Lyndhurst Mansion and New York Times Fish Stew from 1904

Lyndhurst 

 

A few weeks ago I visited Lyndhurst mansion, less than an hour from NYC overlooking the majestic Hudson River.   That sounds corny –– “majestic Hudson” –– but it’s really true.  It’s enormously wide, at once serene and powerful, and Lyndhurst stands above it like an jagged stone sentinel overlooking the Tappan Zee Bridge. It is a great day trip for those who live around NYC.  I went with my friend Spence and his A Friend in NY tour Company.

Entrance hall

Lyndhurst is a Gothic Revival  masterpiece and a tour de force of the art of faux painting  (making things look like what they are not)  ––the height of fashion when it was remodeled in the 1860s. Virtually everything was fauxed in the house… made to look like leather, stone –– everything save the real white marble floor with blue Minton tile and the gorgeous marble fireplaces (although often the surrounds are faux). Yes, the walls and ceiling in the hall above are painted to look like marble… insanely perfect and in remarkable condition.  If there ever was a time I wished I could take a thousand pictures of great faux painting, this was it –– but they don’t allow photography in the house.  Drat.

The house was designed and built in 1838 by Alexander Jackson Davis  (1803 -1892) who also did the Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford and the US Custom’s House in NYC in 1842.  It was originally commissioned by former NYC mayor, William Paulding, and known as Knoll when it was first built as a Gothic villa. The charming booklet I purchased at the house quoted famous architectural critic, Andrew Jackson Downing, who said in his classic book, The Architecture of Country Houses:

“The villa… should, above all things, manifest individuality.  It should say something of the character of the family within –– as much as possible of their life and history, their tastes and associations, should mould and fashion themselves upon its walls.”  The house was built for “men of imagination, men whose aspirations never leave them at rest –– men whose ambition and energy will give them no peace within the mere bounds of rationality.  These are the men for picturesque villas –– country houses with high roofs, steep gables, unsymmetrical and capricious forms.  It is for such that the architect may safely introduce the tower and the campanile, any and every feature that indicates originality, boldness, energy and variety of character.” 

Individual it certainly is.  For all of that, the house was considered very odd for its unusual profile, even called “Paulding’s Folly” by his neighbors used to quiet Georgians or staid Greek Revivals.

Jay Gould (1836-92)

The second owner, George Merritt (who made his fortune in springs) bought the house in 1864, doubled its size with the help of the original architect, renamed it Lyndehurst and sold it to Jay Gould­­––the much reviled robber baron, in 1880 for $255,000 –– still full of Paulding and Merritt possessions.  It was to be a country refuge from the New York City society that rejected Gould.  He was not welcome in Newport after his market rigging shenanigans (among other things, he tried to corner the gold market and was a brutal if not vicious competitor).  Renamed Lyndhurst, it stayed in the Gould family till it was given to the National Trust in 1961.

The ceilings in the house are remarkable

I really love the style.  There is something about it that screams American arriviste, true, but also has this amazing optimism and self-possession.  It feels so American somehow–– in laying claim to the Gothic ideal, you break out of the demure clapboard houses of the earlier part of the century –– dream big, live big.
.

The gallery (believe it or not, this window was shuttered at the beginning!) 

Let’s be clear.  I have never been a white box girl.  I love odd corners and 2 story parlor windows and stained glass.  When my grandparents gave up their big Victorian pile for a normal house I cried for days (I was 8… but I would do the same today).

Dining Room

Dining Room

I love dark, rich, super-saturated jewel box colors.   When I walked into the Lyndhurst dining room, I felt embraced by the dark-blood walls that looked like fine leather.  The textures, the arches and twirls of the plasterwork play at Gothic strings but also evoke natural patterns, reminiscent of the arched avenues of great old forests  –– always striving upward to the light of possibility that was so much the American spirit at that time.  I know most people feel exactly the opposite about the Gothic architectural form –– they think it is suffocating and oppressive. In fact, the very word Gothic only began being used in the Renaissance and was highly pejorative –– the style was thought to be barbaric and vaguely pagan (perhaps those gargoyles!) –– hence associating it with plunderers (a word that has often been associated with Robber Barons). I guess it depends on one’s point of view… I think it soars.  This new Gothic celebrated the new faith in commerce and its titans of business as much as the Catholic church had inspired the original Gothic style.  The earliest skyscrapers had Gothic details (think Woolworth Building)!

