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I have a recipe here for a Leek Tart which looks quite good. So that will be dinner in our house this evening. It dawned on me today that Leeks are one of my favourite veges, it's a pity they are seasonal :/ What are some of your favourite ways to prepare leeks? Or do you despise them ? I would also be interested in any other Leek Tart recipes that you might have hanging about in your kitchen

Everytime I make Coq au Vin or similar chicken dishes the recipe calls for browning the chicken (creating a nice crispy skin) and then removing it only to return it to the dish to finish by braising in liquid. Unfortunately, when cooked in liquid, my chicken ends up losing its crispiness and turning grey and soggy. What am I doing wrong, or what can I do to retain then crispy factor? Thanks. Mike

I end up buying at least two dozens of these when I am in Chelsea (le Bergamot). And even before an hour is over, they are all gone. I would love to learn how to bake them. I did read about them in Larousse... But wondering if anyone has a working, tested recipe to share. Also what jellies should one use? Would it be ok to use home made jams?

I want to buy a French cookbook but I am not sure where to start. Should I buy Julia Child, Jaque Pepin, or Robuchon. I am leaning towrads getting "Le Quisine De Robuchon" (sp??). Any recommendations would be appreciated and please specify the name of the book in addition to the author if possible. Thanks FM PS: I've never owned a French cookbook.

For those of us who don't import our wine from the provinces, a user-friendly wine merchant in Paris is invaluable. We have had wonderful attention and service, resulting in excellent bottles, at Le Dernier Gout on rue de l'Abbaye in the 6th, at Tchin-Tchin on rue Montorgueil as well as at a shop on the 60s block of St. Dominique, whose name I forget. All of these shops encourage experimentation, and are delighted to discuss unusual wine areas and bottlings. Do you have favorite shops where you return for familiar and new-to-you wines?

I always approach a visit to France with malice of forethought: what am I going to suitcase home this time? It occured to me that it would be interesting to find out what all of you consider important enough to shop for and lug home. My stash has been very personal and makes me laugh; all of these things have more to do with sentiment than with intrinsic value. A partial list: Kilos of herbs de provence (I now have a surplus in my freezer) lavender ble tarbais beans (indepensible for great cassoulet) BarLeDuc Cherry Marnier (the available only in France cherry version of Grand Marnier) Languedoc garage wines Sel gris and Fleur du sel Piment d'Espelette Flocantes (flocantes are a "Gascon callison", made with prunes, almonds and armagnac, topped with royal icing) Antique French as well as new Provencal and Basque linens Sauce spoons and antique cheese forks 19th C. glass confiture containers, crockery fois gras pots, Feliz Potin confiture crocks armagnac, topped with royal icing) Chocolate and Annick Goutal

Michael Buller's "French Chefs Cooking" contains the recipe that Bocuse recorded for F Point's "veritable gratin dauphinois" or potato gratin: Ingredients were: 1 clove finely chopped garlic, 2.75 lbs peeled and thinly sliced (Bocuse himself recommends 12/100 of an inch thick) potatoes, 2 large eggs, 0.75 cup of whole milk, 2-3 tablespoons of heavy cream or creme fraiche, pinch of freshly grated nutmeg, salt and ground white pepper to taste, 3.5 tablespoons butter. Preat oven to 350F. Rub the sides of a large enamelled or cast-iron oveproof dish with the garlic clove and butter liberally. Lay thin layers of potatoes on the dish. In a separate bowl, combine the eggs, milk, cream, grated nutmeg, salt and pepper in a mixing bowl and whisk. Spread a thick coating of this mixture over the potatoes in the dish, adding some knobs of butter. Bake for around 45 minutes, or until the potatoes are slightly brown. Open the oven door ajar and let the dish set for a few minutes. Serve very hot. ___________________ Note that F Point resisted the inclusion of cheese in his potato gratin. Buller also notes that some chefs perceive the type of potato as significant. Jean and Pierre Troisgros recomend the French BF 15 potato. Chefs also differ as to the amount of eggs: two eggs (Point and Mere Brazier), 1 egg (Escoffier), and no eggs (Troisgros, Chapel). Escoffier and Bocuse did not recommend the inclusion of cream, according to the book. Have members made a potato gratin using the recipes of the above-described chefs?

