Madeira demi glace spiked with current jelly and truffles,
and adorned with fresh green grapes – an old haute Creole concoction – Sauce
Paradis was once upon a time served with the squab at Antoine’s. But it is
great on anything – veal scallops browned in butter sure comes to mind – though
it especially shines with roasted fowl.
Squab is a young pigeon, right? Getting your hands on a pigeon can be complicated. It can
involve more embarrassment than one would expect. When you live in a small
town, you can’t count on anonymity. So I gave up on Pigeonneaux Sauce Paradis; I need a bird I can get in the
grocery store. A Cornish hen will do. And each guest can still have a picture
perfect fine-figure-of-a-fowl on his or her very own plate.
My wife says this dish is perfect for Easter, because it has
the fresh look of Spring, and there is absolutely nothing ordinary about it. It
is, she says, Holiday special. (She really
talks like that).
It might be a good idea to serve a light salad as a first
course, and then end with the bird - and just the bird. Lots of garlic bread
nearby for the sauce.
The last time we made this, we finished by passing the
roasting pan around the table for mopping up with the last of the bread.
That’s how everybody knew it was time for dessert.
For each Cornish Hen:
With a pair of Kitchen shears remove the backbone, and save
it to make a broth with later on. Spread out the hen, breast up, on a work
surface. Press down on the breast until you hear the pop, and flatten the bird.
Rub it down with olive oil, and generously salt and pepper.
On a half sheetpan, in a 400 degree oven, roast the birds
for 40 to 45 minutes. You want them done enough to come easily off the bone, with
some crisp in the skin to stand up to the sauce.
SAUCE PARADIS
1 stick butter
1/4 C flour
2 C condensed beef consomme
1/2 C Madeira
3 T current jelly
1/8 t white pepper
3 C sliced white grapes
black truffle - at least 1 whole truffle, sliced
In a 2 quart sauce pan, on low heat, melt a stick of butter, then add a quarter cup of flour,
and start whisking. You are making a roux. A blondish roux, not a dark one; the
darker the roux the less thickening power. Five or ten minutes on low heat
should be enough to cook the flour taste out of it, but not so much you’ll wind
up with soup instead of sauce.
Then - still whisking - blend in 2 Cups of condensed beef
consomme.
Don’t worry, this is not one of those condensed soup recipes
from A Man, a Can, and a Plan (which,
by the way, is a great little book). The original prescription is for a rich
beef broth - so why not condensed beef consomme? Beats looking for a bunch of bones
and an extra couple of days’ work. Or reducing four cups of regular beef broth
to make it double strength. But a 10.5 ounce can contains only 1 1/4 Cups, so
you will need two cans. (The dog is entitled to the remainder mixed in with his
dry food).
Back to the sauce – whisking, whisking – Blend in 1/2 Cup
Madeira. This makes it old world Southern. Use Rainwater Madeira, and it makes it even more so. There are some
good stories about Rainwater Madeira and old Savannah - which I should save for
a Savannah recipe.
Add the 1/8 t white pepper and 3 T’s currant jelly. Keep
stirring. It will begin to thicken.
Keep cooking and stirring. You don’t want to add the
truffles until you are pretty much done with the stirring. No sense in breaking
them up any more than you have to.
Once you have the sauce the way you want it, add the
truffles and any remaining truffle liquid.
Then add the grapes and turn off the heat.
Shortly before the birds are ready to take out of the oven,
start reheating the sauce.
When the birds are done, sauce them, arranging the grapes
and truffle slices for best effect.
Put them back in the oven for five or ten minutes, to glaze
the sauce and get them piping hot before serving.
This same recipe works just fine with any manner of roast
fowl. Butterfly a chicken, roast it, reheat it with sauce and then cut it up.
Think about thinly sliced turkey breast - which is screaming for sauce. What
about duck? You like Veal Marsala? You’ll like Veal Madeira. You’ll die for
Veal Paradis. Ever notice that any veal dish makes a great pork dish? It goes
on and on.
This sauce is special.
