Читать книгу A Long and Messy Business - Rowley Leigh - Страница 42

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I Saw Myself as Leopold Bloom

Veal Kidneys in Mustard Sauce

*In James Joyce’s Ulysses,

‘Leopold Bloom ate with

relish the inner organs of

beasts and fowls.’

During my sojourn in Hong Kong, I am constantly being

warned about what Chinese people will or will not eat or

drink. Some things are true: shellfish is very popular,

especially served raw. Red wine, despite the climate (or

perhaps because of it, since every room is air conditioned

to Arctic temperatures) is favoured over white. Can it be

true that the Asian palate is averse to salt, when everything

is served with soy sauce? Will they not eat anchovies,

when fermented fish is so popular? And how can they not

like kidneys in this, the home of nose-to-tail eating?

I do understand why people dislike the idea of eating

kidneys. After all, their function hardly adds to the

attraction. Although the function of the brain is much more

agreeable, I have a vivid enough imagination to not really

enjoy eating them, however savoury some of my friends

aver they are. It may just be that the habit of kidney eating

was instilled in me before I had much idea what they did.

In those days we ate not veal kidneys, but rather coarse old

‘ox’ kidneys in a steak (a euphemism for a ragged old piece

of stewing beef) and kidney pie, or rich, dark organs

attached to a pork chop, or lamb kidneys in a mixed grill.

Because of those early initiations, I never had any

problem with the kidney. I saw myself as Leopold Bloom,*

padding the streets of Dublin with a precious kidney

bought from the ‘ferreteyed pork butcher’ to take home for

his breakfast. Yet it wasn’t until I worked at Le Gavroche

that I came across French veal kidneys (from animals kept

with their mother, rather than in a crate), which were given

the luscious trois moutardes treatment that I reprise below,

albeit minus the slightly superfluous tarragon mustard.

If that remains my default kidney dish and one that

always appeals, it is not the only one. I cannot resist the

grilled kidneys with chips and Béarnaise sauce on my rare

visits to Chez Georges in Paris. A kidney roast in its own

fat is exquisite, but even I find the mess and the grease

tiresome. I have been known to sauté them as below but

with a red wine sauce and the addition of bacon and

button onions, or slice them very thinly and sauté them

quickly with wild mushrooms and a trickle of white wine.

The only abiding premise is that the kidneys must be

lightly cooked, as they quickly become tough and rubbery.

Incidentally, it is gratifying that this dish sold quite

well in Hong Kong, too.

64

A Long and Messy Business

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