French

Bernard Ganachaud, in the early 1960s, made the poolish baguette the first legitimate alternative to the 60-2-2 baguette of the Parisian masses. When he retired thirty years later, his la flûte Gana was a licensed commodity, and bakers who paid for the right to make it were allowed to charge an extra franc above the government-controlled price. In the Coupe du Monde bread competition, the poolish baguette is now the standard that all countries must replicate. In my visits to the boulangeries of Paris, the poolish baguette made at the original Ganachaud Boulangerie was the second best baguette I ever had (the first being the pain à l’ancienne of Philippe Gosselin). Ganachaud has a special medium-extraction flour (with his name prominently displayed on the bags, naturally) from which he makes his baguettes, and there isn’t any flour quite like it in America. It is slightly higher in ash content and bran than regular bread flour, more like clear flour (whole-wheat flour that has been sifted only once instead of the usual twice to remove the bran and germ). The closest I’ve come to replicating that flour is described below and it makes a wonderful baguette, perhaps as good as can be done outside of the magical environment of Paris and without true Ganachaud-endorsed flour. Some people prefer it to the Gosselin baguette. See what you think.

This is the perfect dough for creative shaping, and the one used throughout France for many types of breads sold under various local names. The dough is similar to regular French baguette dough, but it includes a small percentage of whole grain, either whole wheat, pumpernickel-grind or white rye, or cornmeal. This additional grain gives the bread more character and grain flavor, and contributes to the brownish-gold, country-style crust that distinguishes it from white flour French bread. Most important, this is the dough, as I learned it from Professor Raymond Calvel, that opened my thinking to the use of large percentages of pre-ferment. On pages 72–79 you will see a number of shapes you can make from this dough. The most famous are the fendu, épi, couronne, and auvergnat. There are many others that you may also have seen. As always, though, the first emphasis must be on the quality of the dough. There is nothing more disappointing to a bread lover than to see a lot of work go into a shaping technique for a dough that does not deliver world-class flavor and texture. This particular dough never disappoints.

The technique by which this bread is made has tremendous implications for the baking industry and for both professional and home bakers. The unique delayed-fermentation method, which depends on ice-cold water, releases flavors trapped in flour in a way different from the more traditional twelve-stage method. The final product has a natural sweetness and nutlike character that is distinct from breads made with exactly the same ingredients but fermented by the standard method, even with large percentages of pre-ferment. Also, because the dough is as wet as rustic ciabatta-style dough, it can be used in many ways, from baguettes, as Philippe Gosselin does in Paris, to ciabatta, pugliese, stirato, pain rustique, and even pizza and focaccia. This bread shows us another way to manipulate time, and thus outcomes, by manipulating temperature. The cold mixing and fermentation cycles delay the activation of the yeast until after the amylase enzymes have begun their work of breaking out sugar from the starch. When the dough is brought to room temperature and the yeast wakes up and begins feasting, it feeds on sugars that weren’t there the day before. Because the yeast has converted less of the released sugar to alcohol and carbon dioxide, a reserve of sugar remains in the fermented dough to flavor it and caramelize the crust during the baking cycle. While this delayed-fermentation method doesn’t work for every dough (especially those that are enriched with sugar and other flavor-infusing ingredients), used appropriately, it evokes the fullness of flavor from the wheat beyond any other fermentation method I’ve encountered. As a bonus, and despite all the intimidating science, this is actually one of the easiest doughs in this book to make. Without question this is the dough that has gotten the most recent attention from my students at Johnson & Wales, The California Culinary Academy, and around the country in my daylong workshops for home bakers. It is not just the flavor of the bread that excites them, although without it the concept would be interesting but moot. It is the idea of pressing into new frontiers of bread making, of realizing that there are still areas of exploration not charted by even the professional community. We are learning that as we deconstruct the bread-baking process, we are still in the early discovery stage of what is possible. As in any facet of life, this is an exciting place to find oneself, like standing at the end of the world, facing the words, as so often showed up on ancient maps, “Unknown Kingdoms Be Here.”

