Leave it to girlfriends to help launch one of their own on a fabulous solo vacation — in this case, my upcoming Paris trip in March. It was Peggy’s idea to organize a dinner party around a theme — we’d cook from Ina Garten’s Barefoot in Paris that she gave me for Christmas. And thus began the countdown toward my vacation.
I picked the first and main courses from the book — Winter Squash Soup (Soupe au Pitiron) and Salmon with Lentils. Peggy and JoAnn provided the munchies (while we cooked), the salad and the wine, while Sandi brought two desserts (not in this book but more on that later). I arrived with two bags full of provisions — the butternut squash and pumpkin puree, among the other soup ingredients, and 4 center-cut salmon fillets, French green lentils du Puy and the leeks, thyme, celery, carrots and more for the rest of the dish.
The concept of cooking French is very intimidating to Americans, but thanks to a long line of impressarios such as Julia Child (The Way to Cook), Jacques Pepin (Jacques Pepin Fast Food My Way) and Patricia Wells (Bistro Cooking), elaborate recipes crafted in hallowed restaurant kitchens have been simplified for the rest of us to try — with added optimism and good cheer that we will be successful. When I lived in France for a year and cooked with friends in their kitchens, everyday French cooking was quickly demystified for me. On a farm in the Loire Valley, we ate vegetables, fruits and grains assembled for the vegetarian (and macrobiotic) household. One evening my brother visiting from the States arrived with a skinned rabbit he and his friend had found on the way (lapin a la roadkill) and had stopped by the boucher to clean and freshen up. It was a most scrumptious and memorable meal. For the daily routine, a terribly worn paperback in my kitchen, La Cuisine Pour Tous, has nearly 500 pages of short and simple home-cooking that the average home cook would use. But many years later my French is so rusty that I wouldn’t trust my translations for the weights and measures. Quelle horreur!
This no-pressure evening, centered around the Barefoot Contessa’s generous approach and accessible recipes, was of course made better by the company of forgiving girlfriends. (It took twice as long to prepare, and we finally sat down to eat about 9:30 p.m.). Each of us had assignments for the cooking, and the mellowing Chardonnay further reduced the stress. Wouldn’t you know that the piece de resistance was the dessert — actually two desserts — brought by new girlfriend Sandi. Her sour cream cheesecake, derived from Thanksgiving dinners and celebrations with the Lennon Sisters family, and the Ghiradelli milk chocolate oatmeal bars would have delighted any French chef.
