French Bread | 20something cupcakes

My first thought as I bit into this beautiful sandwich?

Oh. My. God.

I am in love with this sandwich. I could eat it every day. Or, at least, every weekend.

There’s something very special about pan bagnat. First of all, it’s a salade Niçoise sandwiched between two halves of a French loaf. How can you go wrong? You’ve heard it before – it’s my absolute favorite salad, and though you can make one in any number of ways, here I opted to take the classic approach.

The sandwich gets its name from “pan banhat,” which means “wet bread” in the Provençal dialect spoken in and around Nice. The bread is wet because the salad is doused in any combination of olive oil, lemon juice, and vinegar before it is placed in the bread. The bread then soaks in all of the moisture, swelling up with all of those delicious flavors. Lastly, the sandwich is pressed, causing all of those salty, briney, and undeniably fresh flavors to meld together one last time.

I took a few liberties with the recipe I used below, and you can feel free to do the same. That’s what I love about this sandwich: It can be tweaked endless ways. You could use arugula leaves instead of the basil – though I don’t know if I’d recommend it, as I really loved the basil – and many opt to add bell pepper.

It’s light, yet totally satisfying – and quite elegant, as far as sandwiches are concerned. I can’t wait to re-create this masterpiece of Provençal flavors all summer long.

Bottle of preferred rosé NOT optional.

Pan Bagnat

Adapted from Bon Appétit

1 1-pound loaf French bread, unsliced {either a long one, or you could use a circular French boule – though you may need two depending on how big they are}
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup basil leaves, plus sprigs for garnish
2 6-ounce cans tuna packed in olive oil, undrained
3/4 cup cherry tomatoes, chopped
2/3 cup coarsely chopped pitted assorted brine-cured olives {I used tiny Niçoise olives and left them whole}
1/2 cup chopped red onion
Juice from half a lemon
Splash red wine vinegar
2-3 hard-boiled eggs, sliced

Slice bread in half lengthwise. Using hands, remove interior of loaf – just like “scooping” a bagel. Brush interior of both halves with olive oil and line with basil leaves.

Combine undrained tuna, tomatoes, olives, onion, lemon juice, and vinegar in a bowl to blend. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Spoon mixture evenly into bottom bread shell. Top mixture with eggs, cover with top half of bread and wrap tightly with plastic. Top the sandwich with a heavy baking pan and place heavy cans inside to weigh it down. Let stand at least 20 minutes.

Unwrap pan bagnat and cut into slices. Place on platter, garnish with basil sprigs, and serve.

This is one of the meals that I’ve been wanting to cook for *who knows* how long. I first saw the recipe from the Barefoot Contessa, but over time I’ve seen different versions pretty much everywhere. All I really have to say is, if the idea of 40 cloves of garlic scares you…

Don’t let it.

Please. Because the cooking of the garlic mellows it out in such an unbelievable way – I honestly wish I’d put more in there. And the sauce – the sauce is just so absurdly decadent and delicious – and it’s not even all that bad for you, considering you’re only using a couple tablespoons of cream. The rest is just white wine and a splash of cognac – and if you’ve never cooked with cognac, you simply must. It brings such an amazing dimension to the dish. And really, the shining star here is also the chicken itself – which can be tricky to do, since chicken doesn’t have much flavor on its own. Leaving the bone in helps with flavor, of course, and the brown-then-braise method is always a surefire way to ensure perfectly moist chicken. Still, I think this may just be the moistest chicken I’ve ever had.

Chicken with Forty Cloves of Garlic

Adapted from Barefoot Contessa

3 whole heads garlic, about 40 cloves
2 (3 to 3 1/2-pound) chickens, cut into eighths (I used 1 whole chicken and 2 more breast halves)
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
2 tablespoons good olive oil
3 tablespoons Cognac, divided
1 1/2 cups dry white wine
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons heavy cream
1 loaf good bread, I used French bread

*Don’t be afraid of the whole chicken! If you don’t want to cut it yourself, you can usually find it already cut and packaged in the grocery store, and if not, you can ask the butcher to do it for you. And as far as this sauce goes, it is the most heavenly stuff in the world – so if you’re a sauce person {like I am} you may want to double the wine, heavy cream, and flour so you can double to sauce! It’s that good.

For the garlic, I’ve actually been buying those big containers of pre-peeled garlic. I’ve heard they can sometimes be more fresh than the heads, as those heads can sometimes sit there in the grocery store forever. So, I just counted out 40 cloves from there. If, however, you want to do it the old-fashioned way, use this trick to peel them easier: Separate the cloves of garlic and drop them into a pot of boiling water for 60 seconds. Drain the garlic and peel away.

Brown your chicken:

Dry the chicken really well with paper towels. Season liberally with salt and pepper on both sides. I like to salt it as far in advance as possible to get the chicken more flavorful (and I do this with all meats). I also take my chicken out of the fridge about 30 minutes to an hour before I want to start cooking so that it comes to room temperature, which helps the meat to cook evenly and keeps it nice ‘n moist.

Heat the butter and oil in a large pot or Dutch oven {I use my Le Creuset, of course} over medium-high heat. In batches, saute the chicken in the fat, skin side down first, until nicely browned, about 3 to 5 minutes on each side. Turn with tongs or a spatula; you don’t want to pierce the skin with a fork. If the fat is burning, turn the heat down to medium. When a batch is done, transfer it to a plate and continue to saute all the chicken in batches. Remove the last chicken to the plate and add all of the garlic to the pot.

Now for the {love} sauce:

This is where it gets fun! Lower the heat and saute for 5 to 10 minutes, turning often, until evenly browned. Add 2 tablespoons of the Cognac and the wine, return to a boil, and scrape the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Return the chicken to the pot with the juices and sprinkle with the thyme leaves. Cover and simmer over the lowest heat for about 30 minutes, until all the chicken is done.

Remove the chicken to a platter and cover with aluminum foil to keep warm. In a small bowl, whisk together 1/2 cup of the sauce and the flour and then whisk it back into the sauce in the pot (I’m not sure why this extra step is necessary, but I always listen to Ina!). Raise the heat, add the remaining tablespoon of Cognac and the cream, and boil for 3 minutes. Add salt and pepper, to taste; it should be very flavorful because chicken tends to be bland. Pour the sauce and the garlic over the chicken and serve hot.

I served this with good French bread and roasted broccolini.You can really serve it with anything – rice, pasta, roasted potatoes would be nice – but really you’re just looking for something else to soak up more of that delicious love sauce.

Yum.