WARMING OVER.
HASH is a peculiarly American institution. In no other country is every
remnant of cold meat turned into that one unvarying dish. What do I say?
_remnants_ of cold meat! rather _joints_ of cold meat, a roast of beef
of which the tenderloin had sufficed for the first day's dinner, the leg
of mutton from which a few slices only have been taken, the fillet of
veal, available for so many delicate dishes, all are ruthlessly turned
into the all-pervading hash. The curious thing is that people are not
fond of it. Men exclaim against it, and its name stinks in the nostrils
of those unhappy ones whose home is the boarding-house.
Yet hash in itself is not a bad dish; when I say it is a peculiarly
_American_ institution, I mean, that when English people speak of hash,
they mean something quite different--meat warmed in slices. Our hash, in
its best form--that is, made with nice gravy, garnished with sippets of
toast and pickles, surrounded with mashed potatoes or rice--is dignified
abroad by the name of _mince_, and makes its appearance as an elegant
little _entrée_. Nor would it be anathematized in the way it is with us,
if it were only occasionally introduced. It is the familiarity that has
led to contempt. "But what shall I do?" asks the young wife
distressfully; "John likes joints, and he and I and Bridget can't
possibly eat a roast at a meal."
Very true; and it is to just such perplexed young housekeepers that I
hope this chapter will be especially useful--that is to say, small
families with moderate means and a taste for good things. In this, as in
many other ways, large families are easier to cater for; they can
consume the better part of a roast at a meal, and the remains it is no
great harm to turn into hash, although even they might, with little
trouble and expense, have agreeable variety introduced into their bill
of fare.
In England and America there is great prejudice against warmed-over
food, but on the continent one eats it half the time in some of the most
delicious-made dishes without suspecting it. Herein lies the secret.
With us and our transatlantic cousins the warming over is so artlessly
done, that the _hard_ fact too often stares at us from out the watery
expanse in which it reposes.
One great reason of the failure to make warmed-over meat satisfactory is
the lack of gravy. On the goodness of this (as well as its presence)
depends the success of your _réchauffé_.
The glaze, for which I have given the recipe, renders you at all times
independent in this respect, but at the same time it should not alone be
depended on. Every drop of what remains in the dish from the roast
should be saved, and great care be taken of all scraps, bones, and
gristle, which should be carefully boiled down to save the necessity of
flying to the glaze for every purpose. I will here give several recipes,
which I think may be new to many readers.
SALMI OF COLD MEAT is exceedingly good. Melt butter in a saucepan, if
for quite a small dish two ounces will be sufficient; when melted, stir
in a little flour to thicken; let it brown, but not burn, or, if you are
preparing the dish in haste, put in some brown flour; then add a glass
of white or red wine and a cup of broth, or a cup of water and a slice
of glaze, a sprig or two of thyme, parsley, a small onion, chopped, and
one bay leaf, pepper, and salt. Simmer all thoroughly (all savory dishes
to which wine is added should simmer long enough for the distinct
"winey" flavor to disappear, only the strength and richness remaining).
Strain this when simmered half an hour and lay in the cold meat. Squeeze
in a little lemon juice and draw the stew-pan to the back of the stove,
but where it will cook no longer, or the meat will harden. Serve on
toast, and pour the sauce over. A glass of brandy added to this dish
when the meat goes in is a great addition, if an extra fine salmi is
desired. By not allowing the flour and butter to brown and using white
wine, this is a very fine sauce in which to warm cold chicken, veal, or
any _white_ meat.
B[OE]UF À LA JARDINIÈRE.--Put in a fireproof dish if you have it, or a
thick saucepan, a pint of beef broth, a small bunch each of parsley,
chervil, tarragon--very little of this--shallot or onion, capers,
pickled gherkins, of each or any a teaspoonful chopped fine; roll a
large tablespoonful of butter with a dessert-spoonful of brown flour,
stir it in; then take slices of underdone beef, with a blunt knife hack
each slice all over in fine dice, but not to separate or cut up the
slices; then pepper and salt each one and lay it in with the herbs,
sprinkle a layer of herbs over the beef and cover closely; then stand
the dish in the oven to slowly cook for an hour, or, if you use a
stew-pan, set in a pan of boiling water on the stove for an hour where
the water will just boil. Serve on a dish surrounded with young carrots
and turnips if in season, or old ones cut.
