joint, and of the body, arms, and hands of the carver--referred to
when speaking of beef--are equally necessary with regard to haunch
and saddle of mutton. The first thing to be done in carving the
former being to make at the knuckle end a deep cut across, down to
the bone, with the point of the knife, this forms a basis for a well,
into which the gravy will run from every succeeding cut, which ought
to pass at right angles to the first incision--that is, all along, in
continuous and thick (but not too thick) slices--the whole length of
the joint. The moment room at the knuckle end, where the first cut
was made, is obtained for the insertion of the spoon, a modicum of
the gravy which has accumulated in the hollow should be distributed
with each helping, as, of course, it is the richest, being absolutely
pure essence of meat. Care too must be taken never to forget putting
a little extra fat upon each plate, as the haunch of mutton fat is
highly prized; and whoever is most expeditious in assisting the
guests may be counted the best carver of mutton, for that it should
be piping hot is indispensable.
Saddle should be cut very much upon the same principles as the
haunch, and presents no great obstacles to the carver. If a
preference be given to carving the slices obliquely instead of
straight, the thin end of the saddle should then be on the right
of the carver. Each side of the chine or backbone is to be dealt
with alike, the first slice always taken from as close to the bone
as possible. As the fat lying in the region of the kidneys is held
in great estimation, a portion of it should go with every helping;
and therefore it is advisable for the carver directly the cover is
taken off the joint to tilt the saddle a little on one side, and cut
away at once from underneath it as much of this same fat as will be
required to go the whole round of the table. He should then slip
it all into the gravy well, and thus it will be quite ready for
him to help from, otherwise, if this be not done at starting, and
attempts are made to get at it after he has begun to cut into the
joint, he will in all probability spill the rich gravy settling in
the channel made by his first incisions--an unpardonable wasting of
good stuff--or he will overlook the kidney fat altogether, to the
disappointment of everybody concerned; and the fat is not nearly so
good cold as hot.
The popular leg of mutton owes perhaps a great deal of its popularity
to the ease with which it may be cut up. Little has to be done,
save to pass the knife straight down at right angles with the bone,
and not obliquely, as one would carve a ham. Then, according to the
preference of the guests, tolerably thick slices from either the
knuckle or the upper end may be distributed, the knuckle end being
always the better done, though not always perhaps the choicest in
flavour. Many little fancies and predilections for certain tit-bits
will be met with: 2 quaint pieces of brownish, crisply-roasted fat,
like ears or little wings, protruding from the upper end of the
joint, being, with the Pope’s-eye, notable instances. Some are fond
of having this joint dished with the under side uppermost, so as to
get at the finely grained meat lying under the Pope’s-eye; but this
is an extravagant fashion, and one that will hardly find favour in
the eyes of economical housewives.
On the butcher’s proper attention to the process known as “jointing”
depends mainly the facility with which a loin of mutton is cut up,
and we must not attribute blame to the carver who has to struggle
against the neglect by that functionary of this important matter. If
it has been rightly attended to, the carving knife can be made easily
to find its way between the chine bone, and can then, without any let
or hindrance, be passed down through the ribs, separating them one
after another, again reserving the outside chop for those who prefer
the meat brown and well done. The fat and lean go together with each
bone, in common sequence, demanding little or no thought from the
carver, save perhaps here and there, where an ugly or rugged bit of
skin requires to be trimmed off neatly.
Next to the loin of mutton comes the shoulder, as the joint offering
the least difficulty to the carver. The knife has but to be passed
from the outer edge of the shoulder across the meat towards the
carver, until the bone is reached. Take away slice after slice in
this direction, and then resorting to the meat lying on either
side of the blade bone, according to the quantity required, in
this instance cutting lengthways of the joint. When no more can be
obtained from the upper side of the joint, it must be turned, and
there are many people who do not consider that they have had the
best of a shoulder of mutton until this side is attacked. It will
now present almost the appearance of a new joint, being quite flat,
and offering a succession of juicy slices along its entire length.
