The World in My Kitchen

by Colette Rossant

  I thought I could save it and told him not to tell anyone what had happened. I cut as much meat as I could, arranged it on a platter then proceeded to make a creamy sauce with lots of butter and heavy cream, using also some of the drippings from the roasting pan. I covered the meat with the sauce, sprinkled it with chopped parsley, and brought it back to Murray’s and Naima’s house. The pâté was a success, and so were the soufflé and the potatoes. No one talked about the goose except to say that this was quite an original recipe. Years later, I told Naima what had happened. She laughed and said, “And we all thought you had served a very special dish from France! No one dared say it wasn’t very good!”

  The next day, Jimmy and I flew to Miami. In 1956, Coral Gables was a large community of mostly retired families. Anne’s house, like most houses in Coral Gables, was built in the Spanish style, with a red tile roof, blue-green shutters, and ochrestuccoed walls reminiscent of the Mediterranean. She had a lovely garden, and I was delighted to find that she had fruit trees loaded with bright large lemons, grapefruit, and limes and a jungle of banana trees. What pleased me even more was to find in the back of the house a mango tree like we had in Cairo. I had not tasted a fresh mango since I had left Cairo years ago. The sweet smelling fruit brought back memories of trips to the mango market with my Egyptian grandfather. In Cairo’s market, there were many types of mangoes: some flat and round, small bright yellow ones, or very fat ones in deep purple, red, and green. Here in Florida, the red mangoes were enormous and very juicy. I sat in the garden and ate my first American mango with relish.

  That night, Jimmy insisted we go to a barbeque rib restaurant on Tamiami Trail called Shorty’s. “Barbecue ribs are the best thing in Florida,” Jimmy explained. “You must try them, and you will find out that we have dishes here as good as anything you will find in France.” The restaurant was unpretentious. The room was barn-like with wood tables and benches. Everyone sat together. In the back, there was an open pit where the ribs were slowly baked over hickory wood coals all day and all night long. We ordered several racks of ribs. The ribs were painted with a reddish-brown sauce, a mixture of tomatoes, onions, herbs, and hot spices, and when they were placed in front of me, an unexpected aroma of a winter fire, of wood burning, wafted toward me, an aroma that promised a slightly scorched but succulent meat. Grabbing a rib, I tore the meat off the bone, sauce dripping down my chin, and laughed with pleasure. The meat was tender and juicy, the best pork I had ever tasted. With the ribs, we ate steamed corn on the cob, another dish I had not had for a long time. In Cairo, the ears of corn were slowly roasted on coals. They were tough, slightly burnt; here the corn was young, tender, dripping with butter, and very sweet. With the meal, we drank large pints of ice-cold beer, and very soon, slightly drunk, we talked with everyone around us at the table. They asked the usual questions once they found out we did not live in Miami: “Where do you come from? Up North?” “No, I am French.” As in Boston, I was immediately asked, “How do you like Miami?” I didn’t know yet; I haven’t seen anything, but I am sure I will love it. The ribs are so good!

  For the next few days, we swam in the ocean and drove through Miami Beach in the evening. The hotels astonished me; they looked like bad copies of Versailles or large Renaissance castles, with towers and plaster sculptures added everywhere. They were aqua, pink, and blue, and everything was so big, so vulgar, and so exaggerated that it left me baffled. I just wanted to go back to Anne’s lovely garden with the mango tree and to the incredible sandy beaches of Coral Gables.

  During our stay in Florida, Jimmy and I endured a number of exasperating social occasions. One morning Anne announced that her friends at the club all invited me to lunch—alone. Alone? A lunch with only women? I had never heard of it!

  “Jimmy, I don’t want to go. Lunch with just women! Horrible!” But Jimmy said I had to go, if just to please his mother. And so I went.

  The country club resembled Cairo’s country club, with its manicured lawns, a clubhouse, and a swimming pool surrounded by deck chairs and umbrellas. But what was very different was the golf course that spread far beyond the club house and was spotted with electric golf carts silently zooming around. The luncheon event was held in a private dining room overlooking the eighteenth hole. The room was full of women with white hair tinted blue, most of whom were wearing pink or light blue pantsuits. I was introduced to Ethel, who immediately handed me a box filled with a lovely white orchid. Holding the box in one hand, I did the rounds: Ethel, Sally, Molly, Rachel, Helen, names and more names swirling around me. I no longer knew who was Sally and who was Helen, but kept on hearing whispers behind my back.