The East Bedroom

We seem to live in a hope-sucking world of ‘we can’t’ and ‘not any more’ these days –– this house comes from a world where everything seemed possible and architecture seemed to strive upward with it’s builders and clients (did you know that no more sky scrapers are being planned for the United States even as they go up like mad in the Mideast and Far East –– that says it all).

Helen Gould (1868-1938)

I do not justify the dealings of ruthless men like Gould.  I don’t think his daughter Helen did either.  She bought the house from the estate soon after her father’s death in 1892 and spent the rest of her life paying back with her incredible fortune.  She was involved in many charities, using her $10 million inheritance that she grew to $30 million even as she gave much away. She was very good at running her charities personally from a small office in the house (with a law degree from NYU) with a helper and a very organized set of file cabinets.  Beginning locally with support for women and children in poverty and then extending outward to her alma mater, NYU (endowing a library and an engineering school), The Red Cross, Salvation Army and YMCA as well as the war efforts (she gave money TO the government for the Spanish American War!).   She even gave a dinner for 1000 at the Bowery mission to celebrate her wedding to Finley Shepard.

She was especially involved with Naval charities, and on her wedding night, ships in the Hudson saluted the newlyweds as they came out on their nuptial balcony.   This house is very much about its prospect –– a commanding view of the Hudson River.

So how did they eat? 

When I visit a place, I often wonder what they ate there ––Lyndhurst is no exception.

Anna Gould (1875-1961)

I began by reading about the nuptials of Jay Gould’s daughter Anna to Marquis Boni de Castellane in 1895… there were menus for the wedding breakfast and bachelor dinner in old NYT articles.   Something about the house didn’t scream fancy French food though… like les ouefs brouillies aux truffes (scrambled eggs with truffles), coquille de ris-de-veau, volaille et truffes (shells of sweetbreads, chicken and truffles) and glacé d’Abricots en Orchids (apricot ice cream in orchids or in the shape of them –– appropriate since they grew orchids in their fabulous greenhouse).  The marriage was a disaster and ended in 1906 after he ran through prodigious amounts of her money with lavish parties and building the extravagant Palais Rose on the Avenue Foch (later occupied by famous aesthete, Robert de Montesquiou).  She remarried a prince and when he died she moved back to the US just before WWII and was the last occupant of the house.  She gave it to the National Trust in 1961.

I read that Delmonicos had catered Helen’s wedding breakfast in 1913, but found no mention of what was eaten.  Her marriage was by all accounts successful and happy and blessed with the adoption of 4 children since she was in her mid-40s when she married. Her husband was a man she had known for sometime but fell in love with when they were in a train wreck together!!

As for Jay, well there was not much mentioned about his entertaining at all –– perhaps his vile reputation led to less public, and therefore unreported, parties and dinners.

Stuck at a dead end for a dish that was tied to the house, I suddenly remembered a wonderful 1904 article I had found in the NYT archive a few years back with real New York recipes for fish soups and chowders.  For some reason, that just felt right to me.  Reading what I have about Helen (and her astonishing best friend Mrs. Russell Sage), I felt she was, for all of her wealth, a solid citizen.  I could imagine Helen in that wonderfully eccentric yet surprisingly comfortable dining room, eating a stew like this–– cooked in that kitchen …after a long day righting what wrongs she could and making things better.  This soup would fortify and give pleasure as well.

Gould era kitchen (sadly, this has been made into a gift shop!)

Pantry (it’s now full of period china and glassware –– love the ribbed marble sink and cork floor to help with breakage)

When I first saw the recipe, I was filled with trepidation, yet intrigued.  Who would put red wine in a New York fish stew???  This was not a combination I was used to. True, I’d had red wine with lentils and salmon but….  The recipe also called for ketchup, ketchup???   Whenever I thought of cod and potatoes I thought creamy white chowders (I know, you’re going to say what about Manhattan clam chowder, but that is a fairly recent invention ––1930s).   And ketchup has been used in America for a very, very long time, at least from the beginning of the 19^th century –– Heinz had been bottling it since the 1870s. 

Well, I decided to try it.  It was great.  Although I thought this combination was a bizarre anomaly, I discovered, thanks to the research of Jasper White and his book 50 Chowders, that something like it was published nearly 150 years before in the Boston Evening Post  on September 23^rd, 1751 (sans ketchup).

“First lay some Onions to keep the Pork from burning


Because in Chouder there can be not turning;


Then lay some Pork in slices very thing,


Thus you in Chouder always must begin.


