Maundy Money, Maundy Food.

Today, March 19th …

This day in 1572 was the day before Good Friday. This is known as Maundy Thursday in the Christian calendar, and in the United Kingdom is the day that the monarch traditionally dispenses ‘alms’ or gifts to the same number of poor folk as the years of the monarch’s age. Until the time of James II, part of the proceedings of the day included the ceremonial washing (and kissing) of the feet of those poor folk by the monarch, as Christ had washed the feet of his disciples.

In 1572 the monarch was Elizabeth I. She was 39 years of age, so 39 poor women were selected and were lined up to receive the royal wash. It was clearly felt that some concessions had to be made to narrow the gulf between the potentially unpleasant feet of the recipients and the refined hands and lips of The Queen, so the feet were pre-washed by the Yeoman of the Laundry, then the Sub-Almoner, then the Almoner.
After the fourth, final, and royal foot-washing, the lucky 39 were given their alms or ‘maundy’, which in Elizabeth’s time included a selection of gourmet foods:

“ … certain yards of broadcloth to make a gown … a pair of shoes … to each of them a wooden platter, wherein was half a side of salmon, as much lyng, six red herrings, and two cheat lofes of bread. Fifthly, she began with the first again, and gave to each of them a white wooden dish with claret wine. …white purses wherein were thirty-nine pence (as they say) after the number of years of her majestys age … red leather purses each containing twenty shillings a piece … “

Presumably the fish was given because meat-eating was still forbidden for a few more days – but what a great selection of fish! Not much abstention and denial there.

The anonymous author of A Proper newe Booke of Cokerye, published in the mid-sixteenth century, gave the following instructions for cooking and serving fish:

A Pyke sauce for a Pyke, Breme, Perche, Roche, Carpe, Eles, Floykes and al maner of brouke fyshe.
Take a posye of Rosemary and time and bynde them together, and put in also a quantitye of perselye not bounde, and put into the caudron of water, salte andyeste, and the herbes, and lette them boyle a pretye whyle, then putte in the fyssheand a good quantitye of butter, and let them boyle a good season, and you shall have good Pyke sauce.
For all those fysshes above wrytten yf they muste bee broyled, take sauce for them, butter, peepper and veneger and boyle it upon a chafyngdyshe and then laye thebroyled fyshe uppon the dysche; but for Eeles and freshe Salmon nothing but Pepper and vyneger over boyled. And also yf you wyll frye them, you muste take a good quantitie of persely, after the fyshe is fryed, put in the persely into the fryinge panne, and let it frye in the butter and take it up and put it on the fryed fyshe, and frye place, whyttinge and suche other fyshe, excepte Eles, freshe Salmon, Conger, which be ever fryed but baken, boyled, roosted or sodden.

Tomorrow’s Story …

Chocolate for Health.

Quotation for the Day …

Give a man a fish and he has food for a day; teach him how to fish and you can get rid of him of the entire weekend. Attributed to many people (all women).

A little hunting lodge.

Today, March 8th …

The King of France, Louis XIII spent his first night in his new hunting lodge in the forest about 20 kilometres from Paris on this night in 1624. Over the following century and beyond a series of additions and improvements created a grand palace out of this modest little hunting lodge.

It is Versailles of course, a building that has been host to some of the most significant historic events of Europe as well as some of the most lavish over-the-top feasts and entertainments ever held anywhere in the world. Most of the additions (and entertainments) were ordered by Louis XIII’s son and descendant, the ‘Sun King’ Louis XIV, who found lots to do there during his 72 year reign. The palace was a favourite of his wife Marie Antoinette and we have previously looked at one of the dinners she enjoyed there in 1788 – a modest little dinner, as things went in those days. Perhaps there were not so many royal paparazzi hanging around for a free feed that day.

In its life as a little hunting lodge in the forest of Versailles a century and a half earlier the catering facilities were presumably not so sophisticated as Marie-Antoinette’s entertaining required. In recognition of this earlier, simpler life I give you a couple of easy recipes for cooking the produce of the hunt. All you need is a fire, a turnspit (and a boy to turn it), and of course that essential member of every hunting party, a saucier (sauce chef.)

