Monday, April 6, 2015

The Birth of the Waldorf and Escoffier's Ham Mousse

Original Waldorf-Astoria on 33rd Street

It’s official –– following Downton Abbey, Julian Fellowes’ next project will be based in New York City’s Gilded Age. To get myself in the golden swing of things I’m pouring over books and recipes from and about the period –– it's really one of my favorites for art, music, architecture and, of course, FOOD. I can’t think of a better place to start than the original Waldorf-Astoria.

One of the great bashes of the 19th century, the Bradley-Martin Ball set the opulent tone for the Waldorf-Astoria in 1897 –– the best of everything.   Pretty much all of Gilded Age society poured through the Waldorf’s doors and sashayed down its famed “Peacock Alley” (a gorgeous, 300-foot-long marble hall that ran between The Palm and The Empire Room where the rich would parade in their finery to see and be seen).

Peacock Alley in old Waldorf-Astoria

Fin de Siécle society enjoying Peacock Alley

1898 Worth Gown

The Waldorf before the Astoria addition

The Waldorf opened its doors on March 15,1893. In 1897 the hotel expanded to become the Waldorf-Astoria, built where the Empire State Building now stands.

                              John Jacob Astor  (1864-1912)                      William Waldorf Astor (1848-1919)                                                                     
The hotel was named after the Astor family’s hometown, Walldorf, Germany and built by Astors on Astor land (William Astor built the Waldorf and John Jacob Astor built the Astoria). In fact, one of the Astor family houses was demolished to build the luxury hotel –– way out up on 33rd Street and 5th Avenue. But The Waldorf may never have happened if luck and a generous heart hadn't intervened.

George Boldt (1851-1916)

George Boldt became the proprietor of the Waldorf thanks to a good deed. A relative of the Astors took a sick child for a cure at the Jersey Shore. Although there were no rooms at Boldt’s small hotel, Mr. and Mrs. Boldt gave up their own rooms for the family and the child recovered. You could say the Waldorf Astoria was born from a generous act. Boldt was introduced to the Astor brothers by the grateful parents and his reputation for excellence did the rest. Within no time the deal was struck, the hotel was built and leased by Boldt from the Astors.

I read all about the hotel in a charming short version of Edward Hungerford’a 1925 book, The Story of the Waldorf Astoria. Would you believe that it was a huge gamble to open the Waldorf? In 1893, New York business and social activity was much further downtown so many wondered who would want to stay so far away from the action in a residential neighborhood (in an upper-class neighborhood that wasn’t amused with a giant hotel in their midst)?  It was doomed to fail they said.

At first it seemed the naysayers were right, on its first day in 1893, the hotel had 32 guests. That summer The Waldorf had 40 guests with 970 servants on the payroll. So many bad ideas! Because of the odd choice of location,  full electrification, not to mention the bold extravagance of installing bathrooms and a phones in most of the rooms ––  the hotel was called Boldt’s or Astor’s Folly. The laughing stopped when the Winter season rolled around and the hotel filled up, the Waldorf-Astoria made $4.5 million its first year – an enormous amount for the time. People liked the lavish modern amenities that had been laughed at. Pretty soon all hotels were built with them. Success came without advertising –– Boldt promoted his new hotel by showing off its quality to people of quality.

Dancing at the Waldorf, Soulen (1896)

From the very beginning George Boldt’s wife Louise had the idea to use the hotel to host charity functions. This was costly but it brought the best people through the doors and they liked what they saw. The hotel opened with a benefit for St. Mary’s Children’s Hospital with Mrs. Vanderbilt paying the New York Symphony orchestra to perform.

Boldt was one of the first hoteliers to subscribe to the customer is always right policy. The rich liked it, a lot. Since Boldt tried to have the best of everything in his hotel, I imagine they didn’t have to bow down terribly often.

