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Bohemian Sandwiches
Chop shrimps very fine and mix them to a paste with melted butter. Season with lemon juice, Worcestershire, salt and pepper. Spread between thin slices of toast.
A potted-shrimp filling in miniature, written in the shorthand of a period cook who expected you to season by taste. Nothing here is difficult; the whole thing rests on the butter-to-shrimp ratio and on using bread thin enough to stay polite.
- No quantities givenThe original assumes you know the proportion. A workable starting point is 8 oz cooked, peeled shrimp to 3-4 tablespoons melted butter — enough to bind into a spreadable paste, not enough to make it greasy. Add butter a spoonful at a time.
- The shrimpThe recipe assumes cooked shrimp; period cooks would have had either fresh-boiled shrimp or the canned sort. Cooked cocktail shrimp or small cold-water shrimp work; do not use raw shrimp, since nothing in this recipe cooks them.
- Chop, do not purée"Very fine" means knife-chopped to a rough paste. A food processor turns shrimp to a gummy emulsion in seconds — pulse briefly if you use one, or chop by hand for the texture the recipe intends.
- Season at the endShrimp and butter are both salty, and Worcestershire brings more. Mix, taste, then adjust. Lemon juice should be enough to lift the butter, roughly a teaspoon for half a pound of shrimp.
- "Thin slices of toast"Toast the bread first, then trim crusts and slice — or use thin-cut sandwich bread toasted and cut into fingers or triangles. Spread the paste while the butter is still soft so it does not tear the toast.
- Serve cold, hold coldButter-bound shellfish sitting at room temperature for hours is the weak point of any potted preparation. Make the paste ahead, refrigerate it, and assemble close to serving.
- YieldHalf a pound of shrimp makes enough for about 16 small tea sandwiches.
Potting shellfish in butter is an English preservation habit older than the sandwich itself: the fat sealed the meat from air and, incidentally, made it spread. By the turn of the twentieth century the technique had been demoted from larder work to the tea table, where shrimp paste on thin toast was served as a "savoury" alongside anchovy and cheese. The "Bohemian" in the title appears to be period fashion rather than geography, the word being attached to dishes meant to sound worldly.