The Decadent Cookbook (7 page)

Another method is to cut the meat in pieces and boil it, then fry in lard with chopped onions and serve with a sauce of strained green grape-juice, pepper and cinnamon. The innards, apart from the liver, are inedible. You can prepare fresh porcupine livers as you would goat’s - remove the membrane and fry in lard or roast on a spit, either whole or in pieces (if spit-roasting pieces, stuff them in a caul first).

* B
ABY
G
OAT:
make the stuffing with fat, chopped ham, liver and other offal, prunes and dried morello cherries (or, in summer, gooseberries, green grapes or any underripe fruit), unsalted cheese, and eggs.

** G
OAT:
wash the meat with wine and water, strain the washing liquid into an earthenware or copper pot. Add the meat, then pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg, fat, diced ham, a few leaves of sage, some raisins, cooked must or sugar, prunes and dried morello cherries. Cook on a low heat with the pot tightly lidded for one and a half hours, and serve hot. You can also add ground almonds or whole onions which have been previously half-cooked in embers.

Some people call the
coniglio d’India
[literally, India-rabbit] a ‘piglet’, because it has a pointed snout, small round ears, a light skin and hairs which are more reminiscent of a pig’s bristles than wool. To roast a guinea-pig on the spit, remove the hairs with hot water, take out its innards, and stuff it as you would a baby goat - using a mixture of fat, pounded ham, offal (which should be well washed), spices, prunes and dried sour cherries, fat unsalted cheese and eggs. In summer you can use gooseberries, verjuice or musk pears, or any under-ripe fruit instead of the prunes and cherries. Finally, spit and roast on a slow fire.

Guinea-pigs can also be roasted without a stuffing, on a spit or in the oven.

This method also suits dormice, which are small animals with long, hairy tails, pointed faces and very sharp teeth. They live in chestnut and walnut trees, eating the fruit. Their season is from October to the end of February, which is when they are fattest. This is the same season as the guinea-pig, although in Rome and other parts of Italy you can find both animals all year round.

The peacock is well known for its beautiful feathers. It has a purple neck, a small crest on its head, a long tail marked with purple eyes, and large black feet. Some peacocks are white. Peacock meat is black but tastier than that of any other bird.

To roast a peacock on a spit, take an old bird in season (October to the end of February) and hang it after death for eight days without plucking or removing its innards. It is best to pluck peacocks dry rather than using water, which spoils the taste and breaks the skin. After plucking the bird, take out the innards, leaving the neck and the feet with their feathers on. Cut off the wings, clean the blood from the inside of the body with a white linen cloth, then pass a hot iron poker through the hole where the innards were extracted, taking care not to touch the meat: this dries up the moisture and takes away any foul odours.

To stuff the bird, use the general stuffing recipe*, or sprinkle with salt, fennel leaves, pepper, cloves, cinnamon, and stuff the body with dried fennel seeds, a piece of good fresh fat studded with cloves or fine pieces of saveloy partly cooked in water or over coals, and stud the breast with cloves. Cook on a slow fire, and keep the neck with its feathers on. Serve hot or cold with a variety of sauces.

* G
ENERAL
STUFFING
RECIPES
FOR
ALL
SPIT-ROASTED
ANIMALS:
take four pounds of fat (which should not be rancid), and shred it finely with knives. Add 2 lb of chopped kid’s or other liver, mint, marjoram, parsley and salad burnet, four raw egg-yolks, half an ounce each of pepper and cinnamon, a quarter ounce each of ground nutmeg and cloves, half a pound of mixed prunes and dried morello cherries, (or in summer gooseberries or green grapes). Mix them all well together. You can choose whether or not to add grated cheese, garlic and fried scallions.

You can do this in another way: mix 4 lb of shredded fat with the same amount of lean veal, mutton or pork, without skin or nerves. Add four and a half ounces of ham, spices as above, 4 ounces of raisins, and a few boiled artichoke stems, good mushrooms or truffles.

Another way is to mix the fat with 2 lb of boiled calf or kid sweetbreads, 1 lb of yellow saveloy mixture, 4 ounces of sugar, four egg-yolks, a handful of herbs, new plums that are not too ripe, black figs or musk-pears without the flower, not forgetting spices as above. Instead of sweetbreads you can use boiled calf’s, pig’s or kid’s brains.

Another way is mix the fat with 2 lb of boiled and grated liver from one of these animals, with one ounce of dried sweet fennel either crumbled or crushed, 6 egg yolks, 4 ounces of sugar, a handful of finely chopped herbs, 1 lb of grated cheese, one and a half ounces of the spices mentioned above, and some boiled cloves of good garlic.