Henry IV drawing room
 Pompeii bedroom

The rooms were fairly spectacular at the Waldorf but the Astoria addition was over the top. It seems Mr. Boldt had hit it out of the park with his hotels –– his crazy idea turned out to be brilliant. Not only did NYC move uptown with lightning speed, New Yorkers were moving out of town into giant estates and wanted an urban haven for the city side of their lives. Hungerford reflected, “ Sharp observers of our social customs began to perceive a definite tendency on the part of well-to-do folk to make their real homes in the country, coming to New York for but three or four or possibly five or six months in the winter…. Gradually it was to become slightly less a hotel for the mere feeding and housing of travelers and considerably more a semi-public institution designed for furnishing the prosperous residents of the New York metropolitan district with all the luxuries of urban life.”

The hotel was beautiful, the service perfection –– so what about the food?

Turkish Salon

Boldt was a perfectionist in all things. “In no department of the hotel – not even the office – did Boldt show a keener interest than in the cuisine. Here his stickling for detail became almost a passion.”

Waldorf restaurant

To that end, he made sure all the waiters could speak French, German and English. He once said, “I intend to have my force so selected that a man from Berlin or Paris can come to the Waldorf fresh from the steamer and have his orders perfectly understood.”

Oscar Tschirky (1866-1950)

To accomplish this perfection of service he wooed Oscar Tschirky away from Delmonicos  to come to the Waldorf as the maître d'hôtel. He stayed there for decades and became know as Oscar of the Waldorf. He was famous for inventing Waldorf salad, veal Oscar, Thousand Island dressing and Eggs Benedict (for that alone he should be canonized). His Oscar of the Waldorf's Cook Book is jam packed with lovely recipes.

Waldorf Kitchen

Waldorf Kitchen

At the beginning the kitchen was not up to the tremendous load it had to bear and had to be redesigned – there were not many industrial-size kitchen models to emulate in those days. Hungerford observed, “ It was part of their task to establish precedents, to help in that bygone day to win for the house her title of “the mother of the modern hotel.” There was, “ no skilled or experienced efficiency hotel engineer to say: so many square feet of space for the kitchen, so many for the laundry, so many for refrigeration –– all the rest of it. Instead Boldt and Oscar and the late Tom Hilliard… were puzzling their shrewd heads nearly off, trying to plan efficient working quarters–– and then finding in that fearful summer that much of their work had to be entirely done over.” In no time the kitchen was up to any challenge.

For the Prussian Boldt, his “... hour of greatest triumph arrived in the visit of Prince Henry of Prussia) to his hotel in February, 1902. His pride on that occasion was almost unbounded. The preparations for it were without a parallel. He drilled the servants and he re-drilled them.” Prince Henry’s visit was front-page news on papers all over the country.

The dinner for Prince Henry 1902

Waldorf Ballroom set up for Prince Henry

According to a book devoted to Prince Henry’s visit to the United States, “The banquet was held amid a perfect wilderness of flowers and greens, and no small part of the decorations was the brilliant assemblage of women in the balconies. The decorations of the banquet halls, for there were several of them, were declared to be the most brilliant ever seen in New York….

Waldorf Florist

“The guest table was literally piled with American Beauty roses. They were in heaps a foot high, and at intervals enormous sheaves stood four or five feet high…. The boutonniere at his plate was of white orchids and hyacinths while all the others were white roses. At the guest table the service was of gilded Dresden china, and the cut glass was traced in gold.”

 Lamm Dresden china of the period

Baccarat glasses of the period

Silk Menu for the Dinner for Prince Henry

There was a lovely silk menu that announced the dishes for the dinner. It began with oysters that were followed by clear green Turtle soup. Next was a Mousse of Ham-Venetian Style was followed by Terrapin–Philadelphia style, then Sweetbreads-New Century, Breast of Chicken Financier, and new peas sauté. Sherbet Admiral came as a palate cleanser before the canvas back duck with lettuce salad and the meal finished with fancy ices and cakes. The book described these beautifully, “The punch was served with souvenirs in the shape of small plaster bust of the Prince, but the serving of the ices evoked that greatest enthusiasm. The army of waiters filed in with miniatures of the German Emperor, Prince Henry, President Roosevelt, that latter both in civilian attire and as a Rough Rider: Liberty, Columbia, Germania, crowns and mitres, and many huge German coats of arms –– all done in Ices.”

