I also keep notes in my datebooks (dating back to 1988!), listing more titles I intend to cross off one day. Somewhere around 1993, I made a notation to read Sister Carrie.
Well, saints preserve us, I finally read Theodore Dreiser’s novel just last month.
Was it worth it after all this time? Did I enjoy following Carrie’s eventual ascendence to the stage despite the unsuitable men complicating her life? Sure. I didn’t love (it ain’t Tess of the D’Urbervilles), but like so often when turning to the classics, I find it extremely satisfying to discover the lives secreted away in the pages, the stories I’ve long heard about unearthed at last.
At one point, Carrie proposes to make dinner for her tiresome husband Hurstwood:
“We’re all out of flour,” she said; “you’d better get some this afternoon. We haven’t any meat, either. How would it do if we had liver and bacon?”
Now, liver and bacon is something I do love, espcially when served with melted onions. When my D.C. friend comes to visit me in Manhattan, we hightail it to Joe Allen, one of the few places in town (Gene’s is another) that has liver on the menu. Reading Sister Carrie I was reminded too of the outrageously good Fegato alla Veneziana (Venetian-style liver) found in POLPO: A Venetian Cookbook (of sorts) and which may be easily prepared at home.
Adapted from POLPO: A Venetian Cookbook (of sorts)
Serves 4-6
Ingredients
6 tbs extra virgin olive oil
2 large white onions (Spanish, or cipollini if you can find), finely sliced
Flaky sea salt and black pepper
12 sage leaves
1 kg (about 2 lbs) calf’s liver, trimmed, cleaned and thinly sliced
50 ml (a quarter cup) white wine
50 g (3-4 tbs) unsalted butter
Method
Pour 2 tablespoons of the olive oil into a heavy-based pan and sweat the onions with a pinch of salt on a very low heat for approximately 30 minutes, or until soft. The onions will become translucent and should not burn—they should be only lightly brown. Add a grind of pepper. Take off the heat and set aside.
Cut the sliced liver into thin triangles. In another large heavy-based pan, heat the remaining 4 tablespoons of olive oil on a medium flame with the sage leaves and when hot add the liver, season, and cook until brown on both sides (if your pan is hot this should be no more than 1minute in total). Add the melted onions, heat through, and add the wine. Turn up the heat to get it bubbling for one minute and then immediately add the butter, simmer for another minute, check the seasoning and serve.
If you want to include bacon...fry up a proper amount, then drain off the fat and pat dry. Crumble when cool and top your dish.
Peter - My famous liver story happened in 1982 when my younger brother and I did a summer French immersion program in Strasbourg. On our first day, we went to a bistro with another friend. I saw “foie” on the menu and thought it was “foie gras” so I ordered it. I did not get the pate and crackers I was hoping for. No, it was a big, honking liver steak with a nice side of fries. I looked at my brother and said there was no way I was going to eat that. He told me in no uncertain terms that we were not going to be Ugly Americans and waste food, and that I’d better eat it. I can still remember choking it down, chasing it with the fries and a glass of red wine. So, I will not be joining you at Joe Allen…!
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of the 80’s, I just started reading Ed Zwick’s memoir, “Hits, Flops, and Other Illusions: My Fortysomething Years in Hollywood.” Looks like fun!
How about the burger at Joe Allen, Lori?
ReplyDelete