A Series of Sauces, Venison with Sauce Chevreuil

 The Ritz 1930

Do you remember your first fancy French Restaurant?  I do.  I remember being awed by the menu and having no idea what to order while at the same time not wanting to display my teen-aged ignorance and ask the waiter what was what.  The waiter was terribly kind and recommended things to me in such a way that I didn’t feel condescended to ––  he was so adept that in fact I felt rather special.  But that isn’t always the case.  When you are blowing hundreds of dollars on a dinner, waiters with attitudes are indefensible and such bad form –– don't get me started.

I know many times I wished I’d had my fits-in-my-bag copy of Le Repertoire De La Cuisine –– the professional chef’s secret book of sauces and preparations with me on those occasions. It’s one of my favorite tools –– indispensable whether you are deciphering 19^th century menus and cookbooks or dining out in the high French style. I recommend it to anyone who eats or cooks, really.  

It's good for:

Many of you who go to a classic French restaurant and are confused as to what you are ordering because the names are a blur (what the heck is Veal Romanoff or Eggs Metternich?).

Many of you who have written to me expressing surprise at finding how great the “old sauces” are – not the gloppy floury messes they were expecting to get for their efforts and want to try more of them.

Many people who are afraid to make the sauces because they think they are too difficult to prepare or are too rich or because they just never heard of many of them –– they’re missing a great resource.

Inspired by Repertoire de la Cuisine and the confusion I hear over and over from my readers, I decided to do a little series on sauces to inspire YOU to get the book and experiment –– beginning with one of the  “Mother” Sauces, Sauce Espagnole and what can be made with it (like about 50 variations!).  I enlisted my pals at D’Artagnan on the project since their wonderful products are perfect for the sauces that make something ‘scary’ like cooking a squab feel easy –– because it really is!

Sauces Mères or Mother Sauces are the basis of all classic French sauces codified by the great Carême   in the 19^th Century and finessed by Escoffier in the 20th. 

Believe it or not most are a breeze to do if you know a few little tricks.  Suddenly a battery of sauces (made with a few base sauces like demi-glace and Espagnole and good stock safely stashed in your freezer), are at your fingertips, often in 15 minutes. 

Jessup Whitehead said in 1896 that, “The great authority Dubois - Bernard, speaking of this branch of his art, says: "The gourmet would not think much of an elegant and sumptuously served dinner of which the sauces are wanting in that fineness of taste, that succulency, and that purity which are indispensable. A man is never a great cook if he does not possess a perfect knowledge of sauces, and if he has not made a special study of the methodical principles on which their perfection depends.”  A bit flowery but the sense is right.

You can cook classic French like a master and turn whatever meat, fish, poultry or game into an occasion meal in a snap.  How cool is that?  It’s like have the world’s best accessory closet.

Sauce Robert, one of the very oldest of the French sauces,  is even mentioned in the 16^th century Rabelaisian masterpiece, Pantagruel.  It’s a mustardy ancestor to sauce Espagnole and one of the earliest compound sauces  (tomatoes were yet to be discovered) with onions and reduced stock (I'll be making some in the series).  The technique of making a roux was not yet part of French cuisine–– breadcrumbs were used as a thickener until the mid-17^th century when La Varenne came along and changed the game.

La Varenne was quite an innovator.  He changed the flavors of French food by cutting out most of the exotic spices that had been the style for centuries in favor of local herbs and began using roux (cooked buttered or larded flour) to thicken sauces.  He was the first to write about a béchamel sauce using a white roux (made with lard). He had a proto-hollandaise made with vinegar (not lemon). 

Dark, stock based sauces like the medieval Sauce Madame (a fruit stuffing for goose that was used with stock to make a sauce for the bird) were also ancestors of Espagnole and our own ketchup and barbeque sauces (yup, going to make Sauce Madame for you too!). 

During the reign of Carême sauces really came into their own with new and extravagant variety.

Carême’s original 4 mother sauces are Bechamel (white) Veloute (blonde), Brown (demi-glace or Espagnole) and Allemande (stock with egg yolk).   Escoffier traded out Hollandaise/mayonnaise type sauces (with butter or oil) for the Allemande and added tomato sauce (red) to his list, making it 5 mother sauces.  The sauces were mostly thickened with roux (flour and butter) a liaison (egg and cream) or an emulsion (most famously egg and butter in hollandaise and egg and oil in mayonnaise). 

