Cooking With Roots

Cooking With Roots
by Kristin Franklin

I have heard many times, and do agree, that great chefs and cooks of the world display a certain grounded culture in their cuisine. I think this statement applies, at least to some degree, to all who have a passion for cooking, from a three-star Michelin chef to the curious home cook who scours the farmer’s market every week.

I recently came across a report about an event titled “The Making of a Great Chef,” which occurred in New York City back in January. The event included two of the country’s greatest chefs, Daniel Boulud and David Bouley, in an open-format type discussion. The report mentioned that both chefs stress the importance of displaying “roots” in one’s cooking, or being “committed to a culture of cuisine,” as Chef Boulud put it. Both chefs, for example, remain loyal to classic French cuisine, while at the same time stamping their cuisine with their own creativity. Boulud was born in Lyons, France and grew up on his family’s farm. Bouley was born in the US, but followed his French heritage and eventually trained under several renowned French chefs.

So, as a professional cook myself, and wannabe stellar home cook (please see Interlude: Caught on the Sliding Scale), I had to ask myself “Where and what are my roots?”

I had to think really hard. This is a question not easily answered. I decided to start from scratch and ponder my ethnic make-up. Perhaps this would help.

My grandmother was born 100% French Canadian; therefore, I am ¼ French Canadian, right? I had to call my mom to verify, and to find out about the other 75%. She told me that, yes, I am ¼ French Canadian. She thought the rest was a mixture of English and Irish. OK, so I have Bangers and Mashers, Bubble and Squeak, cold toast, Guinness, and bastardized French food to work with. Not so bad! At least I have some good beer for roots, and I do like Scotch Eggs which I think are British despite the “Scotch” in the name. But, alas, I was getting confused with all of this. I didn’t think this is what Chefs Bouley and Boulud meant. So I asked myself, more specifically, “What did I eat growing up?”

Now, my mother never disappointed us at meal times, and her mother (the French Canadian, still smoking and drinking red wine everyday at near 90) stuffed us with some of the most delicious apple and lemon meringue pies I have ever tasted. Oh, and cookies! And beef barley soup. My grandmother also made a mean chile relleno, and her cheese enchiladas were always a hit. I think she learned those recipes in LA, where her family relocated when she was a young girl.

Most of the time, my family did eat at the dining room table, unless it was the month of March when we could catch Duke or Kentucky or Kansas in the Sweet 16. That was the only time, really, that we ate in front of the TV. Except for Sunday lunches after church, when we would have nachos made with Velveeta, Ortega chilies and tomatoes (so good, really). Or Foster’s Freeze’s corn burritos (only in Ventura, I think). Or hot dogs. Or leftovers.

Okay, so AT the table, we’d have casseroles that would warm and fill the tummy, stuffed peppers, chicken or ground beef tacos with homemade refried beans, spaghetti with meat sauce, homemade mac ‘n’ cheese, pancakes for dinner, or, on special occasions, some mouth-watering Santa Maria BBQ complete with peppered tri-tip, pinquito beans with sausage, salad and grilled bread. There—my culinary roots.

Now, all I need to do is harness these roots and take them to another level to become a great chef, creative yet grounded in these roots. Just like Chef Boulud, for example. Here’s a sample from Restaurant Daniel’s fall menu:

Butternut Squash Soup with Orange Zest, Nutmeg
Huckleberry and Cinnamon Marshmallow

Here we have a simple butternut squash soup, classically flavored with orange zest and nutmeg. Huckleberry and cinnamon marshmallow!? Now that’s taking “roots” to a whole new level.

It is difficult for me to find a place for flavored marshmallows in my culinary roots. I have cooked up many of my mom’s recipes, notably certain casseroles and her buttermilk pancakes that have been passed down a few generations. Sometimes I even replace the canned soup called for in some of the casseroles with my own homemade version. But, honestly, I really don’t want to mess with these recipes too much. Those pancakes to me are the perfect buttermilk pancakes. And those casserole recipes, one of which I will share with you at the end of this article, are already flawless; they were meant to be made with Campbell’s. And I just recently discovered a few of my grandmother’s recipes at my aunt and uncle’s house. Unfortunately, her memory has slipped away, and her apple and lemon meringue pies have gone with it. I only wish I had picked her brain a few years ago. However, thankfully, she did document her Penuche Icing, made with brown sugar and 18 foil-wrapped butter pats (probably from the Denny’s around the corner).

So, as for roots, mine aren’t so defined in terms of a specific cuisine. My roots are more like branches going every which way. Maybe it’s better this way. Perhaps I can choose a branch or two to climb, adding a Velveeta marshmallow here and there when I’m ready.

To check out some culinary roots successful in becoming culinary masterpieces, peruse the menus at Restaurant Daniel and Bouley.

Recipe: The Ultimate Yet Simplest Casserole

Ingredients

1 lb ground beef
Salt and pepper to taste
1 lb of elbow pasta
3-4 stalks celery, diced small
1-2 cans Campbell’s Condensed Tomato Soup
1-2 cups grated cheddar cheese

Method

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. In the meantime, brown the ground beef in a skillet and drain excess fat. Season beef with salt and pepper to taste and set aside. Your water should be boiling. Add pasta along with diced celery to water and cook until pasta is a bit underdone (it will cook again). In a large mixing bowl combine the beef with the pasta and celery and the can(s) of soup. Taste for seasoning and adjust accordingly with more salt and pepper if needed. Coat a casserole dish with non-stick spray such as Pam, and scrape the gooey ingredients into the dish. Top with cheese. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until the cheese is melted and slightly browned and the casserole is bubbling. This is great served with peas.

Kristin can be reached at kristin@babblog.com.