Continental Comestibles

Although a French Proverb sagely states that appetite is the best sauce, few things pique the appetite so provocatively and prestigiously as the eggs of a sturgeon, the liver of an overfed goose and the wild tuber growing near the roots of old oak trees in Italy and France. Fresh caviar, pâté de foie gras and brushed truffles ride high in the Rolls-Royce class not just because they come from afar, but because their magnificent yet casual flavors satisfy, like nothing else can, the sophisticated appetites of the male animal. For men whose digs are sanctuaries of gourmandise, and whose principal icons are the martini pitcher and the champagne bucket, these three foods are almost indispensable.

Domestic imitators of these seductive imports turn out thousands of palatable and, it must be granted, very useful facsimiles. But the prototypes still stand in a class all by themselves. Even when the native producers of Strasbourg pâté de foie gras try to imitate their own works with mousse of foie and purée de foie d'Oie and many other kinds of foie or pâté, the original still stands skyward as the food of which the old bon vivant Sydney Smith said, "My idea of heaven is eating pâté de foie gras to the sound of trumpets." A trumpet may be all right as a garnish for eating pâté de foie gras, but the best modern orchestration for such luxury items is the hum of activity around a bachelor's buffet table.

The effort that goes into getting them to market is almost incredible. The truffle, for instance, is an underground tuber, a cousin of the wild mushroom. Visually, it's decidedly unprepossessing. Hard and wrinkled, it looks like a ravaged jet-black or brown turnip; but truffles, during a holiday scarcity at one point last year, reached an asking price of $160 a pound. They currently sell for a mere three dollars an ounce. There's a good reason for the high price tag; you don't just pick a truffle off a tree. You must hunt for it underground, and the job of exploration can't possibly be accomplished with unaided human ingenuity. To detect a hidden trove -- and there are only a few spots in the world where edible truffles can be found -- you need a four-legged Geiger counter. In France they use trained pigs. Not just any old pig will do. The female is preferred to the male, since the distaff's olfactory sense seems much more sensitive than the male's in ferreting out this kind of buried treasure. Each fall in France, porcine candidates are put through their trial runs. Tiny truffle peelings are used for bait. Pigs who display an affinity for truffles and who finally master the theory and practice of truffle hunting are selected for the winter line-up, since truffles can only be hunted in cold weather. The pig on a leash is trained to lead its master who carries a handful of corn and a (continued on page 159)Continental Comestibles(continued from page 101) long sturdy stick. When the pig finally hits the ground with its nose, it's rewarded with a few grains of corn. The stick is kept in hand to swat the porker lest, in its eagerness to complete the pass, the animal swallow the treasure itself. In Alba, Italy, a school matriculates hounds for the same kind of hunting. French truffles are black. The Italian are called white, although the so-called "white" truffles are really brown, and boast an even richer aroma than their French counterparts.

The flavor of truffles has been compared with everything from cheese to licorice to nuts. Professional trufflemen who dig for the black gems of the kitchen know better than to compare the truffle's subtly imperious flavor with anything. The aroma of the fresh truffle is much more pungent than that of the canned. But fresh truffles deteriorate quickly, and in both France and Italy they're rushed to the cannery as fast as possible. In France, truffles are roasted under hot cinders, blended with sauces, folded into omelets, slid under the skin of fowl and buried in pâtés. In this country, their most frequent appearance is as slices atop the hollandaise sauce on eggs benedict. But in almost any sauce or casserole, truffles are a wonderful obbligato. For the average recipe of four servings, a 7/8-ounce tin is an ample benediction.

Foie gras means fat liver. Pâté de foie gras is the seasoned liver of a force-fed goose. The labor of stuffing grain or noodles down a goose's gullet every three hours, day and night, is rewarded with livers that sometimes weigh over two pounds apiece. The best quality from Strasbourg is creamy rose in color. Although foie gras is available fresh in France and is sometimes air-mailed to the States, we usually buy it here in tins or terrines. Each pâté de foie gras is overlaid with a rich stratum of goose or pork fat to keep the pâté moist and fresh tasting. For hors d'oeuvres, pâté de foie gras should be biting cold. A sharp knife dipped in hot water helps to liberate thin, uniform slices.

Caviar can be neatly divided into two classes -- the roe of the sturgeon and the roe of all other fish. Actually, the top of the sturgeon hierarchy is the beluga (Russian for the white color of the fish). It's called black caviar, but at its best is actually gray. There's hardly a trace of saltiness in it, and although each tiny egg is intact, its texture is almost semiliquid in the mouth. There are excellent caviars of other sturgeons, such as the sevruga, in fresh forms and in sealed jars. So-called pressed caviar, made from the roes of several sturgeons, is always useful for emergency entertaining. Connoisseurs quite justly resent the fact that the word caviar can be used to describe the roes of the salmon, the whitefish and the lumpfish -- salty spreads beneath their contempt. The present price of fresh beluga caviar, about $32 a pound, is hardly extortionate when you consider that a beluga sturgeon doesn't produce eggs until it's about 20 years old, that only the most sensitive fingers can force the eggs through the sieve that separates the large eggs from the small, that caviar must be aged three months at 30°, and that it must be kept refrigerated like fresh crab lump or any other fresh food until the moment it's devoured. For entirely too many generations caviar was the symbol of conspicuous gourmandizing, enjoyed only by the top carriage trade. Now food shops like the Caviarteria in New York and gourmet stalls everywhere have taken it out of the dowager's class and turned it over to men who simply dig good eating. At the cocktail table its jar should rest atop crushed ice held in a commodious bowl. To keep eggs intact, an ivory or glass spoon is used. Garnishes for caviar should be kept to simple chopped egg, chopped onion or sour cream.

