Volume 1, Issue 4
“Cooking Ex-Libris” is a CasaFestiva.com series exploring new recipes from my own cookbooks. Enjoy!
By Katy Budge
Well, of course I have Mastering the Art of French Cooking on my bookshelf. C’est de rigeur, oui? This seminal tome — written by Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle, and Simone Beck, illustrated by Sidonie Coryn — pulled back the curtain on all those fancy French dishes. The trio of authors sought to change the way many Americans thought about that cuisine, daring even to suggest it could be made at home.
Indeed, as the foreword begins … “This is a book for the servantless American cook who can be unconcerned on occasion with budgets, waistlines, time schedules, children’s meals, the parent-chauffeur-den mother syndrome, or anything which might interfere with the enjoyment of producing something wonderful to eat.”
If we look beyond the placement of kitchen duties squarely in the female arena, this is could certainly be a goal for today’s cooks. Especially the servantless ones.
Ceci N’est Pas A Different Edition
Is it? For the past 20 years, I thought I had two editions of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. One book was my mother’s — 7.25”x10”, missing the dust jacket, a strip of yellowed scotch tape along the spine that had long since been able to hold the cover together. The other was my aunt’s — 6.25”x9”, with a dust jacket featuring some of Coryn’s illustrations and a Paul Child photo of the three authors with Chef Max Bugnard.
In those two decades, I’d never cooked anything from either book. Quelle horreur! However, this did make them perfect fodder for this “Ex-Libris” project, so I pulled them down and set out to determine the difference between the two.
Imagine my surprise to discover that they were the SAME edition … well, sort of. At least up to page 502, a page which ends part way through a recipe for Aubergines Farcies Duxelles (Eggplant Stuffed with Mushrooms). In the larger book, that recipe continues on the next page, and moves on to another eggplant recipe, Ratatouille. But, in the smaller version, page 503 drops you right into chestnuts, a page that doesn’t occur in the larger book until page 519!
Yup. That smaller version was a flat-out, 85% rip-off of the legit book originally published by Alfred A Knopf in 1961 … sans 16 pages. I used to work in print shops, so once I realized the fake, the clues were everywhere. I’ll spare you all the miniscule forensic details, but the main evidence was on the title page – the page in the font of the book listing the title, authors, publisher, and publishing date. The fake “title page” had all that … except the publisher’s name. And, needless to say, the table of contents was worthless for any entry past page 502.
So, no, this was not a different edition of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
The Recipe
It was a delight reading through this cookbook for a new recipe because I heard everything in Julia’s magnificent voice. One prime example – the instructions for trussing a chicken, which urge you to “Turn the chicken on its breast. Fold the wings akimbo.”
I was surprised to come across an entire section on chicken fricassee. Not sure what I thought chicken fricassee was, but I certainly didn’t expect to see it in Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Turns out it’s a particular technique — not a specific dish – that involves first cooking the bird in butter (shocking) before adding a simmering liquid.
Fricassee results can be white or brown, but I’ll admit the former turned me off a bit because it seems the pale chicken would be a bit unappealing. So, I opted for a brown version, specifically that of the venerable coq au vin, which I had never made.
Well, you know you’re reading a French recipe when it calls for sautéing bacon in butter! Also, when you get to pour cognac into the pan and light it. Also, when blending butter and flour together is called a beurre manié instead of a roux.
All-in-all, this was a surprisingly easy recipe. The most time consuming part was braising the onions and mushrooms as described; there are definitely shortcuts there. I would certainly make coq au vin again, especially upon discovering that heating the leftovers and spooning them over a thick slice of local sourdough toast makes for an especially decadent open-faced sandwich!