Is There a Nutmeg in the House? (6 page)

thus lacking – and, incidentally, adding nutritive value and vitamins – with a little of the then very precious butter, olive oil, or milk, an egg or some wine in the case of soups; extra cheese for rice dishes, a larger than usual allowance of flavouring vegetables and herbs, plus wine again, for stews.

As far as vegetable soups were concerned, the policy paid off handsomely. The taste of vegetable purées unaltered by extraneous flavouring is much truer, cleaner, fresher; they become dishes of considerable delicacy; and how much more satisfactory than that feeble clear soup with a julienne of vegetables floating on the surface.

So all those quarts of stock advocated in the pre-1914 cookery books had never been necessary as far as flavour or consistency was concerned. And with all the meat consumed in middle-class households at that period, such infinitesimal extra nutritive and stimulative elements as might be contained in a light stock were not needed either. But still, some use had to be made of the quantities of surplus materials in the larders of well-to-do households, and some occupation contrived for the kitchenmaids. Everyone was satisfied that these ‘good nourishing soups’ made with stock-pot liquor also implied thrifty housekeeping.

There are, obviously, exceptions in which stock, clear and true in flavour, does help to give a little body to a vegetable soup and
also brings out the taste of the main ingredient. Mushrooms are one example of such a vegetable and tomatoes another. The cooking process with these vegetables involves the evaporation of some of the large amount of water they contain and its replacement with a broth. These are good vegetables to use for soups when fresh chicken or meat stock is in the larder. But that doesn’t preclude the making of a delicious and no less valuable mushroom or tomato soup with olive oil and cheese, or butter and milk, instead of stock.

Braised and stewed meat, poultry and game form another category of dishes which often call either for meat stock for the moistening at the beginning of the cooking or, in French recipes for concentrated meat glaze, for strengthening the body and flavour of the sauce in the final stages of cooking – the moment when in English cookery the liquid, of which there is commonly rather too much, is thickened with flour and coloured with that unique commodity called gravy browning. If the dish has been properly cooked to start with, neither of these operations is essential or even desirable.

In the case of beef and lamb dishes the meat itself should be sufficiently fat and juicy to supply the necessary body and flavour to the sauce – always supposing that the appropriate flavouring vegetables are included and the meat not drowned. In those made from white meats inclined to be dry or insipid, such as veal or modern battery poultry, a little clear veal or beef broth is undoubtedly a help as regards body, flavour and appearance of the finished dish. If broth or stock is lacking and cannot be made especially (although really it is very little trouble to make a small quantity) and if there is no wine available to help the flavour, then I still prefer water to either cubes or meat extracts, genuine or so called. This goes for the most expensive ones to be bought at luxury grocers as much as for the cheap and widely advertised brands. One and all seem to me to give a flavour both false and ineradicable. But this point is mainly one of taste, and perhaps of habit.

What does seem certain is that any nutritional and beneficial elements contained in the concentrated meat tablets and extracts as experimented with by cooks and chemists since the early eighteenth century and commercially developed in the 1860s from the formula evolved by Baron Liebig in no way justify the faith still so widely placed in them. Dieticians have been saying this for decades, but the superstition persists.

Finally, I know that many people who feel as I do about the pointlessness of cubes and extracts set their faith in jellied stock made from bones and water and cooked by pressure to extract the maximum gelatine. Such stock
can
, in conjunction with fresh meat, be used as a working basis for various culinary purposes. But the fact that the stock jells does not mean that it has any extra virtue from a nutritive point of view.

I think that once one has understood these points and realised that for many dishes there are sound alternatives to, and in some cases improvements on, stock then at least one common kitchen problem becomes automatically solved. Whether a bouillon cube ‘will do’ is no longer a question one troubles to ask.

The Spectator
, 16 September 1960

The Making of Broths and Stocks

The making of broths and stocks and consommés is to me one of the most interesting and satisfactory of all cooking processes. Although it may seem to involve something of a performance, especially when you are doing it for the first two or three times, the results – a broth hot and clear and pure flavoured from the beef and vegetables which have gone into it, a consommé softly jellied, sparkling, subtle and restorative, a nice piece of boiled beef to make into a salad or that most friendly of left-over dishes, the French miroton – are immensely rewarding.

Nobody I think can really call themselves an informed or even useful cook until they understand how a true stock and genuine consommé are constituted. There is another point, and a very relevant one. Anybody who has once learnt the correct way to do these things will never again resort to the awful haphazard way so deep rooted in English cookery lore of flinging any old remains – gravy, sauces, bones, stale left-over vegetables, bits of bacon rind and cabbage – into that much misused and misunderstood receptacle, the stock-pot. Not that I mean to imply that ingredients which would make a perfectly good stock for all sorts of purposes should be wasted. Far from it. But when you know how to set about making a stock or broth from specially bought fresh ingredients then you will also know how to make one from what
you may have in hand. You will have a sound idea of which of these things are useful and which should be rejected, which ones will add savour and nourishment to your broth, which will cloud it, introduce a false flavour or unfit it for the purpose for which it is intended. Successful improvisation and the truly economical use of by-products and left-overs comes easiest when you already know the basic methods and quantities.

One other aspect. The cost. Looked at in the light of specially bought ingredients and lengthy cooking it is expensive to make broths and jellies. But when you treat the meat, chicken, calf’s foot and so on which may have gone into the broth, as separate and specially made dishes then you can reckon you have got your broth or your consommé for practically nothing. So it is worth knowing how to use these ingredients to the best possible advantage.

