The Art of Composing a Meal
May, 1968
Whether you're Attempting a virtuoso reading from an oversize restaurant carte or composing a dinner for four in your own galley, your performance will be enhanced considerably if you know that while vichyssoise, breast of guinea has a under glass and parfait with marrons are all crème de la crème, the same guinea hen would have even greater drawing power if it were preceded by a clear green turtle soup and followed by a fruit bowl and cheese tray.
Every dish brings to the table two distinct profiles: one for the eyes (shape and color) and another for the palate (flavor and texture). The art of composing a menu is simply skill in balancing a short series of these profiles at one sitting. Visually, a portion of apple pie focuses attention on its brown crust, scalloped rim, high wedge with apples and softly flowing juice. Its flavor highlights are a rich crust that crumbles in the mouth, the sweet tartness of the apple filling and mild but fragrant spices. After a rich roast goose with its herb-laden bread stuffing, the apple pie would do well to abdicate in favor of a fresh sherbet. After a grilled ham steak, the pie's lavish flavor would stand out beautifully.
Of the two main harmonies on any menu, eye appeal greets us first. Menu tutors who talk about color contrast actually mean diversification rather than just literal contrast. A mound of parsley beside a lobster is a contrast of red and green. So are two jelly beans. What makes the lobster register and linger in the mind's eye is a combination of both its shape and its kaleidoscopic stretch of mottled reds and oranges and sometimes browns, from the end of its tail to the tips of its antennae. Often an indifferent color stream on a menu can be brought to life by a few simple switches. A holiday menu of oxtail soup, roast turkey with the traditional mashed turnips and candied sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce (an odd note of red) and pumpkin pie is practically an all-brown bill of fare. By simply converting the menu to bisque of shrimp soup, roast turkey with broccoli, hollandaise and candied sweet potatoes, a compote of whole cranberries and pumpkin pie with a dollop of cognac-flavored whipped cream the table landscape becomes scintillating.
Beauty is not only in the eyes of the beholder but in the palate as well. To get on your flavor mark with any menu, you start with the four simple taste sensations of the tongue: sweet, sour, salty and bitter. A man who sits down to a plate of oysters on the half shell, for instance, enjoys the salty tang of the oysters beneath the sweet-sour cocktail sauce. (continued on page 148) Composing A Meal (continued from page 145) When he asks for a glass of bitter stout, he's harmonizing the whole quartet. But more important than taste buds alone are the tens of thousands of responses of the nose vis-à-vis the mouth. Here, the known and unknown volatile flavors keep the nub of excitement going indefinitely. We don't normally think of eggs or butter as ingredients of great olfactory wealth. And yet walk into a kitchen where an omelet is turning golden in the pan, and the gentle but vivid aromas filling the room strike an unforgettable chord. When the menu man adds shallots or parmesan cheese or tomatoes or creamed finnan haddie to his omelet, he begins exploring flavor in all its piquant ramifications.
Chefs, surveying the huge cosmos of flavor, have attempted to stake it out into well-chalked areas, such as the pungent (hot chili peppers) and the smooth (rice), the dry, meaning bland or light (chicken), and the aromatic (onions). But these demarcations arc no sooner laid down than thousands of exceptions begin fulminating on the fire. Chicken, for instance, would seem to fall into the light, or dry, class. But chicken grilled over charcoal acquires a woodsy, vivid, almost downright rough--albeit delicious--flavor. One tomato is astringent; another, comfortably sweet and mild. A broiled veal kidney has flavor overtones of almost aggressive pungency, while other cuts of veal are mildly urbane.
An approach much more useful than throwing foods into rigid compartments is to assay each dish in its finished form, whatever it may be, and then consider it for your menu. A teaspoon of straight tomato paste out of the can would be overwhelmingly strong fare with its intense saturation of tomato flavor. A bisque of tomato soup is tranquillity itself. A grilled tomato, a fried tomato, a hot or cold stuffed tomato, a spicy tomato sauce in chicken cacciatore or a mild velvety tomato sauce with a veal cutlet a la Holstein must each be viewed and weighed for its own flavor profile. All extremes should be kept in balance. The almost violent saltiness of anchovy fillets calls for the pacification of a thick layer of unsalted butter on mild white toast. A hawkishly hot curry made from a curry powder containing 16 extremely aromatic spices must be kept in check not only by peaceful shrimp in the curry sauce but by the even more dovelike rice, a second ally.
