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TWENTY-FOUR LITTLE
FRENCH DINNERS
AND
How to Cook and Serve Them
BY
CORA MOORE
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
681 Fifth Avenue
Copyright 1919, by
E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
All Rights Reserved
Printed in the United States of America
PREFACE
The Little Dinners of Paris are world-famous. No one can have sojourned
in the fascinating capital in its normal days without having come under
their spell. To Parisien and visitor alike they are accounted among the
uniquely characteristic features of the city's routine life.
Much of the interest that attaches to them is, of course, due to local
atmosphere, to the associations that surround the quaint restaurants,
half hidden in unexpected nooks and by-ways, to the fact that old
Jacques "waits" in his shirtsleeves or that Grosse Marie serves you with
a smile as expansive as her own proportions, or that it is Justin or
François or "Old Monsoor," with his eternal grouch, who glides about the
zinc counter.
But there is also magic in the arrangement of the menus, in the
combinations of food, in the very names of the confections and in the
little Gallic touches that, simple though they are, transform
commonplace dishes into gastronomic delights.
There is inspiration in the art that enters into the production of a
French dinner, in the perfect balance of every item from hors d'oeuvre to
café noir, in the ways with seasoning that work miracles with left-overs
and preserve the daily routine of three meals a day from the deadly
monotony of the American régime, in the garnishings that glorify the
most insignificant concoctions into objects of appetising beauty and in
the sauces that elevate indifferent dishes into the realm of creations
and enable a French cook to turn out a dinner fit for capricious young
gods from what an American cook wastes in preparing one.
The very economy of the French is an art, and there is art in their
economy. It is true that their dishes, as we have known them in this
country, are expensive, even extravagant, but that is because they have
been for the most part the creations of high-priced chefs. They who have
made eating an avocation know that it is not necessary to dine
expensively in order to dine well.
C. M.
New York, May, 1919.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Preface v
The Bugbear of American Cookery--Monotony 1
Flavor--Handmaid of Variety 9
True Trails toward Economy 15
The Appeal to the Eye 21
Sauces, Simple and Otherwise 25
Twenty-four Little French Dinners 33
(With Directions for Preparing)
Let Us Eat Fish! 109
TWENTY-FOUR LITTLE
FRENCH DINNERS
AND
How to Cook and Serve Them
THE BUGBEAR OF AMERICAN COOKERY--MONOTONY
It is as strange as it is true that with the supplies that have lately
proved sufficient to feed a world to draw upon the chief trouble with
American cookery is its monotony. The American cook has a wider variety
of foods at his command than any other in the world, yet in the average
home how rarely is it that the palate is surprised with a flavor that
didn't have its turn on the corresponding day last week or tickled with
a sauce that is in itself an inspiration and a delight, not a mere
"gravy," liable to harden into lumps of grease when it cools.
Most of this is simply the result of blindly following tradition.
Daughter has accepted mother's precepts, regarding them even as the law
of the Medes and the Persians, "which altereth not," and if it were not
that increased prices and, lately, at least, "food regulations," have
veritably compelled her toward a more wholesome simplicity, the United
States would probably be what it was called half a generation ago, "a
nation of dyspeptics." And we were a nation of dyspeptics because the
great American mother of the latter end of the Nineteenth Century, in
spite of all her unequaled qualities in every other direction, and in
spite of all the encomiums she received in resounding prose or ecstatic
verse for her prowess in the kitchen, was from the points of view of
health, economy and wisdom the worst cook in the world.
With prices as they are the American housewife cannot afford to use
butter and eggs and flour with the prodigality that was a habit with her
mother, but so limited is the average woman's knowledge of cookery that
these restrictions merely mean more monotony than ever. It is partly to
demonstrate that this state of things is unnecessary and that true food
economy is not at all synonymous with "going without" that this book has
been compiled.
It is upon variety that the French cook confidently relies to make each
dish of each meal not just something to eat because her family must have
food, not merely a sop to the Cerberus-gnawings of hunger, but a delight
to the eye, to the palate, to the stomach--truly a consummation devoutly
to be wished for the American home table, and just as possible to attain
as it is possible to procure from the grocer or the nearest pharmacist
the ingredients by which these wonders are wrought.
But the average American woman doesn't look beyond her own kitchen and
her own traditional row of spice boxes for her flavorings. She has her
"kitchen set," which ordinarily comprises a row of little receptacles
labeled "pepper," "salt," "cloves," "allspice," "ginger," "cinnamon,"
"nutmeg," and possibly one or two other spices or condiments--rarely
more. With these and a bottle each of lemon extract and vanilla, she is
satisfied that she is fully equipped as far as flavoring possibilities
are concerned.
If she has laid in a box of sage and one of mixed dressing with,
perhaps, some paprika and thyme, she views her foresightedness with much
complacency. She is supplied with savories.
Then she goes right on sighing, "Oh, for a new meat, instead of the same
old round of mutton, pork, beef and fish; fish, beef, mutton and pork,"
disclaiming utterly any responsibility for the monotony that is
undermining the family health and temper and, quite possibly, its
morals.
That is where the American housewife makes her primary and most
important mistake. The French, on the other hand, know that there are,
literally, hundreds of ways to vary every dish, however ordinary it may
be in its primary state. That is their secret of success: unfailing
variety coupled with economy.
However, this is not to claim that the American palate would take kindly
to all the French cooks' little delicacies, or that it could be
cultivated to that degree that makes a Frenchman regard a perfectly
balanced meal even as an inspired poem.
