The Pat Conroy Cookbook

by Pat Conroy

  I said goodbye to Paris slowly, and it took two weeks to pull it off. Again I went to all the places Hemingway mentions in A Moveable Feast. I drank a “black” wine from Cahors because he did, and I had a Rhum St. James at a café near Place St. Michel because Hemingway had done so. I lingered outside the sawmill on the night before I would leave Paris for a car trip to Rome with friends.

  Then I walked to the Closerie des Lilas to have a cognac at the restaurant where Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald had dined in Paris. I had stood outside the restaurant many times, committing the menu to memory but was unable to eat there because it cost a hundred bucks a person at that time, and my budget was too strict to engage in such a guilty pleasure. But I went at dinnertime, in coat and tie, and the maitre d’ led me out to a courtyard, where he seated me at a small table beneath an umbrella. I possessed a sense of completion that I have rarely felt before or since in my lifetime. The book I had written I liked very much, and it pleased me very much that the city of Paris had a hand in the writing of it. A waiter appeared and I ordered an Armagnac.

  Two men entered the patio with the maitre d’, and I thought I recognized one of them. The taller of the two was the familiar one; he nodded to me in passing, and I nodded back. They sat two tables away from me, but I was seated looking straight at them. The shorter one was a reporter, and he began interviewing the taller man. After they had spoken for several moments, I realized that Paris had granted me one last extraordinary gift. As I make my way around this life, I look for signs and baubles and charms and amulets and secret texts that there is a meaning and significance to human life that is under the control of some great moderating force. I like the glimpses of sorcery and fantasy that sometimes enter the human arena at the oddest, most unexpected times. At the table in front of me, I watched and listened as John Hemingway, Bumby was interviewed by a reporter for the International Herald Tribune. I did not go up to introduce myself. I have always regretted that, but I was too struck by the wonder of the moment and the incomparable glory of the great city.

  ROASTED WHITE ASPARAGUS WITH PARMIGIANO-REGGIANO • SERVES 4

  1¾ pounds white asparagus (about 20 stalks)

  Olive oil

  Shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano

  Coarsely ground black pepper

  2 Roasted Lemons (page 51)

  1. Preheat the oven to 400°F.

  2. Rinse and dry the asparagus. Using a vegetable peeler, peel the bottom half of each stalk.

  3. Place the asparagus in a shallow roasting pan, drizzle with olive oil, and place in the oven. Roast until tender, about 20 minutes.

  4. Transfer asparagus to serving plates. Top each serving with a couple of shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano and ground black pepper. Serve a roasted lemon half alongside the asparagus.

  Roasted White Asparagus with Shallot Butter While the asparagus is roasting, sauté 2 finely chopped shallots in 4 tablespoons (½ stick) unsalted butter until lightly browned. Transfer the asparagus to serving plates, season with salt and pepper, and top with the shallot butter.

  Roasted White Asparagus with Tasso Ham and Pecans While the asparagus is roasting, sauté ¼ cup finely chopped pecans in 2 tablespoons unsalted butter until browned. Stir in ¼ cup diced Tasso ham and cook until warmed through. Transfer the asparagus to serving plates, season with pepper, and top with pecans and ham.

  SOLE EN PAPILLOTE I once went on a parchment paper frenzy that lasted about six months. It was the showy moment of presentation when I cut open the packet and the steam rose up in all its perfumed glory that I adored. I have come across no better way to cook seafood. It is also a great way to show off and bring attention to yourself.

  • SERVES 4

  2 leeks (white parts only), cleaned and finely chopped

  2 carrots, julienned

  4 sole fillets (about 6 ounces each)

  Olive oil

  Unsalted butter

  8 sprigs fresh thyme

  Coarse or kosher salt and freshly ground white pepper

  1. Preheat the oven to 400° F.

  2. Cut four 12 × 12-inch squares of parchment paper.

  3. Place an equal amount of leeks and carrots in the center of each parchment square and top with a sole fillet. Drizzle olive oil over each fillet, dot with butter (sparingly), and top with 2 sprigs thyme.

  4. Bring the open ends of the parchment together over the center of the fillet and fold the paper over once (along the entire length) to seal it. Gently but firmly continue folding the paper down and crimp the ends into an airtight packet.

  5. Transfer the packets to a baking sheet and brush them with olive oil.

  6. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes (the paper will begin to brown and the packet will start to puff up), turning the pan once to ensure even cooking.

  7. Transfer packets to serving plates, tear (or cut) open the tops and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Serve immediately, while the steam is still rising from the packets.

  ROAST CHICKEN WITH GRAINY MUSTARD SAUCE When I lived in Paris while finishing up The Lords of Discipline, the nonpareil food writer Waverley Root wrote an article saying the great French chefs were ultimately judged by how well they roasted a chicken. The second great test was how the chef prepared a plate of lamb’s kidneys, a subject I know much less about. In the cooking of meat, there is only one unforgivable crime, which is overcooking until a piece of meat is dry and tasteless and irredeemable. In the world of meat, dryness is taboo unless you happen to be making beef jerky. The chicken meat here should be tender and irresistible. The tarragon is très French and très Julia Child.