Next lay some Fish cut crossways very nice 


Then season well with Pepper, Salt, and Spice;


Parsley, Sweet-Marjoram, Savory, and Thyme,


Then Biscuit next which must be soak'd some Time.


Thus your Foundation laid, you will be able


To raise a Chouder, high as Tower of Babel;


For by repeating o'er the Same again,


You may make a Chouder for a thousand men.


Last a Bottle of Claret, with Water eno; to smother 'em, 


You'll have a Mess which some call Omnium gather 'em.”

Here is the original NYT recipe from 1904.

Both soups use the layering technique and red wine.  I found that fascinating.  Now I wonder where the custom to never have fish with red wine came into being???

I ended up changing the NYT’s recipe very little.  The result was rich and dark and satisfying and so easy to make.  I made lovely crackers to have with the soup, basing them on a Thomas Keller recipe from Bouchon Bakery… they are ridiculously easy.  It was a nod to the biscuits that thickened the 18^th century version of the soup… biscuits then being more like our crackers today. Back then, they needed to be soaked to make them easier to eat since they were often hard as a rock!  My crackers are buttery good and perfect for the stew.  I did add the shrimp to the stew and liked the contrast in texture since they were lightly cooked (and no matter how good it was, I just couldn’t take a picture of a bowl of brown… I needed to brighten it up a little).

Fish Stew based on a 1904 New York Time’s Recipe

6 slices bacon

1 onion, diced

2 T butter

3 c mashed potatoes (made with milk and butter)

4 pounds white-fleshed fish, chopped into big chunks -sea bass, halibut or fluke (I used cod)

¼ t nutmeg

¼ t mace

1/8 t ground cloves or 5 or 6 cloves

1 or 2 T mixed fresh herbs (parsley, marjoram, thyme, savory etc)

salt and pepper to taste

1or 2 small hot peppers or ½ to 1 t pepper flakes

1 ½ c claret (I used cabernet sauvignon)

¼ to ½ c ketchup

a few shakes of Worcestershire sauce

18 Shrimp, lightly cooked

Sauté the bacon until crisp and then remove.  Add the butter and the onion and sauté till softened and slightly browned.  Remove ½ the onion mixture and add ½ the bacon.  Add ½ the cod, then ½ the mashed potatoes then the rest of the bacon and onions, the rest of the cod and the rest of the potatoes.  Pour the wine and an equal amount of water.  Gently mix in the ketchup and Worcestershire.  Cover and cook over low heat for about ½ an hour.  Place the shrimp on top and serve with crackers.

Butter Crackers from a Thomas Keller Recipe

¼ c warm water

¾ t active dry yeast

¾ c plus 1 T all purpose flour, plus more for dusting

2 t cornstarch

1 t kosher salt

2 T plus 2 t butter, softened

Warm oven to 350º, line 2 baking sheets with parchment or silpat.

Sift the flour and cornstarch.Combine the ingredients… breaking up the butter in the flour into small chunks and knead for 10 minutes...it will seem too wet but be patient. Let rest for 10 minutes.  Divide into 2 pieces and role the 1st 1/8 thick.  I also used a technique of folding the dough like an old fashiones envelope twice to give it layers, but that is up to you… I liked the effect.

Cut out circles or squares or whatever you fancy (like fish) and place on parchment.  Pierce with sharp fork to keep them from puffing or don’t and let them puff.  Do the same for the second part of the dough.

Bake for about 10 minutes, turning halfway.   Remove and let cool on the sheets.  Store in an airtight container after they cool

Thanks to Gollum for Hosting Foodie Friday

Arm Chair Dining, Le Bristol and Artichoke Foie Gras Stuffed Pasta with Parmesan and Truffle Sauce.

Hotel Le Bristol, 1925  

I don’t know about you, but I am not a jetsetter.  I don’t fly off to foreign lands to eat at 5 star restaurants every week, few of us do.  But through the wonders of the blogosphere, you can tag along with others when they splurge on great meals and share what they have eaten… often with photos.

For years, I have read descriptions of dishes and tried to capture them without the benefit of a recipe.  My results, as you can imagine, have been inconsistent.  Some are real dogs but, surprisingly, some are gems. 

I have often tried to remake dishes I have eaten, haven’t you?  It’s easier to do when you taste it yourself and can guess at the hidden secret bits or charm the waiter into telling you (“What is that divine flavor???”).  Doing it blind is more difficult but the result is so satisfying when it works. Makes you feel like an alchemist and psychic all at once.