From the 1653 translation of The French Cook, by François Pierre de la Varenne:

Young Wildboare, or Grice.
Take off the skinne as farre as the head, dress it, and whiten it on the fire, cut off the four feet, stick it with lardons, and put in the body of it one bay leaf, or some fine herbs; when it is rosted, serve.

Loyne of Stagge.
Take off all the skinnes, stick it, and spit it, serve with a Poivrade.
The Fillet is done up like the Loyne withPouvrade.
The Loine of Roebuck is also done the same way.

The sauce called Poivrade is made with vinegar, salt, onion, or chibols, orange, or lemon peele, and peper, seeth it, and serve it under that meat, for which it is fitting.

Tomorrow’s Story …

The Great Pastry War

A Previous Story for this Day …

Picnics à la Wind in the Willows and Mrs Beeton were the topic of the day.

Quotation for the Day …

The French are not rude. They just happen to hate you. But that is no reason to bypass this beautiful country, whose master chefs have a well-deserved worldwide reputation for trying to trick people into eating snails. Nobody is sure how this got started. Probably a couple of French master chefs were standing around one day, and they found a snail, and one of them said: "I bet that if we called this something like `escargot,' tourists would eat it." Then they had hearty laugh, because "escargot" is the French word for "fat crawling bag of phlegm." Dave Barry.

A dish for the Empress.

Today, January 30th …

The new (and final) Emperor of the new (Second, and final) French Empire, Napoleon III, fairly quickly set about finding himself a suitable bride to provide him with an heir or several. After being rejected by a couple of European royal princesses whose families had no wish to ally themselves with the pretentious upstart, he chose Eugenie de Montijo, a beautiful woman with aristocratic Spanish blood. The marriage took place on this day in 1853, at the Tuileries Gardens in Paris.

The culinary connection for us today is that this is the Empress for whom dishes styled ‘a l’Imperatrice’ are named. These dishes classically contain rice, although I have no idea why this is so. Perhaps the Empress had a special liking for it.

The great Escoffier, who was responsible for creating many dishes in the name of famous or royal persons, was born in 1846, so was a child at the time of the wedding of Napoleon and Eugenie. Nevertheless, his version of Riz impératrice is a classic, and the recipe appears below. This is no boarding-school or nursery rice pudding. Compare it with the ‘Empress Pudding’ from the very English Cassells Dictionary of Cookery – and ponder as to whether this is simply another take on the classic dish named for Eugenie, or was it named for the ‘other’ Empress - Victoria, Empress of India?

Riz impératrice.
(Rice with custard cream, kirsch and maraschino.
8 oz rice, 1 ¾ pints boiling milk, pinch salt, ¼ vanilla pod, ½ oz butter, 8 oz castor sugar, kirsh, maraschino, ¼ oz gelatine, ½ pint thick cream, ½ pint English custard cream*, apricot syrup.
Wash the rice, put into plenty of boiling water and boil for 2 minutes. Drain off the water, add the boiling milk, salt, vanilla and butter, and simmer for 10-12 minutes, then add the sugar.
Pour the rice into a bowl, cool a little and flavour with kirsch and maraschino. Add the dissolved gelatine and whipped cream to the custard cream and mix with the rice.
Pour into a mould and leave to set.
Unmould and cover with apricot syrup flavoured with kirsch and maraschino.

*Crème à l’ anglaise.
(Custard Cream)
1 lb sugar, 16 egg yolks, 1 ¾ pints boiled milk, vanilla pod, orange or lemon peel, or 3 tablespoonfuls liqueur.
(if a vanilla pod, orange or lemon peel is used for flavouring, infuse it in the milk while it is heating. If liqueur is used, add to the custard when cold.
Put the sugar and egg yolks together in a pan and beat until the sugar has dissolved and the mixture is thick and creamy. Add the milk and cook over gentle heat until the mixture is thick enough to coat the back of the spoon. Avoid letting the custard boil or it will curdle.
If it is required hot, strain into a bain-marie and keep over very low heat, to avoid the eggs being overcooked. If required cold, strain into a bowl and stir while cooling.
Note: 1 level dessertspoon arrowroot, mixed with 2 tablespoons cold milk may be added to the sugar and egg yolks. This will prevent curdling should the custard boil.

