Friday, March 25, 2011

Toulouse-Lautrec’s Recipe for Pigeon with Olives (Ramereaux aux Olives)


I think we all know the story of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec-Monfa.  He came from an ancient family, but a thousand years of inbreeding made poor little Henri a mess (they now know it was a hereditary problem – Pycnodysostosis, which caused dwarfism, brittle bones, enlarged nose and lips).  His mad eccentric father, Comte Alphonse-Charles de Toulouse, utterly abandoned him … horrified at the shame of a less than perfect son and heir. Henri’s consolation was his art (the only positive thing about his patrimony was a talent for art that went back generations in the family), and the unflagging love and support of his mother (also ignored by Alphonse-Charles).



Yes, Henri moved to Paris and led a wild, dissipated life in cafés and nightclubs, but he also played the role of the masterful flâneur as well as it has ever been played.  His intense observation of and immersion in la vie de Bohème fed his art… his incredible art.

Oh what art he made!  His deformity may have kept him hobbled in many ways but what he lacked in mobility he made up for with a prolific, super-human outpouring of canvases, drawings and lithographs that captured the soul of his time and place.  You can almost hear Lautrec's spirit entreating,   “Look what you can see through my eyes, look at my world!”. That vision earned him immortality.

What you may not have known is that he was a much respected gourmet and cook and also one of the first and certainly one of the most creative cocktail mixologists in France. He practically originated the cocktail snack and because of his strong ties to the cuisine and products of his Southern-French heritage, he introduced the Languedoc style of cooking to the intelligentsia, fellow artists and denizens of Fin de siécle Paris.  

To do justice to Lautrec’s cocktails skills, you need to visit the inimitable duo of David and Lesley Solmonson at 12 Bottle Bar who will share what they know about Lautrec’s wildly inventive cocktails and those parties.  David and Lesley know cocktails better than anyone around and tell a great story.  I enjoined them to team up this week to do Lautrec justice.  Go to 12 Bottle Bar for the Maiden's Blush cocktail... a Lautrec favorite with absinthe and raspberries!!!

Ces Dames au Refectoire (women eating at the brothel’s table)

Lautrec absorbed dishes from everywhere, he traveled extensively, kept company with everybody who was anybody but also frequented and often lived in the ‘Maisons closes’ where he became close to the prostitutes there as no one had been before. 

The Sofa

 So much so that they trusted him and shared the little intimacies of their lives (and remarkably homey cuisine) with him.


Moulin Rouge: La Goulue, 1891, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

Places like Chat Noir, famed Montmartrecabaret artistique” and the Moulin Rouge were electric destinations for Lautrec and his company of artists, writers and entertainers.



His nearby studio hummed with their presence and colorful inspiration and his canvases reflected his incredible empathy with that environment and its habitués. 




Symbolist poet, Paul Leclerq said of him: “He was a great gourmand.  He always carried a little grater and a nutmeg to flavor the glasses of port he drank.  He loved to talk about cooking and knew many rare recipes for making the most standard dishes, for in this, as in all else, Lautrec had a hatred of useless frills… He loved dishes which had been simmered slowly for hours and seasoned with perfect art.  He tasted old vintages and liqueurs as a connoisseur.  When he clapped his tongue against his palate and pronounced such and such a burgundy to be like a ‘peacocks tail in the mouth’ one was assured that the bouquets of the wine was fruity and rich.”



He was a member of Club des 30, sportsmen, scientists, men of letters, “a distinguished group of bon vivieurs” who often met at Café Weber, a favorite hang out of Lautrec on the Rue Royale whose patrons included composer Claude Debussy, English writer Oscar Wilde, food writer Curnonsky, authors Colette and Marcel Proust and the nonpareil aristocrat-eccentric Robert de Montesquiou.



When he wasn’t out drinking port or vermouth (or champagne when he was in the money) and dining on Welsh Rabbit  at Café Weber’s, or cocktails at the Irish American Bar when the Weber was too crowded, he was having friends in constantly for food and drinks, emptying his pockets and the hampers of prime produce and game his mother sent him regularly from his ancestral home -- Chateau du Bosc in Albi on the River Tarn. He required that his tables were only to be decorated with flowers and his artful menus (although from all descriptions, his studio was crammed to the rafters with decorations from a Japanese Warrior helmet to an African spear, to make up for whatever visual calm might preside at the table).  His ‘violent sauces’ demanded a simple environment to shine, albeit a luxurious one -- his table linens and silver came from the family closets and were of the finest quality even if many of his glasses were pinched from cafes that he frequented.



He cooked elaborate feasts lubricated with great lashings of cocktails concocted by the artist himself with glee and creativity… but not water … he abhorred water so much that water carafes on the table contained live goldfish to discourage their use … spirits or wine only -- alcohol or thirst!  Most of these dinners were celebrated with charming menus and invitations like the one above for a dinner around the bounty of his family’s lands, “Dîner des Tarnaise”

The Orchestra at the Opera, Edgar Degas

Meals with Lautrec were often creative ‘happenings’. The painter Edward Vuillard recalled a meal at Lautrec’s house on the idyllic Avenue Frochot that seemed to end abruptly at the cheese course. Lautrec said “follow me” and rustled his guests away from the table and into his neighbor’s apartment in his building where he presented a Degas painting of his neighbor Désiré Dihau playing the bassoon hanging on the wall.  “This is your dessert”, said Lautrec!


