The French version of a tuna sandwich

 

I’m working today on recipes for the upcoming Irene in Chicago Culinary Novel, Irene in a Ghost Kitchen. So my thoughts are on French food. Ghost kitchens have been around a long time, but they especially flourished during pandemic. A ghost kitchen is one that prepares take-out only and has no table service, no wait staff. Sometimes a kitchen will have delivery service within a certain radius. If not, patrons come to the kitchen to pick up their meals.

Henny would tell you that Irene’s ghost kitchen is simply something to keep her busy—and to cost Chance money, because there’s no way it will make a profit. But Irene would tell you she is educating the American palate about French cuisine. She stocks things that are easily stored and packaged—ingredients for French-style sandwiches, containers of vichyssoise and vinaigrette, individual servings of crème brulee, pots of pate. By special arrangement with her favorite café, La Petite Folie, she occasionally fixes an entrée, such as rabbit gibolette. There’s not much call in Hyde Park for rabbit and the dish freezes easily.

Pan bagnat (pronounce it pa bag na) is a favorite French sandwich that has been called Salade Nicoise in a sandwich. Here’s what you do:

Ingredients:

Bread of your choice—a 10-inch baguette makes two sandwiches, or use an 8-inch round; if using a larger round, cut in wedges to serve; you may also use ciabatta rolls

1/2 small red onion, thinly sliced

2 (5-ounce) cans good quality oil-packed tuna fish

1/4 cup olive oil

2 anchovy fillets, finely chopped

1/4 cup pitted Nicoise or Kalamata olives

1 to 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar

1 garlic clove, peeled

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 hardboiled eggs, sliced

2 tomatoes, sliced

12 large basil leaves

Note: if you soak onion slices in cold water for ten minutes, they will lose some of their bite.

Directions

Mix tuna, its oil, anchovies, olives and 2 teaspoons of red wine vinegar. Stir gently to keep from mashing the tuna chunks.

Slice the bread lengthwise and hollow out some of the insides. Rub a cut garlic clove over inside of top and bottom. Then brush lightly with olive oil and season with salt and pepper.

Spread the tune mixture evenly over the bottom of whatever bread you are using. Layer red onion, eggs slices, tomatoes, and basil on top of tuna. Drizzle with more olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Top the sandwiches with the tops of the baguettes and wrap each tightly in plastic wrap.

Place the wrapped sandwiches side-by-side on the counter and set a cutting board on top. Place a heavy pot or skillet on top and put a few canned goods inside to weigh it down even more. Leave sandwiches for ten minutes; then turn them over and press from the other side.

Cut into individual servings with a good bread knife. Serve at room temperature.

Jambon beurre

Jambon beurre is a classic, simple sandwich. It consists of a baguette, split and inside of the top and bottom spread generously with unsalted butter (because the ham will be salty) and filled with thinly sliced French ham of the highest quality. If you can find jambon de Parisien in your market, that is a good choice.

You might want to crisp the baguette in the oven first. If so, let it cool completely before spreading with butter.

Bon Appetit!

 

 

Tossed salad classics

 

Caesar Salad appetizer

When I was growing up (I realize I say that a lot about food!), we had a leafy green salad on the dinner table almost every night. I notice now that my family has cut way back on such salads. We’ll sub a green vegetable, like asparagus or green beans, or the other night it was a marinated cucumber salad. We also really like main-dish salads—Big Mac salad, taco salad, Columbia Salad. I have mixed feelings about this because I think there’s a real place on the table for a salad that highlights lettuce and dressing, maybe with a bit of bleu cheese, avocado, tomato, but the focus is on greens and the  dressing.

According to internet wisdom, whatever that is, home cooks should be familiar with two classic dressings: Julia Child’s Sauce Vinaigrette and the original Caesar from Cesar Cardini. Ladies first.