I’ve done a duck financier for you and canvas back duck is a lost delicacy (the wild celery that made it famous isn't around much anymore). I’ll never do Turtle soup because, well, I’m terribly fond of turtles. I've made wonderful sweetbreads but what caught my eye on the menu was the mousse of ham. I am very partial to ham dishes and always love to find ways to use left-overs creatively. I’m crazy about devilled ham but this intrigued me. I looked at Oscar of the Waldorf's cookbook and there was no ham mousse to be found. I hit pay dirt with Escoffier. There were a few ham mousse recipes both hot and cold. Looking in my little magic book of cooking terms,  Le Repertoire De La Cuisine, I discovered that something ‘Venetian’ would have a wine sauce made with tarragon vinegar, chervil, shallots and green butter (a spinach-dyed butter) –– that made me think it was a hot mousse. The Escoffier mousse that I decided on was cold, Mousse Alsacienne. To a ham mousse is added a foie-gras parfait and the whole is covered in aspic. It’s pretty easy to make and delicious with a light texture and fabulous flavor from that magic Escoffier spice mix. Even if it's not exactly what was served that night, it's a wow of a dish.

I think it will give you a taste of the Gilded Age to get you ready for the new series, and hopefully have you curious for more gilded age cuisine which will be forthcoming.

Ham Mousse Alsacienne from Escoffier

Take a deep, square dish and garnish it, half-full, with fine, ham mousse. Even the surface of this layer of mousse, and, when it has set, arrange upon it some shells, cut by means of a spoon dipped in hot water, from a foie-gras Parfait. As soon as this is done, pour over the foie-gras shells a sufficient quantity to cover them of half melted succulent chicken aspic with Madeira, and let this jelly set. When about to serve, incrust the dish in a block of ice

Ham Mousse Alsacienne (based on Escoffier's recipe)

½ pound D'Artagnan Applewood smoked ham, skin removed and roughly chopped
1/3 c velouté or meat gravy
½ c aspic (recipe follows)*
2/3 c heavy cream, whipped
½ to 1 t Escoffier spice mix (recipe follows)
salt to taste (some ham is very salty so you may not need it)
½ to 1 c D’Artagnan foie gras medallions with truffles (depending on size of your mold)

Put the ham in a food processor and process till finely chopped. Add ¼ c of the aspic, the velouté and the heavy cream with the spice mix. Process till smooth. Taste for seasoning and spread smoothly in a dish. Chill. While this is chilling, take the foie gras and put into a mold. Put into the freezer for about 20 minutes. Take the ham mousse out of the fridge. Warm the mold with your hands or a hot towel and then tap the foie gras onto parchment -- smooth any rough bits. Use a wide spatula and place on the ham mousse. Pour the remaining aspic over the mousse. It will just cover the molded foie and pool on the ham mousse. Chill until the aspic is set and serve with cornichons, mustard, green peppercorns and bread or toast.

* If you don't want to make aspic, you should add 1 T Madeira to the ham mousse.  The aspic is delicious though so I do encourage the extra step.


1 cup of chicken stock
1 package of gelatin
1 egg white and shell
salt to taste
1 T Madeira

Put ¼ c stock in a pan and warm and add the gelatin. Stir till dissolved. Add the rest of the stock, the egg and the shell, stir and simmer for 15 minutes. Pour the stock and egg through 2 thicknesses of cheesecloth. DO NOT SQUEEZE. Just let the stock drip to keep it clear. Add the madeira and reserve.


1 T butter
1 T flour
1 c stock
2 mushrooms, chopped
pinch of salt to taste.

Put the butter and flour in the pan and cook for a few minutes, add the stock slowly, stirring until all the stock is added. Put the mushrooms in the veloute and simmer at very low heat for 15-20 minutes. Strain.

Escoffier Spice Mix

1 bay leaf
3 pinches thyme
3 pinches coriander
4 pinches cinnamon
6 pinches nutmeg
4 pinches cloves
3 pinches ginger
3 pinches mace
10 pinches pepper
1 pinch cayenne

Blend all in a spice grinder or  mash the bay leaf and blend with the rest.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Beauty, Brains and Style –– Diane de Poitiers and Renaissance Potage-Green Sauce

Diane de Poitiers, School of Fountainbleu, 1550-60

I was lucky enough to have a pretty decent ‘classical’ education. Still, it was a zillion years ago and since then I have reinforced some subjects and lost others somewhere down my rabbit hole of a memory. I was always pretty good with British history and most Italian but a bit dodgy on France before the 19th century.

