Plunge them into the boiling liquid and cook, covered, at a simmer. The cooking time may vary from 10 to 40 minutes depending on the qualities of the artichokes. They are done when the flesh no longer resists a sharply pointed knife. They should remain firm, for they will continue to cook slightly while cooling in their liquid and, unless they are to be served cold, they will be subjected later to an additional cooking. Cool them in their liquid and keep them well submerged, the receptacle covered, refrigerated, until ready for use. Before using them, carefully remove the chokes, using a teaspoon to gently pry them loose, and sponge the artichoke bottoms dry with a towel.
MOUSSELINE FORCEMEAT
A mousseline forcemeat is the ultimate in a stuffing. It is most often made from fish (such as pike, sole, flounder, whiting, salmon, lobster), chicken, veal, feathered game, wild rabbit, or hare. The first time one launches oneself into its preparation it may seem complicated, but the basic principles are simple. It is a fine purée of raw flesh, bound by a bit of egg white and mounted with heavy cream.
The younger and fresher the flesh, the less albuminous support is required in the form of egg white. The less egg white used and the more cream—up to a certain point—the finer the result. The trick is to find the point at which the farce still holds, and the usual method is to decide on a given amount of egg white, and to then test it 2 or 3 times while adding the cream by poaching a tiny quenelle in a pan of simmering water that is kept ready. As long as the little dumpling poaches firmly, more cream can be added. With an excess of egg white, all the delicacy is lost, and the stuffing is heavy and rubbery. With too little egg white, or too much cream, it collapses during the poaching process. Quenelles that are poached in hot water require more egg white than those that are poached “dry” in a gentle oven, or than a molded mousseline forcemeat. Fish can support more egg white than chicken—a young chicken, freshly killed, needs none at all.
The testing method will, no doubt, seem discouraging to the reader, as it often does to me, and the following recipe is a good, standard one that takes no chances. There is, perhaps, particularly for chicken or veal, a bit too much egg white, and most materials may support a bit more cream than the quantity given. Assuming the cream to be absolutely fresh, which is no problem in America, and the instructions followed to the letter, it cannot go wrong.
Mousseline Forcemeat
½ pound raw meat, fish or poultry
salt, freshly ground pepper, nutmeg
1 egg white
1 cup heavy cream
Remove any traces of skin or fat from the flesh, scrape strips or fillets with the blade of a sharp knife, holding the tip with the other hand and scraping away from you, with the grain of the flesh, removing all the ligaments and membranous material possible—it is impossible to eliminate it entirely, but the more is removed at this point, the easier will be the final passage through the sieve. After scraping it to shreds, pound the flesh in a mortar until it is completely reduced to a purée—the more it is pounded, the better. Add salt, pepper and the slightest suspicion of freshly grated nutmeg, and continue working the purée with a pestle, adding the egg white, in very small amounts at a time. When the final addition has been completely incorporated into the mixture, start passing it, about a tablespoonful at a time, through a fine-meshed nylon drum sieve, using the plastic disk (corne); scrape all the debris (nervous, membranous material) from the surface after each passage.
Pack the purée into a bowl (if time presses, it will chill more rapidly in a metal bowl—an hour on cracked ice is sufficient), smooth the surface of the purée, cover the bowl and embed it in cracked ice. Put into the refrigerator until needed.
Mount the purée, keeping the bowl still on ice (having poured off the water and replaced it by more ice, if necessary), by adding the cream, well chilled, in small amounts at a time and working it vigorously with a wooden spoon. At first it is hard to work, for the mixture is very stiff, then it becomes somewhat more supple, and, though it is still firm, it is possible to beat it. After the addition of about ½ cup of cream, it should be quite malleable. At this point, whip the remaining cream until fairly firm, but not stiff, and stir and fold it gently into the mass until the whole is intimately combined. It is ready to use.
RICE
Plain rice is the automatic accompaniment to numerous stews or other dishes whose sauces are generally either tomato-flavored or creamed, and often thickened with egg yolks. Assuming the rice to be of quality, any of the methods of preparation are good. Do not use precooked or “treated” rice. The latter, in particular, is slippery-textured and distinctly chemical in flavor. A rice with a large, long grain and a mat surface usually seems to be the best. In France, the best rice available comes from Madagascar; in America, Carolina rice may be the best on the market. The short, round-grained Piedmont rice can be of excellent quality, but requires a special risotto treatment. For my purposes, I have found a pilaf type of preparation to be the simplest and the most satisfactory: The rice need neither be washed before cooking nor dried (steamed) after; its natural flavor remains intact and its grains separate; it may be kept warm for long periods of time without suffering any loss in quality. Classically, chopped onion is first cooked in the butter to heighten the flavor, and the rice is moistened with a bouillon or stock, but these seem questionable supports, for they mask the delicate natural flavor of a good rice. Different rices are capable of absorbing slightly different quantities of water and may require a few minutes more or less of cooking time, but this is no problem, for a rice that is slightly undercooked or overcooked is not bad as long as it is dry and the grains remain separate; after a couple of tries your timing and liquid measure will adjust themselves to your rice. Acceptable results may be produced in a thin aluminum pot with a plate for a cover, but a pilaf is perfect only if prepared in a heavy saucepan, preferably copper, with a tight-fitting lid. Count one cup of rice for four people.
Rice Pilaf
1 tablespoon (½ ounce) butter
1 cup dry, unwashed rice
salt
2 cups boiling water
4 tablespoons (2 ounces) butter
Melt the tablespoon of butter in the saucepan over a low flame, add the rice, sprinkle with salt, and allow it to cook gently in the butter, stirring regularly with a wooden spoon, for a couple of minutes, or until the grains lose their slightly translucent quality and become milky and opaque. Add the boiling water, stir once to be certain no grains are sticking (done correctly, no grains will be browned and none will stick), and cover tightly. Leave to cook, undisturbed, for about 25 minutes, either on top of the stove or in a preheated slow oven. If left on top of the stove, it may be necessary to use an asbestos mat undeneath the pot to help regulate the heat—the liquid should present only the slightest suggestion of a surface movement. The rice is done when the water has been completely absorbed. Mix in the remaining butter, cut into small pieces, manipulating the rice delicately with the prongs of a fork so as not to break or crush the grains, and turn it out immediately into a warmed serving dish (or, if it is prepared some time in advance, into another saucepan which will then be kept, covered, in a warm, but not hot, place).
CRÊPE BATTER
Crêpes are unleavened, paper-thin pancakes. Depending on the use to which they are put, they may be called “crêpes” or pannequets. They form the “shirts” in en chemise preparations and the crisp surfaces of some cromesquis when stuffing enveloped in a crêpe is fried in deep fat. Under certain circumstances, they may replace the sheet of paste used to enrobe cannelloni.
The following recipe will serve for all the preparations