Choice Cuts

by Mark Kurlansky

  In Dominica, they form an ingredient in the well-known ‘pepper-pot.’ The black crabs are also picked from their shell, stewed with Indian kale and pods of chilhies, and eaten with a pudding made of maize flour or rice; this dish is greatly esteemed by most of the inhabitants.

  In the islands and cays of the Bahamas group, land crabs literally swarm, and afford food for the inhabitants the greatest part of the year: even the hogs are fed upon them. It is the grey or white kind of crab, common to Cuba and the Bahamas. In the autumn they are very fat, and equal in flavour to the black species of Jamaica. They are found in myriads in all parts, and thought a great delicacy; but a stranger tires of them in a few weeks.

  The black crab is very fat and delicious; but the white and the mulatto crabs are sometimes dangerous, from feeding upon poisonous leaves and berries. To prevent any evil consequences, the flesh is washed with lime-juice and water.

  Land crabs were probably plentiful in Italy, in the time of Virgil, for in his Fourth Georgic he forbids the roasting of red crabs near an apiary, the smell of them being disagreeable to the bees.

  —from The Curiosities of Food: Or the Dainties and Delicacies

  of Different Nations Obtained from the Animal Kingdom, 1859

  CAROLINE SULLIVAN’S JAMAICAN LAND CRABS

  In 1893, Caroline Sullivan, the mistress of a large Jamaican household, wrote a book of traditional cooking. It was the first Jamaican cookbook ever written.

  —M.K.

  Baked Black Crabs

  Carefully pick the meat from all the claws and smaller bones of a dozen boiled crabs; this takes a long time and careful picking. Then open the backs and extract the eggs, throwing away the galls and putting aside the black water which is to be added again at the last minute. When all the picking is done, add two tablespoons of butter, a teaspoon of black pepper, a dessertspoon of sauce or pepper vinegar, a little cayenne and some nutmeg to the meat. Mix well, adding salt to taste, and fill as many of the backs as you can, leaving room for a dressing of breadcrumbs on which dabs of butter are placed to moisten. Before putting the meat into the backs, put one or two eggs in each shell and do not forget to mix in the black water, as that has the full black crab flavour. The twelve crabs ought to make ten good crab back fillings.

  —from The Jamaican Cookery Book, 1893

  JOSÉ MARIA BUSCA ISUSI ON EELS

  Every year at the mouths of the great Basque rivers, Basques eagerly await the arrival of tiny elvers, the next generation of eel from the Saragossa Sea in the mid-Atlantic. And every year there are fewer and fewer and they are more and more expensive. They have gotten so expensive that many Basque bars offer fake ones made on Japanese machines from pressed white fish. These, of course, in no way other than size resemble the real thing.

  While eels are struggling against extinction—not so much from overfishing as pollution—we are only beginning to understand anything about these creatures. As recently as the 1920s it was still believed that Aristotle was correct in saying that eels did not reproduce but somehow regenerated out of mud. Only recently it was discovered that eels, banned in Jewish dietary law because they do not have scales, actually do have scales but they are imbedded in the skin. The entire defense system of an eel is to make itself too slimy and slippery to be grabbed.

  —M.K.

  The eel family is a small but interesting group from our point of view.

  The eel (Anguilla anguilla—anguilla, angira in the adult state, and anguilla, txitxardin in the immature phase) is a most plentiful fish along our coasts and in our rivers. Until recently, its life cycle was unknown, and many legends circulated about it. Today, the mystery of its reproduction has been cleared up.

  Immature eels, called elvers, constitute without a doubt one of the dishes most desired by Basques. It is one of the most original recipes in our cuisine. As I said before, there have been fabulous legends concerning these tender little fish, and even today uninformed people argue over whether or not they are actually the young of the eel.

  Thanks to the studies of Schmidt, Gandolfi, and other investigators, we know in general the life cycle of the eels. The eels of our rivers begin a fall journey toward the sea when they have reached a certain stage in their development. The journey is of a nuptial nature and ends in the Sargasso Sea, where the birth of the young takes place. The newborn eels, having the shape of tiny laurel leaves, begin the arduous journey toward the rivers their parents abandoned.

  This northward migration begins in the spring, and during the first summer they pass longitude 50°W. In the second summer they move toward the Azores. By now their initial size upon migrating (less than half an inch) has increased five times. During the third summer they reach our coasts and are ready to enter the rivers with the first autumn freshets. At this stage their shape is not flattened but rather cylindrical. This is the exact moment at which the culinary genius of our Basque fishermen takes over.

  The eels and elvers are plentiful in all of Europe, with the exception of the Black Sea and its tributary rivers. Yet I believe that only in our country have people dared to prepare and consume a dish which resembles a bunch of worms. Eels have very tasty meat. They are more highly appreciated by the Basques of the Ebro basin than by the Cantabrian Basques.

