Corine Gantz - Hidden in Paris -- The Cookbook

To the readers of Hidden in Paris

Recipes

Meatless

Beef, Chicken, Lamb, Pork

Fish and seafood

Desserts

Why the Hidden in Paris cookbook?

My novel Hidden in Paris came out in March 2011. A year later Im thrilled to be able to offer a cookbook to my readers featuring most of the recipes described in the novel.

I put this cookbook together by popular demand. Readers have e-mailed me personally, commented on my blog, and even mentioned in reviews on Amazon and elsewhere that they would love to know how to make those dishes. I take this a sign that the book made them hungry, which for a writer is a terrific compliment. It means that somehow I was able to place them in France, in that Parisian kitchen, with this neurotic woman named Annie and the people to whom she opens up her house, her kitchen, and eventually her heart.

I wrote this cookbook as a way of saying thank you to those who took a chance with an unknown writer, bought and enjoyed Hidden in Paris, spread the word, and made it a success. The validation and joy that readers have brought me have made all these years of scribbling, wringing my hands, and doubting myself worth it.

This is not going to be one of those fancy-shmancy French cookbooks, is it?

Although the idea of preparing French food at home might seem intimidating, the recipes you will find in this book are for the most part quite simple to execute. This is the kind of food you will find in peoples homes, prepared for a family dinner on any given evening, not the kind you will eat in restaurants.

Since, like yourself, I have things to do, places to go, children to raise, and Im not in the business of cooking, I favor one pot dishes; recipes prepared in fifteen minutes that I can walk away from and come back to find ready to serve an hour later. I want comfort and nutrition for the least amount of time and an even smaller amount of dirty dishes.

An entire book could be devoted to the French approach to food. For the French, eating is a sensual, mostly guilt-free experience; a necessary pleasure. French people are taught to develop their palates beginning in childhood. French eating should also be put in a social context. Shopping for ingredients, preparation, and sharing a meal are some of the most basic activities around which relationships evolve.

My approach to cooking is very much like Annies. My food is primarily basic French comfort food. Like most French women I eat all kinds of rich foods. I eat in moderation. Except of course when I'm not in the mood for moderation. I balance any excess with a lean meal the following day: a salad, soup, and no bread. Being French, Im truly terrible at self-deprivation, and even worse at being told what I cannot eat.

Local, fresh and unprocessed... except for the love of bouillon

You will see that aside for my somewhat deplorable affection for bouillon cubes and the occasional can of crushed tomatoes when sun-filled ripe tomatoes are hard to find, all the ingredients in the following recipes are fresh, unprocessed, and purchased two days in advance at the most.

A brief history of how I came to cooking. Hint: I wasnt born with a wooden spatula in my hand.

When I moved from France to the United States at the age of 23 to follow my brand new husband, I arrived having never cooked un oeuf. Cooking was low on the list of priorities since I faced more crippling obstacles. Hardly speaking English, for example. Or being newly married to an American boy who spoke little French.

My mother is a terrific cook, yet it had never occurred to me to learn from her, or occurred to her to teach me. What would have been the point when all I needed to do was knock at Mamans door when I was hungry? When I was not eating in restaurants and cafs in my neighborhood the only meal I remember preparing inside my tiny chambre de bonne in the sixteenth arrondissement was good rabbit pt spread on a popular packaged toasted bread called biscottes.

Most French people do not venture far from the nest. They usually grow up, go to the university, and live the rest of their lives in the very region, the very town where they were born. I had no plans to live somewhere other than Paris or, for that matter, anywhere that was not a stones throw from my mothers kitchen. That is until lamour threw a wrench into my plans: I fell in love with an American man.

From home sickness to home cooked meals

We met and married within a year and moved to a barely furnished house in Mill Valley, a beautiful spot in Northern California. But despite the beauty of the place, I had trouble enjoying my new life and felt homesick. Then, rapidly and painfully, very, very homesick. In Northern California nothing looked, felt or smelled even remotely like Paris. I could not work, I could not communicate. I had no friends. I felt lost in every way. To tell you the truth, I was falling hard into depression and had no words for what was happening to me. I was desperately in need of something familiar and reassuring. What I desired most, what I felt I could not live without, was the taste of home. What I was after was not just food, or even French food, but specifically my mothers cooking.

I asked my mother for her recipes but she had none, she cooked instinctively, a concept that was absolutely foreign to me. Instead she sent me a copy of the only cookbook she owned, Les Recettes Faciles de Franoise Bernard, which might very well be the French equivalent of Joy of Cooking.

From there, I painstakingly attempted to recreate the recipes of my childhood, a calculator and dictionary in hand, translating (as does Annie in Hidden in Paris) kilos to pounds, and litters to gallons.

Preparing food became a lifeline for me, a project, a function that gave me both purpose and satisfaction, a way to stay connected, a way to express my love. Had I gotten pregnant right away I would not have had the time to indulge in two years of culinary exploration.

Cooking while under the influence

Twenty plus years later, cooking has become a very relaxed affair for me. Chopping away while sipping red wine (strictly for health reasons) and keeping an eye on homework are what my evenings are made of. Youll find in this book that Im silly at times in my descriptions of recipes and in my notes, because cooking should be fun. Fun to shop for, fun to prepare, and fun to eat. You can substitute all you want. Cooking is not baking. This is not a precise science. For example switch chicken with beef in the coq au vin recipe and ta-dah! you now have boeuf bourguignon. Replace the cheese and salt with chocolate and sugar in the souffl recipe, and you now have a dessert souffl. Replace salt and pepper with coffee extract and sugar and a bchamel sauce becomes a perfect filling for coffee clairs.

Who took the pictures in this book? Quick whats the name of this fabulous photographer?

Cooking and writing down the recipes in this book was the easy part. The hard part was to make them look photogenic. Stews, vegetables that have cooked for hours, and brown sauces can taste amazing but look just plain awful in pictures, especially when that picture is taken with a cell phone. It was quite the learning curve to teach myself the rudiments of food photography for this book, and to learn to operate a bona fide camera and tripod. There was frustration, there were thoughts of giving up, there was that awful moment when I accidentally spilled the entire contents of a glass of red wine on a pristinely styled table where a piping hot croque monsieur awaited its moment in the spotlight. Yet I came out from the experience of putting this collection of recipes together feeling more knowledgeable about photography, more inspired about cooking and, well, fatter. French women do get fat it turns out! But mostly I became motivated to continue sharing my excitement about food through writing and photography. So, although the idea was to give something to my readers, it turns out that I am the one who is benefiting the most from the experience.