A Rediscovery of British Food from Before the War
FIG TREE
an imprint of
PENGUIN
BOOKS
Introduction
Breakfast
First Courses
Main Courses
Vegetables
Puddings
Sauces
Picnics and Shooting Lunches
Tea
Savouries
Drinks
Bibliography
Acknowledgements
In memory of my father, who died in 1943.
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Hastings, Macdonald, and Walsh, Carole, Wheeler’s Fish Cookery Book, London, 1974.
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Heaton, Rose Henniker, The Perfect Hostess, London, 1931.
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Leyel, Mrs C. F., and Hartley, Miss Olga, The Gentle Art of Cookery, London, 1925.
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Martineau, Mrs Philip, Caviare to Candy, London, 1927.
Martineau, Mrs Philip, Cantaloup to Cabbage, London, 1929.
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de Medici, Lorenza, The Renaissance of Italian Cooking, London, 1990.
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Paterson, Jennifer, Feast Days, London, 1990.
Platt, June, June Platt’s Party Cook Book, Boston, 1936.
Platt, June, June Platt’s Plain and Fancy Cookbook, Boston, 1941.
Powell, Hilda (ed.), Vogue’s Cookery Book, London, 1939.
Quaglino, The Complete Hostess, edited by Charles Graves, London, 1935.
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Rohde, Eleanour Sinclair, Vegetable Cultivation and Cookery, London, 1938.
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Scotson-Clark, G. F., Kitchenette Cookery, London, 1925.
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Campbell, Susan, Cottesbrooke, An English Kitchen Garden, London, 1989.
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Cecil, Hugh and Mirabel, Clever Hearts, Desmond and Molly MacCarthy – A Biography, London, 1990.
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Driver, Christopher, The British at Table, 1940–1980, London, 1983.
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Wilson, C. Anne, Food and Drink in Britain, London, 1973.
Wilson, C. Anne, The Book of Marmalade: Its Antecedents, London, 1985.
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I should like to thank all the authors and publishers who have given me permission to quote from their books, and all the friends and acquaintances who have looked out recipes, lent me books, and generally given support and encouragement. In particular, I am deeply grateful to the following:
Mark Amory; Hilary Arnold; Mrs Jonathan Blackburn; Kate Boxer; Hugh Cecil; Chatto & Windus, for recipes from Party Food and Drink by Rosemary Hume; Mrs Dorothy Child; Glynn Christian; Condé Nast Publications Ltd, for recipes from Vogue, and Vogue’s Cookery Book; Constable Publishers, for recipes from Eat at Pleasure: Drink by Measure by Olof Wijk; Country Life, for recipes from Lightning Cookery by Countess Morphy; Lillie Davies; J. M. Dent and Sons Ltd, for recipes from Come into the Garden, Cook, by Constance Spry, and The Constance Spry Cookery Book by Constance Spry and Rosemary Hume, and Good Cookery by W. G. R. Francillon; André Deutsch Ltd, for a recipe from Personal Choice by Ambrose Heath; Polly Devlin; the Duchess of Devonshire; Duckworth Ltd, for recipes from When the Cook Is Away by Catherine Ives, and Be Your Own Chef by Lucie Marion; Catherine Forshall; James Fox; Hamish Hamilton Ltd, for recipes from The Complete Hostess by Quaglino; the late Lady Harrod; the late Lady Dorothy Heber-Percy; Harrods Ltd, for recipes from A Year’s Dinners by May Little; William Heinemann Ltd, for recipes from What Shall We Have Today? and What Shall We Have To Drink? by X. Marcel Boulestin, reprinted by permission of the Peters Fraser and Dunlop Group Ltd; Adrian Higham, for recipes from Vegetable Cultivation and Cookery by Eleanour Sinclair Rohde; the late Lady Anne Hill; Lord Hindlip, for the recipe from Minnie Lady Hindlip’s Cookery Book; Houghton Mifflin Company, for recipes from June Platt’s Plain and Fancy Cookbook; the late Lord Kelvedon, for material from the diaries of his father, Sir Henry ‘Chips’ Channon; the late Mrs Nancy Lancaster; Mrs Elizabeth Lewthwaite; the late Loelia, Lady Lindsay of Dowhill; Jane Longman; Macdonald Group, for recipes from Food in England by Dorothy Hartley; the late David McKenna CBE; the late Lady John Manners; Paul Manousso; Methuen & Co., for recipes from The Perfect Hostess by Rose Henniker Heaton; Michael Joseph Ltd, for recipes from The Alice B. Toklas Cook Book, and Wheeler’s Fish Cookery Book by Macdonald Hastings and Carole Walsh; Joyce Molyneux; the late Nigel Nicolson OBE; the Nonesuch Press, for recipes from Lovely Food by Ruth Lowinsky; the late Tom Parr; the late Frances Partridge; the late Jennifer Paterson; Max Reinhardt; Mrs Maud Shimwell; Mrs Michael Stanley, for recipes from English Country House Cooking; Mrs Oliver Steele; Sir Tatton Sykes; the Vogue Library; Lucy Ward; Francis Wyndham.
