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Pheasant Cutlets
Take two fine, well-hung pheasants. Pluck, draw, and singe them, and cut them into neat joints. Take out the bones carefully, and shape the joints into cutlets; flatten these with the cutlet-bat, season rather highly, and cover them thickly with egg and finely-grated bread-crumbs. Put the bones and trimmings into a saucepan, with a carrot, a turnip, an onion, a handful of parsley, a sprig of thyme, a bay-leaf, a little pepper and salt, and as much water as will cover them. Let them stew slowly, until the flavour of the herbs, etc., is drawn out, then thicken the gravy, and strain it. Fry the cutlets in a saute-pan with butter until they are brightly browned all over. Serve on a hot dish with one of the small bones stuck into each cutlet. The gravy must be made hot, and poured round them. Time to fry the cutlets, ten or twelve minutes. Probable cost of pheasants, 3s. each when in full season. Sufficient for eight or nine persons.
A Victorian game-course dish that turns two birds into crumbed, pan-fried cutlets with a stock made from the carcasses. The technique is sound; the main adjustments are to timing and to what you do with the legs.
- The hinge: do not overcook the breastPheasant is very lean and turns dry and cottony soon after it is done. A flattened, crumbed breast cutlet needs roughly 3-4 minutes a side over medium heat rather than the ten to twelve minutes given; cook it through and let it rest (standard food-safety guidance for poultry, wild birds included, is 165F/74C, though many cooks pull game breast lower and accept the risk). The stated time suits only a thicker joint cooked gently.
- Legs versus breastThe recipe treats all joints alike, but pheasant legs are sinewy and full of fine tendons and do not respond to quick frying. Modern practice is to crumb and fry the breasts and braise or confit the legs separately, or bone the leg meat out and add it to the stockpot.
- "Well-hung"Game was hung in a cold larder for several days to a week to tenderise and develop flavour. Birds bought today from a butcher or game dealer have already been hung and are usually sold oven-ready; buy them hung and plucked rather than attempting it at home without a cold, insect-proof space.
- Cutlet-bat and saute-panA cutlet-bat is a heavy flat mallet; a rolling pin or a small heavy pan between two sheets of plastic does the same work. The Victorian saute-pan is a wide, straight-sided frying pan, not a deep casserole.
- The bone garnishSticking a small bone into each cutlet was a common presentation for boned and reshaped cutlets, as here. Scrape a leg or wing bone clean and push it in after frying; it is decorative and can be left out entirely.
- Thickening the gravy"Thicken the gravy" assumes a butter-and-flour roux or beurre manie stirred into the strained stock. Reduce the strained game stock hard first for flavour, then thicken lightly, about a tablespoon each of butter and flour to a pint.
- Seasoning "rather highly"The recipe does not specify beyond salt and pepper; for breadcrumbed game a little mace, cayenne or nutmeg in the crumbs is one way to read it. Season the meat and the crumbs both, since much of the seasoning otherwise stays on the surface of the coating.
- Yield and costEight or nine servings from two pheasants reflects a multi-course dinner where this was one dish among many. As a main course, two pheasants serve four. The "3s. each" is Victorian shillings and is of historical interest only.
Cassell's belongs to the era when pheasant was cheap for those with access to a shoot and a marker of status for everyone else: the Game Acts of the nineteenth century, and their gradual relaxation, governed who could legally sell and buy wild birds, and reared pheasants were reaching city poulterers in quantity during the autumn and winter season. Cutting an expensive bird into boned, batted, crumbed cutlets can be read as a French-influenced piece of English kitchen economy: it makes two birds stretch across a large table, disguises the fact that game is being served in modest portions, and puts the carcasses straight to work as the base of the sauce. The trimmed bone stuck into each cutlet is pure presentation, often said to be borrowed from the lamb cutlet, and tells the diner at a glance what he is eating.