I'm trying to perfect my "cake aux olives". I collected quite a number of recipes, and some of them call for sashet/packet de levure chimique. Can somebody tell me how much it will be in grams or spoons? thanks.

What's your favorite combination? Nina mentioned apple clafoutis. I tried one a while ago, it was great, although i put too much sage in it. My two favorite ones are "rosemary maple pear" from Herbfarm cookbook, and "plum brown butter" from "Second Helping From Union Square Cafe". Both recipes produced non-soggy clafoutis, which is a virtue, since so many recipes suffer from this sogginess. Maybe one of the solutions is to put clafoutis in some sort of crust, as Vongerichten does in his "Simple to Spectacular"? Actually, here is the related question: can you take a tart recipe and convert it to flan by bypassing a crust? Sometimes it works, sometimes not.

I love Tarte Tatin and was dissapointed with what I ate around Paris. I do not remember going to any special place looking for it, but tried it in several bistros. My fault I assume. Where does one get a great Tarte Tatin in Paris? Does anyone know?

Fellow foodies. I am contemplating a monumental (for me anyway) project- a Croquembouche. I was inspired by a recent wedding I attended and want to try it out for a few friends, one of whom is celecbrating a birthday. Ok, the profiterole part seems doable- it is the construction of the towering cone-of-cream puffs for which I seek tips before I embark on this laborious process. Also, is there anything I need to know about spinning caramel threads? Thanks!

