Standing alone in the 3 a.m. darkness of a petite Paris apartment that my friends and I had called home for a week, I awakened from a dream in which I was picnicking on a grassy knoll with an exploding basket of runny cheeses and potato salad a la Francaise—the silky, vinaigrette-dressed potato salad that rivals the mayo-clad counterpart we all know and love. I groggily shuffled over to our tiny fridge to find nothing but a small heap of strawberries quietly rotting from our neglect. (This wasn’t quite the Paris experience I had hoped for.)

As the sun’s rays finally flooded through our windows, Paris came alive: the collective hum of scooters and cars, the faint clack-clack-clacks of women deftly walking in heels on the patchy cobblestone streets. I wound a scarf around my neck and soon I was clack-clacking along with them, on a mission to recreate my dream picnic.

But my Paris rendezvous with potato salad a la Francaise was not to be. The city is full of distractions when you’re on a mission—all kinds of amusements that only the strong-willed can resist: the streetside crepe stands, the artsy store window displays neighboring populated cafes on almost every corner. By the time I had reached La Grande Epicerie, the mothership of gourmet shops in Paris, to purchase my ingredients, I already had inhaled a ham and cheese crepe, a slice of pear tart (washed down with un chocolat viennois, nonetheless), and two chocolate croissants (How do the French stay so thin?). Clearly, my willpower needs a little more work.

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This story originally appeared in The Orange County Register.

The homely russet potato is not much to look at — especially when you compare it to the swirling architectural beauty of a head of Romanesco broccoli, or the seductive lipstick-red of a radish. But the russet’s allure lies beneath its skin: a creamy, unblemished flesh so versatile, it can transform into a bevy of appetizing eats using just about any cooking method invented.

Yes, these grubby little tubers clean up real nice.

One of my favorite russet makeovers is the galette, where potatoes take a cue from the Romanesco’s structural swirl. To make a galette, potatoes are cut into thin slices, then arranged in an overlapping spiral to form a circular tart. Between potato layers, you can use your imagination to add aromatics, herbs and cheese to flavor. I love the combination of onions, garlic and rosemary — it’s a fragrant classic that never disappoints in a potato dish. This combo also works well if you plan to serve the galette with meaty main courses like beef and lamb.

Now, it’s true that traditional galettes are prepared with a pastry crust, but this isn’t necessary when you’re using russet potatoes. When the galette is baked, the potato slices act as both crust and filling — the top and bottom layers crisp and brown into a crust all its own, while the galette’s center remains pillowy and light. After baking, the galette is inverted to showcase a smooth, even surface of golden potato goodness. (And I promise, inverting it is a lot easier than you may think.)

There are a few methods for making a potato galette, but the breeziest is baking with a nonstick cookie sheet. The sheet acts as a blank, wide canvas for you to create your masterpiece, and the Teflon coating keeps individual potato slices from sticking to the sheet when you eventually flip the galette over onto a serving plate.

This is also a recipe where you can brush up your knife skills. Making thin, wispy potato slices may take a bit of patience if you’re a newbie, but the end result is well worth it. And don’t worry if your slices are uneven or slivered. You can arrange slices to mask these imperfections – but only if you want. In my experience, the flawed, rustic galettes are the best ones. (more…)

My apologies for the light posting today. I can barely keep my eyes open — let alone attempt to say something with wit — because of all the meds I’m on right now. All I can offer you is this salad, and if my memory serves me well, it was a good one at that.

This peppery salad is the last thing I could taste before a nasty sinus infection set in and rendered my taste buds useless. But it could have been worse. The last thing I ate could have been something awful, like Brussels sprouts or a bowl of frozen peas. I thank my lucky stars.

It’s been a few days and I still can’t taste anything, but the memory of this simple salad still lives on. I loved the crouton-sized roasted sweet potatoes, which lent a sunny vibe to an otherwise wintery salad. (Click on “Read the rest of this entry” for recipe.)

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