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Corned-Beef Sandwiches
Chop the cold meat very fine, using one-fourth of fat meat. Work into the meat French mustard, or any "made" mustard, to taste, and prepare the sandwiches in the usual way. Boston brownbread combines well with this preparation.
A sandwich filling built on leftovers rather than measurements, so the proportions matter more than the method. Two terms in it need translating before you shop.
- "Made" mustardThis means prepared mustard from a jar, as opposed to dry mustard powder, which many household recipes of the period assumed you would mix yourself. "French mustard" in American books of this date usually indicates a mild smooth bottled mustard of the Dijon sort; a coarse-grain or an English mustard will both work, but English is considerably hotter and wants a lighter hand.
- The one-fourth fatThis is the hinge of the recipe. Chopped lean corned beef alone is dry and crumbly; the fat is what binds the mince and carries the mustard. Trimming your brisket entirely, or using pre-sliced lean deli corned beef, gives a filling that falls out of the bread.
- Chopping, not processingA food processor will quickly turn cooked corned beef to paste. Chop by hand on a board, or pulse very briefly, so the meat keeps some texture.
- Boston brown breadA steamed rye-cornmeal-molasses loaf, dark and slightly sweet, traditionally cooked in a cylindrical mould or tin and cut into rounds. It is still sold canned in New England supermarkets. The sweetness against salt beef and mustard is the point of the suggestion; a dense pumpernickel is the nearest substitute.
- SaltThe recipe adds none, correctly. Corned beef is already heavily cured, and how salty depends on your brine or your delicatessen. Taste the mince before spreading.
Corned beef in an American cookbook of this period generally meant home-boiled brisket cured in a salt brine, often described as a cheap winter meat of the Northeast, and many of the sandwich recipes of the era read as instructions for using up Sunday's boiled dinner. Chopping cold meat fine and binding it with mustard, butter or a little of its own fat was the routine way to turn a leftover joint into something that would hold together between slices of bread, well before sliced deli meat made the step unnecessary. The pairing with Boston brown bread places the book squarely in New England: the steamed loaf of rye, cornmeal and molasses was a Saturday-night fixture alongside baked beans.