Cornish Hen Paradis

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.