PRIDE OF PLACE
In her book French Country Cooking, author Mimi Thorisson glories in dishes inspired by the Médoc.
In her latest cookbook, French Country Cooking, author Mimi Thorisson glories in dishes imbued with the traditions, produce and characters of her adopted home in the Médoc.
Ihad passed the grey, grand old house at No 1 rue de Loudenne in Saint-Yzans, a small, quiet village in the wine country close to St Estèphe, on several occasions since moving to the Médoc, but I had never thought that it would ever have anything to do with me.
My husband, Oddur, and I had left our Parisian lives a few years earlier and settled in a farmhouse in the northern part of the Médoc, right in the middle of the dense pine forests and close to the beautiful white beaches of the Atlantic coast. We had entered a mysterious new world of winemakers, hunters, vegetable growers, and local gourmands whose way of life seemed in many ways more content, simpler, and perhaps fuller than we had any right to expect. We were, in a word, happy. Our growing family felt at home in the countryside, and as the years passed we realised that we would probably never leave. We thought about buying a farmhouse to call our own, maybe something closer to the vineyards we loved. It had to be special; it had to suit us.
From the day I first set foot in No 1 rue de Loudenne, when I first walked into that beautiful big kitchen that I now cook in every day, when I discovered that the house had been a restaurant, when I realised that it had a big dining room and a second, smaller kitchen next to that, I knew what would happen next. It was clear to me that the house needed to awaken from its long slumber.
We decided to start small, hosting a few cooking workshops throughout the year. Class after class of like-minded food-loving, wine-drinking people made their way to this quiet town to spend hours eating and drinking. I was emboldened.
Then we opened a pop-up restaurant. We never defined a concept, but if we had it might have been “granny goes to town”, the country girl in her finest clothes. This was the house that had to be a restaurant and this is the book that wrote itself – meals and moments from a village in the vineyards.
Celeriac velouté
“Along with tomato gazpacho, this soup is probably the starter we served most often in our little restaurant – which frankly came as a surprise,” says Mimi Thorisson. “I wanted something that we could make in advance, something simple but luxurious. So one night I came up with this creamy soup with a little mustard and served it with a slice of crisp bacon. I was worried that people might be disappointed, find it too straightforward, but instead it became a hit. I don’t think it’s a soup you can have too much of, but it works especially well as an appetiser, familiar enough to be pleasant, yet interesting enough to hint at what lies ahead. My husband, Oddur, our resident sommelier, always paired this soup with a local sauvignon blanc, which I think is perfect.”
Serves 6 (pictured p122)
45 gm salted butter
1 celeriac (about 900gm), peeled and
cut into small cubes
500 ml (2 cups) milk
180 ml (¾ cup) chicken stock
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
Extra-virgin olive oil and ground piment d’Espelette (see note) or mild chilli powder, to serve
6 bacon rashers, cooked until crisp
1 In a large saucepan, melt the butter over a medium-low heat. Add the celeriac, season to taste with fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, and cook for 5 minutes. Pour in the milk and stock and bring to a simmer. Cover, reduce heat and simmer until the celeriac is tender
(about 20 minutes).
2 Purée the soup, preferably using a hand-held blender. Stir in the mustard and season to taste. Serve hot, drizzling each portion with extra-virgin olive oil and sprinkling with a pinch of piment d’Espelette. Top each bowl with a rasher of bacon. Note Piment d’Espelette, a French dried chilli, is available from Herbie’s Spices (herbies.com.au). Wine suggestion Dry white vermouth or a French sauvignon blanc.
Braised leeks vinaigrette
“In my kitchen, next to the stove, there’s a small pantry corner, just a windowsill really, and it’s always filled with fresh vegetables,” says Thorisson. “In the middle there’s a copper pot filled with onions, and to the left a stack of potatoes. On the right side we always have a bundle of carrots and a row of fresh leeks. In front of the carrots we usually have a mix of what’s in season – say courgettes and aubergines. All this is my husband’s doing; I don’t really arrange vegetables as if they were a still life, but he does. He’s from Iceland, where people have a history of believing in elves, but he’s also a realist, so he knows things don’t really happen by themselves. So he’s happy to play the vegetable elf. When he senses that some vegetables are peaking and need to be cooked, he will simply take them out and place them in the middle of the kitchen. When that vegetable is leeks, I braise them to serve as a side dish or a starter – for there aren’t many recipes that require a dozen leeks. This is French cooking, not at its most extravagant but certainly at its purest and best.”
“Class after class of like-minded food-loving, winedrinking people made their way to this quiet town.”
Serves 4-6 (pictured p123)
8 medium leeks
2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 tbsp dry white wine
60 ml (¼ cup) chicken or vegetable stock
Vinaigrette
80 ml (⅓ cup) extra-virgin olive oil
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
2 tbsp sherry vinegar
Finely chopped fresh chives, to serve
1 Trim the dark-green tops and the roots from the leeks and remove the outer layer from each. Rinse each leek under cold running water.