For me, the description of ingredients is what gets me going, even more than photos do.  I imagine the flavors and then set about to recreate them.

I found the blog Luxeat  last winter when I was researching a famous restaurant in Kyoto.  The woman that runs this blog eats all over the world all the time and shares her discoveries ... she must live in an airplane!  Recently, she wrote about Le Bristol in Paris and described a dish that I just had to try.  The result was one of the best things I’ve ever made.

Hotel Bristol today

Hotel le Bristol  is a great Parisian hotel with a long history. Wikipedia tells me that it all began in 1758 with the opening of the Place de Concorde in Paris.  A hotel was built at #12 Rue du Faubourg-Saint-Honoré  in the 18^th century that became the Vogüé Hotel in 1829.

Frederick Augustus Hervey

In 1925, the hotel became the Hotel le Bristol, named after Frederick Augustus Hervey, the 4th Earl of Bristol   (1730-1803) –– a Brit known as “Earl Bishop” who George III called “that wicked prelate”.  He was a great art collector, filthy rich and possessed of strong opinions that nearly got him arrested.  He actually believed religious factions should try to get along, imagine that?  When he died, members of many faiths kicked in to buy a monument, an extraordinary gesture.  To avoid trouble, he left his houses in Derry, Northern Ireland and the family estate of Ickworth in Suffolk and went to Europe to travel and collect art.  He was a collector with a fine nuanced eye and a boldly individual dresser as well as a great traveler.

Today it is a beautiful grand dame of a hotel.

 Hotel le Bristol Restaurant

Within Hotel le Bristol’s walls is a restaurant, a really spectacular restaurant.

Eric Frechon 

These days, Le Bristol Restaurant is helmed by Eric Frechon . The restaurant was awarded 3 stars in 2008 and is one of Nicolas Sarkozy’s favorite spots (Freshon also got a Legion d’Honneur in 2008).  One look at the menu  and you can see why.  There are a million things that I want to try when I read it.  Frechon is a superlative chef. His new book Eric Freshon looks wonderful. Here’s hoping they release it in English soon.

Poularde de Bresse Cuite en Vessie, although a whole chicken is cooked within, they only serve the boneless,

 skinless breast cut from the bird at tableside with the truffled juices.

What I made was one of Frechon’s signature dishes (another one is his 240 € for 2 Poularde de Bresse Cuite en Vessie –– chicken in pig’s bladder with truffles – loved by Marco Pierre White and invented by the papa of modern French food, La Pyramide’s Ferdinand Point). 

I chose to re-interprete his 85€ appetizer –– Macaronis farcis truffe noire, artichaut et foie gras de canard, gratinés au vieux parmesan –– a pasta stuffed with foie gras, artichoke and truffles with 2 sauces.  WOW~

 Macaronis farcis truffe noire, artichaut et foie gras de canard, gratinés au vieux parmesan  Le Bristol photo

After I made it, I found the French blog  La Table des Chefs that had the recipe for the dish from Frechon’s cookbook. As you can imagine, there were some differences. The topping for the pasta was a Mornay sauce instead of the cream/butter glaze with the cheese that I used. Also, I made the pasta and made larger rolls since I wanted a thinner, more luxurious egg dough for this dish.  I didn’t have truffles on hand (it being August and all) so used truffle butter and creamy truffle scented foie gras from D’Artagnan that I had in the freezer to give me the truffle flavor I craved.

I would be remiss if I didn’t pause to relate a little back-story about foie gras for you –– it’s a compelling one.

Carving on temple wall 

Quick overview: It is believed the whole process began in Egypt over 4000 years ago when the observant Egyptians noticed that geese captured just before they left on their migration had big fat delicious livers from gorging themselves. The ruling class (surprise!) decided they wanted to enjoy them all year round so their farmers began to overfeed their domestic geese.  Some feel Jews were responsible for the gavage force-feeding technique and then spread it throughout Europe as they migrated.  Dan Barber posited this occurred since they wanted an alternative to schmaltz as they couldn’t eat pork fat.  I read elsewhere that big fat geese were the Jewish alternative to pork.  It was thought the Greeks brought the idea to Rome.  The Romans loved foie gras, and fattened their geese with figs, hence the name Jecur{liver}Ficatum{from fig} that slowly evolved to only ficatum then proceeded to fegato in Italian (fegato d’oca) becoming foye (I had trouble finding foie in la Varenne because it was spelled foye) and finally foie in French.

