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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Cream, Japanese

Place in a saucepan one pound clean, raw chicken bones, one pound knuckle of veal and three and a half quarts water; set on fire and let come to a boil, then skim fat from surface, season with two teaspoons salt and half teaspoon white pepper, add one minced white onion, two sliced leeks, two branches celery, also sliced, one branch parsley, one sprig thyme and one clove. Boil forty minutes, then add fifteen fresh, clean, crushed okras and allow to boil and hour and a half longer.

Mix in another saucepan one ounce butter with two and a half ounces flour, heat one minute, then strain broth through a strainer into this pan, season with a teaspoon curry, saltspoon cayenne pepper and saltspoon grated nutmeg; mix with wooden spoon until it comes to a boil, cook for thirty minutes, then pour in two gills cream, add half ounce good butter, mix until it boils and keep hot. Plunge three ounces Japanese pearls in a pint boiling water with half teaspoon salt, boil for forty minutes, and stir at bottom once in a while. Drain pearls on a sieve and wash under cold water until they do not stick to the fingers. Strain cream through a cheesecloth into a saucepan, add the pearls, lightly mix, boil for two minutes, pour soup into a tureen and serve.

For the Modern Kitchen

A classic cream soup in the French mold: a long-simmered white stock thickened with roux, enriched with cream, and garnished with tapioca pearls. Most of the work is unattended; the finishing steps go quickly.

A Little History

Filippini's book files soups by their finish rather than their origin − hence a run of entries beginning "Cream," of which this is one. The "Japanese" is the garnish, not the cuisine: large pearl tapioca was sold in the American and European grocery trade under names evoking Japan in the late nineteenth century. Everything else in the pot is Franco-colonial: a white veal-and-fowl stock, a roux, curry powder, cayenne and nutmeg, and okra used the way a Creole or Anglo-Indian kitchen would use it, as a thickener boiled to nothing. The result belongs to the same family as mulligatawny and the mildly curried "Indian" creams that appeared on hotel menus of the period, when a spoonful of curry powder was less a claim about a country than a flavor note a chef could count on his customers recognizing.

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