Apr 222014


Today is the birthday (1724) of Immanuel Kant, a German philosopher who is widely considered to be a central figure in the development of certain branches of modern philosophy. He argued that human concepts and categories structure our view of the world and its laws, and that, therefore, reason is the source of morality. Kant’s major work, the Critique of Pure Reason (Kritik der reinen Vernunft, 1781), aimed to bring reason together with experience and to move beyond what he believed to be failures of traditional philosophy and metaphysics. He hoped to end an age of speculation in which objects outside of experience were used to support what he saw as futile theories, while also resisting skepticism.

Kant proposed a “Copernican Revolution-in-reverse.” In simple terms, Kant argued that our experiences are structured by necessary features of our minds. The mind shapes and structures experience so that, on an abstract level, all human experience shares certain essential structural features. Among other things, Kant believed that the concepts of space and time are integral to all human experience, as are our concepts of cause and effect. We never have direct experience of things, the noumenal world, and what we do experience is the phenomenal world as conveyed by our senses.

Kant published other works on ethics, religion, law, aesthetics, astronomy, and history. These include the Critique of Practical Reason (Kritik der praktischen Vernunft, 1788), The Metaphysics of Morals (Die Metaphysik der Sitten, 1797), which dealt with ethics, and the Critique of Judgment (Kritik der Urteilskraft, 1790), which looks at aesthetics and teleology. He aimed to resolve disputes between empiricist and rationalist approaches. The former asserted that all knowledge comes through experience; the latter maintained that reason and innate ideas are prior. [There is a famous joke involving a rationalist and empiricist passing a flock of sheep.  The rationalist says, “those sheep are white,” to which the empiricist replies, “on this side.”] Kant argued that experience is purely subjective without first being processed by pure reason; using reason without applying it to experience only leads to theoretical illusions. The free and proper exercise of reason by the individual was a major theme both of the Age of Enlightenment, and of Kant’s approaches to the various problems of philosophy.

I’m not going to launch into a treatise on the technical aspects of Kant’s work. You can look them up for yourselves if you are interested. Instead I am going to give a few biographical details followed by some quotes, and then a little discourse on his views on aesthetics as a prelude to a recipe.

Immanuel Kant was born in 1724 in Königsberg then in Prussia (since 1946 the city of Kaliningrad in the Russian Federation). He was the fourth of nine children (four of them reached adulthood). He was baptized Emanuel but changed his name to Immanuel after learning Hebrew. In his entire life, he never traveled more than ten miles from Königsberg. His father, Johann Georg Kant (1682–1746), was a German harness maker from Memel, at the time Prussia’s most northeastern city (now Klaip?da in Lithuania). His mother, Anna Regina Reuter (1697–1737), was born in Nuremberg. Kant’s paternal grandfather, Hans Kant (in German), had emigrated from Scotland to East Prussia, and his father still spelled their family name “Cant.” In his youth, Kant was a solid, but undistinguished, student. He was brought up in a Pietist household that stressed intense religious devotion, personal humility, and complete faith in the authority of the Bible. Kant received a strict education that preferred Latin and religious instruction over mathematics and science. Despite his upbringing in a religious household and still maintaining a belief in God, he was skeptical of religion in later life. Thus he is often labeled as agnostic.

There are a great many stories about Kant’s personal mannerisms which are largely unfounded. It is often held, for example, that Kant lived such a strict and predictable life, that neighbors would set their clocks by his daily walks. He never married, but by all accounts had a rewarding social life. He was a popular teacher and a successful author even before starting on his major philosophical works.

Here are a few of my favorite quotes which give a small taste of the man:

Immaturity is the incapacity to use one’s intelligence without the guidance of another.

Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life.

All our knowledge begins with the senses, proceeds then to understanding, and ends with reason. There is nothing higher than reason.

Happiness is not an ideal of reason, but of imagination.

Live your life as though your every act were to become a universal law.

Always recognize that human individuals are ends, and do not use them as means to your end.

Kant trivialized gustatory experience as incapable of being truly aesthetic because it is driven by appetite and, therefore, cannot be separated from desire or utility (the need to satisfy hunger). Painting, by contrast, can be viewed in a “disinterested” way without reference to utility. I, and many others, have argued strongly against this narrow view of food as utilitarian – perhaps a product of his Puritanical upbringing? You only have to watch the judges’ table on Top Chef to see the gaping flaw in his reasoning.