Probably Americans, as a class, could never be induced to eat some of
the little birds--the _mauviettes_, the _alouettes_, the sparrows baked
in a pie, that so delight the Frenchman. Also, it is a question whether
snails, even if it were possible to obtain the superior Burgundian, fat
and juicy and cooked even as our own Oscar used to prepare them for
certain Waldorf guests, would ever appeal to the American taste, as even
the common hedgerow sort of snail does to the average Frenchman.
It is not that the French dinners of Monte Carlo are necessarily so
superior to American shore dinners, or that the little dinners of Paris
are so infinitely to be preferred to those, say, of certain places in
New Orleans, or that the coppery-tasting oysters of Havre are to be
compared with those of our own Baltimore. There is no more to be said,
probably, for the woodcock patés of old Montreuil, or the _rillettes_ of
Tours, or the little pots of custard one gets at the foreign Montpelier,
or the _vol-au-vent_, which is the pride and boast of the cities of
Provence, than there is for grandmother's cookies such as have put
Camden, Maine, on the map, or Lady Baltimore cakes, or the chicken pies
one goes to northern New Hampshire to find in their glory, or the
turkeys that, as much as the Green Mountains, make Vermont's fame.
Still, there is no question but that the American palate would benefit
much by being cultivated, not only in the interests of economy, but also
with a view to the increase of gastronomic pleasure, for a taste attuned
to many variations is as an ear sensitive to the nuances of sweet sounds
or an eye trained to perceive delicate tones and tints. It is really a
matter for regret that we, as a people, have not been as willing to
learn from the French the art of cooking and eating as we have been to
acquire from them knowledge of the art of dress. Until we widen our
horizon sufficiently to do this, we have not even begun to develop all
our food resources or to understand the first principles of true food
economy--which is not at all synonymous with "going without."
FLAVOR, HANDMAID OF VARIETY
It is because he has a multitude of seasonings at his command and knows
how to use them that the French cook is enabled not only to send to the
table an infinite variety of dishes, but, at the same time, to practice
economies that were otherwise impossible. The American buys an expensive
cut of meat and, as is right in such a case, treats it as plainly and
simply as possible. The Frenchman buys meat of a much lower quality, but
so embellishes it that when it comes to the table it is superior, or, at
least, equal to that which costs much more.
It may be objected that this is no real economy, because by the time the
French cook has sauced and spiced his cheap cut in order to make it
palatable, the cost is as great, if not greater than it would have been
had he paid more for his meat in the first place. This would be true
enough according to the average American's method of procedure. But it
is to be remembered that the French cook has already in his kitchen the
cooking vinegars, the spices, the dried herbs, the extracts, that in
very small amounts--a dash or a few leaves--are used at a time; also,
that in a great number of cases, gravies and sauces are made from the
by-products of the main dishes--those by-products that in the American
kitchen usually go down the sink-drain or into the garbage pail.
Take a peep into the typical French cupboard. There you will find from
twenty-five to thirty liquid seasonings such as anchovy extract, tobasco
sauce, meat extracts, mushroom catsup, tomato paste, chutney, various
vinegars, Worcestershire and many another flavoring designed to give a
tang and a zest even to the most unpromising dish, if used aright. There
you will find, too, fifty or more dry seasonings, including anise,
basil, saffron, savoury, clove or garlic, cassia buds, bay leaf, ginger
root, pepper-corns, marjoram, mint, thyme, capers and so on.
Herein lie the "secrets" of French cookery which are, in truth, not
secrets at all, but merely the application of common sense to the
cuisine. The French have never allowed their taste to be restricted by
prejudice, so they hail a new flavor with delight rather than
registering an instinctive dislike because it is not familiar. With a
little applied education, Americans can bring the charm of the French
table to their own homes rather than when they are, as they say, tired
of the same old round of "eats," seeking out a nondescript table d'hôte
restaurant and eagerly consuming what is set before them, grateful for a
change.
But don't harden your heart against French cookery merely because you
have sampled it, as you fondly think, at one or another of the
"red-inkeries" of New York or any other city. For the most part the
"French" restaurants of the land are in reality not French at all, but
Italian for the most part, and whatever Gallic flavor the remainder ever
possessed has well-nigh vanished. There may be exceptions but, if there
are, their patrons carefully guard the secret.
But to return to our subject: It is the French cook's knowledge of the
subtleties, the nuances of seasoning that stands him in good stead. The
American woman who has essayed to use some spice or savory unfamiliar to
her and has turned out a dish which her family has declared "tasted like
medicine" is, naturally enough, discouraged from wandering after that
particular strange god again. The truth is that she has overdone the
seasoning. She doesn't want to be parsimonious, which is just what the
French cook is with his flavors, only he, more scientifically, calls it
using good judgment. If he uses garlic in a salad, it doesn't
necessarily follow that the entire household must take on the
atmosphere of an Italian barber shop, for he uses garlic or onion, not
to give their flavor to a dish, but to bring out the flavors of the
vegetables with which they are used.
Vanilla and lemon have an almost universal appeal to the palate, and
knowing this, the American cook, like the generation before her, has
always seasoned her rice puddings, for instance, with one or the other,
just as her apple sauce has invariably been flavored with lemon or
nutmeg, her bread pudding with vanilla, and so all along her restricted
line.
