Thursday, June 13, 2013

Hip Hip Mornay and Filet of Sole Verdi


Giuseppe Verdi

I discovered Filet of Sole Verdi when I read the description of it in a lovely book Dining with Verdi that I wrote about HERE when I wrote about my friend August's Verdi project and learned about Verdi's connection with great food (read more about the Verdi project, 27, at the end of the post).   The recipe has been asking me to make it ever since.  NO, not asking, demanding (albeit seductively in a come-hitherly way).

I made it a few times with sole and shrimp but I knew I had to break down and get a lobster tail to make it properly.  Also, I had my wonderful D’Artagnan truffles  to make the final necessary addition so obviously the stars aligned for the dish to be made.  All I can say is WOW.  This is one of those knock-your-socks-off dishes you make for magical occasions –– using a touch of truffle oil instead of the truffles makes it an affordable luxury.

  

Escoffier

At first glance, Escoffier’s recipe is fairly straightforward.  The ingredients to make it work are not difficult to come by.  I’ve made béchamel a zillion times and Mornay Sauce dozens of times.  Thing is, I don’t think I ever looked at Escoffier’s original recipes because when I did, I was in for a shock.




Escoffier’s original béchamel is made with veal!   His white sauce is cooked with pieces of veal for two hours then strained.  Remarkable.  I will try doing it that way one of these days but decided since it was fish that I would go with the simpler, non-veal version. 

Béchamel was named after the Marquis de Béchameil (1630 -1703), of whom Escoffier wrote “After all, if it wasn’t for his divine sauce the Marquis de Béchamel would have been forgotten long ago.” Legend has it that it was invented to sauce dried cod.  It is in Varenne's 1651 Cuisinier Francais made with a veal velouté and cream so Escoffier's version echos the sauce's  velouté ancienne roots (velouté has been around a very long time).




The same was true of the Mornay sauce.  I never knew Escoffier put fumet into the sauce (fumet being stock-based liquid the meat or fish was poached in).  It makes a sublime addition to the pallid, cheesy sauce, giving it a bit of backbone.  



Le Grand Vefour

The sauce was introduced at the Paris restaurant, Le Grand Véfour  (1784 - present) in the 19th century (although it was not mentioned in the 1820 version of Le Cuisinier Impérial so it was a mid-century invention).


That's all pretty straightforward, but the link with the Mornay name is a bit murky. 


Some say it was named for  Philippe, duc de Mornay (1549-1623)  and that the 2 cheeses used in the sauce had something to do with the link and the way he brought two factions together.  That makes no sense to me especially since the sauce wouldn't be around until a few hundred years after Philippe's death –– he wasn't exactly a household name at that point.


Charles de Mornay by Dedreux-Dorcy 


What makes more sense to me is another Mornay –– Charles (1803-78) who would have been a player in the halcyon days of the 2nd Empire (and a diplomat best known for bringing Delacroix along on an 1832 visit to Morocco).



1822 Lawrence portrait of Marguerite, Countess of Blessington (1789-1849)


When I checked in with the Countess of Blessington’s  fun book, The Idler in France (1841) and saw all the references to a dinner circle that included Talleyrand (1754-1838) as a frequent guest when de Morney was present, I can’t help but think that Charles is the inspiration for the sauce.

The countess wrote of de Morney:

"The glass of fashion and the mould of form, 
The observed of all observers."

"I was agreeably surprised to find him one of the most witty, well-informed, and agreeable young men I have ever seen.  Gay without levity, well-read without pedantry, and good-looking without vanity... with a brilliant wit, the sallies of which can "set the table in a roar".

After all, Talleyrand was a world-renowned gourmet and employed none other than Carême as his chef (Carême wrote lovingly about Talleyrand's knowledge of food and his refined tastes).  Doesn't it seem more likely that Mornay sauce was named after a tastemaker of the day who often dined with Talleyrand? 

What the eponymous sauce will give you when added to this dish is luxury, richness and a refined taste that will cause you to reflect on the simple majesty of great tastes and textures in a dish fit for Talleyrand –– or you!




Filet of Sole Verdi (serves 2 main course-4 appetizer)

½ to ¾ lb. filet of sole
1 c fish fumet/stock* 
4 c cooked pasta (don't go too al dente on this, you want it softish to go with the elegant texture of the dish)
1 c cream
2 small lobster tails, shells removed  
1 T butter
2 c béchamel
2 c Mornay sauce
1 large D'Artagnan truffle sliced  and ¼ chopped (optional)
2-3 t  D’Artagnan truffle oil  to taste.
Salt and pepper

Put the fish in the stock on medium heat.  Add a touch of salt and pepper and cook for 2-3 minutes per side –– they cook very quickly.  Remove.  Reduce the stock to1/2 a cup.  Pour any juices that have collected from the fish into the reduced fumet.