These have to be dexterously removed, very much upon the principles
recommended when flat joints were spoken of. These slices are
preferred for hashing, however, by those who think that the quality
of the grain of the meat from this part of the joint renders it
inferior at the first cooking to the upper.
It is not necessary, with one exception, to say anything about joints
of lamb, for they only have to be manipulated according to the rules
laid down for mutton. The exception is a fore-quarter of lamb. In
removing the shoulder from the breast--the first point to which he
directs his attention--hold the shoulder firmly with the fork, and
proceed with the point of the knife to cut through the smoking crisp
brown skin in a circular line, at the junction of the two joints.
Following the same line for a second time, and now thrusting the
knife farther into the meat, a very little exertion with the left
hand makes it easy to raise the shoulder from the breast, whilst
a pat of butter, a little cayenne pepper, some salt, and a good
squeeze of lemon are placed between them by the carver. When, in a
moment or two, these ingredients have assimilated with the gravy,
it is sometimes, for the sake of convenience, thought desirable to
place the shoulder upon another dish, hot, and standing ready at the
carver’s left hand, or held there by a servant. This done, inquiry is
made of those about to be helped as to their preference for brisket,
ribs, or a piece of the shoulder. The brisket should be separated
from the ribs by one long cut from left to right, and then subdivided
at the distance of one or two bones, by cuts at right angles with
the line which separated the brisket from the ribs. These again, in
like manner, are divided into chops by carving them similarly to the
shorter bones of the brisket, and upon the same principle as when
cutting up a loin of mutton.
Venison.--Those who have any experience in carving haunches or
saddles of mutton have very little to learn with regard to venison;
the principles which guide them in dealing with the former have only
to be followed out in the latter. A haunch of venison is carved
exactly like a haunch of mutton; but, being somewhat larger, it
is advised by some authorities that the broad end of the haunch,
instead of the side, should be turned towards the carver for the
purpose of giving him greater command over the joint. This system
leads to an entire disturbance of the appearance and general
arrangement of the table; and a skilled carver should be independent
of such twistings to meet his convenience, except under great
emergencies. Epicures pretend that there is a vast difference between
the flavour of the slices cut close to the vertebræ and those farther
removed, and the carver must make concessions to such notions, and
give those whom he is helping their slice from the region which they
prefer. Never either must he omit to give a dip of the rich gravy
always accumulating in the channel whence the slices are taken, nor
an ample portion of fat with the lean. Expedition, but without hurry,
is essential in carving venison, as, like mutton, it chills very
rapidly: but, as on the whole a haunch of venison is not a difficult
dish to deal with, there never should be anything to complain of on
the score of delay. As the shoulder of venison is usually sent to
table stewed and rolled, the bone having been removed, it presents
no difficulty whatever to the carver, and being, so to speak, a fat
joint, has to be dealt with according to the principles already
laid down. Sometimes, however, the shoulder is roasted, as is also
the neck; but these--with braised brisket, fillets, and steaks--do
not demand any special comment as to their carving; for what has
been learned about cutting up sheep should prove sufficient for
the comparatively rare occasions when the carver is called upon to
discuss deer.
Veal.--The commonest form in which veal offers itself is perhaps
a roast breast, and if a carver has had any experience in cutting
up fore-quarter of lamb, he will at once recognise the similarity
between a breast of veal and the aforesaid joint of lamb after the
shoulder has been removed. Like it, the veal is composed of ribs and
brisket, and may be cut accordingly, that is, first, by separating in
one long incision the ribs from the brisket, and then the rib bones
one by one, after the manner of chops generally. The gristly brisket
may be cut in squarish portions, inquiring of course always of the
guests whether they prefer the latter or the former. The brown,
well-cooked parts in veal are usually most esteemed; and if the
sweetbread, as it sometimes is, be sent to table with the joint, it
ought naturally to be fairly distributed. Once more, in manipulating
the roast fillet of veal, the carver has only to remember what has
been said respecting a round of beef, with the addition that a
portion of the stuffing, which is inserted between the flap and the
main bulk of the meat, be served with each helping, and that the
brown outside, or first slice, is considered a very choice morsel.
