The Cook Book by “Oscar” of the Waldorf

Three thousand recipes from the maitre d'hotel of the Waldorf — the hotel kitchen that taught Gilded Age America how to dine, from beef tea to watermelon with champagne.

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Stewed Goose Livers

Take six goose's livers, clean and wash them thoroughly, and put them in a stewpan with two or three shallots, a piece of parsnip, a small bunch of sweet herbs, with a few sprigs of parsley tied up in it, two or three cloves, salt and pepper to taste and about three-quarters of a pint of clear stock. Move the saucepan to the side of the fire when boiling and keep the contents simmering gently until the livers are tender. When cooked take the livers out of the saucepan, being very careful not to break them, and cut them into slices. Take some of their cooking liquor to make the sauce, strain it into a small stewpan, thicken it with a little flour kneaded with butter, and stir it over the fire until boiling; next put into it a few sliced mushrooms and the sliced livers and let the whole simmer gently at the side of the fire for a few minutes. Turn the livers and mushrooms with the sauce over them on to a hot dish, garnish with thin rolls of fried bacon and small croutons of bread fried brown in butter, and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen Do not make this as written.

A hotel-kitchen braise of whole livers, sliced after cooking and finished in their own thickened liquor. The whole thing turns on gentle heat: the livers must never reach a rolling boil.

A Little History

Oscar Tschirky was maître d'hôtel at the Waldorf and then the Waldorf-Astoria from the 1890s, and his 1896 cook book is essentially the working repertoire of a large American hotel kitchen that answered to a European-trained brigade. Stewed goose liver belongs to that Franco-German end of the book: whole goose livers were a staple of Alsatian and southern German cooking, and Strasbourg's reputation for goose liver was already old by then, though the celebrated version there was the fattened liver made into terrines rather than a simple braise like this one. The recipe assumes you can get six livers at once — a supposition a home cook today cannot make. The finish is thoroughly nineteenth-century restaurant practice: cook in stock, strain, thicken with beurre manié, return the meat to the sauce for a moment, and ring the dish with fried bread and bacon.

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