It was during this transitional period between the wars that the classic British breakfast took shape. In the large country houses the lavish breakfast of Edwardian days was still the norm. A row of silver dishes on hot plates offered a choice of fried, boiled or scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, tomatoes, fried bread, devilled kidneys, and a fish dish: either smoked haddock, kippers or kedgeree. On the cold table stood a ham, a tongue, and cold game in season. When there was no game a cold fish dish like soused herrings might take its place. Coffee and tea were served, with copious amounts of toast, butter and marmalade.
In the south, things were already starting to change. According to social historian Arnold Palmer in his book Moveable Feasts, a radical change was taking place: ‘By 1925 many women had decided to breakfast in bed, at 8.15 or thereabouts, on a glass of orange juice, a piece of toast melba, a cup of coffee unsugared and black, and cigarettes. Their husbands did little better, in fact they often shared the meal.’ This was the American influence which was to spread throughout the 1920s and 30s. Canadian Charles Ritchie, writing in his diaries in London just before the outbreak of the Second World War, was struck by ‘the new, classless, Americanised English who have grapefruit for breakfast and prefer The New Yorker to Punch’.
By the end of the 1930s, the most popular breakfast with all classes, except the super sophisticates of Charles Ritchie’s world, and the poor who could not afford it, was bacon and eggs, toast and marmalade, and coffee or tea. Even among the very poor, fried bacon was considered the vital ingredient of a proper breakfast, more important even than the eggs. While coffee was the most fashionable drink in London and the south, tea was still the most widely drunk at all levels of society.
While fruit and fruit juices were starting to become popular on the breakfast table, American cereals had begun to appear in the shops, and were greeted with rapture. Even Lady Jekyll, normally the most sensible of women, writing in her weekly column in Saturday’s Times, suggested serving ‘a few spoonfuls of Puffed Wheat crisped hot in the oven and lying decoratively in small mother-o’-pearl shells’, as an inexpensive alternative to salted almonds, for nibbling between courses at dinner parties.
For most people, the hallmark of the British breakfast is marmalade. This had been made in Britain for hundreds of years, with quince and other fruits. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries it was usually served sliced, as a dessert or sweetmeat, or as a digestive, or cure for colds. By the eighteenth century it was being made with Seville oranges, and in Scotland it began to be served at breakfast, as a preserve. Until then it had been pounded into a smooth paste; now it appeared in its familiar form, with little bits of peel within it. The first manufactured marmalade was Keiller’s Dundee Marmalade, which started in 1797. Two other Scottish firms, Robertson’s and Baxters, started selling their products in the 1860s, while the English firms of Cooper’s, Wilkins of Tiptree, and Elsenham began production between 1875 and 1890. Jellied marmalade also became popular. Robertson’s Golden and Silver Shred were made in late Victorian times, and Rose’s Lime Marmalade in the 1930s. There was a wide variety: before the First World War there were twenty-seven varieties of Tiptree marmalade on sale; today there are still at least ten different sorts.
