If I could pick just two categories that I am hopelessly unfamiliar with, it is French food and pastry; would this also be a good time to mention that the recipe this post focuses on is David Leibovitz's Caramelised Endive and Blue Cheese Tart? This isn't a warning sign of a lapse into culinary masochism, though perhaps contending with pastry does come pretty close (or, at least, I thought it would), but more of a wish to combat some irrational preconceptions.
I think that I had a lot of assumptions about French food that could do with a degree of scrutiny. For example, one of the things that went through my mind pretty commonly went along the lines of "we never have wine in the flat so I don't think I can cook it". Clearly not every French dish requires imbibement, but I'd absorbed the notion that I'd need a cupboard full of Merlot, vermouth, dry sherry et al that I'd have no intention of drinking. Am I also right in thinking that the dishes that have alcohol are more likely to be the ones that include meat too? I think maybe a bit more research is in order.
On the matter of research, it's probably a good time to admit that I did take a short break to Paris back in 2015. This was a solo trip, that my 21-year old self probably wasn't quite ready for. It begun somewhat vexatiously with me not being able to locate my tucked-away hotel, taking the Metro to the next stop over before jumping into a taxi, breathlessly gasping "...salut!" and showing the driver a Google Maps screenshot of where I needed to get to. He then proceeded to drive me to an establishment approximately 10 metres from where I had begun; I am nothing if not a seasoned citizen of the world.
Honestly, the trip was a lot of fun and not something I regret doing, but I didn't have a lot of confidence to interact with anyone. In the evenings, I would find a supermarket with a self-service check out (and pray that all of the items in the bagging area would be wholly expected), grab a baguette, cheese and other assorted snacks before returning to my room to watch The X-Files. To this day, the first season of that show transports me right back to Paris. While this set me on the important life path of wanting to believe (and having a crush on both Mulder and Scully, of course), it meant that I didn't really eat any actual French food while I was out there. The closest thing was probably the pleasant pot of coffee that came with the de rigeur continental breakfast that was served in the mornings.
There is also the issue of there being an aura of fanciness around French food that doesn't seem to exist for other cuisines. Remember when it used to be super common on TV for someone to utter the phrase "...it's French" to denote some kind of superior pedigree of an item. That's not to mention the use of the language. A couple of years back I worked in a petrol station that stocked products from what is probably the UK's most pretentiously branded supermarket (again, not naming names). One day, we started stocking boxes of refrigerated fries that could be taken home and cooked in the oven. The catch? They were branded as "frites". Somehow, somewhere along the line the executive decision was taken to write the word fries in French to give a sense of mystique to fried potato sticks. If your eyebrows aren't currently levitating at about ceiling level, then I invite you to go to McDonald's (when they open again, mind) and ask the server for some grand frites.
I actually did have the plan earlier this year to take a trip out to a French city that wasn't Paris and try to be braver than five years ago. I found myself in Hanoi last year (albeit with my "travelling buddy" mother) mastering buses and trying my gosh-darn best to speak Vietnamese with a little success, so who's to say this couldn't be replicated in France? Well, personal finances inevitably got in the way, but maybe one day. For now, David's blog has been incredibly helpful. Not in the sense that it is any sort of masterclass, but mostly just for being exposed to French food that is often quite simple. That's not to say that there aren't any complex dishes or that there shouldn't be, but that there are some very accessible entry points. I think of the blogs Orangette and The Wednesday Chef as having a similar clarifying effect.
Now comes the issue of pastry. Its terrifying, or at least it seems that way when you're never working with it. I've had the impression that catastrophe can be irreversibly ushered in with a single rogue fold or an erring knead; this doesn't gel very well with the attitude I try to take in the kitchen that even if things don't go entirely to plan, it is very rare that the result is completely unsalvageable. In terms of a challenge, this recipe was relatively mild given that David himself uses shop bought pastry, which takes out part of the horror. As such, I can't say I've taken down the great wall of fear that surrounds this particular section of cooking, but it's a beginning. The stated parameters here were simply to take the quantity of prepared dough, and roll it out to a 12" round.