I was daydreaming about great mistresses and courtesans after reading about Kitty Fisher last week (let's be honest, I am endlessly fascinated with courtesans and their brief flaming lives) and Diane de Poitier popped into my head as a possible subject.  I realized what I knew about her was pretty slim –– 16th century France fell into my memory gap.  When I finally read up on her in Princess Michael of Kent’s The Serpent and the Moon: Two Rivals for the Love of a Renaissance King I was enchanted - what a story, what a dame!  Just as I was thinking, ‘wow, would this make a great film', I found I was not alone –– looks like I'm not the only person she's seduced lately.  Downton Abbey's creator, Julian Fellowes, is writing a script based on  the book (The Princess might have better access to Mr Fellowes than most, since his wife is her lady in waiting).

Catharine de Medici (1519-89) by Tito di Santi

Thing is, I had muddled and simplified the story. I had always had great sympathy for poor wronged Catherine de Medici and thought Diane was a shallow tart. As it turns out, Diane was pretty blameless and acted with grace through decades of a tragic, complicated love triangle. Catherine married Henry when they were both 14.   It was never meant to be a love match and she was never meant to be queen. He wasn’t first born, after all, and she was a merchant’s daughter and not a suitable match for a royal (she was relentlessly mocked by the French court for her humble, if fabulously wealthy background). The match was all about money and power. Worst of all,  she fell in love with Henry and was never to have that love returned. Diane had the King’s love but could never marry him. Catherine’s motto was " Odiate e aspettate ", “Hate and Wait” and that’s exactly what she did until the day he died. I felt terribly sorry for her. What a horrid bitter life she led, tormented by Diane’s happiness.

Henry II of France (1519-59)

Soon to be King of France, the 18 year-old dauphin began his affair with Diane de Poitiers when she was 38 and stayed head-over-heels in love with her till he died. He called her name with his last breath (Catherine would not allow Diane to be with him at the end or let her attend the funeral -- hate  triumphed at last).

The accident of Henry II

 Armor of Henry II by Étienne Delaune and Jean Cousin

The shield of Henry II

Henry’s famous death (one of Nostradamos’ few correct predictions), was caused by a lance through his eye at the very last moment of a joust ––he just wouldn’t concede to another rider. He returned to the field even though his visor wasn’t fastened properly and the other rider protested his lance had been damaged -- the lance splintered and the visor broke.

Henry did live 12 days after the accident and was lucid and giving orders most of the time, even telling everyone it wasn’t his adversary’s fault it happened –– his “Hate and Wait” wife didn’t abide by this pardon and eventually captured the poor man and killed him. Henry might have lived had they cracked his skull to let the pressure out –– they were afraid of the pain it would be too much for the king. Instead of wailing helplessly in despair at the tragedy, Diane acted decisively and secured a surgeon who had successfully removed a lance to the face for another courtier so it was possible to recover from such a blow.

Diane appuyée sur un cerf by Goujon

Looks like everything I thought I knew about Diane was wrong. Diane de Poitiers was not just some lady of easy virtue. She came from one of the most respected families in France (far better lineage than Catherine Medici). She was beautiful, beautifully built and brilliant. The family motto was “Qui me alit me extinguit”—“ He who inflames me has the power to extinguish me.” She spent much time at court and was welcomed to the inner circle of the royals at the knee of Anne de Beaujeu, who was “tall and severe as a cathedral”.  Anne was known for her genius at molding young girls into great young women. “Madame de Beaujeu’s extraordinary influence on her young pupils could be attributed to her example of chastity, her sense of humor, and her dedication to duty. Hers had been a varied education, and the children in her care were taught to study the philosophies and logic of Boethius and Plato as well as the writings of the fathers of the Church. Diane also learned from this wise, highborn lady the true meaning of the dignity of her rank, nobility of behavior, taste, deportment, and, above all, to despise intrigues. Anne urged her charges to bear in mind that society was still rough and vulgar and had need of their refining influence, to add their gaiety, refinement, grace, and patience to any gathering. She taught them the art of conversation, how to communicate with strangers, and not to discriminate between classes.’ She actually codified her rules and theories in a book, Les Enseignements d’Anne de France à sa fille Suzanne de Bourbon, just a quick scan shows why she was so successful, it is terribly sound advice that comes from the best of the tradition of courtly love – a tradition Diane and even Henry II believed in:

