Tartiflette

Tartiflette. It sounds like a classic French dish, doesn't it? Why is it then that when I was learning the rudiments of French cuisine, both refined haute cuisine and provincial country-style cooking, that I never heard of tartiflette? For potato dishes from the alpine region of France, I learned pommes dauphinoise, gratin savoyarde, and péla (Madeleine Kamman, I owe you thanks for illustrating the culinary highlights of the Savoie). But never did I ever hear of tartiflette, a dish I would end up decades later making in tiny single-serving portions for our tasting menu at the restaurant.

The reason for the gap in my culinary formation and education is simple: tartiflette is a new dish, a dish created as a (very effective) marketing vehicle for Reblochon cheese, one of my very favorite washed rind cheeses in the world. In the 1980s, the Le Syndicat Interprofessionnel du Reblochon (the cheesemaker's trade group) dusted off the traditional péla recipe, updated it, and gave it the new name of tartiflette (after the Savoyard word for potato, tartifle) to help boost sales of their cheese. Brilliant strategy, brilliant execution.

Tartiflette with Smoked Brisket

My journey leading to this post started with my wife plotting with Dyce a weeknight dinner for which Rob would smoke a brisket. Seemingly quite out of nowhere, Ann volunteered me to make a "sexy potato dish," which she relayed to me as a request to make a tartiflette. Why not? Tartiflette is a super simple dish to put together and it is among the best and tastiest of potato and cheese dishes in the world.

The issue of making an authentic tartiflette in the US is real. The dish is classically made using yellow La Ratte fingerling potatoes which I have grown and adore, but which are scarce to find if you don't have a garden. And then there's the Reblochon. I found out the hard way about 1992 that the USDA gets pissy if you bring this raw milk cheese into the country. Queue your "nanny state" comments up. I ended up having to donate the cheese I was bringing back from Paris to our government for destruction. Rat bastards!

But the concern about authenticity of a dish that in culinary history has literally just been invented seems misplaced. It hasn't been around long enough to take on a serious air of authenticity. And so, over here in the States, without any worry at all, I make do using the ingredients that I do have, making sure to honor the spirit of the dish, if not the letter. Reblochon, I love you, but I cannot get you, so I use one of your cousins that I can get.

Taleggio, another stinky washed rind cheese, makes a great substitute as do many other cheeses. In Virginia at the restaurant, I used to use the local Grayson washed rind cheese. In my hunt about town, the market where I get my cheese only had a little bit of Taleggio, so I supplemented it with a nice hunk of Brebirousse d'Argental, a soft sheep's milk cheese that is quite outstanding.

Lardons and Leeks with Fresh Thyme Springs

To make the dish, I started by cooking several slices of very thick cut smoked bacon that I cut into crosswise strips called lardons. After the lardons were halfway cooked, I poured off most of the bacon grease (saving it for some other deliciousness to come in the future) and added one huge leek, sliced. Traditionally you would use a yellow onion for this dish, but I am here to tell you that leeks are superior in every sense. You will not regret substituting super delicious leeks for garden variety onions.

Bacon, Leeks, White Wine, and Mascarpone

After the leeks had become soft, I added a splash of dry white wine and let that cook down for a couple of minutes. At this point, one would typically add crème fraîche to the dish. I did not have time to make crème fraîche, (heavy cream, a bit of buttermilk with active culture, and leave it on the counter overnight or until it thickens), so I went the store-bought route.

Alas, the cheese manager at the store told me that unfortunately, the New York Times had just published a recipe featuring that cultured cream and that she had sold out of all four cases that she had in stock. There's more than one way to skin a cat, however, and I had seen both mascarpone and clotted cream on the shelf. Either would do as a substitute, but I went with the mascarpone because it is also cultured, unlike clotted cream which is merely heated to thicken it.

So into the pan went the mascarpone and it cooked down until thick; mascarpone has so much fat content that you do not have to worry about it breaking even if you boil it. When thick, I seasoned the leek mix with salt and white pepper, removing the thyme stalks.

Meanwhile, I had peeled several yellow potatoes and cut them into thick slices. They were merrily boiling away in heavily salted water until I could easily pierce them. Tartiflette is in the oven only long enough to brown the cheese on top and that is not long enough to cook the potatoes, so they need to be pre-cooked.

Assembled Tartiflette

When assembling a tartiflette (other than tiny portions for tasting menus), I like to put them together in layers to facilitate seasoning the potatoes, which even though are boiled in salted water, require a bit more salt. In an oiled gratin, I arrange a layer of potatoes (about two slices thick) which I sprinkle with salt. Over this, I spoon half the creamy leek mixture. I follow this with a final layer of potatoes, salt, and leeks.

The final layer consists of the cheese. I like to split the cheese down the middle horizontally and place it rind side up on top of the potatoes. Notice the sheet tray under the gratin. Overflowed cream and cheese are going to make a dire mess of your oven if you do not take precautions. Don't blame me if you end up spending an hour scrubbing burnt cheese from the bottom of your oven.

Cooled Briefly, Tartiflette Ready to Serve

This casserole wants to cook in a moderately hot oven, say 400F (200C, gas mark 6 or 7) until it browns. I want to say that this large tartiflette took about 30 minutes to become golden brown.

And there you have it: tartiflettte, a pseudo-classic from the Savoie and favorite of skiers everywhere. In another century, it surely will have gained classic status.