Sometimes, cooking is about making do in a kitchen you did
not have a hand in planning or equipping. It’s about dealing with someone else’s
preferences, moving into someone else’s life for a spell.
The kitchen we use in Paris belongs to people who spend very
little time there and who do not cook much. They have a vast array of different
types and flavours of tea and no decent bread knife. Two venerable Le Creuset casseroles
and no spatula. Acres of crystal wineglasses and only two coffee mugs.
There is a history to the place. In the 1980s, it was the
pied-à-terre of a New York couple who ran a high-end travel agency, sending
clients to Paris on the Concorde (there is at least one piece of Concorde
memorabilia in the place). It was used for entertaining, hence the cupboard
full of champagne glasses. These were people who went out to eat. Did I mention
it is near the Champs-Elysées?
Little has changed since the 1980s, including the pink
bathroom and the tortoiseshell cabinet fronts in the kitchen. However, on our
recent visit in December 2012, we were delighted to find a new oven (the old
one had long since died) and a new cooktop as well.
We always bring our own small “batterie de cuisine” with us. A sturdy bread knife and a very sharp
knife for regular kitchen tasks are at the top of the list. Plus spatula,
tongs, vegetable peeler, and an efficient corkscrew. My apron, two oven gloves,
and some extra dishtowels. We have bought things and left them there: this time
it was a cheap pair of kitchen scissors and a couple of Rubbermaid containers
for leftovers (I guess nobody previously had made food that involved leftovers).
In an earlier posting on this blog, I asked what kinds of
things people felt were pantry staples; here I’d like to ask what sort of
equipment my fellow cooks consider indispensable. Do you absolutely have to
have a whisk or can you manage with a fork? Do you long for a wooden spoon, or
are you OK with a plastic one? Do you need oven gloves (I do), or will a folded
dishtowel do?
And what kind of recipes can you make in an unfamiliar
environment, using ingredients from a foreign supermarket or street market? Pasta
and risotto are widely available and endlessly variable. Salads are always an
option (and one can buy lovely prepared salads in Paris). I always make my old
standby, pork chops piquant, with
Dijon mustard, red wine vinegar, and cornichons. But on occasion, I will lash
out and try something new. Once it was rabbit in mustard sauce. This time I had
a go with magret de canard. A
qualified success, but I learned a few lessons for next time.
Here, for the record, is my old standby, culled from a copy
of Saveur magazine circa 2002. The
article had been written by a fellow who had discovered it in a 1970s paperback
French cookbook. He had lost the original book, but had recreated a version of
the original that uses some of our favourite flavours. We have tweaked it a
bit.
Pork Chops Piquant
Ingredients:
5 tbsp. olive oil
2 lbs. thin-cut pork chops
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 shallots, peeled & diced
6 tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 cup white wine
8 cornichons, chopped into small pieces
2 tbsp. Dijon mustard
5 tbsp. olive oil
2 lbs. thin-cut pork chops
Salt and freshly ground pepper
2 shallots, peeled & diced
6 tbsp. red wine vinegar
1 cup white wine
8 cornichons, chopped into small pieces
2 tbsp. Dijon mustard
Method:
Heat half the olive oil in a heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Season chops with salt and pepper. Brown chops on each side, about 1-2 minutes per side. Transfer the chops to a plate, and cover to keep warm.
Heat half the olive oil in a heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Season chops with salt and pepper. Brown chops on each side, about 1-2 minutes per side. Transfer the chops to a plate, and cover to keep warm.
Add the rest of the oil, over medium-high heat. Sauté the
chopped shallots, until they begin to brown. Add vinegar and stir for a minute
or so. Add wine and cook for a few minutes, until it thickens. Stir in
cornichons, mustard, and any juices from the chops. Lower the heat and stir
until the mixture makes a thick sauce. Put the chops back in, warm them
through, and serve.
This recipe serves 4 people. For 2 people, use less pork,
but about the same quantities of the other ingredients, because the sauce is
what it’s all about.
The only picture I can offer is one of Norman wearing my apron and doing the
dishes in the Paris kitchen. There is a dishwasher, but since there are so few
everyday dishes in the cupboards, we do most dishwashing by hand. That’s why we
bring extra dishtowels.
Happy New Year to everyone who reads or contributes to Eat and 2 Veg.
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