French Onion Soup-ish

For dinner, I kind of had French onion soup. Not nearly as deconstructed as this, but almost.

It all started when I tried to make a baguette. I'm still madly in love with the New York Times Cookbook, which I received as a Christmas present. And bread is one of those things I wish I made more often, just because you miss it if you don't have it, and homemade is always best.

So I used the Craig Claiborne/Pierre Franey recipe (couldn't find it online...buy the cookbook, you'll like it. Or borrow mine) for French bread. I used wine yeast, because I happened to have a little lying around. I don't think it really makes a difference though.

It has to be the technique. It's a really simple recipe, and, per usual, I messed with it by using mostly white whole wheat flour instead of white. It still turned out well. I was concerned that the inside was so dense in appearance:

But it turned out perfectly. The dense texture held well when I used it for almond butter & blueberry jam sandwiches at lunch, and was a nice counterpoint to the onion jam at dinner.

Onions?

It was sort of the same confit recipe as before. This time, I measured to make sure I was slicing the onions more or less uniformly at 1/4". My new general rule is to use approximately a tablespoon, or a bit more, of butter per pound of onions. And to cook them very, very slowly. These I removed from heat after 1.5 to 2 hours, when they had barely changed to a light toffee color. I added a little kosher salt toward the beginning, and a little red wine towards the end. This time, I also chose to puree them a bit in the food processor, to yield nicely uniform bits.

To make the "soup", I covered some caramelized onion puree with sliced cubes of bread and shredded Parmigiano-Reggiano and briefly heated it. I can't overstate how awesome slow-cooked onions are- it's pure umami goodness. You don't need to use a ton of butter for a smooth, savory flavor. The bread was also a success, though maybe I'd add a little more water next time- I always forget the white whole wheat flour soaks up more moisture and you have to adjust.

To drink, I had a Dogfish Head "Raison d' Etre". It's becoming one of my local-ish go-to beers for complex, interesting flavors. It has a Belgian feel, with some light banana/clove flavors and heavier 'green' flavors- apple, maybe pear? Unique and interesting and substantial, but it still goes well with most foods.

Onion and Andouille Pasta at Home

For lunch, I had fusilli in a creamy onion sauce, with andouille sausage, and a persimmon for dessert. And a glass of red wine.

(My rant about Americans and lunch drinking is coming one of these days. For now, I'll just say that wine with lunch is one of the great pleasures of life, and if you don't appreciate it, you depress me. And that your Frappucinos and sodas are going to kill you a lot faster anyway.)

The onions were genius. They actually started yesterday as a precursor to French onion soup. But they smelled so fabulous as they were caramelizing, I couldn't bear to add anything to them. So instead I smeared heaps of onion confit onto slices of bread with dinner, and couldn't wait to use the remainder today.

Quick digression: if you want to make your own onion deliciousness, I made it by melting 3T butter in a large dutch oven, then adding two pounds of onions, sliced 1/4" thick or so. Specificity in slicing doesn't really matter, just the time and heat level. Lots of time, very little heat. Stir every 15 minutes, less towards the beginning, more towards the end. For 2-4 hours. Or you can even stop sooner, if you like the way things smell and it's reduced to a spreadable consistency.

Anyway. I woke up thinking about these onions. They're that delicious. I vaguely thought, in my half-awake daze, that they might be amazing with pasta. Then this afternoon, I was picking up my newly-sharpened knives from the local butcher (this is not nearly as virtuous as it sounds: this is the first time, ever, I've had them sharpened), and couldn't resist grabbing some andouille sausage, too.

Like the lazy food blogger that I am, I actually tossed the sausage into the boiling water while the pasta cooked, then pan-fried it in a little butter to get a little browning. I then tossed in the cooked pasta, a little pasta water, and the leftover onion confit, and mixed everything for a few minutes. It was the perfect meal for an overcast, ridiculously foggy day.

Oh, and the persimmons? So fabulous. They'll get their own post someday soon, too.

Au Mal Pain

For lunch, I had a roast beef sandwich, some French onion soup, and iced tea at Au Bon Pain. It was decidedly not bon.

I hadn't been to an Au Bon Pain in approximately fifteen years, and I always walk by this outpost and drool, wishing I had time for lunch. Today, I did.

