The Old Cuisine Wins New Allure

By Michael Demarest

Mother's cooking goes to the head of the table

The best cookbooks are much more than collections of recipes. They involve the history, economics, technology, climate, social order and religion that shape a nation's cooking. This concern with context is evident in the major cookbooks of the past few years, in which origins are sought out, variations explored and invention honored. At the same time, they have marked a retreat from the ostentatious extremes of "new" cuisines, from what Author Paula Wolfert calls "front of the mouth" food. "Though these dishes may appeal to the tips of our tongues," she maintains, "there is no real depth to them, and not much desire to eat them again." Wolfert and other notable cookbook authors in the past year or so have shown less interest in revolutionary recipes than in what the French call "Mother's cooking."

In The Cooking of South-West France (Dial; $24.95), Wolfert presents the first up-to-date comprehensive study of this exemplary but little-known cuisine. She calls it "a magnificent peasant cookery in the process of being updated . . . modern, honest, yet still close to the earth." An inventive cook and author of two classic books, Couscous and Other Good Food from Morocco and Mediterranean Cooking, Wolfert found herself committed to "a passionate long-term enterprise" that took five years to complete.

Though relatively poor, France's sudouest is blessed with some of Europe's greatest culinary riches: the truffles of Perigord, Bayonne ham, Roquefort cheese, Armagnac, walnuts, chestnuts, wild mushrooms, vast amounts of poultry and pork. It is the principal home of foie gras and boasts more than 100 hot and cold dishes based on duck or goose liver, some accented with sauerkraut, seaweed, prunes and green grapes. Duck is to the southwest what steak is to Texas, observes Wolfert, whose 30 or so recipes for the bird range from duck sausage with green apples and chestnuts to duck breasts with capers and marrow. Above all, the region is unified in its passion for confits, or preserved meats.

The most celebrated dish of the southwest is cassoulet, a concoction of meat and dried beans that is the subject of as many variations and arguments as bouillabaisse or chili. After tasting dozens of versions, the author found the ultimate cassoulet at the Hotel de France in Auch, prepared by the celebrated Gascon chef Andre Daguin. Made with fresh fava beans and confit of duck, it is a contrast in flavors and textures that struck her as nothing less than "a miracle." American cooks should be equally impressed.

Wolfert believes that the southwest has more varieties of soup than all the rest of France. The greatest, though little known outside the region, is garbure, a creation of cabbage, beans, salt pork and endless embellishments. In Wolfert's interpretation it becomes a thick stew enriched with preserved duck or goose, ham hock and garlic sausage. Among other distinctive potages, she stirs up a modern version of a traditional Basque soup called ttoro and an oyster veloute with black caviar made from Gironde River sturgeon.

Wolfert confesses that she has "always been seduced by dishes off the beaten track," and prepares such southwest enticements as scallops in tangerine sauce, straw potato cake stuffed with braised leeks, compote of rabbit with prunes, trout with mountain-cured ham and bacon, mint parfait filled with chocolate mousse, roast figs, priest's omelet (a not so monastic dish with livers, kidneys, mushrooms and Madeira) and Catalan salad; the latter is described by one writer as being "like a Spanish inn. It accepts everyone and everything it can hold." The words apply equally well to this entire regional cuisine. Wolfert has preserved it magically, like a confit between covers.

The ever evolving nature of eating and entertaining is the theme of Eliane Ame-Leroy Carley's Classics from a French Kitchen (Crown; $24.95). A niece of the eminent French historian Maxime Leroy, Carley spent 14 years researching gastronomic lore. She brings a wealth of anecdote and historic insight to her urbane collection of more than 300 recipes, some of which were given to her mother by the great Auguste Escoffier. They are not the oversauced, cholesterol-laden dishes usually associated with haute cuisine, but rather a selection of those basic Romano-Gallic admixtures of flavor, ingenuity and stirring skills that date at least as far back as the first recorded omelet (said to have been whipped up by Lucullus from an ostrich egg in 90 B.C.).

Carley's recipes are uncomplicated and easy to prepare, thanks to meticulous instructions and many of what the French call trucs, or tips; for example, stirring in cornstarch or arrowroot to ensure curdle-proof hollandaise sauce. She lives in the U.S. and prescribes no ingredients that are not easily available. Classics includes eleven sole dishes, more than 20 soups and some 40 sauces. Highlights: veal provenc,ale in aspic; cabbage leaves stuffed with ham, chestnuts and cream; noisettes of pork with prunes and cream; Jean-Jacques Rousseau's beef daube; souffle crepes with Grand Marnier; molded raspberry ice cream; and the authentic French fries (they must be fried twice).

