Sauces

The saucier, or sauce chef, in a French professional kitchen is the number three in command, after the chef and the sous-chef, which indicates in just how high regard sauces are held in those gastronomic temples. Indeed, traditional cuisine française is dramatic with its list of necessary sauces. Today we tend, even in professional kitchens, even in France, to simplify. Yet there is an important role that sauces play in bringing to life many dishes. A basic tomato sauce that can be used to dress pasta, to mix with a green vegetable, or to top a simple grilled chicken breast is something every cook needs in his or her freezer; while slightly more complicated pounded nut sauces like pesto, or egg-and-oil emulsions like mayonnaise and aioli, will quickly dress up a plain poached fish or even something as simple as a dish of hard-boiled eggs, peeled and halved and arranged on a bed of fresh greens. Olive oil is essential in all of these sauces, and for uncooked sauces like pesto or mayonnaise it should be the very best you can afford, because the flavor of good oil has an important role to play in the virtue of the sauce as a whole.

Simple Basic Tomato Sauce

This is the most elemental sauce imaginable—in fact, it almost doesn’t deserve the name “sauce” since it’s just pureed tomatoes with olive oil. Make it in quantities when fresh, red, ripe tomatoes are available in local markets, then freeze or can it in jars. All winter long, it will be a pleasure to find in the pantry, a quick sauce for pasta (add some garlic, some rosemary, some basil) or the foundation for a more complicated meat ragù, as an addition to a soup or stew, or a topping, with mozzarella and grated parmigiano reggiano, for pizza. The best tomatoes to use for this are so-called paste tomatoes or plum tomatoes, which have a better ratio of sweet flesh to juice and seeds; beefsteak tomatoes and their ilk are great in salads but they give off far too much juice to use in this recipe. And if the right kind of fresh tomatoes isn’t available, you can also make this sauce with best-quality canned tomatoes. Use two 28-ounce cans of whole tomatoes and cook them down with the olive oil, just as directed.

Makes 4 cups

  • 4 pounds tomatoes, preferably paste or plum tomatoes
  • ⅓ cup olive oil
  • Sea salt
  • Pinch of sugar (optional)

Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil and add the tomatoes in two or three batches. Let simmer for 10 seconds, then remove with a slotted spoon and transfer to a colander in the sink. Run cold water over them.

When all the tomatoes are done, peel them by simply lifting the skin off with a paring knife. It should come away easily. If it doesn’t, you have not left them long enough in the boiling water.

Cut the peeled tomatoes directly into a heavy saucepan and set them over medium heat. Add the oil and a pinch of salt, stir to mix, and let the tomatoes slowly come to a simmer. Lower the heat and simmer slowly for an hour or so, or until the sauce is thick and most of the juice has evaporated. If you wish, turn them into a food processor or use an immersion blender to make a puree, or leave them as is, a little rough and all the more pleasurable for that. In any case, taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning, adding a little sugar if necessary to boost the flavor. But if you do add more seasoning, give the sauce another 5 minutes of simmering to blend the salt and/or sugar well with the other ingredients.

The sauce is ready to use as is. Or, freeze the sauce in 1-cup freezer containers. Or can it in half-pint or 1-pint jars. If you pour the simmering sauce into scrupulously clean canning jars and top the jars immediately with their equally clean lids, the lids will seal without further processing and the sauce will keep well in a cool, dark place for several months.

You can also gussy this sauce up in any number of ways—just add chopped black olives, capers, and anchovies to make something approaching a puttanesca sauce for pasta; add it to a hearty winter soup to lend a welcome touch of summer; use a couple of spoonfuls in a braise for roasted meats or fish, perhaps adding a little balsamic or aged sherry vinegar to give it sparkle; or sauté fresh sausages, sliced onions, and plenty of garlic, then add the tomato sauce and serve over grilled polenta squares for a wonderful quick lunch. Truth is, with this sauce in your pantry or freezer and a good bottle of olive oil in your larder, you have some very special ingredients to work with.

