Duck Pâté

I don't know if this is due to my lyonnaise origins (Lyon is renown for its fine charcuterie, or deli meats), but if you ask me what my favorite food is, there is a good chance I'll answer pâté (pronounced pah-TAY). It's hard to explain, but just thinking of it makes me salivate.

There are all kinds of pâtés. Some can be spread on bread, others are sliced and eaten with a fork and knife, like this one. Some are baked in a crust (my favorite). Others are baked in a terra cotta or ceramic dish, called a terrine. Although originally a country dish, they can be very refined—some contain truffles, foie gras, or other fancy ingredients. There's one for every taste (and in my case, I love them all!). If you ever go to France, stop in a charcuterie-traiteur (deli shop) and try a few. Each region has its own specialties.

Since I am far from France, I make my own pâté from time to time. I tried various recipes over the years, but the one I'm about to give is my favorite. I found the recipe in a wonderful little French book called Terrines by Catherine Quévremont (Marabout, 2002). My first attempt was quite an adventure. I bought a whole duck, removed the skin very carefully so it remained in one piece, and then cut out all the bones... I spent the whole day fighting with this duck. I waited a few years before doing it again, and spent another frustrating day in the kitchen... The result was well worth my efforts, but the following time (several years later), I decided to cut a few corners (and I also adapted the spices and meat cuts to what's available here), and the pâté still tasted amazingly good.

Here is what I did:

48 hours in advance
Serves 8

• 4 duck breasts with skin (about 2.2 lbs or 1 kg)
• 12 oz (350g) salt pork
• 10 oz (300g) veal for stew
• 1/2 TBSP salt
• black pepper (about 40 grinds)
• about 25 white peppercorns, crushed in a mortar
• 3 cloves, crushed in a mortar
• 1/2 tsp ground ginger
• 1/4 tsp nutmeg
• 1 egg
• 1 TBSP Cognac
• 1 or 2 handfulls shelled pistachios (dry-roasted, unsalted)
• 3 bay leaves

1. Cut the salt pork in cubes and immerse in water several times to rinse off some of the salt.
2. Gently pull off the skin of the duck breasts. Make sure to keep the skins in one piece, as they will be used to line the terrine dish. Use the tip of a sharp knife if needed to lift off the skin from the breasts.
3. Grind three breasts out of four, as well as the veal and salt pork, using the large plate of a meat grinder* (or cut in small pieces with a knife).
4. Cut the fourth breast in 1/2" cubes.
5. Place all the meats in a large bowl. Add the salt and spices, egg, and Cognac. Mix well by using two forks (one in each hand) until homogenous.
6. Add the pistachios and mix again.
7. Line the terrine dish** with three pieces of duck skin. Place one skin at the bottom (with the outside of the skin facing down), and two skins on the sides (with the outside of the skin facing outward).
8. Fill up the terrine with the meat mixture. Press to remove any air pockets.
9. Place the last piece of skin on top. Place the bay leaves on the skin. Close the terrine with its lid.
10. Place the terrine dish in an oven-safe dish, and fill this one with water (at least 1" of water).
11. Bake for 1 hour 45 minutes at 350ºF (280ºC). Let the pâté cool down in the oven. Remove the dish with water and keep the terrine in the fridge for at least 48 hours.
12. To serve, cut thick slices. Remove the congealed grease. Serve with good bread and cornichons (French gherkins). Make sure to eat the jelly (it's delicious!), but don't eat the skin.

* I have a manual, tinned cast iron meat grinder made in Czech Republic by Porkert, and I love it.

** I just measured my terrine dish (from Ikea). It holds 48 ounces (1.5 quarts) and is roughly 9" long, 5" wide, and 4.5" high.

Baked dry-rubbed spareribs

I think I had my first pork ribs on the banks of the Danube in Vienna some 15 years ago. I was touring Austria with my parents and my sister, in one of the very rare organized trips we ever took. We had hotel reservations for two weeks all around the country, but our days were unplanned and we visited whatever interested us on our own. No guided tours. But as we crossed the same travelers every evening at the hotel, and sometimes randomly during the day if we happened to be visiting the same attractions, we started building bonds. That evening in Vienna was one of our last before the end of the trip, and we decided to all have dinner together. The 12-or-so of us sat at a long and narrow rectangular table, the kind you see in movies where an idealized Italian family has lunch al fresco on the patio of a beautiful country house in Tuscany. Except that the table was on a river bank, a few yards from water on the majestic Danube. Not bad either. It was a really festive and joyful, warm summer evening. The kind of evenings you remember with nostalgia, I guess, and that brings back so many other memories of stunning Tyrolian landscapes, sumptuous castles and gardens (those of the famous Empress Sisi), beautiful streets and hidden plazas in Vienna, cute villages, music, old stones... Can you tell I miss Europe?

I can't think of ribs without going back to Vienna in thoughts. The power of food on my little mind... If I remember correctly the ribs were served as a whole rack, and must have been barbecued or grilled. The recipe I'm about to give you is more of Southern US inspiration, but if you know how Austrians prepare pork ribs, please share!

This dry rub is an adaptation of Joy of Cooking's Southern Barbecue Dry-Rub recipe. I didn't have all the spices at hand when I tried it the first time, but it turned out really well. I made a few changes the second time around and the ribs tasted even better. So here's my version:

Serves 3–4 people
Preparation: 10 minutes, 12–24 hours in advance
Baking: 1 hour

• 1 rack spareribs (around 3–3.5 lbs)
• 3 Tbsp sugar
• 2 Tbsp salt
• 1–1 1/2 Tbsp paprika
• 1 Tbsp white peppercorn, crushed in a mortar
• 1 Tbsp cumin seed, also crushed
• 1/2 Tbsp ground Cayenne pepper

The night before (or in the morning):

1. Pour all the ingredients of the dry rub in a 1-gallon freezing bag. Shake well to mix the spices.
2. Insert the sparerib rack in the bag, close, and shake well to cover with spices evenly. Rub the spices into the meat through the plastic bag.
3. Place in the refrigerator overnight (or from morning to evening).

