1950s Archive

Menu Classique

Originally Published November 1953
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Potage Saint-Germain aux Croûtons

Sole de la Manche Sautée

aux Fines Herbes

Suprémes de Canard des Marais à la

Fine Champagne

Riz Sauvage au Beurre

Dindonneau Farci aux Marrons

Sauce Canneberges

Coeurs de Céleris Braisés

Beignets de Maïs

Terrine de Foie Gras Truffé an Porto

Salade de Cresson

Crème Sainte-Cécile aux Fruits Macérés

Biscuits à la Cuiller

Café


For food lovers le mois de Novembre is an exciting month because certain longed-for delicacies make their annual first appearance on l'étage de gastronomie: truffles and chestnuts, all kinds of game, and barnyard birds grown to roasting pan plumpness. In America the high spot of this bountiful month is Thanksgiving, but in France it is the Feast of St. Martin, which comes on November 11 and honors the patron saint of France.

When I first came to the old New York Ritz some forty years ago, I was struck by the similarity of these two holidays. Both are really harvest celebrations in which the spiritual desire to thank le bou Dieu for the summer's bounty is expressed in the form of a wondrous feast, and in particular by a thumping bird, stuffed and roasted to a golden turn, that presides majestically on the family table. Here, in this country, turkey, of course, takes the bow; in France, goose has the limelight.

How well I remember the preparations for St. Martin's Day when I was a boy in Montmarault. Since mon grand-père was a farmer, and since St. Martin's is traditionally a rural celebration, the day was always a fitting climax to a long summer of hard work. Farm work, as everyone knows, becomes increasingly heavy as spring turns into summer and summer into fall, and on any large farm extra hands must be hired for these busy months. In France this seasonal employment runs from St. Jean's Day in June to St. Martin's in November, by which time the crops would all be in. On the eve of St. Martin's the best-looking goose in the flock, lazily heavy from the choice tidbits that had been daily fed it by grand-mère et ses filles, was killed and plucked for the morrow's feasting. Terrines of game stood cooling in their aspic coverings, soup bubbled gently on the back of the stove, and the vegetables were cleaned and trimmed, ready to go into the big earthenware casseroles, Meanwhile I would accompany grandpère down to the cool damp cellar; there he would carefully and lovingly set bottle upon bottle of good vin du pays upright in a big basket for an overnight settling before bringing them upstairs. It was a stingy farmer indeed who didn't send off the season's extra hands with a hearty reminder of the summer's job well done.

The gala menu above emphasizes the many foods of November. And for its piece de resistance I have chosen turkey. For until Christmas draws near. the markets of this country show few geese, but they are replete with excellent turkeys, from small to very large birds, to suit any size of family. This meal is typical of the Thanksgiving dinners formerly served at the old RitzCarlton, and enjoyed for so many years by more famous gourmets than I could ever list—those hearty connoisseurs who lingered slowly, the way true appreciation requires, over the numerous courses of rich fare.

The menu one plans for a certain type of meal poses its own special problems. This menu, for example, has a heartiness consistent with the occasion and the season. Its heartiness, however, is balanced by the simplicity of its sauces. There is no rich hollandaise or béarnaise, no sumptuous Mornay or cream sauce. Even cream itself is used sparingly: a little in the soup, a bit of it whipped to garnish the dessert. Since the meal begins with a hearty potage, there is no reason to include horsd'oeuvre of any kind at the beginning. Instead, a terrine of truffled foie gras is served as a cold entree after the roast, and the elegance and richness of the foie gras is counterbalanced by the simple water cress salad. In the same way. the rich stuffing of the turkey is modified by the character of the accompanying vegetables.

This process of analyzing a menu in terms of balancing and contrasting flavors is just what a chef or maitre d'hôtel does to decide what goes with what in a well-planned meal. And. personally, I always prefer a menu in which any course that is inconvenient to prepare or serve or perhaps not to one's particular taste can be omitted without impairing the excellence of the meal.

The dishes in this month's menu should not prove to be difficult, if the recipes are carefully followed, as they should be the first few times you try them. The preparations of three of the dishes, however, may be unfamiliar to some American households, and so I think a few words on them are in order. Game cookery is one type of culinary preparation that I find many people hesitate to attempt.

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