Border crossings: French and Italian

The subject of the last couple of blogs, having to due with feeding kids, and "kid food" that becomes grownup food, is very fascinating, at least to me (and it IS my blog), so I am going to come back to it. Who amongst you, for example, can fairly say s/he does not like chicken cutlets? But for today, given that I'm trying to write contemporaneously with what I'm cooking, we have another topic.

Many food writers, especially Italian, French, and old school writers, feel that the greatest cuisines in the world are Italian and French. As our culinary horizons have expanded, of course, we've all tasted things from other cuisines that just HAVE to make us sit up and notice those foods. A good paella? Well, I would be hard pressed to turn it down, even with excellent risotto. A wonderful "mole negro?" Hmmm. Do I eat that or lasagna. Beijing duck (which USED to be Peking duck), or cassoulet? Roast Beef, rare, or beef bourginone? See what I mean? To use a phrase that is overused "it's all good." I will add "IF it's made well" But let me turn back to this Italian/French thing.

In many ways, French and Italian cooking are similar, particularly the parts of France that are along the meditteranean. Other areas, not so. For example, there is no word in Italian for cider, the "wine" of Northwest France. One of the cliches, that I think is very true, is that the big difference between French and Italian cooking is sauce. Think long and hard. Putting aside "tomato sauce," which is really not a sauce, can you think of an Italian dish that comes with a sauce? I can think of vitello tonnato, and also "maiale al latte," that wonderful stew of pork shoulder and milk (we may get to that one soon), but that's about it. Italian cooking is about serving forth the meat, the poultry, the fish, in its own juices, or with fish, perhaps a squirt of something acidic and some oil. And that's it. Meanwhile, over in France, you have to know the "seven mother sauces," (and I can never remember them), some of which take so long to make you will vow "NEVER AGAIN." (I said that of sauce espagnole the first time I made it. And when I learned a shortcut from Daisy Martinez, I almost sent her a statue of Julia Child in gratitude). I DO make some of them, like mayonnaise, but I almost never make sauces for food.

Last night was kinda different. We were having veal tenderloin for dinner. Now, this is not a cut of meat you're going to see a lot, but it, like other tenderloins (beef, pork), is very lean, very "tender (DUH), and very tasty in a mild, meaty kind of way. But like any meat without much fat, you're not going to get much in the way of drippings. So while the meat will be juicy if you cook it right, if you want another layer of flavor, like you would get from drippings, you'll be out of luck. So, here I combined simple Italian cooking, with a simple "sauce," that will bring together some ideas we've been developing here, over time.

The "classic" accompaniment to beef and veal tenderloins, is truffles. Black truffles. White ones don't taste right. Well, I love black truffles. But, believe it or not, I don't really have them in the house as a kitchen staple. But I DO have dried mushrooms. LOTS of them, different kinds. And I have to tell you, they are invaluable. They don't go bad, they can be your best friend when you're pushed for something really savory, and they're fun. I WANTED to use dried morels, but since my kitchen should be declared a federal disaster area, I couldn't find them - until I finished cooking. But I DID find a package of dried black oyster mushrooms. Use whatever kind you like. I think porcinis might not be good in this preparation, but to be honest, I don't know.

First, I prepped the tenderloins. All tenderloins should be browned, at high heat in fat, and then finished in a very hot oven, very quickly. So I heated vegetable oil while the oven heated to 475. Vegetable oil, because veal has such a delicate flavor, that I didn't want it to be obscured by my good, savory olive oil. It took me about five minutes to brown the tenderloins all over.

Digression here. The morning of the day that I cooked these, I patted them dry, and salted the tenderloins with about a half teaspoon of salt. Then I left them uncovered in the fridge. This is a technique that Judy Rogers advocates in her book. USE IT. What happens is the salt draws out the moisture from the meat, and then goes back into the meat, with the salt. It's "brining" without the mess. And because refrigerators dry things out (that's why you should never refrigerate bread), the meat also develops a nice crust for cooking.

Ok, digression over. When the meat was finished browning, I put it aside for a few minutes while I made my sauce. Just before I had started browning the meat, I had covered the mushrooms with hot water (I was boiling potatoes, so I had some ready. If you don't, just boil a cup or two), and I rehydrated them for that five minutes or so.

When you read cookbooks about rehydrating dried mushrooms, you'll see instructions about how to prep them to avoid the sand. I have to be honest: I have never found sand in my mushrooms. Maybe it's a question of better quality control, maybe I'm lucky. But if you're concerned, remove them from the liquid with a slotted spoon. If you want the liquid (and yes, you DO want the liquid), and you see sediment, you can either filter through a coffee filter, or you can just pour it off and lose the last little bit.

I also cut a small onion in half and diced it, and also two stalks of celery. NOW I used my olive oil. In the pan I had used for the meat, I poured out the spent vegetable oil, and sauteed the celery, and the onions, with a half teaspoon of salt and a HUGE sprig of thyme. When the onions had lost that clear color and began to go translucent, I put in the mushrooms.

Another digression. As it happened, my mushrooms were small and bite sized, because the oyster mushrooms are, by their nature, small enough to eat. If they're too big, cut them up before you add them.

The mushrooms are wet, so they'll sizzle. Now, you add some alcohol. Since I was trying to stay more Italian than not, I added dry marsala. It cooked off almost immediately, and I added more. Same thing. All in all, I used about a third of a cup, and boiled it all off. A tasty "sauce" was left. I put this aside while I put the tenderloins into the oven to finish for another five minutes. They came out, nice and hot, and after a minute to rest, I sliced one, and put the mushroom sauce over it.

VOILA. Or "ECCOLA." However you say it, that's it and they were done.

I think the technique outlined here would work, for example, with boneless chicken breasts with the skin on, or with beef tenderloin . For pork, I think I'd change the thyme to sage, and perhaps there I WOULD use the porcinis (because, after all "porcini" means little pigs). Lamb? Hmmm. I think I would go with rosemary, and stick with my original mushrooms.

Now if you look at the cooking times, you probably figured out that you could have made the dish in the time it took you to read my latest magnum opus. So, what's stopping you? No question, tenderloins cost a fortune. So here's a suggestion: use a steak. Or chops. The "sauce" you have here will work on pork chops, lamb chops, veal chops a steak, and frankly, I think you could put it on eggs too.

So, cross some borders. I could make U.S. imperialist jokes here, but I'll refrain. It is officially the first day of spring, and while it doesn't feel especially springlike outside, one can tell that it's almost here. I can almost see a "greening" in the trees when spring HAS arrived, and it's not there yet. Nor do the buds on the magnolias and the cherry trees show that "sign" yet. But it's coming.