The Petit Four

I consider myself to be an adventurous eater. There are very few things in the world I will snub and discard before trying them at least once. I was the girl whose mantra for an entire year of her life in small-town China was “If it’s delicious, I’m not going to ask what type of meat it is.” It served my stomach and my conscience well. I liked my dog too much for me to ever really want to know.

But of course there are a few exceptions. I don’t dig blueberries or most things lemon-related. And I also don’t do traditional spaghetti noodles or watery soups. If I’m ever handed a bowl of steaming soup, I’m tearing apart the nearest chunk of bread, or crumbling up a bag of individual oyster crackers so I can sop up some of that liquid. Ladies and gentlemen, I am a soup-texture phobe.

Which explains why I’m in love with European-style soups and potages. They are the happy marriage between American stews and soups – creamy and vegetable based, but thick enough to offer up a textural body so you feel like you’re consuming substance, not just flavored water. What a happy discovery to make during one of the coldest, snowiest winters Europe’s ever had.

So I was pleased to discover a recipe featuring some of my new obsessions – my new found love for leeks and a potage recipe that puts them in the starring role.

This potage recipe has been my saving grace for the past month. It’s so simple that I kind of forget I’m making it. The end result is so flavorful and comforting I find myself craving it at the most bizarre hours. And it uses up a lot of the staples I have in my kitchen, so it’s perfect for when it’s 10 pm, I’ve realized I haven’t eaten anything but applesauce all day and I’m suddenly ravenously hungry.

Leek and Potato Potage
From The Complete Robuchon

2 tablespoons butter
3 medium leeks, carefully washed and sliced into rounds
Salt
4 cups water
¾ pound potatoes, quartered lengthwise
1/3 cup heavy cream or crème fraîche
1 teaspoon chervil leaves

Melt 1 ½ tablespoons butter in a saucepan over very low heat. Add the leeks and cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. They should begin to turn translucent but should not brown. Add the water and 2 teaspoons salt and bring to a simmer. Let the leeks simmer gently for 10 minutes.

Carefully lower the potoates into the hot water-leek mixture. Bring the pot back to a simmer and cover partially to keep it from boiling over. Simmer gently for 30 minutes.

Remove the pot from the heat and blend with a handheld mixer, blender or food processor. Bring the puréed potage back to a simmer and then turn off the heat and whisk in the cream. Taste for salt. Just before serving, stir in the rest of the butter and sprinkle with chervil.

Wait, more potatoes?

I’m just going to preempt you. Yes. Two posts in a row about potatoes. And no, I didn’t move to Ireland.

So here’s the thing – I’m still broke. And not because I’ve elected to live a life of poverty, but because of my own stupidity.

It all started last weekend when I was getting ready to go to a techno club. That should have been the first sign that everything was going to go downhill.

I was ready to leave my apartment when I faced the first problem – I didn’t want to take my entire purse with me. It would be obnoxious. So I elected to take only my wallet. And since I’m so smart and wanted to protect myself against possible thievery and sticky fingers, I took out my debit card and placed it on a table in my apartment. Taking only cash, I walked out the door. Easy breezy to the thumpa-thumpa.

Fast forward a few days when I remembered that I never put my debit card back into my wallet. I’ve now spent the last week thoroughly tearing apart my apartment, going as far as lifting up every piece of furniture, removing the entire contents of my fridge for further inspection, and leafing through every page of every book. I had horrible visions and flashbacks of middle school when I accidentally threw my retainer away in the cafeteria. Eech.

My debit card is a sly little devil. Ok card, you win, I lose you.

So here I am, continuing my meager existence of the last year despite being gainfully employed, waiting it out till a replacement card arrives. And since we are in these “hard, economic times,” I’m trying to stay as far away from my credit card as possible. It’s time to buckle down and eek out every ounce of nutrition and sustenance I can get from my measly transitional kitchen.

So yes, potatoes.

This is another recipe from Nigella Lawson’s Feast, but luckily it doesn’t involve any real measurement. It calls for a slow, long cook of the onions, which lets them caramelize into deliciously dangerous companions for the warm, softness of the potatoes. This combination, paired with the slight tang of the salt and paprika and the gooeyness of the egg make it a great meal to eat if you’re say….comforting yourself over losing something important. Like a debit card. Or your dignity after going to a techno club. And as always, I’m a big fan of any meal that lets me sop up the remaining bits of egg and flavor with some really good bread, like a nice slice of sourdough.

This recipe serves one person, but is easy enough to increase as necessary.

