The proper time for the summer exodus from Vienna was very simply decided. When the Court left the City, everybody else left the city too, happy in the implication that the simultaneous departure was no coincidence. Later, when there was no longer a court to follow and no army to join nor any other suitable occupations for gentlemen, many Viennese had to work. This necessity often meant, horror of horrors, going into industry or, even worse, into finance. Husbands could no longer retire to their hunting boxes, or to their little follies, nor could they accompany their wives and children to the mountains. Instead, they were left behind in a deserted city to work in their offices all day and dine at their favorite restaurants in the evening.
The staff usually accompanied the family to the Schloss, or villa, where they spent July and August, while a nameless charwoman was left behind to take care of the one room that remained opened in the apartment for the sole use of the head of the house.
The deserted Viennese husband was thrown entirely upon his own resources, and those had to be away from the house, since everything inside the house—from the crystal chandeliers to the pictures on the walls—had been wrapped in muslin or in slip covers made of a classic off-white fabric as universal as mattress ticking, and as uninteresting. The Viennese never considered transforming the house with gay summer slip covers of flowered chintz: The well managed home was taken apart, beaten. cleaned or washed, and wrapped in labeled off-white slip covers. For no reason other than unreasonable tradition. all beds and bedding were disassembled, slip covered, and carried into one bedroom, while all dressers were carried into another, and all chairs into a third. For the summer, at least, most Viennese homes looked like closed furniture stores. Silk-covered walls were draped with yards of the protecting cloth, portieres were fitted into their own clearly labeled sacks, which were then hooked into the curtain rings. Iron shutters were fastened to all the windows and all the doors were locked.
Somewhere in all this ghostly unlighted desolation, a little island of life remained for the man of the house. He called this haven his JunggesellenwobtwiiR—bachelor quarters—but even here he had to face the white wrappings everywhere. They left him a rug on the floor, but they enclosed it in a whiteduck carpet cover for him to stumble over all summer. They put covers on his lamps so that he could hardly see, and they covered his chairs, not with the beautifully tailored, zippered covers of today, but with loose, shapeless wraps that made the furniture unrecognizable (unless one read the printed labels) and quite impossible to sit on. They covered the headboard and the foot board of his bed, and the poor man even had to unwrap his closet before he could reach his clothes. They also left him a smell of tar and camphor strong enough to drive him from his home early each day and to keep him away as late as possible each night. This arrangement had the advantage that he never saw the charwoman, who came late and left early, and it also forced him to try out restaurants until he found one that suited him so well that he could spend most of his summer evenings there.
The restaurant had to be pleasant, the food had to be good, and, most important of all, there had to be a sympathetic Herr Ober, a headwaiter who rook the abandoned husband's plight to heart and filled the gap left by his departed family. Viennese husbands were gallant, romantic, and dashing—fescb, in a word—but they were also spoiled, pampered, and coddled. At table, especially, most of them became tyrants. As the summer progressed, the relationship between the employees of the restaurant and Herr Baron became, in a onesided way, extremely intimate. Herr Ober listened to excerpts of letters from the Barons family, he was initiated into family secrets, and he learned every detail of Herr Baron's state of health and digestion. He knew that Frail Baronin disliked Punschtorte and that, in spite of the happy relationship between the Baron and his wife, she refused even to be present when he are raw beef, which he adored. Herr Ober understood perfectly that his patron was having a gastronomical fling: A man separated from his family WAS bound to want a Wiener Rostbraten a rib steak, buried under fried onions, and might even go so far as to have Punschtorte on top of it. Herr Ober knew at once when there was no letter from Frau Baron in, and he helped to prepare the heart-shaped Nusstorte that Herr Baron sent to her by special courier for her birthday. A headwaiter who would not concern himself with these matters, who would recommend strawberries after cucumber salad without remembering that this combination was fatal for Herr Baron, deserved to lose a client. Herr Baron did not know the headwatter's name. If he had passed Herr Ober on the street, wearing a hat and street clothes, he would not have recognized this man, the same man to whom he had just confided the state of his liver. But in his customary place in the restaurant, moving among his patrons, he was Herr Ober, Herr Baron's closest summer friend.
