French Onion Soup ... And Looking Back

by Libby

Just ahead, the Château promised warmth, a glass of wine, a crusty bowl of French onion soup. Émile. But the Chief Inspector stopped just short of the shelter, and stared. Not at the Château ... but to another monument off to the left ... It was of a man looking out over the city he’d founded four hundred years earlier. Samuel de Champlain. ... But still he stared at the father of Québec and wondered. Where are you? Where did they bury you? And why don’t we know? (Bury Your Dead, Kindle, p.106)

I love the sense of place and time that Louise Penny has created, and the history connections she has made, in Bury Your Dead, which allows us to immerse ourselves a little in a fascinating historical narrative. Gamache has come to Quebec City to do just that, pass the time, 'Avec le temps', puzzling over and researching a mystery related to the Battle of Quebec, as he tries to rest and recover. 

Of course he then finds himself at the intersection of two other mysteries, the death of Augustin Renaud and the whereabouts of the burial place of Samuel de Champlain, the founder of Quebec.

Gamache elicits the help of his friend Emile, and two of his associates, about the Renaud/Champlain mystery. Where better to meet than in Bar Laurent, in the Chateau Frontenac and in sight of the statue of Champlain (supposedly marking the spot where he died).

The St-Laurent Bar was at the far end of the Château, down the gracious, wide, endless corridor, through the double doors and into another world. ... For curving along the far wall of the bar were windows. Tall, framed in mahogany, wide and mullioned. Out of them opened the most splendid vista Gamache had ever seen. True, as a Québécois, no other view could ever match up. (Bury Your Dead, Kindle, p.106-7)

While the site of Champlain's burial will continue to remain a mystery, Gamache is left wondering, on a bitterly freezing winter's day, about Champlain's incredible achievements 400 years earlier, his legacy and the character of the man.

And even Gamache, who was no great fan of nationalism, felt wonder, awe, at the unshakable vision and courage of this man to do what many had tried and failed. To not just come to these shores to harvest furs and fish and timber, but live here. Create a colony, a community. A New World. A home. (Bury Your Dead, Kindle, p.106)

Most people’s achievements and legacy are not quite so extraordinary but it made me think about the importance of looking back, and seeing where we've come from and what has shaped our human condition, our life story, how a society and families have been shaped, influenced and changed against a backdrop of social, political and cultural influences and events.

And as I make French onion soup I reflect on how we understand more of ourselves, our identity, our humanity, through our own and others' stories. Isn't that why narrative is so important, helping us to understand our own story, and empathise with others? Perhaps more than ever today it is important to explore our connections to other people, places and times, to understand a family's or a people's circumstances and their desire or need to change them, to migrate, to start over, elsewhere. And the risks taken and the opportunities afforded.

Some people work very hard to find out about their forebears, to understand and appreciate their legacy. We like to know where we come from, the decisions and actions, even gambles taken by those before us, that are pieces in the puzzle of our own lives, and for some also the result of being ‘collateral damage’ of history's events. I imagine very few people don't have stories of migration in their family histories. If for no other reason, finding out about them reminds us that we've all come from somewhere, or needed to leave somewhere, looking for opportunity, or to be free or safe, for the promise of a better life, or even maybe in search of adventure.

I have a friend who is on a determined pathway to research her family roots. In the most scholarly way (in a research and literary sense) she has told the story of her maternal great, great grandparents’ migration to, and settlement in, Australia. She has re-created their lives in detail, and told their story against the socio-economic and cultural background of the 19th and early 20th centuries. She writes extremely well and the social, cultural and economic history of those times in her book is rich and fascinating in its detail. You can imagine how interesting it is to have such a family narrative with its vision, dreams, life-changing decisions, opportunities, expectations, disappointments, sense of character and time and place, and with the generational impact of it all to be reflected on.

Sometimes the pathway to finding out about family is not quite so determined. It might simply be a puzzle that presents itself, asking to be solved.