The French cook holds no brief against vanilla, and sometimes he flavors
his rice pudding with it, but he so guides matters that the very sight
or mention of rice pudding does not bring the thought of vanilla to the
mind, for with him it may be flavored with pistache or rose or have a
geranium leaf baked in it, giving a delightful, indescribable flavor. An
ordinary bread pudding becomes veritably a queen of puddings as,
indeed, it is called, merely by having a layer of jam through its center
and a simple icing spread over the top. Ordinary pea soup exhibits
chameleon-like possibilities merely through the addition of a little
celery-root, a dash of curry or the admixture of a few spoonfuls of
minced spinach, and tomato soup has for most an appeal that even this
favorite of soups never had before when just the right amount of thyme
is added while it simmers, along with, perhaps a bayleaf.
In the recipes appended to the little dinners in this book a great many
of the French cooks' materials and methods of procedure are set forth.
But if the ordinarily experimental American housewife has the flavorings
on hand, she will doubtless herself contrive many an alluring dish of
her own. Variety is said to be the spice of life. However that may be,
the spices and their friends, the herbs, certainly make for variety in
that important function of life, the dinner table.
TRUE TRAILS TOWARD ECONOMY
In the first place, no trail toward economy in conducting the cuisine of
a household lies through the delicatessen store or the "fancy" grocery.
It is an unflattering comment on the spirit of thrift of American
housewives that the delicatessen store has settled down to such a
flourishing existence, particularly in Eastern cities. Any woman who
possesses a stove and a kitchen of her own should be ashamed to admit
the laziness that more than a semi-occasional visit to these "delicate
eating" places predicates. There are few things to be had in them that
she shouldn't be able to make better at home and at a cost that is but a
fraction of what she has to pay for the usually inferior, impersonal
messes that come ready-made.
If the housewife has read some of the very excellent instructions that
were printed to help her conduct her household adequately amid the
necessary limitations of wartime, she already knows that there is
absolutely no excuse for ever throwing away a crust or crumb of bread.
As for that, neither is there any excuse for ever disposing of what is
left of the morning cereal except to the advantage of some later made
dish, or of consigning meat scraps or bits of fat or even bones to the
garbage pail. It is not only that, in the interests of economy, she
should use them; it is rather that if she is a good cook she will be
very glad to have them to use.
Stale bread and breadcrumbs are the bases of a score of the most
delicious puddings on the French cook's card; cooked cereal is one of
the best thickenings for soups and gravies, as well as being far more
wholesome than flour for this purpose; meat scraps, trimmings and bones
should go into the stock pot. When a soup made of these is served as the
introductory course at dinner it will be found that the family will be
fully satisfied with much less meat, and it is in the lessening
dependence of Americans on meat that will make for the greatest item in
economy.
A French cook of parts would tear his hair if he could see how fats and
drippings from meats are thrown away in many an American kitchen. They
are poured into the sink till the drain pipes clog and, to complete the
little serial of extravagance, the plumber has to be called. The French
cook knows that this is the finest grease for frying in the world and
that its use would save many a pound of butter. He strains it all
carefully and keeps the different sorts in labelled jars or crocks. He
knows by experience what particular fats give the best flavors to
certain things, and he knows that vegetables, fish, eggs, pancakes and
what not are far better fried in these natural fats. Who that ever ate
an egg fried in bacon drippings will ever want one cooked in butter,
even at a dollar a pound!
One will not find the delicatessen flourishing in France--one will not
find it at all--and the fancy grocery, above mentioned, is another
pitfall for the American housewife. She likes the sight of food done up
in fancy containers, in glass, perhaps, and buys them, not realizing
that she is paying a large price for perfectly unnecessary and totally
unnourishing "pretties." If she is fearful of the handling some loose
food stuffs may be subjected to in the stores, why does she not practice
the most practical economy, go to the fountain-head of supplies in the
city, the large market, and buy in quantity, so far as she can? A few
ounces of bacon, already sliced, and sealed in a glass dish are, indeed,
appetising even in their raw state, while a side of bacon is not, unless
looked upon through the eyes of imagination, yet the latter method of
purchasing this commodity is two or three hundred per cent cheaper, and
when it arrives at the breakfast table it will be found every bit as
appealing to a happy morning appetite.
Any consideration of economy in the cuisine must include the meat
problem. Meat is the most expensive item on the menu and the true
solution of the question is not only to conserve all the uses of it but
to eat much less. That would make not only for economy, but for better
health as well.
It has been estimated that 186 pounds of dressed meat is--or was prior
to the war--the yearly average of consumption for every American; the
Englishman being a good second with his 120 pounds, while the Frenchman
remained perfectly contented and healthy with 79 pounds, the Italian
with 72 pounds, and the Swiss, anything but a nation of invalids,
managed very well on 60 pounds per person.
This is no plea for vegetarianism, though it may be said in passing for
the benefit of those who think that good red blood and hardy muscle are
to be obtained only by absorbing the red blood and muscle of the beasts
of the field, that there is as much, if not more, of this building
power in the beans, the peas, the lentils that we regard too often as
mere secondary foods.
Most of all the American should take advantage of the great stores of
fish which are equally as nourishing as meat and may easily be made as
appetising with simple sauces that French cookery will teach us. Fish
are cheap; at least, many neglected kinds are; they are easy to cook and
they are one of the best foods in the world.