Galerie Goupil


Lautrec’s original recipes were collected by his boyhood friend and frequent dinner and traveling companion the gallery director Maurice Joyant (he took over the directorship of the Galerie Goupil from Theo van Gogh) after the artist’s death.
 

It was Joyant who put together a limited edition cookbook of his friend’s food, La Cuisine de Monsieur Momo in 1930 after creating the Lautrec Museum  at the Palais de la Berbie in Lautrec’s hometown of Albi to display his friend’s art and keep his memory alive.  


La Cuisine de Monsieur Momo by Maurice Joyant

I found the originals for the recipes in an English translation of this book, The Art of Cuisine.  These are recipes that were truly prepared by Lautrec.

In Toulouse-Lautrec's Table, Andre Daguin (father of D’Artagnan founder Ariane Daguin) did a spectacular job of translating the recipes that were often a little vague in the original.  As a master of the cuisine of Lautrec’s homeland and a master chef himself, he was the perfect choice for the job. Its author, Genevieve Diego-Dortignac had access to Lautrec family papers and letters and was able to flesh out the lines of story with a flurry of lovely details. 




Diego-Dortignac said that Lautrec used the 28 herbs that Alexandre Dumas (fabled gourmet as well as author of the 3 Musketeers) had divided into 3 categories, pot-herbs, herbs for flavoring and herbs for seasoning in his Great History of Cuisine.  “ To bake a sole on a bed of tarragon, braise wild boar in sage, add wild thyme or thyme to a fricassee, fry parsley as an accompaniment to fish, cook bass or perch on charcoal with a stalk of fennel, grate horseradish on venison, mix savory with string beans a la crème…. These are the final touches that make the dishes ‘sing’” said Maurice Joyant as he described Lautrec’s cooking.


Toulouse-Lautrec cooking at the Natansons, Edouard Vuillard 1898

Henri inherited a family tradition of personal involvement with the table -- what was served and how it was served was not left to the servants.  He made sure it was always well-prepared and usually great fun to eat.


His friend Joyant said: “Around him, dishes and ideas proliferated, whether it was in Brussels, London, or in his habitual quarters of Paris and Arcachon [Dumas had a house there], succulent and simple dinners were improvised in honor of the guests, the chosen of both sexes.” Lautrec and Joyant  “sought out and carefully recorded the recipes of ‘clever cooks and of conscientious mothers’”.



Each occasion provided a reason for a party with a menu by the artist. Toulouse-Lautrec's Table author Diego-Dortignac observed that a new painting or drawing or a success of any kind generated more food, more art, more creative cocktails (that were important to the “proper contemplation of a painting”). “Cuisine was linked with his artistic being” in a very singular organic way.  Cooking was for him another facet of the art of living.  He shared the flavors of his version of life as he saw, felt and lived it on paper, canvas and the plate with equal power.

Lautrec had some absolute favorite dishes.  Onions stuffed with garlic puree, studded with cloves and braised in stock was a great favorite, so was Lobster Americaine.  In the home of his friend Georges Henri-Manuel he prepared the dish in Manuel’s drawing room, strenuously refusing to prepare it in the proffered kitchen to the horror of his fastidious friend (flambéing and priceless art and antiques are uneasy bedfellows).  The dish turned out perfectly and was done so well that not a drop was spilt or sprayed.  Another special favorite was leeks in red wine (although he was not crazy for vegetables in general save for additions to meat dishes).



He had one dish that was his chef d’oeuvre:  Pigeon with olives.  “Anyone he thought pretentious or snobbish or suspected of wanting to sample the Lautrec specialty out of curiosity alone, he would unceremoniously turn away, giving as his reason: They are not worth of the ‘ramereaux (pigeon) aux olives’ they will never have it, they will never know what it is.”

Thanks to my friends at D’Artagnan , I was able to get the wood pigeon for the dish. As I said,  Ariane Daguin’s father did the recipes for the book, and the wonderful D’Artagnanite, Lily Hodge is a former art historian so she was very interested in seeing what this creation would turn into and honestly, so was I.  Any dish that was so honored must be remarkable.  I was a little skeptical that something so simple could be so magical but it really was… it comes together brilliantly.  If you have never made pigeon before… they are all breast.  The easiest way to eat them is to separate the breast from the carcass to eat politely (gnaw on the little bones later).  Cook the breast as little as possible… it should be red and tender.  Hank at Honest Foods recommends brining pigeon in salt water overnight for more tenderness.


