Want to cook like Julia Child? Get out your whisk! Here are 13 French recipes to master
Written byElizabeth JardinaAugust 11, 2009
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Photo by James Carrier
1 of 13Photo by James Carrier
Sole Meunière
This was Julia Child's first lunch when she arrived in Paris, and it changed her world.
As she recounted in her memoir My Life in France, it was"perfectly browned in a sputtering butter sauce with a sprinkling of chopped parsley... I closed my eyes and inhaled the rising perfume. Then I lifted a forkful of fish to my mouth... The flesh of the sole was delicate, with a light but distinct taste of the ocean that blended marvelously with the browned butter... It was a morsel of perfection... It was the most exciting meal of my life."
In short, you should make this. It's unexpectedly easy: You'll spend 15 minutes cooking and feel like Julia Child at the end.
Let it puff up in the oven, golden and gorgeous, while you nonchalantly sip a glass of wine (Viognier is a particularly good pairing with the dish's eggy soul). Now you know you can make anything.
If you want to pretend like you're in a brasserie ― and that's okay with us ― call these moules et frites. But a dash of curry sends these beyond traditionnel and into extraordinaire.
This recipe was inspired by a dish at Château Loudenne in Bordeaux, served near the big stone fireplace in the harvesters' cozy dining room.
Tip: Choose farmed Mediterranean or Penn Cove mussels from the West Coast of the U.S. if you find them. They're larger and meatier than the traditional blue mussel.
Choux pastry is just butter, water, flour, sugar, and eggs. There isn't even any tricky whisking. If you can make brownies from a box, you can do this.
Once you stir everything together, you're golden. Bake the rounds, whip the cream, and stack with layers of jam for an impressive dessert in about an hour.
If we had a French grandmother, she would teach us to make this streamlined version of the classic French poulet grand-mère.
Make it your Sunday supper tradition, with a sub-90-minute cook time that keeps it real.
Creamy, buttery potatoes and meaty mushrooms mix with bacon, a couple handfuls of thyme, and unpeeled garlic cloves (your fantasy French grandmother would want the dish to be rustic).
After you're done, squeeze the golden garlic onto slices of levain for nothing that resembles "garlic bread."
Much is made of boeuf bourguignon, that staple stew of French cuisine featuring cubes of browned beef braised in wine with carrots, mushrooms, and onions.
Of course, you could always raise it up a key, find even punchier flavors to make your irresistible beef stew more bewitching. You could, for instance, supplement your boeuf with smoked paprika, chipotle chile powder, hardwood-smoked bacon, blue cheese crumbles, and an extra bottle of wine.
Then you'd be making this Smoky Beef Stew with Blue Cheese and Chives ― and saying how much more you like it than a regular old beef stew.
You don't know what the name means. No matter, a lot of French is like that.
But there are syllables you recognize: blanc (white), a velvety cream sauce. Veau (veal), tender and meaty. Together: A dinner like you imagine yourself eating in your French farmhouse. Sensual, rich, sophisticated. But not fussy.
You can make it in a slow cooker and turn it into a weeknight treat. As long as you promise to eat it with a baguette.
If you think French desserts are all about piping pastry cream and fussy meringues, give this rustic, gorgeous, free-form apple galette a gander. As easy as apple pie? Easier. No crust-fluting required.
Seared Foie Gras with Ginger Cream" data-image-height="379" data-image-width="673" data-image-id="26606" id="lazy-image-26606" > Photo by James Carrier
When your entertaining requires an extra ooh-la-la, nothing beats foie gras, the Frenchiest of fancy meats.
This preparation is extra special because of the slightly sweet, ginger-spiked sauce and the way the silkiness of the foie gras contrasts with the toast's delicate crunch.
This classic French dessert gets its musical name from the Occitan word for "to fill up" (the batter). You'll feel French just talking about it.
The pronunciation may be tricky, but the technique is not: Skip the whisk in favor of assembling the thick custard in a blender, then pour over the summer's favorite fruits.
Our version features apricots, pluots, or plums steeped in sweet wine. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.
This is the French cook's final exam, beguiling in its simplicity. Because as anyone who's made an eggy mess of a skillet can attest, simple can be death-defying.
Now, all you need to do is figure out how to fill it. Camembert and thinly sliced leeks? A handful of shredded gruyère? Crumbles of chèvre and sliced red peppers? Once you've passed this test, the possibilities are endless.