Meet and Drink

FOOD

By CROSBY GAIGE

LET us begin this discussion with i the assumption that America, in its somewhat tardy coming of age, has progressed sufficiently beyond the era of the Whiskey Rebellion to have reached the point where wine is recognized as a pleasant part of civilization that a glass of wine with a meal is conducive not only to good companionship but to good health as well. While there are thousands of American homes where wine has graceful daily usage on the table, there are relatively few native kitchens where wine is employed as a valuable and sprightly aide de casserole, to give savor and variety to our daily fare. There are still other thousands of American homes where wine would be a welcome guest if it were not for the aura of abracadabra cast over the whole subject by many past and present high priests in the temple of gastronomy.

The ordinary purposes of everyday life are best served by simplicity. If one is fortunate enough to have a bottle of one sound, clean, inexpensive wine to share with the family or with a friend at lunch or dinner, the cause of hospitality has been well observed.

Unless one is very rich or very fortunate one does not indulge in vintage wines as a matter of daily habit. These wines are for special occasions. For everyday enjoyment an honest, modest, and inexpensive bottle, whether from foreign sources or from our own American vineyards, makes its own real contribution to gayety and well-being.

The notion that the service of wine at a meal should be a matter of great ceremony, that there must be a different wine with each course of the dinner, is a piece of complete hocuspocus that has done more harm to the cause of wine than was ever dreamed up by Wayne Wheeler or Pussyfoot Johnson during the Prohibition nightmare. , ,

The service of wine on American tables would be a much more usual affair it it were not for the mistaken notion that there is a special and glorified burgundy that was ordained to go with a duck and an equally special claret designed for a leg of lamb. So-called experts have made the matter so complicated that many a hesitant host or hostess often flounders in the valley of indecision and ultimately solves the problem by serving nothing at all. It is gratifying, of course, to have a white wine with the fish, a red one with the roast, and champagne with the dessert. The array of glasses of different sizes and shapes at each place is impressive, to say the least, and is fitting for special celebrations. I count myself lucky, however, if for ordinary use 1 finish my meal with the same gentle wine with which I started.

I laving t hus lightly disposed of these weighty problems, let us go into the kitchen, where some old anti valued cronies of mine are waiting to demonstrate a few devices that have won the approval of many exacting palates.

Permit me to introduce to you M. André Simon, a Frenchman domiciled in England, who recently visited America in the interest of expanding the scope of the Wine and Food Society. He is the founder of this excellent organization, whose purpose is to spread the gospel of better living. He himself is the supreme exemplar of the better life. He carries his sixty-nine years with friendly grace, and his crown of crisp, curly white hair imparts to him the appearance of a ruddy-faced and companionable saint w ho has just dropped in for a week-end. His knowledge of wine is encyclopedic, and his voice and his pen have dealt with the subject more eloquently than any other.

M. Simon’s contribution to this symposium will be the recipe for a Sauce Madère that lends richness and flavor to the little slices of beef filets which the French call tournedos. They get their name from the fact that they are cooked in a jiffy, practically while the cook’s back is turned. M. Simon explained that he learned the trick of Sauce Madère from the late X. M. Boulestin, one of the leading restaurateurs of London.

1 tablespoon of butter 1 tablespoon of flour

½cups of consommé or meat stock 1 fresit tomato chopped 1 carrot chopped 1 onion chopped 1 tablespoon of tomato purée

A small bouquet of thyme, parsley, and a bay leaf ½ cup of Madeira wine Salt and pepper to taste

Brown the flour lightly in the butter, stirring constantly for about 2 minutes. Slowly add the consomme and bring to a boil; then add the chopped

vegetables and the bouquet of herbs. Let the mixture simmer slowly for about 2 hours, whipping from time to time. By now the sauce should he reduced in quantity by about a quarter and should be fairly thick. Strain the sauce through a fine strainer into another saucepan, bring to a quick boil, and reduce a little more. Add the Madeira wine and heat 2 or 3 minutes without boiling. This sauce, which should be served hot, also goes well with boiled tongue or braised ham.

Another honored guest in our kitchen is Jeanne Owen. If she wore a bathing cap over her white curls, you might mistake her for Hedy Lamarr. She maintains a balance of bounce and benevolence, with just a dash of Angostura. Her Wine Lover’s CookBook is to my mind the most useful book in English on the subject. The pundit Richardson Wright, in his introduction to her book, wrote of Mrs. Owen: “At baptism, having been regenerated by water, her parents then assured the salvation of her palate by touching her infant lips with rare old brandy.”

Here follows Mrs. Owen’s recipe for Chicken Tarragon. Having eaten it at her home, I can vouch for its excellence.

