Tag Archives: france

Pork Chop Marengo
food history, french cuisine, italian cuisine, recipes

Napoleonic Entree: Chicken or “Veal” (Pork) Marengo

Pork Chop Marengo
Pork Chop Marengo

            Despite his remarkable career, Napoleon Bonaparte had several close calls on his rise to power. One such case was at the Battle of Marengo in June 1800. Napoleon had seized power in a coup the previous year. To secure his rule, he needed military victories. At the time, he was fighting the Austrians for control of northern Italy. They met in battle near the city of Alessandria, in the Piedmont region.

            At first, the battle didn’t go well for the French, but Napoleon managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. His control over Italy was secured, skeptics in France were reassured, and other ambitious generals were discouraged from turning on him. To celebrate, or simply because he was hungry after a long and no doubt stressful battle, Napoleon requested a special dish. Or so the story goes.

            Recipes for chicken marengo vary enormously. The only constants seem to be chicken (or occasionally veal) browned in olive oil, onions, and tomatoes, braised together to make a sort of stew. There’s usually garlic, mushrooms, and white wine. Many recipes include shallots and parsley, and a few use brandy instead of wine. Great chef Auguste Escoffier recommended including fried eggs and crayfish. Regardless of specifics, toasts fried in butter traditionally accompany chicken marengo.

            To make things even more complicated, there seems to be a debate about whether chicken marengo is French or Italian. In Mimi Sheraton’s 1,000 Foods to Eat Before You Die, it’s in the French section, but I’ve also seen recipes in Italian cookbooks. Since the Piedmont region was historically part of the Duchy of Savoy, a realm straddling the Alps between France and Italy and right on the trade routes between them, it’s hardly surprising that a Piedmontese dish would be adopted into French cuisine, or vice-versa. And it’s fitting that an entrée associated with Napoleon should be considered both French and Italian. After all, he himself was a native of Corsica, then ruled by Genoa, but made his career in France.

            For my own recipe, I combined the different strands into one, with no eggs or crayfish. The nice thing about chicken or “veal” marengo is that after browning the meat and making the “sauce,” it can be kept overnight and cooked the following day. Everything can be done in a Dutch oven, but if you don’t have one, a skillet and slow-cooker will also work. If you want to reduce fat and calories, the bread can be toasted dry in the oven or toaster, instead of in the buttered skillet. Or don’t toast it, if you prefer, but whatever you do, don’t skip it. You need bread to soak up the sauce.

Here’s how to make it:

Ingredients:

  • 1 chicken, cut up, or roughly 3 pounds bone-in pork (or veal) chops
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 4 tablespoons butter, plus more to brown toasts
  • 1 medium onion, quartered and thinly sliced
  • 2 shallots, halved and thinly sliced
  • 4 garlic cloves, crushed with the side of the knife and minced
  • 1 bunch parsley, thick stems separated from leaves and thinner stems, and both parts minced separately (don’t discard the thick stems)
  • 3 tablespoons dry white wine, mixed with 1 tablespoon brandy
  • 2 tablespoons flour
  • 1 (roughly 15 oz) can crushed tomatoes, or about 2 lbs fresh tomatoes, chopped
  • 1 pound mushrooms, cut into thick slices, with larger pieces halved
  • Baguette or Italian bread, to serve

Directions:

  1. Brown meat in the olive oil and two tablespoons of the butter in the skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat. Set aside on a plate.
  2. Add onion and shallots and sauté, stirring frequently, for about 5 minutes, or until they start to turn golden. Add the garlic and parsley stems and cook for 2 more minutes (garlic is added later because it cooks faster and burns more easily).
  3. Stir in the wine/brandy mix, making sure to scrape up any browned bits at the bottom of the pan. Cook until the liquid is mostly evaporated, 5 to 10 minutes.
  4. Add the flour and stir until incorporated. Follow with the tomatoes, and water if using canned. Bring sauce mixture to a boil. If using fresh tomatoes, reduce heat and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, until the tomatoes break down and release their juice. Add salt and pepper to taste.
  5. Place the meat, skin side up if using chicken, in the Dutch oven or slow-cooker, and cover with the sauce. At this point, the chicken/pork/veal marengo can be refrigerated overnight if desired.
  6. Preheat oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit, if using Dutch oven. Bake for 2 to 3 hours, until the meat is tender (if the stew was chilled overnight, it will probably be at the longer end of the time range).
  7. If using a slow-cooker, cook for about 4 hours on high or 6 – 8 on low. If it’s a little longer, like if you put it on before leaving for work, that’s completely fine.
  8. Half an hour before serving (with either cooking method), melt the remaining butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add the mushrooms and a little salt and cook, stirring frequently, until soft and aromatic, about 10 to 15 minutes. Add to the stew, pressing them down into the sauce, and leave to cook while browning the toasts (or for 15 minutes if you decide to use untoasted bread).
  9. Toast the bread pieces in a buttered skillet over medium low heat until browned.
  10. Sprinkle the stew with the parsley leaves and serve, toasts on the side.

