Part 7 (1/2)
[Dumas next deals with his anonymous correspondent's question about the etymology of the word moutarde moutarde, before proceeding to treat it from the botanical point of view; and then pa.s.ses to its role in cuisine.]
You ask me, finally, which of the preparations I prefer from the culinary point of view.
Until I tasted and appreciated the mustard of M. Alexandre Bornibus, I used to prefer to all others the aromatic mustards of Maille and Bordin.
But once chance had caused me to taste the Bornibus mustard I realized that the day would come when it would be the champion.
I speak of chance, for here is how it happened. I was writing a novel of which the main scene took place at Bourg-en-Bresse. I obtained information about the shortest way of visiting this town, the stage on which my characters were to perform, and was told: ”Go to Macon, a branch line from there will take you straight to Bourg.”
I arrived fast asleep at Dijon, heard the cry ”Dijon! Dijon!” and then fell into confusion. Was it at Dijon or was it at Macon that there was a branch line to Bourg? I no longer had any idea. Since I had only 133 133 one travelling-bag with me, I jumped down on to the platform from my coach, made for the exit, and asked for the branch line to Bourg.
The ticket-collector, who did not understand what I was trying to say, did not reply, and I found myself outside in the courtyard. I addressed myself to a coachman who was conveniently waiting there.
”The branch line for Bourg?” I asked him.
”For what bourg bourg (place)?” (place)?”
”For Bourg-en-Bresse.”
”Ah, well, you're not in the right place. That is at Macon.”
I made to re-enter the station. The ticket-collector asked me for my ticket.
”My ticket? I've just given it to you. Look among the tickets which you've just collected and you'll find one for Macon.”
While he was looking for it, the locomotive coughed, spat, sneezed, and departed.
”Goodness me,” laughed the ticket-collector, ”you'll be the first arrival for tomorrow's train.”
”But still,” said I, ”if I'm going to leave tomorrow you'll have to give me back my ticket.”
”And here indeed it is,” quoth he. ”My goodness, yes! It's for Macon, all right. Bah!...Stay the night here.”
”So be it,” I replied, ”and I'll take the opportunity to visit the cathedral and to pay a call on my poor friend Louis Boulanger.”
Louis Boulanger, one of those painters whose first works were the most promising, was director of the museum at Dijon, and I was delighted to have this opportunity of seeing him. The only trouble was that I could hardly burst in on him at eleven o'clock in the evening. So I had myself taken to the Hotel du Parc.
I asked for supper. They served me two mutton cutlets and half a cold chicken.
”What mustard do you want?” asked the waiter.
”That of Dijon, of course.”
”I know,” said he, with the air of someone who was saying to himself ”what an imbecile!,” ”but I'm asking whether you prefer men's mustard or ladies'.”
”Oh, oh,” said I in turn, ”and what difference is there between men's mustard and women's?”
”Ladies'.”
”All right, ladies'.”
”The fact is, sir, that since a lady's palate is more delicate than a 134 134 man's, the ordinary mustard of Dijon is too strong and too pungent for the ladies, so much so that M. Bornibus has invented a separate mustard for them.”
”Who is this M. Bornibus?”
”Oh, sir, he's all the rage as mustard-maker. People here talk of no mustard but his.”
”It's true, I know him by reputation, but I don't yet know his mustard.
It would be interesting to taste it here in Dijon. Will you give me some, then?”
”Which of the two?”
”Both of them.”
”So monsieur will eat the ladies' mustard?”
”Yes, on the principle of a fortiori a fortiori.”
And the waiter served me the two mustards with my cutlets.
I am not a great lover of mustard. Since nature has furnished me with an excellent stomach, I have never made much use of this ”preface to the appet.i.te,” as Grimod de la Reyniere calls it. But I must say that on this occasion, prompted only by the fine canary colour of this good aperitif, I plunged the wooden spoon into the mustard pot and made two pyramids on my plate, one of the men's mustard and one of the ladies'. And I must also say that from this moment I shed my former self and joined the supporters of Bornibus mustard.
On my return to Paris, I went to visit the premises of M. Bornibus at 60, Boulevard de la Villette. He gave me a tour of the establishment, in the most obliging manner, and explained to me that the superiority of his products derived from the perfection of the handling machinery which he had himself invented, and above all from the way in which he chose and combined his primary ingredients.
There, my dear anonymous correspondent, I think you have all that you sought from me, chronologically, etymologically, botanically, and from the culinary point of view.
135 MADELEINE KAMMAN.
Of Gardens, Herbs, and Wines It was a big bunch of fragrant herbs and some fresh eggs that ended for me, in the spring of 1946, that wintering of the taste buds known as World War II.
