There's something magical about the changing of seasons, isn't there? As the leaves start their annual dance here on Whidbey Island, painting the landscape in warm hues of amber and gold, I find myself drawn to the kitchen. It's as if the crisp air whispers secrets of comfort and warmth, urging us to shift our culinary focus to what my dear friend Jackie affectionately calls "Soul Food."
When you hear "soul food," your mind might wander to Southern American classics, but for me, soul food transcends geographical boundaries. It's any dish cooked with love, any recipe that warms you from the inside out with its rich, comforting flavors. In our home, soul food often comes with a French twist, always accompanied by a sumptuous sauce perfect for soaking up morsels of Jean-Michel's legendary homemade sourdough bread.
Last Thursday, we decided to invite our friends Jackie and Mike over for dinner. I had my heart set on preparing a French feast, centered around my second-favorite chicken dish: Coq au Riesling. I have already made my favorite for her - chicken with dates, olives and capers. But as any host knows, a great meal is more than just its main course. I found myself pondering over appetizers, sides, and desserts that would complement our star dish and create a memorable experience for our friends.
Jackie, being the culinary wizard she is, can whip up just about anything in the kitchen. But French cuisine isn't her usual playground, which made me even more excited to share these flavors with her. It's always a joy to introduce someone to new tastes, especially when they're as passionate about food as Jackie is.
As is our tradition, Jean-Michel and I engaged in our usual pre-dinner party debate earlier in the week. It's become something of a ritual for us, this back-and-forth about what to serve. It's not just about deciding on dishes; it's our way of connecting, of sharing our excitement about the upcoming evening.
During our culinary brainstorming session, I remembered the bounty of zucchini from Kathleen's garden. Inspiration struck, and I challenged Jean-Michel to expand his soufflé repertoire. "How about a zucchini soufflé as an appetizer?" I suggested, my mind already racing with the possibilities.
One of the first things Jean-Michel ever made for me when we started dating was a cheese soufflé with gruyère. That soufflé sealed the deal for me. There's something incredibly romantic about a man who can master the delicate art of soufflé-making. So, with fond memories and high hopes, our appetizer was set.
Let me share with you the recipe for this delightful zucchini soufflé:
What you need:
1 1/2 tablespoons butter
4 zucchini
2 cloves garlic
1 white onion
1/3 cup olive or coconut oil
8 eggs
300 grams Parmesan cheese, grated
Leaves from 10 sprigs thyme
How to make it
Preheat your oven to 325°F (160°C). Grease 6 ramekins or one souffle dish with butter.
Start by grating the zucchini and finely mincing both the garlic and onion. Heat some olive oil in a skillet over high heat. Add your prepared vegetables to the hot pan and cook them for about 12 minutes, until they're completely softened. Once cooked, drain the vegetable mixture in a fine mesh sieve. Use a wooden spoon to press out as much water as possible from the vegetables.
Separate your eggs, placing the whites in one bowl and the yolks in another. Whip the egg whites until stiff peaks form - you can use a stand mixer with a whisk attachment or do this by hand. Set the whites aside for now. In the other bowl, whisk the egg yolks until they become creamy.
To your whisked egg yolks, add grated Parmesan cheese and fresh thyme. Stir in your drained vegetable mixture until everything is well combined. Now, carefully fold the stiff egg whites into this mixture. Be gentle to maintain as much air in the whites as possible - mix just until everything is evenly combined.
Divide your prepared mixture evenly among the six greased ramekins or gently spoon into a souffle dish. Place them in your preheated oven and bake for 30 minutes. They're done when they look firm, puffy, and have turned a lovely golden brown color on top.
Now, let's talk about the star of our show: Coq au Riesling.
You might be wondering why I prefer this over the more traditional Coq au Vin. Well, let me tell you, it's all about that sauce. Instead of red wine, we use white wine – specifically and only Riesling. And here's the kicker: we swap out tomato paste for sour cream. The result? An incredibly velvety sauce that's slightly tangy but deeply savory. It's comfort in a dish.
Here's how you can recreate this French classic in your own kitchen:
Coq au Riesling
What you need
6 boneless, skinless chicken thighs (or bone-in, skin on if you prefer)
Salt and pepper
1 tbsp each butter and olive oil
4 shallots
4 garlic cloves
2 tbsp Cognac
1 cup dry Riesling
1/2 cup chicken stock
8 oz mushrooms
1/2 cup sour cream
Fresh parsley for garnish
Extra butter for frying mushrooms
How to make it:
Begin by seasoning the chicken pieces generously with salt and pepper. Mince the shallots and garlic, and slice the mushrooms. Set these aside.
