Part 111

Venison.--Those who have any experience in carving haunches or saddles of mutton have very little to learn with regard to venison; the principles which guide them in dealing with the former have only to be followed out in the latter. A haunch of venison is carved exactly like a haunch of mutton; but, being somewhat larger, it is advised by some authorities that the broad end of the haunch, instead of the side, should be turned towards the carver for the purpose of giving him greater command over the joint. This system leads to an entire disturbance of the appearance and general arrangement of the table; and a skilled carver should be independent of such twistings to meet his convenience, except under great emergencies. Epicures pretend that there is a vast difference between the flavour of the slices cut close to the vertebræ and those farther removed, and the carver must make concessions to such notions, and give those whom he is helping their slice from the region which they prefer. Never either must he omit to give a dip of the rich gravy always accumulating in the channel whence the slices are taken, nor an ample portion of fat with the lean. Expedition, but without hurry, is essential in carving venison, as, like mutton, it chills very rapidly: but, as on the whole a haunch of venison is not a difficult dish to deal with, there never should be anything to complain of on the score of delay. As the shoulder of venison is usually sent to table stewed and rolled, the bone having been removed, it presents no difficulty whatever to the carver, and being, so to speak, a fat joint, has to be dealt with according to the principles already laid down. Sometimes, however, the shoulder is roasted, as is also the neck; but these--with braised brisket, fillets, and steaks--do not demand any special comment as to their carving; for what has been learned about cutting up sheep should prove sufficient for the comparatively rare occasions when the carver is called upon to discuss deer.

Veal.--The commonest form in which veal offers itself is perhaps a roast breast, and if a carver has had any experience in cutting up fore-quarter of lamb, he will at once recognise the similarity between a breast of veal and the aforesaid joint of lamb after the shoulder has been removed. Like it, the veal is composed of ribs and brisket, and may be cut accordingly, that is, first, by separating in one long incision the ribs from the brisket, and then the rib bones one by one, after the manner of chops generally. The gristly brisket may be cut in squarish portions, inquiring of course always of the guests whether they prefer the latter or the former. The brown, well-cooked parts in veal are usually most esteemed; and if the sweetbread, as it sometimes is, be sent to table with the joint, it ought naturally to be fairly distributed. Once more, in manipulating the roast fillet of veal, the carver has only to remember what has been said respecting a round of beef, with the addition that a portion of the stuffing, which is inserted between the flap and the main bulk of the meat, be served with each helping, and that the brown outside, or first slice, is considered a very choice morsel.

A knuckle of veal, being in shape somewhat like the knuckle end of a leg of mutton when it has been divided, needs but few directions for carving. The slices from the thicker end are the best; that would be to the right of the first incision into the meat.

The butcher is mainly responsible for the good carving of a loin of veal, for if he have not done his jointing properly, it is hardly possible to cut it up decently; whereas, if he has done his work well, the carver has but to feel his way with the point of the knife, on lines already laid down, to be able to disengage the separate portions--never, by the way, overlooking the kidney, and the kidney fat, lying on the under side of the joint.

It is not very easy to describe the exact method of carving calf’s head, but a little experience and examination of its organic development soon suggests what has to be done. When upon the dish, the nose and mouth should be to the right of the carver, and the first incision should be made right down to the bone, and running all along from the back of the nearest ear down towards the nose, and slices be cut away in the same direction. With each of these should go a piece of what is called the sweetbread of the throat, a substance to be found under the ear, and, so to speak, at right angles with the line of the first incision, and it should be cut towards the carver in the direction in which it lies. Calf’s head has a multitude of succulent morsels, to wit, the ears, the flesh round the eyes, and the eyes themselves. Also the palate, which, lying under the head, is to be got at when the jaw bone is removed; and where, likewise, some nice lean becomes accessible. On a separate dish, of course, the tongue and brains are served, of which every one is invited to partake.

Sheep’s head is held to be a very vulgar dish, and a lamb’s head, perhaps, only one degree less so. Still he who is unfortunate enough at any time to find himself with the responsibility of carving or helping such viands may take courage if he has any knowledge of what is demanded of him when similarly situated with a calf’s head, the heads of the smaller animals being then very easy of manipulation.

