Patricia Wells

(MADELEINES) While researching this book, I became fixated, absolutely fanatical, about madeleines, the plump golden tea cakes shaped like scallop shells. They were something to boost my spirits on the days when I walked for miles sleuthing in search of culinary jewels. I tasted dozens of madeleines, but only a few were "just right." The best, freshest madeleine has a dry, almost dusty taste when eaten on its own. One of my favorite versions is made by André Lerch, an Alsatian baker with a bread and pastry shop on the Left Bank. To be truly appreciated — to "invade the senses with exquisite pleasure" as they did for Marcel Proust — Madeleines must be dipped in tea, ideally the slightly lime-flavoured tilleul, which releases the fragrant, flavorful lemon essence of the little tea cake. Special madeleine tins can be found in all the French restaurant supply shops and in the housewares section of department stores. The following is a recipe I developed.

Come September, I prepare this cake often, taking advantage of whatever clusters of grapes I can find on our vines after harvesting. At Chanteduc, we grow a mixture of Grenache, Syrah, and Morvèdre grapes, each of which contributes its own personality to the wine and to this cake. I love the rustic crunch that seeded grapes impart, and so I also recommend trying Zinfandel, Cornith, and Cabenet grapes. For seedless grapes, try Red Flame. The original recipe was given to me by Rolando Beramendi at Italy's fine Tuscan estate Capezzna, where this intriguing not-too-sweet cake appears frequently at the table during the fall harvest. Note that the cake is prepared with half butter and half olive oil, producing an unusually light and moist cake.

(TARTE ABRICOT VERLET) Verlet is a tiny tea and coffee shop that also serves good homemade pastries. Anyone who loves apricots will love this simple, homey pie. Be sure to use fresh, not canned, apricots.

Poulet Grillé à la DiableIn French cooking, any meat or poultry seasoned with mustard and hot pepper and then coated with breadcrumbs is calledà la diable,since the devil, ordiable,is associated with anything hot and fiery. Cafés and bistros all over Paris offer versions of this classic. I like to make mine with a combination of sharp Dijon and coarse-grain Dijon mustard, and with a good hit of spice, usually what the French callpiments langues d'oiseaux,or bird's-tongue peppers. This is a great picnic dish as well, and I often make it for our lunch when we take the train to Provence. When we eat at home, I serve this chicken with steamed rice or sautéed potatoes and a green salad.