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You English ploucs, with your breakfast gluttony. I tell you, the only breakfast that is suitable for a real man, a man who isn’t sans-couilles is un café noir, un gaulois et une putain. It was Oscar Wilde who said “only dull people are brilliant at breakfast” and for un irlandais he was quite perceptive. Because les rosbifs need a lesson in what it is to be refined, when I heard about this concours de cuisine, I dropped my mistress and caught the next TGV to London to show some acquaintances the true meaning of soigné. Et voilà! Read on, see the results, and judge for yourself whether breakfast food is wasted on the morning. Le Menu: Canapé: Le petit déjeuner écossais Apéritif: Bloody Mary martini Entrée: Le petit déjeuner anglais Boisson: Mimosa Plat principal: Le kedgeree Boisson: Une tasse de thé Dessert: Le gâteau des gaufres Digestif: Café amore We begin where so much of the trouble for les Anglais often starts: Scotland! The home of only truly delicious food to be found on this sous-merde island, haggis. So, I began my making haggis:  1 onion, peeled, finely diced and sweated in butter 1 sheep’s heart, cubed 200g lambs liver, roughly chopped 25g coarse oats, toasted 40g suet 1 tbsp dried sage 1 pinch mixed spice 2 tbsp salt 1 tbsp finely ground black pepper Because this country is un trou à rats without a decent boucherie to be found, I had to make this haggis simulé, without the lungs or stomach. Of course, the primary ingredient in haggis is pepper, which is the closest thing these salauds get to a robust flavour. I took the heart and liver and put them into a large pan, covered with water and brought to the boil, reduced the heat and simmered for 40m until everything was a depressing shade of grey. I drained and finely chopped the meat, reserving some of the cooking water for later. Then I mixed the diced meat with the other ingredients in a heat-proof bowl and added a little of the cooking water.  I covered the bowl with a pleated sheet of greaseproof paper and foil, and steamed for 2h.  Then I made les crique ardéchoise which these Northern barbarians insist on giving the execrable soubriquet “tattie scone”:  200g floury potatoes, unpeeled 20g butter 50g plain flour I put the potatoes whole into a pan of cold water, salted generously and brought to the boil. After 20m or so, they were done, so a drained and left to dry, after which I peeled them. I then riced the potatoes, a superior method to get smooth and creamy pomme purée. I stirred in the butter and flour, and formed into a dough, which I rolled out until it was about 5mm thick. This I cut into small rounds, pricked with a fork and fried until en or.  Both the haggis and pancakes were set aside until ready to use. I also soft-boiled (2m in boiling water) a number of quails’ eggs, but even the most idiotic roi des cons can imagine this without pictures. While waiting for my guests to arrive à la mode fin, I made some martinis. The key ingredient for this was prepared somewhat en avance.  350ml vodka 2 tomatoes, cut into eighths ½ onion, sliced 1 celery stalk, roughly chopped 1 carrot, peeled and roughly chopped ½ cucumber, sliced ½ lemon, sliced 1 tsp dried dill 2 cloves garlic 1 jalapeño Before beginning, I made sure to clean all of the ingredients, as dirty vegetables lead to cloudy vodka, which is just raté. I put all of the vegetables (bar the jalapeño) into a large jar, and filled the spaces between with vodka, and chilled for 3d.  In the morning of the degustation, I deseeded the chili and put it into the bottle. For the cocktail itself I stirred 4 parts vodka over ice with ½ part chilled vermouth, poured into frozen martini glasses and garnished with a cocktail onion, cornichon and olive. To serve, I topped the pancakes with a quenelle of haggis, half a quail egg and some chopped chives, accompanied by an arctique Bloody Mary martini. Canapé: Le petit déjeuner écossais Apéritif: Bloody Mary martini  Now, mes amis we were really, how do you say, “cooking with gas”. A truly great beginning to le banquet: the peppery haggis combined with the slightly sweet flavour of the egg, and the extraordinary flavour of the martini was a wonder, a masterpiece that filled me with élan for the coming meal. If I had a criticism, if I were pinaillage, I might say that the martini could have been spicier: it had a marvellous vegetable flavour, but the flavour of the chili was a bit subtil for my liking. After a strong drink and an amuse-bouche it was time to continue! Mes amis, being quite pleasant for les rosbifs elected to stay with me in la cuisine while I assembled the next course. A triumph of esprits de corps! Here we move to a typical conceit of les Anglais: take something perfectly ordinary that is done the world over and claim it is “English”. In this case, I am