Empress Pudding.
Put enough fresh milk in a well-lined saucepan to pulp half a pound of rice. Let the rice soften over a very slow fire, and, when quite done, add two ounces of butter and stir till it is dissolved. Set the rice by to cook: when it has cooled, stir in three well-beaten eggs. Put a layer of rice into a dish lined with puff paste, place a layer of any kind of jam over it, and fill up the dish alternately with rice and jam. This pudding may be eaten cold, in which case it should be served with boiled custard poured over it. Bake in a moderate oven for three-quarters of an hour. [Cassell’s, 1870's, English]

Tomorrow’s Story …

The Pavlova: the story.

On this Topic.

Two different rice pudding recipes were given in the story entitled Rice Pudding to Complain About.

A Previous Story for this Day …

There was a great, tragic mystery enacted on this day at Mayerling in Austria in 1889, when Crown Prince, Rudolph Habsburg, and his mistress Baroness Mary Vetsera died in a murder-suicide. Or was it?

Quotation for the Day …

"I am the emperor of Germany, but you are the emperor of chefs." Emperor William II of Germany speaking to Georges-Auguste Escoffier.

Maids of Honour.

Today, January 25th …

Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn were married secretly on this day in 1533 by the Bishop of Litchfield, which gives us an excuse to enjoy or discount (or both) some myths about the delicious little English almond cheesecakes known as Maids of Honour.

Various versions of the myth have Anne making the tarts for Henry (ridiculous), Henry coming across the maids eating the tarts, sampling some himself, and being so enamoured of them he decided to secure the recipe (or the maid who invented them) and lock it (her) away (ludicrous), or Henry himself discovering the recipe in a locked trunk (plain silly). So, is there a connection at all?

Well, Anne came to Henry’s attention because she was a Maid of Honour to the wife he wanted to rid himself of (Catherine of Aragon) due to her failure to produce a viable heir. That’s it, the sum total of the connection. Why Anne? Why not some other Maid of Honour to some other Queen, or some other Maid of Honour and some other Queen’s Husband? Or is there another explanation altogether?

Maid-of-Honour tarts are also sometimes called Richmond Tarts. In the borough of Richmond in London, there is a little street called Maid-of-Honour Row which was built to house the Maids of Honour of Caroline, the wife of George II, two centuries after Anne’s short reign. Perhaps then there is some connection between this elegant row of houses and the Tarts? Several sources say that the first recipe for Maid of Honour Tarts are to be found in late seventeenth century books, but I have been unable to find any (please let me know if you know of their whereabouts). Alan Davidson in The Oxford Companion to Food gives a reference that suggests that the first print occurrence occurred in the Public Advertiser of 1769. Hannah Glasse places them in the second course of several of her suggested menus in the 1778 edition of The Art of Cookery (but does not give a recipe with the name). So – perhaps there is a mid-eighteenth century association with this little elegant row of houses, and not the mother of Queen Elizabeth I?

We are really only discussing a name of course. Medieval cookery sources have a huge variety of custard, cheesecake and almond tarts, and many of them are similar to our Maids of Honour. Names are important however, so I give you a recipe for them from the late eighteenth century – one without almonds, just to show that nothing is certain in this cooking life.

From: The New Art of Cookery, according to the present practice…; by Richard Briggs; 1792.

Maids of Honour.
Take half a pint of sweet curds, beat them well in a marble mortar till they are as smooth as butter. Put in half a pint of cream, the yolks of four eggs, the whites of two, well beaten and strained through a sieve; a quarter of a pound of fresh butter melted, a little grated lemon-peel, and nutmeg, one ounce of candied citron shred very fine, a glass of brandy, and a spoonful of orange flower water; sweeten it to your palate with powder sugar, mix the ingredients all well together, have your patty pans very small, sprinkle on a little flour, put a thin puff-paste over them, more than half fill them, and bake them in a moderate oven.

Tomorrow’s Story …

Australian Meat, English Pie.