THE APPEAL TO THE EYE
No one, least of all the French cook, calculates to feast the eye at the
expense of the sense of taste, yet it is his experience after long years
that good digestion is much more likely to wait upon the appetite that
has been stirred to a preliminary enthusiasm by the attractive
appearance of a dish. So they serve little fritters of vegetables, dabs
of jelly, slices of hard boiled eggs, pickles, parsley, cress and
nasturtiums with meats, put sprigs of fresh green in their gravies,
decorate desserts with nut-meats, flowers and fruits, and in so doing
add a bit to the gayety of the table, satisfied that the trifling extra
expense, time and energy incurred is more than compensated for in the
pleasure the results afford. A fair trial of this pleasant idiosyncrasy
of the French is convincing that the appearance of a dish has more
bearing on the relish of a meal than we over here have fully realized.
They are particular, however, to be consistent in the use of
garnishings. Flowers and fruits are reserved for sweet dishes, except in
the case of nasturtiums, which they regard as much a vegetable as a
flower and use freely with meats.
A stew or a creamed dish is merely a more or less indifferent something
to eat when it is dished up any old way and set upon the table. But if
it is heaped daintily on a pretty platter, surrounded by a ring of brown
mashed potato, its sides decorated by dainty shapes of toasted bread,
perhaps buttered and sprinkled with minced parsley, it has become
something to awaken the slumbering or indifferent appetite and at
practically no extra expense of time or money.
If the yolks of two hard boiled eggs are minced and mixed with part of
the raw white of one, the paste then formed into balls like marbles and
dropped into boiling water, one has little yellow spheres to lend an
enlivening color note to clear soups. Two or three of these dropped into
each plate just before serving makes a pleasing change from the usual
croutons.
Sprigs of fresh chickory make the daintiest of garnishes for cold meats,
and a few of the tender green stalks will add to the appearance of
practically any salad. As for water-cress and pepper-grass and, of
course, parsley, minced and otherwise, no French chef would think of
preparing a meal without a plentiful supply of them on hand.
It isn't essential that every dish should be turned into an elaborate
work of art, as if it were to be entered at the annual exhibition of the
Société des Chefs de Cuisine, but neither is there any reason, even with
modest means at command, for giving cause for that old slogan of the
great American dinner table: "It tastes better than it looks."
SAUCES, SIMPLE AND OTHERWISE
Brillat-Savarin, who would be remembered as a wit had he not been even
more brilliant as a chef, paid his respects to the English by saying
they were a nation of a hundred religions and only one sauce. Being a
true Frenchman he believed a reversal of the numbers better for the
soul. It is certainly better for the appetite.
To be sure the proper mental sauce for a good dinner is wit, and the
best physical one, hunger, but as we all of us have more or less of an
Epicurean strain in us and do not eat solely to satisfy bodily needs, it
is well that the American cook who essays to bring variety to her board
should have some knowledge of those Gallic creations, the sauces, by
which she is enabled to transform plain dishes into seemingly
pretentious ones, even though she never attain that sauce that Balzac
knew, "in which a mother might unsuspectingly eat her own child."
In the first place every French chef keeps three kinds of what he calls
_roux_ on hand, ready for making meat and fish sauces. These are made by
cooking together eight ounces of butter and nine ounces of flour. That
intended for use with brown meats is stirred together till it becomes a
medium brown in shade; white _roux_ is cooked only sufficiently to
banish the raw taste and not allowed to color, while pale _roux_ is kept
over the fire just long enough to attain a deep cream color. These are
mixed with milk, soup stock, water or gravy as the case may be when a
sauce for fish, meat or vegetables is needed.
For instance, to make _Sauce à la Crème_, for use with white entrées,
take two tablespoonfuls of the white _roux_ in a saucepan with a cup of
milk and a tablespoonful each of finely chopped parsley, shallots and
chives. Boil fifteen minutes, pass through a colander into another
saucepan, add a small lump of butter, more finely chopped parsley and
salt and pepper. Mix well with a wooden spoon and it is ready for the
table.
To make a favorite _Sauce Piquante_, cut two onions into slices, also a
carrot and two shallots and put into a saucepan with a scant
tablespoonful of butter. While heating over a moderate fire, add a sprig
of thyme, a tablespoonful of minced parsley, a bayleaf and two or three
cloves. When the onions are golden brown add a tablespoonful of flour, a
little plain stock and a tablespoonful of vinegar. Boil again, pass
through a sieve and season with salt and pepper.
A simple sauce is that _Maître d'Hôtel_, which is rarely made at home
though so generally liked. Put a lump of butter into a small saucepan
over a moderate fire and add to it chopped parsley and chives, or
parsley alone. Season with salt and pepper and a little lemon juice and
while it is sizzling pour over the hot steak or fish.
_Sauce d'Anchois_, than which there isn't anything better with baked
fish, is also easy to make. Take three or four anchovies and mash them
up well with two tablespoonfuls of butter. Now make about a pint of
brown sauce with brown _roux_ and milk, and stir the anchovy butter into
it. Just before taking from the fire add the juice of half a lemon or
more, according to taste.
_Sauce Bearnaise_ was a favorite of Henry of Navarre, and it is
excellent with steaks, chops and, particularly, roast beef. To make it
beat the yolks of three or four eggs in a saucepan, add a tablespoonful
of butter and a little salt. Stir over a slow fire till the eggs begin
to thicken, then remove and stir in two more tablespoonfuls of butter,
stirring till the butter is dissolved. Season with chopped fine herbs
and parsley and pour in a teaspoonful of French vinegar.
