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Entrées: Ris-de-veau
Sweetbreads are dressed as- Ris-de-veau à la Villeroi. Slices coated with ENTRÉES.
Allemande sauce, breadcrumbed and fried; served with a white sauce and any dressed vegetable.
Ris-de-veau à la poulette-cooked with flour, butter, mushrooms, onions, etc. à l'Anglaise-breadcrumbed and roasted; served with gravy. frits-dipped in batter and fried; served with tomato sauce. à la Provençale-braised in stock with bacon and garlic, and served in the sauce. à l'Espagnole-larded, braised in stock with veal, bacon, onions, etc., and served in the sauce. à la Toulouse-larded and braised; served with a Toulouse garnish, or in a white sauce with mushrooms and quenelles. à la St. Cloud-larded and braised, and served with truffles and tomato sauce. à la Dauphine-larded and braised, and served with a purée of sorrel. à la Montpensier-larded and braised, and served with rice, and a white sauce with truffles or mushrooms. à la Constance-larded with strips of truffle and tongue, braised, and served with white sauce, garnished with braised olives and little heaps of chopped truffle and tongue. en fricandeau-larded, braised, and glazed; served on a purée of spinach or tomato. piqués à la Turque--larded, braised, and glazed; cut in halves and dressed on a border of forcemeat, with rice in the centre, and suprême sauce over the rice.
Ris-de-veau piqués aux truffes-larded, braised, and served with truffle sauce. Jardinière or Financière sauce, dressed peas or cucumber, may be substituted for the truffle sauce, altering the name according to the sauce or vegetable with which they are served. en bigarrure. Small sweetbreads, half of them larded and braised, and half breadcrumbed and roasted; dressed alternately, and served with tomato sauce. à la Chinoise. Small sweetbreads larded and braised, set in little moulds of aspic ornamented with hard-boiled eggs, beetroot, etc.; served cold, with rice in the centre of the dish. en caisses are small round slices in brown sauce with chopped mushrooms, etc., baked in paper cases, sprinkled with breadcrumbs.
Eighteen named dishes, and underneath nearly all of them one preparation: the sweetbread larded, braised, and served with a different garnish. The page is one technique wearing eighteen names.
- What a sweetbread isRis de veau is the thymus of a calf — the long, lobed piece from the throat, and in practice the rounder gland from the chest as well. It is a gland, not a muscle, which is why it is soft, mild, and why it falls apart if it is handled roughly.
- Everything here starts after the real workNot one entry mentions it: sweetbreads have to be soaked in several changes of cold water until they stop bleeding, blanched, cooled, peeled of their membrane, and pressed flat under a weight for an hour or two. Skip that and no dish on this page works. The book assumes a cook who has already done it.
- Larded and braised, braised and glazedVilleroi, Provencale, Espagnole, Toulouse, St. Cloud, Dauphine, Montpensier, Constance — all larded, braised, and distinguished by a sauce and a vegetable. If you are cooking from this, choose the garnish you can actually get and ignore the name, because the name is downstream of the garnish.
- Truffles as a routine garnishChopped truffle is strewn about this page as casually as parsley, and strips of it are threaded through the meat alongside tongue. Both ends of that have moved: the gland and the fungus are now expensive, so an everyday entrée has become a restaurant dish twice over.
- En bigarrure is a good ideaHalf the sweetbreads larded and braised, half crumbed and roasted, laid alternately on the dish. One soft and sauced, one crisp and dry, the same material in two states. That contrast is still the best thing you can do with a sweetbread, whatever you call it.
- GlazingEn fricandeau is larded, braised and glazed. Glazed here means the braising liquid reduced and spooned over the meat again and again until it lacquers. There is no temperature because it is judged by sight: you stop when it shines and before it catches.
A calf yields one pair of these, and a dish of them for a dozen people is an order placed against many animals’ worth of a single small gland. That it appears as a routine entrée, with eighteen settings worked out for it, says something about the supply reaching a city kitchen: a butcher who killed daily could set aside sweetbreads daily, and a household could treat as ordinary a thing no single farm could have provided. The chapter is a record of an urban trade, not a country larder.