How to Make a French Family
Page 7
JEAN-LUC’S MOULES À LA MARINIÈRE
Prep time: 15 minutes
Cook time: 6 to 10 minutes
Serves: 4
Great for: lunch, family dinner, or a casual dinner party
Wine suggestion: Muscadet
•2 tablespoons unsalted butter
•1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
•3 to 4 shallots, peeled and sliced
•3 to 4 cloves garlic, peeled, de-germed, and sliced*
•3 cups white wine (any white or rosé)**
•3 healthy pinches herbes de Provence
•1 healthy pinch fleur de sel (or 3 pinches salt)
•4 pounds mussels, cleaned and de-bearded***
•¼ cup flat parsley, chopped, plus extra for garnish
In a large pot, melt the butter with the olive oil. Add the shallots and garlic, and sauté for about 5 minutes, or until translucent. Pour in 2 cups of the wine, adding in the fleur de sel and herbes de Provence. Bring the liquid to a low boil. Add the mussels and the parsley to the pot, along with the remaining wine. Stir with a slotted spoon, and cover. Turn the mussels every few minutes, covering the pot in between turns. Once the mussels have opened (discard any that haven’t), they are ready to serve with french fries. Garnish with parsley. For a change, try this recipe with one of the following sauces.
*A few delicious additions to the shallots and garlic are thin slices of fresh ginger, fennel, or a combo of both. Rounds of jalapeño peppers make for a spicy garnish.
**Instead of white wine, try experimenting with beer or cider!
***When cooking mussels, the general rule is one pound per person. Also, be sure to discard any mussels with broken shells.
Moules Curry Sauce
Prep time: 15 minutes
Cook time: 6 to 10 minutes
•2 cups unsweetened coconut milk
•3 to 4 tablespoons curry powder
•1 lime, juiced and zest removed, finely chopped
•1 tablespoon grated ginger
•1 lemongrass stalk, sliced into 2-inch long pieces (optional)
•⅛ cup parsley, chopped (flat variety preferred), for garnish
•Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
In a medium-sized pot, combine the coconut milk, curry powder, lime juice, lime zest, ginger, and lemongrass slices. Stir until well combined. Cook over medium heat for about 5 to 6 minutes until sauce is warm.
Once the mussels have opened, add two ladles of the wine broth they’ve been cooking in (about ¾ cup) to the curry sauce. Heat the sauce for another minute. Season with salt and pepper, remove the lemongrass, and discard. Using a slotted spoon, ladle sauce over the mussels, and garnish with parsley.
Moules Roquefort Sauce
Prep time: 15 minutes
Cook time: 6 to 10 minutes
•1½ cups heavy cream
•1 cup Roquefort or bleu cheese, crumbled, plus extra for garnish
•⅛ cup parsley, chopped (flat variety preferred), for garnish
•Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
In a medium-sized pot, combine the cream with the cheese. Cook over low heat for about 5 to 6 minutes until sauce is warm, stirring occasionally. Once the mussels have opened, add two ladles of the wine broth they’ve been cooking in (about ¾ cup) to the cream sauce. Heat the sauce for another minute. Season with salt and pepper. Using a slotted spoon, ladle sauce over the mussels, and garnish with parsley and a few morsels of Roquefort cheese.
MOULES À LA PLANCHA
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cook time: 10 to 15 minutes
Serves: 4 to 6
Great for: appetizer or light summer meal
Wine suggestion: Faugères
•Extra virgin olive oil
•4 pounds mussels, washed and de-bearded*
•1 red pepper, thinly sliced
•3 to 4 shallots, peeled and sliced
•3 to 4 cloves garlic, peeled, de-germed, and sliced
•½ cup dry white wine
•1 lemon, juiced
•3 healthy pinches herbes de Provence
•¼ cup parsley (flat variety preferred), chopped
Lightly oil the plancha, (a griddle or the flat portion of a grill) and set heat to medium-high.
