The Secret Ingredient (Pomegranate Molasses) Part I: Pomegranate Molasses and Pine Nut Cookies

RECIPE: Pomegranate Molasses and Pine Nut Cookies
Pomegranate Molasses and Pine Nut Cookies

Pomegranate Molasses and Pine Nut Cookies

Get the whole story at Serious Eats.

There is a little something you should know about me: I love to shop. And while my closet can attest to that fact, so can my pantry. When I travel I am always sure to devote at least half a day to culinary pursuits—wandering through markets like the Boqueria in Barcelona, or visiting little gourmet shops in Paris. Inevitably, I return laden with corked perfumiers’ bottles of French rose extract, painters’ tubes of Moroccan harissa, and tiny ominous packets of Venetian squid ink. And when I’m grounded back home in the States, I still find excuses to dally around any corner gourmet shop, combing the aisles like a pirate who stands on the X on his map and expects, rightly so, to uncover unprecedented treasure.

I get a secret thrill when I bring out of these little bottles or jars, and guinea pig them on my friends and family. Inevitably, eyes widen in delight and speculation, and a general chorus echoes down the table: “Mmm! What is that?” I love revealing the answer: “Orange flower water!” “No!” “Yes.” All of a sudden everyone at the table feels like they are sharing in a gourmet adventure, whisked away to some corner of a forgotten world where everyone sits around snacking on orange flower water and Raz-el-Hanout. What they don’t know is that I paid less than three dollars for a bottle of the stuff just across town at Fairway.

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Categories: 30 Minutes, Desserts, Eat, Pastry, Recipes, Series, The Secret Ingredient, Vegetarian

French in a Flash: Crispy Salmon with Lentils du Puy and Two-Mustard Crème Fraîche

RECIPE: Crispy Salmon with Lentils du Puy and Two-Mustard Crème Fraîche
Crispy Salmon with Mustard Crème Fraîche

Crispy Salmon with Mustard Crème Fraîche

I didn’t know this about myself before, but I’m cheap. At least, these days it’s quite a la mode to be a recessionista. I went to the store to do this week’s French in a Flash for Serious Eats, and realized I was making dinner for 5 for about $12. I became totally ecstatic, like I’d just gotten away with the hugest deal of the century, and I wanted to run out of Publix before anyone caught on. Stingy never felt, or tasted, so good!

Puy Lentils

Puy Lentils

I made this dish for my father, because according to Brillat-Savarin (the French genius behind the statement “you are what you eat”), my father is a salmon disguised as a New York lawyer. He eats it every night, and he also can’t boil water. I wanted to show him that he could eat his favorite healthy food, and still make it himself. Voila! Crispy Salmon with Lentils du Puy and Two-Mustard Crème Fraîche.

Salmon and lentils are Fred and Ginger to the French; the perfect pas de deux partners. And nothing could be healthier, or easier, or more impressive. Bon app!

Salmon and Lentil Ingredients

Salmon, Lemon, Carrot, Shallot, Thyme, and Lentils

Crispy Salmon with Lentils du Puy and Two-Mustard Crème Fraîche
serves 4

Crispy Salmon with Mustard Crème FraîcheIngredients

  • 1 small carrot, diced as finely as possible
  • 2 small shallots, diced as finely as possible
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil, plus 1 tablespoon
  • Leaves of 2 stems fresh thyme
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1 1/4 cups lentils du Puy
  • 1/3 cup dry white wine
  • 3 1/2 cups vegetable stock or water
  • 1 tablespoon freshly chopped flat leaf parsley
  • 1 1/4 pounds salmon fillet, skin on, cut into 4 portions
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 1/2 cup crème fraîche
  • 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
  • 2 tablespoon whole grain mustard
  • Zest of 1 lemon
  • Fresh thyme, lemon slices, and mixed olives for garnish