1 hour before dinner:

1. Take the sparerib rack out of the bag and place in a large enough oven-safe dish. Pour the juices and spices left in the bag onto the ribs.
2. Bake for 1 hour at 375ºF (about 190ºC).
3. Cut the rack into individual ribs and serve immediately.

Practical note: the sugary juices that fall on the dish around the ribs will likely burn... This doesn't affect the taste of the meat, which doesn't burn, but it makes it harder to clean the dish. Soaking the dish overnight seems to help a lot in cleaning out the burnt juices.

What to substitute for bouillon cube

Being away from my source of bouillon cube has been a curse for many years. I had to wait for my next trip to France to buy some, or I had to add the little package to my wish list when my parents visited. This was one of the last items I decided I could only get there. (As a new immigrant I used to load my luggage with all sorts of things, but little by little I found my way around my local store's aisles and discovered substitutes for all these goodies.)

A box would last me nearly a year, so I always had supplies for the few recipes in which bouillon cubes seemed irreplaceable, like this beef and carrot stew. I would use them very sparingly. But one day... months away from any trip to/from my bouillon cube paradise, I used the last cube in the box. Oh, horror! What was I going to do!!! The safety net was gone.

Rather than despair, I read the list of ingredients on the side of the box, in hopes that I would be able to come up with an equivalent mix of spices. Here's what I read:

Maggi's Kub Or ingredients:

• salt, flavor enhancers, hydrogenated palm oil, natural flavors (wheat, soy), sugar, onion, glucose syrup, citric acid, garlic, coriander seeds; pepper, cloves, celery, and bay leaf extracts, preservatives.

I started realizing that there really wasn't any need to wait for a trip half way around the world to flavor my stews and soups! Half of the ingredients didn't need to be part of any recipe (flavor enhancers? Palm oil? Preservatives?). The other half (the actual spices) was widely available in California. So here is what I tried in my next beef and carrot stew, plus a few other meat or vegetable-only dishes.

Replacement for 1 bouillon cube:

• 1 tbsp olive oil or butter
• 1/2 fresh yellow onion, chopped
• 2 fresh garlic cloves, peeled, halved, stem removed
• 2 fresh or dried bay leaves
• 3 sprigs fresh or dried thyme
• 1 tsp whole coriander seeds, crushed
• 1 tsp whole celery seeds, crushed
• 2 whole cloves
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper

It turned out beautifully every time. I didn't need to rely on scarce supplies anymore, and my dishes had become 100% natural.

And this is how the curse became a blessing :-)

PS: I sill love Kub Ors and recommend them if you can find them!

Beef with carrots

My great-grandmother–my mom's mom's mom–called it "bœuf mode". It is a traditional French braised beef dish, one that belongs to the so-called "cuisine bourgeoise" ("simple and of good taste", as Larousse puts it). The recipe is so classic it's in the dictionary: "larded beef cooked with onions and carrots".

My mother learned the recipe from her grandmother when she was a teenager. Over the years, she made a few adjustments. For example she started using a different cut of meat after talking to her friend's dad, who was a butcher (the original cut was more fibrous). She cooks the meat in one piece and slices it once cooked, while her grandmother cooked it in cubes. The sauce is not as thick nor as spicy as my mom remembers it from her childhood. Even the name has changed: my mom calls it "bœuf aux carottes" (beef with carrots) rather than "bœuf mode". But one thing remains: it is the family's favorite comfort food. Every morsel of meat, every slice of carrot melts in the mouth. It is absolutely delicious.

Here is how my mom (and I) prepare it:

Serves 6
Prep time: 10 minutes
Cooking time: 1 hour (pressure cooker) or 2 hours (regular pot)

• 2-3 lb boneless beef chuck roast¹ ("paleron")
• about 12 carrots (2-3 per person), sliced²
• 1 yellow onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic
• 1 bay leaf, 2 sprigs thyme, and 3 sprigs parsley, tied together ("bouquet garni")
• 1 vegetable bouillon cube³
• 1-2 cups dry white wine (e.g. Pino Grigio or Chardonnay)
• 1 tbsp unsalted butter
• 1 tbsp sunflower oil (or other mild-flavored oil recommended for high heat)

1. Heat the oil and butter in a pressure cooker ("cocotte minute"). Add the chopped onion and stir for about 2 minutes until translucent.
2. Add the beef roast and brown on all sides.
3. Add the carrots, garlic, herbs, white wine, and bouillon cube. Close the pressure cooker and set it to its higher pressure level (mine has two levels, one for vegetables and one for meats).
4. When the pressure cooker whistles, turn down the heat to medium-low. Cook for 45 minutes to 1 hour. (If you are using a regular pot, simmer for 2 hours, lid on.)

You might have some left-over meat. Eat it cold with Dijon mustard.

¹ local, organic, 100% grass-fed beef if you can
² there is this funny controversy in my family about how the carrots should be cut. Some (on my mom's side of the family) swear they should be sliced while others (on my dad's side of the family) prefer them julienned (cut into thin strips). Whoever cooks chooses their favorite carrot shape.
³ my favorite bouillon cube is KUB OR by Maggi but unfortunately it isn't sold in the U.S.