Pork.--Like calf’s head, a sucking pig seems at first sight to be rather an appalling dish, and undoubtedly a little experience is requisite before one becomes quite _au fait_ with the business. But the whole substance is so tender, and yields so readily to the knife, that after a slight knowledge of the anatomy of the animal has been acquired, all difficulties vanish. The little piglet generally appears upon the board divided into four parts; the head, like the body, being cloven in twain, a cheek being placed at either end of the carcase. In dealing with the latter, the shoulder has first to be removed by passing the knife circularly round its junction with the body, pretty much as one does with fore-quarter of lamb. The leg is then treated after the same fashion, when the ribs will be open to view, for gentle division. Each side of the animal is disposed of in the same way; the larger joints being considered, perhaps, the least delicate (if, where all is delicacy, there can be a “least”) are usually offered to the robuster appetites at table. As in the case of all dishes abounding in choice morsels, the epicure is sure to have his fancies about sucking pig--one preferring the ribs, another the neck, and a third the meat from the shoulder.

Concerning leg of pork, really little or nothing additional has to be said. The knife only needs to be carried straight down through the crackling to the very bone; as each slice is taken away, such stuffing, gravy, &c., as accompany it, is distributed either from the joint itself or from sauceboats. Allowing for a slight difference in form, it has to be treated like most of the leg joints that come to table, and the same may be said of the loin. As you dispose of a loin of mutton, so do you of a loin of pork, the due value of the crackling, fat, and brown tit-bits being kept in mind. The butcher here again is responsible for the jointing, and the cook for the judicious scoring of the crackling.

Ham alone remains to be noticed in this part of our subject, and according as one wishes to have fine or economical slices, must it be carved. In the first case, the start is made upon the prime part at once; in the second, from quite the lower end of the knuckle, advancing gradually at a gentle angle towards the thicker and prime part of the meat. A pliant, very sharp knife is indispensable, as the slices cannot well be too thin, or too evenly and smoothly cut. It is of little concern to the carver whether the ham be hot or cold, and the same may be said of joints generally.

Odd Dishes.--Very little need be said about “helping” dishes of meat, as part of the carver’s duty, even where no actual knife and fork execution is required. A rump steak, for instance, hardly needs to be carved, but it has to be cut and helped very neatly, and not distributed in irregular mis-shapen hunks, but rather, as a rule, in oblong finger-shaped pieces, with a nice modicum of fat attached, if possible, but certainly going with each portion of lean. And because meat pies again have to be cut and helped, not carved, the carver, so called, must not look upon them as beneath his consideration.

If he thinks that hashes, curries, ragouts, what-not, do not give him a fair field for the display of his skill with knife and fork, and that, therefore, it does not signify how they are helped, he will be grievously mistaken.

Except where a great number of portions have to be served, avoid the use of the knife sharpener at table: it has always an eating-house effect about it. It is disagreeable to the ear and if executed with the flourish of dexterity, not unfrequently is likely to splash right and left; for unless the knife be wiped previously, and this is a very awkward and unsightly process, some of the juices of the meat inevitably cling to it, to be scraped off against the sharpener, which in its turn is made greasy, and therefore jeopardises the purity of the tablecloth. If, however, a sharpener has to be brought into play, the simplest and most efficacious is the ordinary round butcher’s steel, always supposing the power of using it properly in conjunction with the knife has been acquired. Short of this, the little contrivance consisting of a series of discs overlapping each other, so as to form a wedge-shaped socket with the finest of thin edges conceivable, into which the edge of the knife is dropped and then pushed gently backwards and forwards, is very useful, and may be recommended as fully answering its purpose, and if carefully manipulated entirely without risk. It also is cleaner, less unsightly, and creates less unpleasant noise than the common steel, whilst a child might manage it. At any rate, ladies should always use it in preference to any other sharpening instrument. The habit of feebly drawing the edge of the carving knife downwards, to and fro, against the back edge of another knife, should only be thought of under very pressing circumstances; it is an extremely inelegant action.