By the eighteenth century Scottish breakfasts were famous, far superior to those in England. Writers like Dr Johnson, Boswell and Sir Walter Scott refer to a choice of tea, coffee or chocolate; hot porridge served with a mixture of cream and buttermilk; smoked reindeer ham, beef and mutton; smoked salmon and haddock, kippers and fresh herrings; bread, scones and thin cakes of oats and barley, eaten with fresh butter, blueberry jam, currant jelly and marmalade.
Our own breakfasts in Scotland before the last war were much like the traditional English country house breakfast, with a few differences. Whereas in most English houses porridge was only served occasionally, before hunting or shooting for instance, we ate it every day.
Scotsmen like my father ate their porridge standing up, and this seemed to me the most natural thing in the world, despite English mockery. They would help themselves to a dish of porridge from the hotplate, adding a pinch of salt and some cold milk, then instead of carrying it to the table, they would simply wander about the room as they ate it, reading the headlines of the newspapers, or gazing out of the window. In other words, they behaved just as we might with a glass of sherry, before sitting down to lunch.
My grandmother ate the same breakfast every day of her life: porridge, a soused herring, and two oatcakes. Our cook made marvellous oatcakes: triangular, very thin and fragile in the extreme. She claimed to use no fat whatsoever, but I find this hard to believe. With them, we ate butter from the town, which my father perversely preferred to our own farm butter, and Tiptree Orange Marmalade, still in the glass jar it came in. Scones were baked fresh early each morning; these were the Scottish sort, baked on a griddle, thin, soft and triangular in shape. There was always toast as well, but there was never enough. My mother would ring and ask for more, but by the time it came it was too late, and no one wanted it. I remember this as a constant source of friction between my parents.
As well as the array of cooked breakfast dishes, and the cold table, there was an amazing electric contraption in which you boiled your own egg, so that you could have it exactly as you liked, freshly cooked. Even before the war, there was a modicum of self-help in our house which seems unusual in retrospect, at a time when most owners of large houses rang to have a log put on the fire. My father liked to boil his own egg, make the salad dressing, and make up his own packed lunch from the remains of the breakfast table, for a solitary day’s shooting.
PORRIDGE
The porridge at our home in Scotland had a marvellous ‘set’ quality about it, almost like junket, that I have never been able to repeat; it was probably the result of long, slow cooking, then standing for a while on the hot plate. Nowadays I use a method of my own, a compromise between the old way and the speedy modern version made with Quaker Oats. I no longer eat it for breakfast, but when coming home late at night, tired and hungry, I find it comforting, sustaining and easy to digest.
275ml water
½ teaspoon (or less) sea salt
45g medium oatmeal
Bring the water to the boil in a heavy pan. Add the salt, then sprinkle in the oatmeal, stirring constantly. Boil steadily for 5 minutes, stirring all the time, then transfer to a double boiler and cook gently for 15 minutes, stirring now and then. When the time is up, cover the pan, remove from the heat, and stand until ready to serve. Serves 1–2, with cold milk straight from the fridge. AB
KEDGEREE
Originally a breakfast dish, this later became popular as a first course for luncheon, or as a supper dish. In these cases it can be made richer, with the addition of cream and extra butter, but for breakfast it is best made quite simply. It can well be made in advance and reheated.