Flavor finally takes in all the beautifully tactile responses known as mouth feel. They range from the hard to the soft--crisp water chestnuts, semicrisp vegetables and tender morsels of chicken in an Oriental dish; from thick to thin--the big slab of roast beef and the thin crust of Yorkshire pudding; from hot to cold--the burning-hot goulash followed by the cold lemon mousse; from liquid to dry--the pheasant simmered in a sour-cream sauce and the dry nutty wild rice. Like color switches, simple flavor switches can perform miracles on a menu. A buffet table, for instance, with two main dishes--a hot deviled seafood and a cold glazed Smithfield ham--would bring two competing headliners together. Not only is the seafood buoyed with virile spices but the genuine Smithfield ham is rubbed with black pepper before it's aged, and its final cooked flavor is a study in piquant smokiness and saltiness. An easy change--substituting a mild cured Danish ham--would make an infinitely more toothsome twosome.
Balance on menus doesn't always mean that A must equal B. The French pot-au-feu, famous in Henry IV's reign, is a boiled symphony. Beef plate, a whole fowl and a long retinue of vegetables, from carrots to green cabbage, are simmered until the beef and the chicken are tender and the broth reaches its apogee of golden perfection. It's easy to criticize the pot-au-feu because it's literally all wet. Partisans of the classical French Sunday dinner dish say that this is like criticizing Michelangelo because he used only one material for his sculpture--marble. But, interestingly, the modern Frenchman who loves his pot-au-feu serves it at the table with three rippling flavor notes that harmonize beautifully with the sumptuous dish: coarse table salt, sharp Dijon mustard and corni-chons, the small vinegary pickles whose very name is a delightfully astringent magic in the mouth.
There are still distinguished public dining rooms whose menus permit you to indulge in the old-style seven to ten-course marathon feast. Occasionally, it's rich fun. But around your own dining board, the goal these days is one superlative dish, a spotlighted chef-d'oeuvre for which all other dishes play a balancing obbligato. For example, you're planning a party for two couples who you know are passionately fond of lobster. You decide on a menu of clear mushroom broth; deviled lobster with rice, in the shell; a salad of asparagus, endive, water cress and truffles; and a warm apple charlotte with cold sabayon sauce. Lobster is always a climactic dish. You can bring on steaks, scaloppine or spareribs and the table talk will turn to any topic in the world. But baked stuffed lobsters defy your party to talk about anything else in their presence. There are times when either the beginning of a menu (a rich mulligatawny soup, say) or the end (a huge billowing chocolate soufflé, for instance) becomes the scene stealer. At certain seasons, the currently voguish three-course dinner may swing to four. A spring menu of sorrel soup, broiled boneless shad, roast squab with legumes and salad, and a dessert would form a triumphant tableau on any man's table, particularly during the spring shad run. At the opposite end are the richly serviceable all-in-one-dish casseroles that, when analyzed, turn out to be menus within menus.
Thackeray, in Pendennis, telling about the French chef Mirobolant, said, "It was a grand sight to behold him in his dressing gown composing a menu. He always sate down and played the piano for some time before.... Every great artist, he said, had need of solitude to perfectionate his works." For the sake of menu harmony, we're all for dressing gowns, pianos, sitting and solitude. But as ingredients, they're not an absolute requirement in the Playboy-perfectionated menus and recipes that follow.
Menu I
Clear Mushroom Broth
Deviled Lobster with Rice, in the Shell, Fried Parsley
Emerald Dry Riesling
Asparagus, Endive, Water Cress and Truffle Salad
Apple Charlotte with Cold Sabayon Sauce
Demitasse
Imported dried mushrooms, rather than fresh, are best for imparting a vigorous mushroom essence to any thin soup; for four servings, pour a quart of boiling chicken broth over 1 oz. dried mushrooms previously washed in cold water; let stand 20 minutes; bring to a boil; strain broth, discarding mushrooms: pour into bouillon cups and garnish with two large thin slices fresh mushroom floated on each portion.