Not all imported foods are rare or require limitless resources. A few, like French or Danish snails, simply do not flourish on this side of the Atlantic. It should be pointed out that the French escargots are land mollusks, and if they lived in the sea, they'd be properly regarded as just another fine shellfish. That you must buy them canned here turns out to be a special boon for bachelors. The job of preparing snails from scratch first involves about five days of starving them before cooking, then about nine hours of scraping, washing, boiling, blanching, simmering and baking. With canned escargots, you simply prepare a flavored butter and go through the last baking step, about 5 to 8 minutes in a hot oven. The receptiveness of snails to garlic is a famous one, and the butter in which they're baked in the shells is prized almost as much as the filling itself. Confirmed snail men usually equip themselves with snail plates, designed to cradle each snail separately, as well as snail holders to grasp the hot shells conveniently, and slender forks to dig out the delicious insides.

Over the centuries, gourmet philosophers have not stopped expounding on the amatory effects of these voluptuous foods. In ancient times the truffle was dedicated to Venus because it stimulated love. Even the comparatively recent Brillat-Savarin was personally convinced that truffles made women more tender and men more affectionate. Caviar at various times and places has been credited alternately as an aphrodisiac and as a tranquilizer -- an extraordinary feat. Snails, which are hermaphroditic and bestow their affections indiscriminately, are considered by some to be an even keener stimulus to amour than oysters. Foie gras fanciers naturally keep quoting Plato, who explained why the liver was the soul's habitation. Sociological implications notwithstanding, the following recipes are planned to make their greatest stir where all food should -- against the taste buds.

[recipe_title]Blini For Caviar[/recipe_title]

[recipe](Makes 25--30)[/recipe]

[recipe]3 tablespoons salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]3 eggs[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup milk[/recipe]

[recipe]3/4 cup water[/recipe]

[recipe]3/4 cup whole-wheat flour[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup white flour[/recipe]

[recipe]2 teaspoons baking powder[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoons salt[/recipe]

Blini are tiny pancakes, each about the size of a silver dollar, used as canapé bases. Originally made by a slow yeast process, this modernized version is easier and actually more toothsome.

Pour oil, eggs, milk and water into well of blender. Add whole-wheat flour, white flour (sifted before measuring), baking powder and salt. Blend until batter is smooth. Stop blender and scrape sides when necessary to blend dry ingredients. Preheat electric skillet to 390°. Grease lightly with salad oil. Wipe off excess oil with paper toweling. Drop batter by tablespoons to make small cakes. When edges of blini are dry looking and when bubbles appear in center, turn and brown on other side. Grease skillet lightly again before cooking second batch. Serve on white napkin. At cocktail table spoon sour cream on each blini. Add a dollop of caviar.

[recipe_title]Tournedos Rossini[/recipe_title]

[recipe](Serves six)[/recipe]

[recipe]6 tenderloin steaks cut from the filet Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]2 shallots, minced[/recipe]

[recipe]2 medium-size onions, minced[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon flour[/recipe]

[recipe]2 cups beef broth, fresh or canned[/recipe]

[recipe]7/8-oz. can truffles, minced[/recipe]

[recipe]2 ozs. madeira wine[/recipe]

[recipe]6 slices toast[/recipe]

[recipe]5-oz. block pâté de foie gras with truffles[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon butter[/recipe]

One could write an entire cookbook of dishes in which truffles and pâté de foie gras are mated. The best known of these duos was the culinary idol of the Italian operatic composer in honor of whom the recipe is named.

In a saucepan sauté shallots and onions in oil until onions are deep brown. Stir in flour. Sauté until flour turns brown. Slowly add beef broth, stirring constantly. Simmer slowly about 30 minutes. Strain sauce. Add truffles and wine, return to pan and bring to a boil. Set aside. Sprinkle steaks with salt and pepper. Place in a preheated heavy ungreased frying pan or electric skillet. Panbroil until medium brown on both sides. Place steaks on toast on platter or serving dishes. Cut pâté de foie gras into six slices and place a slice on top of each steak. Pour sauce into frying pan in which steaks were panbroiled. Mix well to loosen drippings. Bring to a boil and simmer 2 or 3 minutes. Remove from flame. Skim any excess fat from sauce and stir in butter. Add brown gravy coloring if desired. Pour sauce over steaks.

