The Pot on the Fire

Winter can make me sentimental and romantic when I cook, especially on a blustery, grey day. As part of my work to cook one new recipe a week, I have been perusing my cookbook collection. I’ve also been reminiscing about some of my best food memories, and many of those are in France. No small wonder, then, that this recipe came to mind as one to share. “Pot au Feu”, or in English, “pot on the fire”; it’s a classic recipe that seems to go back to the 17th century. One could say it’s just beef stew, but it’s so much more than that. Chef Raymond Blanc, a Michelin-starred chef who is in England but well known for his French heritage, once said that pot au feu was

“the quintessence of French family cuisine, it is the most celebrated dish in France. It honours the tables of the rich and poor alike.”

The recipe below is one I wrote out  for an entry in the first of two cookbooks I compiled, quite proudly I might add. That cookbook was all recipes translated from their original French (many of them from books written hundreds of years earlier). it was a project I undertook as part of my year living in France. To me, this recipe personifies the French culture: its poetic nature that embodies a love of “the good life” – that appreciation of quality  time with friends, especially when it involves food and drink.

I include the original text below:; the actual recipe I cooked this week is in the link for Pot au Feu. 

“Take 2 pounds of good honest beef, and tie these two pounds lovingly with an untreated string.

Place this generous parcel of meat in a paunchy clay stock pot. Add 6 litres of cold clear water. From your antique  wooden salt box, take a large handful of coarse, crunchy salt. Let this salt also fall into your stock pot.

In the company of the beef, place a cute morsel of lamb breast or a nice pork spleen. This will give the juice in which the meats cook a better texture.

Put your clay stock pot on Mr. Fire. Make sure the latter is good and hot. A whitish foam will form on the surface of the stock. Skim it off without pity, as soon as it forms. Continuing until only half the original volume of stock is left. Then, put carefully beside the beef 3 tender leeks, which you have cut into pieces the length of your finger, or thereabouts. Bind them, vagabonds that they are, wandering left and right in the tonic that encircles the cooking beef. Add 2 healthy carrots, a small morsel of parsnip, an unsuspecting turnip, a glorious bay leaf, and a pot-bellied onion. On the rounded surface of the onion, just like 3 assassinated flies, should be stuck 3 black cloves. As soon as all these delectable vegetables are in your stock pot, stir up the Fire so as to awaken the bouillon.

You must let 6 hours of the clock pass by with the pot on the Fire. The whole pot should boil gently, grumbling satisfactorily.

Sacrifice a few small onions, burning them shamelessly and throwing them with confidence into the pot. They will act as painters, endearing the stock with a lovely brown colour.

Skim the fat from the stock and purée it as smoothly as possible.   

Serve the beautiful and tender beef on a sturdy platter, surrounded by the loyal vegetables which cooked in its company. There should be proud steam and delicious odour escaping from all.

Mustard from Bordeaux may add in the digestion of these foods. For the wine, a  red wine will do nicely, not noble but strong; rather thick, full-bodied, and having spent at least 6 months in a secure cellar.

Condiments for the meal: Rustic flowers on the table, around which should be the bright and happy faces of women, the familiar face of an old friend, the attentive eyes of a loving dog (who also loves human food), the  triangular muzzle (deceivingly indifferent and disdainful) of the cat, who asks for nothing but watches nevertheless; a hearty stomach, happiness, good health and the absence of thought for anything which is not part of the dinner.

Outside should be the fairy scene of sparkling Parisian lights or the touching charm of a country garden.

Without these essential condiments, alas! The most exquisite meal will seem bland.”

Need I mention that not only the poetic method of cooking but also the accoutrements create a beautiful balance for an enjoyable meal? Down to the presence of the pets, this atmosphere seemed to me to be the perfect blend for a memorable meal. I have used it as a template ever since. I hope it provides you with some inspiration of your own.

A Gourmande’s Resolution

I’m going to visit my cookbook collection more often this year!

Okay, I’m a bit slow getting going, but I showed up, didn’t I? I resolved this year to not only cook 1 new recipe each week, but then also to post those recipes here for all to see. I may have some that I’m not going to make again, but I figure that information might be valuable for fellow readers to know, too! So, I have made my recipes but I’ve just managed to get them all written down, hence this mish-mash of a post to get caught up. Will you indulge me?

The first week it was grey, with no sun. I mean not a single ray since the calendar page flipped to 2016! For a Prairie girl such as myself, this was tortuous. If I couldn’t have blue skies, I needed a bit of brightness on the dinner table. Thankfully, my Saveur magazine came to the rescue with pictures and a lovely article on winter salads. (sorry, no link, as issue #180 isn’t online yet.) I added my own twists, and reduced the dressing quantity as I still had leftovers even making half, and voilà! Winter Herb Salad with Fruit If I do say so myself, it was truly wonderful. The flavours of the herbs came through well, and the pomegranate and apple were just the thing to brighten my day. We had it with some sautéed snapper that had an Asian rub – a perfect Monday meal!

The second week has still been grey, with the exception of 5 minutes of sunshine I caught one morning while walking the dogs. We were talking about a trip to New Orleans in the fall, and of course my online research strayed easily when I saw native recipes. I knew about King Cake from my time in France, but when I saw the recipe from New Orleans, I realized it was a completely different animal. Instead of puff pastry, this was a sort of brioche dough. Well, what better occupation for a home body on a grey winter day than a yeast dough? Away I went with New Orleans King Cake.

 

Granted, one probably doesn’t need a stuffed brioche right after the holiday season, especially when preparing to be fit and trim for a beach holiday (Jamaica looms on the horizon, only two weeks from now.) But, it’s for a good cause, right? I can tell you it was worth the sacrifice. This is a great Sunday recipe. Your man will love you when it comes out of the oven about half time 🙂

I’ve just signed up for the #PulsePledge too, since it’s the Year of the Pulse. No, not as in staying alive and keeping your heart beating, although that will be a part of it. This is about legumes – chickpeas, lentils, beans and the like. The idea is to cook one recipe a week for 10 weeks using some kind of pulse. I may include my pulse recipe next week, alongside an entrée recipe (pork, I think).

I hope these posts will help those cooks who are always looking for ideas, day after day. I hope it will help me to stay organized, cooking and writing more this year. I look forward to staying in touch!