INTRODUCTION
The Story of The Cook’s Atelier
Our Cooking Philosophy
FRENCH ESSENTIALS
Gathering à la Française
The French Cheese Course
The Wines We Sip | Burgundy Wines
Our Kitchen Potager
Cook’s Tools | Batterie de Cuisine
French Larder | Provisions
SEASONAL MENUS
SPRING
SUMMER
AUTUMN
WINTER
COOKING SCHOOL
Cooking Methods and Kitchen Rituals
Classic French Techniques and Recipes
RESOURCES
INDEX OF SEARCHABLE TERMS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
FRENCH ESSENTIALS
FRENCH LARDER | PROVISIONS
Herb Oil
Flavored Sea Salts (Gardener’s, Butcher’s, and Fishmonger’s)
SEASONAL MENUS
SPRING
GARDEN DAY
French Radishes and Butter with Gardener’s Fleur de Sel
Fava Bean and Sweet Pea Salad with Fennel and Garden Herbs
Savory Tart with Spinach and Mushrooms
Almond-Cherry Galette
JAM DAY
Baby Leek Galettes with Goat Cheese and Wild Garlic
Sweet Pea Soup with Crispy Bacon and Herbed Cream
Pintade with Green Asparagus and Morels
Shortcakes with Homemade Strawberry Confiture
DINNER IN THE WINE SHOP
White Asparagus with Hollandaise and Garden Chervil
Green Garlic Soufflé
Roasted Leg of Lamb with Fava Beans, Rosemary, Sage, and Lemon
Rustic Apricot Tart
THE LITTLE ONES
Limonade with Fresh Mint
Spring Vegetables with Aïoli
New Potato Pissaladières with Jambon Cru and Green Onions
Chocolate Layer Cake
SUMMER
SUPPER IN THE VINES
Cucumber Salad with Strawberries and Lemon Vinaigrette
Heirloom Tomato Soup
La Pièce de Boucher with Grilled Leeks, Pan-Roasted Tomatoes, and Summer Pesto
Summer Pesto
Butter Cake with Peaches and Raspberries
FRENCH ROSÉ
Chilled Zucchini Soup
Watermelon and Vineyard Peach Salad
Pan-Seared Veal Chop with White Wine Jus
Vegetable Tian with Fried Basil
Summer Berry Tart
BASTILLE DAY
Little Croques Madames
Heirloom Tomato Tartelettes
Poitrine de Porc with Sweet Peppers, Petites Courgettes, and Summer Greens
Nectarine and Blueberry Tart
SUNFLOWER PICNIC
Charentais Melon Salad with Jambon de Bayonne and Basil
Niçoise Pan Bagnat
Mixed Berry Pies
AUTUMN
MARKET LUNCH
Sautéed Cèpes on Toasts
Roasted Potimarron Soup with Beurre Noisette
Magret de Canard with Celery Root Puree and Chanterelles
Plum Tarte Tatin
Madeleines
WINE HARVEST PARTY
Gougères
Escargots
Coq au Vin
Chocolate-Hazelnut Tart
APPLE PICKING
Hot Cider
Curly Escarole with Apples and Comté
Duck Pâté en Croûte
Apple Tart
BEAUJOLAIS NOUVEAU
House-Made Chicken Liver Pâté
Warm Frisée Salad with Bacon, Shallots, and Poached Farm Egg
Pan-Seared Quail with Potato Gratin and Glazed Carrots
Chocolate Mousseline
WINTER
NOËL
Gravlax with Crème Fraîche Blinis and Caviar
Citrus-Fennel Salad
Côte de Bœuf with Braised Cabbage and Sauce Béarnaise
Chocolate Truffles and Mendiants
WINTER GATHERING
Marrow Bones and Warmed Brioche
Shaved Radish and Parsley Salad
Pot-au-Feu
Orange Cake with Candied Citrus
Candied Citrus
FIRESIDE COOKING
Roasted Beet Salad with Petite Cress and Orange Vinaigrette
Braised Endive Gratin
Roasted Pheasant with Lemon and Caper Cauliflower
Crêpes Suzette
THE NEW YEAR
Oysters on the Half Shell with Champagne Mignonette
Coquilles St. Jacques with Herbs and Lemon
Sole Meunière with Beurre Blanc and Parsleyed Potatoes
Lemon Soufflés
COOKING SCHOOL
Butter, Pure and Simple
Vinaigrette and Variations
Essential Stocks
Demi-Glace, Aspic, Red Wine Reduction, and Consommé
Essential Sauces
The French Loaf
Pastry Doughs
Dessert Creams and Sauces
Working with Chocolate
Preserving
In the heart of Beaune, just past the Place au Beurre, is a pretty little shop with slate-gray shutters and a vintage baker’s bicycle filled with flowers parked beside the front door. Gleaming copper pots hang in the shop windows above iron tables displaying cook’s tools—narrow wooden rolling pins, copper-handled whisks, vintage chef’s knives and cleavers, and marble mortars and pestles. A handwritten quote by Julia Child graces the window: “People who love to eat are always the best people.” The name of this place, stated simply on a patinaed copper sign, is “The Cook’s Atelier.”