In many parts of France they have a favorite dressing for boiled fish
called _Sauce Ravigote_. To make it mix half a pint of stock in a
saucepan with a small amount of white wine or cider, then chop fine
herbs such as chervil, tarragon, chives and parsley, or whatever other
herbs are in season, to the amount of about three tablespoonfuls, and
mix with the stock, adding salt and pepper. Stew gently for about twenty
minutes, then blend a tablespoonful each of flour and butter, stir into
the sauce and continue to stir till thick. Just before serving squeeze
in the juice of half a lemon.
The word "_Ravigote_" means, literally, "pick me up," and it is applied
to minced tarragon, chervil, chives and parsley, the herbs being kept
separate and served with salad on four little saucers. _Ravigote_
butter, made by kneading butter with the four herbs and adding pepper,
salt and lemon juice, spread between thin slices of bread, makes
delicious sandwiches.
To make the very generally liked _Sauce Blanquette_, which is used to
raise cold meats to the dignity of a fricassée, take about four ounces
of pale _roux_, thin slightly with boiling water added by degrees, then
put in a bunch of sweet herbs, cooked button mushrooms and small onions
and pepper and salt to taste. Put in whatever cold meat you have, cook
till it is well heated and serve.
The following is called _Sauce d'Havre_, and through the use of it it
will be discovered that the taste of curry is an agreeable one in many
another case than in connection with the veal and rice arrangement to
which most American cooks restrict it. Peel and slice four onions and
two apples and place in a stewpan with four ounces of butter, six
peppercorns, a sprig of thyme, two bayleaves and a blade of mace. When
the onions have become slightly brown over the moderate fire, stir in a
mixture of two tablespoonfuls of flour and the same amount of curry
powder, shortly afterward adding six gills of white stock and half a
pint of white sauce. Season with salt and half a teaspoonful of moist
sugar, boil for a quarter of an hour, adding more white stock if
necessary, and stirring constantly. Put through a strainer into another
saucepan, boil up again, skim, and use when required.
Fricasseed chicken takes on a new glory when it is prepared with _Sauce
Lyons_. This is made by stirring gradually three well-beaten eggs into
half a pint of plain white sauce, then placing the mixture in a jar and
standing in boiling water till the sauce thickens. Just prior to pouring
over the chicken add the strained juice of half a lemon.
TWENTY-FOUR LITTLE FRENCH DINNERS
I
MENU
Potage à la Duchesse
Cabillaud à la Bechamel
Pommes de Terre, Genevoise
Salade Celeri
Pouding à la Vanille
=Potage à la Duchesse.=--Butter a baking sheet, cover with four ounces
of chou paste, cook in the oven for six minutes, then cover the paste
with forcemeat in small lumps, a little distance apart. Cut the paste
into twelve equal sized pieces, each piece holding a lump of the
forcemeat, place in a tureen, pour over a quart of piping hot consommé
and serve.
=Cabillaud à la Bechamel.=--Mix an ounce of flour with an ounce and a
half of butter melted in a saucepan, then gradually add a pint of milk
which has been allowed previously to simmer with a minced onion and
carrot in it, also a bunch of sweet herbs, two or three cloves, a
grating of nutmeg and pepper and salt. Bring to a boil, add two or three
tablespoonfuls of cream, strain and put back into the saucepan. Now put
in two or three pounds of cod, previously boiled and flaked, being
thoroughly free from skin and bones. Shake all together very gently and
when all is thoroughly hot, turn out onto a silver dish and garnish with
sliced hard-boiled eggs.
=Pommes de Terre, Genevoise.=--Shred four medium sized boiled potatoes,
season with a little salt and pepper. Butter lightly half a dozen
tartlet moulds, cover the bottoms with grated Parmesan cheese, arrange
in each a layer of potatoes, then another sprinkling of cheese, and so
on till the moulds are filled. Put a little butter on top. Place on a
very hot stove or in a very hot oven for fifteen minutes to half an
hour. Serve on a hot dish in the moulds.
=Salade Celeri.=--Trim two or three heads of celery, cut into short
shreds, wash thoroughly in cold water and drain. Place in a salad bowl,
season with a little salt, a very little pepper and one or two
tablespoonfuls each of oil and vinegar. Add several sprigs of
pepper-grass and serve at once.
=Pouding à la Vanille.=--Place a vanilla bean in a mortar together with
half a pound of sugar and pound well together and sift. Separate the
whites from the yolks of three eggs, beat the yolks well, stir them in
with a pint of cream and mix in with the vanilla sugar. Whisk the whites
of the eggs to a stiff froth and mix lightly in with the other
ingredients. Butter a pudding mould, pour in the mixture and cover with
a sheet of oiled paper. Stand the mould in a saucepan of boiling water
and steam the pudding for half an hour. In the meantime prepare the
following sauce: Pour a breakfast cupful of canned or fresh pineapple
juice into a lined pan with the juice of a lemon. Put this on the fire
till it boils, then pour it over a tablespoonful of arrowroot, stirring
all the time. Return the sauce to the saucepan and stir till it thickens
over the fire. When the pudding is cooked, turn it out onto a hot dish,
strain the sauce over it and serve. Be careful that no water enters the
mould containing the pudding while it is cooking, or it will be
spoiled.