BEEF AU GRATIN.--Cut a little fat bacon or pork very thin, sprinkle on
it chopped parsley, onion, and mushrooms (mushroom powder will do) and
bread-crumbs; then put in layers of beef, cut thick, and well and
closely hacked, then another layer of bacon or pork cut thin as a wafer,
and of seasoning, crumbs last; pour over enough broth or gravy to
moisten well, in which a little brandy or wine may be added if an
especially good dish is desired; bake slowly an hour.
PSEUDO BEEFSTEAK.--Cut cold boiled or roast beef in thick slices, broil
slowly, lay in a _hot_ dish in which you have a large spoonful of
Montpellier butter melted, sprinkle a little mushroom powder if you
desire, and garnish with fried potato.
CUTLETS À LA JARDINIÈRE.--Trim some thick cutlets from a cold leg of
mutton, or chops from the loin, dip them in frying batter, _à la
Carême_, fry crisp and quickly, and serve wreathed round green peas, or
a ragout made as follows: Take young carrots, turnips, green peas, white
beans; stew gently in a little water to which the bones of the meat and
trimmings have been added (and which must be carefully removed not to
disfigure the vegetables). Encircle this ragout with the fried cutlets,
and crown with a cauliflower.
CROMESQUIS OF LAMB is a Polish recipe. Cut some underdone lamb--mutton
will of course do--quite small; also some mushrooms, cut small, or the
powder. Put in a saucepan a piece of glaze the size of a pigeon's egg,
with a _little_ water or broth, warm it and thicken with yolks of two
eggs, just as you would make boiled custard, that is, without letting
it come to the boil, or it will curdle; then add the mushrooms and meat,
let all get cold, and divide it into small pieces, roll in bread-crumbs
sifted, then in egg, then in crumbs again, and fry in very hot fat; or
you may, _after_ rolling in bread-crumbs, lay each piece in a spoon and
dip it into frying batter; let the extra batter run off, and drop the
cromesquis into the hot fat. These will be good made of beef and rolled
up in a bard of fat pork cut thin, and fried; serve with sauce piquant
made thus: Take some chopped parsley, onion, and pickled cucumbers,
simmer till tender, and thicken with an equal quantity of butter and
flour. Of course your own brightness will tell you that, if you are in
haste, a spoonful of Montpellier butter, the same of flour, melted in a
little water, to which you add a teaspoonful of vinegar, will make an
excellent sauce piquant, and this same is excellent for anything fried,
as breaded chops, croquettes, etc. I may here say, that where two or
three herbs are mentioned as necessary, for instance, parsley, tarragon,
and chervil, if you have no tarragon you must leave it out, or chervil
the same. It is only a matter of flavoring, at the same time _flavor_ is
a great deal, and these French herbs give that indescribable _cachet_ to
a dish which is one of the secrets of French cooking. Therefore if you
are a wise matron you will have a supply on hand, even if only bought
dry from the druggist.
MIROTON OF BEEF.--Peel and cut into thin slices two large onions, put
them in a stew-pan with two ounces of butter, place it over a slow fire;
stir the onions round till they are rather brown, but not in the least
burnt; add a teaspoonful of brown flour, mix smoothly, then moisten with
half a pint of broth, or water with a little piece of glaze, three
salt-spoonfuls of salt unless your broth was salted, then half the
quantity or less, two of sugar, and one of pepper. Put in the cold beef,
cut in thin slices as lean as possible, let it remain five minutes at
the back of the stove; then serve on a very hot dish garnished with
fried potatoes, or sippets of toast. To vary the flavor, sometimes put a
spoonful of tarragon or plain vinegar, or a teaspoonful of mushroom
powder, or a pinch of curry, unless objected to, or a few sweet herbs.
In fact, as you may see, variety is as easy to produce as it is rare to
meet with in average cooking, and depends more on intelligence and
thoughtfulness than on anything else.
The simplest of all ways of warming a joint that is not far cut, is to
wrap it in thickly buttered paper, and put it in the oven again,
contriving, if possible, to cover it closely, let it remain long enough
to get _hot_ through, not to cook. By keeping it closely covered it will
get hot through in less time, and the steam will prevent it getting hard
and dry; make some gravy hot and serve with the meat. If your gravy is
good and plentiful, your meat will be as nice as the first day; without
gravy it would be an unsatisfactory dish. If you cannot manage to cover
the joint in the oven, you may put it in a pot over the fire _without_
water, but with a dessert spoonful of vinegar to create steam; let it
get hot through, and serve as before.