Inside, sounds of old-time French jazz float through the air, and an aroma of baking madeleines wafts down from the kitchen above. Clanks of pots and pans and the rhythmic chop-chopping of knives on wooden cutting boards blend with the whir of grinding coffee beans and the hiss of the vintage Italian espresso machine. The rustic stone walls of the wine shop are hung with simple wrought-iron racks, displaying a carefully curated selection of small-production wines from France, Italy, and Germany. Everywhere is the evidence of a copper obsession: jam pots and fish poachers, tall stockpots, cake molds, and every shape and size of sauté pan and saucepot imaginable.
In the back of the shop, the light-filled atrium is full of more culinary treasures à vendre (for sale)—stacks of old and new wooden cutting boards, vintage madeleine tins, and a collection of creamy white ironstone soup tureens. Zinc pitchers filled with freshly cut flowers sit near a collection of restored mezzalunas and bone-handled French cheese knives. An old butcher’s scale sits atop a farm table, surrounded by stacks of linen kitchen towels and preserving crocks full of wooden cook’s tools like olive-wood spoons, spatulas, and citrus reamers. A small selection of well-sourced pantry items lines the wall: extra-virgin olive oil from the South of France, aged vinegars from Banyuls, vanilla beans from Madagascar, local Burgundian grainy mustard and honey, salted capers from Sicily, and a mix of spices. It’s a shop for cooks, created by cooks.
A heavy wooden spiral staircase—original to the seventeenth-century building—leads up to the second-floor all-white kitchen. A neat row of vintage carbon steel chef’s knives adorns one wall, and bright copper pots hang over a Lacanche range. The kitchen is bustling with a cooking class underway. Ten guests from around the world, decked in linen aprons, gather around the marble-topped prep table, busily making lunch from baskets of fresh ingredients just purchased at the market. Platters contain neat rows of scored duck breasts, ready to pan-sear. The students tightly pack caramelized red and golden plums into a heavy cast-iron skillet and cover them with a sheet of homemade pâte feuilletée (puff pastry). Chanterelles sizzle with garlic and shallots, and a pot of bright orange potimarron (winter squash) soup simmers on the back of the stove. A selection of farm cheeses sits on a vintage board, waiting to be served after the main course.
Once the cooking is done, aprons come off, and guests climb another staircase up to the third-floor dining room, where a wall of windows overlooks the atrium below. A zinc-topped table is set for lunch in simple French fashion. A gray armoire stands against the wall, displaying a collection of favorite antique treasures, thirty years in the making: shelves of crystal stemware, mismatched stacks of creamy white vintage café au lait bowls, a collection of confiture (jam) jars filled with flatware, and one-of-a-kind flea market finds, like French creamware, silver spoons, and tiny copper molds. Candles are lit and Champagne glasses are filled as guests toast one another in anticipation of the long French lunch.
People ask us all the time how two American women—a mother and daughter, nonetheless—ended up creating a French cooking school in Burgundy. It’s a long story, but one we love telling, as it reminds us that, with enough determination and grit, anything is possible.
Our vision for this place started more than twenty years ago, when we were still living in Arizona. Kendall was always a Francophile, even as a little girl. We aren’t entirely sure how that happened, considering we were both born and raised in Phoenix—which, in more ways than one, is a very long way away from Beaune. In high school, she studied French and had a very memorable teacher whose own experience in France resonated with her. After a trip to Paris for the first time with her high school class, the spark was officially ignited. She became intrigued with everything about France—the language, the culture, and the food. On early morning walks together before work and school, our talks often centered around France and the idea of joie de vivre—the way French people take time to savor everything, be it a coffee, a meal, or a conversation. We tried to adopt this philosophy as best we could in our everyday lives, never imagining that we would ever actually live in France one day.