  1. Begin by making the lentils. Over medium-low heat, sauté the carrots and shallot in 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Season them with the thyme leaves, salt, and pepper, and cook for 5 minutes, until they are just sweating and soft and fragrant.
  2. Add in the lentils, and season again with salt and pepper.
  3. Increase the heat to high, and pour in the white wine. Stir, and cook until the wine is absorbed. Add the stock or water. Cover, and bring to a boil. Once the water boils, reduce the heat to low, keep covered, and cook for around 25 minutes, until the lentils are tender, but still have a good bite to them, and hold their shape. Drain out any excess liquid, and toss with the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil, and the parsley. Adjust seasonings as needed.
  4. For the salmon, season the fillets with salt and pepper on both sides, and paint the soft butter on the skin side of the salmon. Use all of it, even if it looks excessive. This is what makes the skin so crispy and perfect.
  5. Heat a large sauté pan on medium heat, and add the 2 tablespoons olive oil. When it shimmers, carefully add the salmon, skin side down. It will splatter a bit, so drop the salmon into the pot slowly, and away from you. Cook for 5 minutes, then turn over, and cook for 3 minutes, or until you've achieved desired doneness.
  6. While the salmon cooks, prepare the mustard crème fraîche. Stir together the crème fraîche, 2 mustards, and lemon zest, and season with salt and pepper.
  7. To serve this dish, spoon a mound of the lentils on a plate, and perch the salmon on top. Spoon the crème fraîche over the hot fish, and let it melt into the filet and into the lentils. Serve more sauce alongside. Garnish with a few lemon slices, some fresh twigs of thyme, and a few mixed olives.

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Categories: 30 Minutes, Eat, Fish, French in a Flash, Main Courses, Recipes, Series

Spring Chicken for Mothers’ Day on the BBC: Norman Apple Poussin with Baby Spring Vegetables

Norman Apple Hens

Norman Apple Hens

How many times has your mother told you she’s no spring chicken? My maman tells me, usually, when I’m home, and she wants me to walk the dog, or run to the store, or lift something heavy–otherwise, to her chagrin, she is very spring chickenly. If your mom is like mine, make her feel young again on UK Mother’s Day! Make her spring chicken.

When Joel at the BBC asked me to do a Mothers’ Day menu, I considered it a very important, special assignment. I’m not sure there’s a better way to make the day special for maman than by doing what she’s always traditionally done for you: cooking. I would advise, of course, that you also purchase some jewelry, and tuck it into her cloth napkin. That never hurts.

The idea for this meal comes from the dichotomy of mother hen, and baby vegetables. Think of all the roast chickens your mother has made for you in your life. Cornish hens, or poussins, taste very similar to chicken, but can be elegantly and individually portioned. That’s the idea: take something simple, everyday, with which you’re familiar, and dress it up. I make this in the style of Normandy, coincidentally where my stepfather is from. Hey, if she likes one think from Normandy, chances are she’ll like another! I marinate the poussins overnight in cidre buche, a dry sparkling (and inexpensive) apple cider packed in Champagne bottles in Normandy. Then, I roast it with thyme, pancetta, and Calvados, an apple brandy, along with little pearl onions (what little girl hasn’t worn her mother’s pearls?) that become sweet little gems.

Because the dainty little hens are butterflied, they crisp up front and back, and stay overwhelmingly moist and flavorful from the apple liquors and the pancetta. To go with them, because Mothers’ Day falls just days after the start of spring, I put together a panoply of baby vegetables–from tiny zucchini and sunburst squash to spring peas and Chantenay carrots. They are simply braised with water and butter, and made decadent with creme fraiche. Everything here is dainty, flavorful, light, and, above all, thoughtful, but easy. This is actually one of the easiest meals I’ve ever created, and one of the ones of which I am most proud–proving that you don’t have to work too hard to make a dinner that is as special as your mom always made you feel.

Spring Vegetables with Crème Fraîche and Chives

Spring Vegetables with Crème Fraîche and Chives

Dedicated to toutes les mamans! Bonne journée…

To catch the replay of this episode on Joel Hammer’s BBC Radio Oxford Sunday Lunch, visit BBC’s iPlayer. Today’s show should be up later today, or early tomorrow. I hope you enjoy, and that you make this incredible Norman hens! The website with playback links and the recipes is not up yet, but I am assured it will be up by the next installment.

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Categories: BBC Radio Recipes, Series

French in a Flash: Crème Fraîche Cupcakes with Provence Lavender Icing

RECIPE: Crème Fraîche Cupcakes with Lavender
Lavender Cupcakes

Lavender Cupcakes

It had been a long drive, and we were famished. I leaned back in the wrought iron chair, and plucked another fry from the red carton. I closed my eyes to the sun, and when I opened them again, I knew I was in France. Lavender was growing in the McDonald’s parking lot.