Salut tout le monde, I had been invited by Mr. Buxbaum to contribute to the French message board here on EGullet. I suppose he felt that an American cook working in a Michelin two star French kitchen (Provencal to be more precise) could be of some value. I hope the rest of you share his opinion. I guess an introduction of myself is in order. I am a second generation Korean American born and raised in So Cal, who after receiving a double degree in English and Economics from UCLA, decided he would rather hang up the cap and gown for a toque and apron. Actually, its amazing that I graduated at all since I spent more time watching the Food Network and/or reading cookbooks than attending lectures or reading textbooks (an exaggeration that isn't too far from the truth). Yet, like many of the recently graduated, I found the "real" world a bit too harsh to jump right into-- afterall, I was just "deconstructing" the parables of Kierkegaard, Kafka and Nietsche, how could you expect me to peel 30 lbs of potatoes, strain 12 gallons of chicken stock and/or peel and devein 10 lbs of shrimp. So I did like many disconcerted graduates do-- I continued onto "higher education", but unlike them, I wasn't pursuing the masters or Phd from an acclaimed univerisity, I was pursuing a clearer consomme, a more uniform cut, a more sensible garnish from a cooking school. However, I didn't opt for the highly regarded Culinary Arts Degree from Johnson and Wales or the CIA--frankly I had enough student loans to contend with, and cook's just don't get paid all that much-- I opted for a small cooking school with a knowledgable professor who had strong connections with Wolfgang Puck (if all I learned from college was that it isn't what you know but who you know, I learned enough). Thus, even before I finished cooking school, I began working at Chinois on Main (Wolfgang Puck's Asian-inspired restaurant in Santa Monica), as a line cook. This career student was tired of being broke (as a matter of fact, I'm still tired of being broke)--plus, I finally realized that there was no better classroom than on the job training, especially when it comes to cooking. I liken it to any performing art (especially sports); there is a rhythem, a sense of timing that can only be fine tuned under the pressure of performance-- under the heat of service. Speaking of heat, my first station can be compared to life on the planet Mercury. I started at the grill station, where 60 lbs of red hot mesquite radiates temperatures that only the most evil people feel in their illfated afterlife. Great for searing steaks and grill marking salmon, but murder on one's complexion. Needless to say, after a year on the grill, I was ready (with skin on my hands that could be made into cowboy boots) to change stations. If murdering lobsters is considered a sin, I will be condemned to eternity on the grill. Chinois on Main is famous for its Curried Lobster, where I cut in half, seared and shelled an average of 30 lobsters a night--most always each a la minute. One can tell when a cook has been working the lobster station for an extended period of time, he/she has a callous where the back end of there weapon of choice (usually a 10 inch chef's knife) has aggravated the skin just under there cutting hand's index finger. Afterwards, a six month stint working the pantry (appetizer station, or garde manger in French) and another six month stint working as Chinois' butcher/day time prep, and I felt I had the experience, and most importantly the knife/cooking skills to head to France. I researched the employment scene here in France and the proposition of finding a good restaurant which would accept an American cook with very rusty French language skills and found it very near implausible. First you have to find a chef who would go through all the red tape (and in France, if you've ever read Kafka, its all about bureaucracy); add in the fact that there is double digit unemployment and that equals big time obstacles. Thank goodness for connections. Here is were Wolfgang stepped in. As it turned out, he had done an apprenticeship at a famous Michelin three star (at the time) in Provence, Oustau de Baumaniere. Having kept in contact with the owner/chef, Jean Andre Charial over the years, it was just a matter of a phone call, a fax and some emails, and voila, a staggaire's poistion at a highly acclaimed French restaurant-- a dream come true. Well I wished it was that easy. If you ever ask a favor from a chef, you'd better be able to repay, or in my case, prepay it tenfold. Before I was to leave for France, I had to work, in my opinion, the lowest of low positions (which didn't require me to wash dishes) at Spago, Beverly Hills. Of course, one could be stuck, peeling potatoes or washing lettuce, but at least it wasn't cooking 30 lbs of potatos (20 lbs of russet for the aligot, and 10 lbs of yukon gold, for the garlic mashed potatos)--a proposition which requires cutting the potatos into equally sized pieces, constant stirring, heavy lifting (and I thought I knew how to mash potatoes-- was I ever wrong), passing all the potatoes through a ricer, stirring in cream, butter, salt and pepper, to achieve a lump free, and grit free mashed potato that was worthy of fine dining. Well, it sounds easier than it is, and when my chef de partie told me my mashed potatoes were overcooked and that I had to start all over again, I nearly took my first life (I could have killed him or myself). Well with newly found muscles, which ached for weeks to come, I thought I had paid my dues, but as the old Chinese saying goes, "Oh, so sorry." Wolfgang had decided that I was to cook for him. The Austrian accented voice went something like, "I have to know how you cook before I can send you to France. I am free after lunch service tommorrow, sometime around one (o'clock). Make me three things and cook everything here", to which I reply, "But I am scheduled to work tommorrow at 3 (o'clock PM)," to which he frankly replied, "Thats your problem." Oh, by the way, this all occured at eleven P.M., just after I finished my shift and was saying my goodbyes. Obviously, I didn't get much sleep-- researching recipes til 4:30 in the morning and then waking up at 6:30 to go an Asian Market and then off to Spago to start cooking. Remarkably, I wasn't the first person in Spago that morning, but the place was near empty. I got to work right away, and by the time Wolfgang came to see me, it was about one o'clock. I vividly remember his words, "I'm hungry, when are you going to be ready?"; translation, "on your marks, GO (there