  Elvers constitute a very complete meal—it should be noted that the animal is eaten whole—with an agreeable physical sensation to the palate and a very mild taste. This flavor is easily perceived and quite agreeable in boiled elvers, but in the common form of preparation—al pil-pil—the unique taste is significantly masked by garlic, oil, and hot red pepper. In order that elvers be agreeable to the palate, they must be prepared with utmost care, and strict rules of procedure must be followed.

  Elvers must be alive and then must be killed quickly. To accomplish this they are dropped in water made strongly nicotinic (by the addition of tobacco). Once dead, they are carefully cleaned until the abundant mucus which covers them is removed. This removal of mucus is essential, because upon cooking, the mucus would congeal into clots, resulting in a significant loss to the overall quality of the dish.

  Once properly cleaned, they are “coagulated” in salted water at a full boil. The word “coagulate” is used because elvers are like transparent gelatin. In a few minutes, through the action of the heat, they are converted into the white or black-white animals known throughout the world. Gradations in whiteness are due to a simple increase in pigmentation as the elvers proceed upstream through the rivers.

  Elvers are generally sold in the markets in this cleaned and cooked state. In the last phase of preparation, they are first submerged in salty, tepid water for a final cleansing. They are then placed on clean cloths to be drained of excess water but at the same time kept moist.

  Olive oil of the finest quality is placed in a cazuela (clay casserole) and pieces of garlic are browned in it. The casserole is then taken off the heat. Finely chopped red pepper is added, and when the oil has lowered in temperature the elvers are added.

  The clay casserole is immediately placed on the fire. The elvers cannot begin to fry yet, because the abundant liquid that the elvers emit must first evaporate. Soon a subtle, pleasant crackling begins, and when the bubbling has spread throughout the casserole the dish is ready to be served.

  The cazuela in which the elvers are traditionally prepared and served is made of fired clay. As was mentioned earlier, this casserole retains heat better than one made of iron.

  There is a difference among the various eel catches. Inhabitants along the various rivers engage in great discussions concerning the quality of elvers captured in different areas. The eels that enter our rivers are without a doubt all of a common origin and were comparable before the Basque Country was industrialized. Today each river has its own specific refuse, and perhaps as a result, the different eel populations may vary in quality.

  For me, the true difference is due to distinct methods of preparation. The young eel is such a delicate organism that it cannot be han
dled in great quantities without harm. Success lies in not heaping them up and overcooking them, events which occur too easily when there is an excess of handling in the process.

  There is an extravagant Basque recipe for hake, called medallones de merluza euskal etxea, in which elvers serve as a side dish. Normally, however, every Basque considers it culinary heresy to eat elvers in any way other than al pil-pil.

  Adult eels are prepared in salsa verde and constitute an exquisite dish in the season of peas, asparagus, and artichokes. In the Ribera de Navarra region they are eaten with immature beans (pochas) and are also prepared with tomato and pepper. Eel blood contains a toxic substance called ichthyotoxin. This blood is often given mixed with wine to alcoholics to aid in their cure. It loses its toxicity through the action of heat.

  The conger eel (Conger conger, congrio, itxar) is plentiful on our coasts and in our markets. Its meat is good, but half of its bulk is full of spines. This proves considerably inconvenient for serving it in slices. It can be used in the making of soup. Conger eel in salsa verde is excellent. Long ago it was eaten much more frequently.

  —from Alimentos y guisos en la cocina Vasca 1983,

  translated from the Spanish by Gretchen Holbert

  ERNEST HEMINGWAY ON FISH IN THE SEINE

  I would walk along the quais when I had finished work or when I was trying to think something out. It was easier to think if I was walking and doing something or seeing people doing something that they understood. At the head of the Île de la Cité below the Pont Neuf where there was the statue of Henri Quatre, the island ended in a point like the sharp bow of a ship and there was a small park at the water’s edge with fine chestnut trees, huge and spreading, and in the currents and back waters that the Seine made flowing past, there were excellent places to fish. You went down a stairway to the park and watched the fishermen there and under the great bridge. The good spots to fish changed with the height of the river and the fishermen used long, jointed, cane poles but fished with very fine leaders and light gear and quill floats and expertly baited the piece of water that they fished. They always caught some fish, and often they made excellent catches of the dace-like fish that were called goujon. They were delicious fried whole and I could eat a plateful. They were plump and sweet-fleshed with a finer flavor than fresh sardines even, and were not at all oily, and we ate them bones and all.

  One of the best places to eat them was at an open-air restaurant built out over the river at Bas Meudon where we would go when we had money for a trip away from our quarter. It was called La Pêche Miraculeuse and had a splendid white wine that was a sort of Muscadet. It was a place out of a Maupassant story with the view over the river as Sisley had painted it. You did not have to go that far to eat goujon. You could get a very good friture on the Île St.-Louis.

  I knew several of the men who fished the fruitful parts of the Seine between the Île St.-Louis and the Place du Verte Galente and sometimes, if the day was bright, I would buy a liter of wine and a piece of bread and some sausage and sit in the sun and read one of the books I had bought and watch the fishing.