As the years went by, Kendall began spending more and more time in France. She studied French and art history at university, and took every opportunity to study abroad in college. After graduating, she returned to France to teach English in Nîmes. A year later, she moved to Paris and got an internship at Christie’s auction house, working part-time on the side to pay the rent. She lived in a tiny 205-square-foot (19-square-meter) apartment—roughly the size of a laundry room. She stayed in Paris for several years, working and studying, and I visited her as often as I could.
Since it had always been just the two of us, it was hard to live an ocean apart. Her dad had passed away when she was a little girl, so I raised Kendall predominately as a single parent. I always encouraged her to follow her dreams, and I knew it was just a matter of time until she figured out a way to settle in France permanently.
I’ve always loved feeding people and gathering others around the table. Although I come from a large family, where big holiday gatherings were a normal part of growing up, the food prepared was never really the focus. I certainly didn’t come from a long line of great cooks, and so I spent many years teaching myself. I’ve always been hugely inspired by the writings of Julia Child, M. F. K. Fisher, Elizabeth David, Madeleine Kamman, and Alice Waters, and essentially taught myself to cook following many of their recipes. I admired their passion and the way they described how to cook in detail, using the techniques required to prepare each recipe by hand. Of course, these women all happened to be Francophiles, and I’m sure it’s not by accident that I’ve always felt connected to French food in the same way that Kendall has been drawn toward France. One of my very favorite cookbooks is Chez Panisse Cooking by Paul Bertolli and Alice Waters. I have a very well-worn copy that I continue to read to this day. I especially love the passage: “Good cooking is in the very best sense a craft, involving the heart, head, and hands simultaneously. . . . Teach your hands, above all, to remember that you are preparing food, not culinary artwork, that is to be savored and shared with others at your table. . . . This is cooking.”
In my mid-twenties, I began apprenticing at a series of French-inspired restaurants in Phoenix because I wanted to learn the classic techniques of French cooking. I started at the ground level, learning my way around a commercial kitchen and developing my culinary skills. Eventually, having a knack for pastry, I got a lucky break and was hired in the pastry department of a small French restaurant where I worked for several years before becoming the pasty chef. But ultimately, being an entrepreneurial spirit, I began to think about creating a business of my own.
After years working in kitchens, in 1999, I opened Ruby Beet, a small restaurant and cooking school, with a fellow pastry chef. We renovated an old bungalow in Heritage Square, the historic part of downtown Phoenix, which was situated across the street from Pizzeria Bianco (run by James Beard Award–winning chef Chris Bianco). Herbs and edible landscaping filled the garden beds around the old house, and we planted a small kitchen garden just outside the back door. Our food was simple, seasonal, and locally sourced. We shopped at a farmers’ market in the center of Phoenix, and bought organic produce from farmers such as Bob McClendon and Maya at the Farm at South Mountain. We made our own bread, pickled our own beets, and worked with a local butcher to source our meat. It certainly wasn’t easy, but we tried to practice our farm-to-table philosophy even then. Dining at Ruby Beet was like having dinner at a friend’s house. We would sit outside on the front porch at dusk, drinking wine and shelling peas, and the first twenty people or so who came got to join us for dinner. Kendall worked with us when she came home from college during summers and holiday breaks. When I look back on this time, I realize that it was the perfect training ground for The Cook’s Atelier.
In 2006, when the time had come to move on from Ruby Beet, I chose to spend six months in Burgundy, working and studying with cookbook author Anne Willan of La Varenne at Château du Feÿ. This was such a pivotal experience in my life—getting to live and cook in France—and it gave me the opportunity to figure out what I wanted to do next. I loved living in Burgundy, shopping at the local markets, and especially, being in the same country as Kendall. At this point, while living in Paris, she began developing a keen interest in wine. After taking an introductory wine class at Le Cordon Bleu, Kendall took a part-time job at Legrand Filles et Fils, a little wine bar and wine shop in the second arrondissement, to learn more.
During this time, she visited me at La Varenne on the weekends, and I went up to Paris often to see her. On a whim, we visited a little town called Beaune that summer and fell for its charms. The notion of moving to France permanently became more realistic. But before I could make that decision, I had to return home to figure out the logistics.
In September 2008, we knew it was time to take the leap. I arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris with nothing more than a suitcase, some of my favorite cookbooks, a few copper pans, and my giant dog, Lily, a 120-pound (54-kg) bloodhound.
I had just sold everything—the house I had bought in my early twenties, my car, and all my furniture—to move to Beaune. Kendall was already living there, pursuing viticulture and oenology studies at the CFPPA (Le Centre de Formation Professionnelle et de Promotion Agricole) wine school. During one of our frequent mother-daughter phone conversations, before I had completely made up my mind to make the big move, Kendall said, “Mom, you’ve been telling me my entire life that I can achieve anything, if I put my mind to it. Now it’s your turn!” Encouraged by her, I made the decision that day to move. I took a leap of faith: I had no apartment, no job, and no safety net back home in case things didn’t work out. I jumped, hoping the net would follow.
