When I was sixteen I worked in a little french cafe in my hometown called La Baguette. They were known for their fondue and french onion soup. It is one of those restaurants where recipes were used but not really followed with any stringency. It was definitely more, 'a little of this' and 'a little of that,' and even some, 'whatever tastes right.' I clearly internalized this cooking style quite a bit over the six months I worked there. And while this infuriates those people who need to know exactly how something is supposed to turn out, it makes it much easier to try and recreate 8 years after the fact. I only made the french onion soup once, although that didn't stop me from coming home smelling to high heaven like onions every single day. But I can say that having not made this soup since then, I have proven once and for all my amazing ability to recall the most random stuff. 

Granted, it helps that there are less than ten ingredients, which I will actually list for you this time. I know, I'm actually going to give you a recipe? What trickery is this? Don't worry, I'm still not giving you quantities or specifics. All is right in the kitchen. 

I've been wanting to do a post on this soup for a while, but needed to wait until I had finally given in and bought these little Staub coquettes. I've wanted them ever since I first started working at Williams-Sonoma and this Christmas I finally decided to buy them for myself. They are very small, perfect for individual portions. And since I do happen to be one of those girls who finds small things cute, these are a dream come true despite not really being very multi-purpose. They are, however, exactly the right size for this soup. This recipe calls for a lot of butter and cheese and is too rich to serve in gigantic portions. 

Alright, onward to the actual recipe. You will need: butter, yellow onions, salt, pepper, stock, baguette, and cheese. 

First- in a well-insulated pan, like a dutch oven, sauteuse, or soup pot, melt the butter over low heat. I'm talking like a 4 on the dial. Cut your onions in half then slice them like you were making rainbows (thanks, Lis, for that description) and add to pan. DO NOT DICE THEM. I used about a stick and a half of butter for 6-7 medium onions. Sprinkle some salt over the onions. Keep the stove on low and stir until the onions are coated in butter. Let sit, stirring occasionally. If your onions start to burn, lower the heat. You do want some colouring, however, so don't freak out if they start browning on the bottom of the pan. Depending on the quantity of onions this process could take up to a couple of hours. Mine took about an hour to get to the colouring you see in that terrible picture above. That is what you are going for. When they look dark enough add some pepper and the stock. Turn the heat up so the soup boils, then transfer into oven-proof bowls. Or, in my case, cast iron coquettes. 

Place slices of baguette on top of the soup. The more stale the bread, the better. Seriously.  At the restaurant we had this bin that was just for old slices of baguettes that we didn't sell. They sat there for days, until they were so dry that when dipped into liquid they almost immediately became a soppy mess. 

Sprinkle some shredded cheese liberally over the top of the bread. I used fontina, because I am slightly cheap and that is what we used to use. But if you are feeling adventurous and possibly affluent, gruyere would make a great alternative. Slide under a broiler until the cheese bubbles and forms little brown spots. The longer you broil it, the better it will be. I probably could have left mine in for a little bit longer. But it was still absolutely delicious. It is a faintly sweet, deeply rich, extremely buttery and satisfying comfort food. If I were trying to impress someone (or someones, since there are three coquettes in a set), I would serve it with an arugula salad beforehand and poached pears with ginger-caramel for dessert. 

Right around Thanksgiving Williams-Sonoma put out a new product for roasting chickens in clay. I was immediately in love with the idea. How rustic! How intriguing! Well, I finally bought a couple packs of the clay and today Lis and I decided to try it out. It was extremely easy and seriously the most fun you can have roasting a chicken without an open fire and a spit. (Not that I would know. Anyone want to remedy this and buy me a fire-pit?)

We first stuffed the chicken with seven-ish garlic cloves, some salt and pepper, and some smoked paprika. By the way, if you have never tried cooking with smoked paprika, you need to change your ways. Then butter was placed under the skin and more salt and pepper rubbed over it. We then bundled the whole thing into a piece of parchment paper. 

We then rolled out the clay, which comes in two pieces, and snuggled the chicken into it. 

It's best if you can get the clay entirely air-tight. Ours leaked a tiny bit, which was fine, but I think the whole point is that the clay traps all the moisture and flavour. Then, when our chicken was sealed off, we did what any self-respecting home chef would do. We decorated it. 

Flames: always a good choice and totally not cliche at all. The chicken then sits merrily in the oven for a little over an hour at 425*. Then comes the best part of all- when you take the chicken out you get to smash the clay open. 

The clay doesn't get that hard but because we don't own a mallet or a meat tenderizer we used a cast iron pan. A bit overkill, but dramatic. You then peel away the clay and parchment paper and have the most amazingly tender chicken in the history of chicken. The skin doesn't get crispy, which I guess is the one downside. But if your bird is bigger than ours was and didn't quite finish cooking you could always throw it back into the oven to finish, which will help crisp the skin. Or you could take a culinary torch to it. 

We chose to attack it as it was because it smelled delicious and there was just no way we were going to wait. It was definitely as good as it smelled and fell apart at the slightest tug. I've already planned about five more things to try by clay roasting, it was so easy and so good. Seriously. Call your closest Williams-Sonoma and see if they have any more roasting clay kits left. (They're on sale...) You can thank me later.