450g salmon
225g long-grain rice
4 eggs, hard-boiled
55–85g butter
sea salt and black pepper
150ml double cream (optional)
½ tablespoon finely chopped parsley
If cooking the salmon specially (it is also a good way of using up remains of a large fish), put it in a saucepan and cover with cold lightly salted water. Bring slowly to the boil, then simmer gently for 3 minutes. Cover the pan, remove from the heat, and leave until it has completely cooled. Then drain the fish, discard skin and bones, and flake the flesh. Boil the rice as usual and drain well. Assemble in a buttered bowl standing over a large pan of simmering water. Fill with rice and fish in alternate layers, adding roughly chopped hard-boiled eggs, small bits of butter, and lots of sea salt and black pepper. (And cream, if used.) Cover with foil and leave to heat for about 25 minutes, mixing together gently now and then with a wooden spoon. Turn into a serving dish and sprinkle with a little chopped parsley. Serves 4, with a green salad, as a lunch or supper dish, or 5–6 for breakfast. AB
SMOKED HADDOCK WITH POACHED EGGS
Composite breakfast dishes of this sort were not usually served in the big country houses, where the different foods were served separately, so that the guests could combine them, or not, as they pleased. But in the smaller houses this would be a popular breakfast dish, since the combination of smoked haddock and eggs has always been much liked. Nowadays it makes a good light dish for luncheon or supper.
2 smoked haddock, undyed
275ml milk
4 freshly poached eggs
freshly ground black pepper
Cut each haddock in half and wash well. Put the pieces in a broad pan and pour over the milk. Add about the same amount of water, enough to barely cover the fish. Bring to the boil, cover the pan, and simmer gently for 12 minutes. Lift out the pieces of fish with a slotted spoon and drain in a colander, then lay them on a shallow dish. Place a poached egg carefully on each one and sprinkle with black pepper.
Alternatively, the fish can be taken off the bone and flaked, then piled on 4 rounds of hot (thinly) buttered toast. Sprinkle with black pepper, then lay an egg on top of each one. Serves 4. AB
MRS ANDERSON’S FISH CAKES
Another example of a traditional breakfast dish which makes an excellent light main course for lunch or supper. Mrs Anderson was cook to Kathleen, Duchess of Rutland, before and during the war. She specifies cod or haddock, but I have also used salmon, which was delicious. Her fish cakes are particularly good in that they use a thick béchamel instead of the more usual mashed potato, or breadcrumbs, and the result is very light and moist.
900g cod or haddock fillet
450ml milk
salt and black pepper
55g butter
55g flour
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
2 eggs, beaten
dry white breadcrumbs
sunflower oil, for frying
Poach the fish in lightly salted milk, unless using salmon, which should be cooked in plain water, also lightly salted. When the fish is done, drain it, reserving the milk. Strain it, reserving 275 ml. Melt the butter, add the flour, and cook for 1 minute, stirring. Add the milk and bring to the boil, stirring till blended. Simmer gently for 3–4 minutes, adding salt and pepper to taste. Flake the fish, discarding skin and bone, and stir into the sauce, adding the chopped parsley. (Chop the larger flakes in half.) Chill the mixture for several hours, or overnight, then form into round cakes weighing about 85g each. Shape them on a floured board, then dip first in beaten egg and then in breadcrumbs.
Mrs Anderson’s fish cakes were shaped like round balls, but these have to be deep-fried. I prefer to flatten mine, and shallow-fry them in a 1.5cm layer of oil. Drain on kitchen paper before serving. Makes 10–12. If serving for lunch or supper, they can be accompanied by fried parsley (page 155), or a sauce. Iced tomato sauce (page 157), piquant sauce (page 152), sauce tartare (page 157), or egg and parsley sauce (page 153) all go well with them.
They also freeze well, after dipping in egg and breadcrumbs. Lady John Manners
ANOTHER FISH CAKE
This is a simpler fish cake than the first, better for breakfast. It is less rich than Mrs Anderson’s fish cakes, also firmer, therefore better for taking on picnics, or for eating cold, as a snack. The ratio of fish to potato can vary from 50/50 to 25/75, depending on what you have left over, but the higher the proportion of fish the better.
225g cooked fish: cod, haddock, salmon, free from skin and bone
120g freshly mashed potato
15g butter, at room temperature
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
salt and black pepper
1 egg, beaten
dry white breadcrumbs
frying oil
Mix the fish with the mashed potato, beating well with a wooden spoon. Beat in the butter, chopped parsley, and plenty of salt and black pepper. Chill for a few hours, if convenient. Then form into round cakes on a floured board. Dip them first in beaten egg, then in breadcrumbs. Heat a layer of oil about 2.5cm deep in a frying pan, then fry the fish cakes until golden on both sides. Makes 4 large fish cakes. They freeze well, before frying.
