It was a crucial lesson to learn how to stir white sauce in an eight-step pattern. I have no memory of my age. When should a youngster be trusted with a pan of boiling milk and instructed to stir it for ten minutes? Seven? Nine? Eleven? I recall my hand controlling the wooden spoon no matter what age I was. At first cautiously, for fear that the milk may spill and burn my arm or my brother as he passed, but then quickly.
A figure of eight needed skill, just as flying a kite under optimal wind conditions or ice skating in milk, which is how it differentiated from going in circles forever. Everything changed once more as the milk started to thicken and start to fight the loop. Even though at initially I was aware of Mum's involvement, it felt miraculous, which increased its excitement. Although it wasn't the first time I had seen a shift in a pan, it was undoubtedly the most satisfying and apparent. The silkiness of my sauce was praised, cheese was added, the sauce was smoothed over cauliflower or pasta, and the pan was licked. I was eager to make the dish again.
I eventually figured out the initial part that Mom accomplished. Butter is melted, then flour is added, causing a paste to form that wants to be rolled into a ball. "The roux!" which you gradually add milk to, making the paste even stickier. Whisk out the lumps, they said. It became thin again the next thing I knew. What an adventure! "Add a figure-eight stir. Be tolerant. It'll get thicker. Will it, though? It was comparable to being in charge of the setup for a magic trick because anything may go wrong, even when done flawlessly.
I consistently have the same set of thoughts after four decades and hundreds of pans. overly thick. not enough. This won't lead to anything positive. Thankfully, the figure of eight through the milk is still present, so in between my anxiety and the never-ending cycle, there is a pleasant pan of white sauce, besciamella. Today's dish, a baked potato and courgette, was made from the most recent panful. a hasty mistake was made when someone scrolled through an image of a golden bake thinking it was sealed with bechamel when it was actually yoghurt and egg.
My error, a dish that resembles a hybrid of cauliflower and courgette cheese and potato gratin, becomes a new family favorite.
Serve with a green salad and a shake of spicy sauce, if desired. I'm eager to make it once more.
Baked zucchini and potato
15 minutes to prepare
1 hour of cooking
4 portions
three big potatoes about 600 grams
three huge zucchini about 600 grams
50 grams of butter + additional for grating and finishing
50 grams of white flour
a liter of whole milk
60 grams of grated Parmesan
Black pepper and salt
Nutmeg
1 cup of breadcrumbs, fine
Top and tail the zucchini and peel the potatoes. Cut both veggies into thin slices using a mandoline, the cheese slicer on a box grater, a sharp knife, and a steady hand. Don't worry if the slices are irregular or not entire. With a tea towel, blot the sliced slices thoroughly dry.
Next, prepare the Besciamella. Butter should be melted in a pan over medium heat before flour is added and combined to form a thick roux. The mixture will gradually thicken and then thin as you whisk in the milk. Until it is thick enough to drip slowly off the back of the spoon, continue heating over medium heat while stirring vigorously in a figure-eight motion. Taste, then season with salt, pepper, and nutmeg after adding half the cheese.
Oven: Preheat to 200°C (180°F fan)/gas 6. Salt all the potatoes and courgettes, add them to a Pyrex or ovenproof dish, and toss to combine. Bechamel should be poured over the veggies, then they should be thoroughly mixed. After leveling the surface, add some breadcrumbs and the remaining cheese, and then dot it with butter.
With the foil removed for the final 10 minutes of baking to brown the top, cover loosely with foil and bake for 40 minutes.
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