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Consommé à la Napolitaine
Cabillaud à la Financière
Pommes de Terre en Rubans
Beignets à la Printemps
Choufleur au Gratin
Bavaroise au Café
=Consommé à la Napolitaine.=--Place in a saucepan with a lump of butter
equal quantities of finely minced carrots, turnips, a head of lettuce
and one of endive with a little chervil. Add a quart of the water in
which the cauliflower in this dinner was cooked, pepper and salt, and
simmer for an hour. Just before serving stir in the beaten yolk of an
egg and half a pint of milk.
=Cabillaud à la Financière.=--Cook a piece of cod weighing three pounds
in salted water for twenty minutes, drain a place on a serving platter
covered with the following sauce: Put two glasses of Madeira wine and a
small piece of meat glaze in a saucepan with a pint of Spanish sauce and
a gill each of essence of mushrooms and truffles. Boil till it coats the
spoon.
=Pommes de Terre en Rubans.=--Take large, smooth, pared potatoes and cut
round and round in spirals about an eighth of an inch thick. Keep
covered with a damp napkin till all are cut, place in a frying basket
and fry in very hot fat till a light straw color. Sprinkle freely with
salt and serve immediately.
=Beignets à la Printemps.=--Make a sauce of two ounces of butter, four
ounces of flour, a tablespoonful of brandy, a pinch of salt, sufficient
water to make a creamy paste. Cook and, removing from the stove, work in
the whites of two eggs beaten to a stiff froth. Cut into pieces any
fruit desired, dip them in the batter and fry in butter to a light
golden brown. Drain well, place in a serving dish, sprinkle well with
powdered sugar and serve. If the fruit is not fully ripe, parboil in
syrup before using.
=Choufleur au Gratin.=--Soak a cauliflower in water with plenty of salt,
then boil in plenty of salted water for fifteen minutes. Remove and take
away all the green leaves, lay it on a flat buttered dish, previously
rubbed with an onion, and pour over it a sauce made as follows: Melt an
ounce and a half of butter in a saucepan, add a dessertspoonful of
flour, mix and add a cup of milk. Stir till it thickens, add pepper and
salt and add two or three tablespoonfuls of grated Parmesan cheese. Mix
well and after pouring over the cauliflower sprinkle all over with
breadcrumbs and place the dish in the oven till nicely browned.
=Bavaroise au Café.=--Mix the beaten yolks of two eggs with a pint of
milk and a cup of very strong black coffee. Bring to a boil in a
saucepan, remove from the fire and allow to get cold, stirring
occasionally. Add the yolks of two more eggs beaten stiff with two
ounces of sugar. Mix well and then add the stiffly beaten whites of the
four eggs along with half an ounce of dissolved gelatin. Pour into a
mould and turn out when set.
III
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Filet de Sole à la Provençal
Poulet Sauté à l'Estragon
Artichauts à la Barigoule
Petit Petac
Soufflé Georgette
=Filets des Soles à la Provençal.=--Sprinkle the filets with pepper and
salt and a little allspice and fry in salad oil with a finely chopped
onion and a little chopped parsley. Serve with a slice of lemon on each
filet.
=Poulet Sauté à l'Estragon.=--Sprinkle the pieces of a cut up raw
chicken with pepper and salt and cook in a saucepan with a little oil.
Make a gravy of a cupful of clear stock in which tarragon stalks have
been boiled for an hour, dish up the fowl on a hot platter, pour over
the sauce, straining it, and sprinkle on top tarragon leaves blanched
and coarsely chopped.
=Artichauts à la Barigoule.=--Cut off the tops and leaves of the
artichokes and boil the bottoms in plenty of slightly salted water till
tender. Scoop out the fibrous interior. Grate some cooked bacon into a
saucepan with a gill of fine herbs and a cupful of broth. Cook for five
minutes. Put a little of this mixture in each artichoke, cover the
opening with a slice of lemon and bake in a sauté-pan in the oven for
twenty minutes.
=Petit Petac.=--Peel tiny new potatoes and sauté in oil till a golden
brown. Sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve.
=Soufflé Georgette.=--Grate a half-dozen stale macaroons into a half-cup
of brandy, add a pint of cream and two teaspoonfuls of dissolved
gelatine. Whip in a dozen maraschino cherries and turn into a mould to
harden. Serve with macaroons dipped into the liquid that comes around
the maraschino cherries. A custard may be used in this recipe instead of
the cream.
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Potage au Riz
Rougets en Papillotes
Veau à la Suzette
Demi tasse
=Potage au Riz.=--Put half a pound of well-washed rice into a saucepan
with two quarts of vegetable stock and boil till tender. When the rice
is cooked move the saucepan to the side of the fire and mix in a cupful
of stewed tomatoes and an ounce and a half of butter. Serve with sippets
of toast or croutons that have been fried in butter.
=Rougets en Papillotes.=--This recipe is for mullets, but any small,
plump fish may be used. Make a paper case for each fish with a sheet of
well-oiled notepaper and put the cases into the oven for a few minutes
to harden. Sprinkle the under sides of the fish with pepper and salt
and lay them in their cases with a small piece of butter under and over
each. Place the cases in a baking-dish and cook for about twenty minutes
in the oven, or more if the fish are otherwise than small. Sprinkle well
with lemon juice just before serving.
