Monet And The Outlaw Cook
Tuesday, January 17, 2012 at 09:55PM How can I explain how much I enjoyed reading John Thorne's The Outlaw Cook with the brevity inherent in a blog? Thorne's food writing has a bubbling loquaciousness that reminds me of a long-simmering stew.
- Day One, it's good.
- Day Two, it's better.
- Day Three? Hot Damn! Best stew ever!
And yet throughout Thorne's writing, there's a subdued sophistication and lingering self-deprecation that insists on more than the 500 words in your average blog post. Spaciousness in a blog is surely the enemy of the online reader. I knew I had to focus on just one thing to write about or be inspired by from The Outlaw Cook or I would be writing for a very long time about each and every essay.
The short review of Monet's Table: The Cooking Journals of Claude Monet captured my attention as I had a copy of said book lurking in my cluttered bookshelves and was waiting for an opportune time to explore. I was thinking spring and perhaps a visit to the nearby Dow Gardens. Instead, this is what it looks like out my window:
Inspired by Thorne's dedication to seemingly know everything (and every cookbook) regarding a particular food subject, I had grand thoughts of heading to the local college library and researching what one might eat in say, 1900. I planned to bury myself in a stake of moldy books and not come out until at least dinnertime tomorrow.
Instead, I headed over to What's On The Menu (a New York Public Library project) and found a menu from the Waldorf Astoria in New York on January 1, 1906. I've spent a lot of time at this website tip-typing an hour or so away at a time - totally fascinated with the menus - and often Googling to see what a particular item might actually be. I mean, what the heck is a "Scotch Woodcock?"
(Before Wikipedia went dark to protest SOPA/PIPA -which I mistyped as PITA and then wondered why Wikipedia was protesting against Pita Bread. I did learn that Scotch Woodcock was savory dish popular in the Victoria era. Scrambled eggs. Toast. Anchovy Paste.)
Still, I was looking for a French menu of the era.
I settled with a menu from not a restaurant of the era, but from a royal dinner of some sort given by King Leopold II of Belgium and Queen Marie-Henriette on May 26, 1894. Belgium's right next door to France, right?
Monet purchased the house in Giverny, France in 1890. It is known that during 1894 artists Mary Cassat, Cezanne, Rodin, Clemenceau, and Geffroy visited Monet at the home in Giverny. So perhaps Monet presented a similar facy dinner? Well maybe.
The royal dinner in Belgium included Brunoise a la Royale, Creme d'orge, Asperges, Sauce Hollandaise, Zephyrs a la Villeroi, Epinard au veloute, Palourdes au cresson, Saumon, Sauce Mousselin, Fois gras a la gelee, Filet de boeuf a la Richelieu, Pudding souffle a la Woronzoff, Ris de veau, petits pois, Chafroix de canetons, Charlotte Russe, Sorbets a l'Ananas, Glace Vanille, and Glace Cerises.
And if that's not enough to make you pop out of your once-in-a-lifetime evening dress, I don't know what might. Of course, I'm not sure what any of that says because I neither speak nor read French.
But let me back up a little, because Monet would never have hosted a dinner party. He was up early to catch the morning light, had a substantial lunchtime meal, then painted until the light faded. He rarely had dinner guests. Or so says Monet's Table which is rife with details of daily life and very thin on details of kitchen life.
I picked Chicken Chasseur to prepare: chicken in a mushroomy sauce of some sort that starts with butter.
Four tablespoons of butter. And oil. And chicken. Add an assortment of mushrooms. Add three tomatoes frozen from last year's CSA bounty, plus wine and at least one simmering hour.
The book also has a few photos of the handwritten cooking journals. While I can't tell you what the recipes say, I know the journals are old and in fragile condition:
Thorne's main complaint about the book was that the author (a distant relative of Monet's by marriage) failed to say much about actually preparing the food. Or even if the recipes included were actually served at Monet's lunchtime table.
While this is true, I wonder if our collective snobbishness extends so far that we insist we must follow an "authentic" recipe to be authentic? What does it mean to be truly authentic? As you can see, the authentic recipes don't have measurements.
And if you're writing a book with the hopes that it will be beloved by a modern fan of Monet, you want the recipes to be relatively easy for the modern cook to be able to execute. To simplify and overstate what is well known, many modern cooks can't seem to find the time to exert the effort it takes to interpret and then prepare and serve the hand written "recipe."
So the cooking journals needed a modern chef to translate. Enter French "Chef of the Century" Joel Robuchon and thank goodness. While I can whip up scrambled eggs and toast without a recipe, I wouldn't even attempt the Chicken Chasseur without Robuchon's adaptations. Thank goodness again for consistent measurements and clear instructions because by following them, the recipe turned out wonderful, meat sliding from the bone slathered in a buttery mushroomy tomato sauce.
If I'm a tourist at Giverny visiting the meticulously reconditioned home (that had been in ruins) and wanted to be able to take home a bit of Monet...and not artwork...Monet's Table might do the trick. I could prepare a dish or two, ask John Thorne to bring wood oven fired artisinal bread, and admire the lovely fading light of day. Surely that ol' foodie Monet would approve.
Reader Comments (7)
I'm so glad you enjoyed Outlaw Cook and that it made you seek out other books for a longish journey to your table. Great post and welcome to Cook the Books!
Thanks, Rachel, glad you stopped by. I'm happy to be participating in Cook The Books!
The Chicken Chasseur sounds delectable. Your search for period menus reminded me of an old book I inherited from an aunt, Charles Ranhofer's The Epicurean, recipes and menus from Delmonico's from 1862 to 1894. Some of it is really unbelievable.
Great post! I really enjoyed it. I have to admit that I did not get to this section of the book, but I will now.
Thank you Claudia and Eliot for stopping by. Participating in my first Cook The Book was a lot of fun.
This is a beautiful post and I love that you shared a menu from 1906. It looks so fascinating, I'd love to try it myself.
Julie, welcome to Cook the Books! Sorry for the late reply, but my time is so limited these days, I hardly have time to read blogs. I loved your review of the book and what a luscious chicken that is!