2 young broilers properly disjointed 10 shallots or small scallions minced 4 ounces of butter

4 tablespoons of fresh tarragon leaves or 2 tablespoons of dried tarragon 2 tablespoons of chopped parsley 1 measuring cup of dry white wine Pepper and salt to taste

Melt the butter in a large skillet and when it is sizzling hot put in the pieces of chicken and sear them to a nice tan on all sides. Season lightly with salt and pepper, add the chopped shallots or scallions. Cover the skillet and cook slowly over a moderate fire for about 20 minutes or until the meat is tender. Increase the flame and add 1 cup of white wine (a Riesling type will do nicely) in which the tarragon leaves have been soaking for an hour. Cook briskly for 4 or 5 minutes, adding the chopped parsley as a finishing touch.

Charles Philippe and his charming wife Poppy are ever welcome guests at my house. Charles, who stems from a Grenoble family famous for generations of fine cooks, has recently inherited at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel many of the functions of the great Oscar. Here follows the recipe for a Curry of Lobster that ; 'buries prepared for a party of ten who met at Watch Hill Farm one Sunday afternoon, to sip sherry and to exchange greetings and gossip: —

3 medium-sized lobsters 3 ounces of butter 2 large onions finely chopped 2 ounces of good brandy 1 small bouquet of parsley, thyme, and tarragon 4 tomatoes seeded and diced 4 level teaspoons of best yellow curry powder 1 cup of dry white wine Salt to taste Boil | be lobsters in the usual manner. Remove (he meat from the lobster tails and chop up the shells. Place tails and shells in a saucepan along with the butter and chopped onions and simmer for about 8 minutes. Then pour in tin* brandy and set it on lire with a match. Re careful not to burn yourself in lighting the brandy. When the flame has burned itself out, add a cup of dry white wine, the tomatoes, the herb bouquet, and the curry powder, and season with salt. Let the mixture simmer covered for 35 minutes. Remove the tails and slice. Strain the sauce and pour it over the lobster slices, which you have put into a chafing dish to keep them hot. Serve this delectable mixture on squares of freshly made toast.

Another choice recipe comes from the culinary atelier of Mrs. Phillips Wyman, whose parents came from Ghent in Belgium and brought with them the traditions of good food for which that city is famous. Her father, Dr. L. H. Baekeland, was a scientist, one of whose many contributions to modern life was bakclite. The Wymans’ home in Scarborough, New \ork, is a hospitable one. It is always overflowing with children and grandchildren and guests and good cheer.

This is how Mrs. Wyman deals with squabs or those young pound-size chickens which the French call poussin, in the spring of the year when both of those birds are plentiful and when the grapevines are clad with tender greenage: —

4 squabs or small chickens 1 cup of wild rice The peel of 1 lemon 1 tablespoon of fresh tarragon leaves 1 cup of dry white wine i pound of butter Grape leaves Salt and pepper

Soak the wild rice overnight in salted water. Rub the birds inside and out with butter and lightly salt and pepper them. Drain the rice thoroughly and stuff each bird with the rice, adding a little nut of butter and a touch of salt and pepper to the stuffing. Wrap each bird in grape leaves. In trussing them, arrange the string so that it holds the leaves securely. In the casserole melt the remainder of your butter, and let it get piping hot; add the livers which you have saved from the birds, the tarragon leaves, and the thinly shaved peel of the lemon. Sauté the livers in the hot butter until they are soft and then mash them up finely with a fork. Then put in the birds and let them sauté until they are nicely tanned. At this point add the cup of dry white wine, put the lid on the casserole, and cook for an hour over a gentle flame.

Sophie Kerr Underwood is a writer of note, a hostess of distinction, and in her own kitchen deserves to wear the cordon bleu. She tells me that one dark night she filched from June Platt, whose fame as gourmette and writer is worldwide, this notion of cooking pears in wine. If you are four for dinner, take four pears, ripe but not too ripe. Leave the skins on, but remove the cores with one of those circular gadgets made for the purpose. Fill the cavities with

canned sweet cherries and place the pears upright in a glass or porcelain baking dish small enough to keep them standing. Pour in enough red wine, perhaps our native Barbera, to reach nearly to the top of the pears. Put in a moderate oven and bake until the pears are tender and impregnated with the wine and the cherry flavor. This dessert should not be too sweet. If, however, a little extra sweetening is needed, add some of the cherry juice to the wine. People who use wine in moderation are usually happy and friendly folk. They are seldom quarrelsome, and their amiable philosophy makes their festive boards, to borrow a phrase of André Simon’s, real “tables of content.”