Amphitryon
Few names are more highly honoured than this; yet none is more ambiguous nor more curiously linked with shame and ridicule. The true Amphitryon was thoroughly befooled and dishonoured. He was thus injured by the king of gods, who took his name and his form, entered his house, and made love to his wife. When the two Amphitryons were brought face to face, and each claimed against the other to be the true one, the false Amphitryon-Jupiter-invited the assembled company to dine, whereupon his friend Mercury exclaimed that this settled the question and resolved all doubts- Le véritable Amphitryon Est l'Amphitryon où l'on dine.
It is a good story to laugh at. Molière brought out all its humour with superlative gaiety, and with sly allusion to Louis XIV. and the husband of Madame de Montespan: but what a tribute it is to the genius of the comedian that no one now objects to the name, and it is always accepted as a title of honour! The one Amphitryon is dishonoured, the other dishonours him. No matter: dishonoured or dishonouring, he is the true Amphitryon who gives a dinner, and everybody is proud of deserving the name. ANCHOVY is the most renowned herring in the world, and is the foundation of the celebrated sauces of classical times-garum and alec. Dr. Badham says, with perfect truth, that the anchovy "was to the ancient world what the herring is to the modern-compensating in some degree for its inferiority to the last while fresh by surpassing when cured the very herring itself as a relish; and furnishing the materials for the finest fish sauce either on record or in use." The best that come to England hail from Gorgona.
Anchovy Butter is made with any quantity of butter from half an ounce to an ounce for each anchovy. The half-ounce scale is the best for ordinary use. Skin and Anchovy bone the anchovies; pound them in a mortar with a little of the butter; rub them through a sieve with the back of a wooden spoon; mix the rest of the butter with them; and if they are to be served at table cold, tint them with rose pink and mould them into shapes.
Anchovy Essence. - The essence of anchovies sold in shops is so often adulterated that it is wise to know how to be independent of it. Clean six anchovies, and pound them in a mortar with a tablespoonful of capers, two shalots, and two red chillies. Put them in a small stewpan, with thyme, bayleaf, mace, and a wineglassful of mushroom ketchup, and let them simmer gently for five minutes. Then add two wineglassfuls of good broth and reduce it rapidly. Press it through a sieve, and finish it with a small piece of glaze and a little lemon-juice. Never mind the want of colour, which in the essence of the shops is too often the result of baneful minerals.
Anchovy Sauce is the English sauce-made with anchovy butter instead of ordinary butter ; or otherwise, English sauce made in the ordinary way and flavoured with essence of anchovies.
Anchovy Toast. - Cut slices of bread as for sandwiches, and fry them in clarified butter till they become brown without becoming hard and crisp ; spread them with anchovy butter, upon this lay fillets of anchovies, and serve them hot.
ANDOUILLETTE is the name of a sausage made from andouille-the French name for chitterlings. Andouille itself originally meant a sausage, being no other than the Latin inductilis-a duct into which minced meat has been inducted. We know little of the andouillette in England. In France it is a great favourite; but it can be had in perfection at Dumas', 55, Prince's Street, Leicester Square. It is to be grilled and eaten very hot.
Anise-seed ANGELICA is not only thus gloriously called in ordinary speech: its scientific name is Angelica Archangelica; and its virtues were supposed to be so wonderful that it has also been called The Holy Ghost, while the Carthusian monks of the monastery at Grenoble have appropriated the sacred plant to themselves, and made of it a liqueur-Chartreuse-the name of which they stoutly defend in the law courts as their monopoly. The great virtues of this angelic drink, which the holy fathers claim to be alone possessed of, are sudorific, diuretic, and carminative. It is interesting to think of the angelic plant, and the holy fathers who cultivate it, being so kindly to the bowels of the human race, and ever intent on defeating the wind and coaxing perspiration. The plant has a fine pungent flavour; and the holy fathers know how to allure the senses, for they invest their distillation with lovely tints, making a green as well as a yellow or golden Chartreuse. In the olden time angelica used to be blanched for salad like celery. In this respect it has shared the fate of the alisander or parsley of Macedon: it is no longer used for salad. The stems, however, the stalks, and the midribs of the leaves, are candied, and are used like candied orange and citron peel to flavour and ornament sweet dishes. The Laplanders, however, to this day roast the stalks, and eat them for hoarseness, for coughs, and to produce perspiration. This shows that if the plant be indeed worthy of the celestial personages whose names it has received, they must be very favourable to copious perspiration and to diuretics,
Three workable recipes sit inside this dictionary entry: anchovy butter, a homemade anchovy essence, and anchovy toast. The rest is commentary.