Pages from The Art of Cuisine



Young Wild Pigeon with Olives
Serves 4
Ingredients
4 wood pigeons from D'Artagnan (or Cornish hens or poussin) 
8 oz ground beef (lightly sautéed)
8 oz  French Garlic Sausage from D'Artagnan (lightly sautéed, if it is not pre-cooked) or a mild pork/veal sausage
¼ t of nutmeg
1 t fresh marjoram and thyme (optional)
2 T Truffle butter from D'Artagnan or regular butter 
2 Qt chicken stock
¼ c  armagnac or cognac
3 oz butter
½ oz truffles (optional) 
3 shallots
1 onion
3 strips of smoky bacon, chopped
Bouquet garni
10 oz green pitted olives
1 t molasses

Take 4 pigeons and put a stuffing of sausage and meats and truffles (if you don’t have them use truffle butter or oil) seasoned with nutmeg, herbs and salt and pepper inside the little cavity.  Put the truffle butter under the skins of the bird… take care for the skin is very fragile.  Salt and pepper the birds.

Tie them up and let the pigeons brown in a heavy, shallow pan… mostly the bottom of the bird.  Remove them and put the bacon, shallots and onion into a saucepan and sauté.

Add salt, pepper, a bouquet garni. Put in the pigeons back in the pan, and let them simmer gently for ½ an hour with the saucepan covered. Add some pitted green olives that have been well de-salted (I put them in a pan of water and boiled them, then let them sit in fresh water) and add the armagnac/cognac and cook for 10 more minutes.

Heat the broiler.

Let the birds braise well in the sauce and then remove the birds. Reduce the sauce.  Take the molasses and a few tablespoons of the sauce and brush on the birds.  Stick the birds under the broiler to brown for a few moments to give some color to the skin.

Serve the birds on a dish surrounded by the olives and the strained sauce that ought to be rich and thick.


PS Wild rice with truffle butter is amazing with this dish!

Toulouse-Lautrec's Recipe for Pigeon with Olives

Thanks to Gollum for Hosting Foodie Friday!

Friday, March 18, 2011

Art, Comfort and Cheese Toasties




I don’t know about you, but I had been feeling pretty good about the world. 

It all began with a courageous Tunisian fruit vendor, Mohamed Bouazizi, the everyman who made a  desperate stand against intimidation and tyranny when he was slapped by a petty bureaucrat.  The world paid attention to his mad, heroic, galvanizing self-immolation and reacted with one united voice, NO MORE.  The tumbling dominos of dictators began falling from Tunesia to Egypt and Yemen and we heard a hallelujah chorus celebrating freedom from decades of despotic greed.

Taking their cue from the demonstrations in the Mid-East, the state workers of Wisconsin woke up to the fact that ‘little people’ were being played against one another by a smirking cadre of billionaires like the scenario in that great Twilight Zone, “The Monsters are due on Maple Street”  (see it HERE).  The workers protested that billions in tax deductions for the rich were behind the budget shortfall, not worker’s bargaining rights (yeah, if you make $250, 000 an hour you pay less than half the tax rate a teacher does… that’s fair, right?). 

When it got to Muammar el-Qaddafi, we all thought… about time, this was the craziest mother of all.  But the joy stopped. It stopped dead and then started stumbling backward. He would not go quietly into that good night and had stolen and stockpiled billions of his country’s oil money to insure his rabid jaws would remain firmly clamped on Libya’s throat. 

That feeling of elation gave way to the rumbling indigestion of dread.

Hasegawa Tōhaku, Pine Trees, one of a pair of folding screens, Japan, 1593  

Then came the earthquake in Japan this weekend.  I love Japan. I know those places.  I walked those streets and felt the warmth of its people.  My heart is breaking in solidarity for their loss.  As I write this I have a creeping terror that there will be another tragic shoe to drop… the nuclear shoe.  I am praying that I will not have to change this particular paragraph.  I am praying that the sure hands of providence will return that shoe safely back to its tabi-socked foot and nuclear holocaust will be averted.

When the world is mourning, art can provide a refuge for a broken heart.  Art is light and life and gives comfort.  If we all had a deeper connection to it on this little planet… there would be less suffering, less war and brutality.  All of the hearts that are frozen over and blind to art and beauty make the world a cruel, cruel place.  Art is the reflection of the greatest of what we are.  It can open hearts to the voices of others.  It joins us.


We sent out the space probe Voyager with the secret hope that any alien race that found it would want to meet us, or, should they have thoughts about training a weapon on the mess we have made of our water-world Earth, they would hear those strains of Bach, Beethoven and Mozart and be moved to forgive us our trespasses and let us live a little longer.  It would tell them we are capable of greatness… there is something worth saving.  There is hope.

Still Life with Cheese, 1585 by Floris Gerritsz van Schooten

Megan at Feasting on Art proposed cooking directly inspired by art this week, in this case Dutch artist Floris Gerritsz van Schooten’s A Still Life of Cheese, painted in 1585.  For me, food and art provide comfort at its best…and hopefulness.  We all need a healthy serving of that this week.