“Always dress well, be cool and poised, with modest eyes, softly-spoken, always constant and steadfast, and observe unyielding good sense.…God, who is justice itself, may tarry, but will leave nothing unpunished. Nobles are the kinds of people who must see their reputation go from good to better, as much in virtue as in knowledge, so that they will be known …,” and “Another philosopher says that gentility of lineage without the nobility of courage should be compared with the dry tree which has no leaves, no fruit, and which does not burn well.” The simplest of all her advice was: “Avoid sin.”

“The book’s final instruction, said to come directly from Louis XI, is: “En toute chose on doit tenir le moyen”—“ Always keep a balanced view of everything”— a maxim Diane tried never to forget.”

Francis I (1494-1547) by Jean Clouet, 1530

The court of Henry II’s father was fun, energetic and full of brilliant men. After all, it was Francis I who brought da Vinci to France to Château du Clos Lucé and encouraged humanism to thrive. He thought da Vinci was a national treasure and left him to paint and invent.

da Vinci drawing of lion

When da Vinci died, Francis bought the Mona Lisa from his heirs (da Vinci traveled to France in 1516 to be "First painter, architect and mechanic of the King" designing projects, buildings and even festival treats like the mechanical lion in 1517). Leonardo died at Château du Clos Lucé in 1519. Francis said of Leonardo, “For each of us, the death of this man is a bereavement, since it is impossible that we will ever see his like again.”

Cellini’s priceless golden salt cellar created for Francis I

Another of the grand artists who spent time with Francis was Benvenuto Cellini. He very much enjoyed his time at the king’s new Fountainbleu (named after a favored dog name Bleu who was lost and then found in a clearing in the woods by a spring). Cellini called the château “Fontana Belio.” His sketches and wax models always delighted the king....” When the cellar was stolen in 2003, it was valued at $48 million dollars (it was recovered a few years later).


“François I was one of the most attractive and exciting personalities ever to sit on the throne of France— tall, dark, well built, he was thought most handsome (despite rather spindly legs), and very regal. He also had great charm and blind courage, and neither he nor anyone at his court believed there was a woman living who could resist him. He saw the court as a font of pleasure, his own and that of his courtiers. This was an era when tales of chivalry exerted a powerful influence on the young courtiers around the new king”. Francois I court was a great place for women for he felt, “A court without ladies ’tis like a year without springtime, and a springtime without roses.” Brantôme writes: “Although he held the opinion that they [women] were highly inconstant and variable, he would never hear anything said against them in his Court and required that they should be shown every honor and respect.”

 Entrance at Anet

King Francis visited Diane at her beautiful Anet and loved the society there. “It was during this stay at Anet that the king decided to form his band of twenty-seven maids of honor, “La Petite Bande.” Chosen for their looks and intelligence, these young beauties were to accompany his court wherever it went, and he invited the glorious châtelaine of Anet to be one of their number.”. Diane was one of these ladies and “Belle à voir, honnête à hanter”—“ Pleasing to look at, honest to know.”

Princess Michael tried to paint a full picture of life at the time and so, luckily for us, described food at Francis table. “Meals at court were served on tables piled high with assortments of food; plates and scented napkins were discarded after each course. Everyone in France ate with just a knife, a spoon, and their fingers; no fork as yet. Napkins were always placed around the neck because eating with one’s fingers was never tidy. Ladies would sometimes place a small piece of meat on a slice of bread to make it easier to eat. Pâtés were popular and often spread on bread. Different sorts of meat and game were always part of a court buffet, as were sweetbreads, dressed crab, quenelles, and truffles, which were very popular. The sideboards groaned under the weight of assorted vegetables, wild mushrooms, even codfish. For dessert there were endless sweetmeats, fresh and jellied fruits, some in pastry, and many kinds of mousse. In the main, the food was heavy and rather indigestible. Wines, often spiced, flowed in great quantity and helped to loosen tongues.”