=Veau à la Suzette.=--Trim saddle of veal neatly and put it into a
saucepan with a good sized piece of butter. Turn it constantly on the
fire till it is a rich golden color all over, then put it onto a dish
and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add more butter to the gravy in the
saucepan and put in raw potatoes cut up in sections like oranges. Cover
the saucepan and cook, shaking frequently, till the potatoes have a good
color. Add an onion, finely minced, and when it is browned, a clove of
garlic, minced very fine; next put in a tablespoonful of flour followed,
when the flour is brown, by about two cupfuls of stock. Stir well and
put back the meat and any juice that may have oozed from it. Lastly add
a bouquet of herbs, simmer for an hour at least and serve the meat
surrounded by the potatoes with the sauce poured over the whole.
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Potage à l'Américaine
Filet d'Eglefin
Gigot de Mouton aux Épinards
Chou de Mer au Fromage
Petites Crèmes au Chocolat
=Potage à l'Américaine.=--Parboil a medium sized cauliflower in salted
water, change the water and boil till done. Drain well and press through
a sieve. Dilute with consommé or broth. Boil a few minutes more,
stirring well. Beat up in a basin the yolk of an egg with three
tablespoonfuls of cream, add this to a few tablespoonfuls of the
cauliflower mixture, then, taking the saucepan containing the soup from
the fire, add the egg and cream mixture and stir together. Add half an
ounce of butter and serve with croutons.
=Filet d'Eglefin.=--Cut a haddock into fillets, trimming into pieces
about six inches long. Dip them in well beaten egg and then into sifted
breadcrumbs and plunge into deep, well-boiling fat, frying to a rich
color, turning occasionally to cook both sides evenly. Remove, drain,
put on a cloth spread over a hot dish and serve with a simple white
sauce.
=Gigot de Mouton aux Épinards.=--Roast a small leg of mutton, putting
some salt and a small quantity of water at the bottom of the tin. When
half cooked, remove the meat and carefully skim the gravy of all fat.
Return the mutton to the tin, pour gravy over it and surround it with
potatoes cut to the size of walnuts. Put back in the oven, letting the
potatoes cook in the juice of the meat. Meanwhile cook about three
pounds of spinach, drain, squeeze out all water and pass through a
sieve. Return to a saucepan in which about two ounces of butter has been
heated and season with pepper and salt. Add a tablespoonful of gravy
from the mutton and allow the spinach to simmer till the meat is done.
Then pile the spinach with the potatoes about the meat and serve, having
the gravy in a sauceboat.
=Chou de Mer au Fromage.=--Carefully wash sea-kale to remove grit,
remove any black parts from the roots and tie up the shoots in small
bundles. Cook in boiling salted water for twenty minutes, drain and keep
hot. Mix on the fire an ounce of butter and a tablespoonful of flour,
moisten with half a cup of water in which the kale was cooked, bring to
a boil and mix in two or three tablespoonfuls of grated Parmesan cheese.
Take from the fire and add the beaten yolk of an egg. Arrange the kale
on a hot dish, pour the sauce over and serve immediately.
=Petites Crèmes au Chocolat.=--Mix two tablespoonfuls of chocolate or
cocoa in a cup of boiling milk and sweeten to taste. When nearly cold
add to this the yolks of two eggs, well beaten, and a gill of heavy
cream. Mix thoroughly and strain into china cases. Place these in a
large shallow stewpan containing just sufficient water to reach half way
up on the cases. Let steam for twenty minutes, when the custard ought to
be firm. The water should be boiling when the cases are first put in,
but afterwards may simmer. Put the cases on ice, and serve as cold as
possible with little sponge cakes or lady fingers.
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Potage purée de Pois Secs
Saumon à la Hollandaise
Pommes de Terre, Barigoule
Haricots verts au riz tomate
=Potage Purée de Pois Secs.=--Boil a pint of green peas in three pints
of water with a piece of fat ham or bacon, two carrots, an onion, a
leek, a bayleaf, some parsley, pepper and salt. Allow to simmer two or
three hours, stirring occasionally. Pass the peas and onions through a
hair sieve and add the strained liquor. Return to the saucepan, boil up,
add some whole cooked peas with a little mint and serve.
=Saumon à la Hollandaise.=--Cut a piece of salmon from the middle of the
fish, cover in the kettle with cold water and plenty of salt. Bring
slowly to a boil, removing scum, and allow to simmer till the fish is
done. Drain thoroughly and serve with the following sauce in a boat:
Take three ounces of butter, the yolks of two eggs and put them in a
double boiler over the fire, stirring briskly till the butter is
dissolved. Mix in a scant ounce of flour, stir well and add the juice of
a lemon, half a pint of milk, a little grated nutmeg and pepper and
salt. Stir constantly till the sauce thickens to the consistency of a
custard.
=Pommes de Terre, Barigoule.=--Place ten potatoes in a saucepan with
enough broth to cover them and boil slowly till done. Drain, taking care
not to break them. Put a teacupful of olive oil into a deep frying pan,
heat, put in the potatoes, tossing them till they are browned all over
lightly. Place on a dish and sprinkle with salt, pepper and vinegar.
Serve piping hot.
=Haricots verts au riz tomate.=--Boil rice carefully so that every grain
will be separate, toss it in a little butter and moisten with tomato
sauce and add the yolk of an egg, well beaten and stirred in, and a
little Parmesan cheese. Make a border of the rice on a dish and pile in
the center some French beans plainly boiled and tossed in a little
butter with some pepper and salt.
VII
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Potage Velouté
Brochet à la Tartare
Biftecks sautés aux Olives
Pommes de Terre à la Lyonnaise
Épinards au Gratin
Beignets Soufflés
=Potage Velouté.=--Boil a cup and a half of tapioca in two quarts of
water and season with salt and pepper. At the bottom of a tureen place a
lump of butter, and the yolks of two eggs, pour the tapioca over while
it is still boiling, add a pint of hot milk and serve.