Next in command was Alfred, the Speisenkellner. He did not enjoy Herr Baron's confidence; on the contrary, he confided in the Baron. Alfred contemplated making a proposal, and Herr Baron amused himself while his dinner was being served with a little experienced advice on courting. Next to the Baron's heart after Herr Ober came the Kellermeister—the wine steward—resplendent in his apron and chain. Here again, no names were known, but any two men of the world who had in common the love of wine could become warm friends. Last of all was the Piccolo, the little Piccolo in his tiny handeddown full-dress suit, not tall enough to hold Herr Baron's coat for him, but quick to bring water or a light for his cigarette, quick to catch the coin that was always tossed to him and to salute his patron's Guten Abend. In addition to Herr Baron's close summer friends, there was an enigmatic and beautiful man in a fez and shalwar (Oriental trousers) who brewed thick, sweet Turkish coffee and smiled a warm, white-toothed smile. Hen baton did not speak Turkish and Timur spoke no German, but, as the summer wore on, even these two began to feel congenial.
The moment Herr Baron arrived. Herr Ober gave him a bulletin from the kitchen. The veal was white . . . like a dream. Would Herr Baron consider it with mushrooms? Just so . . . let's see . . . Herr Baron wasn't going to spoil all the fun by capitulating so soon. Perhaps . . . but maybe today required something just a little lighter. Herr Baron had thought about cold Rhine salmon and hot Palacsinta all afternoon, but that didn't mean he would come right out and ask for it. They had to work around to it slowly, in mouth-watering steps. No final decisions could be made until the dessert had been selected. Contrary to the system in all other countries, most Austrians consider dessert the most important course and plan the rest of the dinner around it. If a heavy dessert tempted Herr Baron, he and Herr Ober might have to revise their plans completely. When the menu was settled, the wine steward came quietly to the table with his embossed leather-bound book, they opened the magic volume together, and Herr Baron told the Kellermeister what he was going to have for dinner. The wine steward always had something that would be perfect with the menu. His Berncasteler was at the peak or his Tokay was. . . . Only a discreet gesture could show how absolutely superb it was. Herr Baron had to call back the Herr Ober and revise his plans slightly. If the Tokay was really as perfect as the wine steward claimed, he would change his dessert to a crème and his salad to cress.
When the food was served, Herr Ober went through all his pates. He boned fish and birds with a stroke—he carved to perfection. He finally presented the garnished plate, tensely watched Herr Baron through the first taste, and after a reassuring nod or smile from the Baron, he retired. The wine steward, who had been chilling the wine or allowing it to breathe, defending on its character, drew the cork deftly, smelled it, rolled his eyes to heaven, poured off the first thimbleful, and let the wine run slowly into Herr Baron's glass. He, too, stayed to see the first swallow go down. Herr Baron always took the glass from his lips and raised it to the wine steward, a silent prosit, a tribute to a perfect bottle of wine. Later in the evening. Herr Ober and the wine steward enjoyed a similar dinner, with which they finished the remains of Herr Baron's bottle.
Herr Baron walked home to his white-draped apartment, enjoying the memory of the dinner he had eaten and of the dinners he had planned and discussed with his friend the Herr Ober, but had not eaten. He wondered contentedly whether the duck would have been better than the poularde or the peaches better than the pears.
Wiener Rostbraten mit Zweibel (Rib Steak with Onions)
The cut of beef used for the Wiener Rostbraten is a slice of the standing rib roast that is also called a rib steak, The slice is cut ½ inch thick and must be trimmed of all fat. Pound the steak well, season it with salt and pepper to taste, and dust it very lightly with flour. Heat a heavy skillet over a hot fire and add 2 tablespoons butter. Add the Rostbraten at once and sauté it on one side for about 1 minute. Add ¾ cup very thin onion rings and another 2 tablespoons butter and continue to cook the steak until it is brown, about 3 minutes. Turn the steak and cook it only long enough on the other side to seal in the juices. Invert the steak on a very hot plate, pour the onions and butter over it, and serve it at once. Rostbraten is sometimes served with a dusting of fried chopped bacon and chopped parsley over the onions. Makes 1 serving.
Robes Fleisch Fein Garniert (Beefsteak Tartare)
Chop very finely 1 tablespoon capers, enough white onion to make 2 tablespoons, 6 thin slices of dill pickle, A anchovy filets, and a small bunch of fresh chives. Chill A ounces of black caviar.