Heat the butter and oil in a large pan over medium-high heat. Add the chicken pieces and brown them on all sides. Once browned, remove the chicken from the pan and set aside.
In the same pan, add the minced shallots and garlic. Cook for about a minute until fragrant. Pour in the Cognac to deglaze the pan, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom. Return the chicken to the pan, then add the Riesling and chicken stock. Cover the pan and let it simmer for about 20 minutes, turning the chicken once halfway through.
While the chicken is cooking, melt some butter in a separate frying pan. Add the mushrooms and fry until they're golden brown. Set aside.
Once the chicken is cooked through, transfer it to a serving platter. Increase the heat under the sauce and let it reduce until it reaches a sauce consistency. Stir in the sour cream and the cooked mushrooms. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper if needed.
Pour the finished sauce over the chicken on the serving platter. Garnish with freshly chopped parsley. Serve immediately.
Deciding on the sides
Of course, a great main course deserves equally fantastic sides. Given that we were starting with a substantial appetizer, I wanted to keep the sides simple yet delicious. The sauce from the Coq au Riesling is so heavenly that I knew we needed something to soak it up. This immediately ruled out the myriad of French potato recipes (as tempting as they were).
After some deliberation, I settled on a simple preparation of couscous. It's quick, easy, and perfect for absorbing all those wonderful flavors. Here's a little secret: all you need to do is heat up three-quarters of a cup of chicken stock combined with a quarter cup of water in the microwave, then pour it over a cup of couscous. When you're ready to eat, just fluff it up with a fork, and voilà! You've got the perfect base for your saucy main course.
But of course, we needed something green on our plates. Haricots verts, or French green beans, are a classic French side dish that I knew would work beautifully with the chicken. Jackie usually cooks her green beans Italian-style, so I wanted to offer something a little different. After a bit of online recipe hunting, I stumbled upon a simple yet elegant preparation: green beans in brown butter with toasted hazelnuts. I knew instantly it would be perfect.
Here's how you can recreate this side dish:
Green Beans with Brown Butter and Toasted Hazelnuts
What you need
1 pound fresh green beans, trimmed
Garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup hazelnuts
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
How to make it
Prepare the Hazelnuts: Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Spread the hazelnuts on a baking sheet in a single layer. Toast them in the oven for 10-12 minutes, or until they're golden brown and fragrant, shaking the pan halfway through. Let them cool slightly, then rub them in a clean kitchen towel to remove most of the skins. Coarsely chop the nuts and set aside.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the green beans and cook for 3-5 minutes, until they're bright green and crisp-tender. Drain the beans and immediately plunge them into a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking process. Once cooled, drain again and pat dry with a clean kitchen towel.
In a large skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Continue cooking, swirling the pan occasionally, until the butter turns golden brown and smells nutty, about 3-5 minutes. Be careful not to let it burn. Take off the heat and add in the minced garlic.
Add the green beans to the skillet with the brown butter. Toss to coat and cook for 1-2 minutes until the beans are heated through. Remove from heat and add salt, and pepper to taste. Arrange in your favorite bowl or serving platter.
The final act: Pear Tart Tatin
With our savory courses planned, all that remained was dessert. For me, the choice was obvious: Jean-Michel's pear tarte tatin. There's something truly magical about a tarte tatin. It's one of those desserts that looks incredibly impressive but is surprisingly simple to make. It's the perfect way to end a meal, especially when you're aiming to impress your guests without spending hours in the kitchen.
If you've never made a tarte tatin before, let me walk you through it. Essentially, it's an upside-down tart that uses store-bought puff pastry as the crust. You start by making a quick caramel in a cast-iron pan, then add your fruit – in our case, pears, but you could use apples, quince, apricots, or even pineapple. After a few minutes of cooking, you simply tuck a layer of puff pastry over the fruit and pop it in the oven. When it comes out, you let it cool for a few minutes before the grand finale: placing a plate over the pan and flipping it over to reveal the beautifully caramelized fruit. Trust me, the "oohs" and "aahs" you'll hear from your guests make it all worthwhile.
Here's the recipe for our pear tarte tatin:
Simple Pear Tarte Tatin Recipe
What you need
4-5 medium-sized firm pears (Bosc or Anjou work well)
1 sheet of ready-rolled puff pastry
1/2 cup (100g) granulated sugar
3 tablespoons (45g) unsalted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
A pinch of salt
Optional: 1 tablespoon lemon juice
How to make it
Peel, quarter, and core the pears. If desired, toss with lemon juice to prevent browning.
In your oven-safe skillet, spread the sugar evenly. Place over medium heat and let the sugar melt without stirring. Once it starts to caramelize and turn amber (about 5-7 minutes), remove from heat. Add the butter and vanilla, and stir until combined. Be careful, as the mixture may splatter.