Here is a recipe for Königsberger Klopse named for Kant’s home town, and one of the highlights of East Prussian cuisine. In the German Democratic Republic (GDR), the dish was officially renamed Kochklopse (“boiled meatballs”) to avoid any reference to its namesake city, which in the aftermath of World War II had been annexed by the Soviet Union. The city’s German inhabitants had been expelled, and the city had been repopulated with Russians and renamed after a close ally of Joseph Stalin in the Soviet leadership. The GDR forbade using the historic names of the annexed territories or cities. Königsberger Klopse were jokingly referred to as Revanchistenklopse (revanchist/revisionist meatballs).

The meatballs are made from very finely ground veal along with onions, eggs, and white pepper. The traditional recipe uses anchovy. If herring is substituted, the dish is called Rostocker Klopse. If both anchovy and herring are omitted, it is called Soßklopse. The meatballs are carefully simmered in veal stock, and the resulting broth is mixed with a roux, cream, and egg yolk to which capers are added. A simpler version of the recipe thickens the sauce with flour or starch only, omitting the egg yolk. A refined version uses only egg yolk as a thickener. Capers are an essential ingredient in all these versions. The dish is traditionally served with boiled potatoes.


Königsberger Klopse



1 day-old bread roll
1 tbsp lukewarm milk
1lb/500g ground veal
1 large egg, beaten
2-4 Anchovies, finely chopped
2 onions, finely chopped
1 tsp butter
1 bunch flat leaf parsley, ¾ of the bunch finely chopped
zest of 1 small lemon
1 ½ cups/400 ml light beef or veal stock
white pepper


1 oz/30g butter
1oz/30g flour
3 tablespoons capers
1 tbsp lemon juice
2 tbsps cream
1 tbsp dry white wine
pinch of sugar
white pepper
2 egg yolks, beaten



Tear the bread roll into small pieces and soak them in the milk. Squeeze out any excess milk and mix the bread together with the ground veal and beaten egg. Add the chopped parsley and lemon zest.

Melt the butter in a large pan over medium heat until transparent. Add them to the ground veal mixture together with the finely chopped anchovies. Season with salt and pepper to taste and form the veal mix into approximately 16 meatballs.

Bring the stock to a gentle simmer, add the meatballs and cook them, covered for about 10 minutes. Do not overcook.

Remove the meatballs and keep them warm. Strain the stock and reserve it for the sauce.

For the sauce melt the butter in a heavy skillet. Add the flour and stir continuously to form a golden roux. Add the stock slowly, whisking constantly to form a smooth sauce. Add the capers along with their liquid, the lemon juice, cream and the wine. Season to taste with salt, sugar, and white pepper.

In a small bowl temper the egg yolks by adding a few tablespoons of hot sauce to them and whisking vigorously. Then add the tempered egg yolks to the sauce, whisking constantly, and making sure it does not boil.

Add the meatballs to the sauce and let them to heat through gently.

Serve garnished with the rest of the parsley and lemon wedges, and with boiled potatoes, buttered.

Serves 4

Mar 182014


Today is the birthday (1893) of Wilfred Edward Salter Owen MC, English poet and soldier, one of the leading poets of the First World War. His shockingly realistic war poetry concerning the horrors of trenches and gas warfare was heavily influenced by his friend and mentor Siegfried Sassoon, and stood in stark contrast both to the public perception of war at the time and to the confidently patriotic verse written by earlier war poets such as Rupert Brooke. Among his best-known works – most of which were published posthumously – are “Dulce et Decorum Est,” “Insensibility,” “Anthem for Doomed Youth,” “Futility,” and “Strange Meeting.”

Wilfred Owen was born at Plas Wilmot, a house in Weston Lane, near Oswestry in Shropshire of mixed English and Welsh ancestry. He was the eldest of four children, his siblings being Harold, Colin, and Mary Millard Owen. At that time, his parents, Thomas and Harriet Susan (née Shaw) Owen, lived in a comfortable house owned by his grandfather, Edward Shaw but, after the latter’s death in January 1897, and the house’s sale in March, the family lodged in back streets of Birkenhead while Thomas temporarily worked in the town with the railway company employing him. In April the latter transferred to Shrewsbury, where the family lived with Thomas’ parents in Canon Street.

