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Americans, as a group, tend to know more about condiments than sauces. Perhaps if the
French had taken more of an interest in conquering the New World than selling us out with
the Louisiana Purchase, things would be different today. Instead, we were primarily
settled in our formative years by cooks from the British Isles and Northern Europe, and
our traditional cuisine reflects that and our national ignorance about sauces. In fact,
when I teach cooking classes, the number one question I’m asked, even by accomplished
cooks, is “Can you please teach me to make a really good sauce?”After French chefs learn to wash and peel
potatoes and such, they can often spend nearly a year learning how to create the sauces
that distinguish their artistry. They begin with the white sauces (bechamel and veloute),
move on to the brown sauces (petit jus and semi-demi-glace), then the oil-and-vinegar
sauces (vinaigrettes), and the rich, fluffy mayonnaises, hollandaises and bearnaises.
Although these are the most basic,
literally hundreds of sauces make up the landscape of French cooking — bordelaise,
creme le la moutarde, Perigueux, provencale, bouilli-bouillie, parisienne, espagnole,
rouille, nivernaise, Mornay and soubise are among the most famous. We aren’t even
discussing the myriad dessert sauces!
No one really knows how long the
French have been making sauces, but they found peak expression with that most famous chef,
Escoffier. The idea behind all of them was not so much to gild the lily, but to construct
a silk purse from a sow’s ear. The French, like the Chinese, like to take the
lowliest cut of meat, the most ordinary fish, the most common vegetable, and elevate it by
the delightful napping of a sauce, into something completely different — something
sublime.
In recent years, traditional
sauces have gotten a bad rap by the diet police. Nouvelle cuisine was born from the idea
that these sauces, with their bases in flour, butter, rich broths and cream, were too
heavy and too fattening. Chefs of this school spend a lot of time concocting reductions
and essences from vegetables, fruits and meats. The beauty of the old sauces is that they
can be made fairly quickly, whereas the nouvelle sauces take a lot of time and require
large volumes of ingredients that cook away to nearly nothing. They’re fine for
restaurants, but quite time-consuming for the home cook.
Technique is ultimately the most
important factor. Some Americans simply combine flour, butter, milk and broth and boil it
for sauces and gravies. To the French, it’s all in the roux.
A roux is a combination of flour
and butter, and is the thing that gives a sauce its velvety thickness when done just
right. In New Orleans, the last bastion of the French, there is an amazing variety of
roux, largely depending on the length of time the flour is stirred, over heat, into the
melted butter. They range from pale, to golden, to red, brown and even a roux that looks
nearly black.
A bechamel is a sauce in which you
slowly whisk milk into the roux. A veloute is one in which you do the same with chicken or
vegetable stock. Once you have a perfectly creamy bechamel, you may stir in grated cheese
for a Mornay sauce, which is wonderful over chicken, fish, potatoes and many vegetables.
If you stir in a little white wine to a veloute, you have just the thing for seafood. Or
you can create your own sauce by flavoring with spices and herbs, or stir in a little some
finely chopped spinach for color.
Another old favorite is
hollandaise for seafood and green vegetables. It is a trick to get it exactly the right
texture without separating or the egg yolks curdling, so follow the instructions
carefully, because its tart, creamy, lemony flavor is worth the trouble. You can
substitute white wine or tarragon vinegar for the lemon juice and add chopped tarragon for
a bernaise which is simply super on grilled steaks.
A tomato fondue can be the basis
of a wonderful sauce for eggs, pasta, chicken or anything else you fancy. I like to make a
lot in summer, when tomatoes are at their peak, and freeze it in small batches for the
winter. You can add the fondue to any of the other sauces for color and flavor, or spoon a
little into the pan juices of anything you’re preparing, add a dash of wine, and stir
rapidly to deglaze the bottom of the pan. The resulting sauce is always a little more
sophisticated than the simple pan juices.
Master these few sauces, and you
will find that you get many new compliments. Have fun adding flavors and ingredients of
your choice, and you might get a reputation as a creative cook. Bon appetit!
Sauce Hollandaise
Lee Clement Piper
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons water
1/4 teaspoon salt
Large pinch of fresh black pepper
(or my favorite, cayenne)
3 egg yolks
2 tablespoons cold butter
1 stick (8 oz.) melted butter
Additional salt, pepper, lemon
juice
In a small saucepan, simmer the
lemon juice, water, salt and pepper until it reduces by half. Add the cold butter to the
lemon juice reduction. Whisk the egg yolks together in a small stainless bowl, or the top
of a small double boiler. In a very small stream, add the lemon juice to the yolks,
whisking constantly. Set bowl over, not in (this is important) a small pan of simmering
water. Continue whisking. Add the melted butter in a slow stream to the lemon/yolk
mixture, whisking constantly. Heat, whisking until the sauce is slightly thinner than
mayonnaise. Remove from heat, but keep warm. Makes 1-1/2 cups.
Tomato Fondue
Lee Clement Piper
1 cup minced onions
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons minced garlic
4 cups of peeled, seeded, chopped
tomatoes
1 tablespoon basil
1 teaspoon oregano
Salt and pepper
In a saute pan, heat the olive oil
and add the onions. Cook over a medium heat until the onions are softened, about 8
minutes. Add the garlic and cook about two minutes more. Add the tomatoes and herbs and
cook over a low heat for about 20 to 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add a little water
if the sauce sticks. Remove from heat and season to taste. May be frozen, as is. Makes 2
cups. |
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