In every book I’ve written there is a version of French bread, each attempting to close the gap between professional, artisan, and home-baked loaves. This is the best version yet and the closest, I believe, to the breads you will find at your favorite bakery. The key, as in many of these formulas, is the use of a large amount of pre-fermented dough, pâte fermentée. My best previous version required holding the shaped loaves overnight in the refrigerator, a technique that still may be applied to improve many lean, slow-rising breads. But purists object because the technique causes blisters, sometimes called bird’s-eyes, on the crust (due to carbon dioxide trapped just beneath the skin during the cold retarding stage). While I like that look, as do many consumers, it is not the way baguettes look at French boulangeries, nor most bakeshops anywhere. This new method allows you to make a full-flavored French bread, from start to finish in 4 to 5 hours (assuming you have the pâte fermentée made in advance). The pre-fermented dough gives the final dough the qualities of one that has been fermented for 7 to 9 hours, the standard of many professional operations. The crust will have a rich, reddish-gold caramelization rather than the more typical yellow-gold color of younger dough. This richer color is a result of sugars released from the starches during fermentation. The bread also exhibits a sweetness that seems as if it must be from added sugar, but all the sugar in this bread is released from within the flour, broken free of the complex starch molecules by amylase and diastase enzymes during fermentation. As with most hearth breads, another key to the success of this bread is handling it gently, retaining as much gas as possible during shaping in order to promote large, irregular holes in the crumb that, again, release maximum flavor. This large, open crumb is one of the signs of a properly handled artisan loaf.

Brioche is the standard by which all rich breads are judged. In fact, whenever rich breads are described, they are often compared to brioche or called a relative. Brioche is actually simple in character: it is enriched with a small amount of sugar, substantial amounts of egg, and lots of butter—at least in excess of 20 percent (butter to flour ratio) but usually 50 percent or higher. I have rarely seen brioche made commercially with more than 75 percent butter, but I have seen formulas that call for up to 100 percent. There are countless formula variations. Some are made with sponges or other pre-ferments, some by the direct-dough method. Some versions are immediately fermented and then shaped and baked, while some require overnight chilling. The anecdotal history of this bread includes allusions to Queen Marie Antoinette, whose last words are reputed to be properly translated as “Let them eat brioche,” and not “Let them eat cake.” There are a lot of reasons to assume that either translation is more myth than fact, but it does beg the question, why would anyone even think to make such a statement? This may be because brioche had two distinct expressions in pre-Revolution France. One version, for the wealthy and thus called rich man’s brioche, was loaded with butter (70 percent or more). The other, made for the huddled masses and therefore called poor man’s brioche, was butter challenged (20 to 25 percent). As so often happens with bread, it makes a perfect symbol for many things, not the least of which is the class struggle between the haves and the have-nots. So, it would make sense that if the queen was about to lose her head because the revolutionaries were, for the most part, have-nots, why not offer them rich man’s brioche. “Yeah, we can do that, sure.” But, alas, it was too late, too futile, and probably too arrogant a gesture. When we examine the formula for rich man’s brioche, one thing becomes evident: it has almost the same flour to fat to sugar ratio as pie dough. The main difference is the yeast and eggs. Most pie dough, whether pâte brisée (plain) or pâte sucrée (sweet), and whether flaky or mealy, is made by some variation of what is known as the 1-2-3 method. This means 3 parts flour, 2 parts fat, and 1 part water (and also, in sweet or sucrée pie dough, sugar). The ratio translates as 66.6 percent fat to 100 percent flour. Brioche, rich man’s brioche at least, has between 50 and 80 percent butter, right in the pie-dough range. This means that brioche can, in principle, be used to make a very nice tender pie or tart dough, which is often done in French pâtisseries. It is a wonderful alternative to the flaky or mealy pie dough under quiche or other custard tarts, as I have witnessed in the clafouti sold in the pastry shop of Paris’s Ritz Hotel. Apparently, they make hundreds of these tartlets everyday for their guests and can barely keep up with the demand. Other applications of brioche include loaf breads for the definitive French toast, tea and café rolls, wraps for meat- or vegetable-filled molds, and, most famously, small fluted rolls with “heads” (petites brioches à tête). Beyond that, there are the infinite regional and holiday expressions of the bread, from the Italian pandoro and panettone, to the kugelhopf of Alsace, stollen of Germany and Switzerland, and the amazing meat- and- cheese-filled Italian version called casatiello. The following versions of brioche give you three options, depending on the amount of butter you feel ready to tackle. In the spirit of Queen Marie, we will call them rich man’s, middleclass, and poor man’s brioche, all of which have valid applications in the bread canon.