2 In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook for a minute. Add the leeks, season to taste with fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, and cook for 5 minutes. Pour in the wine and simmer for 2 minutes to reduce. Pour in the stock, cover and cook until the leeks are tender but not soft (about 10 minutes).
3 Meanwhile, for the vinaigrette, whisk together the olive oil, mustard and vinegar in a small bowl. Season to taste with fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper.
4 Halve the leeks and arrange in a serving dish, drizzle with the vinaigrette, sprinkle with chives and serve.
Butternut pancakes with sage brown butter
“We don’t grow our own yet, but in autumn we tend to build up a small collection of pumpkins and squash in various shapes and sizes,” says Thorisson. “We decorate our tables with them, and for a few weeks it seems we are drowning in pumpkins. Then, as the season progresses, we start cutting them up one by one; many end up in soups, while others get roasted as a side dish. The really lucky ones end up in delicious little creations like these pancakes, which are so simple to make, yet feel quite decadent and grown-up when drenched in sage and butter sauce. The words ‘light’ and ‘rich’ seem contradictory, but they are the ones I would pick to describe these pancakes.”
Makes 10
½ butternut pumpkin, peeled, seeded
and cut into cubes
1 large egg
80 ml (⅓ cup) crème fraîche
30 gm (⅓ cup) grated parmesan (optional) 180 gm (1½ cups) plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
80 gm unsalted butter, plus extra for the pan
Fresh sage leaves from one small bunch
1 For butternut pumpkin purée, preheat oven to 180C and roast butternut pumpkin until very tender (about 20 minutes). Purée using a potato ricer or food processor, or mash by hand.
2 In a bowl, mix 200gm (1½ cups) butternut purée, egg and crème fraîche. Using a wooden spoon, stir in the parmesan, flour, baking powder and a pinch of fine sea salt until smooth. 3 Lightly butter a large cast-iron frying pan or sauté pan and set over medium heat. Drop 5 pancakes of 2 tbsp batter each in the pan and cook until the bubbles on the surface start to pop and undersides are golden brown (about 1 minute). Turn them over and cook just to set the other side (about 1 minute). Repeat with the remaining batter. 4 In a small saucepan, heat the butter over medium heat. Add a pinch of salt and the sage leaves and cook until the butter turns golden brown and the sage leaves are crisp.
5 Serve the pancakes drizzled with browned butter and topped with sage leaves.
Wine suggestion Rich white Burgundy.>
Silverbeet gratin
“I have a penchant for dark green, leafy vegetables such as kale, spinach and silverbeet,” says Thorrison. “They’re versatile, delicious and, if reports are to be believed, just about the healthiest food we can eat. As a child living in Asia, I ate various greens, often stir-fried with oil and garlic. That’s still one of the best ways to enjoy them, but these days I include them in all sorts of dishes: cakes and tarts and quiches, scrambled eggs and omelettes, and fresh salads as a side dish with meat or fish. This silverbeet gratin is a wonderful alternative to serving potatoes with a meal and yet another way to help children grow up loving greens.”
Serves 4
900 gm silverbeet (about 2 bunches)
2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1 large onion, thinly sliced
30 gm unsalted butter
2½ tbsp plain flour
240 ml milk
Pinch of grated nutmeg
90 gm (1 cup) grated Gruyère 1 Preheat the oven to 200C. Coarsely chop the silverbeet leaves and slice the stems into 5cm pieces.
2 In a large sauté pan, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook until translucent (about 3 minutes). Add the silverbeet, season to taste with fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, and cook for 10 minutes over medium-low heat. Transfer the mixture to a 30cm oval baking dish.
3 In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Whisk in the flour until smooth. Whisk in the milk and cook, whisking continuously, until the mixture just comes to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer until thick and creamy
(5-6 minutes). Season the béchamel with nutmeg and fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. 4 Spoon the béchamel over the silverbeet in the baking dish, scatter the Gruyère on top, and bake until bubbling and golden brown
(about 25 minutes). Serve hot.
Wine harvest pot-au-feu
“Sometimes in winter when I’m at the market, I see elderly men in old sweaters buying vegetables,” says Thorisson. “They always buy the same things: potatoes, leeks, carrots, turnips, parsnips, cabbage. I know that when they get home, they or their wives all cook the same things, too: blanquette de veau or pot-au-feu. It’s hard to imagine a more familiar dish than pot-au-feu, a humble but delicious meat stew. Sometimes I even forget it exists; there are so many other, more exciting, recipes to cook. But once in a while I cook this classic and I’m always happy I did. A dimly lit kitchen, a hot pot-au-feu in a cast-iron pot on the table, a jar of strong mustard, a carafe of table wine, some candles. As they say, comme autrefois.” Serves 6
900 gm veal shank
750 gm beef shoulder or brisket, rolled
900 gm beef brisket
8 cloves
2 large onions, unpeeled and halved
450 gm carrots, peeled and halved
450 gm leeks, white and pale-green parts,
cut into chunks
3 celery stalks, halved
1 turnip, peeled and cut into chunks
2 garlic cloves, sliced
1 bouquet garni of 3 sprigs parsley, 1 sprig sage, 1 sprig rosemary, 1 sprig thyme and 1 bay leaf tied together with kitchen string 1 bay leaf
5 potatoes, halved
½ head Savoy cabbage, sliced into large strips
Cornichons and Dijon mustard, to serve
1 Individually tie the veal shank, beef shoulder and brisket firmly with kitchen string so the pieces keep their shape during cooking. Put them in a very large saucepan or stockpot and cover with cold water. Bring to the boil, then remove from the heat and drain. Remove the pieces of meat to a large plate, and rinse the pan to get rid of any traces of scum. Return the meat to the pan. 2 Stick the cloves into the onion halves. Toss them in the pan along with the carrots, leeks, celery, turnip, garlic, bouquet garni and bay leaf, and cover with cold water. Season to taste with coarse sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. Bring to the boil, then cover the pan, reduce the heat, and simmer for 3 hours, checking from time to time to skim any scum from the surface and to add water if necessary to keep the ingredients covered.