talking about taking the combination of bacon and eggs and claiming it is somehow the “English breakfast”. Let me tell you, you filthy branleurs, there is nothing special about this, and it takes a Frenchman to truly understand how to combine these ingredients to make something delicious, rather than just a collection of cooked things on a plate. It began, as so many formidable things do, with Duxelles, named for le Marquis d'Uxelles, a man after my own heart:  250g mushrooms, finely chopped Dried mushrooms, soaked, finely diced and soaking liquor reserved 30g butter 30g onions, finely chopped 1 clove garlic, minced ½ tsp of dry thyme, ground in a pestle 60ml vermouth I soaked the dried mushrooms first, and while doing so, sweated the onions and garlic in butter until soft. Then j'ai jeté les champignons into the pan and fried until all the moisture was gone, added the vermouth and did the same, then put in un petit peu of the liquor to beef up the mushroom flavour and kept frying until all moisture was gone.  This I set aside for later, and indulged in the finest of French plaisirs. Of course, this can only mean one thing: pâtisserie! I was so overcome by joie de vivre by this most pleasant of travails that I completely neglected to take any record of my activity: 175g plain flour 75g butter A pinch of salt I sifted the flour with a pinch of salt (I have heard some opposants claim that sifting is inutile, but those people do not understand the simple pleasure of cooking and doing things because they bring joy. Sifting flour is part of le ritual de la cuisine and to neglect it is to neglect life itself). Then I rubbed in butter until the texture was that of breadcrumbs, add a little cold water until it formed a dough, and rested in the fridge for 30m. I rolled out the pastry on a floured surface, and lined a buttered baking tray with it, and then chilled again for 30m. At this point, I filled the pastry with les billes de cuisson and baked for 20m at 190C. If you do not know what this “C” means, you are more than welcome to aller se faire cuire un œuf until you can join us in the 21st century. Remove the baking beans and baked for a further 5m, reduce the heat to 160C and assemble your ingredients for la garniture:  Duxelles 150g cheddar, grated 200g bacon, chopped and fried until crispy 1 small onion, finely diced and sweated in butter 4 eggs, beaten 100ml milk 160ml double cream 2 tsp dried thyme Cherry tomatoes, halved I spread the Duxelles on the base of the pastry, followed by a later of cheese, then the bacon. I then combined the eggs, milk and cream in a large bowl, and poured over the top. I pressed in the tomatoes and sprinkled with thyme, and baked for around 50m.  After I allowed it to cool and trimmed the edges, I sliced into portions, and marvelled at la majesté.  Before I completely descended into reverie, I made a salad.  2 cans of cannellini beans Some cherry tomatoes from the local farm, roughly diced 1 large avocado, peeled and roughly chopped 1 bunch of basil leaves, finely chopped Vinaigrette (if you need a lesson in how to make this, tu me fatigues) I mixed the ingredients together, and tossed in the vinaigrette. To plate, I put a small amount of salad on the plate with a portion of quiche (for that is what we have made) and sprinkle with finely chopped parsley.  While shouting at les plongeurs to clean up so I could serve, I made a drink as an accompaniment. Again, this involved some preparation… It began some time ago, with une question simple: what is the only bad thing about the mimosa? It came to me while eating pâté de foie gras outside my favourite bordel en Paris; it is the dilution of the champagne with non-alcoholic juices. So I set out to improve this. First, I made an arancello:  350ml vodka 5 oranges 250g sugar 250ml water I began by peeling all of the oranges.  After peeling, you should try to remove as much of the pith as possible, as this lends a bitter note to the produit fini. I kept the oranges for later, and put the peel into a large bottle with the vodka. This infused for a week, at which point I made a simple syrup with the sugar and water, allowed it to cool and add to the vodka. After another week, I removed the peel and the arancello was done. Now, we go back to the oranges we had: I juiced these at the time, and froze the juice. When I did this, the most flavourful juice moved into the centre of the frozen mass.  This I thawed very slowly in a sieve over a bowl in the fridge, until the frozen core was still there, but the surrounding weaker flavoured liquid had melted and fallen into the lower bowl. I repeated this a few times, until I was left with a concentrated orange flavour.  To make the drink, I took 1 part of chilled arancello, 1 part concentrated juice and 2 parts prosecco (I could not bring myself to drink what the English think is champagne).  