431. Sheep’s Feet or Trotters.—Previous to visiting the Continent, I had quite a dislike to the unfortunate Pied de Mouton, whose blackish appearance in stall and basket seemed to be intended to satisfy the ravenous appetites of the gentlemen with the slouched hat. But I must say since I have tasted them in France, cooked à la poulette, I have become of quite another opinion, and I have prepared them at home thus:—
I get a dozen of them from the tripe-butcher, all cleaned and ready, and beg of him to extract the long bone from them. I put a quarter of a pound of beef or mutton suet in a stewpan, with two onions and one carrot sliced, two bay-leaves, two sprigs of thyme, one ounce of salt, a quarter of an ounce of pepper, put on the fire, and cook five minutes; add two tablespoonfuls of flour, and stir it round; add two quarts and a half of water, then put in the feet, stir till boiling, simmer for nearly three hours, or until the feet are perfectly tender, when done, take them out, and lay on sieve, take a quarter of a pound of fresh butter, a teaspoonful of salt, the same of flour, a quarter of one of pepper, a little grated nutmeg, the juice of a lemon, mix all these well together on a plate with the back of a spoon; put the feet with a gill of milk in a stewpan on the fire, when very hot, put in the butter, stir continually till melted, having previously well mixed two yolks of eggs with five tablespoonfuls of milk or cream, which put in the stewpan, keep moving the pan round over the fire continually for one minute, serve in a very hot dish with croutons of fried bread cut in triangular pieces round the dish. The stock may be used for any purée or thick soup.
432. French Ragout of Mutton.—Take about two pounds of the scrag of the neck, breast, chump, or any other part, with as little fat as possible, cut it into pieces of about two inches square, put into a pan two ounces of butter, or good fat, when melted, add two tablespoonfuls of flour, stir with a wooden spoon till forming a brownish roux, add the meat, and stir it round for twenty minutes, add a little water, but not enough to cover the meat, one saltspoonful of pepper, four ditto of salt, and four ditto of sugar, a bouquet of six sprigs of parsley, stir till boiling, set it to simmer. Having previously peeled a few turnips, cut in large dice of one inch square about thirty pieces, put some fat in a frying-pan, and fry the turnips until rather brown, take them out, and put them in a stewpan with the meat when it is done, which will be in about one hour from the time it was put on; when ready to serve, take out the meat and turnips, squeeze the bouquet, which throw away, skim off the fat, if too thick, add a little broth or water, or, if too thin, boil it a little more, dish it up by placing the pieces in a circle and the turnips in the centre, sauce over, and serve very hot—if not it is spoilt. For those that like it, a small piece of scraped garlic may be added. Onions, carrots, peas, &c., may be used in place of the turnips.
This is a very favorite dish in France; I learnt it from an old French émigré, who used to visit us about ten years since. When I have company, I use the chops of the neck, dress them in a crown, placing the vegetables in the centre; I find them very much liked. I have at some houses partaken of harico-mutton which has been tolerably good, but nothing in flavor to this plan. If there is any left, it is good warmed again, or even cold.
433. Irish Stew.—Cut up about two pounds of the neck of the mutton into small cutlets, which put into a proper sized stewpan with some of the fat of the mutton, season with three spoonfuls of salt, half an ounce of pepper, the same of sugar, six middle-sized onions, a quart of water; set them to boil and simmer for half an hour, then add six middling-sized potatoes, cut them in halves or quarters, stir it together, and let it stew gently for about one hour longer; if too fat remove it from the top, but if well done the potatoes would absorb all, and eat very delicate; any other part of the mutton may be served in the same way. I hope dearest ——, that you will not blame my apparent common taste in saying that I am fond of an Irish stew. I always recommend it to my friends; I often add a bay-leaf to it, which varies the flavor.
[LETTER NO. XIII]
DEAREST ELOISE,—I certainly here must avail myself of M. Soyer’s kind permission by taking from his ‘Gastronomic Regenerator’ a very simple receipt, it is true, but one which, in my estimation, has a great deal more merit than that of a sumptuous dish—a new mutton chop; yes, dearest, that is all. Many will very likely laugh at me, and think I am joking to take notice of a dish of such trifling importance, but, indeed, I assure you that I am far from that, because I have tried it for my dinner to-day, and in my opinion it is as far superior to the other as silver is to copper; and it was only in an enlightened era of wonders like ours that such a novelty in the culinary department could have been produced; where steam, gas, railways, electric light, suspended bridges, which seem to fly like zephyrs across the bosom of our mighty, wealthy, old Father Thames, and the subterranean promenade under his gutta-percha bed, where, as the French say, the fishes from their windows make faces at the English while walking below, as well as (and more wonderful still) the electric telegraph, which, even more freely than free-trade itself, carries like lightning the flashes of the genius of a Cobden from our great commercial town of Manchester to Printing-house square and various offices the sparks of a speech, which, if printers were careless, might set the paper on fire, by acquainting the metropolis not only of his love for freedom, but of his enthusiastic action, motion, commotion, and almost his thoughts; even the cheerings of the convives are actually in print, and read with the greatest anxiety by the multitude in town, while the report of the last and most powerful line just put to press is still roaring with echo throughout the vast cupola of the Free Trade Hall as well as in the ears of thousands of guests present who have been favored by partaking of the monster banquet; and as well, but not so wonderful, the invention, insurrection, and demolition of the Chartists—the last effected by special order and special constables; the Satanic bottle, double sight, and ethérienne suspension of the inimitable Robert le Diable, by mistake called Robert Houdin; Banyard’s Yankee cabinet picture, 3000 miles long, out of which 2999 and three quarters are out of sight; more so than all, the discovery of rocky dust, called gold, in the barbarian land of California, where the humble and convalescent potato would be worth its weight of the precious metal, a loaf of bread three times as much, and a basin of poor man’s soup a guinea instead of a penny as here. Have we not also heard of the great sea serpent, which a very serious American, who appears to have been in company with him, says that he was so tarnation long, that whilst engaged in dining out upon 4000 or 5000 turtles in Honduras, the end of his tail was at the same time hunting the white bear in the crystallized mountains of the North Pole for his supper, being something of an epicure, and consequently fond of a change? These, dearest, are FACTS that no one can deny,” I guess; “and still it was to be among all these marvellous wonders that the innovation of a new mutton chop should emanate from the brain of a simple individual, while, for a century previous, the ancestors of our great grandfathers were, as we were till the present day, often obliged to satisfy their voracious appetite with a fat and clumsy mutton chop. Even now, dear, you will hardly be able to comprehend the meaning of my enthusiasm for this simple innovation: it is then for its great simplicity and cheapness, and that if in general use (as I sincerely hope it will be), thousands will be able to partake of it and enjoy it, and probably will keep a friendly remembrance of the name of its inventor, because any one who invents, or tries so to do, attempts to conquer the greatest difficulty to obtain fame and wealth, and which by others is always envied and tried to be surpassed; such is the world. While here, the humble, unassuming, disinterested inventor of the said mutton chop will not even have the honor of opposition, though he may be copied. Believe me, dearest, that is the only cause of my admiration. Now for this wonder.