  • SERVES 4

  ¼ cup olive oil

  4 tablespoons (½ stick) unsalted butter

  Two 2½-pound chickens (fryers or broilers)

  4 shallots, peeled

  4 garlic cloves, smashed

  4 sprigs fresh thyme

  4 sprigs fresh tarragon

  1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns

  1 lemon, halved

  Grainy Mustard Sauce (see opposite)

  1. Preheat the oven to 375°F.

  2. Place the olive oil and butter in a small saucepan over moderate heat until the mixture gets foamy, about 3 minutes. Rinse the chickens (inside and out) under cool running water and pat dry with paper towels. Fill the cavity of each bird with half the shallots, garlic cloves, thyme, tarragon, and peppercorns. Rub each chicken with half a cut lemon and then put it in the cavity, too.

  3. Using a basting brush, coat the birds (on all sides and in crevices) with butter and olive oil mixture. Place in the oven and roast until skin is crisp and meat is thoroughly cooked but still juicy, 55 to 60 minutes. (An instant-read meat thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the thigh should read 165 to 170°F.) About halfway through, rotate the pan so the chickens brown on all sides.

  4. Transfer the chickens to a cutting board when done, and let them rest 10 minutes before carving. To carve, use a sharp heavy knife to separate the legs and thighs and the wing portions. Then slide a knife with a thinner blade down each side of the breast bone, scooping out the breast section and leaving the skin intact. Each chicken will serve two people: overlap one leg, thigh, and wing to form a base for one side of breast meat. Top with sauce and serve.

  Grainy Mustard Sauce •MAKES 1 % CUPS

  ½ cup dry Vermouth

  1 cup Chicken Stock (page 11)

  ¾ cup heavy cream

  ¼ cup grainy Dijon mustard

  1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh tarragon

  1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh thyme

  Coarse or kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  Add the vermouth to the chicken stock and, in a large saucepan over moderately high heat, reduce the mixture by half. Place the heavy cream in a small bowl and whisk in about ¼ cup of the hot stock. Slowly whisk the cream mixture back into the hot stock. Whisk in the mustard and reduce the heat, simmering until slightly thickened, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the herbs, season with salt and pepper, and ladle over th
e chicken.

  BRAISED SHORT RIBS My wife, Sandra, and I like to cook braised short ribs on those lamentable occasions when we are visited by the loutish and randy sons of her first marriage. I generally tell people that Sandra told me on our first date that she had never married and never had children, but that is a demonstrable lie. What she did do, with extraordinary craft and guile, was to keep her brutish sons out of sight until the marriage vows were spoken, after which the freeloading, broke hucksters made a beeline for my house. They brought the appetites of hippopotamuses with them, along with bags of filthy laundry, tattoos, and holes in every part of their anatomy for the careful placement of earrings, nose pieces, and accessories. They have the IQs of what you might expect of boys raised in Alabama. (That’s a joke, Alabama and Doubleday lawyers.)

  As a literary aside, I would like to note that my wife wrote her superb novel The Sunday Wife about her many years’ experience as the wife of a minister. Her main character, the demure and pretty Dean Lynch, seems based with some accuracy on Cassandra’s own life, with one glaring exception: Dean Lynch is childless, and after meeting my “sorry” stepsons (my nickname for them), I understand why better than anyone else. The boys are named Jim, Jason, and Jacob, an obvious J obsession running through the family. Sandra admitted to me she had already picked out the name of her fourth son if she’d had one—Jesus. Which is exactly what I would cry out when they pulled into the driveway, penniless, unshaven, with their dilapidated automobiles and their wallets full of canceled credit cards. Sandra and I fed them very well, then sent them reeling back to live out their desperate and wild lives with the sad-eyed young women who love them.

  Fortunately, the “sorry” stepsons have a terrific sense of humor since they have to put up with this kind of joking on every visit. Jim, Jason, and Jacob are actually marvelous and successful young men: Jim’s a doctor and neurobiologist, Jason an artist and a chef, and Jake a therapist, working toward a doctorate. • SERVES 4 HEARTY EATERS

  2 bottles dry red wine

  2 parsnips, coarsely chopped (about 1 cup)

  2 carrots, coarsely chopped (about 1 cup)

  1 red onion, coarsely chopped (about 1 cup)

  5 pounds beef short ribs, cut flanken or Korean style

  Coarse or kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  1 cup all-purpose flour

  3 tablespoons olive oil

  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

  1. In a heavy saucepan over medium heat, bring the red wine to a boil. Add the parsnips, carrots, and onion and remove from heat.

  2. Place the ribs, flat side down, in a shallow baking pan (large enough to hold the ribs in one layer). When the red wine cools, pour wine and vegetables over ribs. Turn the ribs in wine and cover with aluminum foil. Marinate overnight, turning at least once.

  3. To cook the ribs: Remove from the marinade, dry thoroughly with paper towels, and set aside. Strain the vegetables from the marinade, reserving both. In a small heavy saucepan over moderate heat, clarify the marinade by bringing it to a boil and skimming the surface of all impurities. Reserve.