Note: If using equal quantities of fish and potato, double the butter. Adapted from A Year’s Dinners, by May Little
HERRINGS IN OATMEAL
This used to be a popular breakfast dish; now it makes a good lunch or supper dish. The herrings were usually fried, but I prefer to grill them. Herrings are not much eaten these days, which is a pity, for they are probably the best value for money, in terms of nutrition, to be found.
4 herrings, filleted and skinned
6 tablespoons milk
approx. 120g coarse oatmeal
45g butter
Rinse the herrings and pat them dry. Take out any stray bones, then dip each fillet first in milk and then in coarse oatmeal, patting it on well. Heat the grill, then lay the herrings on the rack, plump side uppermost. Dot them with butter and grill for 3 minutes, then turn and grill for another 3 minutes. Serve on hot plates. Serves 4. If to be eaten as a main course, they can be served with a mustard sauce, and some buttered leeks. AB
SOUSED HERRINGS
Although usually served as a first course at lunchtime, in my grandparents’ house in Scotland these were a regular feature of the cold table at breakfast, together with a ham, tongue and cold game in season. Unlike rollmops, which are salted, and pickled, these are freshly cooked in a marinade, then eaten within a day or two of cooking. I use a mixture of white wine and vinegar for the marinade, but water can be substituted for the wine. (In this case, malt vinegar should be used.)
250ml dry white wine
250ml white wine vinegar
1 small onion, cut in rings
1 carrot, thinly sliced
3 stalks of parsley
2 bay leaves
1 sprig of thyme
½ tablespoon sea salt
8 black peppercorns
3 cloves
6 herrings, filleted, without their roes
GARNISH
1 small carrot
½ small onion, cut in thin semi-circular slices
1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley
Put the wine and vinegar in a pan with the sliced onion and carrot, herbs and seasonings. Bring slowly to the boil and simmer for 20 minutes, half covered. Leave to cool.
Later, have the herring fillets lying in a rectangular dish. Pour the cooled marinade over them, cover loosely with foil, and bake for 10 minutes at 180°C/gas 4. Remove from the oven and leave to cool. These may be served after cooling, or kept for 2–3 days in the refrigerator, in their marinade.
Before serving, prepare the garnish. Make grooves in the side of the carrot with a canelle knife and cut in thin slices. Put them in a small strainer, lower into a pan of boiling water, and cook for 2 minutes, then drain and rinse briefly under the cold tap. Divide the onion slices into single semi-circular rings. Lift the fillets out of the marinade and lay them on a flat dish. Moisten with a little of the marinade, and scatter the flower-shaped carrot slices, onion rings and chopped parsley over all. These are good served with thinly sliced rye bread and butter, or pumpernickel, and small glasses of neat vodka, but not at breakfast! AB
IRISH POTATO CAKES
Potato dishes of this sort were often served for breakfast, with fried bacon, eggs, tomatoes, etc. Nowadays they come in useful as part of a simple supper or lunch dish, good with ham and eggs, or grilled tomatoes and bacon. They are also good served with roast or grilled meat, as part of a more formal meal.
30g butter
2 tablespoons milk
¾ teaspoon salt
680g hot mashed potatoes (allow 900g raw potatoes)
55g flour
¾ teaspoon baking powder
Melt the butter in the milk and add it and the salt to the potatoes. Mix the flour and baking powder together. Add them. Knead lightly and roll out till the paste is about 1cm thick. Cut out into scone-shaped [triangular] pieces. [Or take egg-sized pieces and roll into a ball, then flatten.] Bake on a greased and heated griddle, or cook in butter in a frying pan. [Makes about 10–12; serves 5–6.] Vegetable Cookery, by Elizabeth Lucas
A BREAKFAST DISH
This recipe comes from a little book called Tempting Dishes for Small Incomes, which was published in 1872. Yet it is still relevant to the 1920s and 30s, for more modest households that could not run to the lavish display of different dishes on offer in the great houses often cooked mixed dishes of this sort for breakfast. Another, called chasse, included potatoes and grated cheese, as well as eggs, tomatoes and ham, but I prefer this simpler one. Nowadays, when I can only face an oatcake at breakfast, I would make this for a light supper, with a green salad.