When fresh herbs and eggs reappeared in French markets, my mother cooked a most delicious omelet chockful of fines herbs fines herbs-parsley, tarragon, chervil, and chives-and I can honestly say that this simple fare, accompanied by a gla.s.s of Beaujolais, started me on my way to creating food for enjoyment rather than nourishment alone.
Because of the great influence of the cla.s.sic cuisine of France on American cookery at the end of the eighteenth century, these fines herbes fines herbes have long been favorites among American cooks. When it comes to matching food prepared with herbs with the right wine, it is my personal view that there are no set rules and no foolproof system. I think each and every combination of wine and herbs requires a fresh review of the elements involved. I came to this conclusion after I arrived in this country and began using more American (more precisely, Californian) rather than European wines. Soon I realized I needed to reevaluate my whole approach to the subject of ”herb usage” within the context of wine service. have long been favorites among American cooks. When it comes to matching food prepared with herbs with the right wine, it is my personal view that there are no set rules and no foolproof system. I think each and every combination of wine and herbs requires a fresh review of the elements involved. I came to this conclusion after I arrived in this country and began using more American (more precisely, Californian) rather than European wines. Soon I realized I needed to reevaluate my whole approach to the subject of ”herb usage” within the context of wine service.
Chives, scallion greens, and garlic chives form a group I like to call the pa.s.se partout pa.s.se partout or ”go-with-everything” herbs because their onion-like taste complements any type of food and wine; they tend to ”agree with” or ”go-with-everything” herbs because their onion-like taste complements any type of food and wine; they tend to ”agree with”
all vegetables and meats (both white and red meats and fish) and, used in moderation, with all cla.s.ses of wines (red, white, or rose; mellow, dry, or sweetish). The pa.s.se partout pa.s.se partout herbs are best used in combination with other herbs. herbs are best used in combination with other herbs.
A second category, the ”parsleys,” are important refreshers of the palate, and their gra.s.sy taste helps link the gra.s.sy and herbal flavor in a wine to the dish it accompanies. These herbs are ”blenders” or ”tamers” of the more pungent herbs, softening p.r.o.nounced perfumes and flavors that could damage the taste of the wine. (They will, for example, tone down the strong, licoricy herbs.) 136 The parsleys include both the curly-leaved and flat Italian types as well as Chinese parsley which, in Central America, is called cilantro.
Be careful with cilantro. Many winemakers cite its ability to ”wreck” a wine. Certainly it will destroy any fine white wine. I usually serve dishes flavored with plain cilantro with pleasant but lesser wines, be they white, pink, or red, but if you blend this herb with another flavor like orange rind it becomes much more manageable, lending itself nicely to a light fruity red wine. Used with cheese as in a dish of pasta, it adapts well to a good solid red wine. Both orange rind and cheese act here as bridges between the pungent herb and wine.
Then there are the ”turpentine” herbs. The Mediterranean and California bay leaf, the thymes, savories, sages, marjoram, oregano, rosemary, and lavender all originally kept company in the same soils flavored by pine trees and they have acquired some of the same taste characteristics as pine resins. The rule here is: Watch your step because a little goes a long way. I have tasted too much lovely lamb marinated in rosemary for too long, the dish becoming rosemary-with-lamb instead of lamb-with-rosemary. Used without restraint, the herb no longer works as a bridge between meat and wine but overwhelms the palate, masking the nuance and fine flavor of a Cabernet Sauvignon; but this is not the only wine successful with the ”turpentine” herbs; try the new California Syrahs from recent years for a real taste revelation. Our climate, after all, is a Mediterranean one.
The mints form a taste category of their own and can require some special handling. Some of our California Cabernets are said to have a ”mint” aftertaste, and I enjoy sustaining this ever-so-delicate herbal note in the wine by adding some mint to the dish I will serve with it.
A pan-fried beef steak dry-marinated with a mixture of mint, parsley, and garlic is wonderful for this. Always minimize mint to a faint hint and always use it in combination with compatible ”blenders” like parsley and garlic. For red meats presented with mint, I like to add a bit of allspice to the marinade or sauce to tie the tastes of the mint, meat, and wine together.
Basil, a member of the mint family, behaves in recipes much like that herb when placed in combination with wine. Favorite preparations featuring basil's irreplaceable flavor, such as pesto and bouillabaisse, as a rule employ other ingredients to modify its very dominant taste (pignoli and cheese in the pesto; fennel, saffron, and orange rind in the bouillabaisse). This modification allows basil's strong flavor to blend well with a variety of wines.