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GROUSE SALAD (a la Soyer)
It is said that on one occasion, when several gentlemen had betted largely on the abilities of certain chefs de cuisine, M. Soyer was universally acknowledged to have won the palm in consequence of the superiority of a salad, made very much like the following:--Lay a thin border of butter, about half an inch from the edge of the dish on which the salad is to be served. Put inside this, and on the bottom of the dish, a deep bed of finely-shredded lettuce, prepared as in the last recipe. Arrange over this, very neatly, the joints of a brace of grouse, rather under-done than otherwise. Make a dressing, by mixing together two table-spoonfuls of finely-minced shallots, two of chopped tarragon and chervil, a tea-spoonful of salt, half a tea-spoonful of pepper, two table-spoonfuls of pounded sugar, and the yolks of two eggs. Add gradually, a few drops at a time, twelve table-spoonfuls of oil, and four of chilli vinegar, putting one of vinegar after every three of oil, and beat with a wooden spoon until the sauce is smooth and of the proper consistency. Keep it in a cool place, or on ice, if possible, until wanted. To garnish the dish, take half a dozen hard-boiled eggs; cut them in four, lengthwise, and take a little piece off the end, to make them stand upright; stick them on the butter round the salad, the yellow part outwards, with gherkins and beetroot cut into slices, and stamped into shapes between the pieces of egg. Pour the sauce over the dressing, and serve. Time, half an hour to roast the grouse. Probable cost, exclusive of the grouse, 2s. 6d. Sufficient for a dozen persons.
A composed game salad from the age of the grand buffet, built like an architectural centrepiece. Most of the work is in the dressing and the garnish; the grouse itself wants only a short roast and a rest.
- The hinge: add the oil a few drops at a timeThis is a mayonnaise built on two raw yolks, and twelve tablespoons of oil is a fair quantity to bring in. Dribble it in and beat continuously; if it splits, start a fresh yolk in a clean bowl and beat the broken sauce into it a spoonful at a time.
- A brace of grouseTwo birds. Red grouse are small, roughly 10-14 oz each oven-ready, and are jointed into legs and breast halves. The recipe gives only a time, half an hour, and no oven heat; a hot oven is implied, but watch the birds rather than the clock, since the recipe wants them "rather under-done than otherwise." Rest them and joint when cool.
- Raw yolks in an uncooked sauceThe dressing is never heated. Use pasteurised eggs if serving anyone elderly, pregnant, very young or immune-compromised, and keep the sauce refrigerated until the moment of serving rather than merely "in a cool place".
- Chilli vinegarA Victorian storecupboard staple: wine or cider vinegar steeped with dried red chillies. Substitute a good white wine vinegar with a little chilli infused in it, or add a pinch of cayenne to plain vinegar.
- Pounded sugarCaster sugar, ground fine so it dissolves in the cold sauce. Two tablespoons reads as very sweet to modern taste against only four of vinegar; start with one and adjust.
- The butter borderA thin ridge of firm butter piped or pressed around the dish, set about half an inch in from the rim, purely as mortar to hold the upright egg quarters and the stamped gherkin and beetroot. It needs to be cold and stiff, and the finished dish will not survive a warm room.
- ChervilRarely stocked and quick to fade. Flat-leaf parsley with a little extra tarragon gives a close enough result; avoid dried chervil, which tastes of nothing.
- Yield and serviceTwelve as stated, but only as one dish among several on a cold table. As a plated main course it will serve four to six. Dress and garnish at the last moment, since shredded lettuce collapses under mayonnaise within the half hour.
Alexis Soyer (1810-1858) was the most publicly famous cook in Victorian Britain: chef of the Reform Club, inventor of kitchen gadgetry, organiser of soup kitchens during the Irish famine, and later a reformer of army catering in the Crimea. The wager anecdote that opens this entry is the kind of story that attached itself to him in life and multiplied after his death; it is traditional rather than documented, and Cassell's hedges carefully with "it is said" and "very much like the following." What is certain is that grouse salad belonged to the late-summer and autumn table, after the twelfth of August opened the red grouse season, and that a dish of this sort was cold, composed, symmetrically garnished with stamped beetroot and upright egg quarters - as much to be looked at as to be eaten.