The 1^st AD Roman, Apicius  had a recipe for foie gras, Le Viandier de Taillevent and Le Menagier de Paris from the 14^th century in France had recipes for the lovely liver.  The Renaissance was all about rediscovering

the glory of the classics in so many ways so 16^th century Italian chef Bartolomeo Scappi  mentions it in his 1570 cookbook,  L’Opera (floured, sliced and sautéed with a sugar and orange sauce…mmmm).

As seen above, La Varenne has quite a few recipes for it in the 17^th century (*I translated them at the end of the post) and Brillat-Savarin , Careme  and his pupil Gouffé  among others, used it with abandon in the 18^th and 19^th centuries.

Foie gras with artichoke hearts and truffle is a classic combination in French cuisine (often used with filet mignon as in Escoffier’s  Tournedos Lili) as are the sauces used… Frechon just turned a classic garnish on its ear and made it into a brilliant filling… both honoring and elevating the original inspiration… what we all hope to do when we play with recipes!

The result was insane.  I was crazy about it.  Honestly, I had just made it for myself because I had the ingredients and then had to share with you.  The flavor, the texture…  well, it should be illegal, it’s that good.

PS:  For some reason I never had thought about before, most of the time when one speaks of foie gras it is no longer foie gras d’oie, but is now–– foie gras de canard –– duck.  When I thought of foie gras up through the 80’s it was always goose, then wham, duck!  I read the change began in the 50’s when it was discovered it was easier and therefore cheaper to use ducks. An article in the NYT  said that geese are harder to feed and their necks are more delicate. To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I had goose liver, but Schlitz Goose Farm in South Dakota has fat goose liver that isn’t force-fed (a very expensive, labor intensive process) for a great price that I am looking forward to trying.

That said –– I use duck liver here.

Macaronis farcis truffe noire, artichaut et foie gras de canard, gratinés au vieux parmesan inspired by Bristol Restaurant (Artichoke, Foie Gras and Truffle Stuffed Pasta) serves 2-4

1/2 to 3/4 roll of D'Artagnan medallion of foie gras with truffle

2 artichokes or frozen artichoke hearts (about 1/2 c chopped)
2 pinches of salt

1 recipe pasta* or 4 lasagna noodles, or 8 cannelloni or manicotti--cooked

3/4 c cream

3/4 c chicken stock

¼ t onion powder

¼ t celery salt

pinch of pepper

1 1/2 c D'Artagnan demi-glace 

2 T madeira ( I used Rare Wine Co. Boston Bual)

4 T D'Artagnan black truffle butter 

¼ c good imported parmesan

herbs for garnish

Make a recipe for pasta.  You will only need 1/3 of it, but have a bit extra for tearing (freeze the rest) or use bought lasagna noodles. Ideally, the noodles are 4-5" wide and 8-9" long. Cook 8 pieces and reserve.

Steam the artichokes until tender.  Scrape the tender flesh from the leaves and remove the hearts.  If this is too big a pain for you, get another artichoke or 2 and just use the heart or use frozen artichoke hearts. If you used frozen, use just the bottoms and saute them in a bit of butter to release some of the water or gently squeeze them.  Do not use canned hearts for this.  Chop all the artichoke pieces fairly small and reserve.

Sauces:

Warm the demi-glace, reducing till slightly thickened, add the Madeira.  Remove from the heat and add 2T truffle butter and reserve.

Cook the cream and chicken stock with the onion powder, celery salt and pepper till thickened slightly and reserve.

To complete dish:

Warm 2 T truffle butter in an ovenproof skillet.

Lay out  the pasta sheets on a counter. If they are cold, warm them for a moment in boiling water. Combine the artichoke and foie gras and 2 pinches of salt (decide the proportions for yourself you may like more foie gras to artichoke or evenly mixed). Roll up about 2 T of artichoke, foie gras mixture like a cigar.   Lay in the buttered skillet, rolling the rolls gently in the truffle butter. If they are cold, warm them through as the broiler will not heat them completely.  Brush with cream and sprinkle with the cheese and broil for a few minutes until browned on top.

Warm the sauces if necessary, pour on each plate and top with the pasta and garnish with herbs.