Just the other day I heard the English writer Patrick Gale speak about his latest book, A Place Called Winter. It's his first work of historical fiction, and is loosely based on the circumstances of his great grandfather's life. By chance, Gale happened to see two photos of a man at his aunt's house, one showing a young well-to-do Edwardian Englishman, and the other of an impoverished, toothless elderly man. What he discovered was that they were the same man, his great grandfather, who had never been spoken about, and who he knew nothing about. As a young man his great grandfather had been forced to leave his wife and child, his fortune and his London home, under an ignominious cloud. He settled and lived a mostly isolated life in the prairie wilderness of Canada and tried to eke out a living on the land, about which he knew nothing. Gale set out on a voyage of discovery, uncovering the struggle, despair, fortitude and emotional truth of someone who was one of the 'disappeared', unwanted by his family or society. And he poignantly tells that story, and it is an elegy to others like him.

I was left thinking of what it is like to uproot your life and venture to the other side of the world, to what could be a hostile environment, to battle adversity because of the hope or promise of a better life, greater freedom, improved economic circumstances. For many it is about being forced to give up what they know in the hope of a safer life, free from persecution, of peace and better opportunities for their children.

Had their hopes and expectations been fulfilled? Did they feel isolated, having to endure the hardship of being treated suspiciously or not easily accepted, perhaps even alienated by some of those who have come before them, who have forgotten (with their moral sense somehow in absentia), that they too were once new arrivals. Or had they been welcomed and accepted and respected for the social, cultural and economic contribution they could potentially make. Woven threads adding colour and texture and form to the fabric of society.

We all have a story.

So quite a bit was cruising through my head as I stirred the onions...

French Onion Soup

To me this is the simplest of soups and yet deliciously complex. I love it! It's wonderful flavours and textures rely on good ingredients and a little love and attention to the cooking. I don't make this when I'm in a rush to get tea on the table. It just won't taste as good or feel as good in your mouth.

There are lots of variations of this soup, depending on choice of stock/broth, type of onions and cheese, red or white wine, use of herbs and various other condiments. Sometimes I think too much stuff can be added to a dish where there isn't the need for it. 

I've pared this soup back to the basic, essential ingredients, with just a minor flourish at the end with a dash of brandy. And it certainly doesn't need flour to thicken it. Good unsalted butter is essential. Don't be tempted to substitute oil.

The cooking technique is the key to bringing out the rich, complex flavours. The time given to the cooking and the slow caramelising of the onions is critical. It needs to be a slow, closely monitored process. A cold day with time on your hands, and maybe an audiobook to listen to, would be ideal. 

This recipe serves two as a meal or four as a starter.

4 brown onions

4 cups of chicken stock

4 tbsp unsalted butter

1/2 cup of white wine (Pinot Gris)

1 tbsp brandy

sea salt and cracked black pepper

1 cup of grated Gruyere cheese

4 thick slices of crusty bread

1.  Peel and halve the onions from stem to root. Remove and discard the hard root ends. Slice the onion halves thinly, crosswise.

2.  Melt the butter in a heavy-based saucepan over a low heat. I used a French oven (enamelled cast iron) which is perfect for cooking this soup.

3.  Add the onion and a generous pinch of salt. Let them slowly sweat and cook, stirring occasionally. Reduce the temperature to ensure that the onions do not start browning too early. Cover partly with a lid as the onions slowly soften without browning.

4.  Slow cook them, up to an hour or more, to bring out the  amazing sweetness in the onions. There is no need for sugar. Add a pinch or two of salt along the way to enhance the flavour.

5.  As the onions gradually take on some colour, increase the heat slightly and stir, allowing them to caramelise until they are a deep golden brown. Adjust the temperature so that they don't burn and become bitter.

6.  Pour in half the white wine to deglaze the pan, stirring constantly.

7.  Add the chicken stock and the rest of the wine. Bring to a very gentle simmer and allow to cook for another 40-60 minutes until the liquid has reduced by a third. The flavour will be more intense and the soup will have thickened.

8.  Taste along the way and season with more salt and a little pepper if necessary.

9.  Add the tablespoon of brandy at the end of cooking and stir. Both the wine and brandy at once contrast with and complement the sweetness of the onions.

10.  Toast the slices of bread. Pile one side of each toast with a generous mound of Gruyere cheese (emmentaler cheese can be substituted). Gruyere has a wonderful nutty flavour and elastic texture. Melt under a grill until bubbling and starting to colour.

11.  Ladle soup into bowls. Float a toast on top of each bowl and drizzle another small spoonful of soup on top. Serve immediately.

Bon appetit!