Beaune is a charming, medieval city with an authentic feel, just two and a half hours from Paris by high-speed train. Surrounded by idyllic farmland and endless vineyards, it attracts visitors from around the world every year to see the famed Côte d’Or wine route. Burgundy is renowned for its culinary heritage, evidenced by the fact that many of France’s Michelin three-star chefs come from the Lyon area, just south of us. Burgundian cuisine, with its famed dishes like escargots bathed in garlicky butter and bœuf bourguignon, a hearty beef stew simmered in local red wine, can be quite rich, thanks to the abundance of excellent local meat, poultry, charcuterie, and cheeses. However, we are especially taken with the region’s vegetables. Burgundian farmers, whether they are growing grapes or raising animals, have a similar, old-fashioned mentality. They keep their productions small and focus on quality, often using older farming methods, such as horse-plowing, to leave a gentler footprint on the land.
There’s no better way to grasp Burgundy’s abundant food culture than to visit the bustling Beaune market on a Wednesday or Saturday morning. Located in the Place des Halles, just around the corner from the beautifully tiled roof of the Hospices de Beaune, the local market is one of the best in the region, if not France. Rain or shine, the square fills with white tents and tables overflowing with the season’s bounty.
In the spring, you’ll see delicate peas and fava beans, plump white asparagus and tiny Gariguette strawberries, and big bunches of pale pink peonies. Summer brings heirloom tomatoes in every possible shape, size, and color, sweet cantaloupes and rosy apricots, crisp haricots verts and buttery salad greens, and tall bouquets of gold-and-black sunflowers. In the cool months of autumn and winter, you’ll find bright orange potimarrons and other winter squash, fingerling potatoes and hearty greens, golden chestnuts and a bounty of local, wild mushrooms. Inside the adjacent indoor market, cheese and charcuterie vendors set up shop, with purveyors of local duck and other poultry (including the famed poulet de Bresse) and meat, along with a few of our favorite local farmers.
This market is special because it’s an actual living, breathing market, very much still frequented by locals. And they come out in droves—especially on Saturdays—pulling shopping carts on wheels, which they fill to the brim with fresh produce, boules of grainy bread, cheeses, pâté, and other provisions for the week. The market is a meeting place, where friends and neighbors exchange bisous (one kiss on each cheek as a greeting) and catch up over coffee or a glass of wine before or after their shopping. In the midst of this calm weekly shopping ritual, we fly through the market at high speed carrying overflowing baskets, with a trail of clients in tow, and the locals can’t help but chuckle out loud at the crazy Americans. At first, they were curious: “Who are these people? How many people are they feeding?” With time, they came to appreciate the fact that we wanted to share the beauty of the market with others.
We love this place not only for the fantastic food and wine, but also for the tight-knit community, the slow rhythm of the seasons, and the close relationships we’ve been able to forge with the people who grow the food we cook. But most of all, we love Beaune because it’s home.
My first year in France, I had a long-stay visitor visa and wasn’t legally allowed to work. Kendall was continuing her studies at the CFPPA and working at Kermit Lynch, an American wine merchant with an office in Beaune. Although I had a little money saved up from the sale of my house, we knew that it wouldn’t last forever, so we had to figure out a game plan. We began to lay the groundwork for a business idea. Both of us being very detail oriented with a strong appreciation for aesthetics and remarkably similar tastes, it was a natural transition to becoming business partners.
Though we didn’t yet know exactly how the business would look, we knew that we wanted to create a convivial gathering place where we could share our love of food and wine with other cooks from around the world. It was an idea years in the making that involved lots of brainstorming and countless glasses of wine. We started with no formal business plan, just a strong gut instinct to create a place that we would love, and hoped that others would, too. We envisioned taking guests to the market to purchase local produce, artisanal cheeses, meats, charcuterie, and freshly baked bread from our favorite producers. We dreamed of teaching hands-on cooking classes, using classic French techniques, followed by long, leisurely lunches around the table. In the evenings, we imagined hosting candlelit dinner parties with new and old friends. We had no idea exactly how this would come to be, or where we would find the space, but we were continually drawn to this idea. It took years of research, work, and study—independently and together—to figure out a way to take the things we love about the French lifestyle and to combine it all into a business. I remembered thinking to myself that all I needed was a kitchen and a stove.