Charming as well as practical, Classics contains a bouillabaisse of historical tidbits. Charles de Gaulle, for instance, was so fond of soup that he insisted on a different one each day; he also once demanded: "How can you govern a country that has 346 cheeses?" Here is Victor Hugo on turkey: "This is a ridiculous animal. There is maybe a little too much for one, but certainly not enough for two!" As early as 1653, Cookbook Author Franc,ois Pierre de La Varenne noted 16 recipes for scrambled eggs. For centuries, until the 18th, royal and upper-class meals were always accompanied by singing. It was called vaudeville.

Virtually all of the world's distinctive cuisines boast soups and stews worth singing about. With some great dishes, such as minestrone, couscous, Belgian waterzooie and Greek souppa pashalini, it is hard to say where soup ends and stew begins. Whatever their appellations, they rate star billing at today's dinner table. These body-and soul-warming concoctions are appetizingly assembled by Dorothy Ivens in Main-Course Soups and Stews (Harper & Row; $15.95), along with appropriate menus in which to lodge them.

Some of the most satisfying of all supersoups are American: New England chowders, Louisiana gumbo, Philadelphia pepper pot, California cioppino, for which Ivens has traditional prescriptions. Ivens also contributes such variants as lamb and split pea soup (adding a Middle Eastern flavor with mint, dill and yogurt), a soup of short ribs and lentils, and another made with beef and beans. A summer classic rarely seen on U.S. menus is Portugal's caldo verde, a delicate blend of kale, potatoes and sausage. One chapter is devoted to vegetable potages, including the soupe au pistou of southern France, Italian garbanzo and pasta soup, and gazpacho. Fish soups include a spicy Peruvian chowder, Italian zuppa di pesce, and a Mediterranean concoction flavored with Pernod, as well as an elegant oyster stew and a striped-bass offering from Manhattan.

Ivens, who wrote the excellent Glorious Stew, whisks with authority through the steamy world of navarin, khoreshe, blanquette, ragout, jambalaya, estouffade, carbonado, col lops and pot-au-feu. She presents Italian, French and Viennese versions of Hungarian goulash, "five fragrances" stew from China, and two savory South American specialties: puchero criolla, a Latin version of New England boiled dinner, and carbonada criolla, beef stew served in a pumpkin. One notable entry is a veal stew from Jerez, Spain's sherry capital, redolent of fino; a dish from Italy is called maiale affogato, meaning drowned pork, in white wine and chicken broth. Lamb stews, to many are the most glorious of all. Main-Course selections worth adding to the cook's repertoire include an exotic Persian-style khoreshe with dried fruits, nuts and split peas; Italian abbacchio alia ciociara, in which the lamb is braised in cognac with ham; and Greek ami prassa, flavored with foaming egg and lemon stirred in at the last minute. Ivens covers the casserole front with duck stews, chicken stews, rabbit stews and even some surprisingly tasty vegetable stews. All that seem missing from this superb compendium are Lancashire hot pot and Scottish cockaleekie.

But hold the stew! Can the soup! The name of Carol Cutler's new cookbook says it all: Pate, the New Main Course for the '80s (Rawson; $14.95). Cutler, who is chief American consultant for TIME-LIFE Books' Good Cook series and the author of three previous cookbooks, maintains that most pates and terrines (the terms here are used almost interchangeably) are too filling, too important to serve as a first course. And she effectively demolishes the myths that they are fattening, costly and difficult to make. Pates have another great virtue in the age of rush: they must be completely prepared in advance, eliminating last-minute booboos, and actually improve with a few days' aging. "A pate," according to Cutler, "is nothing more than a French meat loaf that's had a couple of cocktails."