3 tomatoes, skinned and sliced, seeded and drained
30g butter
85g chopped ham, fat removed
salt and black pepper
2 eggs, lightly beaten
4 slices of thick toast, buttered
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
Take three tomatoes, slice them and put them in a stewpan with a little butter, a little finely chopped ham, pepper and salt, and let them cook for a few minutes; then add 2 raw eggs and stir all together for a few minutes till the eggs set, then serve on buttered toast with a little finely chopped parsley sprinkled over the top. [Serve immediately. Serves 4 on toast, or 2 with a dish of boiled rice, and a green salad.] Tempting Dishes for Small Incomes, by Mrs de Salis
MARMALADE
Although excellent marmalades were already being made commercially – Keiller’s Dundee Marmalade was the first, in 1797 – many cooks preferred to make their own, just as they do today. This is an unusual recipe in that the fruit is boiled whole. The results are excellent: quite the best I know. Seville oranges are only in season for a few short weeks after Christmas, in January and February.
1.85kg Seville oranges, washed
1 lemon, washed
2 litres water
3kg preserving sugar
1½ tablespoons brandy
Put the whole oranges and lemon in a deep pan with the water. Cover and cook gently for 2 hours, till very soft. Remove the oranges and lemon, leaving the liquid in the pan. Cut the fruit in half and scoop out the insides into a sieve placed over the pan they cooked in. Sieve all the pulp back into the pan, then cut the rind into strips, as thick or thin as you like, and add to the pan also. Bring back to the boil, then remove from the heat and stir in the sugar. (Preserving sugar gives a clearer jelly, but granulated sugar will do perfectly well.) Stir until all the sugar has dissolved, then put the pan back over the heat. Bring to the boil, then simmer, uncovered, for 30–40 minutes, or until it sets when tested on a saucer. Spoon into hot sterilized jars, dividing the strips of peel evenly between the jars, and leave to cool overnight, covered with a light cloth. Next day, cover with rounds of greaseproof paper dipped in brandy, and screw down the lids tightly, or cover with larger rounds of greaseproof paper secured with elastic bands. Makes 4.5 kg. Sarah Stuart
OATCAKES
These were very popular at breakfast, especially in Scotland. They are not easy to make, and demand some practice. To be really good, they should be very thin indeed, crisp and fragile: impossible to butter without breaking.
55g coarse oatmeal
225g medium oatmeal
¼ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
15g lard
150ml boiling water
approx. 15g fine oatmeal
Mix coarse and medium oatmeal together with bicarbonate of soda. Melt the lard and add it to the mixture. Mix it well, and pour on the boiling water. Mix with enough fine oatmeal to give a fairly moist consistency. Divide into 3 or 4 pieces. Roll each one out very thinly, in a circle; cut each circle in quarters or ‘farls’. Lay them on greased baking sheets and bake for 20 minutes, or until crisp and lightly coloured, at 170°C/gas 3, turning them over halfway through. Makes about 14. Katie Colquhoun
Porridge
Kedgeree
Smoked Haddock with Poached Eggs
Mrs Anderson’s Fish Cakes
Another Fish Cake
Herrings in Oatmeal
Soused Herrings
Irish Potato Cakes
A Breakfast Dish
Marmalade
Oatcakes
Although by the 1920s meals had become shorter and simpler, they still conformed to a fairly rigid pattern. Certain dishes were considered suitable for one meal, but not for another. Egg dishes, for example, were often served for lunch, but never at dinner, while soup, which was the usual start to the evening meal, was never served in the middle of the day, except en gelée.
