The Greasy Spoon | It's not just about Haute Cuisine...

Potatoes Dauphinoise

 

 

 

There's a knack to getting this old classic right, as the acid in the potatoes tends to make the cream curdle. To avoid this, you need to blanche the potatoes in milk, and make sure that the oven doesn't get too hot. You can also add a tiny bit of flour to the mix, and if you use waxy potatoes, the starch content will help to stop further curdling.

Incidentally, the Dauphiné area in the French Alps is known for its rich dairy pastures- and that's why the dish is called Dauphinoise. Nothing to do with the French Monarchy or the Revolution.

Pre-heat the oven to 160C. Line a baking tin with greaseproof paper, and butter the paper.  Slice a raw garlic clove in two, and rub it over the paper.

Peel and slice your potatoes. For this dish, I infinitely prefer the waxy varieties, and if possible, I would avoid floury varieties at all cost. Slice them very thinly. I use a Magimix for this.

Boil some milk in a saucepan, whisking to stop it burning. "Blanche" the sliced potatoes in the milk for five minutes; this will help to remove the acid from the potatoes. In another pan, pour 150ml of full-fat milk and a 142ml carton of double cream and add a sprig of thyme. Blend two teaspoons of flour with a splash of  milk, and mix thoroughly, so that there are no lumps. Mix this into the creamy milk. Bring to a near boil, and put to one side.

Layer the baking tin with the potato slices- so that they look a bit like fish scales. Season with sea-salt, black pepper and nutmeg. Arrange another layer on top, but with the shapes facing in the other direction. Season. Five or six layers should be about right. Pour over the milky cream mixture (first removing the thyme sprig) and then grate fresh parmesan all over the top.

Bake for about an hour, or until the potatoes are properly cooked, and the top is golden. Take out of the oven, leave to stand for a few minutes, and then cut into squares.

Tartiflette

 

The ski-ing season's upon us, and chalet food makes me think of Tartiflette. Tartiflette's a French dish from the Savoie region, which originated in the Aravis valley, the home of Reblochon cheese. Curiously, it was invented as late as the 1980's in an attempt to boost sales, and then heavily promoted by the relevant trade unions to increase employment in the area. 

This is how you make it: First fry some chopped smoked bacon, and sliced onions for about five minutes in your favourite pan. If you've got some goose fat, use that.

Next, slice up some waxy potatoes, and arrange them in a bottom of a dish, which you've previously greased with the goose fat. It might also be a good plan to rub half a garlic clove over the dish as well- this will give the Tartiflette a subtle garlicky flavour, without killing off all the other flavours in the dish. Season the potatoes with salt and pepper, and then cover them with the cooked bacon and onions. 

Add a layer of Reblochon cheese which you have cut into small cubes. It would be worth you while to track down some authentic Reblochon- as this gives the dish its authentic edge. Try you local deli, and see if they stock it. If they don't it's always worth making a fuss- in the nicest possible way of course, and they may be able to get some in for you. 

Finally, it's a simple matter of adding another layer of sliced potatoes, some more cheese, and finishing off the thing with a carton of double cream, unsalted butter and more salt and pepper. Bake in the oven for over an hour, until the cheesy cream topping goes brown and crusty.

 

 

Fondue

 

 

Back in the late 1960's, our Swiss au pair brought back a funky fondue set. I remember it well: a beaten copper affair, raised on a nifty wrought iron stand.

I happen to think that the best fondues use authentic cheese recipes. Recently, however, a bad, mad, and dangerous tendency has crept in for sickly, over rich chocolate fondues with cake, strawberries, sweeties, and the like. Please avoid them at all costs.

Here's how to make a genuine Swiss cheese fondue: grate ½ llb of Swiss cheese (Emmenthaler is ideal), and ½ llb of Gruyère into a pan. Start melting the cheese on a medium heat. It's important not to boil the cheese, over-stir it, or let it get cold. All these things will encourage separation and stringing.

Carefully stir in two tablespoons of flour or cornstarch. Again, the flour will help to prevent separation. Add a tablespoon of dry mustard.

When the cheese, flour and mustard have melted down, add a cup of dry white wine, a generous dash of Kirsch, a squeeze of lemon juice, and some grated nutmeg. That's it.

You then dip in hunks of fresh white bread into the cheese sauce. Traditionally, if you loose your bread in the cheese, you're supposed to pay a forfeit. Having seen The Stepford Wives, I can imagine the sort of saucy things our parents got up to forty years ago, though I stress that in our family, the forfeit was always a bottle of Kirsch.

 

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Austria Hungry...