Lavender from Provence

Lavender from Provence

I know what I just wrote; please don’t judge me. Yes, I passed up a perfectly good opportunity to eat French food in France, and I went to McDonald’s. But in my mind, any road trip gives me license to enjoy fast food, and I tend to take advantage of my little maxim–even if it’s a road trip to Provence. At least I ordered French fries.

Lavender Cupcake IngredientsLavender is ubiquitous in Provence (yes, even at McDonald’s), and I use it in this star-treatment-for-boxed-cake-mix recipe for Serious Eats: Crème Fraîche Cupcakes with Provence Lavender Icing . Hey, French in a Flash is all about fast food, from McDonald’s, to Duncan Hines. The point is to personalize it, make it your own, and make it good. I alter the package directions by using creme fraiche, which makes the crumbs light as air, and make an oh-so-simple glaze with sugar, water, and dried lavender blossoms. Truly French in a flash…bon app!

Lavender Zoom

Crème Fraîche Cupcakes with Lavender
makes about 20 cupcakes

Lavender CupcakesIngredients

  • 1 box classic white cake mix (recommended: Duncan Hines)
  • 2 egg whites
  • 1/4 cup vegetable oil
  • 8 ounces crème fraîche
  • 3 cups powdered sugar
  • 1 tablespoon dried edible lavender blossoms
  • 5 tablespoons water


  1. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two muffin tins with cupcake papers that you think complements the color of lavender. I used pastel pink and blue. Prim and lovely. Purple, if you find it, would of course be ideal. Treat your cupcakes as if they were Parisians: they should dress to their advantage.
  2. In a large bowl, combine the cake mix, egg whites, vegetable oil, and crème fraîche with a hand-held mixer on a low speed, until the cake mix just disappears into the batter. Then, turn up the speed to medium, and combine for 3 more minutes.
  3. Pour the batter into the cupcake liners, 3/4 of the way up. Set the muffin tins on a baking sheet, and bake for 20 minutes, until the cupcakes are golden and puffed up.
  4. Meanwhile, make the lavender glaze. Stir together the sugar, lavender, and water until you have a smooth icing.
  5. Once the cupcakes have baked, let them cool slightly in the muffin tins, then transfer them to a cooling rack to cool completely. If you ice them while they are still hot, the icing will melt, run off the cupcakes, and the only thing that will taste of sweet lavender is you counter top.
  6. When the cupcakes are completely cool, and not a moment before, drizzle them with the lavender icing. Allow the glazed cupcakes to sit and set for 15 minutes, then serve, preferably with some Marquis Grey Tea. (Just put some lavender into a tea ball, and then drop it along with some Earl Grey tea bags into a tea pot full of hot water. You can also do this alongside Chamomile Tea—even more calming for an upset stomach.)
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Categories: Desserts, Easy, Eat, French in a Flash, Pastry, Recipes, Series, Vegetarian

Madeline’s Madeleines

RECIPE: Blueberry Madeleines


Blueberry Madeleines

Blueberry Madeleines

My mother spent a year living, as a child, in a French convent—one where they wore little matching uniforms, slept in iron beds, and walked in straight lines two-by-two. She spent her childhood mornings as Madeline. It is no miracle, then, that my childhood mornings were ignited by plump, firm, sunny little Madeleines.

The only reason I managed to plod through Proust in the original during an unfortunate summer course in college was because he was talking about Madeleines. Just a spoonful, or bite full, of sugar helps the medicine go down! Proust was half asleep dreaming of Madeleines, and I was half asleep staring out the sunny windows, dreaming of being anywhere but here. But I did take something away from his drowsy ruminations: that maybe it is not just Proust, but all Gauls, whose childhood remembrances percolate around Madeleines.