A Previous Story for this Day …

If you have any Scottish blood, or wish you had, today is “Burns Day”, and you may need the complete instructions as to how to celebrate it.

Quotation for the Day …

The most dangerous food is wedding cake. James Thurber

The Death of a Queen.

Today, January 22nd …

Queen Victoria died on this day in 1901, a few months short of her 82nd birthday, after 63 years and 7 months on the throne - the longest reign in British history. She had watched the changes wrought by the Industrial Revolution on the way of life in Britain, had seen to it that the Empire was consolidated, and had strengthened her country’s ties with Europe by marrying her children into its royal families. Most of her subjects had known no other royal ruler.

The culinary fashion of the time was to name dishes after those one wished to honour, and it is probably true to say that there are more dishes named after Victoria than any other single person. Should you wish to commemorate her life on this anniversary of her death, you could simply cook your favourite ‘small cut of meat’, and dress it with the classic garnish ‘à la Victoria’, which according to the Larousse is:

Small tomatoes stuffed with purée of mushrooms; quartered artichokes simmered in butter. Sauce: Meat juices of the main dish blended with Madeira or port and thickened veal stock. Uses: For small cuts of meat.

Alternatively, should you feel so inclined, you could sit down to an entire menu ‘à la Victoria’. Here is one selection.

Soup: Cream of Pearl Barley à la Victoria
Fish: Sole Victoria, OR Salmon à la Victoria.
Chicken: Poularde Victoria
Salad: Salade Victoria
Dessert: Bombe Victoria OR Victoria Pudding (with Victoria Sauce, of course).

Of course, it would be perfectly appropriate to sit down to a simple Afternoon Tea in her honour, and partake of one (or more) of the many varieties of cakes and biscuits named for her. The Larousse describes a Victoira Cake ‘made like plum cake’ leavened with baking powder and containing almonds and crystallised cherries. Her chef Francatelli’s cake also has cherries, but he adds brandy, leavens it with German yeast, and makes it in the manner of ‘a German kouglaüffe’ – perhaps a nod to her very German heritage and completely German husband. Mrs Beeton and several other cookbook writers of the era give recipes much closer to our (now) traditional idea of a Victoria Sponge with its jam filling, although they call it a ‘Victoria sandwich’. Not a Victoria Sandwich Cake. This distinction is made clear in Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery (1870’s) which lists:

Victoria Sandwiches, Savoury.
Victoria Sandwiches, Sweet (which turns out to be a cake recipe.)

Naturally, if you opt for the Afternoon Tea option, you will wish to also have on your table the savoury sandwiches with her name, so here they are:

Victoria Sandwiches, Savoury.
(for breakfast, luncheon, &c.)
Wash six or eight anchovies, cut off their heads and fins, take out the back-bones, and divide each fish in two, from the shoulder to the tail. Cut an equal number of thin slices of brown bread and butter, put between two slices alternate layers of hard-boiled eggs, mustard and cress cut small, and the fillets of the anchovies; press the slices closely together, and with a sharp knife cut them into neat squares. Place them on a dish covered with a napkin, and garnish with parsley. If not wanted immediately, cover them with a napkin wrung out of cold water to keep them moist.

Tomorrow’s Story …

To Dress A Cod’s Head.

On this Topic …

Queen Victoria's Christmas Dinner, 1899.

Queen Victoria's Luncheon on January 17th 1899

Quotation for the Day …

Family dinners are more often than not an ordeal of nervous indigestion, preceded by hidden resentment and ennui and accompanied by psychosomatic jitters. M.F.K Fisher.

An Extraordinary Banquet.

Today, January 18th …

The legendary chef Antonin Carême (1784-1833) is generally acknowledged as the founder of classic French cookery. During his own lifetime, he was styled The Cook of Kings and the King of Cooks, and for about two years one of his royal masters was the future King George IV, the gluttonous, spendthrift Francophile - George, Prince of Wales, acting as Regent on behalf of his father, the poor mad George III.

Carême did not stay long in the Prince’s kitchens, for a variety of reasons, but while he was in the Regent’s employ, he engineered one of the most elaborate and extravagant banquets ever held.