Francis I gallery at Fountainbleu

Francis modeled the lifestyle at Fountainbleu after the ideas found in The Courtier. “François loved to talk— conversation was one of his greatest joys, and there was no greater book for teaching the art of conversation than The Courtier. Castiglione wrote that “all inspiration must come from women.…Without women nothing is possible, either in military courage, or art, or poetry, or music, or philosophy, or even religion. God is truly seen only through them.”

Tragically for her,  Henry was not much inspired by his wife. Catherine was not terribly attractive or  charming. No wonder, she was used as a pawn by her family as much as Henry had been –– in a way, their backgrounds were not dissimilar. Henry and his brother were used as collateral in an exchange for his life after Henry was captured. They remained imprisoned in Spain with varying degrees of comfort but mostly in the dark and alone. It was a horrible way to spend their childhood. It is doubtful Henry ever forgave his father.

Diane de Poitiers

When he was handed over as a hostage, the last loving embrace he was to know came from his mother's lady in waiting –– Diane de Poitiers took pity on the poor child and held him close. He never forgot the kindness. She was there when he returned from his ordeal as well and eased his discomfort. She helped him become the man he was. Under her love and expert guidance, he went from a sullen, lonely boy to a fine man. “HENRI the king was very unlike Henri the prince. The change was remarkable. He became more affable, more open and friendly to all comers; he smiled often and laughed. His coronation had a mystical effect on him as well, and he carried himself with a new dignity and pride. Naturally affectionate, he was sentimental, honest in word and deed, and faithful to his friends. He was a contemplative man, who loved to read; he was steady, moderate, profound, and rather silent, yet the members of the court recognized his goodness of heart. Henri was a romantic knight from the days of chivalry, quietly going about his business and focusing on his goal with a steadfastness akin to obsession. That obsession was Diane and her glory, just as hers was his. Henri wished to demonstrate his love for his mistress in every possible way.”

She used her intelligence as well as her feminine wiles. Diane de Poitiers was nearly 50 and the 28 year old King of France was madly in love with her.

Diane de Poitiers, Fountainbleu School

Diane had beauty secrets to be sure. Everyone remarked at the way she remained ageless. She stayed away from most quack treatments that often killed contemporary beauties that used them –– she stuck with natural products (one exception was her use of gold to wash her face and that she probably ingested as well. When her corpse was exhumed, she had taken so much that a good deal of gold had been absorbed and remained in her hair). “To maintain her famous complexion, Diane used only rainwater for washing her face, and she avoided cosmetics which, at the time, were most damaging to the skin. Blessed with energy and abounding good health all her life, she had never ceased to train and exercise her mind and her body. Now she concentrated on preserving that perfect face. If the secret of Diane de Poitiers’ beauty lay in her daily routine, she deserved her astonishing youthfulness and robust health. Summer and winter in all weathers, she would rise at dawn and bathe her whole body in ice-cold rain or well water. She breakfasted with a cup of homemade bouillon (later this was to be described as a magic potion— even by Brantôme) before leaving at first light for a brisk three-hour ride through the woods and countryside around Anet. On her return she would rest, and around ten or eleven, she would eat a simple meal.”

Princess Michael even discovered some of her beauty formulas, “… a powder made of musk and rosewater and a paste used against wrinkles that she mixed herself, from the juice of a melon, crushed young barley, and an egg yolk mixed with ambergris. She applied the paste to her face like a mask. Whenever Diane was alone, she slept propped upright on deep pillows to avoid creasing her face.” Aside from the ambergris and musk, these preparations wouldn’t be considered strange on today’s dressing tables.

