In memory of Julia Child, we present this humble meal: Quiche Lorraine, Romaine with Cucumber and Cherry Tomatoes, and Clafoutis. Let me precede this by saying that I personally owe a huge debt of gratitude to good ol' JC. She took the idea of fine dining and made it accessible to millions of Americans. Without her, today there would be no Food Network, no sun-dried tomatoes at my grocery store, and no Oranges and Lemons for you lot.

Quiche Lorraine

I pulled out all the stops for this meal, and used every one of my dusty electric gadgets du cookery. For one thing, I used the food processor to mix the Pate Brisee (that's pie dough, to you.) It worked like a champ, much to my surprise. I may never go back to mixing it by hand!

The dough needed an hour in the freezer before rolling it out. Happily, I spotted that small piece of wisdom... about an hour before I had PLANNED to start cooking. Although I'm typically someone who plays fast and loose with recipes, in this case, I thought it would be a better homage if I did everything the way that Julia told me to.

On a side note: I've never been in the habit of chilling my dough before rolling it out. It seemingly made it easier to work with, despite the wailing and gnashing of teeth going on at knee-level where a certain very short individual really, really wanted to go for a walk. I say "seemingly." Remember that.

Back to me, all obedient-like: I even partially pre-baked the shell with a good ol' filling of lentils, following instructions like a good girl!

I did not follow the instructions scrupulously, however. Julia Child may have been a genius of bringing food to the masses, but she also tells you to simmer the bacon for your quiche in water that is... simmering... before cooking it in a pan until lightly browned. I am not boiling bacon, not even for Julia, and so I skipped that step and went right to the pan-frying. Mmmmm, bacon fat.

The bacon goes into the bottom of the partially-baked shell, and then the quiche mixture (mainly eggs and half-and-half, and I used my rarely-used emulsion blender to do it!). You're supposed to dot the top of the quiche with butter, but I forgot. Oh, well. A stick and a half of butter went into the Pate Brisee, I think we can skip the tablespoon or so on top, right?

Romaine Salad with Cucumber and Cherry Tomatoes

While the quiche was baking, I put together a quick salad. I bet you can guess everything that went into it. Isn't it pretty, though?

Back to the Quiche

The quiche is supposed to cook for 25-30 minutes, in the top third of the oven. I look at it 25 minutes in: Still runny.

Clafoutis

I can hear what you're thinking. "Clafoutis?" you ask yourself. "What kind of strange foodstuff is this?" Well, gentle readers, Clafoutis is, so Julia says, "Cherry flan." If this does not clarify it for you, let me put it this way: It's like bread pudding. With cherries. And no bread.

By this time I had been toiling away at dinner for some time, and mental fatigue was clearly setting in. I mixed the batter in my "Electric blender," just as Julia described. I poured a thin layer into a pie plate and heated it to provide a firm base for the fruit, and then spooned in the cherries. Then I poured more batter on top. Except... oops... I was supposed to add 1/3 a cup of sugar on top of the cherries, before any further batter-pouring.

If this meal were an action-adventure movie, this part would be the chase scene: I add the sugar on top of the batter, wondering if it will caramelize into a sticky, caramely layer. It's a lot of sugar. It does not look like proto-caramel. I bite my lip and sort of spoon the cherries over top of the sugar to try to replicate what I should've done in the first place, and then pour a teensy bit more batter on top.

More Quiche

The clafoutis requires a different temperature than the quiche, so I can't start the one until the other is done. 35 minutes in: still runny. 40 minutes in: Um. Well.

Did I mention that Julia Child tells you to place the quiche in the top third of the oven? I decide that maybe she was serious. I reposition the oven rack.

Five minutes later, the quiche is finally done, in all its cholesterol-laden glory.

Only one problem: In my attempt to roll stiff dough under trying circumstances,
I apparently did a very substandard job. The bottom of the crust looks to be a solid 1/3 inch thick. It is not completely baked.

We eat it anyway, and go back for seconds.

Finale

And how was the tragically misassembled clafoutis? It was divine. Look for yourself:

You want some, don't you? Isn't it beautiful?

So thank you, Julia Child, for leading us into a world where a regular suburban mom can try a French peasant dessert, and resolve to go a little further with haute French cuisine.

Maybe next time... it'll be poached eggs.

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