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Partridge, Mrs. Reick
Singe, cut heads and feet off two fat, tender partridges, split open through back without separating, carefully draw, neatly wipe, remove spinal bones, envelop in a towel and gently flatten with a cleaver. Lightly prickle both sides with a small needle and lay on a flat dish. Carefully crack and remove perfect meat from four Brazilian nuts (not roasted), cut in thin slices and place in mortar with twenty-four very sound, roasted, cracked, unpeeled pistachios and a half very small, sound, peeled and finely chopped shallot. Briskly pound these ingredients to a fine pulp, add a half ounce fresh butter, half teaspoon French mustard, light saltspoon each curry powder and paprika, half teaspoon salt, strained juice of quarter of a sound lemon, and sharply pound again for minute and a half. Remove pulp from mortar, with it carefully rub bird on both sides, then let infuse in moderate temperature for thirty minutes, being careful to frequently rub meanwhile, arrange birds on a double broiler and broil for five minutes on each side. Peel, core and cut in three even slices each four medium, sound, juicy (not over-ripe) pears, lay on a lightly buttered baking dish one beside another and place partridges over, cut side downward. Arrange six exceedingly thin slices raw lean bacon over birds, spread remaining mixed butter in dish over all, set in oven for sixteen minutes, baste with its own gravy once in a while, remove and serve in same dish.
A spatchcocked game bird under a nut-and-spice paste, broiled briefly and then finished over pears. The paste is the whole point, and it needs to be a true paste, not a coarse chop.
- The hinge: pound the paste properlyThe nuts, shallot, butter and seasonings must become a smooth, spreadable pulp that clings to the bird. A mortar gives the best texture, but a small food processor works; scrape down and keep going until there is no grit, or the coating slides off in the broiler.
- "Brazilian nuts"These are Brazil nuts, four of them, raw rather than roasted. They are high in oil and turn creamy under pounding, which is what binds the paste.
- Saltspoon and "French mustard"A saltspoon is about a quarter teaspoon, and "light" means a scant one. "French mustard" in books of this period generally means a smooth prepared mustard of the Dijon type rather than a grainy or American-style yellow mustard.
- "Moderate temperature" is not the ovenIn the marinating step it means an ordinary room, not an oven or warming place, for thirty minutes. Given raw poultry, a cool room is fine and half an hour is the limit; do not extend it.
- Oven heat, unstatedThe book gives no temperature for the sixteen-minute finish. A hot oven of 425F suits it, since the birds have already had ten minutes under the broiler and the bacon needs to render and brown.
- Partridge, and what to use insteadMarket "partridge" today is usually farmed chukar or gray partridge, about 12-16 oz each. Two Cornish hens or four quail behave similarly; quail need the oven time cut by roughly half. Cook to 160-165F in the thickest part of the breast.
- Double broilerThis is a hinged wire broiling basket that holds the flattened bird flat between two grids and lets you turn it in one motion. A weighted skillet or a grill press over a rack achieves the same thing.
- The pearsFirm Bosc or Anjou, sliced lengthwise into three planks each, hold their shape and absorb the drippings. Fully ripe pears collapse into sauce in sixteen minutes, which is why the original insists on "not over-ripe."
- YieldTwo birds and four pears serve two generously, or four as a first course. It is meant to come to the table in the baking dish.
This is one of many dishes in Alexander Filippini's International Cook Book (1906) named for an individual patron rather than a place or a technique, a habit carried over from his years in the kitchens of Delmonico's in New York. The pairing of game bird with pear belongs to a long European tradition of setting autumn fruit against dark, lean meat, and the nut paste here does the work that a bread sauce or a fruit jelly would do in an English kitchen: it adds fat and sweetness to a bird that has almost none of its own. What dates the recipe most is the word partridge itself, which in American cookbooks of the period was applied loosely to ruffed grouse and bobwhite quail as much as to any true partridge, all of them wild-shot and sold in markets in a way that game laws passed in the following decades brought to an end.