Cover Story : I’ll Just Whip Up Some <i> Pommes </i> Anna

I’ve always been the kind of person who would read a tricky recipe and know that, in my hands, everything that could go wrong would go wrong.

For this reason, I never had the nerve to try pommes Anna, the beautiful cake of crisped potatoes that, according to Julia Child, is “the supreme potato recipe of all time.”

Too much could run afoul. You have to have a good pan, a pan that doesn’t stick. There are even special pommes Anna pans, though a well-seasoned cast-iron skillet is said to be just as good. I knew, however, that my cast-iron frying pan, no matter how glassy its present surface, had a hidden weak spot just waiting to reveal itself as a sticking zone.

And even if I did have a pan that wouldn’t turn on me, there was no way that I, a mere fumbling mortal, could clarify the butter in such a way that some little renegade fleck of milk solid wouldn’t cement itself to the pan wall and pull the whole house of potatoes apart.

*

Then I had a small potato galette in a restaurant, a kind of single-serving pommes Anna, and the memory of it stuck with me and planted the seed of a craving. When I again ran across the recipe in the second volume of Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” I felt a certain tugging that soon blossomed into full-blown determination.

I’d try the recipe just for fun, I thought. Not for any meal. Not the first time. First, I’d just see if I could do it.

I came home from work on a Friday afternoon. It was hot outside, not the kind of day to fire up the stove. But what did I have to lose? I wasn’t making the dish for anybody. There would be no guests to apologize to or explain to. If my pommes Anna flopped, nobody would even have to know that I ever made the dish.

In fact, I was going out to dinner. I’d make it and look at it, and taste it, and no matter what, I’d probably throw it away or feed it to the dog and then trundle off to the restaurant with my friends. (Such conditions are, as it happens, a very good way to test a recipe: to know that whether or not it works out, the dog gets it. Takes the pressure off. And makes the dog happy.)

So I rolled up my sleeves, washed my hands, stood in my kitchen and thought, I’ll just whip up some pommes Anna.

*

Almost immediately, the process downshifted out of whip mode, because first I had to clarify two whole sticks--half a pound--of butter. I melted it carefully, then began to skim off the foam. Skim, skim, skim.

I was very careful not to disrupt the evil slime of milk solids accumulating in the lower regions of the pot, like vegetal matter in the bottom reaches of a pond. Skim, skim, skim.

There were, I realized, worse things than standing over the stove smelling hot butter. Hot butter is actually quite pretty, bright yellow, transparent and shiny as liquid plastic, and the milk solids are kind of fascinating, forming a kind of pale underwater continent or swirly galaxy.

But soon enough I reached a point of exhaustion and boredom anyway. Suddenly I didn’t care if I’d skimmed enough or ought to keep hunting those small trails of microscopic foamy bubbles. Even if my potatoes ended up sticking, I was done skimming.

This was not anger or cynicism, or giving up: I was just done, deeply done, ready to get on with the next step, and that was an instinct I had to trust.

Careful not to disturb the molten land mass of milk solids, I poured maybe 98% clear yellow liquid into a measuring cup.

Next, there was the issue of peeling, shaping and slicing potatoes. Peeling was easy. The potatoes looked pretty much the same to me until I tried to whittle them into identical ovoids that would produce perfect, round petals for my potato cake. I realized how individual potatoes are, and how much I had to shape them to look even remotely like each other. This warred with my innate thriftiness: I wished I had a stock pot going, and not just a compost heap for the parings.

*

Finally, I had half a dozen potatoes that could pass for fraternal, if not identical, twins.

The recipe calls for thin slices: eight potato slices to the inch. I went for my usual slicing knife--you probably have the same one. It’s the one you buy when, full of resolve, you go into Williams-Sonoma and say, “I am ready to buy some really good knives.”

The salesclerks know you better than you know yourself. They do not offer to sell you a complete collection, from dainty paring knives to murderous 12-inch chef knives and cleavers. Rather, they suggest you buy this pretty, slender, mid-sized slicer, a modest knife, which costs just a little over $50 with tax.

