Home › The Principles of Cookery › VEAL CAKE (another way)
VEAL CAKE (another way)
Take as much cold cooked lean veal as will fill a small earthenware mould. Mince it finely, and mix with it three ounces of ham or bacon, also minced, a slice of the crumb of bread soaked in milk, a small piece of butter, two eggs well beaten, as much minced shallot as will lie on a threepenny piece, and a little pepper, salt, and pounded mace. Mix these ingredients thoroughly, press them into a buttered mould, and bake the preparation in a moderate oven. Turn it out when cold, and garnish with parsley. If liked, this cake may be served hot, and sent to table with brown gravy. Time to bake the cake, about an hour, or until it is brown.
A thrifty way to use up the remains of a roast, closer to a fine-textured meatloaf than to a cake. The mixture is bound with a bread panade and eggs, so the two things that matter are seasoning it assertively and letting it set cold before turning out.
- Moderate ovenBake at 350F. The recipe judges doneness by colour, but an hour at that temperature in a small mould should bring the centre to 160F; check with a thermometer rather than guessing, since the veal is already cooked and gives no visual cue.
- The mouldSmall moulds of this sort are usually somewhere around a pint, which takes roughly 12 oz to 1 lb of minced meat; judge by the mould you have, since the recipe simply says to fill it. A 1-pint pudding basin, small terrine or mini loaf tin all work. Butter it generously and, if you intend to turn it out whole, line the base with a disc of parchment.
- As much as will lie on a threepenny pieceA threepenny bit was a small silver coin, about 16 mm across. What sits on it amounts to something under a quarter teaspoon of minced shallot — a whisper of onion flavour, not a base note. Scale up only if you want the cake to taste of shallot.
- Soaked breadThis is a panade, and it is what keeps twice-cooked veal from turning grainy. Use a thick slice of stale white crumb, no crust, soaked in a few tablespoons of milk and squeezed only lightly — it should be sodden, not wrung out.
- Pounded maceMace is the outer covering of the nutmeg and was the standard warm spice for veal and potted meats. Ground mace from a jar is fine; about a quarter teaspoon suits this quantity. Nutmeg substitutes, in slightly smaller measure.
- Season past what seems rightCold meat mixtures taste noticeably flatter than warm ones. Salt and pepper to what seems just past correct while the mixture is raw, remembering the ham or bacon is already salty.
- Turning it out coldLet the cake cool in the mould, then refrigerate several hours until thoroughly firm before inverting. Turned out warm it will slump or crack. Loosen the edge with a thin knife and give the mould a sharp tap.
- Yield and servingA pint mould gives about four modest cold portions with salad, or six as a first course cut in slices; served hot with brown gravy it stretches to three or four. Brown gravy here means a gravy made from meat stock, browned and often lightly thickened.
- If you cannot get vealCold roast chicken, turkey or pork behaves the same way in this formula. Lean is the point — fatty trimmings will weep in the mould and spoil the slice.
Veal cake belongs to the large Victorian family of moulded, pressed and potted meats that let a household turn the last of a joint into something presentable enough for a supper table or a picnic basket. Cassell's appears to give more than one version, some apparently set in jelly, others — like this one — bound with egg and breadcrumb and baked, which is essentially a small terrine under an English name. The word "cake" carried no implication of sweetness; it is generally understood to have referred to the compact shape turned out of a mould. Veal was a natural meat for it: mild, pale and gelatinous enough to slice cleanly when cold, and it appears often in nineteenth-century recipes for galantines, pies and potted mixtures, alongside beef, ham, game and tongue. The garnish of parsley and the option of brown gravy show the dish working both ways, as cold larder food and as a hot made dish, a flexibility that mattered in kitchens where the second appearance of a joint had to look deliberate rather than apologetic.