With a silver spoon, scrape a 1-pound slice of top round of beef. It should be at room temperature. Hold the slice of beef on a wooden chopping board with one hand and scrape away from you with the other. As the beef is scraped off and cupped in the spoon, lay it in the center of the plate from which it will be served. Turn the slice several times while scraping it, to get the meat from both sides. Properly scraped, a 1-pound slice of beef should make 2 very generous servings, and only a net of sinews and fat should remain. Form the raw beef into a mound and make a small well in the center. Drop a perfect egg yolk carefully into the well and surround the beef with little mounds of the cold caviar and the chopped anchovies, capers, onions, chives, and dill pickle and with little piles of paprika, black pepper, and salt. Makes 2 servings.
Lachs-Crème (Salmon Mousse)
Place 1 pound fresh salmon, sliced, in a saucepan with 2 cups light white wine, cover the pan. and simmer the fish in the wine until it flakes easily, about 12 minutes. Drab the fish well and pound it in a mortar to a fine paste or put it through the finest blade of the food chopper twice. Heat 1 tablespoon butter in a saucepan with 1 tablespoon finely chopped onion until the butter bubbles. Stir the mixture over low heat for a few minutes, taking care not to brown the butter. Take the pan from the heat and stir in ½ cup warm milk. Return the sauce to low heat and cook it very slowly for a few minutes. Add a pinch of cayenne and ½ teaspoon anchovy paste and stir the sauce into the salmon paste. Season to taste with salt and pepper, bearing in mind that whipped cream will be added, so that the mixture becomes blander. Add 1 tablespoon fresh dill and ¼ cup pistachio nuts, both finely chopped, and chill the mixture in the refrigerator.
Soften 1 envelope of gelatin in ½ cup cold water and dissolve it over hot water. To ½ cup strong chicken stock add 1/3 cup Sherry and bring the stock just to a boil. Remove the stock from the heat, stir in the dissolved gelatin, and cool the aspic.
Set a 1-quart fish mold in a bed of cracked ice. Coat the bottom and sides with a layer of cool, but still liquid, aspic and let it set. Lay a round slice of truffle in the mold as an eye and a line of crescent-shaped truffle slices to show the spine of the fish. Black olives may be substituted for the truffle. Pour in a second layer of aspic and continue to paint the sides of the mold until it has a coating of at least 1/8 inch. Chill the rest of the aspic in a shallow pan in the refrigerator until it sets.
Whip 1 cup heavy cream with a pinch of salt. Fold it carefully into the salmon paste, correct the seasoning, and blend the mixture until it is smooth. Turn it into the mold and chill the mousse for at least 2 hours.
Unmold the salmon mousse onto a large platter, surround it with sliced hard-cooked eggs, water cress, and cold boiled shrimp, and decorate the platter with chopped aspic. Serve fresh herb mayonnaise separately.
Fresh Herb Mayonnaise
Place 1 ½ cups thick mayonnaise in the container of a blender with a generous bunch of chives, the leaves from A sprigs of tarragon, and 4 sprigs of parsley. Add the zest of 1 lemon, salt to taste, and more chives and tarragon. if desired. Cover the container and blend until the sauce is soft green, about 30 seconds.
Palacsinta (Rolled Pancakes with Jam)
Stir 1 tablespoon brandy into 1 cup of either apricot or strawberry jam. Sift into a bowl 1 cup flour with a pinch of salt. Stir in 2 tablespoons sugar and, gradually, 1 cup milk, to make a smooth batter. Add 2 eggs and stir until the baiter is again smooth.
Heat a 9-inch skillet and pour in just enough melted butter to cover the whole surface when the pan is tilted. Pour in enough batter to cover the pan thinly but completely. Cook the Palacsinta over medium heat until the underside is lightly browned and the pancake is firm, Turn the pancake with a spatula or wide knife and brown it lightly on the other side. Transfer the first Palacsinta to a warm plate, butter the pan again and pour in the batter for the second Palaesinta. While it is browning, spread the entire surface of the first Palaesinta with a thin coating of the apricot or strawberry jam. Roll it up neatly, place it on an ovenproof or silver platter, and keep it hot in a slow oven (250° F.). Repeat this procedure until all the baiter is used, laying the Palacsinta side by side or stacking them like logs. Oust the finished Palacsinta generously with vanilla—sugar powdered sugar in which a vanilla bean has been buried for several days or weeks.