So, to serve, we had: Entrée: Le petit déjeuner anglais Boisson: Mimosa  I am well aware that the photo here is not of the calibre you might come to expect of an artiste, and you are right: it is impardonnable. It may be the case that the socialising had begun to have an effect at this point, and I was more keen on enjoying le repas avec amis than I was on satisfying the photographic urges of les étrangers en ligne, but that is no excuse. Quand même I must pass comment on the qualité of my “English breakfast”. Obviously, the quiche is superior in every respect to a plate of food that might as well have been hurled at the plate from a great distance. Yet, here, all les éléments were present: bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, beans. One of my guests questioned the lack of black pudding so I patiently explained “ferme ta gueule!” The French invented boudin noir and I wouldn’t sully my kitchen with a pale imitation. In short, this was excellent: it’s hard to go wrong with a good quiche, and this was une quiche fantastique. Now, beginning to get into the most satisfying and substantial course, we reached another curiously English phénomène: to take another countries culture and cuisine, bastardise it and make a dish that is completely divorced from the original concept, and inescapably now “English”. In this case, both course and drink are remnants of the English colonisation of India. I am going to partir from our usual method here, and begin with the drink, as this was some time in the making. I started by making an earl grey infused gin, which was a simple matter of putting two earl grey tea bags in a bottle of gin and leaving for two weeks. I also made an earl grey tonic:  1L water 1 stalk lemongrass 35g cinchona bark chips 1 earl grey teabag Zest and juice of 1 lemon 250ml more lemon juice I combined the ingredients in a medium saucepan and brought to the boil, turned the heat to low and simmered for 20m. The first time I made this, I made une erreur de jeunesse and gave myself a mild case of cinchonism, so I made sure to properly filter the bark out this time using an elaborate homemade filter column.  Even this wasn’t quite enough, and I went through several filters until I was satisfied with the limpidité of the final product. Once the liquid was cleared, I heated it back up and added a ¾ volume of agave nectar, then tested to make sure I wasn’t going to kill any of my guests. As much as I have no respect for les rosbifs, it would be the height of mauvaises manières to do so with a cocktail.  When ready to drink, I took 1 part tonic syrup, 2 parts gin and 3 parts soda water, poured over ice and garnished with a slice of lemon.  But before I served the drinks, I made the plat principal. I began by brining my fish.  300g salt 200g sugar Star anise Bay Peppercorns Garlic 4L water Four cod loins I made the brine by warming the water and adding the other ingredients, then allowing to cool. I poured over the fish and cured overnight in the fridge, and soaked some woodchips overnight as well.  The next day I rinsed the fish under a cold tap and left to dry to form the “pellicle”, which is a silvery outer coating.  While this was forming, I started a fire with some charcoal, and once the coals had turned to white and ashy, I pushed them to one side of the barbecue, covered with trays of soaked woodchips, and placed my fish on the other side.  After making sure the fire wasn’t going to go out, I closed the lid of my barbecue and left the fish for a few hours, after which I swapped the woodchips over and took a photo. The reason I make clear the timing of this is that the fire was very much on the left side, but this photo makes it look like the centre is the hottest part, which is importantly not accurate.  I then made une purée de petit pois.  200g Frozen peas 30g butter Juice of half a lemon Handful of parsley, minced Handful of mint, minced I cooked peas for about five minutes in boiling water, and blended with the butter and lemon juice until smooth, then added the herbs. At the same time, I made a risotto.  1.25L chicken stock 1 large knob of butter 1 onion, finely chopped 3 cloves garlic, minced 1 piece of ginger, peeled and finely minced 2 tbsp curry powder 400g Arborio rice 80ml double cream Le plus important! Make sure you warm the stock on the stove while making the risotto: cold stock can ruin a risotto. I sautéed the onions, garlic and ginger in butter until soft, then added the curry powder and cooked for a further 1m. Then I added the rice and stirred until completely coated. After this, I added the stock one ladleful at a time until completely absorbed, and repeated until all the stock was gone.  