Espagnole sauce is a revelation as is the technique to create it. The end result is silky and lovely.  Although some of the older recipes call for 8 hours of cooking –– reducing, adding more stock and then reducing again then finishing it the following day, I did it in a few hours and froze it in 1 cup baggies so I could have it any time I wanted. If you flatten the baggie when you freeze it, you can break off tablespoon-size pieces as you need them. I also did a quick hour version that turned out rather well.

Its root is stock, reduced to a rich essence and made velvety by the use of a brown roux –– slowly cooked butter and flour.

When I did the post on Lincoln’s Inaugural Menu (you can read more about it HERE), one of the dishes was Venison with a Sauce Chevreuil. I found an English version augmented with port and currant jelly. It sounded terribly delicious, and it was.  I was most surprised by the velvety texture when I added my Espagnole sauce.

Larousse Gastronomique told me Poivrade sauce was the intermediate step on the way to Chevreuil.  Onions, carrots, parsley and ham cooked in butter with game trimmings and then wine vinegar, white wine and Espagnole is added, then the sauce is strained.  The English version of Chevreuil sounds like one from Charles Elmé Francatelli' s 1861 volume, The cook's guide and housekeeper's & butler's assistant with currant jelly added (his Reform Sauce used port and not the traditional red wine).  D’Artagnan has a few great choices for venison for the dish… as well as fabulous demi-glace to make doing the Espagnole easier. You can use their delicious Venison medallions, tenderloins, even venison in NY strips and chops (available HERE).  I used leftover sauce on beef filets and it was excellent too.

You can add a bit of venison (or beef) cuttings to the sauce for extra flavor if you want.  The Espagnole is straight out of Escoffier with a few of my changes and a quicker version if you would like.

I decided to finish this with Stilton mashed potatoes and steamed sprouts –– port and Stilton are fabulous together.  After making the Espagnole, the whole thing took around 45 minutes to put together  –– if you made the Chevreuil earlier you could have it in 20!

Espagnole Sauce (long version)

2 Q stock (beef veal or even chicken)

5 ¼ oz of brown roux*  (made with equal measures of flour and butter, cooked slowly till brown)

1 small carrot, diced

1 small onion, diced

1 slice bacon, diced

sprig of thyme

½ bay leaf

¼ c white wine

1 cup stock

1 c demi-glace

1 c tomato purée

Boil 2 quarts of stock and add to the roux slowly, stirring all the while.  Reduce heat and add the vegetables and bacon.  Cook for a few minutes and remove any fat from the surface.  Add the white wine and cook for 2 hours over very low heat, stirring occasionally.  Strain, pressing on solids and return to the pot with 1cup stock and 1 container demi-glace.  Cook another hour.  Strain and stir for a few minutes to cool.  Add the tomato puree.

Chevreuil Sauce (an amalgam of many recipes)

1 T butter

2 T chopped shallot

2 T ham

any venison trimmings you may have (optional)

2 chopped mushrooms

bouquet garni (parsley, thyme, bay and sage tied up)

¼ c wine vinegar

1 c Espagnole

2 t Worcestershire sauce

1 mashed anchovy

1 c   demi-glace or stock

3 oz port

1 T red currant jelly

pinch of cayenne

Sauté the shallot, ham, venison trimmings and mushrooms in the butter till softened.  Toss in the bouquet garni and add the vinegar.  Reduce till syrupy and add the Espagnole, stock, Worcestershire, and anchovy.  Cook for ½ an hour at low heat or till thickened. Strain, pressing on the solids and add the red currant jelly, port and cayenne.

Boneless Venison Steak for 2

2 venison steaks or tenderloin  (4 – 6 oz each serving) available HERE

salt and pepper

2 T butter

3-4 chanterelle and/or shitake mushrooms, sliced

Heat oven 400º

Heat a cast iron skillet till hot. Salt and pepper the steak. Put in the butter to melt and add the mushrooms and steak.  Sear on one side and then the other, stirring the mushrooms as you do.

Flip and put in a 400º oven for 5 minutes for rare.

