The terrapin is the unchallenged star of Maryland's cuisine, the diamond-back terrapin, not that inferior member with the golden stripe. No old-time state banquet menu was ever complete without the diamondback's presence. And terrapin's aristocratic presence involves more problems of menu ritual than ever revolved around the seating arrangement of an official dinner in the White House.
Even in Baltimore there are various schools of thought on the terrapin's preparation for there is never just one way of preparing a “dish-of-dishes.” There's the “wine-in-sauce” crowd. Even here is division for some insist on Madeira, some demand sherry. There's the “purist” school which makes the sauce of pure butter and serves the wine in the glass, to sip as you will. The purists claim any young diamond-back terrapin, that is the “cow,” of course, with her belly full of eggs, can stand firmly on her own legs without any assistance from wine. The wine adherents say no. It is their theory that terrapin has its very being in the wine. They admit that the flesh of the diamondback gives its substance, something for the teeth to touch, but the sherry gives the flavor. And in Philadelphia, had you heard, they put terrapin into a cream sauce. Tsch! tsch! That's the Baltimoreans giving the idea the raspberry.
Suppose you have a pair of terrapins, alive and kicking. “Cows,” let's hope, as their meat is more tender than that of the bulls and at this season of the year they carry the eggs which are considered a delicacy. Drop the terrapin, head first, into boiling water for maybe two minutes, or until the outer skin and toe-nails can be removed. Then into fresh boiling salted water to boil until the shells part easily and the leg flesh becomes tender. You can tell when, as the portion of the joint between the upper and lower shells shows a ragged break at the joining.
Now lay your terrapins on their backs, remove lower shells, and let cool so you can handle the meat. When cool, remove lungs, sand bag, bladder, entrails, discard the gall sack imbedded in the liver, and be careful, don't break the darned thing or all is runied. Save the liquid in the upper shell to serve with the meat. Save the eggs and the pieces of liver. Cut the meat into medium pieces about half an inch long and remove the larger bones. Put into a double boiler to heat with the liquid taken from the shell. Cover with water and cook about one and one-half hours or until tender and the stock is reduced by half.
The final dish can be made in the kitchen, but if you would be faithful to the ritual, it will be prepared in a chafing dish at the table. Place meat and terrapin eggs in chafing dish with one-fourth pound of butter for two terrapins and let melt down together. That's one way. Another way is to let the butter first come to a froth and a fume, then in with the meat. Now add a pinch of cayenne. There's no trick to the sauce as most people think. The butter simply releases the subtle essences in the flesh of the turtle and miraculously they blend—bringing to aging epicures youth's keenness of appetite.
Appetite whetted for a terrapin dinner? If you live in New York City you can buy the live critters at Joseph Apicella and Sons, 82 Bayard Street, but call first; terrapin isn't an everyday item. This month, however, they come with more or less regularity from Maryland and Virginia. Ask for the diamondback although some say the golden stripes are as fine. The goldens are larger and if used, the coarse meat should be discarded.
The diamondback is a lovely creature with the look of antiquity. Measuring across the under ivory shell, a market terrapin will run six to seven inches in length which means about nine years of age. And how much do they cost? About ＄72 a dozen.
It's an easier matter to buy your terrapin made to order. You can get it through Ellen Grey, 800 Madison Avenue, or Wynne and Treanor, 712 Madison Avenue. Order it Philadelphia or Maryland style. Moore and Company, the turtle-soup specialists of 137 Beekman Street, make terrapin stews and will ship the stew by express within one hundred miles of New York. Canned terrapin is also aailable from Moore's and can be shipped anywhere, ten-ounce tins, one portion, seven pieces of meat, ＄2.50, postage prepaid.
Mincemeat pudding is the new idea in a tin-packed dessert, which after steaming, turns out a pudding moist, light-textured, mild in spice, with millions of raisins. If there is mincemeat in this, it isn't obvious; neither is the flavor of brandy you are promised on reading the label. However, this is a fill-em-up pudding and one not overrich and not overexpensive. The eighteen-ounce size sells for around 69 cents at B. Altman's grocery counter, Fifth Avenue at 34th Street.
The “flu” bug bomb dived into the pre-Christmas plans of the Farm Home Food Delicacies folk out Watertown, Wisconsin, way. Right at the most critical preholiday moment when they should have been dressing geese, a flock every few minutes, the farm manager and his wife were laid low with the bug. The point is that Christmas has gone, New Year's has gone, and the Farm Home Food Delicacies have geese left for market. The regular price is ＄9.75 for thirteen- to fifteen-pound birds, express prepaid, except to Florida, Texas, and the West Coast.
The goose is drawn, then frozen and shipped to you in a special wooden box, along with a booklet which gives directions for preparing the big bird in such a manner as to result in upwards of two pounds of goose lard. That's fancy shortening, you know. The booklet gives recipes for goose stuffings, for preparing Grieben (deep fat-fried goose skin), a recipe for stuffing the goose neck with a sort of sausage made of the goose liver, and a recipe for using the remaining giblets in a goose soup—and what a soup!
March is last call on the game birds. The Berkshire Game Farm, Craryville, New York, has pheasants, mallard ducks, chukar partridge, and the bobwhite quail available for express delivery. If these are for home use, order the birds already dressed; it costs not a penny more and saves the cook's patience. But if it's a gift, send the birds in their feathers; they are more beautiful so and their arrival makes for more splurge. As to price, by the brace, that is two birds, pheasants are ＄12, mallard ducks ＄6, chukar partridge ＄12, bobwhite quail ＄6, all prices including regular shipping costs. If the birds are air expressed to distant points, the charge is additional. Each package for big measure carries a jar of homemade currant jelly, the perfect table accompaniment for a wild bird.
The Berkshire Game Farm was originally a hunting lodge which Don Spencer, a New York advertising man, took over three years ago and turned into a licensed shooting preserve. The place consists of 1,482 acres of open fields, woods, and marshland, located in the Taconic Range of the Berkshires in Columbia County, 125 miles north of New York City. It is heavily stocked, and the birds are fed fattening grains to produce meat of the finest texture which runs with red juices for making gravies and sauces.
There is no fish in the diet of farm-raised mallards, so no taint to their flavor. Roasting directions for each bird are included with your order along with menu trips. If you order the pheasant, try it à la Berkshire, the directions in the booklet.
A plump, tasty morsel is the bobwhite quail, the proud little fellow with the white bib. Split down the back and fry in butter or broil, or roast the bird whole. One quail to an eater is the usual portion. Serve it on toast, the very dish of dishes with which the railway moguls and mining millionaires regaled their guests in the gilded Victorian hostelries. The toast should be made of day-old bread, sliced thin, the crust removed, well browned, then sliced diagonally. Place the quail on the toast and pour on the gravy.