It all happened on this day in 1817, at the ‘Brighton Pavilion’ – the Regent’s new, extravagant and elaborate seaside residence. The occasion was the state visit of Grand Duke Nicholas of Russia.

This dinner was not simply a meal offered to a hungry overseas guest, this was not simply Dinner, this was Theatre (or Propaganda if you will) - Theatre with a cast of 120 dishes. Here is the playbill.

SOUPES.

Les profitralles de volaille à la moderne.

Le potage santè au consommé.

Le potage de mouton à l'anglaise .

Le potage de riz à la Crècy.

Le potage de pigeons à la marinière.

Le potage de karick à l'Indienne.

Le potage à la d'Orléans.

Le potage de celeri, consommé de volaille.

8 RELEVÉS DE POISSON.

Les perches à la Hollandaise.

La truite saumonée à la Génoise .

Le cabillaud à la crème.

Le brocket à l'Espagnol garni de laitances.

Les soles au gratin et aux truffes .

Le turbot, sauce aux crevettes.

Les merlans frits à l'Anglaise.

Le hure d'esturgeon au vin de Champagne.

15 ASSIETTES VOLANTS À SERVIR APRÉS LES POISSONS

De petits vol-au-vents à la Reine .

De petit pâtès de mauviettes.

De croquettes à la royale.

De canetons à la Luxembourg.

De filets de poissons à l'Orly.

8 GROSSES PIÉCES .

Le quartier de sanglier marine .

Les poulardes à l'Anglaise.

Les filets de boeuf à la Napolitaine.

Les faisans truffés à la Perigueux.

La dinde à la Godard moderne.

La longe de veau à la Monglas.

Les perdrix aux choux et racines glacés.

Le rosbif de quartier de mounton.

40 ENTRÉES.

(arranged around the relevés de poissons as indicated).

La sante de poulardes à la d'Artois.

Les ris de veau glacés à la chicorèe .

La croustade de grives au gratin.

Les poulets à la reine, à la Chevry.

Les côtelettes de lapereaux en lorgnette.

(Les perches à la Hollandaise).

Les quenelles de volaille en turban .

Les cailles à la mirepoix, ragout à la fiancière.

La magnonaise de perdreaux à la gelée .

L'emince de langues à la Clermont .

Les poulets dépèces l'Italienne .

(La truite saumonée à la Génoise) .

Les filets de volaille en demi-deuil .

Les aiguillettes de canards à la bigarade .

La darne de saumon au beurre de Montpellier.

Le pain de volaille à la royale.

Les filets d'agneaux à la Toulouse .

(Le cabillaud à la crème).

La caisse de lapereaux au laurier.

La blanquette de poulardes aux champignons .

La casserole au riz à la Monglas .

Les petits canetons à la Nivernoise.

Le sauté de faisans à la Perigord.

Les sautés de perdreaux au suprême.

La chevalier de poulets garni d'Orly .

La timbale de nouilles à la Polonaise .

Les escalopes de chevreuil à l'Espagnole .

Les ballotines de poulardes à la tomate.

(Les soles au gratin) .

Les bécasses, entrée de broche à l'Espagnole .

Les filtes de volaille à la belle vue .

Les hâteletes d'aspic de filets de soles .

Les cervelles de veaux à la Milanaise .

Les escalopes de gelinottes, sauce salmis.

(Le turbot, sauce aux crevettes) .

Les filets de poulardes glacés aux concombres.

Les boudins de faisins à la Richelieu .

La salade de volaille à l'ancienne.

La noix de jambon aux épinards.

Les ailerons de poulardes à la Piémontaise.

(Les merlans frits à l'Anglaise).

Les pigeons au beurre d'écrevisses.

La poularde à la Maquignon.

Le vol-au-vent à la Nesle, Allemande.

Les cotelettes de moutons à la purée de pommes de terres.

Les filets de poulardes à la Pompadour.

8 PIÉCES MONTÉES.

An Italian pavilion.

A Swiss hermitage.

Giant Parisian meringue.

Croque-en-bouche aux pistache.