Haarlem Kitchen Scene by Floris Gerritsz van Schooten

Floris Gerritsz van Schooten (1585-1655) lived during a great time in Dutch history. The Dutch East India Company was trading with the world and brought that world back to Amsterdam.  Their world was more expansive because of this trade and exploration and their society flowered with new knowledge and the rise of a new middle class (surprised that openness and prosperity raises all boats, brothers Koch?).  The Dutch were the first Europeans to establish trade with Japan and brought Western culture and science there in 1609 (and the only westerners allowed to trade with them until 1854).  You see, it’s all connected -- all you have to do is find the thread. It was a Golden Age (1568-1648) for the Dutch in so many ways. Rembrandt and Vermeer touched heaven working magic with faces and light.  Gorgeous still lifes celebrated plenty and the promise of a full stomach as if to express joy in bounty as if to say, after generations of privation, look what we have, we are blessed.

Breakfast by Floris Gerritsz van Schooten

I suspect man has always equated comfort with plenty and a full stomach.  It was half of the formula for survival, the other half being a safe place to live.  As civilization bloomed we expected more from the formula… comfort and deliciousness.  When disaster strikes the formula gets re-set to the basics.  When we triumph over tragedy we use food to celebrate and bring us back from the darkness of want and destruction.


Still Life with Cheeses, Candlestick and Smoker’s Accessories by Floris Gerritsz van Schooten


In this time of sadness I wish I could spread comfort and warmth like stardust from my magic wand.  The only way I know how to come close to that is with an offering of food  (and one of my favorite food quotations).  MFK Fisher wrote in Gastronomical Me : “It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and the hunger for it… and then the warmth and richness and fine reality of hunger satisfied… and it is all one."



Cheese Toasties have often warmed me after long drives through dark night winds and drifting snows. I always thought the recipe was from Ms Fisher but it is not. It was a gift from the gods of deliciousness that has changed very little since I first made it – small additions of cognac, chili and mustard.  They fill the air with the smell of toasting bread and cheese with a little spice – a smell that makes you feel all is well with the world for at least a few moments.  I hope you will enjoy them and feel comfort and security, love and gratitude. 




Cheese Toasties for 2


Ingredients

1 c grated cheddar cheese (I have used whatever I have on hand many a time, cheddar is my favorite)
 ¼ c mayonnaise
1 large clove garlic, minced
2 t to 1 T chipotle pepper in adobo (or pickled jalapenos if you don’t have chipotle)
1 t rum or cognac
1 t Dijon mustard
2 large slices bread (or 6 slices of baguette)

Toast the bread.  Mix the rest together and spread on the toasted bread.  Put under the broiler until brown and bubbly. Cut into ½ or ¼ size pieces and eat with gusto. 

Be prepared to make more.



John F. Kennedy said in 1963: "The artist, however faithful to his personal vision of reality, becomes the last champion of the individual mind and sensibility against an intrusive society and an officious state," Kennedy said. "... In serving his vision of the truth, the artist best serves his nation. And the nation which disdains the mission of art invites the fate of Robert Frost's hired man, the fate of having 'nothing to look backward to with pride, and nothing to look forward to with hope." (Thanks to Bill Moyers for this quote)


This blog was mentioned on The Kitchn!  Thanks!

Friday, March 11, 2011

St Patrick, Gold and the best Medieval Beef Stew you ever tasted!


When I think of St Patrick (387-493), I always think of Irish myth, not Christian martyrs –– lots of green, the little people and their pots of gold –– gorgeous, gorgeous gold.


A few years ago in a farmer’s field in Staffordshire England, a very lucky man with a metal detector came upon what has come to be known as The Staffordshire Hoard –– the largest collection of early Medieval gold ever found in England –– 11 pounds of gold made with a staggering level of craftsmanship and art (as a former jewelry maker, I can’t imagine how they did it with the tools at hand).


Escaping marauders (or rightful owners escaping capture) buried their treasure (mostly implements of war) –– but never came back to claim it.  So it waited for the light for 1400 years.



The Migration Period  (300-900AD) saw the blossoming of remarkable workmanship all over the Island amongst the Anglo-Saxons and the Celts – had they learned the skill at the hands of their Roman lords or Viking conquerers? The Hoard gold is perhaps not quite as intricate as the Hiberno-Saxon Tara brooch from Ireland (oh those crafty leprechauns), but it is vital and complex work and put me in a medieval state of mind.

When I look at these wonders it made me think (no surprise), how could a people that created these miracles of art and craftsmanship not make wonderful food?  I felt I must be remembering my history wrong… too much Monty Python on the brain???


China, Japan, India and the Middle East enjoyed a high level of sophistication during this period (so did the Mayans, for that matter).  Even in the neighboring kingdom of the Ostragoth Theodoric the Great they were living large in Ravenna, with the potent force of Roman science and culture still pulsing through their lives and architecture. But the early Middle Ages in the British Isles were all about rough clothes, rough men, 30-year life expectancy and subsistence eating –– rocks and berries and tree bark, right? Where are their buildings, their palaces?  MFK Fisher said during the Dark Ages, "Food was only a necessity again, like sleep and sweating."