A knuckle of veal, being in shape somewhat like the knuckle end of a
leg of mutton when it has been divided, needs but few directions for
carving. The slices from the thicker end are the best; that would be
to the right of the first incision into the meat.
The butcher is mainly responsible for the good carving of a loin of
veal, for if he have not done his jointing properly, it is hardly
possible to cut it up decently; whereas, if he has done his work
well, the carver has but to feel his way with the point of the knife,
on lines already laid down, to be able to disengage the separate
portions--never, by the way, overlooking the kidney, and the kidney
fat, lying on the under side of the joint.
It is not very easy to describe the exact method of carving calf’s
head, but a little experience and examination of its organic
development soon suggests what has to be done. When upon the dish,
the nose and mouth should be to the right of the carver, and the
first incision should be made right down to the bone, and running
all along from the back of the nearest ear down towards the nose,
and slices be cut away in the same direction. With each of these
should go a piece of what is called the sweetbread of the throat,
a substance to be found under the ear, and, so to speak, at right
angles with the line of the first incision, and it should be cut
towards the carver in the direction in which it lies. Calf’s head has
a multitude of succulent morsels, to wit, the ears, the flesh round
the eyes, and the eyes themselves. Also the palate, which, lying
under the head, is to be got at when the jaw bone is removed; and
where, likewise, some nice lean becomes accessible. On a separate
dish, of course, the tongue and brains are served, of which every one
is invited to partake.
Sheep’s head is held to be a very vulgar dish, and a lamb’s head,
perhaps, only one degree less so. Still he who is unfortunate enough
at any time to find himself with the responsibility of carving or
helping such viands may take courage if he has any knowledge of what
is demanded of him when similarly situated with a calf’s head, the
heads of the smaller animals being then very easy of manipulation.
Pork.--Like calf’s head, a sucking pig seems at first sight to be
rather an appalling dish, and undoubtedly a little experience is
requisite before one becomes quite _au fait_ with the business.
But the whole substance is so tender, and yields so readily to the
knife, that after a slight knowledge of the anatomy of the animal has
been acquired, all difficulties vanish. The little piglet generally
appears upon the board divided into four parts; the head, like the
body, being cloven in twain, a cheek being placed at either end of
the carcase. In dealing with the latter, the shoulder has first to be
removed by passing the knife circularly round its junction with the
body, pretty much as one does with fore-quarter of lamb. The leg is
then treated after the same fashion, when the ribs will be open to
view, for gentle division. Each side of the animal is disposed of in
the same way; the larger joints being considered, perhaps, the least
delicate (if, where all is delicacy, there can be a “least”) are
usually offered to the robuster appetites at table. As in the case of
all dishes abounding in choice morsels, the epicure is sure to have
his fancies about sucking pig--one preferring the ribs, another the
neck, and a third the meat from the shoulder.
Concerning leg of pork, really little or nothing additional has to
be said. The knife only needs to be carried straight down through
the crackling to the very bone; as each slice is taken away, such
stuffing, gravy, &c., as accompany it, is distributed either from the
joint itself or from sauceboats. Allowing for a slight difference
in form, it has to be treated like most of the leg joints that come
to table, and the same may be said of the loin. As you dispose of a
loin of mutton, so do you of a loin of pork, the due value of the
crackling, fat, and brown tit-bits being kept in mind. The butcher
here again is responsible for the jointing, and the cook for the
judicious scoring of the crackling.
Ham alone remains to be noticed in this part of our subject, and
according as one wishes to have fine or economical slices, must it
be carved. In the first case, the start is made upon the prime part
at once; in the second, from quite the lower end of the knuckle,
advancing gradually at a gentle angle towards the thicker and prime
part of the meat. A pliant, very sharp knife is indispensable, as the
slices cannot well be too thin, or too evenly and smoothly cut. It is
of little concern to the carver whether the ham be hot or cold, and
the same may be said of joints generally.
