Filets de Boeuf grillés à la Polonoise.

Vous Prenez un filet de Boeuf motifié, vous le parez, le coupez en deux & en levez plusieurs feuilles, que vous étendez, en les battant; vous avez une farce de foyes gras que vous mettez dessus, & les roulez feuille par feuille, & les mettez griller en les arrosant d’huile; etant cuits, vous le serves avec une sauce à L’Espagnole, ou autre: Veau, Mouton, & volaille de même: les filets sautés de Mouton au four.

Grilled Beef Fillets in the Polish Style.

You take a fillet of beef pounded, trimmed, cut it into two and a lift in several sheets, you lie them down, after pounding them, you layer with foie gras, and roll the leaf by leaf, and grill them, spraying them with oil, you serve with a sauce Espagnole or another; cook Veal, Lamb, Poultry in the same fashion: fried fillets of baked lamb.

Having just translated this outside of my head, I’ve finally realized what that crazy Cuisinier Gascon was getting at (have I mentioned that he was neither a Cuisinier nor a Gascon, but a member of the French minor nobility), sadly AFTER making the dish. No real harm done, but in translating this, and reading the section on Polonaise from my Larousse Gastronomique, I realized that the foie gras was supposed to be sandwiched between thin layers of beef and then rolled, where I rolled up each “sheet” with the foie gras inside. I assume it’s related to a “Polonaise” that has survived; a brioche soaked in rum and rolled with candied fruit, but perhaps Polish cuisine is simply rife with items rolled up with one another (which sounds like a lovely basis for a cuisine, actually).

Brioche Polonaise

Sauce à L’Espagnole.

Vous soncez une casserole de deux noix de veau, de tranche de jambon, deux Perdrix ou Perdreaux au fumet, un bouquet; vous faites suer le tout & attacher légerement, & le mouillez du coulis ordinaire, vin de Champagne, huile, l’aissaisonnement ordinaire, un peu de coriandre, trois tranches de citron: étant cuite de bon goût, vous vous en servez à ce que vous voulez.

Sauce Espagnole.

You start a saucepan with two veal medallions, a slice of ham two Partridges or Partridge hens and a bouquet [of fresh herbs], you sweat it all and add a coulis [ham essence], oil, ordinary seasoning, a little coriander, three slices of lemon: being cooked taste, you serve it as you will.

This is delightful minimalism, and a difficult recipe to piece together without other sources – luckily, sources for Sauce Espagnole abound, so it was fairly simple to extract CG’s meaning from this compacted recipe. Amazingly, the traditional recipe really does start with veal medallions, ham and a partridge – it also includes veal stock, and a roux as a thickener (some of this – the roux, the stock – may have been assumed by the author. It’s a sauce, after all). I played a little fast and loose, not having veal medallions or partridge at hand, I settled for veal stock, a couple or chicken thighs, and a pair of sirloin bones to go with ham and some vegetables (stolen from alternate Espagnole recipes) – I also didn’t have any ham essence around so used some extra ham instead. In Carême’s finally word on Sauce Espagnole, the veal/ham/partridge is covered in stock and then reduced into a sort of paste which is used to flavor the second round of sauce which is then reduced in turn. I stopped just short of this, figuring this earlier version of the sauce, meant to be used alone (where Carême’s was meant more as a powerful base to be diluted into secondary sauces), would have been a slightly less heady concoction.

Here’s what happened:

The meats with carrots, mushrooms, onions, shallots, garlic, stock

Reduced

And reduced further

Then passed through a fine strainer - this takes some time

Until all that remains is a rich broth

Flank steak slice, beaten, and spread with foie gras

Rolled and tied

And sauced

Almost nailed this one – just a little foie gras short of perfect. Sauce Espagnole isn’t so much strong as it is dense and redolent – having had it, I now realize that gravy is a sort of vague gesture towards the platonic ideal of Sauce Espagnole. Really wondrous stuff – it goes perfectly with the foie gras, so much so that the steak was often secondary to the joys of mopping up the sauce with a piece of bread. Next time I’ll slice it very thin, perhaps even carpaccio thin, and layer with a bit more foie gras, but this was a lovely start and a fine introduction to the sybaritic joys of Sauce Espagnole.