Maman was never much of a baker, which was really too bad because when she put her mind to it, her pumpkin cheesecakes would keep me up nights (she always baked them at the bewitching hour—maybe she needed a few spells to work her magic). So, instead of Easter Egg or scavenger hunts, we had Madeleine hunts, which in Manhattan in 1988 was no small feat. We would troll the local grocery stores and gourmet shops, stalking our prey. And how we would pounce! We would load our baskets with the wrapped shells, treasuring each of our fortune as if mighty Aphrodite would slam open the top, and step out into the foaming plastic waves. What treasure, what decadence, what fun.


Madeline BookWe would come home, and descend upon the shells, like a flock of gulls pecking at a million little dinners in the million little grains of sand. We would lie in bed with Madeline books and eat Madeleines. Of course, I was never long without either a book or food, and like so many great things, they often went together. The crumbs would trickle from our lips, break off like jagged precipices from the ragged edges of our half-munched cakes, and form irreverent, very Madeline-like Madeleine spines in the books. We would laugh and sputter, and it would all be worse. We would brush the crumbs from the covers, and wake up from our Dionysian fête, remarking all the empty Madeleine wrappers. We would rub our bellies and grumble, how we were ever going to do it again? But we knew, before too long, we’d be Madeleine hunting again. We ate the sparse, stale leftovers with raspberry confiture for breakfast for days, before I donned my little matching uniform, and we headed, the two of us, for school.


But as maman always says, there is no time like the present. I’d had enough of my recherche du temps perdu, and wanted to try a little recherche du temps trouvé. You can long for old flames who’ve moved on, for a pet that’s passed away, for a Petit Bateau t-shirt that’s shrunk to fit bébé and not you anymore. But Madeleines, my little Proustian morsels, they never leave you for another woman, they never die, and they only shrink if you make them in smaller Madeleine pans (and even then, you just get more Madeleines from the same recipe). If only all of life could be cooked up in my kitchen.

Blueberry Madeleine BatterI could never recreate those crumbly-firm lemon-vanilla seashell muffins that were shrunk-wrapped in the 1980s, so I one-upped them: fresh lemon-blueberry Madeleines, cakey enough for French Marie Antoinette, and enough like a blueberry muffin for little American me. A little powdered sugar on top, and suddenly childhood relics are vintage breakfast treasures.

So raise a cup of coffee, and chin-chin.
To times lost, and found.

Blueberry Madeleines

Blueberry MadeleinesIngredients

  • 1 ¼ cup sifted all-purpose flour
  • ½ teaspoon of baking powder
  • ¼ teaspoon of salt
  • 3 eggs
  • 2/3 cup of granulated sugar
  • Zest of ½ lemon
  • 1 ½ sticks of unsaltedbutter, melted and cooled
  • 2/3 cup fresh blueberries, lightly tossed with flour, with the excess shook off

A Note on Madeleines

Madeleines are a traditional shell-shaped cake from the north of France, although they have become iconic to the entire nation. Traditionally, they taste of lemon, and are the texture of pound cake. Aside from the Madeleine pans, which you will have to buy, you probably already have all the ingredients for Madeleines in your house: flour, sugar, eggs, baking powder, butter. And you can flavor them with anything you want, from blueberries to coconut, from cocoa to pistachios to verbena. I buy my nonstick Madeleine pans at Williams-Sonoma, and if you are looking for one, I know they sell them there.


  1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
  2. Sift or whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt.
  3. In a separate, large bowl, beat the eggs with an electric mixer or stand mixer for about 30 seconds, until they are frothy. Add the sugar, and cream for about 5 minutes, until the mixture triples its volume.
  4. Add the dry ingredients slowly, in batches, to the wet ones, and mix them slowly in. If you have your mixer on too fast a setting, the flour will be in the air instead of in the batter. Add the lemon zest and the butter, and incorporate.
  5. Put the mixer away and gently fold the blueberries into the batter. You want to dust them with flour so they stay suspended in the batter, and also so that their juice is absorbed as they bake, so that the Madeleines will maintain their firm texture.
  6. Spray your Madeleine pans with a nonstick cooking spray just in case. Pour 1 tablespoon of batter into each mold and bake for 15-17 minutes. The edges of each Madeleine should be crisp and a toothpick inserted should come out clean of batter. Do not be alarmed if the molds do not look full and the batter does not look even before you bake these. They will settle and puff up on their own. Transfer the shells to a cooling rack and eat as many as you can immediately, making as much of a mess as possible. True Madeline style.
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Categories: Recipes

Cockadoodledoo: Saturday Brunch Petite Crustless Quiches with Fines Herbes and Chèvre

This post is a submission for the NYC Eggland’s Best Recipe Contest!

