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Pot-Au-Feu
This is a common dish in France, and is to be met with in almost every household. The foundation is beef, and if other meats are used they are reserved to make their appearance under different disguises. The parts most generally used are the leg, shoulders, and ribs. The upper parts of the leg are, however, the best for the purpose. The bouillon or broth is flavoured with vegetables that are boiled in it, and these are served with the bouilli or boiled beef. In making pot-au-feu it must be remembered that the stewpan must be scrupulously clean. It is usually made of tinned metal or earthenware. The meat should be quite fresh, should be simmered very gently but continuously, and skimmed with great care. The fire should be steady but slow, and should be mended very gently when necessary, that the ebullition may not be increased. The stewpan should not be very closely covered, or the bouillon will not be clear--and the true French bouillon is clear, limpid, of a golden-amber colour, and exhales pleasantly the combined aromas of the various meats and vegetables. The latter should be added after the meat has simmered half the time, and they should not be allowed to remain in the pan after they are done enough, or they will absorb some of its flavour. A little caramel or burnt sugar may be used to colour the bouillon, and this should be added the last thing. Some prefer the bouillon the first day, and some the second. To preserve it, it should be strained, put into a clean earthenware pan without cover, kept in a cool place, and boiled up every day in summer and every three days in winter. It should be remembered that if either turnips or garlic are used, the broth will not keep so well as if they were omitted. It is the French custom to put small slices of toasted bread into the soup tureen, to pour the bouillon over them, and to let these soak a few minutes before serving. The following are the detailed instructions for making pot-au-feu. Take four pounds of fresh beef and any bones that may be at hand. Bind the meat to keep it in shape, and break the bones into small pieces. Put the bones into the stewpan, lay the meat upon them, pour over them three quarts of cold water, and add a tea-spoonful of salt. Heat the liquid slowly and carefully, removing the scum as it rises. Keep adding a table-spoonful of cold water to assist its doing so, and skim most particularly until the soup is quite clear. When it is thoroughly skimmed, cover loosely to keep out the dust, and let it simmer very gently for two hours. Add an onion stuck with three cloves, a bunch of parsley, a sprig of thyme, five or six outer sticks of celery, a leek, two carrots, a bay-leaf, a turnip, and a tea-spoonful of whole pepper. The vegetables should be added gradually, that the temperature of the soup may not be lowered by them. Let the vegetables simmer gently and continuously for two hours longer, or until they are tender. Add a little more pepper and salt if required, and serve the bouillon in a tureen; and as a second course, the bouilli and the vegetables. Time, five hours from the time the liquid has once boiled. Probable cost, beef, 11d. per pound. Sufficient for ten or twelve persons.
A five-hour beef broth with the boiled meat and vegetables served after it. Most of the instruction is about clarity, and that is where the attention belongs.
- The hinge: never let it boilOnce skimmed, the pot should tremble rather than bubble — a bare simmer at around 190F, with the surface barely shivering. A rolling boil emulsifies fat and drives fine particles through the liquid, and no amount of later straining will bring back the "limpid, golden-amber" broth the text describes.
- Skimming and the cold-water trickSplashing in a spoonful of cold water drops the surface temperature and encourages the scum to gather and set so it can be lifted off cleanly. The principle is unchanged today; the recipe already begins from cold water and skims patiently until the liquid runs clear.
- The cut"Upper parts of the leg" means the top of the hind leg — topside or silverside in British butchery, top round or bottom round in American. Shin, brisket or short rib give more gelatine and better eating as the bouilli; four pounds is right for a 6-quart pot with three quarts of water.
- BonesMarrow and knuckle bones are what give body. Break or have them cut so the marrow is exposed. Roasting them first would darken the broth, which is precisely what this recipe is trying to avoid.
- Vegetable timingTwo hours of simmering will overcook carrots, leek and turnip to mush; the text itself allows for this, warning that the vegetables should not stay in the pan after they are done enough. Add the aromatics — onion clouté, herbs, peppercorns — for the second stage, but lift the root vegetables out as soon as they are tender, usually 30 to 45 minutes, if you want to serve them as the second course.
- Turnip and garlicThe text warns that these shorten the keeping life of the broth. Both are high in sulphur compounds, which develop off-flavours on standing, and that is the likely basis of the warning. Leave them out if the broth is intended for stock rather than immediate eating.
- StorageIgnore the instruction to keep the broth uncovered in a cool larder and boil it up every day or every three days. That was a pre-refrigeration expedient and it is not a safe one. Cool the strained broth quickly, refrigerate within two hours, and use within three or four days, or freeze it.
- CaramelThe colouring is sugar cooked to dark mahogany and let down with a little water. A few drops at the end only; it adds colour and a faint bitterness, not sweetness, and is optional.
- Yield and servingTen or twelve is realistic if the broth is a first course over toasted bread and the meat follows. Serve the bouilli sliced with coarse salt, mustard, cornichons and the vegetables around it.
Pot-au-feu means simply "pot on the fire," and the name describes a method of cooking as much as a dish: a single vessel kept at the edge of the hearth, yielding a clear broth for the first course and boiled beef for the second. Everything that makes a good consommé — the scrupulous skimming, the loose lid, the refusal to let the liquid boil, is here in plain form. The confidence that it is "to be met with in almost every household" in France reflects the deference English cookery books of the period paid to French domestic practice, and the price note of elevenpence a pound for beef is a reminder that this was framed as economical cooking, a way of getting soup and a joint from one fire.