I then added the cream and a knob of butter, and beat rapidly until the cream was incorporated, and took off the heat and allowed to rest for 5m. While making the risotto, I also made a sauce. Because I had several of the éléments fondamentals in place (smoked fish, rice, peas) I had one final pièce de puzzle to add: les oeufs! So I made a Greek sauce, called avgolemono.  3 eggs, beaten until frothy 2 lemons, juiced 250ml chicken stock, hot 1 tsp flour Freshly chopped parsley Because my mixer was broken, I had to use my hand to whisk, which took a great deal of puissance, but was definitely worth it. I began by whisking my eggs until frothy, then sprinkled in the flour.  Then I very slowly added the lemon juice, followed by the stock, even more slowly. This was then cooked in the pan over a low heat until thickened, at which point I added a load of parsley. To serve, I put the risotto into un moule à gâteau, topped with the purée de petit pois and the fish, then spooned the sauce around the edge and scattered a bit of parsley over the top.  À la table, we had the tea infused gin and tonic, with what I think was recognisably kedgeree. Plat principal: Le kedgeree Boisson: Une tasse de thé  Incroyable! There really is no other way to say it. This was a revelation. Each element was good on its own, but together it was absolument kedgeree. The curry risotto was subtle, the smoked fish was smokey and salty and definitely la véritable star, complemented by the sweetness of the peas and the sharp lemon tang of the avgolemono. Some doubt was expressed about what was described as “excessive lemoniness”, but this was soon assuaged by explaining that it wasn’t supposed to be eaten on its own, c’est un sauce. Finally, after gorging ourselves on the finest breakfast foods from this terrible island, we moved across the ocean, to les états-unis. If Britain is the home of le malaise, America is sûrement the nation of la gloutonnerie. I have seen men sit down to trays of chicken and waffles that would feed a small village in Normandie, with leftovers pour les vaches. But they do make a tempting riposte to the saveur of our previous courses. I began with another sauce, which I set aside for later.  Mixed berries Sugar I didn’t measure anything here, I just cooked the berries with a little sugar, blended a pushed through a sieve. The resulting sauce should have un goût acidulé, do not fall into the temptation to oversweeten. Next, I made la glace:  5 egg yolks 200ml maple syrup 250ml double cream 400ml full fat milk I put the milk and cream in a saucepan and heated to a scald, while I whisked the yolks and syrup together in a large bowl. Once thoroughly mixed, I poured the hot milk/cream over the egg mixture while whisking rapidement. I returned the custard to the pan and heated for about 10m until thickened, then chilled overnight. The next day, I poured it into the ice cream machine and let it do its magique.  Only four elements remained, the next of which was an apple caramel.  4 apples Juice of 1 lemon 2 tbsp sugar 2 tsp cinnamon 40g butter I peeled and cored the apples, and tossed in lemon juice. Then I melted the butter over a low heat, threw in the apples and sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, cooking for about 10m until the apples were tender. The next element was a lemon whipped cream, which I forgot to photograph, because it is too childishly simple. 250ml double cream Zest of 1 lemon 2 tsp of limoncello I put all the ingredients into a bowl and whisked them for all I was worth. Pénultième: praline  100g slivered almonds 100g sugar 10g butter 1 tbsp water I began by toasting the almonds at 180C for 10m, then threw them away and toasted some fresh ones for five minutes. At the same time as I did this, I burnt the sugar, threw it away, weighed out fresh sugar and made a caramel. I tossed the toasted almonds in the caramel, spread on a greased baking sheet and left to cool.  Finalement, I made the one thing that  250g self-raising flour 2tbsp sugar ½ tsp salt 350ml milk 80g melted butter 2 large eggs I mixed the dry ingredients, then whisked in the milk, eggs and butter. The mixture stood for five minutes, during which time the waffle iron needed to heat up.  I oiled the iron, put in a ladleful of batter and closed, leaving alone until steam stopped rising from the iron, at which point the waffle was done. Finished waffles were transferred to a wire rack while the iron got hot again, at which point I oiled up again and repeated until all my batter was gone and I had four waffles.  Now, I was ready to assemble le gâteau des gaufres: By layering cream, apple and waffles, I created quite a tall waffle cake.  At this point, the meal was almost done, but no American breakfast would be complete without a, how do you say, “Cup of Jim”?  I poured 1 part brandy, 1 part amaretto, 6 parts black coffee into a large glass cup, topped with unsweetened whipped cream and a few shaved almonds.  