In a large bowl, mix all ingredients, including the mussels, together. Once the grilling surface is hot, place the mussel mixture on it. Cook until the mussels open—about 4 to 6 minutes—occasionally stirring with a long grill spatula. Depending on the size of the surface, the mixture may have to be cooked in batches. When the mussels open, serve while hot. Discard any unopened mussels. Garnish with parsley, and serve with sautéed roasted rosemary potatoes (p. 246) and a crisp green salad.
*Discard any mussels with broken shells. If adding other fruits of the sea, like squid, clams, or shrimp, cut the quantity of mussels in half.
TUNA NOODLE CASSEROLE
Prep time: 5 minutes
Cook time: 35 to 40 minutes
Serves: 4 to 6
Great for: family meal
Wine suggestion: Anything goes—the bigger the pour, the better
•5 cups fusilli pasta
•3 tablespoons butter
•2 cups fresh mushrooms, sliced (porcini, cèpes, white, or a combination)
•1 (10.75-ounce) can velouté forestièr (creamy forest mushroom soup)
•1 cup crème fraîche or sour cream
•1½ cups peas, frozen
•2 (6-ounce) cans tuna, drained
•¾ cup cheese, shredded swiss or gruyère
•3 healthy pinches herbes de Provence
•4 to 5 tablespoons panko or breadcrumbs
•⅛ cup parsley, chopped, for garnish
•Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Preheat the oven to 400°F. Cook the pasta according to package instructions. Melt 1 tablespoon of the butter in a pan. Cook the mushrooms in the butter until tender, about 4 to 5 minutes, and set aside. Once the pasta is cooked, drain. In an oven-safe 9 x 12 casserole dish, combine the pasta, soup, crème fraîche, peas, mushrooms, tuna, and noodles. Season with herbes de Provence and salt and pepper. Sprinkle the cheese on top. Bake for 20 minutes until hot and bubbling. In a small bowl, mix together the panko (or breadcrumbs) and the remaining butter. Sprinkle it onto the casserole, and bake for another 5 minutes. Garnish with parsley. Serve with a crisp green salad with balsamic vinaigrette.
JEAN-LUC’S QUICHE LORRAINE
Prep time: 15 minutes (if making a homemade crust, add 1 hour of rest time)
Cook time: 30 minutes (if making a homemade crust, add about 20 minutes)
Serves: 4 to 6
Great for: anytime
Wine suggestion: Pinot Blanc
I usually buy premade piecrusts, either brisée (thicker) or feuilletée (flakier), available at any French grocery store. Why reinvent the wheel? Search for premade crusts in the refrigerated (not frozen) section. If you prefer homemade crusts, a friend of mine, Chef DQ Flambé, has provided a stellar recipe, perfect for sweet or savory dishes.
FOR THE PTE BRISÉE
•1½ cups unbleached flour, plus extra for dusting
•1 pinch salt
•1 tablespoon sugar
•6 tablespoons cold butter, cut into small pieces
•1 egg
•3 tablespoons ice-cold water
•Parchment paper
•Baking weights
Sift the flour into a large mixing bowl. Add salt and sugar. Mix well with a whisk. Add butter, and use your fingertips to mix it quickly into fine sandlike crumbs. Fold the egg into the mixture until well combined. Add the water and mix the combination using your hands for 5 minutes. If the dough is sticky and moist, add 1 tablespoon of flour at a time until the dough is smooth. Form the dough into a ball with your hands and flatten into a disk. Wrap in plastic wrap, and place in the refrigerator for 1 hour.
Preheat oven to 350°F. Roll the dough out int
o a circle, about ⅛-inch thick, on a floured work surface. Press the dough into a parchment-lined 10- or 12-inch quiche dish or round, oven-safe baking dish. Poke the dough a few times with a fork to aerate. Cover the crust with parchment paper, then place the baking weights on the parchment paper. (A friend of mine, Oksana, uses garden rocks for weights!) Bake for 20 minutes. Let the weights cool before removing from the crust. Finally, fill the crust with quiche.