The first year in Beaune, we started to meet and build relationships with local farmers and artisan food producers, and figured out how to set up a small business in France, which was certainly no easy task. We explored Burgundy, discovering small farms and wineries, and became regulars at the Beaune market. As fate would have it, Kendall married a Frenchman, Laurent Franchini, in 2009, and they settled as newlyweds in Beaune. As the good-natured guy that he is (and the newly designated “Frenchman” of the family), he helped us navigate the miles and miles of French red tape involved in setting up the business, and was also instrumental in helping us find our first location early on.
Later that same year, we happened to be walking down rue Maufoux (a quaint little street in the center of Beaune) and noticed a second-story apartment with big French windows thrown open to reveal painters inside, meaning there was a strong possibility it would soon be available for rent. We went inside to investigate. It was light-filled, with tall ceilings, ornate plaster moldings, and original hardwood floors. The place was about the size of a postage stamp, but I was smitten. It was adorable and, most important, available.
In spite of its potential, the place was a wreck and needed significant work. We decided to convert the front bedroom into a teaching kitchen, and use the original kitchen as a prep area, with a small sink for washing dishes and a tiny washing machine for linens. The living room became the dining room, and the smaller bedroom became a storage room (and bedroom for me).
Every night after work, Kendall and Laurent would come help me work on the apartment, renovating it completely on our own. On weekends, we would go to brocantes (flea markets) to find vintage furniture and French tableware.
The final touch to the apartment’s renovation was the stove. As a cook, I had always had my heart set on a Lacanche. Founded in 1796 and hand-made in a village of the same name, each one of these stoves is custom-built to order. I contacted Jean Jacques Augagneur, the company’s CEO, telling him that I was starting a cooking school in Beaune, and that I wanted to buy one. He invited us to come visit the showroom and met us personally. He even sketched out a compact range on paper that they could build to fit into our tiny kitchen. The last bit of my savings went for that stove.
Finally, it was time for a name. For months we wracked our brains. We felt strongly about our concept, and we wanted a name that was humble and inspiring, but not pretentious, and that would evoke the Franco-American connection. We decided on The Cook’s Atelier, as our vision was to bring cooks of all levels together to share and learn in an approachable, convivial workshop setting.
We put together a very simple website and in less than four months, we had our first booking which was, hilariously, a party of ten Frenchmen. The small kitchen was inviting, with our newly installed Lacanche stove, well-worn copper pots, and a rustic farm table that we used for food prep. We hung shelves on the kitchen walls, displaying little family heirlooms like a porcelain figurine of Mary to remind me of my mom and her strength of character, and a well-used collection of cookbooks from inspiring cooks, like Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking and Madeleine Kamman’s The Making of a Cook.
Our subsequent years teaching cooking classes in this tiny space were full of wonderful people and countless memories. We created a rhythm for our market classes and an ambiance that was truly magical. We never advertised, so most guests came by word of mouth, and we welcomed many repeat clients. People loved the classes, and afterward, often enjoyed the experience so much that they lingered well into the evening hours, drinking wine and enjoying the meal. We have watched total strangers become lifelong friends. And in our years on rue Maufoux, we knew that we had created something very special. We hit a sweet spot, just at the right time.
We like to say that it was the building that chose us.
After five successful years, we outgrew the small apartment on rue Maufoux. As much as we loved it, we knew it was time to expand, but didn’t want to lose that unique ambiance we had worked so hard to create.
Encouraged by a good friend, we started looking for a larger space. We were beginning to visualize perhaps adding a cook’s shop.
One day in January 2013, we had plans to visit a few spaces. The first two we saw required so much renovation or were so expensive, they weren’t even in the realm of possibility. The last building we saw was a dress shop on rue de Lorraine. It had a certain old-world charm and stately exterior that we felt drawn to.
As we toured the building, we could visualize exactly how The Cook’s Atelier could grow and evolve. The space was flooded with light, thanks to three floors of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a central atrium, with a large skylight. It was perfectly laid out: There was space for a separate dining room, a big second-floor room that would make a spacious teaching kitchen, and a ground-floor area perfect for a wine shop and culinary boutique. There was even a pretty little room for an office, just over the shop front. At the end of the visit, we took a look at the rear of the building. In very faded paint above the garage was the word “ATELIER.” We took it as a sign, and that sealed the deal.