[recipe_title]Deviled Lobster with Rice, in the Shell[/recipe_title]
(Serves four)
[recipe]4 1-1/2-lb. Maine lobsters, boiled[/recipe]
[recipe]1 cup clam broth[/recipe]
[recipe]1 cup milk[/recipe]
[recipe]1/4 cup instantized flour[/recipe]
[recipe]1/4 cup butter[/recipe]
[recipe]2 packets bouillon powder[/recipe]
[recipe]1/4 cup dry white wine[/recipe]
[recipe]2 tablespoons dry sherry[/recipe]
[recipe]1 teaspoon Dijon mustard[/recipe]
[recipe]1 tablespoon finely chopped shallots or scallions[/recipe]
[recipe]1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper[/recipe]
[recipe]Salt, monosodium glutamate, paprika[/recipe]
[recipe]2 cups cooked rice (made from 1/2 cup raw rice)[/recipe]
[recipe]Grated parmesan cheese[/recipe]
[recipe]1/3 cup heavy sweet cream[/recipe]
Pour clam broth and milk into saucepan. Add flour; mix with wire whip until flour is completely dissolved. Add butter. Heat over low flame, stirring constantly, until sauce is thick. Simmer 2 to 3 minutes. Set sauce aside. Preheat oven at 400°. Twist claws off lobsters. Crack claws and remove meat. Place lobsters on cutting board, undershell side down, and cut each in half lengthwise. Open halves, but keep them joined if possible. Discard sac in head of each lobster. Remove meat from body; cut body meat and claw meat into l/2-in. cubes. Add to sauce, together with green liver and any roe or coral. Add bouillon powder, both kinds of wine, mustard, shallots, pepper; add salt and monosodium glutamate to taste. Blend well. Spoon 1/2 cup rice into each shell. Spoon lobster mixture on top, spreading evenly. Sprinkle with cheese; drizzle with cream; then sprinkle lightly with paprika. Place lobsters in shallow baking pan and bake 20 minutes or until tops are medium brown. Place lobsters on serving platter or plates. Garnish each portion with fried parsley.
To fry parsley, remove leafy sprigs from stems; discard stems; wash and dry extremely well with paper or cloth toweling. Heat at least an inch of oil to 370°; lower parsley into pan, keeping head back to avoid sputtering oil. There will be a loud report as parsley meets hot oil; in a moment, it will subside and the parsley will be done. Remove parsley from oil, drain on toweling and sprinkle with salt.
For salad assembly, use new arrivals of fresh asparagus (or frozen, if no fresh is available). Peel below tips; discard tough bottoms; boil till tender; chill. If stalks are very long, cut in half. Use Belgian white endive and crisp, freshest possible water cress, both with nary a drop of water when placed in salad bowl. A 7/8-oz. can of truffles is sufficient for four servings. Truffles should be sliced paper thin; Italian white truffles will tarry richer aroma than French black specimens. Toss salad with French dressing mixed with chopped hard egg.
Apple charlotte is made with cooked buttered sweetened apple slices in a cylindrical mold (a saucepan will do) lined with slices of buttered white bread cut no thicker than for melba toast. Cold sabayon sauce is the Italian zabaglione made with marsala, normally served warm, but chilled for this dessert. The sauce is ladled over warm charlotte in serving dishes.
Menu II
Chopped Clam Stew with Chives
Steak au Poivre
Potatoes Macaire
Grilled Tomato
Broccoli Hollandaise
Château Margaux
Assorted French Cheeses, Fruit Bowl
Demitasse
[recipe_title]Chopped Clam Stew with Chives[/recipe_title]
(Serves four)
[recipe]24 cherry-stone clams, freshly opened[/recipe]
[recipe]1/4 cup butter[/recipe]
[recipe]1 tablespoon finely minced shallots or scallions[/recipe]
[recipe]1 teaspoon salt[/recipe]
[recipe]1/4 teaspoon celery salt[/recipe]
[recipe]1/4 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce[/recipe]
[recipe]3 cups milk[/recipe]
[recipe]1 cup light cream[/recipe]
[recipe]4 teaspoons butter[/recipe]
[recipe]2 teaspoons finely minced fresh chives Paprika[/recipe]
Chop clams coarsely. Heat 1/4 cup butter and shallots over low flame, using large saucepan. As soon as butter melts, add clams. Simmer 1 minute, stirring constantly. Add salt, celery salt, Worcestershire sauce, milk and cream. Slowly bring up to the boiling point, stirring frequently. Divide stew among four cups or bowls. Place a teaspoon butter atop each portion. Add chives. Sprinkle with paprika.