For the third day the meat may be warmed up in any of the ways I am
going to mention, repeating once more, that you must have gravy of some
kind, or else carefully make some, with cracked bones, gristle, etc.,
stewed _long_, and nicely flavored with any kind of sauce.
RAGOUT.--A very nice ragout may be made from cold meat thus: Slice the
meat, put it in a stew-pan in which an onion, or several if you like
them, has been sliced; squeeze half a lemon into it, or a
dessert-spoonful of vinegar, cover closely without water, and when it
begins to cook, set the stew-pan at the back of the stove for three
quarters of an hour, shaking it occasionally. The onions should now be
brown; take out the meat, dredge in a little flour, stir it round, and
add a cup of gravy, pepper, salt, and a small quantity of any sauce or
flavoring you prefer; stew gently a minute or two, then put the meat
back to get hot, and serve; garnish with sippets of toast, or pickles.
A NICE LITTLE BREAKFAST DISH IS made thus: Cut two long slices of cold
meat and three of bread, buttered thickly, about the same shape and
size; season the meat with pepper, salt, and a little finely chopped
parsley; or, if it is veal, a little chopped ham; then lay one slice of
bread between two of meat, and have the other two slices outside; fasten
together with short wooden skewers. If you have a quick oven, put it in;
and take care to baste with butter thoroughly, that the bread may be all
over crisp and brown. If you can't depend on your oven, fry it in very
hot fat as you would crullers; garnish with sprigs of parsley, and serve
very hot.
TO WARM A GOOD-SIZED PIECE OF BEEF.--Trim it as much like a thick fillet
as you can; cut it horizontally half way through, then scoop out as much
as you can of the meat from the inside of each piece. Chop the meat fine
that you have thus scooped out, season with a little finely chopped
parsley and thyme, a shred of onion, if you like it; or if you have
celery boil a little of the coarser part till tender, chop it and add
as much bread finely crumbled as you have meat, and a good piece of
butter; add pepper and salt, and make all into a paste with an egg,
mixed with an equal quantity of gravy or milk; fill up the hollow in the
meat and tie, or still better, sew it together. You may either put this
in a pot with a slice of pork or bacon, and a cup of gravy; or you may
brush it over with beaten egg, cover it with crumbs, and pour over these
a cup of butter, melted, so that it moistens every part; and bake it,
taking care to baste well while baking; serve with nice gravy.
BEEF OLIVES are no novelty to the ear, but it is a novel thing to find
them satisfactory to the palate.
Take some stale bread-crumbs, an equal quantity of beef finely chopped,
some parsley, and thyme; a little scraped ham if you have it, a few
chives, or a slice of onion, all chopped small as possible; put some
butter in a pan, and let this force-meat just simmer, _not fry_, in it
for ten minutes. While this is cooking, cut some underdone oblong slices
of beef about half an inch thick, hack it with a sharp knife on _both
sides_; then mix the cooked force-meat with the yolk of an egg and a
tablespoonful of gravy; put a spoonful of this paste in the center of
each slice of meat and tie it up carefully in the shape of an egg. Then
if you have some nice gravy, thicken it with a piece of butter rolled in
flour, roll each olive slightly in flour and lay it in the gravy and let
it very gently _simmer_ for half an hour. A few chopped oysters added to
the gravy will be a great addition. Or you may lay each olive on a thin
slice of fat pork, roll it up, tie it, dip it in flour, and bake in a
quick oven until beautifully brown.
TO WARM OVER COLD MUTTON.--An excellent and simple way is to cut it, if
loin, into chops, or leg, into thick collops, and dip each into egg
well beaten with a tablespoonful of milk, then in _fine_ bread-crumbs
and fry in plenty of _very hot_ fat.
If your crumbs are not very fine and even, the larger crumbs will fall
off, and the appearance be spoilt. These chops will be almost as nice,
if quickly fried, as fresh cooked ones. They will also be excellent if,
instead of being breaded, they are dipped into thick batter (see recipe)
and fried brown in the same way. This method answers for any kind of
meat, chicken thus warmed over being especially good. The batter, or egg
and bread-crumbs form a sort of crust which keeps it tender and juicy.
Any attempt to fry cold meat without either results in a hard, stringy,
uneatable dish.
