The English Hunt Breakfast

Whenever a foreigner visiting Great Britain is, tempted to fault English cooking, John Bull has an unassailable comeback: his British breakfast. The sumptuous arguments on its behalf are still found in English country homes, where seemingly endless rows of bone-china tureens and silver chafing dishes are banked on the English sideboard. The evidence is incontestable: scrambled eggs and gammon, tender kidneys in madeira, fried lobster cutlets, deviled pheasant legs, cold partridge, warm currant buns, berry preserves and fragrant honeys either from the Scotch heather or from flowers that seem to have been especially grown for the English breakfast table. And busy Londoners, having to offer a daily challenge to the cold drizzle and fog, won't settle for the skimpy victuals otherwise known as the Continental breakfast; they fortify themselves with platters of fried eggs, squired by plump sausages, large rashers of bacon, grilled tomatoes, racks of hot toast and huge-cups, sometimes pint-size, filled these days more and more with coffee rather than with tea. It's, an infinitely rich vein of breakfast ideas for Americans reconnoitering new ways to celebrate Sundays and holidays.

The English breakfast enjoys its greatest glory after a hunt, a shoot or a ride. On rare occasions, it may take place before the hunt. In some instances, English hunt breakfasts have been served at five or six o'clock in the afternoon. Reynard's elusiveness not withstanding, the elegant hot English breakfast is waiting. The fact that it can wait makes it perfectly out for American brunchers. They, too, on weekends feel the same primeval instinct for the chase. The rumble of a Porsche may supplant the whinny of a horse and the pursuit of the fox may give way to the pursuit of par. But after hitting the parkway or the fairway for several hours, Americans are overtaken by the same ravening hunger an Englishman feels after an hour or two in the saddle.

The English have always been a hardy, seafaring race, not only to conquer empires and armadas but to find haddock, cod and mackerel for the English breakfast room. Every single lake and stream in the British Isles has been ransacked by fishermen with the same noble goal. The Empire may have disappeared, but Britannia still rules the breakfast. Over the years, its cooks have learned ways of handling fish that are not only simple but the envy of all autocrats of the breakfast table, no matter what their nationality. For instance, there's the English way of preparing trout, inspired originally by the cooks of Magdalen College, Oxford. Now, in the Western world, most fish for frying are dipped in flour, eggs and bread crumbs, a method so widely used and so English that all professional French chefs call it à I'an-glaise. But the delightful twist to Magdalen trout, invented in bygone days when Oxford boys rode to hounds, is that it's dipped in flour, eggs and then in finely chopped almonds. These days, the latter can be chopped as fast as one can lay hands on a blender. Let the brunchman taste any fish fillet given the almond treatment, be it Dover sole, Long Island flounder or Rocky Mountain trout; let him take a single bite, and if he's a culinary Anglophobe, he'll instantly be converted to a phile. The fish that perhaps more than any other brings an American around to the English breakfast board is finnan haddie. It was named for the fishing town of Findon, in Scotland. A shack filled with haddock, legend has it, caught fire. For all we know, it may have been the same shack whose burning led the Chinese to discover roast pork. In any event, when the flames subsided and the "maister" tasted the fish, he discovered that it was not consumed with flames but merely smoked. "It's nae so nasty; taste it you, Sandy?" he asked the next fisherman. Soon others discovered its melting, mild smoky flavor, and in time it gained international repute. When an old hand in Britain prepares creamed finnan haddie, the fish is never scandalized with a gummy sauce. Respectfully, the split haddie is soaked in cold water for three or four hours--or occasionally overnight--to remove any excess salt. The haddie is sometimes immersed in hot water for 20 minutes, until the skin and bones can be removed, and then is slowly simmered until tender with half milk and half water, whereupon it's drained. In the chafing dish, it's immolated in hot sweet cream. A speck of white pepper and perhaps a small knob of butter may be added, but nothing else. Rivaling finnan haddie since the days of the East India Company is kedgeree, another dish that loyally awaits the breakfast bell. It's a dish of Indian origin made with rice, cooked fish or shellfish, hard-boiled eggs and cream. When it comes to scorning English cookery, the French yield to no one; but even Parisian restaurants have taken kedgeree to their culinary bosom, calling it kadgiori and--in a coals-to-Newcastle gesture--dousing it with a superfluous white-wine sauce. On a chill October morning, hot English kedgeree will gather brunchmen of all persuasions round the chafing dish.