SIMPLE BEEF BROTH

Ingredients are a 1 kg (2 lb) piece of forequarter flank of beef with bone, a small piece of knuckle bone of veal with its meat, approximately 500 g (1 lb) in weight altogether, 1 large onion, 1 large tomato, 3–4 whole carrots, a bunch of herbs consisting of a bay leaf, a sprig of thyme, 2 or 3 sprigs of parsley and the white part of 2 leeks, all tied together, 1 tablespoon of salt, 2.4 litres (4 pints) of water.

Put the beef and veal (if you can’t get veal knuckle substitute a piece of shin of beef) into a tall pot of about 4.5-litre (i-gallon) capacity and cover it over with the water. Bring extremely slowly to a bare simmering point. At this stage, grey-looking scum begins to rise to the surface. Skim this off with a perforated spoon. This operation has to be repeated several times during the next 20–30 minutes, and it is important that this should be done, otherwise the finished broth will not be clear or a good colour. When the scum begins to be white and foamy instead of grey and muddy, stop skimming and put in the scraped carrots, the bunch of herbs, the tomato cut in half, the salt and the whole onion, washed and freed of any grit but not peeled. The skin helps to give a good colour to the broth. Add 150 ml (¼ pint) more water to replace that which has been lost with the scum. Put the lid on the pot and turn the heat very low, so that throughout the cooking process, which takes just about 4 hours, the broth should never for an
instant come to a full boil. So from time to time, lift the lid, check that all is well and if necessary regulate the heat.

When the 4 hours are up, remove the beef, veal and vegetables to a dish.

Put a colander over a deep receptacle, and inside the colander a dampened cheese cloth or double muslin. Through this strain your broth. You will have close on 2.2 litres (4 pints) of pale straw-coloured broth, quite clear except for a few ‘eyes’ of fat and tasting of fresh meat and vegetables. It can be served at once exactly as it is, as a clear soup, or you can chop up the vegetables and add them, you can thicken it by cooking rice in it, or you can leave it until next day. Then remove the fat, heat it up and let it simmer a little time so that it reduces and concentrates in flavour. (But don’t overdo this or it’ll be too salt.) Or you can use it as stock for sauces.

This is the simplest possible version of beef broth: to the French it is Pot-au-Feu. Mistakes to guard against are (a) putting in too much salt; (b) adding anything such as potatoes or cabbage which cloud the broth; (c) including any too powerful ingredient such as strong herbs like rosemary or sage, bacon rinds, ham, lemon peel and so on; and (d) adding any artificial colouring matter or gravy browning which will falsify the taste. Two or three pea pods dried in the oven do, however, help as far as the colour goes. Of course, at a later stage, you can turn the broth into any soup you please, but unless you have planned precisely what you are going to use the broth for it is best not to add any flavourings in the form of wine, garlic and so on to start with.

For dishes to be made with the beef from the broth,
see
recipes for beef salad, boeuf miroton and boeuf à la mode in
French Provincial Cooking, French Country Cooking
and
Summer Cooking
.

TOMATO CONSOMMÉ

This is simple, cheap and delicate.

Ingredients are a small parsnip, cut into 4 pieces, 2 carrots, sliced, a clove of garlic, 2 sticks of celery, a generous sprig of fresh tarragon or approximately a teaspoon of good, dried tarragon leaves, a few saffron threads, one 400-g (14-oz) can of Italian or Spanish peeled tomatoes or 750 g (1½ lb) of very ripe and juicy, fresh Mediterranean tomatoes, 900 ml (1½ pints) of water, 600 ml
(1 pint) of chicken stock, seasonings of salt and sugar. For clarifying the consommé, 3 egg whites. For the final flavouring, 1 teaspoon of Madeira.

Put all the ingredients except the chicken stock, egg whites and Madeira into a capacious saucepan. If you are using fresh tomatoes – but don’t bother unless it is the height of the season and you have really sweet and wonderfully ripe ones – chop them roughly, skins and all. Season only very moderately, say one teaspoon each of salt and sugar to start with. You can always add more later. Add the water. Simmer in the open pan for about 40 minutes. Line a colander with a dampened doubled muslin cloth and strain the broth. Don’t press the vegetables, just let the thin liquid run through.

Return the broth to the rinsed pan. Add the chicken stock. Bring to simmering point. Beat the egg whites for a couple of minutes. As soon as they start to froth pour them into the simmering broth. Cover the pan. Simmer very gently, until the whites have solidified and formed a crust, and are thoroughly cooked. By this time all the particles and impurities in the broth will have risen to the top and will be adhering to the crust. Leave to cool a little. Filter through a piece of dampened muslin placed in a colander, over a deep soup tureen or bowl. The consommé should be as clear as glass and a beautiful amber colour.

When you heat the consommé for serving – and not before – add the teaspoon of Madeira, and a little more seasoning if necessary. Serve in big cups. There should be enough for 5 helpings.

Notes

1. An unorthodox, but uncommonly successful way of clarifying the consommé is to transfer the saucepan, covered, to a low oven as soon as you have added the egg whites. You can leave it for an hour or more. The first time I saw someone doing this – it was a Moroccan cook with whom I worked briefly in Marrakesh – I was aghast. And when I saw how well the system worked, amazed. It has to be remembered that unless your egg whites are cooked into a solid crust, your consommé will never be truly clear and clean. The oven method is a good way of achieving this aim without over-reduction of the consommé and attendant loss of its delicate flavours.

2. Alternatives to chicken stock are beef, veal or pork stock. Or for a fish broth, a concentrated fish fumet. A non-alternative,
I’ll repeat that, a non-alternative is a bouillon cube. Water is a preferable one.

3. Please don’t be tempted to double the prescribed dose of Madeira. (You won’t taste anything but the wine.) If you have no Madeira, use white vermouth, or manzanilla or any decent sherry.

4. To serve with the consommé it is a good idea to have some little croûtons or slices of good bread, sprinkled with olive oil, spread with grated Gruyère or Parmesan and baked in the oven.