Foods in the Fast Lane

croissants: a class act

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From Karyl’s Cook & Tell Newsletter (May 1982)

Once upon a time, when words were spelled correctly in newspapers and nothing came shrink-wrapped, fast food was a phrase as yet uncoined. Drive in and take out had no hyphens. The automat was the frontier.

One day a pair of golden arches appeared on the horizon, somewhere on the edge of town. There was no protest. The wave of the future was rolling in and everybody wanted to ride it.

Little by little, franchised French fries began prying people away from the dining room table. The movement to stamp out home cooking gathered steam. And deep fat. Once upon a time—it was in my lifetime—the subtitle on McDonald’s signs read, “over 200,000 hamburgers sold,” and we all thought it was a lot.

The success of The Great American Hamburger was inevitable. Imports were bound to follow. The popularity of pizza was predictable. Fish and chips over the counter were understandable. Burritos were bound to blitz from coast to coast, with the accompanying ring of a thousand Taco Bells. These are the foods of the common man. This, after all, is hash as she is slung the world over.

Now I hear they are doing it to croissants, and it makes me mad. Bistro-type franchises called “Bonjour Croissant” and “Monsieur Croissant” are opening in trendy places like San Francisco and Washington, D.C. They stuff them with blueberries and raisins, ham and cheese, roast beef and mayonnaise. You stand in line with your plastic tray, just like in a cafeteria. Sometimes a clerk will say “merci,” just like in France.

Well, look here, everybody. Croissants are a class act. I am not suggesting that foods are not at complete liberty to cross whatever geographical, demographical, and ethnic lines they may wish to cross. I am only warning that awful things will happen to croissants when they are dispensed in cafeteria lines, at drive-ins, and at take-outs, surrounded by asphalt, trash cans and orange plastic furniture.

The making of croissants is a devilishly laborious process, a tribute to the virtues of slow motion over high speed. Subvert the process and you sacrifice the purity and delicacy of the fragile product. Are the kids in the cute little uniforms and paper hats up to all the folding and rolling required—at least four times, at timed intervals and under controlled temperature conditions? Two bits says they’ll scrap the recipe and the requisite techniques, substitute some gross but close approximation and call it croissants. And pronounce it wrong.

Make no mistake: it’s a toughie to pronounce. I made my husband practice the roll of the “r” every morning of our Québec vacation last year, on our way to Café Bla-Bla, so he wouldn’t embarrass me by ordering a “crescent roll.” Crescent roll indeed. Another two bits says that’s just what they’ll call the close approximation now being purveyed with imitation French accents in imitation bistros.

The fast foodies can have their deep-fried pickles—I’ll only laugh. As for pizzas and tacos, I think asphalt and trash cans are quite appropriate garnishes. But until food snobbery becomes a felony, I’ll be the lonely voice from somewhere on an island in Maine, sniping away at the vulgarization of food elegancies, even as I am dragged, kicking and screaming, into the age of the croissant-to-go.

Pronounced crrrrrr-wa-sonh.

sketch by my mother, Karyl Bannister

Amie’s Headnotes

I can still my half-French mom trill those r’s, just as I still remember my first café au lait (I was 12 and it was a big deal, okay?) with my mom at Café Bla-Bla—which now appears to be shuttered—in Sherbrooke, Québec…and their legendary croissants. But if you’re expecting a croissant recipe, you won’t find it here; I’m already struggling enough with making bread that actually rises and mastering the perfect pie crust. Instead, why not try a couple of fresh veggie dishes in celebration of Spring? There’s nothing remotely fast food-ish about them!

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CARROTS WITH FENNEL AND LEMON BUTTER

Makes 4 servings

• 1 lb mini peeled carrots

• 1 T fennel seed

• 2 T butter

• Zest of 1 lemon (1 t. or thereabouts)

• Coarse sea salt

Put carrots (whole) in lightly salted water to cover and cook until just tender, about 8 minutes. Grind the fennel seeds coarsely in grinder or with mortar and pestle. Pan roast 2 t of the fennel a minute or two in a dry skillet or wok over high heat, stirring until light brown and aromatic. Reduce the heat, add butter and lemon zest and cook until melted and frothing. Add the cooked carrots and toss until coated. Add salt by the pinch, to taste.

Note: Need more fennel flavor? Toss in the rest of it. More lemon? You’ve got the whole thing there. Add a spritz of juice to taste.

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CURLY KALE WITH HORSERADISH

Makes 4-6 servings

• Bunch of kale (1 1/2-2 lb), washed, trimmed, stems included (6-8 cups)

• 3 T butter, more to taste

• 2-3 T horseradish (not “horseradish sauce”)

In a large skillet, cook the wet kale over fairly high heat, covered, until almost tender. Lift the lid to stir occasionally, adding a little water by drops, if necessary to keep from sticking and browning. Add the butter and horseradish and cook uncovered, tossing until tender, maybe 3 more minutes.

Note: You may like more butter, but apply salt and pepper at your peril. That horseradish is just a wonderful seasoning by itself.

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