[recipe_title]Pâté De Foie Gras In Port Aspic[/recipe_title]

[recipe](Six appetizer portions)[/recipe]

[recipe]2 medium-size onions, minced[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon butter[/recipe]

[recipe]3 cups chicken broth, fresh or canned[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon unflavored gelatin[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup cold water[/recipe]

[recipe]3 ozs. tawny port[/recipe]

[recipe]1 oz. cognac[/recipe]

[recipe]3 or 4 drops red coloring[/recipe]

[recipe]5-oz. block pâté de foie gras with truffles[/recipe]

[recipe]Boston lettuce[/recipe]

Sauté onions in oil and butter until onions are deep yellow, but not browned. Add broth and bring to a boil. Reduce flame and simmer slowly about 30 minutes or until the three cups of broth have been reduced to two. Strain and measure broth. If quantity exceeds two cups, continue to simmer until it is reduced to proper amount. If it is less than two cups, add water. Soften gelatin in cold water and stir into hot broth until dissolved. Add port, cognac and red coloring. Pour 2 or 3 tablespoons broth into narrow custard cups or any molds of similar size. Chill in refrigerator until just jelled. Cut pâté de foie gras into six slices. Place a slice on gelatin, pressing firmly. Pour balance of gelatin into the cups. Place in refrigerator until jelled. To unmold, dip cups for a few seconds in hot water. Run a knife around edges to loosen sides of gelatin. Unmold each portion onto a leaf of Boston lettuce. Serve as a first course for dinner.

[recipe_title]Supreme Of Chicken With Cepes[/recipe_title]

[recipe](Serves four)[/recipe]

[recipe]6 single breasts of chicken, skinless and boned[/recipe]

[recipe]2 1/2-oz. terrine pâté de foie gras[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons butter[/recipe]

[recipe]8 tablespoons salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]10-oz. tin cepes, drained, sliced[/recipe]

[recipe]1 medium-size onion, minced[/recipe]

[recipe]2 shallots, minced[/recipe]

[recipe]3 ozs. dry white wine[/recipe]

[recipe]1 oz. cognac[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon flour[/recipe]

[recipe]2 cups chicken broth, fresh or canned Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]1-oz. tin Italian white truffles, drained, minced[/recipe]

[recipe]6 diagonal slices French bread[/recipe]

For some strapping gourmands a single breast of chicken might not be enough. For other appetites, two are too much. The six-to-four ratio above is just about the golden mean.

Divide foie gras into six parts. Partially separate the fillet of the chicken -- the small piece running along underside -- from top piece. Place a piece of foie gras between sections of each breast. Press sections back into place. Heat butter and 2 tablespoons oil in a large skillet. Sauté chicken until light brown on both sides. Add cepes to pan and sauté about a minute more. Remove pan from flame, and set aside. In a saucepan sauté onion and shallots in 1 tablespoon oil until onions are deep yellow. Add wine and cognac. Flame liquor. Simmer until wine has almost disappeared from pan. Turn flame low and stir in flour. Slowly add chicken broth, stirring well. Simmer over low flame about 15 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Strain sauce into pan with chicken. Add truffles. Simmer 15 to 20 minutes over low flame. Stir occasionally to keep chicken from sticking to pan bottom. Add salt and pepper to taste. Sauté bread in balance of oil until light brown on both sides. Place fried bread on platter. Place a breast of chicken on each piece of bread. Spoon cepes and sauce on top.

[recipe_title]Snails, Almond Butter[/recipe_title]

[recipe](Serves two)[/recipe]

[recipe]24 canned snails with shells[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup shelled almonds[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 lb. sweet butter[/recipe]

[recipe]3 tablespoons breads crumbs[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon finely minced garlic[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon lemon juice[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, pepper, cayenne pepper[/recipe]

The conventional recipe for snails Bourguignon will usually be found on the outside of the can or container. This more-or-less-standard procedure takes a mixture of butter, garlic and parsley, which, together with the snails, is placed in the shells and baked. This recipe follows a tradition in the department of Aude, home of the eminent French chef Prosper Montagné.

Let butter stand at room temperature until it is soft enough to spread easily. Drain snails. Rinse shells in hot water and drain them well. Put almonds in well of blender and spin until almonds are finely chopped. In a mixing bowl combine almonds, butter, bread crumbs, garlic and lemon juice. Add salt and pepper to taste and a dash of cayenne. Stuff snails into shells. Spoon butter mixture into shells, allowing about a teaspoon and a half of the butter mixture for each shell. Preheat oven at 425°. Bake snails, open ends up, in snail plates about 5 to 8 minutes. Serve at once while very hot. Provide ample French bread for mopping operations.

Although one may take exception to that grand curmudgeon George Bernard Shaw's observation "There is no love sincerer than the love of food," the preceding recipes might easily bring about at least a strong infatuation with Continental comestibles.