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Cod Mould
Take the remains of cold cod or any cold fish, weigh it, and with one pound of fish mix three table-spoonfuls of bread-crumbs, a table-spoonful of anchovy sauce, and a little salt and cayenne. If any of the sauce with which the fish was first sent to table remains it may be used instead of the anchovy. Pound all well in a mortar, with a little butter and the yolk of an egg. Press the mixture into a well-buttered mould; cover it with a plate, and steam it for three-quarters of an hour. Probable cost, 4d., exclusive of the cold fish. Sufficient for three persons.
A Victorian way of turning leftover boiled cod into a second, warm dish. It works, but the seasoning is deliberately understated and the texture depends entirely on how finely you work the fish.
- The hinge: pound it properlyThe mould holds together because the fish is reduced to a paste with egg yolk and butter, not because of the crumbs. A food processor does in twenty seconds what the mortar did in ten minutes; pulse rather than run it, or the mixture turns gluey.
- Quantities per poundOne pound of cooked, flaked fish (skin and bone removed before weighing), 3 tablespoons breadcrumbs, 1 tablespoon anchovy sauce, one egg yolk, and a little salt and cayenne. The recipe calls only for "a little butter" without quantifying it; about 1 oz softened butter works. Fresh crumbs rather than dried are easier here, as dried crumbs drink the moisture and the mould comes out dry.
- Anchovy sauceIn Victorian books this could mean the bottled anchovy essence or a made anchovy sauce; either would suit here, and the recipe allows the sauce the fish was first served with instead. A teaspoon of anchovy paste or two mashed oil-packed fillets plus a splash of water gives the same salty depth. Salt cautiously afterwards, since all of these are already salty.
- The mouldAny straight-sided heatproof basin or a 1-pint pudding basin. Butter it heavily and line the base with a disc of parchment; cold fish paste sticks. The plate on top is a lid to keep condensation out, so foil or a saucer does the job.
- SteamingForty-five minutes in a covered pan with water halfway up the basin, kept at a bare simmer. The fish is already cooked, so this is about setting the egg and heating through: the centre should reach about 165F/75C. A hard boil under the basin makes the mixture weep butter.
- Turning outRest five minutes, run a knife round the edge, invert onto a warm plate. The recipe names no accompaniment; parsley, egg or shrimp sauce are the sort of thing commonly served with boiled fish in books of this kind. Cold, sliced, it makes a decent sandwich filling.
- YieldThree as a light supper dish, as the book says, or four as a first course.
- On the leftover fishUse cooked fish that has been refrigerated and is no more than a day or two old, and reheat it once only. The recipe assumes a cold larder and daily marketing.
Cassell's belongs to a period when reusing the previous day's fish was a matter of routine household economy rather than thrift chic, and the dictionary is full of these second-day dishes: fish cakes, fish pies, scallops, mounds and moulds. Cod was the everyday white fish of British tables, cheap and plentiful from the North Sea, and it was usually sent to table plainly boiled with a sauce, which is exactly the state this recipe assumes. Anchovy sauce, sold bottled by several firms through the nineteenth century, was the standard way of putting savour back into fish that had already given up its best flavour to the poaching water. The costing in pence, and the note that it is "exclusive of the cold fish," is characteristic of the book's audience: a cook accountable to a mistress who wanted to know what the dish added to the week's bills.