Vintage photos from Classic French Cooking
For those of you who are regular readers and especially those kind souls who have read my books, you know that I have a habit of hanging out with some super home-foodie fanatics who like to challenge one another to extreme ingredient and recipe challenges — all for the greater good!
My friend Suzanne has taken a brief respite from her hunter/forager series in gathering pals from throughout the region around her infamous kitchen table. A little while ago, she challenged a core group of good sports to a concept of a cookbook supper club.
Three or four times a year, whomever's turn it is to host, selects a cookbook of choice and various dishes within to devise the most delicious, multi-course, sit-down dinner, the group can possible muster.
We've experienced outrageously good Israeli and Mexican food, good old Jamie Oliver's modern British (no, that wasn't me) and most recently, bastion of world renowned cuisine, Classic French Cooking.
High jinks began with a padded brown envelope in the mail. I ripped open the package to see what was inside this missive from hosts Trinity and Frank. I knew this inventive, fun-loving, amazing couple of cooks would up the ante somehow, but could not have imagined the feast that would unfold.
A slim volume of Classic French Cooking from Time Life Book's 1970s Foods of the World series held a wax-sealed, hand-written envelope in which a note from the hosts invited my enjoyment of this classic book. "More instructions to follow . . . "
Over the next few weeks, members of the Cookbook Supper Club (many of whom don't see one another outside of these rarified shenanigans) were treated to regular emails with embedded French music and mood-setting primers.
The day that the menu was released, I considered myself fortunate to have checked my email in time to snag the dessert course — Poires Bourdaloue (pear tart).
Ha! I'd successfully pre-empted Homard a la Parisian (cold, poached lobster medallions with vegetables in mayonnaise), Canard a la Orange (Breast of duck with caramel orange sauce), Potage Creme de Petit Pois (fresh pea soup), Pomme Frites, Tournedos Rossini (filet of beef with foie gras, truffles, madera sauce), coffee, tea, digestifs & chocolate.
Here's a photo from the book, depicting my dessert assignment. Looked easy enough.
Here's a photo of my version. Frank had recommended we try out our assigned courses ahead of time. I left it until the eleventh hour, as I am sure, did several of my busy, fellow cookbook club pals. By the time I'd made my shopping list, my mind was boggling at the many steps involved in a pear tart. Looking now at the two photos, I see that I ought to have tripled the final layer of apricot topping so that the poached pears might have seemed to have been swimming in sticky, sugary, goodness. I may have left my frangipane cream in the fridge a little too long before spreading on my home baked pate brisee crust, but it certainly tasted quite fine! On top you'll spot a crumbling of macaroons and pistachios. I made two of these to go around and though they weren't nearly as easy to put together, they were well received. Especially after the feast before.
Table settings are amongst my favorite design elements — likely as I enjoy eating food with friends and family so very much. Trin and Frank pulled out all the stops, setting their fab, hand varnished square dining table arrangement (you can make one of these, inexpensively at home, we were assured) so beautifully with every single piece of glassware they own. I love the candelabra — it has its own tale of adventure in being here in Southern SoCo.
Suzanne's first course of the lobster medallions stole the show, at least at the start of this fantastical feast.
Host Frank welcomed cookbook club members with apéritifs, outdoors. Don't you appreciate a man in a tux? I do!
Seven courses were paced out over several hours, with some stretching and dishwashing in between. For a dinner group of this sort to work, it's wise to stick to a couple of sets of plates, washed in between courses by the next team up for plating their offering. Each course is paired with an appropriate beverage. For the pear tarts I chose St. Germain elderflower liquor with Champagne and tonic water — refreshing after such bounty.
If you love to cook and you love to eat, these sorts of gatherings create the most extraordinary dining experiences and without spending a fortune in elite restaurants. I will say, though, if you embark on culinary adventures of this ilk at home, make sure that each of your fellow dining companions is equally as keen on tasting a range of unusual foods. The odd dietary restriction aside, best to dine out or without quite the fanfare for anyone even a little bit picky.
