As a graduate of culinary school, a food blogger, and now a published cookbook author, you’d think that I grew up in the kitchen tied to my mother’s apron strings. That was definitely not the case. I was a child of the 1970s, and my mom was that “supermom” who did it all. Somehow, she managed to raise two daughters, keep a clean, happy house, and run a successful company. But when it came to cooking, she was not interested. Dinnertime was a stressful chore — a “gotta do” rather than a “love to do.” But, funnily enough, my mom is the person who led me to a career as a chef. From the time I was very young, she always encouraged me to pursue something I loved for my career — all it took was going off to college and spending a semester abroad in France for me to figure out that food was it.
In Tours, France, I lived with a French family on the second and third floor of an old stucco row house with white shuttered windows and wrought iron balconies. My host mother, Martine, was a petite blond woman with a warm heart and bright smile who loved to cook. Her kitchen was always bustling with activity: a roast chicken sputtering in the oven, a whistling teapot, or apples and caramel sizzling on the stove. Martine taught me how to cook and speak French at the same time. We made simple things, like vinaigrette, crêpes, and her specialty, Tarte Tatin, the classic French upside-down caramelized apple cake. Far from home, I threw all dietary caution to the wind and enjoyed every delicious day, not even giving my skinny jeans a parting glance.
As a farewell gift, Martine gave me a French cookbook called
Les Recettes Faciles (
Easy Recipes). When I got back to Washington, DC, while my friends were busy studying and bar hopping, I wandered around Georgetown’s gourmet markets and cooked my way through the book, despite the fact that I lived in a tiny studio apartment with a closet-sized kitchen. I spent the next year trying to scheme a way to return to France, even as my parents made it abundantly clear that they weren’t going to be subsidizing any more of my adventures.
Resourceful (read: clueless) youngster that I was, I signed up to work as a summer au pair in Paris. There was a small stipend, and I got to work with kids and live in Paris — what could be more perfect? I went believing I’d be visiting museums and lingering in Parisian cafés as the children scampered about me in adorable berets, always ready and willing to take a nap when I needed a break. Ha! I still laugh about it to this day. Instead, I was taking care of three mischievous little boys aged two, four, and six (and a puppy), running errands, and ironing for hours on end. The French iron everything — cloth napkins, sheets, and even toddler clothes!
The au pair experience was an all-too-early taste of motherhood for sure, but the job did have one thing going for it: every morning, after I dropped the kids off at their activities, my host mother, Valerie — another avid cook — would send me from block to block to pick up meats from the
boucherie, fresh baguettes from the
boulangerie, and seasonal produce from the open-air markets. And, if she was entertaining, she’d send me to Berthillon, a famous ice cream shop on Île St-Louis to pick up a block of freshly made ice cream or sorbet. I loved to linger there with an ice cream cone, enjoying a few minutes that didn’t involve ironing pleats on a toddler’s
pantalones. I also spent evenings helping Valerie in the kitchen, and when I think of her today, I still picture her standing at the kitchen table, crushing peppercorns with the back of a frying pan for her Steak au Poivre. Before the summer was over, I learned how to cook, eat, and entertain the Parisian way. And like it or not, I also learned how to iron every single type of clothing that ever existed!
I went believing I’d be visiting museums and lingering in Parisian cafés as the children scampered about me in adorable berets, always ready and willing to take a nap.
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After graduating college, I spent one year working in a mindless office job. One year of cubicle living was more than enough for me to realize that I had to follow my heart and go to culinary school. And lucky me, there was a top-notch culinary school in my own backyard: L’Academie de Cuisine in Maryland. I loved every single second of it. My chef instructor was Pascal, a handsome Frenchman who was charming, strict, condescending, and funny all at the same time. I was both in awe and terrified of him — and looking back, I think I may have even had a little crush on him. Every morning we’d watch him prepare the day’s dishes and then we’d move to the prep kitchen and work in groups to recreate what we’d just learned. By far, my favorite days were “Market Basket Days.” We would arrive at our stations to find a basket filled with surprise ingredients — it was almost like
Chopped, only
Chopped didn’t exist back then and there were no wacky ingredients. Though I lived in fear of being publicly humiliated (which, by the way, was great training for working in a restaurant kitchen), culinary school was the most fun I’ve ever had.