Julia Child's Sauce Vinaigrette

2 tablespoons wine vinegar or a combination of vinegar and lemon juice 

1/4 teaspoon dry mustard

1/8 teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil and/or salad oil, such as grapeseed oil

1 1/2 teaspoons minced shallot or scallions and/or ¼ teaspoon dried herbs, such as tarragon or basil

Big pinch of freshly ground pepper

Directions

Combine vinegar, mustard, and salt in a bowl; whisk until dissolved. Whisk in oil, shallot (or scallions and/or herbs) and pepper. (Alternatively, combine all ingredients in a screw-top jar; cover and shake vigorously for 30 seconds to blend thoroughly.) Taste carefully and adjust seasoning as desired.

Traditionally, the oil/acid ratio in a salad is 3:1, so it’s of note that Child calls for 5:1.

Caesar Salad

If you’re ever on a quiz show and asked, “In what country was Caesar salad invented?” be sure to say Mexico. The salad was a last-minute inspiration by Caesar Cardini at his restaurant in Tijuana in 1924. Traditionally, it is tossed tableside. There is much controversy today over the use of the raw egg yolks—I use them, figuring in the US the egg has been pasteurized (mostly I wish they weren’t but this is an exception) and the vinegar will “cook” it. You do you.

Ingredients

2 egg yolks

¾ cup extra virgin olive oil

4 anchovies, chopped

½ Tbsp. Dijon mustard

1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce

2 cloves garlic minced

1 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice

¾ cup freshly grated parmesan

¼ tsp salt

½ tsp black pepper

Directions

Whisk two egg yolks in a bowl until creamy (about two minutes). Add the olive oil and whisk until well combined. Stir in the anchovies, Worcestershire sauce, Dijon mustard, and lemon juice until completely combined. Add salt, pepper, and parmesan cheese. Serve with romaine lettuce (no other), croutons, and shaved parmesan cheese.

Some culinary experts claim the original Caesar was no tossed at all, but individual leaves were served, each tipped with a bit of the dressing. I have had it served that way in restaurants. It makes good finger food. We experimented with it as an appetizer (photo above).

Wilted lettuce

Let me add one more that I think should be classic, especially if you can get spring lettuce freshly pulled from the ground.

Ingredients

6 strips bacon, diced and fried – reserve the grease

2 Tbsp. vinegar

4 cups leaf lettuce

Some people add mustard, brown sugar, onions, radishes, etc. but this is the way my mom did it, and I prefer.

Fry the diced bacon until crisp. Remove from skillet to drain on paper towel. Meanwhile tear four cups lettuce into your salad bowl. Pour warm bacon grease over lettuce (if you need to heat it a bit, do so—it must be warm). Splash vinegar over salad and toss until every leaf is coated. Taste for seasoning—adding salt, pepper or sugar, more vinegar or more oil, is up to you.

 

Intimidation in the kitchen

 

Our potluck lunch
Clockwise, from 12:00: tuna salad, marinated tomatoes slices,
cheese snacks, Greek salad, pesto/challah

I let myself get intimidated in the kitchen today. A former student was coming for lunch. When I knew Heather, she was an English major at TCU and an intern at TCU Press. She went on to work for Harcourt in downtown Fort Worth, but then she disappeared off my radar only to reappear a few years later, having studied at the Culinary Institute of America. Today, as a classically trained chef she is part of the food service team at a local retirement community. For a while a few years ago, Heather and I had lunch regularly as she helped me with my cookbook, Gourmet on a Hot Plate. The cookbook was finished, we discovered we had severe political differences, and the lunches just sort of drifted away. But Heather called last week to say she’d written and published a children’s book and wanted to brag to me and bring me a copy. She would bring lunch. Let me add she did absolutely nothing to intimidate me—I did it to myself.