In England, men invited to spend a morning shooting cling to the strange custom of offering all birds shot to the host. The host accepts them and then, as a chivalrous gesture, may return a few tiny quail or a single grouse to his guests, but keeps the biggest part of the bag. In return, of course, the hungry guests then march to the host's breakfast table, where they find such delicacies as roast quail or potted grouse or, in fact, almost any game in season. When game is out of season, pigeon pie, deviled chicken legs and creamed turkey hash prove worthy stand-bys.

English breakfast parties are never clock-watching affairs. Guests may straggle in at will and, for this reason, eggs are best made to order. A bowl of eggs in the shell, butter, a Teflon pan to be used over a trivet flame and a spatula make it a simple matter for guests to indulge in their own scrambling, frying or omeleting. All year long, Englishmen are curry-minded. In hot weather, curries of chicken, lamb or shrimp counteract the effects of heat and languid appetites. On cold fall mornings, nothing thaws the bones as well as a smooth, hot curry--nothing, that is, except, perhaps, a hot rum flip or a mug of hot buttered grog made with either Irish or Scotch whisky. Such warm comforts in no way contraindicate a big pitcher or carafe of orange juice laced with vodka or with the new very light rum now coming from Hawaii. Speaking of the spirit world, among the delightful oddments to grace the breakfast table these days are French prunes in Armagnac and Scotch marmalade with curaçao. If you can't find them on the gourmet shelves in your neighborhood, you can add your own Armagnac or your own curaçao to the cooked prunes or marmalade, respectively, remembering in both cases not to over-pour. The prunes are best if the fruit and the brandy are allowed to ripen several days before serving.

In the Highlands years ago, weekend guests occasionally would be startled to hear the family piper beneath their bedroom window, piping the rouse. The din was pardoned when the guests partook of the porridge with cream, the salted herrings, eggs, ham, cheese, barley cakes, oatcakes, jellies and jams, as well as the flummery and Jamaica rum awaiting them in the big hall near the peatburning fireplace. With or without the skirling of bagpipes, the following dishes will deliciously and decisively break the fast for the most robust trencherman. Each recipe serves six.

[recipe_title]Kedgeree[/recipe_title]

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

[recipe]2 teaspoons salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]1 small bay leaf[/recipe]

[recipe]1-1/2 cups rice[/recipe]

[recipe]1-1/2 lbs. fresh salmon steak[/recipe]

[recipe]3 hard-boiled eggs[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup butter[/recipe]

[recipe]Juice of 1 lemon[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons finely minced parsley[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon finely minced chives[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup light cream[/recipe]

In heavy saucepan, sauté onion in oil until onion is tender but not brown. Add 3 cups water, 1-1/2 teaspoons salt and bay leaf. Bring water to a boil and stir in rice. Reduce flame as low as possible and cook, covered, without stirring, 15 to 18 minutes or until rice is tender. Remove bay leaf from rice. Boil salmon steak in slightly salted water, using just enough water to cover fish, until salmon flakes easily--about 10 to 12 minutes. Remove salmon from water; remove skin and bones from salmon and break fish into large flakes. Cut hard-boiled eggs into small dice. Melt butter in large skillet or flameproof casserole. As soon as butter begins to brown, add rice, salmon, eggs, lemon juice, parsley and chives. Keep the flame low and toss ingredients thoroughly. Season with salt and pepper. When all ingredients are heated through, add cream. When cream is hot, kedgeree is ready to serve. Correct seasoning if necessary. Keep in covered chafing dish or in a casserole on an electric hot tray. Dish may be cooked one day and reheated the next. Additional cream may be added if kedgeree seems dry upon reheating.

[recipe_title]Lamb Kidneys Madeira[/recipe_title]

[recipe]12 lamb kidneys[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons butter[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons minced shallots or onion[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup madeira or sherry[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon cognac[/recipe]

[recipe]1-1/2 cups chicken broth, canned or fresh[/recipe]

[recipe]3 tablespoons flour[/recipe]

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

[recipe]2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon Pickapeppa sauce[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, pepper[/recipe]

Remove fat and outer membrane from kidneys, if necessary (usually, the butcher (concluded on page 152)English hunt Breakfast(continued from page 90) does this). Cut kidneys in half lengthwise. Remove white membrane in center, using scissors. Cut kidneys crosswise into 1/2-in-thick slices. Heat oil and butter in saucepan until butter melts. Add kidneys and sauté until they lose their raw color. Add shallots and stir well. Sauté 1 minute longer. Add madeira and cognac and set ablaze. Combine chicken broth and flour in blender. Spin blender about 5 seconds. Pour chicken broth into pan and slowly bring to a boil, stirring frequently. Reduce flame and simmer 10 minutes. Add lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce and Pickapeppa sauce. Season with salt and pepper to taste. If desired, 1/2 lb. sliced, sautéed fresh mushrooms may be added to kidneys. Kidneys are one of the variety meats that some brunchmen love and from which others shy. They should always be offered as one of several choices at the breakfast board.