Pasta Dough 

1 cup all-purpose flour  plus 2 T semolina 

2 large egg yolks

1 large egg

1 teaspoons olive oil

1/2 tablespoon milk

Mix together and knead for 5 minutes till elastic… you may need more flour to do this.   Let rest for 1 hour then put through the pasta machine in 3 parts.  You will only need one for this recipe.  Put that through on the lowest level so it is thin and lovely.

Photo from La Table de Chef

Recipe from  Eric Frechon’s cookbook via La Table de Chefs

Macaroni 
- 2 large pieces of macaroni 'Candele' 
- 2 liters chicken stock

Stuffing macaroni 
- 4 artichokes 
- 1 lemon 
- 100 g flour 
- 50 grams of black truffles (or mushrooms) 
- 100 g of foie gras 
- Salt and pepper

The Mornay 
- 20 g unsalted butter 
- 20 g flour 
- 200 g milk 
- 10 cl truffle juice (or provide 180 g of frozen mushrooms) 
- 150 g of emmental grated 
- 50 g aged parmesan (to brown) 
- Salt and pepper

Sauce Supreme 
- 25 cl of chicken stock 
- 20 cl whipping cream

Truffled chicken jus 
- 20 cl of jus chicken (demiglas, stock?) 
- 2.5 cl truffle juice 
- 40 g chips truffles (or mushrooms)

Decor 
- 4 arugula leaves 
- 4 leaves of lettuce

Artichokes, foie gras, truffles / mushrooms

Trim the artichokes to the bottom, leaving the choke, and plunge them into a container of water + juice of half a lemon. 
Prepare a large pot with 2 liters of water and mix in the flour, salt. 
Add the juice of the remaining half of the lemon. 
Cook the artichokes for 40 minutes at low heat, then cool in pan juices.

While you cook the artichoke hearts, cut foie gras into small cubes. Keep it cool foie gras to this point it will be easier with a good foie gras rigide. Réserve and cool. 
Finely chop the truffle / porcini. Keep refrigerated. 
When the artichokes have cooled, remove the chokes and cut into small cubes (5mm). 
Blend hearts, truffles / mushrooms, foie gras. 
Season. 
Put in a pastry bag with an open socket closest to the inside diameter of macaroni.

Cooking the macaroni

The Candele are 50 cm long, therefore no question of cooking without cutting. 
In the end we should have sections of 8 cm, one half of Candele is 25 cm, then 3 macaroni, so I cut in two for cooking. 
It should be cooked horizontally in 
2 liters of chicken stock for 5 minutes.

Sauce Mornay

By following the recipe I got a fairly thick sauce, too much for my taste, which inflates in the oven and gives a bumpy appearance which does not match the aesthetics of the recipe prepared by the chef. I suggest you follow this recipe and thin with milk for a smoother sauce.

Melt the butter in a saucepan. 
Add flour and cook gently for 2 minutes. 
Add cold milk, mix well. 
Cook 5 minutes over low heat, stirring. 
Add the truffle juice / ceps. 
Add the grated parmesan cheese. 
Keep in a water bath.

Sauce Supreme

Reduce the chicken stock with cream until thick.

Keep in a water bath.

Truffled chicken jus

Prepare the jus in a saucepan. 
Add chips and truffle / porcini mushrooms and juice. 
Reduce until thickened then 
put in a water bath.

Manufacture of macaroni

Remove Candele sections of 8cm long from liquid, then stuff with the preparation of artichoke. It's long, difficult but doable. 
Place macaroni in groups of three on a lightly oiled pan. 
Pour a thin layer of Mornay over them. 
Sprinkle with grated aged Parmesan. 
Put in a 180º oven to warm the center of the macaroni. 
When the cheese begins to melt, put under the broiler (or turn oven up to 220º).

Dressage

Transfer 3 macaroni to a warm plate. 
Divide into three point triangle  the truffle juice and sauce supreme (see photos below). 
Add three leaves of lettuce and arugula.

*Translation:

foye gras in ragout

choisissez-les plus gras & les plus blonds, nettoyez-les &; jettez dans l'eau chaude pour ôter l'amertume, mais les tirez aussi-tost, étans essuyez passez les par la poële avec beurre ou sain-doux &; faites mitonner avec peur de bouillon, persil, & siboule entiere, étans cuits, ostez la siboule, &; servez la sauce bien liée, vous y pouvez mettre truffes, champignons &; asperges