Letting her provide lunch seemed inhospitable to me, so I suggested we each contribute something—we’d have a potluck lunch. What do you fix when a chef comes to lunch? I found instructions for a tomato/spinach/cheese thing and thought that was unusual and creative enough. So I ordered frozen chopped spinach with my groceries—and Central Market cancelled it. No sub, just no spinach. Punt! By then I had no shopping options (not driving is sometimes a relief, occasionally a pain). I finally told her I would make my signature tuna salad. So, I have two sort-of recipes for you this week:

The tomato/spinach/cheese thing

Sliced heirloom tomatoes

Balsamic vinegar

Spinach – I think creamed would be good, but just cooked with butter, salt and pepper would be good. Sauté with garlic.

Cheese – the recipe called for mozzarella, but I think I’d use good old sharp cheddar

Marinate tomato slices in Balsamic. Bake at 350 for about 7 minutes.

Top tomatoes with spinach and then with grated cheese.

Broil until cheese melts and is golden.

I will order spinach again this week and plan to try to fix this to a friend Monday, so I will report.

A friend asked me this morning why I applied the word “signature” to my tuna salad (I think she thought I was being pretentious). But Jordan doesn’t like anybody else’s tuna, so here’s what I do. It begins with good tuna, and I’ve mentioned this before. I order tuna from the Pisces fishing vessel in Oregon—it is line caught (no nets) while dolphins swim unharmed next to the boat. The tuna is heated only once in the canning process (most fish is canned twice) and seasoned only with salt. So good. You can get albacore in water or smoked albacore. I prefer the plain.

1 6-oz. can tuna, flaked (today I gave it a spin in my counter processor to make it light and fluffy)

1 large green onion, sliced

1 stalk celery, finely minced

Salt and pepper

Juice of one large lemon—lots of juice

Mayonnaise – just enough to bind; don’t make tuna soup out of it

Mix thoroughly and chill before serving.

No nuts, no grapes, no pickle, no mustard. It’s a simplistic tuna salad.

Heather brought Greek salad, a wonderful challah with pesto rolled into the dough, and berry muffins. Our plates overflowed and looked gorgeous besides. We talked books and writing and cooking—and politics. We differ, but we were able to talk reasonably about it and to some extent express why we feel the way we do. That’s what this world needs more it—calm discussion. It was a lovely lunch, and I look forward to another visit with Heather. I may let her fix the whole thing next time.

A note about food safety: I’ve had two events recently that made me conscious of food safety. One was my own fault: I had put a lb. of hamburger out to thaw around supper time, intending to refrigerate it before I went to bed. Only I forgot and woke at six in the morning with the clear thought that the hamburger was still on the counter. We froze it until we could put it out with the garbage today.

I mentioned this on the blog, but I was opening a jar of pickled herring for Mary D. on Tuesday night. As I cut off the cellophane collar, I realized my fingers were wet and smelled like herring. Sometimes it’s hard to get the lid off jars like that, but this time without my touching it, the lid popped off. I screwed it back on, washed the counter and the outside of the jar with soap and water, and then washed my hands thoroughly. Next day I called Central Market: they told me that someone else had lodged a similar complaint, the product had been removed from their shelves and the manufacturer notified, and they would credit my account. The credit was the least of it, but I was pleased that they took action on keeping others safe.

As we move toward warm weather, I am much aware that food poisoning can attack when you’re the least bit careless. So, watch your potato salad, devilled eggs, and, yes, tuna salad—plus a lot of other dishes.

Stay careful and safe!

 

Notes on spring lamb

 

When I moved to Texas a century ago, I was surprised that few people ate lamb. In our Chicago household, a good leg of lamb was a frequent entrée, and the cold lamb sandwich with mayonnaise the next day was a special treat. For those who don’t know, it’s important to distinguish between lamb and mutton. Lamb comes from an animal less than a year old; mutton is from any older than that, though some people put an intermediate year in there and say mutton comes from three-year-olds. Lamb has a distinct but pleasant taste, though I know some who can’t be in the same room with it; mutton is decidedly gamey and tough, requires long cooking.