The Romans left England around 410 and soon farmland returned to a nearly feral state.  The vast wheat fields and crop rotation were gone and soon forgotten (the British Isles had been Rome’s breadbasket) when the Roman overlords withdrew –– the skills were slow to return.

Wouldn’t you know it, soon after they’d seen the last of the Romans, the Plague of Justinian devastated Europe and the British Isles in the 6th and 7th centuries and the population of England went from 5 million to 1 million. The forests reclaimed the cultivated land.  With this transformation came increased game and pigs -- in fact, Cambridge historian, Debby Banham said forest size was determined by how many pigs could thrive under its leafy canopy and that oak trees “might be measured according to the number of pigs they would feed” (then as now with the famous Spanish Iberico ham, acorns are great pig food). Barley and oats regained primacy as the principal grains of the land until around the first millennium when wheat bounced back. 

Could it be the real gold in “This other Eden, demi-paradise” was in its verdant, vibrant diversity?  The fields and forests were full of nuts, berries, fruits and herbs as well as grains like oats and barley.  It was a rich place even if the evaporation of the Roman expertise in farming left the populace in dire straights from time to time. Crops failed often.  In a horrible way, the Plague of Justinian made life much better for those who remained –– until the Normans came at least –– there was a lot more to go around.

Although there is precious little remaining to tell us what they ate in the early Middle Ages… there are clues in medical manuscripts of all places.  These precious documents point to a wonderful cuisine (sorry MFK) in emerging cultures but scholars, like Debby Banham, think this forward movement may have been slow in coming to Britain, there is at least no record of it.  I had to cast my net a little further afield to have a taste of the times.  I was determined to eat medievally to honor a medieval saint.

For my St Patrick’s Day meal, I am combining recipes from the continent and Ireland.  It is believed the medieval gold of the hoard covers 600-900 AD.  The suggestion for the beef recipe comes from Anthimus (511-34AD) who wrote of it in his 6th century in De obseruatione ciborum. He was a Byzantine physician who was sent by the emperor in Constantinople to the court of the Ostrogoth king, Theodoric the Great   (454-526AD).  You can see from the Palace picture (and that was only an outbuilding) that it was not an uncivilized backwater.  It was considered the first French cookbook (the Ostragoths cut a wide swath covering Italy and part of France minus Burgundy), well, sort of cookbook. I found out about him reading British Food: An Extraordinary Thousand Years of History by Colin Spencer -- the minute I read the description of this beef dish I wanted to make it. If you like sweet and sour (like sauerbraten) you will love this. 

This beef stew is a medieval treat that moves into the modern world with ease and grace.  I tried to honor the ingredients that would have been available at the time as best I could.  I had Italian Forest Honey on hand (you know this kind of splurge purchase we all do from time to time) well you will be amazed at how delicious it is –– dark and rich and full of the flavors of the Forest that the bees called home.  If you can’t get it, any good honey with personality would work. 


Medieval scholar Banham said organized beekeeping wasn’t happening just yet in the early Middle Ages in England (although the Greeks had been doing it since pre-history). Perhaps they got honey the old fashioned way –– like bears –– from hives secreted in trees?? It didn’t make for a huge supply, so as in all special things, most of it went to the lords of the land for their food and their mead (a honey liquor).

Did you know that honey is like wine –– it has terroir  in that it tastes like its environment?  Sadly, Mr. Honeybear is often filled with honey made by bees that have been fed corn syrup instead of drinking nectar as they should.  If you’ve never tried single source honey –– you should just to see the difference, it’s worth the $12 or so bucks. 


Wine would have only been taken by the Lords (the lower classes drank ale) and was probably French since a chilling climate in England made for bad vine growing conditions until a warming at the end of the millennium, even then the English were not big wine makers.

Wine was stored in barrels and jars (amphorae). The Roman bottle had not caught on in the outposts of the Empire as it receded (glass was still rare).  The world’s oldest wine bottle and its contents were discovered in Germany and examination revealed that oil was floated on top of the wine to keep it from spoiling – it turned to vinegar very quickly, which might be why vinegar is ubiquitous in early cuisine (and perhaps salad dressing came from dumping out the winey/vinagery oil at the top?).  As for spices –– the Catholic church and the Romans brought new tastes to England and Ireland –– it’s hard to say what the natives would have had or kept a taste for after the Romans left ––so far they aren't telling.


Some of the ingredients are a wee bit esoteric.  Spikenard or nard (from nardostachys jatamansi- not to be confused with the American Aralia recemosa) is one of the ingredients mentioned in the description of the dish -- you are probably unfamiliar with it (I was until last year).  It’s in the Bible and is a lushly scented spice, famous for being used to anoint Jesus’ feet.  It grows in China, India and Nepal and is in the valerian family but it is easy to get online these days.  If you are in the mood to try it, go for it HERE  The closest I can come to replicating it would be a combination of ginger and mushrooms for a little earthiness with spice


I do wish I could have used costmary.   It is part of the chrysanthemum family but was often called ‘scented salvia’ so I used sage since that would be closest in flavor –– although costmary itself is really a beautiful herb –– more delicate and complex than the strong sage.  Grows beautifully in the garden and you can get it HERE.