Tabletop Dips from the Eastern Mediterranean

Za’atar Dip

Za’atar, a favorite spice blend in the Levant, is served in Lebanon and Palestine on man’oushe, a sort of flatbread that is griddle-baked in a neighborhood bakery or by a vendor who sets up his saç griddle (it looks like an upside-down wok) right on the street. The flat rounds of bread, sprinkled liberally with this blend of tart sumac, wild oregano or thyme,[1] toasted sesame seeds, and sometimes roasted melon seeds, mixed with olive oil, are rolled up and served hot for breakfast. You can buy ready-made za’atar at many Middle Eastern shops, or make your own by mixing 5 tablespoons dried fragrant thyme or Greek oregano with half that quantity of sumac and a tablespoon or more of sesame seeds, plus a pinch of salt. Adjust the seasoning to your taste, and grind it to a coarse powder in a coffee mill just before using.

Combine za’atar with olive oil to make a spread or, with more oil, a dip. Or use za’atar and oil to make this tasty dip.

Makes about 1 cup

  • 3 tablespoons coarsely ground za’atar
  • 6 garlic cloves, very finely minced
  • 1 bunch cilantro, coarsely chopped
  • ½ cup olive oil
  • Sea salt
  • Ground or crushed Middle Eastern red chile pepper, preferably Aleppo or Turkish pepper

Combine the za’atar, garlic, cilantro, and olive oil in a bowl and mix vigorously. Season with salt and ground chile pepper to taste. If you want more of a puree, combine in a blender or food processor and pulse, adding more or less oil to make the mixture more or less like a spread or a dip, depending on which you prefer.

Note: This makes a magnificent rub or marinade for chicken—a whole chicken for roasting, or chicken parts for grilling or baking. Rub the za’atar mix into the chicken several hours before cooking; if you’re dealing with a whole bird, loosen the skin on the breast and slide some of the mix underneath.

1 The wild thyme used is Origanum siriacum, which grows all over the Lebanese mountains—confusingly it’s also called za’atar in Arabic, so you have to know whether you’re talking about the wild herb or about the spice mixture in which the wild herb is featured.

Muhammara

Muhammara

Muhammara

A sumptuous spread from that region of the Middle East where the finest culinary traditions of Lebanon, Turkey, and Syria all blend together with a little Armenian influence as well. The best chile pepper to use in this muhammara (moo-HAMM-a-rah) is coarsely ground or crushed dried Aleppo pepper, although other kinds of Turkish and Syrian chile peppers are good too. They are all available from World Spice Merchants in Seattle (www.worldspice.com) or from Kalustyan’s in Manhattan (www.kalustyans.com).

Sweet peppers are best when roasted over live fire—either a gas flame on your stovetop or charcoal embers in the fireplace or on the outside grill. Roast, turning frequently, until the skins are black and blistered. Failing gas or charcoal, you can also roast peppers under the oven broiler until they are collapsed and the skins are blistered—but they will not have the intense flavor of flame-roasted peppers. Whatever the method, put the roasted peppers in a paper bag and set aside for 15 to 20 minutes to steam in their own heat and soften. At that point, it’s easy to remove the blackened skin, using a paring knife to pull it away. Then cut the peppers open, draining any liquid into a small bowl. Discard the stems, seeds, and white inside membranes.

Roast the walnuts, the pine nuts, and the bread crumbs in a 350°F oven for 10 to 15 minutes. The walnuts are ready when their thin skins start to flake off; the pine nuts and the bread crumbs are done when they are golden.

Toast cumin seeds in a small skillet on top of the stove, stirring and tossing until the fragrance starts to rise. Remove immediately and grind to a powder in a spice grinder, or pound in a mortar.

Makes 2½ to 3 cups

  • 4 roasted red sweet peppers, peeled and seeded, juices reserved
  • 2 or 3 plump garlic cloves, crushed with the flat blade of a knife
  • 1 teaspoon sea salt, plus more as needed
  • 1½ cups walnuts, roasted
  • 1¼ cups bread crumbs, toasted
  • 1 to 3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice, plus more as needed
  • 1 tablespoon ground or crushed Middle Eastern red chile pepper, preferably Aleppo or Turkish pepper
  • 2 tablespoons pomegranate syrup, plus more as needed
  • 1½ teaspoons cumin seeds, toasted and ground
  • 4 to 6 tablespoons olive oil
  • Pine nuts, roasted, for garnish

Chop the peppers coarsely and transfer to a food processor. Process in pulses until you have a textured puree.