Diane also cultivated a “look”. Her clothing was quite singular for the time. She was the original “basic-black” fashion star, Princess Michael noted, “she wore black and white nearly exclusively. Brantôme wrote how well Diane’s black and white mourning became her, and how her clothes were always designed to show her figure to the best advantage. He added that “her style expressed more worldliness than mourning and, above all, set off her beautiful neck.” Her clothes were always made of pure silk [she raised her own silk worms on her own mulberry trees for her own silk]. Two waves of reddish-golden hair showed from a snood of black silk mesh encrusted with pearls. Often she would hang ropes of large pearls from each shoulder, swinging them across the front of a wide black velvet bodice with a deep décolleté. Her sleeves were tight at the shoulders and on the upper arms, and burst into delicate full white muslin above the elbow, to be caught at the wrist. Around her narrow waist she wore a chain of precious stones, which joined and then hung down the front of her dress. If the whole effect was calculated, it was done in order to please. Wearing mourning placed her on a pedestal above her rivals, a rare creature rendered more desirable by her isolation. Her signature black and white became the fashion for aristocratic widows thereafter.”

The bed Henry and Diane shared at Anet (not the black and white paneling with Henry’s initial)

“When Diane was forty-eight, Henri begged her to accept and wear a ring “for love of me. May it always remind you of one who has never loved and never will love another but thee.”

He also wrote her this:

Once more a prince (oh, my only princess!)
My love for you will never cease
Resisting time and death
My faith has no need of a fortress,
A deep moat or fortified tower,
For you are my lady, queen and mistress
For whom my love will be eternal!

Chateau Chenonceau

Goujon Fireplace in the bedroom at Chenonceau (Chris Brooker photo)

Chateau Chenonceau bedroom (photo from Phareouest)

Diane and Henry spent nearly all their time together, traveled from house to house but were happiest at Anet and Château Chenonceau (a house that Catherine had long coveted and that she took back from Diane the minute Henry died).

They signed letters together

Their combined initials were everywhere in their shared houses, even on the floor.

Lucky for us, food is not forgotton in the narrative of the book (you must be hungry by now!). To set the scene, Princess Michael explains, “The mid-sixteenth century was also the time when French gourmet food emerged. French cuisine began to achieve such a reputation that foreign princes sent to France for chefs and pastry cooks. The expression “faire bon chère” litters the correspondence of the time and was used to signify the quality of the guests’ welcome and comfort as much as the excellence of the fare. “

“Cookbooks had been available since the advent of printing and the cult of cuisine was developing. Already some members of the court were known for their appreciation and knowledge of good food, among them Henri’s friend Jacques de Saint-André, who wrote of the splendor of the food to be had at Anet and Chenonceau.”

Ambrosius Benson - Le concert apres le repas

“At her own table, Diane preferred to drink vin claret or rosé. Her wines came from her vineyards at Chenonceau or from Beaune. Although dairy products were considered more suited for the use of the common people, Diane believed in healthy food and served butter and cheese from Normandy at her table. Traditionally, there were three courses for dinner or supper— boiled food, followed by the roasts, and then fruit— a departure from earlier in the century, when dishes were brought in one after the other with no heed for order. Fish, including whale and dolphin, came from Rouen and was often cooked in white wine. It was used especially on Fridays and on “days of obligation” (religious fast days). According to Erasmus, during Lent, the kitchen was busier than ever as the chefs were hard put to render delectable the meager rations permitted. Diane’s table was always laden with an abundance of food. Pork was butchered into ribs or chops, or was sometimes served as hams or sausages made from the trotters or the ears. Beef, lamb (the tongue was a delicacy), and poultry were in abundant supply. Vegetables— especially cabbage, spinach, leeks, and turnips— were cooked in lots of water (probably boiled tasteless) and often pureed to digest more easily. Cooked together with the meat, the vegetables ended up as a sort of stew, which was easy to eat with a spoon. There were still no forks. All this fare was accompanied by a variety of sauces, hashed meat, and pastries. Wine was drunk warm (blood temperature), but slowly the fashion for chilling white wine came from Italy. White wine was then drunk at cellar temperature or snow and ice added. The Italian [actually French Huguenot] sculptor Bernard Palissy designed a clay drinking fountain for keeping wine chilled in the summer months” (do look at Palissy’s extraordinary work that prefigures art nouveau by centuries – wild magical stuff.  He was conferred the title of  "the king's inventor of rustic figurines" by Catharine de Medici and was a personal favorite.  She even protected the Protestant Palissy from prison and death).