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Bread and Cheese of France: Baguettes, Brie, Brioche, Camembert, and Croissants

Source: 1000 Foods (pgs. 55 – 56, 65 – 67, 69 – 70, 83 – 84)

Clockwise from top: baguette, brioche, comte, brie, pain au chocolat (chocolate croissant)

            About two months ago, I took a trip to France. We visited Paris, Normandy, Brittany, and the Loire Valley. Among the highlights were a tour of Paris with a colorful local guide, the Joan of Arc church in Rouen, storytelling by the tour director of his previous tours, the D-Day landing beaches in Normandy, and the Apocalypse Tapestry in Angers. There was a lot of amazing history packed into everything we saw, and that was just the northwest quarter of the country. Naturally there is a lot more to experience on a future trip, but for now, let’s consider the food.

            French cuisine is highly regarded around the world and has been for hundreds of years. But even while people speak of classical haute cuisine or classically trained French chefs, there is no single “French” cuisine that covers the whole country. Like any other country with varied terrain and climate, food in France is regional. Each area has its own specialties and preferences, which have persisted even with modern travel and shipping. People in Normandy eat differently than those in Provence, but one food found throughout the country is the baguette.

            For something seen as a symbol of French cuisine, the baguette is a relatively recent invention. The story goes that in the 19th century, bakers designed the thin loaves to bake faster, meaning that they didn’t have to get up quite as early to prepare for the breakfast rush. The formula is straightforward: it’s a lean dough (meaning no added butter, oil, milk, or eggs) made of just white flour, water, and yeast. Actually making it is the tricky part, as demonstrated on The Great British Baking Show, but bakeries across France have mastered it. In less than 200 years, baguettes went from something that didn’t exist to a presence in every mini-grocery, café, and hotel breakfast spread. And why not? They’re plain but comforting, and very versatile.

            Brioche is completely different. The dough is enriched with butter and eggs and lightly sweetened, which creates a softer texture and finer crumb. Historically, when the price of bread varied dramatically depending on the type of flour and what was added to the dough, it was a luxury or holiday bread. As prosperity increased, brioche became more popular, although it doesn’t seem to have surpassed baguettes and croissants. Of the four hotels we stayed at, they all had the latter two on the breakfast buffets, but I only remember seeing brioche at one, though it’s entirely possible that I missed it at the others.

            Croissants are a quintessentially French pastry, but may not have come from France at all. One story is that they were first made in Austria to commemorate the failed Siege of Vienna by the Ottomans in 1683. After the Turkish army was driven off by the forces of King Jan Sobieski of Poland, a new pastry was created in the shape of a crescent, found on the Ottoman flag. Perhaps there was some satisfaction in eating the symbol of their enemy. But however they originated, croissants are made with a yeast puff pastry, where thin layers of yeasted dough are layered with butter, producing a rich, flaky delight. Regular croissants are delicious enough, but adding chocolate to make pain au chocolat takes them to a whole new level.

            While I loved the various breads and pastries, I was less impressed with the cheeses in France. Two of the most famous are Brie, from the Ile de France region around Paris, and Camembert, from Normandy. Both are semi-soft cheeses with edible rinds, authentically made with unpasteurized cow’s milk. Because US law does not allow the production or import of raw milk cheeses aged less than 60 days, true Camembert and most Brie are not available stateside. Many connoisseurs bemoan this, but after tasting both cheeses, I struggle to understand what all the fuss is about.

            Normandy is famous for its dairy products, as is neighboring Brittany. Grass thrives in the rainy, mild climate, and apples grow much better than grapes. With all its farm fields and cows, the countryside felt very familiar, almost Midwestern, except with more wheat, potatoes, and vegetables than corn. And more medieval churches. You don’t see too many of those in the US. But dairy-heavy food is another story entirely. Cheese toasted on sandwiches, especially the ham and cheese croque monsieur, buttery pastries and cookies, and salted butter caramels are definite cousins to what can be found in Wisconsin.

