The International Cook Book

Over three thousand recipes from the man who cooked at Delmonico's — French sauces, Italian pastas, Indian curries and American pies, the whole eating world of 1906 in one volume.

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Braised Lettuce

Remove stale leaves from six very small heads fresh lettuce, plunge in boiling water five minutes. Take up with a skimmer, drop in cold water for a few minutes, drain and press out all the water.

Place in a sautoire a few trimmings of larding pork, then place lettuce over, add four branches parsley and two medium onions with two cloves stuck in. Season with teaspoon salt. Cover lettuce with slices of larding pork, moisten with half gill white wine, a gill broth and half gill pure tomato juice. Cover pan and set in oven thirty minutes. Remove, lift up lettuce, place on a sieve, lightly squeeze and give nice forms. Dress on a hot vegetable dish, crown-like, with six heart-shaped croutons alternately. Skim fat from gravy, press through a Chinese strainer into a saucepan, boil five minutes. Mix on a plate a teaspoon butter with teaspoon flour, mix well, add it to sauce and sharply mix. Pour sauce over the lettuce and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen

A French garnish dish translated into an American book: lettuce blanched, braised under pork fat, and served with its own reduced gravy. Nothing here is difficult, but several of the words and vessels have moved on.

A Little History

Braised lettuce belongs to the French repertoire of laitues braisées, a garnish more often seen beside veal or lamb than standing alone, and its logic is the logic of the kitchen garden: lettuce bolts and toughens fast in warm weather, and braising rescues heads that have grown too coarse to eat raw. The method here — blanch, refresh in cold water, press dry, then braise between layers of pork fat with an onion stuck with cloves — is standard nineteenth-century professional practice, and the vocabulary gives away the source: sautoire, Chinese strainer, croutons cut in hearts — the language of hotel and restaurant kitchens carried over into an American book. Cooked lettuce reads as odd now, but it was ordinary enough that the recipe assumes no explanation is needed.

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