Soups came for the most part in two categories: thick and thin. At a formal dinner there was often a choice, and the footman would enquire which you preferred. Roughly speaking, the more elegant the occasion, the smoother, or clearer, the soup. A consommé was considered the ultimate test of a good cook, and the ideal start to an exquisite meal. It might be served quite plain, or with some small garnish floating in it: small vegetable dice, a few grains of rice, or minuscule soup pasta. In a less conventional household a more elaborate garnish might be served separately: round croutons piled high with whipped cream, or a bowl of saffron-flavoured rice, or even a jug of beetroot juice for adding, with cream, to a consommé made with duck and beef stock. This practice of handing round separately a number of elaborate garnishes amused the English. Part of its appeal was that by enabling the guests to assemble their own dishes it pandered to their distrust of what they described as ‘mucky food’. In practice it must have been quite tedious, in that the conversation was constantly being interrupted.
The place that soup held at the dinner table was taken by egg dishes at lunchtime. It amazes us today to realize just how many eggs people ate: in breakfast and lunch dishes, snacks and sandwiches, custards and mayonnaise, cakes and puddings, soufflés and ice cream. Many of the first-course dishes were based on hard-boiled eggs. Hot, they were sliced and served in sauces flavoured with boiled onions, or cheese, or curry. They were chopped and made into croquettes, often called egg cutlets, coated with more egg and breadcrumbs and deep-fried, then served with a spicy tomato sauce. Whole eggs were coated with a thick white sauce, then egg and breadcrumbs, before frying. Cold hard-boiled eggs were masked with mayonnaise, or with aspic, or with a curry-flavoured sauce, à l’Indienne. Poached eggs were concealed within a soufflé, or hidden inside a baked potato. Cold baked eggs were covered with a layer of mayonnaise, then with shelled shrimps.
In London, where hearty breakfasts were on the decline, popular breakfast dishes were often served as the first course for lunch: poached eggs on smoked haddock, kedgeree, and scrambled eggs with grilled mushrooms, or chipolatas. Soufflés were popular as first courses; these were usually made with fresh or smoked fish. Vegetable soufflés were more often served as a separate course after the main dish, while a cheese soufflé was treated as a savoury.
Vegetables did not feature much as first courses, apart from the obvious things like asparagus and artichokes, unless combined with another food like pastry, cheese or eggs. Plovers’ eggs, and those of the black-backed gull which we used to gather from a nearby loch, were highly prized during their short season in late May and early June. They were served cold, as a first course at lunchtime: hard-boiled, unshelled, with celery salt and cayenne pepper, brown bread and butter.
Fish dishes were popular at both lunch and dinner. At lunchtime cold fish dishes, often uncooked, were served: smoked salmon or eel, dressed crab, or potted shrimps, while hot fish dishes were served at dinner. Whole whiting were fried in breadcrumbs and served with their tails in their mouths, while fried sprats and whitebait were also popular, especially with the men. One fish that has vanished without trace is the smelt, called éperlan in France. These were supposed to smell of cucumbers when very fresh, and were esteemed for their delicacy of flavour. They were served like whiting, simply fried, and my father loved them dearly.
Dover sole was prized for its versatility. Yet it too was often served simply, fried in breadcrumbs, either as whole fillets or cut in strips called goujons. It was garnished with fried parsley, or served with a contrasting sauce, usually cold, sometimes even semi-frozen, like a small sorbet. The fillets were served in literally hundreds of different ways: one of the best was Dugléré, a speciality of the Savoy. Another good dish that has been forgotten is a souchet of slips: a soup and fish dish combined. Baby soles were poached and served whole, each in a soup plate, with a delicately flavoured fish consommé spooned over them.
CONSOMMÉ
This delicious consommé does not need clarifying but is best made over two days. It may be used as the basis for any of the consommés that follow, or for beef broth with cabbage toasts (see page 20), or it may be served as it stands. It can also be made in advance and frozen, although it loses something in the process. The original recipe calls for 7.2 litres of water, but few of us have pans that large. I use half that amount, filling up the pan from time to time with more cold water.