Nigella Lawson’s Potato and Onion Hash
From Feast

1 small onion, chopped
1 small clove of garlic, chopped
1 – 2 small potatoes (scrubbed, not peeled), cut into chunks
1 tablespoon olive oil
Paprika or Cayenne to taste
1 egg
Salt and Pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a frying pan over medium low heat. Add the onion and garlic. Sprinkle a little bit of salt over the onion to stop them from catching.

After a minute or two, add the potatoes and turn the heat down to low. Stir occasionally so that the onions caramelize – not turn into dark brown. Cook like this for about 30 minutes, or until the potatoes soften.

Once the potatoes soften, you can plate the hash mixture or push it to side of the frying pan to make space for frying the egg. It depends on how large your pan is. Turn the heat up and fry the egg in the open half of the frying pan. When it’s cooked to your liking (I prefer mine a little runny), spoon the hash mixture onto a plate and top with the egg.

Drink with beer.

There is only one thing to do when you find yourself sandwiched between tractors and surrounded by burning tires – make potato pesto salad with mushrooms.

I was at the office working on an upcoming excursion with Daniel when he noticed that there was a steady, speedy stream of tractors passing our office. We stood and watched them pass by for a few minutes before finally making our way outside to scratch our heads with other passers-by. They just kept coming, tearing down Boulevard Louis Schmidt, sporting German, Belgian and Luxembourg flags.

Eventually, the tractors seemed to peter out and normal traffic once again resumed on the busy boulevard, but we were still confused. Protests, or manifestations, are common in Europe – much more so than in the US – but tractors aren’t usually involved. Then we did some research. Numbers vary, but somewhere between 600 – 1000 tractors, mainly from Germany, were camping out in Brussels for a few days to protest the price of milk.

“They’re spending the night in Parc du Cinquantenaire,” Daniel read from Le Soir, the French Daily here in Brussels. “Montgomery is completely inaccessible right now.”

Parc du Cinquantenaire, a large Central Park-like area in Brussels, is just a few steps away from my apartment’s doorstep and Montgomery is one of the nearby Metro stops. Getting home was going to be an adventure.

When I came up from Merode, the other Metro stop that was luckily not thwarted by angry tractor drivers, I found myself in the middle of a field of tractors – watched over and maintained by farmers speaking Germanic languages and variations thereof.  They were overlooking their large, four-wheeled machines and economic interests by barbequing, drinking beer, wearing the occasional lederhosen and waving flags demanding a fair milk price for a fair product.  The field of tractors extended throughout the entire park  – racing each other around the circular fountain at the Parc’s entrance - to sitting idly in the highway’s underpass, preventing traffic leaving and entering the ring around the city, and driving over the tram tracks.

And then I smelt it. The acrid smell of burning rubber. Giant billowing plumes of black smoke started to leap into the blue sky from several points around the Parc – groups simultaneously started to burn large tire piles in the streets and sidewalks.

These farmers meant business. And I didn’t want them angry with me. I was going to make a dairy-free dinner to show my solidarity with the working farmers of Europe.

I found this recipe for Potato Pesto Salad from Smitten Kitchen’s website and adapted it slightly. I used store bought pesto (there’s this great Italian grocer - who’s really from Italy! – near my apartment. I used it and it was still delicious.) and swapped out the beans for white mushrooms sautéed in garlic. The vinegar and garlic give it a nice punch as well as adding a few raw sliced onions. They were crisp and crunchy and evoked the best kind of summer picnics, which is in perfect time for the legit start to the season this weekend.

You know what farmers? You keep protesting. I don’t mind never eating dairy ever again if this potato salad’s around.

Pesto Potato Salad with Mushrooms
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

4 pounds small Yukon gold or red-skinned potatoes, quartered
1 pound white mushrooms, cut into segments
1 - 2 tablespoons olive oil
1 to 2 small garlic cloves, peeled
2 medium white onions
6 tablespoons (or more to taste) mild vinegar, such as champagne, white wine or a white balsamic
Parmesan cheese to taste
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Cook potatoes in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender, about 15 minutes.  Drain well and let cool.

Saute the garlic and one of the onions in the olive oil until they start to become fragrant.  Add the mushrooms and saute until they start to brown and become tender.  Add to potatoes and let cool.

Toss the mushrooms and potatoes with pesto. Stir in vinegar and season with salt, pepper and/or additional vinegar to taste. Finally, shave some wide flecks of parmesan over the salad with a vegetable peeler.

Serve immediately, or make this up to two hours in advance. It can be stored at room temperature.

Serves 10 (or a couple of very angry farmers.)