  “So young, so very French, what a lovely accent, like Hildegarde! Anne must be so very happy.”

  Finally, we found our name cards; I was placed between Anne and Ethel, and we all sat down. It was then that I made my first mistake. I opened my orchid box, removed the orchid, and plopped it in my glass of water to cries of astonishment and horror of my host, who was sitting next to me. “This is a corsage. You must pin the orchid on your dress,” she said. “Don’t put it in the water!” I apologized, removed the dripping orchid, and pinned it to my dress just above my breast. Very soon my dress around my breast was soaking wet, and I looked ridiculous. I unpinned it, placed it next to my plate, smiled, and since all the women were looking at me, attacked the first course: large, chilled, boiled shrimps surrounded by a familiar pink, slightly sweet cocktail sauce. I tried to talk about New York, and my experiences at work, but no one really was listening. They were more interested in local gossip: which widow was flirting with whom and who was giving a party for New Year’s, what to wear, etc. Anne whispered that Ethel was giving a very lavish New Year’s party and that we were invited but not everyone at the table was. The next course came along, and Ethel, to everyone’s approval, announced loudly that she had ordered the course in my honor: chicken cordon bleu. I looked down at my plate. Lying there was a piece of chicken breast topped with what looked to me to be ham and covered with a beige, slightly gelatinous sauce. As I took a bite, all eyes were on me. To my mother-in-law’s dismay, I said in a very loud voice, “It is quite good, but it is not French.” Utter silence followed my statement, and I realized then that I had made another major mistake. Trying to save the moment, Anne changed the subject, saying that I had spent most of my childhood in Egypt and probably did not know French cuisine too well. From their looks, I knew that now Anne had made a mistake. I was no longer this lovely French girl but some strange Egyptian creature. I could see in their faces what they were thinking: “Poor Anne, look what she got. A strange foreigner; an Egyptian at that…she must be so upset.” I tried to save the situation as the dessert, a rich chocolate cake was placed in front of me; I exclaimed in the most French accent I could muster that this was the best cake I had ever had. But the damage was done. Nobody cared!

  New Year’s Eve was yet another trial. I dressed very carefully and told Jimmy I was afraid of the luncheon guests who would be coming, but he just laughed and said they would have all forgotten about me, and Anne added that it was a privilege to be invited and that not all of her friends were.

  “You are going to have a lovely time. The food there is always delicious.” I thought of my lunch and sighed in despair. Jimmy laughed at my sad face and said, “Come on, Colette. It won’t be so bad! Cheer up; we are going together. It will be fun.”

  The house was an immense pink stucco house with red Spanish roof tiles, arches, and a lovely patio with a fountain in the center. Women wore long flowing dresses, and men wore suits in iridescent dark blue or white jackets. Again I was introduced as Anne’s new French daughter-in-law. Very soon I was surrounded by several men, all talking at the same time. I heard them whisper: “You know Frenchmen are lazy; they take two hours for lunch. Also when you visit Paris and they spot you as a foreigner, they raise their prices. You cannot bargain with them. After all, they forgot that we liberated them.” Someone added, “All Frenchmen are drunks
; they drink wine all the time…even for breakfast!” It was an avalanche of criticism that astonished me. I was about to respond when one man, slightly drunk, added that he was eagerly waiting for midnight to kiss me, “What a treat! A real French girl!” and everyone agreed and thought it was a great thing to do. At that point, upset and on the verge of tears, I went to look for Jimmy. “Take me home. I hate it here. Please take me home….”

  And so we left. Back at the house, we made a fire in the fireplace, and Jimmy tried to comfort me. As midnight approached, Jimmy kissed me and whispered, “Happy New Year in your new country. Let’s make love in front of the fire, and let’s make a baby…”

  The next morning I knew something in me had changed: My breasts felt rounder. I felt full and very happy—sure that I was expecting a child. Anne had been quite upset by our departure, but Jimmy explained that everything was so new for me that I had felt homesick for Paris. She accepted his explanation and forgave me.