Here the panoply ranges from cottage-plain to Maxim's-fancy, blue-jeans casual to black-tie serious. A brunch solution is smoked haddock pate with gingered tomato relish. For a hot-weather surprise, there is a chicken in lemon aspic; for a winter warmer, a classic French country pate. There are individual hot pates in pastry, one made with crab, another with carrots, and a tricolor fish terrine. Since most main-course pates are served cold, they demand a reordering of menus, which Cutler does imaginatively. Indeed, the supporting dishes she suggests are often as tempting as the main event. They include cauliflower with shrimp sauce, pear gratin, mushroom flan, mango sherbet, gratineed blueberries, chocolate omelet, hot banana puffs and icy oranges with hot orange-ginger sauce. One menu, featuring shrimp with Pernod, a grand veal and ham pate en croute, and honeydew balls in strawberry sauce, would make a fine if unorthodox dinner for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Indian cuisine, one of the world's richest, is poorly represented in print and on restaurant row. So voyage to India with Madhur Jaffrey and Indian Cooking (Barren's; $7.95). The Delhi-born actress, who won wide acclaim in Britain with a BBC series on which this book is based, traces the varied outside influences--Mogul, Portuguese, British--as well as regional and religious traditions that have formed the subcontinent's unique culinary character. Its only common denominator is the symphonic interweaving of spices, seasonings and flavorings.

Jaffrey observes that many of the techniques used in nouvelle cuisine have been commonplace in India for centuries. The dark sauces, for example, are seldom thickened with flour, but with onions, garlic, ginger, yogurt and tomatoes. Her book lists a subtle series of inviting vegetable preparations that could well accompany Western dishes: mushrooms and potatoes cooked with garlic and ginger, spicy green beans, sweet and sour okra, eggplant "cooked in pickling style." Better yet, serve them with the great main dishes of India. Memorable recipes, including several in which lamb replaces hard-to-find goat, range from Persian-derived shahi korma ("royal" lamb or beef with a creamy almond sauce) to Kashmiri red lamb stew. Other party entrees include Mughlai lamb-and-rice casserole, chicken with almonds and sultanas, and easy-to-make haddock baked in yogurt sauce. Jaffrey describes a technique by which the home cook can simulate the tandoori-style dishes offered by so many Indian restaurants without investing in the expense of a clay oven. And she has the definitive recipe (among dozens) for mulligatawny, the classic Anglo-Indian soup.

Some of the rice dishes in Indian Cooking are irresistible. The toothsome Indian breads are well represented, as are chutneys, relishes and pickles. Interestingly, the word curry--an English coinage--does not occur once in this book.

While American restaurant food is now the world's most cosmopolitan, a Russian meal is almost as hard to buy in the U.S. as a Big Mac in Dnepropetrovsk. This vacuum can be filled by the home cook, with lively guidance from Darra Goldstein's delightful A la Russe (Random House; $16.95). The 15 Soviet republics have an extraordinarily diverse cuisine, embracing the cookery of Eastern Europe and Central Asia, representing regions from the Black Sea to the Arctic Circle, reflecting tsarist extravagance and peasant reality. (Goldstein will follow a recipe for sturgeon soup with champagne, a favorite of Catherine the Great, with ukha, a fisherman's broth.) The author learned many dishes from her grandmother, an emigre from Byelorussia; and in her great-grandfather's butcher shop, she writes, "Marc Chagall played as a child." An assistant professor of Russian literature at Williams College, she has also feasted on native fare as a student in Leningrad and as a guide for a traveling U.S. Department of Agriculture exhibit. Goldstein reports that despite numbing food shortages, "the art of Russian cooking is still thriving."

Goldstein's A la Russe brings alive many of the mouth-watering meals of Russian literature, like the robust soups and breads of Gogol's Ukrainian tales. Borsch, the rich beet soup considered typically Russian, is actually native to the Ukraine, which boasts 100 varieties; included here are a Ukrainian and a Moscow version. The spicy food of Georgia is a prized addition to the blander Russian cuisine, notably tabaka (pressed and grilled chicken), as well as the more familiar shashlyk from the Caucasus. Among other dishes well known to the West, beef Stroganoff and Russian salad were actually created by French chefs; chicken Kiev, however, was invented in that city long before Moscow became the Soviet capital; Goldstein provides practical recipes for all three.

Specialties that deserve an honorable place on the American table include kulebyaka, the glorious salmon pie described by Chekhov as "shameless in its nakedness, a temptation to sin"; pirozhki, the more plebeian meat or vegetable pies; kidney and dill pickle soup; Azerbaidzhan lamb patties; veal stew with cherries; Ukrainian honey cake; smetannik, a rich pie of sour cream, jam and nuts; and the celebrated Guriev kasha, a thickened compote of brandied fruits. To round out a Russian banquet, Goldstein provides instructions for a dozen deliciously flavored vodkas, and with them a toast to the meal: Eshte, eshte na zdorovye! Eat, eat to your health! --ByMichaelDemarest This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.