- The anchoviesThese are salt-cured anchovies packed in barrels or tins, not the oil-packed fillets sold in most shops. Whichever you use, rinse them and pat dry; salt-packed ones want ten minutes in cold water first, then the backbone slipped out with a thumbnail.
- Leave out the rose pink"Rose pink" was a lake pigment made by dyeing chalk with brazilwood, sold to cooks and to housepainters alike. It has no place in food. Anchovy butter is a pleasant greyish-fawn colour; if you want it warmer, a pinch of sweet paprika does the job.
- Butter proportionsHalf an ounce of butter per anchovy is roughly 15 g each, so six anchovies to about 90 g butter. That is a strong, spreadable compound butter. The one-ounce scale gives a milder butter suited to finishing grilled fish or steak.
- WineglassfulIn Kettner's period a wineglass is about 2 fl oz, a quarter of a cup. So the essence takes 1/4 cup mushroom ketchup and 1/2 cup broth, reduced hard.
- Mushroom ketchupNot tomato ketchup: a thin, dark, salty mushroom-and-salt liquor, still sold in Britain and easily found online. Mushroom soy or a strong dried-mushroom reduction with a little soy stands in acceptably.
- Glaze"A small piece of glaze" is glace de viande, stock reduced to a sticky, near-solid jelly. A teaspoon of commercial demi-glace or a very reduced brown stock will do. It is there for body and gloss, not flavour bulk.
- "English sauce"In Victorian usage this almost certainly means the plain melted-butter sauce, thickened with flour, rather than hollandaise or a sweet custard. Either whisk anchovy butter into it at the end or stir in a teaspoon or two of the essence.
- Frying the toastClarified butter is specified because whole butter burns before the bread browns. Medium heat, and take the slices out while the centre is still soft; the instruction "brown without becoming hard and crisp" is the whole point of the dish.
- YieldThe essence makes only a few tablespoons and keeps a week or so covered in the refrigerator. The butter, wrapped in a log and chilled, keeps a fortnight and freezes well.
The entry opens with the joke that gave every host in Europe a flattering nickname: in Plautus and then in Molière's Amphitryon of 1668, Jupiter takes the shape of the Theban general Amphitryon to reach his wife, and when the two doubles confront each other the question is settled by the line quoted here, that the real Amphitryon is the one who provides dinner -- in Molière the line is spoken by the servant Sosie, not by Mercury as the entry has it. Kettner's book, published in 1877 under the name of the Soho restaurateur Auguste Kettner and written by the journalist E. S. Dallas, is arranged as an alphabetical dictionary, so a literary aside about hosts sits directly against practical instructions for anchovy butter. The anchovy notes lean on Charles David Badham's Prose Halieutics (1854) and on the classical fish sauces garum and allec, fermented condiments that Roman writers treat as indispensable and that the Victorians took to be ancestors of their own bottled anchovy essences. The warning about adulteration was not paranoia: nineteenth-century commercial fish sauces and ketchups were often reddened with iron oxide, Venetian red or worse, and Arthur Hill Hassall's public analyses of the 1850s made such tinting a standing scandal, which is why a cook was advised to make plain, pale essence at home and not mind the colour.