Remove from oven and put the meat on a plate and tent for 5 minutes.  Take the mushrooms and add the Chevreuil Sauce to warm.  Pour over the meat and serve.

*if you use beef filet, the technique is the same

Quick Version of Espagnole Sauce

4 T butter
4 T Flour
3 T diced carrot
3 T diced onion
3 T bacon
2 c stock
1 t thyme
piece of bay leaf
2 T white wine
1/4 c demi-glace
2 T tomato sauce
salt and pepper to taste

Sauté the flour and butter till it is a medium brown on a medium flame –– stirring all the time.
Add the vegetables, ham and bacon and stir.  Slowly add the stock, wine and demi-glace.  Cook over
a low flame for 45 minutes and add the tomato sauce.  Cook for another 10 minutes and strain, pressing hard on the solids.  Add salt and pepper to taste

Stilton Mashed potatoes for 2

6 blue potatoes peeled or unpeeled

2 T butter

½ c milk

¼ cup crumbled stilton or to taste

pinch of mace

Salt and pepper to taste

Boil the potatoes until tender and drain.  Add the rest of the ingredients and mash.

*To make a brown roux, melt your butter and add the flour on a low to medium flame.  Stir regularly until the mixture turns a medium brown... kind of a  medium caramel color.  Remove from the stove and use.  Don't let it get too dark.  This takes 5-10 minutes.

PS:

Faith Gorsky over at Edible Mosaic has written a marvelous book with recipes gleaned from her  her husband's culture (and her mother-in-law's kitchen).  Her passion for the food and the culture comes through in the recipes and gorgeous photography.  The recipes are easy to make and terribly delicious.  The book is available on  Amazon, click An Edible Mosaic: Middle Eastern Fare with Extraordinary Flair to get the book.

Sauce Espagnole

Sauce Chevreuil

Sauce Madame

Sauce Veloute

Sauce Chasseur

Sauce Robert

Sauce Cameline

Sauce Béarnaise

Sauce Bordelaise

Mushroom Ketchup

Cumberland Sauce

Sauce Romaine

Sauce Financiére

Sauce Béchamel

Sauce Mornay
Sauce Allemande

A Party for Clarimonde, and Magic Ambergris Cakes

Port with Chocolate and ambergris at Clarimonde’s party at MIN Perfumes in NYC

Lost Past Remembered was begun a little over 3 years ago. The blog gave me an excuse (as if I needed one) to try things that I had always wanted to try –– things I’d read about in literature or in history books or had heard about or seen in a film.  I made Shakespeare’s hippocras, Jane Austen’s ratafia, 17^th century Wassail, tasted real marshmallows made with marshmallow root and cooked with ancient madeira thanks to Mannie Berk at The Rare Wine Company  

Because of the blog, I tried ambergris . The idea of this scent has haunted me since I first learned of it. Then, miracle of miracles, I found I could actually experience the mythic substance thanks to Adrienne at Ambergris Co. NZ .  The first time I opened the small velvet pouch and withdrew the small gray rock that smelled like the pure soul of the ocean –– I was in love and had to learn more about it.

Enter perfume blogger, Elena at Perfume Shrine who wrote brilliantly about Ambergris (in that amazing style that only perfume writers have).  It was on her blog that I read:

“Natural ambergris has a wonderful tinge of saltiness, almost brine-y, encompassing elements of skin-like musky tones, and even a subtly sweetish accent. Its greatest attribute is its capacity for rendering a composition rounder, especially in oriental perfumes or in floral compositions where it melds the notes into one and brings out their best qualities. It clings on to fabric too, through repeated washings even, becoming ever sweeter with time. Therefore it is prized for its fixative power: the ability to anchor more volatile notes and make them last. “

Elena was kind enough to expand my world exponentially by introducing me to Mandy Aftel of Aftelier  –– a maker of superlative artisanal perfumes and chefs essences that have added so much to my cooking, I cannot say enough about them.  Through her, I met a group of New York perfumers and perfume writers and that’s where this story begins.

One of the perfume writers was Lucy Raubertas of Indieperfumes.  We met and hit it off and I have been a fan of her site ever since.  The cultures of food and scent are related in so many ways.  The more I know, the more fervently I believe this is true.