It was yet another big leap of faith for us, expanding from the comfort of our tiny apartment space to a full-blown shop and cooking school, as we had no safety net to sustain us if things didn’t work out. As foreigners, we had learned that opening up a brick-and-mortar space is especially complicated. Failing was not an option, and we had to believe that the vision of The Cook’s Atelier would carry us through. We didn’t know exactly how we were going to pull it off, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up.
Having a culinary boutique and wine shop has allowed us to offer our guests access to all our favorite wines, cook’s tools, and pantry provisions. From the beginning, we’ve taken joy not only in teaching others how to cook, but also in introducing them to the best growers and producers in the region. What we cook is only as good as the ingredients that we use, which is why we feel so fortunate to be in Burgundy. In addition to the regular market cooking classes and five-day workshops we continue to offer, we also host wine tastings and winemaker dinners featuring our favorite local winemakers. Our guests still tell us that the time they spend with us at The Cook’s Atelier is the highlight of their trip to France. They continue to linger at our table long after the long French lunch has concluded, enjoying wine and savoring the joie de vivre.
But at the end of the day, The Cook’s Atelier has always been about family. In those early years on rue Maufoux, Kendall was either pregnant or carrying one of her children on her hip during every class. I remember her pouring wine with one hand and holding baby Luc or Manon with the other. We built the backbone of our business around a simple idea—good food and a life surrounded by the people we love. It truly has become a family affair.
Laurent officially joined the business as shopkeeper in 2013 when we purchased the new building, with the big responsibility of keeping everything straight. His vital role downstairs—both as a business manager and the friendly face who greets every person who comes into the shop—completes our team. He’s the grounding force that keeps us calm when things get hectic. Despite the craziness of juggling a small family business in a foreign country and raising little ones, Luc and Manon, we know we are very fortunate and blessed to have become a part of the community and to be able to call this place home.
Our goal at The Cook’s Atelier is to help guests become more confident cooks. We welcome a wide variety of cooking levels, from total novices to restaurant chefs, in our Atelier kitchen. Our cooking philosophy is simple: It’s all about using seasonal ingredients, mastering classic French techniques, and developing intuition in the kitchen. Rather than focusing strictly on classic Burgundian cuisine, our recipes are inspired by the bounty of the region, with seasonal vegetables and artisanal products always front and center.
Your cooking will only be as good as the quality of ingredients you use. No matter how gifted you might be in technique, the end result will never be quite as good if you don’t take the time to pay attention to the seasons, and to where you source your food. Living in Beaune, we are fortunate to be able to find our ingredients locally and quite affordably. France, for the most part, still puts a significant value on the pleasure of eating well and supporting small farmers and artisan producers. As the world gets more and more homogenized, we feel that traditions such as kitchen gardens, small farms, and charcuterie- and cheese-making, as well as artisanal baking, should be protected. We do our best to help support these crafts by shopping locally and sharing these traditions with our guests as well. We enjoy teaching our guests what to look for when buying artisanal products, and encourage them to support their own small, local food producers back home.
We are big believers that less is more when it comes to good cooking, and when you use best-quality ingredients, even the simplest dish will shine. Like the French, we shop for food more frequently and in smaller quantities, planning a menu around what’s available. We have a knack for spotting authentic farmers at the market and enjoy engaging with them and learning about their stories. To us, a true artisan food producer is someone who is growing, harvesting, and producing food, rather than just selling it at the market. We gain immense satisfaction in knowing that we are supporting small farmers and eating clean food. It’s important to strive to buy fresh produce in season—not only does it taste better, it’s also healthier and generally more affordable. We share our philosophy of shopping locally and seasonally throughout the pages to follow, and we hope to inspire you to do the same wherever you live.
Having a strong grasp of classic cooking techniques and basic core principles—from how to hold a knife properly, to mastering classic sauces and stocks, to understanding how to properly sear, sauté, roast, braise, season, and so on—is the key to becoming a better cook. We always teach our students how to first make things by hand, instead of using a food processor or stand mixer, so they really get a feel for the process. Not that we are against machines, but there’s no substitute for your hands in the kitchen. When making bread or pastry dough, for example, using your hands gives you a memory of exactly how the dough should feel, so the next time you make the recipe, you’ll know when to add more flour or when to stop kneading. We created this book as an extension of our French cooking school, providing an approachable and beautiful Cooking School section, to give in-depth instruction on classic French cooking techniques and recipes we feel every cook should know (see this page). As you practice and begin to master the fundamentals of French cooking, your confidence as a cook will improve, empowering you to develop your own style of cooking.
