The Unofficial Downton Abbey Cookbook (23 page)

While it’s not a familiar delicacy for Americans, duck fat is a well-known ingredient in France and for the culinary elite of England. Mrs. Patmore would know that the duck fat enhances the agreeable rustic flavor of the fried potatoes.

2 pounds Yukon Gold potatoes

4 tablespoons duck fat

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 bunch fresh parsley

4 cloves garlic

¹
⁄
₂
teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1. Peel, rinse, and dry potatoes. Cut them into
   ¹
   ⁄
   ₄
   -inch-thick slices.
   
2. Heat duck fat in a medium heavy pot over medium-high heat until fat is fully melted. When the fat is nice and hot, put in potatoes and cover them. Reduce the heat to low and let potatoes cook for
   ¹
   ⁄
   ₂
   hour.
   
3. While potatoes cook, chop parsley and garlic together.
   
4. After the potatoes have cooked for
   ¹
   ⁄
   ₂
   hour, turn them over gently with a wooden spoon, moving the crispy bottom to the top. Keep potatoes covered in duck fat. Add salt, chopped parsley–garlic mix, and pepper. Cover and cook for an additional 15 minutes.
   

To help dinner guests prepare themselves for the meal ahead of them, they would find at their place settings a menu listing the courses awaiting them. Menus would also be used as a means of “showing off” the many exotic ingredients and/or methods of cooking the chef used. Restaurants would later copy this idea by giving fancy names to rather mundane dishes as a means of suggesting that the diners could not find or make the same dishes at home. Translating the dish’s name into French was a sure-fire way of impressing customers without any additional work.

Want to know one way to make cucumbers delicious? Cover them with butter and sugar. Any guest visiting Downton with a sweet tooth would eat these vegetables with gusto while the silent staff would look eagerly on, hoping for leftovers.

4 large cucumbers, sliced

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

1
¹
⁄
₂
cups low-sodium chicken broth

2 teaspoons kosher salt

¹
⁄
₂
teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1 teaspoon sugar

2 large egg yolks, beaten

1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped

1. Place cucumbers in a large pot and cover with water. Let soak for 1 hour, then drain and let dry on cloth.
   
2. Heat butter in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add cucumbers and fry over moderate heat, without browning, for 5 minutes. Lower heat, then add flour, stirring. When thoroughly mixed, add broth and simmer gently for 25 minutes. Stir in salt, pepper, and sugar.
   
3. Drawing the pan to one side, add beaten egg yolks and parsley, beating thoroughly. Remove from heat.
   

This would be an excellent accompaniment to Mrs. Patmore’s Dropped Roasted Chicken (see
Chapter 5
), Classic Beef Wellington (see
Chapter 4
), or even Roasted Veal Chops with Rosemary-Basil Butter (see
Chapter 5
).

Likely served at Downton Abbey as part of the vegetable course, a version of this dish was served in the first-class cabins of the
Titanic
, whose sinking changed the lives of everyone at Downton Abbey. It’s likely that the sea salt used in this recipe would have had everyone thinking of their loved ones lost at sea.

1 bunch fresh asparagus, trimmed

Extra-virgin olive oil

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

¹
⁄
₄
cup unsalted butter

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

1
¹
⁄
₂
teaspoons soy sauce

1. Preheat oven to 400°F.
   
2. Lightly oil a baking sheet with olive oil. Place asparagus on greased baking sheet, then season heavily with salt and pepper.
   
3. Bake asparagus for 10–15 minutes or until tender.
   
4. Melt and brown butter in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Remove from heat, then stir in balsamic vinegar and soy sauce. Pour over baked asparagus and serve.
   

While it is common in America for the host to take the first bite of food, a tradition likely passed on from medieval times to prove that the food is not poisoned, most leaders of etiquette — especially those frequenting Downton Abbey — would be horrified at such an act of rudeness. Instead, the guest of honor should be served — and should eat — first.

If Mrs. Patmore wanted to take a day off, or at least give herself an easier evening, she could simply whip up these relatively effortless roasted parsnips as one of the vegetable offerings. They’re so delicious that no one would know that she needed an easy dinner service.

5 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon lemon juice

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

2 pounds parsnips, peeled and cut into 2-inch slices

¹
⁄
₃
cup vegetable stock

¹
⁄
₂
cup unsalted butter, softened

4 teaspoons drained horseradish

1 tablespoon light brown sugar

2 teaspoons maple syrup

1 tablespoon finely chopped flat-leaf parsley

1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, chopped

1 teaspoon fresh thyme, chopped

1. Preheat oven to 400°F. Whisk together olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper in a medium bowl. In a large yet shallow roasting pan, toss the parsnips with lemon and olive oil mixture. Add the broth, cover with aluminum foil, and roast, stirring once or twice, until the parsnips are tender and the stock has evaporated or been absorbed, about 20–45 minutes. Check often to avoid mushiness.
   
2. Combine the softened butter with the horseradish, brown sugar, maple syrup, parsley, rosemary, and thyme. Toss the warm parsnips with the herb butter and serve.
   

Parsnips are a root vegetable closely related to the carrot. Though sweeter in taste, they can be cooked and used much like carrots. Thus, you could pair this dish with any entrée in need of a carrot-like side, whether it be the Classic Beef Wellington (see
Chapter 4
), Mrs. Patmore’s Dropped Roasted Chicken (see
Chapter 5
), or any of the dishes enjoyed by the servants (see
Part 2
).

Nowadays, dessert brings connotations of decadent chocolate cakes, opulent ice-cream sundaes, and tangy tarts. But during the era of Downton Abbey, what we would consider dessert was most commonly called “pudding” or “afters.” In fact, in England the “afters” would not be called “dessert” by the upper-middle and upper classes unless fruit was involved. Yet nothing unites the classes like a love for sugar — unless you sprinkle salt all over the Raspberry Meringue Pie like poor blind Mrs. Patmore! The dishes in this chapter, from Sir Anthony’s beloved Apple Charlotte to the Vanilla Wafers with Double Chocolate Ice Cream to the ever-impressive Grand Gougère, will be admired and enjoyed by all, regardless of sex or salary.