I have tasted pennyroyal –– it is a sweet, childlike mint so mint or catnip would be a good substitute.   Should you have it in your garden and want to use it, remember never feed it to a pregnant woman and don’t eat too much of it.

The flavors of the dish reminded me of Hippocras, an ancient spiced wine that I made a while ago.  Although the earliest English recipe for the drink is in the Forme of Cury (1390), written over 800 years after Anthimus wrote about this dish, spiced wines were popular with the Romans and their great epicurean collection Apicius, de re Coquinaria has a recipe for a spiced wine with many of the same spices that you find in hippocras and this dish.  It is not hard to imagine that only a few hundred years after the Romans had left that spiced wines would still be drunk and used for cooking. Would you throw out something delicious just because it was Roman? 

Although this specific dish is European –– it isn’t that far-fetched to think the English were doing something a little like it.  Even with the decline of the Roman Empire, the new Empire of the Catholic church was covering the old world with its influence as surely as the interwoven tendrils of their art covered their gold and vellum illuminations (and preserved English/Irish mythology that would have been lost without monks writing it down).

I’ve also included an Irish recipe with roots in the 6th century, Brochan Fotchep.  It was a favorite of an Irish Saint, St. Columkille   (521-97).  Those of you who are attached to rice and wheat as your starch may change your minds.  Today it is more of a soup –– but it began as a creamy porridge –– start thinking very creamy risotto to get yourself in the right mindset.





Medieval Beef Stew with Fennel, leeks, red wine, Honey and Vinegar, Serves 4


Ingredients

1 ½ pounds lean beef stew meat (mine is from Grazin Angus Acres)
2 T suet or rendered beef fat or oil
2 cups chopped leeks
2 cups chopped fennel
1 stalk celery
1 cup red wine
3 T Italian Forest honey (Rigoni di Asiago  is sold at Gourmet food shops in the US)
¼ c red wine vinegar (1/3 c if not using verjus)
2 T verjus (optional)
salt  to taste
1t ground pepper
¼ t cloves
2 t spikenard root  OR ½ t   dry ginger with 2 t powdered porcini (this is as close as I can get to the taste/smell of it)
1 T fresh sage or 1 t dry (use costmary if you are lucky enough to have some… but it is not in everyone’s cupboard—not mine at least)
1 t pennyroyal if you have it –– a very delicate mint –– used a pinch of dried mint or catnip instead

Directions

Brown the beef in the fat.  Remove and add the fennel, celery and leeks into the fat.  Saute for a few minutes.  Add the wine, vinegar, honey and spices and return the meat to the pot, cover.

Put into a 275º oven for 3 hours.






Brotchan Foltchep (Creamy Oatmeal with butterfried leeks) based on florilegium recipe 


Ingredients

2 cups milk
2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
½ c heavy cream 
¾ c steel cut oats
Parsley, a handful chopped
S & P

3-4 medium leeks, washed and sliced
4 T butter

Directions

Cook the oats in the milk and stock for ½ an hour at low heat till tender.

Saute the leeks until tender in the butter... or go a little farther till they are crisp… I liked them that way.  When finished, add the cream to the oatmeal and then top with the leeks and serve with the beef.




 
Original Recipe for Beef from Anthimus, translated from the Latin by Mark Grant

Beef which has been steamed can be used both roasted in a dish and also braised in a sauce, provided that, as soon as it begins to give off a smell, you put the meat in some water.  Boil it in as much fresh water as suits the size of the portion of meat; you should not have to add any more water during the boiling.  When the meat is cooked, put in a casserole about half a cup of sharp vinegar, some leeks and a little pennyroyal, some celery and fennel, and let these simmer for one hour.  Then add half the quantity of honey to vinegar, or as much honey as you wish for sweetness.  Cook over a low heat, shaking the pot frequently with one's hands so that the sauce coats the meat sufficiently.  Then grind the following:  50 pepper corns, 2 grammes each of costmary and spikenard, and 1.5 grammes of cloves.  Carefully grind all these spices together in an earthenware mortar with the addition of a little wine.  When well ground, add them to the casserole and stir well, so that before they are taken from the heat, they may warm up and release their flavour into the sauce.  Whenever you have a choice of honey or must reduced either by a third or two-thirds, add one of these as detailed above.  Do not use a bronze pan, because the sauce tastes better cooked in an earthenware casserole.


FYI, The bowl and its lid are American woodwork –– about 250 years old.  The statue is a Chinese dragon from about the same vintage.  Best I could do from my prop stock to give a Medieval flavor to the visuals~!



If you want the classic St Patrick's corned/spiced beef,  visit me HERE to get a from scratch recipe!

Friday, March 4, 2011

My Old NYC and Lentil-Chili Soup with Divine Orange Sherry Cream



 Jefferson Market Courthouse – a little before my time!

Very soon after I came to New York City, I moved to the West Village.

