Spinach and Potato Tian

Elizabeth David, writing in Is There A Nutmeg In The House, describes a tian as “an open earthenware casserole or gratin dish called in the Provencal language a tian….”

David goes on to say there is no fixed recipe for a tian beyond using “a certain proportion of freshly cooked green vegetable–spinach, spinach beet, or chard (the kind the French call blettes) bulking them out…with potatoes or rice…and mixing them up with eggs beaten as for an omelette.” (53)

Optional additions to a tian may include garlic, anchovies, capers, or any of the allium tribe, along with grated cheese and fresh herbs. Some cooks include a fresh tomato sauce. Others omit the eggs but add breadcrumbs. Mrs. David gives five tian recipes in Nutmeg. Three use zucchini. The fourth is the spinach and potato recipe posted here.

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In The Pedant In The Kitchen, Julian Barnes hiliariously details his experiences as “A Late-Onset Cook.” Being both a late onset cook and a writer, Barnes demands precision in recipes. More often than not, Barnes is disappointed.

How big is a ‘lump’, how voluminous is a ‘slug” or a ‘gout’, when does a ‘drizzle’ become rain? Is a ‘cup’ a rough-and-ready generic term or a precise American measure?

The Pedant In The Kitchen, 19

I cite Barnes because David’s tian recipe, a seemingly simple dish, soon had me flummoxed. Should I butter or oil the pan? Why did she parcook the spinach? What did she mean by “cook as before”? (She was referring to another tian recipe on the facing page.)

Recipe writing has changed over time. Leaf through any cookbook published during the 1960’s and you’re certain to find the following sentence: “Make the pastry in the usual way.” Such writing is unimaginable today: readers expect, even demand, culinary processes be detailed down to the last crumb. Mrs. David’s measurements in wineglasses and after-dinner coffee cups would spur outrage (along with countless emails and social media posts asking for clarification).*

Neither after-dinner coffee cups nor wineglasses. Pretend.

Whether or not detailed recipes/cooking processes are a good or bad trend are questions for another day. For now, know that my confusion sent me to Richard Olney’s Simple French Cooking. There I was set straight on several points concerning the tian and how to best prepare it.

Olney rubbed his tian (a gratin dish) with olive oil. He did not parcook the greens. Instead, he tossed everything into a big bowl. There, he instructed readers to

mix intimately with your hands, squishing the mixture repeatedly between your fingers

Simple French Food (236)

I gratefully followed suit.

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If you leave this post with nothing else, know that tian means both the physical dish itself and the food prepared inside it. That food ranges from fresh greens to eggs to tomatoes to potatoes.

The potatoes must be parcooked, or your tian will be unpleasantly lumpen. Pierce the potatoes once or twice to avoid messy explosions, then boil, steam, or microwave them in their skins. When the potatoes are cool enough to handle, peel and cube them. If you microwave the potatoes first, they can cool while you prep the remaining tian ingredients.

If you opt to include anchovies, take care when salting the tian.

Garlic is also optional.

Both Olney and David add Parmesan cheese in their tians. Following their example, I grated about three tablespoons into the vegetable mixture and more over the top.

Three large eggs made a compact tian verging on dryness. Five large eggs gave a moister result. The tian was still dense–that’s the nature of the dish–but pleasantly so.

Oil your baking pan lavishly. If you don’t, the tian won’t slice neatly. Trust me.

Like their close relative the frittata, tians hold well refrigerated and taste good at any temperature. Mrs. David describes the tian as the favored picnic dish of families living in Arles, Avignon, and Aix-en-Provence. I am not a fan of picnicking, but can report the tian is delicious at any hour. Leftovers, if you are lucky enough to have any, make fabulous sandwiches, with or without mayonnaise.

*Please know I am not criticizing Elizabeth David. I happened on the tian recipe while rereading Is There a Nutmeg in the House?, marveling, as I always do, at Mrs. David’s incredible depth of learning and exquisite prose. I am about as qualified to criticize her as I am to perform neurosurgery.