  Travel writers wrote about the men fishing in the Seine as though they were crazy and never caught anything; but it was serious and productive fishing. Most of the fishermen were men who had small pensions, which they did not know then would become worthless with inflation, or keen fishermen who fished on their days or half-days off from work. There was better fishing at Charenton, where the Marne came into the Seine, and on either side of Paris, but there was very good fishing in Paris itself. I did not fish because I did not have the tackle and I preferred to save my money to fish in Spain. Then too I never knew when I would be through working, nor when I would have to be away, and I did not want to become involved in the fishing which had its good times and its slack times. But I followed it closely and it was interesting and good to know about, and it always made me happy that there were men fishing in the city itself, having sound, serious fishing and taking a few fritures home to their families.

  With the fishermen and the life on the river, the beautiful barges with their own life on board, the tugs with their smokestacks that folded back to pass under the bridges, pulling a tow of barges, the great elms on the stone banks of the river, the plane trees and in some places the poplars, I could never be lonely along the river. With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason.

  In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.

  —from A Moveable Feast, 1964

  *Doctor Kitchener says, “When you want a great many bread crumbs, divide your loaf (which should be two days old) into three equal parts: take the middle or crumb piece, the top and bottom will do for table. In the usual way of cutting the crust is wasted.”

  **Of course you will use a fork for beating up the egg. I think it necessary to mention this for the benefit of very young housewives, many of whom I have known to use a knife or a spoon; indeed, as may be seen by the following old country adage, such errors have often been run into:—

  “Beat with a knife

  Will cause sorrow and strife;

  Beat with a spoon

  Will make heavy soon;

  Beat with a fork

  Will make light as a cork.”

  For “frothing,” or making cream for light puddings, you must whip up the egg with a whisk.

  ***As frying is boiling in oil instead of water, the culinary student will see that by the fish being thoroughly covered with the fat, every portion of it is exposed at the same moment to the same action of the heat. The albumen is instantly coagulated on the surfaces, which, with the egg and bread crumbs, forms a coating which prevents saturation. If, however, one side be left uncovered, the fat, by bubbling up and dashing over it in small quantities, sinks into the body of the fish, which is thus gradually saturated, and rendered so greasy that the flavour is destroyed, and its rankness is offensive to a delicate stomach.

  *Parsley is crisped by being taken out of cold water and thrown into the boiling fat for half an instant, after you have taken out your fish, which, as the old country housewives say; makes it

  “As crisp as glass

  And green as grass.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Poultry, Fowl, and Other Ill-Fated Birds

  ANTHIMUS ON CHICKEN PEACOCKS, AND OTHER DOMESTIC POULTRY

  We now come to fowl. Look out for fattened pheasants and geese, for their breasts are agreeable because they are fed. The parts that consist of white meat only are more suitable. Do not eat their hind parts, because they burden the stomach, since they are the product not of natural but of forced feeding.

  Hens and plump chickens, so long as they are not fattened, are good provided that in winter they have been killed two days before and in summer the evening before eating. Birds that are prepared while they still give off a suitable smell make for better eating, particularly their breasts and wings, because those parts nourish good humours and blood. The hind parts of all birds are suitable particularly for healthy people, and this applies to these and all the other parts. Medical writers pay attention to those parts which are most important among the different sorts of food available to people living a luxurious life and tasting of a variety of foodstuffs. It is on behalf of these people that this scheme of diet has been written, and especially for those who are weak in body. Fo
r if one item mixed among various wholesome ingredients at a meal is raw and not suitable, it ruins all the other good ingredients and prevents the stomach from digesting properly. The fowl just mentioned are suitable both if cooked well in a sauce and if steamed, provided they are cooked immediately after being killed. They are also suitable roasted, so long as they are roasted carefully at a distance from the hearth.

  If you can procure peacocks, let those that are older be killed five or six days beforehand, and make sure that they are hung until they give off a good smell, because they have that sort of meat. They should be eaten after being cooked either in pieces or whole in a sauce. If you wish, you can add a little honey and pepper to the sauce after it has been cooked. Smaller or younger peacocks can be killed one or two days beforehand.

  Berenice Abbott, Chicken Market, 55 Hester Street, 1937

  —from On the Observance of Foods, sixth century A.D.,

  translated from the Latin by Mark Grant

  CALIPH AL-MA’MUN ON CHICKEN AND PISTACHIOS

  This Baghdad recipe was attributed to the household of the Caliph al-Ma’mun, who died in A.D. 833.

  —M.K.

  Boil chickens and cut their meat into strips. Wash rice, dry it, pick it over, mill it fine, and then cook it with fresh milk, syrup, and [lamb] tail fat, moistening with each liquid until it is nearly done. Its completion is that the chicken breasts are thrown on it after their meat is pounded fine. Resume cooking and scent it with rosewater and musk and sprinkle with three ounces of pounded pistachios and take it up. The measurements: rice, a pound; syrup, three ounces; tail fat, three ounces; milk, two pounds; pistachios, three ounces; fat chickens, four.