As you become a better cook, part of the journey is to let go of just following a recipe. We feel it’s important for a good cook to begin with certain fundamental classic techniques and methods, and then, with some practice, start to hone in on their own intuition in the kitchen to make a recipe ultimately into their own. Cooking should be enjoyable, and in our minds, it’s difficult to be a good cook if you don’t take pleasure in the actual process—and in eating. As you gain more and more confidence, you will be able to adapt recipes, making adjustments here and there, depending on what’s available in your region. We hope that you view our recipes not as rigid dicta, but as suggestive guides to help hone your cooking instincts.
One of the things we love most about living in France is the unwavering rhythm of mealtimes and the time spent around the table. We relish the rituals—the sourcing of ingredients, the cooking and the preparation, and taking pride in setting a beautiful table. For us, it’s about enjoying the meal, the company, and the conversation—and savoring the experience as a whole.
Like the French, we’ve adopted the tradition of eating each meal in courses. For family time, even a humble meal is eaten at a leisurely pace and never rushed. For our workshops and the long French lunches that follow, meals usually include a more elaborate presentation. We select dishes that complement each other so there is an overall sense of flow to the meal. From a simple family gathering to a large dinner party, this relaxed way of eating—savoring each course on its own—draws out the conversation and allows everyone to linger just a bit longer around the table.
We strive to create a beautiful ambiance, and so that means putting thought into the menu and using things we’ve collected over the years to create an inviting table. No matter if the meal is intended to be casual or formal, the intention of our gatherings is to create an experience and to have all of the elements work together to evoke a certain feeling.
Eating and gathering in this way reminds us to savor the things that matter most: family, friends, and good food. It’s about taking time to pause in the midst of our busy lives, to put value and joy back into the act of eating. The seasonal menus and gatherings throughout the pages that follow are inspired by glimpses into life here in Burgundy, and the recipes that accompany them are an expression of how we like to cook, using the bounty of the region all year long. We hope to encourage you to seek out the beauty in your own area and to gather in your own way. We believe that a meaningful life, no matter where you live, is all in the details.
A meal in France would not be complete without a cheese course: a welcome interlude between the main course and dessert. In France, a cheese course can be served in lieu of dessert, paired with a rustic country boule and perhaps with some fresh fruit. The French would never serve it before a meal, as they believe that the cheese course is a wonderful way to encourage guests to stay around the table a bit longer and is a perfect excuse for another bottle of wine.
The French take their cheese very seriously. The famous French gastronome Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin once wrote, “A dessert without cheese is like a beautiful woman who is missing an eye.” And with hundreds of varieties to choose from, you could try a different cheese every day for a year and never repeat. Each region of France has its own specialties, and many have the AOC (Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée) or AOP (Appellation d’Origine Protégée) designation, which identifies the region or village of origin and traditional methods of production.
We are fortunate to have an incredible cheese shop in Beaune, Fromagerie Hess, and we often buy cheese there, or from our favorite producers at the market. We always serve a cheese course during the long French lunch after our cooking classes, featuring our favorite local varieties. We share our friend Yan’s cheeses, especially his Tomme de Brebis (aged sheep’s-milk cheese), Couronne Marguerite (ash-covered goat cheese), and La Gabarre (a soft, seasonal goat cheese from the Morvan). We buy Frédéric’s Tomme de Chèvre (an aged, pressed goat cheese), as well as Colombier Fermier (a soft, round, local cow’s-milk cheese), and Époisses, Burgundy’s famous pungent, golden-colored cheese that’s so creamy it can be eaten with a spoon. Other favorites include Saint Marcellin and Saint Félicien—creamy cow’s-milk cheeses from the Rhône-Alpes. When preparing the cheese course, we like to include selections from Burgundy, as well as other regions of France. The finest cheeses are still unpasteurized. Not only does this add to the flavor profile, but it means that the cheese is living and, like wine, will evolve and mature with age. When visiting a specialty cheese shop, be sure to tell the cheesemonger the day you plan to serve your cheese course, so they can make the best selection for you, depending on the ripeness of each cheese. It’s important to serve cheese at room temperature to properly enjoy its flavor and texture. Remove it from the refrigerator at least an hour before serving.
When preparing our cheese board, we make sure to include a variety of types (cow’s, sheep’s, and goat’s milk), textures, colors, and affinages (ages). The cheese course is as much about presentation as it is taste, so you want to make sure the selection is visually appealing. As a rule, we like to serve odd numbers—usually five, seven, or nine cheeses at a time, depending on the number of guests. We present our cheese course in generous wedges or in whole rounds on vintage wooden boards, or sometimes under antique cheese domes, along with the appropriate cheese knife.