In a mortar, pound the garlic cloves to a paste with the salt. Add the roasted walnuts and continue pounding, adding a tablespoon or two of the reserved pepper juices. Once the walnuts are quite pasty, pound in the bread crumbs. (If you don’t have enough pepper juice, use a tablespoon or two of lemon juice instead.) Transfer the ingredients in the mortar to the food processor and process very briefly, just enough to mix everything together.

Why, you may ask, do I not just put everything into the food processor to start with? Muhammara is supposed to have a rather coarse texture from the walnuts and bread crumbs; in order to control that texture, I think it’s better to pound the walnuts, bread crumbs, and garlic in the mortar and mix them very quickly into the pepper puree.

Scrape the contents of the food processor into a bowl and stir in the chile pepper, pomegranate syrup, ground cumin, and 4 to 5 tablespoons of the oil. Stir in 1 tablespoon lemon juice and taste. If necessary, adjust the seasoning with more salt, lemon juice, or pomegranate syrup.

When you’re ready to serve, pile the muhammara in an attractive bowl and dribble the remaining olive oil over the top. Garnish with roasted pine nuts and serve with crostini (toasted bread crusts) or crackers or, to be most authentic, toasted triangles of Arab pita bread.

Note: Muhammara is also a beautiful relish to serve with any sort of roast or grilled lamb.

Tzatziki

Tzatziki (cacik in Turkish) is simply yogurt with something else chopped and mixed in, just like the raitas of India. That something, however, varies enormously. It could be chopped cucumber and a little garlic, or chopped garlic and a little red sweet pepper, or hot chile pepper and fresh dill, or a combination of garlic, mint, and cumin, or fresh basil and parsley. The list goes on and on. In Israel, where avocados are practically the national vegetable (or fruit), they even make avocado tzatziki, whizzing the green avocado right in with the yogurt.

Here’s the simplest, most classic kind of tzatziki, but let your imagination roam. It’s a good idea to use Greek-style yogurt, which is simply yogurt that has been strained through a very fine sieve until thick (there are special plastic cones to do the job, but a couple of layers of cheesecloth in a colander will work in a pinch if you want to make your own). But if you want to make a last-minute tzatziki, perhaps to go with a roast leg of lamb (an ideal pairing), don’t worry—regular yogurt will do the trick even if the sauce might be a little runny.

Makes about 2 cups

  • 1½ cups plain whole-milk yogurt, preferably Greek-style
  • 1 long English cucumber, peeled and seeded
  • 2 garlic cloves, chopped
  • Sea salt
  • 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil, preferably Greek or Lebanese
  • Pinch of crushed Aleppo or Turkish red chile pepper (optional)
  • 2 tablespoons chopped fresh mint or dill leaves, plus some whole leaves for garnish

If using regular yogurt instead of Greek-style, set the yogurt to drain in a very fine-mesh sieve or a cheesecloth-lined colander over a bowl for at least 3 hours, or leave it to strain overnight in the refrigerator.

Chop the cucumber very fine, or grate it on the large holes of a cheese grater.

Using the back of a spoon, crush the garlic to a paste with about ½ teaspoon salt in the bottom of a bowl. Stir in the cucumber, vinegar, and oil. If you wish, add a pinch of crushed chile pepper. Add the fresh mint and the yogurt and stir to blend well.

Note:If you want to make avocado tzatziki, simply substitute 1 avocado, pitted, peeled, and chunked, for the cucumber. Crush it with a fork in the bowl with the garlic paste, making it as smooth or as rough as you wish.

For a slightly different flavor and a more interesting texture, substitute 8 ounces Greek feta for the yogurt. Whiz it in the food processor or the blender with ¼ cup plain yogurt and 2 tablespoons olive oil. Then use it like the yogurt in the recipe.

Mayonnaise, Aioli, Allioli, and the Like

Making mayonnaise, and its offshoots aioli, rémoulade, and the like, should not be considered rocket science. These are easy sauces, especially as you grow accustomed to the fact that any sauce that fails to emulsify can be rectified by starting over again. I do have to admit that I once had a spectacular failure in the midst of a class in the teaching kitchen at Boston University. Remembering those old French housewives’ tales, I turned to the student with whom I was working. “Are you menstruating, by any chance?” I asked. “Well, yeah,” she said, somewhat puzzled. And there it was—confirmation that menstruating women can’t make mayonnaise.