                                                        


11th street between 5th and 6th.  It was a great neighborhood with fabulous caring neighbors and a great inclusive spirit. My first cooking experiments started in that 11th Street kitchen (oh yes, Renaissance Veal Pie – ICK, puff paste glue – YUK, coq au vin -- AHHH) that had a giant window overlooking the gardens of 10th and 11th Street. I did my first renovation (very grown up!) on that kitchen and Pierre, the craftsman that did the unorthodox counters with copper and deep-blue-sea tile, became a great friend.

My dining table was in front of another giant window that looked out over what must have been the inspiration for Hitchcock’s Rear Window .  I can’t tell you how much fun we had watching our neighbors… especially one couple that cavorted between the living room and the bedroom, often en déshabillé.  We took to waving but they didn’t seem to care.  It made for very amusing dinner parties and made up for some of the food disasters that came from my reach exceeding my grasp in the kitchen. My friends were very good sports. It also helped that the meals were lubricated by a stock of spectacular wines that the local merchant had discovered in his cellar when he bought the place. He was charmed that I was interested and shared them with me for a song. We often had old Lafite, Latour, Haut Brion, Margaux, Petrus and Yquem from the 1950’s to wash down the food experiments.  What a world.
I shopped at Jefferson Market – on the west side of 6th Avenue, between 10th and 11th Street. The store (with a lovely crew that included owner Angelo and my favorite – very Irish Frank) had a policy that is inconceivable today, they shopped for you (you told them what you wanted and they gathered it for you) when I started going there!  One day before a dinner when I forgot my checkbook, they just said not to worry…I could pay next time… can you imagine??  It was a great store.


When I moved to a loft in the yet-to-be-named NOHO in the 80’s, I was inconsolable.  It was barren and forlorn. Ok, the loft itself was a bohemian dream and 2500 sq feet with the best windows in NYC but there were no people… the neighbors were sequestered, doing their arty things (one made jewelry for Madonna) and I never saw them since we all kept odd hours (only 5 years before there had been an eccentric brothel on the top floor). It was a real artist’s building then.  Leo Castelli and Andy Warhol risked their lives taking our 100-year old elevator (after riding with Warhol I grumbled “there goes the neighborhood”, boy, was I right) on their way to the artist lofts above.  The neighborhood is now crawling with people and all the artists are gone to the outer boroughs.  The lofts now sell for millions and rent for the 10’s of thousands!

Former Hairy Guy Greasy Spoon – now posh shop 

I so missed Jefferson Market.  The only thing around us then was a really pathetic greasy spoon with smelly sandwich meat and an owner with dense black hair exploding exuberantly from every possible place save the top of his shiny bald head… he didn’t look any cleaner than his display cases and leered every time I entered (as well as trying to look down my shirt whenever possible).  His gag-making aftershave couldn’t mask his mighty B.O.  I decided I’d rather starve and at first, went back to my old neighborhood to shop.


 

Then I found Dean & Deluca just a few blocks away.  Back then it was  on Prince Street, (much, much smaller than the giant that’s on Broadway now) and there was a Whole Foods next door (not related to the giant food chain at all –it started as a funky artist/ hippy health-food store).  By the time I got there they were already trendy and not as warm as my beloved Jefferson, but between the 2 --  I could get what I wanted.

I missed the familiar faces and intensely personal service.  At Jefferson people worked there for decades… it felt like family and like the old Cheers TV show, everybody knew your name and what you liked (“Deana, those little artichokes are coming in next week!!”).

I think that’s one of those things I miss with mega stores.  Minimum wage jobs don’t encourage long-term commitments.  Everyone is on their way somewhere else or depressed that they have to be working there.  Once upon a time when someone worked at a place like Jefferson, they could afford houses and cars… they were taken care of and they had enormous pride in their work (like well paid waiters in great restaurants – coincidence??).  Now they are commodities.  It is the cost we pay for saving money, or in D&D’s case, the cost for high quality… lots gets thrown away and high priced employees would make the quality unaffordable (their prices are already extremely high … but when I have to do food for a film, I load up there because everything is PERFECT).  

When they came out with the Dean & Deluca Cookbook in the mid-90s it became a favorite of mine.  David Rosengarten   did a bang up job.  As a self-taught food writer, his voice is unique and nuanced.  You will love the book especially if you entertain frequently. I can’t tell you how many times I used it for parties.

One of my absolute favorite soups comes from this book.  It is a lentil soup that can be totally vegetarian or not… it is crazy good with orange and chili and sherry (that I added to the recipe years ago) giving it richness and warmth -- perfect for these last gasps of winter and that cream will rock your world.  If soup can be sexy… this is one voluptuous bowl of red.


I really recommend getting the petitgrain… it is a very special orange so it takes the cream from good to great… well sublime, actually. I had used orange for years and loved it but the petitgrain blew it out of the water—no contest. Mandy Aftel, the sorceress behind the magic says “Usually petitgrain includes the leaves and the twigs of the bitter orange tree but this is special and included some flowers too so resembles a neroli – floral but restrained – a very sophisticated orange with floral notes.”  Since you only use a drop or 2 it is affordable elegance.  It goes together with the deeply flavored Pedro Ximenez sherry like a perfect love affair. Like the petitgrain above orange juice, Pedro Ximenez stands heads above cream or amontillado sherry. I found it thanks to Manuela's Portuguese blog, Tertúlia de Sabores.   Don't get me wrong... it is delicious with orange and sweet sherry... but best with these additions.