It’s customary to select a slice of each cheese from the board. Remember to begin with the most mild cheese and work your way through, reserving the last bite for the strongest one. When serving, be sure to keep in mind the original shape of the cheese when slicing—for example, if cutting from a small round of goat cheese, cut a small wedge from the round and continue. If the cheese is already cut into a wedge, slice a thin whole slice from the side rather than cutting off the tip. The idea is to ensure that everyone is served the same proportion of cheese and rind. If someone begins by cutting off the tip or “nose” of the cheese, the final guest being served would be left with the just the rind.
Cheese can be stored separately in the vegetable drawer of your refrigerator for a few days loosely covered in cheese paper or parchment paper. Never store cheese in plastic wrap, as it prevents it from breathing.
The cheese course is a highlight of any French gathering, and it’s one of the many pleasures of living in France that we have wholeheartedly embraced. We encourage you to bring this tradition to your table.
Driving through the Côte d’Or in any season is transforming. This famed thirty-six-mile (fifty-eight-km) stretch of vineyards, extending north to Marsannay and south to Santenay, produces some of the world’s most coveted wines in an idyllic, pastoral setting. The narrow two-lane road snakes through a hilly patchwork of neatly pruned vineyards and medieval villages, divided by a network of low stone walls. The autumn vines, after harvest, glow in brilliant shades of gold and burnt sienna, earning the area the name the Golden Slope. Ancient stone crosses dot the landscape, marking the entrances to Grand Cru vineyards, and horses pulling plows slowly make their way up and down the sloping paths between the vines. There is no mistaking the beauty and mystery of this noble landscape and its rich sense of history.
It’s impossible to understand Burgundy wine without an appreciation of terroir, the unique combination of soil quality, terrain, sun exposure, and, of course, the winemaker’s touch. Two vineyards sitting side-by-side can have very different flavor profiles and price tags. The slope of the hill, the directness of the sunlight, the nutrients in the soil, an early frost or unusually hot summer—all of these factors affect the grapes, and thus the taste of the wine. Winemakers work their magic around the nuance of the terroir and the climate, always taking care to preserve the integrity of the soil and the vines. Much is left to nature—irrigation isn’t allowed in Burgundy, and vines are planted very close together, forcing their roots to reach down deep into the earth to look for water and nutrients. Burgundian winemakers know a little secret: Vines, like people, benefit from a little struggle. Ultimately, the vines that suffer produce fewer grapes, but of a higher quality.
We always advise others to learn about Burgundy wines first by tasting. Wherever you live, find a knowledgeable local wine merchant who can recommend bottles within your budget for you to take home and try. When tasting, take note of the label—the winemaker, where it’s from, the vintage (year)—and any particular nuances you enjoy. As you become more knowledgeable about the wines of Burgundy, you’ll come to understand that there are certain vintages that are particularly noteworthy. However, all vintages are great; it’s just a question of when you drink them, meaning that a modest vintage at maturity is a more satisfying experience than drinking a great vintage too young. Once you determine a particular winemaker you like, or a style that you prefer, you can begin to explore similar wines with the help of your local wine merchant. Keep in mind that learning about wine, like cooking, is a lifelong experience that should be enjoyable.
In Burgundy, wine isn’t saved just for a special occasion. In the same way that they appreciate good food, the French love good wine, and enjoy savoring a glass with their meals. Serving lunch or dinner without wine would be as unthinkable as skipping the meal altogether.
At The Cook’s Atelier, we share the French passion for pairing wine with food. We love getting to know local winemakers, and hosting wine-maker dinners in the shop. In the same way we source quality ingredients for our food, we are also passionate about selecting well-made wines to serve alongside. In our wine shop, we carry a carefully curated selection of small-production bottles that we love to drink, from France, Italy, and Germany. Of course, we have a soft spot for Burgundy, and have a unique selection from our favorite local producers.
The local wines are incredibly food-friendly. Some can be enjoyed fairly soon after bottling, but most benefit immensely from some time left in a cellar. Like cheese, wine is a living thing, and when left to age, its characteristics evolve and deepen.
When planning a menu, we like to pair each course with its own wine. We always start off with an amuse-bouche and a glass of chilled Champagne, as the bubbles are festive and awaken the palate for the meal to come. For the first course, if it’s a salad, we will serve a crisp, mineral-driven white Burgundy. If there are a couple of dishes before the main course, we might serve a more recent white vintage first, followed by an older vintage.
For the main course, we like to serve a lighter red, often something a bit fruitier and younger. Despite being made mostly from Pinot Noir, red Burgundies have an incredibly diverse range of flavor profiles. Depending