But I still don’t believe it.

I’ve also seen mutterings on the Internet, at sites like Chowhound for instance, that olive oil is made bitter by vigorous beating, such as with a food processor, blender, or immersion blender. I must confess, honestly, that I’ve not had that experience, nor have any of several other cooks and chefs I’ve queried. If you find that mayonnaise made in a machine, instead of by hand, is too bitter for your taste, try simply using a less bitter oil—Arbequina, Biancolilla, and Taggiasca are among several olive cultivars that tend to produce sweet oils with a great deal of delicacy. Another tip, from one of the Chowhound correspondents: Refrigerate bitter mayonnaise for a day or two and the unpleasant flavor disappears.

I suspect it may also be because our palates have grown so used to the taste and texture of commercial mayonnaise that we simply can’t adjust to the real stuff. But the real stuff has an enormous amount of virtue, not least the fact that it’s made by real people (you) in a real kitchen, rather than by machines in a factory somewhere.

I do like to make these mayonnaise-type sauces in a blender or food processor, however, because you can use a whole egg, making a sauce that’s lighter in texture as well as flavor. Mayo made by hand must be made with the yolk only—otherwise it will never emulsify. The following are directions for a blender, but a food processor operates in exactly the same fashion. An immersion blender is a little more difficult, simply because you must carefully control the amount of oil you’re adding at first and it’s difficult to do that if you’re also focusing on moving the blender around the bowl.

Basic Mayonnaise

Makes 1 to 1¼ cups

  • 1 large egg
  • 1 egg white
  • Sea salt
  • Juice of ½ lemon, or more as needed
  • 1 to 1½ cups fruity olive oil, as needed

Whiz the egg and egg white in a blender with a pinch of salt to mix completely. Add just a few drops of lemon juice and whiz again. Now, with the center knob from the blender lid open and the blender going full tilt, start to pour in the oil, a very thin thread at first, until the mixture starts to thicken. Keep pouring and, as the mayonnaise thickens, you can add oil in a thin but constant stream. When you’ve added ¾ cup of the oil, stop the blender and add the remaining juice of the lemon half, being careful to hold back seeds. Turn the blender back on and continue to add the oil, and the mayonnaise will thicken even more. When the sauce has reached the right consistency (and that depends on your personal taste), turn off the motor and taste. Add more salt or more lemon juice if necessary. Otherwise, simply scrape the mayonnaise into a bowl.

If the mayonnaise breaks down or fails to emulsify while you’re blending it, remove it all from the blender and start over again with a fresh egg. Whiz it until it’s light and foamy, then start adding the broken-down mayo and more oil and lemon juice. It should reconstitute easily.

Note: French cooks often add a spoonful of Dijon mustard to the mayonnaise right at the beginning; others might whiz in a pinch of cayenne or milder ground red chile pepper (like piment d’Espelette, my old standby) or a spoonful of fragrant curry powder.

Rémoulade

If aioli is simply mayonnaise with garlic added, rémoulade is simply mayonnaise with a lot of mustard, vinegar, pickles, and green herbs. Maybe not quite that simple, but it’s close. Note that other herbs can be used if you don’t have chives—tarragon is good, and chervil is often used in France, though it’s difficult to find in North America unless you grow it yourself.

This is the sauce that is traditionally used in France to make céleri rémoulade, the salad of celery root that is often served as part of an hors d’oeuvre of crudités, or raw vegetables.

Makes about 1¼ cups

  • 1 large egg
  • 1 hard-boiled egg yolk
  • 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar, or more to taste
  • 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard, or more to taste
  • ¾ to 1 cup olive oil
  • Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
  • ½ cup minced flat-leaf parsley
  • ½ cup minced chives
  • ¼ cup chopped cornichons
  • ¼ cup coarsely chopped capers, soaked first to remove salt

Combine the egg, hard-boiled egg yolk, vinegar, and mustard in a blender and blend briefly. Then, with the motor running, slowly pour a very thin thread of oil through the feed tube, emulsifying the mixture exactly like a mayonnaise. When you have added ¾ cup of the oil, stop the blender. Taste the sauce and add salt, pepper, and if necessary a little more vinegar or mustard. If the sauce is not quite as stiff as you’d like, add more of the oil with the motor running, but always in a thin stream.