I have a lot of other knives now--it’s amazing how a modest slicer develops a taste in one for good cutlery and a kind of immunity to spending money for it. I do use the first knife a lot.

In this instance, however, the slicer failed me. I couldn’t get it to give me the required eight slices per inch, only an awkward, uneven five or six.

I knew it! The problem was not the pan or the butter. My sister, who called me clumsy when I was in the seventh grade, was right: I was not dexterous enough to make pommes Anna. Or not well-enough equipped: A mandoline--the slicer (even, possibly, the musical instrument)--would have finished the job already and with far more finesse than my thick, uncooperative fingers could muster.

I decided to sharpen my modest slicing knife, and in moving toward my knife block, spotted my poor, underused boning knife. I sharpened it instead, and thus stumbled across one of the greater pleasures I’ve found in the kitchen: cutting potatoes with an extra-sharp, thin knife. The blade had the famous silken glide of cutting through butter. I watched in a kind of exalted detachment as the slices fell, thin as rose petals, one after another, eight to the inch, in flawless rhythm, as if someone else was slicing them.

*

I blotted all those beautiful perfect slices on clean tea towels, and I put a two-quart, eight-inch, straight-sided saute pan over moderate heat, spooned in a quarter-inch of butter, and once that got sputtery hot, placed a potato slice smack in the center.

The idea is to arrange slices in a series of over-lapping circles, reversing the direction each time a circle is completed. This is not difficult. In fact, the potatoes have a cunning way of snuggling into place, almost as if they had some will in the matter. Maybe they feel blessed to wind up in “the supreme potato recipe of all time.”

Probably every potato has aspirations to become pommes Anna, except for the rebellious intractable ones, who don’t even want to become French fries, but prefer to just stay down there in the dark arth growing roots out of their eyes. These potatoes of mine, however, were ready and willing. They fell into place like Marines. I was especially charmed by the way their edges nestled snugly against the side of the pan.

Once the first layer was complete, I brushed it with butter, sprinkled on a little salt, grated some fresh pepper. Then another layer and another. I shook the pan every now and then, as per instructions, to make sure nothing was sticking (remember, it’s on a medium fire this whole time), and to tell the truth, I couldn’t say if anything was sticking or not.

Once all the potatoes were stacked, I poured in more butter--until I could see it bubbling at the sides. Then, I pressed the whole thing down with the buttered bottom of a sauce pan. Fun: I mean, when else do you butter the outside of a saucepan?

For 20 minutes, the potatoes cooked, covered. Then, I pressed down on the potatoes with the buttered-bottom saucepan again and left the potatoes to cook for another 20 minutes with no cover at all. I employed the saucepan a final time, poured off about a quarter cup of butter, then selected a deep blue Fiestaware platter.

This was the moment of reckoning. Would I have a beautiful cake or a mess of greasy fried spuds?

Pommes Anna fell onto the platter with a dull, distantly juicy thud.

And there it was. Rich, golden brown. Deeply crisped petals of potato. Unbelievably beautiful. A rose of potatoes.

The browned surfaces are really the kind of crisped potato one dreams of, and the inside, soft and buttery and velvety-smooth was equally seductive. I ate a full half of the galette before I went out to dinner. (And I ate a whole dinner too.)

The next day, I put a wedge in the oven to warm up, and while I was waiting, I thought, I wonder what pommes Anna taste like cold . I’m here to say that pommes Anna taste just fine cold. The dog never tasted pommes Anna. Hot, cold, I ate every last bite.

JULIA CHILD’S POMMES ANNA

1 cup butter

3 pounds boiling potatoes, or more if needed

Salt, pepper

Clarify 1 cup butter by melting it in skillet, skimming off scum and spooning clear liquid butter off milky residue. Discard residue.

Peel potatoes. Do not rinse potatoes after peeling. Starch will remain in potatoes and mass more easily into cake.