To serve the cake, I put a little berry sauce on the plate, followed by a slice of cake, a scoop of ice cream and a crumbling of praline.  And took the whole thing to the table and finished the meal in style! Dessert: Le gâteau des gaufres Digestif: Café amore  In short, un triomphe for the tastebuds. The tart apple and berry sauces were a good contrast to the sweet ice cream, the maple flavour worked well with the cinnamon in the apples, the waffles were full of petites poches of cream and apple, so every bite was a little different. And, despite my love of le café noir, I even enjoyed the cream in the coffee cocktail, which was very stimulating. Pour résumer: Canapé: Le petit déjeuner écossais Apéritif: Bloody Mary martini Entrée: Le petit déjeuner anglais Boisson: Mimosa Plat principal: Le kedgeree Boisson: Une tasse de thé Dessert: Le gâteau des gaufres Digestif: Café amore Evidemment, we need not debate the superiority of la cuisine francaise, and I think I have demonstrated here that there is something to be said for moving le petit déjeuner to another time of day, a time more amicable for the spirit, so that we enjoy a meal with good company, rather than staring bleary-eyed at each other, après la petite mort, when all our energies should be diverted to overcoming the ennui of the night before.
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Oct 9, 2019 20:13
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| # ? May 6, 2024 18:26 |
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That all looks delicious AND it made me recall some of my three semesters of French. Nicely done.
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Oct 9, 2019 20:39
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Oct 9, 2019 20:43
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Putain...eh les mecs, pas la peine de vous emmerder à faire la cuisine. Pas possible de faire mieux qu’ça.
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Oct 9, 2019 22:50
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Ah ouais aussiquote:ICSA soixante-neuf bien
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Oct 9, 2019 22:56
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Love that mimosa! And a gin and tonic which can potentially poison you is intriguing.
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Oct 10, 2019 07:03
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TychoCelchuuu posted:Love that mimosa! And a gin and tonic which can potentially poison you is intriguing. All gin and tonics can potentially poison you. It's just usually the gin part you have to worry about.
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Oct 10, 2019 07:58
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les rosbifs
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Oct 10, 2019 22:28
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I feel the need for a postprandial Gauloise.
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Oct 11, 2019 20:11
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This all looks unfairly incredibleCleverHans posted:All gin and tonics can potentially poison you. It's more fun if the poison isn't the one you expect it to be
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Oct 12, 2019 01:37
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I love your writing style. This was my favorite part:quote:I sifted the flour with a pinch of salt (I have heard some opposants claim that sifting is inutile, but those people do not understand the simple pleasure of cooking and doing things because they bring joy. Sifting flour is part of le ritual de la cuisine and to neglect it is to neglect life itself). Your food looks phenomenal. You're an excellent chef and host! OH, and I had heard of quinine overdose but your trip report had me curious to read Wikipedia, which knows a thing or two about necromancy, emphasis mine: quote:Large doses of quinine may lead to severe (but reversible) symptoms of cinchonism: skin rashes, deafness, somnolence, diminished visual acuity or blindness, anaphylactic shock, and disturbances in heart rhythm or conduction, and death from cardiotoxicity (damage to the heart).
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Oct 12, 2019 13:31
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| # ? May 6, 2024 18:26 |
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This made me incredibly jealous of the amount of kitchen gadgets you presumably have space for in your house. Doing a little almond brittle is probably what I'm going to do with the bourbon soaked almonds I have currently infusing in the cabinet when they're spent, and I'll need to find an occasion to have enough people over to make a "waffle cake".
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Oct 13, 2019 14:23
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