[recipe_title]Deviled Pheasant Legs[/recipe_title]

[recipe]12 pheasant legs or 6 legs and thighs[/recipe]

[recipe]Salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons prepared mustard[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon dry English mustard[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon anchovy paste[/recipe]

[recipe]Bread crumbs[/recipe]

Pheasant "legs" frequently mean legs and second joints or thighs; in other words, the dark meat of the bird, rather than the breast meat. If pheasant is tough, the legs should be boiled until tender, rather than roasted as below. For hosts without pheasants, chicken legs and thighs are a pleasant substitute at a party breakfast.

Preheat oven at 350°. Brush legs with salad oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast in shallow pan about 40 minutes or until tender, turning once to brown on both sides. Remove from oven and cool to room temperature. Combine two kinds of mustard and anchovy paste, mixing well. Brush legs with mustard mixture; then dip into bread crumbs, coating well. Sprinkle lightly with salad oil. Preheat broiler flame. Place legs in greased shallow pan. Broil, turning once, browning well on both sides. Offer a sauceboat of bottled deviled sauce.

[recipe_title]Creamed Ham And Mushrooms[/recipe_title]

[recipe]2 cups diced cooked ham[/recipe]

[recipe]3 tablespoons butter[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 lb. fresh mushrooms, sliced[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon finely minced shallots or onion[/recipe]

[recipe]3 tablespoons dry white wine[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup chicken broth, canned or fresh[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup light cream[/recipe]

[recipe]3 tablespoons flour[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup diced pimiento[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon finely minced parsley[/recipe]

[recipe]1/8 teaspoon Tabasco sauce[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, white pepper[/recipe]

Melt butter in large saucepan. Add mushrooms and shallots and sauté slowly until mushrooms are tender. Continue to simmer until most of the liquid in the pan has evaporated. Add ham and wine to pan and stir well. Put chicken broth, cream and flour in blender. Spin blender 10 seconds. Add broth to pan and slowly bring to a boil. Reduce flame and simmer 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Add pimiento, parsley, Tabasco sauce and salt and pepper to taste. Best results are obtained if cooked ham on the bone, rather than canned ham, is used. Creamed ham and mushrooms may be served on toast, in a patty shell or--most likely at breakfast--as a garnish for scrambled eggs.

[recipe_title]Lobster Cutlets[/recipe_title]

[recipe]3 9-oz. packages frozen lobster tails[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup butter[/recipe]

[recipe]1 small green pepper, finely minced[/recipe]

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

[recipe]2 tablespoons finely minced celery leaves[/recipe]

[recipe]Flour[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup hot milk[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon Dijon mustard[/recipe]

[recipe]2 teblespoons finely minced fresh dill[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]2 eggs[/recipe]

[recipe]Salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]Bread crumbs[/recipe]

Boil lobster, following directions on package. Reserve 1 cup of the liquid in which the lobster was boiled. Remove lobster meat from shells and cut into very small dice. Melt butter in heavy saucepan. Add green pepper, onion and celery leaves and sauté slowly until onion is tender, not brown. Remove from flame and stir in 1/2 cup flour, blending very well. Slowly add hot milk and 1 cup of reserved lobster stock, stirring well. Return to a moderate flame and simmer, stirring frequently, about 3 minutes. Sauce will be very thick. Remove from flame and add lobster, mustard and dill, mixing well. Season generously with salt and pepper. Chill in refrigerator, over night if possible. Divide mixture into 12 portions. Shape into round flat cakes or into S-shaped cutlets, for which there is a special tin mold. Beat eggs with 2 teaspoons oil. Dip cutlets into flour first, then into egg mixture and finally into bread crumbs, coating thoroughly at each step. Pour oil to a depth of 3/4 in. in electric skillet. Heat oil to 370°. Fry cutlets, turning once to brown on both sides.

Tallyho and hearty appetite!