3 Add the potatoes and cabbage and continue to simmer until they’re tender (about 45 minutes). Adjust the seasoning to taste.
4 Transfer the meat and vegetables to a large serving plate. Slice the meat. Spoon a few ladles of the broth into bowls, add some meat and vegetables, and serve with the cornichons, mustard and salt.
Wine suggestion Classic claret>
Old-fashioned orange cake
“A lot of my cooking is based on abundance, on what’s in season: broad beans in spring, peaches in summer,” says Thorisson. “This cake is the opposite, at least in my mind. I like to imagine a time when not everyone could get oranges all the time. A family gets an unexpected gift, maybe from a stranger, as a thank-you for a good deed: a crate of the most beautiful, juiciest oranges. They open a few and feast on them; it’s all very special. Then someone in the family, the one who is best at baking, decides to bake an orange cake. This is a great occasion, the event of the week. They talk about the cake for days, and then one day heavenly scent fills the kitchen, the cake is ready, and the family gathers to eat it. The best cake they’ve ever had, so wonderfully perfumed with oranges. It feels like Christmas, and maybe it is.” Serves 8
210 gm unsalted butter, melted, plus extra
for greasing
150 gm (1¼ cups) plain flour, plus extra for
dusting
2 tsp baking powder 2 oranges
3 large eggs
225 gm caster sugar
60 ml (¼ cup) orange liqueur
1 Preheat the oven to 180C, and butter and flour a 4-cup bundt cake tin. Sift the flour, baking powder and ½ tsp fine sea salt together in a bowl. 2 Peel one of the oranges, cut into chunks, and purée in a food processor.
3 In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugar with an electric whisk until pale and fluffy. Mix in the puréed orange. Fold in the flour mixture, then mix in the melted butter and orange liqueur.
4 Pour the batter into the prepared tin. Bake until golden brown and a knife inserted into the cake comes out clean (about 30 minutes). Cool in the tin on a wire rack for 5 minutes, then turn out and cool completely.
5 Before serving, zest the remaining orange with a citrus zester, and scatter the zest over the cake. Wine suggestion Old-fashioned Sauternes.
My grandmother’s crème caramel
“Crème brûlée is equally famous in the world of
French sweets, but there’s something distinctly more old-fashioned about crème caramel,” says Thorisson. “I’ll always associate this dessert with my sweet little grandmother Séraphine, who made it every Sunday in the south of France. This is her recipe, which I’ve made again and again until I figured out any pitfalls and perfected it. Now I can make crème caramel that does justice to my grandmother, and so can you.” Serves 6
200 gm (1 cup) caster sugar
½ tbsp unsalted butter
240 ml double cream
240 ml milk
1 vanilla bean, split, seeds and seeds scraped 1 tsp grated lemon rind
4 large eggs, at room temperature
50 gm (¼ cup) caster sugar
1 Preheat the oven to 150C and have ready a 20cm fluted brioche mould or other decorative ovenproof ramekin. In a medium saucepan, melt the sugar over medium heat without stirring.
Once the sugar has dissolved, boil until the colour turns uniformly dark amber (5-6 minutes). Remove immediately from the heat and carefully pour it into the mould. Swirl the mould in a circular motion so the caramel coats the entire bottom. Once the caramel is cool, butter the sides of the mould (this helps unmoulding later).
2 In a large saucepan, combine the cream, milk, vanilla bean and seeds, lemon rind and a pinch of fine sea salt and place over medium heat until hot but not boiling. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugar until pale and fluffy. When the milk is hot but not boiling, discard the vanilla bean and slowly whisk into the egg mixture. Gently pour mixture into the mould.
3 Set the mould in a roasting pan or deep baking dish. Pour hot water into the pan to come halfway up the sides of the mould. Transfer to the oven and bake until the custard is set in the centre with a slight wobble (about 50 minutes). Remove from the water bath and cool to room temperature, then refrigerate to chill (3-4 hours).
4 To serve, gently loosen the sides of the custard with a blunt knife. Invert a rimmed serving dish (make sure it’s deep enough to hold the caramel) on top and gently turn everything upside down. Remove the mould. Serve each portion with a few spoons of caramel sauce.
Wine suggestion More Sauternes.