A Welsh hermitage.

A grand oriental pavilion.
Un gros nougat à la française.

Croque-en-bouche aux anis.

8 ROASTS

Les bécasses bardées.

Le dindonneau.

Les faisans piqués.

Les poulardes au cresson.

Les sarcelles au citron.

Les poulets à la reine.

Les gelinottes.

Les cailles bardées.

32 ENTREMETS.

(of which 16 are desserts, with indication of arrangement around roasts and grosses pièces).

Les concombres farcies au velouté.

La gelée de groseilles (conserve).

(Les bécasses bardées).

Les gaufres aux raisins de Corinthe.

Les épinards à l'Anglaise(Le Pavilion Italian).

Le buisson des homards.

Les tartelettes d'abricots pralineés.

(Les dindonneaux).

La geléé de marasquins fouettée.

Les oeufs brouilles aux truffes.

(La grosse meringue à la Parisienne).

Les navets à la Chartres.

Le pouding de pommes au rhum.

(Les faisans piques).

Les diadémes au gros sucré.

Les choux-fleurs à la magnonaise.

(L'Hermitage Suisse).

Les truffes à la serviette.

Les fanchonettes aux avelines.

(Les poulardes au cressons).

La gelée de citrons renversées.

La croute aux champignons.

Les cardes à l'Espagnol.

La gelée de fraises (conserve).

(Les cailles bardées).

Les gateaux renversés, glacés au gros sucré.

Le buisson de crevettes.

(Le Pavilion Asiatique).

La salade de salsifis à l'Italienne.

Les gateaux à la dauphine.

(Les gelinottes).

Le fromage Bavarois aux abricots.

Les laitues à l'essence de jambon.

(Le gros nougat à la française).

Les champignons grilles demi-glacé.

Les pannequets à la Chantilly.

(Les poulets à la reine).

Les pains à la duchesse.

Les truffes à la serviette.

(L'Hermitage Gaulois).

Les pommes de terre à la Lyonnaise.

Les gateaux d'amandes glaces à la rose.

(Les sarcelles aux citrons).

La gelée de cuirassau de Hollande.

Les céleris à l'Espagnol.

12 ASSIETTES VOLANTES.

4 soufflés de pomme.

4 soufflés à la vanille.

4 fondus.

Sadly, I am unable to give you Carême ‘s recipe for ‘roast beef of a quarter of lamb’, which appeals, nor one for the Giant Parisian Meringue, which does not, but instead opt for the most classical aspect of classical French cuisine – a sauce. Carême said there were four classic sauces: Sauce Béchamel, Sauce Velouté, Sauce Espagnol, and Sauce Allemande. We have featured his recipe for Sauce Espagnol in a previous story, so for today we have:

Sauce Allemande.
1 oz. butter
1 oz. flour
half a pint of boiling water
salt and pepper
1 egg
3 drops of wine vinegar.
Melt the butter, add the flour and then the boiling water and seasoning. Off the heat whisk well the egg and vinegar and add gradually to the sauce whilst whisking. Do not re-boil.

Tomorrow’s Story ...

A Saintly Weed.

A Previous Story for this Day …

The Tin that Takes the Biscuit.

On this Topic ...

Carême’s Sauce Espagnol is HERE.

Charles Ranhofer’s Sauce Espagnol (1894) is HERE

Quotation for the Day …

I want order and taste. A well displayed meal is enhanced one hundred per cent in my eyes. Carême.

The Queen’s Beef.

Today, January 17th …

Queen Victoria was at her favourite home of Osborne, on the Isle of Wight on this day in 1899. She was a few months shy of her 80th birthday, and this is what was on the menu for luncheon:

Potage aux huitres.
Oeufs brouilles aux truffes.
Côtelletes de Veau à l’Allemande.
Poulets decoupés à l’Anglaise.
Boeuf braise au Macaroni.
Faisans à la Casserole.
Chicorée à la crème.
Poulets rôtis.

Buffet.
Cold Rt Fowls. Cold Rt. Beef.
Cold Tongue Spiced Beef.
Galantine Game Pie.
Salade Normande.

