But the recipes are usually the highly conventionalized ver-
sions carried around the world by that curious Parisian export
product, the French chef, and, more often than not, they have
come to us through restaurant and hotel kitchens known as
"French." Alas, one finds them from Tokio, to London, to New
York, to San Francisco, and back to Tokio again. The name
and the semblance are there, but the spirit is sadly lacking; and
this explains why the travelling gourmet avoids the hotel with
the menu written in French, and takes up his abode, by prefer-
ence, in one served by a good native cook, even at the sacrifice
of walking down long corridors to the bath.
Much of this same stylish but dispirited cooking can be found
within the ramparts of the sacred city itself, although, of course,
eating can also be done magnificently in Paris. The French,
themselves, complain, especially if they hail from any of the
gourmandizing provinces. Could they but enjoy a so-called
282 THE EUROPEAN COOKBOOK
morue a la creme, as originally made by its inventor, Bechamel;
or the supper Mme. Du Barry offered to Louis XV, brought up
through the floor on a table volante, or filets de volaille a la Belle-
vue as concocted by Pompadour for Louis XVI; or the sauce
Vatel made just before he committed suicide because the sea fish
to go with it did not arrive in time, at Chantilly, for the fete din-
ner of his master, Conde, author of 'TEscuyer Tranchant" (The
Art of Carving) !
The Frenchman, sojourning in his capital, seeks out a re-
gional eating place, uncorrupted by foreign influences, except
when he goes, en fete, to one of the great restaurants. By the
same wisdom this chapter is made up largely of regional cooking,
with a minimum of internationally known dishes.
Care has been taken to give the recipes as they are used in
the districts themselves. One may eat a delicious bceuf en daube
a la Provencal in Brittany, or a wonderful bouillabaisse in Paris,
but of course the beef dish is at its best in the land of its origin,
Provence, and nowhere else does the bouillabaisse reach the per-
fection it attains in its home town of Marseilles. Just as pepper
pot should be eaten in Philadelphia, although it may be ordered
in San Francisco where the very air will likely detract from its
excellence; and Boston baked beans and brown bread in New
Orleans would never be anything for the visiting foreigner to
write home about.
Note: Throughout this French section the names of provinces
where the recipes originated are given in italics at the top of
each recipe.
APPETIZERS
(Hors d'CEuvres)
Provence ANCHOADE
8 anchovies Olive oil
1-3 garlic cloves, sliced Wine vinegar
Pepper 1 loaf stale bread✪ Anchoade
Soak anchovies a few minutes in cold water, clean, and re-
move fillets. Put them in a bowl or mortar and mash with the
garlic. Add an inch-cube of the bread, crumbled, and mash all
together, add pepper and a little oil and work into a smooth paste.
Season to taste with a few drops of vinegar. Cut bread in small
squares, spread with the paste, and put under the grill.
This anchoade is known as Lou Pan bagna, when the bread
is first "bathed" in olive oil.
Page 118 · 1 recipe record on this page
Presented as published in 1936. Historical recipes may not meet modern food-safety standards. Cook from the modern interpretation, not the original instructions.
AI-modernized reading of the original text
But the recipes are usually the highly conventionalized versions carried around the world by that curious Parisian export product, the French chef, and, more often than not, they have come to us through restaurant and hotel kitchens known as "French." Alas, one finds them from Tokio, to London, to New York, to San Francisco, and back to Tokio again. The name and the semblance are there, but the spirit is sadly lacking; and this explains why the travelling gourmet avoids the hotel with the menu written in French, and takes up his abode, by preference, in one served by a good native cook, even at the sacrifice of walking down long corridors to the bath.
Much of this same stylish but dispirited cooking can be found within the ramparts of the sacred city itself, although, of course, eating can also be done magnificently in Paris. The French, themselves, complain, especially if they hail from any of the gourmandizing provinces. Could they but enjoy a so-called
morue a la creme, as originally made by its inventor, Bechamel; or the supper Mme. Du Barry offered to Louis XV, brought up through the floor on a table volante, or filets de volaille a la Bellevue as concocted by Pompadour for Louis XVI; or the sauce Vatel made just before he committed suicide because the sea fish to go with it did not arrive in time, at Chantilly, for the fete dinner of his master, Conde, author of 'TEscuyer Tranchant" (The Art of Carving) !
The Frenchman, sojourning in his capital, seeks out a regional eating place, uncorrupted by foreign influences, except when he goes, en fete, to one of the great restaurants. By the same wisdom this chapter is made up largely of regional cooking, with a minimum of internationally known dishes.
Care has been taken to give the recipes as they are used in the districts themselves. One may eat a delicious bceuf en daube a la Provencal in Brittany, or a wonderful bouillabaisse in Paris, but of course the beef dish is at its best in the land of its origin, Provence, and nowhere else does the bouillabaisse reach the perfection it attains in its home town of Marseilles. Just as pepper pot should be eaten in Philadelphia, although it may be ordered in San Francisco where the very air will likely detract from its excellence; and Boston baked beans and brown bread in New Orleans would never be anything for the visiting foreigner to write home about.
Note: Throughout this French section the names of provinces where the recipes originated are given in italics at the top of each recipe.
APPETIZERS
(Hors d'CEuvres)
Provence ANCHOADE
8 anchovies Olive oil
1-3 garlic cloves, sliced Wine vinegar
Pepper 1 loaf stale bread
Soak anchovies a few minutes in cold water, clean, and remove fillets. Put them in a bowl or mortar and mash with the garlic. Add an inch-cube of the bread, crumbled, and mash all together, add pepper and a little oil and work into a smooth paste. Season to taste with a few drops of vinegar. Cut bread in small squares, spread with the paste, and put under the grill.
This anchoade is known as Lou Pan bagna, when the bread is first "bathed" in olive oil.
Records on this page
Anchoade