The Cure’s Omelet
“Every one knows,” says Brillat Savarin, in his “Physiology of Taste,” “that for twenty years Madame Récamier was the most beautiful woman in Paris. It is also well known that she was exceedingly charitable, and took a great interest in every benevolent work. Wishing to consult the Curé of —— respecting the working of an institution, she went to his house at five o’clock in the afternoon, and was much astonished at finding him already at his dinner-table.
“Madame Récamier wished to retire, but the Curé would not hear of it. A neat white cloth covered the table; some good old wine sparkled in a crystal decanter; the porcelain was of the best; the plates had heaters of boiling water beneath them; a neatly-costumed maid-servant was in attendance. The repast was a compromise between frugality and luxury. The crawfish-soup had just been removed, and there was on the table a salmon-trout, an omelet, and a salad.
“‘My dinner will tell you,’ said the worthy Curé, with a smile, ‘that it is fast-day, according to our Church’s regulations.’ Madame Récamier and her host attacked the trout, the sauce served with which betrayed a skilful hand, the countenance of the Curé the while showing satisfaction.
“And now they fell upon the omelet, which was round, sufficiently thick, and cooked, so to speak, to a hair’s-breadth.
“As the spoon entered the omelet, a thick rich juice issued from it, pleasant to the eye as well as to the smell; the dish became full of it; and our fair friend owns that, between the perfume and the sight, it made her mouth water.
“‘It is an omelette au thon’ (that is to say, a tunny omelet), said the Curé, noticing, with the greatest delight, the emotion of Madame Récamier, ’and few people taste it without lavishing praises on it.’
“‘It surprises me not at all,’ returned the beauty; ‘never has so enticing an omelet met my gaze at any of our lay tables.’
“‘My cook understands them well, I think.’
“‘Yes,’ added Madame, ‘I never ate anything so delightful.’”
Then came the salad, which Savarin recommends to all who place confidence in him. It refreshes without exciting; and he has a theory that it makes people younger.
Amidst pleasant converse the dessert arrived. It consisted of three apples, cheese, and a plate of preserves; and then upon a little round table was served the Mocha coffee, for which France has been, and is, so justly famous.
“‘I never,’ said the Curé, ‘take spirits; I always offer liqueurs to my guests but reserve the use of them, myself, to my old age, if it should please Providence to grant me that.’
“Finally, the charming Madame Récamier took her leave, and told all her friends of the delicious omelet which she had seen and partaken of.”
And Brillat Savarin, in his capacity as the Layard of the concealed treasures of Gastronomia, has succeeded in withdrawing from obscurity the details of the preparation of which so much had been said, and which he imagines to be as wholesome as it was agreeable.
Here follows the recipe:—
Omelette au Thon
1494. Take, for 6 persons, the roes of 2 carp;1 bleach them, by putting them, for 5 minutes, in boiling water slightly salted. Take a piece of fresh tunny about the size of a hen’s egg, to which add a small shalot already chopped; hash up together the roe and the tunny, so as to mix them well, and throw the whole into a saucepan, with a sufficient quantity of very good butter: whip it up until the butter is melted! This constitutes the specialty of the omelet. Take a second piece of butter, à discrétion, mix it with parsley and herbs, place it in a long-shaped dish destined to receive the omelet; squeeze the juice of a lemon over it, and place it on hot embers. Beat up 12 eggs (the fresher the better); throw up the sauté of roe and tunny, stirring it so as to mix all well together; then make your omelet in the usual manner, endeavouring to turn it out long, thick, and soft. Spread it carefully on the dish prepared for it, and serve at once. This dish ought to be reserved for recherché déjeûners, or for assemblies where amateurs meet who know how to eat well; washed down with a good old wine, it will work wonders.
Note.—The roe and the tunny must be beaten up (sauté) without allowing them to boil, to prevent their hardening, which would prevent them mixing well with the eggs. Your dish should be hollowed towards the centre, to allow the gravy to concentrate, that it may be helped with a spoon. The dish ought to be slightly heated, otherwise the cold china will extract all the heat from the omelet.
Notes
1 An American writer says he has followed this recipe, substituting pike, shad, &c., in the place of carp, and can recommend all these also, with a quiet conscience. Any fish, indeed, may be used with success.