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Duck-Giblet Soup
Of duck giblets three or four sets will be required, as they are small, and the feet are now left attached to the bird when roasted. Scald four sets, clean and cut them into pieces of an inch in length. Put them into a saucepan with three quarts of water, a pound of gravy beef (or if more convenient some stock may be added after the giblets have been stewed), two onions, a faggot of sweet herbs, and the rind of a very small lemon. Simmer till the bones are loose and the gizzard soft, then strain the broth, season with salt, pepper, and cayenne, and put the giblets into a tureen by the side of the fire. Brown some thin slices of onion in butter, and stir in some flour to thicken the soup; pour the broth into the stewpan with the thickening, and stir for ten minutes or till it boils, then skim and strain into the tureen, adding one or two glasses of Madeira, a dessert-spoonful of ketchup, and the juice of a small lemon. Time to stew the giblets, three hours. Probable cost, 1s. perquart. Sufficient for ten persons.
A Victorian giblet broth that depends entirely on long, patient simmering and on a set of trimmings most butchers no longer bag up with the bird. Read the note on ketchup before you shop.
- What a "set" of giblets isNeck, gizzard, heart and liver, plus the feet and wing tips where they are sold attached. Duck giblets are small, so the recipe rightly asks for three or four sets; a poultry butcher or an Asian market will sell necks, hearts and feet separately, which works just as well. Hold the livers back and add them only in the last 20 minutes, or they will turn the broth muddy and bitter.
- Ketchup does not mean tomatoKetchup here probably does not mean tomato -- In Victorian recipes an unqualified "ketchup" usually means mushroom or walnut ketchup, a thin, dark, salty condiment closer to a mild soy or Worcestershire. A dessert-spoonful of modern tomato ketchup would sweeten the soup badly; use mushroom ketchup, or Worcestershire sauce, or a scant teaspoon of dark soy.
- Gravy beefA lean, gelatinous stewing cut — shin, or shin and a piece of chuck. Its job here is body and depth rather than tenderness. The stock substitution the recipe offers is sound: 2 to 3 cups of good beef stock stirred in after the giblets have stewed.
- Quantities and vesselsThree imperial quarts is about 3.4 litres; a faggot of sweet herbs is a bundle of parsley, thyme and a bay leaf tied with string. Expect the liquid to reduce noticeably over three hours of simmering, which is the point.
- The thickening is unmeasuredFor the volume here, about 3 tablespoons butter and 3 tablespoons flour with the browned onion will give a lightly thickened soup. Cook the roux until it smells nutty and takes colour before the broth goes in, and add the broth gradually — the ten minutes of stirring is there to cook out the raw flour, not merely to combine.
- Lemon rind, not pithPare the rind thin with a peeler. Three hours of simmering will pull real bitterness out of any white pith attached to it.
- "By the side of the fire"Simply means kept warm without further cooking. A tureen in a 200F oven, or the giblets held in a little of the strained broth over the lowest heat, does the same thing.
- Madeira at the endA Victorian wineglass is usually reckoned at about 2 fl oz, so one or two glasses means roughly 1/4 to 1/2 cup. Add it off the boil so the aromatics are not driven off, along with the lemon juice. Taste before adding the second glass.
- YieldTen servings as a first course, closer to six as a main. It keeps two days refrigerated, though the flour-thickened broth will need a whisk on reheating.
Giblet soup belongs to a whole class of Victorian dishes built on the parts of an animal that could not be sent to table whole. A roast duck went to the dining room without its neck, gizzard or heart, and — as this recipe notes — with its feet now left on, which is precisely why the cook must buy three or four extra sets to make up the quantity. The costing of a shilling a quart shows the dish was thought cheap enough to justify three hours on the stove. Madeira and mushroom or walnut ketchup were a common finishing pair for brown soups and gravies in nineteenth-century cookery books, doing the work that a splash of sherry and a dash of Worcestershire does in a modern kitchen; the mushroom and walnut sorts were long established in Britain before tomato ketchup came to dominate.