_Poultry._--Once learn its anatomy and the best method of separating its limbs, and very little more knowledge will enable you to manipulate skilfully any of the feathered tribe. The chicken should lie upon its back at right angles with our line of sight, and its tail end to our left hand. The fine plump breast tempts naturally the insertion of the fork, which should be driven firmly, but delicately, and almost perpendicularly into it, a little to the left of the centre, a prong on either side of the ridge of the breast bone. Secure hold should be at once got by this process of the whole carcase, for if it be intended to cut up the entire fowl at once it may be, and should be all but done without once removing the fork. The next process is to separate the wing, or both wings, and this is done by passing the knife sharply along the line of the breast, as far outside the breast bone as will leave a fair share of meat attached to it, and yet give an ample portion to the wing. Thus, cutting from left to right, and downwards, as we approach the right extremity of the bird, let the knife diverge a little farther outwards, so as to clear the merrythought, and strike the joint of the wing. Unless the creature be of preternatural antiquity, the junction is easily severed, and bone and flesh come away almost with a touch. Having removed both wings in this way, lower the fork hand so as to cant the chicken a little on to its side, and then pass the blade of the knife under the projecting elbow, as we may call it, of the leg, and, forcing it outwards, disengage it too from the body by severing with the point of the knife the joint by which it is still slightly held. Then turn the bird bodily over on to its other side, without removing the fork, and dispose of the second leg in a similar fashion. Restoring then the chicken to its original position, pass the knife transversely across the breast a little to the right of the highest point of the breast bone. Cut down gently, inclining the edge of the blade to the right, press outwards and upwards slightly, and the merrythought comes away. There must be no tearing of the skin; every incision of the knife must go clean through that, for nothing looks worse than to see one portion with the skin half torn away, and hanging in a long ribbon from another. The merrythought is now disposed of by just separating the little joints by which it is still attached when the upper end of its bone has been separated from the breast, and having a nice clean edged covering of skin. Again turn the carcase on to its side, and by an action with the knife, similar to that by which you removed the legs, force away by an upward pressure the two side bones one after the other, that is the two bones which the removal of the merrythought has revealed. There is nothing now to prevent the knife being swept clean through the ribs, and so disengage breast and back. At this stage the fork is withdrawn from the breast, which has now become a trim, tempting, and oblong portion; the back only remains to be dealt with. Turning it over, press the knife firmly down upon the right end of it, and holding it so steadily, lift the left extremity with the fork, and the back is immediately dislocated near the centre; complete the separation by severing with the knife such portions of skin and flesh as may yet cause the joints still to adhere one to the other. Arrange then all these various portions neatly on the dish, and still assuming that the demolition of the whole bird was necessary, it will be ready to serve, remembering that a piece of the liver should go with that wing which has it not. On some occasions--carving for a large number of children to wit--it may be necessary to divide each leg into two portions by severing the thigh bone from the drumstick, as it is called.

Boiled or roast, such is the mode of cutting up a fowl. Supposing, however, that some special part alone is wanted, say the merrythought, it can hardly be got at without first cutting the wing, or wings; not perhaps disengaging them entirely, but certainly so far as to get at the particular joint required. It ensures neatness in the long run, and it is highly essential that a bird, if it reappears at table, should look neither hacked nor mangled. If a fowl approach the proportions of a capon, it will seldom be well to drive the fork into the breast at starting, because then the first thing to be done is to make the breast yield the utmost number of slices; these should be cut, to begin with, from as close to the wing as possible, working upwards on either side till the breast bone be reached. Only when these, the choicest parts of the bird, are distributed, will it be necessary to go into the dissection of the carcase as aforesaid; and it must not be forgotten that under this method the wings are reduced to what may be called a mere picking.

Very special fancies are found to predominate amongst all who partake of poultry, and it is essential that the carver does not neglect to consult each individual’s predilections. A very little experience, too, will show how indispensable it is to have poultry carving knife and fork in exquisite order. The knife must be firm and sharp-pointed, or it will never disengage anything like stubborn joints.

Duck.--The anatomy of the fowl once mastered, that of the duck or duckling becomes immediately patent to the most casual observer. The slight difference which exists in their general conformation, and which arises chiefly from the legs of the duck being set farther back on the body, is not sufficient to require much additional comment; but it may be said that, whereas the wing of the “flyer” is held in the highest repute, so is the leg of the “swimmer”; and when a very small and tender duckling is under the knife, one wing and leg taken off together, without division, will be no more than enough for one portion. The stuffing is got at by cutting open at its lower end, by a semicircular incision, the little apron of skin just below the breast. This should be done so neatly that it falls back into its place when the spoon is withdrawn, and must on no account be left jagged. Nevertheless, the carver should never put any of the stuffing upon a plate without first asking whether it will be agreeable. Some housewives, when a pair of ducks or ducklings appear, allow only one of them to be stuffed, and this is perhaps wise. As with a large chicken, so with a large duck, the most must be made of its breast by cutting the utmost number of long and delicate slices that it will yield, commencing always as close to the wing as possible. Very marked will be the difference in the apparent amount of separate portions which will be got off a duck by a good and a bad carver; and it is only a little exaggeration to say that the good one will make the bird go twice as far as the bad. All sorts of odd out-of-the-way tit-bits can be got off the carcase by any one who has had the wit to keep a watchful eye on a dexterous knight of the carving knife and fork--for practical carving is learned more thoroughly by watching an expert than by any other means. Amongst the tit-bits of a duck some people look upon the feet as very pretty picking, and they should always appear at table, not only for the above reason, but as giving a character to the dish.