Add a touch of Provence by applying a rub of thyme, marjoram, rosemary, and sage to sirloin steak.

Even though this fancy-sounding stew (pronounced boor-gen-YUN or boor-ge-NYON) takes a while to prepare, it’s well worth the time. Packed with beef and vegetables, it’s a complete meal in a bowl.

Cassoulet is a stew typically made with beans and several kinds of meat, including sausage. In this version, however, extra vegetables stand in for the meat. The thick, herb-infused broth adds flavor, and fresh, crisp bread crumbs provide a little crunch in every bite.

When berries are at their peak, use them to make a gorgeous dessert fit for an emperor—or your family! The crisp wonton wrappers are a low-fat stand-in for the puff pastry typically used to make napoleons.

Fear of falling? Not with these frosty, airy soufflés.

Tarte Tatin is a French upside-down apple tart named for the two sisters who invented the dish. This version is topped with puff pastry and baked in a wood-fired oven or by indirect heat on a grill. It can be topped with slightly sweetened whipped cream, or better still with a frothy sabayon infused with an aromatic late-harvest Riesling. The sabayon is also terrific on its own or with berries. Choose a good baking or pie apple such as Gala, Pink Lady, Gravenstein, Braeburn, or Jonathan.

This is one of my favorite desserts. Dried apricots, almonds, and honey are the key sweet flavors of the Mediterranean. With a nod to Provence, we top it all with Lavender Crème Anglaise.

Fran Gage is a wonderful pastry and bread maker as well as a cookbook author. She shares her special recipe for a marvelous fruit tart here. It is simple to make and quite delicious with its classic French apple and prune filling. Fran’s recipe for a sweet crust is wonderful and can be used for other fruit tarts.

This recipe was inspired by the flavors and aromas of Provence. The combination of herbes de Provence, picholine olives, and rosé wine transports me there each time I make this dish! The honey and prunes add just the right amount of sweetness. The chicken is cooked on the bone for more flavor. This dish can also feature duck beautifully. Of course, it tastes even better when served with a glass of the same dry rosé.

A pissaladière is a crisp, flaky pizza-like pastry popular in the south of France. This version is made with prepared puff pastry, then topped with the traditional olives and anchovies. Here it is made as one rectangular tart, though you can make individual ones as well. The onions are roasted in the oven until soft, jammy, and a bit smoky. If you don’t have oven-roasted tomatoes in your pantry, sun-dried tomatoes packed in olive oil can be substituted. My favorite element is the grated dried goat cheese at the end.

Tart crusts can be made from other ingredients, including cooked spaghetti, polenta, and rice, or in this case, thinly sliced potatoes. The goal is to make a crisp, shallow vessel that will contain the filling without leaking. This is especially important when a custard filling is used. The baby artichokes in this recipe can be replaced by thinly sliced artichoke hearts.

French onion soup topped with nutty Gruyère cheese is one of the best comfort foods ever! When cooked over a live fire, the deep, rich smoky flavors and aromas are intoxicating. Sweet onion varieties such as Vidalia, Maui, or red Bermuda make the best soup. Of course, if only basic yellow onions are available, by all means use those. A pinch of sugar added during the cooking of yellow onions will bring out their natural sweetness.