Arrange the pear quarters in the skillet, cut-side up, in a circular pattern. Pack them tightly as they will shrink during cooking.
Return the skillet to medium heat and cook for about 10-12 minutes, until the pears are slightly softened and the caramel has thickened.
While the pears are cooking, preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Cut your puff pastry into a circle slightly larger than your skillet.
Remove the skillet from heat. Carefully place the pastry over the pears, tucking the edges down into the sides of the pan. Prick the pastry several times with a fork. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until the pastry is golden brown and puffed.
Let cool for 5-10 minutes. Place a large plate over the skillet and carefully but quickly invert the tart onto the plate. Serve warm, optionally with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a dollop of crème fraîche.
Setting the stage - preparing the table
With our menu set, it was time to prepare the table. I always take the time to do this properly. It's never anything overly fancy, but I believe in setting the stage for the evening. It's my way of letting our guests know that we wanted to create a special experience just for them.
I have to confess, I'm generally anti-tablecloth. They're just too hard to keep clean and stain-free. Instead, I opt for a beautiful table runner. It adds that touch of elegance without the fuss. I set the table with our everyday white dinner plates, cloth napkins, and wine glasses. Simple, but inviting.
One of the joys of living on Whidbey Island is the abundance of natural beauty around us. My dahlia garden was still in full bloom, offering a vibrant array of colors. I couldn't resist including a vase of fresh flowers as our centerpiece, nestled between tapered candles and votives. It's these little touches that transform a regular dinner into a memorable occasion.
As the evening arrived, we welcomed Jackie and Mike with open arms, a glass of wine, and a slice or two of Jean-Michel's freshly baked sourdough bread. The atmosphere was warm, filled with the enticing aromas of our French feast and the promise of good conversation.
The zucchini soufflé emerged from the oven, a pillowy cloud of garden-fresh zucchini and cheese. It was met with appreciative murmurs and quickly vanishing portions. But the real star, the Coq au Riesling, was yet to come.
When we brought out the main course, Jean-Michel declared it a triumph, and judging by the second servings and the empty platter, I'd say Jackie and Mike wholeheartedly agreed. There's something deeply satisfying about watching your friends enjoy a meal you've prepared with love. It's not just about the food; it's about the connection, the shared experience.
I especially loved the moment when Jackie, with a contented sigh, declared our meal to be "soul food." Coming from Jackie, who cooks from the heart more than anyone I know, it was the highest compliment. It's one of the many reasons I love her – her ability to recognize and appreciate the love that goes into a home-cooked meal.
As we lingered over our plates, savoring the last bits of that velvety Riesling sauce, conversation flowed as freely as the wine. We shared stories, laughed at old memories, and created new ones. This, I thought to myself, is what living well truly means.
Finally, it was time for dessert. The tarte tatin made its grand entrance, and I couldn't help but feel a little proud of Jean-Michel. The pastry was crisp and golden, the pears perfectly tender and glossy with caramel. It was, as I had hoped, the perfect way to end our rustic weeknight French dinner.
Eating well and living well
As we sat there, enjoying the last bites of our dessert and the final sips of our wine, I was struck by how special these moments are. For us, cooking for friends on a weeknight isn't a chore – it's part of our "Living Well" philosophy. It keeps our connections strong and allows us to get to know people on a deeper level. It gives us the opportunity to explore new recipes or revisit old favorites. It's a celebration of food, friendship, and the simple joys of life.
I know we're fortunate. Jean-Michel and I both love to cook, which allows us to divide up the menu between us. But even if cooking isn't your thing, don't let that stop you from inviting friends over for a meal. A restaurant meal delivered to your home can be just as special. The key is the invitation, the willingness to open your home and your heart to those you care about.
There's something magical about gathering around a table in someone's home. It allows you to linger longer than a restaurant typically appreciates. It invites your friends into your sacred space, your home, creating a sense of intimacy and connection that's hard to replicate elsewhere.
So, I encourage you – no, I challenge you – to invite friends over for a meal. It doesn't have to be elaborate. It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to come from the heart. Whether you're serving up a multi-course French feast or sharing a simple pizza, what matters is the time spent together, the conversations shared, the memories created.
In the end, that's what living well is all about. It's about creating moments of joy and connection in the midst of our busy lives. It's about taking the time to nourish not just our bodies, but our relationships as well. It's about transforming the ordinary – a Thursday night dinner – into something extraordinary.
So, here's to good food, great friends, and the simple pleasures that make life rich. Here's to living well, one meal at a time. Bon appétit!