Turkey.--The turkey, though looked upon as the king of the poultry yard, is not by any means a subject that calls for a very unusual amount of skill on the part of the carver. Beyond the fact that care should be taken to cut neatly a succession of long slices from the breast, each with its nice little edge of untorn skin, there is really not much for the knife and fork to do. The cutting of slices from the breast should begin as close to the wing as possible, and proceed upwards on both sides, to the ridge of the breast bone. Some people prefer exactly to reverse this process; but it is not important. The stuffing under the breast is got at precisely as in the case of duck. The severing of the wings and legs is only on rare occasions necessary at table, as the breast of the bird usually yields an ample supply for an average number of guests. But in the event of the carver being called on to disjoint a leg or wing, he will only have to draw upon his acquaintance with the anatomy of the chicken. When, on the following day, the remains of a turkey appear in the form of a grill or a devil, the cook should have made any carving of the dish unnecessary.

Goose.--Though the anatomy is similar again to that of the chicken, the greater size and strength of the bird give greater toughness to the joints, and call for the exercise of more force of wrist and hand in their separation. The point of the strong sharp blade must be made to find its way between the bones, as any attempt to cut through them will lead to disaster. Supposing the whole of the breast to be gone, then, and that the leg and wing bones have to be operated on, proceed upon the principles enunciated in the case of the chicken. Turn the bird on one side, and, after forcing with the blade of the knife the projecting angles or elbows of the bones back from the carcase, when coming to the leg, separate the thigh from its socket, which will be a less easy task than in the case of the pinion-bone of the wing. The merrythought, if comparatively a small item for so large a bird as a goose, must be disengaged. The dissection of the remainder of the bird, upon its reappearance as a hash or what-not, will generally devolve upon the cook; but, come in what guise it may, most excellent picking may be found in every quarter. Stuffing is an element of roast goose never to be overlooked; it is to be found and reached in the same way as in the duck. The skin of the apron and elsewhere is, as usual, on no account to be torn off or left ragged, particularly as with this bird it is accounted very choice in flavour.

Guinea Fowl.--Guinea fowl, peahen, or peacock, and other such “strange fowl” as are on rare occasions put before a carver, being in their anatomy sufficiently similar to the turkey for all practical purposes, may be passed over here. Boiled or roast, they must be treated with the same discrimination.

Rabbit.--A rabbit for roasting is somewhat differently trussed to when it is intended for boiling; in the latter case the head is placed on the dish to the right of the carver, and in the former to the left. In both cases, however, the back is the chief point to operate upon. If roast, separate the back on either side from the legs and shoulders; then divide the back into two equal parts; then disengage leg and shoulder one from the other, jointing them according to the number of portions required. If boiled, a very similar process may be adopted; the knife’s point has but to be inserted where a joint appears, and it yields to the slightest pressure. Very seldom is the rabbit substantial enough to justify its treatment after the manner of the hare--that is, by taking slices out of the back, and so on, down to the limbs, without disengaging them; but where the bulk of the animal is sufficient to allow of this, it is certainly the more tempting, easy, and appetising method.

Pigeon.--Beyond bringing into play the strength and neatness which are demanded whenever actual bone has to be severed, there is little to be done with knife and fork. If the bird be divided cleanly into two equal parts by a sharp strong cut right through everything, as it were, from beak to tail, each portion must be further manipulated by those before whom it is placed; the carver has no further concern with it. But should it be necessary to divide a pigeon into 3 portions, then 2 legs and 2 wings will make 2 out of the 3--if, in cutting them off, the carver is careful to leave enough meat on the breast to allow of that being presented as the third.

_Game._--Woodcock.--When a woodcock is under the knife and fork, the carver will be very careful to examine the toast, to see that all the trail is upon it, or rather that the liver, which is the essential element of the trail, is not still left within the body. To do this he may with a slight touch of the knife, when he has secured the breast with the fork, force back the legs, and so, by disengaging the back, turn the bird as it were inside out; the liver will then fall upon the toast, and should be spread upon it evenly, with the addition of a little pat of butter, pepper, and salt, and a squeeze of lemon. As to cutting up the woodcock, the task is very simple. The bird may be divided into 2 or 3--the breast for one, and each leg and wing for the second and third portions; but, as the back is very small, and yet very choice, it had better be reserved for the special friend, seeing that there is not enough of it to divide; the thighs, however, are accounted almost equal _bonnes bouches_.

Snipe.--Perhaps the next amongst the “trail birds” to rank with the woodcock, who is the king of them all, is the snipe. He will generally, upon his modicum of toast, form not too large a portion for one good appetite; but he may be made to do for two less robust, by splitting him exactly in twain upon the usual plan. This is a bird that brooks no delay in the helping. He should be eaten hissing hot.