Trim potatoes into cylinders about 1 1/4 inches in diameter for uniform slices. Slice cylinders into even rounds 1/8 inch thick. There should be about 8 cups. Dry potatoes thoroughly with paper towels.

Pour 1/4 inch of clarified butter into heavy cast-iron skillet, about 8 inches in top diameter and 2 to 2 1/2 inches deep. Set skillet over moderate heat. When hot, start rapidly arranging first layer of potatoes in bottom of pan as follows.

Arrange 1 potato slice in center of skillet. Overlap circle of potato slices around it. Overlapping in opposite (counter-clockwise) direction, rapidly arrange second circle around first and continue with another (clockwise) overlapping circle if necessary, to rim edge of skillet. Pour on tablespoonful of clarified butter.

Reversing direction again, rapidly arrange on evenly overlapping layer of potatoes around circumference of pan. Fill in center with more potatoes. Baste with another tablespoonful of butter. Shake skillet gently by handle to be sure potatoes are not sticking. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Continue filling skillet with layers of potatoes basted with butter and seasoned to taste with salt and pepper. Be sure that layer around circumference of pan is evenly spaced. Be sure to shake skillet by handle from time to time so potatoes do not stick. Fill skillet completely, allowing potatoes to form 1/4- to 1/2-inch dome in center. Potatoes will sink during cooking. There should be enough added butter so that it bubbles up sides of skillet. Pour excess off after cooking.

Butter bottom of saucepan and press down hard on potatoes, forcing layers together. Butter underside of cover, place on potato pan set on top oven rack. Set drip pan under potatoes, on bottom oven rack, to catch bubblings-up of butter

Bake in hot 450 degree oven 20 minutes. Uncover. Press potatoes down hard again with bottom of saucepan. Continue baking 20 to 25 minutes more, uncovered. If baked all of time with cover on, potatoes tend to acquire off taste. Press down potatoes again before end of baking. Gently draw edge of potatoes away from side of dish. Potatoes are done when brown and crusty. Bake about 5 minutes more, if potatoes are not brown and crusty.

When potatoes are done, place cover slightly askew on pan and drain out excess butter. Excess butter may be reserved for another use. Run spatula around edge of pan. Shake pan, and if potatoes have stuck to bottom, run spatula carefully under potatoes to loosen. Try not to disturb potatoes. To unmold potatoes slide onto buttered baking sheet, then slide onto hot buttered serving dish. Or, invert hot buttered dish over potato pan, reverse, and potatoes will drop onto hot buttered dish. Potatoes should look like brown cake.

Makes 6 servings.

Each serving contains about:

450 calories; 375 mg sodium; 83 mg cholesterol; 31 grams fat; 41 grams carbohydrates; 5 grams protein; 1 gram fiber.

*

Note : If some potatoes stick to pan, scrape off and put in place on potato cake. If potatoes look messy or pale, push or mound into reasonable shape, sprinkle with cheese or bread crumbs, drizzle on little butter and brown briefly under broiler. After unmolding potatoes, cover loosely with foil and set in warm 120 degree oven, or on electric hot-tray, or over simmering water. Potatoes will keep 1/2 hour, if kept warm and covered.

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Kitchen Tips

Baking vs. Boiling Potatoes

There are as many varieties of potatoes as there are of apples. Fortunately, like apples (which are either cooking or eating), potatoes can be divided into two large families. They are either dry, starchy baking potatoes or moist, waxy boiling potatoes. The families are easy to recognize: The boiling potatoes have smooth skins, the baking potatoes are rough and russeted.

It’s important to know which potato you’re working with, because every potato is not equally good for every job. Use baking potatoes when you want a dry, fluffy texture (baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, French fries, potato-based doughs). Use waxy potatoes in dishes in which you want the potato to be moister and firmer (boiled potatoes, roasted potatoes, potato salads, potato gratins and, of course, pommes Anna). The difference between white-skinned and red-skinned boiling potatoes is purely cosmetic.