FOR THE QUICHE:
•1 homemade pâte brisée (p. 60) or premade piecrust from the refrigerated (not frozen) section
•½ cup milk
•½ cup crème fraîche or sour cream
•3 eggs
•¼ cup cheese, Emmental or swiss, grated
•1½ slices thick deli ham, cut into strips
•¼ cup lardons or pancetta
•1 tablespoon herbes de Provence
•1 pinch grated nutmeg
•Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Preheat oven to 350ºF. In a bowl combine the milk, crème fraîche, and eggs, whisking until creamy. Mix in the cheese. Pour the mixture into the piecrust, swirling the dish until coated. In a pan, cook the lardons or pancetta over the stove on medium-high heat until golden. Add the ham and lardons to the egg mixture, distributing evenly. Season with herbes de Provence, nutmeg, and salt and pepper. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes.
Ingredient Two
FRIENDSHIP
7
INTEGRATE OR DIE TRYING
People have said that some of life’s most stress-inducing events include the loss of a job, a divorce, a new marriage, moving home, changing countries, and becoming a parent. One year prior to moving to France, I’d gone through a divorce right after I’d lost my job. And I’d survived. Surely, I could handle the rest of these changes.
Instead of letting everything hammer me down, I decided to chunk my life into bite-sized pieces. This system of “chunking” had worked for me before; it would work again. My relationship with Jean-Luc had moved at the speed of light. I needed to slow things down and breathe. Through open and honest communication, we had set a solid foundation. Now all we needed to do was build—one brick at a time, instead of piling all the bricks up at once.
It was time to “integrate” into my new French life or die—sometimes of embarrassment—trying. I knew I couldn’t count solely on Jean-Luc for my happiness. I was determined to make la France more than an occasional tryst I flirted with, more than a cinq-à-sept (the two hours between five and seven, rumored to be when people have illicit affairs). Come hell or high water, this elusive country was going to love me back. But I had to commit to la France, too, give her my whole heart and dive into this life one hundred percent.
I knew I wasn’t going to become fluent in parenthood overnight; building a true bond with the kids would take time. Mutual respect and trust were the foundation of any relationship, and it was time to set some boundaries with Max and Elvire by being more of a parental unit they couldn’t make fun of or talk back to.
I wasn’t a patsy. This was on.
I’d already taken over most of Jean-Luc’s daily duties, since he left for work at six-thirty every morning, leaving me to make sure the kids ate breakfast, brushed their teeth, and made it to school on time. One morning, Elvire turned blue-in-the-face mad because I woke her up at five after seven, not seven on the nose as she’d requested. Instead of pretending that I didn’t understand her when she talked back like I’d done over the past month, I said with a low growl, “Comment oses-tu me parler comme ça? How dare you speak to me like that?”
Elvire shuddered. So did I. I’d used the same words my mother had used with me when I was a hormonal teen with fire running through my veins. Still, the newness of parenting was no longer so intimidating, especially using the tried and true techniques I’d been raised with. Soon, when their dad wasn’t around during the school week, I was the one Max and Elvire bargained with to watch TV or play video games on the Wii. Elvire learned that if she did what I asked, like putting her clothes away, there would be no telling Papa about the extra screen time. I could be fair—if the kids completed their homework and set and cleared the table without killing one another or mouthing off.
On weekends, sometimes we’d play Franco-English Scrabble or have Just Dance competitions in the living room. Elvire, Max, and I always laughed at some of Jean-Luc’s bizarre moves, like the way he rolled his hips as if he was one of the long-lost members of the Village People. Oddly, Papa always undulated his way to the highest score, and it was our goal to beat him. My big man, it seemed, could bust a move. So could the kids.
At the end of October, Max turned eleven. I picked up a gourmet chocolate cake with a crunchy crust at the local pâtisserie, and sodas and juices from the grocery store. Six pint-sized rugby players with huge feet (Jean-Luc called them the platypus-foot generation) came over to celebrate. Max’s main crew was Thomas, Clement, Willy, Oscar, and two Theos. After Max opened his presents, mostly manga books, Jean-Luc brought the cake outside, and the boys sang “joyeux anniversaire” at the top of their lungs. I snapped picture after picture, watching Max and his friends horse around. After a water-balloon fight in the backyard, the boys headed off to the park, armed with pétanque, rugby, and soccer balls.