  A few months later, I discovered that I was indeed pregnant. We decided that we needed a larger apartment so we moved to a two-bedroom apartment on Sixty-eighth Street, near Central Park West, with the same small dinette but a large living room and windows that overlooked the street. We bought some furniture, a couch, two chairs, and a dinette. The large wicker baskets were put away; we were ready to invite our new friends for dinner. We invited Gabriel Sedlis and his girlfriend; Peter Greenquist, a young man who had gone to Europe with Jimmy in 1949 and was working in a publishing house; and Michael Brill and his wife, Judy. Michael, an architect like Jimmy, was funny and very fat. He loved food, and it was amusing to cook for him. That night I went all out. I prepared a choucroute garnie, a French sauerkraut dish cooked in champagne with sausages, smoked ham, and boiled potatoes served with French mustard. With it I served hot Italian baguettes and fennel salad. The guests oohed and aahed and said they never tasted such delicious sauerkraut. I had found the sauerkraut in the Lower East Side, the sausages Uptown in the Eighties in a German neighborhood, and the fennel in Little Italy. We drank lots of wine, talked about politics, the state of architecture, the future, and what a great cook I was. I was proud and happy.

  As I was going to bed, I thought, This is my life;this is my home. I am going to have a baby. For the first time in many years, I felt I belonged somewhere. I was sure that the whole world was open to me, that in New York nothing was impossible, and that I could do anything I wanted.

  CUCUMBER SALAD WITH MINT

  Oriental cucumber is long and narrow and has fewer seeds than the regular cucumber.

  Peel and thinly slice 2 Oriental cucumbers. Place the cucumbers in a bowl. In another bowl, beat together 1½ cups of plain yogurt; add ½ teaspoon of lemon juice, and 1 tablespoon of olive oil, and 1 garlic clove, minced, and salt and pepper to taste. Mix well and pour over the cucumbers. Then chop 2 tablespoons of fresh mint leaves. Add to the salad and mix well. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

  Serves 4.

  HAMBURGERS WITH GREENPEPPER SAUCE

  Shape 1½ pounds of ground round into 4 hamburgers. In a large skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of butter with 1 tablespoon of olive oil. When the oil is hot, add the hamburgers and cook to desired doneness. Remove from the skillet and keep warm. Meanwhile, add 1 tablespoon of butter to the same skillet and scrape the sides. Add 1 small onion, thinly sliced, and sauté until the onions are transparent. Then add 1 cup of chicken broth, salt, pepper, and 1 tablespoon of green peppercorns. (These are available in jars in any gourmet store or supermarket.) Simmer for 5 minutes. Place the hamburgers on a platter, pour the sauce over them, and serve.

  Serves 4.

  ARTICHOKE PUREE

  Drain 2 8-ounce cans of artichoke hearts. In a skillet, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil. When the oil is hot, add the hearts, and sauté for 3 minutes. Then remove from the heat and cool. In a food processor, place the artichokes, 2 eggs, salt and pepper, 2 garlic cloves, 1 tablespoon of thyme, 1 tablespoon of flour, and ¼ cup of heavy cream. Process until all the ingredients are pureed. Return the puree to a saucepan and cook for 5 minutes, stirring all the while. Add 1 tablespoon of fresh butter at the last minute. Serve sprinkled with chopped parsley.

  Serves 4.

  STUFFED ARTICHOKES

  In a large bowl filled with ice water, squeeze the juice of half a lemon. Using stainless steel scissors, cut the tips of 4 large artichokes. Place them in the bowl, and leave them there while you make the stuffing. Mix together ¼ cup of finely chopped parsley along with 2 minced garlic cloves, 2 finely minced anchovies, and the zest of 1 lemon. Mix well, then add ¼ cup of fresh bread crumbs along with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and fresh black pepper (to taste). Drain the artichokes, and gently separate the leaves. Place about ¼ teaspoon of stuffing between the leaves. In a large saucepan, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil. When the oil is hot, add the artichokes, browning them on all sides. Then stand the artichokes upright. Add ½ cup of strong chicken broth. Bring to a boil, lower the heat to medium, cover, and cook for 40 minutes. Serve at room temperature.

  Serves 4.

