Cucumber: the water-rich, satisfyingly-crunchy vegetable that I often enjoy ice cold, perhaps mixed with chili crisp or sesame oil. Cucumber, the Le Foodist way: delicately shaped with a Parisienne scoop (not a melon baller, as our instructor Frederic warned) into spheres, sauteed and glazed lightly. In other words, warm.
We hurried into Le Foodist’s cozy space on a cloudy morning, a few minutes late to our 9 a.m. call time. Our group of 10 enjoyed coffee and pain au chocolat as Frederic led us through the day’s lunch menu: dubarry, gratin dauphinois, baked salmon beurre blanc, and tarte tatin. As a novice cook, this all sounded a bit daunting, but exciting. It’s not often that you get to stretch your cooking muscles under the care of a French chef.
We booked the “Morning Market and Cooking Class,” so our experience included a trip to the Marche Maubert, a small farmers market in the 5th arrondissement. Frederic explained that France has five different climates, so there’s always something in season. Everything he bought was organic, which is easy to identify by the green badge. (If you’re looking for high-quality protein or other foods, look for the Label Rouge, a sign of superior taste.)
After a quick cheese lesson and sampling, we donned our aprons at Le Foodist and selected a station. My job was chopping and sweating leeks to use in the dubarry, which is a cauliflower soup. The name itself has nothing to do with the vegetable—like many French foods, as Frederic explained, it’s named after the royal or important person who requested it. In this case, dubarry takes its name from Madame du Barry, a mistress of King Louis XV who had a fondness for cauliflower.
It would be remiss to talk about my experience at Le Foodist without highlighting Frederic. He’s been with Le Foodist for 10 years, and he’s as much of an entertainer as he is a chef. His ability to tell interesting stories and captivate a group of people for over six hours is not an easy task, but his passion for food shone through. Throughout the class, he emphasized the importance of “having your hand on the first ingredient,” and how simple is often best.
While it may seem that the objective of the class is to learn how to make x, y, and z, I walked away with a lot of tidbits to add to my overall cooking knowledge. For example, Frederic demonstrated the concept of enhancers: an item that elevates the taste of what you’re cooking, without the need to taste the enhancer itself. We rubbed raw garlic on the bottom of the gratin pan to enhance the flavor, like how we would add coffee to chocolate, or, surprisingly, black pepper to strawberries.
Another example: when dealing with spices, you often don’t know the intensity or how old your jar of nutmeg is. Instead of following the recipe to a T, add some seasoning, try the dish, and adjust. You’ll often need more than you think.
After a few hours of chopping, stirring, and plating, we enjoyed our meal with some wine in the charming dining room. As we savored perfectly baked salmon and caramelized apples, Frederic quizzed us on what was considered the holiest protein in the Middle Ages. (The answer: birds—because they can fly, they’re closer to heaven.) He also shared how his grandmother often made cooked cucumber when he was growing up in the south of France.
What I took away from this class were the delicious recipes, of course, but also a newfound appreciation for French culture, food, and history. What we eat is so intricately connected to who we are, and Le Foodist offered an intimate and thoughtful space to sample tastes different from what we’re familiar with.
So yes, I’d make warm cucumbers again—and encourage you to try something new, too. Next time you visit France, you can do so at one of Le Foodist’s incredible cooking classes in Paris.