You can only get Aftelier products online!

I like the cream best made the day before.  It allows the 2 elements to refine their duet before the performance at the table.

 


Creamy Lentil & Ancho Chili Soup based on a recipe in the Dean & Deluca Cookbook
Serves 4-6

4 ancho chilies
1 cup hot water
½ t ground allspice
pinch of ground cloves
½ t dry rosemary
 ½ t black pepper
1 T tomato paste
1 large onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 c chopped chorizo (optional for vegetarians)
1 T vegetable oil
½ Lb green lentils
6 c water
grated zest &  juice of 1 orange
1 bay leaf
salt to taste (Chorizo is salty so add salt after everything else)

Sherry Orange Cream

1-3 T Sherry (I like Pedro Jimenez , but a cream sherry will do)
1 cup sour cream
drop of Aftelier Petitgrain  or 1-2 T orange juice
6 T fresh cilantro, minced

Toast chilies in a 200º oven for 5 minutes.  Discard seeds and stems.  Place in a bowl with the hot water for 15 minutes.

Remove the chilies, reserving the water.  Add the chilies to the herbs, spices and salt in a food processor with tomato paste and reserved liquid to blend. 

Cook the onion and garlic in the oil till the onion is soft… 10 minutes.  Add the chili mixture and chorizo and fry for 2 minutes.  Add the lentils, water and orange juice and zest and any remaining reserved chili water.  Cook partially covered for 1 hour.

Remove from heat and cool somewhat… If you wish, puree some of it (or all of it) with a few pulses of the food processor or leave it rough.

Take the sour cream and stir in a little bergamot essence or orange juice and enough sherry to make it spoonable… this will vary with the thickness of the sour cream. Warning, this stuff is really delicious.  Do not eat it all before you finish the soup!

Pour the soup in a bowl and swirl the sour cream on top… sprinkle with cilantro and serve.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since I am on a lentil roll… I thought I’d also share a dish that captured my imagination when I read the description a few weeks ago.  It’s from Guy Savoy in Paris… lentils with sweetbreads and truffles that I read about on a Luxeat,  a blog that takes you to the best restaurants in the world (what does this person do to have such a life, I wonder?). I mixed it up a little with truffle oil (don’t scrimp on this… bad truffle oil has no truffles and is a completely chemical reproduction of the scent without the flavor) since truffles are out of season.  Because I loved that lentil chestnut soup I made a few weeks ago, I wanted to add nuts to the soup somehow.  I was still thinking of Barry Wine’s idea of sweetbreads with a hazelnut crust so I put the 2 together… lentils and hazelnuts are a marriage made in heaven.  If you don’t like sweetbreads, it would be great with salmon too! Sometimes it’s fun to put a recipe together from a description… gives you lots of room to be creative.


Lentils with Hazelnut Crusted Sweetbreads (or Salmon) and Truffle Oil

1 leek, chopped
1 small carrot, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
3 mushrooms
2 T duck fat
1 cup lentils (either French green or simple brown)
4 cups chicken stock
1 t fresh thyme
1 t fresh marjoram
1-2 T sherry vinegar
2 T Armagnac or cognac
Pinch chipotle powder
2 T hazelnut ‘flour’

1 cup hazelnuts, made into flour*
½ lb sweetbreads, cleaned and prepped* OR  Salmon
1 egg white mixed with equal part water
3 T flour
1 t each thyme and marjoram
¼ c duck fat
Salt and Black Pepper to taste

1 T hazelnut oil
Good quality white truffle oil 

Saute the vegetables in the duck fat until soft.  Add the lentils, herbs and stock and cook for 30 minutes or so until the lentils are soft.  Add the vinegar and armagnac at the end and cool. Season to taste with salt and pepper and chipotle powder

Take the hazelnuts and grind them in a coffee grinder or food processor… a nice mix of powder and small bits is the best and add the s & p, herbs. Dip the sweetbread pieces into flour.  Dunk them in the egg white mixture and then roll the pieces of sweetbreads or salmon  (3-4 pieces per bowl would be good) in the hazelnuts to coat.  The coating will stick better if you refrigerate them for an hour after this. Fry them in the duck fat till golden and crisp.

Place the soup in bowls and lay the sweetbreads (or salmon) on top.  Drizzle with truffle oil and hazelnut oil and serve.

*see HERE  for instructions on how to do the sweetbreads if they are new to you.
** toast the hazelnuts in a 350º oven for 7 minutes.  Allow to cool a little and rub their skins off in a towel.  The skins are slightly bitter so you want to remove as much as possible.

PS If you want to make this vegetarian, just put the ground hazelnuts in the soup as it cooks, it will add a delicious flavor.

Thanks to Gollum for hosting FOODIE FRIDAY