  CHICKEN WITH GARLIC

  This recipe is for a 3½-pound chicken. Wipe the chicken and place in a large bowl. In a small bowl, mix together 1 tablespoon of lemon juice with 2½ tablespoons of olive oil, 2 tablespoons of mushroom soy, and salt and pepper. Pour the mixture on the chicken and refrigerate for 2 hours. Meanwhile, peel a whole head of garlic. Remove the chicken from the refrigerator. Slide some garlic cloves under the skin of the breast; place a handful of cloves in the cavity. Place the chicken in a roasting pan with the sauce from the marinade. Surround the chicken with the remaining garlic cloves. Add 1 cup of water to the pan and roast in a preheated 350° oven for 1 hour, basting the chicken from time to time. Remove the chicken from the oven. Carve it and place on a serving platter surrounded by the garlic cloves. Add 1 cup of chicken bouillon to the pan, heat, correct the seasoning by adding salt and pepper to taste and 1 tablespoon of fresh tarragon. Pour the sauce over the chicken and serve with roast potatoes.

  Serves 4.

  GOOSE WITH CHESTNUTS AND APPLES

  Today one can find already peeled chestnuts, which I find easier than cooking and peeling chestnuts. Goose is often available frozen. If you can, try to find a butcher that will get you a fresh goose.

  Wipe and remove as much fat as possible from a 10-pound goose. Keep the fat for the neck. Cut off the neck, setting aside the skin. Rub the goose with 1 cup of Kosher salt and refrigerate overnight uncovered. This step will help dry the skin and allow the fat to escape more freely during cooking. The next day wipe away the salt. Peel 4 garlic cloves and slice. Make incisions on the goose’s skin and insert the garlic. Rub the goose with soy sauce, and sprinkle it with 3 tablespoon of dried tarragon and freshly ground pepper. Prick all over the goose’s skin. Place the bird in a large roasting pan and on a rack. Add 2 cups of chicken bouillon to the roasting pan. Preheat oven 375°. Roast the goose for 15 minutes at that temperature. Then reduce the heat to 325° and cook for 4 hours. (From time to time, remove the fat from the roasting pan. Keep the fat in a jar to be used during the year for vegetables or cooking meats.) The goose is cooked when the leg moves easily. Remove the goose from the oven, and allow the bird to rest 15 minutes before carving. Degrease the juices in the roasting pan. Add 1 cup of chicken bouillon, salt and pepper, and tarragon, and simmer for 5 minutes. Serve the sauce on the side.

  Serves 6.

  CARROT SOUFFLÉ

  Peel 6 young carrots and cut in 1-inch pieces. Place the carrots in a saucepan, cover with water, and cook for 15 to 20 minutes until the carrots are tender. Drain. Place the carrots in a food processor with 4 egg yolks, ½ cup of heavy cream, and 1 tablespoon of thyme or sage. Process until the carrots are pureed. Remove to a bowl. Beat 4 egg whites until stiff. Gently fold the egg whites into the carrot puree. Pour the mixture in an ovenproof bowl and bake in a reheated oven for 45 minutes at 375°. Serve with chicken or steak.

  Serves 4 to 6.

  POACHED P
EARS WITH CARAMEL

  Peel 4 Anjou pears. In a deep saucepan, place the pears side by side. Add 3 cups of water with 1 cup of sugar and ½ cup of raspberry jam. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and cook for 15 minutes or until the pears are tender when pierced with a fork. Remove the pears to a serving bowl. Cook the liquid until reduced to 1 cup. Pour the juice on the pears and refrigerate. Just before serving, make the caramel. In a heavy-bottom saucepan, place 2 cups of sugar with 2 tablespoons of water and ½ tablespoon of lemon juice. Melt the mixture over low heat, stirring all the while, until the melted sugar turns a golden brown. Pour the caramel over the cold pears. Garnish with fresh mint, and serve as is or with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

  Serves 4.

  CHOUCROUTE COOKED IN CHAMPAGNE

  Wash 4 pounds of sauerkraut under cold running water. In a large saucepan, cook 1 cup of cubed double smoked bacon over medium heat until well done. Add the sauerkraut and mix well. Then add 10 juniper seeds, 10 peppercorns, and ½ bottle of champagne. Mix well, lower the heat, and simmer for 1 hour, stirring from time to time. Then add a 1-pound piece of smoked bacon, 1 kielbasa cut in 3-inch pieces, 4 smoked pork chops, and simmer for another hour. Add more champagne if necessary. Five minutes before the dish is ready, boil 4 frankfurters. (These should be the real ones from Charlotte and Weber.) Serve the choucroute with boiled potatoes, plenty of French bread, and good Dijon mustard.