In 1898, Thomas transferred to Birkenhead again when he became stationmaster at Woodside station   and the family lived with him, at three successive homes in the Tranmere district, before moving back to Shrewsbury in 1907. Wilfred was educated at the Birkenhead Institute and at Shrewsbury Technical School (later known as the Wakeman School).

He discovered his poetic vocation in 1903 or 1904 during a holiday spent in Cheshire. Owen was raised as an Anglican of the evangelical school, and in his youth was a devout believer, in part due to his strong relationship with his mother, which was to last throughout his life. His early influences included the Bible and the “big six” of romantic poetry, particularly John Keats. For Owen’s last two years of formal education he was a pupil-teacher at the Wyle Cop school in Shrewsbury. In 1911, he passed the matriculation exam for the University of London, but not with the first-class honours needed for a scholarship, which in his family’s circumstances was the only way he could have afforded to attend.

In return for free lodging, and some tuition for the entrance exam, Owen worked as lay assistant to the Vicar of Dunsden near Reading. During this time he attended classes at University College, Reading (now the University of Reading), in botany and later, at the urging of the head of the English Department, took free lessons in Old English. His time spent at Dunsden parish led him to disillusionment with the Church, both in its ceremony and its failure to provide aid for those in need.

From 1913, he worked as a private tutor teaching English and French at the Berlitz School of Languages in Bordeaux, France, and later with a family. There he met the older French poet Laurent Tailhade, with whom he later corresponded in French. When war broke out, he did not rush to enlist, and even considered the French army, but eventually returned to England.


On 21 October 1915, he enlisted in the Artists’ Rifles Officers’ Training Corps. For the next seven months, he trained at Hare Hall Camp in Essex. On 4 June 1916 he was commissioned as a second lieutenant (on probation) in the Manchester Regiment. Initially, he held his troops in contempt for their loutish behavior, and in a letter to his mother described his company as “expressionless lumps.” However, his life was to be changed dramatically by a number of traumatic experiences. He fell into a shell hole and suffered concussion; he was blown high into the air by a trench mortar, and spent several days lying out on an embankment in Savy Wood amongst (or so he thought) the remains of a fellow officer. Soon afterwards, Owen was diagnosed as suffering from neurasthenia or shell shock and sent to Craiglockhart War Hospital in Edinburgh for treatment. It was while recuperating at Craiglockhart that he met fellow poet Siegfried Sassoon, an encounter that was to transform Owen’s life.

Whilst at Craiglockhart, he made friends in Edinburgh’s artistic and literary circles, and did some teaching at the Tynecastle High School, in a poor area of the city. In November he was discharged from Craiglockhart, judged fit for light regimental duties. He spent a contented and fruitful winter in Scarborough, and in March 1918 was posted to the Northern Command Depot at Ripon. While in Ripon he composed or revised a number of poems, including “Futility” and “Strange Meeting.” He spent his 25th birthday quietly at Ripon Cathedral, which is dedicated to his namesake, St. Wilfrid of Hexham.

At the very end of August 1918, Owen returned to the front line – perhaps imitating the example of his admired friend Sassoon. On 1 October 1918 Owen led units of the Second Manchesters to storm a number of enemy strong points near the village of Joncourt. However, only one week before the end of the war, whilst attempting to traverse the Sambre canal, he was shot and killed. The news of his death, on 4 November 1918, arrived at his parents’ house in Shrewsbury on Armistice Day. For his courage and leadership in the Joncourt action, he was awarded the Military Cross, an award he had always sought in order to justify himself as a war poet, but the award was not gazetted until 15 February 1919. The citation followed on 30 July 1919:

2nd Lt, Wilfred Edward Salter Owen, 5th Bn. Manch. R., T.F., attd. 2nd Bn.

For conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty in the attack on the Fonsomme Line on October 1st/2nd, 1918. On the company commander becoming a casualty, he assumed command and showed fine leadership and resisted a heavy counter-attack. He personally manipulated a captured enemy machine gun from an isolated position and inflicted considerable losses on the enemy. Throughout he behaved most gallantly.