First, their ordering methods are ridiculous. I stood there for several minutes staring at their (overly busy) menu, wondering why none of the employees were trying to help me in a completely deserted restaurant. Then, one of the employees helpfully pointed out the ordering cards. I dutifully checked the one little box on the huge piece of paper, wondering all the while why there wasn't a list of options to check off- no mayo, extra cheese? Not here. Complete waste of paper, and my time. Then I tried to hand my card to an employee, who pointed out an empty wire basket into which I was supposed to place said card. Perhaps this is all a tactic. They took so long to make my sandwich, I bumbled right into a bowl of soup I didn't need.

I have a huge French onion soup thing, and I'd really been craving it lately. I thought it was my lucky day when I saw the French onion soup lurking among the six or seven heated tureens. Lesson #1: a fast-casual restaurant attached to a hospital cannot possibly make seven good soups. Maybe not even one. The French onion was depressing. It was the most tasteless soup I've ever had: no hint of onion, no hint of beef, or sherry, or even chicken. Just a lot of tasteless oil. I'd like to think my garbage disposal enjoyed it.

The sandwich was not so much offensive as incredibly boring. It consisted of very peppery roast beef, mayo (er, what I thought was mayo but is allegedly "Caesar dressing"), improbably large leaves of romaine, and an asiago cheese crisp, all on rubbery, strangely shiny wannabe ciabatta. It was the cheese crisp that intrigued me, but it was too thick to be "crispy" and the overall effect was messy as I tried to eat it while driving.

Then, the tea. Like an idiot, I grabbed the "Peach Tea" over the tea I knew to be unsweetened, because I'm used to designer unsweetened teas at Chipotle and the like. It was indeed sweetened, with something resembling battery acid- you know, the fake peach flavor that stings the back of your throat. Yuck.

The final straw? Somehow, my total came to $13. After much consultation with my receipt, the only thing I can figure is that they have some kind of soup n' sandwich deal that is more expensive than each item individually. It'll be another fifteen years before I go back.

Mon Poulet Roti avec Soupe a L'oignon

For dinner, I had roast chicken, French onion soup, and spaghetti squash. I was in the mood to cook, so everything was made from scratch except the soup stock.

The chicken was easy and surprisingly quick to cook- one hour for a five-pound roaster. I based it on Keller's perfect roast chicken recipe- high temp and completely dry skin to develop crispiness. I modified it by using fresh thyme (left over from making the soup) and garlic under the skin, and by cooking it in my cast iron skillet, for convenience. Despite its near-impossibility to clean, I love using my cast iron skillet in non-traditional ways. The chicken turned out flavorful but slightly tough- I assumed the chicken had been pre-brined because it was a typical supermarket non-organic bird, but I think I was wrong. Sanderson Farms needs to define "minimal processing" on their packaging. I've also cooked a whole chicken in my dutch oven to great effect in the past, but it results in nice meat at the expense of a crispy crust. Moreover, my dutch oven was busy making soup.

The soup was a recipe from Cook's Illustrated I've been wanting to make for the better part of a year. I'd been putting it off because of the time commitment and the lack of winter weather; today I caved, figuring it was better than writing papers. The first hard part was slicing the onions- I am hugely sensitive to onions, and generally either wear ski goggles (seriously), or make my loving husband do it. The LH was away, and my ski goggles have disappeared since we moved. I struggled through SEVEN onions, taking several wash-hands-cry-blow-nose-wash-hands breaks. The dog looked on with amusement. The next two hours required minimal involvement, but I continued to have trouble with onion sensitivity- the whole house reeked, and my eyes wouldn't stop tearing. Then another hour reducing the onions further on the stovetop, toasting bread, and adding stock, and it was done. I felt like the result lacked depth of flavor, and the sweet-salty balance was off. The recipe encouraged caramelization for "depth", but the result was very sweet, not deep. It may have had something to do with the onions. I went to Randall's over Whole Foods because it was on my way home, and they carried only "Texas Sweet" yellow onions, and some unlabeled yellow onions. The recipe called for yellow, stating that white onions were too sweet, so I chose the unlabeled ones and hoped for the best. Maybe it will taste better tomorrow.