Steak au poivre may be individual shell steaks or larger shell steaks of two or four portions. For indoor grilling, the larger steaks permit deeper browning while steaks remain properly rare. Outside of steaks is generously spread with freshly crushed whole black pepper or whole white pepper, which is then patted into meat with flat side of cleaver or meat mallet. Meat is anointed with oil and sprinkled with salt before being broiled in the usual way, and brushed with lemon butter after removing from fire.
Potatoes macaire are baked in their jackets; the pulp is removed, mashed, mixed with butter, seasoned, cooled and, before serving time, sautéed in one large oval shape until brown.
If tomatoes are small, use one whole tomato per portion, cutting a thin slice from top and bottom before grilling, adding salt, sugar and butter as seasonings.
Hollandaise sauce may be spooned over broccoli or served separately in sauceboat.
Be sure cheeses are removed from refrigerator at least an hour before serving.
Menu III
Beluga Caviar
Supreme of Chicken, Curry Dumplings
Buttered Fresh Peas
Fried Cauliflower
Meursault
Romaine and Avocado Salad
Fresh Strawberry Tart
Demitasse
Serve caviar in its original tin or jar up to its neck in crushed ice. Caviar should be squired with chopped hard egg, chopped Spanish onion, chopped parsley and small fingers of freshly made toast.
[recipe_title]Supreme of Chicken, Curry Dumplings[/recipe_title]
(Serves six)
[recipe]6 boneless breasts of chicken (3 whole breasts) without skin[/recipe]
[recipe]6 tablespoons butter at room temperature[/recipe]
[recipe]1 small green pepper, 1/2-in. dice[/recipe]
[recipe]1 small sweet red pepper or canned pimiento, l/2-in. dice[/recipe]
[recipe]2 tablespoons cognac[/recipe]
[recipe]3 tablespoons dry sherry[/recipe]
[recipe]1-1/2 cups chicken broth[/recipe]
[recipe]3/4 cup light cream[/recipe]
[recipe]3 tablespoons flour[/recipe]
[recipe]Salt, pepper[/recipe]
Melt 3 tablespoons butter in heavy wide saucepan fitted with tight lid. Add chicken and peppers. Sauté uncovered slowly, turning chicken once, until it just begins to lightly brown. Add cognac and sherry and set aflame. When flames subside, add chicken broth and cream. Bring to a boil. Mix to a smooth paste remaining 3 tablespoons butter and flour. Add to sauce. Simmer until sauce is thickened, stirring constantly. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add dumplings, following procedure in recipe below. Cover pan. Keep over very low flame 15 minutes. Remove dumplings from pan. Place chicken in center of serving platter. Spoon sauce over chicken. Place dumplings around chicken.
Curry Dumplings
(Serves six)
[recipe]1 cup all-purpose flour[/recipe]
[recipe]1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder[/recipe]
[recipe]1/2 teaspoon salt[/recipe]
[recipe]1 teaspoon curry powder[/recipe]
[recipe]1/4 teaspoon turmeric[/recipe]
[recipe]3 tablespoons butter[/recipe]
[recipe]1 tablespoon finely minced fresh chives[/recipe]
[recipe]1 egg, well beaten[/recipe]
[recipe]1/3 cup milk[/recipe]
Sift together flour, baking powder, salt, curry powder and turmeric. Cut in butter, using pastry blender, until particles of butter are no larger than rice grains. Add chives, stirring well. Combine egg and milk, mixing well, and add to dry ingredients. Stir until just blended; batter should be lumpy-looking. Drop mixture by large spoonfuls (about a tablespoon and a half) into pan with chicken; cook as directed in recipe above.
Parboiled cooled cauliflower is broken into flowerets, dipped into light fritter batter and fried just before serving.
Treat salad bowl with a garlic-rubbed crust; serve salad with an olive-oil French dressing with white-wine vinegar.
Fresh strawberry tart from a patisserie should be slightly chilled before serving.
To those skeptics who might not consider the composing of a meal an art form of the highest order, we can only quote the Earl of Lytton, who versified, "We may live without friends; we may live without books;/But civilized man cannot live without cooks."
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