Science in the Kitchen and the Art of Eating Well (41 page)

Chop half an onion very fine and put it in a saucepan with a bit of butter and four or five thin slices of prosciutto about a finger in width. On top of these ingredients, put a whole chicken. Season with pepper and a little salt, and put on the fire. When it has browned all over and the onion has completely dissolved, moisten with broth or water and add three or four freshly made whole sausages. Cook over a slow fire, making sure some liquid remains at the end.

Cut up a young chicken and place it in a saucepan with 50 grams (about 1-2/3 ounces) of butter. Season with salt and pepper. After it has cooked a while, sprinkle the pieces with a pinch of flour to brown them; then add broth and cook until done. Remove the chicken pieces and place on a platter; keep warm. Make the sauce by beating an egg yolk with the juice of half a lemon and adding it to the liquid that remains in the saucepan. Stir over the fire for a few minutes, pour over the chicken, and serve.

Put the breast of a young chicken on a spit and roast until two-thirds done. Baste with olive oil, season with salt, and brown. Then cut it into pieces at the joints, and divide the breast in two down the middle. Finish cooking in the following manner.

Chop a 1/4 of a medium-sized onion and put on the fire with 50 grams (about 1-2/3 ounces) of butter. When it has thoroughly browned, sprinkle with 10 grams (about 1/3 of an ounce) of flour. Then add 3 deciliters (about 1-1/4 cups) of heavy cream, a little at a time. If you do not have heavy cream, you can use high-grade milk. When you think the flour is cooked, add the pieces of chicken and simmer until done.

The evening of the Battle of Marengo, after the turmoil of the day, the cook to the First Consul and to the Generals was unable to find the kitchen wagons; and so he had some chickens stolen and improvised a dish that, prepared more or less as I will describe it to you, was called “Chicken Marengo.” They say it was always a favorite of Napoleon, not so much for its intrinsic merit, but because it reminded him of that glorious victory.

Take a young chicken, remove the neck and legs and cut into large pieces at the joints. Sauté in 30 grams (about 1 ounce) of butter and one tablespoon of olive oil, seasoning with salt, pepper, and a dash of nutmeg. When the pieces have browned on both sides, skim the fat and add a level tablespoon of flour and a deciliter (about 7 fluid ounces) of wine. Add broth and cover, cooking over low heat until done. Before removing from the fire, garnish with a pinch of chopped parsley; arrange on a serving dish and squeeze half a lemon over it. The result is an appetizing dish.

I think that the following is the best way to cook chicken breasts, because they come out delicate to the taste and make such a fine show that a capon breast can serve as many as four or five people.

Cut the breasts into paper-thin slices, giving them the best shape possible; use the scraps from the breastbone to make a single piece, squeezing them together and flattening them out. Then season with salt and pepper and soak for a few hours in a mixture of beaten eggs. Then dip the pieces in fine bread crumbs and saute them in butter. If you like them plain, you can season with lemon juice; if you prefer them with truffles, prepare them like the cutlets in recipe 312, or as follows.

Take a small metal frying pan, pour in just enough olive oil to barely cover the bottom, then line the bottom with a layer of sliced truffles, sprinkling with just a little grated Parmesan cheese and a pinch of bread crumbs. Repeat the same operation three or four times, depending on the amount of truffles, and then season with oil, salt, pepper, and a few small pats of butter; season sparingly, so that the dish does not turn out too heavy. Put the pan on the fire and when it begins to sizzle, moisten the truffles with a ladleful of brown stock or broth and a little lemon juice. Promptly remove the sauce from the fire and pour it over the chicken breasts, which you have already browned as described above.

If you do not have truffles, use dried mushrooms soaked in water and coarsely chopped, and if you do not have lemon juice you can use tomato sauce (recipe 6) or tomato paste.

When you buy a mallard (
Anas boscas
) at the market, open its beak and examine the tongue. If the tongue is very dry, you know that the animal has been dead for some time, so smell it to make sure that it doesn’t stink.

Some people suggest that ducks should be washed with vinegar before cooking, or scalded in boiling water, to take away their gamey smell. But since this odor, which is disgusting when it is too strong, resides primarily in the uropygial gland, I think that one need only remove that gland. The gland, called “stizza” in the Florentine dialect, is found at the base of the tail, and contains a yellowish, viscous fluid which water fowl produce in abundance and smear on their feathers to make them water resistant.

Clean the duck, but save the liver, heart, and gizzard. Remove the head and, after you have cut it open to remove the vertebrae, fold down the skin from the neck over the bird’s breast. A dish of red cabbage or whole lentils goes well with stewed duck; whether you serve the one or the other, prepare a soffritto in the following manner.

For a duck weighing roughly 1 kilogram (about 2 pounds), finely chop 30 grams (about 1 ounce) of untrimmed prosciutto with the usual flavorings, namely some celery, parsley, carrot, and 1/4 of a large onion. Put all of this in a saucepan with some olive oil and place the duck on top. Season with salt and pepper, brown all over, add water, and simmer until done.

Cook the red cabbage or lentils in water, and then again in the bird’s sauce. Taste the sauce to see if it needs a little butter to enhance its flavor, and then send it to the table with the duck. The cabbage should be coarsely chopped and seasoned with salt and pepper.