There have been a lot of comings and goings lately. I commute back and forth between New York and South Florida every week now, working at Penguin two days a week, and writing the other 5. I feel like a chicken without a head, and it’s a blessed morning when I wake up knowing exactly where I am, and where I’m supposed to be an hour later.

So when a bunch of my Princeton girlfriends announced they’d be dropping in on me and Jamie (my best friend from Princeton who also happens to have grown up next door) for the weekend, I quivered with happiness, and then shivered in panic. Our sorority told us to “put away childish things,” but I decided to put away the grownup ones. I was taking this weekend off.

The girls, specifically Jamie, Jessie, Franny, and Katie (hi!), have been so supportive with my food career that I wanted to cook for them. After all, the way to anyone’s heart is through her stomach. When they got in late Friday night, I decided Saturday brunch, our traditional New York meeting time, was in order.

The menu read as follows:

  • Watermelon and Raspberry Salad
  • Brioche, Baguette, and Croissants with Confiture and Nutella
  • Sunday Brunch Soda, with Freshly Squeezed Florida Orange Juice, Orange Flower Water, and Perrier
  • And, the pièce de résistance, Petite Crustless Quiches with Fines Herbes and Chèvre

As it turns out, even a headless chicken can lay a couple of eggs.

Petite Crustless Quiches with Fines Herbes and Chèvre are perfect brunch finger food. Eggs and milk are whipped together to an ecstasy of fluffy bubbles, and flavored with salty, nutty Parmesan cheese. In go the fines herbes, a traditional French herb blend of tarragon, parsley, chervil, and chives. They just all go so perfectly with eggs—the anise of the tarragon, the grassiness of the parsley, the delicate verdure of the chervil, and the springtime snap of the chives. The quiche batter is spooned into muffin tins, and then great dollops of goat cheese, that will melt in pockets into the quiches, are tumbled in. Bake, and serve. That’s all you have to do.

These quiches come out of the oven puffed as a soufflé, fluffy as an omelet, and hearty as a frittata. Peppered with green confetti, they look like a garden party, and the tangy, melting cream of the goat cheese fills your mouth with a distinctive bite. And all of that without having to worry about the crust.

After all the wine, hard work, late nights, and twenty-somethings’ troubles, my friends smiled with gratitude. I suppose I am Mother Hen after all.

Petite Crustless Quiches with Fines Herbes and Chèvre

8 eggs

½ cup whole milk

Salt and pepper

¼ cup grated Parmesan or Pecorino

1 tablespoon freshly chopped flat leaf parsley

1 tablespoon freshly chopped tarragon

1 tablespoon freshly chopped chervil

1 tablespoon freshly snipped chives

2 ounces chèvre (soft fresh goat cheese)

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

2. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and milk until they are well combined.

3. Season the egg and milk mixture liberally with salt and pepper, and beat in the Parmesan or Percorino cheese and the fines herbes (parsley, tarragon, chervil, and chives).

4. Grease a 12-cup muffin tin with non-stick spray. You want to make sure and spray each muffin cup very thoroughly, and use a non-stick muffin if you have one. You don’t want to spend your afternoon scraping baked egg out of muffin tins.

5. Pour a scant 1/4 cup of the egg mixture into each cup, dividing the eggs equally between the 12 muffin cups. Scatter bits of the goat cheese equally across the 12 quiches, dropping the dollops in the center of each eggy “muffin.”

6. Set the filled muffin tin on a baking sheet to catch any spills, and bake for 20-23 minutes, until all the quiches have puffed up and appear firm throughout.

7. Allow the quiches to cool slightly in the muffin tins. They will deflate, but this step is essential in keeping the quiches intact as you remove them from the tin. Use a butter knife to loosen them out of their cups, and serve warm or room temperature.

A note on Eggland’s Best: When I received the invitation to enter the NYC Eggland’s Best Recipe Contest, I grinned. I had just run out and bought a carton of Eggland’s Best the day before. I was happy to support the company, because they support us bloggers, and because they sell cage-free eggs in the regular supermarket, and I always try to buy cage-free when I can. So thank you, Eggland’s, for the support and the invitation, and for setting the right example. I hope you have enjoyed this recipe.