Warm the cream.  Add the cheeses to the cream. Toss the pasta with the cream and salt and pepper to taste.  Add 2 t of the truffle oil  and some chopped truffle if you are using it and toss just before assembling the dish.

Add the fumet to the Mornay sauce and stir.  Warm it.  It should be thick.

Saute the lobster tails for a few minutes.  They should not be fully cooked.  Chop the smaller end of the tail and add to the pasta.  Slice the fatter end.

Heat the broiler.

Spoon the pasta into the dish.  Lay the sole over 2/3 of the dish. Pour the Mornay sauce  over the sole and tuck the lobster and truffle at the edge of the mornay sauce. Heat the pan on the stove for a few minutes at medium low heat.

Put under the broiler on high for a few minutes.  Pay attention, it goes from perfect to burned in no time.   Remove and top with chopped herbs.  Drizzle with remaining truffle oil.

*(I always freeze bones and shrimp/lobster shells and make this when I have enough to make a quart of stock.  Then freeze it flat and break it off when I need it or freeze in ½ c portions) you could use chicken stock in a pinch






Béchamel

2 c milk
1 small shallot, sliced
1 clove (optional)
3 T butter
2 T flour

Heat the milk and simmer while you melt the butter.  Add the flour to the butter and stir over low heat till all bubbly.  Do not let it brown.  Strain the milk.  Pour the hot milk slowly into the flour mixture, stirring all the while over a medium heat till all the milk is used and the sauce is thickened.  Add the cheeses and set aside.



Mornay Sauce

2 c béchamel
½ c fish reserved fumet
1 c grated Parmesan
1 c grated Gruyere

Add the fumet to the béchamel and reduce a little.  Add the Parmesan and gruyere and stir till smooth.







My great friend, August Ventura (who I wrote about HERE) is hard at work completing his passion project just in time for Giuseppe Verdi's 200th birthday.  It is a provocative and entertaining documentary about the unique opera culture that exists in that culinary capital of Italy, Parma.

Click to see the wonderful 22-minute promo reel HERE   
or visit his website HERE  
and see a fun party for the film HERE 

I encourage all of you film or opera buffs, lovers of all things Italian, and champions of the cause of musical education to support "27" if you can.  Great passions should always be nurtured and supported, don't you think??



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Thursday, June 6, 2013

The Great Gatsby, Design and Nick Carraway's Lemon Tea Cakes



When I was young I was a voracious reader. If you saw me there was a book nearby. I developed a habit early on as a reader held me in good stead when I started designing sets –– casting and then creating the locations described in the book in my head and having my characters inhabit my cranial creations.  It made books very real for me.

Frame from Original 1926 Trailer for Gatsby, all that remains of the film

That’s exactly what I do now when I read a script. Styles and shapes and colors start to coalesce, then props and art and –– well, you get the picture. The casting director in my head has gotten a bit out of shape since I usually know who’s going to be in the movie by the time I get a script but when I saw The Great Gatsby was going to be made again my casting director self bristled because I have never never, never been satisfied with the casting or the production design for one of my favorite books–– nope, never.

DiCaprio and Mulligan 2013?

Redford and Farrow in 1974?

Ladd and Field in 1949? 

Baxter and Wilson in 1926? (this isn’t fair, the film is lost so hard to tell)

I still haven’t gone to see the new version but I know I will (even if I am not over-the-moon with the casting). Baz Lehrmann movies always have a great look when his wife, Catharine Martin does the costumes and the sets and she does fine work (Moulin Rouge, Oh Yes).

When I watched an interview with her, I enjoyed the way she waded through the script and designed intelligent visual storytelling through her costumes and in sets and decoration. That she had a few years to work on the project shows in all the astonishing details.

Even the cars are consistent with her interpretation of the novel and the script and for all of it she decided to play with styles throughout the 20's and not be locked in to 1922 (the famous Paris Deco Exhibition was 1925, '22 wasn't up to Deco speed yet). When Martin and Luhrmann didn’t like the way cars looked in 1922 (they felt the cars looked too Beverly Hillbillies-Keystone Cops boxy or Muntster’s ghoulish hearsey), they went to a 1929 Duesenberg since the look suited them better (Fitzgerald mentions a Rolls Royce carting people around as Duesenbergs weren't yet hot in the early 20's).



1922 Duesenberg

1929 Duesenberg used in the film

Wardrobe was also matched to the characters with Daisy clinging to the hem of the early part of the century with a more gauzy look and Jordan looking forward as a modern woman with pants and dresses that were backless or cut on the bias.



Jewelry was actually created with Tiffany’s so many of the star’s pieces are real –– that is a costume designer’s dream. The headache band was from the Tiffany design archives as were many of the pieces used in the film. Daisy’s bracelet-rings were a collaboration with Miller and the Tiffany jewelry designers, inspired by Indian pieces. All the pieces were then made in Tiffany’s workroom above the Fifth Avenue store.

