Pot-au-Feu

Pot-Au-Feu: Convivial, Familial: Histoires d'un Mythe.
Editor: Julia Csergo. Published 1999.

What's the key to all French cooking, the most iconic dish in France? A French person is likely to answer that it is pot-au-feu. Every French region, every French city, and almost every French person has a view about how to make this dish, which an American would identify as somewhere between a soup and a stew (but it's much more than that). I've just read many essays from the book Pot-Au-Feu, which contains a collection of scholarly articles about this dish. It's entirely fascinating, and I learned many obscure things about the history of the dish, its reputation, old sayings and kids' rhymes that refer to pot-au-feu, how people view the "authenticity" of the dish, and the glories of the many variations of the dish throughout the French nation.

The name pot-au-feu calls up a mythical version of the French household, say many of the authors in the book. The myth connects all French kitchens -- from those in the homes of peasants to those of aristocrats. It reminds many people that King Henri IV (d. 1610) said he hoped to reign in a land where every peasant could afford a poule-au-pot -- that is a chicken in every pot, in a dish that's a type of pot-au-feu.

The center of the iconic French home is the kitchen and in the center of the kitchen is a large fireplace. On the hearth, always the symbolic center, a large cooking pot hangs above the open fire. In the pot is water (which becomes the broth), meat (maybe not very much, maybe quite a bit), spice or flavoring characteristic of the region, and vegetables, especially onions, carrots, turnips, leeks, maybe parsnips, and possibly some beans, peas, or whatever is in season. A French person would know that pot-au-feu is cooked long and slowly, and then served up in courses. From the pot comes broth. The boiled meat and the vegetables are served separately -- always with bread, of course. In some areas, you might find horseradish sauce or another condiment.

The word pot-au-feu might also call up a mythical version of a neighborhood restaurant that makes this iconic dish. A modern version might be prepared even in a small apartment kitchen. A family's summer home in the countryside might even have an old farmhouse kitchen where one could make a more traditional version. I've eaten pot-au-feu at least twice: once at a friend's home and once in a restaurant near an apartment we were renting, and I've eaten some of the regional versions too. However, my experience of it is limited. 

Some regions have special versions of pot-au-feu: several articles in the book contain a great deal of detail about these preparations. The most famous is bouillabaisse, the fish stew that's the specialty of Marseilles and of fishing villages along the Mediterranean coast; a rather long chapter offers incredible detail about this dish. There's a chapter on the kig ha farz, the classic dish of the Finistére region of Brittany. The potée (soup) of Lorraine, the garbure (vegetable soup) of the south-west, and the bréjaude of the Limousin are also described in detail, along with the attitudes and feelings of the people of these regions.

Doing justice to this very complex and richly written book in a short review is a challenge! One thing I do know: American tourists may think that French food is represented by madeleines, macarons, crusty French baguettes, or the elaborate preparations of expensive restaurants -- but for the French, the mythic essence of French cuisine is pot-au-feu. 

The blog event "Paris in July" ends this week, so this will be one of my last posts to share with the numerous bloggers who have been writing about their views of Paris all month. (link) I'm posting this on my blog: maefood dot blogspot dot com. If you read this at another blog, it's a stolen version.

All text copyright © 2019 by Mae E. Sander.