Mix the parsley, chives, cornichons, and capers, chopping further if needed to make a fine mince. Scrape the sauce out of the blender and mix in a bowl with the minced herb mixture.

Anchovy Salad Dressing

This very simple dressing is traditionally made for puntarelle, or chicory shoots, a delight of the early spring table in Rome. But the pungent sauce could be used for other greens as well, especially bitter greens like endive and chicory. It’s even good with plain romaine lettuce and sensational with a Caesar salad.

Makes enough for 4 to 6 servings

  • 2 garlic cloves, crushed with the flat blade of a knife
  • 4 to 6 oil-packed anchovy fillets; or 2 whole salt-packed anchovies, rinsed, deboned, and coarsely chopped
  • 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar or sherry vinegar, or more to taste
  • ¼ cup olive oil (use a pungent oil, such as a Tuscan, a Coratina from Puglia, or a fine Picual from Andalusia)
  • Freshly ground black pepper (optional)

Using a mortar and pestle, pound the garlic cloves to a paste with the anchovy fillets. When the paste is very smooth, stir in the vinegar. Slowly beat in the oil, using a fork to mix well. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding pepper if desired. (There should be sufficient salt from the anchovies.)

Romesco Sauce

With its intriguing flavors of dried chiles, almonds, garlic, and sweet peppers, this sauce is a natural complement to all kinds of seafood. And that’s precisely what it’s used for on its home turf of Catalonia. But it’s also a splendid garnish for roasted or grilled vegetables. Witness the early springtime treat called calçots, which are long, skinny members of the onion family that are treasured in Catalonia and unknown elsewhere. Calçots are grilled in huge batches at outdoor festivals, often on a grill that is a set of discarded bedsprings set up over burning embers—a memorable sight. The calçots are served to hungry crowds in a festive event called a calçotada—always with romesco to accompany them.

When you’re grilling a piece of fish, throw some onions or leeks on the grill and roast until they’re blistered and burned on the outside. Serve them up like that and let guests peel the burned part off and dip the sweet, tender insides into the romesco. It’s not quite a calçotada, but it’s close.

Makes about 2 cups

  • 2 dried New Mexico or Anaheim chile peppers (or use Spanish dried ñora peppers, if available)
  • 1 small dried hot red chile pepper, or more to taste
  • ¾ cup olive oil, preferably from Catalonia or southern France
  • ½ cup blanched whole almonds
  • 4 garlic cloves, peeled but left whole
  • 1 (2-inch-thick) slice crusty country-style bread, crusts removed
  • 1 red sweet pepper, roasted (see oven-roasting) and peeled
  • 1 medium very ripe tomato, cut in half and seeded
  • 2 tablespoons aged sherry vinegar, or more to taste
  • Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Break up the dried chiles, discarding some or all of the seeds (which is where much of the heat is concentrated). In a dry skillet over medium-low heat, toast the chiles until they are aromatic and the color starts to change. Transfer the chiles to a small bowl and add hot water to cover. Let them steep for 20 minutes or so.

While the chiles are steeping, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a small skillet over medium-low heat and fry the almonds carefully until they are golden brown. Using a slotted spoon, transfer them to a blender or food processor. Add another 1 tablespoon oil to the pan and fry the garlic cloves gently until they are brown. Remove the garlic and add to the almonds. Finally, add 2 more tablespoons of the oil to the pan and fry the bread on both sides until toasted crisp and golden brown. Add to the almonds and garlic, along with any oil remaining in the skillet. Add the chiles, leaving behind their soaking water. Process the contents in brief spurts, stirring down occasionally, to get a coarse texture, like bread crumbs.

Chop the sweet pepper and the tomato and add to the blender, along with the vinegar. Process to a coarse paste. Add salt and pepper and then, with the motor running, add the remaining oil in a thin, steady stream to emulsify with the rest of the ingredients. The sauce should be thick and still a little rough in texture. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more salt or pepper or vinegar.

Pile in a bowl and serve. (The sauce may also be refrigerated for a week or more without damage.)