Today’s Christmas menu is most unusual. It is given in The Chicago Herald Cooking School: A Professional Cook's Book for
Household Use (1883), by Jessup Whitehead, and needs some explanation, which I
attempt after you have had your vicarious eating pleasure.
Genius in the Kitchen.
--
Hartford
Times.
--
Another branch of the subject
which comes up yearly at the cooks’ ball for discussion by the gourmands is the
degree of ingenuity displayed by different famous cooks in devising new dishes
and menus wherewith to tickle jaded palates. It is considered that for
originality the palm should go to the chef of the French Rothschilds, whose
patron in Christmas week, 1870, invited a select party of friends to the
following dinner.
Hors
D’oeuvres.
Butter Radishes Sardines Ass’s head, stuffed.
Potages
Puree of
beans aux croutons Elephant
consommé
Entrees
Fried
gudgeons Roast Camel a
la Anglaise
Civet of
kangaroo Roast ribs of bear
Rotis
Haunch of
wolf, venison sauce Cat with rats
Water-cress
salad
Antelope
pie, truffled Petit
pois au beurre
Rice-bakes
with preserves
Gruyere
cheese
Wines
Xeres Chateau Mouton Rothschild
Latour
blanche, 1861 Rornancee
Contil, 1858
Chateu
Palmer, 1860 Bollinger
frappe
orti,
1827
Café et
liqueurs
This dinner cost the Rothschild’s
chef three months’ preparation, besides writing and telegraphing to the
different parts of the world, and in money $400 a cover.
The menu is certainly
interesting, but - if indeed it is genuine - the explanation of the planning
and sourcing of the ingredients given by the author of the book is not correct.
From 19 September 1870 to 28 January 1871, Paris was under siege by Prussia. By
late December, the inhabitants of the city had resorted to eating their way
through the Paris Zoo.
In a previous post I mentioned
the siege, and included the following note from Le Mars Globe (Iowa) of April 28 1909, we have a story about Paris in
1871:
“Amid the horrors of the siege of
Paris in 1871, one Cadol found time to issue a book of recipes for the
preparation of the strange fare to which the city was reduced. “Our stomachs
are turned into natural history museums” he wrote, “but we must make the best
of circumstances and render our food as palatable as we can.” So housewives
were instructed how to disguise the flesh of dogs, horses, asses, rats and
mice, and were shown that, despite the old adage, one can make an omelette
without breaking eggs. The recipe for an eggless omelette was as follows: “Soak
an army biscuit in sugared water flavoured with orange flower, chop finely and
spread on a hot dish, powder well with sugar, and then pour over and set alight
to a liberal helping of rum.” With eggs at $6 a dozen, and rum at little more
than its normal price, this palatable imitation of an “omelette au rhum” became
a most popular dish.”
There is
a little more on food during the siege in the post ‘Not your usual Parisianfare.’
There are
a number of similar menus flitting around the Interwebs which supposedly
represent Paris Zoo dinners around Christmas 1870. They are difficult to
research without the necessary time, language skills, and access to contemporary newspapers, so I make
no comment about the authenticity of this particular menu – please just enjoy
it as a curiosity!
As far as
the individual dishes on this menu go, I am intrigued by the Rice-bakes with
Preserves. I assume this is some sort of rice pudding, but so far have been
unable to clarify my theory. I do think we need something simple after our
virtual feed of elephant and antelope, so how about a nice, simple, and most
ethical watercress salad?
Watercress Salad.
Pick out a quantity of nice
sprigs of watercress, turn them over in a mixture of three parts of olive oil
and two parts tarragon vinegar, with salt; and serve in a bowl.
Pierceton Independent (Indiana)
August 25, 1880
2 comments:
In 1852, my great-great-grandfather wrote from Gold Rush San Francisco to his mother in Delaware that (his family having arrived via the Isthmus of Panama) he'd had his first family dinner and dessert had been rice with home preserves sent by his sister. So this may have been an unremarkable sweet to have after an ordinary meal.
If you ever want o check these recipes out, I'm willing to provide the language skills!
Gillian Polack (who is still doing food history stuff, in the background, just more quietly and in the interstices of novel-writing - I've got into the bad habit of doing a personal food history for each of my characters)
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