Bon App!

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French in a Flash: French Onion Soup Dumplings

RECIPE: French Onion Soup Dumplings
French Onion Soup Dumplings

French Onion Soup Dumplings

When I was a little girl, French onion soup was my favorite thing in the world. I searched high and low for it, at every restaurant. Now that I think about it, French onion soup reminds me very much of the French Revolution, both this blog, and the actual event, because I managed to decapitate and disembowel every bowl of the soup that crossed my path. I was Madame Defarge, and my poor, lovely, dear little soup was a blond Marie Antoinette.

French Onion Soup Dumplings InsideI ate only the cheese, and the broth. The onions were left in a watery grave, and the bread, wrung dry by my spoon, was left to crumble pathetically on the side of my plate. I had no mercy; I knew what I wanted, and I ate it. In truth, that’s still how I eat it!

French Onion Soup Dumplings ServeSo what to do with all those French onions left drowned in the bottom of the pot? I take a cue from The Stanton Social, a great NYC restaurant, and make French Onion Soup Dumplings. Yes, I’m serious–so serious, in fact, that French Onion Soup Dumplings are this week’s French in a Flash on Serious Eats. Bon app!

French Onion Soup Dumplings
makes 15 to 20 dumplings

French Onion Soup DumplingsIngredients

  • Counterfeit French Onion Soup Onions (recipe below), or 1 to 1 1/2 cups reserved onions from French Onion Soup
  • 15 to 20 wonton wrappers
  • 1 cup Gruyère, grated
  • 1/3 cup Parmesan, grated
  • Chives, or twigs of thyme, for garnish
  • A pat of butter


  1. Preheat the broiler.
  2. To make the dumplings, spray 2 individual gratin dishes with nonstick cooking spray, and set them on a foil-lined baking sheet. Take a wonton wrapper in your hand, and dip you finger into the strained broth (see above), moistening the entire wrapper. This procedure will not only allow the dumpling to adhere and keep its shape, but will also steam the wrapper itself while the dumplings are in the oven. It's a messy job, but if you want French Onion Soup Dumplings, you've got to do it.
  3. Take about a teaspoon of drained onions, and place it into the center of the wonton wrapper. Fold one corner up to meet the opposite corner, and press the sides of the triangle together. Take the other two sides, and bring them up to the central point, and twist, forming a little beggar's purse, or dumpling. Place the dumpling seam side down in the baking dish. Keep making dumplings until you have packed both gratin dishes.
  4. Top each gratin dish with half the Gruyère and half the Parmesan. Dot little dabs of butter all over the top of the cheese. This will allow the cheese to brown and toast like on real French Onion Soup.
  5. Sit the dumplings under the broiler, until they look like French Onion Soup after about 5 minutes. The cheese should be bubbling and golden.
  6. Stick a decorative toothpick into each dumpling, and scatter chives or thyme stems over the top. Serve right from the oven.

Counterfeit French Onion Soup Onions Ingredients

  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 2 red onions, thinly sliced
  • 1 sweet yellow onion, thinly sliced
  • 1/2 tablespoon sugar
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1/4 cup cognac
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine
  • 1 cup beef stock
  • 1 bay leaf
  • The leaves of 4 sprigs thyme

Counterfeit French Onion Soup Onions Procedure

  1. Heat the butter and oil in a sauté pan on medium-low heat. Add the onions, sugar, salt, and pepper, and cook for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. You may have to turn your heat down to low if you find them caramelizing too quickly. You want them very soft, but not burnt.
  2. After 30 minutes, add the cognac, and let it reduce for 1 minute. Add the wine and beef stock and bay leaf and thyme. Season again with salt and pepper. Simmer on low for another 30 minutes. Afterwards, set the onions into a strainer over a bowl to cool almost completely. Reserve both the onions, and the broth that drains from them. You will want to use the same drain-and-reserve method if you are using bought or reserved onions!
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Categories: Appetizers & Hors D’Oeuvres, Eat, For a Crowd, French in a Flash, Recipes, Series