In May, Nature comes forth with her richest profusion of offerings. There are almost too many good things to choose from, too many delicacies that appear in this gay, blossoming month. liven a menu classique can't include them all. If we build our menu around the pièce de résistance, what shall it be? Delicate pigonneaux, spring's young royal squabs? Or would canetons, the sea-son's first ducklings, he mast succulent? Or perhaps we should forget the birds altogether and settle for a fine, Old-fashioned navarin d'agneau before the spring lamb grows up and out of its most tender days. Or we might decide on a very special pork or veal dish. These, you say, are not monumental decisions in this atomic age, but any gourmet thinks they are important when trying to put aside twentieth-century tensions with a few hours of joie de vivre.
There is truly a bounty of fine food stuffs reaching perfection this last month of spring. Fish of all kinds are both plentiful and good, and one of the best, shad and shad roe, chooses this season to make its rather brief annual appearance. Lobster, shrimp, crab, and clams all await you in the markets, too. And then there are les primeurs, as the French call spring vegetables. They are perfect in May. It is wise to eat your fill now of tiny green peas fresh from the vines and plump stalks of asparagus cut in the morning and eaten the same day: Their season will soon be over. And although such pedestrian vegetables as carrots. turnips and potatoes may nor be novel, none are ever quite so sweet, so tender, so delicate as the first harvest of May.
In Paris you must go to market on May Day. First get your boutonnière, or corsage, of muguets—lilies of the valley—traditional flower of les petites midinettes parisiennes, whom everyone honors on this day by wearing those fragrant white flowers. No matter how early you may start out the vendors will be there before you with their flowerladen baskets and street stands. No one would think of passing them by, of being abroad on the streets without a bouquet of muguets. It may seem strange to an American to see great burly meat handlers in Les Halles with delicate clusters of lilies of the valley on the lapels of their long cotton work coats. But no Frenchman thinks it unusual. And if you don't return home from market with a great bunch of muguets in your hand, the spirit of Paris has passed you by.
To market early, not later than six in the morning, if you would absorb the sights and smells of May's gastronomic offerings. See the huge baskets of sorrel and water cress, baskets at least four feet high and as wide across the top. Scores and scores of them line the streets leading to the covered pavilions, all filled to the brim with the largest, freshest greens you ever saw. How can Paris possibly consume so much of them? But it does, for this is May, this is when they are at their very best. Don't miss watching the escargots in the fish stalls, the enormous snails wriggling and pulling until they stretch themselves to such lengths that their curled shells appear very inadequate housing. Few housewives buy them. Cleaning, handling and cooking snails is a job best done by professional restaurateurs. But I would suggest that you return to this neighborhood in the evening to the famous Escargot Restaurant on the rue Montorgeuil and eat your way through a heaping pile of them, piping hot and rich with garlic butter sauce.
May's menu is a typical luncheon in the classic French tradition. Our of all the season's offerings I chose shad and sorrel, spring lamb, asparagus and strawberries. Of course, you may suppose lamb stew is hardly an elegant dish. Ah, but no connoisseur looks down his nose at a good navarin made with fine spring lamb. It is not always easy, you know, to find this type of dish well prepared unless you have a good cook at home. But if you know of a restaurant where stew is exceptionally good take my advice and get there early: The first stew served in a restaurant is always best.
There are some cookery hints that I want to pass along to you which will make (he difference between an ordinary stew and an extra-fine one. The ingredients, as I have already indicated, must be fresh, delicate, young. But the finest ingredients in the world can be spoiled by careless handling. The meat should be cooked slowly and. when it is necessary to stir, the pieces moved around gently. The ragged, untidy appearance of some stews comes from rapid cooking, overcooking and careless stirring. Use a heavy kettle because it is almost impossible to prevent a stew from sticking to a lightweight pan, even on very low heat. Too much flour should be avoided: Remember that the sauce gets thicker as it cooks down and also that the potatoes tend to thicken the sauce a little. And, finally, let the stew stand for about five minutes after it is done so that any fat not already skimmed off can rise to the surface and be removed before the dish is served.
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