BOTANICAL NAME: Allium galanthum
FAMILY: Alliaceae
Griselle (pronounced gree-ZELL) means “little gray.” It is an apt description of the small tear-shaped brownish-gray shallot that has been the darling of French cookery since the eighteenth century, although they were employed somewhat differently in the 1700s. As the Abbé Rozier pointed out in his 1783 discourse on agriculture, shallots were harvested young and used in cookery while still perfumed with a slight sweetness. Today this custom has fallen out of fashion, but French chefs still prefer gray shallots above all others because their rich, intense flavor holds up under the rigors of the stove. This becomes immediately clear when one reads French cookbooks—the ones written for the French, not for American adaptation. In one of his recipes for salade de pommes de terre à la parisienne, Paris chef Joël Robuchon specified not only that the potatoes be Belle de Fontenay (an excellent heirloom potato incidentally) and the poaching wine a chablis but also that the minced shallots be gris. This is not snobbery; it is exacting taste that understands how flavors work together like subtle shades of color.
French chefs still prefer gray shallots above all others because their rich, intense flavor holds up under the rigors of the stove.
There are many cultivars of French gray shallots, mostly varying in size. They all have in common a hard, grayish skin and pink to rose-red flesh, and they descend from a wild, purple-flowering ancestor that still grows in Kazakhstan. That ancestor is not the same species as the common shallot, thus its particular growing requirements —especially its preference for sandy soil and low acidity—must be taken into account. Unfortunately, all shallots are rather fickle and they do need pampering to come to full perfection, which may account for the on-again, off-again supply of the better sorts even in France. The truth is, gray shallots do not store well, and this has discouraged many gardeners from attempting to grow them. However, I have found that the Griselle, with its smaller-sized bulb, bypasses these difficulties. In fact, it has repaid my troubles twentyfold. By that I mean each bulb planted creates twenty more.
The bulbs of Griselle also store perfectly in a cool, dry pantry along with winter pumpkins and garlics. There has never been any disappointment in that respect. I suppose I could plant them in the early spring as many people do, but it is just as easy (and far more productive in terms of yield) to plant them in ridges in the fall under a cold frame. This extra bit of protection keeps the shallots from heaving out of the ground during thaws, and if the ridges are dusted with wood ashes, the rots, worms, and other plagues that anguish shallot lovers can be avoided.
Furthermore, make good use of the space between the ridges by planting dwarf choy sum (page 67), bucks horn plantain, or màche. They will hold in moisture and provide greens while the shallots are maturing. This system works, and when I am digging my own Belle de Fontenay toward the beginning of summer I am very glad to have new shallots that do justice to their elegant flavor.