Owen is regarded by some critics as the leading poet of the First World War, known for his war poetry on the horrors of trench and gas warfare. He had been writing poetry for some years before the war, himself dating his poetic beginnings to a stay at Broxton by the Hill, when he was ten years old. The Romantic poets Keats and Shelley influenced much of Owen’s early writing and poetry. His great friend, the poet Siegfried Sassoon, later had a profound effect on Owen’s poetic voice, and Owen’s most famous poems (“Dulce et Decorum Est” and “Anthem for Doomed Youth”) show direct results of Sassoon’s influence. Manuscript copies of the poems survive, annotated in Sassoon’s handwriting. Owen’s poetry would eventually be more widely acclaimed than that of his mentor. While his use of pararhyme (near rhyme) with heavy reliance on assonance of consonants was innovative, he was not the only poet at the time to use these particular techniques. He was, however, one of the first to experiment with it extensively.

Here is an excerpt from “Strange Meeting” with the pararhymes in bold.

Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall,
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

Here is “Dulce et Decorum Est” preceded by the marked up manuscript.


Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!– An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.–
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori

His poetry itself underwent significant changes in 1917. As a part of his therapy at Craiglockhart, Owen’s doctor, Arthur Brock, encouraged Owen to translate his experiences, specifically the experiences he relived in his dreams, into poetry. Sassoon, who was becoming influenced by Freudian psychoanalysis, aided him here, showing Owen through example what poetry could do. Sassoon’s use of satire influenced Owen, who tried his hand at writing “in Sassoon’s style”. Further, the content of Owen’s verse was undeniably changed by his work with Sassoon. Sassoon’s emphasis on realism and “writing from experience” was contrary to Owen’s hitherto romantic-influenced style, as seen in his earlier sonnets. Owen was to take both Sassoon’s gritty realism and his own romantic notions and create a poetic synthesis that was both potent and sympathetic, as summarised by his famous phrase “the pity of war”. In this way, Owen’s poetry is quite distinctive, and he is, by many, considered a greater poet than Sassoon. Nonetheless, Sassoon contributed to Owen’s popularity by his strong promotion of his poetry, both before and after Owen’s death, and his editing was instrumental in the making of Owen as a poet.

Owen’s poems had the benefit of strong patronage, and it was a combination of Sassoon’s influence, support from Edith Sitwell, and the preparation of a new and fuller edition of the poems in 1931 by Edmund Blunden that ensured his popularity, coupled with a revival of interest in his poetry in the 1960s which plucked him out of a relatively exclusive readership into the public eye. Though he had plans for a volume of verse, for which he had written a “Preface”, he never saw his own work published apart from those poems he included in The Hydra, the magazine he edited at Craiglockhart War Hospital, and “Miners,” which was published in The Nation.

There were many other influences on Owen’s poetry, including his mother. His letters to her provide an insight into Owen’s life at the front, and the development of his philosophy regarding the war. Graphic details of the horror Owen witnessed were never spared. Owen’s experiences with religion also heavily influenced his poetry, notably in poems such as “Anthem for Doomed Youth”, in which the ceremony of a funeral is re-enacted not in a church, but on the battlefield itself, and “At a Calvary near the Ancre”, which comments on the Crucifixion of Christ. Owen’s experiences in war led him further to challenge his religious beliefs, claiming in his poem “Exposure” that “love of God seems dying”.


In July 1918, Owen returned to active service in France, although he might have stayed on home-duty indefinitely. His decision was probably the result of Sassoon’s being sent back to England, after being shot in the head in an apparent “friendly fire” incident, and put on sick-leave for the remaining duration of the war. Owen saw it as his duty to add his voice to that of Sassoon, that the horrific realities of the war might continue to be told. Sassoon was violently opposed to the idea of Owen returning to the trenches, threatening to “stab [him] in the leg” if he tried it. Aware of his attitude, Owen did not inform him of his action until he was once again in France.


Owen was killed in action on 4 November 1918 during the crossing of the Sambre–Oise Canal, exactly one week (almost to the hour) before the signing of the Armistice and was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant the day after his death. His mother received the telegram informing her of his death on Armistice Day, as the church bells were ringing out in celebration. He is buried at Ors Communal Cemetery. There are memorials to Wilfred Owen at Gailly, Ors, Oswestry, Birkenhead (Central Library) and Shrewsbury.