Skin the peacock, starting from the breast, leaving the head, wings, tail and feet attached to the skin. When it’s gutted and cooked, let it cool and arrange a piece of iron in the shape of a half moon to grip the middle of the body, and another piece in the shape of the moon to go through the neck; another half-moon piece lower than the first to hold up the tail, and two small rods inserted into the thighs. Then carefully stretch the skin over the body, arranging it so that the neck, tail and feet stand firm on the irons, and the whole thing looks as if it is alive. You can fill the body with a variety of small live birds, and put fire in its mouth using acqua vitae and camphor or other substances. The board should be surrounded with branches of boxwood or myrtle, and there should be a hole under the wings so that when the Carver begins to carve the birds can fly out.

by David Madsen

During the carnival week last year, Leo and I attended a most extraordinary banquet given by Lorenzo Strozzi, the banker, brother of Filippo Strozzi, who is well known in Rome (and perhaps beyond) for his epicurean inclinations; Leo came dressed as a cardinal, wearing a silly sort of eye-mask of black velvet. Nobody was supposed to know he was there, apparently, but as Cardinals Rossi, Cibo, Salviati and Ridolfi were also present, this absurd attempt at incognito was somewhat futile.

We were all led up a flight of steps to a door which had been painted black, through which we entered a large hall, entirely draped in black silk and velvet; in the middle of this hall stood a black table on which reposed two black glass flagons of wine and two human skulls, filled with the very choicest viands.

“Do you think the poor man is depressed?” Leo whispered to me.

“No. We’re meant to be mystified, or a little frightened, or perhaps both.”

After nibbling for a while, everyone was ushered into an adjoining hall, even larger, which was blindingly, brilliantly lit by innumerable candles and oil-lamps, some of the most exquisite execution, in gold and silver, adorned with precious stones. I caught Leo eyeing them enviously. We sat down at the huge table, and after some moments were surprised - not to say shocked - by a deep rumbling beneath our chairs; one or two of the ladies swooned, and Cardinal Ridolfi, ridiculous old actress that he is, leapt to his feet with a squeal of horror and announced:

“The apocalypse has begun!”

In fact, it was the sound of a mechanical contrivance beneath the floor, which was so designed (cleverly, I concede, but all rather
de trop
) as to allow a great circular board to rise up from the room below, through the floor, until it was precisely level with the table at which we sat, and on it was heaped great dishes of victuals. Relieved more than anything else, several of the guests burst into applause. Lorenzo Strozzi allowed himself the faint trace of a smile, like a magician gratified at the success of his first trick, but knowing that there are even better ones to come. As indeed there were.

Servants placed a chased silver platter in front of each guest, who found, to his or her consternation, that what it contained was quite inedible. There were little cries of horror or delight or bewilderment; there was oddly forced laughter; some people began to look more than a little frightened.

“What have you got in yours?” I asked Leo.

He peered down at his plate and sniffed.

“It would appear to be half a pair of female undergarments,” he answered. “Boiled.”

“I’ve got a raw sausage.”

“An empty eggshell!” a voice cried.

“A toad - oh Jesus - a
live
toad!” shrieked another, less enthusiastically.

“The heel of a shoe -”

“A kerchief, fried in batter…”

“Good God Almighty - a penis! No, no, wait a moment - ah! A blanched baby marrow, I think -”

Suddenly, the lights were extinguished. Quite how Strozzi managed it, I do not know; maybe there were servants hidden behind the drapes - in fact, now I come to think of it, this is the only way it
could
have been done. The great hall immediately rang with the shrill screams and shrieks of all the ladies, and Cardinal Ridolfi. Then we heard the slow rumble and shudder of the mechanism again, which was clearly being lowered, freshly loaded, and sent up a second time. After this, the candles were re-lighted (which took some time), and - behold! - the great table at which we sat was laden. This time the applause was strenuous and prolonged.

For the first course we were served vegetable soup with
stracciatelli,
and
potage à la royne,
which were accompanied by enormous slices of bread fried in oil and garlic and piled high with finely minced and seasoned partridge and pheasant, decorated with
funghi porcini,
artichokes deep-fried in the Jewish manner (Strozzi was a banker, after all), and baby onions. There was also a
potage garni
accompanied by all manner of offal (which I heartily dislike, but in any case my Gnostic principles would not permit me to eat any of the meat.)