There's nothing base about the leek. The French word for this noble vegetable is poireau, which also means simpleton, but never has a double meaning been less apt. Recipients of the esteemed Chevalier dans l’ordre du Mérite agricole (an order of merit second only to the Legion d’honneur) are said to avoir le poireau, in reference to the deep green of the medal’s ribbon. Its culinary prowess is equally grand.
Because this is the most subtle and elegant of alliums, a slender flaneur to the onion’s squat heft, bookish rather than bold. Garlic might shout and holler, but the leek is mild, sweet and discreet, happy to linger in the background, offering unstintingly steadfast support. It has little time for pungent histrionics, instead merrily submitting to butter’s warm embrace.
Leeks are also the least snobby of ingredients, as happy with truffles and foie gras as they are in the most humble of soups, which is why vichyssoise is such a perfect distillation of the leek’s appeal. Louis Diat, a French chef working in New York, was so inspired by his mother’s classic, hearty leek-and-potato soup, all warm, uncomplicated allure, that he decided on a rather more refined summer version, served cold and sprinkled with chopped chives. As a native of the Bourbonnais, he named the dish after Vichy, one of its most famous cities. Attempts by French expat chefs to change the name to crème Gauloise during the Second World War (Vichy was the capital of Nazi-occupied France) fell upon deaf ears.
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choice’ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loaves—Emma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround us—but not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: ‘It is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.’ I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning