Wednesday, July 02, 2003

The essential plight of the contemporary human is, in my opinion, that there is always too fucking much to do.  I don’t care if you run AOL Time Warner or spend your daddy’s money getting makeovers and wasted or collect cans off the street – I guarantee you that on any given day there’s a mental list somewhere buried in the back of your mind with a dozen different things you aren’t going to get to anytime soon.  It’s stress- and depression-inducing at the best of times.  But when things get really bad, after say a fucking early morning meeting you forgot about, a long and harassing day at your government job, subsequent late shopping and then a two-hour phone conversation with this reporter at the Houston Chronicle about the article you wrote for Archaeology Magazine, which really is great and everything, but you don’t have enough to say on any subject to warrant two hours, your husband doesn’t want to talk with you for two hours straight, well, that’s when you get paralyzed, when you really can’t help seeing your life as this endless and futile struggle just to keep your head above water. But I am a blogger, and therefore intrepid, so I will try valiantly to keep dog paddling here.  Okay.  So Monday night was Foie de Veau a la Moutarde (Liver with Mustard, Herbs and Bread Crumbs.)  This I made after attending an obligatory office party, so it was 9:30 or so before I started cooking.  Luckily, Foie de Beau a la Moutarde is pretty damned simple.  Eric had bought some really very lovely calves’ liver, sliced a half inch thick.  First I dredged these in flour and briefly sautéed them in hot butter and oil, just a minute or so on each side.  I set them aside in a pan while I beat together three tablespoons of mustard, minced shallots, parsley, garlic, pepper, and the bit of fat from the sauté pan.  I schmeared this over the liver slices, then laid the slices in fresh bread crumbs that Eric had kindly whipped up for me in the Cuisinart, because what can I say? The man is wildly devoted to me.  Once the liver was coated with the crumbs, which I pressed into the liver with my hands to make it stick, I put the slices in a broiling pan, basted them with melted butter, and stuck them under the broiler, for about a minute a side.  Voila!  Foie de Veau a la Moutarde.  It is one of the great oddnesses of life that I have come so to love liver.  I love, love, love it.  It’s like the silky soul of steak.  The crunch of the crust and the bracing sharpness of the mayonnaise cut the richness of the meat, which by itself would be delicious but too much, like really intense sex – almost too much for your system to take.  And we ate potatoes too. Last night there, was, as I’ve said, a variety of irritations.  I had come home thinking that I would marinate the pork and make the beans for the cassoulet, make the Souffle Demoule aux Macarons for tomorrow’s dessert (it has to be chilled) and for dinner Navets a la Champenoise (Turnip Casserole) with lamb sausage and sautéed eggplant on the side.  I got to exactly one of those things, Eric to another.  He made up the salt marinade for the pork, while I, after my endless conversation with the reporter ended at a little after nine, put together the Navets a la Champenoise.  Which is a very nice dish.  Start by bl;anching some peeled and quartered turnips.  Set these aside.  Simmer some diced bacon for ten minutes, and drain.  Saute the bacon in some butter until brown, turn down the heat, add diced onion, and cover for five minutes.  Stir in flour, cook for two minutes, then stir in some beef broth, a bit of sugar, salt, pepper and a quarter teaspoon of sage.  Let that come to a simmer, stir in the turnips, cover again, and simmer for twenty minutes.  That’s it – easy.  And while they’re cooking, you can fry up some lamb sausages and sliced eggplant.  The turnips are quite nice – I like them because they seem lighter than potatoes, greener tasting, which a slightly bitier texture to them.  With bacon, too, all is well.  The sausages were nice too – I knew I could rely on my Turkish grocer to make nice lamb sausages.  And eggplant I always appreciate.  