French · Authentic-ish French
Poireaux Vinaigrette
210 kcal a serving, against 405 for the traditional version. That is 195 kcal off, or 48%, with 4g of protein. Serves 4. 30 minutes, plus chilling.
What the traditional version is
Huge whole leeks, boiled until they completely collapse and turn sweet. They're drained, cooled and drenched in a classic French vinaigrette made with an aggressive amount of Dijon mustard, red wine vinegar and a towering quantity of olive oil. The oil pools on the plate and clings to every layer of the leek.
What changed, and what each change costs
120g of olive oil down to 30g
A ratio of 3 parts oil to 1 part vinegar is the absolute standard for a French dressing. I cut the oil way down and whisk in a splash of chicken stock to make up the volume. You still get enough oil to carry the flavour and coat the leeks.
What it costs you. The dressing is much thinner. It doesn't cling to the vegetables in the same luxurious, heavy way, and you lose that peppery oil burn at the back of your throat.
Adding 50g of chicken stock to the dressing
When you remove 90g of oil, you need liquid to thin out the mustard and vinegar so it actually pours. Chicken stock adds a savoury depth that stops the vinegar from tearing your head off.
What it costs you. It makes the dressing slightly cloudy and introduces a meaty background note that purists will hate. A traditionalist would probably throw a chair at me for this.
The numbers
| Per serving | Traditional | Lightened |
|---|---|---|
| Calories | 405 | 210 |
| Protein | 3.7g | 4g |
| Fat | 30.9g | 8.5g |
| Saturated fat | 4.3g | 1.2g |
| Carbohydrate | 31.3g | 31.8g |
| Protein per 100 kcal | 0.9g | 1.9g |
Every figure is computed from the recipe's own weighed ingredient list against public food composition databases. The appendix in Authentic-ish French prints the exact database row used for each ingredient, so any number here can be checked.
Allergens. mustard, sulphites.
The method is in the book
So: a sharp and bracing plate of vegetables. A rich, fatty restaurant dish was never on the table once the fat came out. The sweetness of the boiled leeks plays beautifully against the aggressive punch of the mustard and vinegar. Because the dressing is thinner, it soaks right down into the layers of the leek rather than sitting on top in a greasy puddle. The original is undeniably a better vehicle for mopping up with a baguette, but this version is exactly what you want before eating a heavy piece of meat. It tastes exactly like a French bistro, just without the ensuing food coma.
The quantities and the method for this dish are in Authentic-ish French, along with 54 more. Buy the paperback