Long Island Larder: Provencal Comfort

Tian, tian de blettes, tian de courgettes - tian of chard, zucchini, spinach, artichokes, or, usually, just about any green vegetable, is one of the national dishes of Provence. Yet it is rarely seen in restaurants.

It is a family dish, one that used to be made at home, then taken to the village baker to be cooked when the bread-baking was over.

The flat, oval, baking dish of earthenware, especially the vast, heavy ones of Vallauris which are glazed inside but left their natural soft, dull, clay texture on the outside, bequeathed the dish its name, just as cassoulet (which derived its name from the clay baking dish called a casole d'Isel) has come to mean all manner of baked concoctions containing dried white beans.

Before the lovely, evocative word tian (which reminds one of French farmhouse kitchens with all sorts of delicious smells emanating from them) gets all bent out of shape like the puree of tomatoes that coulis originally was, let us get firmly in mind what it actually is: a gratin of vegetables baked in a flat, heavy, oval terrine.

In Provence, a tian is a homey dish eaten hot, tepid, or cold, and often taken on picnics. Late summer and early autumn are ideal seasons for making this wonderful gratin, which can stand alone as a main dish, be eaten as a first course, or fit into a standard American menu.

Like most home cooking, tians are ad hoc and can be thickened with rice, breadcrumbs, or chickpeas. But don't let the original dish stray too far from its origins.

Best of all are the slender little zucchini, either gold or green, no longer than six inches and a little more than an inch in diameter. However, if they've ballooned out of control in your garden, you can use fairly large ones, cut into one-inch dice after cutting away any excess seeds. Scrub them well with a sponge under cold running water and zucchini rarely need peeling.

Serves six heartily.

3 lbs. young, slender zucchini, both green and gold if possible

3 or 4 large cloves garlic, minced

1 large onion, chopped

2 Tbsp. olive oil

3 large eggs, beaten

Salt and pepper

1 1/2 cups soft, fresh breadcrumbs

3/4 cup shredded Gruyere cheese

1/2 cup parsley, minced

1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves

1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan

If you have a food processor, now's the time to make it earn its keep. Wash and dry the zucchini and cut off a bit from each end. Cut each zucchini in half, across the middle, not lengthwise. These two pieces fit side by side into most processor chutes. Use the medium slicing blade, not the fine. If you prefer, you can chop the vegetables into medium dice with a knife or slice them with a mandolin or a regular chef's knife, whatever.

Mince the garlic and chop the onion before sauteeing them gently in a heavy non-stick sauteuse or skillet. Turn them often; after five minutes add the zucchini (in two batches, if necessary, to avoid crowding the pan). Turn up the heat and saute it quickly, stirring all the time until almost done and still bright green and yellow. Turn out onto a wide dish and cool.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Beat the eggs lightly and mix with Gruyere cheese, herbs, and most of the bread crumbs - save about a quarter-cup for topping. Mix in the vegetables and turn them into a shallow, buttered oven dish, oval or square, just large enough to hold them. Mix the remaining crumbs with the Parmesan and scatter this on top. Drizzle a bit of olive oil over the top. Bake in the center of the oven for about 30 minutes, turning the dish around once, midway, so that it browns evenly.

Let your tian settle on top of the stove for about 10 minutes before serving it. Or, if your guests or family are laggards, give it to them just warm - or even cold. Some good, thickly sliced ripe tomatoes with a bit of fruity olive oil, good bread, and a fairly good red wine (we enjoyed a fine Shiraz from Australia with ours recently) comprise a meal fit for just about anybody.

No Better Dish

A story about tians that comes via Elizabeth David from "La Cuisine a Nice" by H. Heyraud:

". . . . Six gourmets from Carpentras, having decided to treat each other, each provided at the time fixed for the picnic a surprise dish of a monumental tian; all six were devoured with patriotic enthusiasm. Not one of the guests had been able to imagine that there was a better dish in the world."

The story reminds me, albeit wanly, of a covered-dish supper I once attended where about eight of the participants brought mixed-bean salads! Four more brought pasta salads! Oh, how we could have used a couple of tians.

Although spinach also makes a scrumptious tian, it's more work because of its sandiness and the washing it needs. I think it's worth the trouble, but chard and kale serve just as well, are sturdier, and are easily washed clean. You must remove the heavy, tough stems however, or the dish will be inedible. Discard any tough or yellowed outer leaves (which fresh, locally grown greens shouldn't have anyway). This is for a smaller dish, but easily multiplied for more people. It's good left over, too.

Serves four.

1 large bunch of chard or kale

A large pot of boiling, salted water (as for pasta)

2 Tbsp. olive oil

1 medium-large red onion, chopped

2 or 3 fat cloves garlic, minced or sliced

3/4 cup cooked rice

1/2 cup shredded Gruyere or Swiss or Fontina cheese

2 extra-large eggs, beaten

Salt and red pepper flakes

1/2 cup chopped parsley leaves

1 Tbsp. minced fresh rosemary leaves

1 Tbsp. pine nuts, toasted

2 Tbsp. fresh bread crumbs

2 Tbsp. freshly grated Parmesan

Rouille (optional)

Fill the kitchen sink with cold water and swish the greens around in it. Lift them out and into a colander. Remove the stems; fold the leaf in half and pull the stem down from the underside. Toss the leaves into rapidly boiling water for about three minutes, pushing them under with a wide spatula. Drain, cool slightly, and chop coarsely.

Heat the olive oil in a big non-stick sauteuse or skillet and saute the onion and garlic over low heat, stirring often. Scrape the contents of the skillet into a large bowl containing the rice, cheese, beaten eggs, salt, pepper, parsley, and rosemary.

Mix with the greens. Turn this into an appropriately sized heavy gratin dish and top with the pine nuts mixed with the remaining crumbs and Parmesan (don't use that cheap, pre-grated Kraft stuff, which would only spoil the dish - it would be better to omit it entirely or use a less expensive, but freshly grated cheese, such as Romano or even a good, hard piece of Vermont white cheddar).

Rouille

Rouille, a richly colored thick, spicy sauce made of red sweet peppers, hot peppers, garlic, olive oil, and crumbs to bind it, is non-traditional, though it is Provencal, with tians.

However, I happened to have some on hand, tried it, and found it pleasing. Rouille, discussed in this space recently, is another Provencal sauce that has, like aioli, been bastardized out of all recognition -- why, I don't know, since the genuine article is so simple to make.

It's pronounced "ROO-ee," should you want to correct the next waiter who garbles it with supreme confidence, as they often do when changing "aye-o-LEE" into "a-ohlee," which sounds positively Hawaiian.