was no time to get set)!" I prepared three Korean inspired dishes: Korean beef barbeque lettuce wrap with mung been sprout salad, seared black bass in a spicy Korean red sauce atop braised daikon radish, and butter poached lobster in a Kafir lime leaf lobster sauce accompanied by Korean pancakes and avocado. Fortunately, I had adequate time to prepare, unfortunately, there were still lunch orders coming in and I had to share burners with the other cooks--very cramp. After much apologizing and excuse mes, the last of the three dishes went out, and I sighed a sigh of relief; a shortlived relief which ended when the waiter returned stating, "Wolfgang would like you to prepare an three egg omelet with smoked salmon." Talk about out of left field, I was definately illprepared. I knew how I liked omelets, but I didn't know the "fine dining" version. I lightly scrambled the eggs, incorporated some heavy cream, found a nonstick skillet and began slowly cooking and scraping (don't know a better word) the omelet with a rubber spatula, which helps to build volume and to evenly cook the eggs. When the omelet started to become opaque, I added the smoked salmon, flipped the omelet into a halfmoon, added a dallop of creme fraiche and garnished it with some minced dill. Boy was I proud of that omelet (until recently, when I discovered the French do it entirely different-- a matter for another post). After I cleaned up, the same waiter came back and told me to go to Wolfgang's table. I was surprised to see Wolfgang wasn't alone-- there sat Lee Hefter, head chef of Spago, and Matt (the sous chef, who's last name I can't remember). Lee was the first to speak, saying something like, "(Y)ou know how to cook Korean, so I guess its about time you learned to cook French. The dishes were excellent and the black bass was cooked to perfection. Congratulte yourself." Then Wolfgang chimed in, "I remember the first time I worked in a restaurant, the chef told me to cook an egg; so as you can imagine, I was so nervous. I cooked it and it had bubbles around the edges. He took one look at it and through it on the floor. 'You cannot cook a simple egg,' he told me, 'how do you expect to work here.' I was terrified." I didn't know exactly what to take from his story at the time, but I was generally encouraged by the whole experience. Although now, I understand that was Wolfgang's way of saying, you think its tough here, well wait until you work in Europe/France. Words of a prophet. Having been working at Baumaniere for nine months, I can now comprehend the full magnitude of Wolfgang's brief anecdote. My second day at Baumaniere found me making nearly one thousand chicken, leek and truffle filled raviolis. My hands are calloused but not blisterproof-- a fact that the ravioli cutter (a cookie cutter thing) pounded home after my first couple hours of ravioli limbo (9 hours a day for four days sraight). It was great because I had never seen that many truffles (slices) in my life, and my hands were fragrant with its precious aroma-- a peculiar juxtapostion to the blisters. My first month found me doing all manner of menial tasks-- va chercher this, va chercher that, lave this, coupe that, depeche toi, plus vite and toute de suite. I didn't gain any ground in the hierarhcy until the demi chef de partie garde manger, a Japanese staggaire, decided he wanted to learn another station some three months later. To my delight, and now regret, I took over the more demanding position in the French manner, toute de suite. I say regret because with all the authority I now have over all the other commis and apprentices, I have that much more responsibility-- a fact my chef de partie never lets me forget. Plus, I take over as chef de partie when my chef isn't there, which he hasn't been for the last two weeks (a cooking event with the gourmet food outlet, Marshall Field, in the Great Lakes region). The brief breakdown of this means I had just spent three consecutive weeks without a day off, working some 80+ hours a week. I guess when your the American staggaire who doesn't get paid by the hour, they can go ahead and work you to death. What exascerbated my predicament was the day before my chef left, the menu underwent its spring makeover-- I had to start everything from scratch. Plus, the sous chef in charge of creating the menu never ceases to change the dishes--eradicating every ounce of comfort I have with the daily mis en place (means everything in its place, a culinary term for all of your daily preperations) and I have to come up with one new amuse bouche (any little taste that will fit on a spoon) and three new mis en appetit (three small bowls filled usually with a soup, a puree, a gellee or any daily inspired creation) everyday. A daunting task when one considers I worked with one other cooking student/apprentice the entire time (it still being the offseason, we are highly understaffed). Wow, I feel a whole lot better now that I got that off my chest I really am joking when I say regret because I truly value my experience here. If one looks at the bright side, I have a nice small room with a closet, bed and sink, partake two edible meals a day, receive a bit of pocket change for all my efforts and normally get a day and a half off everyweek. OK, without being facetious, I am in a region where excellent olive oil is grown and pressed, where good Appelation Les Baux de Provence wines are produced and where fresh French baguettes are baked daily-- a gourmand's dream come true. Also, I get to play around with some amazing ingredients, cook through a portion of Paul Bocuse's ancient tome, "Paul Bocuse, La Cuisine du Marche," (although I do take tremendous liberties in its interpretation)* and work on my chef skills (especially the yelling--its hard to get these apprentices motivated otherwise). Plus, I get my monthly quota of travel in. Oh yeah, did I mention that Baumaniere has one of the largest and finest collections of French wines in the world-- 3rd largest restaurant wine list in all of France--well that was before the the 2002 New Years Eve fire ransacked a small portion of the wine cellar. Luckily, as far as I know, all the fine Bordeaux and Burgundies were left intact. With that to chew on, I hope I can add a welcome perspective to a well coordinated and interesting message board. Thanks for reading, Simon Sunwoo *Having read some of the other posts, there seems to be a generally negative view of Bocuse's cuisine. Is it too antiquated or stagnant? Am I missing something here, because it is highly regarded by most of my colleagues?