 

 

I've just returned from a rather spectacular wedding in the pretty ski-resort of Kitzbuhl, about an hour or so outside beautiful Salzburg. The food was surprisingly good; in fact extremely good. Having just arrived, we were spirited away to join the Herrenvolk at an 18th century chalet, where they served all sorts of goodies including large dumplings (knoedel), stewed venison in a rich sauce (hasenpfeffer), noodles (fleckerl), luscious sauces made from cranberry, and mushrooms; piquant red cabbage, and tankards of the local Kaiser beer- all finished off with tots of schnapps.The Austrians don't just sing about mountain goat herds and the like- they eat them- that is the goat, not the goatherd.

On the second night, we were joined at a charming beerhall by young blades in leiderhosen, and pretty Heidi look-alikes in the traditional dirndl. On day three, I persuaded The Girl to let me drive her across treacherous mountain passes into Bavaria to ogle at Mad King Ludwig's Wagnerian fantasy, Schloss Neuschwanstein. I managed to take a few photographs, before we had to return across the werewolf infested mountain roads.

 

 

Before we crossed the border into the Fatherland proper, we pulled off the road at a hearty gasthof. I chose a massive Wienna Schnitzel. The Girl went for a better option and had an interesting Wiener Saftgulasch (goulash)- very similar to the Hungarian version; that is more of a soup than a stew; and served with dumpings.

Day Four involved a cable car ride up to a mountain retreat which would have done Dr Evil proud. At the click of Mein Host's extremely clean fingers, a bottle of the excellent local wine was produced for an impromptu tasting, while we were serenaded by old men in shorts playing tubas. The wine was similar to a Reisling- a lovely golden colour, floral bouquets on the nose, but with a dry finish to the aftertaste. If you've never been to Austria, I urge you to go there soon. The food is delicious, and the people are charming.

 

Fondue

 

 

Back in the late 1960's, our Swiss au pair brought back a funky fondue set. I remember it well: a beaten copper affair, raised on a nifty wrought iron stand.

In my opinion, the best fondues use the authentic cheese recipes; but a bad, mad, and dangerous tendency has crept in for sickly, over rich chocolate fondues with cake, strawberries, and the like. Avoid them at all costs.

Here's how to make a genuine Swiss cheese fondue: Grate ½ pound of a Swiss cheese such as an Emmenthaler, and ½ pound of Gruyere into a pan. Start melting the cheese on a medium heat. It's important not to boil the cheese, over-stir it, or let it get cold. All these things will encourage separation and stringing.

Carefully stir in two tablespoons of flour or cornstarch. Again, the flour will help to prevent separation. Add a tablespoon of dry mustard.

When the cheese, flour and mustard have melted down, add a cup of dry white wine, a dash of Kirsch, a squeeze of lemon juice, and some grated nutmeg.

That's it. You then dip in hunks of fresh white bread into the cheese sauce. Traditionally, if you loose your bread in the cheese, you are supposed to pay a forfeit. Having seen Bryan Forbes' original version of The Stepford Wives, I can imagine the sort of things our parents got up to forty years ago, although I stress that in our family, the forfeit was always a bottle of Kirsch.

Tartiflette

 

 

Happy New Year! I love New Year's Day; a time to clear your debts, make impossible resolutions, and generally take stock; and it's especially reassuring if you've got the strains of the Vienna New Year's Day concert on in the background.

For New Year's Day you want something hearty, and full of carbohydrates- particularly after all that partying and excess the night before. I read somewhere that Kate Spade, the New York based fashion designer, always has a bowl of chili on New Year's Day, and I'm with her on that one. But for this afternoon's post, I'm going to take a look at a classic chalet dish, The Tartiflette.

 

  

 

If you've ever been lucky enough to have gone ski-ing, you may already know it. Tartiflette's a French dish from the Savoie region, which originated in the valley of Aravis, home of Reblochon cheese. Curiously, it was invented as late as the 1980's in an attempt to push the sales of the local Reblochon cheese- and then heavily promoted by the relevant trade unions to boost employment in the area.

And how to make it?  Fry some chopped smoked bacon, and sliced onions for about five minutes in your favourite pan. If you've got some goose fat, use that.

Next, slice up some waxy potatoes, and arrange them in a bottom of a dish, which you've previously greased with the goose fat. It might also be a good plan to rub half a garlic clove over the dish as well- this will give the Tartiflette a subtle garlicky flavour, without killing off all the other flavours in the dish.

Season the potatoes with salt and pepper, and then cover them with the cooked bacon and onions. Next, add a layer of Reblochon cheese which you have cut into small cubes. It would be worth you while to track down some authentic Reblochon- as this gives the dish its authentic edge. Try you local deli, and see if they stock it. If they don't it's always worth making a fuss- in the nicest possible way of course, and they may be able to get some in for you.

Finally, it's a simple matter of adding another layer of sliced potatoes, some more cheese, and finishing off the thing with a carton of double cream, unsalted butter and more salt and pepper. Bake in the oven for over an hour, until the cheesy cream topping goes brown and crusty.