Professor Butter Beard’s “Le Chef de l'Hôtel Chatham, Paris”
“In France, cooking is a serious art form and a national sport. Once you have mastered a (French) technique, you barely have to look at a recipe again. And, if you are afraid of butter, use cream.” – Julia Child
“À l’ancienne.” In France, when a dish is described as à l’ancienne (“in the old-fashioned manner”), you know it is going to be traditional, straightforward, and maybe even a bit rustic. Most often, these recipes are handed down through generations, utilizing classic French techniques and boldly standing the test of time. One of my treasured possessions is my Grandmother’s hand-written collection of recipes ranging from “Pecan Melt-A-Ways” to “Bacon Yum-Yums.” They may be a bit more Mid-Western Ohio then Paris, France, but I studied how her hands instinctively measured the ingredients, what ceramic mixing bowl she chose, the glass plate she used to serve, all steps mentally recorded and referenced every time I enter my kitchen and tie on my apron.
Training in a Paris kitchen has been a dream of mine for decades – if only for a delicious week. I imagine entering the hallowed ground quietly as I adjust my mile-high toque blanche, smooth an errant wrinkle on my starched apron and absorb every herbal aroma, the chaotic clattering of copper pans, the intense heat of the ovens and the solid voice of one heard above all others – the head chef.
My dear friend Wanda was the first to introduce me to the soulful portrait of the head chef of the Hotel Chatham in Paris. The crisp white folds of the chef's coat and toque, the still-life of bottle and wine and the thick raw chops are all painted with dazzling technique set against a deliciously contrasting dark background. The chef’s piercing auburn eyes are focused slightly off stage as if silently critiquing a plate ready for service. His exquisitely groomed beard and mustache (and fingernails) echo his self confidence and self-knowledge and oddly remind me of my first head chef ordering my beard and curls be cropped before I dare enter his kitchen! I trust this head chef and enjoy the knowledge that his recipes are most assuredly still being followed fastidiously to this day.
William Orpen painted “Le Chef de l'Hôtel” in 1921 and subsequently created quite a stir. The Irish-born Orpen was a fine draughtsman and a popular and commercially successful painter of portraits for the well-to-do in London’s Edwardian society, though many of his most striking paintings are self-portraits. The Tate Gallery was keen to acquire the portrait of the noble head chef as part of their growing collection. After Orpen assured the Tate that the painting met the bequest purchase conditions and that he had painted the picture entirely in Britain, the Tate officially announced the purchase. Then, in a twist, several witnesses came forward stating they had seen Orpen painting the picture in Paris. Orpen humbly withdrew from the purchase and gave the Tate a portrait of Sir William Symington McCormick instead and then submitted “Le Chef de l'Hotel Chatham, Paris” to the Royal Academy as his diploma painting.
A “Financier” is a small French almond flour cake, flavored with aromatic browned butter and usually baked in a small molds shaped like bars of gold. The combination of egg whites, nut flour and granulated sugar produce a light moist cake with a crisp, eggshell-like exterior. Legend has it that the French Visitandine order of nuns began baking these delightful morsels in the 17th century and the recipe and technique have been handed down meticulously ever since. According to another tradition, the small cakes became popular in the financial district of Paris surrounding the Paris stock exchange, as the cake could easily be stored in the pocket for long periods without being damaged.
For me, the simple, yet exact, technique is classic, or à l’ancienne, but I must admit to personally adapting them to the season by varying the spices and topping them with such tidbits as black cherries, ripe peaches and plums, dark chocolate or whole roasted hazelnuts. I wonder if my interpretations might receive the same silent critique from the Parisian head chef’s auburn eyes.
Dark Cherry Financiers
24 Financiers
You will need two mini-muffin pans (twelve muffins per pan) – prepped by brushing with melted butter and dust with all-purpose flour
4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, browned – instructions below
2 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted to prep the muffin pans (and about 2 Tbsp of all-purpose flour to dust the pans)
1 ¼ cup nut flour – either almond or hazelnut (I suggest Bob’s Red Mill)
¾ cup granulated sugar
4 Tbsp all-purpose flour
½ tsp kosher salt
1 tsp cinnamon (or Chinese Five-Spice, or ground ginger)
2/3 cup egg whites (save the whites from all those custards and homemade ice cream)
One dozen dark cherries, pitted and halved
Slivered almonds (if desired)
1) Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
2) Prep by muffin tins by brushing then with 2 Tbsp melted butter and dusting with all-purpose flour.
3) Melt the 4 ounces of unsalted butter in a 10-inch skillet over medium-high heat. Continue to cook, stirring and scraping skillet with a rubber spatula, until the milk solids are dark golden brown, and the butter has a nutty aroma. Transfer the butter and all the bits to a heatproof bowl and let cool to room temperature.
4) Whisk together the nut flour, sugar, 4 Tbsp all-purpose flour, salt and chosen spice. Stir in the egg whites and continue to stir until the mixture is smooth. Stir in the browned butter until it is fully incorporated. Distribute the batter evenly into the muffin tins (they should be about ½ full.
5) Top each financier with a cherry half. Be sure not to press them in or they will sink to the bottom and stick to the pan. Top with a couple almond slivers (if desired).
6) Bake for roughly 15 minutes until the edges are well browned and tops are golden. Remove from the oven and immediately lift each financier onto a wire rack to cool. I also suggest a light dusting of confectionaries’ sugar before serving.
William Orpen, “Self-Portrait Painting ‘Sowing New Seed’,” 1913, oil on canvas, Saint Louis Art Museum.