 Foie Gras Ragout

choose the fattest and the most fair, clean & throw in warm water to remove the bitterness, then sauté with butter or lard, to seal.  go wipe the pan & simmer broth, parsley, & green onion, when cooked remove the green onion, and serve the sauce well connected, you can put truffles, mushrooms &; asparagus

foye gras sur le gril

Mettez sur le gril, &; le poudrez de mie de pain & and de sel, etant rosti, jettez un jus de citron par dessus &; servez

foie gras on the grill

Put on the grill, and sprinkle the bread crumbs and salt &, being browned, take  lemon juice on top &; serve

foie gras cuit dans les cendres

il faut le barder de lard, & le bien assaisonner de sel, poivre, clou batu &; un bouquet fort petit, puis l'enveloppez avec quatre ou cinq feuilles de papier, & le mettre cuire dans les cendres comme un coing.  Etant cuit, prenez garde de perdre la sauce en le remuant, ostez les  feuilles de dessus, & le servez avec celles de dessous si vous voulez, ou sur une assiete.

foie gras cooked in the ashes

Take slices of bacon, and season well with salt, pepper, & a bunch cloves beaten very small, then wrap with four or five sheets of paper, and put cooked in the ashes like a quince. Being cooked, beware of losing the sauce by stirring, remove leaves above, and serve it with those below if you wish, or on a plate.

If any of you can improve the translation, be my guest!!!

Thanks to Gollum for hosting Foodie Friday!

History of Pizza and Robiola, Portobello and Zucchini Pizza with Truffle Oil

Mosaic of slaves serving at a banquet, Roman, from Carthage; third century CE 

I went to many different sources to discover the one true history of pizza since I love to find these things out –– only to find––there really isn’t one.

  Magpie, 1874 engraving

I found a multitude of possibilities just for the origin of word… like lexicographer Charles Earl Funk’s opinion that the word "pie" came from "magpie" (called only “pie” in English until the 16^th century and one of the most intelligent creatures on the planet—part of the crow family). That connection was inspired by the assortment of objects the birds collect to decorate their nests as a pie has many ingredients within its crust.  Are you following? Magpie is “pica” in Latin, meaning black and white, and that became pizza in time.  A stretch, don’t you think?

 Gaeta 1734

The first written example of the word pizza (that has been discovered to date) comes from a 997AD document from the southern Italian town of Gaeta, very near Naples.  It records that a tenant will give the bishop “duodecim pizze” (12 pizzas) every Christmas day and every Easter.  Another theory, from Your Dictionary, postulated that that the word Pizza came from German domination of Italy in the later part of the 1^st millennium -- from the Germanic Langobard or Lombard (hence Lombardy region of Italy) language’s “bizzo” or “pizzo”, related to bite. There are other ideas… some truly far-fetched, others reasonable, but none were definitive.

Honestly, I don’t think we will ever know for sure

There were also many attempts to create an ancient lineage for Pizza.  It is easy to find flatbreads in the most ancient cultures, and eating bread topped with the rest of your dinner is quoted in Virgil’s (70-19BCE) Æneid where he talks about eating bread plates, “See, we devour the plates on which we feed.” The great Roman gourmet, Apicius, one writer posited, made a proto pizza (# 126 in Book IV, De Re Coquinaria) –– although I thought that was again stretching it, if you ask me. The recipe reads that on a hollowed out loaf of bread you place chicken, sweetbreads, cheese, pignoli nuts, cucumbers, chopped onions … that sounds right, but the writer neglected to mention it was covered in a jellied broth then chilled and covered with a dressing made of crushed herbs and flavorings (celery seed, pennyroyal, mint, ginger, fresh coriander and raisins were mashed up), oil, vinegar and honey added.  Honestly, that sounds more like a terrine or even a composed salad to me… delicious, but nothing like a pizza.  

Carbonized bread from Pompei, 79AD

A carbonized bread was found in Pompei along with marble slabs that could have been used for making pizza-like breads. I know my ancestors used bread for plates called trenchers in England for a thousand or more years but that’s not quite pizza, is it? There are pitas in the mideast and parathas in India but they aren’t  pizza... that’s not cooking the bread with a topping of tomatoes and cheese… that started in Naples…as far as we know.

Naples 1835  

Our idea of pizza came from a peasant food that became popular as the tomato became readily available.  At first, it was only sold from stands and bakeries. Antica Pizzaria Port’Alba came about in 1830 and was the first Pizza restaurant  (still going strong) that famously served the Margherita pizza at the request of a slumming Queen Margherita in 1889.  The mozzarella, tomato and basil topped pizza honored the colors of the flag and the Queen.  It was said she enjoyed it very much.

