“The destiny of
nations depends upon what and how well they eat.” —Brillat-Savarin
Years ago, the title of M.F.K. Fisher’s book evoked
fantastical images. I read a lot of Tolkien, Mervyn Peake, and others that
would lead me to believe that a book about cooking wolves had to be intriguing.
Alas, as a child, I was disappointed, as there were no monsters of mysterious elf
rangers. Just practical advice about making ends meet. Having spent years with
my great-grandmother, I’d already seen the economy she practiced: slapping the
toast onto the cast iron skillet to cook it in bacon fat. The things we
preserved and stored in the cellar.
Decades passed, and as I search for the best in food
writing, I was drawn to her books again. How
to Cook a Wolf has probably been my favorite so far. Like The Ravenous Muse, the
theme of the book is anthropomorphized into a recurring character. The wolf
stalks M.F.K. Fisher throughout: “The wolf has one paw wedged firmly in what
looks like a widening crack of the door. Let us take it for granted that the
situation, while uncomfortable, is definitely impermanent, and can be coped
with.”
Wartime shortages are the central theme. Coping with limited
utilities, making the best of canned goods (and saving the liquid for soup
stocks later on), and stretching ingredients are economical bits of wisdom that
go far beyond the wars of the mid-twentieth century. While in America the kinds
of sacrifices made by everyday people is no longer what it was in the past,
people are turning away from industrial agriculture and the effects of climate change
are making many people rethink how they sustain themselves. Urban gardening is
a sign of a smart city, and while many of the kitchen tools she refers to are
no longer a wonderment (she goes on quite a bit about the “modern” pressure
cooker), the practical advice in this book would do a lot of good in reducing
waste and saving energy.
One of the most interesting aspects of How to Cook a Wolf is
her view on food production and trendy diets. She places the blame on fad diets
squarely on the growing magazine industry. The balanced diet of three square
meals a day is perpetuated by advertisers, she argues, and the needs of the
individual should take precedence. Much like patient-driven healthcare is
changing traditional medicine today, our attitude toward food needs to change. No
one “miracle diet” will work for everyone.
In the chapter titled “How to be Sage without Hemlock,” M.F.K.
Fisher lamented the mass production of bread. The refined flours rendered bread
tasteless and nutritionally worthless, and imposed a false sense of snobbery.
Darker breads were poor, foreign. You were moving up in the world by buying
chemically treated foods. Coupled with America’s Puritan reluctance to really
enjoy food, she muses, will put us on a bad path leading to large-scale health
problems. Indeed it has. If she’d only been around to be vindicated in an era
where chefs rediscover “artisanal” cooking, and present us with the kind of
bread people knew from the Old Country.
Fisher offers up a number of recipes that are worth a
try—her roast is fabulous, and the French technique of drizzling the beef juice
on a salad is a revelation. According to Fisher, rubbing chicken in lemon is a
good way to tenderize it. And as always, beautiful, stately quotes make every
page of her work a pleasure to read: ““Polenta is one of those ageless culinary
lords, like bread. It has sprung from the hunger of mankind, and without
apparent effort has always carried a feeling of strength and dignity and
well-being.”
In addition, she advises the housewife on making mouthwash
and soap from myrrh, and how to make a pin cushion by sewing fabric around old
coffee grounds. Evidently, the coffee grounds prevent the needles from rusting.
If I were a habitual sewing-type, I may have tried it, but sewing is one of
those things I do only if I absolutely must.
Of all the recipes, the onion soup is the one I had to go
with for this series. It’s been one of my favorites forever. And while I
typically rely on Julia Child’s recipe, this one is great too…though I’d switch
out the Parmesan for a super thick slice of Jarlsberg Swiss, and add sherry
when deglazing the pan.
Parisian Onion Soup
4 sweet onions, very thinly sliced
4 tablespoons butter or good oil
2 heaping tablespoons flour
1/2 cup white wine
1 quart beef consommé
Grated snappy cheese (Parmesan cheese)
Rye bread, sliced thin and toasted
4 tablespoons butter or good oil
2 heaping tablespoons flour
1/2 cup white wine
1 quart beef consommé
Grated snappy cheese (Parmesan cheese)
Rye bread, sliced thin and toasted
Directions
Brown the onions in the fat, sprinkle with flour and stir while it simmers for 10 minutes. Deglaze with white wine. Meanwhile heat the consommé. Add it to the onions and let boil slowly until the onions are tender. Spread the cheese thickly on the toast and melt under a quick broiler. Pour the soup into a hot soup tureen, cover with the toast and serve at once.
Brown the onions in the fat, sprinkle with flour and stir while it simmers for 10 minutes. Deglaze with white wine. Meanwhile heat the consommé. Add it to the onions and let boil slowly until the onions are tender. Spread the cheese thickly on the toast and melt under a quick broiler. Pour the soup into a hot soup tureen, cover with the toast and serve at once.