Put the duck in a saucepan with 30 grams (about 1 ounce) of butter and let it brown. Remove the duck and add a tablespoon of flour to the fat in the pan, stirring with a wooden spoon until it turns brown. Remove the pan from the fire, and when the mixture has stopped sizzling, pour in 1/2 a liter (about 1/2 a quart) of water and put the duck back in the pan. Season with salt and pepper, cover, and cook until completely done with the peel of a quarter of an orange, a stalk of celery about one palm long, and a piece of carrot—the celery and carrot should be coarsely chopped, while the orange peel should be kept in a single piece. When done, strain the sauce, cut the duck into
pieces at the joints, put the pieces back in the sauce and squeeze the juice from the orange rind over them. Bring to a boil again for just a few minutes, and serve.

Domestic duck can be prepared in the same way, but, since it is very fatty, one should skim off the excess fat from the sauce before serving. One way to remove the fat is to pour the sauce into a bowl and to lay a piece of blotting paper on top of it, which will absorb the fat.

Prepare this bird in the same manner as the wild duck in recipe 270, putting it on the fire in a saucepan with a similar soffritto. When the duck has browned, add tomato sauce (recipe 6) or tomato paste and finish cooking with water or broth. Strain the sauce, skim off the fat, and put it back on the fire together with the duck and a bit of butter. You can use this sauce together with Parmesan cheese as a dressing for homemade noodles or lasagne, while serving the duck with a side dish of greens reheated in a little of the same sauce.

I think that this is a good stew that deserves special mention.

Chop a quarter of a large onion, all the usual flavoring, namely some parsley, carrot, and celery, and 50 grams (about 1-2/3 ounces) of untrimmed prosciutto. Put this on the fire with two tablespoons of olive oil and place the duck on top, seasoning with salt and pepper. When it has browned, add tomato sauce (recipe 6) or tomato paste, and enough water to cook it until done. At the same time, toss in a handful of dried mushrooms. Cook the mushrooms in the sauce, then strain and put aside—they are ready to be added to the rice. Then pass the sauce through a sieve and skim off the fat. Put 200 grams (about 7 ounces) of raw rice into a pan with 40 grams (about 1-1/3 ounces) of butter without any other flavoring; as soon as it begins to brown, pour in hot water a little at a time. When you are about to remove it from the fire, season the rice with the duck sauce and Parmesan cheese.

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Read recipe 548 for domestic goose, and at the end you will find instructions on how to cook goose liver. However, having come across another one, I cooked it differently and it turned out better than the other, so I will give you the new recipe here. After you have cooked the goose liver as indicated in recipe 548, drain it and bind it with a mixture consisting of 20 grams (about 2/3 of an ounce) of melted butter and a heaping tablespoon of flour. When the mixture turns nut brown, dilute it with a ladleful of broth and three tablespoons of Marsala wine. Put the liver back in, simmer for a little while, and serve.

The coot (
Fulica atra
) could be called a fish-bird, since the Church permits it to be eaten on fasting days without infringing on Catholic precepts. The coot comes from the warm, temperate countries of Europe and North Africa. As a migratory bird, it travels by night. An inhabitant of swamps and lakes, the coot is a good swimmer, feeding on aquatic plants, insects, and small mollusks. Only two species of coot are found in Europe.

Except during the time when they lay their eggs, coots live in huge flocks, which makes for very entertaining hunting, with huge kills. Quite famous is the coot hunt called “la tela,” which takes place several times in late autumn and winter and is conducted in small boats on Lake Massaciuccoli near Pisa, on the estate of the Marquis Ginori-Lisci. During the hunt of November 1903, in which hunters in a hundred boats from every part of Italy took part, about six thousand coots were brought down, or so the newspapers reported.

Coot meat is dark and not very flavorful, and being game it should be prepared in the following manner.

Taking, for example, four coots (as I did), skin them and singe them on the fire to remove all their down, then clean and wash them well. Thread them lengthwise on a red-hot skewer, then cut the birds into four parts, discarding the head, f
^p
et, and wing tips. Marinate for an hour in vinegar and then wash repeatedly with cool water. I did not use the livers; but I did use the gizzards, which are large and chewy like those of a chicken. Cleaned, washed and cut into four pieces, they went into the marinade.

Now, finely chop a large onion, and the appropriate amount of the usual flavorings, that is, celery, carrot, and parsley. Put this battuto on the fire with 80 grams (about 2-2/3 ounces) of butter, the coots, and the gizzards. Season with salt, pepper, and a dash of spices. When the meat Starts to dry out, pour in tomato sauce (recipe 6) or tomato paste diluted in a generous amount of water to finish cooking and so that there will be plenty of sauce left at the end. When the birds are done, strain the sauce and add to it half a coot breast, finely minced, and another 40 grams (about 1-1/3 ounces) of butter, along with some Parmesan cheese. You can use this sauce to flavor three eggs’ worth of pappardelle or 500 grams (about 1 pound) of large flat noodles, which will be highly praised for their unique flavor. Serve the coots, with some of the sauce, as the main course, and they will not be sneered at. All of this should serve five or six people.

I have also heard that you can get quite a nice stock by boiling coots with two sausages inside.

Here is a story about squabs that, as unbelievable as it may seem, is indeed true. Let it stand as proof of what I was telling you about the caprices of the stomach.

One day a lady asked a man who happened to be around to kill a couple of squabs for her. Well, he drowned them in a basin of water, right there in front of her. The lady was so shocked by the sight that from that day on she could never eat the flesh of that bird again.