by Bruce Beaty
Alas, October is here. The pool is closed, the garden and the Farm are in their final stretches as we cross the bridge between the last warm days and the first chilly ones. Quick meals made from late summer vegetables, along with all good things coming off the grill, inevitably give way to more "comfort cooking." And although the grill has not yet been sequestered to the garage for the season, (mine never really is) the natural shift in the weather nudges our cooking indoors, toward slow-braises, roasts, and heartier fare. It's what I like to call "dig in food."
It was about this time of year that I moved to Paris to begin cooking as an apprentice, or "stagier" in some truly great restaurants. And although I had long since discovered some of New York's old-world, venerable French cooking institutions such as Chez Napoleon and Pierre au Tunnel, it was not until I lived in Burgundy that I truly understood what French Bistro life was all about. Well, of course it's about the cooking. Pure, simple, honest, real home cooking. It's what is referred to as " Cuisine Grand Mere," or Granmother's cooking. 'Nuff said. No wasabi glazes or tamarind foams to hide behind, no "fusion cooking" that leads to "confusion," as a chef friend of mine once said. No nonsense upon stilts.
When I think of classic bistro food, I think of the most impossibly delicious, simple roast chicken, garlicky potato gratins, Leeks Vinaigrette, warm lentil salads, Moules Mariniere ( mussels steamed in white wine) Calves Liver with onions, Coq au Vin ( chicken stewed in red wine), Pot-au-Feu (beef braised in stock with vegetables) and of course Tarte Tatin, a French flag-waving dessert if ever there was one. But it's more than just the food. French bistros, like Italian trattorias, or the table of my mother's Southern upbringing, imply a sense of generosity, familiarity and conviviality. They are characterized by a spirit of welcoming that says "rest your bones here."
I've included this month two classic soups, two salads, and a main course, all of which stay true to the spirit of their origins. As much as I encourage using recipes only as a template or a guideline, some of the classics deserve to be treated "comme il faut" ( as they should be) or "justement" ( correctly). The French are sometimes slow to adapt to new changes, and also reticent to throw out old classics in favor of the latest fad, particularly when it comes to food. And you know, that's really not a bad thing.