Francis I pewter with salamander

late 16th century French fork and knife

16th Century royal napkin from England

“Presentation of food also became important— the look of it as well as the aroma and the taste. Even the table linen was impregnated with the scent of lavender, flowers, and herbs, and exquisite dinner services were used. Flowers covered the tables and cloth. Napkins were made of damask, toothpicks of gold and silver, and there were small silver dishes filled with sugared almonds. The napkins were scented and often tucked into necklines to save clothes from falling food and messy fingers. Each place was laid with a goblet, a knife, a spoon, and sometimes a smaller spoon like a teaspoon. The only utensil resembling a fork was a two-pronged spike used by servants for holding down the meat during carving. Elegant guests ate with just two fingers— their hands regularly washed in bowls brought to individuals at the table.”

 18th century copy of Bernard Palissy plate with Henry's initials (with a C for Catharine)

To give you a sense of Diane’s table, a recipe from one of the great medieval cookbooks by Chiquart, written in France at the beginning of the 15th century. It details a menu for a grand dinner (considering Francis had 18,000 in his retinue it would have been a Herculean task to feed them normally, let alone on a special occasion), and then gives nearly 100 recipes for dishes served (although many are very similar to one another with only minor changes).

Chiquart writes in his book, Du Fait de Cuisine 

“In the year of grace 1400 Aymé, first duke of Savoy, my most dread lord, received as a guest my lord of Burgundy and for this I, Chyquart, who was his cook in those times, in the course of my duty made, prepared, and ordered to be prepared many notable dishes for the dinners and suppers of this feast; and so ordered, made, or had made by the command of my said and most dread lord at the first course of the dinner of the first day, while ordering to be written down the things which follow…”

It does seem like there was a certain ying and yang to meat and fish dishes with one offsetting the other on the banquet table. I was curious when I read the recipe for a sauce that had a bean base. I had to try it. Although it was used on fried fish, I thought it would be great with chicken… especially if wood grilled. The smoky flavor complements the sauce. What you have in the end is an interesting proto-pesto that is quite rich and creamy but low fat and high flavor.

Du Fait de Cuisine 1400

26. And to make pottage opposite the bruet of Savoy made above for a meat service: to make another of fish opposite that one, take your white bread and cut off the crust very well and take it according to the quantity of potage which you should make, and then put it to soak in the purée of peas and white wine and verjuice according to the quantity which you are making of the said potage. And arrange that you have a great deal of parsley, and sage, hyssop, and marjoram; and have a great quantity of the said parsley picked over, and put in the other three in moderation because they are strong; and put together, then wash them in three or four changes of water well and properly, and take and press them between your hands and drain off the water and wring them and put in a mortar and bray well and properly; and when they are very well brayed put them with your bread. And take your spices, ginger, grains of paradise and a little pepper--and not too much--and strain it very well into a fair cornue; and then put them to boil in a large, fair and clean pot according to the quantity which you have, and let it just come to a boil so that the color of the greens is not lost; and to make it nicely put in a little bit of saffron to make it bright green. And when it is brought to the sideboard take your fried fish and put on your serving dishes, and then put the said potage on top, and scatter pomegranate seeds on top.

Herb Potage from Du Fait de Cuisine

¼ c blanched almonds, roughly chopped
½ c torn bread without crust, lightly packed
1 c cooked white beans
¼ c w wine
¼ c verjuice
1 T sugar or to taste
salt to taste
½ to 1 t ginger
½ to 1 t grains of paradise
½ t pepper
½ c roughly chopped parsley
1 T each chopped fresh marjoram, sage and hyssop (use thyme if you can’t find hyssop)
½ t saffron in 1 T hot water
pomegranate seeds

Put the almonds in a blender or processor. Grind. Then add the bread and beans and the wine and verjuice. Add enough water to make a good paste. Next add the sugar, salt spices and herbs and saffron and blend.

Put into a saucepan and warm gently (it must be heated or the spices taste raw and bitter). Add enough water to make a sauce consistency. Check for flavor (you may want to add verjuice or spice as the beans seem to mute the flavors). The original recipe does admonish that you shouldn’t go overboard with spice or the stronger herbs so don’t lose the spices in the sauce but you can put in a bit more than you might think.

Sprinkle with pomegranate seeds and serve.