Lombardis 1905

American pizza started slowly in NYC with Lombardi’s in 1905 and still delicious today (although it closed up for a few years and was re-opened near the original Spring Street location in 1994 by a descendant of the original Lombardi).  Pizza was popular with immigrants and Lombardis began selling 5¢ pies… sounds cheap these days but wasn’t for poor immigrants at the time.  To accommodate empty pockets they sliced them up and sold the slices so you could get as many as you could afford.

After WW2, soldiers came back from the European theater having eaten pizza in Italy and they wanted more.  Pizza parlors began springing up all over America to satisfy the new appetites for Italian pizza.

I love pizza and have experimented with various doughs and toppings for years. About a dozen years ago I found a pizza recipe in Gourmet that I have been making ever since.  I thought the crust was really flavorful and the rich cheese and mushrooms with the wonder of “boskily perfumed” truffle oil, (as Nigella Lawson once said), put it over the top.  This is not uncle Luigi’s pizza.

Gadsukes Zucchini

The zucchini is a great simple addition too, amidst the other more luxurious toppings.  Instead of chopping everything as the recipe had requested, when I found the gadzukes zucchini variety with ridges at the farmer’s market –– they sort of asked to be sliced.  I decided to slice some of my mushrooms too… a little chopping and a little slicing for  a little variety in the texture.

And then there’s the truffle oil.  My friend Lazaro of Lazaro Cooks and I have talked about real vs chemical.  I remembered Daniel Patterson’s NYT’s article  from a few years back that threw me for a loop.  There I discovered most truffle oil had never been anywhere near a truffle.  The smell came from 2,4-dithiapentane. Hmmm.  Many chefs still use it, other chefs are horrified by it.  Serious Eats’ Ed Levine quotes “Comparing truffle oil to real truffles is like comparing sniffing dirty underwear to having sex.” OUCH! Well, I don’t feel quite that strongly about it, in fact I have 3 different bottles in my fridge… one that I keep meaning to toss that’s lost all it’s flavor, another is really too strong and chemical and the last one that is fine… you just can’t use very much or the phony comes out in a big way.  I have found the best way to use the faux version is to combine it with good olive oil and then drizzle that… it calms down the strength of the chemical.

But I wanted to know, what does real truffle oil taste like?

So, I went to Oregon Truffle Oil to investigate and then bought the real deal from Amazon.  Real white truffle oil is delicate – sort of the ethereal spirit of a truffle in the oil.  I thought it was marvelous.  It is a little more expensive… the best phony I had was $18 and this is $30… but not horrendous.  I’ve already used it on pizza and drizzled it on a mushroom omelette that was fabulous.  If you want to be knocked over the head with truffle-ishness... this is not for you.  It is subtle.

I also recommend, as all good pizzerias do, that the dough be allowed to rise overnight… it maxes out the flavor and makes it more digestible!

Robiola Pizza, makes 2 pies

2 t yeast

1 T  oil

pinch sugar

1 c water

2 ½ c flour + 1 cup extra

¼ c cornmeal

3 T whole wheat

1 ½ to 2 t salt

2 portobello mushrooms, chopped and sliced

4 shitaki mushrooms, chopped and sliced

2 m zucchini, sliced very thinly on a mandoline

1 pound robiola cheese, that would be 2 cheeses usually, rind top removed and scooped out (I used Robiola Due Latti) but you could use a camembert or other soft creamy cheese since robiola is pricey.  You can also just slice them with the rind… your call.

5 T cornmeal

½ c chopped chives

¼ cup chopped thyme

smoked salt & pepper

3-4 T white truffle oil

Combine all the crust ingredients and blend for 8 minutes in a stand mixer… it will be a wet dough.  Let it rise for about an hour and then spread the dough out (you may need a little extra flour for this) to make 2 pizzas on cornmeal covered pans… make them as thin as you like put into the fridge, covered, overnight (lightly oil plastic wrap or it will stick.  Or, refrigerate the dough in the bowl and make the pizzas the next day.


Toss vegetables and ½ the chives with salt and pepper.

Spread the robiola cheese over the crusts, one cheese per pizza.  I took the cheese out of the rind but it’s fine to just slice it and lay it on the dough.  Sprinkle with the vegetables.

500º for 15 minutes or until the crust looks the way you like it.

Sprinkle with remaining chives and thyme and serve.

Thanks to Gollum for hosting Foodie Friday!!!