  4. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Place rack in middle of oven.

  5. Sprinkle the ribs with salt and pepper and dredge in flour. In a large heavy frying pan over moderately high heat, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil until hot but not smoking. Working in small batches, sear ribs on all sides to form a crust, about 5 minutes total. (This is a messy but necessary step that will greatly add to the flavor of the finished dish.) As the ribs brown, remove them to a large roasting pan. Add more olive oil to the pan and repeat.

  6. When all the ribs are browned, add the remaining olive oil, vegetables, and garlic and cook, stirring frequently to loosen any browned bits stuck on the bottom of the pan, 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in the reserved marinade and pour the mixture over the ribs. (If there is not enough wine to come halfway up the sides of the ribs, add warm beef or chicken stock.) Cover tightly with foil. Place in oven until meat is tender and falls away from the bone, about 2½hours. Cool ribs to room temperature before refrigerating overnight.

  7. Preheat the oven to 350°F.

  8. Remove all congealed fat from surface of the ribs and marinade. Place the ribs in a roasting pan, cover with foil, and place in the oven.

  9. In a small saucepan, heat the marinade. Strain and discard solids. Continue to simmer marinade until slightly thickened, 5 to 8 minutes. Keep the sauce warm.

  10. When the ribs are heated through, transfer to a serving plate and top with the warm sauce.

  HOT POTATO SALAD WITH VINEGAR On the market street ruede Seine, near my hotel in Paris, during the winter months a dapper man with a beret made a version of hot potato salad with vinegar dressing. He tried to tell me what Paris was like during the war, and he still did not seem to like Germans very well. He sold cooked artichokes and mushrooms à la grecque and an onion soup that was wonderfully complex. The vinegar he used on the potatoes was homemade, the recipe handed down through generations of his family. I asked for it, but he snorted and refused and said it was a family secret. One unstated theme of this cook book is that no one ever shares a recipe with me. • SERVES 4

  3 thick slices smoky bacon, coarsely chopped

  2 shallots, finely chopped

  1½ pounds Red Bliss potatoes (as uniform and as small as possible), scrubbed but not peeled

  Olive oil

  Best-quality white wine vinegar

  Coarse or kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

  2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

  2 tablespoons snipped fresh chives

  1. In a small skillet over moderate heat, cook the bacon until it begins to render some of its fat, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the shallots and cook until the bacon is crisp and the shallots are browned. Remove from the heat and set aside.

  2. Steam the potatoes in a vegetable steamer until just tender, about 20 minutes. Drain in a colander and cut in half (or into quarters, depending on size). Place the potatoes in a large mixing bowl, drizzle with olive oil, and toss. Repeat with vinegar. The potatoes should be coated but not drenched. (There are no exact proportions of olive oil and vinegar for this salad; it all depends on how absorbent the potatoes are.)

  3. Let the potatoes sit for 15 minutes to drink in the dressing. If the potatoes need more vinegar, add it now. (They will probably not need more oil.) Add the bacon and shallot mixture, then salt and pepper to taste.

  4. Sprinkle the parsley and chives over the potatoes and toss gently. Serve while still warm.

  CHOCOLATE CRÊPES When I first got to Atlanta in the early seventies, there existed a trendy little restaurant called the Magic Pan, which specialized in the preparation of crêpe dishes. I even went through my own crêpe period later on in the decade, specializing for a time in a seafood crêpe that contained morsels of crab, shrimp, and scallops. Suzanne makes her crêpes with ease. I have always been one of those cooks who overwatches the batter, then worries it in the pan when it should just be cooking. • SERVES ABOUT 8

  FOR THE CRÊPES

  3 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus additional

  2 large eggs

  1 tablespoon granulated sugar

  Pinch of salt

  1 cup whole milk

  ¾ cup all-purpose flour

  1 tablespoon hazelnut liqueur (optional)

  FOR THE FILLING

  9½ to 10 ounces bittersweet chocolate (such as Scharffen Berger)

  Confectioners’ sugar for sprinkling

  1. To prepare the crepe batter: Melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat.

  2. In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs, sugar, and salt together. Add the milk to the melted butter and pour half the milk and butter into the eggs. Sift in the flour and whisk, then add the remaining milk and butter. Whisk in the hazelnut liqueur, if using. When the mixture is smooth, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 1 hour or overnight to let the gluten expand. Bring to room temperature before using.

  3. To make th
e crêpes: Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a nonstick sauté pan over medium-high heat. Ladle about 2 tablespoons of batter into the hot sauté pan and quickly tilt the pan so the batter spreads evenly. When little bubbles appear on the surface and the edges begin to brown, about 1 minute, lift the edge of the crêpe with a spatula and flip. Cook for another 30 seconds (the second side will not brown as much as the first side).

  4. Invert the sauté pan over a plate to remove the crêpe. Continue cooking the crêpes, adding more butter as needed. Stack the crêpes between paper towels or wax paper and keep warm.

  5. To make the filling: In a double boiler over hot but not boiling water, melt the chocolate just until soft enough to stir. The consistency of the melted chocolate should be thick, not runny.