Soufflés à la Circassienne.
Crème de Pêches à la Montreuil.
Petits Gâteaux Condés

Some of Her Majesty’s subjects who had the misfortune to be residents of a workhouse on this exact Tuesday in 1899 had, for their midday (main) meal:

Vegetable broth
Bread 4 oz
Cheese 2 oz
Dumplings 8 oz

Did the Good Queen agonise over this difference while she picked and nibbled her way around her lunch (did she have all her own teeth by then)?. It seems unlikely, but perhaps I am being uncharitable.

History has not usually seen fit to record the names of the individuals who functioned as cooks in the workhouses, and I don’t know who was the Good Queen’s chef in 1899 – perhaps some other historian can enlighten me. Her best known chef however – although he was in the role for less than a year - was the Anglo-Italian, Charles Elmé Francatelli. He left her service in 1842, so was not responsible for today’s menu, but food fashions did not change quickly during the Victorian regime, and we can be fairly confident that the dishes in his book The Modern Cook, published in 1860 would still have been the standard in 1899.

Francatelli gives a selection of braised beef dishes, all variations on the following theme:

Braised Roll of Beef, a la Flamande.
Take a piece of sirloin of beef, well covered with fat, weighing about twenty pounds; bone it, leaving the fillet adhering to the upper part; daube or interlard the fillet in a slanting position, by inserting with a large daubing needle some pieces of ham or bacon about a quarter of an inch square and four inches long; then roll the beef up close, and fasten it round with a string so as to secure its shape. Break up the bones and place them with the trimmings at the bottom of a braizing pan; then place the roll of beef on the bones, and garnish with four carrots, four onions, with a clove stuck in each, four heads of celery, and a faggot of parsley with thyme and a bay leaf, and two blades of mace; moisten with half a bottle of sherry and two glasses of brandy; set the whole on the stove to simmer for about ten minutes, then add a sufficient quantity of good stock or consommé, nearly to cover the beef; place thereon a well-buttered paper, and, after having caused it to boil, set the braizing pan to continue gently boiling on a smothered stove for about five or six hours: the time for this must be regulated by the degree of tenderness of the meat. When the beef is done, drain, trim, and put it into a convenient-sized pan, containing a little of the liquor in which it has been braized; and with a portion of the remaining part, work some brown sauce for the remove; boil the rest down, and with this glaze the beef. Place it on a dish, garnish round with alternate groups of turned and glazed carrots and turnips, glazed onions, and Brussels-sprouts; pour the sauce above alluded to round the dish, glaze the beef, and send to table.

Tomorrow’s Story …

An Extraordinary Banquet.

A Previous Story for this Day …

Popeye and Spinach.

On this Topic …

We have previously looked at the menu for Queen Victoria’s Christmas Dinner in 1899.

Quotation for the Day …

And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait/ Because I have a luncheon date. John Betjeman

Queen Victoria's Christmas Dinner.

Today, December 25th …

Queen Victoria’s Christmas Dinner at Windsor in 1899.

Potages.

Consommé à la Monaco. Du Berry

Poissons.

Filet de Sole à la Vassant.
Eperlans frits, sauce Verneuil.

Entreé

Côtelettes de Volaille à la York.

Relevés

Dinde à la Chipolata.
Roast Beef. Chine of Pork.

Entremêts.

Asperges, sauce Hollandaise.
Mince Pies. Plum Pudding.
Gelée d’Orange à l’Anglaise.

Buffet.

Baron of Beef. Boar’s Head. Game Pie.
Woodcock Pie. Brawn.
Roast Fowl. Tongue.

RECIPES:

A collection of Vintage Christmas Recipes is HERE.

'Through the Ages with Gingerbread' is HERE.

Tomorrow’s Story …

Fruit Cake, Large.

Quotation for the Day …

In my experience, clever food is not appreciated at Christmas. It makes the little ones cry and the old ones nervous. Jane Grigson.

Pottages for the King’s Dyet.

Today, December 9 …

A new employee started on this day in 1674 in the Kings Privy Kitchen. Charles II had appointed a “French Cooke for the making of Pottages for our Dyet”.