It'd be remiss to not inform you that I prepared this without the cast iron skillet that the original recipe calls for. I have to say, it is certainly ideal to cook this in a pan that is both oven-safe and able to fry on a medium-high heat, just for ease of assembly. I ended up using a wok to initially cook the endive before transferring over to a spring-form baking dish which was probably a little too small (but would just have to do). One day I'll write a post about trying to get by with less equipment than is deemed ideal, but today is not that day! If you do have access to cast iron skillet, or something similarly oven-proof, you will be able to tuck the pastry into the filling with greater success. I think I had trouble with this given that my own pastry had inflated like a balloon (you could say it had puffed up) and quickly deflated again on removal from the oven. This wasn't exactly an issue, but you could definitely tell that mine wasn't made with great finesse.
Attractiveness aside, I found this recipe to be worth the uncertainty, and as fraught as I've made the process sound, it was actually pretty calm overall. If the combination of bitter yet caramelised endive spears and salty blue cheese over a layer of pastry appeals to you, then check to see if you have anything that you could potentially make this in! To be honest, I think being able to improvise is a great way to develop your skills in the kitchen, and is a lot more important than the ability to present an immaculate tart tatin. If you don't eat pastry often, then you're still going to come out with something that feels pretty special and doesn't take a Herculean effort. Also, it only has seven ingredients, and that includes both salt and pepper, which is always welcome. As always I'll give some notes about adjustments below (looking at the blue cheese haters in particular here).
Sorry, one last thing; doesn't Endive Spears sound like it could be the name of Britney Spears younger sister?
David Leibovitz's Caramelised Endive and Blue Cheese Tart
Preparation time: 15 minutes
Cooking time: 55 minutes
Serves: 3-6 (depending on hunger + accompaniments)
Ingredients
2 tbsps of unsalted butter
450g of endive, about 7 spears
Pinch of salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1 tsp of sugar or honey
115g of blue cheese
230g puff pastry
Method
Preheat the oven to 180ºC (gas) or 160ºC (fan).
Cut the spears of endive in half lengthwise, and set aside. Melt the butter in a 9-inch cast iron skillet and sprinkle the salt and pepper over once the butter has melted.
Add the endive spears to the pan, cut side facing downwards. The pan may become crowded, but squeeze them all in and get them as close as possible.
Cook the spears over a medium-high heat, and press down on them with a spatula as they cook. Try not to disturb them or jostle them around too much, as they will caramelise best if kept in the same positions. After around 4 minutes, the cut sides should have browned. Apply the sugar or the honey evenly over the endive spears, cover the pan and put in the oven to bake for 25 minutes.
While the endive is in the oven, roll out the dough to a 12-inch circle. Getting this to be precisely circular was something I struggled with, but I found it helpful to turn the pastry incrementally and do two backwards and forwards rolls with the pin at each stage. I didn't get a perfect result, but it did leave me with something that was for the most part circular.
After the endive has had it's full time in the oven, remove the pan and scatter the blue cheese evenly throughout, making sure to get it in between the cracks as well as on top of the spears. Then, drape the pastry dough as neatly as possible over the endive, tucking in the edges around the spears and the inside of the pan. Try to drape the dough as flat over the endives as possible in order to avoid the trapping of air inside the tart.
Bake the tart for about 25 minutes, until the crust is golden brown. Remove from the oven and overturn on to a serving platting. I find it easiest to lay a plate over the top of the skillet and then flip it over. If any of the endive spears stick to the bottom of the skillet, carefully dislodge them and assemble them back on to the top of the tart.
If you like, add extra blue cheese on to the top or garnish with some chopped parsley. Serve warm.
Notes & Adjustments
For those who do not like blue cheese, do not fret! Flatmates-of-the-blog Owen and Rebecca had suggestions for replacement cheeses; Owen says a strong cheddar would be good, and Rebecca advocates for goats cheese.
As my spring-form dish was slightly smaller the cast iron skillet called for, I only used 2 endives for this dish (that is the pack size they commonly come in at supermarkets). If you are using less endive than the stated quantity, consider cutting them into quarters rather than halves.
Endive is often sold in the UK under the name chicory.
I served this with some roasted new potatoes, but I imagine this would also be good with some baguette and a salad too.
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