Around Halloween time in 2011, Lucy invited a group of perfumers (Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, Maria McElroy, Alexis, Karl, Mandy Aftel, Monica Miller, Ayala Moriel and me to write and create something inspired by Theophile Gautier’s French Vampire story, Clarimonde ( click to read parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ,6, 7 and Surrender to Beauty –– you can read my original HERE).  I wrote about Vampires and made a blood-warm drink with port, chocolate and ambergris inspired by the story –– I was the only non-perfumer in the mix.  My inspiration was not wearable –– it was terribly drinkable though!  The writing and the perfumes were striking and fun to read and inhale.

Antique chocolate pot with chocolate and a piece of ambergris in the spoon

This story and the group that had come together were not meant to fade away.  Our fearless leader, Lucy Raubertus resurrected Clarimonde last October in 2011 for an amazing evening at an elegant perfume store in NYC called MIN New York.  The invitation read:

“This evening is held in honor of our secret lives, loves lost, and the beauty of five very limited edition hand-made perfumes created in the spirit of the beautiful Clarimonde. She has died many times yet continues to live among us through these perfumes and the legends about her.”

Here are some photos of the perfumes and people from the evening:

Lucy on the right during the Clarimonde reading

Lucy in the middle left with a crown of candles

Maria McElroy

The owner and manager of MIN

 

For it, I brought my warm ambergris port drink back from the grave of old posts and I believe it was enjoyed by all.  I am sorry it was so dark that I could not share my photos of the revelers (who looked marvelous in masks and many in jewels and costumes) –– they were mostly a blur which is a pity.

I had just started a movie so was unable to write about it as it happened 2 months ago –– a lapse I am correcting now.  I was also unable to make the ambergris cakes that I had wanted to make for the festivities made from a 17^th century recipe in Robert May’s Accomplisht Cook. They are more like wafers, made only with egg and no flour so they are light as a feather ––really–– and perfumed terribly delicately with ambergris.

Over the holidays,  those cakes were crying to be made –– when I received an invite to a Hungarian photographer’s bohemian party with a friend of mine over the holidays, I had an excuse to whip them up for an appropriate crowd (my friend, a wonderful baritone,  sang 20's and 30's songs in German and French, very cool).    These are incredible with old port, or madeira or a great sauterne.  You could do them just with anise but you shouldn’t.  They are a miracle just as they are.

Many thanks to Adrienne at Ambergris Co. NZ for the ambergris for the drink and the cakes and to Mannie Berk at Rare Wine Company for his 1983 Gould Campbell Port that made the drink so rich and delicious.  A lesser port would have been sacrilege.

Liqueur de Clarimonde serves 2

1 cup of vintage port (1983 Gould Campbell Port from The Rare Wine Company)

2 t honey (depending on your taste, the port and the chocolate you may want more

2 drops Aftelier Rose essence or 2 t rosewater

pinch of nutmeg

2 T chocolate, chopped fine

1 pea size piece of ambergris from Ambergris Co. NZ, grated (optional)

Warm the port and honey and add the rose and nutmeg.  Stir till chocolate is dissolved.  Allow it to sit for a few hours in a covered container or until the following day.  Heat before serving (medium hot... do not boil), pour into glasses and sprinkle each glass with the grated/powdery ambergris.  Best to inhale a bit before drinking for the full effect.

 Ambergris Cakes (makes 3 to 4 dozen) from The Accomplisht Cook (1656)

3 eggs, separated

1 cup of sugar

¼ t anise, ground in a spice mill

½ t ambergris from Ambergris Co. NZ, grated on fine microplane

butter to grease cookie sheets

Preheat oven to 325º butter 3 to 4 cookie sheets depending on size (I had 2 large and 2 small)

Beat the egg whites till firm, slowly add 2/3 c of sugar into the whites.—it will have a meringue consistency)  Beat the egg yolks with the remaining 1/3 c of sugar until pale yellow and add the anise and ambergris to the mixture.  Fold the yolk into the whites.  Drop teaspoon size drops of batter onto cookie sheet (it will spread so give it some room). I needed to do 2 batches in the oven. 

Cook for 12-15 minutes.  They are ready when they are easy to take off the cookie sheet and have browned very lightly.  When cool they are terribly light and crisp.