Too many years of dull Puritan rule had made England yearn for European fun and fashion in all things. Now it had Royal affirmation. There would be no resisting the extravagance of the court of the Sun King, Louis XIV, particularly at Versailles. The Frenchification of English food was inevitable, even if it remained controversial and in some quarters, resented. In 1747, Hannah Glasse said “So much is the blind Folly of this Age, that they would rather be impos'd on by a French Booby, than give Encouragement to a good English Cook!”

In the year of the appointment of Charles’ cook, “several approved cooks of London and Westminster” published a book called “The English and French cook … ”, which described “the best and newest ways of ordering and dressing all sorts of flesh, fish and fowl”, which was “full and plain so that from the Maid to the Master Cook, all may reap benefit”. It has a selection of “potages and soops” that would put a modern cookbook to shame, so what to choose for you? Potage made from quails, larks, thrushes, tortoises, or “farced” (stuffed) barnacles? “An excellent Potage to cleanse the blood”? “Potage without the sight of Herbs”?

I was tempted by the recipe for a pottage made from “lamb’s purtenances”, but they seem to be in short supply these days, so a Lenten pottage (from frogs), and a very modern-sounding raspberry soup will have to do.

Potage of Frogs.
Having broken their bones and trust them, blanch them, and drain them very well, then lay them into a Dish till you have made some Pease-broth, fry into it a little minced Parsley with Butter; having boiled a while , put the Frogs into your broth, but take them out presently, then allay a little Saffron, and put it into your Pot, having soaked your Bread, garnish it with the Frogs.

Pottage of Rasberries.
Take the yolks of half a dozen Eggs, and allay them with the juyce of a pint of rasberries, then put over a pottle of Milk, and when it boils, pour in your ingredients aforesaid, stir it very well, season with a little Salt, then dish it and garnish it with Rasberries.

On Monday … First catch your cockatoo

Eating backwards.

Today, December 2nd …

This was the day in 1936 that King Edward VIII made his final decision to marry the divorced American, Wallis Simpson. After spending the day discussing the impending constitutional crisis with the PM, he had dinner that eveing with Wallis and her cousin and aunt. This was the menu:

Clear Turtle Soup
Lobster Mousse with Light Piquant Sauce
Roast Pheasant
Potatoes Soufflé Mixed Green Salad
Bordeaux Wine
Frozen Fresh Pineapple and Toasted Cheese Savoury
Coffee and Liqueur

This habit of finishing a meal with a savoury – always hot, often “devilled”, and usually with cheese, salted or smoked fish, or bacon – is a peculiarly masculine English one. The idea, supposedly, was to cleanse the palate of the sweet course (the ladies having already left the room), before seriously tackling the port and cigars. A less colourful and much older explanation relates to the ancient belief that hard cheese “closed up the digestion” and therefore was sensible at the end of a large meal.

Edward and Wallis went into exile in France after his abdication. Meanwhile, the Vicomte de Mauduit a Frenchman with aristocratic origins, and self-styled “wandering nobleman”, had made the opposite journey some time before. He was “a born cook” and wrote several books about food while living in England in the 1930’s before mysteriously disappearing back in his native country the 1940’s. He said:

“Savouries are essentially an English dish, and are to the English what hors d’oeuvres are to the French, only backwards, in the sense that hors d’oeuvres begin a French meal and savouries end the English dinner.”

His recipe for “Welsh Rarebit” in “The Vicomte in the Kitchen” (1933) is quite acceptable, except for its name, for the dish should properly be called Welsh Rabbit (a full explication will have to wait until the completion of my “Almost Definitive History of Welsh Rabbit”, which, like so many other projects, is “pending”). As a matter of high principle, I cannot give this incorrectly titled recipe. I suppose a Frenchman can be trusted with fish and cream sauce however, especially if it is “en cocotte”.

Finnan en Cocottes.
Take the meat off a raw finnan haddock, cut it into fine flakes, and divide them into individual china dishes. Mix some whipped cream with some parmesan, salt, and cayenne, then pour this over the fish and bake in a quick oven for about ten minutes.

On Monday … A long experiment.