Pain de Chicorée

Pain de Chicorée (braised chicory loaf) teaches one quiet but decisive lesson: a poached mould is not finished when it leaves the bain-marie (hot-water bath). It is finished after it rests. Turn it out at once and the still-loose middle follows gravity; give it fifteen minutes and the eggs settle around the chicory into a tender loaf that holds beneath its cream sauce.

The original entry assumed braised chicory arrived ready from one station, a saucier sent the sauce at precisely the right moment, and an even metal mould held a brigade portion. Here, one pound of finished chicory fits a smooth one-quart loaf pan, and a small roux-based cream sauce comes together while the loaf poaches. The separate stations and great quantities are scaffolding, so they go. The five stiffly beaten eggs per pound of chicory, the gentle bain-marie, and the settling rest are the dish, so they stay. One cook, one stove, one evening.

The finished pain de chicorée should be pale gold and green at the cut face, moist rather than airy, with ivory sauce gleaming over the top and pooling at its base. Let the loaf rest before you unmould it. That is the step that decides whether it reaches the table standing proudly.