A few new things converged on this menu, which adheres just a bit more to the traditional Dinner of Ceremony menus put forward by Millicent Fenwick in Vogue’s Book of Etiquette:
Martini Colony Special Ecrivisses
Consommé Madrilène
Gigot d'agneau rôti à la moutarde Haricots vert Riz brun
Salade abandonnée
Glace vanille avec framboises
Yes, it’s really a week too early for an Easter table, but I couldn’t resist jumping the gun when I received that Easter basket centerpiece in the mail from my sister and her family a couple days ago. The green silk runner was a gift from friends after their South Asian honeymoon. The Farberware candlesticks were supposed to be a wedding gift from me to a friend long ago in college. It’s a long tedious story why I ended up keeping them, but I’ve never regretted it, especially when it turns out the couple separated four years later. The mismatched purple candles turned up by chance at the bottom of a drawer. And those little china chick egg cups I got for an opening night party for the ballet La Fille Mal Gardée.
“Salmon again?” a friend noted a couple weeks ago. Challenge accepted! I began with my first attempt at consommé Madrilène, a hot, clear tomato soup*. Anyone who remembers Ruth Draper’s “The Italian Lesson” will remember her telling Jane the cook “Well, we might have some clear soup. Put something amusing in it, I don’t really care what.” I managed to float a couple thin slices of cucumber on top.
This was the part of the menu about which I was most eager, in part because it takes such a long time to prepare. I did the bulk of its cooking the day before, since it takes over five hours and a lot of straining through cheesecloth. And you know what? It’s a fraud. It’s thin ketchup! With the first spoonful I could hear Fred MacMurray in Double Indemnity grumbling about Barbara Stanwyck’s iced tea: “Maybe a little rum would get this up on its feet.” It’s entirely possible that it’s just my cooking, but I expected something more savory.
“Not at all what a clear soup should be,” to quote Emily Post Herself.
The rest of the dinner was much better. For the first time in a very long time, I roasted a leg of lamb, once a standard protein in the Dinner of Ceremony menu. I used a recipe familiar to me from Easy Basics for Good Cooking, which my father gave me one collegiate Christmas. Contrary to the traditional menu and that recent column on Company Food, the recipe includes a great deal of garlic. Dieu merci, je dînais seul. Fresh green beans often accompany lamb on a traditional menu; since spinach and peas are my go-to vegetables, that made a good change, too.
Before the unmolding.
After the soup, I had been most looking forward to dessert. For the first time I was using an antique ice cream mold for a traditional formal presentation. I packed this rather rococo clamshell mold full of vanilla early in the morning and parked it in the freezer. The mold would not budge when removed, but I engaged it with hot water a couple seconds too long. The result was meltier than I’d hoped, but still retained its shape. And I’ll be able to use this again and again!
A little meltier than hoped for, but still delicious.
There would have been a green salad following the lamb. But fortuitiously a friend called — it’s only rude to pick up the phone at the dinner table when dining alone if your mouth is full** — and a friend is always better than a salad, don’t you agree?
*It is sometimes served cold and jellied, in bouillon cups, but it is not gazpacho.
**Your caller, however, might feel embarrassed to discover that your meal has been interrupted, so you may prefer to text back “Dining now, will call back in ten minutes.” One does not take calls or texts when dining with company, of course.