Long ago I once bought a leg of lamb in cryovac at a local grocery store; when I opened the packaging, it smelled awful. I rushed back to the grocery, where the butcher said it was mutton, not lamb, from either Australia or New England. That’s funny, because parts of West Texas have long been known as sheep country, more than cattle. But I’ve read that lamb consumption and wool production have both declined since the post-WWII day. For me these days, lamb is a rare treat mostly because it is expensive. Also I’m not sure I could cook a leg of lamb in a toaster oven—it would have to be a small, boned roast. I do make it a point to buy fresh, never frozen lamb from Central Market. If you have a dedicated butcher’s store nearby, you can usually get it there too.

In my years in Texas, I’ve learned there’s more than a leg of lamb, though someday I will share my $8,000 leg of lamb recipe. Meantime, when I want a lamb sandwich I buy sliced Greek-seasoned lamb at Central Market. A lamb loin chop makes a nice meal for me if I’m eating alone—I sauté it in butter until it’s medium rare, remove from skillet, and make a sauce of a bit more butter and an anchovy filet. I don’t do it for the family because Jordan and Christian would need two chops each, and that gets to be an expensive meal. I do think we should try grilling them sometime. You can also buy sirloin chops, a variety of roasts beyond the leg, stew meat, and ground lamb. Rack of lamb is considered a great delicacy and is, unfortunately, priced to show that. If you buy a shoulder, have the butcher bone it—I did it myself once, and it was a lot of work plus I cut myself.

Today I want to leave you with two recipes for ground lamb. The first is a ragu that is quick and easy, and my family likes it a lot.

Lamb ragu

2 Tbsp. olive oil

1 medium sweet onion, finely chopped

4 garlic cloves (I have recently discovered frozen, pureed garlic cloves at Trader Joe’s—so easy and timesaving!)

Salt and pepper to taste

2 anchovy filets or one tsp anchovy paste

2 Tbsp. tomato paste (this about uses up the small 4 oz. can but you can also buy it in a tube)

1 28-oz. can crushed tomatoes.

Parmesan or Pecorino cheese for serving.

Sauté onions and garlic in oil and season with salt and pepper. When onions are soft, add anchovies and cook stirring until they melt in—it doesn’t take long. Add tomato paste and cook, stirring occasionally, for two or three minutes. Season lamb with salt and pepper and add to skillet, stirring until it releases its fat and crumbles into small bits. Add tomatoes and half a tomato can of water, being sure to get all the tomato bits left in the can. Cook on medium-low until sauce thickens, about half an hour.

Caution: although recipe calls for salt twice, do use a bit of caution, because the anchovy is salty.

Serve on pasta topped with grated cheese. I have recently learned about bronze-cut pasta, which is a rougher texture and holds a sauce better. With this ragu, I prefer a thick noodle like pappardelle.

Lamb burgers

Every time I see a new recipe for lamb burgers, I clip it. As a result, I’ve got five or six recipes we’ve tried. My big mistake is that I didn’t make notes on each as to how much we liked it. The other night we tried a new recipe that both Jordan and Christian declared the best so far.

1 lb. ground lamb

1 shallot, finely chopped

2 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce

1 Tbsp. Dijon

¾ tsp, dried thyme

Salt and pepper to taste, divided use

Optional sauce:

½ cup mayonnaise

¼ cup sour cream

1 garlic clove, grated (see above recipe for frozen garlic)

Optional: 1 Tbsp. Dijon or 1 tsp. horseradish—I liked the horse radish

Mix burger ingredients together with a bit of salt and pepper and shape into four patties. Refrigerate at least 30 minutes. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper before cooking. Christian grilled these but I imagine you could do them in a skillet. The refrigeration gave them a lighter texture than usual.

Serve on buns spread with sauce. Top with feta and red onion slices. The recipe recommended brioche buns, but we did not like them and will not do that again. They were too much bread. Next time I’ll go back to good old potato bread buns.