Odd Dishes.--Very little need be said about “helping” dishes of
meat, as part of the carver’s duty, even where no actual knife and
fork execution is required. A rump steak, for instance, hardly needs
to be carved, but it has to be cut and helped very neatly, and not
distributed in irregular mis-shapen hunks, but rather, as a rule, in
oblong finger-shaped pieces, with a nice modicum of fat attached, if
possible, but certainly going with each portion of lean. And because
meat pies again have to be cut and helped, not carved, the carver, so
called, must not look upon them as beneath his consideration.
If he thinks that hashes, curries, ragouts, what-not, do not give him
a fair field for the display of his skill with knife and fork, and
that, therefore, it does not signify how they are helped, he will be
grievously mistaken.
Except where a great number of portions have to be served, avoid the
use of the knife sharpener at table: it has always an eating-house
effect about it. It is disagreeable to the ear and if executed with
the flourish of dexterity, not unfrequently is likely to splash right
and left; for unless the knife be wiped previously, and this is a
very awkward and unsightly process, some of the juices of the meat
inevitably cling to it, to be scraped off against the sharpener,
which in its turn is made greasy, and therefore jeopardises the
purity of the tablecloth. If, however, a sharpener has to be brought
into play, the simplest and most efficacious is the ordinary round
butcher’s steel, always supposing the power of using it properly in
conjunction with the knife has been acquired. Short of this, the
little contrivance consisting of a series of discs overlapping each
other, so as to form a wedge-shaped socket with the finest of thin
edges conceivable, into which the edge of the knife is dropped and
then pushed gently backwards and forwards, is very useful, and may
be recommended as fully answering its purpose, and if carefully
manipulated entirely without risk. It also is cleaner, less
unsightly, and creates less unpleasant noise than the common steel,
whilst a child might manage it. At any rate, ladies should always
use it in preference to any other sharpening instrument. The habit
of feebly drawing the edge of the carving knife downwards, to and
fro, against the back edge of another knife, should only be thought
of under very pressing circumstances; it is an extremely inelegant
action.
_Poultry._--Once learn its anatomy and the best method of separating
its limbs, and very little more knowledge will enable you to
manipulate skilfully any of the feathered tribe. The chicken should
lie upon its back at right angles with our line of sight, and its
tail end to our left hand. The fine plump breast tempts naturally
the insertion of the fork, which should be driven firmly, but
delicately, and almost perpendicularly into it, a little to the
left of the centre, a prong on either side of the ridge of the
breast bone. Secure hold should be at once got by this process of
the whole carcase, for if it be intended to cut up the entire fowl
at once it may be, and should be all but done without once removing
the fork. The next process is to separate the wing, or both wings,
and this is done by passing the knife sharply along the line of the
breast, as far outside the breast bone as will leave a fair share
of meat attached to it, and yet give an ample portion to the wing.