Unlike Elvire, Max did everything I asked him to do when I asked him to do it. I supposed it was an age thing and the fact that the memories of his biological mother weren’t as engraved in his head. He was more open to the idea of me. Elvire still tested me a bit—and I didn’t blame her after the Natasha situation.
On another family bonding day, we went for a hike in the Pyrénées at a place called Plateau de Beille in the Ariège region, about an hour from our home. The kids sat quietly in the backseat on the drive. I watched the landscape change abruptly from flat and sprawling Toulouse to mountainous. Driving to beautiful places was one of the benefits of living in Cugnaux. We were spitting distance from the Pyrénées, the Mediterranean Sea, the Pays-Basque region of France on the Atlantic Ocean, as well as the wine regions of St. Émilion and Bordeaux, and the Catalan/Costa Brava region of Spain. There were so many wonderful places to visit—all within a two-hour drive. For this, I considered myself extremely lucky.
I had packed a picnic lunch of ham and cheese baguettes, potato chips, homemade chocolate chip cookies, and bottled water, which Jean-Luc carried in his backpack. We passed a herd of happy cows, complete with copper bells hanging on their necks, on one of the winding country roads. For the beginning of November, the weather was warm—almost summerlike. Even some of the wildflowers were still in bloom. Finally, we pulled into the parking lot. Jean-Luc, Max, and I jumped out of the car. Elvire, as usual, was a bit slower.
“Hurry up,” said Max.
“Shut up,” was Elvire’s response. She packed up her iPod, put her shoes on, and eventually scrambled out of the car.
Jean-Luc, Max, and I were already headed to one of the trails.
“Shouldn’t we wait?” I asked.
“No,” said Jean-Luc. “She has to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around her.”
When she caught up to us, Elvire hugged Jean-Luc, looked over his shoulder, and met my eyes, her face reading: “He’s mine.”
In the not-so-distant past, Jean-Luc had told me that when Elvire or Max would hug him, Natasha would glare at the kids, and that she was in constant competition for his affection. Natasha even made them put pictures of their mother away because she saw her as a threat.
I crossed my arms over my chest, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Elvire, I have no problem sharing him. And, maybe, just maybe, I need a hug too.”
Her jaw dropped and the distrust in her eyes melted away. She smiled and approached me. We exchanged an awkward but love-filled hug, Jean-Luc sandwiched in between us.
“Let’s get Max,” I said.
He overheard us and ran down a path, toward a bubbling river. “Catch me if you can.”
And so, Jean-Luc, Elvire, and I r
aced after him. We jumped over a small riverbank and we ran and we laughed, finally catching the tiny rugby player and dragged him to the ground. Once our laughter died down, we had a picnic with the Pyrénées Mountains rising high into the sky behind us.
Things were settling into place with the kids. But I still had issues with my language skills. Part of the problem was that Jean-Luc always spoke English with me, and then asked why was I not speaking French?
Although I had three native speakers in the house, I couldn’t get by just on the words I picked up from the kids: méga moche (super ugly) or un nul (a zero/loser) or dégueulasse (disgusting). I’d taken French in high school (four years) and in college (two years), but after a twenty-year hiatus I was far from fluent, even after my intensive course at one of the universities, L’Institute Catholique de Toulouse, where I surprisingly tested into Elementaire II (right before intermediate), and where we paid close to 480 euros. Ce n’était pas donné (it wasn’t cheap), so I had to get creative. Enter iTunes and the Internet. Why hadn’t I discovered podcasts before?
Katia and Kyliemac’s podcasts were hysterical and made learning French fun, instead of a chore. They taught colloquial expressions that one doesn’t learn in school, like avec ma bite et mon couteau, which, translated literally, meant “with my dick and my knife,” but actually meant “I’m making do with what I have.” Which was exactly what I was doing.
The best part of all? Most of these resources were free. Well, that, and nobody corrected my conjugations.
A truly joyous moment arrived when I was playing around with the remote control for the television. Lo and behold, I discovered that most of the American and English series and video-on-demand movies could be accessed in VO (version original) with the press of a button. No longer did my favorite actresses speak in strange, high-pitched French. Hallelujah! I could actually enjoy my favorite shows!