Brawn
One word about brawn, not for itself so much as for its connection with galantine. It is, in fact, a galantine of pig's head. In the oldest English receipts we are told how to make a galantine with the brawn or flesh of fowls, as well as with that of swine; but in the course of ages it has come about that the galantine of pig is especially called brawn, and it is scarcely ever made in private houses. We buy it as we buy sausages, in the shops. It would save a great deal of trouble if galantine were treated in the same way. The wholesale dealers can make it better and cheaper than any private family.
Brawn Sauce. - Brawn has a sauce all to itself. Add mustard and sugar to oil and vinegar in proportions which must be left to individual taste. Some insist that the sugar must be brown. This is not necessary; but if white sugar be chosen, then the juice of a sweet orange, together with a few gratings of the zest, may be worked in with great effect. Say two tablespoonfuls of oil, one of vinegar, two mustardspoonfuls of mustard, a dessertspoonful of sifted sugar, the juice of one and the rind of half a sweet orange.
BRAZE-to braze. - Brazing is a combination of stewing and baking. The meat, which is nearly always boned, is put into a copper stewpan with broth and vegetables, and set upon embers or upon the corner of the stove, to simmer very gently. Thus far it is the easiest-going stew that can Braze be imagined. It is at the same time on its upper surface subjected to another process of heat. The lid is tightly closed upon it, sometimes with clay or dough, and is in a form to hold burning embers which ought to generate upon the surface of the stew a heat that if applied below and in contact with the metal bottom might burn it. Below, there is a slow stew going on; above, the meat is in a sort of miniature oven, baking and browning. It is a favourite mode of cooking with the French, and is supposed to create unusual flavour-combining the advantages of roasting and boiling. Whether it does so is another question. Brazed meat is no doubt an improvement upon boiled; but it never reaches the flavour of roast. This, however, is a matter of opinion; and French cooks often put paper over delicate meat which is to be brazed-say a fowl or turkey -to make sure that the heat of the brazier above will not give it too much of a taste.
Braze is a common name for the ingredients which are put into the brazing-pan to stew with the meat and to give it a flavour. Obviously in this sense the braze may be as variable as the viands which are to be stewed and as the tastes which have to be consulted. The Mirepoix, mentioned later, will be found a very good braze indeed, and it does not differ much from what is commonly called a braze-that is, a few slices of bacon, some carrots, four or five onions, one of which is made a pincushion for cloves, two bayleaves, a little thyme, and a bunch of parsley. Indeed, the multiplication of names is one of the greatest follies of the kitchen; and mention is made here of braze not with approval, but only to prevent disappointment. To judge by the current receipts, it would be extremely difficult to make out a clear difference between Braze, Blanc, Poêle, and Mirepoix. Each and all are a confusion of well-favoured vegetables and herbs, one heaped upon another, with little regard to quantity and none to com bination. See more upon this point under Faggot.
Bread
The entry is mostly an essay on brawn and on brazing, but tucked into it is a complete working recipe: Brawn Sauce, a sharp mustard vinaigrette meant for cold pressed pork. The quantities given are Victorian spoon measures rather than modern ones.
- The spoon measuresA mustardspoonful is the little condiment spoon, roughly half a teaspoon, so two of them is about a teaspoon. A dessertspoonful is two teaspoons, about 10 ml.
- Which mustardIn an English kitchen of this date this means dry mustard powder, not a jarred prepared mustard. Powdered mustard needs a few minutes standing in the liquid to develop its heat; if you substitute a made mustard, reduce the vinegar slightly, since prepared mustards already carry acid.
- Sifted sugarSifted sugar here means a fine sugar passed through a sieve to break lumps so it dissolves in the vinegar; caster sugar is the closest modern equivalent. Dissolve it in the vinegar and mustard before the oil goes in, or it will stay gritty.
- The orangeThe juice of a whole orange against one tablespoon of vinegar makes a notably sweet, loose dressing. Add the juice gradually and taste; the zest matters more than the juice for flavour, and only the coloured outer layer should be grated.
- The oilKettner most likely meant a mild olive oil, the usual salad oil of the period. A robust modern extra-virgin will fight the mustard and the orange; a light olive or neutral oil suits the balance better.
- Brawn itselfBrawn is set pig's head meat in its own jelly, sold sliced. Head cheese in the United States is the same thing. The sauce also works on any cold pressed or terrine-style pork, ham, or a coarse country pâté.
- On brazingThe braising described here is a lidded pot with embers heaped on the lid, radiant heat above and gentle simmer below. A modern equivalent is a covered casserole in a 300-325F oven, uncovered for the last stretch if you want the top to colour.
Auguste Kettner's Book of the Table (1877) was ghostwritten in large part by the journalist E. S. Dallas, which accounts for the essayistic, opinionated voice running through entries like this one. The argument that brawn is simply a galantine of pig's head is sound etymologically: brawn in Middle English meant flesh or muscle generally, and older English cookery did speak of the brawn of a capon as readily as of a boar. By the nineteenth century the word had narrowed to the pressed, jellied head meat sold by pork butchers, and the author's observation that it is scarcely ever made at home marks the point at which a farmhouse preparation had become a shop-bought one. The sauce is a period English mustard vinaigrette of the sort served with any cold fatty meat, sugar and acid cutting the gelatinous richness; the orange variation is the kind of refinement Kettner's readers, dining out in London, would have expected from a restaurateur.