruce, that we had taken him/her to Paris, New York and London, albeit in utero. However much more important work was done on this trip. Bruce was introduced to two days of french food and probably made the unpleasant realisation that his mother is a fan of garlic and butter in vast quantities. More importantly, Le Gourmand, often thought to be a picky eater, ate lobster, gizzards and blood sausage with relish, declaring that he would anything cooked by the French. I decided that this was the opening I needed and, within a week of returning to Australia, rushed out to buy Mastering the Art of French Cooking volumes 1 and 2, hopeful that this would widen Le Gourmand's palate to seafood and sweetbreads in the twinkling of an eye.
Acknowledgement must be given to the Julie and Julia phenomenon but it is only fair to note that Volume 1 has been the cornerstone of my mother's French cooking library since I was not even a twinkling in my father's eye. Consequently I have already been treated to the delights of its Coquilles St Jacques, coq au vin, cassoulet and boeuf bourguignon so the pudding has been proven, so to speak.