Punschtorte
In the top of a double boiler over gently boiling water, combine 6 eggs, ½ cup sugar, and the grated rind of 1 lemon. Do not let the upper section of the double boiler touch the boiling water, as the mixture should be cooked over steam alone. Beat the mixture until it rises and is light and smooth, and continue to beat it until it is hot. Remove the upper saucepan from the steam and beat the mixture until it is entirely cold. A detachable or hand electric beater is best for this purpose. Gently stir into the egg mixture, bit by bit, 1 ½ cups sifted flour. Line the bottom of an unbuttered spring-form pan with heavy paper and pour in the batter. Bake the Punscbtorte in a moderate oven (350° F.) for about 35 minutes, or until it tests done. Invert the pan onto a floured board and let the cake cool. Turn the pan upright and cut the edge of the cake loose with a knife. Detach the rim and bottom of the pan and carefully pull the brown paper off the cake. If possible, let it rest for several hours or overnight.
Cut the cake into 3 even layers, lay the bottom layer on the bottom of the reassembled spring-form pan. and spread it thinly with apricot jam or orange marmalade. Cut the center layer into small even cubes, reserving the trimmings and edges. Heat ½ cup orange marmalade in a saucepan with 1/3 cup heavy rum and a few drops of red food coloring or 1 tablespoon grenadine. Add 2 tablespoons sugar and continue to heal the mixture until the sugar is melted. Add more rum if the marmalade is very thick. Soak the cake cubes in this mixture until they are saturated and place them on the glazed cake layer in the pan.
Crush the scraps and trimmings of the second layer with ¼ cup finely chopped blanched almonds, ¼ cup crushed macaroon crumbs, any remaining rum mixture, and enough sugar and rum to bind them into a paste. With this mixture fill the edges and cavities between the saturated cubes. Spread the cut side of the remaining layer of cake with apricot jam or marmalade and lay it jam side down on the cake. Place a weighted plate on the cake to bind the second layer together. Let the Torte rest about an hour. Remove the weight and spring-form from the Punscbtorte and ice it with a rum-flavored pink fondant icing. The top is sometimes decorated with candied orange peel.
Rosa Punschglasur (Pink Rum Fondant Icing)
Heat 1 ½ cups fondant (January, 1958) in the top of a double boiler over gently boiling water. Do not allow the upper section of the double boiler to touch the water, as the fondant must be melted over steam. As soon as the fondant has reached spreading consistency, about 100° F. on a candy thermometer. Color it pale pink with a few drops of red food coloring and add 1 teaspoon heavy rum. Pour the fondant onto the Torte and spread it quickly by tilting the Torte. If the fondant becomes too stiff to spread, it can be reheated.
Scheiterbaufen (Cake Faggots with Meringue)
A Scheiterbanfen is a mound of faggots made of stale cake or sweet rolls. baked under a hood of meringue.
Prepare enough 2-day-old sweet rolls. cake, or brioches to make 8 cups of faggots: First cut them into 1 '4-inch slices and then cut the slices into strips as you would cut shoestring potatoes. Spread out these faggots and let them dry another day. Soak ½ cup raisins in ½ cup good brandy Overnight.
Next day, soak the faggots of cake in a mixture of 1 ½ cups milk, A egg yolks, ½ cup sugar, and ½ teaspoon vanilla. Toast ¾ cup hazelnuts in a very slow oven (250° F.) for about 15 minutes, or until their skins can be rubbed off easily with a rough cloth. Chop the nuts medium fine and drain the raisins, which should be well puffed. Peel and core 4 apples and cut them into thin slices. Lay a layer of the saturated faggots on a flat baking dish, then a layer of apple slices, and scatter raisins and hazelnuts over the apples. Cover with another layer of faggots. Continue to pile up the layers until the mound is finished. Pour over the mound any of the milk mixture or brandy remaining, and dust it with the grated zest of 1 lemon and 2 tablespoons sugar.
Bake the Scheiterbanfen in a medium oven (350° F.) for about 30 minutes, or until it is golden. Beat 4 egg whites very stiff with ½ cup sugar and spread the meringue over the mound. Dust once more with sugar, return the cake to the oven, and bake it for 10 minutes more, until the meringue is golden, but not at all browned. Serves 6 to 8.