On 11 November 1985, Owen was one of the 16 Great War poets commemorated on a slate stone unveiled in Westminster Abbey’s Poet’s Corner. The inscription on the stone is taken from Owen’s “Preface” to his poems: “My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.” There is also a small museum dedicated to Owen and Sassoon at the Craiglockhart War Hospital, now a Napier University building.

The forester’s house in Ors where Owen spent his last night, Maison forestière de l’Ermitage, has been transformed by Turner Prize nominee Simon Patterson into an art installation and permanent memorial to Owen and his poetry, which opened to the public on 1 October 2011.


Here’s a recipe from Picardy where Owen was killed and now rests in peace. Picardy is especially noted for terroir cuisine (cooking using local ingredients only). Maroilles (also known as Marolles) is a cow’s-milk cheese made in the regions of Picardy and Nord-Pas-de-Calais in northern France. It derives its name from the village of Maroilles in the region in which it is still manufactured. The curd is shaped and salted before being removed from its mold and placed in a ventilated drying area for around ten days during which time a light coating of bacteria develops. The cheese is then brushed and washed and cellared for at least five weeks, though periods of up to four months are not uncommon. During this time it is turned and brushed at regular intervals to remove the natural white mold and to allow its red bacteria to change the rind from yellow to red.

For filet de veau au lard à la crème de maroilles a loin of veal is larded with bacon, baked, and then smothered in a sauce made from Maroilles and Picardy beer. Because this is a terroir dish you going to be hard put to make it at home — unless your home is in Picardy.


Filet De Veau Au Lard À La Crème De Maroilles


22 ozs/600 gm veal loin
10 slices Picardy bacon
½ cup/1 dl Picardy beer
7 ozs/200 gm of Maroilles cheese
3 ozs80 gm butter
1 cup/2 dl cream


Pre-heat oven to 250°F /(120 °C

Bard (wrap) the veal loin with slices of bacon.

Brown the barded loin on all sides in a heavy skillet. Place the loin in a baking dish and bake for 40 minutes.

Melt the maroilles with the beer in the skillet along with the veal and bacon juices. Add the cream plus  salt and pepper to taste.

Coat the bottom of a serving plate with the  maroilles sauce. Place the loin on top cut into thick slices (3 per person).  Serve with egg noodles or new potatoes plus crusty bread.

May 222013


Today is the birthday of Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle (1869) best known for the creation of the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes. Often the author is referred to as Conan Doyle as if he had a compound last name.  But, in fact, Doyle was his last name and Conan was one of his first names.  He was born and raised in Edinburgh and went to Edinburgh University to study medicine. In 1882 he opened his first medical practice in partnership with a classmate in Plymouth but within months left to set up an independent practice in Portsmouth.  He was not very successful at first, so while he was waiting for patients he wrote short stories. He had trouble finding publishers until he wrote his first Sherlock Holmes story, A Study in Scarlet. It was picked up by Beeton’s Christmas Annual in 1887, a paperback magazine founded by Samuel Orchart Beeton, husband of legendary cookbook author, Isabella Beeton ( and her publisher). The character of Holmes was loosely based on one of Doyle’s teachers, Joseph Bell, who was noted for his powers of deductive reasoning. One might get the impression from his photo, and his profession that Doyle modeled Dr Watson on himself. Like Watson, Doyle worked as a field hospital doctor (in the Boer War).

Doyle always considered his other writing, especially his historical novels, as more important than the Holmes stories, and so wrote to his mother in 1891: “I think of slaying Holmes… and winding him up for good and all. He takes my mind from better things.” His mother responded, “You won’t! You can’t! You mustn’t!” Yet, in 1893 in “The Final Problem” he had Holmes tumble over the Reichenbach Falls with his arch enemy Moriarty and thought he was done with him.  But public outcry was so great that he agreed to write more and published The Hound of The Baskervilles in 1901, set at a time before the Reichenbach incident.  Then in 1903 he brought Holmes back in the collection The Return of Sherlock Holmes, in which he explained that only Moriarty had fallen to his death, but Holmes let it be thought he was dead because he had other mortal enemies.

