Greetings to all, these recipes look delicious! I am a snuggle reader, I have to be in my favorite lazygirl chair, with my afghan, my dog Sammy curled up next to me and a hot cup of General Foods International Suisse Mocha, with some kind of cookie, my favorite is Pepperidge Farm Goldfish S'mores. YUM!
Okay ladies and gents...I have a mystery for you all to solve. I have begun reading Jane Austen's books. I have just completed Sense and Sensibility. I will begin Pride and Prejudice next. So...since I am just becoming familiar with Austen, I have a bit of a dilema. I googled literary recipes so I could bring one to share. I came across this book titled: Kafka's Soup A Complete History of World Literature in 14 Recipes by Mark Crick
In this book is a recipe that was taken from one of Jane Austen's books, and for the love of might, I have not been able to find which of her books it is from. So all you Austen fans, here are the passages with the recipe included.
As a sacrifice to propriety, Mrs. B___ agreed that the dish would be a traditional one. With the day of the luncheon drawing near, Mrs. B__ was suffering terribly with her nerves. The event that she had announced with such anticipation had ceassed to be a source of pleasure. On the contrary, it was unfair of the local ladies to allow the burden of organising such gatherings to fall so often to her; and was it not strange that Mrs. Eliot had not returned the courtesy of the dinner that she had given a fortnight past? Such were the mutterings of Mrs. B___as she paced the garden seeking inspiration, when the sounds of a carriage crossing the lawn announced the arrival of Lady Cumberland, who suggested a small rehersal. So it was that the two neighbors found themselves in the kitchen at Somercote, still busily searching for a proper suitor for the eggs. While Lady Cumberland sat drinking tea, Mrs. B___chose for her employment to search the pantry, stalking the absent suitor.
"Parsley might do," said she. The herb was a regular at the house and the chance that it might combine well with her eggs meant that Mrs. B___could only think well of it: "Good-looking, with an easy unaffected manner." Lady Cumberland 's reaction was unequivocal: "Too much curl to its leaf, and too often seen in great bunches at fishmongers. It would be a most unhappy connection."
Mrs. B___ was not used to disagreeing with the better informed mind of Lady Cumberland, and now, her every cherished opinion of parsley's worth overthrown, she turned her eye to rarer visitors, including the tarragon. She had always thought tarragon a difficult herb and hard to please. "It refuses to grow here, it refuses to grow there, but fancies itself so very great, disappearing every winter I know not where. I quite detest the plant."
"French tarragon is an aristocrat among herbs, and although I think it too good for your eggs, I cannot deny that it would be a fine match for them," said Lady Cumberland. Mrs. B___received the remark with all forebearance of civility and the slight on her eggs went unremarked. But a recommendation from so high a source as Lady Cumberland could not be ignored, and Mrs. B___'s comtempt for the noble tarragon was soon forgotten. The possibility that her eggs might find themselves cooked with the aristocratic herb sent Mrs. B__ into such a state of excitement that Lady Cumberland would have risen to leave were it not for the promise of luncheon. Instead she instructed her host to produce the dish without delay" "I suggest you begin."
Mrs. B___obliged by heating the eggs slightly to break up yolks and whites. On Lady Cumberland's instruction she then passed the eggs through a sieve to remove the thread and further mix the white and yolk without creating the froth that can be "so unsightly." No sooner had such an end been reached then she added the tarragon, which was by now high in her good graces. She could barely hold back her raptures at how good the tarragon and eggs looked together and anticipated the happy moment when she would see the united, on toast. Taking half the butter, Mrs. B___ spread it around the pan, and pronounced it to be the most tractable of ingredients. The remaining butter she added in small lumps to the mixture, together with salt and pepper, before cooking the whole over a gentle heat, stirring constantly and scraping the bottom of the pan as she did. As soon as the attachment seemed to strengthen she removed the dish from the heat and kept stirring: the warmth of the pan was sufficient to complete the cooking before the eggs became too dry. The delightful union Mrs. B__ then served with toasted bread, and with so much good taste and true merit that, when Lady Cumberland was obliged to declare the dish acceptable, the happiness of the guests was assured. And so it proved to be the case, with the possible exception of Mrs. Eliot, who, when she detailed the particulars to her husband, remarked on the lack of finery or parade in the table setting and of the inferiority of the dish next to her own eggs benedict. But, in spite of all the deficiences, the hopes, the sensitivities, and the appetites of the small band of true friends who gathered for luncheon were fully answered in teh perfect scuccess of the union.
I can't wait to see who solves this mystery, and I finally find out the name of the book!
Tarragon Eggs A' La Jane Austen (from Kafka's Soup)
40g butter
4 eggs
Ground pepper
Pinch of salt
2 teaspoons tarragon (fresh or dried)