            On our first day in Normandy we had an interesting tour of an orchard/cider production facility. The guide talked about how the fermentation process worked, how juice vs. sweet vs. dry cider was made, and how cider could be distilled and aged, producing calvados. This was followed by a cheese and cider tasting. We began with the mildest samples: camembert and sweet cider. In theory, camembert is supposed to be a mushroomy delight, according to Ms. Sheraton. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but I didn’t enjoy it either. It was an ok snack with a bit of bread, but the flavor, though mild, definitely had some “funky” undertones, for lack of a better word. The texture also felt a little off. Part of this might be what I’m used to, but I didn’t care for the camembert or the other two cheeses (I can’t remember the names at the moment).

Markings on container designate authenticity
Camembert and cider

            The cider was much better; very light and sweet. Fermentation is a chemical reaction where sugars are turned into alcohol. The longer the process continues, the stronger and drier the cider becomes. For sweet cider, the apple juice is only lightly fermented, resulting in an alcohol content of about 2%. Dry cider, which we didn’t taste, is about 5.5%, about the same or slightly stronger than most beer. Pommeau is sort of like apple “wine,” and calvados is a distilled apple brandy. I didn’t care for either of those. The alcohol content made it hard to taste the apple flavor, and was uncomfortably strong for the calvados.

            I don’t think the cheese agreed with my stomach either. The disagreement was not enough to make me sick, but I did feel a bit queasy. It’s possible that was just my imagination based on what I was expecting, but I prefer cheese without that effect. Supposedly cheeses with pasteurized milk have less flavor, but if funky/mushroomy is a flavor the process destroys, so be it. A nice cheddar from the local farmer’s market beats the famous Camembert de Normandie, hands down. The same is true with the Brie de Meaux found on one of the breakfast buffets. The Comte cheese from the same buffet was a lot better; much firmer, a bit saltier, and a tasty non-funky bit of morning protein to stick in a baguette.

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Summer in the South of France: Ratatouille, Cherry Clafoutis

Source: 1000 Foods (pgs. 124 – 125, 79 – 80)

Not made by rats

            Ratatouille is a hilarious movie. It is also a delicious demonstration of Southern French history in a single dish. The garlic, onions, parsley, and olive oil were all available from the time Rome controlled the region, if not before. During the Middle Ages, dukes and counts in Southern France were as wealthy and powerful as the king in Paris, if not more so. Much of this wealth came from the area’s agricultural productivity, but trade was also important. Eggplants arrived via trade with the Arab world and became widespread around the Mediterranean. Basil also came from the East. The peppers, tomatoes, and zucchini came from the Americas before becoming traditional in Provence.

            Clafoutis is sort of like a cross between a cake and a custard. It begins with a batter similar to crepe batter to which fruit is added. Cherries are the most popular, but are not the only option. Unlike in cherry pie or black forest cake, sweet cherries are used. What’s most interesting about clafoutis is that traditionally, the cherries are unpitted to keep the red juice from running into and staining the cake. Supposedly the pits provide a bit of almond flavor due to compounds related to cyanide, which sounds scary but is in such small quantities that it’s not an issue. In fact, the quantities were so small that I couldn’t taste the almond flavor at all, but it wasn’t really necessary. The lightly sweet, soft crepe/custard with just a hint of vanilla was the perfect foil for the stronger flavor of the cherries. Not getting poisoned was nice too.

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Mediterranean Meets New World: Soupe au Pistou

Source: 1000 Foods (pgs. 134 – 135)

            Southeastern France has a lot in common with the northwest corner of Italy, and it’s not just that they’re both called their country’s Riviera. The neighboring regions share a similar climate and terrain, and even share a lot of history. In 218 BC, Hannibal crossed the region as he marched his army from Carthaginian territory in Spain to Italy. While he is most famous for marching his army and elephants over the Alps, there is an interesting story about when he crossed the Rhone River in Provence. Modern day France was mostly occupied by the Gauls, who were Celtic peoples organized into chiefdoms. Most of the chiefs felt more threatened by Rome than by Carthage (as Rome had recently conquered other Celtic peoples in the Liguria/Piedmont region) so they aided or tolerated Hannibal’s army. The problem was that there was a hostile group near a strategic river crossing and a Roman army was on its way to try and ambush him. A bit of trickery bought Hannibal enough time to get his army across, but when the elephants found themselves on specially-built rafts they freaked out and jumped off and/or capsized them. Fortunately for the Carthaginians, elephants are actually quite good swimmers and all made it across. By the time the Romans arrived, Hannibal and his army had disappeared into the Alps.