1 large chicken
1.15kg shin of beef, cubed
2 large carrots, thickly sliced
2 onions, thickly sliced
2 leeks, thickly sliced
3 stalks of parsley
3 sprigs of thyme
1 large clove of garlic, peeled
salt and black pepper
2 cloves
[Start a day in advance.] Wash a chicken carefully, put it in a large soup pot, add the shin of beef and cover well with 3.6 litres of cold water. Let stand for half an hour, then put on the fire and bring slowly to the boil. Remove the scum, add 1/2 a glass [120ml] of cold water and bring to the boil again. Repeat this process twice. Simmer very slowly for an hour, then add 2 large carrots, 2 white onions, 2 leeks, some parsley and thyme, 1 clove of garlic, salt and pepper, and 2 cloves. Let simmer for seven hours. Strain through a fine sieve and then through a wet cheesecloth. When cold [after chilling overnight], carefully remove grease. [Makes 2.75–3.6 litres, serves 12.] June Platt, in Vogue
BEEF BROTH WITH CABBAGE TOASTS
A comforting soup for a supper party on a winter night.
1 green cabbage, tender leaves only
salt and pepper
8 bread rolls, 1 day old
55g butter
120g freshly grated Parmesan
2.25 litres beef stock, or consommé
1½ tablespoons finely chopped parsley
Shred the tender part of a green cabbage very finely. Boil some water and add the washed, shredded cabbage and salt to taste. Cook for 5 minutes, then drain thoroughly. The cabbage should be tender and green, not soft and mushy.
Slice the rolls thinly and toast them to a delicate brown. Butter them well, pile a little cabbage neatly on each and sprinkle liberally with cheese. Put a tiny piece of butter on top of each one and set under the grill until the cheese and butter have melted together to a light brown. In the meantime, heat the beef broth to boiling point. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Pour it into a hot tureen and sprinkle with a little parsley. Place the tureen in front of the hostess and bring the cabbage toasts piping hot on a separate dish. The hostess then places 2 or 3 of the cabbage toasts in each soup plate and pours over them a ladleful of the hot bouillon. Serves 8. [This dish really needs large old-fashioned soup plates, broad enough to hold 2 or 3 of the toasts. If you only have bowls, allow 1 toast per person, making them slightly more substantial.] June Platt, in Vogue
CONSOMMÉ À L’ESTRAGON
Lady Jekyll recommends this soup, with its ‘clean and delicate flavour’, for those who are trying to lose weight. Yet it is unusual and elegant enough for a dinner party. Like all the clear soups, it demands a good home-made stock, or, better still, a consommé (see page 19).
1.5 litres chicken, veal or vegetable stock, or consommé
8 sprigs of tarragon
2 egg whites
salt and black pepper
Make the required quantity of clear vegetable stock in the usual way, or use a chicken carcase or some veal, if convenient, with some ordinary stock. For garnish pick some 6d worth [8 sprigs] of tarragon, letting half simmer for 30 minutes in the consommé. About 10 minutes before dinner, whisk the whites of 2 eggs stiffly with salt and pepper, adding the rest of the tarragon leaves finely chopped [about 1 tablespoon]; take a heaped dessertspoon of the whipped whites and drop each to the required number [six] into a frying pan of boiling water to poach for 3 minutes [turning them over halfway through]; pour the boiling soup into a hot tureen [or into cups], drain each poached white, and let them float like snow islands on the top, serving one to each person. [Serves 6.] Kitchen Essays, by Lady Jekyll
CONSOMMÉ À L’INDIENNE
A curry-flavoured consommé, usually served with some rice and/or chicken in it, was a popular dish, ideal for an after-the-theatre supper. This one is simply made, and very good. The garnishes may be served separately if preferred.
1.2 litres chicken stock, flavoured with carrot, leek and celery
2 medium onions, sliced