Tom Parker Bowles talks tartiflette: 'This is not a dish worried about precision, elegance or nuance. It is all about beautiful ballast and you wouldn’t want it any other way'

I’ve never been much of a skier, despite more than four decades spent in pursuit of Alpine excellence. Ski school was endured, rather than enjoyed, and thankfully came to an end after one particular exchange, on the chairlift, between my mother and the French ski guide. ‘Aimezvous les chevaux?’ she asked, attempting polite conversation. ‘Oui,’ he replied with a grin. ‘Avec les frites.’ So that was the end of that.

Although I can still muddle my way down most slopes (especially if emboldened by a glass or three of schnapps), my style could be charitably described as ‘l’homme dans la WC’. Sure, there’s something exhilarating about that first run of the day, when the snow is soft and untouched, the slopes empty and the sky a brilliant shade of azure. But, these days, skiing is basically the easiest way to get from one Alpine restaurant to another. That, I have at last realised, is the point of two skis.

Nothing makes me happier than Alpine food. Not a new James Lee Burke, nor an old Rob Reiner (RIP), nor even my first tacos al pastor upon arriving in Mexico City. Last year, in Verbier, Switzerland, I ate raclette every single day, often twice, the lusciously lovely, politely pongy cheese melted to order and draped over boiled baby potatoes, accompanied by a fistful of pert cornichons. I even lugged half a wheel of the stuff back home, which I dispatched in a matter of weeks. True, my digestion wasn’t overjoyed, but, at my age, you get your kicks wherever you can.

If I wasn’t eating raclette, it was fondue. Lots and lots of fondue. I’m as happy dunking my stale bread into bubbling pots during the dog days of summer as I am holed up in some pine-scented chalet, in the midst of a blizzard, a snowmobile’s ride from town. This is a dish too fine to save for winter alone. Asterix in Switzerland was always my favourite of all the books, simply for featuring a cheese-soaked orgy of a fondue. ‘Bring on the cauldron of melted cheese!’ cries the fat Roman governor. My thoughts exactly.

Then there’s tartiflette, which is, like raclette and fondue, exalted and exuberant stodge. Really, you can’t go wrong by smothering waxy potatoes and smoked pork in a dairy deluge of cream and reblochon cheese. An onion and a good glug of white wine offer a fleeting respite from the lactic overload. But this is not a first-date dish, as it does tend to lurk in the tummy for days to come. Hey ho. Such is the price of pure pleasure.

Although this particular combination of potatoes, cheese and onion must have long been an Alpine staple (péla is a dish as old as the hills), it took the marketing nous of the Le Syndicat Interprofessionnel du Reblochon, some time in the early 1980s, to create tartiflette as a way to flog more cheese. Named after a local variety of Savoyard waxy potato, the tartifle, it became an instant Haute-Savoie classic.

Purists will insist on reblochon, with its soft charm and gentle, nutty tang. It’s a magnificent cheese, although the genuine article, made with unpasteurised milk, is hard to get hold of at the moment. LSD has been discovered in French and Italian cattle (lumpy skin disease, not the psychedelic stuff. Although cows on acid…), meaning raw-milk cheese imports have ceased for the time being.

Fortunately, this dish is nothing but adaptable. It works with raclette, fontina, Taleggio, Brie, Camembert and Baron Bigod. Anything, basically, that oozes lasciviously when exposed to heat. And although La Ratte potatoes work very well indeed, any waxy varieties will do. This is not a dish worried about precision, elegance or nuance. Nope, tartiflette is all about beautiful ballast and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Tartiflette

This comes from Matthew Ryle’s French Classics, one of my favourite books of last year. He’s the executive chef of Maison François in St James’s, London SW1, which is also one of my favourite French restaurants. Serve as a main or a side, with ‘some beautifully dressed lettuce leaves’.

Ingredients

Serves 6

1kg waxy potatoes, ideally La Ratte, scrubbed, but unpeeled


200g pancetta


1 onion, finely sliced


100ml white wine


250g reblochon cheese, chilled


300g crème fraîche


Sea-salt flakes and fresh cracked black pepper

Method

• Preheat the oven to 180˚C fan.

• Put the skin-on potatoes in a saucepan and cover with cold salted water. Bring to the boil and gently simmer until the potatoes are cooked. Pour into a colander and leave to cool slightly. When you’re able to handle them, scrape off the skins using a small knife. Slice into coins 1-2cm thick.

• Meanwhile, cut the pancetta into lardons. Over a medium-high heat, cook the lardons in a large frying pan in their own fat until nicely caramelised. Reduce the temperature and add the sliced onion, then cook gently until the onion is soft. Add the white wine and reduce until it has almost completely disappeared. Check the seasoning and adjust if needed.

• Cut your reblochon wheel — or you can use any of the cheeses listed in the article above — in half, to form two semicircles, and then cut each of these in half again through its equator (make sure the cheese is fridge-cold to help with the cutting).

• Choose an ovenproof pan or serving dish. You want to layer your tartiflette in two stages. Place half the potatoes in the base, cover with half the onion mix, half the crème fraîche and two cheese semicircles. Repeat, finishing with the last two cheese semicircles on top, rind side up.

• Place in the oven for about 20 minutes or until hot, bubbling and nicely coloured on top. Finish with some fresh cracked black pepper and serve immediately.