Thus, cutting from left to right, and downwards, as we approach the
right extremity of the bird, let the knife diverge a little farther
outwards, so as to clear the merrythought, and strike the joint of
the wing. Unless the creature be of preternatural antiquity, the
junction is easily severed, and bone and flesh come away almost with
a touch. Having removed both wings in this way, lower the fork hand
so as to cant the chicken a little on to its side, and then pass the
blade of the knife under the projecting elbow, as we may call it, of
the leg, and, forcing it outwards, disengage it too from the body by
severing with the point of the knife the joint by which it is still
slightly held. Then turn the bird bodily over on to its other side,
without removing the fork, and dispose of the second leg in a similar
fashion. Restoring then the chicken to its original position, pass
the knife transversely across the breast a little to the right of the
highest point of the breast bone. Cut down gently, inclining the edge
of the blade to the right, press outwards and upwards slightly, and
the merrythought comes away. There must be no tearing of the skin;
every incision of the knife must go clean through that, for nothing
looks worse than to see one portion with the skin half torn away,
and hanging in a long ribbon from another. The merrythought is now
disposed of by just separating the little joints by which it is still
attached when the upper end of its bone has been separated from the
breast, and having a nice clean edged covering of skin. Again turn
the carcase on to its side, and by an action with the knife, similar
to that by which you removed the legs, force away by an upward
pressure the two side bones one after the other, that is the two
bones which the removal of the merrythought has revealed. There is
nothing now to prevent the knife being swept clean through the ribs,
and so disengage breast and back. At this stage the fork is withdrawn
from the breast, which has now become a trim, tempting, and oblong
portion; the back only remains to be dealt with. Turning it over,
press the knife firmly down upon the right end of it, and holding it
so steadily, lift the left extremity with the fork, and the back is
immediately dislocated near the centre; complete the separation by
severing with the knife such portions of skin and flesh as may yet
cause the joints still to adhere one to the other. Arrange then all
these various portions neatly on the dish, and still assuming that
the demolition of the whole bird was necessary, it will be ready to
serve, remembering that a piece of the liver should go with that
wing which has it not. On some occasions--carving for a large number
of children to wit--it may be necessary to divide each leg into two
portions by severing the thigh bone from the drumstick, as it is
called.
Boiled or roast, such is the mode of cutting up a fowl. Supposing,
however, that some special part alone is wanted, say the
merrythought, it can hardly be got at without first cutting the wing,
or wings; not perhaps disengaging them entirely, but certainly so far
as to get at the particular joint required. It ensures neatness in
the long run, and it is highly essential that a bird, if it reappears
at table, should look neither hacked nor mangled. If a fowl approach
the proportions of a capon, it will seldom be well to drive the fork
into the breast at starting, because then the first thing to be done
is to make the breast yield the utmost number of slices; these should
be cut, to begin with, from as close to the wing as possible, working
upwards on either side till the breast bone be reached. Only when
these, the choicest parts of the bird, are distributed, will it be
necessary to go into the dissection of the carcase as aforesaid; and
it must not be forgotten that under this method the wings are reduced
to what may be called a mere picking.
Very special fancies are found to predominate amongst all who
partake of poultry, and it is essential that the carver does not
neglect to consult each individual’s predilections. A very little
experience, too, will show how indispensable it is to have poultry
carving knife and fork in exquisite order. The knife must be firm
and sharp-pointed, or it will never disengage anything like stubborn
joints.
Duck.--The anatomy of the fowl once mastered, that of the duck or
duckling becomes immediately patent to the most casual observer. The
slight difference which exists in their general conformation, and
which arises chiefly from the legs of the duck being set farther back
on the body, is not sufficient to require much additional comment;
but it may be said that, whereas the wing of the “flyer” is held in
the highest repute, so is the leg of the “swimmer”; and when a very
small and tender duckling is under the knife, one wing and leg taken
off together, without division, will be no more than enough for one
portion. The stuffing is got at by cutting open at its lower end,
by a semicircular incision, the little apron of skin just below the
breast. This should be done so neatly that it falls back into its
place when the spoon is withdrawn, and must on no account be left
jagged. Nevertheless, the carver should never put any of the stuffing
upon a plate without first asking whether it will be agreeable. Some
housewives, when a pair of ducks or ducklings appear, allow only one
of them to be stuffed, and this is perhaps wise. As with a large
chicken, so with a large duck, the most must be made of its breast
by cutting the utmost number of long and delicate slices that it
will yield, commencing always as close to the wing as possible. Very
marked will be the difference in the apparent amount of separate
portions which will be got off a duck by a good and a bad carver; and
it is only a little exaggeration to say that the good one will make
the bird go twice as far as the bad. All sorts of odd out-of-the-way
tit-bits can be got off the carcase by any one who has had the wit to
keep a watchful eye on a dexterous knight of the carving knife and
fork--for practical carving is learned more thoroughly by watching an
expert than by any other means. Amongst the tit-bits of a duck some
people look upon the feet as very pretty picking, and they should
always appear at table, not only for the above reason, but as giving
a character to the dish.