My first job out of culinary school was as a line cook at the acclaimed L’Auberge Chez François, a romantic French restaurant right outside of Washington, DC. Just imagine an Old World-style cottage in the rolling hills of Virginia, with dining rooms appointed with cozy fireplaces and traditional Alsatian decor, an old-school French menu with classics like escargots, foie gras and Chateaubriand, and a whole lotta charm. It’s a very romantic place, but I found out pretty quickly that working there wasn’t quite as romantic. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to cook in a restaurant kitchen, just imagine trying to juggle multiple orders in your head and cooking on four different burners with food in the oven at the same time. Plus flames, sharp knives, and short tempers — it was terrifying! I did eventually get the hang of it, and though I never once forgot that it was a privilege to work there, I knew I wasn’t cut out for an adrenaline-charged career as a restaurant chef. I thought to myself,
Maybe I could write a cookbook.
Fast forward about five years and a few restaurant jobs later, I met my husband, Michael, and we got married and had a son and daughter. With two little ones, I had my hands full — literally! — so I left the restaurant business to be a stay-at-home mom. But when the kids started school, I got the itch to go back to work and to start cooking more than just buttered noodles and chicken nuggets. I started a business baking specialty cakes and cupcakes, mostly for children’s birthday parties. Through developing my cake recipes, I realized I loved the process of creating, testing, and perfecting recipes, so I started to think about ways I could turn that into a job. What about that cookbook?
I spent a few months writing a cookbook proposal and started reaching out to literary agents and publishers. The response? Crickets. I quickly found out that the idea of writing a cookbook and the reality of getting a publisher to pay you to write a cookbook are two very different things. So, I set my cookbook proposal on the back burner and started a food blog instead. It seemed like a great way to hone my recipe development skills and also get myself “out there.” And the best part was that there were no barriers to entry. I came up with the name
Once Upon a Chef, registered my domain, and began posting recipes every week.
Eventually, I forgot about the book and the blog became my passion. But still lurking in the back of my mind was that dream to write a cookbook with beautiful photos and stories. Three years ago, much to my surprise and delight, I got an out-of-the-blue email from a literary agent who asked if I was interested in developing a cookbook. I was so taken aback that I questioned whether the email was real — I thought someone must be playing a mean joke on me!
Twenty-plus years after first discovering my love of cooking, what a joy it is to finally fulfill my dream of writing a cookbook. The recipes are truly a best-of-the-best collection from every chapter of my life: living in France, going to culinary school, working in restaurants, baking cakes, and cooking for my family. And I’ve peppered the book with lots of pro tips and tricks of the trade, such as how to season correctly with salt, how to balance flavors, how to make the most of leftovers, and so much more. Writing
Once Upon a Chef: The Cookbook was a labor of love, and I’m so thrilled to share it with you!
Valerie’s Steak Au Poivre
Easy yet elegant,
steak au poivre is a classic French dish that consists of steak, traditionally filet mignon, with a crunchy peppercorn crust and rich Cognac cream sauce.
Servings: 4
Total Time: 30 minutes
Four 6-8 oz filet mignons
1 heaping tsp kosher salt
1 Tbsp whole peppercorns
1 Tbsp vegetable oil
2 Tbsp unsalted butter
? cup finely chopped shallots
½ cup Cognac or other brandy
¾ cup heavy cream
1 tsp Dijon mustard
1.
Pat the steaks dry and, if they are thick, gently press them down so that they are about 1½ inches thick. Season the steaks all over with the salt.
2.
Seal the peppercorns inside a small plastic bag and place on a cutting board. Using a meat mallet or the bottom of a frying pan, pound the peppercorns until they are coarsely crushed. Press the crushed pepper evenly onto both sides of the steaks.
3.
In a large skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot and shimmering, add the steaks and cook for 4 to 5 minutes on each side, turning only once, for medium-rare (or 5 to 6 minutes per side for medium). Transfer the steaks to a plate and tent with foil.
4.
Pour off the excess fat from the pan but do not wipe clean. Lower the heat to medium-low and add the butter and shallots. Cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon and scraping up the brown bits from the bottom of the pan, until the shallots are golden brown and softened, 2 to 3 minutes. Carefully add the Cognac (it may ignite) and boil, again stirring to scrape up the brown bits, until the liquid is reduced to a glaze, a few minutes longer. Add the cream and mustard and gently boil until thickened, about 3 minutes. Stir in any meat juices that accumulated on the plate holding the steaks. Transfer the steaks to serving plates and spoon the sauce over top.
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Jenn Segal is the founder of
Once Upon a Chef, the popular blog showcasing easy, family-friendly recipes from a chef's point of view. Her recipes have been featured on numerous websites, magazines, and television programs, including
The Huffington Post, WJLA's
Good Morning Washington, and
Parade.com. Before starting her blog, Jenn cooked at the acclaimed L'Auberge Chez Francois and was director of marketing for a prominent restaurant group, both in the Washington, DC, metro area. She now lives in Potomac, Maryland, with her husband and two children.
Once Upon a Chef: The Cookbook is her first book.