            Over the course of the war, which lasted from 218 to 202 BC, Rome conquered the French Riviera and most of Spain. It’s not clear how many grapevines were already grown in the region, but the Romans certainly introduced new varieties and encouraged their cultivation, along with olive trees. From Provence (the name came from the Latin provincia) vines spread northward, particularly once Julius Caesar conquered the rest of Gaul (modern France) in the 50s BC. Olive trees, though restricted to the coast that far north, were also introduced and became important to Provence’s economy.

            Pesto-type sauces were part of Ancient Roman cuisine and basil appeared in the Medieval Era, but what’s interesting about this soup is that most of the ingredients deemed essential originated in the Americas. White beans, green beans, potatoes, and tomatoes were all introduced after Columbus, and the latter two took a few centuries to catch on. Fortunately they did, because this soup is a balanced meal in a bowl. There’s starch in the potatoes, protein in the beans, vitamins and minerals in the vegetables, and a bit of fat from the olive oil.

            Ms. Sheraton explains that as long as there are both types of beans, potatoes, and tomatoes, the other vegetables can vary based on what’s available. Since it sounded like a chef’s choice kind of dish, I created my own plan from the general description. Onions, tomatoes, and white beans went in first, with enough water to cover by about an inch. For meatless vegetable soups it is important not to add too much water to avoid diluting the flavor. I added the potatoes about halfway through, then added the zucchini and green beans in the last few minutes to keep them from overcooking. The pistou, which is like a French pesto without pine nuts or walnuts, is added to the individual bowls at serving time.

            The soup was an amazing taste of summer. While the ingredients are generally available out of season, they both taste better and are more affordable at their summer peak. Tomatoes are especially seasonal, since shipping them any distance is much easier when they are underripe. At local farm stands they are ripe and red all the way through, all the vegetables are fresh, and the basil is my own. It thrives during the summer but does not do well when moved inside. I’ve tried that in the past without much success. It’s better to make maximum use of it now.

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Fraises au Jus Glace (Strawberries Ali-Bab)

Source: 1000 Foods (pgs. 92 – 93)

            In temperate climates, strawberries are one of the first fruits to ripen each season. While modern farming and shipping methods have made them available year-round, the fresh, ruby-red berries that come onto the market in early summer are special. Because fully ripe strawberries don’t ship or keep well, they are usually either flash-frozen or picked underripe for grocery store shelves. When the aromatic beauties appear at farm stands and farmers’ markets, people still go crazy for them. Many are eaten plain as a delicious, healthy snack or dessert. To preserve the bounty, they can be turned into jam (freezer jam is easy and maintains the aroma) and freeze very well. In fact, for winter desserts and smoothies, thawed frozen berries usually have a better flavor than out-of-season fresh berries.

            Of course, there are many ways to take advantage of the summer berries while they last. Every year I make at least one chocolate-strawberry pie with a cream cheese filling. Not only is it delicious, but it has an important virtue as a summer treat: the oven only needs to be turned on for long enough to bake the pie shell. For the same reason, if serving strawberries with pound cake, I’ve learned not to bake my own. During the winter I can use the oven to my heart’s content, but during summer the hour-long baking time almost inevitably leads to complaints. Luckily Sara Lee pound cakes are readily available in every grocery store, don’t heat up the kitchen, and have a quality level to complement the exquisite fruit.

            This year, in addition to the aforementioned pie, I tried a new recipe suggested by Mimi Sheraton. Fraises au jus glace (otherwise known as strawberries Ali-Bab) is simple to make, just hull the strawberries, puree a few of the least pretty with a bit of sugar and lemon juice, partially freeze the mix, then toss with the rest of the berries. Adding a bit of orange liqueur to the frozen mix is optional, but I opted not to use any for a pure strawberry flavor. Good quality strawberries are essential, as pointed out by Ms. Sheraton.

            When the best strawberries are in season, this recipe was an excellent way to let them shine. Enhanced with just a bit of sugar (a few teaspoons among multiple people), there was nothing to overpower them, and the addition of the frozen puree as a “sauce” was a nice touch for summer. Between the flavor and very limited sugar, this will definitely make it into my annual recipe rotation.

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