Does anyone else make these at home? They're a staple in my house, and the deconstructed ingredients would form the basis of any Essentials list I might assemble. But ah, what ARE the ingredients. Bread, yes. Cheese, yes. Butter, yes. Ham or chicken, yes. But after that, the deluge. Bechamel? Mustard? And WHAT ABOUT Madame, is it chicken (instead of ham) or an egg (in addition to ham) that makes it Madame not Monsieur? And then, technique. Broiled, open-faced? Oven-toasted, closed? Dip the sandwich, as is occasionally suggested, in egg batter, getting close to what I know as a Monte Cristo (which has ham AND chicken, as well as cheese, inside). I don't always make them the same way, certainly partly because Croque Monsieur is a late-night lifesaver and often subject to stock on hand. Your thoughts, Hobson? Priscilla

Is this french sausage available in US? Or can be substituted by some other sausage?

Does anyone know the recipe for these seafood crepes farcies with a Mornay type sauce? They were a specialty of Le Valois restaurant on 58th St in NYC.

I checked amazon.fr under the subject of "Littérature gourmande", but it's too overwhelming. I'm looking for something along the lines of "Kitchen Confidential", but i'm open for suggestions. Even better, if a book is translated into English. I've read in parallel english and french versions of Kundera's "Immortality". It was such a pleasure.

Although we spend a lot of our travel time prowling through antique venues, Robert Brown brought to our attention a term we had never noticed before: Vide Grenier or a private party offering his less-than-precious personal goods for sale, much like our garage sale. Yes, Robert, we did find one, 300 locals who hauled their stuff to the sidewalks surrounding the park in the center of Place de Rungis in Paris' 13e. We didn't buy, but that didn't take away from the festive mood of the place and the sellers. There were, in fact, a handful of these sales advertised in Aladin (the French monthly antique/brocante venue locator) for central Paris, and scores listed for provincial locations. I can't say whether you are on the cutting edge of a mushrooming phenomenon or whether this is another case of "heightened awareness" for us. Either way, thanks much for introducing us to this new wild goose sanctuary! ;)

October 19 through 22 are the dates for the annual Fermier show at Espace Champeret in Paris. 200+ artisanal producers of charcuterie, cheese, seasalt, honey, confitures, confiture du lait, eau de vie, calvados, fruit wine, and more than I can remember set up booths, discuss and sell their products. Samples are offered on almost everything that is for sale. There is a raw bar set up, as well as a cafe for lunch. This year I will come prepared with an empty carrier bag and will do serious Christmas shopping. On October 20 and 21 at the Bourse du Commerce, the twice a year Marche du Chocolat takes place. Over 20 of France's best chocolatiers offer samples and sell their product. There are many artisanal exhibits: chocolate molding, construction and decorating; and for the really serious, classes and seminars. From October 31 to November 4, the Salon du Chocolat takes place at the Carrousel du Louvre, exhibiting chocolatiers from all over Europe.