WHITE MEAT OF ANY KIND is excellent warmed over in a little milk, in
which you have cut a large onion, and, if you like it, a slice of salt
pork or ham, and a little sliced cucumber, if it is summer; thicken with
the yolks of one or two eggs, added after the whole has simmered twenty
minutes; take care the egg thickens in the gravy, but does not _boil_,
or it will curdle. If it is in winter, chop a teaspoonful of pickled
cucumber or capers and add just on going to table. In summer when you
have the sliced cucumber, squeeze half a lemon into the gravy, the last
thing, to give the requisite dash of acid. You may vary the above by
adding sometimes a few chopped oysters; at others, mushrooms, or celery.
The last must be put in with the onion and before the meat.
DEVILED MEAT.--Our better halves are usually fond of this, especially
for breakfast or lunch.
For this dish take a pair of turkey or chicken drumsticks or some nice
thick wedges of underdone beef or mutton, score them deeply with a
knife and rub them over with a sauce made thus: A teaspoonful of
vinegar, the same of Harvey or Worcestershire sauce, the same of
mustard, a _little_ cayenne, and a tablespoonful of salad oil, or butter
melted; mix all till like cream, and take care your meat is thoroughly
moistened all over with the mixture, then rub your gridiron with butter.
See that the fire is clear, and while the gridiron is getting hot, chop
a teaspoonful of parsley very fine, mix it up with a piece of butter the
size of a walnut, and lay this in a dish which you will put to get hot.
Then put the meat to be grilled on the fire and turn often, so that it
will not burn; when hot through and brown, lay it in the hot dish, lay
another hot dish over it, and serve as quickly as possible with hot
plates.
Or the grill may be served with what Soyer calls his _Mephistophelian
sauce_, which he especially designed for serving with deviled meats.
Chop six shallots or small onions, wash and press them in the corner of
a clean cloth, put them in a stew-pan with half a wineglass of chili
vinegar (pepper sauce), a chopped clove, a tiny bit of garlic, two bay
leaves, an ounce of glaze; boil all together ten minutes; then add four
tablespoonfuls of tomato sauce, a _little_ sugar, and ten of broth
thickened with roux (or water will do if you have no broth).
It will be remarked that in many French recipes a _little_ sugar is
ordered. This is not meant to sweeten, or even be perceptible; but it
enriches, softens, tones, as it were, the other ingredients as salt
does.
SOYER'S FRITADELLA (twenty recipes in one).--Put half a pound of
bread-crumb to soak in a pint of cold water; take the same quantity of
any kind of roast, or boiled meat, with a little fat, chop it fine,
press the bread in a clean cloth to extract the water; put in a
stew-pan two ounces of butter, a tablespoonful of chopped onions; fry
two minutes and stir, then add the bread, stir and fry till rather dry,
then the meat; season with a teaspoonful of salt, half of pepper, and a
little grated nutmeg, and lemon peel; stir continually till very hot,
then add two eggs, one at a time; mix well and pour on a dish to get
cold. Then take a piece, shape it like a small egg, flatten it a little,
egg and bread-crumb it all over, taking care to keep in good shape. Do
all the same way, then put into a frying-pan a quarter of a pound of
lard or dripping, let it get hot, and put in the pieces, and sauté (or
as we call it "_fry_") them a fine yellow brown. Serve very hot with a
border of mashed potatoes, or any garniture you fancy. Sauce piquant, or
not, as you please.
The above can be made with any kind of meat, poultry, game, fish, or
even vegetables; hard eggs, or potatoes, may be introduced in small
quantities, and they may be fried instead of sautéed (frying in the
French and strict sense, meaning as I need hardly say, entire immersion
in very hot fat). To _fry_ them you require at least two pounds of fat
in your pan.
Oysters or lobsters prepared as above are excellent.
Boileau says, "_Un diner réchauffé ne valut jamais rien_." But I think a
good French cook of the present day would make him alter his opinion.
Indeed Savarin quotes a friend of his own, a notable gourmand, who
considered spinach cooked on Monday only reached perfection the
following Saturday, having each day of the week been warmed up with
butter, and each day gaining succulence and a more marrowy consistency.
The only trouble I find in relation to this part of my present task is
the difficulty of knowing when to leave off. There are so many ways of
warming meats to advantage--and in every one way there is the suggestion
for another--that I suffer from an _embarras de richesse_, and have had
difficulty in selecting. Dozens come to my mind, blanquettes, patties,
curries, as I write; but as this is not, I have said, to be a recipe
book, I forbear. Of one thing I am quite sure: when women once know how
to make nice dishes of cold meat they will live well where they now live
badly, and for less money; and "hash" will be relegated to its proper
place as an occasional and acceptable dish.