=Brochet à la Tartare.=--Cut a fresh pike into slices and marinade each
slice separately with a sauce made of sufficient olive oil, black
pepper, a minced onion, finely cut mushrooms and chopped parsley. Cover
the fish with breadcrumbs and broil, brushing occasionally with the
marinade. When it is a golden color remove from the fire, place on a hot
platter and serve sprinkled with parsley with a tartar sauce in a
sauceboat.
=Biftecks sautés aux Olives.=--Cut the steak into six pieces and toss in
a frying pan with lard. When well done sprinkle with seasoning and
remove from the fire. Then take half a glass of white wine, a
tablespoonful of consommé, two or three dozen green olives, with the
pits removed, and boil together for a few minutes. Set the steak in a
crown on the platter and in the center place the dressing. Pour the
gravy from the frying pan over all and serve.
=Pommes de Terre à la Lyonnaise.=--Take a dozen potatoes of the same
size, cut into pieces the size of a quarter of a dollar, roll in flour
and put into a frying pan with boiling fat, taking them out when they
are a golden brown. Also fry some thin slices of onion, mix with the
potatoes, sprinkle with salt and serve garnished with parsley.
=Épinards au Gratin.=--Boil two pounds of spinach and chop very fine.
Beat up two eggs to each pound of spinach, mix with it and sprinkle the
whole with breadcrumbs. Pour over some olive oil or melted butter and
heat thoroughly in the oven in a vegetable dish.
=Beignets Soufflés.=--Put a pound of flour, a pinch of salt, a liquor
glass of rum, the yolks of three eggs and a quantity of lukewarm water
into a mixing dish and beat these together till it shrinks from the
dish. Then mix in the well-beaten whites of the eggs and then allow to
rise for an hour or so. Have a baking dish very hot and put in the paste
in pieces the size of a nut, which will triple in size while cooking.
Let them cook to a golden color, remove from the fire and sprinkle with
powdered sugar. Serve hot.
VIII
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Consommé Royale
Filet de Sole à la Vénétienne
Salade Barbe de Capucin
Beignets de Pêches
=Consommé Royale.=--Beat two eggs and mix them with half a cup of milk
and a pinch of salt. Pour into a basin, stand this in a larger one
containing hot water, place in the oven and bake till the contents of
the small basin are firm, renewing water in the larger dish if
necessary. Allow to cool and when set cut into small well-shaped pieces,
pour over them a quart of hot consommé and serve immediately.
=Filet de Sole à la Vénétienne.=--Place in a buttered tin two small or
one large onion cut in thin slices, a little chopped parsley, a bayleaf,
one or two whole cloves and salt and pepper. Lay the fillets of two
soles on these with a generous piece of butter, pour over half a pint of
white stock and a small glass of white wine. Cover the tin with oiled
paper, and bake in the oven for about twelve minutes. When the fish is
cooked take out all the liquor except just enough to keep the fish moist
as it remains in the oven turned very low, strain it and add
three-quarters of an ounce of flour and the same amount of butter. Bring
the sauce to a boil, take it from the fire, add the yolk of an egg and a
good amount of blanched parsley and chervil, chopped very fine. Arrange
the fillets of sole on a hot dish, pour the sauce over and serve.
=Salade Barbe de Capucin.=--Carefully pick over and break into
convenient pieces the required amount of chicory and place in a salad
bowl well rubbed with an onion. Just before serving pour over a French
dressing, remembering to be in making it "a spendthrift for oil, a miser
for vinegar, a counselor for salt and a madman to stir it all up."
=Beignets des Pêches.=--Peel, stone and cut in halves some firm peaches.
Toss about in a bowl with sugar, being careful not to break. Put a pound
of flour in a basin and stir in gradually half a pint of water. Mix the
whites of two stiffly beaten eggs with this batter and then add one and
a quarter ounces of melted butter. Bring olive oil to a good heat in a
frying pan, dip each piece of peach in the batter and fry in the fat.
When lightly browned drain on a cloth or paper, lay on a baking dish,
sift powdered sugar over and glaze by placing in a hot oven a few
minutes. Arrange in pyramid shape on a folded napkin on a hot dish and
serve immediately. Canned peaches, if firm, may, of course, be
substituted for the fresh fruit.
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Côtelettes de Saumon, à l'Anglaise
Pommes de Terre, Marquise
Petits Pois à la Paysanne
Salade Américaine
Choux au Chocolat
=Côtelettes de Saumon, Anglaise.=--Divide slices of salmon into shape of
cutlets, sprinkle with pepper and salt and put into a saucepan with a
small amount of butter and toss over the fire. When cooked take out and
drain, place on a hot dish and serve with the following sauce: Put three
tablespoonfuls of velouté sauce into a saucepan, reduce slightly and add
one egg, four ounces of butter, a little salt, cayenne, some finely
minced parsley and the juice of half a lemon. Mix together well over
the fire till the ingredients are blended and it is ready.
=Pommes de Terre, Marquise.=--Boil potatoes in salted water and pass
through a sieve. Season with salt, pepper, nutmeg, chopped parsley and a
little chopped thyme. Moisten with some good gravy or stock and form
into small balls. Dip each in well beaten egg and fry to a light brown
in butter.