In the collection, The Return of Sherlock Holmes, is a story called “The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez.” Holmes is able to solve the mystery of a disappearing murderer in part by noting the eating habits of the occupant of the house, a mysterious professor, where the murder takes place. The following exchange occurs between Holmes and the housekeeper.

“I suppose the professor eats hardly anything?”
“Well, he is variable. I’ll say that for him.”
“I’ll wager he took no breakfast this morning, and won’t face his lunch after all the cigarettes I saw him consume.”
“Well, you’re out there, sir, as it happens, for he ate a remarkable big breakfast this morning. I don’t know when I’ve known him make a better one, and he’s ordered a good dish of cutlets for his lunch”

Ever since his first appearance, Holmes has attracted a huge following, and there are scores of clubs devoted to picking apart every detail of the stories trying to complete a biography of him from tiny slivers of evidence.  Dozens of books have been written extending tales of Holmes’ life, and there seems to be no end of movies and television shows attempting to expand our vision of the detective. So I guess I should join the crowd (I am a fan too), and attempt to recreate the dish of cutlets the professor had ordered. If you want to know why the cutlets are important you will have to read the story for yourself.  What sort of fan would I be if I gave away the ending?

Given the connexion between Doyle and Isabella Beeton I give here one of her recipes in her own words for veal cutlets, which is a variant of breaded cutlet recipes found from Vienna to Buenos Aires, but with an English twist. She does not say what “savoury herbs” to use but I would imagine that parsley, thyme, and sage would fit the bill nicely.  I don’t doubt Holmes ate something similar on many occasions. The gravy might be a bit bland for modern tastes so you can use beef stock instead of water and use a few pinches of fresh thyme and parsley to punch it up. Forcemeat balls are meatballs made from equal quantities of finely ground meat and fat pounded together, much like a sausage filling, sometimes bound with an egg (and breadcrumbs) and shallow fried.  Forcemeat made from bacon and suet would work well with this recipe. For some reason Beeton mentions forcemeat balls all the time in her cookbook but gives a recipe only for fish forcemeat. So I have appended a modern recipe from Scotland for bacon forcemeat balls.


866. INGREDIENTS.—About 3 lbs. of the prime part of the leg of veal, egg and bread crumbs, 3 tablespoonfuls of minced savoury herbs, salt and pepper to taste, a small piece of butter.

Mode.—Have the veal cut into slices about 3/4 of an inch in thickness, and, if not cut perfectly even, level the meat with a cutlet-bat or rolling-pin. Shape and trim the cutlets, and brush them over with egg. Sprinkle with bread crumbs, with which have been mixed minced herbs and a seasoning of pepper and salt, and press the crumbs down. Fry them of a delicate brown in fresh lard or butter, and be careful not to burn them. They should be very thoroughly done, but not dry. If the cutlets be thick, keep the pan covered for a few minutes at a good distance from the fire, after they have acquired a good colour:  by this means, the meat will be done through. Lay the cutlets in a dish, keep them hot, and make a gravy in the pan as follows: Dredge in a little flour, add a piece of butter the size of a walnut, brown it, then pour as much boiling water as is required over it, season with pepper and salt, add a little lemon-juice, give one boil, and pour it over the cutlets. They should be garnished with slices of broiled bacon, and a few forcemeat balls will be found a very excellent addition to this dish.

Time.—For cutlets of a moderate thickness, about 12 minutes; if very thick, allow more time.

Average cost, 10d. per lb. Sufficient for 6 persons.

Bacon Forcemeat Balls


6 oz (175g) breadcrumbs
2 oz (50g) finely shredded suet
2 oz (50g)bacon, finely chopped and fried until crisp
4 teaspoons of mixed fresh parsley, sage and thyme finely chopped
black pepper
1 egg, well beaten
1 1/2 oz (40g) butter


Mix together the breadcrumbs and the suet in a bowl.

Add the bacon, herbs, salt and pepper (to taste).

Stir the beaten egg into the mixture.

Form into balls about 1 inch (2.5 cm) in diameter.

Melt the butter in a frying pan.

Add the forcemeat balls and fry for 6 minutes.

Yield: 6-8 balls