This morning, to continue with my list of shit I fail to get done, I was to get up, write a double post, make the soufflé I failed to get to last night, and get to work early to catch up on the stuff I didn’t get done yesterday because I had to get home to call this reporter.  One out of three ain’t awful. So, lastly – sweetbreads.  You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?  I’ve adjusted my schedule after looking at this recipe, and plan to eat my sweetbreads on Tuesday, July 8.  Here’s the recipe, (please, please, please Julia, don’t sue my ass….) Ris de Veau Braises a l’Italienne Julia says that sweetbreads must be soaked in cold water first, “to soften the filament which covers them so that it may be removed, to dissolve their bloody patches, and to whiten them.”  All this sounds very appetizing, no?  She’s on the fence on blanching them, saying that if you’re braising them (which we will be doing) it’s a “useless and flavor-losing step”, but that given the perishability of sweetbreads, it’s a good preservative technique if you aren’t going to use them immediately.  Wash the sweetbreads in cold water, and soak in several changes of water for 1 ½ to 2 hours.  Gently pull off what of the filament you easily can, without tearing the flesh.  Soak for another 2 hours, this time in several changes of water containing 1 tablespoon of vinegar per quart.  Peel off as much more filament as you can. You’re going to have an organ, about a pound, consisting of two lobes connected by a soft, white tube.  One is smooth and round and firm and called the kernel – it’s the best bit.  The other is unevenly shaped and veiny, it’s called the gorge.  Mmm.  Separate these lobes from the tube with a knife. IF YOU WANT TO BLANCH: Place the sweetbreads in a saucepan and cover with 2 inches of cold water; add, per quart, a teaspoon of salt and a tablespoon of lemon juice.  Bring to a bare simmer and gently cook, uncovered, for 15 minutes.  Drain and plunge into cold water for five minutes.  Drain. Dice up a quarter cup each of carrots, onion, celery and ham.  Cook them slowly in 4 tablespoons of butter, along with an herb bouquet made up of 4 parsley sprigs, ¼ tsp thyme, and ½ bay leaf, tied in cheesecloth.  Cook for 10-15 minutes, until tender but not browned. Season your sweetbreads (1 ½ to 2 pounds, that’s probably two glands) with a ½ tsp of salt and a pinch of pepper.  Lay them in the skillet, baste them with the butter and vegetables, cover and cook slowly for five minutes.  Turn, baste, and cook five minutes more.  Julia says they’ll render quite a bit of liquid. Switch the sweetbreads into a casserole dish just large enough to hold them in one layer.  Into the skillet pour ¾ cup dry white wine or ½ cup vermouth, and boil it down rapidly with the sweetbread juice and vegetables until the liquids have reduced to half a cup.  Pour this over the sweetbreads in the casserole, adding the vegetables and herb bouquet as well; add enough brown stock or beef bouillion (about a cup) to barely cover the sweetbreads.  Bring to a simmer, cover, and place in a 325° oven for 45 minutes, regulating temperature so it stays at barest simmer.  Julia says this braising step can happen as early as the day before you use them.  I’ll probably do them Monday, to eat on Tuesday.  Let the sweetbreads cook in their stock until ready to use. Drain the sweetbreads and cut them into 1/2 –inch slices. Boil down the cooking stock in the casserole to 1 ½ cups.  Remove from heat and discard the herb bouquet.  Blend 1 tablespoon of cornstarch with 1 tablespoon of vermouth or dry white wine, and beat it into the stock, along with 1 tablespoon of tomato paste.  Stir in ½ pound of mushrooms that you’ve sautéed in butter, and another ¼ cup of diced ham.  Simmer for three minutes.  Correct seasoning and fold in the sliced sweetbreads.  This can then be set aside for a bit, if necessary. Before serving bring to just below the simmer.  Arrange on a serving dish – Julia suggests in a “patty shell”, which I don’t know what that is, or a ring of rice.  Sprinkle with minced green herbs – any combination of parsley, chervil (whatever the fuck that is) and tarragon.  The sweetbreads are to be prepared for dinner on Tuesday the 8th.  Ready, set, go!   7:52:01 AM    comment []