Eating people is (not) wrong

A recipe for Melba Toast

What do the French king Henri IV, novelist, playwright and critic Arnold Bennett, Margherita of Savoy, Queen of Italy, Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova, and Venetian painter, Vittore Carpaccio have in common?

Henri IV and Arnold Bennett

Each has had a dish named after them, making the adjusted title of Malcolm Bradbury's novel, Eating People is Wrong, less provacative. Henri IV’s poule au pot is sometimes called France’s national dish: a whole chicken gently stewed in a pot with whole vegetables. Omelette Arnold Bennett was created for the writer by the chef at London’s Savoy Hotel, Jean Baptiste Virlogeux, when he was lodging there to research the second of the novels he set in the Savoy. It’s a fluffy omelette onto which are strewn flakes of poached smoked haddock cloaked in a sauce that is half Hollandaise, half Béchamel, topped with cheese then grilled till bubbling. (There are far simpler versions for the home cook. Save the original for a visit to the Savoy.) Pizza Margherita was first made in 1889 by Raffaele Esposito, chef at Pizzeria Brandi in Naples to celebrate the unification of Italy during the reign of Umberto and Margherita, the queen consort, who lived at one point in Naples. Its toppings of green basil, white mozzarella and red tomato represent the colours of the Italian flag.

The Pavlova is claimed by both Australia and New Zealand to have been created by them in celebration of Anna Pavlova, who toured both countries in the 1920s. Chef Herbert Sachse of Perth’s Esplanade Hotel is nominated by the former as its inventor, although it’s said to have been named by house manager, Harry Nairn, who declared it as light as Pavlova. New Zealanders are more vague, able only to cite an unnamed chef at an unnamed Wellington hotel.

Carpaccio, which isn’t confined to thin slices of raw beef but is a method that can also be applied to veal, venison, salmon or tuna, is a more recent invention. It’s based on the Piedmont speciality carne cruda all’Albese, raw meat served Steak Tartare-style with shavings of Alba white truffle. Giuseppe Cipriani, the founder of Harry’s Bar in Venice, first made it in 1963 with sliced not minced meat, for one of his regulars, Countess Amali Nani Mocenigo, who had been recommended by her doctors to eat meat raw. He named it after Vittore Carpaccio, a 15th century Venetian painter known for his bold use of red and white in his religious works.  

These notables, immortalised forevermore on menus and in cookbooks, are only a few among many. Have you ever pondered the origins of Béchamel sauce, Salisbury steak, sandwiches, Beef Stroganoff, sauces Soubise (sautéed onions in Béchamel sauce), Béarnaise (clarified butter emulsified in egg yolks and white wine vinegar and flavored with herbs) and Mornay (Béchamel sauce enriched with Gruyère cheese)? Or Duxelles, those finely minced mushrooms, shallots and herbs sautéed in butter and reduced?

How about Crèpes Suzette, Beef Wellington, Pommes Anna, Fettuccine Alfredo, Potage Parmentier, and a Chateaubriand? Each of these are persons of consequence who have inspired chefs to create dishes named for them. Stray into fruits and you’ll discover many more. Apple Charlotte? Poire Belle Hélène, anyone?

But the only person to have four dishes named after them is (your starter for 10): Helen Porter Mitchell.

Try naming them.

Can’t come up with a single one? No surprise. She will perhaps be more familiar to you as Australian soprano Dame Nellie Melba, who took the name Melba from her home town, Melbourne. 

Dame Nellie Melba, around 1907

You’ll be familiar with Peach Melba, and Melba Toast. But how about Melba Sauce and Melba Garniture? The Rubenesque diva who reigned over Covent Garden for decades was an inspiration to Auguste Escoffier, legendary chef at London’s Savoy Hotel just down the road from the opera house (a hotel, it seems, the producer of much culinary inspiration), who created each of them. Melba Sauce is a purée of raspberries and redcurrants, and Melba Garniture a stuffing for tomatoes of chicken, truffles and mushrooms with velouté.

I’m not convinced the food world is waiting for a revival of Peach Melba or of Melba Garniture. Unless you pluck them from a tree in the Mediterranean or Georgia (either of them), peaches these days are ‘for home-ripening’ wads of cotton wool. Dishes revolving round flour-based sauces and used as stuffings have fallen out of favour unless they’re lasagne or fish pie. (How recently have you been served a vol-au-vent filled with mushrooms or diced chicken?)

Yet there are dishes from our parents’ era that are seeing a new burst of popularity. I can’t say No to a good prawn cocktail - though I would refuse it stuffed into the hollow of an avocado. Scampi are still a top seller in pubs across the land - those that are still keeping their heads above Britain’s financial abyss, at least.

It’s odd how some dishes survive the changing decades but not others. We still eat creme brulée. But not zabaglione or syllabub. Molten Chocolate Babycakes are still on menus but not Black Forest Gateau. (Be thankful for small mercies.) We’ll order fritto misto but less often are goujons (the original fish finger?) on offer. How long since you’ve eaten chocolate mousse? Where is Steak Diane - named in honour of Lady Diana Cooper in 1938 by Tony Clerici at Tony’s Grill in Mayfair?

But back to Helen Porter Mitchell. I would like to see the return of Melba Toast. With so many dedicated (pernickety?) chefs making their own butter these days, there is nothing, in my view, that better conveys a chilled slab of the stuff than coin-thin, dried toast. Dame Nellie Melba liked a good tuck in and struggled to lose weight. Apparently Escoffier went to her aid, replacing the Savoy’s bread basket with a salver of this crisp nibble. Another view has it that she fell ill in 1897 and dry toast was all she could keep down.

Not a photograph you really need, is it?

At any rate, I think Melba Toast is worthy of revival, particularly in these austere times. The loaves laid out on rustic shelves for our temptation tend to be extremely large and very expensive. Freezing a portion of them for a rainy day dries out the crumb. On the other hand, slices of Melba Toast freeze perfectly well - in a box so they don’t crumble to bits when you toss a lasagna into your freezer on top of them. Once my focaccia or sourdough or pricey farmhouse loaf has lost its freshness, it’s easy to slice it very thin and lay it out on a baking sheet overnight to dry then toast it until pale gold in a 180C/350F oven for about 10 minutes. With fuel so expensive now, don’t do this unless you are roasting or baking something else. The bread slices can go in once you’ve turned your oven off. If you don’t want to turn your oven on at all, cut two slices of bread to a regular thickness, drop them into your toaster and wait for them to pop back up. Once they have, lightly press your palm flat upon a single toast and slice it laterally. Then revolve each slice back-to-back against the other to expose the raw crumb on both sides, and toast them again together. Then repeat.