Headache band from original 1917 Tiffany design

wrist ring

case

deco ring

When deciding what Gatsby’s house would look like they visited many old mansions on Long Island and looked at photos of historical houses (the only way to see them –– sadly, many have been demolished). Fitzgerald described Gatsby's house this way:


Two of the largest influences for Luhrmann and Miller were Oheka Castle (which is still around and used as a hotel) and Alva Belmont’s Beacon Towers (demolished in 1945).

The old photos come from the  Old Long Island site –– a treasure of historical documents and new photos of old estates as well as great history – it’s addictive.


Oheka Castle, Photos from Old Long Island blog

Otto Kahn’s Oheka Castle,Photos from Old Long Island blog
Beacon Tower,Photos from Old Long Island blog

Beacon Tower, Photos from Old Long Island blog

From these and others, Miller ended up shooting in a Gothic Revival building, the former St Patrick’s Seminary in Sydney and added the towers digitally 

St Patrick’s Seminary, Sydney


Miller/Luhrmann fantasy version of Gatsby –– part St. Patricks Seminary, part Beacon Towers, part Oheka Castle and a little Disney.


Gatsby twilight
Gatsby night

Miller took the interiors into the 20th century, and applied new-money Deco to the old world style. It’s a little bit tacky and too much, like Xanadu meets McMansion but that’s what she wanted to say about Gatsby.



The swirling ballroom is a visual stunner, especially with the pillow pit out of Arabian Nights – Gatsby drinking orange juice like Diamond Jim Brady!

Gatsby’s bedroom with another swirly staircase, master-of-the-universe bed and the library of shirts.


Gatsby’s enormous party seems like a peacock fanning it’s tail to attract his mate --- Gatsby overdid it to get Daisy’s attention.


When you move to food within the book, the pickings are spare. For the most part, the book and the films are about champagne and cocktails like the gin rickey (gin, lime and seltzer) –– there’s a good deal of drinking and Jazz Age hedonistic partying and a lot of orange juice.

Aside from a late night plate of fried chicken at the kitchen table and sausage and mashed potatoes at a NYC eatery, there are only 2 other scenes where food is mentioned. This makes sense in a historical context. With Prohibition, fine food fell down a well. How do you make fine French food without wine? Almost every sauce has wine. Restaurants without liquor tabs couldn’t make a go of it and many of the great names went out of business. What happened was food seemed to take a back seat to booze –– food was a necessary evil. You had to eat but didn’t much matter what. American versions of Italian and Chinese food became popular.

Still, Fitzgerald freighted his party table with meaning. Nick, his narrator describes it:


The food here is all about ostentation. The homey ham and turkey are gilded for Gatsby and the description is about display not taste (I imagine they are en croûte - pig and turkey shaped pastries would be a bit odd).

The scene that I loved is smaller and it is the tea at Nick Carraway’s charming arts and crafts bungalow in the new film.


Gatsby has sent a whole florist’s shop of flowers to decorate the place for the tea with Daisy.


So this:

becomes this:






I love that Nick sent his housekeeper to the delicatessen to get teacakes! Gatsby would have had gold-plated pastries brought from NYC for this meeting with Daisy for the first time in 5 years. The new film added quite a few more desserts than the little lemon cakes!

That’s what I wanted to make, Nick’s lemon cakes not for show but for simple good taste. I found a recipe from a wonderful book from the first decade of the 20th century by Janet McKenzie Hill. I have an incredible little book of hers called The Book of Entrees that is chock full of photographs of dishes from the 1920s. She also wrote a book called Cakes Pastries and Dessert Dishes. In it I found a recipe for Lemon Queens. Small lemon cakes like the ones that Nick might have had on the tea table.

I think they would stand up to a forest of orchids quite well. They are lemony, light as air and wonderful with old-fashioned boiled frosting.  The delicate perfume of candied violets make them perfect for a romantic tea or just on your own.



Lemon Queens

1/2 c butter, softened
1 c sugar
4 egg yolks, beaten
grated rind of 1 lemon
juice of 1 lemon (about 2 1/2 T)
1 1/4 c flour
1/4 t baking soda
1/8 t salt
4 egg whites, beaten to soft peaks

boiled frosting
candied violets and herbs (optional)

Cream the butter.  Beat in the sugar, yolks, rind and juice.  Sift the flour salt and soda.  Fold in the egg whites and put into 16 well buttered cupcake tins or something like -– mine had decorative flutes so my cakes were upside down.  If you use a regular cupcake pan, turn them the regular way.   Bake 350º for about 20 minutes.

Cover with boiled frosting and violets.


Boiled Frosting for Lemon Queens

3/4 c sugar
1/4 c boiling water
1 egg white, beaten to soft peaks
1/2 t vanilla extract

Boil the sugar and water together till it reaches 238º.  Pour slowly into the egg whites, beating all the while.  The frosting will be soft.




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